By Corey Dion Lewis, guest contributor
The first time I told one of my best friends I loved him and was proud of him in a text message, he immediately called me. Not to say it back, but to see if I was OK. In his mind, the only logical reason a man would say that to another man was if something was terribly wrong. We eventually laughed about it. But the reaction wasn’t strange. It was learned. That’s the problem.
There is this one rule that is told to all boys at a certain time in their lives: “Stop being soft.” And how it’s translated to a young boy’s mind is: “We don’t show love.” Here is what I’ve come to understand: It’s not the loving that’s the problem, it’s the expression. Somewhere along the way, expressing love became associated with weakness, and that association is costing us.
I was fortunate to have strong, hard-working father figures in my life growing up. One of those men was my grandfather. He wasn’t a man of many words. There weren’t a lot of “I love yous” or long hugs. There was definitely no crying, but he was always a phone call away if I needed him. He was always present. That’s what I learned about love. Be present. Provide. Job done.
There’s a powerful scene in the film “Fences” where Cory Maxson, played by Jovan Adepo, says to his father, “How come you ain’t never liked me?” And the father, played by Denzel Washington, doesn’t crumble. He erupts. He lists every bill he’s paid, every meal provided and every burden carried. It’s a gutting moment when you take a step back and really look at it. Both of them were right. Like my grandfather, the father loves deeply. The son never felt it, and neither of them had the tools to close the gap. It was a fictional movie, but that situation is real, and it’s those moments that can make it harder for men to express themselves.
I grew up to be one of those guys. Keeping my feelings to myself. Didn’t want to show “weakness.” The shift came when my daughter was born. Something about having a daughter quietly dismantles whatever emotional armor you’ve spent years building. I didn’t just want her to know I loved her. I wanted her to feel it. I wanted there to be no question.
Then my son was born. Ya know, the funny thing about your kids is the thing that makes you want to find the receipt and take them back is what makes you realize they are just you in a tiny form. I am basically getting mad at myself. I say that to say, of course, there are days when I don’t particularly like my kids, but I don’t let either of them go to bed without knowing they are loved. A child should never have to ask the question that son asked in “Fences.” That question shouldn’t make it to adulthood. So, expressing love for me? That became a non-negotiable.
Hug your son. Your brother. Your friend. Do it without making it weird, because you making it weird is what makes it weird. Tell the men you care about that you love them, not only in a crisis, not at a funeral. Tell them on a Tuesday.
Compliment other men without immediately joking it away. Say, “You’re a good dad.” Say, “I’m proud of you.” Let it land. Stop using humor as an escape hatch every time sincerity shows up.
And stop policing softness. Let’s stop calling boys soft for crying, hugging or needing reassurance. Our sons need to know that showing affection is strength, and being loving doesn’t make you soft. It makes you whole.
To the women, you have more influence here than you may realize. Encourage the fathers, uncles, stepfathers and mentors in your boys’ lives to be expressive. Tell a man, “He needs to hear that you are proud of him.” Give them that nudge without shame. Most men aren’t withholding love. Some were just never taught how to deliver it. A hug and the words “I’m proud of you” from a dad or a father figure can reroute the entire trajectory of a boy’s life. I am living proof of that.
About my friend who called to check on me after I said, “I love you”: We still laugh about it, and we also say it freely now. That changed because we decided it would.
That’s really all this is if you think about it. A decision. Decide that the men and boys around you will not have to wonder. Decide that love in your home will be spoken, not just implied. Decide that the unwritten rule stops with your generation.
Being loved and knowing it? That’s not soft. It’s everything.
Corey Dion Lewis is a social impact entrepreneur, storyteller and founder of Healthy Project Media, and president/founder of My City My Health, a nonprofit dedicated to improving health outcomes for those most at risk. Lewis hosts the Healthy Project Podcast, recognized as a top podcast in global health and health policy, and Coffee Can’t Fix Everything, an unscripted conversation about mental health. His work spans filmmaking, community outreach and public health advocacy.
