On Masculinity: What ‘Queer Eye’ Taught Me About Confidence, Strength, and Taking Care of Myself

I was fifteen years old when the original Queer Eye (For The Straight Guy) premiered, and I admit, I was strangely fascinated by the show. Its premise, its personalities, its messages: I was hooked, and I say “strangely” so because fifteen year old me couldn’t ever put his finger on why. I wasn’t grappling with (or even unsure of) my sexual identity, I couldn’t particularly relate to any of the Fab 5, I wasn’t super into interior design, or fashion, or even cooking for that matter; I chalked it up to a guilty pleasure, and that’s what I told everyone when they asked.

With that being said, I’ve always been someone who knows what I like. I think I was attracted to the fact that the original series was ahead of its time: that the whole show stood on a foundation of careful bravery, not only on the part of the Fab 5, but the individuals they made over, and frankly, the Bravo! television network for green-lighting the project.

I think I loved that television was showing me how men could care for other men, could learn from other men, could empathize and emote with other men in a way that (despite the fact that the show hinged on the sexual orientation of the Fab 5) wasn’t based on a sexual attraction. Queer Eye was there to help. I think I knew that men could care for each other, but I don’t think I understood that caring didn’t make them gay, and if they happened to be gay, that it didn’t need to matter.

The Queer Eye reboot confirmed all of my hunches. The mission is the same: to help, to give direction, and maybe, to instill a lasting positive influence on the lives of their participants, but the new Fab 5 are way more upfront about the importance of this being an emotional process; it’s about loving yourself, taking pride in who you are, exuding a sense of self-worth that can spill out into your world around you. I want to be careful with using words like “change” or “transformation” here, because it’s made abundantly clear that the Fab 5 aren’t miracle workers; that their mission isn’t to create a new man, but rather to unveil the man that’s been there all along, hidden. It’s the Netflix equivalent of our mothers reminding us that “you need to love yourself before you can love anyone else.”

This is this message that the new Queer Eye builds its premise upon, and it’s the reason I fell even more in love with the reboot than I did with the original series. I watched intently for moments of genuine connection. I was invested in the lives of men who were realizing, in between Jonathan’s quippy hair-care tips and Bobby’s coy interior design suggestions, that they might not actually have been taking care of themselves, allowing themselves to be vulnerable, taking pride in their positions, or connecting with friends and family. I was rooting for these men to succeed and seeing a little of myself in each of them.

The sadness here, is that some of these men may have needed to hear these compliments, criticisms, empowerments, and realities from a gay man (or, at least someone more perceivably in tune with their emotions) in order for them to take stock in it, and while this is a whole different conversation, it bears mentioning because while watching Queer Eye, I found myself grappling with the concepts of masculinity, fatherhood, and what it means to be a man, a husband, a brother, a friend.

We, as viewers, much like the show’s participants, aren’t watching to be transformed, but rather, to be reminded. Queer Eye’s success is in its ability to evoke the convictions that we are valuable, we are strong, we are important, we are meaningful, and while these qualities are by no means exclusive to men, they are essential to masculinity. We are no less men because we put product in our hair, dance, decorate our apartments, thoughtfully select daywear, allow ourselves to find joy in simple things, and take time out of our days to love ourselves. It is healthy, human, and downright necessary, but easy to forget.

Season one of Queer Eye empowered me, taught me valuable lessons, and opened my eyes. It affirmed that who I am is greater than the sum of my parts, but reminded me that my parts need upkeep, polish, and sometimes, a little tender loving care.

Low Maintenance Doesn’t Mean No Maintenance (It’s Okay To Take Time For Yourself)

I am a man whose closet doesn’t have enough pieces to be organized by color, and the “product” in my bathroom is limited to a bar of soap, a bottle of shampoo, and a tube of toothpaste. I affirmed for years that this was my version of “simple elegance,” and while I don’t expect to go on a shopping spree anytime soon, I recognize that there is a fine line between leading a low maintenance lifestyle, and neglecting yourself. As Jonathan reminded me, “It’s not vanity, it’s self-care, there’s a difference.”

My entire adult life, like many men, I have taken an immense pride in my beard. It is equally a part of my outward appearance and my personality: consistent though mostly unassuming, pillow-like in appearance but rough to the touch, perpetually matted down, and at times unruly. Queer Eye opened my eyes to a disconnect: that I literally wasn’t taking care of one of the parts of my life in which I held the most pride, most mornings even neglecting to pass a comb through it. I vowed, maybe sillily enough, that if I was going to start really taking care of myself, that I should start with my beard.

I researched. I learned about beard balms, butters, oils, softeners, finishes, the importance of a boar’s hair brush; I found beard blogs, and I swear I read them all. I discovered that Target has almost half an aisle dedicated to facial hair grooming, and it’s way more than just shaving cream and razors. Armed with my newfound knowledge and a dedication to the maintenance of my manhood, I spent nearly a half hour in that aisle, wheeling my cart back and forth out of the way of other shoppers while I toiled over my options. I reluctantly settled on a beard oil and a beard balm, wondering if I would actually find time in my morning routine to use them, and whether or not I had just wasted thirty dollars, but if I was being honest with myself, I was equally excited.

The next morning, after my shower, I used my new self-care products, feeling a mix of silliness and exhilaration. My beard looked good. I looked good, and I immediately sent a selfie to my wife. My efforts were rewarded less than an hour later when I got to work and two seperate co-workers complimented me on my beard, saying how full and healthy it looked. My confidence skyrocketed later that day when a complete stranger on the sidewalk said “nice beard,” (a compliment afforded to me by complete strangers on only the rarest of occasions) and on my way home, I found myself trying to come up with ways to sound convincing when I’d tell my wife about how on the very first day of putting product in my beard that I earned three honest compliments, and it only took two minutes in front of the mirror.

I’m a full week into paying my beard those extra two minutes in the morning, and while the compliments have slowed, my confidence hasn’t. I found a way to elevate an aspect of myself in which I already held immense pride. I bettered my beard; I bettered myself.

Cooking Is Caring (And Why You Should Cook For Yourself)

Queer Eye confirmed another conviction of mine: everyone loves food.

Antoni reminds us that food serves an array of purposes, and more than being necessary for survival, food, and the means in which we create it, is a gift.

Home cooking is proof of an investment of time. You cook your meals; you have to make them. They’re a gift we can’t pay an extra five dollars to have someone gift-wrap for us. When we cook for our loved ones we’re making attentive choices that display how much we care: the ingredients we choose, the flavors we blend, the drinks we pair them with, and the way we’re able to laugh, bond, converse, and gather around them. A thoughtfully prepared meal could take an hour start to finish, but the end result isn’t only a delicious gesture, it’s a way of saying “you’re worth the time it took to prepare this meal, and the time we’ll spend together enjoying it.”

I’ve had friends ask me for an hour of my time and literally rolled my eyes, but I wouldn’t think twice about spending an hour cooking if it meant my family enjoyed a delicious meal. And more than that, cooking is something loved ones and I can do together.

Culturally, our traditions culminate in crowded kitchens and around tables covered in a myriad of serving bowls. Our first dates feature displays of culinary “expertise,” even if our repertoire is one tried-and-true recipe we save for special occasions. There are recipes, almost sacred, passed down from generation to generation. And even when we decide to take a night off from cooking, we spend so much time deliberating which restaurants are worthy of our hard earned dollars and precious nights out.

The food we see Antoni prepare on Queer Eye isn’t complicated or fancy, but he reminds us that we can take pride in simple things like guacamole, mac n’ cheese, and hot dogs. There are even ways to elevate our favorite comfort foods, and whether we’re preparing a family feast, a romantic dinner for two, or a bachelor meal in front of the television, a little extra thought goes a long way. We cook for our loved ones, oftentimes forgetting that we’re included in that group.

It’s okay to cook for yourself, you deserve it. Quality ingredients, natural flavors, healthy foods, and home cooking shouldn’t be reserved for special occasions. It only takes a little extra commitment, and you’re worth it.

Be Yourself (And Take Pride In That Person)

When Bobby re-designs a room he isn’t gutting everything and starting from scratch. He takes the participant’s personal tastes and style into account, and recreates the space from its already established themes. Tan’s fashion doesn’t feature outfits that the participants wouldn’t naturally wear, but rather he nudges them in slightly more adventurous directions in an effort to compliment what they already feel comfortable wearing and help draw the attention to the man, rather than the clothing. Tan even goes so far as so say that he hates “fashion” because fashion is constantly changing, but our personal style is who we are, and that’s something we can shape, tweak, and build upon over time.

The Fab 5 aren’t doing anything for these men that they couldn’t do for themselves. They’re merely showing them the direction in which to walk, and holding their hands for the first week of their newly refined lifestyle. They aren’t changing these men, they’re revealing the value, the strength, the style, the passion, the man that had become bogged down in a lifestyle of, in most cases, repetition and self apathy for so long.

It’s easier said than done, but we are reminded to be ourselves, and to be proud of that person. It takes a whole lot more than a pep-talk from Karamo, or some framed photographs in your living room, but the point may very well be that a positive sense of self-worth isn’t easy; it takes effort and maintenance, and we’re never finished. Who we are evolves over time, and we owe ourselves continued care. We have nothing to be ashamed of or embarrassed by, and on the contrary, our quirks and our pleasures (guilty, or otherwise) are essential to who we are, and deserve to be embraced.

Confidence is Sexy (But Really, Really Hard), Eye Contact is Everything & Vulnerability is Strength

Jonathan says it simply, and best, in episode two: “Allowing yourself to be vulnerable is the biggest show of strength.” What Jonathan doesn’t say is that allowing yourself to be vulnerable is extremely difficult. It’s counter-intuitive to expose a weakness or admit a failure. These are the moments we walk away from, we shut down in; they make us angry and upset, and it’s no small task to overtake them.

This idea, that vulnerability is strength, hinges on our self confidence. We cannot allow ourselves to be vulnerable if we cannot be completely sure that we are safe even though we feel uncomfortable; that we are strong, and we can rely on our strength to overcome vulnerability. We cannot open ourselves to others without first being completely sure of what it is we’re showing them. We must be confident in our ability to be asked questions that we might not know the answers to, to do things that we’ve never done before, and to allow ourselves to experience emotions that we aren’t used to.

Confidence is born from experience, acceptance, and a willingness to learn.

First and foremost, this requires an immense amount of work. It requires that we know ourselves, inside and out. It requires a fair amount of concessions, and the acceptance that there are tasks we will be called upon to complete in which we will struggle, and that it will be okay. It requires a willingness to leave your comfort zone; a willingness to laugh at ourselves; a willingness to ask for help — we can only grow from first hand experiences that test us and allow us to learn from our mistakes.

It requires a pride in ourselves that says, “despite my shortcomings (nay, because of them) I am comfortable with who I am, and my ability to adapt,” “I am steadfast in my convictions, so much so that I can allow you to be steadfast in yours,” “I know my value, and if you cannot appreciate it, it is a reflection of your insecurities, not mine.”

With this confidence, we can follow Karamo’s sage advice: “Stand straight, shoulder back, and don’t forget, eye contact.”

Lasting Change

It remains to be seen, and honestly we may never know, if the Fab 5 are able to create lasting change in the lives of the eight participants from season one. They may have some new furniture and clothing, a fresh coat of paint in the living room, and a few new products for their hair, but are they truly transformed? Is there a new man where the old one once stood, or rather, have these eight men had the proverbial dust shaken from their lives in a way that can afford them a return to glory?

As a viewer, I didn’t get a makeover physically, but I feel truly enlightened after watching the new Queer Eye. I feel like I understand; I really get it. It’s about loving yourself the same way you love those around you. It’s about confidence, and taking pride in who you are. It’s about allowing yourself to be vulnerable, to have fun, to smile, and feeling comfortable in your own skin. It’s about allowing yourself to be sensitive, and affected by the world around you. It’s about maintenance, and upkeep, and setting aside a little time for yourself, all while realizing it’s not selfishness: it’s self-care, and that by embracing these gestures you allow them to enhance your manhood, not emasculate you.

You are a provider, a protector, a caregiver, a mentor, an entertainer, a friend, and you deserve to be all of these things for yourself, too.

Is it a small task? Absolutely not.

Was there a strong, confident, sexy, capable man here all along? Yas, queen! Yas!

from Handpicked stories about Culture on Medium https://medium.com/@andrewchmielowiec/on-masculinity-what-queer-eye-taught-me-about-confidence-strength-and-taking-care-of-myself-28491afbb9e9?source=rss-------8-----------------culture
via Warrington