This is Not About a Shirt

“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.”
– Maya Angelou

Note - This post is about a video interview that has not yet been published. As soon as it is available, the blog will announce and post a link.

A window opened center screen and I felt shock at seeing myself. I hadn't expected to see myself, but I was also taken aback by the image, which was striking. I was sitting in a chair in a forest, amidst tall sun-lit golden grass, surrounded by towering Douglas Firs. Looking straight at the camera with my arms folded on my lap, I looked confident, ready for something. And I was wearing... that shirt.

I usually wear black. Sometimes grey. The few shirts of color that I own are solid and muted, nothing that would attract attention. I say this with full awareness that my appearance attracts attention, whatever I'm wearing. I'm over six feet, bald, heavily tattooed, and pierced more than a few times. I guess wearing black or grey is an attempt to counter the attention that someone who looks like me might draw.

In the video, I’m wearing a vibrant, colorful shirt with a complex paisley and floral pattern. It’s not quite a Hawaiian shirt but it has a similar bold and festive look. The shirts colors – shades of green and gold, with touches of blue – also match the colors surrounding me. It wasn't only seeing myself in that shirt that shocked me. It was also seeing how comfortable I looked.

When Sam asked to meet, he said he wanted to show me something, but it didn’t occur to me that it would be this video. The last time we talked, it was about fundraising and the MenHealing website, so I assumed Sam was working on something related to those. I hadn’t forgotten that he interviewed me, but it wasn’t fresh in my mind. The interview took place a few months ago, at a MenHealing organizational retreat on Whidbey Island, off the coast of Seattle.

I was shopping for shoes when I saw the shirt. It was by itself on a torso mannequin and it whispered to me as I passed it. “I am for you!”

I stopped and stared. This could not be for me. This is nothing like anything I would wear. After a few seconds of skeptical pondering, I walked away in search of shoes. None of them whispered to me.

I walked back and looked at the shirt again. It was louder, "seriously, dude, I am for you. Don't think about it any more. Just fucking buy me." I glanced around and nobody was in sight. I touched it. It felt right. Texture is important to me in clothing. This was perfect cotton, heavy and little coarse, my comfort fabric. I took the shirt off the mannequin and went and found Pam.

“I shouldn’t get this shirt, should I?”

You know, of course, that she said, yes, I should buy the shirt, because she did, and because I did (buy it), and because I'm wearing it in the video. This was a week or two before Whidbey, during which time, the shirt remained on a hanger in the closet. It was such an unlikely choice for me that I figured I'd save it for a special occasion. I even decided it would be a family shirt, not to be worn in public.

When I was packing for the retreat, I threw the new shirt in my backpack, without thinking. It was an impulse. Upon arrival, Thursday evening, as I was unpacking, I realized I wanted to give the shirt a test run. MenHealing is a family to me, gathering in this beautiful forest was a special occasion, and not at all public.

I’m supposed to be writing about the video, yet here I am going on about a shirt. I can’t help myself. When I write, I let my intuition guide me. Like I let it guide me to this shirt. To this story about a shirt, but it’s not really about the shirt. The shirt is, rather, about the story, which is me. I think.

Last night, I wrote down the phrase, “I don’t know who I think I am.” At. the time, I thought this was a profound statement (I was a little high) but when I woke I had no recall of its significance. The person who wrote that sentence is the person writing this now, and I’m not sure if I’m writing a story, or if my story is leading me. I just go with the flow.

So, Sunday. I will be brave and debut my new shirt on Sunday. I did not give it as much thought as I am now in telling the tale. Everything about the shirt was instinct, an unconscious and impulsive decision.

On Saturday, after we had conducted our sessions, Sam announced that the following morning, he and Zidia, and Jordan, were going to be taking photos and videos of everyone to generate marketing material. And he said something like, “Be sure to wear your Sunday best.” I cracked up.

I crack myself up.

“So,” I think to myself, “this whole thing about the shirt wasn’t for nothing. I bought – and brought – this shirt, so that I could wear it for these photos, and this interview. How ironic and funny is that?"

This is not about a shirt.

Before I sat in that sunlit chair in those exquisite woods, Sam gave me some prompts. Topics that he would be asking me about. They were broad, and what you would expect for a MenHealing promotional video. How long had I been with MenHealing? What were some of the ways that Weekend of Recovery workshops affected me? What is special, or unique, about our organization and the work we do?

I don’t remember the interview in detail, other than to say that I was comfortable and happy to be sharing my thoughts, opinions, and ideas. We (I) talked a little longer than (I) expected. When we finished, I felt satisfied. I was confident that there were some good soundbites, a few articulate sentences that might be usable.

My immediate thought upon seeing the video was, “Oh shit, there’s that shirt!” And I laughed aloud. Because it hit me that this video was very much going to be public.

At first, I could only focus on the scene as visual. I didn’t hear myself speaking right away. Instead I thought, “what a funny little beard I have.”

“Why am I holding my head up like that? It’s like I’m talking with my chin.”

“And my lips! They’re so thin and tight.”

“OMG, I talk funny, with one side of my mouth moving without the other! This is so weird.”

Then I started to listen to myself... the self-consciousness I was feeling in the moment was not at all evident in this guy. Instead, he was the embodiment of self-confidence. As the video continued, I felt transported back in time to the moment. Yeah, that's what I was feeling. Confident. I knew what I wanted to say, without having had to plan ahead or write it down.

Most striking to me is to see how much I'm smiling while speaking. And how articulate I sound, even... inspiring. If I were me, listening to me, I'd want to have some of what he's been having.

As a writer, poet, and former stage actor, I have often wondered why I have never done something like this before. I’m comfortable speaking in public when it’s a topic I know well. I know that some of my experiences and insights might be relevant to other men survivors.

I’ve fantasized a little about doing a dramatic reading on video for a MenHealing event. Reciting one of my poems, or a short dramatic monologue. But I’ve never felt enough motivation to try. Watching this video of myself, I now understand why. I wasn’t ready. Until now.

I’ve written a lot about being a survivor. I’ve been open and public about being a survivor for several years. This feels different. It felt different at the time. The fact that most of what I say in the video wasn’t scripted or even planned, is what makes it feel so… liberating.

As a survivor in defense (survival) mode, spontaneity is risky. Improvisation is outright terrifying. Watching myself speak off the cuff, and from a place of confidence, about my journey as a survivor, I feel an unexpected pride.

This interview marks a shift in how I see myself. In how I carry and present myself. The shame is completely gone. I no longer feel hesitant or insecure when I say the words, “I am a male survivor.”

My new perspective on men like me is that we are more than survivors. We are warriors and heroes who have much to offer, not only to others who’ve walked this path, but to the world. My journey has been messy, turbulent, painful, and longer than I wanted. It won’t be complete until I leave this mortal coil. But I am finally ready to have that happy childhood that was denied me the first time. This is my right. And it is yours, too, whoever you are, and whatever your journey looks like. Embrace it.

I didn't realize it at the time, but the decision to wear this shirt, for this video, is a declaration. A coming out. This is me saying, I'm not afraid of attracting attention any more.