"Be a Man"
//
“Be a man,” society yells
- screams, really -
at the litte boys of the world.
Toughen up.
Don’t cry.
You need to make money.
You were born to provide.
Find a wife.
Build a home.
Be a dad.
Fix the car.
Pull your weight.
You need to be close.
But you need to give some space.
“You aren’t enough as you are,”
the little boy hears.
So he makes a home inside himself
and quickly dries his tears.
For what man shows weakness?
What man wears his heart on his sleeve?
What man would ever admit that he’s not sure who he’s supposed to be?
—
And so the little boy grow up
tall as weed,
and is taught that real strength
is to hide what is underneath.
All the love he has to give,
all the stories he has to share,
all joy he has in laughter
and all the pain he has to bear.
The little boy is told to be quiet.
“Hush now, don’t tell a soul.”
For who would love a boy
who can’t keep his feelings under control?
—
So the little boy grows into a man.
The man finds a wife,
the man builds a home,
the man becomes a dad,
the man fixes the car,
the man pulls his weight,
and the man figures out when to be close
and when to run far.
And…
the man suffers in silence,
as all men before,
and he pleads to the world
to be seen as more than just a set of arms.
—
You see,
in every man
there is a little boy,
who was taught right from wrong
and left from right;
who was shown how to be tough
and brittle
and to not break under the weight;
who was told that softness is a curse
and tears are from the devil;
and who was taught to be ashamed
when his weary soul
does not meet everyone’s expectations.
—
My husband is not yet a father,
but I see the kind of father he will be.
I see the what the world has taught him,
but I also see what is underneath.
I see his vulnerability.
The tenderness he shows.
The gentleness in his dark, brown eyes
when all he wants is to be pulled close.
I see his love.
The unending compassion for those in need.
And when I think about my future son,
this is what I hope he gleans:
He can be soft,
and still be man.
He can provide,
and still be a present dad.
He can cry,
and laugh just as hard.
He can throw a football,
and also paint my nails.
And my husband
can show our son
what it is to be just and fair,
but also show him that,
more important than being right,
will always be to care.
—
“I’ll help you be a better man,”
I whisper in his hear.
To both the little boy from before,
and the man I hold so dear.
I’ll encourage you,
and hold you close,
I’ll dry your evening tears,
and I will always hold the space
for all your present fears.
I’ll push you to be your best -
to be kind, humble, and true -
and to hold your head up high
knowing your are loved by the One who holds, you.
So to all the fathers -
to all the men -
and to all the little boys -
I hope you felt loved this weekend.
And seen.
And known.
And that you always remember
that you have so much space
to learn and grow.
A Father’s Day-inspired, notebook-written, tiny little poem, from me to you.
On your team, in your corner,
Katie.