The inner Man

Program aims to empower, educate, 'uplift'

Tyrone Walker
The Post and Courier

The ManKind Project, an international organization that has a chapter in the Lowcountry, is 'a movement to uplift the masculine,' says Sheldon Weinstein, leader of the local group.

Tyrone Walker
The Post and Courier

Members of the local chapter of the ManKind Project gather for a recent meeting in North Charleston.

Michael Kinney approaches the man in the plaid shirt with tattoos up and down his arms.

"Man, I'm all wet!" Kinney says.

"What is it?"

"Sweat, man, sweat from the outside."

The room is furnished with chairs. The wall behind Kinney is covered with pictures of men in the wilderness and portraits of Native Americans. The resonant voices of six boisterous men reverberate in the room.

"Come join the circle!"

A 20-year-old edges to the circle. He and his girlfriend, who is not present, are staying with Kinney for a couple of weeks. Home is France.

The man in plaid rips a scab off his leg. The small talk dies down. Kinney sits down, his shirt suddenly unbuttoned.

They all agree to be honest, not to call anyone "sir," and always to start on time. 6:30 p.m., on the dot.

Attention floats from man to man, each repeating the same lines: "I agree — what I hear, what you say, what I hear here will be confidential."

They've gathered at this little building, part of a row of storefronts on East Montague Avenue in North Charleston, for their weekly meeting to talk about what it means to be a man.lll

The ManKind Project started in 1985 in Milwaukee. An international organization with centers in North America, Europe, Australia, New Zealand and South Africa, it seeks to educate and empower men by affirming cultural, religious and national differences among its participants.

"It's a movement to uplift the masculine," says Sheldon Weinstein, a 63-year-old adherent and Lowcountry group leader.

Weinstein says that since the beginning of human society, men have formed groups to enhance their ability to survive in harsh environments. This survival instinct enabled men to become better hunters and better protectors of their tribes and communities.

To join the society of men, boys were required to endure an initiation that often involved introspection and communication with the forces thought to govern life and society, Weinstein says. But since those cave-dwelling days, the transition from childhood to manhood has become increasingly undervalued, he said, and in today's culture, initiation typically involves getting drunk and having sex.

"The idea is to put men back together in circles to figure out what does that mean for us today," he says. What does it mean to "move from boy thinking to man thinking," to be responsible, to be in tune with one's feelings, to be truly empowered? "Men need a lot of help today."

The young Frenchman is here for the first time. Kinney, 47, places a hand on his shoulder in solidarity.

Weinstein reads through the rules of the meeting, a standard list of requests: Turn cell phones off, show up on time. Then Kinney gets a bowl of sage leaves, and Weinstein announces that it's time for smudging.

Smudging is a Native American ritual used to separate the outside world from the inside world of the circle. It's supposed to bring focus to the present.

Kinney sets fire to the leaves and begins to waft the smoke over his body, as though washing himself. He explains the activity to the Frenchman.

"Someone once told me ritual was the glue that holds people together," Kinney says.

The bowl is passed around the circle. The men stand in unison. First they turn east, then south, west, north, upward, downward, inward. They recite lines about seasons, buffalo, thunder beams and eagles. Some of the men are wearing shorts, some stand barefoot in their work clothes, one has a pair of Chuck Taylor Converse shoes. After each turn of the body, they say, "Aho!" It means, "I hear, I acknowledge."

"Why do we use Native American rituals, since none of us here are exactly full-blooded?" Weinstein asks. "We have to go back to the only people from North America who had rituals."

They learn how to act like men. They learn a new rite of passage, an old rite of passage, something more useful than the modern ritual of alcohol and sex.

The 20-year-old Frenchman sits on the edge of his seat, watching.

"I try to learn me how to be a man," he says.

This is a rare glimpse. Over a quick dinner at EVO Pizzeria on East Montague Avenue, across from the ManKind Center, Weinstein says privacy is a value held dear by participants. This evening's session is an open house of sorts, a chance for seekers to get a taste of the ManKind Project.

"We don't reveal what we do," he says. He will discuss only the ideas that drive each session: integrity, accountability, honesty.

Kinney explains that it was his experience with the ManKind Project that taught him to nurture himself, "that there's something intrinsically valuable about me." Once this self-worth is recognized, one can foster healthy relationships with others, he says.

And Weinstein adds: "There are not a lot of opportunities for men to get together and reveal emotion." According to today's conception of manhood and sexual identity, an emotional man is somehow less masculine than one who reins in his feelings, he says.

Weinstein leads the training programs. These are typically scheduled twice a year in the Carolina district. "The ManKind Project's New Warrior Training Adventure is an intense, transformative men's initiation that invites men to forge a deep conscious connection between head and heart," according to the organization's Web site. "The (training) offers men a powerful, challenging educational experience to look at all aspects of their lives in a richly supportive environment."

Those who enroll in the training sessions are formed into "I-groups." "I" stands for "Integration."

Tom Pompeii, a 43-year-old local bar owner, took the training in 1996. Some of the men who go through this "initiation" become active participants in the program for years; others drift away, Pompeii says. In the Charleston metropolitan area, there are about a dozen regulars, he says. The ManKind Center on East Montague is part of the region encompassing the Carolinas and Southern Virginia, in which about 250 men are active.

Pompeii says the program is cathartic. It offers a way to open the heart and mind, to disassemble oneself, scrutinize the individual pieces of identity, attitude, outlook, behavior and feelings, and then to consciously put oneself back together using only the good bits.

At home, there can be money worries, tension in relationships and other concerns. At the ManKind Center, there is only acceptance, honesty and friendship, he says.

A tree branch fashioned into a staff is brought to the circle. Members of the group step forward, in turn, to grab the staff and explain their failings since the last meeting.

Weinstein asks the man in plaid to step into the circle with him. Both clutch the staff with one hand. Weinstein takes the opportunity to express aggravation. Making light of the ritual is a problem, he says.

"You stop things from getting too serious," he says, his teeth clenched. "You stop me from getting serious. I go to that place where I lived for 13 years when I was a tornado going through people's lives. It was all about me, all about being self-centered."

Weinstein looks grim. They stare at one another. "When I go there, I trip and fall into shame."

Weinstein says that he wants to see more of the man in plaid, that his absence throws the group off balance. Then he turns his attention to the group.

The ManKind men say the project has changed their lives, opened their eyes, enabled them to feel more, to feel better about themselves. They say they like the ruthless honesty, affection and healthy confrontation.

"Ten years ago, I was a different animal," Kinney says. "I was never held accountable. It's not something that happens here and when I leave it's gone. For me, it's constant."

Reach Chase Purdy at 937-5709 or cpurdy@postandcourier.com. Reach Adam Parker at 937-5902 or aparker@postandcourier.com.