OPINION: Let us as men create the spaces for other men to feel their feelings. We are responsible for what we do with those feelings. And always remember: It’s okay not to be okay, writes Lance Witten.
Big boys don’t cry. Or was it cowboys? I don’t recall the saying because it’s not something my dad ever taught me growing up.
He encouraged me to speak my mind, express my feelings. When I cried, he’d hold me and say: “It’s OK. Don’t worry.”
None of this “man up”, “grow a pair”, “don’t be a mate” bullshit I’ve heard on playgrounds, in school hallways, in the locker room, and seen on WhatsApp groups.
Sure, I may have got lost along the way, forgotten how to feel my feelings, drank them away, ate them away, retreated from friends and family when the emotions seemed too big to quantify, let alone express to others. And yes, sometimes we men feel like we can’t express our feelings, and you know what? It’s our own fault.
I’ve been in relationships where I felt I wasn’t free to express myself. I blamed her. She didn’t allow me the space to do so, she didn’t give me a voice, she made me feel my opinion wasn’t valid ... All the lies we men tell ourselves to abscond from responsibility.
We absolve ourselves, rationalise why we’re keeping it bottled up inside, and invariably, we blame our partners – a girlfriend, a spouse, a mother even.
But, coming back to my dad, there’s a point in your life when you need to realise that you are responsible for your own feelings. He always says people will do terrible things to you, but it’s your choice how to feel about it.
A taxi cuts in front of you in traffic; you curse, you gesticulate, your day is ... ruined! “How dare he,” you scowl all the way to work, carrying with you that energy into your first meeting, snapping at the first thing a team member says that rubs you up the wrong way.
And the taxi driver? He goes about his day, none the wiser. That anger you felt is on you, my friend. You decided to let it consume you.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not trivialising mental health, or the deep anxiety and depression many men suffer in silence, or the generational trauma many of us as people of colour, and men of colour in particular, feel.
I’m not saying if you suffer from a chemical imbalance, or your neural pathways are blocked in any way that you have a choice to just feel better, to choose not to be sad, to choose not to see every negative thing as a personal attack ... Mania sees high highs and crushing lows.
I know. I’ve seen it. One of my best friends has mental health challenges. And you know what’s helped him, apart from the medication he’s taking that helps him get through his anxiety? Having a group of man friends who he can talk to and confide in.
Big boys don’t cry? You should see our WhatsApp group. It’s like a support group on steroids.
“Guys, I’m having a rough one today ... pray for me, please,” says one.
The responses come flooding in in minutes:
“I’m here for you, guy. Call if you need anything.“
“Don’t worry, my man, you’ll get through this. If you need to talk, I’m here to listen.”
“I’ve just done the school run, so I’m around the corner. Feel up to some company?”
You can’t get better than that. But it starts with each of us, as men, acknowledging that we have feelings, it’s OK to feel them, and to process them. Then we find our tribe, and pour out our hearts to them.
I’m not going to lie – it’s difficult to find your tribe, because it’s difficult to trust. Men are the most conniving, despicable human beings on the planet. We remain the number one threat to the lives of women. We start wars. We burn down our partners’ homes with them and their children still inside. We kill random women who come into our places of work, right next to a police station. We are trash.
A cancelled comedian had a bit about how trashy men are, explaining how daunting going on a date for the first time must be for a woman.
“So where are we going?” she asks.
“To your death, statistically.”
But let’s not kid ourselves here, guys. Whatever emotions we felt leading up to that moment, it’s on us. She didn’t make us feel that way.
The problem of men not feeling their feelings and bottling them up, leading to violent outbursts or tragic suicide, is a product of our own fragile masculinity.
Talk about your feelings on social media and see how many men reply with “Ag, just man up!”
“Grow a pair.”
I challenge you to grow a pair ... of tear ducts.
Man up and cry. Let it go. Feel your feelings. Talk about them. And to my other brothers, listen. Be open. Why are we shaming ourselves and each other into feeling like we can’t express ourselves or tell someone when we’re feeling low?
I can’t blame Hollywood for Chuck Norris teaching me what a macho man looks like. We can’t blame our fathers for being distant. It’s up to us, Millennials, pushing 40, with sons of our own, to teach them that yes, big boys do cry.
Let me tell you about some of the times I’ve cried.
Ted Lasso’s wife left him.
Michelle Pfeiffer’s monologue to Sean Penn in I am Sam about feeling inadequate as a parent. (And many more times during that movie)
Mufasa dying. (Actually, more when Simba tried to wake him)
Practically all the way through Lion.
When one of my best friends OD’d, and years later when her dad died.
When I’ve had a shitty day at work.
When I feel overwhelmed.
And you know what? It’s okay.
I’m man enough to accept that, and wear it proudly.
The only way we’re going to stop the needless loss of life either the lives of others at our hands, or the ending of our own lives at our own hands – is to overcome our own fragile masculinity.
Let us as men create the spaces for other men to feel their feelings. We are responsible for what we do with those feelings.
And always remember: It’s okay not to be okay.
* Lance Witten is the Chief Audience Officer of the Independent Media Group and Editor-in-Chief of IOL.
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