"Joy and pleasure are as real as pain and sorrow and one must learn what they have to teach. . . ." -- Sean Russell, from Gatherer of Clouds

"If you're not having fun, you're not doing it right." -- Helyn D. Goldenberg

"I love you and I'm not afraid." -- Evanescence, "My Last Breath"

“If I hear ‘not allowed’ much oftener,” said Sam, “I’m going to get angry.” -- J.R.R. Tolkien, from Lord of the Rings

Sunday, February 08, 2009

Men With Men: Teachers and Lovers

The relationships I've dealt with so far in this series fall pretty much within the "comrades in arms" category, although one can see quite readily that the relationship between Alexias and Lysis in The Last of the Wine starts off as a different sort of thing entirely. (Graham Jackson, in The Secret Lore of Gardening: Patterns of Male Intimacy, does an excellent job of typifying the kinds of male/male relationships and also points up the power of the erotic in defining those relationships.) This kind of initiatory relationship is one that has an equal, if not stronger, grounding in human psychology: it's instructive to note that in Western society for the past hundred years or better, men have been taught how to be men by women, as a function of negative reinforcement: after all, the ideal father is never around, because he's out being a breadwinner.

To get a sense of how the initiatory relationship has functioned in earlier societies, I'll quote myself, in a description derived from Jackson's:

Jackson’s discussion of initiatory relationships, of which the example best-known to us is the custom of “man-boy love” (the institutionalized relationship of the erastes and eromenos) in Athens of the 4th and 5th centuries BCE, also brings in discussions and descriptions of similar practices among the ancient Albanians, Germans, and Celts, positing that this institution is perhaps an ancient Indo-European custom. The point of this was that the boy learned from his lover the ideals of citizenship, integrity and honor. Jackson takes as his archetype for these relationships the myth of Apollo and Hyacinthus, and bases his discussion on a description of the custom as practiced in Crete in the 4th century BCE: the youth was “abducted” in company with a group of his peers; the group spent two months in the bush hunting, feasting, and making love. On their return to the city, the man gifted his beloved with military gear (at this period a knight was automatically a citizen), an ox (signifying that now the youth had the right to make sacrifices, i.e., participate as an adult in the religious life of the community) and a goblet (symbolizing the youth’s readiness to participate in the civic and social life of the city, i.e., host a banquet). In the myth, Apollo is, of course, the mature yellow man, the Hellenist, while Hyacinthus is the Flower Boy. Jackson takes Hyacinthus’ death as symbolic of his passage from childhood to adulthood: it is the death of his adolescence.

Please note that the "boys" described here are older -- what the Greeks called "ephebes," boys in their later teens who were finished with their formal schooling and preparing to enter adulthood.

We don't have quite the same scenario these days, first because we are rapidly losing the institutionalized rituals that mark our life stages, particularlyl "coming of age" ceremonies, which have become so muted as to be nonexistent -- high-school graduation doesn't really mean anything any more in terms of where you are in your life. Secondly, we have become conditioned to look askance at any relationship between older and younger men, typifying as necessarily predatory -- although no one seems to object to old straight guys and their trophy wives.

And yet we have a model -- an idealistic one, but this whole discussion as been about ideals. I think any of us can point to relationships between younger and older men that have been firm and rewarding for both partners, and I think it really does become a partnership.

A more contemporary literary example, and one that I think has great relevance to the world we find ourselves in, is Yun Kouga's Loveless, an anime/manga series that I've dealt with briefly here, both the manga and, somewhat more thoroughly, the anime. (If you wonder why I keep basing these things on cartoons, just remember that graphic novels became "literature" in the 1980s, and if you care to look, you can find what's really there.) The relationship between Soubi, twenty years old, and Ritsuka, age twelve, is largely an initiatory relationship, but, unlike Lysis and Alexias, Ritsuka is being introduced to a world that is deceptive, ambiguous, and sometimes incomprehensible. He's also being introduced to love, which is something that he feels at this point, but can't yet name with any surety: it almost becomes a litany in places, "I want to see him, I don't want to see him" -- an indication of how conflicted he is about Soubi and about the whole tenor of his life right now. And, while there is no real sexual component to their relationship -- Soubi says quite firmly that he doesn't want to have sex with Ritsuka, at least until Ritsuka is older -- there is a strong element of physical affection and tenderness between the two. There is one very appealing scene in which Ritsuka, quite unbidden, gives Soubi a kiss before a spell battle, and then wonders "Was that right? Did I do it right?" If that doesn't say student-teacher, I don't know what does.

(As a footnote, it's interesting to see how often student-teacher relationships pop up in yaoi. This kind of relationship obviously strikes a chord.)

And it turns out that the key element of the initiatory relationship is the same as any other real love relationship: each partner must respect the other, else you have something much less. (Without getting into the pros and cons of S&M, bondage and discipline, master/slave, or any of the other role-playing fetishes, I just want to state firmly that I am committed to equal relationships with mutual respect as a necessary foundation. This is not to say that mutual respect is not part of those types of relationships, but simply that I don't think most people are up to it: that takes a much stronger and healthier ego than I usually see in the world these days.)

I think the key difference is that the older partner has a certain authority as mentor, and consequently a greater responsibility for the care of his partner: it's really like raising a child (something that I've always been afraid to undertake, for fear I would be inadequate, even though I know better) taken to the next stage.

This is one that deserves more exploration, and I don't have the resources on it right now. Any comments are welcome -- help jump-start my brain, why don't you?

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

I suspect there may be a generational shift happening about mentor relationships. When I first came out, forty-plus years ago, it was more than common for the older members of the gay community in even small towns to teach the newer members both directly and indirectly what was expected, what was acceptable, what was good or not good, in our lives as men and as gay men. I would say that well over half of the young gay men I met at the time were being mentored. Some of the relationships involved physical affection, some did not. I'll always be grateful to the men who mentored me. One in particular is still my dearest friend after all these years; we have dinner together frequently, we always try to arrange to see the barber on the same afternoon and then go for a drink or a meal afterward, we sometimes go to parties together or museums or films, we were lovers for a while, FBs for a while, consulted each other, whined to each other, he taught me a craft which I used to earn a living for twenty years, on and on. He is old enough to be my father, but he's also a friend and confidant. There is no more important male in my life and, as I said, I will be forever grateful for his taking me under his wing.

Hunter said...

I had a couple of older friends who brought me out and showed me the ropes, although we were never lovers. I wonder, with the way gay culture has mainstreamed itself, whether this kind of relationship is still so important, although I think a strong case can be made that, no matter how distinct or indistinct gay culture is, young gay men need mentors as much to validate themselves and their feelings as to learn the ropes. "Role models," I guess we'd call it, but they needn't be something as remote as a public figure. (That's also one reason I'm such an advocate for yaoi, remembering when I was growing up and couldn't find anything that even recognized my existence, much less validated my feelings.)