Toy guns and toxic masculinity

Pow pow! I struggle to get the boys, just gone three and five, to stay in their seats. The boy behind them on the bus has a toy gun and is pretending to shoot his sister, then aiming the weapon at strangers in the street outside. Pow pow pow!

We never allowed our lads to play with guns. They build weapons of Lego, chew their toast into what just about resembles a pistol, and they use their hands; I can’t control their imagination, nor would I want to. But buying plastic imitations of the tools of war, intended to kill – that’s where I draw a big, fat line.

I know I’m in the minority here, and even in literature the verdict is still out on the benefits and dangers of playing with guns. Kids make sense of the world through play; how are they supposed to make sense of war if they can’t pretend to be killing each other?

Raising sons to be emotionally mature, sensitive, kind and strong in the deep, gentle sense is a challenge to say the least, but as a parent of two boys I see it as one of my most important tasks. When we talk about toxic masculinity, some men get defensive and protest: the state of modern society is not their fault. And I agree – to an extent, at least. We’re all products of the society we grow up in. Put a toy gun in the hands of your three-year-old, and you can’t be surprised when they turn to violence in their teens or struggle to solve problems by talking things through.

My sons aren’t dealing with the ethical implications of war; they’re not trying to make sense of their experience of it, because they have none. Their desire to play with guns doesn’t come from within. I’m pretty sure that the first time they ever saw a gun was in a toy shop – and they saw plenty of them there: aisles upon aisles of ways to be a man, most of them consisting of dark colours, toughness and ways to attack and defend. The superheroes they’re presented with are not kind and sensitive; they don’t outsmart their enemies and relate to people’s emotions. They judge and attack – BAM.

Boys will be boys, I hear the comments echo. They need loose-fitting clothes for running and climbing, durable toys that don’t break when they smash them off the walls. And they need guns to make sense of the world, to channel those inner urges. It’s almost as if we’re afraid to talk to them about respect. You’d nearly think we view their inner urges as uncontrollable, their desires as entitlements.

I’m not trying to make my sons into one thing or another – I’m not trying to take their personalities away or make them less like boys, whatever that means. I want them to be happy, and I want them to be kind, and they can be those two things any way they wish. I’m not the one who’s trying to shove my kids into ready-made moulds here; the toy shop aisles, on the other hand, don’t leave much room for improvisation. Be hard or be a girl, the latter of which is the worst insult imaginable.

Kids make sense of the world through play. I wonder how the kids who have come here from war-stricken countries make sense of this world when their classmates get the guns out. And I wonder how my sons will feel in moments of weakness, when their inner superhero is all but silent and they realise that they’ve never quite made sense of difficult emotions and learnt to talk things through. Is that when they reach for the guns?

I’m not worried that my kids are going to go out and kill people. I’m not worried that they’re going to grow up to start wars – not literally speaking. But I’m worried about a generation, many generations, of boys who become men without having ever been taught how to hold their weakness, how to ask for help and check in with their friends – genuinely – to see how they’re feeling. I’m worried about a society where the only way to be a man is one of physicality, audacity and aggression.

Look at the world around you. Look at Weinstein, and look at Trump. I wonder what they played with as young boys.

I oppose irresponsible programming - not free speech

So The Late Late Show decided to book Katie Hopkins – British tabloid columnist, vocal Trump supporter and bigoted racist extraordinaire – to fly over from England to discuss the context and outcome of the US election. RTÉ received over 1,000 complaints in little over a day, but the complainants were quickly labelled smug and opposed to democratic, basic free speech, and accused of – wait for it – denying Hopkins a platform.

Let’s be very clear about one thing: this has nothing to do with free speech and everything to do with poor programming.

“RTÉ, as the national public service broadcaster, shall reflect the democratic, social and cultural values of Irish society and the need to preserve media pluralism,” reads the first guiding principle of the Public Service Broadcasting Charter. The third principle adds that “no editorial or programming bias shall be shown in terms of gender, age, disability, race, sexual orientation, religion or membership of a minority community.”

So The Late Late Show, notorious for under-representing women amongst its guests, went and booked a woman who not only regularly engages in hate speech and famously referred to immigrants as 'cockroaches' but has explicitly endorsed and amplified rape threats. The irony would be hilarious if it wasn’t so frightening.

RTÉ justified the decision by highlighting what a big event the US election was. Presenter Ryan Tubridy added that Hopkins’ ‘thing’ is to state controversial opinions, which start important conversations. Shorthand, if I may: we're broadcasting a bit of racism and misogyny to spark debate. Reflecting the values of Irish society, huh? This is the media equivalent of the Taoiseach congratulating Trump on his victory on behalf of the Irish people. Not in my name.

There are endless ways to analyse the context in which a man like Trump can be elected President of the United States, without inviting along a hateful person with an already significant platform, not to mention the fact that she seems like quite a far-fetched choice in an Irish-American context. I can think of countless ways to bring to the fore controversial issues while providing a platform for women with voices that are otherwise seldom heard. How about starting by inviting immigrant women from direct provision centres onto the show for a different perspective?

Far from wishing to deny someone a platform, I want to extend that platform to include more voices in an aim to embrace that charter pluralism principle. Far from being smug, I’m worried about a public service broadcaster that should refrain from demonstrating programming bias in regards to everything from gender to race, yet finds it so hard to find suitable women that it resorts to inviting one with a fondness of hate speech and controversy. This is irresponsible broadcasting, plain and simple – at any time, all the time, but especially in the current political environment.

Want to have a debate about free speech and pluralism? Bring it on. But the way things stand, if anyone's smug it's Katie Hopkins.

We need to change the way we talk about politics

I’ll remember the morning Donald Trump was elected as the morning I cried while stirring the porridge. Some people will say I am exaggerating. I can only hope they’re right.

The Ku Klux Klan are celebrating, as is the anti-abortion brigade. Marine Le Pen, Nigel Farage, the friends of Brexit – these are the people who feel as if they’re on the right side of history in this.

People say that feminism has gone too far, but a man who talks of “grabbing [women] by the pussy” has just been elected to the White House. People say that white lives matter, as the new President of the United States of America prepares to build a wall between ‘us’ and ‘them’, between those born with a right to the American dream and those who need to get out.

I think we need to change the way we talk about politics. This is what happens when politics becomes a financial transaction, when we swap votes for promises of personal gain. When we talk about what’s happening in my back garden, in my wallet, what imagined threats there are to my personal safety, we erase a reality about the bodies across the Mediterranean Sea, about backstreet abortions and those who couldn’t care less about a wallet in the first place.

Trump’s American dream may boast about unity, but it suffers from a severe dearth of solidarity. This is not the President of a world where we take responsibility for each other as citizens.

I think we need to change the way we talk about politics, but not just politics. All this #NotAllMen and #WhiteLivesMatter – this is what has become of it. Do you laugh at the talk of safe spaces and trigger warnings? Do you think gender neutral pronouns are over the top? Do you joke about how feminists need to take a chill pill? Well the joke is on you. You have put your discomfort with the things you don’t understand above the safety of those less privileged than you. Just like the Trump voters.

Maybe you’re also of the opinion that it was all the same, that whatever the outcome of this election it would have been a disaster. But say that to the face of a Mexican in a southern state. Say that to someone with a ‘pussy’.

I think we need to change not just the way we talk about politics, but how we do politics. I look at the friends who supported another alternative, and I wonder how they feel; I wonder if they realise that those alternative votes make the difference between a bad, neoliberal first-ever woman president of the US and hell on earth for many people.

Yet they’re not the bad people here: they dared to hope for better things to come. The first-past-the-post system is always going to be a race to the bottom; it’s always going to protect status quo. Right now, Donald Trump is status quo.

We need to change the conversation, and we need to change it now. White, male privilege won today. Racism won, rape culture won. Let’s make its victory a turning point. Let’s reach out and listen to each other, talk about the things that make us uncomfortable, and try to tease out the things we cannot understand. Let's make today the beginning of the end of a politics of fear.