how rewatching dragon ball is healing my inner child and redefining masculinity
I am thinking a lot about masculinity. We live in a world where the definition of what it means to be a man is in flux. A dizzying kaleidoscope of colors and shapes. Some of them resonates and reverberations of sexism and patriarchy, and others a liberating visage of whatâs to come. Some of the questions on my mind are how I can be non-binary and a man at the same time? How can inner-child work reconnect me with the little boy inside? What can I learn from my inner-boy self? And, how can I be a father to the little boy inside of me?
can i be non-binary and male at the same time? âyes, andâ decolonial gender
I was assigned male at birth, but my gendered journey has been fraught with confusion and delusion. As many of us will tell you, growing up different, we are marked as deviant long before we understood what âgayâ or âlesbianâ means. Many queer kids grow up experiencing a disconnection between our âselfâ and what the world expects us to be.
At the age of twelve, I came out to my newly found middle-school clique of weirdos made up almost entirely of girls that were also discovering their own queerness and sprouting leaves of feminist sensitivities. Goddexx graced me with other kids who were open and accepting. I began to identify with my femininity and to distance myself from patriarchal masculinity. I am blessed to experience my adolescence in this way and to be given feminist language, queer desires, and trans freedoms to resist the suffocating binds of binary patriarchal gender.
In college, I had a professor, a lovely and wise queer Ugandan. About five feet tall with a buzz cut and an inviting playful smile. I told my professor that I was non-binary and Dr. Tushabe gave me that decolonial look. The one that says âmmm, try harder.â They asked, âwhat does non-binary mean to you?â Dr. Tushabe is a master at asking the kinds of questions that sit with you for years.
For now, I think of identifying as non-binary as a political identity that resists and transforms. It is understanding gender as fluid. It is recognizing the myths of gender and living within the reality of gendered being. It is yes, and; It is no, but. Lately, it is mostly a process of healing. It is recognizing that I grew up with a phantom for a father. It is learning that the hate I grew for him, also gave root to the hate I grew for myself. It is knowing my feminine energy and my masculine energy and having honor and respect for them both. It is being a make-up wearing femme-butch daddy bear enby. It is knowing that the words that describe todayâs identity might not fit tomorrowâs identity.
healing through the practice of forgiveness and acknowledging my fatherâs boy-ness.
Have you ever had to forgive someone that hurt you in ways you havenât even fully processed? Itâs difficult, messy and a lot of work.Â
My dad left (the first time) when I was a sensitive and vulnerable little boy. I was only five years old, and I had just started school. He was my favorite person in the world. I had so much love for him.
I didn't realize it then, but my relationship with my dad would be completely different during my boyhood than during my teen years. There is so much hurt that would infect our relationship. I was raised to not use the word âhateâ lightly. But when I was a teen, I told my mom that I hate my dad. And I meant it.
My dad died a little over a decade ago. He visited me in my dreams a while back, and I learned a lot about his own broken boyhood. I now understand that he wasnât taught how to love. He wasnât given loving and tender fathering.
A close friend of mine asked me to figure out what I loved about him because he makes up 50% of who I am â if I canât find love for him, then I canât find it for myself either.
He was creative in ways I will never get to fully understand. He always had music playing. He liked to dance. He liked to be outside with nature, and when I was a boy, he gave me space to explore. Although he was far from perfect, he tried to provide for me in ways that his father did not provide for him.
In my dream he gave me two pairs of tennis shoes and told me he was sorry. Later, before I told my mom about my dream, she told me a story that created space for forgiveness. My dad told her that when he was a little boy, he had worn out his shoes. When he told his dad he needed a new pair, his dad refused to buy him any. He went around barefoot for months.
He didnât give me everything I needed. I didnât receive the love and support I needed from him. He didnât teach me the things that fathers should teach their sons. But he gave me shoes. I am learning to forgive him. And myself.
watching dragon ball, sitting with alonsito, and fathering my boy-self.
How can I give my inner child the father that he always needed? How can I spend time with myself and my inner child that is meaningful and quality father-son time? Perhaps this sounds too âout thereâ for some, but refathering myself is a spiritual and political practice I am exploring to honor my masculine energy outside of the oppressive colonial gender system
When I was in fourth grade, I started watching Dragon Ball Z and Dragon Ball when it was on Tunami, and it was a way for me to connect to other boys. People whom I have long since grown apart from. But this show was a staple in my boyhood. Therefore, I have been watching Dragon Ball as a practice of reconnecting with my boy self.
The kind of father that I want to be is the kind that sits with their child and watches their favorite shows, but also the kind of father than teaches their son to question truth and construct their own meaning. The kind of father I want to be is one who teaches their son to navigate their gender in ways that honor their divine energy while acknowledging harmful and sexist myths.
the advice my father self gives to my boy self
Being a good person is important. You should stand up for others like Goku. You should be loyal and fight for whatâs right. But heroes donât always have to fight. Sometimes heroes are soft and kind. Sometimes heroes need others to help them figure out a problem. Sometimes being a hero is listening, or knowing when you need a hug, or knowing its okay to cry when you feel sad.
Goku is super strong, but no boy should grow up without parents. No one should be left alone in the world. And when something horrible happens, itâs okay to talk about it. Being open and honest about your emotions is a different kind of strength, and itâs just as important as having a strong body.
Master Roshi is a pervert. Donât be like master Roshi. If you encounter an adult like master Roshi, someone who makes young girls or boys feel uncomfortable or tries to touch them in inappropriate ways, you should tell an adult. That is sexual harassment and assault. Itâs not okay and itâs not funny.
Gokuâs friends were wrong to not tell him about the monster he turns into during the full moon. When we make mistakes, we should know about them. Everyone makes mistakes, but a real hero will acknowledge their mistakes and try to make it better. Real friends donât let their friends be monsters. Real friends donât run away from their friendsâ feelings.
Heroes arenât always right. Heroes arenât always strong. And heroes gotta be regular people sometimes too.
Youâre not Goku. You get to choose who you are. Who will you be?
feeling loved and an invitation to self-parenting
This practice helped me experience what it means to be present for myself. It has taught me about what kind of father I might someday want to be and what I think boys need to know. I feel loved, and I am excited to think about ways to deepen this practice of fathering my inner Alonsito.
If you could be the parent you needed as a kid, what would you teach your kid-self? How would you show up? I invite you to come up with your own practice. You might be surprised at what you learn.