Dismantling Destructive Manhood

Growing up, I always had a strong sense of self—an inner confidence that I could face any challenge. But as I’ve gotten older, it’s become harder to maintain that mentality in a world that isn’t always kind or forgiving to men who express themselves differently. Society has a way of conditioning us from a young age, shaping our idea of masculinity, and making it clear that anything outside those rigid boundaries is often met with judgment or rejection.

From a young age, ideas of masculinity were instilled in me through religious and societal expectations. Even then, I remained true to myself, not letting those norms define me, mostly because I didn’t even fully understand what they meant. It wasn’t until middle school that I began to see the negative impact of toxic masculinity, though I didn’t have the language to identify it until high school. The pressure to suppress vulnerability and emotional expression started to wear on me, gradually disrupting the confidence and freedom I once felt in who I was. 

In my experience, one of the biggest reasons I came out so early was that I was tired of censoring myself. I was ready to embrace who I was, but I also felt like if people knew I was gay, it would somehow legitimize my identity in their eyes. Unfortunately, I quickly learned that it doesn’t matter whether you’re gay or just a feminine man—the majority of the world doesn’t like you either way. The judgment and rejection are often the same, regardless of the label. It’s a harsh reminder that society has a narrow view of what it means to be a man, and anything outside of that is met with resistance. 

Although the judgment remains harsh for anyone who doesn’t conform to traditional ideas of masculinity, there is still a layer of privilege afforded to straight men who exhibit feminine traits. They often retain a societal “leg up” simply because they are straight, allowing them to sidestep some of the more intense stigmas and systemic biases faced by feminine gay men. That said, these men aren’t immune to scrutiny; a straight man who embraces femininity will likely still face accusations or assumptions about his sexuality, revealing the persistent rigidity of gender norms. However, the societal consequences he experiences often pale in comparison to those endured by openly feminine gay men, whose identity places them at a more complex and layered intersection of judgment and rejection.

For many men, masculinity becomes a fragile identity—one that’s tied to rejecting anything that doesn’t fit a narrow definition of “manliness.” Men’s pride, self-image, and need to be accepted hinge on their masculinity. Ironically, when women speak out about the harm caused by toxic masculinity, their voices are seen as an attack on men. In reality, women are screaming into a void because men won’t listen; women are trying to help! By pointing out the ways in which masculinity has been confined, they’re offering a path toward a healthier and more expansive way of being for everyone. Yet our society has conditioned men to view masculinity as the core of their pride and self-worth, measuring their value by how “manly” they feel.

One of the most challenging aspects of embracing my femininity has been confronting the biases that come with it, particularly in how others perceive me. In a society where masculinity is often equated with authority, strength, and competence, femininity is unfairly treated as the opposite—something fragile or inconsequential. This bias doesn’t just shape societal structures; it plays out in everyday interactions, often in ways that feel personal and deeply frustrating. These encounters reveal how ingrained these perceptions are and how much work still needs to be done to dismantle them.

I’ve had countless run-ins with men who don’t take me seriously, dismissing my ideas or undervaluing my contributions simply because my femininity is perceived as a sign of weakness or a lack of intelligence. It’s a frustrating experience, especially because femininity is so often equated with lesser capability in environments where masculinity is prized. While I believe part of this treatment stems from my being gay, it’s not solely about sexuality—it’s about the intersection of femininity and societal bias. To these men, femininity in any form—whether from a straight man, a gay man, or even a woman—is something to be diminished or ignored. This narrow mindset highlights the broader issue of how femininity is unfairly devalued, regardless of context, making it all the more critical to challenge these outdated perceptions.

This shared experience of being marginalized for expressing traits deemed “other” is one of the reasons why women and gay men often find common ground and form such strong connections. Both groups are often forced to navigate a world that devalues aspects of their identity—whether it’s femininity, vulnerability, or non-conformity to gender expectations. As a result, there’s an understanding and empathy that naturally develops between women and gay men, as we recognize the struggles of being judged for things we can’t or shouldn’t have to hide. This mutual experience of defying restrictive norms creates a bond based not just on shared experiences but also on a deep appreciation for each other’s resilience and authenticity. It’s this connection that makes the relationships between women and gay men so often feel empowering, safe, and unconditionally supportive.

This understanding of masculinity has deepened my appreciation for the women in my life and the many artists who have inspired me. Their voices have shown me that masculinity doesn’t have to be limiting and that self-worth shouldn’t be tied to outdated ideals. Through them, I’ve come to value qualities like empathy, expression, and openness as strengths, something most straight men lack. Holding on to my true self in a world that doesn’t always encourage it is challenging, but it’s also incredibly freeing. I’m learning that true strength comes not from rejecting parts of myself but from fully embracing them and not needing the acceptance of anyone to do so. 

I want to clarify that while societal gender norms and attitudes can be independent of sexual orientation, it would be naive to ignore the fact that many gay men face oppression due to being perceived as more feminine. Moreover, this is deeply connected to the larger conversation about toxic masculinity and the dismantling of a system that, for some reason, many men refuse to acknowledge, confront, or accept.