Having two daughters changed my perspective on a lot of things

Mark Wahlberg once confessed: “Having two daughters changed my perspective on a lot of things, and I definitely have a newfound respect for women. And I think I finally became a good and real man when I had a daughter.” These words, though spoken in the simple tongue of a modern actor, carry the depth of an ancient transformation. They tell of how love and responsibility, when bound together, can awaken a soul to truth. For to be entrusted with a daughter is to see life anew, to glimpse the world through the eyes of innocence, and to recognize the sacred strength of women who bear, nurture, and endure.

The origin of this reflection lies in the heart’s awakening that comes with fatherhood. Wahlberg, once known for youthful recklessness, speaks of a shift that only the presence of daughters could bring. For men often live with blinders upon their eyes, seeing women as distant or abstract until the moment they hold in their arms a child who is both fragile and infinite. Then the veil lifts, and what was once overlooked becomes honored. In this way, fatherhood becomes not just the raising of a child, but the raising of the father himself into a truer manhood.

The ancients knew this transformation well. Many a warrior, hardened by battle, found his heart softened by the birth of a child. Think of Marcus Aurelius, emperor and Stoic, who wrote his Meditations not only for himself but as teachings for his son. Yet imagine too the power if those lessons had been written for a daughter—for the balance of tenderness and strength would have been even greater. In every age, men have learned that to protect, cherish, and uplift the women in their lives is to walk in the fullness of their humanity.

History offers us luminous examples. Consider the story of Theodore Roosevelt, rough rider and president of the United States, who was renowned for his vigor and boldness. Yet he was utterly undone by the deaths of his wife and mother on the same day, and his writings reveal how deeply he revered the women of his life. Later, in raising his daughters, he carried that reverence forward, tempering his iron will with compassion. As Wahlberg suggests, it was through these bonds that he discovered what it meant to be not only a leader, but a true man.

The lesson is this: manhood is not measured by strength alone, but by respect. A man becomes whole when he learns to honor the women who shape his world—mothers, sisters, wives, and daughters. Without that reverence, his power is hollow; with it, his strength becomes noble. Wahlberg’s words remind us that fatherhood, and the daily presence of daughters, can awaken in men the humility and respect that should always dwell within them.

Practical actions follow. If you are a father, honor your daughters not only with protection, but with listening, with encouragement, with faith in their dreams. If you are a son, cherish your mother, for she carried the weight of your beginning. If you are a husband, lift your wife as your equal, for her strength completes your own. And if you are none of these, still respect every woman, for she bears within her the same spark of life and dignity as you.

Thus, O listeners, carry this wisdom into your days: a real man is revealed not in conquest, but in care. He is made not by wealth nor fame, but by the depth of his respect for women and the gentleness with which he raises the next generation. In honoring daughters, men rise into fathers; in honoring women, they rise into men.

And remember this truth: when a man says, as Wahlberg did, that he became a “good and real man” through his daughters, he speaks not only of himself but of the eternal path. For to cherish women is to honor life itself, and in that reverence, the soul becomes whole.