Breaking The Boy Code

Logan moved to Florida at the end of the summer. I’ll never know entirely what he left behind in California. I know that he had half a dozen friends on his street and the next, that on early mornings he would go to one of their houses for breakfast before bicycling together to school. I know that his grade at school held a lot of trust between themselves and cried at their graduation ceremony. I know that they were almost always together.The new school isn’t the same. It’s a private school built for achievement, serving a highly ambitious student population and no single school district. It’s meant a lot of changes for Logan, with one of the most significant being the depth of his relationships with his peers.Over the months, he’s also noticed changes within himself. While he still identifies the same strengths in himself that I do—his capacity for connection, his thoughtfulness and selflessness—he sees himself reflecting the attitudes and priorities of the people around him. “I don’t know if it’s just high s

January 29, 2017 saw the worst mass murder in a house of worship in Canadian history: the Québec City mosque shooting in which six Muslim worshippers were killed and 19 injured.Rehan was ten. “I remember when it happened,” he said on the podcast. “That night, I actually started crying because I was like, ‘What if that ever happened to me?’”Islamophobia is on the rise in Canada. It’s perhaps most visible in the forms of explicit violence such as the massacre in Québec City, but it also manifests in schoolyard jokes and whitewashed media. Girls having their hjiabs torn off; refugees being told to leave. A kid like Rehan who can describe racism as easily as his evening prayers.Violence doesn’t end just because you cross a border. And just because we can point to a historical event and say that it was an example of Islamophobia doesn’t mean that it’s not still happening now. It is still happening. We need to talk about it.Continue reading on MediumFurther ReadingFatmeh mentioned the Centre for Race and Culture an

Breaking the Boy Code began in March 2018, or the summer of 2017, or April 2014 depending on your parameters. But some part of it has its roots in an underweight boy with too many bracelets and long blonde hair—because if you had asked me when I was young what I thought about gender stereotypes and rules about masculinity, I would have had a lot to say.I learned at a young age that some things are not allowed for boys, and some things result in violence that I wasn’t ready for. I was told I was doing it wrong. I was told I was a girl. I was called a fag before I knew what a fag was. As I navigated the winding path of both resistance and adherence to the rules of masculinity, I went to great lengths to hide or change parts of who I was. And while I had some great teachers, I also had teachers who were unprepared to intervene on homophobic violence in their classrooms.I’m now an educator, and I’ve seen firsthand the impact of committed and authentic relationships with boys. Boys are saying: ‘We want change. We

With the debate about gay rights in the national media last year, homophobia became the mainstay of school hallways in Mumbai. Ash faced this every day with the unplaceable ache of being a closeted gay Hindu boy. “Even though they’re not talking to me,” he said on the podcast, “I feel what they say.” So each day he sidestepped one-sided debates that drove homophobic language through his skin, and gradually his helplessness translated to anger.“It was enraging to not be able to stand up for myself. That’s one of the things that got to me the most. Because it would be odd for a straight kid to stand up for gay rights. If you take even a slightly pro-gay stance people are definitely going to start questioning you. I can’t risk that. But I can’t just stand and watch them spew homophobia. So what the hell do I do?”Indian society upholds what Sikata Banerjee calls masculine Hinduism in Mumbai and what Aakriti Kohli calls Sikh martial masculinity in Punjab. Meanwhile Ash is caught on the frontlines, the victim of bo

Chad’s first experience with hazing was on his first night back at summer camp. Older boys grabbed him and his friends and told them to strip to their underwear. He tried to refuse but had to fight his way out of their grip, then left the cabin to the sound of the senior campers yelling, “Don’t be like him!”Chad told a counsellor what had happened, but it wasn’t easy. “You don’t want to be a snitch,” he said on the podcast. “What’s holding you back is fear.” The risk of angering older peers in the moment and being ostracized from the group afterwards makes boys hesitate to speak out, and then the pressure to fit into a narrative of dominance and invulnerability compels them to bury their feelings deep inside.If incidents of hazing could be said to have one thing in common, it’s silence. More than half of all boys experience hazing before they leave high school, but according to research, 92% of students will not report any kind of hazing to an adult. To put it bluntly, boys aren’t talking about hazing—at leas

Stress wound its way into Michael’s life throughout his preteen years, growing in size until it overwhelmed him in his first year of high school. “It took over my life,” he told me. “I’d come home and do four hours of homework. This took a toll on my social life, and my physical health. I began to develop an eating disorder, which I still have to battle to this day. I lost a lot of weight. I became more of an unhappy person. I wasn’t fun to be around. I didn’t enjoy being around other people. I just felt like my life was a mess.”“It was painful, to see my life almost crumbling. Because of schoolwork, or my friends, or just something that was stressing me out so much I couldn’t be who I wanted to be. It was really just—it’s painful to think about now, it was painful to go through then. I’m still going through it.”Things came to a head when Michael broke his leg and missed several weeks of school. He did his best to keep up with schoolwork in his absence, but the pressure he felt when he returned to school star

Sebastian’s voice is captivating because its weight shifts dramatically. For part of his story, he maintains a sort of matter-of-fact nonchalance. “Yeah,” he starts out, “I had a very close friend, and we had been friends for like, our whole lives.” This lightness follows his memories of their earliest times together, how they grew closer and closer until they became inseparable.After about ten minutes, however, Sebastian begins describing the crisis point where things between them changed. His voice catches as he says, “I went to the court, and it was probably one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.” His voice breaks. “I knew that wasn’t him.”Then, with wet eyelashes, he shares his emotions. The loss. The loneliness. The yearning. His voice still flits back and forth, but it becomes heavier.He was like one of those necklaces that are engraved with ‘best friend’ and marketed at preteen girls, where each pendant on its own is just an incomplete phrase and a broken heart.It’s a fitting comparison. Primar

When I think of resilience, I think of Eli. On the outside, he’s as cut and as worn as you can imagine, but at his core is a dogged spirit that has withstood countless attacks on his gender, body and identity. He faces transphobia with bitter resolve. He’s like a war survivor who’s repeatedly been sent back to the front lines.One of Eli’s front lines has always been school, in particular physical education classes and spaces defined by youth culture, where he either has to fight to have his gender identity recognized or he has to be on guard against homophobia- or transphobia-based violence. He tries hard to protect himself, but sometimes he doesn’t make it.His story is all too familiar. Nearly all LGBTQ youth have faced discrimination based on their gender or sexual orientation. Sometimes it’s outright physical violence. Sometimes it’s more implicit.Continue reading on MediumFurther ReadingLori Duron writes a blog called Raising My Rainbow. You can also follow her and her son on Facebook, Twitter and Instagr

How do you stop a man from being violent? How do you stop the college student who’s taking things to far, or that guy at the bar who won’t back down, or the dad whose words are fists? On one hand these are complex issues and the answer is not one thing, but at the same time all of these men have one thing in common. Boyhood. So how do you stop a man from being violent? You talk to him when he’s a boy.At first glance, the context of this podcast is ending violence against women and girls. In order to effectively confront patterns of male violence, we need to look deeper at the ways that masculinity is constructed, enacted and resisted by boys and men. In a word, patriarchy.Patriarchy also has negative effects on boys and men. Boys are dropping out of high school twice as much as girls. Using drugs and alcohol more frequently and more heavily. Dying by suicide four times as often. Men are committing 98% of shootings in the United States, and filling 93% of the prison population.The premise of this podcast is th