Not long ago, I opened up an email detailing Catholic events in the area. There, in bright colors, was a men’s conference announcement. A good thing, right? But looking at the keynote speakers, I couldn’t help but wonder why a picture of a young woman graced my screen. Feeling as if I morphed into a nosy old lady, I zoomed in on the picture. Yup! My eyes had not deceived me. Presenting to a room full of men on what masculinity is, would be an ostensibly young lady.
I tried to imagine the scene: men like my father, my husband, brothers, etc., all gathered at the skirts of a young girl as she lectures them on their masculinity. I wasn’t sure if I should laugh or be appalled. And before anyone accuses me of internalized misogyny, can we call to mind any of the innumerable instances of men explaining “women things.”
You know, the weeping and gnashing of teeth when the odious and unthinkable mansplaining is on full display! Oh, the many headlines and apologies that memorialize such moments. Did we already forget the backlash Harrison Butker received for stating that many women, like his wife, desire motherhood? Yet, of course, a woman addressing men on how to be a man is totally fine.
To clarify: this doesn’t mean that the aforementioned speaker prepared a bad talk. In fact, she could give an excellent talk, but that is not the point. Women are incapable of teaching men how to be men. There, I said it. It is not our job; and when we attempt to make it so, we usually create another problem: men are irritated, generally do the opposite, and begin to view women as nags.
Women can inspire masculinity, but they cannot teach it.
The masculine journey is fundamentally different from the feminine one. We see this in every traditional story, be it Old Yeller, Narnia, Swiss Family Robinson, and yes, even in the book of Genesis. There is a father figure, a boy entering into manhood, and some rite of passage—for example, Aslan has Peter kill the wolf; God tells Adam to name the animals. A father character bequeaths the role of headship as the boy undergoes a quest or completes a task.
Not so for women: Eve comes to Adam in total receptivity. She is ready to receive her name and his love so that she can be his helpmeet. Receptivity is the mark of femininity. Breaking out of that is where problems arise.
No More Frog Farming
Author Alison Armstrong makes the amusing—but truthful—observation that most women are “frog farmers.” Meaning, instead of turning frogs into princes, à la inspiring the best in men, most women turn princes into frogs. We do this in many ways, but often by emasculating men. What we view as important input, men see as criticism and nagging. (And yes, I have frog farmed.)
I would love to challenge the women reading this to listen intently for a good week to how women speak about men. The results may shock you! The number of eye rolls, hidden insults, and the attitude that men are incapable of being men punctuates many female conversations. It is troubling, but it also serves as a sobering examination of conscience: Do I contribute in some way to this narrative? Do I, on some level, believe I have to teach the men how to be men?
It also sheds some light on the rise of the manosphere. Exhausted by feminism and henpecked men, young boys are looking for male leaders. They need and crave a father figure. And if they turn to their Catholic community only to find that it’s more women lecturing them, well, it’s no wonder that in a very short period of time individuals like Tate and Fuentes became popular names.
I am blessed to attend an FSSP parish, and all of our priests are true father figures. They are amazing examples of masculinity, and their care and wisdom is Christ-like. They are the everyday heroes who walk among us, fighting dragons and saving souls. Good men exist. In fact, dare I say, good men abound. I see them in my home, my church, and my community.
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Yes, as Catholics we should be promoting masculinity. But we don’t need women to do the work of men; there are plenty of good men to do it. It is an insult to act like there aren’t.
Time to Accept Limitations
In Sigrid Undset’s The Axe: Master of Hestviken, there is a scene where a boy and girl are about to embark on a journey. The young boy, frustrated by the girl, who is unenthusiastic as she prepares for the venture, takes note of her form. As if for the first time, he recognizes how delicately God designed her.
In that moment, he understands her lack of enthusiasm not as pathetic but as part of her design. Something honorable stirs in his heart as he views her not as weak but precious. In that moment, he vows to protect and cherish her. It is the sweetest scene, and it exemplifies how acknowledging our limitations gives way to the harmony meant to exist between men and women.
Without limitations, our world dissolves into chaos. Limitations are the parameters writers use to compose glorious sonnets, architects use to build magnificent cathedrals, and painters use to reach up to the heavens. Without those limitations, anything goes; mud-splattered canvases and grotesque costumes masquerade as art and brilliance. A world that once had much to communicate is now bereft of language and yet engulfed in noise.
It is absurd to deny that these limitations do not extend to men and women; after all, we are finite beings. When women discover their own limitations, they find the strength of men—and vice versa. Our limitations don’t thwart the masculine and feminine; instead, they implement the necessary boundaries for them to thrive.
It is through embracing our limitations that we rediscover the harmony and reverence rather than mistrust and derision between the sexes.
It is almost the Solemnity of St. Joseph, a virile and holy father. If you find your heart corroded by doubt and mistrust, turn to St. Joseph to help you heal. He will guard your heart, just as he protected Mother Mary and Baby Jesus.
Please, let St. Joseph love you. In the words of Venerable Fulton Sheen, “St. Joseph was on fire with love.”
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Why women can’t raise boys to become men
1. Masculinity Is Modeled, Not Taught
You can't teach what you don't embody.
A woman can teach discipline, values, respect, and love—but masculinity is modeled, not explained.
Boys need to see what it looks like to be a man, not just be told what men are supposed to do.
How does a man handle pressure?
What does masculine responsibility look like?
How does a man deal with failure, rejection, or success?
A mother can tell her son to be strong, but she can’t show him what it looks like when a man faces the world and leads with grounded strength and restraint. That’s a lived experience.
2. Boys Without Male Guidance Will Struggle With Identity
Many boys raised without a consistent male figure:
Struggle with aggression or passivity
Lack direction or purpose
Get identity cues from media, street life, or peers
They’re left to guess at what it means to be a man—or worse, they adopt hyper-masculine, toxic traits as overcompensation. Not because mom failed, but because she was never meant to do it alone.
3. Women Often Parent Emotionally, Not Developmentally
Let’s keep it real: a lot of mothers, especially single mothers, end up raising from pain, protection, or guilt. That emotional dynamic, while rooted in love, can unintentionally lead to:
Coddling or enabling instead of challenging
Emasculation (unintentionally making the son a surrogate partner, protector, or emotional crutch)
Overcorrection—trying to “toughen him up” but lacking the masculine insight to do it properly
This doesn’t mean mothers are doing something wrong—it means the job requires both energies.
4. Male Energy Checks Male Energy
Boys are wired to test limits, and when testosterone kicks in, they naturally push boundaries. That’s where a man’s presence matters.
There’s a different kind of respect and correction that comes from a male figure. Not necessarily through dominance, but through balanced, masculine authority. When a father (or healthy male mentor) steps in, boys calibrate. They learn:
Respect without fear
Strength with discipline
How to assert without destroyin
Women can try, but it will becomes a power struggle. And the boy either rebels, resents, or retreats.
Raising a man is not about just feeding, clothing, and educating a boy. It’s about shaping his core—his identity, mission, emotional regulation, and self-worth.
Women can raise boys to be good people.
But manhood is a different blueprint. It requires exposure to masculine wisdom, accountability, and presence. That doesn’t always mean a biological father—but it means a real, consistent man.
If we keep pretending like that’s not necessary, we’ll keep getting generations of men trying to find themselves in all the wrong places.
He That Hath An Ear...
