Pieces & Memories

The entire story of Yield challenges performative masculinity before the face of genuine introspection and courage with ancient values.

There was no singular universal law shared between all Norse tribes, as Norsemen were not unified until at least King Haraldr. As such, there were differences in philosophical takes on many issues—which is partially why Norsemen slaughtered each other for generations over various disputes.

One of those issues was marriages between men and women.

While there is no evidence that there weren’t any Norse villages at all that honored marriage as a tradition between man and woman, in general, marriage between men and women was not actually between men and women but between men and the women’s fathers. 

This was where the concept of asking the father for permission to court a daughter came from, as well as why Norse names were based on the father—even for women with the “-dottir” suffix.

You were either the “-son” or “-daughter” of some father, as we can see in names like “Anderson”. This is where the “-son” comes from in the name. 

This means that, in their language, they wouldn’t typically introduce themselves with first and last names; they would say “I am Erik, son of Ander.” (Also known as Erik Anderson, for example).

With that said, the Norse religion had two famous camps for elite warriors who’d fall in battle: Valhal (where Odin’s men went) and Sessrúmnir (where Freya’s men went, in Folkvangr).

Now, with all that said, here is where things get interesting in the dialogue between Erik and Sigurt in Yield.  

The Dimensions of Sexuality In The Norse Afterlife

Early in the book, there is a scene in which Sigurt is making fun of his father, Erik, for preferring to forego Valhalla to spend eternity with his wife in Freya’s hall, if given the choice.

It is made quite clear through the dialogue between them that Erik preferred the company of a woman to the company of men in general—basically implying that Erik had a strong, solid heterosexuality that would be typically thought normal in most of today’s Judeo-Christian Western society.

However, Sigurt chides his father by calling him a “simp”. 

Though, Erik makes quick work of the boy by breaking down how Sigurt doesn’t even really know what that word means. Erik exposes how Sigurt is not using his brain to form his own original thoughts, but regurgitating what merely seems cool that he saw some fake “alpha male” say online.

Moreover, Erik says that he prefers women because he has simply never bonded with a man the way that he has with a woman and thus cannot see a major difference in the afterlife if he is going to end up on the front lines of Ragnarok anyway—just with Freya’s guard instead of Odin’s Einherjar.

Yet, true to traditional Norse culture, Erik concedes that Sigurt may be superior for choosing to bond with men in Valhalla over a woman if he continues down that spiritual path—just not for the reasons he thinks.  

Does This Mean That Sigurt Is Actually Gay?

No.

As the writer, I am canonically ending that debate before it even starts: No, Sigurt is heterosexual as well.

He was simply a virgin who had yet to experience a woman the way his father had, and thus couldn’t quite understand his father’s appreciation for women. Meanwhile, he was blindly and ambitiously focused on whatever he could do to surpass his father in the perspective of Norse culture and in the eyes of Odin.

Sigurt’s preference for Valhalla was more about a naively deep-seated chip on his shoulder to step out from and go beyond his father’s shadow, not sexuality.  

Then, How Could Sigurt Not Consider The Homosexual Implication Of His Words?

Sigurt hadn’t considered the homosexual implication of his stated preference for Valhalla over Folkvangr because he had not been raised in an environment that shamed bisexuality.

Sigurt wasn’t gay; thoughts of sexual defensiveness simply hadn’t crossed his mind because he had come from a family of Norse pagans (not Christians) who had taught him that there was nothing to defend.

From the viewpoint of Norse people, the Abrahamic faiths widely repress sexuality. 

In their opinion, religious systems like Christianity, Islam, and Judaism are like factories that mass-produce sexually repressed people who are disconnected from their truest selves due to the shame and fear-based cultures those religions create.

Islam is probably the most homophobic religion of all the Abrahamic faiths; yet, it cannot be a coincidence that the #1 countries statistically proven to appreciate homosexual porn are the Arab countries.

So, had Sigurt felt the need to say something like “No homo,” it would have indicated sexual trauma and repression. 

With that in mind, the dialogue of Yield implied that not only were Erik and Sigurt heterosexual; they were truly heterosexual without repression, even in environments that would not have shamed them, if even encouraged them, for being otherwise.

Historically, Norse sexuality was not terribly unlike that which was known of the ancient Japanese or Spartans: Men for bonding, women for procreation.

There was generally no shame for bisexuality between elite warriors on long voyages to distant lands—especially if those elite warriors still bred offspring for the greater good of the tribe upon having conquered an enemy and taken those enemies’ women as slaves.

However, there absolutely was the concept of shame upon whoever was the “receiver” or “bottom” of homosexual acts, particularly as a consequence of being defeated in battle.

Norse culture did not shame bisexuality; it shamed effeminate behavior in men. 

This means that many of the gays in today’s society would have absolutely been shamed in ancient Norse culture—not because they were gay, but because being homosexual as a man does not have to mean acting like a woman.

The Spartans were some of the toughest men who ever walked the face of the planet and were bisexual in many aspects of their lives—but would have punished a man for being “limp wristed,” switching his hips back and forth as he walked, or being emotional or passive-aggressive in any way thought woman-like.  

The Philosophical Question That Yield Asks

With that said, Yield asks this philosophical question: Can a man fail at one thing, yet win as a human being?

…and the answer is a resounding yes.

To a non-Norse reader, what is made clear is that Erik failed as a Navy SEAL by choosing to be present for his family, instead.

What is less clear to readers who aren’t Norse (many of whom likely Christian) is that Erik is widely considered psychosexually to be a failure as well in the eyes of Norse culture.

This is because there are actually two schools of thought pertaining to peak Norse masculinity in the afterlife: 

• The first is that Valhalla is the ultimate accomplishment of a masculine warrior, one who is detached from women as a focused and elite “army of one” (being the translation of “Einherjar”, the name of Odin’s warriors) and those who are bound for Freya’s hall are only second best.
• The second pertains to how many think it is secretly better to have been chosen by Freya than Odin, as a common interpretation of the ancient texts consists of how Freya actually gets the first pick of the best warriors who die on the battlefield to protect her and her daughters in the afterlife (her “daughters” being the hearts and souls of European women)…while Odin’s men were those rejected by the daughters of Europe, thought not good enough in character for their eternal protection til Ragnarok, and thus thought second best.

And this is part of the Hemingway-style of Yield’s writing, how so much is masterfully told outside of the story, in between the lines.

This begs the deeper philosophical question: Was Erik actually a failure or merely convinced to believe that he was? 

…or was he actually and precisely what a man is supposed to be?

Erik personally subscribes to the first school of thought, in alignment with the “brothers” the dialogue refers to throughout the story (the men who taught him the old Norse ways that he is loyal to).

However, the literature pays respect to both schools of thought, impersonally: It is up to you, the reader, to decide.