How to Be a Man
An unofficial guide that may never be read by the man who needs to read it.
I’m in a men’s group. There’s six of us. We meet regularly and talk about our feelings and our relationships and the ways we’ve screwed up and the ways we’re trying to be better. We talk about how traditional masculinity, the patriarchy at large, is a problem. We agree on a lot of things. We agree that men need to be kinder, softer, more accountable. That there is strength in vulnerability. And a question that keeps coming up, that none of us can answer is: “How will anything change if the ones who need it the most don’t know it?”
That’s the problem with this type of writing. The men who’d read this don’t need it, and the men who need it won’t read it.
But maybe this isn’t how good men are made. Not with lists, or instructions, but with showing up. Making goodness visible. More than ever. A bold goodness.
The Men Who Won’t Read This
My friend called a mechanic because she needed help with her car. They sent a guy who started hitting on her, and wouldn’t take no for an answer. He told her he’d like to take her to church so she could discover God like he did. That she was lost in life because she didn’t have a real man to take care of her, and once she found that real man she could finally be safe in his care. “God has a plan for your life, girl” he kept repeating. But the most surprising thing he said was that he didn’t know she was pretty when she called. “You could have been old or ugly for all I knew.” As if that was the generous part. As if he was so noble for coming even though he might have found her “old or ugly”. Religion and toxic masculinity and misogyny and objectification all braided together. This is the kind of man who needs good men.
And then there are the influencers. The ones promoting misogyny and “traditional values” to young impressionable men and promising wealth and fame as the centrepoint of life. The ones making headlines for controversial legal issues and public stunts. They’re Hydra. The monster from Greek mythology whose head you cut off only to reveal two more. You can’t tell these guys they’re wrong. Even pointing and laughing at them helps them gain popularity, wealth, and status among the very people they’re misleading. Telling them they’re ignorant only makes the box they’re in stronger.
I’m much more sensitive. If I’m told I’m wrong, it could derail me for weeks, months. I’ll let it rearrange my entire life, let introspection rule me for a time, before I can comfortably move forward trusting myself again. I’m not saying this trait is good or bad. It’s just who I am. I think there’s strength in that, if you spin it right. But there’s a detachment in some men that I can’t relate to. An ignorance that keeps them from evolving.
So where does that leave us? Six guys in a room agreeing with each other. Well, it makes me want to write preachy lists.
The List That Won’t Work
I had a whole list, by the way. I sat down to write and got all self-righteous and had a tidy little list on how to be a good man.
Show up.
Be kind.
Regulate your emotions.
Don’t be a toddler.
Hold yourself accountable.
Go to therapy.
Be strong (however that looks to you).
Protect others.
Uplift others.
Be curious.
Learn to cook.
Clean your dishes.
Think about your values. (See below for the results of my online test)
I had it all listed out neatly in bullets like this.
And then I realized I was writing it for myself. And for the five other guys in my group who already agree to most of this. And for the kind of person who clicks on things like this.
We’re all just standing in a circle nodding at each other.
This doesn’t mean the list is wrong. It was a good list. Loaded with good stuff. It was all there. It was all true. But it all just felt… trite.
We don’t learn from telling each other how to be. Learned behaviour comes from observation.
It’s Albert Bandura’s Social Learning Theory (which is exactly what it sounds like).
The Thing That Does Work
I keep returning to visibility. Showing up. Just being visible in the way that works for you. Being kind. Being soft out loud. Because softness isn’t weakness. Openness has so much power even when it doesn’t feel like it’s working. Even when it feels like shouting into a void while the loudest, cruelest voices get all the attention.
I think of a video I saw of John Cena hugging a fan who has stage four cancer. It was such a real hug. Not the typical man hug you get where you clasp hands and bump chests. This hug should be studied. I felt this hug.
I did notice something important with our men’s group, too.
I noticed how each of us show up day after day. In our relationships. In our communities. In our own lives. I noticed how we hold each other accountable, how we uplift each other. And how those efforts inevitably reach out into our individual lives. I notice it in my own work. In my intentions. In my values. And in writing this very thing I’m writing.
The change doesn’t happen from telling each other how to be, but by being a witness to each other.
Mister Rogers said “listening is where love begins.”
The Trash on the Trail
The ill-intended, misguided, greedy men of the world will always be more visible. That’s what they want. Good is quieter by nature. Good doesn’t care if it’s noticed. It also doesn’t have algorithms on its side. It doesn’t have the outrage machine. It just has to show up. And I think that has to be enough, even when it doesn’t feel like it.
We’ll never see the trash on the trail that’s been picked up. We’ll only be outraged by the trash that’s left behind.
For now, we’re here. On a beautiful blue marble floating in space. And we need to try. We need to be visible and be good and show that goodness persists, even when it’s quieter, even when it’s slower, even when the men who need to hear it most may never hear it.
I don’t have it figured out. I don’t think any man does. If he tells you he does, he’s probably a grifter trying to gain something from you. But I think the figuring out part is the whole thing. We’re all students. We’re all teachers.
Does this resonate with you at all?
Did I miss anything?
Did I get something wrong?
Will you share this with someone it might resonate with?
Please let me know in the comments. We need your openness.
With love,
Andrew
Hi, I’m Andrew. I mostly write over on my other Substack How to Be a Dog, I live in British Columbia, and I make children’s books with my dogs. I started this Substack with my really good friend Tom who also writes on here, you should read his stuff.
Don’t forget to subscribe. I’m still figuring out what I’m doing here, and I’d love to have you along for the ride.
thank you.