Why real boys cry and other life lessons

Sometimes running into a private bubble and shutting away the world is just what is required to regain our equilibrium.

Even at 5, the first-grader is pretty astute and knows exactly when to turn off the cameras and hit the mute button when his e-learning sessions are going on. So, when I got an SOS call in the middle of work last week to be told that he had dashed into his room and shut himself in to sob his heart out, I was initially a bit taken aback. Then came the explanation. Upon being chastised for something by his minder while his e-classes were going on, he had instinctively activated his tear glands and despite all best intentions nobody was able to turn off the cameras in time for his outburst to not go public. When the teacher had voiced her concern, upon seeing her ward sobbing away in a corner of the huge screen, he was mortified — like he’d be when he grows up and reads this piece — and shouting out that the ENTIRE class was now privy to his personal breakdown he scurried into his personal space.

‘Boys don’t cry’, is a refrain I have heard often enough. While I am the first to confess, I prefer the strong, silent types and am not particularly partial towards those who feel the need to make a public spectacle of their personal woes, recent research shows that it is good for your wellbeing to vent out once in a while. Of course, as long as you don’t make a habit of it. Nobody likes to be around a Moaning Myrtle, do they?

The recent outburst was only to be expected. How much of pent-up emotions can one carry around? While adults resort to sulking or shouting and having mini breakdowns on the way to work, at times in some public washroom or even pulled up at their neighbourhood petrol station, children are expected to hold it all together somehow. Mental health is as relevant and perhaps even more so in the current world — where social distancing measures and our own tendency to withdraw into heavily sanitised bubbles and hibernate, means for most of us physical wellbeing is a big priority. But what about the insidious cobbling away of our defense mechanism by a 24-hour cycle of conscious and subconscious consumption of whatever is happening around us?

We humans are perhaps at our most fragile mental framework right now, where a mere censorious glance or a frantic attempt to pile on the work in an attempt to showcase our indispensable status means we are forever engaged in a constant state of trying to prove ourselves — most often to ourselves.

Sometimes running into a private bubble and shutting away the world is just what is required to regain our equilibrium.

And yes, sometimes, it is okay to shed tears in public whether it is perceived humiliation in front of a peer group or because we want to rail against the injustice around us.

There is something to be said about the ancient art of mourning, when professional wailers would descend and with dramatic flaying of their arms and beating of their chests proclaim aloud their sorrow. The public outburst was seen as cathartic and significantly it was community based. Keening was a vocal expression of mourning and one that signified that death is often marked by an affirmation of life. The death wail has been recorded from the time of the ancient Celts. It still exists among indigenous people of Africa, Asia, Australia and South America.

In recent times Chrissy Teigen may have been guilty of going back to the basics when it comes to public mourning. She faced a social media backlash when she put out images from her hospital bed after suffering a tragic miscarriage. Thankfully when Meghan Markle opened up about her pain of miscarriage recently, her public act of mourning was embraced and empathised with. That’s what we need to do more as a society — reach out to those who have suffered any kind of bereavement or loss — even if it is loss of face. Our children need to be taught there is nothing shameful about a public outburst once in a while, within reason, of course.

We are at our strongest when we exhibit our fragility. And being human is as much about letting the tears flow as it is about holding them in and no one should be judged for either.

— ambica@khaleejtimes.com