By Lord Fiifi Quayle
There is a quiet confusion running through modern society about what it means to raise a boy into a man. It is not loud enough to trend, not crude enough to provoke outrage, but persistent enough to show itself in classrooms, homes, and public spaces. We sense it when young men hesitate where confidence is required, retreat where resilience is needed, or mistake passivity for virtue.
This is not a story about blame. It is a story about absence.
For most of human history, boyhood was understood as raw material; energy to be shaped, not suppressed. Boys were not expected to be perfect; they were expected to be tested. Dirt, risk, competition, and even conflict were not moral failures but formative tools. Boundaries existed, yes, but they were firm, not suffocating. Guidance came with consequence, not shame.
Today, many of those rites of shaping have quietly disappeared.
In many homes, women carry the heavy responsibility of raising boys alone. This is not a moral indictment; it is a social reality. But raising boys into men requires something specific: the ability to channel aggression without humiliating it, to discipline strength without demonizing it, to say “no” without saying “you are wrong for being who you are.” Too often, what boys receive instead is caution where courage is needed, protection where challenge would teach more, and silence where standards should be spoken plainly.
Boys do not need their power cut. They need it trimmed.
A society uncomfortable with male energy often tries to make it safe by making it small. Rough play becomes misbehavior. Standing one’s ground becomes defiance. Risk-taking becomes pathology. Slowly, boys learn that the safest version of themselves is the least visible one. This does not produce peace; it produces confusion.
Some are quick to look for ideological culprits; to point fingers at feminism, modern culture, or LGBTQ movements. That path leads nowhere useful. Sexual orientation and identity debates, however charged, are not the root of the problem. The deeper issue is not that boys are being “turned into something else,” but that we have stopped being intentional about what we are turning them into.
Masculinity, left undefined, does not disappear—it distorts.
When boys are not taught how to be strong responsibly, they either become reckless or retreat entirely. When they are not taught how to face hardship, they avoid it. When no one shows them how to lose with dignity or win with restraint, they learn neither. Strength without guidance becomes chaos; guidance without strength becomes fragility.
Men are not made by humiliation or constant correction. They are made by standards; clear, demanding, humane standards. By mentors who allow failure but insist on accountability. By communities that understand that resilience is learned, not inherited.
A boy should be allowed to get muddy. He should be allowed to argue, to compete, to test himself against the world. He should also be taught restraint, responsibility, and respect, not as apologies for his nature, but as refinements of it.
The question before us is not whether society has become too soft or too strict. It is whether we have become too afraid to guide. Afraid of conflict. Afraid of judgment. Afraid of saying, plainly, that boyhood is not an end state; it is a preparation.
If we want men who can carry weight; familial, moral, civic-we must be willing to let boys feel weight early on. Not to crush them, but to teach them how to stand.
A society that forgets how to shape its boys should not be surprised when its men feel unformed.
To all sons and boys
May you grow to be men. May you grow, not to be tired of the new world ahead of you.
Do not fail us that lived before you, for you can’t fail the generations after you
Lord Fiifi Quayle 