Raising Strong Girls In The Era Of Weak Men

Let me tell you something I never thought I’d hear myself say out loud: I’m worried about these men.

And I don’t mean worried in the sense of “the economy is bad for them” or “men are struggling to make friends” (both true, both important, I’ve written about both). I mean something deeper, more existential, more unsettling: I am watching an era of men, particularly the loudest, most visible ones, model a version of masculinity so warped, so hollow, so unmoored from accountability that it’s starting to feel specifically dangerous.

And I say this as the father of two daughters.

After watching Netflix’s latest documentary about Diddy, brought to us with the type of production enthusiasm only 50 Cent could muster, and then compounding that with the breaking news about the Trump administration potentially committing war crimes in the Caribbean by targeting civilian boats, a single thought kept gnawing at me:

We are watching men fall apart in real time. We are witnessing a crisis of masculinity.

Manhood has always been amorphous and ethereal. More of a practice than a fact, but the moment we find ourselves in now feels different. Like we’re going off the rails. Like the accelerator is stuck and we’re succumbing to an inevitable collision.

This isn’t about celebrity news. This isn’t about politics alone. This is about what happens when culture surrenders to its worst instincts and treats cruelty as charisma, coercion as confidence, and the ability to inflict harm as a legitimate marker of power. We’re looking at what masculinity becomes when nobody ever tells certain men “no,” or worse, when every “no” becomes a challenge for them to push past instead of a boundary to honor.

When impunity and temerity are acceptable stand-ins for strength, we need to take a beat and assess the situation in totality.

And it’s not just “out there.” It’s in our communities. Our workplaces. Our schools. Our social feeds. Our living rooms. Our families.

We are living through a moment where far too many men believe that being powerful means being ungovernable. That punishment is more valuable than provision. That being feared is the same as being respected. That the bombast of one’s voice matters more than the clarity of one’s values.

If you have daughters, nieces, goddaughters… or honestly, if you simply love any woman at all… this is a terrifying moment that demands more from us.

Because the truth is painfully simple:

Weak men make the world more dangerous for women. Strong girls make the world less tolerant of weak men.

And right now? The weak men are on the offensive.

Let’s be clear on the semantics first.

When I say “weak men,” I’m not talking about emotional vulnerability or men who understand their boundaries or men who choose gentleness. That’s actually strength. That’s maturity. That’s growth. That’s the stuff you want in a partner, a father, a community leader, a teammate, or a friend.

No. Weakness, in this context, is something entirely different.

Weakness is the insistence on domination because you lack a sense of self that isn’t propped up by other people’s fear.

Weakness is an ego so fragile it needs constant applause just to stay upright.

Weakness is a masculinity so flimsy that any boundary feels like oppression.

Weakness is treating accountability like an attack instead of a mirror.

Weakness is confusing coercion for consent.

Weakness is using charisma to hide harm.

We’re watching entire institutions — political, entertainment, social — bend themselves around the comfort and ego of men like these. And when the institutions bend, the culture warps. And when the culture warps, the most dangerous behaviors metastasize and we’re conditioned to treat them as normative.

That’s how we end up with artists who built empires on fear. Politicians who treat human lives as expendable. Tech bros who think ethics are an optional app add-on. Influencers who turn cruelty into content. Bosses who treat workplaces like feudal estates. And everyday men, the ones we share our thoughts with, who believe that boundaries are somehow unmanly.

The problem isn’t just that these men exist.

The problem is that there are too many boys watching them; internalizing them, mimicking them, aspiring to be them.

That’s why raising strong girls isn’t just a parenting philosophy right now; it’s an imperative for the survival of our community.

Somewhere along the way, we traded an ethos of responsibility for a performance of bravado.

And boys are now absorbing that performance without a rational counterbalance of accountability.

They’re learning that being loud is leadership.

They’re learning that cruelty gets rewarded.

They’re learning that women’s comfort is negotiable.

They’re learning that being “above the rules” is the same thing as being successful.

Most disturbingly, they’re learning that empathy is optional.

You can spot this new breed of wounded ego masculinity everywhere, from middle school playgrounds to boardrooms. You see it in the way boys talk to girls online. You see it in the comments on any woman’s social media post. You see it in the way some men now brag about being emotionally unavailable, like it’s a résumé skill.

But here’s the thing these men never seem to grasp:

If you make the world unsafe for women, you make the world unsafe for yourself.

Because unsafe worlds produce instability. Instability produces resistance. And resistance eventually demands a reckoning.

And I’m not talking about gender roles or antiquated ideas of who belongs where. I’m talking about balance. A community can’t exist if we all can’t agree on each other’s shared worth.

Men who believe they are exempt from consequences are intrinsically unable to operate within a community because they lack the necessary respect for others that would allow them to have it reciprocated.

But, right now, they’re learning that there’s more of a reward for being wrong and “strong” than being conciliatory and community-oriented. So, we’ve got to double down on rooting out this new weakness and instilling the strength that we need from them instead.

Real strength lives in restraint, not recklessness.

Real strength lives in self-mastery, not domination.

Real strength lives in clarity, not chaos.

Real strength lives in boundaries; both honoring our own and respecting others’.

Men who cannot regulate themselves weaponize everything around them: money, fame, access, status, and even protection. That’s not masculinity; that’s emotional manipulation with a comfortable seat.

But true strength? The kind we should be modeling for the next generation?

It looks like:

·  Showing up consistently.

·  Listening intentionally.

·  Apologizing with changed behavior.

·  Protecting without controlling.

·  Loving without conditions.

·  Being dependable when nobody is watching.

·  Leaving people better than you found them.

Strength is responsibility. Strength is accountability. Strength is radical empathy.

Strength is the quiet confidence of a man who knows exactly who he is and doesn’t need to inflict his will upon anyone to prove it.

Creating those men should be our goal. But we can’t guarantee that outcome, so we owe it to the girls in our lives to teach them their own form of resilience.

We are raising girls in a world where men with power are showing us, day after day, what happens when masculinity grows without roots, guidance, ethics, or accountability. And because these men hold, in this moment, outsized influence, our daughters will encounter boys and other men shaped in their image.

Which means we need to equip our girls with the resilience, discernment, and confidence to navigate and reject those boy-men masquerading as adults.

We need girls who know:

·   A loud man is not automatically in charge.

·   A powerful man is not automatically a protector.

·   A confident man is not automatically safe.

·   A popular man is not automatically good.

·   A charismatic man is not automatically trustworthy.

But even more importantly, we need girls who understand their own worth so deeply that they will walk away from any man, no matter how charming, successful, or socially adored, who cannot honor their boundaries.

We need girls who know that their “no” isn’t the start of a negotiation.

We need girls who can spot manipulation confidently and move on accordingly.

We need girls who know that consent is power, not a burden.

We need girls who have practiced using their voice so that, when it matters most, it’s already battle-tested.

We need girls who know how to build community, because community is where safety grows.

We need girls who refuse to shrink to make mediocre men feel big.

But here’s the truth a lot of fathers, especially Black fathers, don’t like to sit with:

Girls learn their expectations of men from the men they love first.

Which means the strongest thing we can do for our daughters is fix the parts of our masculinity that were never designed for their well-being.

Your daughters see everything.

They see how you treat their mother.
They see how you talk to women.
They see how you move in crisis.
They see how you apologize.
They see how you control your anger… or don’t.
They see how you handle boundaries.
They see whether you live your values or simply post them online.
They see whether you weaponize your power or steward it.

And whatever they see, they internalize and normalize.

Fathers are the dress rehearsal for every man who comes after.

So if your masculinity is built on bravado and fear, don’t be shocked when your daughter brings home a half-formed boy who mistakes dominance for devotion.

If your ego is fragile, don’t be surprised when she accepts the company of boys who treat her like an emotional laboratory for their insecurities.

If you model avoidance instead of accountability, don’t be outraged when she encounters men who disappear when confronted with their own shortcomings.

If boundaries mean nothing to you, don’t expect her to enforce her own.

We cannot demand confident daughters if we model weak and insecure masculinity.

As bleak as this era of weak men feels, there is an opening here. An invitation, even.

Moments of crisis always create the conditions for reinvention.

If we are watching the slow collapse of flimsy, coercive masculinity right now, then we also have the opportunity to rebuild something better.

The rise of strong girls is not simply a corrective; it is a blueprint.

Strong girls become women who won’t be enamored with or manipulated by men who have never learned to regulate themselves.

Strong girls become women who build institutions different from the ones currently failing us.

Strong girls build stronger communities because they have no patience for the weak male ego’s favorite tools: intimidation, silence, and secrecy.

Strong girls grow into the kind of adults who will not confuse power with goodness.

But raising strong girls isn’t just about raising them.
It’s also about raising us.

Their strength demands our integrity.
Their independence demands our maturity.
Their brilliance demands our humility.
Their confidence demands our consistency.

Strong girls aren’t a threat to masculinity; they are a threat to weak masculinity.

And that is exactly what this moment requires.

So, let me say this plainly:

If you are a man who claims to love the women in your life, the way you move in the world matters more than it ever has.

Because what we put out into these streets is what our daughters will eventually bring home. And if you want your daughter to never end up entangled with a man who mistakes coercion for love, then show her what love actually looks like: steady, accountable, empathetic, principled, and self-aware.

That is strength.

That is masculinity worth preserving.

That is the antidote to an era of weak men.

And that, ultimately, is how we build a future where our daughters aren’t just protected, they are prepared.

Corey Richardson is originally from Newport News, Va., and currently lives in Chicago, Ill. Ad guy by trade, Dad guy in life, and grilled meat enthusiast, Corey spends his time crafting words, cheering on beleaguered Washington DC sports franchises, and yelling obscenities at himself on golf courses. As the founder of The Instigation Department, you can follow him on Substack to keep up with his work.

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