I think about male touch often. It has intrigued me for a long time but only recently have I
started to think about it critically, with the aim of understanding it, or the lack of it, on a
deeper level.

Someone I live with gave me a massage recently. He is training and needs welcome bodies
to practice on. As far as I can remember, I have never had a massage from a man. This may
be in part due to the fact that I know more female masseuses, but also that I often avoid
men as much as possible. I prefer a female therapist and will often go for a female checkout
clerk or gravitate to female conversations at parties. This is in part, due to the fact that my
response to other men fluctuates between my own disinterest and a genuine fear of
violence.

I experienced male anger from a young age, and as I got older violence became the norm, as
I imagine it does for a lot of, if not all, boys at some point. In my teenage years as I found my
own autonomy, I was subject to continual, often daily threats of physical assault, and one of
the main reasons that I came out relatively unscathed physically was because I was never
proud enough to stick around. I ran, and sometimes I think I ran for my life.
I’ve seen a boy murdered by 20+ assailants over a girl. I’ve seen friends beaten so bad their
face was not visible through the blood, and I’ve been chased down the street with a
machete. My brother who is three years younger than me has a host of similar, sometimes
even more awful stories. We grew up surrounded by violent young boys, and occasionally
grown men.

When myself and Olly started Men Against Patriarchy, it had not occurred to us the full
impact of creating a safe, male presenting only space. Very quickly the conversation with
the group occurred about how we all had rarely if ever felt safe or comfortable in a room
full of men. Since then, every single member has commented about their experiences in
mostly the same way. Rooms full of men can terrify us, and we rarely express this fear.
When we began talking about male touch, my mind instantly went to my youth. I grew up
for a large part, in East London, which was mostly Bengali, Sikh and Gujrati with a mix of
Caribbean, Polish and Irish. In India, it is normal for male friends to hold hands in public. I
could be on the bus, or walking through the park, could be almost anywhere in fact, and
would see groups of men squashed onto a bench or walking down the road linked arm in
arm, hand in hand. At the time, I didn’t understand it, but I could tell it wasn’t sexual. But
honestly, I found it strange.
As an adult, learning about masculinity, feminism and patriarchy, not to mention race, white
supremacy and capitalism, I have come to understand the differences in cultures that don’t
follow the dominate Eurocentric ideas we do. Many places around the world don’t bat an
eye at positive male physical interaction, in fact it is normal. As a white westerner, the
constant patriarchal message I have received from my peers, society and entertainment, is
that male touch is one or a combination of, three things. Violence, domination or of a sexual
nature.

We see this in the ways young boys interact in school, play-fighting or bullying. We see it in
locker rooms where men berate and try to dominate each other, sometimes in very subtle
ways. Male characters in movies good or bad often have a moment or many moments of
violence or aggression. If it’s the hero, their violence is hailed and lauded, if they are the
villain, its usually the hero who puts an end to their violence, with their good form of
violence. Our justice system doles out violence on a regular basis, not to mention our
foreign policy, our attitude towards the homeless and refugees or those at the bottom end
of the economic / class pyramid. In comedy movies male touch is nearly always sexualized
and even though calling someone gay isn’t the easiest joke to make, it is still implied to this
day. On the whole, we do not view male touch in a positive light. Think about the last time
you met another man, what was your physical interaction? More likely than not, it was
either a form of firm handshake, a strong pat on the back or a simple head nod. That being
said, I have noticed a change in younger men, who appear to embrace more and seem more
comfortable being tactile.

As my housemate gently ran his hands up and around my body, I couldn’t help thinking
about how this experience had never happened for me. I am a tactile person and I love
human contact, and the more I have looked head on at my masculinity, the more I actively
hold and embrace my male friends that I love and cherish. As much as I can acknowledge
this, I feel that I have a long way to go. I can’t imagine walking hand in hand with a male
friend down the road in the way that Congolese men do, but then at the same time I
probably wouldn’t do that with a female friend, saving that privilege for my partner or lover.

The journey of anti-patriarchal thinking, is long and complex and needs inspecting from
every angle. Our entire sense of self as men is dictated to us but we can choose to reject
and unlearn these unhelpful parts. Observing one’s feelings around male touch does not
require you to go out and wrap yourselves around the next friend you see. You may just not
be a very tactile person irrespective of the ways in which patriarchy has imprinted itself on
you, but it is important to understand why we all think and behave in certain ways.
Acknowledging our fear, our internalized homophobia or whatever other reason we may
reject male touch is crucial to breaking the barriers of patriarchal masculinity.

We reject the idea of a singular masculinity, instead we try and use the plural, masculinities,
to own the complexity or our experience and our being. We are living and we contain
multitudes.