Jamie Sarkonak: ‘Positive masculinity’ hero Tim Walz earns his title just for showing up

Toxic masculinity may have been the ultimate villain of the 2010s. It underscored minor sex-based social transgressions — remember the great “manspreading” crisis (2014–2017) and its relative, the “mansplaining” scare? — and was a factor in Harvey Weinstein’s sex crimes, which prompted the #MeToo movement.

Finally, we have the preferred, softer substitute: positive masculinity. It lives, according to Newsweek’s Alyce Collins, in the form of one Timothy James Walz, the Democratic vice-presidential candidate and foil to socially conservative Republican men.

Walz, we are told, is “not afraid to delve into intimate topics” and has “spoken openly about his family’s experience” using fertility treatments to conceive.

“As a white, heterosexual male who served in the military, taught in high school, was a football coach and spends his spare time hunting, Walz might not seem like the epitome of positive masculinity,” Collins writes of his sins. And then, absolution: “But he isn’t solely defined by these characteristics because he’s also a family man, an advocate for women’s rights and a champion of women in power.”

And … that’s about it. The bar is surprisingly low. “Positive masculinity” isn’t a set of principles, an appeal to honour or the second coming of a chivalric code. Instead, it’s merely a willingness to talk about women’s issues and the illusion of liberatory non-conformity, especially when performed as number 2 to a female number 1.

Indeed, the so-called expert called by Newsweek on the matter, California State University counselling professor Matt Englar-Carlson, describes positive masculinity as an escape from the “straitjacket” of social expectations typically assigned to men.

It exists in stark contrast to the “toxic” variant, which remains a vague concept — a blank space into which the reader can imagine their own personal horror, ranging from an “overly dominant, often aggressive personality,” to a general social energy that “tells boys and men to behave in a certain way and conform to certain stereotypes.”

Walz naturally fits into the good category. He earns points for working under female management, as many men already do, and takes an interest in the well-being of the women in their lives, as many also do. He’s portrayed as a groundbreaker — even though he isn’t the first right hand to a female presidential candidate (in 2016, Hillary Clinton ran with safe, “boring” Virginia senator Tim Kaine).

He isn’t even the first leader marketed towards women: U.S. President Joe Biden and Prime Minister Justin Trudeau, who each slam the abortion messaging button as frequently as possible, aren’t typically thought of as sculptors of masculinity. We don’t hear much applause for the deputies of conservative leading ladies, either.

In the other corner is J.D. Vance: a family man with a military background and a Walz-adjacent demographic niche. Despite hauling himself out of poverty and expressing open admiration for his wife and grandmother, the “positive masculinity” anointment hasn’t come. Instead, his earlier complaints about “childless cat ladies” running the country have resurfaced, causing even Republican women to wince, as have his less objectionable comments about the importance of grandmothers assisting with child-rearing.

Vance’s main problem, in the eyes of the “positive masculinity” meter, is his non-Democrat status. Close behind is his hint of spitefulness, the fire in his belly that gives him the hunger to win but has the unfortunate side-effect of being off-putting to the undecided audience. Poking fun at “childless cat ladies” might make sense in a private context, but used in the wild, it’s petty.

Walz slips past the “toxic” label despite all his stereotypicalities. Born in Nebraska to a school administrator and a stay-at-home mom, he’s been both an army man and a teacher. His speeches cover themes of football (“leave it on the field”), freedom, family, rural life (“put these guys in the rearview mirror”), labour, neighbourliness and school. His comedic rhythm shares a genus with that of folksy, fatherly Doug Ford.

“I supervised the damn high school lunchroom for 20 years,” Walz told a home crowd last week. “You do not survive that job without being an optimist.”

He’s likeable, and he’s a man. It’s quite plain that Walz’s masculinity isn’t actually what impressed Newsweek — it’s the fact that he plays for the right team and hits the right notes at a critical time in the political cycle. A dadly figure capable of offering harmless, relatable verbal cues to the American middle class was needed to back Kamala Harris — and snap, he has appeared.

Were Ford on the correct side, you could bet that our very own CBC would be crowning him a positively masculine hero, too.

National Post