We've Forgotten Something Important About Gender
Why performing who we’re “supposed” to be keeps us from becoming who we truly are
We've forgotten what it means to be male or female, man or woman.
That might surprise you coming from me, a trans ally. But it's true.
We’ve collapsed the full spectrum of human gender expression into cartoonish extremes. Men are told they must choose: perform a hardened, stoic version of masculinity—or risk being labeled soft, broken, or not a man at all. Women face a similar false choice: constantly embody nurturing softness and emotional caretaking—or be seen as cold, aggressive, or “too much.” And yet, most of us don’t fit neatly into either side of these scripts.
That’s because these aren’t real choices. They’re inherited roles that shrink us down and pull us away from our truest selves. They don’t free us. They flatten us.
I see men struggling with this all the time. They know the old scripts don’t work, but they fear that questioning them means losing respect, connection, or both. So they keep performing strength and toughness while feeling like impostors inside. They chase respect through dominance and control while quietly craving genuine connection.
This isn’t their failure. It’s what happens when men perform to culture’s expectations rather than showing up as themselves.
I’m a man. I’ve never questioned my gender or orientation—and that’s not a judgment of those who have. I say it to locate myself. But even as someone who easily “passes” as traditionally male, I’ve never quite fit the mold of what a man is supposed to be.
Yes, I like sports. I have a grill. I know how to use it. But I prefer a walk through a park to hunting in the woods. I’ve never owned a truck or a fishing rod. I’d rather someone else fix my car. I read novels. I like movies with more dialogue than action. I’d rather listen to jazz than metal. I’d rather go to a good art museum than a monster truck rally. I talk about emotions. I’ve always preferred real conversation over verbal sparring.
All of that is part of who I am—as a man. And I know I’m far from alone.
Men are not all the same. Neither are women. We exist along a wide spectrum of expression and identity. But we’ve been conditioned to forget this—to either shrink ourselves to fit outdated expectations or overcorrect with performative bravado.
That’s why I’m writing this. Not to convince anyone to be more like me—but to say: there’s room for all of you to show up as you.
I’m interested in how men—especially those who’ve grown up performing masculinity—can start to embody it instead. With integrity. With depth. With freedom.
Because performative masculinity doesn’t make us more powerful.
It disconnects us from who we really are.
That’s what Corner Table is about—creating space to figure out who you really are when you’re not trying to be who you think you should be.
And while masculinity may be the doorway into the conversation, the deeper journey is human. It's about becoming the person only you can be.
So pull up a chair. I’ll share my story. You share yours. Let’s make space for each other. Let’s grow something honest.
Let’s remember what we were never supposed to forget.
I'm a man, a United States Marine, an artist, a poet, a missionary, a supporter of minority rights, a follower and intimate friend of the Living God, and a "wide-eyed wanderer" as per Elton John's song. In this wonderful existence, we all get to be who we are, in God's generous design.