Five Truths on Not Buying into the Manosphere Bait and Switch

By Jeff Perera for The 44 North

Website: Higher Unlearning

IG: @jeffperera

Jeff Perera is a speaker, writer and facilitator who has delivered keynotes, talks and workshops for tens of thousands of people across North America and beyond about healthy versus harmful ideas of manhood, race and gender, masculinity, empathy-building, and men helping end gender-based violence.

​​​"We can show one another that things can be different—things can be better. Healthier ideas of manhood don’t have to come at the expense of women and gender-expansive people… and they don’t have to come at our expense as men and boys either."​

​​In this time we are living—where we hit the order button and immediately look at the tracking info because we want what we want and want it now—patience is scarce. 

At the same time, many of us know that what matters most takes time to develop, build, grow, and nurture. The problem is: more and more of us feel we ain’t got time for all that, especially when our social media feeds are full of quick-fix solutions, crammed into 30-second video clips. 

For many young men and boys today—desperately trying to find self-worth, self-identity, community, and connection—a quick fix seems like a no-brainer next to the long, hard road of self-work and self-care. What we must remember is that the need for answers and ways forward is more urgent and desperate for some young guys than others.  

Truth #1: We Don’t Realize We’re Prey

Manosphere Influencers know this—seeking out young men struggling to stay afloat in the hostile waters online, hustling a way out of the darkness. They hawk male supremacy as the cure for what ails you, offering to teach you the ropes, and giving you the keys and tools to not only overcome but to dominate. Virtual father figures and big brothers who are always here for you (in a video or livestream) are at-the-ready to teach you how to ‘hunt.’ The problem is that these young men and boys don’t realize that they are prey.

It’s a bait and switch. 

On the surface, these online male supremacist voices sell ‘freedom’ and suggest that people in progressive masculinity spaces and pro-feminist movements are just trying to restrain men. Skillfully playing the game of projection, they declare that social change types ‘just want to suppress and hold us back!’They will point and say: 

“You can’t even tell a joke or have fun anymore!”

“They say that being a man is bad!”

“They don’t care about you and that you’re struggling, they just want you to care about women and trans people and everyone else BUT you!”

What they offer can feel like a lifejacket to these young guys who perceive that they are drowning in today’s stormy waters. Meanwhile, at the same time, they insist progressive spaces see you struggle but ‘just want to lecture you and make you soft and weak’. 

Truth #2: Selling is not Saving

Manospshere influencers know that the moment someone is drowning is not the moment to teach them how to swim. This is the moment to ‘save them’. They offer a life jacket: community and connection with other young men also seeking dry solid ground; a quick short cut into identity, purpose and self-value. 

Here’s the truth: I’m not selling you something to buy. I’m offering something for you to buy into.  

Truth #3: Freedom is Not Restraint

Here’s another truth: The Bait and Switch they trick you with is Freedom vs. Restraint. 

The manosphere is selling you Freedom, but what you end up with—what you end up in—is complete restraint. 

When you think you’ve found identity, purpose, and community, you actually find yourself trapped in a hyper-limiting idea of who both you and then everyone else can be. The uniform of armour they offer you acts more like a straitjacket to keep you locked up within yourself.

‘A man only acts like this, likes these things, talks like this, dresses like this, feels like this, looks like this, is attracted to this…’

The beauty is: while they trap young guys in prisons made of harmful notions of what a man is or should be, the door is unlocked. 

Voices inspiring young men to reject harmful notions of manhood aren’t trying to restrain guys, we are trying to help set each other free. True Freedom. We offer you a light to find your way ashore—a lighthouse to help you find a way back to yourself.We can show one another that things can be different—things can be better. Healthier ideas of manhood don’t have to come at the expense of women and gender-expansive people… and they don’t have to come at our expense as men and boys either. 

Truth #4: In 'the Con', the First Person You Learn to Fool is Yourself

Another hard truth is that some young boys know manosphere influencers are full of it, but that’s what they admire about them: the act. They love how solid they are at the con, the grift. Most men are actors—we learn from an early age that we need to perform the version of ourselves that gains acceptance, respect, and even fear from our peers and others. 

The pursuit of identity and worth via harmful portraits of manhood is all about the con, and the first person you learn to fool is yourself. And this is an act you must keep up your whole life—even when no one is in the room. At some point, this 24/7 performance will break you down. 

The path forward as a guy isn’t easy, but you aren’t alone. People of all genders can support guys finding their way, but we need more men serving as lighthouses helping other men find their way in the dark waters of today. 

Truth #5: To find the lighthouse we must believe we can be one

We can stop trying to fool others and ourselves. We can give each other permission, and offer ourselves the self-permission, to be authentic, to surface our full selves, and embrace our expansive humanity. Being a man can be about being assertive, as well as being in service of others. Being a man is about developing a truthful strength: to be what we believe and own the impact of our behaviour and actions. A life of continuously learning and unlearning. A model of possibility for one another. A lighthouse. 

When we, as men, drop the performance and reject the con, we can create the space to embrace and value our humanity, and then also embrace and value the humanity of others. We help each other find a way out of the volatile and ruinous waters of the manosphere, and into a light we can become.

Further Reading

Readers can find a wealth of additional resources and links on the website, Higher Unlearning: A Discussion About Men and Masculinity. 

On Healthy Masculinity

by Asante Haughton & Helena Nikitopoulos, ​for The 44 North

A father with dark curly hair & a beard kissing his baby son on the cheek

"The journey toward being a good guy isn’t one of weakness, it is one of strength. To reflect on where I have failed and how I try to grow isn’t to garner sympathy or redemption points, it’s to help create more happiness for myself with the understanding that being a kind, compassionate, and emotionally healthy person will invite healthy relations from others."​

Foreword

by Helena 

While I am a woman myself, I empathize with the pressure society has instilled on our male population. I have never seen my father cry, nor have I seen a man cry without shame. What type of society is that? When women cry, we applaud them for their strength. Why can’t we do the same for our male counterparts — the men in our lives who are told to “stand up straight and smile,” even if they are silently carrying depression or the weight of everyday struggles? 

Why do we advocate for the freedom of expression except when it comes to men?

In rebuttal to this, I leave you with my thoughts on healthy masculinity in the hopes that we can open up more conversations about its impact and importance. 

Healthy masculinity is a term and practice that challenges harmful stereotypes, suggesting that men must be “tough” or conform to a narrow idea of what a man “should” be. Healthy masculinity encourages men to embrace all aspects of their true self, including their emotions of vulnerability, empathy, and authenticity. 

While society might expect a man to shut down or hide his feelings from those around him, healthy masculinity takes an opposite stance; it makes space for vulnerability, for sharing one’s fears, grief, or hopes without shame. Supporting others who demonstrate healthy masculinity, encouraging their growth, and celebrating their successes are ways that men can show up for one another in healthy, positive ways. This can look like checking in on a friend who is struggling, listening without judgement, or complimenting a friend for putting their own well being first — all of which build a supportive, non-competitive environment.

Another key element of healthy masculinity is rejecting the shame society places on men who do not conform to the ‘alpha male’ stereotype, refusing to let that narrative dictate their lives. Only by confronting these stereotypes directly and recognizing their harmfulness can one truly embody what healthy masculinity means. Emotional literacy — learning to identify, express, and regulate your feelings without fear of judgment — allows men to build stronger relationships and a deeper sense of self-awareness. Practice answering questions about yourself and your identity to hone in on who you are despite societal pressure: When do I feel most authentic in my actions and emotions? Which values truly guide my decisions? How do I express my emotions in my friendships and relationships? What strengths do I have beyond traditional ideas of masculinity?

Of course, these ideas are easier to talk about than to put into practice. Many men grow up without seeing these qualities modeled in their homes, communities, or media which creates a gap between those who are exposed to healthy masculinity and those who are unsure of what it actually looks like. As a result, I encourage our male readers to discuss this article with your friends, your peers, and your mentors. I firmly believe that the more we have these conversations, the closer we get to defining — and embodying — “healthy masculinity.” Of course, be patient as you navigate these unsteady terrains. As Asante’s story reveals, you are meant to face trials and tribulations as you discover what healthy masculinity truly means, so do not let that discourage you. 

As for us women, we should continue encouraging and supporting our male counterparts when they share something personal or vulnerable in order to create a space where men feel safe to open up without fear of judgement, ridicule, or dismissal. If feelings of discomfort or confusion come up the next time you see a man cry or express his vulnerability, ask yourself why. What beliefs or social “norms” might be shaping your reaction and do those beliefs truly align with the kind of empathy and equality you want to practice? After all, learning to be a more accepting and positive society does not just fall on the men but on us women as well—because only by coming together can we truly create a culture where everyone thrives. 

A Brain Dump

from Asante 

I look behind me and cringe. There is a trail of hearts, broken and frayed, in my wake. The truth is jarring. I’m the one responsible. I never wanted to be a bad guy. But I was. And I often worry that I still am, even though I’m trying my best.

When I’ve caused harm I’ve often rested on the excuse that I was “trying”. I didn’t know any better. That is true. Well, partially. Sometimes I did know better, but prioritized my own feelings and desires anyway. I wonder if I made those decisions because of arrogance. Or immaturity. Or a lack of compassion. I placed myself above others, particularly many of the romantic partners — women — of my past. Of course, I’m not proud of this admission. But I must admit this nonetheless. I was the nice guy — manipulative in my generosity. I was the bad guy — dismissive, withdrawn, unreliable, willfully mysterious. I feigned goodness while living out many of the tropes of toxic masculinity. Don’t be sympathetic. I’m just being honest. 

With respect to doing my best — I often told my romantic partners, who were upset with my behaviour, that I didn’t know how to be a partner. I didn’t witness any healthy romantic relationships in my household growing up. All of my friends came from single parent households. And my mother very intentionally raised me and my brothers away from the other men from my culture — Jamaica — hoping we wouldn’t become as bad as the men who had mistreated her and other women she’d known back home. Furthermore, the older men I was exposed to, regardless of ethnicity or nationality, weren’t exactly the kind of men I wanted to be like. They lied. They cheated. They conceptualized women as trophies, toys, and objects to conquer. I deigned to never be one of those guys. And yet…

The media is a powerful force. Though I had very little contact with older men from whom to learn — good or bad, probably bad — as a very lonely child, a latchkey kid if you will, I was a copious consumer of media. And the guys in the media, even the good guys — the heroes in the story — upon closer examination are generally awful. So whether in real life, or in fiction, any examples of manhood I was exposed to lacked the features that a good man should hopefully exhibit. But these heroes, the good guys, became who I thought I should be.

So, after intentionally shedding the most obvious of my bad boyfriend behaviours in my mid-20s, and after deciding to actually try my best as a partner and parent, I was still missing the mark. I wasn’t just off target, my darts weren’t even hitting the board. Each time I hurt someone I cared about, I committed to being better. I went on learning journeys consuming everything I could find on the internet about being a good guy — not the Andrew Tate, red pill, MGOTW type stuff but the actual supposed-to-be-helpful-stuff — and implemented it all as best I could. It worked marginally. Even when following all the advice I could find on the internet, I still sucked at being a good guy. The internet, as we know, provides surface level advice that lacks both depth and nuance (y’know, the stuff that truly defines personal relationships). More than that, the good guys authoring the content I consumed were likely “good” by their own estimation but not in reality. The quality of their advice wasn’t being measured by those in the best position to judge goodness, namely women. 

I had no teachers in real life who I trusted, none in media or works of fiction, and the advice section of the internet was inadequate. So where was I — am I — to learn how to be a good guy? I can’t keep putting the labour of teaching me on my partners, past and current. That’s not fair to them. 

The missives explaining toxic masculinity tell you how not to be — but often don’t explain how to be. So I’m often left feeling lost, wondering where to turn for genuinely good wisdom and guidance on how to be the guy I want to be; the guy the people I love and people of all identities deserve. My compass is spinning. Where is my healthy masculinity north star?

On my quest to become a good guy I had to go farther. I explored many roads. The most important of which were lined with sign posts that pointed toward men like Jason Wilson, a martial arts teacher whose content centers around how he helps the boys and adolescent men in his dojo identify, process, and become accountable to their emotions and how they express them. The primary message? Experiencing negative emotions like hurt, shame, sadness, frustration and anger as a man is normal. They don’t make you weak. And it is better to feel them than to direct them toward others through violence and abuse in an effort to reclaim the false sense of masculinity men are conditioned to believe comes from dominance and displays of power that hurt others. Jason Wilson’s content has been immensely helpful in recognizing and unpacking the false ideas of masculinity that I was wearing like a cloak.

Another sign post on my journey pointed me toward feminist scion, bell hooks. Particularly her work, “All About Love.” I was pointed toward this book by a friend who thought I would benefit from the wisdom within. It didn’t take long for me to get the message — love is comprised of actions that one commits to — it’s not a feeling. Love is to treat someone with kindness, respect, and gentleness. It is to consider someone’s past, present, and future condition and how one’s actions can either cause harm or bring solace across these dimensions. To be direct, to love someone is to treat them well and protect them from hurt derived from your actions. Love is action.

The final signpost on my journey that I’ll mention is feminism itself. Disclaimer: I don’t purport to be a feminist. That is not a title any man should bestow upon himself. We, however, can learn from the experiences of women to listen and very deeply critically reflect on how constructions of manhood and patriarchy have been and continue to be harmful to women in all areas of life. The damage men have done and continue to do to women is pervasive. But here’s the kicker, the things we do that are harmful to women are also harmful to us as men as well. 

Some expressions of masculinity men have come to accept as normal aspects of being a man — such as keeping one’s complex emotions to oneself, engaging in performative stoicism,  and utilizing violence to assert power — contribute to the loneliness more and more men are experiencing. It is difficult to maintain friendships and romantic relationships if one doesn’t approach others with thoughtful gestures, open communication, integrity, accountability, reliability, vulnerability, and actions that bring others closer as opposed to actions that create distance — the building blocks of intimacy.

With respect to the above, many men read these things as meaning they have to abandon any proclivities toward competition, healthy displays of physical strength, and the drive to protect their loved ones. This is not true. What we need to do is to integrate healthier modes of expression into our toolbox. In doing so, we gain the opportunity to fully express our humanity. And by creating less discord for others and within oneself, we will invite more love and happiness into our lives. 

The journey toward being a good guy isn’t one of weakness, it is one of strength. To reflect on where I have failed and how I try to grow isn’t to garner sympathy or redemption points, it’s to help create more happiness for myself with the understanding that being a kind, compassionate, and emotionally healthy person will invite healthy relations from others. Most of all, my journey toward being a good guys is to be a good example for my two sons. My greatest priority as a parent is to raise good men. In order to do that I have to become a good man myself. I don’t know if I am yet — that’s not for me to decide. But I will keep trying every day. Because to be a good man and to raise good men, is to help create a better world for us all.

How Compliments Can Cause Inner Chaos

by Hailey Hechtman, ​for The 44 North

Contributing Writer X: @HaileyHechtman IG: @hailey.hechtman

Hailey Hechtman is a social impact leader and mental health advocate. She is passionate about inspiring positive change through community collaboration, constant learning and self-reflection. Watch her interview on 'Life Outside the Box' here.

“You look great! How’d you do it?”, “You must have such discipline!” “I bet you feel amazing”, I smiled politely and dove into the recounting of half-truths. I spoke to the healthy foods I was consuming, the workout routine that left me feeling energized. It wasn’t that these things weren’t true, they were just part of a larger, unspoken story that had been ruling my life for years. When I think back at the steady stream of compliments that flowed so easily from the mouths of friends and strangers alike, I feel both a fond appreciation for their light and a deep despair for their unknowing contribution to my inner monologue. Fueling the voice of my eating disorder with each and every validation. 

By that time in my life, ever tangled with the shame of not being good enough and the conditional confidence that came with flickers of admiration, I had already experienced countless years of focus on my body. Growing up in a larger body, I recall the opposite attention. The snide comments from young boys, the side glances at what I was wearing, the discomfort that came from having to use that little side desk attached to my lecture hall chair that despite the amount of pressure I applied, could not and would not sit flat. 

In my early 20s, I started down what at the time felt like a noble journey, I wanted to feel better in my skin, I wanted to be able to move more swiftly and have more energy pulsing through my veins. Innocently, I started incorporating short walks and adding in vegetables. My body began to change in ways that I had never experienced and then the comments flipped. There was an appreciation for my efforts, there was confirmation that I was on the right path. People were cheering me on. This felt good, warm.

As time went on and as the encouragement turned to requests for knowing my secret or glorification of the beauty that I had now amassed from my so-called success, that is when the darkness started to set in. Food turned to poison, movement turned to a prerequisite following every bite. As I became smaller, I became obsessive too. Every moment recounting what I had swallowed, each day tallying up the final count to ensure my perfect score. My eyes were shut to the world around me, my attention laser focused on what I looked like and how I could keep inching towards the beauty standard that I had always envied. Even in this time of fixated ambition, I still felt as though I was failing. The stretch marks that covered my body were a reminder of who I used to be, the loose skin showcasing that once I was someone else. This body, despite its significant size change, didn’t match the before and after perfection I was anticipating. 

Throughout these years, engulfed by the eating disorder monster in my head, with a few minor exceptions of those closest to me who kindly pleaded for me to see how deep the claws were embedded into my back and encouraged me to seek help, everyone else cheered. The praise was both addictive and draining. It activated that reward center while simultaneously building up a stockpile of anxiety, shame and self-consciousness. I know to this day that the vast majority of those who I spoke to at that time meant no harm, they like many in society, have been conditioned to see someone who has gone from a larger body to a smaller one as a prize to behold, and without thinking patted the eating disorder monster on its head triumphantly. 

Throughout my recovery, I have thought about this: had I been in a smaller body from the start would the alarm bells have rung? If I had taken on the look typically associated with those struggling with ED would that have changed the narrative? Would it have led them to direct me towards help rather than towards the mirror to stare at what I had “achieved”? 

What does it mean for us to perceive success without questioning the object of our admiration? How does assuming someone’s experience impact the safety they feel speaking honestly to their experience? 

I think about that friend that we all have who is working around the clock. They are hustling, they are striving to climb the ladder, they are getting promotions or building their business or working more contracts than there are waking hours in the day. We look at them and we think “wow, they’ve made it.” Next time we see them we shower them with awe. That job, that apartment, that outfit—clearly, they are killing it. But what if they are not? What if they are past the point of burnout? What if they are waking up with a pit of worry, chronically overwhelmed with what lay ahead of them?

Then there is that classmate that is always such a good time at parties. We see them out every night, they are drinking, dancing, crawling into bed at 5am. We run into them in the hallway of our building and invite them out, nudging them with “you are always the life of any party.” Did you know that they are working through addiction, that the days of constant drinking comes from a place of hurt that they cannot seem to shake, that alcohol has become a support system to numb the feelings that they are not yet ready to unpack? 

None of them, not our friend bogged down by burnout, nor our classmate silently suffering with addiction or my 20-something self obsessed with every calorie want to disappoint you. None of them want to cut you off mid-compliment to let you know the sheer mental force of their pain. They want to shine brightly, they want to take your praise with pride and give you the thank you that you have been reaching for. They want to read you the formula for their so-called success or list of resources that have built those skills that you so look up to. 

So how do we then reframe? How do we move away from these automatic responses, these impulses to assume without having the complete story? 

We take a moment to inquire. We ask the person how they are feeling.  We mention that we have noticed this big life event, this milestone or this trait that we are curious about. We normalize these conversations. We create space for each person to come out of that shame spiral and instead speak to the realness of their struggles so that those who are still buried deep below can see and hear it. We learn instead to compliment the qualities in the people around us--- “I love how kind you are”, “I really value your sense of humor”, “I enjoy your eclectic taste in music and your first-class book recommendations.” By seeing the core of someone as what they bring to the world rather than the way that they look or the checkboxes on their Game of Life milestones list, we hush the inner monologue and activate that inner child who just wants to be loved for who they are.

Before you run out and apologize to anyone who you have ever showered with admiration before sense-checking their circumstances, first remember to give yourself grace. It is so ingrained in our humanity to praise based on what we see right in front of us. Instead of belittling those past interactions or over-analyzing the dialogue between yourself and your best friend at brunch last week, embrace that this is a new practice that you can take with you as you connect with others moving forward. It takes intentionality, it takes conscious thought to move away from a typical pattern. By adding these communication strategies, you are building not only your own conversational toolkit but modelling this way of connecting to all those you meet from here on out and that is something worth celebrating.