12. What IS modern masculinity?
I’m not fixed. I’m not finished. But I know who I’m becoming.
I used to think that showing up meant fixing everything. That being a good man meant controlling outcomes, keeping everyone else steady by holding it all together myself. Providing at all costs, something that had been modelled to me as a child, as it was for many people growing up at that time. I learned early that independence looked like strength, that reliability looked like silence, and that emotional expression often looked like weakness.
It made me dependable. It also made me distant.
Some people describe me as "Marmite" - you either like it or you don’t. I used to think that didn’t matter. That if I just worked hard, kept moving, made things happen, held the line, it would all speak for itself. But all that did was make me invisible. To others. And to myself.
There’s a strange kind of loneliness that comes from doing everything you thought you were supposed to, only to realise it wasn’t enough. Not because the effort wasn’t there, but because the understanding wasn’t. I wasn’t understood, and I wasn’t truly seen. And part of that is on me. I didn’t let people in. I wasn’t clear about what mattered most. I wasn’t sure if vulnerability was safe, or if it even had a place.
It took everything falling apart to see clearly.
When the woman I love said she didn’t want to be with me anymore, I shattered. Not just my sense of identity, but my entire framework of what it meant to be a man, to be me. I had spent years thinking I was doing the right things, working hard, being consistent, trying to keep the family unit whole, and yet I found myself pushed to the edge, unsure if anything I had done had mattered at all. I was no angel either, I made mistakes, big ones!. And while most of what I did came from a place of wanting better, that doesn’t mean it was right. Many of my actions became shaped by fear, anxiety, and insecurity.
Looking back now, I can see how my behaviour and actions were misinterpreted on a massive scale. A wholesale misunderstanding by many of the people around me, the closest to me. That, in part, is my fault. I wasn’t always clear, or consistent, or open. Truth is, I wasn’t always sure who I was, and when you don’t know yourself, it’s easy to be misunderstood.
Maybe you’ve felt that too. Misjudged. Misread. Like people built an idea of who you were based on moments that didn’t reflect your heart. If so, I see you. I’ve lived that. And the hardest part wasn’t that they misunderstood me. It’s that, for a long time, I couldn’t explain myself. Because I didn’t know myself.
But that was the turning point. Because I didn’t give up. I didn’t run. I didn’t fully spiral into bitterness or try to win her back with empty gestures. I started rebuilding myself. Slowly. Quietly. With discipline. With integrity. And above all, with clarity. It marked a quiet but radical shift in how I moved through the world.
Modern masculinity isn’t soft. But it isn’t brittle either.
It’s not about how much you lift, how much you earn, or how many women want you. And it’s certainly not about how well you conform to outdated clichés or overcorrect with passive compliance.
Modern masculinity is presence. It's strength without bravado. Leadership without ego. Empathy without surrender. It's knowing who you are, or at least having the courage to figure it out — and living that out even when it costs you.
Modern masculinity is holding boundaries without rage. Owning mistakes without collapsing into shame. Providing safety, not by controlling the environment, but by being grounded enough to withstand it. It’s also understanding the difference between accepting responsibility and taking the blame. It includes empathy and consideration, yes, but that doesn’t mean rolling over to what society tries to force on you when you firmly believe it’s wrong.
Modern masculinity listens, but doesn’t apologise for existing. It leads, but doesn’t dominate. It feels, but doesn’t indulge. It takes responsibility for more than just itself, not out of martyrdom, but because it recognises the ripple effect of male integrity.
This isn’t about trying to be perfect. It’s about being whole.
A modern man doesn’t outsource his backbone to what’s trending online. He doesn’t let culture define him, nor does he waste time raging against it. He stands, not because he’s certain of the outcome, but because standing is what men do when others are watching. And especially when they’re not.
I started working on my body again, not for validation, but because strength became a metaphor for everything else I was rebuilding. I changed the way I show up for my children, not by trying to protect them from the truth, but by being the kind of man they can anchor to. Calm. Honest. Consistent.
I don’t ask for praise. I don’t broadcast my pain. I stay the course, every day, not because it’s easy, but because it’s who I’ve become.
And slowly, the world around me has begun to change, not because I forced it but because I changed how I met it.
This is what I’ve learned. Not from books. But from the front lines of heartbreak, fatherhood, and responsibility.
Modern masculinity repairs. It stays. It builds. It leads from the front but knows when to walk alongside. And sometimes, when needed, it follows that's not weakness, strength is knowing when to listen.
I'll be honest, it’s not always fun. Fun used to mean getting drunk and falling over. I forget the last time I did that. And if I’m honest, the "fun" part of my life feels like it’s lacking right now. This version of masculinity, the grounded, consistent, self-aware kind, isn’t always thrilling. It can feel lonely. It can feel like discipline without dopamine. But I know this: it’s real. It’s stable. It’s earned.
And I’m not finished. I’m not fixed. I’m still finding my way. Still making mistakes. Still getting it wrong, then trying again. There’s no final destination here, just a man choosing to keep showing up.
This isn’t a manifesto for people-pleasing or patriarchal posturing. It’s an invitation to men who are done pretending. Who want to show up with their full weight and not apologise for taking up space.
What IS modern masculinity?
It’s the quiet, solid answer to a noisy, scattered world.
And for me, it’s no longer a question I’m afraid to ask.
It’s one I live.
That’s what modern masculinity looks like. At least, for me, today.