Mas·cu·line
The men redefining what it means to be a man in today's world
Masculinity is in crisis—and transformation. Across music, politics, and business, a new generation of men is challenging long-held ideals of stoicism, strength, and control. From pop stars to political streamers, they’re forging a different path—one that values vulnerability, emotional fluency, and authenticity.
WASHINGTON, D.C. — There’s a quiet change happening in plain sight. While political leaders bicker and culture wars rage, an older system is breaking down—one that governed how men were expected to show up in the world. Masculinity, once rigid and seemingly unshakable, is now in flux. And for many, it’s deeply disorienting.
Traditional markers of manhood—strength, stoicism, dominance—are being questioned, if not outright rejected. But what replaces them? In the void, confusion has taken root. In some corners, this shift is met with defensiveness and backlash. In others, with experimentation and redefinition.
Some men, especially younger ones, are beginning to rewrite the script entirely. Pop culture is reflecting this shift. What once looked like rebellion now looks like reinvention. Artists, creators, and thinkers across music, media, and business are helping us reimagine what masculinity can be, and why the old version may never fully return.
The New Swagger
British rock star Yungblud is one man showing a new way forward.
Born Dominic Harrison in Doncaster, England, Yungblud is the poster boy for the post-gender, post-binary generation. He struts onstage in plaid skirts and combat boots. He paints his nails. He cries openly. And he punches hard, both lyrically and culturally, against the idea that being a man means fitting into a narrow box.
What makes Yungblud compelling isn’t just his aesthetic; it’s his ethos. He’s not rejecting masculinity altogether. He’s remaking it.
“There’s a big [anti-men] narrative online, and a lot of bull****. Look at Andrew Tate; young males experience that and see the world through that lens, but masculinity also needs to showcase rich emotion and love,” he told The Telegraph last month. “You’ve either got to be hard as f***, or you’re wet and soppy – and there needs to be a hybrid. With me I’m like, I am masculine. I am aggressive. I like boxing. But also, I’ll cry and might put on a skirt. Whatever, it makes me feel more masculine when I wear a kilt.”
The Hidden Cost of Staying Silent
But the cultural shift isn’t just stylistic. It’s psychological. It’s existential. And the toll of failing to evolve is staggering. This redefinition is a matter of life and death.
Men are more likely to die by suicide, suffer from untreated mental illness, and fall behind in education and workforce participation. In the United States, men account for nearly 80% of suicide deaths. The highest rates? Middle-aged white men—those often raised with the most traditional masculine expectations and the fewest tools to talk about their mental health.
And yet, without a new, widely accepted model of masculinity, many men feel unmoored. Into that vacuum have stepped figures like Jordan Peterson and others from the so-called “manosphere,” offering direction and a place to those who feel abandoned or even attacked by modern culture. Peterson’s message is straightforward: stand up straight, take responsibility, impose order. For some, that guidance feels like salvation. But too often, the broader manosphere promotes a return to rigid patriarchal hierarchies, where emotion is weakness, feminism is the enemy, and the past is held up as an ideal.
Peterson and the larger manosphere’s popularity reveal just how desperate many men are for guidance. But the answer to a changing world is not regression. It’s reinvention.
The Cultural Rebuilders
That reinvention is happening—not in lecture halls but in live streams, concert venues, podcast episodes, and fashion editorials. And it’s being led by men who are not interested in reclaiming lost power but in redefining what power looks like in the first place.
Online political commentator Hasan Piker is one person rewriting the script. With his muscular frame and unfiltered style, Piker might appear to embody a classic alpha male aesthetic. But he’s fiercely progressive. He challenges toxic masculinity, rejects misogyny, and frequently uses his platform to advocate for empathy, equity, and social justice. His masculinity doesn’t shrink from confrontation, but it channels that energy into systems change, not scapegoating.
Then there’s Steven Bartlett, host of the hit podcast The Diary of a CEO. At first glance, he checks every box of modern entrepreneurial success: wealthy, self-made, charismatic. But listen closely, and you’ll hear a man actively deconstructing the old masculine script. He speaks openly about abandonment, insecurity, and trauma. “I thought vulnerability was a repellent,” he wrote recently on LinkedIn. “It turns out it’s the world’s greatest magnet.”
And perhaps no one is more globally recognizable in this shift than Bad Bunny. The Puerto Rican trap and reggaetón artist has worn skirts, danced in heels, and regularly challenges Latin America’s machismo culture, while topping global music charts. “I have always felt like there was a part of me that is very feminine,” he told Rolling Stone. “But I never felt as masculine as I did the day I dressed up like a drag queen.”
A More Human Future
For many men, especially those raised with the old code, change can feel like loss. Letting go of that script often means grieving not just a cultural identity but a sense of certainty. Some respond with curiosity, others with fear.
The future of masculinity must account for these differences. It must be expansive enough to hold the full range of experience, and inclusive enough to listen to those who were once excluded entirely.
There’s something powerful about watching someone like Yungblud take up space—not through aggression, but through self-acceptance. Something equally powerful in seeing Hasan Piker channel charisma toward social change. In watching Steven Bartlett turn emotional truth into professional strength. In seeing Bad Bunny tear down machismo, one glittery outfit at a time.
They’re not dismantling masculinity. They’re reimagining it. And they’re reminding us that the future of manhood doesn’t lie in a return to order. It lies in embracing complexity in an age of near-constant disruption.
Maybe this is what masculinity should look like next: less armor, more honesty, less control, more curiosity, less shouting, more listening.
This is what masculinity can look like now: skirts and boxing gloves. Muscle and mindfulness. Tears and truth. It’s not weaker. It’s just more honest. More inclusive. More human.
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