We Still Believe

In eighth grade, our English teacher assigned our class members to choose a book to read, any book that each of us wanted. Then we were to provide a written report on it. He gave us time in class to read our books before the reports’ due date. I chose The Diary of Anne Frank. 

I’ve always loved history and learning about real-life people who did remarkable and memorable things to bring greater light and goodness to the world. The holocaust has always intrigued me. Anne Frank’s intimate story of her family and another family hiding together in the secret attic of an Amsterdam, Netherlands old office building is chilling and moving. It is especially so, as Anne was only 13 when the two families went into hiding, in 1942, for two years, before the Gestapo discovered them and sent them to concentration camps. Anne died at the Bergen-Belsen camp in the winter of 1945. Of the eight people hiding in the attic, only Anne’s father Otto survived. Anne’s accounting of the fear, isolation, and deprivation of hiding for their lives, is poignant and powerful. Reading it was a privilege. The most famous quote from her diary is one I always want to believe:

 "In spite of everything, I still believe that people are really good at heart." 

Not only will I never forget about reading her story. But I’ll also never forget getting made fun of for reading that book. One day, a fellow student, a male, asked me what book I was reading. I showed him. He laughed, derisively, questioning me, “Why are you reading a book about a girl?” 

I don’t remember my response. But I do remember how I felt - shamed, mocked, and that my choice was not an appropriate one for a young teenage boy. Yet, I did keep reading it, because I found it to be profoundly important and inspiring. But read it more privately after that, afraid of being made fun of, again. 

As a male, was I only supposed to read books by other males about sports or daring adventures or male historical figures?

My classmate’s reaction to what I chose to read made me question myself and my interests. It made me wonder if there was something wrong with me. Should I be reading instead accounts of the battles of World War II, rather than the interior emotional and mental battles of a person my age at the time, struggling to survive the consequences of war and the hateful reasons that led to the fighting? Was it weird of me to care about a family who had to endure what they endured and ultimately die because of their heritage? Being made fun of made me doubt my interests and my choices. It made me hide my concern for the countless families who were hated and persecuted for who they were. No one should ever have to hide that they care about the plight of others. 

When Someone To Tell It To was still in its younger years, we spoke to a men’s group at a local restaurant one Saturday morning. About 25 men were in the audience that day. We spoke about the work we did and why we did it. We spoke of how empathy, compassion, and nonjudgmental and attentive listening were the keys to providing deeper and better human connections. After our presentation, there was a question-and-answer period with the group. There were many good questions and seemingly appreciative responses to our answers. It was going well, we thought. 

That was until we noticed a man sitting at the back of the room, his arms tightly crossed, his countenance frowning and unfriendly raised his hand and made a statement:

“I want to know why any men would come to you to be listened to. You speak of empathy, compassion, and nonjudgmental listening. Those are feminine terms. They’re ‘pink’. Men aren’t going to be drawn to that. So, why would men come to you? I just don’t see it when you use language such as that.”

Thankfully, we already had plenty of experience and information, at that point, to respond to his contentious opinions. We replied by saying that many men were reaching out to us and being very vulnerable with us about their feelings. We understood that males, as well as females, need empathy, compassion, and safety to unburden themselves. They, like females, need to be known and heard. As men, ourselves, we felt those same needs. It was a human need, not a gender need. That’s where the name of our organization came from. As author Miles Franklin wrote:

“Somoene to tell it to is one of the fundamentals needs of human beings.”

We’re not certain if we won that guy over. But we did our best to try.

While some of the research was evolving and becoming more nuanced a dozen years ago, it was emerging that males needed what we were offering as much as females did, contrary to old gender stereotypes. The evidence has only continued to confirm that as the years have gone by. Since then, the loneliness and disconnection epidemic the world is currently experiencing, has become even more deeply understood. 

After the gathering ended, a group of other men approached us to apologize for the man who challenged us with his doubts. They disagreed with him and wanted us to know that they believed we were on to something - that men needed and would avail themselves of our services. We really appreciated their affirmation.

The fact is, though, that males have for the longest time been told that it’s not masculine to cry or to feel afraid or to admit that we are afraid or to be vulnerable with others or to need deeper and more intimate emotional relationships. That man who challenged us was merely speaking what many people have long-believed. How many men have felt they needed to live and be stoic, silent, self-contained? Much to our own detriment. We’ve all learned early on that being sensitive to other’s feelings, openly caring, or  vulnerable isn’t manly or normal or good for us to be about. Certain lessons begin to be learned before our age reaches double digits.

But, we have read about and experienced over the past 14+ years that our genders are not significantly different when it comes to the need to be known, heard, considered, respected, and, ultimately, loved. We all need the safety of being open and honest and real about our feelings, the harder ones and the joyous ones

Tomorrow evening, we are hosting a film and a conversation about that. It’s called Friends & Neighbors, a documentary by Benjamin Wagner, in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, in the WITF Media Center, at 6:00p.m.

Benjamin will be there with us as we view the film and as we follow it with a conversation about what the film is telling us. It’s about Benjamin's personal  journey, as a male, a journey of self-discovery, recovery, redemption, release, and renewal after several traumatic events early in his life deeply wounded him. 

Someone To Tell It To is a co-sponsor of the film. We believe strongly that its message needs to be taken seriously - that Benjamin’s story is also the story of everyone else, no matter our gender. It’s a story of how we all need healing and hope and unconditional love.

It is still not too late for you to attend. You can purchase your tickets here or even at the door. They’re only $15.00. We hope, if you live in our area, to see you there. 

The film and Benjamin's story will affirm Anne Frank’s belief - and ours, too - that:

"In spite of everything, I still believe that people are really good at heart." 

Photo by Mojtaba Ravanbakhsh on Unsplash