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The Myth of the “Strong, Silent” Man

“Healthy masculinity isn’t about rejecting strength—it’s about redefining it to include vulnerability, empathy, and emotional honesty.”
— Dr. Andrew Reiner

Growing up in the 1980s and 1990s, masculinity was everywhere on screen—big, loud, invincible. Think Schwarzenegger in Commando, Stallone in Rambo, or Bruce Willis in Die Hard. The message? Be tough. Don’t cry. Win at all costs. Vulnerability wasn’t just absent—it was a liability.

Our dads and grandfathers grew up in a different world—shaped by war, hard labor, and survival. Masculinity back then meant providing, enduring, and staying quiet. Feelings didn’t put food on the table, so they were pushed aside. That legacy didn’t disappear. It trickled down.

I got lucky with my dad. He showed affection, told me he loved me, and dedicated much of his free time to my sister and me. And yet, even my dad never cried and didn’t talk about his problems, feelings, or desires. At the first signs of tears from me, a sensitive kid, he would tease me and tell me to ‘man up’. Despite his loving presence, he still left emotional expression unaddressed.

When I showed any kind of strong emotion as a child, my parents’ goal was to help me get rid of it, to stop it. Instead of exploring the reasons behind the feeling, or just helping me feel it and express it, the main concern was to make it go away.

For a long time, I thought being a strong man meant being unshakable. Stoic. Always in control. I didn’t grow up learning how to sit with feelings like fear, shame, grief, or sadness, let alone express them. Even though my parents were loving, the message I absorbed, like so many boys and men, was a narrow script: don’t cry, don’t complain, don’t show weakness. Just handle it, and get over it.

Does that sound familiar?

But that version of masculinity eventually breaks down. It leaves no room for the full human experience. It stifles connection. It turns vulnerability into something to hide rather than something to embrace. And it teaches us that being a man means standing alone. This suppression can lead to significant emotional isolation, contributing to the growing issue of male loneliness.

How Traditional Masculinity Hurts Men

“Traditional masculinity teaches boys to be tough, stoic, and independent, but these traits come at the expense of connection—with others and with themselves.” — Terrence Real

That quote hits hard because it’s my story. In trying to be strong, I shut parts of myself down—quietly, over years. I disconnected from my wife, from my son, from friends. But more than anything, I disconnected from myself.

I thought emotional distance was maturity. I thought independence was strength. But over time, all that bottled-up emotion didn’t just disappear—it turned into anxiety, shame, and isolation. And when it finally surfaced, it didn’t come out gently. It came out as anger. As withdrawal. As confusion and pain I couldn’t explain—even to myself.

I didn’t have a lightning-bolt moment of clarity—life just kept chipping away at the mask. Friendships faded. My relationship began to fracture. I wasn’t the father I wanted to be. Eventually, the pain that I’d been avoiding caught up with me—through addiction, depression, and the hollow feeling that something was deeply off.

And I know I’m not the only one. Studies show that men today report fewer close friendships than ever before. We’re lonelier, more isolated, and less likely to seek support. Despite being half the population, men account for nearly 80% of suicides in the U.S.

According to research by the American Psychological Association, men are far less likely than women to seek therapy, even when they’re in emotional distress. One major reason? Many still believe asking for help makes them weak. This belief is so deeply rooted that it often goes unchallenged—until it’s too late.

Clinical psychologist Dr. Ronald Levant, who coined the term “normative male alexithymia” (alexithymia = no words for emotion), describes how boys in our culture are often taught to disconnect from their emotions so early that they struggle to even name what they feel. It’s not that men don’t feel—it’s that we’ve been conditioned to silence the inner voice that could help us make sense of what’s happening inside.

These findings aren’t just statistics—they reflect what happens when emotional repression becomes a way of life. When connection is replaced by performance. When silence gets mistaken for strength.

It’s clear that something isn’t right.

Why Redefining Masculinity Matters Now

We’re living in a time where everything is shifting—gender roles, relationships, work, family life. The old script for being a man doesn’t fit anymore. And for a lot of us, it never really did.

When men are taught to suppress their feelings, they don’t just become stoic—they become lonely. Detached. Quick to anger, slow to seek help. That doesn’t just affect men—it ripples outward. It strains marriages. It creates distant fathers. It fuels addictions, isolation, burnout, and even violence.

“Redefining masculinity isn’t about becoming soft. It’s about becoming whole.”

The stakes are high. We can’t afford to keep passing down a version of masculinity that tells boys to “man up” and stay silent. We need men who are strong enough to be self-aware. Brave enough to feel. Compassionate enough to connect.

Redefining masculinity isn’t about becoming soft. It’s about becoming whole.

Emotional Vulnerability: A New Kind of Strength for Men

“To be a man is not to deny vulnerability, but to face it fully, to meet life without armor, without retreat.” — Dr. Robert Augustus Masters

I knew I had to change something. I knew that to find true connection, I had to be known. I knew that to be known, I first had to know myself. And I knew that to know myself, I had to learn how to allow myself to feel. I just wasn’t taught how. So I started teaching myself – one slow and frustrating experimental step at a time.

We live in a world that tells men to be strong, to be providers and protectors – but that fails to teach us how to be those things in a way that doesn’t isolate us and tear us apart. Healthy masculinity was not something we learned about. The world we grew up in didn’t encourage us to be emotionally present, with ourselves or with others. And yet, that’s the kind of strength we need more of today. In our modern society emotional presence, with ourselves and with others, seems to be the key to connection and healing. Courage and discipline still matter. But they’re not enough without self-awareness. It’s about broadening what strength means: still being brave, but a different kind of brave.

Real strength isn’t the absence of fear or pain—it’s staying open in the middle of it. It’s saying, “This hurts,” and not turning away. For me, that looks like:

  • Telling my wife I’m struggling, even when it’s hard to admit
  • Letting my son see me cry
  • Asking for help without shame
  • Sitting with anger, sadness, or shame—and learning what they’re trying to teach me

This is the kind of masculinity I’m learning to embrace. Not performative toughness, but grounded presence. Not hiding from others, or dominating them, but connecting with them. Not denying emotion, but understanding it—and expressing it in ways that build trust, not shame.

Redefining Masculinity: Toward a Healthier Model

“Healthy masculinity means we expand the definition of manhood to include the full range of human experience.” — Mark Greene

What if being a man didn’t mean shrinking ourselves down to a few approved traits—toughness, stoicism, dominance—but instead allowed for compassion, creativity, grief, and softness?

I’m not saying men should become something they’re not. I’m saying we’ve always been more than the roles we were taught to play. We’re just learning how to unlearn the bullshit and be whole again.

The truth seems obvious when you leave your programming out of it: you can’t address your pain if you won’t acknowledge it.

Thankfully, the conversation around masculinity is changing. Therapy is no longer taboo. Mental health isn’t just for “crazy people”—it’s mainstream.

We’ve seen vulnerability become a buzzword in leadership circles. We’ve watched TED talks from people like Brené Brown and Esther Perel go viral. We’ve seen public figures like Barack Obama, Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson, and Terry Crews speak openly about depression, fear, and trauma.

Masculinity is undergoing a quiet revolution. Books like The Mask of Masculinity by Lewis Howes and Of Boys and Men by Richard Reeves have hit bestseller lists. Men’s groups, once niche, are growing online and offline. Podcasts hosted by men who talk openly about mental health, relationships, and shame—like Man Enough or The Art of Manliness—are drawing millions of listeners.

This isn’t just a cultural shift. It’s a personal one, happening in living rooms, break rooms, and bedrooms. Men are starting to talk. And when they do, something opens up—not just in them, but in the people around them.

The #MeToo movement and conversations about toxic masculinity forced men to self-reflect. And while that kind of reflection can be uncomfortable, it’s also necessary. It cracks the armor—and that’s how change begins.

In short: it’s time for a new definition of healthy masculinity and what it means to be a man today:

Healthy masculinity is the practice of being grounded in self-awareness, emotional honesty, integrity, and strength—not defined by domination or suppression, but by the capacity to be present, accountable, and caring toward oneself and others. It supports the development of emotional depth, personal responsibility, respectful relationships, and the freedom to be fully human.

Practicing Healthy Masculinity: 5 Traits That Matter

“The transition from wild man to wise man is the journey of healthy masculinity. It involves owning our strength and tenderness in equal measure.” – Richard Rohr

If you’re a man reading this and you’re also tired of the mask, you’re not alone. We don’t have to keep performing the old script. We can write something new. We can be strong and vulnerable, assertive and compassionate, disciplined and emotionally aware.

So what does this look like for the modern man? Let’s take that new definition of masculinity and break it down into clear and actionable steps and behaviors.

I identified five characteristics of modern healthy masculinity, each presented with two real-life examples of what it would look like to put it into practice.

Five Characteristics of Healthy Masculinity

Healthy masculinity isn’t about perfection. It’s about presence. Here are ten traits that show up in everyday life—not as a performance, but as a practice.

1. Emotional Courage
– Saying “I’m scared” instead of pretending you’re fine.
– Letting yourself cry in front of someone you trust.

2. Self-Respect and Integrity
– Setting boundaries when you’re overwhelmed.
– Owning your mistakes without deflecting or blaming.

3. Emotional Literacy
– Saying, “I’m feeling hurt because I don’t feel heard,” instead of lashing out.
– Recognizing shame, grief, or anxiety—and choosing not to bury it.

4. Connection Over Competition
– Celebrating another man’s success.
– Supporting a friend without sarcasm or defensiveness.

5. Strength Used for Safety, Not Power
– Protecting others without needing to control them.
– Standing up for someone being mistreated—even when it’s unpopular.

When you read it like that, it all seems pretty straightforward, doesn’t it? But don’t be fooled: just because it looks simple doesn’t mean it’ll be easy. The traditional programming (“Man up!” “Don’t cry!” “Be strong!”) can be so strong, that it takes years of intentional work to overwrite that with this new, healthier program.

The goal is not to change overnight. The goal is not to change who you are. The goal is to allow yourself to let yourself be fully seen, and to unlearn the parts of you that stand in the way of connection, healing, and happiness.

In doing this, you’re not only improving your own life; you’re also opening the door for friends, partners, and family members to build deeper, more satisfying relationships with you. You’ll become a better partner, a better friend, a better father.

And that last one—fatherhood—is where this work feels most urgent to me. Because our kids are watching. Not just what we say, but how we behave when things get hard. What we do with sadness. How we handle conflict. Whether we apologize. Whether we listen.

“Every time you choose connection over isolation or presence over performance, you’re helping create a new model for strength.”

I want my son to grow up knowing that strength doesn’t mean silence. That there’s nothing unmanly about crying, about asking for help, about showing compassion. I want him to see that being a man means being real—not perfect, not invulnerable, just whole.

If I can model that, even imperfectly, then maybe he won’t have to spend decades unlearning what I did.

The work of redefining masculinity doesn’t end with one blog post. It’s a daily, lived practice—messy, imperfect, and worth it. Every time you choose connection over isolation or presence over performance, you’re helping create a new model for strength. And that ripples outward.

What does strength look like for you?
What beliefs about manhood are you unlearning—or still wrestling with?

Let me assure you: there’s nothing weak about choosing vulnerability. You’re just choosing a different kind of brave.

This journey isn’t about becoming someone else. It’s about finally becoming yourself—and letting others see him too.

What does healthy masculinity mean to you?

If you connected with this, I’d love to hear from you. Comment or reach out—I read every message.

Want a more practical starting point? Check out my Beginner’s Guide to Healthy Masculinity.


💬 Frequently Asked Questions

A lot of men are starting to ask questions they were never taught to ask. Below are a few that come up often in conversations, workshops, or quiet moments of reflection.

What does healthy masculinity look like in real life?
Healthy masculinity means showing up with emotional honesty, respecting boundaries (yours and others’), and using strength to protect—not dominate. It’s not about being perfect. It’s about being present, self-aware, and open to growth.

Is masculinity toxic?
Masculinity itself isn’t toxic. But when it’s built around silence, control, or repression, it can become harmful. The goal isn’t to get rid of masculinity—it’s to expand it into something more human, more connected, and more sustainable.

Can men be vulnerable and still be strong?
Absolutely. Vulnerability is strength. It takes real courage to face your emotions, own your truth, and show up for others without hiding behind a mask. Being strong doesn’t mean being bulletproof—it means being real.

How do I talk to my son about healthy masculinity?
Start with honesty. Kids don’t need perfect role models—they need real ones. Share what you’re learning about emotions, strength, and connection. Let him see you feel, apologize, and ask for help. Those small, everyday moments matter more than big lectures.

You can ask open questions, like:

  • “What do you think makes someone strong?”
  • “Do you ever feel like you’re not supposed to cry?”
  • “Has anyone ever told you to ‘man up’?”

The goal isn’t to preach—it’s to create safety. If your son knows he can come to you without shame, he’s already ahead of the curve.

How can I talk to other men about masculinity without sounding preachy?
Start by being real. Share your experience instead of telling them what they should believe. Ask questions like, “Have you ever felt pressure to just suck it up?” or “What do you think being a strong man actually means?” When you lead with curiosity instead of judgment, you open the door to real conversation—not defensiveness.

You don’t have to have all the answers. Just being willing to talk is already a powerful shift from the silence many of us grew up with.


Related reading:

A Beginner’s Guide to Healthy Masculinity
How to Build Real Confidence Without Faking It
Why People-Pleasing Is Holding You Back as a Man
How to Build Stronger Relationships For Men – Without Losing Yourself

Elsewhere:

Watch Brené Brown’s TED talk ‘The Power of Vulnerability’.
Watch an interview about ‘Normative Male Alexithymia: a conversation with Ronald F. Levant’.
Read from Esther Perel about ‘The Paradox of Masculinity’.
Look further into male suicide data and statistics.

If you’re feeling overwhelmed or hopeless, please know help is available. You’re not alone. In the U.S., call or text 988 to reach the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline—24/7, free and confidential.


Dennis Greeuw, founder of A Different Kind of Brave
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Dennis is the main writer behind A Different Kind of Brave, where he explores masculinity, emotional resilience, and the quiet courage it takes to show up fully in life. Originally from the Netherlands, he now lives in Florida with his wife, son, and two dogs.