Once upon a time, when I was in the testosterone-fueled world of sports, I found myself distressed by the competition. Sure, winning was fun, but I struggled with the inherent beef everyone had with everyone. People on my team would compete to see who was the best at pitching a touchdown or swishing a point or even just running across the court. I, in the ever-growing gap between the people who were good and myself, was terrified. Who cares if you can run across a court the fastest? Oh, OK, don’t get feisty. I’m going, I’m going.

Jokes aside, I feel like my very convenient vantage point allowed me to see something early from the get-go: you don’t have to be manly to be a man. I don’t think this is taught enough in life, seeing as boys continually act like animals who have to struggle for dominance every day. In my all-boys high school (cue the gay jokes) I saw this struggle every day first hand. In each discipline, someone had to be the best. Athletics saw rowdier and rowdier boys climbing to the top and publicly humiliating the boys they deemed lesser. Academics allowed nerds to get to the top for the first time; if someone could survive the devilish Mr. Caldwell’s class with an A, they were an instant celebrity.

Within this boy-eat-boy world, a hierarchy built itself. The pinnacles of each society stood at the top, living in harmony with the rest of the apexes, merely because they exuded ‘masculinity’– or whatever their idea of masculinity was. My issue with this is that masculinity isn’t definable by one person or one group. ‘Masculine’ comes from the individual’s sense of the self, just as confidence and beauty do. Placing number values on top of people (i.e. 10 on the beauty scale – which doesn’t exist) cannot work; if there’s no such thing as a truly objective perspective (and there isn’t) how can one be labeled consistently? Spoiler alert: they can’t. Just as one man’s trash is another man’s treasure, one person’s ten is another person’s one.

With masculinity, the scale isn’t as obvious (because of sexism), but it’s still present. Let’s play a game: I’m going to throw out two guys. You decide who is ‘manlier.’ For my first pick, I choose Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson: ex-wrestler, currently as large as Mt. Whitney. And my second choice is Asa Butterfield, acclaimed British actor a year younger than me (I am not jealous, I am not jealous, I am not jealous) who is known for starring in "The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas," "Hugo" and "Ender’s Game." Look him up if you can’t picture him. The pictures of these two men are crucially important for you to understand. Go ahead, I’ll wait here.

So did you see? I’ll bet you $20 (I’m very confident) that you chose Mr. Johnson over Mr. Butterfield as ‘Manliest Man of the Year.’ But guess what? Mr. Johnson might be an extremely-decorated wrestler, but he made such a beautiful post on Facebook when he lost his grandma that I cried -- twice. And Asa Butterfield is British. He can legally drink already! He is a really cool up-and-coming actor already! (I’m not jealous!)

My crazy ranting aside, I need y’all to see something. You could have the biggest muscles in the world, but still love to paint your nails. You could be a lil' shrimp and have the actual karate skills to decimate a country. Masculinity isn’t something that has be determined by your ability to pitch a ball, lift weight or never be called ‘sissy.’ It’s something that you decide for yourself. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.