Why Are Men Afraid to Cry?

I first got the message that men don't cry in seventh grade football. The coach put me in as a halfback to run the ball, and two upperclassmen tackles who looked freight trains smashed into me so hard I crumpled to the ground. Not only did I feel humiliated, but worse than that, I couldn't breathe, for one of the boys had hit me in the gut on the way down.

I lay there writhing and struggling for my breath to return, only to hear the coach yell, "Montgomery's just a weak sister! Leave him where he lays." The teams formed up and continued the scrimmage, leaving me in the dust (it literally was a gravel and dirt field, not grass).

When I could breathe again, I crawled to the sideline and eventually stood up, bracing back the tears that wanted to stream. I was learning the secret that most boys and men learn. To keep from being taunted as a wimp, I steeled my spirit, tightened the chest muscles around my heart, and clenched my jaw. Did this mean I was a man?

Not quite. The following year I took my girlfriend to the newly released West Side Story. When Tony—the boy I most identified with—was stabbed and left bleeding to death in a parking lot, his head in Maria's lap, the dam of restraint broke and tears streamed down my cheeks. Moments later my girlfriend took her hand out of my hand, looked at me incredulously, and whispered, "Boys don't cry!" 

That completed my initiation into manhood, and for the next five years nothing in heaven or earth could make me cry. In terms of the Self Compass, I had learned that boys and men are to inhabit the upper quadrants of Strength and Assertion, and only girls and women had access to the lower quadrants of Love and Weakness.

In other words, I learned to appear strong in all situations, and if that didn't work, to get angry. How many billions of us men, do you suppose, are stranded in our human development, because our self-expression prohibits the softer, more tender and vulnerable side of being human?

What I like about the Christian faith is that Jesus, one of the strongest and most assertive men in history, wasn't afraid to cry. When his dear friend Lazarus died,"Jesus wept." Not only did he cry, but he loved with his whole heart, whether it meant loving his Father in heaven, loving his friends and disciples, or loving those who hated him.

It is the whole Self Compass—this willingness to feel and express both Love and Assertion, both Weakness and Strength—that makes Jesus Christ a Savior and Friend who encourages your full human development, whether you are a boy or girl, a man or a woman. 

I don't know about you, but I love this Son of Man and Son of God who bravely endured the cross, and though broken, bruised, and forsaken, continues to open his heart to us, seeking only to make us as whole as he himself is!

By the way, over the years, as I developed the various aspects of my self through the Self Compass model, I not only learned that it was acceptable for men to cry, I also learned how to constructively develop strength and assertion. In fact, I am a black belt in karate.

Crying and karate...they are just two of the ways I know that Jesus is working in and through me to make me more whole. He will do the same for you if you let him.

For more about helping men, women and children develop a whole Self Compass in their personality and relationships, read:

Christian Personality Theory:

A Self Compass for Humanity