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Real men (and boys) aren’t afraid to cry

The following post was first published in The Daily Telegraph 7/12/15 and online at RendezView. 

UK man Aaron Gillies recently tweeted a list of all the reasons his wife cries, including “She was hung-over and saw a picture of a piglet.” The internet exploded, with others then sharing stories of females and their sometimes unfathomable “feels”. Tweets from women included “I cried over a sea otter” and “I cried last night because I love Christmas spirit so much.”

But my favourite tweet? “My dad cried at the end of Shrek because ‘it’s just so beautiful.’” In among the sea of admissions of female emotion was the recognition of male sensitivity. How rare — and how needed.

Actor Hugh Jackman shed a few tears while being interviewed on 60 Minutes. (Pic: Channel 9)

Modern views on masculinity would have us believe blokes must be stiff upper-lipped and simply “man up” when overwhelmed. They are given permission to cry perhaps only when their children are born, or when a loved one dies.

Yet our reluctance to let males shed tears is relatively new, says Tom Lutz, a University of California, Riverside Professor and author of “Crying: A natural and Cultural History of Tears.” He traces this trend to the late 19th century, when factory workers — mostly men — were discouraged from indulging in emotion lest it interfere with their productivity.

In the early 19th century, American politicians were constantly wiping their eyes. Beloved President Abraham Lincoln wept during his celebrated debates about slavery with senator Stephen Douglas, and Douglas wept back. Far from being perceived as a sign of weakness, crying whilst speaking was considered a sign of integrity and the mark of a skilled orator.

NFL and NRL player Jarryd Hayne isn’t afraid to cry in public. (Pic: Supplied)

In fact the ancient Greeks considered shedding a tear one of the greatest signs of true manliness. Hero Odysseus breaks down in tears regularly throughout his quest, once because he is so moved by a song. When he is reunited with his son Telemakhos we are told, “Salt tears rose from the wells of longing in both men, and cries burst forth from both as keen and fluttering as those of the great taloned hawk whose nestlings farmers take before they can fly. So helplessly they cried, pouring out tears.”

When my male presenters and I work with teen boys debunking myths around masculinity the myth that real men don’t cry is the one that has young lads hooked. They sit in awe listening to stories about other men they admire who have cried (from their own teachers to celebrities and sports stars).

Fifteen-year-old Jason summed up the feelings of many of his mates in his reflections on the workshop: “ I used to get so embarrassed when I cried and would quickly wipe my tears away and hide my face. I am going to try to just let the tears flow next time. I’m not a robot and that’s OK.”

It is more than OK. Too many men withdraw into their careers, try to drown their sorrows with alcohol, and punch rather than pause and deal with their swirling emotions. Perhaps it’s time more blokes embraced hashtags that give them permission to let their tears flow too.

How young men will help put an end to domestic violence

The following post was originally published by RendezView 15/10/15.

 

Like most Australians, every time I hear news reports about yet another woman who has died at the hands of her partner, I feel horrified.

And as at least one woman gets killed as a result of domestic violence every week, I find myself feeling horrified often.

But how does one move from anguish into something more constructive that might form part of the solution?

As an educator and author I’ve dedicated my career to date to working with young women; empowering them to know their worth, encouraging them to deconstruct limiting gender stereotypes and teaching them how to develop and maintain respectful relationships.

But putting an end to violence against women and children cannot just be the work of women; we desperately need the passion, creativity and hard work of good men too.

So when I joined a committed group of people in my local community working to establish a new domestic violence shelter in the Sydney suburb of Castle Hill, called The Sanctuary, I wanted to initiate a partnership with the largest boys’ school in the area, Oakhill College.

It is these lads who can help us ensure that one day, our refuge may no longer be needed. Because while shelters are focused on creating crisis accommodation for women and children, they are also focused on early intervention and prevention work.

This is why all 220 of the Year 10 boys who will be adopting The Sanctuary as their own were briefed about why a refuge is needed in their local area, and about what they as young men can do to help curb violence.

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This initiative was also featured in The Daily Telegraph 14/10

They then did further research — including looking at the underlying issues that drive domestic violence such as gender inequality and sexism — and started creating their own anti-DV posters they will carry when they join in our local White Ribbon march in November.

The boys will also now begin making up Welcome Packs (toiletries, chocolates, etc) that can be given to women and children as they arrive at the shelter. The attached gift card will simply read, “We care about you and we are glad you are safe. This gift is for you to show you that you’re valued.” This small act of kindness has the potential to have a huge impact for both the giver and the receiver.

Their English teachers have also now begun brainstorming ideas for how they can embed this work across their curriculum. The staff love the social justice focus and also the opportunity this creates for the application of learning in the real world.

And like with all projects that young people feel a sense of ownership over, it will evolve in ways none of us can even anticipate at this early stage. From the simple (the lad who approached me to say, “Danni, this really means a lot to me and if you want I’ll get some friends and go door knocking to get you more money”) to the more innovative (there’s talk of producing and performing plays, and of making film projects).

Why has the initial response from these boys been so positive?

The boys have been encouraged to realise they can be part of the solution.

When I first met these boys, I looked straight into their eyes and told them I knew they were gorgeous young men who felt just as distressed as I did by knowing not all women and children are safe in their own homes. And I told them I knew they would welcome the opportunity to learn and be voices of difference.

So often too we forget that in homes where there are violent men, there are young boys who are not violent. Rather, there are boys who feel scared. Boys who feel angry. Boys who feel powerless.

Boys who want to make things OK.

And while I am incredibly grateful for the enormous contributions of the women who work tirelessly in this field, in my community I have been inspired to see there are plenty of men who want to step up and make things OK as well.

There are fellow Sanctuary Board members, like Hills Local Area Commander Rob Critchlow, who helped get the ball rolling here by seeking out a location to establish a safe shelter and managing security concerns. And the Centre Manager for Castle Towers, Martin Ollis, who convinced his QIC Board to donate a fully refurbished property to The Sanctuary rent-free. There’s the Assistant Principal at Oakhill, Bob Munday, who jumped at the opportunity for his boys to be The Sanctuary’s advocates.

And there are these young men.

All are true champions for change. Their attitudes reaffirm that most men in Australia respect women and children and believe that the current culture of violence is unacceptable. And those who feel otherwise are discredited and put on notice.

Update 30/11 – I was asked to speak to Brisbane Breakfast FM radio 97.3 about this initiative for White Ribbon day. You may listen to this animated discussion here:

I don’t believe self-defence training is “victim blaming”. And I’m a feminist.

I’m a proud feminist. And I’m the CEO of Australia’s largest provider of in-school workshops for teen girls that help develop self-worth and resilience. And I promote self-defence classes to young women.

Here’s how, and here’s why.

The uncomfortable truth? Teen girls are likely to experience violence in their lifetime; this can occur in a wide range of contexts ranging from schoolyard bullying and peer based aggression, through to street based harassment and stranger intimidation, through to physical assault and sexual violence.

And while we all agree this is a situation that needs to be urgently addressed, where feminists disagree is on the kind of advice, if any, which should be given to girls given this reality.

Some argue passionately that any attempt to modify young women’s behaviours is in effect victim blaming, and that the onus on change must always be placed squarely and solely at the feet of those who would harm.

I agree that often the dialogue on what women should do to stay safe, particularly after high profile media reporting on the death of a woman, can become (sometimes unintentionally) focused on what women wear, where they choose to go, whether they chose to drink alcohol. It focuses on limiting women’s freedoms.

This is never helpful. This is never OK. And it tends to assume that men who would harm are strangers lurking in dark alleys, waiting for their next vulnerable victim. As the statistics on domestic violence here in Australia clearly show, this is not always the case.

However, if self-defence is framed within a context of unpacking victim blaming and emphasising why violence is always the fault and responsibility of the perpetrator, and never the fault or responsibility of the victim or survivor, it can do much to shift this type of thinking. In fact, at the end of our sessions, many girls have approached us to explain how for the first time they felt understood; “I’ve always felt like maybe I must have somehow been to blame for my boyfriend hurting me like that. I now know that it had nothing to do with me …”

Importantly too, there must be an emphasis on the fact that we must also never blame a victim who doesn’t (for whatever reason) act assertively or fight back when in a threatening situation. Any of us, even trained professionals in the army or police force, can freeze in the face of danger. By explaining the body’s instinctive fight, flight or freeze survival mechanism, again much can be done to alleviate victim blaming and shaming.

In this age of body-image angst, self-defence classes also challenge the myth that women’s bodies are merely ornamental. Girls can be fast, strong and powerful; they can set physical boundaries. They can take up more space.

And girls can learn how and when to set verbal boundaries: “Stop! I don’t like it!”. Self-defence classes encourage girls to find their voices which is in contrast to the passivity-push that would have us believe girls should be sugar, spice and all things nice; seen and not heard.

In addition, girls are encouraged to shout-out not just for themselves but for others too; we also teach ethical bystander behaviour. There is great strength in connecting girls to each other and in fostering a sense of sisterhood.

And let me tell you, girls love all of this. Our self-defence workshop would be one of the ones girls rave about the most in their evaluations of our work. There is always laughter, giggling and a real delight in feeling powerful rather than powerless.

Finally, there is plenty of evidence to show self-defence classes can be useful in certain contexts. After news of an English women who had been trained in martial arts beating her sex-attacker unconscious broke recently, journalist Rhiannon Lucy Cossett argued that it was her own knowledge of self-defence that had saved her in an attack too; “After fighting off my attacker … (I kicked, scratched, punched, wrestled him to the ground, and told him he was a motherf****r) … I am baffled as to why self-defence has become so apparently outmoded, because it helped me when I needed it most. I grew up with a mother who used to run workshops for women who were victims of domestic violence in South London. It was she who taught me to face my attacker kicking and screaming, and in doing so she saved my life.

“That’s not to say that I might not have frozen … you cannot predict how any human will react, and I speak only for myself — but I am baffled that it is not taught more in schools. Why not have kickboxing and martial arts in PE lessons? Ultimately, extra-curricular karate lessons proved more useful to me than netball ever did.”

And what do the schools we have worked with say?

I have had emails from three different school principals in the years since we have been running these courses thanking us for giving their students the information they needed when they were in a potentially dangerous situation. On all three occasions their girls had been harassed on trains and knew to follow their instincts, move away quickly and to let other adults around them know they were feeling unsafe. Importantly, they also knew it was not their fault that they had been targeted: “They felt angry rather than ashamed which is just as it should be.”

And I have had many, many messages from teen girls that have told me that they suspect knowing that it is OK to set boundaries (and how to do this assertively) has kept them safe in a myriad of different situations. Everything from being bullied in the playground by other students, to being cornered at a party by a guy they trusted who tried to coerce them into sex.

Doctors Jill Cermele and Martha McCaughey, women’s self-defence advocates and founders of site “See Jane Fight Back!” also argue: “Self-defence challenges the belief that rape is thwarted only by the perpetrator “coming to his senses”, through bystander interference, or divine intervention. “Yep. In a perfect world? It would not be necessary to focus on how women and girls can learn assertiveness and self-defence skills. But we do not yet live in that world.

And while the vital work to help curb violence continues, so too should the programs for girls and women that provide options and strategies for keeping safe.

Knowledge is power. And I choose to pass power on.

This post originally appeared in News Corp’s popular online opinion site RendezView. 

 

I gave a taxi driver a $50 tip. And it felt bloody amazing.

The following post was first published by News Corp’s  online opinion site RendezView.

I was also asked to discuss my work on installing gratitude in young people on Radio National’s Life Matters program this morning with Natasha Mitchell. It was an animated, enjoyable discussion which you can listen to here:

Dannielle Miller discusses “Gratitude – A positive new approach to raising thankful kids” on Radio Nationals’ Life Matters program, 2/7/15

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I recently did something incredibly selfish.

I was in Western Australia speaking at an education conference and had the most charming taxi driver on my trip to the venue. He was an older Croatian man. We spoke about his kids who are studying at uni, how hard he’s worked to get them there and how much he loves Australia.

He was so pleasant and professional that I asked him to collect me after the conference to take me back to the airport. Sure enough, five minutes ahead of schedule, there he was. Smiling and rushing to help me with my luggage.

As we resumed our conversation, I asked him if he’d ever had any frightening experiences as a driver. He told me he is often abused by drunk passengers who resent his accent. And that once, when a couple convinced him they would pay him when he got them an hour out of the city home, they then threatened his life and did a runner. He told me this with no anger, “It’s not worth my safety to make trouble. I wanted to get home for my kids. So I just drive back to the city. No fare for two hours that night.”

He certainly wasn’t trying to illicit my sympathy; he was merely sharing. He told me a few times how much he appreciated me just taking an interest in him and his family; “I work from 3am to 3pm. It can get lonely. Not many passengers want to talk to the driver nowadays. Most ignore you. Some talk but only to be rude.” Again, no resentment. Merely a look of resignation.

Yet I started to feel so sad for him; this hardworking, proud man. And sad for us. That we’ve become so busy, so judgmental, so insular that we no longer truly see others. There’s an old adage, “Never trust anyone who is rude to a waiter.” Or a taxi driver.

It was then that I decided what I would do.

When he dropped me off, I gave him a $100 tip. I wanted to pay the fare he’d been robbed of. I told him it was for me — not for him. So that I would smile all day and know that I’d shown him people can be good too. That not everyone wants to curse, belittle or take.

He was shocked. At first he refused the money. So we bargained. He finally accepted $50 when I told him that if he didn’t just take it I’d miss my plane. Then he cried. And then we hugged.

And I felt bloody amazing.

I often wonder if half the problem with our current understanding about acts of kindness, or demonstrations of gratitude, is the fact that the emphasis is usually only placed on how good the person being supported will feel.

But in all my research on gratitude it’s clear; it’s an absolute win-win. Giving helps us learn that everyone is interdependent. No matter how independent we are, we still have other people to thank for much of the good in our lives. And when it comes to what drives happiness and a healthy mental attitude, the research also clearly shows the standout is gratitude.

However, I don’t need data to know I received far more happiness from that $50 than I’ve ever felt from spending cash like that before.

Yes. A thankful heart is a connected, happy heart. And isn’t that all we ever really want? Belonging and happiness? Sometimes we get lost and think we will find what we need in buying more stuff. Or in our busyness. Or in telling ourselves that we matter more than others.

But the truth is, thankfully, far simpler.

 

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