Unhealthy Competition

At the age of 16, I moved to a boys’ boarding school in Melbourne, quickly learning that leaving the comfort of my family home and starting a new life would come with many shocks and surprises. Fortunately, I found solace in the companionship of C, a fellow newcomer who, like me, hailed from somewhere outside of the city. Together, we got to know each other through grappling with the challenges of adjusting to a new school and the bustling city life that surrounded it. As time passed, our friendship developed, and a true connection was forged through C's unwavering support. He possessed an emotional maturity that transcended his age, and in his presence, I found the freedom to laugh and even shed tears without judgment. Within six months, I was already calling him my best friend.

Over time, however, the nature of our friendship changed. Our co-operative conversations and emotional connections were gradually replaced by a competitive tension. Be it sports, popularity, banter or almost anything, each was its own endless battle. These contests would stretch on for hours, only ending when one of us was defeated or acknowledged to be wrong. The problem was, in every case, he’d win! My sense of inadequacy that followed deepened as time passed, eventually igniting unhealthy comparisons between us that spread much further than the meaningless contests. I found I was constantly judging myself relative to his benchmark; how much was he achieving, how much was he liked, how good of a person was he? Only to conclude that I always fell short. It was during one heated argument, when C challenged me to "name something you're better than me at," that the true weight of my self-doubt became painfully evident. The absence of a response on my part resonated profoundly, revealing that we both knew, in every desperate attempt to try and prove my own value to C and more importantly, to myself, the efforts I made were in vain.

It made me think ‘what was the point of even trying?’ My self-worth crumbled as I questioned why anyone would choose me over him in any aspect of life, be it friendships, relationships, or future career prospects. Frightened to confront my growing sense of worthlessness and inadequacy, I resolved to fight against it. This led to my sense of competition against the world becoming even more intense, driven out of a desperation to prove, not just to others but also to myself, that I was worthy of keeping up with C, perhaps even surpassing him.

As we faced the academic pressures of year 12, this mindset consumed me. I set my sights on gaining admission to the University of Melbourne to study Commerce. As we battled for class rankings, I relied on my ability to put in more hours than the average student in a relentless pursuit of outshining C. For six months, pleasing grades fed my conviction that this approach was working, and I intensified my pursuit, adopting the mantra:

"Put in as many hours as possible, and you'll get the results."

Unfortunately, the weight of these self-imposed expectations proved to be exceptionally damaging, culminating in a downward spiral during Term 3, being the final full term of the year. I always remained resolute in my determination to outperform my peers, but it became increasingly difficult to ignore the cracks that were beginning to show. Anxiety and insomnia had overcome me as a direct result of my hypercompetitive mindset and accompanying fear of failure. I did not truly acknowledge my damaged mental health, rationalizing it as ‘part of Year 12’ in order to focus on performing at my best in my examinations.

Only five days before my examinations began, I burnt out. This resulted in me not initially obtaining my objective of studying Commerce at Melbourne University.

I wish I could say that I was able to quickly adjust to my disappointment; however, my sense of trying and failing whilst other succeeded was contaminating. A sense of shame developed that would last for many years. More than ever, I felt plagued by the debilitating question: “why would anyone want you”.

In the time since, I've come to realise that my values and behaviours were not solely the result of personal circumstance, they were influenced by a much larger force—my masculinity. This revelation occurred during my university years when I encountered the concept of hegemonic masculinity, as proposed by Raewyn Connell. This theory completely transformed my perception of my late teen years by explaining that masculinity goes beyond notions of invulnerability and strength. It encompasses a mindset that society moulds all men from a young age.

While the expression of masculinity varies greatly from person to person, Connell outlines that hegemonic masculinity has become the most prevalent and extreme form of masculinity in contemporary society. It ingrains four pillars in the minds of men: unhealthy competition, subordination of others, emotional suppression, and sexual objectification.

Whilst I initially identified with the concept to some degree, I also did not accept that it offered an accurate representation of manhood. I found it unnecessarily harsh. I then recognised that hegemonic masculinity does not seek to provide a description of tangible characteristics of men, but rather explains how men are pushed towards modelling an image of manhood that embodies stoicism, heroism and being invulnerable.

Reflecting on my friendship with C, I recognised that I was unwittingly adopting an approach of unhealthy competition which is one of the most prevalent aspects of extreme masculinity.

I grew up as a quiet, relaxed and sensitive person. However, prevalent notions of hegemonic masculinity in which different expressions of manhood are dismissed as weak and inferior made me seek to become a stereotypical hegemonic man.

This made me see success as being conditional to impressing other people. It made me blind to my own achievements. It made me, for years, view my year 12 as a failure even when I still achieved a mark in the top 10% of the state. Its effect tainted my friendships: I constantly compared myself to others, forfeiting the chance to make genuine emotional connections. I put up with all this, and the associated mental anguish that came with a lack of self-worth, all because I couldn’t control a masculine force that praised extremism.

Ignorance of the damaging and corrosive influence of unhealthy masculinity combined with an adherence to a mob mentality that valued invulnerability, left me oblivious to a solution that had always been attainable. As far back as year 10, I learned that being forced out of a façade of masculinity brought forth the most powerful, connecting and meaningful moments one could experience. There were times when I experienced genuine vulnerability through shared emotion, and each time it was followed by deep friendship, resonance, and support. But for years, this lesson was silenced by the external and internal pressures of compliance with a profound stereotype.

That was, until I came across Connell’s work. By describing a force that I thought was ‘just part of being 18’, Connell helped me to dig up lessons of my past and saw me apply them through actively controlling the traits of masculinity deemed most harmful.

This process was implemented gradually over time. Many times I slipped back into harmful traits of masculinity, saying or doing things that reflected my old self, but with each slip I was more and more aware of the values and behaviours I wanted to show. Eventually, I had the strength to hold myself to a higher standard, one where internal and external harm wasn’t occurring at the hands of complying with the guidelines of a hegemonic man.

This internal change soon became reflected all around me. It helped me build a support network and become more connected than ever before. I started viewing people through a lens of respect and admiration for their strengths, rather than perceiving them as a reflection of my own weaknesses. It even helped me to push beyond my personal limits academically and physically and enabled me to feel proud when I did so. I became driven not by a desire to outperform others but to challenge myself to find greater contentment and confidence.

Lessons

The harm I inflicted upon myself stemmed mainly from the ignorance of the harmful traits of hegemonic masculinity. I failed to see my engagement with a culture of unhealthy masculinity until I looked back retrospectively, finally seeing the harm produced both internally and externally by my compliance with the ideals of the hegemonic man. By failing to see that I had become trapped in seeking to emulate unhealthy masculinity, I could only develop these unworthy characteristics.

To anyone facing a similar situation, I offer the following challenge:

- Education: Learn about what masculinity is, its dynamics in our society, and write down how you personally wish to embody it.

- Recognition: Acknowledge the existing guidelines of a hegemonic man in the world around you. The conversations you have, your role models, the TV shows, sports and media you consume. Once you open your eyes, you realise these guides come from almost anything and anyone.

- Mitigation: Actively try to control your emulation of unhealthy masculinity. Hold yourself accountable to ‘keeping up’ with others, try to recognise the right time, and the right people to be competitive and show emotion to, and always encourage others to do the same.

- Be your own role model: Flipping the guidelines of a hegemonic man from ones that force compliance, to areas that need to be actively controlled is merely how I conjured change. I encourage anyone to identify your own values and morals associated with your own masculinity and stay true to them. This challenges conformity, and more broadly the herd morality that unhealthy masculinity procures within almost any group or community.

- Foster open conversations: Set a precedent for discussing masculinity with those around you. Even a single transparent and vulnerable conversation can transform the dynamic of an entire friendship, group or community for the better.

It's important to note, in doing this, I don’t want to stop the showing of masculinity altogether; we are all engineered to naturally exhibit these traits, and we should never seek to eradicate this. I acknowledge that all the traits of hegemonic masculinity (except sexual objectification) in the right context, and in the right quantity can be ok. I just want it to be known that moderation, for me, was a better option.

In conclusion, I want to emphasize that my experience made me recognise the effects of the mostly unknown force that is hegemonic masculinity. We all know what toxic masculinity is at a general level; however, I feel we do not speak enough about the specific traits that harm ourselves and our peers. By focusing on Connell's traits of a hegemonic man, we can pinpoint four areas of unhealthy masculinity that must be mitigated for the betterment of men in every generation.