10 September 2013

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Stoic Men, Weak Men

A common issue many men face is that they often have few examples in their life of being vulnerable – and having that be ok (i.e. not criticized). By vulnerable, I mean sticking your neck out and opening yourself up emotionally to others, even if that means taking a risk of embarrassment or having what you share not accepted as readily as you would like. Risk. But not the sort of risk that men are traditionally expected to aspire to (you know, the testosterone-hued kinds we read about in magazines or see in films: climbing treacherous mountains, bare knuckle fighting in a basement). Vulnerability is a different sort of risk-taking. It means extending yourself outward, sometimes a little beyond your day-to-day comfort level.

Many men find themselves fighting against a dichotomy: the self-sufficient, emotionally stoic man vs. the weak, needy child. What kind of a choice is that? Sheesh. And yet, this perspective is prevalent and infused in male children from an early age in many cultures. A lot of men would rather hold their sorrow, their love, their excitement inside – force it into hiding, shamefully – rather than risk having these vulnerable emotions exposed. To be seen as somehow less capable, less manly.

It’s kind of sad, because there are a great deal of men out there, from all walks of life, who live emotionally withheld lives because they are afraid of being perceived as weaker than they feel they need to appear. I don’t think it’s extreme to speculate that there are men out there who would contemplate suicide should their true feelings – those so-called weaknesses – be exposed.

Let’s try to encourage people – men and women alike – to think and feel openly, particularly those who are, shall we say, out of practice doing so, without scorn. I think that’s a good first step.