Historias

Boys don't cry

Trigger warning: rape

Because toxic masculinity is taught to young, innocent boys every day. And it is not right.

The first time I remember crying was when I was five years old. I came home, sobbing because some older boys had beaten me up in the playground.

My dad saw my bloody nose, busted lip and black eye and sneered. He told me to tough it out, that boys don't cry. I locked myself in my room and cried myself to sleep.

Another time was when I was 15, after a date gone wrong. I had invited the girl I liked for dinner and a movie. I did as taught, I paid the check, bought the tickets and some snacks. When I went to hug the girl goodbye, she pushed me away. I remember her disgusted face as she told me she was only there to win a bet. She didn't even say sorry or anything, just pushed me into a wall and left.

My best friend laughed when I told him. Then roughly whipped the tears from my face and said that boys don't cry.

The most hurtful time was when I was eighteen. I had been at a friend's party all night, high on adrenaline, but not drunk. Some girl had been dancing with me at the time and put something on my cup when I wasn't looking. The next thing I know, we're on someone's bedroom. Her body pressing against mine, kissing me against my will. I tried desperately to push her off but was too weak. The last thing I remember was her hands, trailing down my body; and darkness clouding my vision. The next morning, I woke up alone. I got dressed and went directly to a police station to report her. Didn't even change, in case it would be useful.

But the policeman told me to suck it up, that boys don't get raped because the should like sex. To "stop crying and go home, real men don't cry." I have never felt dirtier since then.

And now, I'm standing at my mother's grave. People stare at me because I'm not crying. Am I supposed to?

After being beaten, used and molested, even if it wasn't my fault; I've learnt my lesson. Boys don't cry.