One great triumph of toxic masculinity is the airing of the football game.
Regularly, in houses across America, a football game is screened during a family gathering. The men sit on a couch and watch the game, and the women quietly walk back and forth from the kitchen, offering small snacks and fresh drinks. (I'm complicit in this behavior. I don't watch the football game, but also, certainly, I don't carry the drinks.)
No one ever says, "Hey, who wants to switch the channel to TOSCA, on PBS?"
Or: "Would anyone like to check out Katrina Lenk doing Sondheim songs? They're re-running this on Thirteen...."
Sometimes--amazingly--a man will berate a woman for not knowing something about football. The woman will ask, innocently, what "tight end" refers to, and her partner or spouse, in front of a crowd, will say, "Woman, do you really not know the answer to that????"
Almost certainly, the woman does *not* say: "I haven't had a chance to learn because (a) I don't actually care and (b) I've been too busy fetching, for you, your taquitos."
The game continues. It's a short trip from here--I'd argue--to domestic abuse. It's a short trip from the football game to a slap across the face. And it's a short trip from a slap to strangulation. And a short trip from strangulation to murder.
Just some observations. Check out "No Visible Bruises," if you can.
Enjoy the play-offs.....
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