Why do men text… like that
A deep dive into why men use the emojis, and language, they do.
Remember 2017? It was eventful. Trump was sworn in as president, the #MeToo movement swept the world, Prince Harry got engaged and “Despacito” was the song of the summer. So I wouldn’t blame you for missing John Mayer’s landmark discovery of a supposedly “male-appropriate” heart emoji. The musician tweeted to say that he thought the heart from the card suits (a slightly slimmer and sharper red heart) was more masculine. Predictably, Mayer’s “discovery” was followed by a deluge of “masculinity is so fragile” dunking. But he’s far from the only person to suggest that men shouldn’t use some emojis, or any full stop. Conservative pundit Matt Walsh went viral last year for tweeting that there is “no excuse” for self-respecting men to use emojis as they “are for children and women”. Yikes.
Whether you’re a believer that there are separate “rules” of texting for men and women, it seems that there are vague norms for how we behave on instant message, social media and email. There is evidence that men use emojis less often, but other stereotypes have emerged too: like the “reply guy” (a man who frequently comments on social media posts in an annoying, condescending and overly forward manner) or the “you up?” text so-called fuckboys send after midnight. But what are the more general patterns? and are they split along gendered lines too?
Psychologist Ian MacRae, author of the upcoming book Dark Social: The Darker Side Of Work, Personality And Social Media, tells me that there’s evidence to suggest that men often use messaging apps such as WhatsApp differently. “There’s psychological research which suggests that, in general, women used communication tools more for emotional connection, relationship building and communication than men,” he explains. “Men tend to use apps a lot more functionally, such as arranging plans or a time to meet and talk ‘properly’ somewhere else.”
So where do we pick up these habits? Although humans have been writing letters for hundreds of years, texting is a relatively new form of communication. MacRae says that, because of the evolving nature of online social norms, there’s not a definite set of rules yet – hence the heated debates over male emoji use. Instead, our “immediate social group” (close friends, colleagues and family) are often the most important influence on how we communicate. Growing up, I experienced learning all this first-hand in the days of MSN Messenger and Bebo, where entire teen romances lived and died online. But now most children have a phone by age seven, so the process of learning how to talk via text starts much earlier. “As young people go to school and develop a peer group, that peer group then overtakes their family to become the dominant influence on their life: how they speak, how they talk and what kind of behaviours to curb,” MacRae explains.
“The group chat” is an example of an online space where people often communicate with their “immediate social group”. My brother has one with his friends and, when we were last on holiday, we’d often hear him laughing to himself at what they were saying. (We’d never find out what it was, though, because “what happens on the group chat stays on the group chat”). Journalist Rhys Thomas, who writes a men’s advice column for Vice UK, says his “lads” group chat is a space where masculinity can be “hyper inflated” and “performed”. “Group chats are a breeding ground for loud displays of masculinity, in the same way that when you see a bunch of lads walking down the street, they’re quite ‘out there’,” he says. “It’s often a place where there’s a reward for being taboo and where you’re trying to perform, so you say things that you wouldn’t normally say elsewhere because of that machismo aspect of it.” Yet there’s an element of control too, he notices, when it comes to emotions. “It’s not that you lie on group chats, but you focus on the points that you think play into normal masculine values,” he explains. “So if someone asks what you’re doing later, you’re probably not going to say, ‘Nothing, I’m feeling a bit down,’ but you might say, ‘Not much, might have a few beers later.’”
So it feels like there is a link between the unwritten rules of being a man in real life and online. Thomas’s advice column is called “Hey man”, which is a very common way for men to introduce themselves or greet each other via screen and in person (see also: bro, dude, mate, boss, etc). Robin Craig, a PhD researcher in Shakespeareand trans studies with the University Of Roehampton, thinks these habits have roots in the way male slang reinforces male bonding. “Personally, I am never called more male slang names than when in the predominantly male space of the barber shop, where every other sentence ends with ‘mate’ or ‘man’,” he says. “These spaces are interesting because barbering is a very intimate activity, especially in upscale shops that offer shaves or hair treatments. There is a constant friction between the care and intimacy of the barber’s actions and the language barbers use to reinforce both their masculinity and the masculinity of their clients.”
Craig sees a connection between the use of male slang in a physical space, like a barber shop, and in digital spaces where men might feel less secure. For example, “hey man” (or the dreaded “hey mr”) can be a particularly common introduction on hook-up apps like Grindr, which are mostly used by queer men. “I think Grindr is a space that can be compared to the barber shop in some ways as a nearly male-only space where men are seeking physical intimacy,” he explains. “The use of male slang like ‘mate’ and ‘man’ reinforces the speaker’s masculinity in a space where it’s placed in jeopardy, such as a gay male cruising app.”
It’s normal that we might monitor our communication to fit in with gendered norms in certain scenarios. MacRae says this is most likely to happen in “high-pressure situations”, such as talking to someone new, like a romantic interest. And these anxieties aren’t entirely unfounded, because the truth is that using the wrong emoji or saying the wrong thing can easily put someone off. Just ask British Vogue’s dating columnist Annie Lord. “I think if you have good text synergy you can genuinely start to fancy someone. You can get all hot and bothered during the convo,” she tells me. “And I know it’s pathetic, but if I’m messaging a guy and he uses really weird emojis I’m like… ew.”
The workplace is another “high-pressure” space where interactions might feel more important and consequential. As well as using emojis more, it’s thought that women are more likely to use exclamation marks and submissive phrases such as “no worries if not”, particularly in professional settings. Craig thinks this is because women generally feel more social pressure to be “caretakers” in interactions to ensure other people are comfortable, especially if they’re speaking to a man, which involves being less “direct” in requests and actions. “Men are less likely to use emojis and exclamation marks in writing, which does not necessarily show more confidence than women, but rather less pressure to be a social caretaker in interactions,” he explains. “Women are frequently told to replicate the syntax of their male colleagues if they want to be taken seriously, whereas men are rarely told to improve their email etiquette for being too direct or cold.”
When it comes to the supposed “rules” of texting and emailing as a man, they seem to fit in roughly with patriarchal gender norms. Texting might be relatively new, but the patterns we’re seeing being replicated are age-old. Discouraging men from using any emoji, regardless of what it is or the context, feels like a new way of telling them not to be overly expressive or potentially submissive. As Craig notes, there are even parallels between how men and women talk in Shakespeare’s plays – where male characters were seen to be more “practical, stable and capable of leadership” – and the ways men are socialised to present themselves today, both online and offline.
So there aren’t necessarily “rules” of texting as a man, but there are societal norms around gender that we use digital communication tools to follow – or create online spaces like groups chats where they might be strengthened. Yet, where there’s norms, there’s also people who form immediate social groups, or wider subcultures, with their own lexicon designed to push against them. The popularity of intros like “hey queen”, “hun” and the reinvention of the word “daddy” in black and gay culture show us that the way we use language online and offline is constantly shifting. As MacRae neatly concludes, “Language is a huge part of creating, reinforcing and developing identity. Different groups can use it to either distinguish themselves from ‘the mainstream’ or establish themselves as a part of it.”
