Two days before a tragic event in Orlando, I witnessed a tense exchange between my friend Lisa and her son’s father. The trouble began when he sent her a picture of their son, Ethan, proudly displaying an oversized truck T-shirt, accompanied by the caption, “This is how boys should dress.” For the next hour, he insisted that Ethan’s misbehavior was simply a manifestation of “boyish energy,” chastising Lisa for allowing him to express himself through colors like pink and for indulging his sensitive side.
The topic of masculinity frequently arises in our discussions, as both Lisa and I advocate for allowing children to explore their identities without restriction. Ethan loves dolls and glittery accessories, and his favorite colors are pink and purple—though he often claims that purple is his true favorite because he doesn’t want pink to feel left out. He also enjoys dinosaurs, bow ties, and has even created his own gumball machine from scratch because he couldn’t find one he liked.
At just six years old, I’ve been part of Ethan’s life for a little over a year. During this time, I’ve observed him navigating the challenges of ADHD and managing his emotions. I’ve seen him react with anger when he feels his mother is threatened and break down in tears over something as trivial as a lost toy. I’ve been present for school events and parent meetings, and while I’m not Ethan’s father, I often feel I have a clearer understanding of him than his biological dad.
From the beginning of my relationship with Lisa, it was clear that Ethan’s father was intent on molding him into a conventional version of masculinity. This notion horrified me—not only as a parent but as someone who believes in gender equality. I couldn’t fathom forcing a child to suppress their true self. Yet, I felt powerless to intervene.
My fears about fatherhood were compounded by my own upbringing. My parents divorced when I was very young, and I was raised primarily by my mother. The lessons I learned from her were invaluable; she taught me it was perfectly normal for men to express their emotions. However, my understanding of masculinity was further complicated by my stepfather, who embodied traditional male stereotypes, often demonstrating emotional coldness.
When I learned that I was going to be a father, I hoped for a daughter, believing that I could connect with her more easily. Luckily, I was blessed with twins. However, my apprehensions resurfaced when I met Lisa and Ethan. I questioned how I would relate to him and what gifts would be suitable. Initially, I thought that his being a boy meant I wouldn’t understand him.
However, my time with Ethan has shown me that he is just a child, and parenting boys isn’t much different from parenting girls if we focus on nurturing their humanity rather than adhering to outdated gender norms. The real challenge lies in Ethan’s father, whose rigid views on masculinity hinder Ethan’s emotional growth.
How can we affirm Ethan’s true self if his father insists on suppressing his sensitivity? The consequences of this conditioning are dire; children are at risk of emotional harm and may feel pressured to abandon their empathetic instincts in favor of aggression. The tragic events at Pulse serve as a stark reminder of the dangers of teaching boys that dominance is synonymous with masculinity.
We often hear that boys will act out as part of their nature, but that only perpetuates the idea that aggression is an acceptable expression of boyhood. Similarly, when boys tease girls as a misguided form of affection, we inadvertently teach them that such behavior is acceptable.
Ethan’s father’s insistence that sensitivity is a weakness creates an environment where power takes precedence over empathy—leading Ethan down a path where he feels ashamed of who he is. By the time he is a teenager, he may find himself with only harmful choices: reject his father’s teachings and feel like a disappointment, internalize his shame, or conform to a toxic version of masculinity.
I recognize my limitations in challenging these harmful norms, but I am committed to fostering a safe space for children to express themselves without fear. Our home is free from rigid gender roles, allowing both Ethan and Lisa’s daughter to explore their interests openly. Despite our best efforts, however, societal pressures will always loom.
We must redefine masculinity to encompass a broader range of expressions, where empathy and strength coexist. Fathers must lead by example, showing vulnerability and kindness. It is crucial to acknowledge that the majority of mass violence is perpetrated by men, and our cultural definitions of masculinity are directly linked to this issue.
Let’s be honest; when we teach boys to hide their emotions, we pave the way for needless suffering. For more insights on the complexities of modern parenthood, check out this post on intracervicalinsemination.com. Resources like March of Dimes provide valuable information for those on the journey of parenthood, while Make a Mom offers expert guidance on fertility and home insemination.
In summary, it is essential to challenge the notion that “boys will be boys” as an excuse for poor behavior. By promoting a more nuanced understanding of masculinity—one that embraces empathy and emotional expression—we can foster healthier, happier children.