me that it was “okay” with them that I was sensitive. At various jobs I’ve taken, my male co-workers have jokingly called me a “sensitive guy” in tones that suggest attempted male dominance, their attempt to put me in my place. In Catholic school, a nun told me that I was “too sensitive” because I became shy when asked to speak in front of the class. When we refer to someone as sensitive, the idea that seems to permeate is that they are wounded easily. I can’t say that, for me, there isn’t some truth to this. I think I am wounded easily. I want to be praised. I want to be loved. I want to be told that what I do in this life matters, and that if I make mistakes it’s going to be alright. I think that’s what each of us wants: to matter. My sensitivity is not something I was born with; it is something I have nurtured in myself, even if I have not always done so in a healthy fashion. From the time I was young, I rejected masculine tendencies to brush away emotion. I believe, and always have believed, that my emotions were valid and that experiencing them was vital. I think I got lucky, because I had a good role model in my father. He grew up playing music. He’s made a living as a substance abuse therapist. In him, I saw a man who needed his gym time, who was adamant about protecting his family, who was a sports fan and who had served in the U.S. military. I also saw a man who cared about music, who helped people work through their emotions for a living, and who was deeply in tune with his own. I have only seen my father cry a handful of times in my life, but I know it’s not because he was afraid to. Lots of the time, he was just trying to figure out how. He encouraged me to do the same. My father never told me that boys don’t cry, or that I should learn how to hold back my emotions. He’s let me cry on his shoulder when I needed to, and shown me that to be masculine does not mean to be an emotionless zombie. Masculinity and sensitivity are not mutually exclusive. A man can be comfortable in his own skin, while also shedding a few tears over Ryan Gosling’s performance in the notebook. I don’t go to the movie theater to work through my emotions anymore. When I do shed tears there, it’s just because I’m comfortable with feeling passionate about stories. It will always be a struggle to maintain the reassurance that what I am doing is good for myself, that experiencing the emotions that surge through me from moment to moment is healthy. But, in doing so I make myself a happier person, and I become more empathetic towards the world around me. When I am in touch with my own emotions, I can sympathize with the emotions of my wife more easily, strengthening our marriage and our friendship. I can experience art on a level that is almost spiritual. I can, between my moments of sadness and joy, find stillness.
MASCULINITY AND SENSITIVITY ARE NOT MUTUALLY EXCLUSIVE