Masculinity at The Edge

I'm at the edge of masculinity.

I mean that quite literally. The kind of man I am is epitomized by The Edge, the guitarist of rock band U2. I realized this about two years ago, while watching a U2 concert DVD with some friends. I realized my buddy was U2's lead singer Bono--a front man, often the center of attention, someone who thrives in the spotlight. And that I was The Edge--off to the side, happy to harmonize, the man behind the music.

Not being an alpha male hasn't always felt great. But I'm increasingly Ok with an Edgelike masculinity. My society and I are gradually realizing that guyhood at the edges is more than Ok. In many ways, it's central.

***

Categories like alpha vs. non-alpha males are messy and in many ways fluid. My friend Dana points out that in any group of nerdy guys playing Dungeons & Dragons, someone typically will try to assume the role of dominant male. Still, I think we can define alphas as men who generally seek out and seize leadership status. These guys exist--often winding up as CEOs, politicians and sports stars.

And in my 42 years as an American man, I've noticed various kinds of non-alpha males. There are geeks, who are typically peripheral growing up because of their social awkwardness or others' jealously of their smarts. There are men who consciously opt out of the social rat race as much as possible, solitudinal types that might be artists or curmudgeons. Then there are the emotionally sensitive males. The fellows who used to be called "nice guys" and lately have been dubbed "emo" men. However you want to name the category, I'm in there.

We emo-men aren't totally excluded as geeks or loners might be, but neither do we live at the center of attention. At times we may tangle with alphas to lead. But we often fall short, lacking charisma or athletic prowess or confidence. We may pull punches in social jousting because we emphathise with the other parties. We're supporter types. Less competitive than cooperative. Lovers more than fighters.

Some signs of my emo/edge-hood: I've rooted for the underdog as long as I can remember. In elementary school, I irked our visiting Congressman, the former Jack Kemp, by saying communism's philosophy of sharing sounded pretty good. Amid concerns about date-rape in college, I became a sexual harassment peer-educator. Although I've had opportunities to be the top dog at organizations like my college newspaper and a labor union at the Oakland Tribune chain of newspapers, I chose lieutenent-like roles.

To be sure, I've been plenty insensitive over the years. A jerk to girlfriends. Indifferent to a high school pal lower on the social pecking order. Unsympathetic at times to my young son and daughter.

But the callousness has had a lot to do with self-dissatisfaction. With frustration that I wasn't an alpha male. After all, I've grown up in a culture that has lionized the head lion, the solitary hero-winner. As a result, even to this day, I feel some regret and shame that I've been such a behind-the-scenes guy--that I didn't seize the chance to be editor in chief of my college student newspaper, to be president of the newspaper union, to be outright captain of a work softball team I resurrected with a colleague.

It also has gnawed at me that I have never won a championship as an athlete. Compounding the pain is the fact that the times I came closest to such a victory, I was among the leaders or the clear leader in terms of skills. In each case, team sports all, there were plenty of factors beyond my control that helped determine the outcome. But I have tended to view those losses through the frame of the potential hero--me--who chokes in the clutch. The alpha also-ran.

These experiences have intensified, if not caused, an inclination to doubt myself. And at times they have fed a vicious circle, of self-consciousness sabotaging performance, leading to additional doubts. The other night, my wife, Rowena, son, Julius, and daughter, Skyla, came to watch me play basketball for the first time. I wanted to make them proud. Instead, I immediately flopped, missing my first five shots.

So deeply have I identified as as a failed alpha that my devotion to underdogs has a subcategory: underdog alphas. They're people like former basketball player Patrick Ewing. Figures who are outstanding but never quite live up to expectations, never win the big one. New York Yankees baseball player Alex Rodriguez fit this category until this year's World Series. Despite years of cheering against the Yankees and the unfair way they buy talent, I rooted for them and reveled in Rodriguez' redemption as they won.

I also have faulted myself for not feeling comfortable with the competitive bantering you often find amid guys. The trash talk that runs across socio-economic and racial lines, that I've encountered in professional circles, on the basketball court and with some close friends.

One night recently, Rowena and I were talking about alpha vs. emo-male issues. "You're more comfortable in groups of women," she observed.

It's true. I have repeatedly surrounded myself with gaggles of females through work and through social circles. My current writing group, for example, is composed of me and four women I worked with at the Oakland Tribune chain of papers.

Rowena meant no harm with the comment, but it stung. A sexist and dated but nonetheless strong presumption in our culture is that being held in high regard by women is of little worth. That it is men's views that matter.

I hate this idea. But it has some power over me. What's more, when Rowena spoke those words, I immediately pictured myself as one of the "groomer" bonobo monkeys I'd learned about years ago. The groomer are males who tend to hang out with the females of the group, combing their fur. They get their share of sex with females, but it is on the sly, while alpha-male monkeys are duking it out.

I told Rowena about my bonobo association. "That's embarrassing," I said. "Groomers are cowardly. They're deceptive."

"But you're not doing things out of sight," Rowena responded. "Other guys can see you."

***

That helped me reframe the issue. Right. I am comfortable with women. Some alpha guys with few communication skills or little emotional intelligence might actually be jealous of that. I remembered that at my latest writer's group meeting, one of the women had joked that the group amounted to my "harem." It's not a bad place to be, really, in the middle of your own harem.

That epiphany is part of a broader way I've come to make peace with my emo-male personality in recent years. I've come to love "teamy" teams that I play on or watch. At my weekly basketball game a few Sundays ago, I was part of a squad that won a game despite playing a team with the top three scorers in our group of regulars. The key to our success was unselfish play: togetherness on defense and lots of passing to open players for easy baskets. Our opponents were done in by selfish play: not enough ball movement or collective efforts on defense.

Of course, that's the potential trouble with being an alphadog. You can slide into arrogance. Vanity. To being a boor--and being ineffective as a result. That was part of my problem the other night at basketball. I tried to do too much in front of my family. While my strengths are defending well and hustling for rebounds and loose balls, I tried to be "The Man" on offense. Only when I stopped worrying about impressing my wife and kids did I settle into a flow with teammates and start making baskets.

Even though we can try too hard to be alpha-ish, emo-edgers like me also have to fight the temptation to be timid. I have been afraid of the responsibilities and potential failure of being an outright leader. Timidity in my case also includes fear of physical violence. I've always been rather scrawny, and my legacy as a brawler is abysmal.

A skinny frame helps explain why the superhero I found fascinating growing up was Green Lantern. Green Lantern's power came not from his body but from a tool--a ring that allowed him to do things such as fly, create a force field and blast plasma bolts at enemies. Utterly buff Superman was too far a stretch for me to identify with, despite his mild-mannered alias Clark Kent. And Batman, though brainy, relied too much on his fists when battling baddies.

I think I also dug Green Lantern because he had a non-alpha-ness to him. He was part of a group of equals. Earth's Green Lantern was one of a number of Green Lanterns that made up an inter-galactic police force. There's always been an undercurrent of competition between those alpha-heros Superman and Batman, even when they joined forces against evil-doers. But Green Lantern never seemed to care about having to be top-dog.

***

Neither does The Edge. I didn't realize how true this was until I saw the movie It Might Get Loud earlier this year. The film revolves around a gathering of three famous rock guitarists: U2's Edge, Jimmy Page of Led Zeppelin and Jack White, formerly of The White Stripes. Differences between emo- and alpha-malehood are on vivid display. Jack White is classic alpha. Everything to him is a fight. As the camera follows him prior to the actual encounter, he reveals he wants to trick the other two into giving up their secrets. Page and The Edge, though, are all about the experience. They come in with an openness to learn from the others, with a cooperative spirit.

In the broader profile of The Edge that emerges in the movie, it's clear this attitude is fundamental to him and has been for years. He recounts that at one of U2's first concerts held at their old school, he took up a spot on the side of the stage. "I've been there ever since," he says.

You can imagine such a statement tinged with regret or shame. Not in his case. He seems entirely at peace with his edgeness.

By one definition, at the edge you are not central. But looked at differently, you may be profoundly so. An edge is always a border to something else. And intersections are often where the most interesting stuff happens. In their book See New Now, authors Jerry de Jaager and Jim Ericson cite a study finding that of the top 50 transformative innovations over a hundred-year period, nearly 80 percent were sparked by someone whose primary expertise was outside the field of the breakthrough.

Edges lead into new territory. U2's Edge has done that with the band's music--riffing off punk and playing with digital effects to establish a distinctive, ringing sound. And he's been instrumental beyond his instrument. Enraged by political violence in Ireland, a songwriting effort of his resulted in Sunday, Bloody Sunday--one of the most energetic refutations of violence in pop music and one of songs that launched the band into stardom.

Being on the cutting edge is probably what The Edge (really David Howell Evans) had in mind when he chose that moniker. The fact that he opted for a brash stage name is a reminder that we emo men have egos--we may not be alphas but we like attention too.

And the world, increasingly, is giving it to us. The release of It Might Get Loud itself is a sign that Americans and others across the globe are recognizing the value of more emotionally attuned, more collaborative maleness. Facebook and other popular social networking tools emphasize the power of communication and connectedness. Hyper competitiveness is under fire in the wake of a recession caused largely by an unregulated free market and to some extent by fraudulent alpha financiers like Bernie Madoff. The you're-on-your-own years of the Bush administration, as well as increased awareness of the perils of climate change have given rise to a more collective sensibility. Barak Obama is ambitious and a competitor, but he's got a heavy dose of emo in him as seen by his penchant for diplomacy and bipartisanship.

In business, it's widely accepted that a command-and-control leadership style--the overly alpha CEO--is less effective than a persuasive, inclusive approach. In sports, researchers in recent years have highlighted how crucial contributions can be from non-superstars. Houston Rockets basketball player Shane Battier, for example, isn't first in any league statistics like scoring or rebounding. But it turns out his presence on the court dramatically improves the performance of his team, because he does things like keeping the other team's best rebounder from grabbing the ball.

There's even a Green Lantern movie planned for 2011.

For sure, there are counter-trends to the all the love shown to emo, edge guys. Look at the popularity of the raw--some would say savage--contests of Ultimate Fighting. Or complaints that American men are being emasculated by an increasingly metrosexual culture.

But you might say we're recognizing an edge-is-central truth. Edge-like, Green Lantern-like, me-like guys are important. We don't always seek the spotlight. But we deserve our share of it.