I never really thought of myself as a man, mainly because the idea of being a man was never presented to me. I was never taught what a man was in fact, it wasn’t until my early fifty’s when my daughter was born that I thought of myself as a man.
I now had a purpose. I guess being a man has nothing—or very little—to do with living on your own, having a beard, being lucky with women, or any of the superficial milestones culture demands of boys in order to be considered a man.
Taking care of my daughter and teaching her how to be a good person, how to be a caring person, how to be a woman, and how to be a good mother. Taking care of my family whether financially, emotionally, or spiritually is what makes me a man.
Even though my father never talked to me about what a man is or what a man’s job or purpose was, he led by example. Going to a job he clearly disdained didn’t matter, it was for a greater good. Staying with my mother through good times and bad times, literally till death did they part.
This was a great post that made me think.