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Last week one of my boys was hurt during his soccer game. I don’t speak the language of soccer well enough to give you the play-by-play, but the end result was that the spikes of an opponent’s cleats jabbed him in the neck when they were both running. Fast.
My boy grabbed his neck, and cried. And the game stopped.
But on the sidelines, engagement grew.
“You’re tough!” one dad yells out, hands clapping together rhythmically.
He’s well meaning. He wants my boy to feel good again. To stay safe. To get back up and play.
“He’s alright,” says another, a bit skeptical.
As I observe this dad from a short distance away, I’m confident I see through the hardened shell and into the soft center of a man who, himself, was almost certainly cut off from his tears long ago.
Then the dad standing next to me, a long-time friend, says, “He needs to stop crying.” His statement isn’t uttered harshly. It slips out in passing. Uncharged. Matter of fact. I expect his next sentence to be something like “Would you please pass me that water bottle?”
I could stay quiet no longer.
“No. Actually he needs to cry,” I said. I went on to explain the power of releasing stress and fear through tears, and how letting those tears flow would actually allow my boy to get back into the game faster and to play harder. Within a few minutes, I had brought the doctor around to my side. To our boys’ side.
But nevermind the science. I’ve seen tears heal a million times over. I’m a believer.
None of us need to study psychology to notice that from a very young age many boys find themselves cut off from all emotion other than anger. When is the last time you saw a 10 year old boy cry—comfortably? Or comfort an upset friend—confidently?
The result of this stunted emotional development we inflict on our boys by demanding that they bury their vulnerability is tragic. We see it daily – the most recent spotlight on the endless stream of sexual violations by men in power. The inability to empathize plays out in politics through the crassness of our leaders. We see the side effects of loneliness, disconnection and hopelessness playing out in our communities through youth violence.
Fighting for our young boys to feel their full array of feelings – even those our cultures have labeled as feminine and weak – will not only allow our boys to grow into emotionally intelligent men who can live emotionally fulfilling lives. It will also change the face of public life.
Here are three things you can do today to help create that change:
- When your boy cries, don’t interrupt with words. Move towards him, or let others move towards him. This sends him the message that he’s okay, and that he’s got someone on his side. Your presence supports his emotional well being, and I’m pretty confident it helps speed up physical healing as well.
- Let yourself cry in front of your boy, rather than pretending that everything’s fine. Pretense is our enemy. But if you feel sad or disappointed or hurt or even angry, and the tears start welling up, let them fall. You can say to your boy, “I’m okay. I’m just feeling sad right now. I’ll feel better soon.”
- When the opportunity arises – and it will – stand up for your boy’s right to feel. There’s no one right way to do this, but others will be more open to our requests if we use a kind tone of voice, and assume they, too, want what’s best for our little guy. Use humor and personal examples, if you can. You’re not looking for a fight. You’re actively protecting your boy from emotional shutdown.
What will you do to protect your boy’s right to feel?
Have you had success? I’d love to hear your stories in the comments below.
P.S. My boy recovered quickly from his soccer collision, and is out playing another game as I write this.
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Photo credit: Getty Images