“Elephants never depend,” say the males. They repeat it on the fringe, outside the herds. When a young male leaves his mothers, the fathers rumble to him that masculine wisdom. They use it to impart strength and dispel responsibility. Adolescents trumpet it when females drive them off, hardness between their legs and blood-heat sweating their cheeks. When the fraternal groups rupture during mating season, older males nod and whisper that phrase. And wandering males dismiss weakness with it when poachers slay another loner. Always it sounds, the same refrain, “Elephants never depend.”
All the posturing, however, conceals a difficult truth. Despite their size and strength, the males lack power. Neither young nor old can control the blood-heat, its sweaty secretions and hormonal surges. No rogue on the edge can control a herd, where the mothers rule. And the fathers, rather than teaching acceptance of flaws and humility, teach the language of independence and domination. “Elephants never depend,” rumble rutting males, assuring their own exile once the necessity of mating passes. The fraternal groups obsess over competition and hierarchy, until they unlearn how to reach out in friendship. Only when old, when hormones and hardness begin to recede, do the males think back on life’s lessons and regret.
In the end, the masculine wisdom shrivels as surely as strength and spent members. The truth: We are more within the herd.
This ain’t about elephants.