When a Man Cries!

I won’t lie—my writing mojo had packed its bags and gone on an unapproved sabbatical. The other day, Diana texted me, clearly unimpressed, to ask why on earth I’d gone months without giving you guys something to read. “We’re starving here!” she said. I promised her I’d write something soon, but if I’m honest, I had no idea when—or even what—I’d write about.

But all credits to Wanyama for this one.

You know, the kind of conversation that derails your train of thought but somehow manages to put the wheels back on track? Yeah, that’s the one. So, here we are, all thanks to Wanyama—because if there’s one thing about him, he has a knack for stirring the pot and getting my creative side in motion.

For some reason, many believe that men don't cry. Or maybe it's that men shouldn't cry. Perhaps, as some might argue, men were simply not meant to cry. I find myself both agreeing and disagreeing with each of these notions in equal measure.

There are moments when holding it in is no longer an option. Moments when the weight is too much, and the tears come, unbidden and unstoppable. But this release comes at a cost—or at least, that’s what society would have us believe. Because with every drop of tear, it seems like an ounce of pride is lost. Or is it? Maybe that’s just the lens through which the world has trained us to see.

I remember Wairimu once calling it “a heart of stone.” When I asked her why she thought men were this way, her response was sharp and unapologetic:
“I’m a misandrist,” she says. “Men deserve to burn in the deepest pits of hell.”

I won’t lie—those words stung. Not because I didn’t understand where they might have come from, but because they painted all men with the same brush. As much as it hurt, I know there’s truth in the statement that men can be cruel, just as women can be cruel. Evil doesn’t discriminate by gender; it’s a seed we all carry. But to judge an entire group based on the actions of one—or even a few—is a disservice to humanity, no?

Take Ouma, for instance, true to his name, is a man with fangs. His actions, his behavior, his choices—they’re indefensible. But is he every man? Absolutely not. So yeah, when a man cries.

It’s a moment that can feel monumental, almost seismic. Why? Because men aren’t conditioned to show vulnerability. From a young age, boys are told to “man up,” to “be strong,” to “stop acting like a girl.” Tears, we’re taught, are the domain of the weak—of the feminine. And so, men grow up swallowing their pain, bottling their emotions, and building walls so high that even they lose sight of what lies behind them.

But let’s be honest: the cost of this emotional suppression is staggering. For every tear withheld, a wound festers. It manifests as anger, frustration, or a quiet, gnawing loneliness. It’s why so many men struggle with mental health in silence, their pain buried beneath layers of societal expectation.

Yet, when a man does cry, it’s not weakness on display—it’s humanity. It’s the acknowledgment of pain, grief, or even joy too overwhelming to be contained. Tears are cathartic. They’re a release, a reminder that men aren’t machines but beings with feelings just as complex as anyone else’s.

The irony is that while society often discourages men from crying, the few times they do, it’s unforgettable. People describe it as “raw,” “real,” even “shocking.” Why? Because it shatters the stereotype. It peels back the layers of masculinity society has wrapped so tightly around men.

Think about it. When was the last time you saw a man cry openly? Was it at a funeral? After a crushing defeat? Or maybe during a moment of unimaginable joy, like the birth of a child? These moments remind us that emotions are universal, and the heart doesn’t beat differently in a man’s chest.

But here’s the thing: when men do cry, they often do so in solitude. Away from prying eyes, in the safety of their own company. They cry in the shower, in the car, or in the dead of night when no one is around to witness their “weakness.”

And perhaps that’s the greatest tragedy of all—not that men cry, but that they feel they can’t cry freely.

The truth is, tears don’t diminish a man’s strength; they enhance it. They show he’s self-aware, that he’s willing to confront his emotions head-on rather than burying them beneath a veneer of stoicism. Crying doesn’t make a man less of a man. It makes him whole.

So let’s talk about this more. Let’s normalize it. Because when a man cries, he doesn’t lose an ounce of pride. He gains an ounce of freedom.