Bro culture is a continuous source of fascination for me. I’m often spellbound by it, watching situations unfold like some kind of slow-motion juice spill encapsulated in that moment when you wish things could go back to the way they were, but before the carpet is covered in broken glass and strawberry carnage. It seemed harmless and occasionally delightful, but now it’s going to ruin everything. Vice magazine ran an article about bros almost a year ago, and it’s sort of been percolating since then.
Bro culture is one of entitlement and intensity, usually depicted in the amped up parties of twenty-somethings where energy drinks follow shots not as a chaser but as the means to wring a few more moments of living life to the limit out of the day. It’s narcissistic to the point of self-idolatry, placing the self not just at the center of the universe, but at the center of all possible universes. The world becomes the garden of Eden, full of fruit waiting to be plucked and intoxicating pleasures yet undreamed of. They cluster together, not seeking comrades so much as an audience, each voice in the throng reinforcing this insular cornucopian worldview. It outsources everything, leaving behind anything that doesn’t contribute to future intensity, like empathy and garbage.
But it’s really easy to get caught up in it. From the inside it’s bacon and beer and laughing and no worries. It’s being part of the gang, and knowing that your bros have your back. Bro code, etc. Despite all the wreck shit attitude, bros from meaningful human relationships. Mostly with other bros. It’s tribal, like lots of social groups. Not quite them against the world, but them on top of the world. The image of the bro isn’t just an image of narcissism and self-pleasure, but of carelessness. It’s male supremacist, bros before hoes, banding together against all reason, and sometimes all values. Bros should stay on top because it is the way of things, and anyone who doesn’t see that is a pussy, because that’s the worst thing a bro can be.
Still, it’s all sort of fascinating. There’s a draw that I feel to unyielding tribal culture, in the same way that the creepy zeal of Spartan warriors appeals to me. The notion of everlasting loyalty, a pillar of bro code mythology (but a myth, because it turns out bros are also human), creates a sense of solidarity that I think I would enjoy. That doesn’t seem strange. It’s probably uncontroversial to think that we all enjoy the sense some kind of solidarity with others. The thought that we can rely on people, that there are common bonds between us, is comforting, whether it’s with fraternity brothers, church groups, friends, teammates, whatever.
The other appealing thing about bro culture mythology is that same wreck shit attitude that I was condemning a few paragraphs ago. what if we lived without restraint? what if we gave zero fucks, and did what we want? that notion empowers us. The life lived to the fullest instead of the life endured. I spend a lot of time reining in my strangeness, but sometimes it would be nice not to. It’d be interesting to live so bravely that I had no restraint at all, and cared only for the immediate, fixated on what comes next in a sort of blissful myopia. After all, isn’t that what we want? To let that big red dog inside us run free, unconstrained by worry and fear?
Most of that isn’t actually true of bro culture, of course. There is restraint, there are social norms and mores and the sorts of things that everyone else has. It’s more that the norms of others don’t apply as much, even the ones that matter. Anything outside the tribe can be discarded without fear in the name of living it up. But a kind of conformity seems like it’s the rule there as much as anywhere else.
But living without a care is living without a care. It means being careless, and treating other people carelessly. That big red dog wants what it wants, and it doesn’t care who it knocks over to get it. Bro culture fascinates me but terrifies me because it seems to endorse and even manufacture this kind of carelessness. It’s a structure that discourages empathy in favour of narcissism and tribalism. It demands no fear and no restraint, but not all restraint or denial of desire is from fear. Sometimes it’s from respect, like listening instead of talking over someone. Sometimes it’s moral, like keenly paying attention to affirmative consent. Sometimes it’s just from having the good sense to acknowledge that another human being’s needs are more important at the moment.
What it really boils down to is this: bro culture simplifies things. It offers a simple life. Not necessarily an ordinary one, maybe not even an easy one, but one free of nuance and worry. Sometimes that is a thing that I want. But it simplifies things by sandblasting away the complexities with a blast of enegery drinks directly to the face. They’re still there, just harder to see.
