Why should men be constrained by antiquated stereotypes of

Hear the words of Andy Dunn, a man who questions the iron mask of tradition: “Why should men be constrained by antiquated stereotypes of masculinity? What does it even mean to ‘Be a Real Man’ anymore? Shouldn’t we all be celebrating a wide range of definitions of manhood?” These are not idle musings but a cry for liberation—not only for women who have long borne the weight of expectation, but for men as well, shackled by old laws of pride, silence, and hardness. For to live under the tyranny of a single definition is to live in chains, and Dunn asks that we cast them off.

The ancient world exalted the warrior as the measure of manhood. To be strong, to wield the sword, to endure pain without tears—these were the standards by which men were judged. But though such valor was honored, it became a prison. The poet who wept was called weak, the father who nurtured was mocked, the man who doubted or faltered was shamed. These stereotypes of masculinity, carved into stone, denied the fullness of the human soul. Dunn’s words echo like a hammer striking those stones, breaking them into dust.

History shows us what happens when men are forced into one mold. In the trenches of World War I, young soldiers were told to be “real men,” to silence their terror as shells rained from the sky. Yet many returned broken, haunted by what they could not speak, because the antiquated idea of masculinity had forbidden them the language of pain. Their wounds were not only of the body but of the spirit, inflicted by a world that demanded hardness when tenderness was needed most.

And yet, there are also lights in history—men who defied these narrow roles and in doing so showed new paths. Consider Mahatma Gandhi, who led a nation not by wielding weapons but by wielding peace. By the old measures, he was no “real man”—he was frail, he rejected violence, he chose nonresistance. And yet his courage was greater than armies, his vision stronger than empires. Gandhi teaches us that manhood can be found not only in battle, but in gentleness, patience, and steadfast moral strength.

Dunn’s words remind us that true strength lies in embracing the wide range of definitions of manhood. A man may be a warrior, yes, but he may also be a poet, a caregiver, a dreamer, a healer. He may laugh with children, weep at loss, nurture the weak, and still stand tall in dignity. To celebrate these many faces of manhood is to allow men to be fully human—to breathe, to love, to live without fear of scorn.

The lesson is clear: let no one confine you to a single image of what you must be. If you are a man, do not fear tenderness; if you are a woman, do not fear strength. Reject the boundaries drawn by the past and embrace the fullness of humanity. In doing so, you honor yourself and you honor others, allowing each soul to live its truth without disguise.

Therefore, O listeners, let us proclaim: the age of narrow manhood is over. Let us raise up sons who know that tears do not diminish them, and daughters who know that courage is not foreign to them. Let us celebrate not the false idol of “the real man,” but the living truth of real humanity in all its forms. For in this freedom, both men and women shall walk more lightly, no longer bound by the old chains, but uplifted by the breadth of what it means to be fully alive.