Guest Post: Joseph Brassey Highlights 7 Inspiring Heroes Who Reject Toxic Masculinity

The Hero is a force of nature. A typhoon shunning emotion and embracing dispassionate stoicism.
The Hero is never defeated, is unrelenting in his all consuming pursuit of victory. Confident in his masculine power, he drives forth, suffering neither weakness nor distraction, overcoming all obstacles, indomitable in his strength, unequaled in his prowess.
The Hero permits himself neither doubt, nor shame. His only allowance of softness is the brooding contemplation of a burdened mind and the heat of intemperate lust.
This is the iconic masculine ideal of contemporary western media.
I don’t care for it.
Beyond the toxicity it encourages and the limited emotional range it offers us for resonance, it’s so common as to be nearly a genre unto itself. These protagonists formed a constant background to my childhood and formative years. So much so that they’ve made the male heroes defined by a rejection of toxic masculinity that ones who stand out. As a sensitive kid who was taught the importance of emotional literacy, these were the heroes who left me hungry for the stories of their struggles and difficulties. What follows is a list of several of my favorites. (Since I discuss changes they go through over the course of their character arcs, be warned: spoilers ahead!)

Newt Scamander (Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, by J.K. Rowling)
Newt Scamander is the best thing Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them gave us: a hero whose vulnerability and open-mindedness makes him uniquely qualified to save the day. Throughout the course of the film, he demonstrates again and again both a deep, heartfelt concern for the creatures under his care, but also a well of steely empathy for the people working against him. When confronted with an unsympathetic MACUSA that wants to seize and destroy his creatures, Newt isn’t a font of rage, but an emphatic advocate repeatedly imploring his captors not to hurt them.

Prince Zuko (Avatar: The Last Airbender)
Prince Zuko is probably the best on-screen iteration of a redemption arc in the past fifteen years. Over the course of three seasons he goes from the always-angry antagonistic vessel of his abusive father’s will to a remorseful, rebellious prince whose learned that nobody can take away your honor. It’s something you gain or lose by your own actions. Moreover, Zuko’s backstory is a play-by-play of how both toxic masculinity and abusive family dynamics twist boys up and wreck them inside. His character arc also puts on display that getting out from under the influence of abusive parents is possible.

Aragorn (As portrayed by Viggo Mortensen in The Lord of the Rings films)
The Aragorn portrayed by Viggo Mortensen in Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings trilogy is a more reluctant figure than his book counterpart, riddled by doubts about his capability. When Elrond beseeches the ranger in the extended edition of the first film to once more wield the sword of kings, his calm reply of “I do not want that power. I have never wanted it” resonated powerfully with my teenaged psyche. Likewise, the quiet, emphatic warmth of the character shines through in every scene he’s in.

Max Rockatansky (as played by Tom Hardy in Mad Max: Fury Road)
If there is a treatise on how to be a supporting masculine protagonist, Tom Hardy’s portrayal of Mel Gibson’s iconic Max exemplifies it. He does this not only be simply believing the women whom he finds himself in a position to help, but—importantly—upon stepping up to do so, he does not wrest control of the narrative focus onto himself. It would be easy to read Hardy’s Max as a stoic, but the quiet warmth of his portrayal, and the full support he gives to Furiosa and the brides, places him squarely in this category. As a bonus, he exemplifies how archetypically masculine characters can be portrayed in non-toxic ways.

Miles Vorkosigan (The Vorkosigan Saga, by Lois McMaster Bujold)
It would honestly be easier to list the classical heroic tropes Lois McMaster Bujold’s space opera protagonist doesn’t deconstruct in between cavorting from one Bavarian Fire-Drill to the next. Born into Barrayar’s militant aristocracy as a disabled child, Miles is a short, physically frail underdog who faces an antagonistic society that worships physical perfection and holds disability in contempt. In the face of this, Miles is a cunning, innovative guile-protagonist who survives and thrives by his wits and intelligence. But moreover, he is defined by his keen emotional wisdom, marvelously unfurled over the course of sixteen books. He wins by understanding, and frequently makes friends of former enemies. Moreover, his strength of character is a mingling of both his father’s warm, reserved sense of honor, and his mother’s idealistic progressivism.

Steven Universe (Steven Universe)
Susana Polo of Polygon called Steven Universe the “Toxic Masculinity Antidote,” and she’s right. It’s hard to find a character who more dramatically diverges from all the usual hyper masculine tropes of male protagonists more than the fourteen year old enthusiastic, empathic fluff-ball that is Steven. The show goes to great lengths to present all of these subversions as the sources of the character’s strength rather than as a debilitating weakness, and it’s all the better for it. Steven is the positive example for the geek in all of us to follow: kind, protective, empathic and gentle, and unreserved in his positive enthusiasm for everything and everyone that he loves.

Dick Grayson (DC comics)
If there’s a bright center to the DC Universe, it’s Dick Grayson. Batman’s first, most-famous protege is everything his mentor isn’t. This isn’t simply down to how his positive, upbeat, warm, friendly personality is repeatedly portrayed (originally as a foil to Batman’s darkness, but now a feature in its own right). It’s also in the way he’s repeatedly portrayed. Dick Grayson is one of the few male characters in comics written with an eye towards his softer traits. He’s a handsome, charming, warm-hearted and acrobatic flirt whose positive attitude and earnest caring for his surrogate family never wavers. My favorite portrayal of the character is in the Young Justice cartoon, which gives viewers the chance to watch Dick go from a thirteen year old Robin to an eighteen year old Nightwing over the course of two seasons, and there’s a great line midway through season one where he comes to terms with who he is. “I always wanted – expected – to-to grow up and-and become him. And the hero bit? I’m still all in. But that thing inside of him, that thing that drives him to sacrifice everything for the sake of his mission, that’s not me. I don’t want to be the Batman… anymore.” It’s hard to get less toxic than that.
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