From Angola to Lisbon: My life with toxic masculinity | View

My first experience with toxic masculinity goes back to when I was a toddler.

I was in a mall with my parents and wanted to ride one of those moving machines that you find in amusement parks. This one was a tiny Donald Duck. My father thought the “toy” wasn’t masculine enough and, instead decided to put me on another ride, which was a helicopter that sat a bit higher off the ground. It was bigger, and actually, unsafe for a little child. When the helicopter started moving I was so scared that I couldn’t stop crying and yelling, as I stretched my arms for him to take me back. But he didn’t, and laughed instead. This very situation developed in me a new fear: a fear of heights. I still suffer from vertigo today. Thinking back, maybe this was his distorted idea of how he could initiate me into a tough world.

Growing up a queer child in Africa is dangerous because of all the rules around how a man is expected to behave in society. And for me, they were particularly strict.

My father was a military man, as were most of the male family figures he had as references. His name, Gaspar, was inherited from his uncle Gaspar da Silva, who was an army general.

That military-like energy was one I had to face everyday as a child. There was no space for me to be who I was organically learning to be, because my parents acted as if they knew exactly what to do every time I showed a little sensitivity.

I remember thinking most of my cousins, uncles, and acquaintances, were aggressive with me when I was younger. “Boys don’t cry”. “You look like a girl”. “Do you want to be a little girl?”. Sentences such as these, have echoed in my mind for years. They pushed me away from my true essence.

Growing up, the abuse became as naturalized as the pain. Which meant that regardless of the consequences of being caught, dressing up like a girl, and playing with dolls and make up became my identity.

My father was murdered in 1989, when I was around 7 years old. I blamed myself for it because I thought I had wished that upon him, which made the trauma of his death even worse. My mother was cast out of the family because she had refused to marry my father’s closest cousin after his death, which was tradition. From that moment on, I was raised by women: my aunts and grandmother.

I thought my father’s death would have made my life a little easier, but I was wrong. Because the way our society is structured has made women also perpetuate the toxic masculinity that they themselves face and endure.

I witnessed more violence than I would have liked to, even within my household, because of disagreements over the way I ought to be treated.

In most societies, ‘hyper masculinity’ and its attempt to remain hegemonic, has had some people pay a very high price, such as homosexuals, minority ethnic groups, migrants, the poor, and those subject to labor exploitation.

Source: https://www.euronews.com/2020/10/15/from-angola-to-lisbon-my-life-with-toxic-masculinity