Toxic Masculinity Broke my Collarbone

I zipped through an intersection at 40kmph on my custom fixed gear track bike. The night before, my bike’s chain had made odd, grinding noises. I knew it had to be taken to a repair shop for a service, and I knew that if I pedalled faster, I could beat the tram ahead of me and make it before closing.

At the top of a hard stroke my chain flew off my back cog, tangled, and jammed my crank. With no back brake and a parked car in front of me, I tried to stop, leaning all of my weight onto the back wheel and pumping my bike’s brake. But I didn’t stop.

Instead, I flew like a ragdoll and hit the ground — hard. I slid about four metres on my left shoulder.

Two weeks later, at the hospital, I received my prognosis: my collarbone was shattered where my AC joint connected my collarbone to my arm. The three ligaments I used to have there were completely gone. A clavicle hook and seven screws would have to be inserted to hold my collarbone in place and give my ligaments a chance to scar over. I would lose sensation in my skin over my left pectoral permanently and would need another surgery in four months to remove the hook. I would never be as flexible as I was. And I had to stay off my bike for at least 6 months.

During recovery, I revisited my accident over and over again in my head. How could I have been so foolish as to ride a faulty bike through peak traffic and try to race a tram? I had known the danger but had done it anyway. I knew I was reckless. But why? And how, if at all, did my socialisation as a man inform my behaviour?

What I’ve since learned is that there is a well-established link between men who endorse traditional notions of masculinity and risk taking behaviour. One 2015 study of men in high risk occupations found that high belief in traditional masculinity norms was associated with more safety violations and a reduced likelihood of reporting hazards.

A 2001 study into aggressive driving behaviour found a significant relation between “macho men” and dangerous driving. Even stating that “macho men assigned greater importance to speed and sportiness of a car and less importance to safety aspects than non-macho men.” Not too different to riding a race bike with only a front brake, I suppose.

How toxic masculinity functions to produce these behaviours runs deeper than correlations however. I found that toxic masculinity has two important functions that produce this, one is for men to believe they are exceptional and another is the production a “fragile” masculinity.

Men are driven to believe we are exceptional. Social competition between men to be the ‘alpha’ of a group leads men to build exaggerated beliefs about our personal abilities, meaning we sometimes overestimate of our own prowess physically as well as sexually and mentally. For example, men who support traditional notions of masculinity are more likely to overestimate their height. Men also consistently overestimate their IQ and intelligence relative to their classmates, one study found that in STEM, the average male student had 61% chance of believing he was smarter than an individual classmate, with the average female student only had a 33% chance of believing she was smarter than a classmate.

In the workplace this difference is stark. A “confidence gap” often explains why men will apply for jobs and promotions with only 60% of the qualifications required whereas women generally only apply if they meet 100% of the criteria.

The result of this overestimation of our skills and abilities — that we are exceptional — applies as well to risky and dangerous behaviours. Personally, this manifests as a voice in my head that says, “Sure this is dangerous, but you’re good enough, no sweat.”

Toxic masculinity however, also produces “fragility” in our manhood. Society polices and enforces gender upon men via the questioning of our manhood. As a result, many masculinities are built in response to individual insecurities. Fragile masculinity is normally visible when men overreact to challenges to their manhood, but this is only an acute expression of fragility.

More commonplace expressions of fragile masculinity are the choices men make to avoid challenges to our manhood altogether. A hallmark of traditional masculinity is the idea that men should be fearless. As such, men like me ensure that we are seen as fearless by engaging in dangerous or risky behaviours, like riding a bike during peak traffic, in order to mitigate the risk of being called “a pussy” or some other emasculating term.

These two aspects of toxic masculinity were present during my accident. The belief that I was an exceptional cyclist enabled me to believe I could race a tram and then feel secure in my manhood for doing dangerous things.

Ironically, the scars men collect from risk taking behaviour do not challenge our manhood. They’re not reminders of our failures, our poor decisions, or their consequences. Quite the opposite, they often become proof of our manhood. Proof of a man who has ‘lived’ and ‘dared’ to master the dangerous.

It makes me wonder if perhaps the greatest trick the patriarchy has ever played on humanity is to dupe us into celebrating male failure and mediocrity. Even when earned by our most idiotic of choices our mistakes can still be proof of our manhood.

Because of my accident, a five-inch scar will stretch languidly across my collar, an ever-present reminder of my dangerous decision making. I want my scar to be a reminder of how nefarious the effects of toxic masculinity can be, a reminder that I was lucky that I hurt only myself that day and no one else.