The Story of the Short Pants (Definition of Manhood)
My Uncle always tells the most interesting stories. One night over dinner at my mother's house, he told me the story of the short pants. My mother and her siblings were born and raised in the Caribbean on a little island called St. Lucia. According to my Uncle, in the islands, one’s manhood is determined by the length of his pants. Basically, little boys wear short pants, and men wear long pants.
Each year a boy gets older, he prays for the day that his mother will bring home a pair of long pants. That was the day you arrived. The day you became a man—to the outside world at least. Well, my Uncle was coming up in age but had yet to receive his long pants. At the time, he didn't even know he was supposed to get long pants, his short pants served him well and he was happy with their length. Considering how hot it gets under the Caribbean sun, I’d be happy with a pair of short pants too. Damn, I need a vacation, but I digress…
There was a big school dance coming up and all the big boys were going and my Uncle couldn’t wait to go as well. He even asked a girl and she said yes. On the night of the dance, he got dressed in his best shirt, put on his short pants and was on his way. As soon as he got there, he realized something was terribly wrong. All the big boys were wearing long pants. It was at that moment he realized that he wasn’t the big boy that he thought he was. Completely embarrassed, he left before he could have his first dance with a girl.
When my Uncle came home earlier than expected, his mother asked what had happened and he explained to her how he needed a pair of long pants just like the big boys. A few days later he got those long pants and felt like he could now be viewed as a man in the eyes of his peers. But how much of a man can someone be if they have to ask to be initiated?
Here’s my thing: A pair of pants—short or long—can’t make someone a man. It’s his character, his dependability, his commitment, and his acceptance of responsibilities. A couple hundred pieces of thread sewn together don’t magically transform a boy into a man. There are so many supposed “men” that feel they wear the pants in the house, relationship and life. But based on the actions of so many of them (my Uncle included), they may need to go to the tailor to have the hem on their long pants raised. All I’m saying is clothes don't make the man, real men make the clothes, and maybe, just maybe, some of you aren’t the big boys that you thought you were.
Fin!
What’s your take on my Uncle’s story? What lesson did you take from it? Can a person’s manhood or womanhood be determined by the clothes they wear? What about that old adage that you can tell a lot about a person by their shoes? Do you feel that there are a lot of people that call themselves real men and women but they really aren’t? How do you define manhood and womanhood?
Speak your piece…


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