Many societies have educated their male children on the simple

In the words of Margaret Mead, “Many societies have educated their male children on the simple device of teaching them not to be women.” we hear a voice of piercing anthropological wisdom. Mead, who traveled across oceans and into the hidden corners of culture, uncovered truths that few dared to name: that manhood, in many lands, has been defined not by its own essence, but by its rejection of the feminine. This is no light statement, but a profound unveiling of how identity is shaped—not by creation, but by opposition.

The origin of this thought lies in Mead’s lifelong study of gender, culture, and development. In Samoa, in New Guinea, in her writings that unsettled the rigid West, she observed the rituals by which boys were torn from their mothers and forced into manhood. Too often, the initiation did not celebrate who the boy was to become, but instead scorned what he must never be. “Do not be weak. Do not be tender. Do not be like the women,” the elders would whisper—or shout. Thus, masculinity became a fortress built not on its own foundations, but upon the denial of another.

History itself cries out in witness. In ancient Sparta, boys were taken from their mothers at the age of seven, thrust into the agoge, a life of discipline and cruelty. To be a man was to endure hunger without complaint, to kill without hesitation, to harden the heart until it was stone. And always beneath these lessons was the unspoken command: “Do not be soft. Do not be as the women who tend the home.” The greatness of Spartan warriors was real, yet it was forged in a crucible of denial, where tenderness was cast away as weakness.

And yet, O listener, the ancients also knew another path. Among the Egyptians, the goddess Isis was revered as the bringer of wisdom, and men were taught to honor her powers of nurturing as divine. In some tribes of the Pacific, Mead herself recorded, the lines between male and female roles were less rigid, and strength was not measured by the rejection of care, but by the embrace of balance. These examples remind us that the shaping of manhood is not fixed by destiny—it is crafted by culture. Societies choose whether to build men by fear of being “less,” or by the courage to be whole.

The deeper meaning of Mead’s cry is this: that when men are taught their worth only by contrast, both men and women are diminished. For the boy who is told never to weep grows into a man who cannot comfort. The youth who is told never to show gentleness grows into a leader who confuses cruelty with strength. And the women, despised as the thing not to be, carry the weight of being symbols of weakness rather than bearers of equal dignity. Such teachings wound not only the individual, but the very fabric of humanity.

The lesson, therefore, is solemn yet hopeful. Raise children not in the shadow of rejection, but in the light of wholeness. Teach boys that their strength is not diminished by tenderness, and girls that their dignity is not lessened by power. Let education be not a wall between genders, but a bridge of shared virtues. For compassion is not a woman’s trait—it is a human trait. Courage is not a man’s trait—it is a human trait. Only when societies embrace this truth will they rise beyond the chains of denial into the fullness of human potential.

As for practical action: parents, honor the tears of your sons as much as their victories. Leaders, speak of compassion as strength, not weakness. Teachers, tell your students that their value does not come from being “not the other,” but from being fully themselves. And in your own life, O seeker, break the chain of mockery when you hear a man called weak for tenderness, or a woman despised for strength. For every time you resist such scorn, you help carve a new path of dignity for generations to come.

Thus, let Mead’s words echo across the ages: societies must not build men upon the degradation of women, nor build women upon the silence of their gifts. Let us instead build humanity upon the fullness of truth: that every soul, whether born male or female, is called to strength, to tenderness, to wisdom, and to courage. Only then shall the world be whole.