By Kevin D. Williamson
Tuesday, May 24, 2022
“Where the Hood At?” by the late DMX is a
very peculiar song. The first verse is about the rapper’s intense hatred of
homosexuals and his intense desire to do them harm, and the last verse is about
his equally intense desire to express his contempt for homosexuals and other
men on his enemies list by . . . having sex with them. The song is an anthem of
homophobia until it becomes a homoerotic fantasy, and the video, full of close-up shots of
muscled-up shirtless men, is at least as gay as the volleyball scene in Top
Gun.
That will be mostly familiar stuff to
scholars of sexual history and men who have been to prison — for most of human
existence, until about three days ago, attitudes toward male homosexuality were
in most times and most places very strongly dependent upon whether a man took
what we used to decorously call the “active” or the “passive” role in the
relationship. Naïve gay-rights advocates sometimes point to ancient republican
Rome as an example of a society with a tolerant attitude toward homosexuality,
but Latin doesn’t even have a word for homosexual in the
modern sense of that word, and same-sex relationships between men in Rome were
mainly the sort of thing we very much would not tolerate in
our time: pederastic exploitation by adult men of youths who were under their
control (often as slaves) or who were in social positions that made them easy
to exploit. To do with a Roman citizen what could be done with
a slave or a child prostitute was, of course, forbidden, and if it had ever
occurred to any ancient Roman to pursue something like a modern homosexual
relationship — a life partnership of men generally of roughly comparable age
and social status, possibly leading to marriage or something like it — the
result would probably have been execution. In the case of Roman soldiers, the
prescribed punishment for willingly submitting to homosexual penetration was
being beaten to death — to be sexually used in such a way was, in the Roman
mind, a symbol of military defeat, and, hence, by the usual operation of
magical thinking in the ancient world, homosexual relations among soldiers were
thought to cause battlefield losses.
If that sounds like irrelevant ancient
history to you, have a look at the rifle that pathetic little misfit used in
the Buffalo massacre.
The rifle in question was covered with
graffiti of an obviously racial character: the names of racist mass murderers
associated with massacres in Norway and South Carolina, “Here’s your
reparations!”, and other things of that nature, with indifferent spelling. And
some of the graffiti had a sexual nature as well as a racial one, including
“Buck Status: Broken,” and “BLM Mogged.”
Those of you who are not sad-sack 4chan
racial obsessives may be mystified by these. The ADL explains that “buck
breaking” refers to the “use of brutal sexual violence by slave owners as
punishment against enslaved Black men,” but that isn’t quite right, or quite
the whole thing. The slogan refers much more specifically to a much-ridiculed
documentary film called Buck Breaking, which dwells upon the claim
— undocumented and preposterous — that American slaveowners punished unruly
male slaves by publicly raping them, typically in front of other slaves,
including their wives and children when these were available. Social and legal
sanctions on homosexuality were very strong in the antebellum South, and the
notion that plantation overseers would engage in public homosexual acts is, to
say the least, extraordinarily unlikely. No documentary evidence of this
exists. Where sexualized violence was used to punish male slaves, it was
typically castration.
(The habitual rape and sexual exploitation
of female slaves is well-documented.)
“Buck breaking” is another example of the
phenomenon typified by the “Willie Lynch” letter, an obvious hoax purporting to
be an antique guide to slave management that explains modern black social
problems. The Willie Lynch letter is as fake as can be (the language is
obviously from the second half of the 20th century, and there is no historian
who believes that it is anything other than a clumsy fabrication), but it is
regularly presented as a genuine historical document and, when confronted with
evidence of its obviously fictitious nature, those who traffic in the myth of
Willie Lynch inevitably turn to the “fake but accurate” approach, insisting
that it represents a larger historical truth. In a similar way, Buck
Breaking purports to connect the (fictitious) practice of forcibly and
publicly sodomizing male slaves to the modern-day emasculation of black men,
but the prurient documentary is derided as, essentially, a soft-core-porn
fetish film. The Very Online racists who have taken up “buck breaking” as a
threat and a term of abuse have, even if they do not quite understand what they
are doing, taken on the role of DMX — they are fantasizing about cutting their
enemies down to size by engaging in homosexual acts with them. Like DMX, they
have arrived at the very strange point where homophobia meets homoeroticism.
In fact, much of the argot of the racist
underground (and the adjacent political Right) is based on genres of homosexual
pornography, not only “buck breaking” but also the remarkably fetishistic
attachment to the word “cuck,” which features in certain homosexually oriented
humiliation porn. Which side of the great cuck divide the Right wishes to be on
is not always entirely clear: Claremont Institute Lincoln Fellow “Jack Murphy”
(real name John Goldman) is an amateur pornographer who rejoices in, as Rod
Dreher puts it, the “pleasures of being a literal cuckold” by “farming his
girlfriend out to other men for sex.” When he is not publicly impaling himself
on sex toys, Goldman’s specialization is the topic of masculinity,
and, in a very similar way, Claremont’s American Mind journal
is packed with the predictable kind of sexual anxiety that is by necessity
associated with that version of masculinity, fretting about “soy boys” and
“simps” and the like. This is the “traditional” model of masculinity that finds
authentic manliness in only a handful of manly archetypes: cops, soldiers,
blue-collar workers, motorcycle enthusiasts, etc.
Which is to say, it is only one feathered
headdress short of the Village People.
The link between anxiety about masculinity
and homoeroticism — and outright homosexual pornography — is very old and its
origins very obvious. Until very, very recently, to be a homosexual man —
especially a man on what DMX and the ancient Romans and an American prison
inmate would think of as the degrading side of a homosexual encounter — was to
be reduced to the social status of a woman. (Set aside, for the moment, Camille
Paglia’s very persuasive argument that the sexual behavior of gay men in the
bathhouse culture of the 1970s and 1980s was the precise opposite of feminized
— it was the detached, transactional promiscuity of the male libido liberated
from any need to compromise with the priorities and sensibilities of women.)
From the historical Western point of view, gay men were, in effect, not men at
all. Predictably, one response to this attack on the masculinity of gay men was
the emergence of a gay iconography of hypermasculine archetypes: The Village
People presented the consumer-friendly model of this (which gay men in that era
must have found positively hilarious, because they knew what the YMCA was
famous for), but the origins of that aesthetic are in older gay erotica and
pornography, most famously in the works of Tom of Finland (Touko Laaksonen),
whose drawings of muscled-up bikers, sailors, cops, and cowboys popularized and
in some ways created a self-contained library of masculinity — mostly of a
fun-loving libertine nature, but also containing a fair amount of darker stuff,
including a scene that would have been very much at home in Buck
Breaking if not for the fact that all the figures depicted are white.
(There is something to be inferred
about national self-conceptions of masculinity in the fact
that Touko Laaksonen did not visit the United States until he was almost 60, but
his pictures were widely understood to be pictures of Americans. Europeans long
regarded Americans as hypermasculine, going back at least to Alexis de
Toqueville’s observations of the “women of America, who often exhibit a
masculine strength of understanding and a manly energy.” The European
impression of exaggerated American masculinity is in many ways parallel to
white Americans’ traditional impression of exaggerated black masculinity —
something regarded with a mix of admiration and fear.)
It should be no surprise that those Tom of
Finland gay archetypes approximate the idealized cartoon masculinity of the
online racists and their political cousins in right-wing institutions such as
the Claremont Institute: In our time, it is not gay men in
America who feel emasculated but white men in America. Like
gay men of an earlier generation, the Buffalo shooter and his 4chan associates
dream of taking on hypermasculine roles, even if that sense of hypermasculinity
leads them into the realm of homosexual fantasy. Beyond “buck breaking,” the
Buffalo shooter fantasized in public about “mogging” Black Lives Matter, which
is to say, humiliating them with a display of intimidating physical stature.
You will not be surprised to learn that the word “mogged” crops up most often
at one of the traditional intersections between exaggerated notions of
traditional masculinity and a gay subculture: bodybuilding. That Claremont fellow is an amateur bodybuilder when he is not
subjecting himself to ritualized sexual humiliation.
It is here that our old friend Tucker
Carlson enters the story.
The most interesting overlap between the
obsessions of Tucker Carlson and the Buffalo shooter is not, as our
self-serving Democratic friends insist, “replacement” rhetoric — it is
masculine anxiety. Tucker Swanson McNear Carlson comes from the West Coast version
of the old New England and Mid-Atlantic WASP elite, a product of the La Jolla
Country Day School and boarding schools in Switzerland and New England. He
doesn’t have any more experience with ranch labor, factory workers, or the
Hells Angels than Tom of Finland had, but his valorization of blue-collar and
rural life is marked by the same kind of longing after masculine archetypes,
and his approach to the question of masculinity could not be more literally
reductive — his interest, as described in his recent documentary, The
End of Men, is commanded in no small part by the state of the American
testicle. Carlson represents the latest in a very long line of insulated
aristocrats gripped by a panic about the state of masculinity in their time:
Teddy Roosevelt was another, with his advocacy of the “strenuous life,” and the
father of Scouting, a movement intended in part to address certain perceived
deficiencies in late-Victorian masculinity, was Robert Stephenson Smyth
Baden-Powell, 1st Baron Baden-Powell, OM, GCMG, GCVO, KCB, KStJ, DL. Xi
Jinping, the son of a high-ranking Communist Party official who did not find
physical labor much to his liking when he was forcibly rusticated by Mao
Zedong, has banned depictions of “sissy men” from Chinese media. Vladimir Putin’s regime is strangely interested in
the question of gay Russians — since we have it on the good word of senior
Russian officials that there are no
homosexuals in their jurisdictions.
Where the fear of emasculation meets
“replacement theory” is on the hard ground of social-status competition. What
was that tiki-torch dork parade in Charlottesville all about? As the man behind
one of the country’s premier neo-Nazi websites promised those thinking about
attending that rally, the result would be not the beginning of a racial holy
war or the achievement of political power or anything like that: “Random girls
will want to have sex with you,” he declared. As it turns out, that doesn’t seem to be how things went
down. But the Nazis say more than they perhaps intend. Of course the Buffalo
shooter dreamt of inflicting sexual humiliation on those of his fellow
countrymen he regards as his enemies — from a certain warped point of view,
that is only reciprocal justice. You will not find very many happily married
men among the ranks of the mass shooters and their 4chan fan clubs, or among
the armband-and-jackboots set. It is not usually sexual satisfaction and social
success that leads a man to testicle tanning. And, as even most casual
observers know, socioeconomic success and marital success are linked: There is
almost no difference between the overall workforce participation rate for black
Americans and white Americans, with both groups typically hovering in the low-60-percent
rage; married black men are significantly more likely to be in the workforce
than are single white men; even more telling, the workforce participation rate for
married fathers is well above 90 percent.
The acquisition of wealth is not a
zero-sum game — the things we do to create wealth for ourselves often create
wealth for other people as well, and because wealth is created,
your gain is not necessarily someone else’s loss. The pursuit of status, in
contrast, is a zero-sum game, because status is by its nature an exclusively
relative criterion. The identity of sexual competition with status competition
and the zero-sum nature of status games explains the seeming paradox at the
heart of globalization: In an increasingly free and prosperous world, the very
people who enjoy the most freedom and prosperity — white men in the Anglosphere
and Western Europe — are among the most dissatisfied. (Similar phenomena hold
elsewhere in the world: In India, Narendra Modi’s angry populism is targeted
not at poor people belonging to marginalized minority groups but at high-status
Hindus.) That dissatisfaction is distributed across a wide spectrum: Sometimes,
it means grumbling along with Tucker Carlson, and sometimes, it means the sort
of political radicalization that resulted in the Buffalo massacre. It is not
necessary to indulge in some kind of vulgar and reductive pseudo-Freudianism
that reduces every question to sex, sexual frustration, and sexual ambition to
appreciate this aspect of our public life.
But it is interesting — and I don’t think
accidental — that our modern right-wing nationalists and 20th-century gay
pornographers have about the same idea of what a real man looks like.
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