To the boy on the playground,
Whose words are still jumbled but are already forming sentences that are rough and ready to bite and bleed;
Sentences that have been passed down from man to boy whipped across ears like hand to cheek;
They sound heavy and troublesome on your tongue and you like that because all you want to be is grown-
To the boy in the bedroom on the top floor,
You don’t feel okay with the shit that’s going on in the other bedroom
But you can’t see and it’s just past midnight and you might vomit again soon
It’s all going to be okay because it always is,
Crawl to the sink-
To the man who has tried to anchor himself to his guilt for too long,
Who dragged himself over glass every day to live again,
You don’t have to fix everything yourself in this world
It’s okay to ask for help.
To the boys and men that I know.
I dream of reclaimed masculinity and I dream of it because god knows that you’ve felt so tired of this. Softness and Femininity are not the enemy or opposite in a bloody war that will only be won through crushing your soul and body into a stereotype.
Our crusade and our war is to realise that long ago you were told that your masculinity rests on certain types of victory:
Our crusade and our war is to recognise this as the lie that it is.
Be soft, be kind, be your emotions, find and trust in community.