Men are often encouraged to “be a man”. SHIFTER columnist, Vladimir Jean-Gilles, talks about toxic masculinity, “nice guy” archetypes, red pill ideologies, and offers five ways to be a man. Really.
“Being a man isn’t something you prove. It’s something you become, one hard, humble choice at a time.”
What does it mean to “be a man”? Even asking the question is enough to spark controversy in today’s cultural climate. Masculinity has become a polarizing topic, but perhaps that makes it more important than ever to address.
We’ve all heard the saying: “Hard times make strong men. Strong men make easy times. Easy times make weak men. Weak men make hard times.”
It’s beginning to feel like we’ve come full circle. The men leading many of today’s governments have brought us into an era of unprecedented uncertainty. And with society now more polarized than ever, we’ve been presented with two extreme answers to the question of masculinity.
On one end, there are those who seek to neuter masculinity altogether, labeling it as inherently dangerous. This has given rise to the “nice guy” archetype—polite, agreeable, and emotionally neutered. But after a string of worldwide scandals that shattered illusions about what makes someone “good,” it became clear to many (though not enough, in my opinion) that “nice guys” were not actually good men.
On the opposite end, we’ve seen the rise of the online “Alpha Male” and the spread of “Red Pill” ideology. These movements claimed to offer hard truths about male identity, female nature, and their impact on social dynamics. Their goal, on the surface, was to toughen up men and push them to reclaim traditional roles. The result? A generation of men either chasing dominance or exploiting vulnerability. The so-called “strong men” born of this movement now lead us into pissing contests disguised as trade wars, and a dangerous flirtation with World War III.
Clearly, something has gone wrong.
If the old saying holds true, then perhaps we are, indeed, living in an age of weak men. But what if both extremes are wrong? What if vilifying masculinity as toxic and glorifying hyper-aggression and the suppression of emotional vulnerabilities to increase one’s manhood are equally misguided? Is it possible that a more nuanced approach could nurture a version of masculinity that is both strong and compassionate? One that men could find equally rewarding, fulfilling and meaningful?
I don’t claim to have the definitive answer. I’m not a father, and I grew up in an environment where nobody thought it worthwhile to teach us how to be men. Everything I’ve learned has come from painful trial and error. And while I know I still have a long way to go (probably for the rest of my life), I’ve identified five core principles that I’d want to pass on to my sons if I’m ever blessed with that privilege.
They’re not perfect. I’ll be the first to criticize them. But that’s only because the man writing them is imperfect too.
“Forgiveness isn’t about letting him [your father] off the hook. It’s about setting yourself free.”
1. Forgive your father
Whether he was absent, abusive, emotionally distant, or just a flawed man trying to do his best, your father left an imprint on you. Maybe you’ve spent years running from that shadow or chasing it. But the truth is, no matter how far you go, you carry your father with you. You’ll hear his voice in your head when you least expect it. You’ll catch yourself repeating things he used to say; things you swore you never would.
Forgiveness isn’t about letting him off the hook. It’s about setting yourself free. You don’t have to pretend it didn’t hurt. You don’t even have to reconcile. But if you don’t forgive your father, you will become him in ways you won’t even recognize until it’s too late. He may have failed you, but you don’t have to fail yourself. Forgiveness is the first step in breaking the cycle.
“When you lie to yourself about who you are, what you want, or what you fear, you trade your manhood for comfort.”
2. Tell the truth
This isn’t about being brutally honest with other people. That’s easy. The real challenge is telling the truth to yourself. When you lie to yourself about who you are, what you want, or what you fear, you trade your manhood for comfort. And comfort is a liar. It will coddle you until the truth finally catches up and by then, it will hurt even more.
Telling the truth is scary. It makes you vulnerable. It costs you relationships, opportunities, sometimes even the version of yourself you were trying to sell to the world. But it’s the foundation of self-respect. And if you can’t look in the mirror and respect the man looking back at you, you have nothing. Which leads to my next point…
“Respect isn’t bravado. It’s not about puffing your chest or winning fights. It’s about discipline.”
3. Respect yourself
Respect isn’t bravado. It’s not about puffing your chest or winning fights. It’s about discipline. It’s in the quiet decisions you make when no one’s watching. It’s in how you speak to yourself when you fail, how you hold the line when temptation calls, and how you treat others when they can’t give you anything in return.
Respecting yourself means walking away from people and situations that cheapen you. It means setting standards for your behavior and honoring them even when no one else will. You can’t demand respect from the world if you haven’t learned to give it to yourself first. It also means to respect your body. To take care of your health, both mental and physical. To be mindful of what you nourish your mind and body with and to practice physical and spiritual hygiene. It’s being mindful of how you dress and being intentional with the words you chose to express yourself. All those things are ultimately a reflection of the respect you have for yourself.
“In a world full of empty words and temporary feelings, your word is your bond.”
4. Keep your promises
I remember the expression on my friend’s face when I revealed what my biggest fear was. It wasn’t loneliness, it wasn’t pain. “Promises”, I answered. “That’s my thing with people. I don’t fear their lies. And I sure don’t fear their truths. What I fear is their promises. The ones they don’t make in silence.”
In a world full of empty words and temporary feelings, your word is your bond. If you say you’re going to do something, then do it. If you can’t, don’t promise it. A man is measured by the space between what he says and what he actually does.
This doesn’t mean you won’t make mistakes. You will. You’ll miss the mark. You’ll let people down. But keeping your promises isn’t about perfection. It’s about effort. It’s about showing people they can count on you, not just when it’s convenient, but especially when it’s not. That reliability is what separates grown boys from grounded men.
“Vulnerability isn’t weakness. It’s courage in its purest form.”
5. Be vulnerable
This might be the hardest one. We’re taught that strength means silence, that stoicism is survival. But that kind of armor turns into a prison. It keeps pain out, sure, but it also keeps love, joy, and connection from getting in.
Vulnerability isn’t weakness. It’s courage in its purest form. It’s saying “I don’t have it all figured out,” or “I need help,” or “That hurt me,” without fear of judgment. It’s risking your ego to build something real. When you’re vulnerable, you give others permission to be human too, and in that shared humanity, you’ll find the kind of strength no facade can ever give you.
These five lessons aren’t the full definition of manhood, but they are, in my view, a place to start. I didn’t learn them from a manual, a motivational speaker, or a viral video. I learned them the hard way. By screwing up. By trying again. By falling apart, and slowly putting myself back together.
If I ever have sons, I’ll tell them what I’m telling you now. Being a man isn’t something you prove. It’s something you become, one hard, humble choice at a time. There is no direct reward for being a good man. The true reward is found inward. In living without regrets, knowing that the impact we’ve had on the world has been a positive one and that the legacy we live behind was worth all the effort.
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!
If…By Rudyard Kipling
Vladimir Jean-Gilles aka Don Ayiti is a writer, radio host, film critic and public speaker. You can book him for your event by reaching out to SHIFTER at info@shifteragency.com.
Related content:
