Courtesy of “Jersey Shore,” the bro became evidence of ridiculous male friendship, like the bond among veterans, but with self-tanner instead of casualties of war. The prominence of “bro” also coincided with the arrival of the joshing fraternal comedies of Judd Apatow and the cresting popularity of Barney Stinson, the sleazy, slutty suit Neil Patrick Harris played for nine seasons on ‘‘How I Met Your Mother,’’ who adhered to the articles of a handbook called the Bro Code.
But now “bro” has been ripped from its life as a teasing term of endearment and description of camaraderie and plunked into the sociopolitical swamps of entitlement and privilege. It starts to get at the fractious identity rifts at the heart of this campaign season. On one hand, women and people of color don’t want to be patronized by know-it-all white guys or bullied into supporting one presidential candidate and harassed away from supporting another. On the other: #NotAllMen.
What are white guys who just want to chill with one another supposed to do?
Wesley Morris, “Boy Friends”, The New York Times Magazine (20 March 2016), 22.