there's room at the table.

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My relationship with masculinity has seen many twists and turns.
I’ve tried on many forms to see how they feel.

From what I’ve experienced, it covers a very wide range – one that society often tries to narrow into a mold. Provide. Protect. Be self-reliant.

I don’t strive to fit into someone else’s mold. Especially not my own.

Many of us suppress emotion and avoid vulnerability. Not out of lack of depth, but out of deeply ingrained survival strategy. That doesn’t erase our intuition or capacity for generational healing. It just changes how and when we access it. How we express it. And how we integrate it into our lives.

For some time, I thought masculinity meant being strong, resilient, and unshakable.
It felt cold, lonely, and performance-based.

I can see where the term “toxic masculinity” finds its roots – but even within that version, there is something primal.

A strange sense of bonding with others experiencing it the same way.
Moments when unnamable surges flood our veins.

Focus sharpens.
Muscles contract.

Pressure builds and feels like it has nowhere to go.
The mind goes blank as if the blood leaves any logic forming sections of the brain to focus only on how to release it. Now. Through the path of least resistance.

When I honestly reflect on this escalation, I see this pattern clearly across many facets. Competition. Domination. Sexualization.

Raw.
Powerful.

Yet erratic.
Volatile.

Left unchanneled, the path of destruction will ripple through past, present, and future.

I’ve tried expressing the side of me that is soft, expressive, and open.
This brought a different experience – warm, comforting, connected. And many times, uncomfortable. Exposed shadows can be tender spots that fight against the survival strategy. A duality to explore another time.

But I also discovered parts of myself I didn’t know existed… or had been too afraid to explore.

A gentleness.
Tenderness.
The softness of laying the armor down.

But, in the end, there were parts of me that felt deserted.

Incomplete.
Out of balance.

The surges would still arise, but now are showered with guilt. With shame.
Until it cowers away, like a scolded puppy that loved you so deeply and didn’t understand what it had done.

Divided and conquered.

To feel this fully, I suppressed the rawness. The zing. The primal.
I’ve caged the dragon to sit with a butterfly.

I’ve denied a part of me its right to exist.

Over time, I’ve shifted back and forth along the spectrum, trying to find the place that felt like “me,” but never quite finding that place.

Eventually, I stopped trying to choose a side – and began wondering what it would feel like to hold it all.

To know which piece is needed in the moment.

When to stand firm – and when to let go.
When to speak with clarity and assertion – and when to simply listen.
When to protect – and when to allow.
When to fight – and when to walk away.
When to be raw – and when to be soft.

And to trust the part of me that steps forward.
To welcome it with compassion and understanding.
To honor it for having the courage.
And not deny it a seat at the table.

Masculinity, for me, isn’t performance.
It’s not about leading from the front – it’s about anchoring the space so others feel safe enough to unfold. So I feel safe enough to unfold.

It doesn’t seek applause, validation, or a spotlight.
It knows who it is.

Quietly.
Consistently.

But it’s also there – like a lion resting in the grass.
Choosing to bask in the sunlight instead of destroy everything in sight.
Watching for dissonance in the distance.
Evaluating every shift of the wind, every movement of the grass.
Ready, if needed.

But now existing softly in that moment.
Watching a butterfly land on its nose.

There is a space where it all exists.
Together.
Harmoniously.

And whatever happens next is no longer a reaction. Instead, it is a combination of sensing, adjusting, responding.

Not right.
Not wrong.
Just right now – I can meet it.

Without a plan.
Without layers of armor.
Without shame or guilt.

With alignment.
With integrity.
With coherence.

Maybe not with you, but with me.

I’ve recognized a lot within myself through the experiences I’ve shared with the women in my life – the tenderness, the softness, the ability to feel and express so openly and deeply. The balance of vulnerability and strength. These moments revealed what I had long kept guarded and made it harder to hide from my own shadows.

Maybe we aren’t as different as it sometimes seems.
Maybe we’re experiencing the same thing – just differently.

I’ve learned a lot from the stillness of being alone in the woods.
The moments of allowing myself to feel.
Allowing myself to get it wrong – and then facing myself with honesty and compassion.

More trust. Less pressure.

Masculinity, as I experience it now, is more of a rhythm than a role.
It evolves as I evolve.
And the more I stop trying to define it –
the more real it becomes.

Once you strip away all of the expectations, the judgments, the protections; all the needs to feel okay.

What is left?

Presence in the present.

There is a fire in me when I arrive here. A challenge. The surge. I own it.
But how will I express it… or will I express it at all…

Not in this moment.

Not because it is wrong, just because I choose not to.