Men are just as sensitive, and in some ways more sensitive, than

Barbara De Angelis, a voice of intimacy and truth, once declared: “Men are just as sensitive, and in some ways more sensitive, than women are.” These words pierce through the illusions of strength and weakness that society has woven for centuries. They remind us that behind the armor of masculinity lies a heart as vulnerable as any, and sometimes even more so, for it is burdened by the command to conceal. Her wisdom unmasks the false belief that sensitivity is a feminine trait alone, revealing instead that it is a human inheritance, given to both man and woman alike.

The myth of stoic manhood has long enslaved men, binding them in silence. From childhood they are told to suppress their tears, to harden their hearts, to become unyielding stone. Yet stone may crack, and silence may wound more deeply than words. The sensitivity of men is not weakness but hidden depth—the silent suffering of fathers, the quiet hopes of sons, the unspoken tenderness that often dwells beneath their stern exterior. De Angelis reminds us that this inner life is not less real than a woman’s, but perhaps more fragile, because it is denied expression.

History itself gives us the tale of Achilles, the mightiest warrior of Greece. Though fierce in battle, he wept openly for his beloved Patroclus, his grief so raw that it shook the heavens and turned the course of war. Was this not proof that even the strongest of men carry within them a vast sea of emotion? The poet Homer did not scorn him for it, but exalted him, showing that his tears revealed the true measure of his heart. In this story we see that the sensitivity of men, when revealed, is not shameful but heroic.

So too in our modern age, many leaders and creators have shown the power of sensitivity. Abraham Lincoln, though iron-willed in his resolve to save the Union, was known for his melancholy, his tender heart, and his capacity for compassion. His greatness did not lie only in his intellect, but in his ability to feel the weight of sorrow and still transform it into strength. His example proves that a man’s sensitivity, when embraced, becomes a wellspring of wisdom and endurance.

Therefore, O children of tomorrow, heed the counsel of Barbara De Angelis. Do not mistake silence for strength, nor vulnerability for weakness. Celebrate the truth that sensitivity is the root of love, of empathy, of courage. Men, too, must be free to feel, for in acknowledging the fragility of the heart, they uncover its deepest power. For the soul that feels is the soul that truly lives.