Masculinity, Loneliness, and the Search for Meaning
Growing up, my understanding of what it meant to be “a man” was shaped more by absence than presence. My father a resourceful, intelligent, and fiercely self-sufficient person, embodied many of the traits traditionally associated with masculinity. Yet, for all his strengths, he struggled with emotional intelligence. His undiagnosed bipolar disorder cast long shadows over his life, leading to a string of poor decisions in work and relationships. Despite his independence and intellect, he seemed trapped by the very ideals he tried to uphold. Vulnerability was a threat to his identity. Without it, though, was he truly “a man”?
It’s a question I’ve wrestled with often. Despite my brothers, I lacked that consistent male presence to guide me through life and show me the ropes. Someone that could regulate me. Instead my mother, a strong and resilient woman from working-class Glasgow, stepped in. She wore many hats: provider, protector, and mentor. But as she once told me, “I can’t be your father” and as she wore those hats, I would rarely see her due to her work commitments. She possessed every quality society might associate with masculinity—determination, resourcefulness, courage—yet, to her, those were simply a parents traits.
The Burden of Expectations
The idea of masculinity comes with a set of unspoken rules. Be strong, but not emotional. Be independent, but successful. Earn more, achieve more, prove yourself constantly. Deviate from these expectations, and you risk being seen as less of a man. It’s an exhausting, isolating performance, one that fosters not connection but loneliness.
Society has long perpetuated these rigid ideals. Boys are taught early to “man up” and suppress their emotions. Crying is weakness. Asking for help is failure. As men grow older, these lessons calcify, shaping their identities in ways that often harm both themselves and those around them. Is it any wonder there’s an epidemic of loneliness among men?
The left is often criticised for offering little guidance to men, leaving a vacuum that’s quickly filled by right-leaning voices. These spaces, however, often rely on essentialist views of masculinity—offering “practical advice” on how to talk to girls, build muscle, and dominate, sometimes laced with misogyny. Young men, in search of identity and belonging, are drawn to these messages. They promise certainty in a world that feels increasingly uncertain.
But in a society that values individuality and authenticity, does the idea of “being a man” even hold meaning anymore? Or will masculinity always be synonymous with strength, intelligence, and independence?
A Different Kind of Strength
My mother’s strength was undeniable, but she would never claim to embody masculinity. That label felt irrelevant to her experience. Still, her story challenges the notion that certain traits—resilience, courage, resourcefulness—belong to any one gender. Perhaps that’s where the real tension lies: the fear that masculinity, when stripped of its exclusivity, becomes redundant.
But masculinity doesn’t have to vanish. It can be reshaped. Strength doesn’t have to mean stoicism. Independence doesn’t have to mean isolation. A man can embrace vulnerability and still be strong, lean on others and still be self-reliant. This is where healthy masculinity begins: not in rejecting traditional traits but in redefining how they’re expressed.
The Role of Loneliness
Loneliness often lurks behind the mask of masculinity. The pressure to “go it alone” leaves little room for meaningful connections. Men are expected to shoulder their burdens silently, to measure their worth by their accomplishments and status. Yet, as social creatures, we thrive on connection. To deny that need is to deny a fundamental part of what it means to be human.
In my own life, the absence of a strong male role model left gaps that my mother couldn’t fully fill. The anxiety and stress of navigating masculinity without a clear guide brought their own kind of loneliness. But it also raised deeper questions: Who am I beyond these societal expectations? What kind of man do I want to be, if any?
Finding Meaning Beyond Masculinity
In the end, the pursuit of a rigid definition of masculinity feels like chasing a mirage. Every culture, every individual, offers a different version of what it means to be a man. There’s no universal answer, no singular path. Perhaps the goal isn’t to “be a man” at all but to be a decent human being.
To live with courage, face your fears, and leave the world better than you found it. That’s not about masculinity or femininity. It’s about humanity. None of us chose to be here, but we’re all dealt a hand. If we can acknowledge that shared experience, the world might feel a little less chaotic, a little less lonely.
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