We're still trying to figure out how to let men be vulnerable

Hear these words, O seekers of wisdom, from Rege-Jean Page, who declared: “We’re still trying to figure out how to let men be vulnerable, to realize there’s strength in vulnerability, and that it’s how you fill out the circle of masculinity.” In this saying lies a challenge to old ideas and a call to restore balance to the soul of manhood. For too long, men have been told that to be strong is to be unfeeling, to harden the heart and hide the tear. Yet Page reminds us that vulnerability is not weakness—it is part of the fullness of strength, completing the circle of what it means to be a man.

The origin of his words comes from the struggle between ancient traditions of stoic masculinity and the new awakening of emotional honesty. In many societies, men were trained to be warriors, builders, protectors, pillars of stone who must never falter. Yet this one-sided vision left men broken within, unable to share pain, unable to show tenderness, unable to be whole. Page speaks from a modern stage, yet he echoes the wisdom of ages past: wholeness is not found in suppression, but in integration. To be fully masculine is not to deny emotion, but to embrace it as a partner to courage.

Consider the meaning of strength in vulnerability. To be vulnerable is to expose the soul, to admit fear, sorrow, or love without defense. This act requires greater bravery than the clash of swords. The warrior who bares his heart before his comrades shows a courage deeper than the battlefield. For when one dares to reveal weakness, he discovers that he is not alone—and in that revelation, true strength is born, a strength that binds men to one another and makes communities unbreakable.

History bears witness to this truth. Recall the tale of King David, mighty in battle, yet unashamed to weep, to sing, to lament before his people and his God. His psalms reveal a man of great power who was also profoundly vulnerable, and it is this balance that made him beloved and enduring. Or think of Abraham Lincoln, who led a nation through civil war, yet openly confessed his sorrows, his doubts, and his grief. It was not the mask of invulnerability that made him great, but his humanity, which drew people to trust him.

Emotionally, Page’s words strike the heart because they shatter illusions. The world often equates masculinity with dominance and stoicism. But he shows us that the circle is incomplete without compassion, tenderness, and honesty. Without these, manhood becomes brittle, a half-truth ready to fracture under pressure. With them, it becomes whole, resilient, and life-giving. This is not a lessening of strength, but its completion.

The lesson is clear: teach men that they need not fear their emotions. Let them know that to love openly, to grieve honestly, to admit doubt, and to seek help when weary—these are not betrayals of manhood, but fulfillments of it. Encourage fathers to cry with their sons, brothers to lean upon one another, and leaders to guide not only with power but with humility. This is how we heal the broken image of strength and replace it with wholeness.

O seeker of wisdom, take this teaching into your life. If you are a man, do not hide behind masks of hardness—learn to be open, and you will find deeper connections, greater peace, and truer power. If you love men, whether as friends, family, or companions, give them space to be vulnerable, and do not shame them for it. In doing so, you help restore the balance that has long been lost.

Finally, let the lesson endure across generations: true masculinity is a circle, not a fragment. It contains might and tenderness, courage and vulnerability, power and compassion. As Rege-Jean Page proclaimed, the greatest strength is not to deny one’s emotions, but to embrace them as part of the human soul. Only then can men, and all who walk beside them, find wholeness and peace.