Atlas cries: What it means to be a man
Photo by Albert Dera on Unsplash
Atlas held up the world. He was stoic, chiseled and strong without measure. He took on the burden of the heavens, planting his feet into the ground without thinking twice. Alone. The man is the definition of masculinity. At least, that’s what people think – myself included.
Society floods us with the ideals of Atlas. I heard a quote from Chris Rock a while back that stuck with me for years: “Only women, children and dogs are loved unconditionally. A man is only loved under the condition that he provides something.” Ironic that he got slapped on national television by Will Smith, who claimed to be defending his wife. Masculinity gets fragile under pressure. That, again, calls into question what it means to be a man. Am I a man because I defend the woman I love? Is it because I put food on the table? Is it maybe because I have the strength to enforce my will when I choose to? It’s a Catch-22: If I am strong, I respond, so therefore I am weak if I don’t respond. It’s logically valid if you assume strength means being able to impose will. Idealistic concepts of the strong, stoic man look back at us in the mirror.
What about other influences, ones that say to push your emotions away and create the ultimate alpha? It is easy to find Andrew Tate quotes floating on YouTube and TikTok. We’ve watched voice-over gym routines quoting heartbreak as fuel for gains. The Red Pill was a home to thousands wanting to escape emotional insecurity and confusion. Push it down, pick up the weights. Create someone she regrets leaving. Idolize and focus on chasing wealth; expand yet isolate. Glorify your pain, use your struggle and build a better man. It’s masculinity, in a toxically focused form. These feelings aren’t invalid; there’s a reason for them.
The Pan American Health Organization found that “one out of five men die before the age of 50, and many of the leading causes of death in the Americas, including heart disease, interpersonal violence and road accidents, are directly related to socially constructed ‘macho’ behaviors.” PRNewswire found that 53% of men in the age group of 18-34 feel pressure to be “manly” and 36% of all men in North America feel pressure to behave in a “manly way.”
We keep seeing these standards of loneliness intertwined with a need for strength. Exiting childhood and entering adulthood, the pressures to find a career or be seen as reliable feel like carrying the weight of the world. We’re not comfortable communicating that weight, even if it could ease the burden. SBTreatment reported that over 30% of men will experience a period of depression at some point during their lifetime and about 9% of men report having feelings of depression or anxiety every day. Vulnerability is a double-edged sword, after all: admitting difficulty is equated with admitting weakness.
This is where we need to work better, as men, on changing the narrative. We can’t allow ourselves to think sensitivity is feminine or that asking for help is a weakness. We have to push past initial feelings of emasculation that make us feel like we are wrong or failing. Our definition of masculinity has to stem from the ideals we want to push and pass on to our kids. I want my son to choose what being a man means, regardless of societal gender identities. I want my son to be able to cry when he’s frustrated or sad and not have to go to the bathroom to do so. He should be able to communicate his anger or frustration or loneliness. I want him to look at Atlas, see his strength and choose to look just like him. Maybe he’ll think Atlas cried, too.
