9. Be A Man ( Part 2)

What is a man?

According to the titular track of the Macho Man Randy Savage’s debut rap album, the answer is clear—not Hulk Hogan.

If you can name a professional wrestler, it’s probably Hulk Hogan, World Wrestling Entertainment’s 6-time champion, the “say your prayers, take your vitamins” American icon of the 1980s and 90s. At 6 foot 7 inches, Hogan was 2 inches taller than Lou Ferrigno, TV’s Incredible Hulk. Hogan’s “pythons,” his enormous biceps, were reportedly 24 inches in circumference. Even today, after Hogan paved the way for crossover superstars like Dwayne Johnson and John Cena, he may still be the most famous American professional wrestler.

Despite Hogan’s size, accomplishments, and fame, Savage thinks he has some manning up to do. Hogan’s sins? Turning soft by appearing in long-distance telephone commercials, losing to the Rock, being a poor actor, calling Randy’s dad instead of bringing his beef to Savage in person, and, finally, ghosting Randy’s attempts to take on Hogan in a charity exhibition match, “the first real fight in professional wrestling.”

To say the obvious, these are some weak jabs. Lyrically, that’s a given, but even in 2003, before Hogan’s divorces and sex scandals and racist diatribes caught on tape, Savage is leaving a lot of low-hanging fruit on the tree. There was the time Hogan settled a lawsuit with Richard Belzer, a twiggy talk show host who Hogan choked unconscious on air.¹ Oh, and there was also the time that Hogan, in a deal to avoid prosecution, testified under oath about his 14-year use of anabolic steroids and the drugs’ common appearance in pro wrestling locker rooms. Not to mention the decades of dirty politicking, backstabbing, and railroading Hogan must have done to stay atop the biz as long as he did. Savage, as his former friend and longtime colleague, certainly saw this up close, and it’s not a stretch to assume that he was directly victimized by it.

So much of Macho’s take on masculinity is a direct response to Hogan. At 6’1”, Savage wasn’t small, but he looked so next to the towering Hogan. He was forced to find ways to stand taller. Hogan’s signature move was a running leg-drop. Savage dropped his elbow from the top rope. If Hogan was larger than life, Macho could look larger than life, with his signature psychedelic clothing from Michael Braun, a designer for rockstars like Jimi Hendrix.

“One day he says to me, ‘I’m small,’” Braun remembers in an interview. “Well, his bicep is bigger than both of my thighs. He’s half a head taller than me. He’s a big guy to me. Relative to that game, and that height, he’s not big. What he’s trying to say to me is, ‘the clothes help me to be believable.’”

Miguel Discart from Bruxelles, Belgique

Believable as who? you might ask. Something I’ve been chewing on for a while is why, of all the ways to project masculinity, Savage decided on his version of it—tassels and capes, oversized sunglasses and hats, all the colors of the rainbow, a name made famous by the least subtle anthem of the one of the least subtle gay American icons of the 1970s.

Savage was a heel most of his career. Similar to villains like Ric Flair, there’s some foppish flamboyance to his look. Braun discusses how Macho’s ring wear was inspired by South Florida pimps. Smarter people than me can trace the true cultural history here, but consider the following. Where did that stereotypically ostentatious “pimp” look come from? Perhaps, in part, it’s a rhetorical move that projects a kind of supra-masculinity—an identity that’s so confident and strong that it can flirt with or even cross traditional gender norms and societal rules without concern. What’s a better sign of success for a man engaged in illegal activity than showing that no one can touch him, even while flaring wide his glorious plumage?

Also, consider the face of the man wearing the stereotypical pimp clothing. Another similarity between Macho and Flair—their villainous masculinity was coded both gay and black. While Hogan was wrapping himself in the American flag, Macho was hitting every step in the difficult dance of borrowing authenticity while projecting a character that seemed fully his own. He was wild and menacing. He talked with the musicality of a jazz band on acid. He was the bad guy, but audiences loved him. He was cooler than Hogan could ever hope to be.

So what happened? Who is this old man in black and silver dropping the world’s worst diss track on a dude he’s been play fighting for two decades? What could be less macho than Savage in this song?

I can only speculate. We might think that the Macho Man persona so many of us love was just lightning in a bottle, that you can only siphon so much authenticity from cultures so clearly not your own. Macho as a rapper is a big, big jug to fill. This album, and this song in particular, is desperate. That’s kind of funny on the surface, but once you start to dig as we have here, I hope that you feel a little how I feel.

It’s sad. It’s really sad that Savage’s lifelong efforts to be this big, burly dude likely hastened his death. It’s a bummer that, instead of recognizing and embracing and maybe even poking fun at what made him so cool, he put on biker leather and put out this mess, an album with all the edge of a jelly donut. I hate that I can’t decide whether his efforts here are profoundly cynical or a window into how he really sees himself, evidence that as he aged, he no longer had the stamina or the fearlessness required to be the Macho Man. I hate that he’s been in the ground for a decade and change, and Hogan’s out there screaming about how he can’t wait until Trump-A-Mania rules again. It sucks.

Near the end of his life, Savage finally stopped dyeing his beard. It’s striking how different he looked, how old, even though he never cracked 60. If Be a Man was a failed attempt to grow up from professional wrestling, maybe this was a sign that Savage was finally growing comfortable in his own skin. Is that what being a man is? Yes, and no, of course. The question can’t be answered. Nor am I someone who should judge another’s facial hair or use it to interpret their mental state.

Writing this in October of 2023, I recently learned that I’m going to be raising a son. It brings me a lot of joy to know that there are so many bizarre things like this rap album waiting for him to discover. It also makes me anxious as fuck that there’s no way I can protect him from what professional wrestling and a million other toxically masculine things have done to me. There’s no shielding him from the fact that on the edges of just about everything you could love, there’s something to make you angry, or sad, or numb.

Maybe being a man is knowing this and trying to do better anyway. I truly don’t know.

1.5 out of 5 feature roles in Spider-Man.

1. This happened, believe it or not, in front of Mr. T.