It was my daughter’s first day of school. We were both excited, but I’ll admit, I had a lump in my throat as I watched her walk into that classroom. There’s something about seeing your little girl take that big step—it gets you right in the gut. As I stood with the other parents, trying to mask my own nerves, I noticed a little boy nearby who had taken a tumble. His tears came quickly, as you’d expect, but what happened next stuck with me.
His dad rushed over, picked him up, and said, “Don’t be gay.” Just like that, the boy wiped his tears and forced them back, stifling his emotions. They moved on, but I couldn’t shake that moment. Here we were, at the beginning of these kids' long school journey, and already, this little boy was being told that showing emotion—something as natural as crying—made him weak, made him "less."
I still think about that boy. He must be about 13 now, and I wonder—how’s he managing his emotions today? Is he still hearing that message from the world around him, that showing vulnerability makes him unmanly? Has he learned to bury his feelings, to silence his pain, and maybe even to silence others when they try to express their own?
These moments hit hard, especially when you’re raising kids of your own. As dads, it’s not just about raising strong children; it’s about raising caring, empathetic, and emotionally healthy people. And if we want our sons to grow up to be good fathers and partners, we need to step out of this so-called "man box."
But it’s not just about how we raise our sons. We have daughters, too, and they’re watching how we, as men, show up emotionally. Are we modelling the kind of behaviour that encourages them to expect emotional presence from the men in their lives? Or are we reinforcing the idea that men should be stoic, emotionally distant, and uncomfortable with vulnerability? These are the kinds of questions I asked myself after that moment at the school—and they’re questions we all need to ask if we want to raise a generation that’s more emotionally aware, supportive, and connected than the one that came before.
What Is the Man Box and toxic masculinity?
Let’s talk about the "man box" for a second. It’s that invisible set of rules most of us men are handed early on, whether we realise it or not. Be tough. Don’t cry. Don’t show too much emotion. Be the provider. Don’t ask for help. If you’re a dad reading this, chances are, you’ve felt its pull more than once. Maybe you’ve even found yourself wrestling with it—trying to decide whether to be vulnerable with your kids or to stick with the “strong, silent” routine.
But that’s where it starts. The "man box" tells us that emotions are a sign of weakness and that nurturing isn’t really our job. It’s a script we’re all given, and if we’re not careful, we hand that same script down to our kids, even when we don’t want to. That script isn’t just limiting us—it’s limiting our children, and it’s limiting our friendships and support networks as well.
Toxic masculinity isn’t about saying that being a man is bad. It’s about the specific ways masculinity becomes harmful when it’s reduced to aggression, emotional repression, and dominance. It affects how we see ourselves, how we raise our kids, and how we connect with the people around us. If we’re not careful, it isolates us from the deep relationships we need to thrive—whether those relationships are with our partners, our friends, or our children.
Many of us learned these ideas from our fathers or the men around us. Maybe we didn’t hear "Don’t be gay," but we certainly heard "Be tough," or "Don’t cry." These are messages passed down from generation to generation, but they’re not set in stone. We have the opportunity to break the cycle and create something better for our kids.
How the Man Box Impacts Our Friendships and Support Networks
Before we dive into fatherhood, let’s take a step back and think about how the "man box" affects our friendships. How often do we stay silent when we’re struggling because we don’t want to seem weak? How many times have we met up with our friends and stuck to safe topics—work, sports, the weather—because digging deeper felt too uncomfortable? If we’re not comfortable being vulnerable with the guys we’ve known for years, what message are we sending to our kids about emotional openness?
When we keep our feelings bottled up, we’re missing out on building real support networks. We don’t ask for help, we don’t offer it, and in the end, we’re left feeling isolated. And if we’re modelling that kind of emotional distance with our friends, we’re teaching our kids to do the same. We’re teaching them that emotions are something to keep hidden, something that makes you vulnerable in all the wrong ways.
I’ve seen it in my own friendships. I’ve been that guy who’s struggling with something but doesn’t say a word about it, even when I’m with people I trust. The "man box" tells us that we should be strong, that real men don’t need support. But if we never show our own vulnerability, how can we expect our kids to? How can we show them that it’s okay to reach out when they’re hurting or confused if we’re never willing to do the same?
The Impact on Fatherhood
And this brings us back to fatherhood. When that dad at the school told his son not to cry, what he was really saying was that emotions are something to be ashamed of. I wonder how that boy will handle his own emotions as he grows. Will he feel safe enough to share his feelings with others, or will he hide them because he’s been taught that vulnerability makes him weak?
This isn’t just about that boy. It’s about all of us. How do we respond when our kids show emotions—whether it’s sadness, frustration, anger, or even fear? Do we rush to shut it down, or do we make space for it? How do we handle our own emotions in front of them? Our kids are always watching us, and they learn more from what we do than what we say. If they see us bottle everything up, they’ll start to do the same. And if we’ve been conditioned to stay in the "man box," we’re more likely to pass it down without even realising it.
I want my son—and my daughter, for that matter—to grow up knowing that it’s okay to feel. It’s okay to be sad, to be scared, to be confused, and even to be angry. What’s important is that they understand their emotions and know that those emotions are welcome. But for that to happen, I need to model it. And it’s not easy. It’s tough to break out of the habits we’ve learned over decades.
But here’s the thing: when we don’t model emotional openness, we’re not just shutting down emotions for the moment—we’re creating distance in our relationships with our kids. Over time, that distance can grow. As our kids get older, if they’ve learned that dad isn’t comfortable with their feelings, they’ll stop sharing them altogether. That’s a hard truth to face, but it’s something we can change by being more emotionally present today.
How We Can Create a Culture of Emotional Sensitivity at Home
So, how do we create a home environment that promotes emotional sensitivity? How do we teach our kids that all emotions are valid? It starts with us. We need to ask ourselves some tough questions: When my child displays any emotions, how do I respond? Are there certain emotions that make me uncomfortable? Do I shy away from tears? Do I shut down when my child is angry?
And here’s an even harder one: Are there patterns in my reactions? Have my children learned that there are certain emotions I can’t handle, so they stop sharing those with me? These are uncomfortable questions, but they’re essential if we want to raise emotionally healthy kids.
For example, think about your response when your child is upset. Do you immediately try to fix the situation, distract them, or minimise their feelings by saying, "It’s not that bad"? These kinds of reactions, while well-meaning, can send the message that their emotions aren’t valid or welcome. Instead, we can practice simply sitting with them in their feelings, validating their experience, and letting them know it’s okay to feel what they’re feeling—even if we don’t fully understand it ourselves.
Creating a culture of emotional sensitivity doesn’t mean we have to get everything right all the time. It just means making space for emotions—even the hard ones. It means sitting with our kids when they’re upset instead of rushing to fix it. It means letting them see us struggle with our own emotions sometimes, so they know it’s okay to struggle.
If we want to raise kids who can handle their emotions in healthy ways, we have to show them how. That starts with modelling vulnerability ourselves. It means being honest with our feelings, not just brushing them aside. If we can do that, we’ll start to see our kids feel safer sharing their own emotions with us.
Breaking Free: Encouraging New Approaches
Breaking out of the "man box" also means breaking down the traditional gender roles that tell our boys that caring, nurturing, and expressing emotion aren’t for them—and it’s not just about our boys. If we want our sons to grow into men who are emotionally present, and if we want our daughters to expect and value that emotional presence in men, we have to start by encouraging both to embrace caregiving roles from a young age.
This starts with something as simple as toys. If your son wants to play with a doll, let him. If he’s excited about playing with a toy kitchen, encourage it. These aren’t “girls’ toys”—they’re toys that help kids, regardless of gender, learn how to care for others, how to nurture, and how to express empathy. By allowing our sons to play these roles, we’re helping them build emotional intelligence, something that will make them better fathers and partners down the road. And by encouraging our daughters to see these roles as equally shared between men and women, we’re setting the expectation that nurturing isn’t just a “female” job—it’s something everyone can do.
It’s important to reflect on what our daughters see, too. If they grow up seeing men in their lives taking part in caregiving, they’ll not only come to expect it from future partners, but they’ll also understand that emotional support and caregiving are qualities to value in everyone, not just women. We want our girls to understand that leadership and nurturing go hand in hand, and that men can (and should) be a part of that emotional labour.
And it’s not just about play. We can model this behaviour in our everyday lives. Get involved in caregiving tasks that might traditionally be seen as “women’s work.” Cook dinner, pack lunches, do the laundry, and be hands-on with your kids. These actions show our sons that being a man means taking care of the people you love—not just in practical ways, but emotionally, too. They also show our daughters that these tasks don’t belong to any one gender and that emotional availability and caregiving are shared responsibilities.
When we model this kind of balance and emotional presence, we’re sending a message to both our sons and daughters: that real strength lies in caring for others, that nurturing is a shared human responsibility, and that emotions aren’t gendered—they’re simply part of being human.
The Long-Term Impact: Building Stronger Connections
When we step out of the "man box," it’s not just our kids who benefit. We benefit, too. By breaking down these walls, we build deeper relationships—not just with our children, but with our friends and partners as well. We create support networks where we can be vulnerable, where we can lean on others when we need to. We build homes where emotions are embraced, not hidden, and where every member of the family feels safe expressing how they feel.
It’s not just about the early years, either. When we’re emotionally available now, we’re laying the foundation for stronger relationships as our kids grow older. They’ll come to us not just with their achievements, but with their struggles, their fears, and their failures. And that’s where real connection happens—when we’re trusted with the messy, complicated parts of their lives.
Think about your own upbringing. Were there times when you felt like you couldn’t talk to your dad about certain things? Did you learn early on that some emotions—especially sadness or vulnerability—were off-limits? Now, imagine how different things could have been if you’d felt like you could come to him with anything. That’s the kind of openness and trust we’re building when we model emotional availability and acceptance.
And as our children grow into adults, this emotional openness will serve them in every area of their lives. They’ll be better equipped to navigate their own relationships—with partners, friends, and their own kids someday—because they’ll have learned from us that emotions aren’t something to fear or avoid. They’ll understand that emotions are part of being fully human, and that embracing them leads to stronger, healthier connections.
Reflecting on Our Own Emotional Patterns
Another key step in breaking free from the "man box" is reflecting on our own emotional patterns. How do we react when our kids display emotions? Are there certain feelings that make us uncomfortable? Maybe anger sets us on edge, or maybe we struggle to handle tears. It’s important to notice these patterns because our reactions can have a lasting impact on our children.
But to really understand our reactions, it helps to look back at how our own emotions were treated when we were growing up. Think about it—how were your feelings handled as a child? Were you given the space to cry when you were sad or frustrated, or were you told to “man up” and hide those emotions? Were your parents or caregivers emotionally open with you, or did they keep their feelings behind closed doors?
These early experiences shape how we deal with emotions now, both in ourselves and in our children. If your emotions were dismissed or ignored, you might find it hard to handle your child’s feelings. On the other hand, if your emotions were nurtured, you might be more comfortable with the emotional ups and downs of parenting.
Take a moment to reflect:
When you were a child, how did the adults around you respond to your emotions?
Did they encourage you to talk about your feelings, or did they shut them down?
How do you think those experiences affect how you parent today?
This kind of self-reflection can be hard, but it’s essential if we want to raise kids who are emotionally healthy and resilient. And it’s a process. None of us are going to get it perfect right away, and that’s okay. What matters is that we’re making an effort to create an environment where emotions are embraced, not hidden.
Modelling Emotional Openness in Our Relationships with Their Mum
Another crucial piece of this puzzle is how we model emotional openness and vulnerability in our relationship with their mum or co-parent. Whether we’re married, separated, or co-parenting in another arrangement, the way we interact with our children’s mother when it comes to emotions teaches our kids a lot about how to navigate their own relationships.
Our children watch how we communicate and handle conflict. If we bottle up our feelings, avoid difficult conversations, or dismiss their mum’s emotions, we’re subtly teaching them that this is how men should behave in relationships. Alternatively, if they see us showing empathy, listening to their mum’s feelings, and openly discussing our own emotions, we’re giving them a model of healthy emotional interaction.
Consider this:
Do your children see you and their mum sharing emotions openly, or do you tend to keep things bottled up?
How do you handle disagreements or emotional moments in front of them?
Are you showing them that vulnerability is something to be embraced in all relationships, not just with their kids but also with a partner?
By modelling emotional openness and mutual respect in our relationship with their mum, we teach our children that both men and women can express emotions. We’re also showing them that emotional support and vulnerability are foundational to a healthy partnership. Whether we’re together or co-parenting from separate households, how we manage emotions with their mum becomes the template for the kind of relationships they will look for in the future.
Celebrating Progress, Not Perfection
Breaking out of the "man box" is a journey, not a one-time decision. It’s about progress, not perfection. There will be times when we fall back on old habits, where we find ourselves responding in ways we don’t want to. And that’s okay. The important thing is that we recognise it, learn from it, and keep moving forward.
The more we work to break down these cultural norms, the better off our kids will be. We’ll raise sons who are comfortable showing their emotions, and daughters who know that men can be nurturing, caring, and emotionally available. We’ll raise kids who understand that real strength comes from being in touch with your feelings, not from burying them. And we’ll create stronger, more connected families because of it.
And as we teach these lessons to our children, we’ll grow ourselves. We’ll find that our relationships—with our partners, our friends, and our kids—are deeper and more fulfilling because we’ve allowed ourselves to be vulnerable, to connect, and to care in ways that go beyond the traditional norms of masculinity.
Conclusion: The Legacy We Leave
At the end of the day, the legacy we leave as fathers isn’t just about providing financially or being strong in the traditional sense. It’s about how we show up emotionally, how we model empathy, and how we teach our kids that it’s okay to feel deeply and care for others.
By stepping out of the "man box," we’re not only changing how we father—we’re changing the world our kids will grow up in. We’re raising boys who will be better fathers and partners, and we’re raising daughters who will expect and demand emotional availability from the men in their lives. Our sons will grow up knowing that emotions are not a sign of weakness but a part of being whole, and our daughters will understand that men are capable of love, care, and vulnerability.
It’s not always easy to challenge the norms we were raised with, but it’s worth it. By embracing emotional openness and rejecting outdated ideas of masculinity, we’re helping to raise a generation that can connect, care, and build healthier relationships. And in doing so, we’re not just improving our children’s futures—we’re growing as men, partners, and friends ourselves.
So, let’s keep questioning, keep reflecting, and keep striving to be better, more emotionally available dads. The impact of these changes won’t just be felt today—it’ll echo throughout our children’s lives, shaping the relationships they seek and the kind of people they become. This is our legacy, and it’s a powerful one.
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