Black Men Redefine What Masculinity Means
In the age of toxic masculinity, how are Black men navigating racial stereotypes and its intersections with masculinity?
By Anissa Durham
“Man up.” “Boys don’t cry.” “Be a real man.” When you’re a Black man in America these phrases aren’t just burdened by the weight of traditional gender expectations. They’re full of centuries of racial trauma and oppression.
And the stats tell the story. Black men are dying younger and getting sicker earlier than their white peers, especially from preventable conditions like heart disease and cancer. But while some may blame toxic masculinity, experts say the real villain is hiding in plain sight: racism.
“I know many people see masculinity and manhood as the biggest barrier to Black men’s physical and mental health,” says Derek Griffith, a health equity university professor at The University of Pennsylvania School of Nursing. “But I really see the biggest harm to Black men’s mental health is not these ideals of masculinity but the chronic stressors they experience because of structural racism.”
The way Black men experience the effects of racism is more of a predictor of their health outcomes, Griffith says, than the way they think about manhood and masculinity. In general, Black folks have long had higher than average rates of chronic disease, for reasons that include disparities in income and education, less access to health insurance, and the weathering of racism-related stress.
But for Black men, it’s impossible to negate how the notions of masculinity have played a role in their perceptions and experiences of physical and mental health.
How do you define masculinity?
A new report by Pew Research Center sheds light on how Americans view men and masculinity. Researchers surveyed more than 6,000 U.S. adults about masculinity, acceptable and unacceptable behaviors, gender roles, and Americans’ rate their own masculinity or femininity.
Here’s what the data shows.
Young men between the ages of 18-29 are less likely to rate themselves as highly masculine, yet more than 50% of men 50 and older rate themselves as highly masculine. The same can be said for how women rate their femininity.
“We did this study, in large part, because of these national conversations about the status of men. Some people say masculinity is under attack and there’s a movement towards feminizing men,” says Juliana Horowitz, the senior associate director for social trends research at Pew Research Center.
If you ask men and women to define toxic masculinity, you’ll likely get different responses.
Even among men, the answers will vary depending on their race, ethnicity, or other experiences. But there’s the dictionary definition as a baseline: a set of traits, behaviors, and roles that society assigns a “for men” label. You know the stereotypes – be tough, dominate, stay in control, handle your business solo, and maybe build those pecs and biceps while you’re at it.
Add race into the equation, and things become even more challenging.
A 2022 study found that young Black males were “more likely than White male youths to feel greater pressure to be physically and emotionally strong, play sports, and to dominate or control others.”
That all contributes to men being generally less likely to use preventative health services, more likely to wait longer to seek care for symptoms, and make less use of health care services, according to a report published in the National Library of Medicine.
Although research can’t definitively say there is a causation between masculinity and poor health and mental health outcomes for Black men, there’s certainly a correlation.
‘Who makes these rules in the first place?’
Devon Horace, 32, was raised by single mother in Rochester, New York, and is one of eight siblings.
“I grew up in the hood. There was this notion of being hard, straight, and demanding respect as a masculine thing,” he says. “As I got older and I became more open minded, I learned that masculinity is not as rigid and defined as it is.”
With an absent father, he remembers turning to the men around him — uncles, men in the church, teachers, the fathers of childhood friends — to navigate what manhood and masculinity looked like, and what it meant to be a good man.
“Every man isn’t right, and every man isn’t wrong. Everyone follows their own set of principles. I would just pick and choose,” he says. “I’m still on that journey of discovering what kind of man I want to be and the principles I want to follow.”
Horace credits his second-grade teacher for making him fall in love with math his high school coach for keeping him off the streets and. He learned from the men around him how to be kind and show respect, even when the city he grew up in didn’t always offer that same grace.
Through his own research and reading the work of other Black men, Horace says he realized there are many variations of men and masculinity. Now he questions “who makes these rules in the first place.”
In most parts of the world, expressing emotions is often seen as a feminine trait. But the opposite — overly self-reliant and unemotional behavior — is linked to men being less likely to seek help for mental health issues, having higher rates of death by suicide, and more frequently being the victims of homicide, according to the American Psychological Association.
Research shows boys and men are constantly bombarded with messages to be tough, don’t cry, or do anything remotely “feminine.” But Horace says he’s hopeful men are becoming more aware of the importance of mental health and showing vulnerability. It’s more than just expressing feelings, he says, it’s about becoming better versions of men to society.
Black Male Teachers Can Shift the Narrative
Ideas around gender roles and masculinity often develop in grade school.
Aaron Massey, 36, is the managing director of leadership development at Teach for America, an organization that trains and connects new teachers with career opportunities. For Black male teachers who go through his organizations program, he says, the topic of masculinity comes up quickly.
Usually, the Black men Massey trains range in age from 22 to 28, a time he calls highly stressful for them. He helps them understand how to show up as the adult in control of the classroom without resorting to stereotypes of Black male aggression.
“An observation I have in education, after 10 plus years, is that Black boys almost immediately get into a defensive and protective mode when they see a Black man in education,” he says.
For years, entertainment, media, and cultural spaces have contributed to the narrative of the angry or dangerous Black man, Massey says. Those images have generally shaped how some people think about and interact with Black men.
Photo of Aaron Massey. Courtesy of Massey.
“I grew up in a rough area where people equated masculinity with fear and trying to show fear. That’s a false equivalency,” Massey says. “The perception of a Black man being angry has a real impact on how you believe that you can take care of yourself. I believe Black men don’t even know how to care for themselves in certain ways. It’s a stressful idea to think ‘I have to be tough’ all day.”
Now, after years of navigating Black male masculinity in educational settings, Massey has realized the importance of caring for his mental health. It’s no longer about working towards other people’s ideas of what masculinity looks like, he says, it’s about presenting his authentic self and prioritizing his health.
Is Toxic Masculinity Becoming Less Toxic?
We can’t talk about masculinity without talking about toxic masculinity, which includes violence, sexual entitlement, homophobia and emotional illiteracy.
Sexual violence against women and femicide are two of the most egregious aspects of toxic masculinity. In 2022, according to the Violence Policy Center, men killed more than 2,400 women, and roughly 9 in 10 of those victims knew their killer.
The good news is the data shows a shift in attitude toward acceptable and unacceptable behaviors that men have towards women. But Griffith, the health equity professor, pushes back on the term of toxic masculinity. The term is often used to describe men, he says, versus how men see themselves.
Three-quarters of U.S. adults think it’s unacceptable for men to join in when other men are talking about women in a sexual way. And nearly 70% think it’s unacceptable for men to have many different sexual partners.
“If you talk to Black men and ask them what ways they want to be seen, toxic masculinity does not usually factor into that,” Griffith says.
The Black men he’s centered his research on tend to aspire to form better relationships and achieve success. “I think the disconnect and flattening of the ways men experience the world, see themselves, and define the ideals of who they’re trying to be, is a barrier to how we see men.”