'Dear men, you are allowed to be vulnerable'
My International Men's Day started with a quote that I saw on social media, said by the notorious fictional drug kingpin Gus Fring. He says, "A man provides. And he does it even when he's not appreciated, or respected, or even loved. He simply bears up and he does it. Because he's a man."
While I love Giancarlo Esposito and his portrayal of Gus, it is a dangerous way to think. To frame masculinity around self-sacrifice without complaint is to tie a man's worth to his capacity to carry burdens alone -- that's simply wrong, and I'll tell you why with a personal anecdote.
Every morning, I wake up and care for my father, who has survived two strokes in his neural cortex. It's a humble routine. Helping him move, checking his pills, making sure he is safe -- but it carries an emotional weight that never goes away. In those quiet hours, I see the man he was: someone who gave without asking, who carried responsibility as his choice, and not a burden.
My father grew up in a modest family, became an engineer, and believed that with success came the duty to help others. He supported siblings, paid for operations, lent money. Not for recognition, but because he felt he had to. I often warned him not to be so generous, but he always retorted if he didn't help, who would?
After he became sick, I transformed. A boy turned into an adult within the span of a day. A boy who would not even change the light bulb, would now have to do taxes, tend to family matters, manage property. I will never say this is what it means to be a 'man'. A lot of women, and even children have had to bear much more.
Perhaps inherent with this idea, however stereotypical that might be, that men must provide is also the notion of silencing vulnerability, that admitting pain is failure, that tears are a sign of weakness, and that complaining is unmanly.
They frame themselves as martyrs -- the stoic provider, the silent sufferer, the man who endures no matter what. But martyrdom is not strength; it's a trap. It lets us avoid the real work of healing, the messy, uncomfortable business of asking for help.
My father's life was shaped by this trap. He gave so much that there was little left for himself. And when illness came, he did not know how to deal with it. He was always the giver, never the receiver.
On this Men's Day, I just want to say: It's okay to ask for care. Real strength lies in acknowledging one's limits, not in pretending they don't exist. On this day, let's remind ourselves: men are allowed to be vulnerable.


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