E-Paper
For crying out loud
Crying was, till recently, associated with ?sensitive?, weak men. Now weeping is a sign of strength and power.
In the cameos repeated ad nauseam during the World Cup coverage, there were visuals of large, strapping and sweaty men boo-hooing away, until a team-mate lends his supporting hand and consoles the foot-bawler. With every loss, and panning camera, the lachrymally eloquent were allowed their share of public tears. After all, weeping is allowed for men. Studies released after England sniffled their way out of the World Cup suggest that the world, especially after 9/11, is appreciative of men who cry in public.
Research head Stephanie Shields talks of the public’s changed reaction to crying men in her book, Group Dynamics and Emotional Expressions. The researchers found that a moist-eyed Tony Blair after the Dunblane school shooting was received as a leader with empathy. Quiet tears signal solidarity with the graveness of the issue and the despair of not being in control over a situation. But the operative word here is ‘quiet’. Which is why a howling Cristiano Ronaldo didn’t make a pretty sight. The acceptable idea is that of a man’s crumbling stiff upper lip, not a tremulous and wavering lower one.
Crying was, till recently, associated with ‘sensitive’, weak men. Now weeping is a sign of strength and power. Should we then conclude that being sensitive is a sign of strength? Or do we just think that the ‘correct’ way of being emotional can become a powerful tool to enhance the image of machismo? But would anyone want to visualise, say, a moist-eyed Vladimir Putin? Somehow, a leader like him may be far better suited to try a Zizou header in a burst of passion. After all, the bottomline seems to be, if you’ve got emotions, don’t just stand there, flaunt ’em.
