emmanuel reynaud holy virility the social construction of masculinity

sufficient to guarantee his power, and the rest of his body
becomes merely a receptacle for his brain. The advantage of
this position is, other than the power it reflects, that it enables
him, on the one hand, to avoid assault and battery, and, on the
other, not to be dependent on the short-lived glory associated
with physical strength. However, man may not always have the
option of exercising his power through mental activity; before
age prompts him to rely on his brain as best he can, he can
always count on his muscles and turn his body into a weapon.
[Man and his body /20 ]
Man does not hesitate to use force to establish his share of
power. When he is not beating up his wife or his children, he
gets into fights at the local; if he cannot be a soldier, he can
always be a sportsman to show the world that he is a man, a
real man. A smashed nose, missing teeth, prominent scars, a
face swollen by blows or puffy from drugs: these are the real
trophies of sporting competition. Sport is a territory where man
feels at home, it is not a matter of playing but of fighting, of
stretching himself to the limit. He takes pleasure in making his
body into a good tool for battle and prepares himself through
sport for the supreme virile activity: war. The rapier is no longer
blunted, scrums are no longer bare-fisted: he can give free rein
to exercising his power, and enjoying a real flirtation with death.
In fire, fear and blood, the soldier at war experiences the strong
sensations that only a 'real' man can rejoice in: «I was a mortar
and a machine gun specialist. I was very happy. 'Later when I
was recalled to go to Algeria, I was assigned to a battalion in the
south-west where there were neither mortars nor machine guns.
It was less fun.» [2]
So strong is his desire to be rid of his body that man sometimes
succeeds in doing so, but he does not become the pure mind he
likes to imagine: instead he ends up an invalid or a corpse. War
and sport, of course, provide him ample opportunities to
surpass himself ―to fill the hospitals with the remains of his
exploits, to enrich the earth with the bones of his glory. But he
also finds scope in the most mundane activities: straddling his
motorbike, for example, he enjoys risking a serious accident at
every bend, or, downing five shorts in a row, he can show that
he, a man, is not afraid of alcohol, even if his liver, his arteries
and his stomach cannot take any more. What does it matter
what the means and the end are, as long as the mutilated body
shows signs of the heroic struggle man has waged against his
fears and his own flesh?
Man does not always go to these extremes. In most cases he
does not attach much importance to his appearance, and is
happy to consider his body as a mere tool: the instrument of his
mind. He usually sees this as the best way of guaranteeing his
power; especially since in relying on his physical strength and
appearance as little as possible, he manages to ensure that time
is on his side. Not needing to be either strong or handsome, he
is even less afraid of the ravages of old age; when his body
deteriorates and his face creases with wrinkles, they are