Until my thirties, I didn’t tell my brothers or my dad that I loved them. I had never told my friends, whom I love, that I loved them. Not in person, at least. Certainly not sober. I had no problem expressing love to women: my partner, cousins, a mate I sort of liked, the neighbour’s cat. “Love you, Mum,” I’d say, waving goodbye. “And see you later, Dad.” The barrier to intimacy between brothers, male friends, fathers and sons, felt natural, a fact of life. It seemed to be a trait of modern men, one that I’d never betray.
Then, in 2023, I made the mistake of reading books on masculinity. It started with JJ Bola, Ivan Jablonka, Rebecca Solnit and RW Connell, then I got carried away with Simone de Beauvoir, Judith Butler and Audre Lorde. But one book performed a small act of sorcery: it made me question my life. The Will to Change by bell hooks felt revolutionary, full of generosity towards men, particularly tough men or men who performed toughness. It spoke of the need for us to break barriers and practise intimacy. “It is not true that men are unwilling to change,” hooks writes. “It is true that many men are afraid to change.”
