Oates and Lim On Boxing

Joyce Carol Oates, in her On Boxing, writes about how the actual activity of boxing is exclusively masculine. It’s about how a man defines his worth by fighting another man. Boxing is to masculinity as child-birthing is to femininity. There are female boxers, but she dismisses them as parody. There is something a little grotesque and, if not off-putting, just boring in the display two women going at it with 8-ounce gloves. I have this theory that they can’t throw straight punches because of their boobies.

One of the more interesting points Oates makes is the way the great male writers write about boxing. There’s Mailer’s piece The Fight and Plimpton’s piece about going a couple rounds with Archie Moore. The male writers traditionally write about how boxers do what they do. The stuff they must have inside. There’s something like resentment in the masculinity boxers get to experience that ordinary men won’t ever. Boxers seem to make a really resigned choice when they choose to become boxers. There’s no real rational reason to fight as there is in times of war. Boxing is exclusive but signing up to go over and kill some Ratzis isn’t (unless you’re a pre super-soldier Steve Rogers).

So men write boxing as philosophy, women (there aren’t many who do) write boxing as anthropology. A man wouldn’t use the term masculinity to talk about boxing because it’s already pretty a priori to his experience of it. Oates is outside that so she gets to deconstruct us. Two guys, shirtless, scrumming, Ray Leonard lust for Hagler (“I need that man”), hugging after a fight.

Great to see our friend Thea and her insightful Manny Pacquiao piece find a home on salon.com. Like Oates, she gets a special filter through which to see and write about boxing. Thematically, I think she and her work are interested in race (so when she’s hanging out with us I get extra racist in my joking), gender (extra sexist), and sexual identity (extra homo-dissing). But, never does she blow-up and she always humors my attempts at provocation.

Thea’s piece is a nice work of boxing writing, especially considering that this is her first boxing-writing: “And then his [Hatton’s] arms retract neatly to his sides, as if he is settling in for a peaceful nap.” There’s some Asian history stuff, comprehensive stuff, that would never enter my mind while watching Manny or upon reflection of one of his fights. I think I was aware of the ties I feel, through Manny, to my Diaspora. But I only had an idea of him and my Asian manliness (Manny-ness): “But this anger comes from real pain; from hearing, day-in-day-out, that Asian men cannot be strong, sexy or desirable.” I guess I don’t overtly think about Asian manliness because deconstruction of self only comes in certain extra-lucid moments. Or maybe it’s because I’m strong, sexy, and desirable.