Masculinity, Reimagined
He sat on the edge of the couch, eyes scanning the room like he was trying to locate something he lost long ago. “I don’t really do this talking thing,” he said. “But my partner says I’ve been distant. My kid asked me if I was mad at him just because I was quiet. I guess…I don’t want to keep being that guy.”
That guy. It’s a role many men recognize. The strong, silent figure. The protector. The provider. The one who doesn’t flinch, doesn’t break, doesn’t cry. Somewhere in the timeline of manhood, vulnerability was written out of the script. Anger, numbness, overwork—those were permitted. But softness, grief, longing, tenderness? Those had to be swallowed or smothered.
In narrative therapy, we believe that problems live in the stories people carry—not in the people themselves. So when a man says, “I don’t know how to feel things,” we pause and wonder:
Who taught you that emotions were weakness?
Who benefited from that version of manhood?
And what stories are longing to be told underneath the silence?
The Armor We Inherited
Many men are handed a script early on—one where being “real men” means being tough, emotionally distant, and always in control. “Don’t cry.” “Be a man.” “Stop acting soft.” These aren’t just sayings; they’re survival codes. They shape how boys grow into men who disconnect from themselves to remain acceptable in the eyes of others.
But who does this version of masculinity truly serve? What has it cost?
Unspoken Words, Unfelt Feelings
Therapy often becomes the first place where men are allowed to feel without having to perform. When we trace the silence, we often uncover layers of buried emotion—grief never named, fear never comforted, joy never celebrated.
The language of emotion doesn’t come easily, not because men are incapable, but because they were never allowed to speak it aloud. So we begin with fragments: “I guess I was sad.” “I didn’t know how to ask for help.” “I just shut down.”
And those fragments become the scaffolding for a new story.
Unlearning the Rules of Disconnection
Toxic masculinity isn’t a character flaw—it’s a learned response. It’s the result of a cultural blueprint that equates masculinity with dominance, stoicism, and emotional suppression. And while it may protect, it also isolates.
Narrative therapy invites men to step outside those old stories and ask questions like:
Who am I outside of these expectations?
What parts of me have I been taught to hide?
What would it mean to lead with compassion instead of control?
This is the quiet revolution of healing—men learning to be whole, not hardened.
The Courage to Be Seen Differently
True transformation doesn’t always roar. Sometimes it whispers: “It’s okay to rest.” “You are safe to feel this.” “You don’t have to carry this alone.”
Rewriting masculinity means making space for softness, for care, for connection—not as afterthoughts, but as birthrights. It means showing up in relationships as fuller humans, not hollow performances.
Men are not problems to be solved. They are stories to be heard.
Imagine a little boy watching his father cry and learning that tears are part of strength.
Imagine a teenager telling his friend he’s scared, and being embraced, not mocked.
Imagine a man telling his therapist, “I want to feel again,” and hearing, “That makes sense. Let’s begin.”
These are the stories I witness daily. Not dramatic transformations, but quiet rebellions. Brave refusals. Gentle reorientations toward self.
Healing toxic masculinity isn’t about blaming men. It’s about freeing them. It’s about making room for fuller, truer selves to emerge. Ones who can love without armor, speak without shame, and live without pretending.
You are not the silence you inherited.
You are not the mask you were told to wear.
You are the author of your own story.
And it’s okay if it starts right here, right now, with:
“I don’t want to keep being that guy.”
Healing Begins With Permission
What if this is the chapter where you begin to speak your own truth?
At Thérapie de Marecheau, we create space for men to lay down the roles that no longer fit and step into identities rooted in integrity, connection, and emotional freedom. Whether you’re feeling distant, overwhelmed, or just tired of pretending—you don’t have to walk this alone.
Your story deserves to be heard. Your healing is not a weakness—it’s a legacy.
If you’re ready to begin, I invite you to book a session and take the first step in writing a new kind of manhood.
Disclaimer:
The content provided on this blog is for informational and educational purposes only and is not intended as a substitute for professional psychological advice, diagnosis, or treatment. The information shared here does not constitute a therapeutic relationship and should not be relied upon as mental health treatment.
Although the author is a licensed mental health professional in the state of Georgia, the content is general in nature and may not be applicable to your individual circumstances. Always seek the advice of a qualified mental health provider or other medical professional with any questions you may have regarding a mental health condition.
To protect the confidentiality of those served, any client narratives or case examples shared on this blog are composites drawn from multiple experiences and are not representative of any one individual.
If you are experiencing a mental health emergency, call 911 or go to your nearest emergency room. You can also contact the National Suicide & Crisis Lifeline by calling or texting 988 for free and confidential support, available 24/7.
