Breaking Free from the Man Box: The Power of Vulnerability in Fatherhood
Many of us grew up with a man box, that unspoken set of rules about what it means to “be a man.” Don’t cry. Be tough. Sort out your own problems. Never let anyone see you sweat.
Fun fact for today: the man box doesn’t make you a better dad. In fact, it builds invisible walls between you and your children. If you’re always the strong, silent type, how will your kids learn that it’s normal to have emotions? If you never admit your mistakes, how will they feel safe admitting theirs? If you bottle everything up, they’ll learn to do the same.
Vulnerability isn’t weakness—it’s leadership.
A great dad isn’t someone with all the answers, but someone brave enough to say, “I got that wrong.” Someone who might say, “I feel sad too, sometimes,” and who listens with an open heart, rather than leaping into “fix-it” mode.
When you show up as your full self, not just the bits that feel strong, but also the bits that feel uncertain, worn out, or even scared, you give your child permission to do the same.
That’s how you break the cycle. That’s how you raise children who don’t feel caged by the same old box. That’s how you build a relationship where your children know, no matter what, they can always come to you.
When Words Wound: A Moment That Changed My Perspective
My daughter’s first day of nursery (roughly “kindergarten,” for those of you in the US) was memorable for a host of reasons. It felt like we were both growing, but also letting go. I was excited for her to learn Welsh and embrace her heritage, but nervous too because it meant stepping away from me in a very real way.
Parents crowded around, all trying to look relaxed but occasionally betraying flickers of anxiety. Meanwhile, children happily explored the outdoor toys and slides, laughing and squealing on this milestone day.
Then I saw something I wasn’t expecting, a moment that still unsettles me. One little boy tripped and fell, bursting into tears. Before I could blink, his dad swooped in, glaring, and told his son, “Stop being gay.”
My heart fell. I asked myself: Did he believe crying might make his child gay? Had someone treated him the same way when he was young? Was he masking discomfort by lashing out at his son?
All I could think about was how that moment of shame might shape the boy’s feelings for years. Now, whenever I see my daughter, I wonder what that boy might be like at 13. Has he learnt to hide his tears completely? Can he talk to his dad when he’s hurting?
That memory reminds me how easily we perpetuate the man box from one generation to the next—and how vital it is to break the chain.
The Cost of Traditional Masculinity: What Research Tells Us
The “man box” hasn’t come from nowhere. It’s been passed down through our families for generations—fathers and grandfathers who believed they were arming us for a harsh world. But this outdated idea of masculinity comes with a real cost.
“Men are socialised to hide vulnerability from a young age,” writes Dr. Michael Reichert, author of How to Raise a Boy. “When we tell boys to ‘man up,’ we’re actually cutting them off from their emotional intelligence—the very skills they’ll need most as fathers.”
Studies repeatedly show that men who rigidly adhere to these “tough guy” norms face higher levels of depression, stress, and substance abuse. They’re less likely to seek help and more likely to suffer alone. A 2019 study from the American Psychological Association found that traditional masculinity often correlates with worse mental health outcomes and poorer relationship satisfaction.
The bleakest indicator of how men might be suffering in silence is the suicide rate. Across Canada, the United States, and the United Kingdom, men account for roughly 75% of deaths by suicide (HeadsUpGuys, n.d.):
Canada: 3 out of 4 suicides are men—about 8 men each day, totalling nearly 3,000 each year.
UK: Men die by suicide at three times the rate of women, which comes to around 12 male suicides a day in England and Wales (roughly 4,200 a year).
USA: The suicide rate among men is roughly 4 times higher than that of women, adding up to about 100 male suicides daily, over 36,000 a year.
Is “toughening up” our children worth a risk like that?
What Our Children Actually Need
If you’ve been reading my posts for a while, you’ll know that children don’t need perfect dads; they need authentic ones.
When your child scrapes a knee, it doesn’t help them to hear, “Toughen up!” They need a bit of empathy. When they fail a test, they don’t need your disapproval—they need your understanding.
Steve, a dad that I worked with from Cardiff, learned this when his 11-year-old son, an aspiring goalkeeper, had a tough match. His team lost, and his son was blaming himself for letting in a few goals. Steve’s first instinct was to coach him straight away—breaking down what went wrong and how he could improve. But as he spoke, he saw his son’s shoulders slump lower with every word. He heard criticism.
So he stopped and said, “You know what? I can see you’re really disappointed. It’s tough when things don’t go how we want. I used to feel the same when I played.” His son looked up, relief in his eyes, and they ended up having a much better conversation—not about technique, but about resilience, pressure, and self-belief. This conversation created space for the advice, with it feeling supportive as opposed to it feeling harsh.
By showing vulnerability, you’re modelling emotional intelligence. You’re teaching kids that feelings are useful signals, not weaknesses. You’re showing them how to process emotions in a healthy way rather than pushing them down until they explode.
Small Steps Toward Authentic Fatherhood
Escaping the man box doesn’t happen overnight. It’s a slow, steady process, one small step at a time:
Use “I” statements: Instead of “You made me angry,” try “I felt hurt when...” You own your feelings and avoid passing blame.
Build your emotional vocabulary: Many men can name only a handful of emotions, often anger and maybe frustration. Challenge yourself to identify three different emotions you felt today. Share them with your children at dinner. Check out The Feelings Wheel.
Apologise sincerely: “I’m sorry I shouted. I was overwhelmed, but that’s my responsibility, not yours.”
Show appropriate tears: Whether you’re moved by a touching film or grappling with a personal loss, let your children see that tears are human.
Share everyday struggles: “Work was tough today. I made a mistake on a project and had to start over. It felt frustrating, but I learnt from it.”
Ask for help: Yes, even from your children! “I’m not sure how to fix this. Can we figure it out together?”
Express more than anger: Let your kids see you in moments of joy, excitement, disappointment, fear—everything that makes us human.
Hold regular “feelings check-ins”: Once a week, sit down as a family and ask, “How’s everyone feeling?”
Validate your child’s feelings: “That sounds really tough. I’d feel upset, too.”
Finding Support on the Journey
Shifting long-standing habits is rarely simple, but support is out there:
Fatherhood support groups: Is there a dad group near you? Google the hell out of it and find some like-minded dads in your local community.
Conversations with friends or mentors: Seek out people who model the emotional intelligence you’d like to cultivate.
Professional guidance: A counsellor or therapist can help you unlearn old habits and develop healthier ones.
Books and podcasts: Delve into resources such as How to Raise a Boy by Dr Michael Reichert or The Dad Edge Podcast for deeper insights.
Online communities: Dads across the globe share experiences on forums and social networks, offering camaraderie and concrete tips. Including Be a Super Dad on Substack
Seeking help doesn’t betray a lack of strength; in fact, it’s a powerful demonstration of resilience and responsibility.
The Ripple Effect: Beyond Your Family
When you choose to embrace vulnerability as a father, the impact goes beyond just you and your children. You become part of a larger cultural shift—one that might just help free future generations from the same restricting standards.
Sons learn they don’t have to carry the weight of the world alone. Daughters learn what healthy masculinity looks like in a friend or partner. And you open up a sense of freedom in yourself: the relief of no longer living behind a mask.
As Brené Brown reminds us, “Vulnerability is the birthplace of innovation, creativity, and change.” By modelling emotional courage, you’re not merely raising healthier, more empathetic children—you’re contributing to a world where the next generation of boys won’t inherit the chains of the man box.
“The most powerful gift a father can give his children isn’t strength without weakness, but strength through vulnerability. That’s the legacy that transforms generations.”
Across the Ages: Vulnerability at Every Stage
For toddlers (1–3 years)
Kneel down to their eye level.
Narrate your own emotions simply: “Daddy feels sad now.”
Apologise if you snap; let them see you handle frustration calmly.
Hugs are magic—ask for them when you need one, too.
For young children (4–8 years)
Talk about your small, everyday struggles: “I was tired this morning and got grumpy.”
Read stories that show men expressing emotion.
Watch films together and discuss how characters feel.
Model healthy problem-solving when you’re annoyed or stressed.
For tweens (9–12 years)
Share stories of your own childhood: what made you anxious, how you handled disappointment.
Let them see how you cope with everyday setbacks, from a flat tyre to a work challenge.
Schedule consistent one-on-one chats—they might open up when they know they have your undivided attention.
For teens (13–18 years)
Be honest about your concerns, without making every worry sound like a crisis.
Explain your values and why you hold them—let them see your thought process.
It’s okay to say, “I don’t know. Let’s figure it out together.”
Respect their privacy but stay emotionally available.
Your Next Step Forward
The strongest thing you can do as a father isn’t to hide your humanity—it’s to embrace it, trusting that your authenticity is a gift rather than a liability.
Give this a try: in one conversation this week, share something that’s been on your mind. It doesn’t need to be catastrophic—just honest. Notice how it feels to open up, and how the people around you respond.
Stepping outside the man box is a journey of countless, everyday acts of courage. Each vulnerable conversation, tear shed, or heartfelt apology helps build a legacy of emotional well-being that can echo across generations.
What small step will you take today?
Coaching and Continuing the Conversation
If you’re eager to go deeper, I’d love to support you. I offer one-on-one coaching that focuses on helping dads:
Develop healthier emotional habits
Build stronger connections with their children
Break generational cycles tied to the “man box”
Foster a caring, stable home where everyone feels safe
If you’re curious, feel free to get in touch and book a discovery call. I’d be honoured to work with you on creating the fatherhood legacy you truly desire.
If This Post Resonated With You…
Comment: I’d love to read about your experiences or any “lightbulb moments.”
Share: Know any fathers who might benefit from thinking about vulnerability? Pass this along.
Subscribe: If you’d like more insights on parenthood, emotional well-being, and breaking family patterns, subscribe to this Substack. I post new reflections every Wednesday.
(HeadsUpGuys reference: https://headsupguys.org/suicide-in-men/suicide-stats-men/)
A Question to Deepen Reflection
Before you move on, consider this: How might embracing vulnerability not only improve your bond with your children but also reshape your relationships with other adults in your life—your partner, friends, or even colleagues? Sometimes, the biggest shifts occur in unexpected places.
This was a great read and some really helpful ideas and suggestions, mate. I like to think there is a positive shift happening with the role of a lot of dads - being much more actively involved with kids' daily lives is on the rise and I haven't heard anywhere near as much berating from the touchline at our sons' sports classes as I used to when I was playing as a kid (not to say it doesn't happen, but I do think things are improving!)