Stop Crying and Be a Man
Geplaatst op 09-01-2025
Categorie: Lifestyle
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I love my dad. He is a loving man. My parents did a great job of raising me. But there’s one memory that sticks out for me. I was around 11 years old. We lived in a house in Langley, BC with a backyard. My friend, Wade, and I were playing badminton. I beat him and, jokingly, he tossed his racquet at me. I know he didn’t mean it, but it hit the side of my face, very close to my left eye. It swelled up. Blood ran in a river down my face. I still have a scar to this day.
I ran into the house crying. I remember sitting on the toilet seat in the bathroom and my dad there, attending to me, trying to stop the bleeding. I also remember him telling me to stop crying.
It was an isolated incident. I don’t have other memories of him imposing this “manly” stuff on me. In fact, growing up I’ve always related to females more. I always joke that I’m “like a girl.” I guess what I mean by that is how I think and process emotions. I’ll be honest, I’ve cried from commercials.
But this isn’t to say that I haven’t felt pressure my whole life to “act like a man.” Last night my roommate laughed when I answered a call from a guy who was interested in the room we have for rent. After I got off the phone I asked why she was laughing. She said, “It’s funny to hear a different side of you. Acting all manly.” (She then proceeded to do a mock impersonation of “dude talk” in a deep voice.) I know exactly what she means.
There is a dude side to me. And it’s funny that I don’t even realize it comes out in certain situations (namely, when I’m around other “dudes.”) But it’s definitely there. Late teens and early 20s was the worst. Cock talk (where everyone acts like they have a horse dick between their legs); bragging about how much you can drink; sex stories. In general, just acting “cool.” Laughing at shit one should definitely not laugh at.
This is why I am enjoying my age, why I’m not dreading growing older. At 35 I finally feel like I can just start being myself. Letting go — not caring what other people think (to an extent; it’s a work in progress). It’s a weight off the shoulders. But I wish that it didn’t have to take so long. I wish for others that it’s not even something that needs to be done. We shouldn’t need to shed these facades. There shouldn’t be a facade in the first place.
Which brings me to the below video, a TED talk by Tony Porter. He’s a large, imposing man who grew up in the Bronx and was taught how to be a man, like many of us males are, from a very young age. He describes the “man box” in which rules like “don’t cry or openly express emotion (except anger), do not show weakness or fear, demonstrate powercontrol (especially over women), do not need help” govern the way a man should act. For some reason he woke up. I assume it’s because of his daughter, for whom he knows what kind of man he wants to be in her life. He gives some very candid moments of his life that illustrate what virtually every man goes through in theirs.
That ending hits hard:
- It’s OK to not be dominating
- It’s OK to have feelings and emotions
- It’s OK to promote equality
- It’s OK to have women who are just friends and that’s it
- It’s OK to be whole
My liberation as a man is tied to your liberation as a woman.
Last year I was in Halifax trying to come to grips with splitting up with my wife. It was about three weeks after the fact and I hadn’t really done any crying; there hadn’t been any emotional release. I felt tight though, in the chest. I felt like I was closing in on myself. I knew I needed a release. I went for a walk in the park, around a lake. There are benches all around the lake and I wanted to find an isolated one, away from other park-goers. I sat down. I stared into space, memories flooding in as fuel to ignite the tears that I so badly wanted to come out.
When they finally did start coming, I heard a couple walking down the path toward me. I immediately shut off the waterworks. This happened a few more times. Uninterrupted crying was not going to happen in the park. I walked home, then I sat in my room on the edge of the bed.
Then they came again. They came hard. It was a full on sob. I buried my head in my hands and let go. I could feel the wetness dripping down my face and onto the floor. For minutes I sat there trying to get everything out, then I opened my eyes. I saw a big pool of blood.
My nose had started bleeding and it was mixed in with the tears. My first thought was, “holy shit, man, can’t you do anything right? You can’t even have a proper cry!” Then I laughed out loud. It was one of the most ridiculous situations. But I felt so much better.
After feeling numb for so long, my emotions were suddenly riding on the surface. I felt again. And it felt great.