Why 'strong boys' are struggling

Have you noticed how often the boys and men in your life struggle with emotional intimacy? They tend to pull away when feelings run high. They insist they’re fine when clearly they’re not. They seem unable to say what’s really going on.

From an early age, societal expectations to be “strong boys”—to dominate, deny their needs, and disconnect from their emotions—destroy the emotional and social skills men need for healthy connection. “Boys have been telling us what’s at the root of their problems and how to solve it for almost four decades now,” Dr. Niobe Way, a professor of developmental psychology at NYU, told us when she recently joined us on the podcast. “And we’re not listening.”

In our conversation, Niobe explained how the same system that teaches girls not to know, teaches boys not to care.

What boys want (and lose)

Niobe’s research reveals something heartbreaking: Young boys are remarkably present with each other—emotionally attuned, clear about their feelings, able to share what’s really going on. But between ages four and seven, something shifts. Boys begin showing signs of psychological distress. They become more guarded, more distant, less willing to share what they actually feel.

“Boys know more than they show,” Niobe explained. The bargain they’re learning: suppress your emotional life in exchange for being accepted as a “strong boy.”

Despite this early conditioning, when Niobe interviews boys at eleven, twelve, and thirteen, they still describe wanting emotionally intimate friendships. They talk about their friends with what Niobe calls a “love language”—expressing deep affection and attachment. They want relationships where they can share secrets, where someone notices the subtlety between looking angry and feeling hurt, where they won’t be laughed at for sharing something vulnerable.

But by late adolescence, that tender language disappears entirely. The same boys now sound defensive: “It’s all good. I don’t need that. I’m not gay.” Or they describe the painful struggle to find a friend they can trust with their feelings, only to slowly give up and accept their isolation.

The cost of ‘strong boy’ culture

By late adolescence, boys in Niobe’s studies say things that should give us pause: “It might be nice to be a girl, because then I wouldn’t have to be emotionless.” Or: “I’m mature now. I don’t need to express my feelings.”

Listen to what’s embedded in those statements. In a culture that treats expressing feelings as immature and emotions as girly, boys learn that growing up means cutting themselves off from half their humanity.

The impact is measurable: Rising rates of depression and anxiety among men. Difficulty maintaining close friendships. More than one in four fathers living apart from their children. And deaths of despair—men dying from suicide, alcohol, and drug overdose at rates three times higher than women.

“We still think mental health is the problem,” explained Niobe. “But it’s not the problem. It’s the consequence of a culture that doesn’t value men’s social health.”

Two sides of the same problem

Societal gender expectations are creating what Niobe calls a crisis of connection. They groom ‘strong boys’ to dominate, deny needs, and disconnect from emotions. They groom ‘good girls’ to perform perfectly, please everyone, and protect others by being silent.

The result? Boys say ‘I don’t care.’ Girls say ‘I don’t know.’

Both are hiding their truths from the other.

So what do we do when we recognize we’re all trapped by expectations that were never ours to begin with? Niobe’s research points to something that’s been feminized and dismissed for far too long: curiosity.

Setting ourselves free

“Curiosity really is the secret sauce of all human connection,” Niobe said. “And it’s been feminized. It’s been seen as girly.”

But curiosity isn’t soft or weak—it’s the hardest skill to practice because it requires genuine humility and openness to learn something new from another person. For years, Niobe has been teaching students and schools her method of transformative interviewing. It’s built on practices like asking real questions (not polite small talk), staying curious with open-ended follow-ups instead of yes-or-no questions, asking for specific stories rather than accepting generalizations, and digging into the details that reveal what something actually meant to the person.

Niobe’s students consistently report that it’s the follow-up questions that create real connection. Seventh graders, she notes, often pick this up faster than doctoral students—they’re simply more naturally curious and less caught up in trying to sound smart or helpful.

Try this: Next time someone you care about says ‘I’m fine’ or ‘Whatever,’ pause and get genuinely curious. Ask: ‘What’s actually going on for you right now?’ If they stay vague, ask for specifics: ‘Can you tell me about what happened that made you feel that way?’ Listen without preparing your response. Ask follow-ups about what they just shared. Notice what happens when judgment shifts to compassionate interest.

Curiosity shifts where we put our attention and energy. Instead of accepting that boys “don’t care” and girls “don’t know”, we start asking genuine questions that help us better understand each other’s inner worlds. We stop performing the gender scripts we were handed. And we start building the human connections that free us all.

Listen and learn more

You can hear our full conversation with Niobe in the podcast above.

For more of Niobe’s wonderful work, grab a copy of her latest book Rebels Without A Cause.