Vulnerability as a strength

During the time and culture in which I was raised ‘vulnerability’ was synonymous with weakness and being ‘less manly or masculine’. The pervading idea was that emotions were predominantly for women and that men should be impervious to their whims. There were a few moments when emotions were acceptable for men and those tended to be the most extreme in the human experience; loss of a loved one, financial disaster, or a hopeless health diagnosis, anything less was meant to be managed without hassle. 

One major flaw in that cultural mindset is the negative judgement placed on emotions.

One major flaw in that cultural mindset is the negative judgement placed on emotions. Focus on their ability to cause upset and mood swings diminishes the wide ranging, rich tapestry of experience they allow. Although emotions can be uncomfortable or unpleasant, they can also be enriching, enhancing, and deepening to our experience of life. We would benefit from seeing them as shared human experience that changes much like the weather and like the weather, the more we are aware of them, the better we can prepare for and navigate them. 

The definition of vulnerability speaks to being exposed and open to the possibility of being attacked and harmed. I would add to this definition the act or practice of recognizing what is. This is where I begin to see vulnerability as a strength. I turn to G.I. Joe for their deeply profound mantra they offered at every episode, “Now you know, and knowing is half the battle.” Because the cultural mindset I mentioned previously didn’t create a scenario where the emotional experience didn’t exist or was changed, it describes one in which it was suppressed or ignored. 

I see two possible courses of action regarding our emotional experience: 1) we see it as weakness and do all we can to hide it, suppress it, and ignore it. Or, 2) we recognize it and acknowledge it and in so doing allow ourselves to be vulnerable. 

With the first option I see a dead end because if we are ignoring our emotions to create an illusion of strength and security, we will have to constantly work to maintain that illusion. The ups and downs of our life experience will continue to march along and we will have to contort ourselves in each situation to be sure the world can only see the parts we want to be seen. Not only does this prevent us from being fully authentic, it takes a toll on our physical and mental health. It is an exhausting exercise with little to no rest in sight. 

The second option requires an upfront payment in the form of courage. It is an act of bravery to allow ourselves to be vulnerable. The simple fact is that we are acknowledging what is happening for us in any given moment – that’s it! We recognize, first with ourselves and then with those closest to us, that we might be feeling lonely, sad, disconnected, unfulfilled, etc. We can do the same thing with positive emotions.

From this point there are a myriad of options we can take to manage these experiences and even grow from them. Sharing with trusted friends, seeking appropriate medical assistance, employing stress management tools, or even making big life choices are ways we can move through the experience. We can use the wisdom these emotions offer to move us closer to our purpose and the situations that bring us joy. 

Men should take a moment to recognize that this practice isn’t purely for themselves. Recognizing and acknowledging our emotions will allow us vital insights into the state of our lives and areas where we may not be fully satisfied. If we can then make choices that lead us to greater fulfillment and satisfaction, this will ripple throughout or lives and all the people with whom we share it. Think about the kind of husband, father, brother, son, uncle, boss, colleague, etc., you could be if you operated from a place of excitement and earnest interest. 

David Deida, a prominent author and pioneer in the men’s work space, says that the ‘masculine’ (the energetic quality of masculinity that exists in polarity to femininity and that is present in all beings regardless of sex or gender) wants to pursue purpose first and foremost. When a man is able to do this he is doing the greatest service to himself, his family and community, and ultimately to the world. 

Yes, vulnerability and our capacity to allow it can be of service to the entire world! Recognizing what is happening at any given moment is the first step in addressing it. Allowing ourselves to be seen by trusted confidants can help us get perspective and support. From a place of grounded support and thoughtful perspective, we can start to make conscious choices. Conscious choice changes our lives and our worlds. 

The option to ignore and suppress boils down to ego. Vanity. Fear. Many still choose that option because it is widely accepted and the alternative is loudly rejected and ridiculed. However, seen in contrast the bravery required for vulnerability we may begin to see these options switching, where suppression is an expression of weakness and vulnerability as a strength. 

Men’s Work is for Both Queer and Straight Men

For decades, I was afraid of men. Particularly straight, cis-gendered men.

Growing up queer and in the closet, I was ridiculed for being different. Rather than being made to feel comfortable with my own true nature, I was made to feel that I was doing “it” wrong. I was told to be “more like the other boys”, reinforcing the notion that my difference was a problem to be overcome, rather than a uniqueness to be celebrated.

So when I first came to “men’s work” – particularly men’s-work-focused coaching programs – I recognized the opportunity I had to come to terms with and confront my long-held fear of men. This is straight men typically comprise the majority of participants in men’s work spaces. I initially assumed that these men, with different lived experiences from my own, must have a different set of struggles and challenges from my own. 

It’s not only queer men who struggle with meeting the perceived societal standards of what it means “to be a man.”

How wrong my assumption was! Through men’s work spaces, I have come to realize that I have much in common with straight men. It’s not only queer men who struggle with meeting the perceived societal standards of what it means “to be a man.” So many of us, queer or straight, receive the message, “you’re doing this wrong.” My personal passion and purpose is to help heal the resulting wounds. 

While there is no joy in knowing that most of us are struggling against a system that enforces the idea that we are “inherently lacking”, I began to see the power in being able to share my experience with other men and to listen in turn to their feedback and about their own experiences. After years of diving deep within myself and with others through men’s work, I recognize that many of us share this common struggle.  A mantra of men’s work is, “one man’s work is every man’s work”, which speaks to the shared experience all men face. 

That said, even with so much shared experience between my straight and queer brothers in men’s spaces, there remain some notable differences. In men’s work, there’s a “root question” that men seek to answer, and I think that this is different for straight and queer men. For straight men, the root question typically is “Am I man enough?” For queer men, in my experience the root question typically is “Am I a man?” The differences in these root questions are subtle, but they lead down very different roads. 

For straight men, they struggle if they don’t confidently believe that the answer is yes to the question “Am I man enough?” There’s often a stigma to not being confident in the answer, so straight men often look to their family members, peers, communities, and role models for clarity. To discern what it means to be a man in each context they are in, these men may look to mimic the behavior of others they encounter, even if this comes at the expense of ignoring their own internal wisdom for what is their authentic self. 

For the queer men I know, the next logical question after “Am I a man?” is “If I am not a man, than what am I?” For if I am not a man, then am I a brother, an uncle, a son, a nephew? Or am I something else – a demon, a sinner, a criminal? Can I be both sensitive and competitive? Can I be artistic? Can I be expressive? Can I find people who can understand and relate to these questions? 

Queer men have a disproportionately higher likelihood of facing discrimination, hate, and violence. Consequently,  queer men have had to protect themselves in a variety of ways, such as living in predominantly queer communities, creating a strong external appearance, and code switching (something that isn’t always possible) to name a few. 

Creating a safe space for queer men to share their experience with others who understand is a first step. A leader in men’s work once said that “not all safe spaces are inclusive”, meaning that there may be times when a group needs to go by themselves to work. Working through the trauma of discrimination, hate, ridicule, and violence may be easier when shared with others who have lived that experience. Coming together in a group specifically for queer men may allow the safe space and a community that has been elusive for large parts of their lives. 

Ultimately, though, queer men and straight men have more in common then they differ. Men’s work spaces speak a lot about expanding our nervous system’s ability to hold and process stimuli. We know that when we feel in danger it is harder to do things that aren’t specifically aimed at survival. Vulnerability, introspection, and reflection take a back seat to basic harm reduction. Men’s work spaces work because they build an intentional community based on integrity, trust, and support. Knowing that the person hearing your story understands you allows a fuller expression and transformation for all involved. We seek support while we also celebrate wins. 

Queer men can benefit from sharing spaces with straight men. Most men share a desire to understand themselves and those around them, to express freely, and to unabashedly pursue their purpose. Coming together in men’s groups where the only criteria for participation is to identify as a man is a powerful method for healing and growth. In these moments we can begin to bridge the gaps in understanding and communication. Through transparency and authenticity, we can create powerful bonds of community among a diverse group of men. 

There is value in our stories. There are expressions of bravery and valor that serve all that hear them. It is my aim to create safe spaces for queer men to explore and grow for their benefit and for that of our world.