Two days prior to the tragic shooting at Pulse in Orlando, my partner experienced a tense confrontation with her son’s father. It all started when he sent a photo of their son, Leo, proudly displaying an oversized truck T-shirt, captioning it, “This is how little boys should dress.” For the next hour, he dismissed Leo’s misbehavior as merely “a little boy’s energy” while accusing her of ruining Leo’s childhood by allowing him to wear pink and embrace his sensitive nature.
Discussions about masculinity frequently arise in our household because both my partner and I value the importance of allowing children to explore their interests and identities freely. Leo enjoys dolls and rainbows, and while he loves blue, he’s also fond of pink—he simply didn’t want pink to feel left out. He has a passion for dinosaurs, bow ties, and even enjoys painting his nails. His creativity shines through in the way he built a gumball machine for his Shopkins because he wanted one of his own.
At 6 years old, I’ve known Leo for a little over a year. During this time, I’ve witnessed him being diagnosed with ADHD and grappling with feelings of anger. I’ve seen him express his frustration at those he perceives as threats to his mother, break down over a lost toy, and navigate life with and without medication. I’ve participated in family events like kindergarten celebrations and parent-teacher meetings. Though I am not Leo’s father, I’ve come to understand him in ways that his father has not.
From the outset of my relationship with my partner, she shared how Leo’s father rejected him for who he is and made efforts to force him into a mold of masculinity. This deeply troubled me as a parent and as someone who believes in gender equality. The thought of a child being pressured to hide their true self was unfathomable to me. I wanted to support her, but I often felt inadequate to the task.
My fear of fatherhood stemmed from the notion of raising a son. I never fit the traditional mold of masculinity, and I questioned my ability to guide a boy. Growing up, my parents divorced when I was just 2, and my mother raised me almost entirely on her own. I learned much from her about compassion, and by the time my father reentered my life, I had already internalized valuable lessons about emotional expression.
My father, much like me, doesn’t conform to traditional masculine ideals. He’s a Texan who can fish and fix things, yet his motivations are rooted in practicality rather than a need to prove manhood. He takes joy in cooking for others and values cleanliness, demonstrating that masculinity can encompass a range of qualities beyond dominance and toughness.
The contrast with my mother’s new husband was striking. He embodied traditional masculinity to an extreme, often expressing only anger and indifference. It took time and supportive friendships for me to understand that he was attempting to mold me into a traditional man.
When I learned I was going to become a father, I fervently wished for a daughter. I felt confident in my ability to raise a girl, as I connected more naturally with females and had a strong feminist perspective. However, after welcoming identical twin girls, my worries about raising a son dissipated until I met my partner and Leo. Suddenly, I found myself questioning how to relate to him, unsure of what toys to buy and how to communicate effectively.
It became clear that my apprehension was unfounded. While Leo may not fit traditional masculine stereotypes, being around him has reinforced that he is simply a child. My ability to connect with kids transcends gender. Parenting boys and girls fundamentally revolves around nurturing good human beings rather than adhering to rigid gender norms.
The real challenge arose from Leo’s father. I could write extensively about his shortcomings, but I’ll focus on his adherence to hypermasculinity. How can we affirm Leo’s identity when his father encourages him to suppress his sensitivity and reject his favorite toys?
What are the potential consequences of internalizing such a narrow view of masculinity? Children face not only physical and emotional abuse but also the danger of stifling their empathetic instincts, opting for dominance over compassion. The shooting at Pulse starkly illustrates the dire consequences of conditioning boys to seek power through aggression.
When we dismiss Leo’s emotional outbursts as typical boy behavior, we reinforce the notion that such reactions are inherently masculine. We inadvertently teach our sons that aggression is an acceptable response to conflict, while our daughters learn that such behaviors signify affection.
This dynamic is evident in how boys interact with girls; teasing is often dismissed as “just showing interest,” leading to a cycle of misunderstanding and toxic behaviors. When Leo’s father tells him that sensitivity is unacceptable, he creates an environment that promotes power plays over empathy.
By age 13, Leo may feel he has only three choices: distance himself from his father and accept disappointment; internalize shame and suffer in silence; or conform to his father’s rigid definition of masculinity. None of these options are healthy or productive.
As a parent, I feel overwhelmed by the challenge of countering the notion that men should dominate and oppress. My life as a feminist has immersed me in resources and perspectives that celebrate diverse gender expressions. Thankfully, my partner shares a vision for our children to express themselves freely, as long as it doesn’t harm others. Yet, despite our efforts, societal pressures to conform to gender roles are ever-present, especially in schools and competitive environments.
We urgently need to redefine masculinity, conveying that it does not equate to dominance or lack of empathy. Fathers must model vulnerability and emotional openness, demonstrating that expressing feelings is not a weakness. Society must recognize that the overwhelming majority of mass shooters are male and that our cultural ideals of masculinity pose real dangers to our children.
When we teach our sons to suppress their true selves, we lay the groundwork for devastation. For more information on navigating these challenges, check out this excellent resource on pregnancy and home insemination, or learn more about overcoming obstacles in families with fertility challenges.
In summary, we must dismantle the harmful stereotypes surrounding masculinity and encourage our children to embrace their true selves. It is our responsibility as parents to foster a supportive environment that nurtures empathy and understanding rather than one that promotes dominance.