“Not until we are lost do we begin to understand ourselves.” — Henry David Thoreau
I started this blog because, like many men, I felt lost.
Not because I think I have all the answers—
but because I know I don’t.
For generations, men were handed a clear map:
This is strength.
This is leadership.
This is what it means to be a man.
But the world changed. The map didn’t.
Some men still cling to those old ideals.
Some reject them completely.
And many—maybe most of us—are caught somewhere in the middle, unsure of what to keep and what to leave behind.
I chose to use the word masculinity because it’s a word we all know.
It’s a word heavy with meaning—
some good, some harmful, many confusing.
I knew it was loaded. I knew it was complicated. But it felt honest.
Because, as a man, this is the lens I see the world through.
But here’s the problem:
When I say masculinity, some hear rigidity. Some hear dominance.
Some hear an outdated script that no longer fits.
And that’s exactly why I keep talking about it.
Because if we don’t talk openly, honestly, and with nuance,
then we let the definition remain narrow, fixed, harmful.
We surrender the term to those who want to use it to control, to divide, to limit.
Instead, I want to explore it.
I want to unpack it.
I want to ask the uncomfortable questions.
This exploration doesn’t diminish traditional values—like courage, integrity, or strength—it expands them, giving them room to breathe.
I’m not here to enforce one definition.
I’m here to invite a conversation.
Can we reclaim the best of what it means to be a man—
the wisdom to adapt in uncertain times,
the integrity to live by our values,
the strength to serve something beyond ourselves,
the presence to show up fully in our relationships,
and the willingness to build true partnerships with those around us?
And yes—this might feel a little uncomfortable. But growth always does.
This isn’t about discarding masculinity—it’s about examining it honestly.
It’s about recognizing that dominance, isolation, and emotional suppression aren’t working anymore.
Instead, can we embrace masculinity in a way that genuinely serves us and the people we love?
Honestly? I don’t know.
But that’s why I’m here.
That’s why I’m writing.
A few weeks ago, my daughter asked me why men don’t cry. And I realized—I didn’t have a good answer. Because the script I’d learned growing up never prepared me for that question.
This blog is my attempt to navigate the tension between tradition and progress. It’s my effort to find a meaningful, nuanced, honest version of what being a man could be today.
This isn’t a guidebook. It’s an exploration.
It’s not about providing answers. It’s about asking better questions.
If you’re skeptical, I welcome your questions.
If you feel uncertain, I share your uncertainty.
If you’re proud of your masculinity, I respect your pride.
Maybe, in the end, we’ll realize the word masculinity doesn’t fully capture the complexity of who we are or who we want to be.
Or maybe we’ll reclaim it in a way that feels authentic and true.
I’m not sure yet.
But I do know this:
We need a space for these conversations.
We need a place to openly ask, without fear,
“What does it truly mean to be a good man today?”
That’s the conversation I want to have.
I’d love to hear from you: What’s your relationship to masculinity today?
Do you embrace it, question it, or feel somewhere in between?
If that’s a conversation you’re interested in—no matter where you land—I hope you’ll join me.