The Corleone Men
By Arthur James
We saw hundreds of movies while locked in that basement. We were six when they first pressed “Play” on the movie, The Godfather. They said, “This is what real men do for their families.” We studied arduously as we watched it over and over again. We hoped for, lusted after, even forced, every harrowing character trait to seep into our spirits and mold our heart and control our thinking. Over a decade ago we began to realize these traits are a pseudo-manhood; a toxic manhood; a stoic, unflinching calculated use of deception, power, and control that is fiercely guarded and falsely presented as pride, honor, chivalry, and courage. We were praised by the men in our family for never revealing the fullness of detail regarding any aspect of our plans or circumstances. The web of lies was necessary to maintain the upper hand in all situations and keep secure the family’s business. Much like the Corleone men.
The only acceptable emotion we were allowed to show was anger, and only on occasion, and only without directing it toward uncles or grandpa. We were taught to trap all other emotions within a pressurized place hidden deep inside us somewhere, only to be released in the form of a slow, calm, and methodically violent act upon an individual or situation of their choosing. We were given our first job when we were eight. lt was violent. And it was only the beginning. We grew to love violence. With violence we could force someone else to take a share in our pain. At times we even felt as though we were helping them in some way; helping them to experience “real” life. Violence balanced us. Our inside was so unsteady and full of chaos and pain that a steadiness would come to us when our outside was also filled chaos and pain. We no longer wonder why we would pick fights with the bigger bullies that could cause us more pain than the smaller ones could. Bullies like the Corleone men.
As we look back on it all, it was natural for us to be drawn into the world of punk rock with its overt displays of violence and its rejection of authority. Punk rock became the only place in our life we could express ourselves without justification. For us, the early hardcore punk message was this: “You who are in power are abusing your power and getting it all wrong. You have become self-righteous bigots with deaf ears to reason and hardened hearts that compassion and understanding cannot penetrate. You are hurting everybody around you and we are pissed about it. Fuck you!” The angry chaotic music made our family ridiculously mad at us and we loved it. We first left home for the streets when we were twelve. we broke free. Free of the Corleone men.
For years we hated our family for the rejection and abandonment that came with having to figure life out all on our own but we’ve learned it’s deeper than that. They just didn’t care, not for us, not for each other, not for themselves. We’ve learned that they didn’t know how to care and this primarily stemmed from roots imbedded in pride and hopelessness and that they’ve learned to nurture these roots with fear and insecurity. This is where we found our own paralyzing inability to change for so many years, because introspection is frightening and can too easily lead to self-evaluation by comparison with others. “At least we’re not as bad as that person.”–Pride, or ‘We’ll never be as good as that person.”–Hopelessness. Forgiveness for ourselves and for our family is slowly making its way through our spirit. After all, if we lived for so many years crippled by fear that we became comfortable in our pride and hopelessness, maybe the same is true for them. Just like the Corleone men.
No Comments