My Sons,
There’s been a lot of talk lately about what it means to be a man—what’s expected, what’s allowed, what’s supposedly under attack. Some would have you believe that manhood is a fixed point, a rigid thing with clear rules and boundaries, that to be a man means to follow a script written long ago. But I want you to understand something that too many people refuse to see: manhood is not a cage, it’s a spectrum, a living thing that grows with you, that evolves with time and experience.
You will hear people—especially those who crave power—tell you that masculinity is being attacked. That’s a lie. What’s being questioned, rightfully so, are the narrow, outdated ideas of what men must be: unfeeling, aggressive, dominant, stoic to the point of silence. These are not strengths; they are chains. You do not need to measure your worth by them.
Instead, I want you to see manhood not as something you must fit into, but as something you shape. You are not just inheritors of masculinity; you are creators of it. And like anything worth creating, it requires thought, care, and the courage to challenge what doesn’t serve you or those around you.
There is nothing wrong with being strong. There is nothing wrong with resilience, or with standing up for what you believe in. There is nothing wrong with “telling jokes” or “having a beer.” But there is a vast difference between true strength and toxic masculinity, which confuses dominance with power and silence with control.
A man who lifts others up is strong, a man who crushes others to feel taller is weak.
A man who faces his fears is strong, a man who denies he has any is fragile.
A man who protects the vulnerable is strong, a man who preys on the weak is cowardly.
There will be people who tell you that expressing kindness, compassion, or emotion makes you less of a man. That’s nonsense. A man who cannot express love is not strong—he is stunted. A man who cannot say “I’m sorry” or “I was wrong” is not tough—he is afraid.
You do not need to fear your emotions. The world does not need more men who bottle up their pain until it curdles into violence or bitterness. The world does not need more men who believe tears are only for women or children. The world needs men who understand that strength without vulnerability is hollow.
There was a time when being a man meant swinging a sword or plowing a field. A time when it meant never questioning authority, never showing fear, never crying over loss. But the world has changed, and so must we.
Your male ancestors were, of course, men of their times. Some of what they believed was admirable—hard work, duty, resilience. Some of what they believed was toxic—silence as a virtue, anger as the only acceptable emotion, love expressed only through sacrifice rather than words. Their strengths should be remembered, their mistakes should be learned from, and their limitations should not be yours.
Manhood should not be a hand-me-down suit you are forced to wear—it should be something tailored to fit who you truly are.
You do not need to only be a warrior to be a man. You do not only need to be wealthy. You do not only need to be a leader.
You only need to be you.
I hope you become men who are strong enough to be gentle. Men who can fight for what’s right without needing to fight for the sake of it. Men who can say “I don’t know” and seek answers instead of pretending they already have them. Men who respect others—not because it makes them look honorable, but because respect is the foundation of real strength. Men who do not confuse cruelty for power. Men who know that masculinity is not one thing, but many things, and that your manhood is yours to define.
I will not tell you what kind of man you must be. That’s for you to decide. But I will tell you this: the world is full of people who will try to fit you into a mold that serves them rather than you. Don’t let them. You don’t need permission to be the kind of man you want to be.
And if someone tells you that you are “not man enough” because you cry, or because you love openly, or because you refuse to follow the old scripts—then know this: they are the ones who are afraid. Afraid that masculinity can be more than what they comprehend. Afraid that it can be something richer, deeper, and more human than the brittle, narrow thing they have built their identities around.
Be strong. Be kind. Be wise enough to know the difference between confidence and arrogance, between power and cruelty, between tradition and chains. Be the kind of man who builds, not the kind who destroys.
To the world I am Brutus.
To both of you I will always be proud to be just Dad