I didn't cry for a long time. Not because I didn't feel things, but because somewhere along the way, I absorbed the message that crying meant something was wrong with me.
Not "something was wrong in my life." Something wrong with me. As a man. As a person. Crying was evidence of inadequacy.
I think a lot of men carry this. It's not always taught directly — though sometimes it is, directly and cruelly. More often, it's the accumulated weight of a thousand small messages: boys don't cry, shake it off, be tough, don't let them see you hurt. You learn it so young that by the time you're grown, you don't even know it's a belief. It just feels like reality.
Here's what I've come to understand: crying isn't weakness. It's not strength either. It's just what happens when what you're carrying becomes too heavy to hold in your body anymore. It's a release valve. And a man who can cry isn't less of a man — he's a man whose body still trusts him enough to let go.
I don't think every man needs to cry to be healthy. But I think every man needs to be able to feel what's there without pretending it isn't. Crying is one way that happens. It's not the only way. But if you can't cry and you can't feel, that's not strength. That's a closed door.
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