Written by Lyz Mancini
Art by Megan Taylor
“Booty blender.”
“Beauty blender.”
“That’s what I said. Booty blender.”
I stood in front of my mother’s bathroom sink, as my three-year-old nephew perched on the rim, painstakingly doing each step of my daily skincare and makeup routine. He stared at me wide-eyed through every swipe, swatch, and fluff of a brush – each one I explained what it was for, and then fake-applied it to his own cherubic, open face. It was a routine we did every morning that I took care of him, since his mother died and was now being raised by my own mother. Society often calls this self-care, and of course, the beauty world is rife with issues, but for a small boy looking to fill holes that love once filled, it was a sensory treat to feel the caress of a blush brush on his face. It was also a way to show him what I did for a living, as a copywriter in the beauty industry. He played with my sponges in the water as if they were boats, and asked me to spritz his face with rosewater. It was a way we bonded, how I built his trust, after he’d left a less-than-ideal environment and needed structure and calm. I am the “cool aunt,” but I’m also committed to helping raise him. It will be more than extra candy and adventures, it will also be about unteaching him toxic masculinity as much as possible.
He’s eight now, and has experienced more trauma than most. He has valid reasons to be angry and confused, even while his life currently is full of love, support, and therapy.
How do we teach him how to manage his emotions appropriately? To not take them out on women who remind him of his mother or unload his feelings just because he has them?
Even as a “cool aunt,” raising or helping to raise a small boy in this world right now feels terrifying. Despite being born into a world created for them, there is the male loneliness epidemic, the skyrocketed statistics of young men and the Alt-Right pipeline, and of course, the copious ways men feel entitled to women, their rights, and their bodies. It likely stems from a perfect storm of the pandemic, conservative parents, and society around them. But that gives parents and other family members a huge job to undo that pain and anger from little boys as they grow.
“Heal what hurt you, or you’ll bleed on someone who didn’t cut you.” (Tumblr had some gems, huh?) But where does that start, and how do you strike a balance between placating, and creating a safe space to work through feelings? My nephew’s best friend is a girl, and copious conversations stem from that – why accidentally punching her has consequences, how to ensure she isn’t left out, and why she isn’t different. His swim instructor is a trans woman, and being able to teach my nephew about gender expression and the wide spectrum of humanhood and our bodies has been a blessing.
Exposure to different ways of life and diversity of identity can stomp out fear of the unknown – when you can attach something to a person you know, empathy is more easily within reach.
For me, that means catching moments to have conversations on how to lead with kindness always, curiosity, and if he does feel angry or sad…to make space for his feelings without putting them onto others. He used to have huge breakdowns. Doors were slammed. Hurtful words were thrown. His feelings were so big, and it was difficult to know if they stemmed from trauma or just being a small boy in the world. He no longer slams doors. He cries, he takes alone time, he is open to conversations. He is being raised by women and I hope this results in women feeling safe with him as he gets older.
Toxic masculinity is unavoidable to an extent. It’s baked into the fabric of our society, even as he understands that the current administration is dangerous, toxic, and not valued he should emulate, it will dictate our laws and messages his peers might think they support. As he grows, I wonder how our conversations will go. If he’ll still be able to listen, take it in. Feel his feelings, connect with other people, not see emotions as weakness. Use his voice to speak up for women. It’s also about myself and the women raising him unlearning our own internalized misogyny – to look at how we live our own lives, off-hand comments we make, and checking ourselves at every turn. To treat myself kindly around him, and heal my own traumas so I don’t bleed on him. To show every day how responsible we are for our own feelings and what we do with them. It gives new meaning to the phrase “the cool aunt.” I want to embody all of this for him.
It’s also about myself and the women raising him unlearning our own internalized misogyny – to look at how we live our own lives, off-hand comments we make, and checking ourselves at every turn.
He still watches me get ready in the mornings I’m with him. There have been phases where he refuses a lip balm, or tells me something is “for girls,” but the foundation is there and we talk who told him that and why we know that’s incorrect. He wakes me at 5 a.m. to ask me to Google what colors butterflies like, and tells me he thinks dreams are wishes. His heart is good. We have to hope that will allow him to go far. That we can allow those parts of him to flower and bloom, to stomp out the small dark parts that society naturally instills.
Toxic masculinity poisons us all, and to snuff it out, we have to start at the root. Or the bathroom sink.
About the Author:
Lyz Mancini is a writer living in Catskill, NY. She is a beauty copywriter for brands like MAC Cosmetics and Clinique, and her writing has appeared in Slate, Catapult, Vautrin, Shortwave Magazine, Witches Magazine, and more. She is a Tin House and Pitch Wars alum and was nominated for a 2022 Pushcart Prize.