Our disposable boys

Three things have bothered me these last few days, although they're really just symptoms of a bigger thing.

The first is an underground fighting event called King of the Streets. It involves competitors smashing each other in someone’s backyard, in the hope of a $50,000 prize.1

The second is an event called Run It Straight. An import from overseas and a social media phenomenon, Run It Straight was held last week in West Auckland. Competitors charged at each other, with whoever came off best from each collision the winner. Some of the biggest applause of the night happened when a guy who lost slumped to the ground and had a seizure.2

The third is worst. A young man has died in a tackle game based on Run It Straight. I hardly know what to say, except that I can’t begin to guess how his whānau feels right now.3

I've been watching the social media reaction to these events. Social media’s generally a pretty poor gauge of what the public reckons - but in this case, it's probably the people posting in support who are also attending the events or participating in them. Ultimately, they think this stuff is fun. Many believe that these competitions are about personal choice, and government has no business telling competitors what they can do with their bodies. Challenged on the social impact of people’s injuries, they point out - fairly - that everyone’s entitled to healthcare and ACC, whatever good or bad choices led them there. Some go further, and link official disapproval of the events with a broader government agenda. There’s a lot of stuff happening here, and it needs to be thought about carefully.

As a Pākehā feminist, I'm wary of wading clumsily into this. It's easy to have a knee-jerk condescending reaction: this stuff is stupid, and the young men doing it must be stupid too. I don’t believe that for a minute. Te Ao Māori News did a great job explaining why Run It Straight can be so meaningful to people.4 The feeling of connection and joy for the people who went to the event. The girl who loves the special time watching Run It Straight online each night with her dad. The participants who get involved to bring attention to mental health and suicide among Pasifika communities. These are beautiful things, and I’ve no business judging them.

And it’s not like my own emotions are clearcut. The ‘rational’ side of me worries about harms and consequences and costs and regrets. The other side of me watches, spellbound, old time footage of Muhammad Ali. His transcendent skill in the ring was inseparable from his uncompromising intellect and moral courage. You look on and you think, shit, I get it. This is more than physicality. This is greatness.

Still, I wonder. Physicality, the joy of inhabiting your body - maybe your young and male body - isn’t as accessible as it used to be. In a cost-of-living crisis, opportunities for organised sport or learning to dance, buying a gym membership or just owning running shoes, are beyond inaccessible for the average person. When we decide, as a society, that landlords and the tobacco industry are our national priorities, that’s what we get.

But it’s more than that. Is it a coincidence that this institutionalised, broadcast male self-harm is having a resurgence right now, in a time of Andrew Tate and ‘traditional’ masculinity - defined by its putting down of other genders and other ways of being men? Is it a coincidence that all this stuff generates clicks and revenue for shadowy third parties who will never show their faces, let alone stare down a shoulder tackle?

I want so much for our boys not to run it straight, but to run it straight back. Back to the people who love you. Back to the mothers who birthed you and raised you. To the children who need you. To the workmates and communities who value you. To the long lives we all need you to live. You are more than clicks earned as you convulse for the camera, a moment of entertainment today before you bear the costs tomorrow.

And it’s not just on you. Maybe we all need to remind you that, however it is you want to be men, you’re cherished and loved.

I’m glad you’re here at The End is Naenae. Subscribe so we can stay in touch.