What do you stand for as a man?

Sometimes our circumstances trigger a hardwired desire to respond to any violation against us with hands and fists. Meanwhile, we are constrained by societal norms that decree what behavior is acceptable to deal with these stressors. We can’t channel our ferocious spirit into violence, so is the solution to Mother Teresa our way out of the situation through unadulterated peace and love?

This is problematic in its own right — by no means do we want to allow people to walk all over us. If unadulterated love is always the default, we risk giving others the false impression that we support what they are saying when we most definitely may not.

When it comes to deciding when to speak up or when to tune out, there are no common laws of variables and square roots. No matter what numbers one attempts to plug into the equation of conflict resolution, the formula will inevitably break down.

Related to the aforementioned dilemmas is the “good man” versus “nice guy” dichotomy that I first read about in a poem by Matthew McConaughey, in his book — “Poems and Prayers.” The work effectively demonstrates two opposing frameworks for how men deal with conflict in life, or more broadly, how they deal with life itself.

There is the portrait of the nice guy — chill, calm and collected as can be, never raising his voice or initiating disagreement. Everyone loves having the nice guy around; he’ll be by your side unless you’re committing an outright atrocity. It feels great being the nice guy. It’s easy to be the nice guy.

Then there is the yang to the yin that is the nice guy — the good man. The good man has a definitive moral compass that he carries in his pocket always. He isn’t afraid to remind others of it if they start to violate it. The good man has definitive opinions on politics, history and family — and he is open to discussing them with those around him, not afraid to be bold in his presentation. The good man addresses the subtly racist comments that a friend constantly makes despite the silence from the rest of the group. The good man takes up space at the dinner table.

As much as it would be an inspiring ideal to always strive to the sensibility of the good man, this dichotomy seems problematic — the uncompromising construction of men into two things fails to adjust for the fluidity of life.

All of this to say, maybe sometimes being the good man is open and accessible, while other times succumbing to the mannerisms of the nice guy is the only option. This is why I would propose that the true good man is not one who unwaveringly sticks up for his beliefs and what is right — but holistically, the one who knows when to channel the more raw part of his ego, and when to bring the nice guy in.

As a young man, figuring out this dance has been one of my biggest internal conflicts. We see opinionated personalities everywhere in media and are captivated by them. However, it’s crucial to realize that each of these men is acting in a particular sphere that allows them to channel this raw form of the “good man.” It’s not that it’s harmful to be impressed by these men, but for a guy to try to emulate that in public can be a one-way ticket to the forever destination of isolation and needless conflict.

To wrap things up, I’d like to share a personal example that illustrates the nuances of choosing between the nice guy and the good man.

It was a fresh fall Saturday, and whether it was the weather or the graciousness that comes with the weekend, I was feeling very content. I went to the gym in the middle of the day and asked if I could work in with the person using the squat machine. A simple “no” wouldn’t have upset me, but the primal rage in his voice and facial expressions when he responded was off the charts. Something along the lines of a raging “No! Can’t you see that this is mine right now! And I just started, so you are going to want to get far away from me.”

I could have utilized more of a typical “good man” approach and directly had a conversation with him about gym etiquette, nobody deserving to be treated this way without doing anything to warrant it and the like. Or, as I did, I can preserve the sanctity of the fall Saturday and quietly walk away.

And this example doesn’t even scratch the surface in terms of the complexity of addressing conflict in general. But it does present one of the many struggles with the strict determinants of the “good man” — in this case, my own peace and well-being mattered more than expressing my honest opinion, even though truth is a cornerstone of the good man.

Hey, maybe in the most well-developed version of the good man/nice guy model, being a good man is really the ability to choose between the nice and the good. Every situation warrants a response that requires entirely specific considerations and morality — which seems to run counterintuitive to oversimplified models like this dichotomy.

Overall, the good man/nice guy framework is far too idealistic to deem who is a proper man, and who is not. I would argue that as long as you are a man who consistently lives up to your individualized framework principles in a way that is not outright aggressive or stifling, you are playing your part in purifying the polluted air that has become “manliness.”

Jacob Lieser is a junior majoring in philosophy, politics and law.

Views expressed in the opinions pages represent the opinions of the columnists. The only piece that represents the view of the Pipe Dream Editorial Board is the Staff Editorial.