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The punch being thrown in the image above is one of the most positive outlets for the young man pictured. He is Michael, and his violence was one of the best things I could have experienced.

I am sure many will look at this picture and see nothing but aggression, nothing but anger. That is true. But there is also the release of tension, a catharsis. Michael was abused and he grew up violent. Without this mosh pit and his ability to hit people in a constructive way, he would have killed someone. However, I did not grow up abused and in a violent household, so why was being around him such a positive development for me?

For many adolescents there is a very real desire to take shit out on things and people. I needed someone to tell me this was okay and not to hate myself for feeling such. I wasn’t alone. I had a friend who fought not only people, but telephone poles and trees. I’ve known others who have abused animals and themselves. If I were a psychologist, I might have the answer about why this occurs, but I’m not and so I don’t. What I can tell you is that the desire is real and is not something that ended with my grunge-era generation. As an educator, I see boys hitting each other all the time, slamming each other into lockers, and sometimes breaking out in real fights. And, to a degree, this is perfectly fine.

Constructive versus Destructive

There was a tradition, a kind of game among my friends, which we would play in a basement. Typically, we were emboldened by illicit substances, and at some point the fight would be suggested. Then the music was cranked, and weapons were grabbed. Someone would yell, “Doorknob,” and the game was on. The goal: get to the doorknob at the top of the stairs. But to succeed, you had to cross a battlefield, where it was every man for himself.

Bottles were smashed into faces, golf clubs swung into legs, and a thousand punches were thrown. And, yet, we all liked each other. We fought like this, game after game, until everyone was too exhausted to continue. This was before the publication of Fight Club, and as crazy as it sounds, our fights focused on the exact desires explored within the novel. This was a safe way for us to test our mettle. We could beat on one another and come to know just how much we could take, which would be important if it were ever someone else doing the beating. And we learned how to fight back, a skill I still see as valuable.

The last time we played this game is the first time I got knocked out. One of my friends punched me so hard in the back of the head that I fell to the floor and stayed there for a few minutes, out cold. I saw this man just the other day and congratulated him on his second child. There’s no ill will. He taught me a powerful rule in fighting: never let anyone get at your back. My father couldn’t teach me this; he didn’t know. But my friends could, and those beat downs served me well in college and beyond.

This is all to say that violence can be and is constructive. Mike moshed and fought with us and released all his rage so that he didn’t hurt anyone more than was acceptable. He knew enough about himself to seek this. I will never stand in judgment of someone who knows his needs and finds a constructive way to fulfill them. Mike may have “To Thine Ownself Be True” tattooed on his body now, but he was living the adage, then, and in turn, teaching us a powerful lesson.

Destructive

The conversation about teen violence should always focus on the destructive end, the place where males, particularly, do not have the outlets they need to channel this energy, and therefore, do so in grossly inappropriate ways.

Fighting is not the problem. The display of power is. My friends and I fought each other, but we never tried to dominate, we sought to learn. When boys fight for revenge, bring weapons into school, assault and rape their girlfriends or boyfriends, we should all be alarmed. This is unacceptable. This should be addressed. And beyond the obvious education necessary, one way would be to provide a safe environment for boys to work out their aggression.

Boxing gyms used to be as popular as MMA gyms are today. They served an outlet, often after school, and often free to troubled youth. Every person I know who participates in some violent discipline, like martial arts or boxing, talks about the respect of it, the way they know they don’t have to fight, but can if need be. My friends taught me the same. And post-basement brawls, we were the least aggressive males on the planet. Fighting was out of our system, and it felt good to have it gone. It didn’t make us want more.

Yet, unfortunately, we also played football together. This may seem contradictory, because aren’t sports a perfect venue to channel this negative energy?

As violent sports go, football does not teach you discipline. In fact, it just became another place for us to release our pent up violence, and we were often rewarded for our ability to hurt people. It doesn’t need to be this way, but often sports like football and lacrosse and hockey offer very little beyond the inducement to be violent. Because aggression and a violent propensity can make you an all-star. And we live in a society that rewards such, on and off the field.

Therefore, something that allows teen males to “blow off steam” in a safe way, without reward for being nasty, with only a goal of being constructive with anger, is a potential solution. There is no one-size-fits-all answer for what that looks like, and that’s okay. Just ask the teens what they want; they’ll let you know.

Fact versus fiction

In all of my novels there is at least one fight scene. Often there are more. Some might dismiss the authenticity of my stories, feeling that I have a limited perspective because of my upbringing, and not a true reflection on American culture. That notion is wrong.

I write what I see and hear, predominately from my students. I even had them respond to a journal prompt so I could better inform myself for this article. The “boys will be boys” adage came up time and again. And as frustrating as that was to see––because as an adult male, I loathe that easy excuse––it also makes sense. Every one of my forty-eight students polled had something to say about violence. Had I asked them to write about love, the connections might not have been so handy.

We live in a violent world. My students see this and know that “boys throw punches, and girls talk shit behind your back.” Yes, this is a very stratified notion of gender behavior, but it is still illuminative. This is what teens see. Boys who need to express their anger and frustration, punch. Girls who need to, use manipulation more than overt violence. They are all being socialized into roles with violent implications, and there is a social desire for them to uphold the framework.

So let them blow it up. Literally. Give teens more outlets, physically and emotionally. Let them climb into a ring with gloves and head gear. Let them work it out. Then guide them toward books that speak about violence and let them talk about how they resonate. Give teens a safe context in which to explore and you will see less violence, not more.