You ever scroll Facebook and feel something just slap your nervous system?
I saw a post the other day. It said: “A man doesn’t protect his woman because she’s weak, he protects her because she’s important.”
And at first, I thought — okay, that’s sweet, right?
But I felt something tighten in me. My gut clenched. And honestly… what rose up was this full-bodied “fuck you.”
“Who are you to tell me what a man is supposed to do?”
I wasn’t angry at her — I was angry at the conditioning dressed up as wisdom. And this fire inside me… I realized it wasn’t something to be ashamed of. It was creative fire. It was my truth trying to break through.
Here’s the thing: I get triggered. A lot.
Posts like this — about what men should be, how they should show up — they light me up. I’ve written long, well-argued responses. Sometimes I post them. Often, I don’t. But every time, I end up asking myself:
Is this where I want my fire to go? Or can I use this same energy and create something bigger than a comment thread?
This is my answer to that.
And ironically — right after I made that decision, life gave me a test.
A real one.
I shared my thoughts — emotionally, reactively. I was charged up. I came in hot, judgmental. I used words I now realize carried weight I didn’t fully understand. I lashed out instead of listening to my own center.
And I got piled on.
It spilled out of one post, across multiple threads, even onto my business page.
People weaponized buzzwords. Took potshots. Tried to twist my words back into the boxes they feel safe in.
But guess what?
It didn’t break me.
It showed me: the fire didn’t kill me — it clarified me. My voice didn’t burn up — it burned brighter.
So yeah — this video? It’s still my answer.
But now, it’s also a declaration.
Now, I’m not some masculinity coach. I don’t have a degree in this stuff.
But I’ve lived this tension. I’ve felt what it’s like to constantly bump up against other people’s ideas of what I’m “supposed” to be.
So I’m not here to preach. I’m just a man who’s working through the noise — and sharing what’s real for me in case it sparks something in you.
The Trap of Identity
See, this kind of message — “a man protects his woman” — it’s wrapped in gold leaf. It sounds noble. Sacred, even.
But it’s still a role. A performance.
It says: you’re a man, therefore your job is to protect, to fix, to lead — whether it’s true to you or not. It reinforces identity over authenticity. And that’s where so many men lose their power — not in a way they even notice. Because that same myth — that men are meant to be protectors — gives them a script to follow. And when they follow that script, they often get rewarded for domination, for aggression, for playing the part.
They’re told they’re ‘a good man’ — even when they’re disconnected from themselves, acting from expectation, not truth. That’s not power. That’s performance. And it robs them of real agency — the kind that comes from being deeply, honestly aligned with their heart.
Because when you live from a label — you’re not following your heart, you’re following a script.
Why the Protector Myth Feels Good... but Isn’t Real Power
Before we go further, let’s zoom out.
The protector myth is just one example of something bigger:
The enforcement of roles over realness. People are taught to perform what is acceptable, desirable, or virtuous — rather than live in truth.
In my case, that showed up through the male protector myth. But for others, it might look like:
- The good girl who’s never angry
- The healer who’s not allowed to charge money
- The queer person told their expression is “too much”
- The father who’s told not to feel grief
- The spiritual person who’s told not to show anger
These aren’t gendered. They’re culturally reinforced identities — and they operate by rewarding conformity and shaming divergence.
Now sure, “protector” has a nice ring to it. It makes men feel noble. Women feel special. But look closer…
It puts her on a pedestal — and him in service of her importance. Not as equals. It’s not a partnership. It’s a quiet imbalance.
And it robs both of their sovereignty.
Worse still — it creates a covert permission slip for bloodlust. For violence, righteousness, and domination — all wrapped in virtue.
For some men, this role gives a socially approved outlet for aggression. They're told they're being 'strong,' when they’re really acting from wounded ego.
And some women — again, not all, but enough — reward that same aggression, praising it as protection, reinforcing the cycle. It’s a system that feeds on power dynamics masked as care.
And the roles can reverse too. It's not about gender — it’s about how the script seduces us into righteousness instead of truth.
Because here’s the truth — a woman is not weak. She’s a force. Just like a man. We’re not meant to protect each other like porcelain dolls — we’re meant to create from truth, side by side.
The Real Role of a Man (and Woman)
I do want to protect — but from a place of choice, not obligation. I want my strength to be in service of something real, not a role I was handed. Protection, to me, is sacred. It’s not about power over — it’s about power with, and power for.
Because true protection isn’t performative — it’s precise. Like a scalpel, it can harm or heal depending on whose hands it’s in. In the hands of the untrained, the reactive, or the blind — it can wound, cut deep, even cause lasting damage. But in the hands of the wise — like a surgeon trained to move with clarity and care — it becomes a tool that heals, improves, and even saves lives. Protection, when wielded with presence and skill, becomes sacred. I want to live from my heart. To align with my own vision. To create my reality — and stand beside someone who’s doing the same.
When I do that, when I let go of these dusty old roles — I’m not just more myself. I’m more grounded. More present. And ironically? That’s when I’m the most “protective” — not out of duty, but out of deep presence and care.
The Fire Is Not a Problem — It’s a Signal
That post didn’t hurt me — but what came after did. It rattled me. I experienced anxiety, stress, and hypervigilance. I was knocked off center. It touched something deeper — my core wounding, my oldest fears. I felt exposed, misrepresented, misunderstood.
But it also revealed me. It revealed me.
It showed me where I still have fire — and what I’m here to speak.
The anger wasn’t “immature masculine.” It was pure clarity saying: This isn’t truth. Create something better.
So that’s what I’m doing. Right now. Turning my reaction into creation.
It's time to step into your truth
If you’ve ever felt tired of being told how to show up — like your truth had to pass a test before it was safe to share — maybe this is your moment too.
You don’t need to protect anyone to be worthy. You don’t need to follow the script.
Your only job is to follow your own heart. Shine your light. Create from your truth.
Because when you do that — when you follow your truth through the heat — you’re more powerful than any identity could ever make you.
What if this fire isn’t here to destroy you, but to wake you up?
Burn the Script
Because your fire?
It’s holy.
And when people try to shame you for it — it’s not a sign you’re wrong. It’s a sign you’re hitting something true.
You’re allowed to be the dragon. You’re allowed to burn the script.
Let’s write something real instead.
That line in the sand? This is it.
Real men. Real women. Real truth. Unscripted. Unshamed. Unstoppable.
