A Bigger Cage - Part One

This is my first blog entry. Ever. Kudos for finding me. My name is Michael Feliciano.

I am Mr. American Man, and this is my bigger cage. I am committing with this blog, to share the unfolding story of my quest for legitimacy. I am also committing to fully expose my soft white underbelly. This is intimacy, the tight camera shot on my spaghetti-stained t-shirt…this is the truth. This is also a special venue for the female readers...a chance to grab a sneak peak inside the head of someone similar to the man they are trying to love.

I am Mr. American Man, and I know what I want...kind of. I want a bigger cage.

Many men are claiming a bigger cage these days – at least the courageous ones. It’s part of becoming truly alive I believe. Gender roles are changing, careers are being redefined, and life-aspirations are being realigned with the heart-based wisdom that invites us to live our deepest purpose. The idea of legitimacy is being challenged, refined, or disposed of, by those who have the courage. That is like breaking out of the cage. The question then becomes obvious - Is that something we really want to do? Do we want to dispense with the cage entirely? Does some part of us rely on the safety of a cage?

I know I need a bigger cage than most, and uh…come to find out, it's my cage for the choosing.

I was talking with a colleague the other day about this concept, and he quickly pointed out that most of the historical figures that we can name for their achievements and contributions to society, were indeed, turning away from the “legitimacy” of their time.

The concept of legitimacy may bleed into other threads of concern. It may become apparent at times that this blog is more about gender, and class, and culture. My intention is to investigate these topics with careful regard to how they shape my ability to show up in my life - here, now - with full authenticity. I will be drawing upon significant life events in support of my various points about life as an American Man. In this context, my life fleshes out like some twisted season of Seinfeld or something. I was wrongly accused of murder when I was 6 years old, and ever since then, I think maybe I have been a bit defensive. More on this later, except to state that this event in my life is an extremely brief but oddly significant one. It stands out for me symbolically, as a jumping of point. The beginning of me making my case – Trying to prove something like my worthiness to the world. I have lived as something of a reluctant contrarian, meandering through relationships and careers as I gradually own more and more of my power.

As I write this blog, I will reveal how truly bad I have been at “staying on schedule” with all of the fundamental milestones of American manhood – I have no wife, no children, no house in the suburbs, and no 401K. Boo Hoo, I say with joyful tongue in check, but only after severl hundred hours of therapy, and even more hours exploring my inner-world, developing my spiritual world, and cultivating my community of similar souls.

I need to promptly dismiss the idea of Mr. American Man as this grandiose landscape out of which I am teasing the story of a man and his struggle. That would be allot of Hollywood bullshit. I am writing to untangle the mess of ideas, habits, impulses, perceptions, and emotions that have come to shape my life for better, and for worse. I am writing to expose the faulty muse. There is inspiration and commonality in that, I bet.

The premise is that of my quest for legitimacy. In fact, the premise is that of every American Male's quest for legitimacy. I am not sure there is such a thing as true legitimacy for us as men and women, or what that would mean, or whether it is worth pursuing in dialog or in action. I know that most of us (both men and women) pursue it on some subtle level – in our various clever and conditioned, socially ordained ways.

There will be occasional ironic themes that arise. One irony that I identified immediately is that I am not Caucasian, but rather, Hispanic. My ethnicity is only ironic because the idea of a blog titled "Mr. American Man" somehow presumes - at least in my mind - someone Caucasian - And so my ethnicity might be a surprising twist. Then again, who knows? It might not. I am Puerto Rican, but I grew up with white culture, and completely rejected my Hispanic culture. This was not a well-informed decision, but more of a choice by default. I have no judgment either way about this, but I recognize the absence of a clear cut ethnic identity - Something that historically has provided a definitive identity for so many American men.

I was born in 1968, in New York City, to parents having both immigrated from Puerto Rico. And even though both of my parents spoke Spanish as a first language, they taught me only English. At the age of 5, we moved from the Puerto Rican barrio where two of my aunts lived across the hallway, and three marriages happened between the families of my mother and father, to the suburbs of Northern California, where I grew up as a relatively poor, depressed, bored, and under-achieving "white kid." I developed a deep love for vandalism, shoplifting, and substance-abuse. I also clung to Rock & Roll like a life-preserver and discovered my soul in creativity.

And so the “Mr. American Man” seeds were planted, watered, and fed with the same sense of limitation, the same sick and dying, hollow American dream that fueled my father's ambitions and frustrations. He was seeking legitimacy also - doubling down for his little piece of apple pie.

In an era that has featured so much anti-immigrant sentiment, I have to fully acknowledge my roots. In a zeitgeist of globalization that has spread Western culture like an invasive plant species through nations around the planet, I find myself reflecting more on the elements of my ethnicity that have been flushed away.

Like I said, I don’t think about race much. I think about culture even more. Even more than that, I think about the question of what it means to be a man today - right now, in America. And even more than that, I think about what the fuck I am going to do with the rest of my life.

OK - forget what I said before - That is really what this is about. I have to acknowledge the economic moment in which this blog is occurring. It is truly changing everything. Indeed, in a moment when America is getting to know it's first black President, the idea that there is a quest for legitimacy to be shared by all American men...this feels true to me on many levels.