"No Fear . . ." bumper sticker I admire the irony of the adage: “no fear.” Nothing could be further from the truth. Probably the greatest secret teenage boys keep is that they’re scared. They don’t act like it, but that is it: it’s an act. Despite all the bravado, prancing and preening, cool postures, and reckless behavior, the fact is they are afraid. It just happens to be the last thing they’re going to admit . . . and the most important thing they cover up. Teenage boys will do everything they can to steer the grownups clear of the fact that their scared. All the bluster, obnoxiousness, withdrawal, and claims to independence distract the adults from recognizing the boys are afraid. Unfortunately, all to often the grown-ups believe the act, or at least don’t know what else to do. Works fine for the boys. They don’t have to get real. In the code of boyhood, being afraid is absolutely unacceptable. Boys learn this early in life and develop a perfectly functional dramas to avoid it. “I don’t care.” “Whatever.” “Doesn’t matter.” I’ve never met a boy who didn’t deny being afraid, who didn’t put on a show to attract attention away from being afraid. It’s an inherent part of the traditional masculine model and the cultural consensus is to condone an image of masculinity absent of fear. Boys learn it early, and their play practices the model. When the boys hit adolescence, the trouble gets more serious. The closer they get to age of manhood, the strain accelerates. The bind between the reality of their inner lives and their particular brand of the masculine image takes its toll. It shows up in their behavior, and slows down their real progress into maturity. The denial of fear and its transmutation into other behavior is ubiquitous: below the radar screen for the boys. I worked with a high school junior who had a very challenging go of it in school since first grade. A great guy, he became a hard worker because he wanted to graduate. Still, he was drowning in his math class. He paid attention, did his homework and turned it in, but he was failing. When we talked about it he said, “I just have a hard time understanding some of this stuff.” I said, “why don’t you ask the teacher for help?” Perfectly reasonable question from an adult point of view. First he looked at me, then dropped his eyes to the floor without a word. I nodded my head and said, “afraid. I understand that.” His head popped back up and he looked at me quizzically [sp]. I went on, “how many guys do you see strolling up to the teacher either during class or afterwards asking for help?” He answered, “none.” I continued, “ever?” and he said, “never.” I put my hands up in the air and said, “boys don’t do that do they. God forbid they show that they don’t know or understand something. They’d look weak or stupid (or both).” He smiled big time and said, “that’s the truth.” I went on, “so why should you be different from everyone else? Of course you’re going to be afraid to look weak or stupid. You going to strut on up there confidently in front of everyone else and ask the teacher for help, right?” He laughed and said, “no way.” I finished with, “being afraid of feeling weak or looking stupid is stopping you from doing what is good for you. You want to live the rest of your life like that?” Part of the process into manhood is challenging fear, pressing the pedal past the speed limit, dropping dangerous drugs, . . . an urge to push the edge . . . the presence of constant competition with peers to, at the minimum, appear fearless, and at maximum, to never turn away from a dare or challenge. Losing face is a fundamental fear that is never admitted to. The reality is, the boys’ bravado leads to virtually no growth. There is no systematic, elder directed, visionary process to move them through fear to a deeper, more mature sense of confidence and purpose. Their games are real, but ultimately frivolous. Bottom line: they’re still afraid when the game is over. What are they afraid of? First and foremost, of fear itself. The roots of this spring of boyhood. In a nutshell, there is no place in the masculine image for fear. A man is fearless and a boy is a man in the making. The positive cultural and social context for a boy being afraid is absent; so there is no acceptable experience of fear for boys. God forbid they should be afraid. The absence of a positive cultural context places fear in the Shadow: the hidden, unacknowledged aspect of the human personality. The boys enter adolescence and the proverbial wazoo hits the fan. Everything changes as they emerge from a world of dominated by imaginary play into a reality focused on exploring the world and an omnipresent social context. Fear is inherent in change and in adolescence, it appears that everything changes because their context shifts. Amidst the general fear, I track four significant trends. First of all, dragons don’t have a clue as to who they are and where they stand. Their boy identity won’t hold in the cutthroat competitive culture of teenage boys. Who they are in relation to their peers is as unstable as can be: even “good friends” can turn on you at the drop of a hat. There is a constant up and down in the teenage boy world. He may be popular one minute, not the next, in with one group of friends, then he doesn’t belong. Friends are friends one day, but quite possibly not the next week. Their behavior belies they’re afraid. Dragons resort to all kinds of shenanigans including acting absolutely obnoxious, super-cool, butt-kissing, and the cutup clown to fill a role. For many, it is fit in at all costs. For others, it is find a quiet niche where no one will bother you. And there are always some who make their stand by not fitting in at all. I’ve worked with boys who recoiled at the constant competition for nothing and took on a persona to keep people away. They’d take on a social manner and/or dress pretty much guaranteed to ostracize themselves from the other kids. It was a painful form of self-protection: they were frightened to the point of self imposed exclusion. Adding to this confusion is the terror of girls. Most boys are absolutely lost in knowing who they are in relation to girls. Watching their show will mislead you. Whether they’re first-rate flirts or way-behind wallflowers, their self-concept and image is fraught with fantasy and peril. They’re plain scared. A very bright and articulate thirteen year old I saw had a well-established reputation as a smart, geeky nerd. He was very comfortable with it. His position was secure in his opposition to the “popular” kids (referred to as “idiots”) and identification with the other smart nerds. This boy exuded self-importance and confidence. One problem. Girls paid no attention to him whatsoever and the role of a smart, geeky nerd afforded few opportunities or means for talking with them. Plain and simple, he was as awkward as a fish climbing a tree when it came to girls and, like most thirteen year old boys, he wanted a girlfriend. One day, after I asked him what was on his mind, he sheepishly answered, “how do I learn about girls?” He was terrified. Even the so-called cocky, self-assured studs are scared. They put on a great show and tell to try and score, but are lost dogs either after they've "won" and/or in trying to relate in any personal, meaningful way. Why should they be scared of girls? Because girls have feelings, because girls elicit feelings in the boys which they are fundamentally embarrassed and confused about, because girls relate to and act on their feelings entirely differently than boys, and because girls are interested in relating and boys are interested in winning. They’re lost and scared. So they do what boys do when their scared: act cool, tough, nonchalant, withdraw, and disinterested. It’s an act. They’re scared. Dragons are deeply afraid of the future. They’re scared of what it will bring and they don’t want to grow up and become men. This is not small potatos: it is profound and significant. A high school senior told me right after he turned eighteen, “I’m not interested in growing up. I’m going to play for as long as I can.” When I asked him when he thought he would be ready, he answered, “oh, maybe when I turn 26 or something. I don’t really want to be a grown man. What fun is that going to be?” Another eighteen year old boasted “I should be able to do whatever I want. I’m eighteen and I should be able to make my own decisions, go wherever I want, whenever I want and not have to answer to anybody. Why should I have to listen to his [father’s] rules.” I looked him straight in the eye and said, “well why don’t you do that? Why don’t you just go live your life as you want?” He became very quiet, leaned forward in his chair and returning my look said quietly, “I’m scared.” I softly answered, “I’ll bet you are.” “I don’t know how I’d support myself? What am I going to do, work at Mc Donalds? How will I live. I’m used to having a really good life.” Even a thirteen year old told me, “I want to stop things at seventeen or eighteen. Just before high school graduation. That would be perfect. I can drive, go wherever I want, be around my friends, but not have to be responsible for anything. Not have to work and support myself. That would suck.” It’s not just that the image of being a man is unappealing (which it is to most of them), it’s that their afraid of it. They aren’t confident they can do it, scared of “responsibilities” and afraid of the “boredom.” It’s not limited to young men who may be challenged academically or struggling socially. The fear is pervasive, including the bright, talented, and socially active ones. And it will be the absolutely last thing they are going to show adults, especially their parents. They put on a fool’s parade. Unfortunately, the important grown ups in their lives are too often fooled and drawn into the drama. Dragons are constantly demanding more freedom, determined to decide for themselves, and chastising parents and teachers for interfering and not understanding. They boast that grown-ups are unnecessarily restrictive, hopelessly out of touch with their reality, or just plain stupid. Their mouths and behavior claim, “if you’d only leave me alone and let me do what I want to do everything will be fine.” The boy was sixteen years old when I met him. He smoked a fair amount of marijuana, drank his share of beer, smoked cigarettes and swore like a sailor. After working together individually for a couple of months, he agreed to include his parents to resolve their conflicts. In a typically very heated session, I listened as the dragon ruthlessly berated his parents for their “ridiculous” curfew. Twelve thirty on the weekends was outrageous when every other boy stayed out at least until 2:00am if not later. This wasn’t the first time I witnessed the onslaught of profanity and abusiveness from this fellow. Mom cried her eyes out and the dad chomped at the bit, rubbing his right fist in his left hand. Their reactions fueled his vehemence. I matter of factly said to the boy, “if it is so bad, why don’t you move out?” He bellowed, “yea, I’m gonna move out you xz&#%$.” I commented, “you come in here week after week and tell them what awful parents they are and how they’re ruining your life. You’re sixteen. Why don’t you just take yourself up to the county seat, go to the clerk’s office and file papers for emancipated minor status and get on with your life?” “Yea,” he shouted again. “I’m outa here. I’m gonna live with a friend and stop this . . .” Dad looked up at me from across the room and said, “oh we can’t do that. We have financial obligations." He was referring to the insurance payments on his son’s truck. I looked back at him and said, “if he moves out, you won’t have those financial obligations anymore.” “OOHHHhh,” he responded. The boy sat up like he had a rocket in his rear-end. “Hey, wait a minute. What’s going on here?” I said, “if it’s so bad, why don’t you move out.” It got really quiet in the room. That boy was no more ready to move out than I was to become a brain surgeon. He was all bluster, show, and bravado and totally incapable of providing for himself and living a responsible adult life. Moving out was pure fantasy . . . and so was all of his strength. The only “appearance” of strength he had came from the fourth and vital area: his relationships with his parents. Dragons are afraid of having more emotional power than their parents. Don’t believe me? Surprise! It’s a half-truth that they revel in being disrespectful and humiliating their parents. It’s a game. One with very high stakes. And it’s one the grown-ups play unwittingly and, from the boy’s point-of-view, lose with remarkable frequency to everyone’s disadvantage. Take the example I just described. This volatile scene reoccurred in my office every week and in their home almost daily. The parents are simply asking their son to comply with what they consider are reasonable expectations and getting upset when he’s defiant. For the boy, when they lose it, he thinks, “Ha! They aren’t acting any more grown up than I am. They can’t handle their feelings any better than I can. In fact, worse because I can push them around. This is being an adult? This is it, the end of the maturity train? Great, so what have I got to look forward to? This isn’t right. I don’t like it. That’s scary!” So the reasonable question is, “if they don’t like it so much, how come they keep doing it?” Because they’re past the point in their lives where simply being compliant creates more maturity. It has the opposite effect. The way they see it, scary as it is , it’s the only game in town and they’re masters at it. Unless the grown-ups give them a reason to change, they aren’t going to give it up. The reality is, their dragon behavior is communicating fear and calling for responses which will encourage their moving into mature manhood. It is time for a different game. ©2008, Ted Braude Related: Issues, Books, Bumper Stickers: Know Fear and No Fear, No Tears, Die Numb Youth is wholly experimental. - Robert Louis Stevenson
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