Masculization

The Replacement

From Tony Hoagland’s Donkey Gospel

And across the country I know

they are replacing my brother's brain

with the brain of a man;

one gesture, one word, one neuron at a time

with surgical precision

they are teaching him to hook his thumbs

into his belt, to iron his mouth as flat

as the horizon, and make his eyes

reflective as a piece of tin.

It is a kind of cooking

the male child undergoes:

to toughen him, he is dipped repeatedly

in insult--peckerwood, shitbag, faggot,

pussy, dicksucker--until spear points

will break against his epidermis,

until his is impossible to disappoint.

Then he walks out into the street

ready for a game of corporate poker

with a hard-on for the Dow-Jones

like this hormonal language I am

flexing like a bicep

to show who's boss.

But I'm not the boss.

And there is nothing I can do to stop it,

and would I if I could?

What else is there for him to be

except a man?

If they fail,

he stumbles through his life

like an untied shoe.

If they succeed, he may become

something even I can't love.

Already the photograph I have of him

is out of date

but in it he is standing by the pool

without a shirt: too young, too white, too weak,

with feelings he is too inept to hide

splashed over his face--

goofy, proud, shy,

he's smiling at the camera

as if he were under the illusion

that someone loved him so well

they would not ever ever ever

turn him over to the world.

   I chose this poem because of how well it encompasses the style as well as the greater themes of Tony Hoagalnd’s collection, Donkey Gospel. The poems focus largely on the subjectivity of masculinity, the discovery of one’s own, the enforcement of it, and the subsequent effects of that enforcement. Many of these subjects are explored in “The Replacement”.

   The poem begins in ambiguity, when Hoagland mentions his distant brother having his brain replaced. What makes this first stanza so striking, however, is that it’s being replaced “with the brain of a man.” Without knowing the context of the poem, this idea seems absurd. Later, he expands upon it and goes into the details of the operation. This replacement is not immediate, it’s a slow and painful process. With single gestures and remarks, his brain is being replaced “one neuron at a time” by that of a man. From Hoagland’s use of they, one can guess he’s talking about society in general. Society has this process fleshed out too: it’s “with surgical precision” that this takes place. Then Hoagland’s tone moves away from that of an operation and more towards the idea of conditioning. “They” are teaching him masculine composure and habits, one being a flat affect.

   “Cooking” is the next comparison he makes, but now he applies it to all male children and we also find out the goal of this process. It’s done to “toughen” them. In Hoagland’s poems, he often references the harsh phrases he both remembers and used in his childhood. In this poem it’s less personal, but still very important. These are the insults the children are “dipped in,” the insults that harden them until his skin is impossible to pierce. This image portrays the emotional hardening of male children, how it starts from a young age. Hoagland doesn’t dwell on this though, he moves on quickly: skipping adolescence and going straight to adulthood.

   Now the poster male child is on the streets pursuing a corporate life. He has a “hard-on” for the Dow-Jones. This sexual reference is very much intentional, as it seems like the societal conditioning has spilled into the biological, it has creeped into even the primitive parts of the brain that control sexual urges. Hoagland even acknowledges his own use of what he calls “hormonal language.” He does it, apparently, to show who’s boss. This is the last image of the stanza, and here begins Hoagland’s assessment of his own masculinity, as this must have happened to him too. He has an urge to assert dominance.

   This is the major shift in the poem, from societal description to society’s effects on Hoagland himself. The irony of his previous claim becomes apparent in the next stanza, when he quickly contradicts himself. He’s not the boss, and he’s obviously not in control if there’s nothing he can do to stop this process. He even questions his ability to come up with an alternative. “What else is there for him to be except a man?” Is there any other role he can occupy in society? This is Hoagland’s view of the world: black and white. He either stumbles and flails if he can’t adopt this artificial masculinity, or he becomes something even Hoagland  “can’t love.”

   The poem becomes increasingly personal, with phrases like “even I can’t love” offering insight to Hoagland’s character, the analysis of which is the premise of the collection. He brings up the photograph he has of his brother as a kid that’s outdated at this point. It’s his brother in his rawest state, before this masculinization. His feelings that he’s too inept to hide” are “splashed” all over his face. Despite this positive image, Hoagland once again ventures into dark territory. His brother smiles at the camera, but Hoagland suggests he’s under the illusion that “someone loved him so well they would not ever ever ever turn him over to the world.” This image is of his brother, but the emotions seem all too personal. “Ever ever ever” holds a lot of emotion, and Hoagland certainly feels as if he was turned over to the world. There seems to be an absence of blame here, however. Maybe it’s not possible for one person’s love to hold back the whole of society.

   This poem ends with a rumination, and not a light one, at that. It’s a coming-to-terms with society, with culture and the way masculinity is enforced. It’s inherently negative, as one could draw from this poem, but it might just be inescapable.