There’s a question being asked of women on the internet recently: If you were lost in the woods, would you rather there also be a bear in the woods, or a man? Most women, it seems, would prefer the bear. A bear, they know, is going to be a bear—an apex predator, dangerous, deadly, and best avoided. But a man is much less predictable. He could be a good partner, friend, and companion, or he could be manipulative, violent, and demeaning. The threats posed by men are more difficult to chart, and there are very good reasons to be concerned that the wrong kind of man might be lurking among the trees.
This confusion, fear, and uncertainty about what to expect from men in any given situation has shaken a foundational piece of our society and left both women and men reeling from its effects. On the one hand, men are supposed to “provide and protect”—that is their overarching purpose in their families, in their neighborhoods, in the world. But on the other hand, men have, in recent decades, been sharing or losing their roles as financial or economic providers as more and more women have entered the workforce. On top of that, their responsibility to protect has also become embattled as men have been called out as predators and perpetrators in most instances of violence.
While women are often the ones calling out the danger of manhood, men can become just as confused (and fearful) as anyone else as to what their role is in the world—a confusion that has dire consequences. We often see men as in charge, powerful, at the heads of states, companies, and organizations—playing the tunes we all must dance to. But writer Christine Emba notes that with the changing gender dynamics and financial responsibilities, “[M]illions of men lack access to that kind of power and success — and, downstream, cut loose from a stable identity as patriarchs deserving of respect, they feel demoralized and adrift.”[1]
In Emba’s evaluation lies both the disease and the cure. Men need a stable identity, which has traditionally been “patriarch.” But “patriarchy” in general, as a cultural system, is . . . problematic. And men’s connection to it has been to their detriment, despite the fact that they are swimming in the same dangerous, even toxic, waters as the rest of us. Patriarchy as a cultural power structure is competitive and isolating. It is small, and often cut off from care and connection and compassion. The men who inhabit the places with the most power are often equally cut off from connection and compassion, preferring to preserve their power than to serve a people they can hardly see. But viewing men as a whole as both patriarchy’s cause and its ills abandons them to the beast when they need a better system as much as anyone.
Often, the danger of cultural patriarchy to men doesn’t present in a violent way. It is quieter and subtler, but it permeates all aspects of life. It shows up in education levels, where, as the feminist movement has made large inroads, men have become minorities on college campuses. We see it in the “caring professions”—like teaching and nursing—where men are almost invisible. It is prominent in the rates of “deaths of despair”— like suicide and drug and alcohol use, where the numbers skew overwhelmingly male, as well as deaths of loneliness. But, of course, some of the danger to men comes out very violently, as we see in the random acts of gun violence and terrorism, almost all of which have been perpetrated by young men.
Perhaps paradoxically, being a “patriarch,” in Emba’s words, is meant to be one of the stabilizing features of masculinity, of manhood. By divorcing the two terms—the corruption of “The Patriarchy” from the inherent need for men to find a place as a patriarch, a leader and protector, within their own lives, we can begin to find a path through the woods. It is, I believe, a path that people of faith have been walking, imperfectly, for a long time. It may not be something that we ever fully achieve, but we have examples and systems that can be cleaned up and polished and put into better service to enhance all of society. The foundation of the solution is, at its heart, abandoning competition in favor of connection.
Before we get there, however, it is important to understand how The Patriarchy, in its corrupted state, creates a world that is as impossible for men and boys as it is for women. Starting from the very beginning, the world of boys is more restrictive than for girls—from the colors baby boys are allowed to wear, to the names they are given, to the toys they are supposed to play with. It is acceptable in our society for girls to transgress gender norms by being tomboys, having male-coded names, or going into traditionally male-dominated fields, but society does not generally allow the same grace or flexibility to men.
Additionally, while boys experience just as wide a range of emotions as girls, we give them fewer words to describe them. Even in infanthood, caregivers respond to boys’ emotions differently. They speak about emotions less to boys than to girls, and they allow them less, encouraging boys to stop crying when they would not expect such things from girls. The smaller range of feelings attributed to boys follows them throughout their lives. Our impatience (and even disgust) with the tears of boys leaves them locked into a claustrophobic emotional space.
It is a difficult space to navigate, and something I have seen close up as the mother of five boys, sister to seven brothers, and wife to a “creative type.” I have felt my muscles tighten and my heart race when my 6-year-old son insisted on going to school with his hair in the “whale spouts” traditionally associated with baby girls. Or when my then-teenaged brother—reserved and sensitive and gentle—teared up at the prospect of speaking in public. Or when my husband was described by a friend of his as “creative and artsy without being gay.” When playfulness and tears and creativity and self-expression are seen as deviating behaviors, that is a very hard place to live.
As they grow, boys can see that much of the world is not for them—or not for them as they are. Classroom organization usually favors those who can sit quietly and remain still. When young boys fail to meet those expectations, they are often singled out or sent away so that the rest of the class can continue without them as a disruption. Responses like this are where connections are lost or opportunities to form them are sacrificed—and as connections are missed or cut off, boys, already at an emotional disadvantage, are squeezed even more tightly.
And here we can definitely see that the boys are not alright. They struggle in school and in relationships, fall behind academically, lack connections with those who could guide them into their future—they are becoming lost in the woods. Often boys who don’t behave are isolated or humiliated. Even the adults in their lives may withdraw, having lost sight of them as youngsters in need of support and guidance and instead seeing them more as the rival of the bear in the forest: aggressive, hungry, uncaring.
On top of that, there is often a sense of competition as women put their (legitimate) suffering in front of men’s suffering, drawing attention away from, and even belittling men’s (also legitimate) suffering. Pitting the suffering of each sex against each other has kept our society from being able to seek for real connection and collaboration to ease that suffering and find the way through the woods together. And, as women have become the more highly educated sex and have entered the workforce in larger numbers, men have become disconnected from what has been their role as financial providers—leaving many men wondering, what am I here for? What does it mean to be a man if not to pay the way? And if it isn’t incredibly demoralizing to find that your purpose is as shallow as the pocket of your girlfriend’s jeans, I don’t know what is.
With traditional roles up for grabs, a lot of men and boys have little idea of what it means to be a man—what is expected of them, and what they can contribute. Many markers of manhood have fallen to the wayside, and rituals to celebrate milestones into adulthood have also disappeared. This has left many young men casting about, looking for examples, guidance, and encouragement on how to be a man.
Unfortunately, too many of them are looking in all the wrong places, finding sources that encourage the worst traits of our cultural patriarchy—like physical domination, intolerance of vulnerability or weakness, and an unwillingness to listen, compromise, or seek help. They have been told that the world is theirs, that they are in charge, and yet they feel closed in, not only by the extremely narrow social and emotional expectations, but by the lack of access to a world that is ostensibly theirs for the taking. Somehow, within this world of high walls and narrow hallways, men are supposed to provide places of safety and security.
But, as I said, all is not lost. There are places and spaces where the world does open up for boys and men. I have seen, over the past several years, young men and young fathers join our church congregation and find a home there. In church, they have opened a door to a place where they can care and they can cry, they can be vulnerable and make mistakes, they can be more open than they can be in the wider world. Even public figures and thinkers like Trevor Noah and Jonathan Haidt identify being part of a church community as a way to create a place where boys can flourish—or at the very least build connections that can help them expand beyond the narrow confines that are causing too many to feel dangerously claustrophobic.[2 & 3]
Church is, or can be, a place where a different, divine, true patriarchy—patterned after our understanding of our Heavenly Father’s love and leadership, in contrast to the corrupt cultural patriarchy of temporal society—can come closer to earthly existence. It is a patriarchy based on intense connections, on sharing our thoughts and feelings with the hopes of reaching a greater understanding. We trust our Heavenly Father to rule in wisdom and compassion, to work with us as we journey through life because He knows us as we communicate frequently and recognize His hand in our lives. As a patriarchal church, we can use this model to promote a healthy structure by maintaining strong connections with each other. Compassion must replace competition between the sexes as we work together to create a space where the masculinity is non-toxic. Our pledge to sustain our leaders (and each other) must include a willingness to accept weaknesses, communicate clearly, and maintain connection with God—the foremost patriarchal authority—so that we have the wisdom we need to constructively connect and commune with each other.
That churches are places for connections to be made, carefully tended, and grown into interlocking and interdependent relationships is especially important for all those who have been cut off from parts of the world—and themselves. Connections made with other humans, of all ages, races, genders—each of whom have something to offer, and whom we can help—but also to God and the divine, unseen, unknown parts of our lives can be the most nurturing parts of our development. Opening that door to boys of all ages also opens up a flood of light and nutrients to their overly pruned and constricted lives. It gives them the opportunity to grow towards whatever lights them up and the space to wander to places where they can find their own power, beyond what the world sees as powerful.
At church men are given caring roles, and the opportunity to serve each other. They have quorums and classes that can provide a brotherhood that many men are missing in a world that is suspicious of male friendships. They even have the opportunity to shrug off the toxic taboo of physical distancing as they circle around each other to give blessings to those in need. They are encouraged to follow Christ’s counsel when he said, “Whosoever of you will be the chiefest, shall be the servant of all.”[4]
In church, our boys are led along by rituals throughout their teenage lives as they progress in Priesthood responsibility. This culminates with the call to serve a mission, from which they return as men, having been given responsibilities and real work to do in helping those who are lost and suffering find peace and shelter, as well as the opportunity to build a strong relationship, even mentorship, with their Heavenly Father. It is, or can be, an intense experience of developing close friendships, being part of a community, finding purpose and meaning in difficult circumstances, and being humble enough to ask for help and direction—all things that have become rare in the wider world.
At church men are not treated like predators waiting to happen—they are taught right from wrong, moral standards, respect for others and reverence for things they cannot see or know or understand. They are cared for and they are given the opportunity to care as well. At church they have seen grown men cry and express the love they have felt from God and from their neighbors. At church they are taught that their mistakes are forgiven and learned from, not signs of inherent flaws or unlovability. They learn that in this community, there is room for them to be sensitive, there is a place for their sadness, fear, vulnerability, and hope—and they will be supported through all of those things. With a wider world and more space to grow, boys can grow deeper, broader, stronger and less brittle than men who perceive that their needs have been brushed off, and their expectations unfulfilled.
My own boys are pretty self-contained. They are each other’s best friends. They don’t have large social circles—despite my best efforts at encouraging them towards social competence. But at church they do have a community of people who are watching out for them, engaging with them, supporting them. My oldest son is learning to accompany the music at church. He has a role to play and people outside of our family to work with. My second son has taken it upon himself to be a big brother not only to his own little brothers, but to a gaggle of other toddling boys in our congregation. My younger sons—still in the “little boy” stage of life—are celebrated for each development and encircled at every milestone. They receive gentle corrections when they misbehave and guidance on how to make better choices.
The community we have at church provides essential nourishment to sustain boys’ deep emotional and spiritual needs. It can help us build a structure to support men’s sensitivity so that they can, in turn, provide emotional security for any community they are part of. Then, their physical touch can lend strength to others, their care and leadership can work in collaboration with others to create places where it is safe for others—for anyone—to be lost or broken or vulnerable. If we can open the doors of spirituality and community and care to boys, we can raise them to be more like the trees of the forest than like the bears—strong and stable places of refuge, support, and shelter that are reaching their own heights and depths and breadths as they are nurtured by the light.
Lizzie Heiselt is a writer, runner, baker, mother. She lives with her husband and six kids in Brooklyn.
[1] Emba, Christine. “Men are Lost. Here’s a Map Out of the Wilderness.”
[2] Noah, Trevor. What Now podcast, episode “The Case for Compassion,” April 25, 2024.
[3] Haidt, Jonathan. The Anxious Generation: How the Rewiring of Childhood is Causing an Epidemic of Mental Illness.
[4] Mark 10:44
References
Gruber, June, Borelli, Jessica L. “The Importance of Fostering Emotional Diversity in Boys” Scientific American. December 12, 2017.
Hijjawi, Gina. “Normalizing men as caregivers.” Robert Wood Johnson Foundation. April 8, 2021.
Johnson, N. L., Lipp, N. S., Corbett-Hone, M., & Langman, P. (2024). “Not so random acts of violence: Shared social–ecological features of violence against women and school shootings.” Psychology of Men & Masculinities, 25(2), 113–123.
Mahboubeh Shirzad, Gayane Yenokyan, Arik V. Marcell, Michelle R. Kaufman,
“Deaths of despair-associated mortality rates globally: a 2000–2019 sex-specific disparities analysis.” Public Health, Volume 236,2024, Pages 35-42,
Putnam, Robert D. and Richard Reeves. “Boy Crisis of 2025, Meet ‘Boy Problem’ of the 1900s.” The New York Times, Aug. 15, 2025.
Taylor, Ian. ‘How Loneliness is Killing Men.” BBC Science Focus. Nov. 11, 2022