This post examines a recent article published in the Psychology of Men & Masculinities (© 2024, American Psychological Association, Vol. 25, No. 4, pp. 347–356). The journal is produced by APA Division 51—the same group responsible for publications like the misandrist APA Guidelines for Psychological Practice with Boys and Men. Historically, Division 51 has maintained a strongly feminist orientation, though there are signs that it is beginning to shift, if only slightly, away from those roots. The journal issue in question is titled "Uncharted Territory: The Future of Men and Masculinities" and appears to have been a call to imagine new directions for the field. As the journal itself states: “Accordingly, we invited manuscripts for a special issue in Psychology of Men & Masculinities to envision the future of the field.” This post focuses on just one of the articles included in that special issue. See what you think.

Science or Spin? Testosterone, Masculinity, or the Last Gasp of Woke

In their recent article, “Gonadal Hormones: The Men, the Myths, and the Legends,” Burris and Knox set out to challenge what they call “essentialist beliefs about gonadal hormones” (EBAGHs). At first glance, this seems like a worthwhile goal—questioning rigid stereotypes and promoting scientific literacy around testosterone and estrogen. The authors argue that the public overestimates the causal power of testosterone, particularly in relation to aggression, strength, sexuality, and masculinity. But the deeper you go, the more the paper begins to reveal its own biases, blind spots, and ideological framing. Though the authors claim to be correcting misinformation, they often sidestep established science in favor of cultural critique—and what they leave out speaks louder than what they include.

Questioning the “Widely Held Belief” Premise

A major issue in the article is the central claim that people broadly believe “testosterone equals men” and “estrogen equals not-men.” This idea is treated as if it's a cultural fact—but the authors offer no solid evidence to back it up. No surveys. No polling. No representative data.

To be fair, the paper makes a reasonable case that some men see increasing their testosterone levels as a way to feel more masculine, and that some may view estrogen as something that could diminish that sense of masculinity. But that’s a far cry from demonstrating that the public broadly believes testosterone defines being male while estrogen signifies not being male, or that testosterone is viewed as entirely good and estrogen as entirely bad. Since these assumptions form the foundation of the authors’ argument, the lack of direct evidence to support them represents a significant flaw.

Instead of establishing the problem with data, the article relies on indirect cues—placebo studies, media examples, and scattered anecdotes. This ends up looking like a straw man: a cartoon version of what people supposedly believe, used to set up a tidy narrative arc.

The Missing Question: Why Do Men Want to Be More Masculine?

One of the strangest omissions in the paper is its refusal to ask the most important question: Why do men want to be more masculine? The authors treat this desire as something odd or unhealthy—like it’s a social problem to be solved—without ever asking what’s driving it.

The reality is that men operate in a masculine status hierarchy, where increased masculinity often brings greater access to success, admiration, influence, and romantic attention. Men at the top of this hierarchy tend to attract the highest-value partners, gain more respect, and earn more. The drive to be more masculine isn’t irrational—it’s strategic.

What pushes men upward in that hierarchy? Testosterone. It fuels status-seeking, assertiveness, and competitiveness. The work of Christoph Eisenegger has shown that testosterone’s real effect ​goes beyond aggression, ​and into a deeper, more adaptive drive to attain and maintain status.

Earlier researchers missed this by focusing only on aggression. Eisenegger and others have helped reframe testosterone as a status-regulating hormone, not a simple violence switch. Meanwhile, socially, men are under pressure from the outside as well—culture rewards success and punishes failure. The research of Joseph Vandello on "precarious manhood" captures this reality: masculinity is seen as earned and easily lost, and men are expected to prove it repeatedly.​ Men are driven to pursue status by both their biology and their culture—a squeeze play that uniquely impacts them from both directions. Biologically, testosterone fuels the internal drive to compete, achieve, and assert dominance, particularly in the context of social hierarchies. At the same time, cultural norms and expectations reward success and status while penalizing weakness or failure. Together, these forces create constant pressure on men to prove their worth and climb the masculine hierarchy.

​When a man seeks out testosterone therapy or aims to boost his levels, it’s not because of hormone myths—it’s because he’s looking for a way to gain or protect status. EBAGHs? He’s probably never heard of them. What’s on his radar is something more immediate: respect, relevance, and success.

One-Sided Framing: Masculinity Bad, Estrogen Good?

Another problem that runs throughout the article is its imbalanced treatment of the two hormones. Testosterone is consistently tied to negative traits—aggression, narcissism, insecurity, overcompensation—while estrogen is presented as gentle, wise, and quietly life-saving.

Testosterone gets pathologized; estrogen gets celebrated.

It’s not just the tone—it’s what’s missing. There’s no mention of testosterone’s role in confidence, energy, libido, mood regulation, risk-taking, or motivation—traits that help men engage, compete, and persevere. There’s no definition of healthy masculinity and no acknowledgment of the strengths it can carry.

Meanwhile, estrogen is portrayed as a miracle compound. The article claims it supports male sexual functioning, protects against Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s, boosts cardiovascular health, improves immune function, and enhances verbal fluency. Some of that may be true, but the imbalance starts to feel ideological.

And here’s a glaring omission: while they praise estrogen for contributing to male sexual function, they fail to mention that testosterone is essential for male sexual functioning. That’s not an obscure finding—it’s medical consensus.

This selective storytelling gives the impression that one hormone is dangerous and outdated, while the other is sophisticated and life-giving. That’s not science—it’s spin.

Selective Science and the Missing Half of the Story

The authors claim public misunderstanding of testosterone is a serious problem—but make no meaningful attempt to clarify what testosterone actually does. Instead, they pivot into speculation that “hypermasculine” beliefs push men toward things like red meat, alcohol, steroids, and fear of inadequacy.

Steroid abuse? Fair concern. But red meat and alcohol as signs of pathological masculinity? That’s a reach—and it says more about the authors’ worldview than it does about hormone biology.

They toss around the term “hypermasculinity” without defining it, and make no distinction between harmful behaviors and everyday masculine traits. And once again, no mention of healthy male striving, protectiveness, responsibility, or the deeper psychological needs testosterone helps fulfill.

Foundational work ​on the testosterone flood in utero from researchers like Melissa Hines is ignored. Eisenegger is cited, but not for his most important contributions. Status-seeking, fear reduction, social assertiveness, and leadership impulses—all well-studied aspects of testosterone—are simply left out.

Meanwhile, estrogen gets a glowing review, complete with a long list of benefits and ​few caveats.

What They Left Out

In the end, the most telling part of the article isn’t what it says—it’s what it doesn’t. The authors claim to want to dispel myths, but avoid giving readers a clear understanding of testosterone. They frame masculinity as fragile or excessive, but never define it or explore its constructive roles. They reduce men’s hormonal motivations to cultural confusion, without acknowledging the very real biological and social pressures men face to achieve, compete, and succeed.

If the goal is to move beyond simplifications, the authors miss the mark. Their narrative replaces one myth with another—painting testosterone as dangerous and masculinity as insecure, while quietly holding up estrogen and femininity as the default solution.

That’s not advancing the science. It’s just rebranding the bias.

From Eye Color to Gender: How Jane Elliott's Classroom Experiment Mirrors the Modern Treatment of Masculinity

In 1968, Jane Elliott, a third-grade teacher in Riceville, Iowa, conducted a bold and controversial classroom experiment that would come to be recognized as one of the most powerful demonstrations of how discrimination and prejudice take root. In the wake of Martin Luther King Jr.'s assassination, Elliott sought to help her white students understand the arbitrary cruelty of racism. Her tool? Eye color. On one day, she told her class that brown-eyed children were smarter, cleaner, and better than their blue-eyed peers. Brown-eyed children received privileges, while blue-eyed children were demeaned and denied recess. The next day, she reversed the roles. What she observed was chilling: within minutes, children began to conform to their assigned roles. The "superior" group acted arrogant and condescending, while the "inferior" group became withdrawn, anxious, and performed worse academically. The exercise was a vivid demonstration of how easily social hierarchies can be constructed—and how quickly they can damage a child’s self-perception.

More than fifty years later, Elliott’s insights are more relevant than ever. Although we no longer divide children by eye color in classrooms, we have developed subtler—and often more insidious—ways of creating social hierarchies. One such modern construct is the term "toxic masculinity." Originally coined within academic and therapeutic contexts to describe specific harmful behaviors associated with some aspects of traditional male gender roles, the phrase has since entered popular culture as a blunt instrument. Instead of being used with nuance to critique destructive behaviors, "toxic masculinity" is often employed as a sweeping condemnation of masculinity itself. In doing so, it functions much like Elliott’s classroom exercise, designating boys and men as morally inferior based on an intrinsic characteristic.

In Elliott’s experiment, children quickly learned to internalize their assigned value. Similarly, in today's culture, boys and men are increasingly exposed to messaging—through schools, media, and even therapeutic models—that suggests something inherently wrong or dangerous about being male. They are told they are prone to violence, emotionally stunted, and responsible for a host of social ills. Like the blue-eyed children, many boys internalize this message, leading to shame, self-doubt, and disengagement. They may feel they must apologize simply for being who they are.

Just as Elliott's students began to perform worse academically when placed in the "inferior" group, boys today are underperforming in schools. Boys now lag behind girls in reading and writing skills, are more likely to be diagnosed with behavioral disorders, and are more likely to drop out of high school and avoid college. Could part of this trend be linked to the erosion of positive male identity? When a boy’s natural traits—physical energy, competitiveness, assertiveness—are consistently labeled as problematic, he may begin to disengage from institutions that seem to reject him.

The effects aren’t limited to boys. As Elliott observed, the "superior" group in her class quickly became smug and less empathetic. Girls growing up in a culture that equates masculinity with toxicity may unconsciously develop a sense of superiority or distrust toward boys and men. They may be less inclined to empathize with male struggles or more likely to assume bad intent in male behavior. This moral ranking damages the ability of boys and girls to form healthy, respectful relationships.

 

The consequences extend into adulthood. For men, the persistent framing of masculinity as a problem can result in emotional suppression not because masculinity prohibits feeling, but because society penalizes men both for expressing emotion and for not doing so in the approved manner. A man who shows grief through silence and action rather than verbal sharing is often seen as "emotionally unavailable." Conversely, a man who expresses anger or frustration may be labeled as aggressive or toxic. This double bind can leave men emotionally stranded, unable to find safe ways to process and communicate their feelings.

Women, too, are affected. The widespread narrative of toxic masculinity fosters fear and suspicion, undermining trust between the sexes. It can shape how women approach relationships, parenting, and even professional environments. Some may feel the need to "correct" men or view them as a threat to be managed. Others may feel disillusioned or hopeless about finding male partners who meet ever-shifting emotional standards. In either case, the relational divide grows deeper.

Jane Elliott's experiment demonstrated how power dynamics based on arbitrary traits can warp perceptions, relationships, and individual potential. She showed how quickly children could learn to see others—and themselves—as lesser or greater, good or bad, based on a label. Today, we risk doing the same by using a term like "toxic masculinity" without nuance or precision. When boys hear the phrase, many don't interpret it as "some forms of male behavior are harmful"—they hear "something is wrong with you." When girls hear it, they may internalize a belief that maleness is suspect.

It would be unthinkable today to conduct an experiment like Elliott's in a public school. But that doesn't mean we're not running our own social experiments, with equally high emotional stakes. We are shaping a generation of boys and girls with the messages we send—explicit and implicit—about gender, value, and morality. If Elliott taught us anything, it’s that these messages matter deeply, and that the harm caused by labeling can manifest quickly and painfully.

The solution is not to ignore harmful behaviors associated with male socialization, just as Elliott's goal was not to deny the reality of racism. But we must be precise in our language and compassionate in our teaching. We must separate masculinity from harm and focus instead on the specific actions and attitudes that cause damage—regardless of gender. Otherwise, we risk constructing a new hierarchy of virtue that punishes half the population simply for being born male.

In a world that claims to value inclusion, compassion, and equality, we must remember that these ideals apply to everyone. Boys and men are not exceptions. The path forward lies not in moral condemnation but in understanding, dialogue, and a shared commitment to human dignity—blue eyes, brown eyes, male or female.