My father grew up in the 1960s and he's the toughest man I know - not because he's never been broken, but because I have never once seen him stay broken, and the speed with which he gets back up has always looked to me less like strength and more like a man who was simply never taught that staying down was an option - Silicon Canals

"There's a particular sound a man makes when he's trying to hold it together in front of his kids. It's not crying. It's the absence of crying. A tightness in the throat that turns a normal sentence into something clipped and careful."

"My father grew up in the 1960s. Working-class. Factory floor by the time he was old enough to work. He got involved in the union eventually, which gave him a political education that no classroom ever could."

"A generation that wasn't asked how it felt. My dad's generation didn't have the vocabulary for emotional processing that we throw around so casually now. Nobody sat them down and asked what they were feeling."

Men from earlier generations, like the author's father, often displayed a tightness in their throat instead of crying when faced with grief. This behavior stemmed from societal expectations that discouraged emotional expression. Growing up in a working-class environment, the author's father learned to navigate life without the tools for emotional processing. His toughness was not about physical strength but rather a quiet resilience shaped by a lack of support for emotional vulnerability. The absence of discussions about feelings left many men unprepared to confront their grief openly.

Read at Silicon Canals