“Ride Free or Die” Trying: Hypermasculinity on FX's Sons of Anarchy

21 Pages·2016·0.09 MB·English

“Ride Free or Die” Trying:
Hypermasculinity on FX’s Sons of Anarchy
NICOLE B. COX LAUREN J.
AND
DECARVALHO
F
OR ITS FALL 2008 SEASON, FX TELEVISION NETWORK UNVEILED A
series with a set of characters that would captivate audiences
nationwide. It opened with shadowy images of vultures eating
trash in the road, as the show’s main character, Jax, crested the high-
way on his motorcycle, wearing a leather vest with “Sons of Anarchy”
emblazoned on the back. As the dark images set the stage for what
would become one of FX’s most successful programs, Sons of Anarchy
has triumphed in depicting masculinity on-screen. At a time when
debates concerning postfeminist media culture are surrounded by an
ongoing perceived crisis in masculinity and increased concern for
depictions of violent masculinity, Sons of Anarchy presents a prime
site for gendered analysis concerning how men—and white, hetero-
sexist masculinity—are presented to the masses. Masculinity, as out-
lined by Mike Donaldson, relies on collective patterns of behavior
and gendered performances that function to indicate one’s manhood
to others. Such performances often rely on the subordination and
oppression of others—a notion communicated throughout Sons of
Anarchy.
The need for critical examination of Sons of Anarchy rests in a mul-
titude of factors. First, Sons of Anarchy has situated itself as a pop cul-
ture phenomenon, specifically among male viewers (O’Connell).
While Sons of Anarchy averaged a modest 2.21 million viewers during
its first season (Feinberg), season seven attracted over 9 million view-
ers for the season premiere alone (Kondolojy). Beyond its viewership,
Sons of Anarchy’s popularity also extends far beyond TV. Entire lines
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©2016WileyPeriodicals,Inc.
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of clothing, merchandised products, online communities, Facebook
fan pages, and books all further audiences’ engagement with this fic-
tional motorcycle club. As the series sits on the heels of the 2015
shooting tragedy between “real-life” motorcycle rivals in Waco, Texas
(Ford), there is value in questioning what these mediated portrayals
communicate about men in motorcycle culture.
While media and manhood have been discussed in regard to post-
feminism and antifeminist feminism, and in relation to both fictional
and real-world events (see Faludi; Katz; Kimmel; Messner), few have
addressed Sons of Anarchy in the academic realm despite its success
(Dunn and Eberl; Fine; Sloboda; Wayne). In light of this gap, we
examine all seven seasons of Sons of Anarchy (92 episodes total), utiliz-
ing critical textual analysis to illustrate how the series supports vio-
lent, white, hypermasculinity, while simultaneously critiquing the
very masculinity it works to uphold.
The Crisis in Masculinity
When it comes to media’s depiction of gender, there is no shortage
of literature. While countless scholars have addressed gendered repre-
sentations and their implications, of key concern here is hegemonic
masculinity and the perceived crisis in masculinity. Hegemonic mas-
culinity refers to a “culturally idealized form” of masculine perfor-
mances that seem natural and “common sense” (Donaldson 645).
Encapsulating what it means to be a “man,” hegemonic masculinity
“is exclusive, anxiety-provoking, internally and hierarchically differ-
entiated, brutal, and violent. It is pseudonatural, tough, contradic-
tory, crisis-prone, rich, and socially sustained” (Donaldson 645). But
while the notion of hegemonic masculinity originated as a critique of
gendered performances (e.g., Connell and Messerschmidt), Elizabeth
Fish Hatfield argues, “[contemporary] hegemonic masculinity
becomes much more complex than sex role arguments—combining
ethnicity, sexuality, economic power, and personal characteristics to
determine status” (528). Such masculinity is contingent on collective
patterns of behavior—upheld by both men and women—that provide
for dominance and the oppression of others (Donaldson). Hegemonic
masculinity is culturally situated and continuously changing, often
reworking itself in response to societal threats against its formation
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Nicole B. Cox and Lauren J. DeCarvalho
(Donaldson 646; Tragos 543–44). And one of the greatest threats to
hegemonic masculinity has been feminism.
In her book, Stiffed, Susan Faludi examines the historical debates
surrounding masculinity and feminism. She looks at how the “pulse-
takers” of the United States felt that “American manhood was under
siege,” resulting in a “domestic apocalypse” (Stiffed 6). Often referred
to as the “crisis in masculinity,” Jackson Katz has argued that it is
often feminism that is blamed for men’s plight in contemporary soci-
ety (qtd. in Tough). As the logic goes, because women have advanced
in politics, education, and economics, and have witnessed changing
roles in the home, this creates a culture of men who feel powerless
and anxious about their place in society. As many have argued, the
crisis in masculinity arose because “feminism not only challenged
men’s power in relation to women but it also threatened men’s rela-
tionships to their masculinities. It questioned the terms in which
men were to know themselves and experience themselves as men”
(Seidler 186). The crisis in masculinity is represented by men’s uncer-
tainty about their place; that uncertainty then manifests itself
through problematic behaviors.
What manhood means thus takes on dual roles: it is the primary
vehicle driving the crisis in masculinity and is simultaneously the sup-
port for maintaining hegemonic masculinity. When preconceived
notions of what it means to be a man are weighed against contempo-
rary gender roles, it is this tension that keeps hegemonic masculinity
intact through the reassertion of traditional masculinity. As a result,
“we’re witnessing a culture in retreat—a narrative that tells men that
the best way to respond to change is not to adapt, but to re-claim
traditional masculine control and dominance from the forces of femi-
nization” (Katz, qtd. in Tough).
Examples of such reassertions can be found throughout contempo-
rary media. Discussing television programs such as The Man Show
and magazines such as FHM and Maxim, Michael Messner notes pat-
terns of gender, sexuality, and consumption that revive a 1950s
heterosexual-male mentality. Peter Tragos asserts that television series
such as American Chopper and Monster Garage signal a cultural and
“nostalgic desire for traditional masculine identities” (542), while
Burton Buchanan posits that Deadliest Catch encourages males to act
out traditionally masculine characteristics, such as occupational
achievement, familial patriarchy, and frontiersmanship, that are
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intrinsic to white, hegemonic masculinity. Lisa Kirby notes that
Deadliest Catch provides a “celebration of American working-class
masculinity” (116), while Hatfield contends that television series such
as Two and Half Men reward dominant forms of hegemonic masculin-
ity while subordinating effeminate, masculine characters. Yet while
many television shows are (re)inscribing hegemonic masculinity,
St(cid:1)ephanie Genz and Benjamin Brabon suggest that there is a new(er)
form of masculinity at bay: one that is wrought with contradictory
messages. Genz and Brabon suggest that male characters “accommo-
date[s] backlash scripts,” yet are also more self-aware of their own
identities (143).
Sons of Anarchy: The Show
In the small town of Charming, California sits the “Sons of Anarchy”
motorcycle clubhouse, which also serves as the setting for Sons of
Anarchy. Created by Kurt Sutter, Sons of Anarchy focuses on the out-
law motorcycle club, its members, and its illegal business endeavors.
Positioned around the central character, Jackson “Jax” Teller (played
by Charlie Hunnam), the show follows Jax’s relationships with his
family, fellow club members, and the motorcycle club. The lead char-
acters include Jax’s mother Gemma (played by Katey Sagal), stepfa-
ther and club President Clay (played by Ron Perlman), and long-
time love Tara (played by Maggie Siff). Central to the story is Jax’s
struggle to become motorcycle club President and take his seat as
“head of the table,” and his struggle to become the man that he—
and his family—can respect. The dramatic relationships that play out
between Jax, Clay, and Gemma are imitative of Shakespeare’s Hamlet,
as Jax serves as the motorcycle club’s proverbial “prince” and protago-
nist; Gemma and Clay ultimately become the villains who are com-
mitted to keeping Jax in the very life that he wants to escape
(Sloboda 86).
Masculinity in Flux
When it comes to Sons of Anarchy, even the most cursory viewer is
aware that the series revolves around a macho personification. Sons of
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Anarchy presents a contemporary form of white, hegemonic masculin-
ity that is dependent on dominance, violence, and the oppression of
Others. But beyond the axiomatic, there are also nuanced moments
when the pressures of living out (and living up to) the expectations
of hegemonic masculinity are laid bare as inherently flawed. As view-
ers are presented with an onslaught of white, heterosexist characters,
they are simultaneously presented with characters and events that call
into question the value (and cost) of enacting hegemonic masculinity
—both for men and the women around them. The men on Sons of
Anarchy live in a constant state of crisis as the norm, and the implica-
tions of such are both contradictory and complementary to upholding
traditional masculinity. Sons of Anarchy’s adherence to an overtly
macho mindset is exhibited in three key ways: through males’ control
over themselves, through dominance over other men, and through
the treatment of women on-screen.
Masculine Control Over Oneself and Others
On Sons of Anarchy, a male’s control and dominance, first and fore-
most, is marked by his ability to have control over himself. While the
series places men at the center of the action and thereby in control of
most situations, this is mitigated by action that is often prompted by
the motorcycle club’s need for damage control and attempts to gain
“leverage” over others. In other words, motorcycle club members
often act in response to others’ actions. But while it is men who make
the majority of decisions (and thereby suggest an element of agency
not uncommon for men on the small screen), a recurring theme is
also how such actions impact the mental state of those who carry
them out. Building on earlier work, the role of emotions in relation
to masculinity has been noted by Matt Zaitchik and Donald Mosher,
who argue that hypermasculinity is marked by toughness as a form of
emotional control. An authentic masculinity is supposed to be one’s
ability to control his emotions and his mental psyche. Men’s overt
control over their emotions serves as a response to the crisis in mas-
culinity, in such a way that it helps alleviate the anxiety created by a
perceived lack of control. While men’s commitment to exhibiting
control has been amply discussed in academic research (e.g., Katz;
Kimmel; Kivel), one must question how the series treats those men
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who lose control and become unraveled. As audiences are given the
ideal version of masculinity via those characters who stay strong (both
physically and mentally) on Sons of Anarchy, the importance of mascu-
line control is communicated as they are juxtaposed against those
characters who are out of control.
For example, in season four, club member Juice feels the weight of
providing intelligence to federal agents behind the motorcycle club’s
back. Juice is coerced into cooperating with the FBI after the local
sheriff threatens to “out” him for being partially African American,
in a motorcycle club founded on racial exclusivity. Although the
motorcycle club makes business deals with Chinese, African-Ameri-
can, and Latino groups—and despite the club’s ongoing recognition
of Juice as Latino—it is the threat of being of African-American des-
cent that puts Juice at risk. Aware that he faces a certain death if the
motorcycle club finds out he was working with the FBI—and fearful
of what would happen if they found out his ethnicity—Juice finds
himself in a no-win situation. He spirals out of control and demon-
strates signs of emotional weakness and distress. He cries, self-medi-
cates, and refuses to talk about his problems. Here, Juice faces
multiple crises at the same time, all of which contributes to his
unraveling: he is at risk of being exiled from the only “family” he
knows, while still having to protect the interests of the club and his
own image as a reputable “Son.” In his work on masculinity, Paul
Kivel argues that men who are unable to maintain control are often
chastised for not being “manly” enough. To ask for help and be vul-
nerable are seen as failures of masculinity. Thus, acting out of desper-
ation to resolve an issue that he has no control over, Juice becomes
woefully negligent in protecting his own life and the lives of others.
He carelessly walks through explosive minefields during a gunfight
and eventually tries to hang himself from a tree. In the absence of a
viable solution, Juice ostensibly gives up. His resolution to these
competing crises—attempted suicide by hanging—is the only action
that Juice can find solace in. Amidst private conversations about how
unstable Juice had become, the culminating moment of weakness (his
symbolic lynching) results in an intervention by fellow motorcycle
club member, Chibs. Juice’s behavior is framed as unacceptable,
although more noteworthy is Jax’s reaction to Juice’s suicide attempt.
As Jax tells Chibs in S4-E9, “Sons don’t kill themselves. Club’s
gonna vote him out. No one is going to trust him.” But Juice’s
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predicament becomes more complicated when one considers that
audiences are meant to identify with Juice, who is caught between a
rock and a hard place. While hegemonic masculinity is upheld
through others’ judgment of Juice (and through the threat of social
retribution), the series situates Juice as a lost soul crushed under the
pressures of the motorcycle club. He is wedged between the expecta-
tions of himself and society’s disavowal of men who ask for help.
A similar situation unfolds with motorcycle club member, Opie,
after the murder of his wife and subsequent murder of his father (and
motorcycle club member), Piney—both at the hands of other Sons.
Upon losing those closest to him, Opie acts out in ways much like
Juice. He refuses to talk about his emotions and repeatedly puts his
own life—and the lives of others—at risk. Opie’s crises are based on
where his loyalty lies. He faces conflicting pressures to be a Son ver-
sus a son, a husband, and a father. He is torn between his allegiance
to his best friend and the expectation that he keep up with tradition
and remain a Son. Opie eventually takes his life into his own hands
in season five, when he volunteers to enter into a jail fight against
two rival gang members armed with metal pipes. He loses the fight
as his head is bashed in; Jax and other club members watch from
behind a plexiglass window.
Even Jax finds himself at risk of losing control after his son, Abel,
is kidnapped and sent to Ireland as retaliation for the motorcycle
club’s connection to the death of an Irishman’s son, who was involved
with the Irish Republic Army. In a discussion about how to move
forward in S3-E1, Clay reminds Jax that his behaviors impact the
motorcycle club:
Clay: Probably forty, fifty patches [motorcycle club members]
watching us right now. We represent the past, present, and
future of this club. Sure, the sons are a democratic
organization, but everybody knows what happens in
Charming sets the tone for every charter.
Jax: What’s happening in Charming?
Clay: You tell me. These men behind us, they love you. They
respect you. And they understand your grief. But they’re also
wondering what you’re gonna do with it.
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Jax: That’s my business.
Clay: No, it isn’t. A lot of these guys are old enough to remember
what happened to your old man. How he fell apart, lost
focus, when Thomas [Jax’s brother] died.
Jax: Yeah, well, I’m not my old man.
Clay: I know that. But they don’t. You gotta show them
something. Make the hard choice, son.
Jax: And what choice would that be?
Clay: Either Abel is dead, and you want revenge. Or he’s alive and
you would kill to find him. Now if you can’t make that
decision then you better get down on your hands and knees
and pray for something to get you there. Fast.
Jax is reminded of the importance of performing white, heterosexual
hegemonic masculinity correctly: get revenge, or else. The options put
forth by Clay create a false dichotomy in Jax’s alternatives to violence,
and function by setting limits on his ability to act in ways that defy
hegemonic masculinity. In all of this, however, Jax’s response to
Abel’s kidnapping is the outcome of the multiple pressures he faces.
Along with his missing son, Jax is struggling with the acceptance of
his predetermined “destiny” as motorcycle club President. He is taxed
with resolving rising tensions between the Sons of Anarchy and the
Irish Army, is unsure of his relationship with Tara, and is keeping
Abel’s kidnapping a secret from his own mother, Gemma. Yet in a
moment of male bonding and fatherly advice, Jax is reminded that
any option besides violence is no option at all. As Michael Kimmel
writes, “Violence is often the single most evident marker of man-
hood” (“Masculinity” 148).
What is significant, however, is how other men treat these
moments of perceived weakness. The men, at any sign of emotional
weakness, become untrustworthy, troublesome, and in need of inter-
vention. While an intervention is not unusual for those attempting
to commit suicide, it is the reasoning behind these reactions that sup-
ports hegemonic masculinity. Such reactions arise because motorcycle
club members are no longer acting like men, much less Sons of Anar-
chy members. It is only when the men respond with violence that
they are again granted respect from their peers. As Kimmel contends,
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“Masculinity has become the relentless test by which we prove to
other men, to women, and ultimately to ourselves that we have suc-
cessfully mastered the part” (“Masculinity” 150). Toughness operates
as a form of emotional control, and any emotion other than anger is a
sign of weakness (Zaitchik and Mosher). This point is further sup-
ported by the violent nature of the motorcycle club, which is central
to Sons of Anarchy’s plot. As Jax reads his deceased father’s journal in
S1-E2, “If you’re a man with convictions, violence is inevitable.”
Sons of Anarchy positions authentic masculinity as tantamount to
personal control and one’s true strength as evidenced through will-
ingness to engage in violent behaviors. But what makes Sons of Anar-
chy a more complex text—in the spirit of Genz and Brabon’s earlier
work—is that the Sons’ acts of violence are not always shown as a
perfect solution or performance of masculine identity. The series, in
this way, complicates traditional understandings of the crisis in mas-
culinity. The violence on-screen often creates more problems, and
sometimes, members are not successful in their mission at all. These
latter outcomes call into question the club’s view of violence as the
answer, and question the very foundation of violent masculinity.
Additionally, authentic masculinity is marked by endurance and
the ability to persevere despite the hardships, challenges, and/or
threats one must face. On Sons of Anarchy, giving in, giving up, and/
or backing down are not options. This is evidenced in the motorcycle
club’s refusal to bow out of business deals with less-than-favorable
outcomes, and when motorcycle club members refuse to quit their
endeavors despite the threat of monetary loss, bodily harm, or death.
For example, amidst a gun deal gone wrong and rising tensions
between club members, Jax reprimands the motorcycle club for enter-
taining the thought of retreat. As he states in S4-E9, “We voted it
in, we play it out. You can’t get behind that, turn in your goddamn
patch.” The men are presented with an ultimatum: act in accordance
with the expectations of the club (and of hegemonic masculinity), or
return the very object that provides them with symbolic license to
participate in club activities, and acts as a symbolic affirmation of
their status as men.
In season five, Clay finds himself on his own path of destruction,
as he placed the club in danger (by dealing guns) and must suffer the
consequences of his decision. Here, Clay struggles with multiple
crises at the same time, all of which inform his subsequent actions.
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He has a club full of Sons who have grown weary of his judgment,
which results in Jax’s appointment as club President. Simultaneously,
Clay is fearful that his involvement in the murder of Jax’s father will
be revealed and that he will be shunned from the very club he helped
build. By justifying his actions through a focus on his goal of earning
a lump sum of money before exiting the club, Clay responds to his
own crises by reasserting the fact that, despite multiple challenges,
he followed through. As Clay states in S5-E1, “I sink my teeth into a
goal, I see it through. It’s the soldier in me.” By invoking such rheto-
ric, Clay’s discourse also links nostalgic imagery of the masculine war
soldier with his actions, and thereby something for which he is not
to be faulted. His reasons for putting the club at risk are excused
because he is acting as a man.
Considering the recurring attitude of masculinity-as-perseverance,
it becomes evident why Juice and Opie’s behavior posed such a threat
to the masculine persona: because they lost control, they were no
longer pillars of hegemonic masculinity. The same can be said for Jax
and Clay. But while upholding the central tenets of hegemonic mas-
culinity, these depictions also shed light on how such strict perfor-
mances of masculinity keep males oppressed, even in their own skin
(as evidenced especially by Juice, Jax, and Opie).
Moments of Morality
Complicating matters, a male’s control over himself is also challenged
by moments of morality. Here, Sons of Anarchy members occasion-
ally find themselves conflicted, as the actions of the club contradict
what is “right.” Because the series revolves around Jax, he often serves
as a major point of sympathetic identification for viewers at home.
Moral struggles are therefore most evident with Jax, who repeatedly
finds himself conflicted by the motorcycle club’s increasingly danger-
ous business deals. Jax is often left weighing the impending trajec-
tory of the club against the needs of his family and the writings of
his father, who had a less violent vision for the motorcycle club. For
example, the original vision for the motorcycle club—put forth by
Jax’s father—can be heard in S1-E3: