The Intersection of Masculinity and Humor

When I was 15 years old, I was intimidated by our varsity basketball coach. A man of deep faith and deep principles, he was fiercely competitive, extraordinarily dedicated, and did not permit shortcuts. He also saw more in me than I saw in myself, and pushed me accordingly, in ways that I was too immature to appreciate. In my early days with the team, I kept him at as much distance as I could.  

One day after practice, one of the older players was putting on his best imitation of our coach, with perfect mimicry of his drawl, pet phrases, and mannerisms. Naturally, Coach happened into the locker room while we were giggling at his expense; I assumed that we’d all be sent back to the court for sprints, or maybe just sent off the team altogether.  It was to my great surprise, then, that Coach burst out laughing at the impression—“Hey, that’s pretty good!”—and left us in stunned, relieved silence.

This was a pivotal moment, as I finally learned that Coach’s intensity was leavened by both a sense of humor and a patience with youthful silliness. More and more, as I saw him as more fully human, I realized that he was driven not primarily by disdain for error, but rather by moments of joy that emerged when kids became a unit and trusted in, sacrificed for, and cherished both one another and the game that they played. Coach remains a friend to this day, and I think the seeds of that friendship were most truly sown when I saw him laugh at himself.

The obvious lesson in this story for those of us involved in boys’ education holds that boys learn best in the context of relationships. Boys are most likely to grow when teachers and coaches forge authentic connections by matching high standards with genuine emotional availability, responding to the boys’ passions, and resisting the tendency to take opposition personally. This is certainly what Coach afforded me.    

In addition, I think there is a subtler reading of his self-deprecating laughter, one which involves the intersection of masculinity and humor. As I have written elsewhere, humor can be a wonderful tool of connection, but it also requires a certain kind of care to utilize properly. Joking and banter can quickly devolve into teasing and ridicule if we don’t maintain awareness of others’ emotional experiences. We never want to turn a blind eye to real harm by accusing a victim of not being able to take a joke.

But in howling at the joke that was being made on him, Coach was able to communicate something about manhood to a group of boys who were simultaneously insecure, competitive, and disinclined to show vulnerability. For many of us—particularly if we were not among the strongest players—to accept a joke at one’s expense was tantamount to betraying weakness and risking social status. Ours was a truly precarious masculinity.  

In laughing at himself, however, Coach offered the chance to see strength and successful manhood in a different way. None of us doubted his physical prowess; indeed, he radiated basketball intensity, and his team almost always prevailed when he joined us for pick-up games. And this context gave his openness to the joke so much instructive power, for even our immature minds could start to grasp that the man who could be so daunting on the court could allow himself vulnerability and self-effacement off of it.  Ours was a shallow understanding of “real” manhood, one which leaned heavily on the notion of “do unto others before they did unto you.” Coach tried to show us a deeper kind of strength that did not require invulnerability, but instead saw self-deprecation as fundamental—rather than antithetical—to secure masculinity.  

To be sure, he had the power in our relationship, and likely didn’t crave the social approval of a bunch of sophomoric boys. On this score, one can plausibly contend that Coach could laugh at himself because he had little at stake. For my part, however, I choose to see this episode not as a mere gesture of noblesse oblige, but rather as part of a series of efforts he made to model for us what qualities could constitute responsible manhood (commitment, competence, openness, accountability, compassion), and what other qualities—self-importance, defensiveness, oneupmanship—would not serve us well.

The ability to laugh at oneself is good for everyone! But I think it can be a particularly important disposition for boys as they journey toward a prosocial, fulfilling, and successful sense of themselves as men.