“Mio, I love you so much?” I said to my 12-year old son as we walked toward a Van Leeuwen in New York City for some dairy-free ice cream. He looked at me—half embarrassed, half grateful. His look said it all. From the very first moment that I held him in my arms, I made a promise: he would never doubt how deeply his Papa loves him.
I didn’t always have those words, especially because hearing the words “I love you” from my father, the most important man in my life, was rare. My father showed his love through action—working long hours, paying bills, giving us everything we needed. But I could count on one hand the number of times that my father said the words “I love you.” Not because he didn’t feel them, but because he never heard them from his own father.
Love, for the men in my family—and for many men across the world—is something you prove, not something you say.
We are conditioned at an early age that ‘real’ men are tough, ‘real’ men are domineering, and ‘real’ men don’t cry.
Like so many men, my father was taught that vulnerability was weakness, that asking for help was shameful, and that love must be earned through hard work and sacrifice. This form of conditioning didn’t just negatively shape his relationships. It impacted his health and wellbeing. Hypertension, chronic pain, and stress led to three back surgeries in less than two years. But the greatest pain that he carried was emotional, and he never had the words—or permission—to release it.
Too many men, like me and my father, are taught never to show any kind of emotion. We are taught to be emotionally distant, silent. We are conditioned at an early age that “real” men are tough, “real” men are domineering, and “real” men don’t cry.
The result of this way of thinking, of this way of being, was that my father unexpectedly passed away too young, too early, a casualty of a system that told him to be strong, silent, and selfless until it killed him. But, this is not just my family’s story. This is a common story in households all across this country. An unfolding crisis that’s impacting us all.
Right now, men are lonelier, more depressed, and more disconnected than ever before.
Right now, men are lonelier, more depressed, and more disconnected than ever before. Suicide rates among men are rising. So are addictions and isolation. The very definitions of what it means to “be a man”—to protect, provide, and produce—are crumbling in an age of economic uncertainty, social upheaval, changing gender roles, and AI-driven disruption. And what are we offering in their place? Too often: nothing. Just more silence.
But here’s the truth: beneath the surface, something magical is happening. Every day, I see more fathers holding their sons a little longer and saying “I love you.” I see men apologizing to their brothers, sitting in therapy rooms, and unlearning the lies we were taught. I see sacred circles forming—on street corners, in prisons, in backyards—where men are healing, grieving, forgiving, and remembering how to feel.
It’s not always loud. It doesn’t make headlines. But it’s happening. Organizations, like National Compadres Network, Black Men Build, and Equimundo, are helping men on their healing journeys. They are helping to normalize men asking for help. But we need to do more because men are not broken, men are wounded. And what we need is not judgment. We need compassion. We need sacred spaces that help men reconnect to their hearts, their culture, and each other.
Men are not broken, men are wounded. And what we need is not judgment. We need compassion.
How Men Can Heal Through Love
This is why I wrote Sacred Lessons: Teaching My Father How To Love. Not just to honor my father, but to offer a roadmap for healing—for myself, for my son, and for every man searching for a way back home, back to love.
So if you’re a man wanting to deepen your healing, here are three powerful practices I’ve found to be especially transformative:
- Heal in Community: We are taught to believe that healing is a solo act, when in fact healing is a communal effort. Whether through support groups, healing circles, or even having vulnerable conversations with trusted friends and family members, healing is accentuated in the presence of others.
- Connect with your Ancestral Practices and Traditions: We all come from rich ancestral lineages that have wellness practices that our ancestors have practiced for tens of thousands of years. From cultural rituals to plant medicine, from prayer to breathwork, these ancient tools help ground us and support us in our healing journeys.
- Heal in Nature: Our healing is absolutely magnified when we heal in nature. There is something undeniably sacred about being outdoors—whether walking, hiking, or simply taking your shoes off and having your bare feet touch the land. Mother Earth is always available for us, reminding us of our connection and divine right to heal.
At a recent event, I told my son from the stage, “I love you.” Those words caught in my throat. I almost cried. Because at that moment I gave my son what I always wanted to receive—and what every boy deserves: affirmation, softness, and love.
Like so many other men, I am still grappling with societal expectations and pressures of how to be a “real” man. And like all of us, I am still a work in progress. A man who is still trying, like my father, to learn how to give and receive love. A man who is still learning, still grieving, and still growing. But I believe—and in fact I know— that when men heal, we all heal.