GYPSY MASCULINITIES AND THE SCHOOL-HOME INTERFACE:
EXPLORING CONTRADICTIONS AND TENSIONS.
MARTIN P. LEVINSON, School of Education and Lifelong Learning, University
of Exeter, UK
ANDREW C. SPARKES, School of Sport and Health Sciences, University of Exeter,
UK
ABSTRACT
Drawing on data generated by a 3-year study, informed by ethnographic
principles, of the interface between Gypsy culture and the educational
system in the South West of England, this article focuses specifically
on the experiences of young Gypsy males [1]. The manner in which
they perform specific forms of masculine identity though business
skills and dealing, fighting, and sex talk are considered. Tensions
are highlighted regarding the ways in which these performances are
valued in different communities of practice, and how this operates
to maintain an atmosphere of suspicion regarding the educational
system.
Introduction
With a few exceptions, the focus of most reports regarding the social
and educational experiences of Gypsy children has been oriented towards
ethnicity rather than gender (for example, DES, 1985; Liegeois, 1987,
1997; Taylor, 1988; Ofsted, 1996). In work that has focused on gender,
reference has been made to issues of relative empowerment; for instance,
with regard to the family economy (Adams, 1975; Mac Aongusa, 1995;
Carter, 1996; Acton et al., 1997; Okely, 1997). Considering roles expected
at home and differences of upbringing according to gender, the impression
given in much of the literature suggests a relative equality of treatment
with regard to young children. The general view is that gender role
differentiation increases at puberty (see, for example, Berthier, 1979;
Okely, 1983; Smith, 1997). There has been a growing amount of specific
comment on the dilemmas facing females in a time of changing lifestyles
and attitudes (see, for example, Willoughby, 1996; Anisha, 1997; Kiddle,
1999).
By comparison, it seems striking that very little comment has been
made with regard to the experiences of males, although Okely (1983)
and O'Boyle (1990) summarised a number of attributes that were deemed
desirable for Gypsy men. Furthermore, there has been little research
that focuses on the homeÐschool interface with regard to gender identities
and expectations, the impact of family/cultural expectations on behaviour
at school, and the ways in which exposure to an alternative set of
values or expectations might affect children at home. In those studies
that have been conducted in this area,
Gypsy children tend to have been described as becoming increasingly
disenchanted at school after the onset of adolescence, behavioural
expectations being more and more discrepant with roles at home (Liegeois,
1987; Forray & Hegedus, 1989; Andereck, 1992; Kiddle, 1999). In
general, problems would seem to have been most acute with teenage boys,
girls having been portrayed as being more accommodating at school and
as adapting with greater ease (Forray & Hegedus, 1989; Andereck,
1992; Willoughby, 1996).
Against this backdrop, this article draws upon data generated from
a 3-year study of the interface between Gypsy culture and the educational
system (Levinson, 2000). As part of this study, informed by ethnographic
principles, the primary investigator (Martin Levinson) spent prolonged
periods in a number of primary and secondary schools in the South West
of England, observing and interviewing Gypsy students. He also visited
a number (n_20) of Gypsy sites throughout England to gain the perspectives
of Gypsy adults as well as young people and fieldworkers on issues
relating to education, identity, and culture [2]. In what follows we
provide extracts from and commentary on interviews undertaken with
Gypsies from different ages groups that relate to issues of gender
performance.
By focusing specifically upon the experiences of young Gypsy males,
we confirm the views of Connell that masculine gender, as an ordered
social practice, is, among other things, 'a certain feel to the skin,
certain muscular shapes and tensions, certain postures and ways of
moving, certain possibilities in sex' (1995, p. 53). We also hope to
illustrate the tensions and contradictions they can experience in performing
specific forms of hegemonic masculinity that are valued differently
in the school and other 'communities of practice' (Lave & Wenger,
1991). We suggest that it is within communities of practice beyond
the school gates that Gypsy boys and men develop cultural affiliations
and capacities for action, and sustain their sense of masculine identity
and social distinction. In these different sites of enactment, their
physical capital, which includes various forms of knowledge, modes
of movement, postures, gestures, appearance and taste, have differential
value that allows for meaningful and authentic engagement in some sites
rather than others, such as schools.
Gender Expectations
Despite differing re-alignments according to individual temperament,
there is evidence across the age range among males involved in this
study of a subscription to clearly defined roles pertaining to both
family and group. Overall, much emphasis would seem to be placed on
the acquisition of respect and prestige, particularly in the context
of other Gypsies and other males. Offering the reward of wider group
influence as well as authority within the extended family, respect
and prestige appear to be attained in a number of ways; although several
attributes were mentioned, the qualities to which reference occurred
most often were business skills, physical strength, loyalty, sexual
prowess and potency. These masculine attributes are embodied and there
is an emphasis on the physicality of the body that is articulated in
terms of activity and performance. Thus, as Hasbrook and Harris (1999)
suggest, gender is 'done' by people engaging in practices or social
performances that create differences both between and among them. In
the process, they point out, femininities (subordinated and emphasised)
and masculinities (subordinate and hegemonic) are both reproduced and
reinforced.
At this point, we need to proceed with caution in order to avoid
misplaced generalisations and simplistic misrepresentations. On one
level, for instance, it is noticeable in our data that among the attributes
stated or inferred as being desirable, virtually no reference is made
by male participants to things like consideration, compassion or kindness
on the part of other males. Indeed, at times, it seems that there is
an implicit rejection of such characteristics, possibly because of
their incongruity with the tough personae projected by many male participants.
At the same time, however, there are a number of allusions to acts
of generosity that imply all of those traits.
The importance attached to some of the qualities held in esteem is
evident not only in the data itself, but in the type of contact experienced
during its collection by the primary investigator. For example, the
ability to be at the one moment disarmingly open and at the next defensive
and secretive would seem to be of potential benefit in the context
of business deals. A pre-occupation with physical strength seemed not
unrelated to the assertion of authority in dealings with male participants,
something that manifested itself in several ways. On a number of occasions
during pre-arranged site visits, control of the encounter was affirmed
by delays or non-appearance of participants. It seemed, too, that real
pleasure was taken from demonstrations of superior knowledge of specific
fields, while opportunities to show off physical strength were also
exploited. To some extent, all this was paradigmatic of the way in
which Gypsy/non-Gypsy interactions are perceived to occur in the context
of power relationships.
Further evidence was provided by children talking about their home
lives. Within most of their families, it seemed, fathers possessed
ultimate authority on the majority of issues. Children often spoke
of non-negotiated decisions made by fathers to move on. It invariably
seemed to be mothers, however, who were left to organise matters each
time the family arrived in a new place. Such a status quo was sometimes
confirmed by other observers. For example, several fieldworkers referred
to men as 'having power but taking no responsibility', as 'having the
power of veto', and as 'stepping in when things get serious'.
Business Skills and Dealing
There is some confirmation in the data generated from our study to
support the assertion, made by Okely (1983) and O'Boyle (1990), that
Gypsy men are able to enhance their status through developing a reputation
for cunning bargaining skills in their dealing. On several occasions,
examples were offered of such prowess:
While I was in Wales I did this job. Well, when we'd finished,
this guy I was working with asks if he can buy some of the tools. Weren't
much use to me, to tell the truth, but I didn't let on. Made out how
much it had cost and everything. £650 he gave me, for a load of old
crap. (Ted, aged 30s).
On one site a warning was given to the primary investigator to
take care when speaking to Nobby, of whom the other men spoke with
grudging respect. As one of them pointed out, 'He could talk you
into anything. See that place there-[pointing to a nearby sewage
processing plant]. He could sell them bags of shit!' On another site
a conversation with one group of men began with talk of business
skills, and turned to the best deals ever made; in particular, to
the exploits of a renowned individual who was compared with a fox.
Examples of his dealing at fairs suggested both acumen and a readiness
to cheat. The marvel was that although everyone seemed to know about
his reputation, they kept getting 'rolled over' time and time again.
The use of underhand tricks would seem to be acceptable so long
as the victims are not friends or family. Mention was made of one
man who had been ostracised for cheating a cousin who had been working
as his partner, although it was acknowledged the trick he had played
had been well conceived. Getting one over on other people, nonetheless,
is an ability held in high regard, especially if it entails some
duplicity at the expense of a rival family or non-Gypsies. A deconstruction
of the processes involved reveal an array of essential skills, which
include business knowledge, memory, psychological astuteness, acting
skills and charm. Such knowledge is inculcated through an upbringing
that (in some ways) effectively constitutes apprenticeship to older
male relatives.
It was pointed out on several occasions that such skills were unlikely
to be acquired at school. As Alfie (aged 30s) commented: 'They're
learning more at home. Why waste time at school? They're going to
have to fend for themselves one day'. At the same time, it could
be argued that school provides opportunities to develop certain skills
that could be useful in gaining material advantage over others, especially
when more na•ve (usually, non-Gypsy) fellow pupils are concerned:
See that? [Nathan gestures towards a ghetto-blaster] Nothin'
wrong with it: fuckin' mint. Well this kid, Harry, 'e's in my class-'n
'es a right twat, n'all-well 'e says to me I'll let you 'ave it if
you give me that stuff of yours you brung in. See, I took this stuff
in one day I found on the tip. 'I don't know', I says, 'it doesn't
close proper'. 'Go on', e says. So I do. And there's nothin' bleedin'
wrong with it. It was fuckin' easy to mend. Lovey [Nathan's five year
old brother] could've done it. (Nathan, aged 12)
FIGHTING
In their study of two contrasting primary schools in the UK, Epstein
et al. (2001) suggest that the ability to play sport well and/or
the ability to fight are important means of constructing gender in
ways that involve the reproduction of hegemonic cultural identities
and relations of power. They emphasise that, under specific conditions,
football and fighting simultaneously solidify and cut across ethnic
boundaries, and that many boys become deeply invested in these activities
as the primary signifiers of masculinity. Certainly, for the boys
in their study, being a 'real man' was established through their
prowess in both activities, and they gained status with other boys
and with girls through them. Indeed, Epstein et al. argue that: 'Football
and fighting become a measure of success for boys/men and a more
important achievement than academic success, while relative failure
or lack of interest in them becomes a marker of stigmatised effeminacy
or homosexuality' (2001, p. 159).
In our study, fighting was deemed a crucial signifier of masculinity.
Gypsies of all ages boasted about fights in which they have been
involved, and there was almost universal condemnation of those who
evade fighting. Such avoidance is seen as cowardly and dishonourable,
unless the odds were so great that running away in order to fight
another day was deemed the only viable option.
On one site anecdotes were shared with the primary investigator
about a man who was referred to as 'Brock' (a badger) on account
of his fighting style-'Try to corner 'im and 'e rips yer guts out'.
Although it seemed that nobody really liked him, Brock was respected
as 'a proper scrapper', whose friendship it was expedient to retain
'in case you're ever in a scrape and things turn nasty'. Several
incidents were reported. Once, for instance, after his best friend
crossed him, Brock 'did him good and proper, and left him for dead'.
On another occasion, after a bout of drinking, Brock took it into
his head to visit another site all on his own and challenged all
the men there.
The impression was that, through Brock's notoriety, all the males
on his site gained a certain prestige. Indeed, one elderly man bemoaned
the fact that there were fewer 'real scrappers' these days, and suggested
that moving into houses, going to school, and generally 'living like
Gadje' was the reason for this. Nevertheless, the primary investigator
was told about many men who sounded like 'real scrappers' to him.
Some reference was also made to organised fighting, for instance,
bare-knuckle fights, where gambling on the outcome would occur. In
various contexts, threats were made with reference to others out
of all proportion to the offences committed. That is, throats were
going to get cut, bellies slit open and faces slashed, for relatively
minor indiscretions.
Indeed, a striking aspect of the transcripts of the conversations
with Gypsy men was the number of references to fighting. More often
than not these have involved intragroup fighting:
Dale (aged 18): Ever seen a proper scrap? It all
went off the other night. You should've seen it. Me and Phil and Alby.
That Eddie was there. I had that twat, 'n all.
Researcher: I thought he was a friend
of yours.
Dale: He is. He was getting above
'imself. Anyway, fightin's a laugh.
Researcher: What do you like about
it?
Dale: Just feels good. You know, when you really do someone.
And other people hear about you.
Similarly, Duke (aged 20s) recounted a fight he had one Saturday
night with his brother-in-law:
I got fighting on Saturday night with my brother-in-law.
I gave 'im a hidin', but when I got outside, 'e was waiting. I got
knifed 'ere and me ribs were busted. Look what they did. Me mum went
mad. 'When my Buster gets out of prison, you're dead', she screamed.
Buster's me brother, only little, but a real hard cunt.
Detailed accounts were provided of altercations in which people
were stabbed, had ribs broken or faces slashed with bottles, and
invariably those concerned spoke of getting even at some future date.
It was also evident that fights tended to spread beyond the original
protagonists; far from being solely a mechanism for resolving disputes,
fighting was depicted as a means of constructing and maintaining
family alliances and hierarchies. As Miranda, a fieldworker noted:
There's so many inter-family feuds. Then various members
intermarry into the family. The feuds spread. There's so much hostility
and aggression ... The way to settle differences is to fight it out.
Kylie's partner is in prison for biting someone's ear off in a fight.
My point is it's a rigidly hierarchical society. Fighting sets up and
maintains the pecking order.
A central function of fights is in the cementing of male relationships.
Even George, as mild and courteous a man as one could wish to encounter,
boasted of a fight he had been involved in. In this case, the fighting
was inter-communal.
People used to tell the other lads, 'Go with George. He'll
keep you out of trouble'. I'm not running scared or anything, but I
was never really picked on; I didn't ever get into arguments. I remember
this bloke, Bob Cuthbert, in Chard-when it was a bad place. There was
this argument and he threatened to cut this Traveller's privates off.
There were about eight Travellers. We all used to drink together. We
were sat by the door, me and my cousin, Reg. Well this Cuthbert came
up to one of the Travellers and knocked him through the pane of glass.
The next thing everyone was scuffling around, having a go. I was just
standing there, wanting to know what it was all about. Reg threw me
his jumper and said, 'George, hold this'. Then all the Traveller boys
were chucking jumpers and shirts in my direction. At that moment I
saw Cuthbert and another fellow with a knife, and another with a block
of wood. I just had this rush of blood to my head. Just as I got stuck
in, the police arrived. I'll always remember because two of the Traveller
lads, Slaphead and Jake, had the same shirts. Slaphead was a really
big bloke and Jake was tiny. What do they do but collect their shirts
from me, and put on each other's. The police let me go, but Reg got
six months, you know what for. He'd been so wound up, that in the furore
'e'd gone and knocked the light off the top of this Panda car. (George,
aged 40s)
There is the impression here of something almost ritualistic about
George's 'rush of blood', as if his participation in the fight was
part of some private initiation giving him full membership of his
group, while allowing him also the future pleasure of reminiscence
as an insider. At times, particular skirmishes have been described
as if events in some epic. Although there has been a certain amount
of rationalisation on the subject-'Best way to get things over and
done with', 'it clears the air'-fighting itself has a deeper significance
than the resolution of differences; it almost appears to be a cultural
statement, part of a heritage, 'our way', as one participant summed
it up. However, in the school milieu the propensity to seek quick,
violent resolutions to problems is not generally perceived as desirable.
As an inter-group solution, the 'Gypsy way' to sort out grudges is
not acceptable, while the social meaning of internal altercations
between two or more Gypsy pupils is often not understood.
While the men tell stories of fights outside pubs or around sites,
boys give accounts of incidents in the playground or outside the
school gates. In both cases, there is much exaggeration and posturing,
injuries are reported in graphic detail and old scars shown with
pride. These stories seem integral to the construction of a particular
male identity that used the spaces available within the school context
for its performance and practice. Thus, many of the men interviewed,
particularly those in their teens and 20s, appeared to revel in their
memories of confrontations at school as it provided a forum in which
they could affirm and confirm a sense of masculine pride:
Chris (aged 20s): We were like the bosses of the school.
Everyone was afraid of us. We didn't mix. Researcher: Why not? Chris:
They think you're a Gypsy; they think you're trouble. Mind you, we
is trouble when we get drink on board ... If they called us 'Gypsy'
and other names, we'd wait for a week, then give them a hammering.
Duke (aged 20s) noted that, despite the fact that he had hated
it at the time, he now missed school. Significantly, all his fondest
memories entailed fighting:
Now I've left I miss school. I hated it then. But now with
two kids and a missus to scavenge for. At school I had no worries.
It was a laugh. The kids took the piss and all that, called us names.
We never took no notice; well, sometimes, if they got too cocky, me
and my two cousins kicked their heads in. I don't 'ave any grudges
against them. Sorted it out when we were kids. One of them was a right
cocky, little fucker, 'ard, little bastard, too. Wanted to take us
all on 'is own once. We 'ad this fight once with another school. The
other lads said to us Travellers, 'are you up for it, then?' After
that, they were all friendly, like. Funny, when I see some of those
lads who used to take the piss, now they say: 'how are you, mate? Haven't
seen you since you were 12 or 13'.
Few of the Gypsy parents who were interviewed expressed any disapproval
of fighting. One teenager said that the only time his father had
ever taken any interest in his experiences at school was when he
had broken another boy's jaw in a fight. The teachers interviewed
confirmed that Gypsy boys tend to be involved in a disproportionate
amount of violence:
I probably shouldn't say this, but they're charming one
moment, little devils the next. It's a powder keg, and quite often,
you know they're playing the system. They know just how far they can
go. You wouldn't believe the number of fights some of the boys get
involved in, among themselves as well as with other boys, yet somehow
or other, it's never their fault. (Erica, secondary school teacher)
Incidents of violence in school involving Gypsy pupils tend to
divide into two patterns. The first, involves the resolution of intra-group
conflicts emanating from outside school. Jamie (aged 12) said that
his mother had instructed him to 'do' two children from another family
who lived on the same site if he ever got the chance at school. Likewise,
Sylvester (aged 13) was going to 'sort out' some children who had
recently moved off his site to live in a house because of a dispute
involving his uncle and their father.
The second pattern involves sudden inter-group outbreaks within
school, usually after a playground dispute, during which divisions
are almost invariably on Gypsy versus non-Gypsy lines [4]. Group
solidarity was often seen as a distinctive feature of Gypsy society:
So there was a fight. It was Jimmy's fault, really, 'cos
he'd picked on Deano (non-Gypsy boy) by mistake, 'cos it wasn't even
Deano who called him names. But once it all started, we all twatted
'im, anyway. I nutted 'im-here, you can still see the tooth-mark. And
none of Deano's mates came to help him. Gadjes never stand up for each
other. (Liam, aged 13)
Sue (aged 10), Liam's cousin, was also scathing about the lack
of group solidarity among non-Gypsies, appearing to see nothing contradictory
or paradoxical in her observation that 'although we fight amongst
ourselves, we always stick together'. As in Duke's case (see earlier),
rare exceptions to these patterns were reported by Gypsy youngsters
involving outbreaks of inter-school violence, when they allied with
non-Gypsy pupils against (non-Gypsy) pupils from a rival school.
Frequently, disdain was directed by Gypsy boys at their non-Gypsy
counterparts, the most common criticism being that they were inferior
at fighting. As Rob (aged 11) commented: 'They're just wimps, softies.
They don't know how to fight. They punch you like this (Rob waves
his arm in the air, ineffectually). They're scared of us'.
Ben (aged 11) suggested that non-Gypsy boys were inferior because
'they can't mend things, they don't like getting their hands dirty,
and they're too weak to pick anything up'. At times, there has seemed
a certain brittleness in this sense of superiority; although weakness
has rarely been acknowledged, a few of the younger boys have confided
that fear of bullying from non-Gypsy boys has led to a dread of school.
For example, Robbie and Stan (both aged 7), rather shy boys who were
in agreement that school was fun for 'writing, drawing and playing
games', said that, nonetheless, they would prefer to be at home,
'out "lamping" [catching rabbits] or picking mushrooms'. They admitted
to a sense of dread with regard to certain aspects of school life,
and insisted that they would never tell their parents about all the
'fighting and pinching'. Richard, their teacher, suggested subsequently
that the boys were 'not untypical' and that many of the younger
(Gypsy) boys seemed passive at first, though often becoming more
aggressive as they grew older. Supporting this view, Wayne (aged
11) stated: 'I used to get upset when people called me "Dirty Gyppo" and
names like that, but not any more. Now if anyone says it, I 'its
'em'.
When Gypsy children do not resolve bullying incidents themselves,
fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, cousins, grandparents seem willing
to do it for them. Barney (aged 9) confessed to having mixed feelings
when his brother came up and 'kicked shit' out of an older boy who
had been bullying him:
Barney: I felt proud, like. I mean Sean 'ad it coming to 'im. But
I also felt a bit, y'know, bad.
Researcher: Why was that?
Barney: 'cos I think they was all thinkin' I should've done it meself.
In fact, most of the boys interviewed, especially the older ones,
opposed the idea of informing anyone else, even when they were outnumbered.
Overall, there seems an air of helplessness as well as defiance in
the advice one father admitted to proffering to his son as a way
of dealing with the (non-Gypsy) bullies who were tormenting him:
'Get 'em on the floor, give 'em a kicking, then run like fuck'.
SEX TALK
From the comments of the men and boys involved in our study, it
would appear that status is often associated with sexual prowess.
If such a perspective is constructed by males, however, it would
seem that there is some degree of collusion on the part of females.
Most Gypsy women made no reference to the subject of sexuality during
interviews or conversations. However, in spite of the putative strictness
with regard to female modesty in Gypsy culture, a small number of
female participants were not reticent, and some were voluble on the
topic, particularly when discussing the affairs of other families:
No-one makes babies like Alby. Goodness knows how many different
women 've had one of 'is. You keep going places, and you sees a nipper
and thinks, I know that nose, or chin. Alby's got this chin what sticks
out. I'd recognise that chin anywhere. Someone'll do 'im in one of
these days, I tell you. (Bryony, aged 50s)
While discussing the respective roles of males and females, Tommy
(aged 11) began to talk about his uncle, who was 'a good laugh' but
'a bit of a waster'. Tommy went on to recount a conversation he claimed
to have overheard, during which his aunt had remarked that although
his uncle might not have been much of a man in some ways, he could
'get it up on demand'.
On a couple of occasions, mothers have seemed rather proud of the
exploits of their sons, whose behaviour is sometimes denied, but
rarely condemned, at home. Many mothers argued that it was the responsibility
of teachers to prevent such activities. Acknowledging that the school
her son attended had made frequent complaints about his behaviour,
Lisa (aged 30s) demanded to know what she was expected to do and
blamed non-Gypsy girls for 'having no shame'. In the context of in-group
relations, the problem can be more serious. Lenny (aged 16) has got
a reputation with the girls. Estelle (Lenny's mother) informed me
that some of the other mothers had complained about his behaviour:
If their daughters do something they didn't ought to, or
if they don't look after their daughters proper and watch what they're
up to, who's to blame for that? Am I supposed to look out for their
girls? That Bridget were a one. Only 11 she were when she were at it
with the boys. I seen it myself. I swear to you. Didn't know any better,
her mother were the same. I remember her 'n all. Any girl what gets
'erself into trouble and isn't married, it's our Lenny. The other week
three of them there [she gestures out of the window, towards the trailers
of two of the other women] accuses 'im of doing it with their daughters.
Well, according to them, 'e must have been in three places at the same
time. 'How many dicks 'e got?' I says to 'em. 'Three?' Joke is 'e was
in 'ere all the time watching telly that night. There was that ...
that mystery programme you know, Inspector ... what's is name. I swear
to you on my own mother's life ... Anyway, it's only natural for a
boy to 'ave a bit of fun when 'e gets the chance. What fella's going
to say no, you tell me. It's up to the girls to make sure they behaves.
You didn't catch my Donna or Marie up to that sort of thing. (Estelle,
aged 40s)
On a separate occasion, Estelle did not even try to make excuses
for Lenny. Other mothers were jealous, she affirmed, and if some
of their tales were true, not that she was admitting anything, then
it only proved his virility. The impression given by both Estelle
and other mothers was that it was up to families to look after their
daughters and to inculcate them with 'decency'.
Relatively little reference to sexuality was apparent in the comments
of adult male participants. When there was talk of relationships,
quite often the subject of 'ownership' was implied. As Duke (aged
20s) stated: 'There's one bloke, 'e comes up and chats up my missus.
I've kicked 'is 'ead in twice. And 'e's still a cocky, little fucker.
I scarred the fucker and 'e still won't behave 'isself'.
Adult and teenage male participants quite often referred to sexuality
in terms of status:
I've 'ad loads of Gadje girlfriends ... They used to be
all over us, the Gadje girls. Don't ask me why. (Duke, aged 20s) The
girls at school really fancied us. Well, that made the other lads jealous
as hell. They got the qualifications; we pulled. (JR, aged 20s) The
older I got, the more I thought what the fuck am I going there [to
school] for? I wasn't learnin' nothin'. Not like with Jake [Jimmy's
9-year-old brother]. I mean I was out working with Uncle Bob most days
and the other kids was coming in there [to school] bringing in toys
to play with. I swear. I practically 'ad me own business and pussy
every night. As much as I wanted. (Jimmy, aged 16)
A number of teenage boys boasted about their conquests. At times,
school has been depicted as an arena in which they can demonstrate
their appeal to the opposite sex. Ray (aged 15) boasted that non-Gypsy
girls 'can't get enough of us'. 'We're sexier, we're better-looking,
and we shag faster', suggested Jason (age 13) by way of explanation.
It is not surprising in this context that the behaviour of some
Gypsy boys leads to conflict in schools, and evidence from teachers
and fieldworkers suggests that, in some instances at least, there
is more than mere swagger and posturing in the aforementioned comments:
You want to know what makes me laugh about Sean? Only the
other day his mother was on again about how she was afraid that continued
attendance at school would corrupt him, you know, sex and drugs and
all. As if she thinks I'm not aware that he's been the one all the
time, having sex in store cupboards, bike sheds-underneath the headteacher's
car on one occasion, if the accounts are to be believed-oh, and he's
been caught making drug deals in the toilets. (Janet, fieldworker)
The parents are very protective. You need to write for special permission
for any school trip. They reject sex education. They really want to
protect their children from the loose morals of the outside world.
They don't want pregnancies ... Having said all that, when it comes
to the boys, it's quite common for them to be sexually active at an
early age. (Anna, Primary teacher)
One of the most salient features of conversations with younger
boys was a pre-occupation with sexuality for its own sake. This tended
to manifest itself in the form of bravado. As Jo-Jo (aged 8) commented:
'You know Rocky? That's my cousin ... erm ... uncle, I think. We
seen 'im last night-'avin a fucky. 's true. You ask Ray. With smelly
Donna 'e was. Ooo, I 'ate her! Know what we call 'im? Rockybigcocky'.
Quite commonly, there seemed a link between money / status and
sexuality:
Tim (aged 10): I wouldn't change anything about myself. Well, I'd
like a bigger dick.
Researcher: Why's that?
Tim: Well, wouldn't you?
Researcher: I try to get by with what I've got. Why is it important
to you?
Tim: Well, birds would like you more, wouldn't they ... Me mum 'ad
another man once. Yeh, I'd like a bigger dick, and I'd like to be
a millionaire.
Tim's aspirations here seem to be linked to a sense of insecurity.
He would seem to want to impress partners, so that they would never
select a different mate. Moreover, other males would also be impressed.
Being rich and being well-endowed seem to be the formula for success.
Lee (aged 8) bragged that he could get 'as much skirt as I want.
And money. Lots of it!' Meanwhile, Ziggy (aged 9), who said that
he was on a 'final warning' at school on account of all the fights
he had been involved in, claimed to have ignored recent gibes about
being a 'Gyppo' and 'stinking', but punched a boy in the face for
calling him a 'girl'.
These comments support the view of Kehily (2001) who, based on
an ethnographic study of a secondary school, suggested that heterosexual
relations are viewed as a way of demonstrating a particular masculinity
that can be used to command respect and confer status on some males
while deriding others. Here, as with fighting, there is an emphasis
on the physicality of the body that is articulated in terms of activity
and performance. Thus, as Kehily reminds us, the physical sense of
maleness is constantly constituted as 'doing' heterosexuality: 'In
the interactions between young men in school, heterosexuality can
be seen as a practice involving a set of social performances in relation
to young women and other males ... a way of demonstrating a particular
masculinity that can be exercised to establish a position of privilege
within the male peer group' (2001, p. 178). For her, sex talk between
males can serve a variety of purposes and can have a range of effects.
These include policing the boundaries of gender-appropriate behaviour
for young men and women, providing an imaginary ideal of desirable
masculinity, bolstering the reputation of particular males, concealing
vulnerabilities and producing heterosexual hierarchies.
CHANGING CLIMATES AND MASCULINE IDENTITY DILEMMAS
If anything, changing economic circumstances in the past 50 years
have augmented the male power base within the family. However, other
factors, such as absent fathers, counterbalance the situation, sometimes
obliging mothers to accept certain 'male' responsibilities. As Miranda,
a fieldworker, pointed out: 'Most of the young men are in prison-violence,
robbery and criminal damage. The older men are a bit more stable.
It makes it a matriarchal society'.
Patterns vary from site to site. In some situations there seem
to be relatively few males in their late teens and 20s. Around sites
the occasional absences of fathers and older brothers can enhance
the status of younger males. John (aged 30s) said that he was unhappy
that he seemed to have to travel further and further afield to find
work, and that meant leaving his wife and family for long periods.
He was particularly worried about the risks that posed for his 13-year-old
daughter. Ken (aged 20s) agreed, adding that some of the older teenage
boys were getting above themselves. He did not feel comfortable,
he said, knowing that they were around his wife when he was away.
Far from agreeing with such a viewpoint, his wife (Laura, aged 20s)
suggested that nowadays girls were 'much better at looking after
themselves', and Ken was 'just a bit old-fashioned'.
Increasing sedentarisation is an influential factor, and despite
the relative freedom of males to continue their old working patterns,
as compared with the apparent increase of restrictions for females
who have previously operated in close-knit, social groups, a number
of children have suggested that it is their fathers who have encountered
more problems when their families have moved into settled patterns.
An observation made by some mothers has been that it is the men who
oppose change and find adaptation to changing circumstances more
difficult. In certain cases, it would seem that they have suffered
withdrawal symptoms from life on the road, as well as a loss of self-esteem
as a result of lack of opportunity to exert authority by making decisions
about movement.
In some areas, work is more available for women than men. This
can lead to low self-esteem among the men. In such situations, or
indeed when there is work for both parents, there can be resentment
from some females about the burden of work at home. Another complaint
has been that some husbands continue to expect their wives to bring
in money when there simply are no longer the opportunities to do
so. At the same time, there can also be a good deal of collaboration
on the part of females in the maintenance of traditional roles. As
Julie (aged 19) stated: 'I was helping from the time I could walk.
By the age of 8, I was doing a lot of the cleaning at home. I mean
that's natural, like. You can't get a boy to wash up: 'e'd grow up
all puffified; woman-like'.
In general, however, males have seemed more resistant to change.
Younger boys, in particular, have often articulated reactionary viewpoints.
Kev (aged 6) said that, as soon as he got home, he went out to play
or settled down to watch television, while his sister helped with
jobs. 'That's what girls are for', he added. Wayne (aged 11) observed
that 'Mums are good for working ... getting money ... cooking. Dads
make decisions'.
Increased exposure to different value systems can lead to contradictions
for younger males, the need to reconcile home and school expectations
leading to difficulties for some. One fieldworker described how a
boy who had always been 'helpful' in school suddenly became 'abusive'
when she asked him to do something at home, shouting: 'You're just
a Gadje. I'm getting my dad on you'. Her interpretation was that
it would have meant a loss of face to be seen helping a woman, particularly
a non-Gypsy, on his own territory. Fieldworkers and teachers viewed
Gypsy boys with some apprehension, making comments such as: 'The
boys tend to have two modes: charming and sullen', 'They have split
personalities', 'You're always on the look-out for their sudden mood
swings', 'They can be easy-going ... pliable ... then quite suddenly,
apparently without reason, vicious'. However, evidence from younger
Gypsy boys suggests that, far from being 'without reason', behavioural
changes occur when they feel slighted or demeaned, when, in effect,
the construction of their own masculinity is threatened.
Nevertheless, forces, both internal and external, are leading to
gradual compromises and the growth of more radical ideas. Privately
acknowledging that things had changed in his own home, but insisting
that he should not be quoted (as well as on the assurance of complete
anonymity), one middle-aged, male participant suggested that many
men had been forced into adaptations while maintaining an unchanged
public facade. He declined, however, to elucidate the nature of those
adaptations.
CONTRASTING VALUE SYSTEMS
Certain areas seem salient with regard to conflicting attitudes
at home and school. The first lies in perceptions of the place of
the individual within the group, and the second relates to attitudes
towards learning.
With regard to the first, many participants have given the impression
of identities framed by a simple equation; central to those identities
is a sense of being Rom through not being Gadje. The
use of contingency as an explanation of selfhood and identity would
appear to limit the options of the individual. It is interesting
that a number of participants have described events as if they were
personally affected when subsequently it has turned out that it was,
actually, other family members who were involved. The appropriation
of the experiences of others may have more than one meaning. Although
we are inclined to lean more towards its interpretation as a narrative
strategy than as evidence of some 'group memory', there is also an
implication of intensely close familial ties connecting individual
experiences to a far greater degree than might be the case elsewhere.
There is a further dimension to this. Among Gypsies the actions of
one person are liable to impinge upon a neighbour. Benny (aged 30s)
provided an example: Gypsy men on his site tended to be taken off
by the police en masse if there was suspicion of a theft; if a non-Gypsy were
involved in a crime, he wondered, would his whole street be
arrested?
Epstein (1978) suggested that a distinguishing feature of minority
group membership was the powerful emotional charge. Participants
in this research have referred on many occasions to 'the Gypsy way'
and to 'real Gypsies', as if some Gypsies were somehow less 'authentic'
than others. There has often been in such cases an implicit sense
of superiority, along with the intolerance of non-conformity noted
by Liegeois (1986). Quite a few expressed feelings of shame about
family members for becoming 'gadjefied'. Some equated this process
with marrying non-Gypsies. While citing the rate of intermarriage
in the UK, Eli expressed his contempt for Gypsy tree-surgeons who
could not distinguish between deciduous and non-deciduous trees.
The connection is significant: there is an inference that Gypsies
have been weakened and their culture diluted through exposure to
the non-Gypsy world, and in particular, through acceptance of non-Gypsy
knowledge.
This leads us to the second point. While some participants were
very positive about the possibilities offered by increased exposure
to schools, others appeared to view Gypsy Masculinities and the knowledge
gained at school with extreme suspicion. The alternative nature of
Gypsy learning, both in terms of mode and content, has been summarised
elsewhere (for example, Lee & Warren, 1991; Liegeois, 1987),
and the 'discontinuities' (Resnick, 1987) between home and school-based
learning inevitably lead to some confusion for Gypsy children in
schools. It seems significant that in this study those who were most
disparaging about education in schools, almost invariably, were male.
Reasons given for a preference for Gypsy skills were often along
the lines that 'Our skills are of greater use in the real world'.
As Duke (aged 20s) summed it up: 'I can turn me 'and to anything'. A
typical comment was that when the world came to an end, 'there'll
be bugger-all else to do for the Gadje but come and ask the Rom how
to do everything'. A further point here is that the acquisition of
such practical skills is connected to social relationships with other
males. Males of all ages spoke with pride of going out to learn trades
and skills with older males. Work done in isolation was commonly
viewed with mistrust. Terry (aged 11) could not understand why his
teacher at school had asked him to do some work on his own. Young
men spoke of a sense of liberation when going out to work with fathers,
uncles and old brothers, where 'we get treated as equals' (Joel,
aged 16). In contrast, boys of primary as well as secondary age complained
about being treated like 'babies' and learning 'fuck-all' at school.
Above all, Gypsy learning is about survival. Importantly, this
kind of learning is deemed to take place at home rather than in school.
Furthermore, much gypsy learning is perceived to be about tough,
male skills. Tom (aged 60) complained that the only thing his youngest
son had learned at school was how to be disrespectful: 'Henry never
used to answer back; if he stepped out of line, he knew what was
coming. You should hear him now. Like a bleeding lawyer ... with
all his long words. Taught him to speak like a puff they have'.
Similar comments were made on numerous occasions by older males.
Schools, it would appear, are seen as inculcating boys with an altogether
less masculine identity. At best, much of the curriculum is viewed
as irrelevant. There is an old Gypsy saying: 'Get an education and
lose your mind'. Gheorghe's (1997) description of the 'predicament'
of the educated Gypsy is reflected in the following exchange between
Ian Hancock and Eli Frankham at an International Conference on Romani
Studies, in 1996, during which Ian, as a Gypsy academic, evidently
felt the need to defend his Romani identity by emphasising his knowledge
of traditional skills:
Ian: I'm a university professor and a Gypsy on both sides
of my family. I'm no less a Gypsy for that. If anything, I know still
more about it.
Eli: I don't suppose you could prepare an 'edge'og, could
yer?
Ian:Yes, I could.
Eli: How then?
Ian: There are two ways ...
DISCUSSION
This article has highlighted some of the tensions and contradictions
Gypsy boys and men experience in performing specific forms of masculinity
in different communities of practice. These tensions arise because
the characteristics of these performances are valued differently
in schools when compared with Gypsy families and communities. It
is in the latter that their masculine practices (e.g. fighting) and
identities are constructed, confirmed, and valued, and it is here
that they experience meaningful and authentic engagement. Therefore,
even though the evidence gathered in the course of this study suggests
that changes of lifestyle among Gypsy groups are leading to more
variable and fluid patterns than had previously existed, it remains
the case that deprecatory and antagonistic attitudes towards the
education system remain deeply entrenched among Gypsy males.
Overall, it would appear that alternative gender roles and identities
propagated within the school environment are often perceived as a
threat to cultural tradition and, in some cases, as a means by which
acculturation, integration or even assimilation might be expedited.
A large number of parents interviewed during the course of this research
cited their apprehensions that their children may be exposed to value
systems deemed to be incongruent with (and/or aggressive towards)
their own as a reason for keeping their children at home. In particular,
they expressed concern that schools encourage patterns that conflict
with expectations within Gypsy communities. Of particular salience
here are roles and identities at home and work, family relationships
and sexual morals.
It would be misleading to assume from the criticisms made by many
children of alternative values at school that the home model of the
family comes through virtually intact. Among some participants there
was evidence of confusion and unhappiness. There was also the impression
that some families felt themselves to be caught up in a state of
flux. However, this is by no means a uniquely contemporary phenomenon.
The impression conveyed by many participants is that different types
of roles and gender identity have evolved as a consequence of changing
lifestyles over the past few decades. Economic circumstances over
a period of time have resulted in a seemingly inexorable decrease
of opportunity, not only in terms of work opportunities for males
in specific areas, such as scrap-dealing, but also for long-established
female activities, such as selling traditional artefacts and fortune-telling.
However, the evidence gathered in this study suggested that males
were encountering greater difficulties in adaptation.
The decline in agricultural work, a drift towards urban centres,
along with an increase of numbers living in settled homes, have resulted
in the need for re-evaluation and relocation with respect to gender
roles and identities. While reduced openings for money-making activities
have led to some disempowerment among women, more intimate contact
with the non-Gypsy milieu, not least through engagement with the
education system, has led to a growing awareness of inequities and,
at times, a sense of exploitation. Moreover, the widening of aspiration
among many younger women constitutes a challenge to both structural
patterns and value-systems that have underpinned both family and
communal life.
If educational experience is viewed by a growing number of Gypsy
females, in some ways at least, as empowering, the evidence provided
in this article suggests the same is not true in the case of Gypsy
males. In general, males placed much emphasis on the acquisition
of status within their own group, and younger males tended to select
the same areas as being crucial to the acquisition of prestige and
respect as those chosen by fathers and grandfathers: business skills,
physical strength, fighting, and sexual prowess. In different ways,
all of these were seen to have an important social function, not
only cementing relationships, but defining wider alliances and hierarchies.
In general, despite changing patterns, family and group loyalties
appeared to remain of far greater overall importance to the boys
involved in this study than the possibility offered to individuals
through the education system of the attainment of wider aspirations.
The manner in which many boys in this study rejected school-based
learning, codes and values recalls Willis' (1977) account of strategies
employed by alienated, working-class boys in schools by which alternative
hierarchies were constructed to protect status and sense of self.
Once again, school-sanctioned learning was often perceived to be
irrelevant, and useful knowledge/skills for future jobs was perceived
as consisting of physical/active labour, as distinct from mental/theoretical
labour. In Willis' study, such learning was also bound up with working-class
identities. There are two elements here: first, the power relationships
between masculinities, and second, the power struggle occurring between
marginalised male students and schools and the central role of schools
in the formation of specific masculinities (see also Connell, 1987,
1989).
It would be misleading to act as if such patterns occurred in a
vacuum; social antagonisms and divisions external to schools inevitably
play a part in shaping behaviour, and resistance to values and attitudes
of teachers, for example, cannot be separated from strategies aimed
at self-protection that are directed against the dominant group.
The particular ways in which young black males construct alternative
hierarchies (see, for example, Mac An Ghaill, 1994; Sewell, 1997)
highlight the need to explore the cultural dimensions of such processes.
Moreover, it is important to consider the internal manifestations
of any power struggle, for neither culture nor identity are static.
On the contrary, they are shaped by dynamic, fluid, contingent forces
intersecting to form
ever-shifting mosaics. Writing of conscious hybridisation and narratives
of self, Rassool (1999) portrayed culture among Asian youngsters
as malleable and part of the act of social survival, but such models
regarding identity that imply a facility to move smoothly between
identities according to context would not seem to be reflected in
the attitudes of most of those involved in our own research (see
also Bhabha, 1994).
Connell (1995) has proposed that life histories can display diverging
trajectories from substantially similar starting points and that
this opens up the possibility of divergent masculinities being constructed.
What seems striking in our own study is that, despite radical changes
of lifestyle in recent years, male participants, with a few notable
exceptions, expressed a relative uniformity of attitude. Among most,
there remained a suspicion not only of the skills gained through
exposure to the education system, but of values and attitudes that
threatened traditional, masculine identities. To a great degree,
this might merely reflect the way in which Romani society locates
itself, in a manner that allows little freedom for deviation. As
Liegeois comments: 'The Gypsy identity ... has been able to resist
the vagaries of history. Gypsies who challenge it with deviant action
tend to vanish into gadzo society and are obliterated from memory.
Life-style is the key to the cohesion and survival of Gypsy society'
(1986, p. 85). This cultural press towards conformity does not negate
the possibility of individual or group change. However, the processes
by which this occurs require further investigation.
ADDRESS FOR CORRESPONDENCE:
Martin P. Levinson,
School of Education and Lifelong Learning, University of Exeter,
St. Luke's Campus,
Heavitree Road, EXETER. EX1 2LU. United Kingdom.
Email: m.p.levinson@exeter.ac.uk
and
Andrew C. Sparkes,
Qualitative Research Unit, School of Sport & Health Sciences,
University of Exeter, St Luke's Campus, Heavitree Road, EXETER. EX1
2LU. United Kingdom.
Email: a.c.sparkes@exeter.ac.uk
NOTES
[1] We have used the term 'Gypsy' in this paper in preference to
'Traveller', the term used, in general, by those working in the field.
Both terms have their own connotations. Liegeois (1986) rejected
'Traveller' and 'nomad' on the grounds that, by avoiding any ethnic
content, such labels deny the existence of a specifically Gypsy culture.
Our decision here is determined to a large degree by participants'
choices; although these varied, many preferred the term 'Gypsy',
often on the grounds that it distinguished them from 'New Age' or
'New' Travellers'. Some participants expressed a preference for the
terms 'Rom' or 'Roma', although these themselves are terms that carry
different meanings to different groups. The term for non-Gypsies
used in the article-'Gadjo' (singular) 'Gadje' (plural)-and used
by many participants here as both singular and plural, also found
in different spellings elsewhere (e.g. 'Gorgio', 'Gauje', 'Gadze')
tends to have pejorative connotations.
[2] The role of fieldworkers concerned the educational and, in
some cases, the wider social welfare of children from Traveller families.
[3] All names used in this article are pseudonyms except in cases
where the adult participants (older than 18 years of age) specifically
requested that their real names be included.
[4] Similar findings were reported among quite different ethnic
groups by Epstein et al. (2001).
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