The steel-strong ideal man and the redundancy of such masculinity
Or is it that we don’t need a “mard” at all? It took Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern, new mother, probably facing the same aches and pains as many of us, to just show the courage to don a scarf and hug whom it matters, to try heal a nation’s wounds. It may not have been enough for New Zealand, but it was something
Still in the first flush of my dreams for my kids, I had bought a green yoga mat for my son. In that dream, sweating it out in the neighbourhood park, he would somehow turn into a Bruce Lee. It took just one hollering from a rather harsh instructor, and a disapproving mother-in-law behind him whom my clever son quickly learnt to hide, for that dream to die. I hung on, at least to the yoga mat, first trying to use it as a rug and, as it slowly acquired grime, hiding it away — first under the bed, then in the closet, then in the upper shelves of the closet, finally only declaring it dead when its two sides stuck to each other and would not come apart. In some corner where our many dreams for our children turn out to be unwise ambitions, there is still a yellow belt as a reminder of that unfinished karate kid.
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