Loving, and Releasing the Patriarchal Alpha Male

My son, Malachi, his 2 year-old daughter, and I took an after dinner walk around the block last night. My final evening in Aiea with his family, I wanted to enjoy the cool breeze and sunset outdoors, as well as allow Coco to get out her pre-bedtime wiggles.

Friends and strangers always marveled that Malachi is my son. He is literally twice my size, and came out at over 9 pounds at our homebirth. He was born naturally strong and athletic, with a thick, muscular body well-suited for football, baseball, and every other sport he embraced.

Watching Malachi father Coco is a joy. She and her little brother, Silas, love climbing and crawling up on Daddy. They love being carried and tossed around by him. His large hands and strong arms hold them securely, and they get a good view of the world from his 6 foot height.

My own father was not a huge presence in my daily life as a child. He was the quintessential Korean immigrant workaholic, who relegated virtually all childrearing and household matters to his dutiful and hyper-competent wife, my mother. Through my son, I vicariously appreciate fatherhood, and the physical strength, stability, and security dads can provide to little ones.

Even though I missed that masculine presence in my young life, I still felt the raw wound of my father’s absence when he transitioned out of his earthly life. I remember getting on my bike for the first time after he passed, and being surprised at how wobbly and insecure I felt on it. It was October in the midwest, and I had a scarf securely wrapped around my neck and a wool hat, as if they could help contain and ground me. I realized in that moment how stabilizing his presence had been for me. Losing Daddy was like losing my footing on the earth. He had provided that for me without my consciously realizing it.

As a feminist/womanist and social justice activist, I’ve spent most of my adult life advocating for the rights of women and femmes, and learning to recognize and exercise my own power and authority. As my feminist consciousness developed I became increasingly disgruntled with habits of men and alpha males, who tended to take up way too much testosterone-driven space and energy, and whose domination in society too often led to war, brutality, and destructive policies. My daily life revolved mostly around women and femmes, and they pretty much exclusively comprised my beloved community.

But becoming a halmoni (grandmother) and interacting with my son and his children has been a gamechanger. I have a newfound appreciation for masculinity, and am noticing its beauty and gifts. Also, for the past several years, I have been the live-in caregiver for Baba Baxter Jones, an alpha male from a long line of alpha males. Intellectually I disparage the expression of testosterone expressed as toxic masculinity: hypercompetitiveness, domination of physical space and air time, defensiveness and suspiciousness bordering on paranoia, and tone-policing and the expectation of subservience.

My Chinese acupuncturist, feeling pressured to give birth to a son after 2 daughters, was reflecting on how sons were needed back in the day. “But now,” she commented, “we have machines.” I laughed at how plainly she described the situation, and largely agreed.

And yet, it’s more complicated than that, isn’t it? I can’t help noticing in myself how a part of me, biologically and inadvertently, is drawn to the strong male figure. It’s almost like I can’t help it, as if it’s happening on the level of pheromones and my somatic, unconscious self.

Recently in the USA Iyengar Yoga world, I am also witnessing and experiencing the role of the alpha male in our community. The loss of Guruji in 2014, our beloved teacher, BKS Iyengar, felt similar to the loss of my own father: a feeling of “what now?” and groundlessness, as if our foundation had crumbled beneath our feet. Guruji had been a larger than life presence for thousands of us for decades. He held lifetimes of knowledge and wisdom. He was the bold, courageous, wise, unimpeachable moral authority of our tradition.

Shit hit the fan when former Senior CIYT Manouso Manos’s sexual misconduct was exposed through mainstream media in 2018. Yes, it was long overdue. When we all learned the details of the abuse and assaults taking place over decades, it became clear to the greater IYNAUS community that Manos needed to be held accountable as a sex offender and predator with a long-lasting and severe disorder, who had no place in Iyengar Yoga.

But believe it or not, shit’s not over.

I was naively shocked and dismayed to learn that Manos still has a loyal cadre of CIYTs (certified Iyengar Yoga teachers) studying with him. I am told this cadre includes a few Senior CIYTs, and that this is splitting communities, especially in Southern California.

I see this as an expression of our personal and cultural love of the patriarchal alpha male. We are habituated to seek them out and even relinquish our power to them. Otherwise, how would someone like Manos have gotten away with his assaults over the years? Without blaming the survivors nor the current hangers-on, I do feel an urgency and responsibility to name the elephant in the room: our unrelenting loyalty to the patriarchal alpha male and unconscious support of toxic masculinity, perhaps layered with the grief of losing Guruji.

Guruji himself embodied the charismatic, patriarchal alpha male. Nor did he completely avoid causing harm. He had a fiery, legendary presence which sometimes included angry outbursts. He held us to incredibly high standards. I reflect on it more deeply here. Are we hungry for a successor of Guruji’s legacy?

When I recently received notice of Faeq Biria’s workshop in the USA, I could not help interpreting the event in this light. Although Biria, as far as I know, has not been accused of the same type of abuse and assaults as Manos, he is associated with domineering, divisive, and bullying behavior, and many see him as a problematic presence in the international Iyengar Yoga community. Manos’s absence leaves a vacuum. Are we filling that vacuum with other patriarchal alpha males and their toxic masculinity?

Personally I was frustrated to see this turn of events. We have so many excellent teachers of all genders who do not practice these behaviors. Why do we keep going back to these individuals? Let’s also acknowledge that toxic masculinity can be practiced by alpha females, who have internalized such attitudes and behaviors. We may find ourselves seeking out such teachers.

What are we looking for in a teacher or mentor? Are we expecting them to fill a gap within ourselves? What does an excellent teacher bring out in us? How do we measure excellence in a teacher? In ourselves?

Speaking for myself, I have at times found myself responding to a strong alpha presence by going beyond my perceived limits, and surprising myself with what I can perform or accomplish. Sometimes their demands elicit an adrenalin rush that imbues me with courage and helps me rise to the occasion, like the way athletes psych themselves up for a game. This rush may be followed by an endorphin release that leaves me feeling blissful. (Please note, I am not a scientist so my description of the biochemical response may be inaccurate.) Afterwards we say, “The teachings were brilliant, I am healed, I have new insight.”

However, the larger, more important questions are:

• How do I elicit this biochemical hormonal cascade within myself?
• Is it appropriate to seek it out?
• What is a mature or appropriate yoga practice for me and how do I build and sustain it?
• Do I have an inner guru? How do I access my inner guru?
• How do I embody both masculine and feminine energy, without any toxicity?
• How do I appreciate and love the patriarchal alpha male without condoning violence and abuse?
• How do we access the insights on our own? Isn’t that what Iyengar Yoga is really about? Isn’t that what Guruji modeled, day after day, for us? Daily penetrating the body and mind to reveal our own healing potential and brilliance, burning up saṁskāras, and moving toward liberation.

No doubt, we all stand on Guruji’s shoulders, and on the shoulders of our Senior Teachers. As loyal and grateful students, it is incumbent upon us to cull the gems, and take their teachings to the next level. If Manos has been our teacher, we can keep the lessons he provided that were constructive and nonharmful. We leave behind the abuse and toxicity. It’s time to move on to further develop the inner authority, independent of our teachers. Manos’s era is over. It’s over.

Are healing, reconciliation, and forgiveness possible? As yoga practitioners, we know that all of nature is prakrti, in flux, and impermanent, so I would definitively answer YES. But there needs to be acknowledgement of harm first and foremost. If there is denial instead of remorse and contrition, no parinama is possible. Under these conditions, continuing to study with someone like Manouso is essentially protecting him and condoning harm by not denouncing it. Neutrality and nonjudgement end up being complicity. I do not believe this is a time for upeksha, equanimity.

Furthermore, when we cling and refuse to detach from the perpetrators of harm, we deprive ourselves of the opportunity to come to terms with our own inner patriarch, or to develop bonds with other father figures who do not engage in toxic masculine behaviors. We heal those wounds that compel us, consciously or unconsciously, to wrongly conflate masculine power with abuse.

We have made significant strides in the 21^st century, regarding consent, equity, and justice. Many signals indicate that the era of the toxic patriarchal alpha male is ending. May we take strong action to assert new practices of leadership and inner balance. May we lovingly and firmly take both personal and collective responsibility to denounce past harm and prevent future harm (II.16. heyam dukham anāgatam), including necessary legal action. May we unbind ourselves from perpetrators of toxic masculinity.