#I want my femininity to look strange and make my grandparents uncomfortable

[v1-kisser]

The secodn I get bottom surgery and testosterone I'm going full weird androgyny sometimes maybe

[arigatouiris]

i’ll remember you // kuroo tetsuroo x reader (1/3)

Author’s Note: I absolutely adore the movie Kimi no Na Wa, and I guess this is a sort of reprised version? Don’t ask me how I got the idea, I have no clue lmao. Just started writing it one day and this is what I came up with. I gave it three parts because the whole thing is quite long. Do tell me what you think! 

Word count: 4243

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsuroo x Reader [Kimi no Na Wa re-write]

Summary: Everything had been perfectly normal until you woke up as a volleyball captain from a school you didn't go to, in a city you didn't live in. Ever since then, Kuroo Tetsuroo has been inching closer and closer into your life, wrecking almost everything that could perhaps be considered normal.

However, you never realized how vital he was to you; because you were sure you would understand upon seeing him.The struggle however, was remembering each other. Because what good would it do if you went to saw him and he didn't remember you? 

Well, the universe turns back time, of course. Until he did.

Warnings: angst, body-swapping, fantasy, reader is depressed, mentions of suicide, character death, slow burn, bittersweet end, awkward boners, mentions of porn

ｃｈ． ０１ — ｃｏｕｎｔｒｙ ｂｕｍｐｋｉｎ

You could not remember how you had fallen asleep last night.

You woke up with a faint stinging in the back of your head as if someone had hit you with a ball. You groaned, but you sounded gruffer than you'd remembered; as if you had an itch in your throat that you couldn't quite clear off. You felt as if your entire body had been stretched out longer than you were and it was strange, it wasn't as if you were injured or anything. You just cried yourself to sleep because you were turned down by the person you had a crush on for quite some time now. Letting out a breath, which you swore sounded like someone else instead, you raised yourself to come face to face with a room you had never seen before.

You could hear vehicles on the road outside, and your eyes narrowed, trying to decipher what was going on. You probably were still dreaming, that's for sure, since the first thing you'd always saw when you woke up was the window right in front of you. Now, there was no window but just a plain grey wall with a poster of a rather weird looking rat-like thing with a robot on its back, and the window instead was near the table with stacks and stacks of books lying on top of it. For a dream, this had way too much detail, but it wasn't as if you could complain. At least you weren't dreaming of Akio-kun, so that was something.

    "What in the world?"

Your eyes widened instantly before your hand went to wrap around your throat; and you let out a squeak, which again, didn't sound like you. Your heart was racing now and you searched for the bathroom in this dream and rushed inside, and your eyes came in contact with one of the most handsome boys you had ever seen. His hair could use a fix-up, but considering how you'd just woken up, you guessed this is how his bed hair looked like. His features were incredibly well-divided, his teeth were perfect, and he was freaking tall.

You were somebody else. Somebody handsome. Your eyes widened before feeling something heavy downward, a strange warmth spread all over your body when you looked down to see something poking out through the boy's underwear. Your face instantly reddened before screaming, not thinking if he lived alone or if his family could hear. You didn't care; you were not this boy, you were in a strange place.

Running back to the room, you tried to look for anything that made sense, anything that could let you know who this person was and how it was that you got here. It had to be a dream, but you had slapped yourself or him enough times to wake up but you were still here. Panic rushed through you, but perhaps it was because this boy didn't have terrible anxiety like you, you could strangely calm yourself down. You found his phone and thank goodness it didn't have a pin, because, for the life of you, you didn't have this boy's memories.

What the heck, you thought, and even your mind voice changed into this boy's voice and it unnerved you. It wasn't as if you never dreamed of something like this, but for it to actually happen in such great detail, it didn't flatter you; it was a big inconvenience. At least I don't have to face Akio-kun, you thought before opening this boy's phone, and learning that he was perhaps an anime fan.

You discovered through his text messages that his name was Kuroo. You were yet to discover his first name, but that was for later. You were in Tokyo, a city far, far away from your own, a city you had never been to but had always wanted to go and live in, and you had discovered that he was the volleyball captain for his school. You remember playing a little bit of volleyball back in middle school, but you were a second-year high school student in Fukue Gakuen, sports weren't as prominent as teasing girls and crushing on boys. You'd learned that Kuroo was best friends with someone named Yaku (or you weren't sure if the members in the group were being sarcastic, for this Yaku person did not even like being addressed in such a way), and there was someone named Kenma. You'd heard of Instagram but students from Fukue generally spent more time gossiping than on their phones, especially with limited internet access.

You guessed things in Tokyo were different since the internet was relatively quite fast here. You clicked on Instagram before thinking you were blessed. You tried as hard as you could to memorize how the volleyball team looked, how Kenma looked, and in each and every one of those pictures, Kuroo himself looked rather dashing, and you wondered if this dream would end soon or not.

    "Tetsu!" An ugly voice rammed itself into the room and you almost dropped your Kuroo's phone.

You turned around to spot a middle-aged man with a stubble, a nasty frown on his face which died down on seeing you there, standing with your phone, in the middle of the room. To whoever this person was, you were Kuroo and you decided to stay mum until he left.

    "Ah, you're awake. Damn, thought you were still asleep," The man rubbed the back of his neck, "You're going to be late for school, moron. Go get ready. And," He cringed before pointing to your pants, "Take care of that, for god's sakes."

Your face reddened before your hands rushed downward, feeling Kuroo's private parts sticking out uncharacteristically. You knew why this happened, and even if you were from the country, that didn't mean you were unaware of the morning wood. You had a friend who'd given you all the unnecessary details, especially when you didn't want it.

    "Uh, so... Who are you?" You asked, taking a risk.

    "Ah?!" The man didn't even look offended, "Your goddamn father, go wash the sleep off your face, Tetsu!"

Oh, so it was his father! You wanted to ask him how to get rid of the morning wood in other easier ways, but you guessed that Kuroo or Tetsu wasn't such a person. You took a breath before heading inside the bathroom to take a shower, hoping it'd eradicate your problem. You were accustomed to calling Tetsu's body as your own now because this was where you were for the time being, and it didn't make sense that you had to correct yourself constantly. You found his uniform sprawled on the nightstand, which made your eyebrow twitch with annoyance; whoever this Kuroo was, he sure as heck didn't care how he looked like. Despite looking like a demigod, you thought before putting on your shoes.

You didn't take a peek at his... private parts. You took a bath with his underwear, trying hard not to drool over how toned his body was. Maybe, he took the whole volleyball thing quite seriously; you'd heard of how Tokyo schools were all about championships and leagues, and the volleyball scene was quite huge in Japan. You managed to change his underwear somehow and put on new ones with your eyes closed and it was then the most important thought, the one you had been sitting on all this while, hit you.

What if he's in my body!?

Your eyes widened and your hands flew to your face, but somehow seeing Kuroo with his hands on his face made you blush harder at how out-of-character it was. You didn't even know who this Kuroo person was, but giving him feminine mannerisms made you feel weird.

He better not have... You thought before feeling uncomfortable, but there was honestly nothing you could do at this point. Perhaps, he was just as weirded out, perhaps, he was just as confused as you were and wouldn't try to do anything stupid.

You didn't know how to get to school, but it was something you knew you'd have to solve. Grabbing everything that he otherwise needed, his wallet, his bag, and a small part of you was excited that you were getting to travel in Tokyo and live a day in Tokyo as someone else. Despite how different it felt. Your heart was pounding in your chest as you walked out of the house, and on your way out, you noticed how the house looked. It was a simple-looking house but the lack of woodwork made your feet feel weird. Kuroo wore indoor slippers, and so did his father, and two others who looked like they were his grandparents. Where's his mother? You thought in Kuroo's voice before noticing his father approach you.

    "Eat," He snapped, "Don't walk out without eating."

    "Okay."

For some reason, Kuroo's father turned and looked at you with a funny expression. He was just as tall as Kuroo, which must have explained where the height came from. You cocked your eyebrow at him, wondering if you had said anything strange, but you were sure you hadn't.

    "We've got toast." The dad mumbled quietly before walking away, coming to place something on the kotatsu.

You found it rather easy to sit and get back up, but toast for breakfast? You were more of a rice and egg person in the morning, but perhaps Kuroo didn't pay attention to what he ate. After breakfast, you ignored the weird look Kuroo's father was giving you before heading out, to find Kenma waiting outside the gate, playing something on a weird horizontal device.

    "What are you doin' here?"

Kenma paused the game before turning and looking at you, cocking an eyebrow at you funnily.

    "Waiting for you, did you forget that we go to school together?"

    "Ah," You rubbed the back of Kuroo's neck, "Must'a slipped my mind—"

    "What's with the country accent?" Kenma mumbled before putting his game inside and you froze.

You completely forgot about trying to maintain an accent. You weren't sure if you could tell Kenma what had happened, but you knew that if someone were to come and tell you they had slipped out of their body and entered someone else's, you'd definitely not believe them, and not only that, you'd worry for their mental health.

    "I was watching something last night," You tried to shake off Kenma's suspicion, but every word that slipped out of your mouth sounded disastrously weird to you, "Don't mind me."

    "You're acting strange, Kuroo."

    "I said don't worry about it." You looked away.

Kenma was perhaps as tall as you were in real life. Kuroo was certainly tall, and you believed he was probably one of the tallest in his school. Well, I'm glad I don't have to find my way to school, you thought before following Kenma, following after every one of his actions. Taking out the card that he used for the train, taking a right when he took a right, taking a left when he took a left—strange, you thought before noticing the school in the distance, I think we took a long way around.

    "Right, so spill," You heard Kenma say, grasping your wrist, "Who are you?"

Eh? Your eyes widened and you instantly blushed at his question. How the hell did he get to know? What was he even suggesting?

    "What? Kenma-kun, I—"

    "You are definitely not Kuroo. I had my suspicions, but the '-kun' confirmed it."

You were sure you were panicking now. The school was just meters away and Kenma had thrown a bomb at you. Whoever this little rat was, he was sure as hell was perceptive. You tried to breathe, but the anxiety was starting to bubble in your chest. Turning to meet Kenma in the eye, you gave him a worried expression, which he just ignored.

    "Lemme explain, I ain't from around 'ere."

Kenma nodded, "I figured as much. How are you here?"

You shook your head, "I 'ave no clue. I just woke up and I'm 'ere. I'm not even from Tokyo!"

Kenma sighed, before leading you inside. He gestured you to follow and handed you something from inside his bag. It was a face mask. You took it from him before hearing him say,

    "Don't talk to anyone. Just tell them you have a cold."

You narrowed your eyes. This Kenma person seemed almost prepared for something like this. Was it something that happened a lot with Kuroo? As strange as it sounded, was it your first time and not his? You put on the mask quietly before following after him, before tugging his sleeve. Kenma paused before swatting your hand away.

    "Kuroo doesn't do that. We'll talk during lunch. Go to class 3-1."

    "Okay. I'm sorry."

He gave you a strange look but ignored you. It was funny how Kenma and Kuroo didn't share a class, but that didn't matter. The mask helped. However, Kenma hadn't told you where you sat, and the class was already occupied. Oh no, you thought before scanning your eyes all over every desk in the classroom. Where does he sit? Does he sit by the window like an anime character? Where does he—

    "Kuroo-san," A voice sounded from behind you and you froze before turning to see a teacher, "Please go to your desk—oh? Are you sick?"

You gave her a helpless smile before realizing that the mask must have covered most of your smile, so you were just closing your eyes at her. She sighed before pointing to a particular desk, and said, "Go."

You nodded before thanking her a gazillion times inside your head and sitting over there. Homeroom was quite strange; the kids were just minding their own business and some of the students weren't even paying attention to what the teacher was saying. You wondered what kind of student Kuroo was, but taking one good look at his notes made you understand just where you were sitting.

He was in a college preparatory class. This Kuroo person was a smartass.

He was good at subjects you were terrible at. Math. Chemistry. Physics. He was great at those, but he wasn't too bad at biology, English and Japanese. Both of you seemed to dislike history, but you didn't think literature was too bad, but Kuroo hated it. He refused even to take notes of the same. Your fingers loomed over his notes and despite the terrible handwriting, you could tell that he worked hard.

    "Kuroo-san," The teacher sounded, offering you a soft smile, "Please get better soon."

Your eyes were wide at the sudden show of concern and you smiled before nodding and realized that no one in class even paid attention. Some of the girls came over to you and asked you if you were alright, but just from one look at them, you realized they were trying to flirt. You didn't know what annoyed you, but suddenly, you saw yourself in one of the girls, and how you'd throw yourself at Akio-kun. Was this how it felt? You thought before clearing your throat.

    "Girls, I really can't talk right now." You tried to say in your fake city accent and heard moans of disapproval from them.

You wanted to snap at everyone personally and tell them that maybe Kuroo didn't care about them at all. Maybe, this Kuroo person was a flirt with no mind, who'd callously play with the emotions of the girls around him, only for his own benefit. And since he was from the city, he might even... he might even do some illicit activities like drugs or such. You didn't know who this Kuroo person was, but you were hoping Kenma would fill you in. If this was the life you had to live from now, a part of you worried that it would remain this way. Lunch break didn't come too early. By the time it was lunch hour, you almost felt like you indeed had a cold, and you rushed out immediately to spot Kenma standing by the door.

    "Kenma-kun!"

He winced at what you called him before saying, "Drop the -kun, damnit. Kuroo never says that!"

You felt your heart shrink from being scolded, but nodded before following him. He turned to you and gave you a look before letting out a sigh.

    "Let's go get lunch first."

    "There's a cafeteria 'ere?"

    "It's a regular school. Of course, there is. Unless the school you're from doesn't have a cafeteria—"

    "We prefer takin' bentos."

Kenma and yourself managed to buy some more bread before you realized that the city folk ate a substantial amount of it. A few minutes later, Kenma began eating while walking and you just stared at him like he was committing a crime. He shot you a look before smirking and continuing his eating. The two of you walked to the roof, which was considerably less occupied than you had imagined.

    "I really thought there'd be more people—"

    "Have you watched the movie 'Kimi no Na Wa'?"

    "What?"

Kenma let out a sigh, "This happens in the movie. I'm surprised it actually happened, and to Kuroo nonetheless, but the movie prepared me, I think."

    "So you knew somethin' like this was gonna happen?" You asked, narrowing your eyes.

He shook his head, "I didn't say that. Just... Familiar with something like this. Not sure why it happens and I seriously hope you're not from a remote country village that's going to be destroyed by a meteor."

You felt a shiver run down your spine, "I am from a remote country village, though... I—I'm from F-Fukue I-Island, i-it's the l-largest island i-in the G-Goto—"

    "Relax, your island isn't going to be destroyed." I think, he thought but decided against telling you.

    "How long is this goin' to happen for?" You asked, folding your arms in front of your chest. Standing there as Kuroo made you feel a tad bit confident, judging from how tall he was.

    "Well, not sure if you're following the movie's timeline, but it happens for a while on random days. You can insert notes in Kuroo's phone for him to see so that you two can communicate whenever this happens. Text yourself to let him know."

    "What if it isn't Kuroo that's... that's in my body?"

    "Highly unlikely."

    "But you just said that this hadn't ever happened before!"

Kenma sighed, before chewing on his bread, "You have to trust me," He said, right before taking another bite, "Besides, it's not like you can go to anyone. No one will believe you. Especially since that movie's a bit famous, they'll just think Kuroo's playing with them."

    "Does he play around often?"

Kenma nodded, "All the time."

You groaned before feeling tears prick your eyes, "What was the point of the movie? When did it stop?"

    "When the... male character and the female character met each other. And they saved the village that the female character lived in."

    "You said—"

    "I know what I said. I'm just... maybe, you have to identify what's lacking in your life and see if Kuroo has it."

You were quiet. The only recent sadness or void in your life came from being rejected brutally by Akio-kun. Your mother and you shared a strained relationship, your father had passed away long ago, your younger brother was an absolute pain. The other family you had, your aunt, lived in Tokyo, and you'd always wanted to live with her considering you were closer to your mother's sister than your mother herself. Most days you didn't even want to get off the bed. If Kuroo was in your body, you knew there was quite possibly nothing he could do that could make your life worse there.

    "What's your name?"

    "(s/n) (y/n)." You said, now looking at him.

Suddenly, Kenma's eyes widened at what you said.

    "What?" He asked, narrowing his eyes at you.

    "What do you mean what?"

That's the name of the girl who....

    "Nothing."

That's the name of the girl who died three weeks ago.

The day passed by quite normally. Kenma thankfully had informed the team that Kuroo was sick and practice had been pushed to another day. Apparently the coach scared the boy, and it wasn't something that you could relate to. You'd left a note behind on Kuroo's phone, 'This is (s/n) (y/n), I hope my life didn't scare you too much!', but secretly wondered if anything strange had happened. While heading back home, you asked Kenma if Kuroo and his dad were distant.

    "Hm, you could say that," Kenma said, clearly not wanting to talk about it, "Kuroo's mom passed when he was a kid. They moved here and became my neighbor. He was silent then. I think I preferred that."

You giggled and said, "You guys must really be close."

He shrugged, "I guess. We've always known each other."

    "Which was why you could figure out that I'm not Kuroo."

Kenma was quiet. He'd asked you to watch the movie to understand a little more about what was going on between you and Kuroo. However, there was something else that Kenma had discovered that he wasn't telling you. If you were a year younger than Kuroo, which was what you'd mentioned, then that meant you in Kuroo's body, were from the past. Because the 'you' in the present had died three weeks ago.

It was something he knew he had to discuss with Kuroo if he hadn't figured that out already.

Just as you reached Kuroo's house, you smiled at him before saying, "Here's hoping I don't see you again."

Kenma chuckled before waving at you, knowing full well that this was going to happen again. Just as you walked away, Kenma turned to a building opposite to where he lived and let out a breath. (s/n) (y/n), huh, he thought before rubbing the back of his head, This is fucked up.

Kuroo's dad wasn't at home when you reached home. Perhaps, he was out for work? You could hear soft snoring coming from upstairs, and you figured that it must be his grandparents.

Kuroo lives with his father and grandparents, Kenma had told you. He has a permanent bed head, and his father loves him but has a temper. Kuroo hates yelling, and he thinks people who yell are degenerate, although sometimes, he gets loud himself.

You walked into Kuroo's room and let out a breath. You set his bag down and removed his uniform, before ironing them and placing them neatly in a hanger and letting them hang from the door. You tried to rid him of his bed hair to no avail, and you opened one of his books before writing another note.

I'm sorry this happened, and I'm aware that if you were living as me for a day, it must be a bit hard. But, I'm glad it's over now. I'm glad you're back to being Kuroo Tetsuroo again. And I hope it never has to happen.

When night came, you decided to eat your fill. You felt bad enough for Kuroo for having to live as you. Turning on the movie Kimi no Na Wa, you tried to watch, trying to learn what this meant. Strangely, Kuroo had already seen it since his computer had a folder that said 'Favorites' and this movie was in that folder. Back in Fukue Island, you prided yourself on how you could use the computer better than your classmates, but clearly, you weren't a genius. The movie was playing, but you couldn't hear it. Shooting a text message to Kenma, you hoped the boy could answer.

Instead, he called you.

    "Kenma-kun," You could picture him wincing, "Can you please tell me what to do 'ere? I'm not able ta hear anythin'."

    "Just check if it's in mute. Kuroo watches porn in mute."

Your face reddened and your eyes widened at the sudden burst of information, which you only chose to ignore. Finding the mute button, you sighed before thanking Kenma and then another thought struck your head.

He'd watched porn right before I touched it!

The shock had the laptop falling off your lap and onto the floor, a clear crack presented on its screen.

    "What was that?" You could hear Kenma's alerted voice at the end of the phone.

    "N-Nothin'!"

Oh no! You felt tears prick your eyes at how broken the laptop was. Scrambling to the floor, you closed the laptop before rushing over to the notebook and writing another note right below the one you had already written.

I'm sorry about your laptop! I really am!

You slapped your forehead, no Kuroo's forehead, and groaned before collapsing on the bed. Your heart was beating rapidly, and there went every chance to watch a movie that could have otherwise explained to you what was going on. If Kuroo's watched it, then he probably understands this better than I do, you thought before letting out a breath. Closing your eyes, you felt sleep pull you into a lull, a sort of comfort you hadn't felt in a very long time. The sound of your mother's voice calling you for breakfast rang in your ear; you honestly missed her with every fiber of your being.

Missed her? You felt a tear leak out of your eye. She's still alive, though...

[agilenano]

Agilenano - News: How Men Can Feel Shame in Relationship

  Sexual and gender narratives are complex and fluid because human beings are complex and fluid, my personal philosophy tells me that every person has a mixture of masculine and feminine traits in their nature. The names are helpful sometimes, other times they perpetuate a sense of otherness and estrange people from the ‘opposite’ gender, I can observe that the LGBTQIA+ community actively question these narratives in some ways, and embrace them in other ways; I feel like we all need to do that.

Awareness and acceptance of different sexuality has progressed a lot in some communities, but in others, not so much. I’m fortunate that I don’t spend much time with men who shame each other anymore however that’s largely due to my own decision to not allow that in my life. No matter how many times we say this is wrong, it continues. Why does it continue? Because there’s an accepted model of masculinity that celebrates shaming other men, and women, into silence for the sake of dominance. The underlying system that keeps these narratives in place, and the ways that they are perpetuated, is explored in Mark Greene’s book The Little #metoo Book For Men. This was born from men’s inability to accept and embrace the #metoo movement.

Greene took his inspiration from an experiment in the early 1980’s called the Oakland Men’s Project in which they developed a theory called: “The Act Like A Man Box”. They worked with adolescents in public schools in the San Francisco bay area. Kivel documented their workshop process in his 1992 book: Men’s Work: How to Stop Violence That Tears Our Lives Apart.

Kivel stated:

We invited boys and men to explore the cultural rules by which they had been socialized to conform to narrow definitions of masculinity, police each others’ manhood and use their power and privileges to enforce gender-based exploitation, violence, and abuse against women, LGBTQ[I] people, and other marginalized groups.

This work was expanded by Tony Porter, founder of A CALL TO MEN, who’s work includes work in penitentiaries. The Compassion Prison Project are an amazing organization working in this area.

The theory has been termed ‘The Man Box Theory’ and it insists that men grow up in an environment that discourages feelings, and actively suppresses love, relationship, flexibility, and recognizing woman as equal. As boys we are taught that:

“Real men” don’t show our emotions.

“Real men” are heterosexual, hyper-masculine, and sexually dominant.

“Real men” never ask for help.

“Real men” always have the last word.

“Real men” are providers, never caregivers.

“Real men” are economically secure.

“Real men” are physically and emotionally tough.

“Real men” are sports focused.

Boys are also taught that:

Their desire for close relationship is “girly”.

Being “girly” is less.

As a society, we tell boys to “Man Up.” We tell boys that “Boys don’t cry.” We tell boys “Don’t be a sissy.” Then we are exacerbated and punitive with men who are violent. Greene says that what we are really communicating to boys is :

“Don’t be female, because female is less.”

Wrongly gendering the universal capacity for human connection as feminine then coaching boys to see feminine as less is how we block our sons from the trial and error process of growing their powerful relational capacities, leading to a lifetime of isolation.

At a time when boys should be expressing and constructing their identities in more diverse, grounded, and authentic ways, they are brutally conditioned to suppress authentic expression and instead cleave closely to the expression of male privelege as identity. And so, men brag about hook-up sex and ghosting women, seeking to bond via the uniformly degrading and contemptuous narratives of locker-room talk.

So what does this look like in real life?

Personally, I’ve always found the narrative around male sexuality extremely daunting and uncomfortable. It comes with a huge pressure to perform, and an insistence on power plays, I’ve suffered my fair share of performance anxiety on dance floors. Pretty much every single time I looked over at a woman that I found enticing and beautiful, I would try to seem cool; aloof, uninterested but also interested — how is that even possible?! I would try to dance in the rhythm of the music so that she would make an approach to me, although I was so shy that I often couldn’t make eye contact with her, and I couldn’t dance in the rhythm of the music because I was awkward with my own body, so she’d assume that I wasn’t that interested after all.

I also experienced developmental trauma as a child, a trauma that happened and was kept silent because of these structures of the masculine. The trauma kept me from having the self-esteem to make eye contact and be confident; the trauma kept me from questioning the narrative. I couldn’t play the aggressive man’s role in that environment, so I lost out. I can’t tell you the number of times that I have waited and waited for signs of consent from a woman, waited until I was alone at the end of the night. I was unable to see the subtlety of most of the consenting glances or affirmations of feeling. I simply didn’t know what I was looking for, and I was unable to recognize the reflection of that in myself. I remember one time that I was in a European city for a weekend break and I met a woman hiking on the slopes of a nearby mountain, we chatted and laughed, I asked her if she wanted to go for some drinks and so we went out drinking and dancing. We left the dance floor, it was early in the morning and we were on the street and I still wouldn’t make the advance. I remember her grabbing my shirt, dragging me over to her and saying in her foreign accent: “Jesus! Come here.”

If i’m honest, I’ve been frozen by the fear around consent.

I have always been a sensitive man and i’m willing to bet that there are many of you out there too, I am largely introverted. In a strange way I resonate a lot more often with the narratives that women speak of, because of my history of trauma but also because I feel very deeply. I’m intentionally focusing on men’s work now to build the observance of that narrative within me in the positive masculine, there are some wonderful initiatives out there: ManKind Project, and some amazing facebook forums like the ManTalks Community. The more I engage in this work, the more I realize men feel as deeply as women do, of course we do, it’s just that the shame exists specifically around feeling weak, and the narratives tell us that all emotions that aren’t anger are weak. A lot of my friends talk of having depression because they’re not recognized for their gentleness, their kindness, and their sensitivity.

I remember a conversation with a really close friend recently about the comparison to who I was eight years ago when we first met; the words he was using were: “quiet, gentle, kind.” It’s always been in my nature to be contemplative, gentle, and kind, I can thank my parents and grandparents for that. However, the quiet part was not so much me, it came from confusion of how I felt and the inability to recognize how I could express that alongside a burning fear of what others would think of me.

Men have to play the man dance between friends. Who’s the alpha, who gets to be dominant. The issue is that dominance is reached through ridicule and shame, and weakness is considered through not being strong enough, being vulnerable, or failing at certain things. Manly things.

There were elements of conquest that were sewn through the narrative of dating as a young man. I’m 32 now so I’d say I’m still young however when I was an adolescent the language was: “Let’s pull a bird.” Like it was our decision, taking a woman home was like a prize, she was seen as an object of that conquest, like a trophy, one that I couldn’t wait to brag about. Being turned away by a woman was shameful. Men dismissed women as “girls” or wrote of their refusal as some personal deficiency on their part: “uptight”, “Frigid”, “That time of the month”, “Lesbian”. All aggressions. That drove some pretty disgusting and disgraceful behavior for me. It always made me wince slightly to say those things, though I said them because I wanted to fit in. Whenever I didn’t say it I was isolated, I felt alone, and I was ignored as the quiet one. Some women celebrated this behavior, others found it disgusting, some saw through the face I had on to my sensitive side, I feel like the latter was the most dangerous scenario because they didn’t hold me accountable for the actions that I took. They saw the good in me and ignored the bad. Having said that, I wasn’t very good at dating because I just couldn’t be aggressive enough in that environment, I could only get so far before my gut and my heart took over and I’d end up wandering off or listening to them talk about their life in the friend zone, don’t get me wrong, i’ve shared some wonderful moments being the a trusted friend to actual friends, but these cases I was looking for more and I left feeling frustrated and confused. Now I see dating very differently and I’d never consider dating someone that I haven’t found a deep and loving connection with first, that’s where trust blossoms from.

The phrases of my youth seem so degrading now and I understand a lot more from the literature that I’ve read that calling women animal names is pervasive as a way of disempowering them. I suppose this is where the narrative of men in charge was played out, in these scenarios; ready to ride in on our horses and snatch someone from the dance floor to take them home. A narrative that has almost seeped into our modern language unnoticed because of it’s continuous existence throughout history. Looking at these narratives, writing these narratives down feels obvious, uncomfortable, wrong. I don’t wish to perpetuate them, I wish to bring light to them so we can all understand the nuance, where it is we need to change, and to challenge our own and other people’s behavior. I’m not suggesting you go and put yourself in danger with an aggressive man, but if one of my trusted friends acts in these ways — albeit subtly, I do feel like it’s our own responsibility to say: ‘hey, can we talk about how you acted back there? I find that uncomfortable.’ That’s where change builds from.

Women have been in on this narrative for a long time, it’s time for men to wake up to it. I would never suppose what women have felt about this, just from the feminist literature that I have read I know that the issue of safety in public, and in social situations has been a huge issue for women, amongst many other things like finding identity amongst a system that deems them second-class. From the things that I’ve observed in my life: women sticking together in groups, and having to rebut the advances of some cocky guy who is being inappropriate in a way that doesn’t put them in physical danger. That’s a fine line. Why should they have to live their lives with that danger to perpetuate this culture of manhood?

Being the friend of a woman in that position, I always felt the need to meet the cocky guy’s aggression, I’d always wait to see if my friend could handle the situation and what she wanted from it, but if she was uncomfortable I did feel the social need to step in and scare him away so to speak. That got me into a few tense situations. Luckily because of my height, the anger that I had from the trauma, and my sharp intellect, I’ve always been good at the man box game so i’ve never had to fight anyone. It wasn’t so lucky for me in the long term.

I lived in terror of advancing towards a female in a social situation, I always sat and stared at them hoping that they wouldn’t be put off, and that they would come over — no it didn’t work, and yes it was creepy. I remember feeling isolated, ashamed, alone, sometimes desperate for a companion. I directed that violently inward, in self-loathing. Some men direct it violently outward, in domestic abuse and violence. This is one of the biggest issues of our age. This doesn’t just show up in dating by the way, it can show up in our careers.

I ended up getting a job in a bar just to be legitimately in that environment, to give a natural conversation starter.

I’m fortunate in being a sensitive guy because I’ve always been surrounded by other sensitive guys, and initially i’d have that implicit sense of knowing with them; our sensitivity was unexpressed, it went without being said because of the shame around being emotional, not wanting to feel vulnerable, or being embarrassed by having tender feelings. The more I resolve my trauma in therapy and the more I work around expressing emotions and the shame of weakness, the more I have wonderful conversations with men. Men who feel deeply, men who express that feeling with confidence and safety. I know environments where I can share in safety now, I hope that they’ll expand into wider society. I love the hashtag #strongmenfeel because it takes courage to combat this shame and speak and I think it’s very necessary for us to build a new cultural narrative in which men own their feelings and in doing so become able to respond to life’s emotional challenges; responsibility. The leaders of our time are all so quick to blame others because our culture doesn’t allow people to fail. That’s dangerous. We learn through failing, and we learn through expression, and relation to others who might not have the same view. Once these things start to change, I think we’ll see a vastly different cultural and societal situation.

I’ve also started bringing that respect for my own feelings and expressions to conversations with women, and although I’m not dating right now, I’ve had the most satisfying conversations with female friends recently around emotions. These can only happen in trusted and safe environments, and I’ve learned that aggression, even in micro form, in relationship leads to the breakdown of trust.

We have to make the link between what men are taught is socially acceptable in our friendship groups, the roles that it is acceptable for us to play in society as a whole, and the problems we’re seeing in society in relationships. These are the selves that we will show up as in relationship to our partners, wives, mothers, sisters as well.

I remember playing the man dance in my friendship groups so often and feeling squashed and resentful, then angry. I’d cut my friends down viciously. It always received a laugh. I’ll always remember a time that I was so cutting with my insults that one of my friends left our friendship hangout early and went home. I was celebrated in that moment as clever, funny, aggressive, punitive, angry. He was written off as not strong enough to survive. I didn’t recognize or realize, but I believe he was struggling through the grief of losing his father at the time. That’s heavy. It felt good to be acknowledged, it felt wrong to inflict pain. I did later apologize. Perhaps I’m being harsh on myself, perhaps I need to forgive myself for those times, but who knows how many times it went unspoken. Now I think about it I can remember giving and receiving this state of affairs frequently; hourly, daily.

The fact is that these things are encouraged. Men stand around and rip each other apart because it’s a laugh. Because it’s expected. Men are shamed into the perpetuation of these narratives by men; our biggest shame point is weakness. We’ll shame our own sons in front of our friends just to avoid being vulnerable and express feelings, to seem strong. When really we are only serving to isolate ourselves. Feelings are considered weak unless their anger. If someone challenges that they’re dismissed, and isolated from the friendship. All the while, we repress our feelings.

Now, I celebrate a constructive challenge, in love, to something that is holding me back from loving myself, from loving other people. I can see the value in discomfort sometimes or self-evaluation.

The antidote to shame is expression and empathy. Let’s be encouraging, let’s hold space for each other to talk, let’s be active listeners and celebrate hard feelings without the need to fix them. Sometimes in life, there isn’t a fix, and trust me I know how hard it can be for a man to not ‘fix’ a problem. Some things in life are just hard, sometimes we all need someone to just listen and allow us to feel without guilt, embarrassment, or shame.

At school, we were called ‘sissy’, ‘little b@*ch’, ‘pussy’, ‘gay’ if we expressed vulnerability around emotion. That does three main things:

Represses emotions in men.

Tells men that women are somehow wrong and inferior.

Tells men that homosexuality is somehow wrong and inferior.

That’s negative association. There are many other things that these rhetorics do.

Repressing emotions is a terrible thing because it leads to the depression, anxiety, and suicidal tendencies that we are struggling within western societies today. It also leads to violent outbursts of aggression coming from the emotion, like a volcano bursting open from the pressure build-up. I’m not sure how other societies are fairing with this, but I’d love to know. I know through my trauma journey that once you get to the point where you feel your emotions are futile then it’s a slippery slope towards anxiety, depression, and if you don’t have anyone to talk to who celebrates your emotional expressions in a safe space it can lead to suicidal tendencies. Suicide is an awful, and tricky subject, it feels uncomfortable to even go there, yet some men (and I respect that women go through this too) see that as the best, and most practical, option to stop their suffering. The truth is that there is a process to recovering your self and it involves honoring your feelings. Step by step. Little by little.

We are losing too many men to this issue, and the underlying cause is the shame around weakness; failure, vulnerability.

Men are simply not taught how to feel, they’re not given the environment to be vulnerable and to explore their feelings in safety. They’re not encouraged to explore vocabulary, there mostly told to shut up, be a man, chin up, boys don’t cry, you’re a good boy, be a good boy.

I heard Mark Greene, from the Good Men Project, speak to this on the ManTalks podcast; an excellent podcast run by Connor Beaton. He said that the masculine image of the provider really started around the industrial revolution of the west in the 19th century, that’s a relatively short time in history. It was then that we became disconnected from the family unit and became the people who provided materially for the family. This is one of the reasons that men were disconnected from their feelings. Disconnected from the role as a care giver in the family. As a society, we have been recovering from this disconnect recently, but there are still issues here. The man box theory really is an excellent exploration into that subject if you want further reading on this.

This alienation from being a caregiver in a family merely because the factories were started in that time and it was the men who generally went to work in them. The celebrated model of masculinity was strength, hard work, utility, sweat, progression due to this cultural identity. Men needed to work physically, work hard; blood, sweat, no tears. That suited the former role of hunter-gatherer too.

Before the industrial revolution women were the first nurturers and, of course, they gave birth but men were also integral to the caregiving environment.

The knowledge-based society that we are approaching — or are already in depending on what your perceptions are, is challenging the concept of masculinity again. The provider is no longer as celebrated, the manual labourer who goes out to work hard, sweating, and working machinery is largely a thing of the past in the west. Mostly, men had a physical advantage with that, it was part of our identity. Strength, not weakness. That has disappeared very quickly and we need to find a new narrative that allows and celebrates men to feel empathy and vulnerability, because that’s about the most courageous and strong thing we can do now.

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Previously published on Medium.com.

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  The post How Men Can Feel Shame in Relationship appeared first on The Good Men Project.

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