A good role model is hard to find

As a red-blooded American male on the southern edge of middle age, I have come to recognize several things about life as inescapably true. One of these truths is that I will never possess the ability to give birth to a child. Not that the idea of passing a 10-pound bowling ball through any orifice of my body actually appeals to me; I’m just saying, biologically, it is an absolute impossibility—at least until the ACLU figures out how to sue nature.

Hence, a combination of biology and eons of conditioning are behind the generally accepted male-testosterone-driven “traditional male role” within the family. Men are, after all, anatomically stronger and visually more acute—for a reason. A man with bad eyesight, for example, was more likely to become lunch for a saber-toothed tiger rather than the other way around.

So, from the beginning, viable, self-supporting men were set up to fetch the vittles, build killer cribs and generally take care of their families—a rather single-minded yet important task that has somehow denigrated into an intellectually vapid hole, encouraging the continued wussification of the American male in today’s society.

Witness the 2000 presidential election, when then-Vice President Al Gore paid $150,000 to feminist author Naomi Wolf.

Question: Why would a sitting vice president of the United States of America pay $150,000 to a feminist author?

Answer: To help Al “get in touch with his feminine side.”

And, no, I’m not kidding about that.

It would appear that between Will & Grace and Queer Eye for the Straight Guy, the latest role model for the American male has led to the new-and-improved metrosexual male.

The narcissistic, metrosexual male is, according to all accounts, allowed to blame the environment, his inner child or low blood sugar for why he hasn’t gotten with the program of being the family breadwinner, yet he appears to require getting in touch with his feminine side as fundamental to his existence.

It appears that, when it comes to women, the roles are just as confused.

Witness Darlene Jespersen’s sex discrimination case. Jespersen, a former Harrah’s casino bartender, was fired in 2000 after some 21 years on the job because she refused to wear makeup. Harrah’s had a company policy that required her to do so. She maintained that wearing makeup should be a personal choice, men weren’t required to wear it, and her appearance had nothing to do with her job performance.

I will set aside for the moment that the U.S. Constitution doesn’t guarantee anyone the right to a job, performance-based or otherwise. Common sense would seem to dictate that those who don’t want to wear a uniform, work inconvenient hours or adhere to any other requirements an employer may require should consider self-employment as a means of support.

Happily, judges occasionally exhibit signs of intelligence; the court ruled against Jespersen.

As proof that graduating from law school doesn’t make one intelligent, her lawyer, Jennifer Pizer, said, “Ms. Jespersen was unjustly forced to adhere to rigid, gender-based stereotypes as a condition of her job.”

Jespersen was represented by Lambda Legal, a nonprofit gay-rights organization. Perhaps that explains something.

Jespersen may prefer to try things in California. The mental giants who inhabit the California Legislature passed a law to assist the gender-confused. A man who wears a dress to work, for example, can’t be fired for dressing “consistently with their gender identity.”

And for the record: If I ever want to get in touch with my feminine side, I’ll find my wife.