The discussion of gender roles and expectations has found its voice in the cultural landscape for decades now.
Conversations and criticisms surrounding what women, in particular, are expected to be have cracked open the doors to new perspectives on expectations as a whole. In recent years, online personalities and discussion threads have allowed for the ideation of male superiority and genetic determinism to become mainstream. Social media influencers such as Andrew Tate and Clavicular have amassed a wide audience, packaging dominance, control, and hypermasculinity as virtues – even necessities. Though this kind of ideology may seem radical and new, the origins of these sentiments run deeper than any podcast or Twitch stream. Threads can be tied back to the stories we tell our children, stories such as ‘Beauty and the Beast.”
On Tuesday, April 7th, I attended the Fox Theatre to see the national tour of “Beauty and the Beast,” presented by Regions Bank Broadway in Atlanta. The themes presented themselves immediately.
In his grand entrance, Gaston presents himself as this uber-masculine, ideal man who everyone in town desires, made very clear by the five-minute ensemble number “Gaston.” Despite his immense desirability, his sole goal in the fairy tale is to win Belle’s love.
When his wants aren’t granted, he turns to anger and frustration. This makes anger and frustration seem like socially acceptable coping mechanisms for rejection and loneliness.
The Beast makes these problems deeper. His physical appearance becomes a key point in his struggle that makes him resort to isolation and anger. When Belle appears at his castle, he also resorts to a craving for control. Being the puppeteer of her actions, the Beast controls exactly what happens with Belle: her movements, her living quarters, her time with her father. For a person conditioned by manosphere thinking, these behaviors may seem aspirational — the man who controls his area and answers to no one. However, when you take a closer look, you uncover something that is not explicitly stated. The Beast is not controlling just because he can. He is controlling because he is scared of being deserted and unloved.
Beneath the roaring and the slamming and the temper tantrums lies a flawed human who has been alone for years, who believes himself to be unworthy of love, and who does not have the emotional vocabulary for expression beyond anger. Dominance in this case is not a display of confidence; it’s a substitute for insecurity.
Society curses us in ways quite similar to the Beast. Emotional suppression and control are rewarded through forceful gratification, and our community punishes an admission of struggle. Men who enter these harmful communities are typically young, unsure of themselves, and hurting. The community matches this loneliness and offers a brotherhood that reframes their sadness as a source of superiority. The solutions that are handed to them seem so near, an easy pill to swallow with instant results. But they do not heal things. They deepen this curse, forcing men into a web of harmful thinking that makes genuine human connection impossible.
Furthermore, the Beast’s mental health and healing seem to be the last priority. The living objects in the house see this struggle, understand it is happening, and turn their eyes toward finding the love that will cure the curse. I think it goes without saying that this issue manifests in many ways within society. Our society and systems don’t give young people the freedom to express their emotions. Though this does not excuse harmful coping strategies, it does reveal larger issues. Emotional expression and maturity cannot thrive without a safe home. The process of healing, therefore, is not just an individual endeavor, but rather a collective moral responsibility.
Part of what makes “Beauty and the Beast” so relevant today is because it speaks to a timeless and genuine human longing–to be loved despite our worst selves. The problem with that is the harmful acceptance of anger as coping, the romanticization of control as love, and the consequences of men not allowing their brotherhood to share an emotional vocabulary.
Young men exposed to the manosphere and incel communities are influenced into believing that their pain must be channeled towards a Darwinist survival belief translated as anger and a superiority complex. The answer is not to rebuke masculinity – it’s to promote growth and healing. Recognizing these patterns in society is not cynicism. It’s the first step towards a different story, one where all people are given the tools and permission to ask for help before it is too late.
