During my awkward middle school years, I remember often being excluded by my male classmates because I couldn’t relate to them in any way. I never enjoyed sports or video games, nor did I have the desire to rate “the hottest girls in school." Because of this, people would call me “faggot," "sissy" and a variety of other derogatory terms. And even when I was upset about this, there wasn't a way for me to express these emotions because "men don't cry." Although this feeling of isolation hurt, I somehow rationalized it as a way to work on myself and my masculinity — advice disguised as bullying.

So throughout high school, I was on a mission to alter myself in ways that made me more “manly." I'd rate girls on their physical assets, force my voice to sound octaves deeper and even fake interests in sports, cars and everything else that was considered manly. And although I felt more accepted and comfortable with my masculinity, I became even more disconnected with my identity and morals. “This isn’t right,” I’d think to myself. “I shouldn’t be acting like this." But the minute your so-called friends see a hint of insecurity, you compartmentalize all your self-doubt and continue to engage with them to ensure inclusion within the circle. This constant limbo of validation and insecurity took a toll on my self-esteem, and it wasn't until this realization that I became more true to myself.

Since adolescence, I’ve been acutely aware of how different I feel among most other guys. In college especially, I've noticed obvious commonalities within the male population. You see the extremely muscular guys, the guys at parties hooking up with multiple girls, the guys with enormous beards — the list continues. Although my observations are superficial and slightly biased, it can definitely be agreed that there’s a specific masculinity standard that often defines the way men think, act, dress and feel. And even though this standard appears minuscule and harmless, it has serious effects on those who don't conform to it. This not only damages self-esteem but also the progress of a Millennial generation that enforces self-expression. I mean, how else can you embrace self-expression if you’re afraid of public ridicule and exclusion? Men aren't the ones to blame for this, however. The problem lies within years of history that create these societal constructs depicting the epitome of what a “true man” entails.

So what's the point I'm trying to make with my self-proclaimed identity crisis? The purpose wasn't to criticize men for behaving a certain way, but to bring awareness to the damaging effects that gender norms have. In hindsight, even though my identity crisis sucked a lot, these experiences gave me a self-awareness and deeper understanding of these societal problems that I wouldn't have otherwise. So to the males/gender non-conforming males out there who often feel ridiculed for not living up to the idealized perception of what a “real man” is, it’s OK to not have rock hard abs and bulging biceps, or to have romantic interests toward the same sex, or to be more emotional than others; your identity is still valid, regardless of what society thinks.