Masculinity Isn’t Toxic, The Way We Talk About It Is

Advocates argue that such language reinforces stereotypes, potentially harming the mental health and self-esteem of those who feel excluded. Replacing terms like “fireman” with “firefighter” or “mankind” with “humankind” is intended to foster a more inclusive society.

While these efforts are arguably well-intentioned, they often veer into excess—reflecting a broader cultural shift toward heightened sensitivity and linguistic equality. Yet, this focus has primarily centered on protecting women and girls, leaving a crucial question largely unaddressed: How does language impact boys and men?

The term "toxic masculinity" has become a fixture in modern discourse, often framed as a critique of negative behaviors or cultural norms associated with traditional masculinity such as aggression, dominance, or emotional repression. Originally, many who used the phrase intended to highlight harmful patterns, not to vilify men as a group. But as the term gained traction, so did its unintended consequences.

For many, “toxic masculinity” has come to imply that masculinity itself is inherently dangerous or defective. Some believe that was the intention all along. Regardless, the perception weighs heavily on boys and young men, who may internalize the message that their identity is fundamentally flawed. The phrase paints an entire gender with a broad brush, creating shame rather than encouraging growth or meaningful dialogue.

The power of language lies in its ability to shape cultural narratives.

In the United Kingdom, experts have recently urged politicians and the public to abandon the term altogether, acknowledging that framing boys and men as inherently harmful can take a serious toll on mental health. Surprise, surprise. While this shift is a welcome development, it’s one many women, myself included, and outlets like Evie have been calling for over the years, often dismissed for our so-called “internalized misogyny.”

This one-sided focus on language’s impact on women and girls reveals a glaring societal blind spot. While words like “manhole” or even “amen” have been scrutinized for potentially excluding women, there’s been far less attention paid to how language harms boys and men. And it goes well beyond “toxic masculinity.”

Imagine a young girl growing up surrounded by slogans like “The future is male.” T-shirts, tote bags, commercials, curriculum. The repetition of such messaging would rightly be called out as sexist, with concern for how it might damage her sense of value and possibility.

Now flip it.

Imagine a young boy hearing “The future is female” in classrooms, in media, in everyday conversation. It sends a similar message: you are the past, not the future. One is widely condemned. The other is celebrated. Both can erode self-worth. And yet only one receives any real scrutiny.

This imbalance demands correction.

A newer term, “mankeeping,” adds insult to injury. Coined to describe the supposed “burden” placed on women who care for men struggling with loneliness or mental health issues, the phrase implies that women shouldn’t have to support their male partners; that men’s struggles are their fault, and their burden alone. It completely ignores the broader societal forces at play—cultural expectations, isolation, economic stress—and reduces the male mental health crisis to little more than an inconvenience for women.

The data speaks for itself: men are significantly more likely to die by suicide than women. In the U.S., they account for nearly 80% of suicide deaths. Shaming men instead of addressing the systems that fail them only deepens the crisis.

Give it a few years; mankeeping will be on the chopping block too, just like toxic masculinity. It should be. Words that blame and shame don’t heal. They hurt. And they create more problems than they solve.

When boys hear their identity linked with toxicity or failure, they’re not being challenged, they’re being crushed.

The power of language lies in its ability to shape cultural narratives. Phrases like “toxic masculinity” and “mankeeping” don’t exist in a vacuum; they influence how we see others, and how entire generations of boys and girls see themselves. When boys hear their identity linked with toxicity or failure, they’re not being challenged, they’re being crushed. And when girls encounter exclusionary language, the impact is no less damaging.

Both are rooted in the same issue: careless language used without consideration for its psychological weight.

We know that language affects mental health. The American Psychological Association has shown that stereotyping contributes to stress, anxiety, and low self-esteem. So if the push to replace “manhole” with “maintenance hole” is rooted in concern for inclusivity, shouldn’t that concern extend to terms like mankeeping or toxic masculinity?

If we care about building a society that values mental health and inclusion, that care must apply to everyone, not just women.

Take, for example, the now-infamous moment when Nancy Pelosi closed a congressional prayer with “Amen and Awomen.” It was meant as a gesture of inclusivity, but it sparked backlash from both sides; seen as trivializing the seriousness of language reform and offending many religious Americans. It was a reminder of just how easy it is for efforts to “do better” to slip into absurdity or alienation.

We’re seeing this play out again in how language shapes perceptions of boys and men—only now, the consequences are much harder to laugh off.

Addressing this issue will require a cultural shift grounded in empathy and balance. Instead of toxic masculinity, we can say unhealthy behaviors. That keeps the conversation going, but without casting a shadow over masculinity as a whole. Instead of mankeeping, we could simply talk about the male loneliness crisis, and focus on real solutions, not resentment and blame.

Some argue that the term positive masculinity is a helpful alternative. I disagree. “Positive masculinity” still implies that masculinity has a negative side that must be offset or corrected. But masculinity, in and of itself, isn’t toxic. It never was. Let’s stop trying to rehabilitate a word that was never broken.

Instead of labeling masculinity—positive, toxic, or otherwise—let’s focus on behavior. Let's call out abuse, isolation, rage, addiction. But let’s stop tying these struggles to a gender as if they’re intrinsic to it. They’re not.

Because when we shift our language, we shift our culture.

And we need a cultural shift. Now.

Male suicide rates are soaring. Loneliness is epidemic. The World Health Organization reports that men are disproportionately affected by suicide around the globe. That isn’t just a mental health crisis; it’s a narrative crisis. A crisis of meaning, of worth, of permission to feel human. Of language.

If the future really is for everyone, then the language we use to shape it should be too.

The push to make language more inclusive for women has helped open doors, from job titles to public perception. But what if we extended that same care to the way we speak about men? What if we started to see them not as obstacles to progress, but as part of it?

That might be more transformative than any title change.

This debate isn’t about political correctness or semantic squabbling. It’s about the world we’re building, and who gets to feel like they belong in it. Words are never just words. They either build bridges or burn them. They create shame or foster healing. They divide or unify. They hurt or they help.

By moving beyond phrases that shame and stereotype, we can begin to speak in a way that actually honors everyone’s humanity. That invites boys and girls alike to see themselves as worthy, valued, and capable of contribution.

Because if the future really is for everyone, then the language we use to shape it should be too.