By Abdul Daramy Corneh

Masculinity is an identity, not a curse—an aura that sparks responsibility, yet is often reduced by feminist discourse to a synonym for inequality. What began as a call to dismantle oppression now risks scripting manhood itself as inherently misogynistic. But must we discard the compass to escape the storm?

Let me ask you this: When a firefighter charges into flames to save a child, is his courage a ‘tool of the patriarchy’? Or is it proof that masculinity—the same force feminists reduce to oppression—can be a lifeline for the vulnerable? I’ve seen this tension first-hand. Like the night my friend biked through a monsoon to deliver groceries to a single mother. Soaked to the bone, he dropped the bags at her door without a word. She called him a ‘gentle giant’; the neighbours muttered about a ‘foolish man’ chasing clichés of toxic masculinity.

We’re told masculinity is a monolith, a system designed to dominate. But what about the men who dominate nothing but their own demons to show up for others? What about the single dads working double shifts in dead-end jobs, not to ‘control’ their families, but to keep the lights on and rice simmering in the pot? When did a father’s sacrifice become collateral damage in a culture war?

The irony cuts deeper than any blade: in trying to liberate society from gender roles, we’ve caged masculinity in its worst stereotypes. Yes, call out violence. Yes, dismantle systems that harm. But when we conflate protect with possess and strength with supremacy, we don’t just alienate men—we sabotage the very traits that could mend what’s broken. It’s like torching a field to kill the weeds and wondering why nothing grows but ash.

So, I’ll ask again: Can we salvage the firefighter’s heart without burning down the village?

I refuse to apologise for the parts of me that want to build, not break. My grandfather’s hands were calloused from decades in coal mines not to oppress but to make sure his family’s name meant more than a pay cheque. What do we call that kind of love?

Masculinity isn’t a curse or a crown—it’s a language. And languages evolve when we stop shouting and start leaning in.