In the brotherhood, there are unspoken rules - what outsiders like to call the bro code. The foundation of this code, as I've observed, is how the bros are expected to process emotion.
As much as they're unspoken, they're concrete rules understood and observed subconsciously by bros all over the world. This perspective was obtained from assembling with the "table of men" several times this semester.
Many of these rules, albeit unspoken, do not make sense to the outsider (especially the female outsider). For one, brothers trust each other at first glance and are not reluctant to welcome other brothers into their community.
It's like I can get into any brotherhood and feel at home. Be comfortable. Fit in. Beautifully enough too, I'm assumed innocent till proven otherwise. In the brotherhood, I'm not judged by my cover. And on times when I even make mistakes, I'm given the grace to come back. To recover. To clear my name. To learn and unlearn.
Even the bros I'm competing with are graceful enough to help me compete. They want me at my best, so they can beat me there. Beating me at my lowest doesn't appeal much to the brothers. It's why they'd not mind sharing their fantasy league formation, knowing very well that that's their stronghold.
The bros are also an amazing support system. True, they don't give hugs, and the best emotional response you can get from them is a moment of respectful silence. Then it's followed with the kind of warm handshake that converts to a shoulder hug. But in those silent moments, you feel solidarity, a push back up, an energy refill. It's surreal.
Watching the bros in an emotional consolation process can be a sad sight to behold. Stiff, wierd, awkward interactions as though it was happening in a cold room filled with crocodiles. You don't burden your other bros with emotional stories. You also don't go vulnerable in front of bros.
No weakness, because the bros are meant to be a symbol of strength, grit, perseverance. We look at adversity in the eye and trump it down. No hugs, no tears, no words about the issue at hand except "Charle", "Damn", and some ego bees here and there.
Ego bee! That timeless and everlasting phrase that gives the brothers a sense of hope amid trouble. Of calm amid chaos. It's our way of acceptance, of letting go, and of holding on.
No, it's not madness. Ladies cry to get better, we macho our issues out. Grab them by the neck, shove them into our armpits, and knock the life out of them. Otherwise, we meet with the brotherhood to find that boost. Strength, you can call it.
In the brotherhood, we find an unspoken sense of community. That, though we might not and cannot say it, we're with you in your difficult moments. Among ladies though, we can be open and vulnerable. It's harder to open up to a guy, especially without influence, than it is to open up to a woman. And it's why we need women. They make us vulnerable - and rightly so.
We struggle without our meet-ups - assembling as we call it. Our assembly is like an island in the middle of the ocean to the shipwrecked. Nothing is expected of it but we know that once we get there, there's some relief. Though sometimes temporary.
We assemble as an escape. An escape from life's harsh realities. From those problems that have no solution in sight. We assemble to vent out, though not necessarily to other brothers.
We assemble to play FIFA and insult Benzema when he misses a pass we made. The insult and groanings aren't to Benzema, it's to the bills we have unpaid. The girl who's bouncing us. A sibling going wayward. The pain from having a parent in their dying moments. We can't cry among bros, so we assemble to channel the pent-up grief in a way.
The quest to channel emotions is also why you see guys gambling their hearts away. Gambling not because they need the money, but because they're in search of a sort of fulfilment. A tick, an adrenaline rush. Something that makes them feel accomplished.
Most bros may never get a big hit in life, so they try to find accomplishment in any possible way - since that's the basis upon which they're judged. The world doesn't judge the bros by character, unfortunately. Good heart no dey pay bills or get fine woman. So they gamble to get that tick - something that makes them human.
We don't walk from pent to Commonwealth to buy Waakye because the Waakye is nice. No. That Waakye is plain terrible - and we know it. But those few hours spent walking to and from the Waakye joint might be the only time we'd have a good laugh all week or month, dare I say. And it's not a lie.
If you want to understand what male privilege truly is, it's the brotherhood. The brotherhood is our biggest privilege, and it's not even a joke. It's a support system that's willing to push you up knowing what it feels like to be down.
Life's challenges hit us hard, and mercilessly. And the brotherhood is where we find solace, relatability, calm and an energy refill. Cos truly, that's what life offered us.
Good evening Ghana!
