He was the only adult at the Little League game not wearing a mask. 

All the parents spread out in the shadows of the maple trees, grateful for shade on a sweltering day, uncomfortably but dutifully wearing their masks. All the uniformed 7-year-olds paying less than half attention kicked up stone dust and picked grass and sometimes remembered to chase the ball when it came their way. If not for their masks it would’ve looked like any other youth baseball game in a Rockwellian Americana summer evening moment.

Except for that one guy. Right in the middle of the crowd. Six feet away from people, but the exposed face in a sea of cloth coverings noticeable.

While my 7-year-old missed a pop fly because he was watching a flock of birds gliding overhead, my other two children were drawn to the playground. Half an hour later my oldest came marching over with his youngest brother in tow and his eyes were white hot daggers.

“That kid over there with no mask came over and ripped off Tommy’s mask, told him he didn’t need it, and tried to touch his face!” he blurted out with deserved indignation, seeing that we are in the middle of a highly contagious virus that’s killed 165,000 Americans (and counting).

Tommy is 4. The unmasked kid is 6. And I’m almost 41 so I knew I had to tamp down the urge to scream “WHOSE UNMASKED MISCREANT DID THIS?!?!” The kid was still on the playground so I couldn’t tell who he belonged to, but when I looked around my eyes kept settling on one person—the only one whose face I could clearly see.

We kept Tommy with us for the rest of the game and, as it ended, I went to help my parents get something out of their car. My wife saw the unmasked little boy go up to an adult, presumably his father, and wouldn’t you know it? It was Mr. No Mask. So she walked over to calmly and discreetly explain what happened but she wasn’t halfway through when he interrupted her and waved her away, saying “Talk to his mom over there, I don’t deal with this stuff.”

You don’t deal with what stuff? Parenting your own kid? Being a responsible adult who involves himself in raising another human being? That stuff?

The mom, who was masked, was exceptionally sweet and extremely apologetic. She brought her son over to personally apologize to Tommy and couldn’t have been nicer. I told her this is tough on kids and they don’t always get it, and everyone understands that. She was sorry, she meant it, and we wished each other well.

But there are too many dads who are that dad.

For all the gains involved fathers have made, times like these remind me we’re still in the minority and we have a TON of work to do. “That’s her department” and “I stay in my lane” and “Talk to the boss” are all still common refrains from far too many dads who don’t feel like it’s their job to care about the caretaking. But when the President of the United States is on record bragging about never having changed a diaper or walked his kid in a stroller, and saying men who engage in such behaviors are acting “like the wife,” it’s not difficult to see how easily this narrative is accepted among so many men.

I started off upset about not wearing a mask but was instantly reminded that toxic masculinity is the real virus. At least there will be a vaccine for COVID.

My book, Raising Boys to Be Good Men: A Parent’s Guide to Bringing Up Happy Sons in a World Filled with Toxic Masculinity, is on sale now.

What’s the first thing many men do when someone tells them not to touch something because it’s extraordinarily hot? Yup, they touch it! I know it sounds dumb but that temporary burn on their finger is preferable for so many men compared to the alternative of “wussing out” and not giving it a try.

One of the more insidious components of toxic masculinity is that it actually leads to men willingly doing harm to their health and well-being despite clear knowledge that they’ll be negatively impacted. This is evidenced by a new survey of nearly 2,500 people living in the US that found men are less likely to don face masks during COVID-19 because they believe wearing one is “shameful,” “a sign of weakness,” and “not cool.” Similarly, a Gallup poll published on May 13 shows that 29 percent of men always wore a mask or cloth face covering in public, compared to 44 percent of women. On the other end of the spectrum, 38 percent of men never wore a mask or cloth face covering outside the home, compared to 25 percent of women. 

The new narrative from MAGA-inclined brethren is wearing face masks means giving in to fear, showing weakness, and even a willingness to roll over and let the government strip you of your civil liberties. This is backed by President Donald Trump, who has retweeted those espousing anti-mask sentiments and urged protesters (many of whom refusing to don masks) to “liberate” their states via in-person, armed gatherings. Joe Biden wore a mask on Memorial Day and was chided by our schoolyard bully of a POTUS while his minions gleefully derided the former vice president’s manhood, or lack thereof.

COVID-19 has killed more than 100,000 people to date and it is deadly specifically because of how easily it can be spread. Social distancing, hand-washing, and wearing face masks are all things that slow the spread of this deadly virus and all manner of experts and doctors have recommended these potentially life-saving measures to flatten the curve and protect our most vulnerable populations.

Yet men are exposing themselves and others to unnecessary risk because they don’t want to be seen as betas.

When I say toxic masculinity is deadly, this is a huge part of it. Imagine how powerful toxic masculinity and entrenched gender norms are that they cause grown men to choose potential death over being seen as weak. But more than that, imagine thinking it’s some sort of weakness to protect other people.

For the life of me I’ll never understand how these alpha male macho sorts view themselves as protectors of women, children, and family to the point they’ll buy an AR-15 with extended magazines for “home protection,” yet refuse to perform the simplest, easiest, most basic act of protection that is wearing a face mask.

It is a strong person who thinks of others instead of himself, and who researches facts and expert opinions to further the societal good of ending this pandemic as soon as possible. Men wearing masks understand this and also comprehend that intelligence, reason, compassion, and empathy are the foundations upon which we can build modern masculinity and begin to reframe manhood.

Please don’t fall for the false narratives and don’t believe for a second that you’re less of a man if you wear a mask as recommended by every legitimate medical researcher out there. And don’t let toxic masculinity put you or those you care about at more of a risk.

Men are already less apt to go to the doctor or get treated for potential mental health problems because they worry it makes them look weak, but helping and asking for help is never a sign of weakness–quite the opposite, actually.

Let’s be smarter, stronger, and safer.

Aaron Gouveia is the author of Raising Boys to Be Good Men, a book to help parents raise boys in the age of #MeToo and toxic masculinity. It is available for pre-order now and will be released on June 16th.

It’s always been my dream to write a book.

I’ve been telling stories in some form or another since I was a little kid. I excelled as a writer in high school, found journalism in college, and worked as a newspaper reporter for nearly 10 years after graduation. Despite becoming a dad blogger and getting to write for some heady publications like TIME, Washington Post, and Parents Magazine, deep down I always wanted a book deal.

And then came Sam’s nail polish incident, a viral Twitter thread, media on top of media, and finally a call from a publisher asking me if I wanted to write a book about raising boys in the age of Me Too and toxic masculinity.

Of course my answer was yes!

So after months and months of writing this book in between working a full-time job and parenting three children, it’s finally being released on June 16th. I am equal parts excited and terrified because this book ended up being VERY personal. It’s basically a list of all the ways I screwed up in my life and played into toxic masculinity before I really even knew what that meant. So this is my mea culpa and attempt at reaching the parents who can still be reached to see if we can reframe manhood and stop boxing boys in and limiting them so early on in life.

Here’s the book cover and an excerpt from Raising Boys to Be Good Men which is available for pre-order now!

When I became a father in 2008, I had never encoun­tered the term toxic masculinity. Although Google searches for the term increased after the 2017 social movement of #MeToo when women in Hollywood reported Harvey Weinstein’s crimes, and public exposure to the phrase spiked to peak levels when Gillette released its now infamous commercial in January 2019 criticizing toxic masculinity, I first heard about it in 2011. I had just accepted a part-time editor position with the Good Men Project and was spending countless hours reading essays by feminist authors. I rolled my eyes initially and silently lamented the “pussification of America,” bristling at the thought that my strong, manly son would be feminized to the point of demoni­zation. Which is ironic, since, you know, that reaction was an example of classic toxic masculinity.

But when I stopped and listened to the people in my life, who are far more intelligent and thoughtful than I am, I realized something fairly disconcerting—not only is toxic masculinity real, I was living it out on a daily basis and running the risk of passing that mindset on to my three sons.

That’s why, when my publisher suggested I write a book on raising boys in the age of toxic masculinity, the first thing out of my mouth was, “I think you’ve got the wrong guy.” I guarantee that if you tell anyone who knew me in college that I would be writing this book many years later, they’d laugh. Then they’d get really confused and angry, because I had been representative of the problem for years (and still am, at times).

Back in 2008, I remember getting upset when my wife put pink socks on my infant son because I was worried it might make other people think he was “gay” or “effeminate.” I didn’t want any of my boys to be baptized, at least in part because I didn’t like the idea of them in a christening dress (and also because of the Catholic Church’s rampant child abuse and decades of cover-ups; but that’s a different book). I would only shop in the blue-colored boy toy aisle, I scolded my oldest for throwing a baseball “like a girl,” and I frequently used the phrase “man up” in a way that was unfortunately devoid of irony.

All to say that writing a book about a problem I had clearly contributed to for a long time felt like an instant no-go and mas­sively hypocritical.

But the flip side of that argument is: who better to reach people potentially open to change than a convert? Just like I wouldn’t want to read a book about getting sober from an author who has never had a drink in their lives, maybe all my (many, many, many) past mistakes might be recognized by readers who are in the same boat. The hope is that my experience will reso­nate and help readers take stock of the situation so we can start to build critical mass and fix this problem.

I wish I could pinpoint a specific moment in time when it all clicked. It was because of my job with the Good Men Project, where I edited essay after essay of thoughts on this topic. It was joining online forums and Facebook groups and getting to know the men I had been thoughtlessly mocking to realize their words had merit. But mostly, it was watching my kids get older and take up interests that didn’t align with traditional masculinity, and feeling that natural parental instinct to protect and defend the people who are most precious to you. If my kids had been star athletes and had fallen into the “normal” pathways for boys, would I be writing this book? I’d like to think so, but I’m just not sure. Unfortunately, it seems people don’t truly get it until it becomes personal when it happens to them or someone they know. That’s why I hope this book will have an impact—reading about a parent’s angst after bullies come for their son over nail polish is something that really can change minds.

That’s why I’m writing to all the parents who still tell their young sons to “rub some dirt on it” and who scold them for crying. Or who excuse clearly problematic behaviors with the response, “boys will be boys.” This book is one small attempt to reach the people still willing to listen to reason. It’s not meant to preach or shame, and it’s certainly not an orchestrated attack on masculinity itself. There’s a mistaken belief that those who criti­cize toxic masculinity are criticizing everything masculine—this couldn’t be further from the truth. Caring for and protecting one’s family; hard work; strength—these are some positives in men that are worthy of celebration. However, we need to reframe the discussion about what makes a “real man.” Because I guaran­tee you that real men cry, real men will know to seek help when they need it, and real men do stay home with their kids.

It’s not only possible to raise boys who aren’t emotionally sti­fled and shoved into boxes; it’s vital if we want a generation of men who can express their emotions in a healthy way, respect women, and help nurse society back to a halfway healthy place. That’s why we need to illustrate the problems and talk about the small ways in which we can work toward solutions.

I guarantee that if a stubborn idiot like me can recognize he was once part of the problem and admit he was wrong, and then took the steps to become better, anyone can. And I also guaran­tee that if we don’t change the way we treat and raise our boys, things are only going to get worse. Our boys are too important for us to fail, and when boys go bad, we all lose.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Raising Boys to Be Good Men can be purchased on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, IndieBound, Goodreads, and Bookshop.