“It really helps me if I write it down, because that gets it out of my mind. I can clear it out, put it away … save it for later, save it for a song.”
—Marc, 13, from a suburb in New England
BOYS WHO ARE ABLE TO EXPRESS THEMSELVES THROUGH music, acting, writing, drawing, or any of the other arts have the fortunate opportunity to release a myriad of emotions in a zone of safety. Although they may be laughed at and considered “feminine” when they publicly display deeper, more sensitive parts of themselves, through art they seem to feel more free and far less constrained by old Boy Code rules that equate self-expression with weakness and vulnerability. When a boy is painting a landscape, drafting a poem, or orchestrating a symphony on his laptop computer, he is able to express deep parts of his being—sadness, anger, fear, loneliness. He might write a poem to reflect a broken heart, draft a rap song to capture his outrage about poverty, splash vivid red paint on a canvas to express his fear and anguish.
“Music is the main way I express myself,” explains sixteen-year-old Nicholas, from a state in the West. “It’s crucial, it really is, to maintain my character, and it’s really an excellent outlet for a lot of the delinquent energies I have, like anger and frustration and sadness and emotional turmoil.… I can express a lot through my lyrics, and when I’m on stage I can express a lot just getting it out. When I write a song and it’s about something that’s just killing me, it’s just angry—I sing it, and then it’s just all gone, you know?” In our gender-straitjacketed society, this kind of personal, emotion-based expression is crucial to many boys.
Creative expression need not only be reserved for the talented. Any boy can keep a journal or explore emotions through color. Further, the witnessing and interpretation of art may provide just as significant a release as the act of actually creating it. Hearing a piece of music can unearth a boy’s sadness. Watching a play can shed intense emotional light on a personal problem a boy might be experiencing with his father. I cannot tell you how many boys who have told me that they found themselves in fifteen-year-old Holden Caulfield from The Catcher in the Rye. Many said that after reading Catcher, they no longer felt quite so alone in the world, that they were relieved to learn that another boy had experienced the same feelings of angst and of yearning.
Sixteen-year-old Caleb, from a suburb in southern New England, explained what he learned from listening to the music of the Cure: “You have Robert Smith, this beautiful man who is very much in touch with the same sort of things you are. You don’t even know this fellow but he’s had the same sort of problems, and has written about them, and shared them.… He can just proverbially spread his wings and everything will come out of him.… You’re not very strong if you can’t be yourself because you’re afraid. But if you can spread your wings and be independent and be yourself, you are strong and beautiful.” For boys like Caleb, art has the power to begin healing the painful bruises left by the gender straitjacket. By experiencing expression, boys learn how to create it. By deconstructing the voices of others, boys discover their own.
Creating and interpreting artistic expression is a way by which boys reach out for a sense of authentic connection—for relationships in which they can relax and be themselves—especially with other boys. Thirteen-year-old Franklin finds his most important friendships as a drummer in a local rock group: “The band is very important to me. I can always be myself around the guys in the band, and I never have to worry about them judging me or thinking badly of me. Being in the band is like having brothers, except that you’re not around them all the time.” And as Nicholas explains, artistic expression can be a vital source not only of companionship but also of understanding and affirmation: “On stage playing with my band, it’s just a thrill to see people clapping and having fun when they hear something they like. That means a lot to me. There’s a whole lot of empathy going on when you’re on stage. It’s just really good to connect with people like that—that’s a big part of being in a band.”
For some boys, expressing themselves through music, art, and writing seems to be a matter of their very survival. I will never forget the day Andrew Glass, a forty-one-year-old father, came to see me about his twelve-year-old son, David. Mr. Glass, a tall man with curly red hair, was a very successful music engineer. He described David as a shy boy who was exhibiting quite a bit of talent in piano performance and composition. David created his own short piano pieces and performed works by Chopin, Bach, Grieg, and Beethoven with flourish. Mr. Glass wanted to ensure that he gave David the proper amount of encouragement to pursue his talent. Although he wanted his son to do well in school and sports, and to be well-rounded, Mr. Glass was concerned about whether it was OK to give David his permission to pursue music as much as his son wanted.
Then Mr. Glass told me about his own childhood. His parents were survivors of the Nazi concentration camps in Poland. Both his parents lost their entire family to the Holocaust. They came to this country penniless and emotionally devastated. In America, all their energies went into earning a living. They believed that if they acquired enough money and bought a house, nothing bad could happen to them in this country.
As a young boy, Andrew Glass loved to play the guitar. He couldn’t get enough of it. At night, he would spend hours singing along with old rock albums, and at school he performed with a jazz band. His music teachers thought he was exceptionally gifted. But when he came home from school, Andrew often found that his father had put his guitar away in the closet, broken strings off the instrument, or thrown away his son’s sheet music. His father was enraged that Andrew spent his time pursuing music. He believed his son Andrew would never earn a living this way, that he would never make a life for himself in America. He felt that Andrew should focus on subjects that would help him get ahead in the world.
“Sometimes, my father beat me if he found me with my guitar,” Mr. Glass said. “His fear was so great that I would turn out to be penniless like he was after the war.” But no matter how many times his father broke Andrew’s guitar strings or threw away his music, Andrew found another way to keep enjoying the instrument. “Sometimes, I would hide my guitar in the bushes behind our house, sneak out late at night, and play my instrument in the woods where my father could not find me. It was my lifeline,” he told me. “There was so much pain in my family that I was never allowed to question or talk about it with other people. Why did my parents have numbers tattooed on their arms? Why did my mother often break down sobbing? Why did other boys make fun of me because my parents had a foreign accent? Why was my family so different from everybody else’s in the neighborhood? These things deeply troubled me. But music kept me alive,” Mr. Glass told me. “It was my lifeline. I want to make sure my son has that lifeline, too.”
Today as well, many boys experience artistic expression as a place offering emotional safety where they are acknowledged for revealing their genuine selves. “Music,” says eighteen-year-old Stewart, “is my sanctuary.” There are so many hurts, challenges, and pressures in the lives of boys and young men, and so few places they can go to overcome them. We help boys by encouraging them to take any opportunity they can—whether it be singing in the church choir, doing the lighting in a school play, playing guitar in a band, writing poems, sculpting clay—to use these creative activities to express their true emotions and to find their own voice.
Caleb, 16, from a suburb in southern New England
Despite our attempts to fill ourselves with all these artificial, horrid things—Diet Coke, steroids, hair spray—we are all part of this world, and we have a connection to it. Beyond all of the problems we may have, we still have that simple connection with the world and its beauty. You can still connect yourself at one in the morning with the night. You just sit.…
Everybody always has somewhere to go. I mean, you’re never completely free. I don’t find security, and I don’t think I’m free, I’ve got it all. There is always going to be an occasion where you might find that you have a weakness. And you improve and you get better and better. You just never can stand still. There is always more to learn. I think that the basis of things is to be as you are, and to accept other people as they are. You can be completely different from someone but have that one thing in common: that you accept each other as being independent people who have fun with themselves. And you might have different interests, but you share them with each other and involve yourselves in each other’s interests sometimes.
I’ve had a lot of people who follow the same surprising pattern of sort of coming and going quickly for one reason or another, like quick angel visitations to teach me one thing or another. The first one I can really remember was a fellow named Oscar, who was a counselor at my summer camp two years ago. He was just a brilliant guy and he was someone who really supported me, and would say, “If you want to go write, you go write, that’s what you do.” He helped me finish what I started, and he was really proud of me for a lot of things. He was a very special person.
Even though he was like fifteen years older than me, Oscar was on my level and we could help each other out. I think I helped him just as much as he helped me. We both had the problem of being nice guys who get beat up—you know, not tough enough to be cool. We had that in common and we could talk about those kinds of things. He was a thinking person. He was a caring person. He was open and he could really appreciate a moment. He didn’t get angry at things. In fact, he was very calm, and he could always just be happy and enjoy himself.
The big turning when people really started to respect me was when I started bringing my writing into school to show to people. They started realizing that I’m really doing something with all of that time I’m not out playing football. You have to show them what you do, you know? If the pastry boy brings in some really good doughnuts, the kids are going to like him more, or at least understand why he doesn’t play soccer. They’re going to say, “Damn, he really makes a great doughnut.” And in a strange way, he’ll get respect for that.
So be honest about your passions and show what they are in a candid way. You’re doing something that you are passionate about and that’s all that matters. Every person should know their own strengths and show them in a candid way, and not focus on their weaknesses. If you have something you want to do, you should do it. We should all be able to say, “This is what I really enjoy doing. This is what makes me feel good.”
For me, the things that make me feel good, that I really enjoy doing, and that have earned me some respect are music and writing. They are really amazing things, because you are creating a physical act of beauty. You have all of this inside of you and it’s not even words or music yet, it’s just sort of essence, and you put it into a form that can be distributed and perceived and interpreted. And it’s really fascinating. Music is special because of the emotions you can invoke. Anything, anything you want. And it doesn’t even have to be real words coming out, because you can interpret the emotion just from the sound.
I work with electronic bass, alka synthesizers, drum programming, samplers, and things like that. But at the same time, I work just as much with sounds and patterns that are very ethnic or influenced by a much older sort of ethnic music. Even with a modern drum machine, it can be this whole sort of shamanistic thing, with the idea of just getting in a circle and hitting the bongos and clapping and dancing and singing. There is something about beat that, if it’s just right, can really move you. I think music should be sort of a safe haven. It should be empathetic to how you are feeling and able to bring you solace.
I listen to the Cure because you have Robert Smith, this beautiful man who is very much in touch with the same sort of things you are. You don’t even know this fellow but he’s had the same sort of problems, and has written about them, and shared them. I think Smith is brilliant and he’s a beautiful man, just because of his emotions and his freedom of expression. He is almost consummate emotion. He can just proverbially spread his wings and everything will come out of him.
If you have to band together to step on someone else’s hand, then you’re pretty weak. You’re not very strong if you can’t be yourself because you’re afraid. But if you can spread your wings and be independent and be yourself, you are strong and beautiful.
Writing is hard because you never know if something is good or if it’s just a waste of time. But it’s really nice when people encourage you and ask to see your work as soon as it’s done. My mom encourages me, but I think for a while she was kind of scared. She was worried about the tragic themes and things like that, like I had a fascination with death or something like that. It’s a reasonable thing to think if you’re really not sure of what someone is saying as a writer. But I had a huge influence from the Gothic literature period and the Romantic period in all forms: the stories of King Arthur, the music, the poetry. Everything from those periods is beautiful and it was just something that worked for me. I’m always going for beauty, and I think for some reason it’s recognized more in the tragic. That’s just the way it is. And it all depends how you conclude things, and I don’t really go for the clichéd happy ending. I want it to be something beautiful. The way I feel about fiction is that it is a catalytic duty at times, because it’s where you can really see everything in all it’s glory. It’s almost like measuring the density of something by using displacement. To see how big it really is, you take that area away. You see all of this change because of it and you realize how much of an impact it had on everything. It’s very different in real life because it affects people, but when you do it in fiction, you’re safe from that: you can watch and you can listen because you’re not part of it. The same tragic story on the news would be miserable. It’s when you’re not connected to it that it can be beautiful to you.
One of my favorite books is Interview with the Vampire by Anne Rice. It is absolutely beautiful, for a lot of reasons. First of all, the characters are so real—it’s pure emotion. And also there is the lesson or the philosophy of the book. By the end of the novel, the huge significance is that Louis realizes that despite his thinkings, despite all his attempts to search out and create beauty, there was never any better opportunity for him to accomplish that than in his mortal life. And he tries to explain this to the boy who’s interviewing him, but the boy doesn’t understand. He still insists his life is too difficult. Every day we all refuse to believe the fact that we really do have a lot of opportunities. You really can find beauty. That you’re in the perfect state to do so. Yes, you suffer the mortal coil, but along with it you have the benefit of this ability to create and to feel.
It’s all about really getting a connection with the world. And you improve and you get better and better. You just never can stand still.
Nicholas, 16, from a suburb in the West
I play guitar and sing in a band with a drummer and a bassist, and he sings, too. We play all originals. Music is the main way I express myself. It’s crucial, it really is, to maintain my character, and it’s really an excellent outlet for a lot of the delinquent energies I have, I suppose, like anger and frustration and sadness and emotional turmoil. All these things.
Music isn’t for everyone, but it works for me very well. I can express a lot through my lyrics, and when I’m on stage I can express a lot, just getting it out. When I write a song and it’s about something that’s just killing me, it’s just angry—I sing it, and then it’s just all gone, you know? It’s a great, great outlet. Ever since I’ve been a wee little lad, I’ve been into theater and performing in front of people. I’ve always just had that kind of actor’s attitude, I suppose. I’ve never had a problem being on stage.
Pretty much anyone I meet, essentially I put on a show for them, subconsciously. It helps me make friends, I guess. It’s not a departure from my personality at all. It’s more like when you’re racing a car and you put the nitro on—it’s just that extra little boost. And it’s not just when I meet new people—it’s when I stand up in front of the class or when I have to read something. I think it’s pretty universal for actors to have that. That energy makes you do stupid stuff in public, like run around or tackle your friend, and that’s a part of my life that I’m really happy with.
On stage playing with my band, it’s just a thrill to see people clapping and having fun when they hear something they like. That means a lot to me. There’s a whole lot of empathy going on when you’re on stage. It’s just really good to relate with people like that—that’s a big part of being in a band, and a big part of life.
Marc, 13, from a suburb in New England
My dad has his own company and my mom works every day except for Wednesdays. But Thursday is her late day and my dad works until six-thirty, so I have the house to myself until then. I just sign up for after-school programs and they usually end at four-thirty. Then I go to Mobil, get myself a coffee and walk home. And then I watch a little TV, and then my dad will be home.
I like writing. At night, I’ll jot my feelings down and if something happens, I’ll write it down. I have a drawer full of lyrics that I could put into songs—sad things, good things, and how I feel if someone bullies me around. I have one song that I wrote about being who you want to be: “Don’t be a Trendy/Do what you feel is comfortable.” I thought that was such a great song. I was so proud of myself. It was great.… I was singing it to myself all day.
My mom was like “That’s a nice song; who’s it by?”
I’m like “I don’t know,” because some of the lyrics she wouldn’t understand.
She would be like “Marc, you’re really weird. Are these actually your lyrics? Do you need help or something?”
But it really helps me if I write it down, because that gets it out of my mind. I can clear it out, put it away, whatever; save it for later, save it for a song or something like that. And then I just don’t think about it anymore.
Ramon, 17, from a city in the Northeast
People in this world don’t pay much attention to people like me, to seventeen-year-old Hispanic males. The people who have power and money ignore us. They think we don’t know what’s going on, that we’re too young and too immature to have anything to say. Well, I’m seventeen but when I’m eighteen I’ll be old enough to go fight in a war. I think that the people who have all the power don’t want to listen to me in case I say something that threatens them.
Well, I want my kids to have a better life than I did. I’d like them to grow up in a more compassionate society. There’s no way I want them to see some of things I’ve seen. I’ve seen kids get beat up, and three-month-old babies get slapped. I’ve seen terrible things on the news: the police brutality, the way homeless people are treated. It makes me sick.
There are a lot of things I’d change if I was in charge. I’d like to change our budget, the way we spend our tax money. We spend way too much money on the military, sixty cents out of every dollar. That’s too much, especially when we spend only one percent on welfare and 2 percent on education. I think helping those who are less fortunate and educating our youth is far more important than going out to fight wars.
That’s why I think it’s so important for me to speak out. I just want those people in power, the people that run the media, to understand people like me. Those people should realize what we go through, what we feel, what problems are important and how they can be fixed. I just want them to see things from a whole new perspective. When politicians talk about gun control or welfare, they gotta understand that they’re not the ones living in the inner city or the places where all this violence occurs. They’re not in our shoes. I want them to have the opportunity to listen to what I go through day after day.
So that’s why I love to write. I write poems and then I go to the studio, where I put the words I have in my head to music. I know that some people will listen to me that way. I figure I’ve got a lot to say to people and I like to be heard.
When things don’t work out the way you want, you’ve just got to relax, be patient, and look on the brighter side of life. I love being a rapper and want to have a record released in the stores. I’ve been recording in the professional studio with real DJs and producers for two years now. I haven’t tried yet to take my work to the record companies; I just make music for my friends so they can listen to what I have to say.
You know, my poetry is so important to me. When I have things to say, I say them in my poems. It’s easier that way—I can’t always talk to my mom about everything. Sometimes she doesn’t understand and sometimes she’s old-fashioned. The people I rap with appreciate where I’m coming from. They may disagree with me but they understand what I’m talking about. I don’t really have anyone I bare my soul to but I’m not lonely. My pen and paper are my shelter—they’re where I go when I need to think about something and talk about it.
Music is great because it gives me a way to speak to my culture. People in the inner city like to hear about other people going through the same things they go through. It helps them relate to other people. They also love to dance and I love to watch people dance. I love to watch people listen to my words—it makes me feel important.
I want to improve things. I think that’s my purpose here on earth. I see a lot of people that are just intelligent, and they don’t use their minds the way they should. I think if you’re gifted enough to make a change, you should make that change. Because if you don’t there are a lot of people that won’t.
I’m a firm believer in destiny. That’s why I try to make the most of every single day that I live. I want to have beautiful memories so at the time I go, whether it’s early in my life, whether in my mid-twenties or my mid-forties, I’ll never regret anything I’ve done and I’ll always be happy.
Ted, 18, from a city in the Northeast
I’m not going to say that I never cared about what people think. Of course when you are in fifth and sixth grades, you worry. Back then I was trying hard not to act the way I wanted to act, to speak the way I wanted to speak, to say the things that I liked and things like that. I was unhappy. I just couldn’t be myself in school.
And I didn’t like that. I’m not a fake person. I’m more happy now than I was back then trying to be somebody I wasn’t. Because it really isn’t worth it attempting to be somebody else.
After a while, everything changed. In the seventh grade I stopped thinking about what other people think. I realized that I was being fake. I started going to school more. I started to be more active in school things. I grew up. I started saying, “I don’t care what people think. They can say whatever they want to say.”
At the end of the day, you’re going to do what you want to do, think what you want to think, and be who you want to be. You have to come together with yourself, and realize what you are and who you are, and say, “Look, this is what I am, this is what I can be.” You have to build that self-confidence in yourself first. Then you can go to other people and say, “This is what I am, and this is how I’m gonna be—and that’s it.” And from then on, it will build up, you will have more confidence, and you will really feel better about yourself. Everything will fall into place. Because it has for me.
When I dance, I feel like I can do anything. When I get up on stage, it’s all about having fun and being positive and being able to think that you can do what you want up there. It’s just a nice feeling. Not everybody gets the chance to have that feeling about himself. To get that positive feedback from the audience. That’s good. That’s great. I mean, getting up there and everybody clapping and screaming your name, that’s fun. I wish I could tell everybody to get up there and do it, do it because it’s fun. You really feel good about yourself. It really does make you feel positive. It makes you feel strong. The music sort of gets in under your skin. Once the music gets in you, then it’s over! You do what you want. You kind of forget that the audience is there. You just do it, and by the end, it’s probably the best performance you can give.
Stewart, 18, from a small town in the South
I like music and I love to entertain! I’ve been Tevya in Fiddler on the Roof, and I’ve been in How to Succeed, and Crazy for You, and other shows. One of my favorite songs from Fiddler on the Roof is “If I Were a Rich Man.” You know, “If I were a rich man, yadda, yadda.” Yes, I love that one because having lots of money is kind of everybody’s wish, their idea of true happiness. Fiddler on the Roof was an interesting choice of musical because here in this small Southern town, we have maybe only one or two Jewish kids in our whole school.
I think music is a good way for guys to express themselves without coming out too much and breaking the norm. In choir, it’s an easy way, I guess. The guys and girls are put together and so it feels comfortable expressing yourself as a group. Maybe singing in a chorus is an outlet for some people’s feelings.
If you are really, really happy—or really, really sad or angry—and you are singing about it, nobody is really going to know. Music enables you to be exuberant about your feelings without people being able to know what is inside your head. It’s a secret way of being able to express yourself.
I think guys have a lot of secrets inside of them. They are sort of dishonest. They are keeping secrets about who they really are, what they want to be, what they feel, what they think is right or wrong. Instead of really coming out and saying what they think, they keep quiet and keep secrets.
I try not to have any secrets, but I’m sure I do. I don’t go to anyone with them. I just keep them inside. It’s sad that guys need to keep secrets.
When I look into the future, I think I want to be a teacher, a music teacher. I would like to help other people’s lives, not only with music, but with their own personal situations outside of the classroom, or inside the classroom, just with their own well-being. I would like to help them express themselves through music.
I have always looked up to my music teacher through high school and he is someone who has always been there to talk to. His name is Mr. Forest. He has not only taught music, but he has taught us lessons in life—about how to act and how to be. He has had a really positive influence on everybody who has studied with him. He has always made the right choices. He would never do anything that would hurt anyone else. He looks out for the good of others. He encourages people to be themselves, at least more so than most people. He gives people the opportunity through music to express themselves.
I also get close to God through music. I like singing hymns, playing the organ, and directing the choir.
I love music and like to make others feel better through it. When I want to get away from it all, get away from all the noise and confusion, I go home and, if no one is there, I go to the piano, or to the organ, and just play whatever is there. Music, for me, is a sanctuary.