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Time to stop believing this myth once and for all

Who decided "big boys don't cry"?

It's not rare to see powerful and high profile men overcome with emotion at times, but when they do, it's usually met with some form of criticism or seen as a display of weakness. Simply put, in today's world boys and men are simply not expected to display vulnerable emotions like sadness and grief. (But anger is usually A-OK!)

When we think of the founding pillars of "manliness," we think of strength, bravery, and stoicism, and we often assume that it's just always been that way. After all, ancient Greek warriors didn't cry! Medieval knights didn't cry! Men just don't cry! It's, like, biology or something! Right? Right?


Well, actually...

A couple of historians recently took to Reddit to debunk this myth once and for all.

A user named Sassenacho prompted the thread on the r/AskHistorians subreddit with a simple question: "Today, there are voices that call for (much needed) acceptance of men's emotionality, but it is still kind of taboo. I was wondering when and why this changed in western society."

Photo by Luca DG Photography on Unsplash

The explanations that ensued were fascinating.

Cassidy Percoco, a curator and historian at the St. Lawrence County Historical Association and author of "Regency Women's Dress" kicked things off, explaining that "masculinity and tears have not always been at odds."

Those rough and tumble medieval knights with their shiny armor and big swords? Percoco says they were actually expected to weep on occasion.

"In the Middle Ages there was a trope of masculine weeping being a mark of religious devotion and knightly chivalry; by the sixteenth century it was well-established that a masculine man was supposed to have deep emotions and to show them — in some cases, through tears."

It was a part of the whole chivalry thing and a sign of religious devotion.

As far back as Biblical times and in the age of Greek and Roman heroes, crying out of grief or sadness was just something men were expected to do.

From there, Percoco jumped forward to 17th and 18th century England. Hundreds and hundreds of years later, men crying and sharing their feelings — a gentlemanly trait known as "sensibility" — still hadn't gone out of style.

"A gentleman was to be courteous to women and other men, to talk problems out, to keep from bursting into loud displays of anger or drunkenness. You might think that that would also put the kibosh on weeping — giving way to feelings of all sorts — but this was not the case. Another gentlemanly trait of the eighteenth century was sensibility, which today sounds like it ought to mean "rationality" but is actually being aware of and susceptible to one's finer emotions."

Alex Wetmore, assistant professor in the English department at University of the Fraser Valley, chimed in as well to explain that in the mid-to-late 1700s, popular fiction often celebrated male leads who cried "a lot"!

"People are often interested to hear that there was a period of time of a few decades (1740s to 1770s) where fiction devoted to men who cry (a lot!) was not only acceptable, but, in fact, tremendously popular and widely celebrated."

Wetmore identified an archetype, which he calls "The Man of Feeling," who appears in a ton of novels from that era. (Wetmore even wrote a bookon the subject.)

"When I try to explain this recurring character type to students, I usually describe him as like a comic book superhero ... BUT with the notable exception that the 'superpower' of men of feeling is an ability to spontaneously shed copious amounts of tears."

It's quite the contrast to the unflinching action heroes we see today.

Photo by Sander Sammy on Unsplash

It wasn't until the early 1800s that things began to change, and men started feeling the pressure to hold those tears in.

Percoco and Wetmore were both hesitant to prescribe a definite cause and effect relationship, but they do suspect the Industrial Revolution played a big part in turning the tide. (Reportedly, some factory managers actually trained workers, usually men, to suppress their emotions in order to keep productivity high.)

The age of the stoic and emotionless cowboy (a la John Wayne, who most people agree never cried in a movie) wasn't far behind, followed by the gun-wielding "Die Hard"-ian action heroes of modern cinema.

But ... while fictional macho men may have been suppressing their tears, the real men of the real world were doing the same thing they'd always done: wearing their hearts on their sleeves.

For instance: General Ulysses S. Grant cried when the Civil War finally ended. President Eisenhower cried on the eve of D-Day. And baseball legend Lou Gehrig cried when the Yankees retired his number.

And, yet, since it took hold about 200 years ago, the expectation that "boys don't cry" persists.

Today's world is certainly not one that celebrates open displays of emotion from men, often to their detriment.

Research shows that these repressed feelings can often come out in unhealthy and harmful ways, and it's all so we can meet a standard of masculinity that, likely, never truly existed.

Next time you catch someone bemoaning the "wussification of American boys" and yearning for a time "when men were men," it might be worth asking them when, exactly, they think that was.

This article originally appeared on 11.20.17

Family

Here's to the stepdads who step in and step up to fatherhood.

Happy Father's Day to all the stellar stepdads.

Some fathers are there at the starting line. And some fathers step in partway through the race.

My biological dad left my mom when I was a toddler. I don't even remember living with him, and my memories of weekend visits throughout my early childhood are vague. He loved me, I'm sure, but he eventually slipped off the radar. He wasn't abusive or a massive jerk or anything. He just wasn't there.


Who was there was my Dad. My stepdad, technically, but for all intents and purposes, he was and is my Dad. He stepped in when I was four, and stepped up to raise two kids who weren't his. He went to the parent-teacher conferences, attended the school plays, surprised us with trips to the ice cream shop, taught us how to change a tire. He loved us, not just in word but in action.

As a parent myself, I now understand how hard it must have been to step into that role. Step-parenting involves unique relationship dynamics, and you have to figure a lot of things out as you go along.

My Dad had his own demons from his own childhood to deal with on top of that, and his cycle-breaking parenting still awes me. But he was always there to cheer me on, comfort me, and talk me through life's challenges. He wasn't perfect, but he was there, actively engaged in the marathon of fatherhood every step of the way.

Stepparents are often vilified in stories, but there are millions of awesome stepdads out there.

Without a doubt there are some terrible stepdads (and stepmoms) out there, just as there are some terrible parents in general. But there are a lot of great ones, too.

Alison Tedford's 11-year-old son Liam is lucky to have such a stepdad. Liam shares his time between his mom's and dad's house equally, but when he is with his mom, he's also with his stepdad, Paul. Alison says that Liam adores Paul, who stepped into the stepdad role when Liam was 7. Paul spent the first couple of years carrying Liam to bed every night, per Liam's request. Now that he's too big for that, they practice lacrosse and play video games together.

"To support Liam in his love of lacrosse, Paul took a lacrosse coaching course and is the team statistics manager," says Tedford. "They are best buds and Paul treats him with all the love and kindness he does his own kids. He drives him all sorts of places, goes on field trips, and makes sure he has everything he needs and is having fun. He's a really great stepdad."

These aren't the kinds of stories that make the news. But millions of stepdads dive into supportive, involved parenting as they fall in love with their loved ones' kids.

Having a stepparent is now about as common as not having one.

According to the US Census Bureau, half of the 60 million kids in the U.S. live with a biological parent and the parent's partner. And the most common stepfamily configuration—85% of them—is a mom, her biological kids, and a stepfather. That's a whole lot of stepdads.

Blending families can be complicated, and figuring out how to navigate those waters isn't easy. But family counselor and researcher Joshua Gold calls becoming a stepdad both "a challenge and an opportunity."

"The challenge comes in rejecting previously held beliefs about what it means to be a father," Gold wrote in The Conversation. "Stepfathers – and I count myself as one – must avoid outmoded notions of compensating for the absent biological father or paternal dominance."

"The opportunity comes in devising a parenting role that expresses the best and fullest aspects of being a man and a father figure," he wrote. "Done consciously and deliberately, the role and function of the stepfather can be tremendously fulfilling for all, and a source of lifelong joy and pride."

Here's to the stepdads who step into that role, step up to the challenge, and make the most of the opportunity to have a positive, nurturing influence in children's lives.

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Crews showed his bravery in sharing his own #MeToo story. It turns out his own awakening started much earlier.

In October 2017, the actor made headlines when he opened up about having been sexually harassed by a Hollywood producer years earlier. It was an incredibly powerful moment that both showed the complexities of the #MeToo movement and helped bring more men into the fold as allies.

But it turns out Crews wasn't always such an evolved guy. He says that back in 2009, his wife nearly left him because of his own toxic masculinity, shaped by a lifetime of distorted ideas that influenced his beliefs in what it meant to be a man.


“As a man, I was taught that I was more valuable than my wife and kids," he said. "That’s deep — and I didn’t even realize it until I dissected it.”

[rebelmouse-image 19398275 dam="1" original_size="1024x683" caption="Photo by Gage Skidmore/Flickr." expand=1]Photo by Gage Skidmore/Flickr.

He knew he needed help and was strong enough to ask for it.

Crews said he sought professional treatment for an addiction to pornography and went through therapy to begin a path of self-reflection. Over time, the former NFL star and his wife Rebecca King-Crews reunited and they remain together.

“My wife has always brought the wisdom,” he said. “I truly believe you don’t see your own faults. There were so many times I just knew I was right and my wife was like, ‘Uhh uhh.’”

When it comes to unraveling his own past distorted views of masculinity, Crews wasn't shy about what he now thinks. "It’s a cult no different than Jim Jones or David Koresh,” he said.

In a separate interview, Crews offered some simple but poignant advice for men as they trudge through their own attempts to grapple cultural pressures and norms. “Don’t speak for women," he said. "Hold other men accountable.”

The response from other men has been mostly positive but there's also been a noticeable silence from other actors.

In March 2018, Crews shared an encouraging letter he received from Old Spice, in which employees at the company offered their support in response to Crews speaking out about his own #MeToo experience.

However, he also noted the deafening silence from his male co-stars in "The Expendables" film series, alleging that one of the film's producers even tried pressuring him into being silent over the issue of sexual assault.

There's nothing wrong with being masculine. But real strength comes from vulnerability and personal growth.

Men like Crews and Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson show us that the concept of masculinity is more complex than most people think.

As a former athlete and physically imposing action star, there's nothing passive about Terry Crews. This is a man who has literally made people laugh by repeatedly screaming at the camera in his hilarious Old Spice commercials.

But much like when The Rock recently opened up about his own struggles with depression, these decidedly masculine men are showing the world, especially other guys, that there's a difference between being strong and being toxic.

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Michael Ian Black makes some great points about how we raise boys.

There's nothing wrong with healthy masculinity, but there's a toxic variety as well.

"Boys are broken," wrote comedian Michael Ian Black on Feb. 14th.

Just hours earlier, a gunman shot and killed 17 students and teachers at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida. The tragedy led Black to get a bit introspective about his gender and speculate the role society's more toxic messages play in these much-too-frequent massacres.

"Until we fix men, we need to fix the gun problem," he wrote on Twitter. "The last 50 years redefined womanhood: Women were taught they can be anything. No commensurate movement for men who are still generally locked into the same rigid, outdated model of masculinity and it's killing us."


A week later, The New York Times published an op-ed by Black tackling the issue in more detail.

"Too many boys are trapped in the same suffocating, outdated model of masculinity, where manhood is measured in strength, where there is no way to be vulnerable without being emasculated, where manliness is about having power over others," Black wrote. "They are trapped, and they don’t even have the language to talk about how they feel about being trapped, because the language that exists to discuss the full range of human emotion is still viewed as sensitive and feminine."

The point he was making was that we aren't doing enough as a society to encourage and support boys and men emotionally. He's right — and there's data to back him up.

On March 7, LGBTQ student organization GLSEN shared some interesting findings related to Black's argument. It's the same point that's been made a number of times before by writers like Bryan Epps, Lauren Sandler, and Jennifer Wright: Society's outdated vision of masculinity can be harmful.

The argument is not "anti-men" or "anti-boys," but a plea to provide the necessary support to sidestep toxic masculinity.

According to GLSEN, a study of the 31 mass school shootings between 1995 and 2015 found that "each shooter was male and all experienced challenges to their performance of masculinity, through homophobia and other forms of gender policing," to which they responded by trying to "prove their tormentors wrong."

Disturbingly, it looks as though teachers are actually getting less involved in trying to protect their students from bullying.

Creating an environment where bullies thrive unchecked is bad for all students. When that bullying centers on how boys express their masculinity, it simply results in more bullies and, occasionally, violence.

The way we talk to and about boys fosters unhealthy personal expectations, leaving many to feel isolated, alone, and afraid to seek help when they need it.

"Globally, boys are allowed far less space than girls to act outside the norms forced upon them," GLSEN tweeted.

Of course, as the group notes, "most boys experience some gender policing and don't commit acts of mass violence like in Parkland." It's not meant to be an excuse for atrocities, but maybe a bit of an explanation.

There's nothing wrong with being a man, but maybe we do need to rethink what it means to be one.

"Our society's typical notion of what it means to be a man might keep boys from reaching out or accepting help," GLSEN tweeted, continuing:

"It may also lead them to assert masculinity via weapons that are often exalted as symbols and tools of masculine strength and power. ... There is no one cause of mass school shootings. Nor should there be one response. Yet, for the wellbeing of young people of all genders, it's crucial for EVERYONE (in schools and elsewhere) to expand our ideas of what being a man can and should be."

"We know ourselves to be men, but don't know how to be our whole selves," Black tweeted.

The last two tweets from his thread tell the whole story — the fragility, the fear, the need for help. Having these tough, honest conversations, however, are a great place to start changing the world for the better, for children of all genders, not just boys.

"We’re terrified of being viewed as something other than men. We know ourselves to be men, but don’t know how to be our whole selves. A lot of us (me included) either shut off or experience deep shame or rage. Or all three. Again: Men are terrified," Black wrote. "Even talking about this topic invites ridicule because it’s so scary for most men (and women). Men are adrift and nobody is talking about it and nobody’s doing anything about it and it’s killing us."