For What Is a Man?
By Joshua DeLoriea-Colicino
For what is a man? What has he got?
If not himself, then he has naught.
— Frank Sinatra, “My Way”
“My Way,” the 1969 hit song recorded by Frank Sinatra1, possessed iconic status in American music as soon as it hit the airwaves, and it maintains an esteemed place in American musical history for good reason. “My Way” is a song about a person who has overcome their struggles, accepted their shortcomings, and reached the last stretch of life with a sense of pride at having learned how to live the way they wanted. It is a proud song of triumph — a triumph for the self.
As a transgender man, the central sentiment that is conveyed by this song speaks volumes to me.
The song is quite popular within my professional field, Funeral Services. It is often played as a swan song for the deceased loved one. It declares to the dead as well as to those still alive that the deceased’s life meant something. It is a celebratory signal to all present that that the deceased may now rest from their labors with pride. As I look on during the final ceremonies in which “My Way” is played, I often find myself humming along quietly. And as the years have passed, I have found myself sitting with it more and more, reflecting and analyzing what the lyrics truly mean to me.
Most importantly, I reflect upon the question the song asks us, the audience:
What is a man?
This is a question I find myself contemplating more, I suspect, than most.
For a person with no experience with conventional masculinity in my early developing years, a person who was neither directly exposed to nor taught how to behave in the ways that conventional Western masculinity demands, what does it mean to “be a man”? What does “being a man” mean for someone who had to chase masculinity instead of experiencing it from life’s beginning?
I have found an answer. And I have found that answer to be liberating.
Being a man can be, and is, anything I choose it to be. To be a man is to simply be myself. For as the singer proclaims: If I do not have myself, then I have nothing.
Let me explain.
I was born into a world that perceived me as something I never was. I was taught and exposed to femininity in the traditional sense of growing up in the early 2000s: long hair that I hated having touched, scratchy kid dresses and uncomfortable clothes Mom bought from Kohl’s, tacky plastic jewelry in garish colors. I was surrounded by expectations for how I should act that I could never meet because I didn’t understand why they were being asked of me.
As the years passed and I started to come into myself, I started to realize why I never quite fit that mold. I began rejecting it, discarding it, and embracing myself for who I actually am: the person — the man — that I know myself to be.
And yet, even still, another problem reared its ugly head: While I rejected one mold, I found myself peering into the gaping maw of another.
This terrified me.
The Maw of Western Masculinity stared at me, and I stared back. If I wasn’t a woman in the eyes of the world, it must mean that I was always meant to be a man. But what did that mean? Did it mean all of my clothes went from being colorful works of art to stale, bland blends of grey, beige, and navy blue? Did it mean that my new shoes would never quite fit me right again?
Or did it mean something deeper. . . .
Did it mean that I would now be expected to bottle up my emotions and block them off from the world? Did it mean that I would be expected to be the aggressor in conversations, an abrasive personality that makes waves in the world by bulldozing over others? Did it mean that I must now conform to the standards, practices, and sins of Western manhood so that the society that surrounds me might one day decide that I am palatable?
No. Of course not.
To me, being a man is standing against the aspects of masculinity that have brought harm to our world. To me, being a man is to be kind. To open one's heart to the world, to embrace everything about it that makes it beautiful, and to use my strength and perseverant spirit to change what I can. To embrace my emotions and feel what I am feeling to its fullest extent: being mad, being sad, being overjoyed and beloved.
And for a man who has needed to search for and develop his own connection to masculinity, it is so liberating to discover that I can separate myself from those social expectations. When you realize that you have a choice, a choice to remove the shackles of social norms and expectations and instead embrace your own conceptualization of personhood, your spirit becomes free in all its senses.
So, Mr. Sinatra, here is my answer to your question, “What is a man? What has he got?”
I share your own sentiments.
I have myself. I have my kindness, my joy, my grief, my love, my compassion, my perseverance. I have family who embrace and understand me, as I understand them. I have friends who further my connection to the world. And I have empathy for those who cannot relate to or accept my story.
I have my voice that I can use to bring what knowledge I can provide, and I have ears that can listen and help me learn how to keep growing.
And I have a heart that beats, and beats strongly — for everything I believe in, for everything that my future may ever hold in store.
I am a man. And I have all I will ever need.
1 While “My Way” is most commonly associated with Sinatra, the lyrics were written by his contemporary Paul Anka, who had translated and anglicized them from the 1967 French song “Comme D’Habitude.”
Josh DeLoriea-Colicino earned his Bachelor of Science in Funeral Services from SUNY Canton in 2018. He is now a licensed funeral director in Erie County, NY, where he lives with his spouse, Anna. Josh and Anna met as students at SUNY Canton and were both active in SPECTRUM from Fall 2016 to Spring 2018. Josh also served as SPECTRUM’s President during the 2017-2018 academic year.