Boys Don’t Cry — and Other Myths We Can Release

We’ve all heard it:

“Boys don’t cry.”

“Be a man.”

“Toughen up.”

“Stop acting like a girl.”

And oh, how those words sink into the tender bones of our boys,

how they ripple across generations,

how they carve silence where there should be softness.

But here’s the truth:

Boys do cry.

Boys do feel.

Boys do need tenderness, space, and care.

Not every boy is wild or rough-and-tumble.

Not every boy is stoic or outwardly strong.

And even those who are—

the loudest, boldest, most physically expressive boys—

deserve a world that honors their gentle, aching, soft,

and vulnerable sides.

As parents, as caregivers, as community members,

we have the opportunity to make a choice:

Will we teach our children to suppress their emotional expression?

Or will we make space for them to be whole humans?

We get to look at the boys in our lives—

our sons, our brothers, our partners, our fathers,

and yes, even the little boy still living inside the grown men we love—

and say:

“You don’t have to hold it all.

You don’t have to bury your heart.

You don’t have to be hard to be worthy.”

For me, holding my boys in tenderness equal to my girl

has been a practice since the day my oldest son was born.

He is now 17.

This is not simply something I aspire to—

this is a lifestyle choice I make every day.

And it is a practice I will keep alive

for as long as I walk beside them in this life.

I choose to raise boys who know their feelings are sacred.

To love the unique colors of their personalities—

whether they’re sensitive or silly,

introspective or adventurous,

gentle or strong,

or all of it at once.

I create space for their tears,

their questions,

and their moments of softness,

without shaming them back into silence.

To all the boys and men who were once told

“don’t cry,” “be tough,” “man up”

I see you.

I honor the ways you kept going,

and I offer the invitation now,

to lay some of that weight down.

Because boys can cry.

Men can soften.

And no human on earth should have to live

with their tenderness hidden away.

Let’s be the generation of cycle breakers—

the generation that makes more space,

that raises whole humans—

not bound by myths,

but liberated by truth,

connection,

and love.

A boy who has been held in his tenderness

grows to become the man

who is equipped to hold others.