Excuse Me While I Question What it Means to "Be a Man."

I wrote this poem shortly after finding out that one of my old friends passed away. Men's mental health is a very real and oftentimes overlooked thing.

I wrote this back in 2023 and this was one of the first things I wrote after finding out about him. (The line that mentions 2023 is the only part I’ve altered since writing this.)

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Excuse me while I question what it means to “be a man.”

To be honest, I’m doing the best that I can

But it seems the more that I do try,

The more that I realize that nobody could give a damn

About me.

You know, “Don’t feel your emotions, because they make you weak?”

But isn’t that wild?

To be denied crying, a basic body function, since I was a child?

No wonder why I don’t know how to feel, to regulate, no blueprint on how to heal.

Feeling sad?

Don’t speak.

They’ll only turn the other cheek.

Self-isolate, don’t know connection.

Just sit in silence, self-reflection.

Frustration, self-rejection.

It’s bottled up, it’s now aggression.

So little things, now inflected,

Was suppressed, but it’s now projection.

Excuse me while I question what it means to be loved.

Because how can I recognize a safe space, if I feel uncomfortable even being hugged?

Maybe if I was content with what I had on the inside,

I wouldn’t be looking for what’s greener on the other side.

But since there’s no support, hop in the gym, bigger muscles, once I start to feel,

Hold it back, stay concealed.

Tell somebody, bigger problems, now revealed,

Now lost respect because you cried.

Only job to provide.

I’m tired. Because I’m living in a society that hasn’t changed.

Our grandfathers went to war and came back traumatized. No emotions, man of the house, go to work, come back, PTSD,

Taught our parents, then passed to me.

Holy shit now we’re passed 2023.

Men are still victims of the ideologies

of our previous generations.

And since it’s, “all men are trash,” I can’t help but feel frustration.

We’re so focused on the “what” that’s wrong with men, but we ignore the system that put us here.

The “why” and the “how,” are still yet to be challenged.

So how about we show support, offer space,

Set our boundaries, but offer grace,

Teach them young,

Teach them how to love,

When they say they don’t need help, call their bluff,

Teach them it’s ok to not feel tough,

That they can cry,

If it’s bad, teach them why,

Give them flowers before they die.

Tell them that you love them. That you see them. Because I am tired… of losing people that I love.