Ever since I can remember, strangers and friends alike have commented on how softly I speak. This isn’t something that I find particularly bothersome; other than when the surrounding environment is so loud that it feels like I’m bellowing just to make myself heard. But no, what intrigues me more is why the volume at which we speak is so often equated with the perceived value of what we have to say. And more broadly, why did softness become such a taboo? And why did hardness, aggression and toughness become practically the norm?
I don’t have so many memories from being a young child, but one that I do hold onto is being in bed with my mum the morning before my first term at secondary school. I had come to her, looking for comfort, terrified at the thought of having to play rugby that year at school. I recall asking my mum if it would be possible for me to not take part in the game, and instead be the referee (for reference, I was around 8 or 9 years old…). She reassured me that everything would be fine, but my terror at being forced to take part in such a violent sport didn’t really subside. Looking back, I can understand that inexplicable aversion to violence and aggression; that deep unease at having to pretend to like something I was supposed to be like. It’s something I still carry with me today.
I mention this memory because quite obviously when we see softness through the lens of toxic masculinity, the story deepens. I want to, however, take a different approach. And explore why softness is viewed as a problem. Why did softness become so slippery and uncomfortable?
When I think of instances when someone tells me I’m speaking softly, of course, the natural reaction on my part is to consider ways to rectify this. Do I adjust my volume? Do I ask for us to move to a quieter area? Do I double-check that I’m not inconveniently standing in front of a loudspeaker or source of music and find an alternative location? But, what about the other person? On a good day, perhaps the other person will take the initiative to propose changing location or search for a quiet environment to begin with. This requires readjustment and flexibility on their part. Perhaps I will still speak too quietly even in a calmer setting. How will they react to this? It requires a great deal of patience and understanding from them to support in setting up the right environment. For many reading this, it would simply be understood as an inconvenience: “Well, you just need to speak louder”. But in the same way, if an eight year old boy doesn’t want to play contact sports, do we force him? Well, normally, as a society we do – yes!
Based on this, we can see that much of the slipperiness comes from the supposed inconveniencing that softness (in whatever form) presents. Softness is seen as being the contrary of solid, smooth, dependable, reliable. And we like solid, smooth, dependable and reliable; it facilitates falling into habit and presents us with no further obstacles to have to deal with in our day-to-day life. Softness presents friction; it slows us down and gets in the way. Work hard, play hard is society’s current motto. So what would work soft and play soft mean? I’m not entirely sure how well “work hard” and “play hard” has been working out for the majority of us, so should we give it a try? I don’t know!
I’m still trying to figure out if I could wear stripes and finally become that referee.