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31 chapter one The Social Regulation of Male Identity and Intimacy A Photograph and a Context: The Voice of José Pedro Field Note, November 17, 1997 I met Don José Pedro as a result of walking past his house every day and exchanging the normal greetings. On many occasions, the greetings have led to long conversations. Our talks have usually revolved around different aspects of his life and his family. I have noticed that Don José Pedro really enjoys our conversations, partly due to the fact he is spends most of the day alone. The other reason might be that he seems to derive a special pleasure from sharing stories about his life; it is the pleasure of remembering a time in his life when he had many projects and was overcome by many emotions. Today, however, the conversation took a special turn. At last I was able to bring up the subject of the photograph that for so long had captured my attention. The conversation unfolded as follows: “Chico and I were partners [compañeros],” says José Pedro, holding in his hand the photograph. “We were always together, since we were kids. We were cut from the same cloth, you know what I mean? There was a slight age difference between us, only months really, but I always looked younger because I had a more happy disposition [laughs] . . . he was a little slow, or he pretended to be. I think mostly he pretended because he was also hard of hearing. That’s why people started calling him ‘the little deaf one’ [el sordito], because he seemed like he was innocent and naïve, but, man, he fooled everyone!” says Don José Pedro in a jovial tone. 32 • Chapter One “Don José Pedro,” I ask, “was he vaquetón1 [a tough guy]?” [He laughs] “Well, I should not say this, but . . . yes, yes, yes, he was,” he says while touching his pale forehead with his strong and rough hands. Don José Pedro is eighty-four years old. But in spite of the wrinkles on his face and of the gray that invades not only his hair but also his eyebrows and the shadow of his beard, there is something in his expressions that reminds you of the handsome and debonair man he once must have been. After wiping his forehead with a red handkerchief, he continues: “To tell you the truth, we were both vaquetónes, but not in the way it is today. We did not do anything really bad or ugly, like people do today . . . drugs and robberies , none of that. There was no way; in those days there was a whole lot less to go around and people had to lead straight lives to get by. The things we did were kid’s stuff, mischievous tricks so to speak, and nothing compared to what goes on today.” “How was a man expected to be and act when you were young, Don José Pedro?” “Serious. Honorable, especially. A man of his word. A man had to be trustworthy in everything he said, not going around telling lies or engaging in idle talk, none of that. A man had to live by his word; whatever he said, promised, or committed to, he had to carry through. He could not ‘break down’ [rajarse2 ] on his commitment. If you promised to do something, you had to fulfill that promise no matter what it took. That’s how things had to be, yes, sir . . . a man had to be trustworthy. There was no chance that if you had a girlfriend you could just leave her hanging, no way; you had to marry her!” “What is expected of a man who is ‘honorable’ [serious, or in Spanish serio3 ]?” “Just like I tell you, he is expected to be firm, hardworking, a good breadwinner for his family, responsible . . .” He pauses, and then I echo his last word: “Responsible.” “That his wife and kids do not go lacking, and that he never embarrasses or dishonors his wife; she has her place and you have to respect her. You also have to be a good citizen, have civic consciousness, and civic courage . . . that’s what makes a man ‘serious’ [honorable].” Don José Pedro pronounces each word intensely, with moral strength— as if the very performance of his words and gestures were an embodiment of what it means to be a man, in his opinion. Then he continues: “A man of honor, a respectable man, is someone...

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