What Is a Man? Reclaiming Masculinity in a Modern World

There’s a question that’s been on my mind for years, a question I believe every man must answer for himself at some point in his life: What does it mean to be a man?  

In today’s world, the image of masculinity is blurred—diluted by media narratives, shifting cultural expectations, and a society that can’t decide whether it wants strong men or fears them. The result? A generation of men walking around with no compass, no guiding star, and no clarity on who they are or what they’re supposed to become. I was one of them. 

I didn’t grow up with a strong father figure, not because he wasn’t entirely there, I come from a broken home. Dad is still present in my life however due to circumstances, he never got to be the dad that would have set my life on a different trajectory, with guidance and an example. My mother, cautious and protective, kept males at a distance. In the absence of a male role model, I turned to the only place a young boy could—fiction. My heroes were not family members or community leaders, but superheroes and cartoon characters. And strangely enough, that gave me something. 

Batman became my blueprint. A man with no powers, just pain, purpose, and the discipline to turn his trauma into transformation. I however didn’t fully understand Batman that deeply until I was older, but early on I knew he was a crime fighter, dedicated to protecting the city of Gotham. He used the tools at his disposal to do the impossible. He didn’t wait to be rescued—he became the one who rescued others. Even though it was fiction, it planted something in me: the idea that masculinity wasn’t about dominance or bravado—it was about responsibility, control, and rising when no one else could. 

As I moved into my teen years, I did what most young men do: I searched for strength. Not just physical strength, but a sense of direction. I gravitated towards those who stood firm, especially in my school’s sports department. Our PE teachers weren’t just instructors—they were mentors. We stayed after school, not because we had to, but because we wanted to—testing ourselves against them, against each other. We didn’t know it then, but those challenges were shaping something deeper. Brotherhood. Discipline. Grit. 

But like many, the years after school brought confusion. I fell in with crowds that didn’t resonate with who I wanted to become. I won’t glamorize it—those were years I look back on with a level of discomfort. But they were also necessary. In knowing who I wasn’t, I started to get clearer on who I wanted to be. 

Eventually, through work and sport, I met older men—real men. Men who had built lives worth living. Men who had faced demons and still stood tall. Men who didn’t need to scream to be heard. Their presence alone was enough. It wasn’t just what they said—it was how they moved, how they acted, how they treated others, and how they carried themselves even in silence. That was masculinity. And for the first time, I had a blueprint that was real. 

Today, my definition of a man is simple—but not easy. 

A man is Superman. 
Not in the cape-and-flying sense—but in the duality. By day, he is Clark Kent. Grounded, humble, working. He shows up for his family, his responsibilities, and his purpose. But when the moment calls, when crisis hits, when something needs protecting or building—he becomes Superman. Capable of the superhuman. Not because he wants glory, but because it’s required. Because others depend on him. And that’s the point: masculinity is about capacity, not ego. 

I believe this deeply: A man will move mountains when given a purpose. 
Strip a man of purpose, and you’ll see a hollow shell. That’s what’s happened to many today. They’re numb. Distracted. Addicted. Lost. They’ve lost their call to adventure, to responsibility, to challenge—and in doing so, they’ve lost their identity. They are barely human anymore, let alone men. 

But this space—this blog—is a mission to reclaim that. 

Over the coming posts, I’ll be exploring stories, lessons, and individuals who embody the kind of masculine presence I believe we need more of. Not loud. Not arrogant. But solid, dependable, dangerous in the right ways, and deeply rooted in purpose. 

This post isn’t just a personal story—it’s a stake in the ground. 

If you’ve ever felt like you don’t know what being a man really means anymore—welcome. You’re not alone. But I promise you this: the path exists. You just have to be willing to walk it. 

Let’s begin.