A recent Australian study examined masculinity attitudes among 650 boys attending an all-boys school. The researchers also surveyed parents and staff in an effort to understand how boys develop their views about masculinity.

The findings were fascinating.

The researchers concluded that many boys continue to embrace traditional masculine ideals. They found that boys valued strength, responsibility, resilience, achievement, protection, provision, and earning respect. They also found that many boys felt pressure to live up to these expectations and were influenced by peers and online voices.

Much of the discussion focused on concerns about “traditional masculinity” and the influence of the manosphere.

Yet as I read the boys’ actual responses, I found myself thinking something unexpected: the boys sounded remarkably familiar.

Many decades ago, when I was growing up, boys worried about many of the same things. They wanted to become strong. They wanted their fathers to be proud of them. They wanted to earn respect, succeed, protect the people they loved, and become dependable.

None of this sounded particularly new.

In fact, many of the boys sounded remarkably similar to the men I have worked with over the past thirty-five years as a therapist. They were wrestling with questions that generations of boys have wrestled with:

• What does it mean to become a good man?

• How do I earn respect?

• What responsibilities do I have toward others?

• How strong do I need to become?

These are ancient questions.

What struck me was not the boys’ answers. It was the researchers’ inability to hear what the boys were actually saying.

Again and again, boys spoke about responsibility, strength, sacrifice, protection, duty, and earning respect. They described wanting to become the sort of men their fathers and grandfathers would admire. They spoke about carrying burdens, protecting loved ones, and becoming dependable. Many readers will recognize these aspirations immediately. They have echoed through generations of boys and men.

Yet throughout the paper, these aspirations are repeatedly translated into the language of pathology:

• Protection becomes paternalism.

• Responsibility becomes hierarchy.

• Strength becomes dominance.

• Traditional masculine aspirations become evidence of manosphere influence.

Certainly, some boys expressed troubling ideas. Some comments reflected hostility, bullying, and immaturity, and those deserve criticism. What is remarkable, however, is how often the researchers appear unable to distinguish those attitudes from the far more common aspirations toward duty, courage, sacrifice, and responsibility.

The boys say, “I want to be strong.”

The researchers hear, “I want power.”

The boys say, “I want to protect my family.”

The researchers hear, “I endorse gender hierarchy.”

The boys say, “I want my father to be proud of me.”

The researchers hear, “I have internalized restrictive masculine norms.”

The tragedy is not that the researchers disagree with the boys. The tragedy is that they seem unable to see the beauty in what many of the boys are expressing.

The boys are describing a willingness to carry burdens. They are describing obligations, service to others, and sacrifice. Yet these qualities are so thoroughly filtered through the lens of “toxic masculinity” and “manosphere influence” that the researchers largely fail to recognize them as virtues at all.

This blind spot is revealing.

If members of almost any other group spoke about sacrifice, responsibility, service, and devotion, many academics would immediately recognize these qualities as admirable. When boys express these same aspirations, however, they are often viewed primarily as evidence of social conditioning, patriarchy, sexism, or dominance.

The burden disappears. The sacrifice becomes invisible. The obligation is transformed into power.

Perhaps this is one reason so many boys increasingly feel misunderstood.

One of the most revealing findings in the study was the growing gap between boys and the adults around them. Many boys felt that schools, teachers, and even parents did not understand their views. The researchers interpreted this primarily as evidence of peer influence and online influences.

There may be some truth in that. But there is another possibility worth considering.

Perhaps boys are searching for alternative voices because many institutions no longer speak convincingly to the questions they are asking.

The researchers repeatedly point toward the manosphere as an explanation for boys’ beliefs. Yet many of the beliefs they describe long predate Andrew Tate, social media, and the internet itself:

• The desire to be strong.

• The desire to protect.

• The desire to provide.

• The desire to earn respect.

• The desire to become a man worthy of admiration.

These are not inventions of the manosphere. They are aspirations that have appeared in boys and men for generations.

The study may have been intended as an examination of modern masculinity, but what I saw was something far older. I saw boys wrestling with the same questions that many of us wrestled with decades ago.

The language surrounding masculinity may have changed. The questions have not.

And until our institutions learn to recognize both the burdens and the beauty that many boys associate with manhood, they will continue to misunderstand the very people they are trying to help.

Boys and Men are Good.

June is Men’s Health Month.

Each year we are reminded of the importance of exercise, healthy eating, cancer screenings, blood pressure checks, and regular medical care. These are all important. Men continue to die younger than women and experience higher rates of many serious health problems.

But what if one of the most powerful interventions for men’s health costs nothing? What if one of the most important factors affecting men’s health is something we rarely discuss?

What if it is simply being seen?

Not being noticed for what a man produces. Not being valued for what he provides. Not being appreciated only when something breaks and needs fixing. But being seen as a human being whose wellbeing matters in its own right.

Many men grow up absorbing a simple message:

Provide. Protect. Perform. Work hard. Solve problems. Take care of others.

These expectations are not entirely negative. In many ways, they help create responsible fathers, dependable husbands, loyal friends, and productive citizens. The willingness of men to shoulder responsibility has helped build families, communities, and nations.

Yet there is a hidden danger when a man begins to believe that his worth depends entirely on his usefulness.

Over the years, I have sat with countless men who felt valued for what they provided but rarely valued simply for who they were. They were appreciated when they solved problems, earned a paycheck, fixed something that was broken, or carried a burden that others preferred not to carry. Yet many struggled to believe that they mattered apart from those contributions.

One of the healthiest messages a man can hear is this:

You have value not only in your doing, but in your being.

Your worth is not limited to what you produce, provide, fix, earn, or accomplish. You matter because you are a human being. Simple as that.

Ironically, when men lose sight of this truth, the very qualities that make them valuable to others can begin to damage their health. The man who prides himself on being dependable postpones medical care. The man who always puts others first quietly moves himself to the bottom of his own list of priorities. The man who never wants to be a burden carries struggles alone long after he should have asked for help.

Over time, this pattern can become dangerous. Many men delay seeking help, ignore symptoms, and continue carrying burdens long after they should have asked for assistance. Not because they are foolish or incapable of expressing emotion, but because responsibility has become so central to their identity that caring for themselves begins to feel selfish.

The irony is that many of the qualities we most admire in men can also become health risks: duty, sacrifice, persistence, self-reliance, and endurance. These qualities build strong families and strong communities. Yet when taken too far, they can contribute to burnout, isolation, chronic stress, and declining health.

This is one reason loneliness has emerged as such an important public health concern.

When people think about men’s health, they often imagine heart disease, cancer, or diabetes. Far fewer think about loneliness. Yet loneliness affects physical health, emotional wellbeing, sleep, stress levels, and even longevity.

A man can be surrounded by people and still feel unseen. He can be appreciated for what he does while feeling invisible for who he is. He can spend years helping others while quietly wondering whether anyone would notice if he needed help himself.

As a therapist, I have often been struck by how many men carry tremendous responsibility while receiving very little emotional support. They are expected to be strong, yet even the strongest men are strengthened when someone recognizes that they are valued not only for what they do, but for who they are.

The encouraging news is that offering this kind of support does not require special training, expensive programs, or professional expertise. Some of the most powerful interventions are available to all of us.

A phone call. A conversation. An invitation. A friendship. A community group. A neighbor who checks in. A son who asks his father how he is really doing. A wife who notices her husband’s burdens. A friend who reaches out after a divorce, a job loss, or the death of a loved one.

These moments may seem small, but they communicate something profoundly important:

You matter.

Not because of what you provide. Not because of what you accomplish. Not because of what you can do for others. You matter because you are a human being.

During Men’s Health Month, we should certainly encourage men to exercise, eat well, get checkups, and take care of their bodies. But perhaps we should also remember something equally important.

People thrive when they feel seen. People thrive when they feel valued. People thrive when they feel connected.

And sometimes the best intervention for men’s health is simply helping men know that their wellbeing matters too.

So here is a simple challenge.

Today, let a man in your life know that you value him for more than what he does. Not simply for the paycheck he earns, the problems he solves, or the responsibilities he carries.

Let him know that his presence matters. That his life matters. That he matters.

You may never fully know the impact of those few words. But for some men, hearing them may be far more powerful than you imagine.

Men Are Good.