Fragile Masculinity and the "Man Bun"

Guys, stop putting "man-" before everything you think sounds too feminine for you. 



As a guy with long hair, I sometimes put it in a bun. When I do, I'm inevitably told that I have a "man bun." Last year, when I worked as a nanny, people informed me that I was, in fact, a "manny."

I hadn't realized that, as a man, when I did things that are traditionally associated with femininity, I should alter the term for what I'm doing (even though it's the exact same thing) in order to not seem lady-like. For those who are as ignorant as I once was about how to defend your manhood by altering your everyday terminology, here's how it's done.

This verbal alteration (or manification, if you will) comes most often in the form of the "man-" prefix, which can be added to words like "purse," "braid," or "bun" to make sure that everyone around you doesn't question your manhood. Variations on the "man-" prefix include the "guy-" prefix (guy liner), the "bro-" prefix (bromance, brony), or even the simple "male-" prefix (male nurse). We can even get the point across just by changing the first letter of a word to an "m," as in "manny," "muggs," (Uggs worn by a dude) or "murse" (meaning either "a purse owned by a man" or "a nurse who is a man"). It may seem hard to choose, but these are all equally effective ways to reassure fellow alpha-males and potential mates that, yes, you do have a y-chromosome.

But since coming up with these new, manly words can be exhausting, it's best not to stray from the manified words we already have. So please, men with long hair, wear it in a bun constantly so that we can all easily identify you as "that dude with the man bun." Women with long hair may have the luxury of switching between buns, braids, pony tails, and just wearing it down, but it's best for bros to stay as unimaginative as possible when sculpting their scalp grass. I don't want to have to refer to you by your hog tails, stallion tail, or dronehive, because no one will know what the hell I'm talking about.

(hog tails)

(a stallion tail)

(a dronehive)

Now, strictly speaking, we know that a man doesn't carry his purse with his penis, just like a nurse doesn't take his patient's temperature using his prostate. Likewise, my testicles never really played a prominent role in my nannying. Seeing as men perform these jobs and use these products in essentially the same ways as women do, differentiating the terms based on gender may seem a bit silly to some.

Critics would even say that doing all of these verbal gymnastics is a sign of fragile masculinity. They think that us men have internalized so much misogyny that we find the prospect of doing, using, or wearing something traditionally done, used, or worn by women to be threatening. Apparently, this aversion to femininity demonstrates that—even though many men identify as feminists—we are still uncomfortable with the very idea of gender equality.

Even though the New York Times touted the man bun as a sign of someone who is "comfortable with his masculinity," critics claim that the term itself suggests otherwise. They say terms like "man bun" and "male nurse" are manifestations of some deep-seated insecurity stemming from society's pressure to constantly defend and declare our manhood. Apparently, this same insecurity is said to contribute to gun violence and rape culture.

But in response to all that, I just have one thing to say: dude, what?

What we should really be upset about is the fact that we've settled for the boring "man-" prefix, when there's so many more expressive options! Why couldn't we have called it a "don't-worry-ladies-I-do-have-testicles bun," or an "I-may-look-after-kids-for-a-living-but-I-still-pay-the-bill-on-a-date nanny." We should be able manify our words in much more creative ways! Try dumping the boring "man braid" and going for the more explicit, "still-not-as-long-as-my-penis braid."

Interested in being more explicit about the fact that you're insecure about your masculinity? Here's some more alternative manified terms to spice up your terminology when being defensive and subtly misogynistic:

• order an "I-could-chew-nails-if-I-wanted-to salad"
• protect your lips with some "dude-this-is-totally-not-lipstick chapstick"
• adopt a "not-a-pussy cat"
• drive an "I-don't-actually-care-about-the-environment-it's-just-economical Prius"
• rejuvenate your skin with some "moist(but totally not weak)urizer"
• relax with a "maybe-it-just-wanted-to-shift-positions massage"
• get a deeper clean with a "do-you-even-lift? loofah"
• jump into spring fashion by sporting some "I-DRIVE-A-TRUCK pink"
• instead of a "tank-top," wear a "wife beater" (oops! for some horrible reason, we already say that)

Ennahda's Constituents Care About More Than Just Political Islam

In articles about Tunisian Islamism and Ennahda, writers mention issues like sharia and anti-blasphemy laws far more often than lustration or coalition building; but as it turns out, the latter matter more to Tunisian Islamists themselves.

(Ennahda supporters demonstrate in Tunis, June 2014)

Ennahda Steps away from Political Islam

In a party-wide congress last month, Tunisia’s Ennahda party voted to formally split the political party from the socio-religious movement, essentially shedding the party’s identification as “Islamist.” In an interview, party president Rachid Ghannouchi explained that Ennahda will become a purely “civil” political party and that “religious activity [will become] completely independent from political activity.” He asserted that the objective of Ennahda is no longer “political Islam,” but “Muslim democracy,” a sentiment similar to that offered by Ennahda MP Sayida Ounissi in a recent piece for Brookings.

This move does not constitute a sudden shift in Ennahda’s character or policy, but rather a continuation of a general trend of Ennahda deemphasizing the importance of religion in its politics since even before the revolution. The party has repeatedly surprised observers by eschewing pursuits typical to Islamist parties; they agreed to exclude any reference to sharia from the constitution as well as to omit a previously proposed anti-blasphemy clause. More broadly, the party never launched some widespread project to forcibly Islamize the state or public sphere—as its opponents feared it would.

An Alienated Base?

Many have wondered if this slow drift away from political Islam—culminating in this recent near disavowal of it—might “alienate Ennahda’s more militant voter base.” After all, the party’s electoral support decreased by 19 percent between the elections of 2011 and 2014. After the 2014 elections, Shadi Hamid wrote, “Many Tunisians voted for Ennahda because it was an Islamist party, not in spite of it. Wanting sharia to play a larger role in politics, they grew disappointed each time Ennahda backed down.” This analysis stems from Hamid’s understanding of Ennahda as having a relatively “progressive” party leadership and “a more conservative base.” In a recent interview, Rory McCarthy similarly posits that many constituents are disappointed in the party for abandoning the “Islamizing mission that it began with.”

But this dominant analysis ignores the many other non-religious issues on which Ennahda has disappointed its constituents. By mentioning only issues of political Islam, researchers suggest that Ennahda constituents care most about religious issues like sharia. It may seem natural to assume that Islamists are primarily concerned with political Islam, but in the case of Tunisia, that assumption does not necessarily hold true. In the period since the revolution, the compromises and concessions that caused the most debate and dissent within Ennahda circles have not been on matters of political Islam, but on matters of revolutionary politics, like whether old regime figures should be allowed participate in the new democracy and whether Ennahda should cooperate with them.

During interview-based fieldwork with young Tunisian Islamists in 2015, I found that my informants were usually more concerned with Ennahda’s revolutionary credentials than its religious ones. Therefore, when assessing the decline in Ennahda’s popular support since 2011, compromises on issues of revolutionary politics should be emphasized at least as much as those on issues of political Islam.

Fear of the Old Regime

(Ousted president Zine el Abedin Ben ‘Ali)

In order to discern the priorities of Ennahda’s constituents, one simply needs to take note of what impassions them. When I interviewed young Islamists in the spring of 2015, informants demonstrated the greatest sense of urgency when discussing the risk of old regime forces regaining power. It makes sense that this would be Islamists’ top priority given the oppression many suffered prior to 2011. Much of the party’s leadership fled to exile in Europe, while many more languished in ex-president Ben ‘Ali’s prisons. But harassment was not limited to just party members and activists; women seen wearing headscarves in public could have them forcibly removed by police, and men who frequently attended morning prayers at mosques were often detained in the night without cause. These experiences help explain why Islamists are so invested in the success of the revolution; to them, old regime forces represent a threat not only to the survival of their movement, but to their very identity and way of life.

This paranoia about a return of the old regime has manifested most notably in Islamists’ concern about two main issues: lustration (purging a government of an old regime) and coalition building. By assessing constituent responses to Ennahda’s managing of these issues, it becomes clear that Ennahda has compromised on much more than its religious ideals and that its base has more reasons to be upset with the party than it simply “not being Islamist enough.”

Debates over Lustration

In 2011, Ennahda was instrumental in the promotion of a lustration law that excluded many high-level old regime figures from contesting that year’s elections. In June 2013, Ennahda’s support helped pass another law preventing old regime figures from participating in future elections. However, in light of the political crisis that unfolded that summer, Ennahda compromised and conceded that the bill would not be implemented. But by 2014, lustration was again up for debate in Article 167 of that year’s electoral code. Ennahda’s leadership held to their earlier compromise and officially opposed the article. However, many Ennahda delegates could not bring themselves to vote for the inclusion of their former oppressors, and they voted in favor of Article 167 (though the article failed regardless). This has been the only instance where a significant number of Ennahda delegates strayed from the party line, illustrating the uniquely divisive nature of this issue.

(Ennahda President, Rachid Ghannouchi)

Of the many compromises I discussed with constituents, these repeated decisions to allow old regime figures to contest elections elicited the most passionate responses. One young man called Ghannouchi a “bastard,” and multiple informants exclaimed that the party leadership had “sold the revolution!” One Ennahda legislator recalled that, even a year after the compromise had been made, she still regularly received angry emails from constituents asking why the party abandoned its principles.

Ennahda in Coalition

Since 2011, Ennahda has been part of two ruling coalitions. While both coalitions were with secular parties, only one of them caused large-scale outrage among Ennahda’s constituents.

After Ennahda won the 2011 elections, it formed a ruling coalition with the Congress for the Revolution (CPR) and Ettakatol, which have both been described as “secular revolutionary” parties. These parties had, like Ennahda, operated in exile in opposition to Ben ‘Ali’s regime. None of my informants expressed any disappointment that Ennahda’s partners in this coalition were secular, as they were satisfied with CPR and Ettakatol’s revolutionary credentials. But few were so accepting when Ennahda announced its next coalition.

After losing the 2014 elections, Ennahda joined a coalition led by Nidaa Tounes. Nidaa Tounes symbolizes, in the eyes of most Ennahda supporters, the reincarnation of the old regime. The party was launched in the summer of 2012 as a reaction to Ennahda’s success, and many of its members, including its leader, Beji Caïd Essebsi, were members of Ben ‘Ali’s party and figures in the old regime. What’s more, the party gained popularity by drumming up fears that Ennahda wanted to “reintroduce the 7^th century” by imposing a harsh form of sharia—similar rhetoric to that once used by Ben ‘Ali. After watching Nidaa Tounes win the 2014 elections, constituents were devastated to learn that Ennahda would not work in opposition to it. A few months after the coalition was announced, many of my informants were still livid about the decision. One former Ennahda supporter told me that this was the moment when she gave up on the party, as it had failed to take a stand against the old regime.

Seeing as constituents have been generally unfazed by Ennahda’s cooperation with secular revolutionary parties, but are enraged by their cooperation with a perceived counterrevolutionary party, it seems fairly clear where the priorities of the party’s constituents lie.  

A Generational Gap?

In response to last week’s decision to formally disaffiliate with political Islam, Hamid asked rhetorically, “If Ennahda continues to dilute its Islamic identity, what makes Ennahda, Ennahda?” While this question reflects a common assumption that the essence of Ennahda lies in the realm of religion, the examples above demonstrate that the party’s primary appeal in contemporary Tunisia lies more in the realm of revolution. Why, then, do scholars like Roy and Hamid put forth such different conclusions than I have about why Ennahda has lost support since 2011? One possible explanation is our difference in sample populations. The answer to Hamid’s question (“What makes Ennahda, Ennahda?”) would differ significantly depending on who one asks.

While my research focused solely on Islamists under the age of 25, Hamid meets mostly with upper-level party leaders and Roy’s interviews with Ennahda constituents focus on those who were imprisoned under the old regime, making them at least one generation above all of my informants. This age difference is crucial, as it marks the difference between those to whom Ennahda primarily constitutes a social movement with religious objectives and those to whom it is primarily a political party with revolutionary objectives. Older constituents came of age when there was no reasonable hope of actually seizing political power, so they focused on advancing an Islamist social project. However, most younger constituents became acquainted with Ennahda as a revolutionary political actor during the fervor of 2011, so they see this as the essence of the organization.

This generational gap hypothesis is especially interesting in light of the party’s recent separation of political party and social movement. While older constituents may see this move as an abandonment of Ennahda’s primary purpose (social transformation), younger constituents can more easily tolerate the party’s eschewing of an Islamist social project, as this does not prevent it from serving its primary role as a political force.

But this generational gap hypothesis will remain nothing more than a hypothesis in the absence of more extensive comparative ethnography among different age groups of Ennahda constituents.

Islamists beyond Political Islam

While older Ennahda constituents may be more likely to be motivated by religion than younger ones, this certainly does not mean that the revolutionary nature of Ennahda is not similarly important to them. They suffered oppression first-hand under the old regime, so they are similarly motivated by a strong desire for Tunisia not to relapse to secular dictatorship. While my research focused specifically on youth, Monica Marks comes to a similar conclusion after working with older party leaders and constituents:

Many of the toughest debates inside the party and sharpest criticisms of its leadership have come from Ennahda members upset not about sharia or classic so-called “Islamist” issues, but about the party’s seeming over-eagerness to compromise with figures from the old regime.

While religion plays a key role in Ennahda’s appeal, it is by no means the sole or even primary motivator for most supporters. Observers regularly point to Ennahda’s departures from hardline Islamist positions and assert that its constituents must be mad, but they rarely acknowledge the importance of other compromises made by Ennahda since 2011—specifically those concerning revolutionary issues.

Simply because someone identifies as an Islamist, we cannot reduce all of their interests to political Islam. Islamists can express themselves politically without it necessarily being a manifestation of their Islamism. In the case of Tunisia, those who identify as Islamists tend to—for historical and contextual reasons—have a dire investment in the success of the revolution and in the preservation of the democratic political system. This does not mean that Ennahda constituents are no longer Islamists, but it indicates that there are many non-religious issues that they also care about and rally around.