When Boys Become Boys This page intentionally left blank When Boys Become Boys Development, Relationships, and Masculinity Judy Y. Chu With a Foreword by Carol Gilligan a NEW YORK UNIVERSITY PRESS New York and London NEW YORK UNIVERSITY PRESS New York and London www.nyupress.org © 2014 by New York University All rights reserved References to Internet websites (URLs) were accurate at the time of writing. Neither the author nor New York University Press is responsible for URLs that may have expired or changed since the manuscript was prepared. For Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication data, please contact the Library of Congress. ISBN: 978-0-8147-6468-8 (cloth) ISBN: 978-0-8147-6480-0 (paper) New York University Press books are printed on acid-free paper, and their binding materials are chosen for strength and durability. We strive to use environmentally responsible suppliers and materials to the greatest extent possible in publishing our books. Manufactured in the United States of America 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 Also available as an ebook For Matthew, who makes everything possible, and Xander, who makes everything worthwhile. This page intentionally left blank Contents Foreword by Carol Gilligan ix Introduction 1 1. Entering Boys’ World 11 2. Boys’ Relational Capabilities 33 3. Socialization and Its Discontents 63 4. Boys versus the Mean Team 108 5. Boys’ Awareness, Agency, and Adaptation 143 6. Parents’ Perspectives on Boys’ Predicament 166 Conclusion 199 Acknowledgments 213 Notes 215 Index 223 About the Author 227 >> vii This page intentionally left blank Foreword Carol Gilligan Foreword by Carol Gilligan In the epilogue to Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Man, the psychoanalyst Donald Moss tells the following story. When he was in first grade, they learned a new song every week and were told that at the end of the year, they would each have a chance to lead the class in singing their favor- ite, which they were to keep a secret. For Moss, the choice was clear: “The only song I loved was the lullaby ‘When at night I go to sleep, thirteen angels watch do keep . . . ’ from Hansel and Gretel.” Every night he would sing it to himself, and as the song said, the angels came, saving him from his night terror and enabling him to fall asleep. It “was, and would always be, the most beautiful song I had ever heard.” The first-graders had learned the song in early autumn and in late spring when Moss’s turn came, he stood at the front of the class. The teacher asked what song he had chosen. Moss remembers, I began to tell her, “It’s the lullaby . . . ” But immediately, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the reaction of the boys in the front row. Their faces were lighting up in shock . . . I knew, knew in a way that was immediate, clear and certain, that what I was about to do, the song I was about to choose, the declaration that I was about to make, represented an enormous, irre- vocable error . . . What the boys were teaching me was that I was to know now, and to always have known, that “When at night I go to sleep” could not be my favorite song, that a lullaby had no place here, that something else was called for. In a flash, in an act of gratitude, not to my angels but to my boys, I changed my selection. I smiled at the teacher, told her I was just kidding, told her I would now lead the class in singing the “Marines’ Hymn”: “From the halls of Montezuma to the shore of Tripoli . . . ”1 >> ix