The word masculinism will rub some people the wrong way.
That reaction, in itself, is revealing.
If feminism is accepted as a legitimate word — a framework that places women’s interests, experiences, and solidarity at the centre — then masculinism must also be accepted as its valid inverse. Not an attack. Not a provocation. Simply the other side of the same coin.
A coin that, since at least the 1960s, has landed almost exclusively on one side.
Masculinism is not a rejection of women.
It is a recognition of men.
What Masculinism Is Not
Masculinism is often imagined as something loud and performative:
hyper-muscular men in gyms, supercars, dominance displays, empty bravado.
That has nothing to do with what I mean.
This is not about status.
It is not about intimidation.
It is not about conquest.
Those images are distractions — caricatures that make it easier to dismiss the subject entirely.
What Masculinism Actually Is
Masculinism is about quiet men.
Men who carry families through decades of hard work and reliability, often without praise or recognition. Men whose competence is invisible because it functions smoothly.
It is about the man who can build or repair almost anything — not because it is glamorous, but because things need fixing. The man who understands systems, tools, materials, and cause-and-effect.
It is about self-reliance and stoicism — not emotional repression, but emotional responsibility. The ability to hold weight without immediately discharging it onto others.
It is about sacrifice undertaken willingly, not theatrically.
Masculinism honours the man who goes out into the world to hunt — whether that hunt is physical, intellectual, or economic — trusting that behind him is a good woman:
one who cares for the children,
builds a safe inner world,
and understands that the roles are complementary, not competitive.
Often, that man comes home carrying stories he does not tell.
Failures. Losses. Small humiliations. Large responsibilities.
He absorbs them quietly and returns the next day to do it again.
That has always been the backbone of civilisation.
What Changed
At 54, I can see clearly that this form of masculinity is no longer valued — at least not in the modern West.
It is tolerated at best.
Often ridiculed.
Frequently pathologised.
I still see it respected in parts of Africa and Asia. There, the roles are not endlessly interrogated or inverted. Men are expected to carry weight. Women expect it of them — and value it.
I wish my younger self had paid closer attention.
There was a woman I once loved deeply. She often spoke about marriage and children, and when she did, I felt — unmistakably — that I wanted the same life. In those moments, something ancient and right stirred.
Then her expression would change. Almost imperceptibly.
As if a program had taken over.
She would say some version of:
“…but I’m a feminist…”
And a small tightening would occur in my stomach.
I couldn’t articulate it at the time, but I understand it now.
It wasn’t disagreement.
It was incompatibility.
Saying It Plainly
If women can say, without apology, I am a feminist, then I can say — proudly and calmly —
I am a masculinist.
I believe men need spaces that are theirs:
- fishing trips
- walking together without conversation
- gentlemen’s clubs
- workshops
- long meals without performance
Places where men can speak freely, or not speak at all.
Where problems can be aired without judgement or contempt.
Where competence is respected and weakness is not exploited.
Sometimes that looks like a steak for breakfast.
Sometimes it looks like a long day alone on a deserted beach with a metal detector.
Sometimes it looks like helping another man solve a problem without needing to explain why.
These are not retreats from responsibility.
They are how responsibility is sustained.
A Closing Line
Masculinism is not about power over others.
It is about strength for others.
And if that makes some people uncomfortable, so be it.
Men have carried the world quietly for a very long time.
It is not unreasonable to name that — and to honour it — at last.