Common myths boys learn about what it means to be a “real man”
And how men can unlearn these myths and have more freedom and choice over how we live our lives.
I want to tell you what I’ve learned about being a man from a men’s therapy group I lead with my friend Kyle Wehrend. But first I need to tell you about sort of therapy I specialize in.
If you Google Internal Family Systems therapy, or “IFS,” you’ll see that it’s “evidence-based.” Meaning researchers have found that it works to lower anxiety, depression, stress, and other mental health issues.
But that’s not why I’m into it. I’m into IFS because it’s helped me improve the way I work, the way I communicate with friends and my partner, and how I live my life overall. My therapist showed me IFS years ago, and it just clicked. I’ve used it to lower stress about work, feel less lonely when I’m alone, and so much more.
We’re all made of parts
The main idea is that we’re all made up of “parts.” Think of them as inner voices or subpersonalities. They hold our different—and often contradictory—feelings, beliefs, memories, and thoughts. You’ve probably said something like this before: “Part of me wants ice cream. But another part of me is worried about gaining weight.” Maybe you chose to enjoy a few scoops of Ben & Jerry’s Half Baked. Or maybe you chose to deprive yourself of that joy. Either way, you had both thoughts. Or parts of you had those thoughts.
It’s refreshing to acknowledge that we have multiple viewpoints on any given subject. There’s so much pressure to think one way and defend it eternally. Look at social media. It feels like you have to pick a side, never show that you’re wavering, and destroy your opponent. The pressure shows up in our relationships too. So often, I’ve realized mid-argument with my partner that I’m wrong and she’s right, but a part of me kept defending my stance.
Our parts are almost always running the show without us noticing. Right now, if I slow down and think about it, part of me is worried about whether you’ll judge my writing. This part doesn’t think I’m a good enough writer. I know this part well. It thinks I’ll never be good enough at anything. Scratch that—I’ll never be enough, period.
But another part thinks I’m doing a pretty damn good job so far. I know this part well too. This part is confident, often cocky. It gets me into trouble sometimes. I over-commit to things I’m not quite ready for. I fake it till I (sometimes don’t) make it. It probably has something to do with me being a college-educated, straight, cisgender, white man. I’ve been told since I was a boy that my ideas are worth putting out there. That the world is my oyster. That I should “man up” and go for it, whatever it is. That I shouldn’t show hesitation or fear.
Which brings me to the point of this post. I want to list some of the parts of being a cisgender man that I’ve found in myself and many of the men who come to me for therapy. Not all men have an overly confident part, or a part that hides emotions, or a part that objectifies women’s bodies. But many of us do, because we were taught these things as young boys, and we hear them constantly as adults.
The way IFS sees it, many of our parts exist to protect us. Sometime back in the day, I got the message that if I didn’t come off as confident, I was a sissy—or worse in the eyes of a young boy, a girl. So, in a sense, my overly confident part is trying to protect me from the emotional pain of being called a sissy—of being exiled from the “in-group.” The part acts as protective armor, always scanning for the possibility of being exiled. Sometimes it’s helpful to project confidence. But mostly it causes me stress and does just the opposite: It pushes people away from me.
I’ll explain what we do about these parts in a minute. But here are some of them:
Hiding emotions
Many men withhold, bury, compartmentalize, and even ignore emotions. The most common reason my clients who are men say they need help is their partner wants them to “talk more,” or “be more present.” These men struggle to recognize and communicate what they’re feeling to me. A part of them is getting in the way, trying to protect them from feeling some sort of pain they experienced early in life. Surely, it can be useful to contain our emotions in certain situations, like at work, depending on our job. But for many men, it’s hard to get this part of us to turn off when we’re at home, with our partner, with close friends, with our children. Which makes us less emotionally available for connection and intimacy.
Focusing on career and money
From a young age, boys are taught that it’s “natural” for men to be more ambitious and career-driven, and for women to be more caring, nurturing, and emotional. This story about gender roles isn’t accurate. Before our modern, capitalist era, everyone shared in work and home duties to different degrees in different societies around the world. But it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy for many men. As I wrote recently, when I’m vacuuming or caring for my grandmother, a voice inside of me says it’s a waste of time. This part of me wants to be either doing “real work”—something creative or making money—or resting so I can do more “real work” in the future. This part is so invested in being “productive” that I’m often exhausted from burnout and less present outside of work. It also makes me embarrassed that my partner—a woman—has a higher income than I do.
Being overly confident
Many men feel the need to appear as though we know what we’re doing or talking about, even if we don’t. This part of me shows up repeatedly with my partner. When we’re cooking. When we’re traveling in a new area. When we’re having sex. I’ve written about this part. Like other boys, I got the message when I was young that people wanted me to always be fully aware of where I was going and what I was doing, a “man with a plan.” This created a little manager in my mind, a part of me that’s afraid that if I’m not in control, no one will like me—especially women. This part is terrified of asking for help—because that would be “soft” and “weak.” Whenever I catch myself “mansplaining,” it’s this part that’s running the show. It’s also super active when my partner is telling me about a tough situation at work or with a friend. I find myself wanting to fix her problems rather than simply listening and asking how she wants me to support her.
Objectifying bodies
Movies. Instagram. Magazines. The news. Porn. Men are bombarded by images of what women (and men) are supposed to look like. So much so that it’s hard to tell whether I’m actually physically attracted to someone or it’s just because her body type has been sexualized by our culture. Many men have a part that overemphasizes physical attraction when dating. We lose sight of what really matters in a romantic relationship: emotional/spiritual connection, values, friendship, and similar life goals. This part also gets in our way (and causes harm to others) at work and during sex.
Homophobia
I wrote about this a few weeks ago. Even though the LGBTQ community has fought for and won increasing rights and representation in media (though the Republican Party seems committed to using hate against trans people to whip up their base), our culture is still awash in messages about heterosexuality being the norm and “correct way to be.” Many men (particularly, but not only straight men) fear intimacy with other men. A part of us is afraid that if we hug a guy friend, tell them we love them, or even simply reach out to check in, we might be seen as too much. From an IFS perspective, this part is trying to protect us from the pain of being rejected. So much so that we will tragically reject the loving, caring, intimacy-craving parts of ourselves that could help us create and nurture close male friendships.
What to do with these “parts”
What to do with these parts is a much deeper and more complex process than I can share in a single newsletter post. That’s why I’m a therapist!
But in short, men can start by noticing these as parts of ourselves. When I’m mansplaining, it’s not all of me who is trying to pretend I know what I’m talking about. There are other parts that are nervous, hungry, tired, whatever, etc. If I pay attention to how the part is showing up in my body and mind, I might notice that my shoulders and neck are tense. I might notice that this part is trying really hard to not show any weakness, any chink in my armor. It’s really afraid of being called out for not knowing something. It feels like a little middle-schooler has taken me over. Once I notice it as particular sensations in my body and particular thoughts in my mind, there’s a chance the part will calm down a little. There’s a little distance between myself and the part. This is a core practice of mindfulness. The more mindful awareness we can bring to an emotion or thought pattern, the less control it tends to have over us.
One of my favorite little illustrations of this is a story from the spiritual teacher David Deida. He was at a party and saw his mentor’s wife talking with an attractive man.
“Aren’t you jealous?” Deida asked his mentor.
“Yes,” his mentor responded. “But my jealousy isn’t bothering me.”
In other words, a part of him was feeling jealous. The part hadn’t taken over his body and flooded his mind with stories and assumptions about his wife and the man—because he noticed it. This awareness gave more freedom and choice to respond, rather than recklessly react. He could go talk with his wife, wait until after the party, or decide it wasn’t a big deal and move on (or maybe he was polyamorous!).
Noticing our parts like this is a big step toward letting go of our ideas about what it means to be a “real man” and having more freedom and choice over how we live our lives. In therapy, we can do the deeper work of learning about when and where our parts came from and heal the trauma that caused them to have their extreme views.
If you’re curious about IFS therapy, email me (jeremy@jeremymohler.blog) and I’ll share some videos/podcasts and/or help you find an IFS therapist in your area. I love talking about this stuff (and my parts!), so don’t hesitate to reach out!
Jere,
I'm always amazed by your honesty and willingness to share the deep dark parts (and bright) of a man's life. I learn something new every post.
Well done,
Charley