PicoBlog

Tuesday :: August 8th, 2023

I haven’t recommended other Substackers during my time with The Teardown thus far. But today is a break in that trend. Have a read through Sublime Prosaic, written by my good friend SF. The newsletter is an experiential take on life, with recent posts about sailing, planting, leisure, and fashion. I hope you enjoy it. Now, about my husband status…

Edits on 8/9/2023: A reader pointed out a few mistakes in my phrasing that I’ve corrected. In particular, I blindly misused canon when I intended to use cannon. I’ve also edited two of my quotes from the article as there was a partial repeat across two of the inserts. My apologies!

Jessica Grose published a provocative opinion piece in the New York Times about hordes of men called “Huberman Husbands.” These husbands, and more broadly some men of other shapes and sizes, belong to a cult called HLB - known otherwise as the Huberman Lab Podcast. Grose started by describing the fitness-groups’s hazing ritual:

It started with a suspicious green sludge at the bottom of our drinking glasses.

I kept finding evidence of this murky, grassy sediment when I was unloading the dishwasher, and I asked my husband if he knew where it came from. He said something like, “Oh, that’s Athletic Greens” — a supplement powder that includes dehydrated fruits, vegetables and grains that you mix with water.

Ok, ok, ok — disclaimer: I consume Athletic Greens too. Mostly daily. When I miss a day, I punish myself by performing EMOM (every minute-on-the-minute) push-up sets in a dark basement with boxes of wet broccoli on my back. I shouldn’t subject anyone to my sorry ass.

Grose contextualized her husband categorization in more detail:

After seeing a TikTok from a woman who described her “Huberman husband,” it all came together for me: My husband was amassing bits of advice from Andrew Huberman, an associate professor of neurobiology at Stanford who hosts a popular health and science podcast called “Huberman Lab” and has over four million Instagram followers. He’s sort of everywhere: In a June article titled “The Dad Canon,” defining millennial fathers in 2023, my newsroom colleague Joseph Bernstein dubbed Huberman “Goop for him.” Huberman is becoming so influential that my husband said some of the health advice he’s gathered from other voices in the fitness space seemed to have come from “Huberman Lab.”

Does anyone know where I can buy a Dad Cannon? I’d love that. Toy causing an argument between your kids? Dad Cannon. Five-year-old bugging you to launch them into the pool? Extra-Large Dad Cannon.

So far, I’ve posed some fun at the article’s story. I’ll admit it: I was hooked. Grose then hypothesized that Huberman and similar personalities promote a new kind of open male:

What I’m curious about is Huberman’s popularity, specifically among middle-aged dudes. Because it feels somewhat new that straight men feel not only comfortable talking about, but actually comfortable comparing notes on or even nerding out about diet and fitness, which has been a stereotypically more feminine pursuit. (But to be clear, he’s not just appealing to men. I’ve heard from several female friends who said, “I think I’m the Huberman husband.”)

I’m a guy and a sporadic Huberman consumer. So, I suppose I’m now “actually comfortable comparing notes on or even nerding out about diet and fitness, which has been a stereotypically more feminine pursuit.”

I don’t know how to begin or end from here, but I’m going to shove the feminine piece to the side. I am unqualified to make statements about that topic. Right?

Fitness is a major focus of my life. I run. I bike. I lift things up and I put them down. I sometimes consult internet resources when trying to improve my technique, resolve pain or soreness, or learn something new. I’m happy and willing to talk to other men about these topics. In fact, I actively seek those conversations because I know folks who are accomplished runners, skilled lifters, physical therapists, and analytical food and supplement consumers. I’m hosting and participating in these conversations now. But, what about when I was eight, twelve, sixteen? What about when I was first discovering the highs and lows of romance? What about when I was a skinny twenty-two year old attempting and mostly failing to impress others? Was I this conversant and willing share my tips but also vulnerabilities?

Grose highlighted a a chronic symptom underlying the seeming obsession with Huberman and others:

My hunch was that middle-aged men are just an unsaturated market for diet information, because they haven’t been inundated with as much of it as women have been. Since I was 12, I’ve been reading in girls’ and women’s magazines about how all my meals should be lean meats and greens, so I’m already casting a more jaundiced eye than my husband at anyone telling me I must (or mustn’t) eat in a certain way.

This bit sounded odd. It didn’t feel intuitive to agree with the idea that I’ve been subjected to less diet information. Of course, anyone with eyes and ears knows that magazines and other medium have inundated women with some sense of the right way to do things. But us guys, too.

NYTimes readers also didn’t agree with the premise. One commenter explained:

I'm not sure that the premise that this is new is correct. I remember growing up (Millennial) and watching men eat raw eggs and count protein. Bulking and cutting as well as gaming have been parts of the male diet as long as I can remember - as well as long as my Dad can remember.

Honestly, I just don't think you've been paying attention.

I agree with most of that comment. You probably know who Arnold Schwarzenegger is. Lots of men stared at his bodybuilding physique during and after his peak and internalized the desire to look that way. He helped popularize bodybuilding both by winning competitions like Mr. Olympia numerous times, and achieving fame as a successful actor in part because of his bodybuilding success.

Another commenter agreed with the timing inconsistency but conceded a point to the premise of the piece:

@Archive Yes, the idea of fitness extends far, far, far back. But, I still agree with the author that there is a new strain of fitness "gym-bro" culture that has risen through TikTok and other social media.

I re-read the article more than once and found myself agreeing with the author, but not on the concept of the gym-bro. Those folks were and still are at gyms. TikTok and other platforms make them much more obvious than ever before.

What the author states, albeit not as directly, is something simple: men are increasingly ready to talk about their insecurities. That they aren’t as jacked as some other guy. That they can’t romance as many girls (or guys) as some other guy. That they grew up with an abusive parent (or two) and don’t know how to trust people. That they need other men more than they ever realized.

Now, that was some anecdata, but it feels true. It’s also objectively true for me, especially as I get older and care more about my mental and emotional health. And my physical health too. A lot of my Huberman listening isn’t because I’m trying to post thirst traps on Instagram or TikTok. I’m trying to ingest and synthesize as much comprehensive information as I can about staying healthy, reducing cancer risk, and imparting healthy practices on my kids.

Most importantly, my reason for writing about this article at all is because I’m trying to be more thoughtful and proactive conversation partner for my buddies. We should be talking about our feelings. We should be talking about our problems. We all have them. Let’s work through them together.

Grose finished up with what I think is a mostly on-point observation:

Still, I think it’s mostly a positive that middle-aged men are becoming more deliberate about taking care of their health. As Contois notes, in the past, women and mothers have taken on the work and worry about the health of all members of their families. (Yet another of the normative ways that household management falls unevenly on women, particularly in different-sex partnerships.) So it’s to the good that men are “seeking out information and solutions” for themselves, Contois said, rather than leaving it to women like Lady Bird Johnson to trick their husbands into not having another heart attack.

I’ll rephrase: it’s absolutely a positive that middle-aged men are increasingly comfortable talking with each other about mental and emotional health. My recommendation to any guy: go see that therapist. Let it all out. It feels great. And it helps.

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