I was raised by a single mother and three sisters. My first friend was a girl. Most of my friends have been females. We had cats, a lot of girl cats. I’ve read a lot of books written by women. I’ve listened to (and loved) songs written and recorded by women. I’ve had really close friends and their mothers always liked me.
This, in no way, makes me an authority on women.
I have a wife, a daughter, and several female friends.
I have eyes, ears and a working brain.
I have reasoned my way to an understanding, betwixt my brain and my balls, a truce between thought and urge, a de-militarized zone between my mind and my dick.
I have three sons. I tell them, several times a day, what my mother taught me –
“Keep your hands off of your weiner and off of other people.”
It’s not enough to say, act this way in public.
“The true test of a man’s character is what he does when no one is watching.” (John Wooden)
My oldest son is 13. I know that the raging river of hormonal metamorphosis is starting. I know that soon his pecker is going to be his main focus. Puberty is a difficult time. We change from children into children with sexual urges.
I tell my son, leave it alone. Wash it when it’s dirty, and otherwise, try to ignore it.
I know, I know… This isn’t part of the patriarchal dialogue. This doesn’t fit into the way that we see male physiology.
I’ve seen it my whole life, from myself to my brothers and friends to men on television shows to literary characters and society says, men can’t help it. Dicks run the world. A man can’t control his penis.
That’s the most ridiculous bullshit ever.
My younger sons are constantly fiddling with their fidget-sticks. I tell them to stop.
All three of my sons put their hands on others without permission.
I tell them to stop.
The two subjects are related.
There is a need for boundaries. People need to respect the difference between “mine” and “yours”. Men, especially. We need a new dynamic in this world.
We need to understand, men.
Men, boys, all those that identify as male.
We need to stop using that as an excuse for terrible actions. We need to create a boundary between our minds and our cocks.
I know that the idea is quite foreign to most men, but I promise you that you won’t become female, or gay, or invisible, or alien, or a giant block of cheddar cheese, you won’t stop being a person.
In fact, if that’s your fear, I challenge you to really think about that. We have ruled all of human history, we proud beasts with our mighty cocks and our dangling testes. Our physical strength and sexual virility has literally conquered the earth.
Of course, along the way, we also destroyed and degraded most of humanity. We’ve cheapened life and made existence a filthy parade of dicks being dicks to dicks, one dick United in dickhood, with a dick-tatorship created by dicks, for dicks and about dicks. We’ve even got a ranking system based on money, which makes a whole lot of sense, because money helps dick the world over every day.
The point here, the one I’m trying to make, is that I’m a Dad. I tell my sons to leave their dicks in their pants and to keep their hands off of other people.
And my instructions mean dick.
When my wife tells them, they listen.
So we use that. Momma said, don’t play with your weiner. Momma said, don’t touch other people without permission. Don’t touch their things, their bodies, don’t touch them with your hands or your weiners. Don’t take pictures of your weiner and send it to people. That’s a dick move.
My Momma said, you were born with a brain and a weiner and every day you have to choose which one is in charge.
I’ve chosen both ways, through my almost forty years.
My dick, well… He’s a dick. He doesn’t care about right and wrong. He doesn’t choose wisely, based on rational thought and integrity. He chooses to seek gratification. That is how dicks are programmed.
My mind chooses more wisely. I choose compassion, love, integrity, poetry. I choose art, literature, romance, friendship, family. My mind is kind, my mind is interested in other minds and their thoughts, choices, interests.
I’m not standing here trying to convince all men that their dicks don’t matter.
I’m saying that being a decent person means more than a dick.
Momma said, be proud of what you do, not what you have.
I’m not standing here, telling the world that I’m “not one of those men”
I have used my maleness for male purposes in life. I have never forced myself on anyone, but I have certainly enjoyed male privilege in my life. I have a dick, which is like being a rich white guy in the U.S. The world has been controlled by dicks so long that I don’t have any way to know if I’m “one of those”
I do know that I have a choice.
I do know that my sons have a choice.
Make choices with brain.
Make fuck with dick.
Keep your hands to yourself, and use your brain more than your penis.