If you scroll the annals of the internet or look at media from the past decade, you'll see depictions of Ares, the ancient Greek god of war, as a hardcore beef-cake war-lord. If we were to believe the internet, we'd understand Ares to be this mighty god, with all those in his presence cowering in the face of his awe-inspiring strength and masculinity¹. Let's not forget to mention the sexual charisma he would have needed to attract the most beautiful goddess in the pantheon, Aphrodite, to his bed.

No wonder this depiction of Ares is the most commonly imagined in the modern collective! Ares represents who all men want to be and who all women want to be with, right?

Ironically, Ares accurately represents the modern ideal for masculinity, but certainly not in the way a random Reddit thread would suggest.

I see Ares as the epitome of the wounded masculine energy that is so apparent in our modern world. This wounded masculine energy (usually called "toxic masculinity²") is a true reflection of the patriarchal paradigm that we've been submerged in for millennia: hoarding and stealing resources in the name of collecting power, the ever-present need to be "right" all the time and the urge to assimilate anyone with different beliefs. All this destruction stems from a line of abuse begetting abuse and unhealed trauma throughout the millennia.

And yet, even with all the destruction the wounded masculinity and its anthropomorphized representation, Ares, have caused, they still deserve a nuanced discussion and an empathetic eye.

While phrases like "Smash the Patriarchy!" and "Down with Toxic Masculinity!" are satisfying to chant, the underlying wounds in our society's masculine energy are still there.

We only shoot ourselves in the foot if all we want to do is eradicate masculinity or are unwilling to have a conversation about what "positive" masculinity is.

After all, all humans have both feminine and masculine energy, and both deserve attention and healing. If we don't allow our collective masculinity in society to heal, we do so at our own peril.

We're not the first to look down on "Toxic Masculinity." Even in myth, both gods and humans hate Ares.

Homer says in the Iliad Ares "brings ruin to mortals." Even Zeus, Ares' father, is quick to tell him how much he hates him.

Historians talk about how Ares' role in the Trojan War was necessary but unwanted and that war is an inevitable part of the human experience. But is it?

In this patriarchal society where there are only a few seats at the table, paving the way for corruption to run rampant, and where diversity in all its forms is something that has to be fought for, maybe the violent and wounded masculine IS necessary. In our zero-sum hyper-capitalistic culture, where success means taking wealth and power from anyone you can, perhaps Ares is necessary.

But what about if we shifted the current paradigm?

What if we all were willing to not just look at how this wounded masculine energy has turned toxic?

What if we were finally ready to examine how the wound beneath has been infected for so long?

What if we allowed the space and focus necessary to heal this festering wound?

After all, Ares is the product of the most dysfunctional marriage ever, with an upbringing of neglect and abuse--let's not forget about the time the giants trapped him in a jar for a year³!

He is a clear example of childhood trauma that is left unresolved. But how could he have ever resolved them?

Patriarchal societies don't give enough room for people like Ares to process their emotions, weep in grief, or show feelings other than boredom, lust, and anger.

If an Ares man did so, society would quickly call him a "pussy" and tell him to "man up." No wonder why uncontrolled violent outbursts are Ares' only form of expression!

In the Iliad, when a Trojan warrior wounds Ares, he retreats to Mt. Olympus to seek his father's comfort. But when he's there, Ares calls out Zeus' obvious preference for his other child, Athena.

With "scowling brows," Zeus tells Ares not to whine, twisting the knife further by saying, "Of all the gods who live on Mount Olympus, you are the one I hate the most." Zeus tells Ares that he hates how he is like his mother, Hera because he can't be controlled. (This is another symptom of the patriarchy. Zeus, the patriarch here, is pissed off at anything he can't control: his children, women, and their bodies and actions.) Zeus says he will heal Ares only out of familial obligation and would have cast him out of Olympus long ago if he weren't his son.

There are COUNTLESS examples of modern Ares today. He is in our government, our places of work, and in our own families.

These destructive Areses need to be held accountable for their actions, but at the same time, when it is safe and possible to do so, we need to be willing to look through their destructive behavior and at the wounds beneath.

How much would our current world change if we gave these Areses space to process their trauma and heal their wounds? I think it would change pretty dramatically.

Hopefully, this note is helpful to you as you run into various Areses in your life! I try to remember all this when I run into them as I go about my day, scroll social media, or watch them give speeches inside our government.

Cheers to healing our wounded masculine,

Monica

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^1. Like “Clash of the Titans” or the video game series “God of War.”

^2. While this energy indeed has turned toxic, I use the phrase “wounded masculinity” instead of “toxic masculinity” because I find that wounded has a lot less weight than toxic and less likely to start an argument. I also think it is better to recognize the wound that causes the toxicity rather than only recognizing the symptoms of the wound.

^3. In a lesser-known myth, known as the Gigantomachy, giants fought to take over Mt. Olympus and, in the process, bound Ares in chains inside of a jar for a year. Hermes saved him.