Colin N.

Photography by Ally Szabo

If you’re reading this, remember masculinity doesn’t have one definition.

I often draw off social comparisons to evaluate my self-worth. For so long, I never wanted to be myself but rather the version of myself that others had created. Pushing off everything that made me unique became a habit, and I would do everything and anything to just be like everyone else. The ordinary manifested within me during middle school, which is such an emotionally taxing time in anyone's pre-pubescent teen life.

My school had a very standard type of boy. Living in the south especially, if you weren’t wearing this outfit, these shoes, or playing this sport, you probably weren’t considered a boy. This mindset was incredibly toxic and plagued me in many ways, altering my perception of my identity completely. To fit in, I would ask my mom to go on spending sprees, buying me outfits that made me look like every other boy. I would go to friends' houses and play certain sports or games that made me uncomfortable or were entirely unenjoyable, but I would do it anyway because I thought I had to. I loved to read, draw, and listen to music, but I forced myself to forget that about myself. My inherent creativity was never the same again. The sketchbooks and instruments got stacked on a high shelf, only to get dusty, while I continued to lie to myself to avoid any sort of conflict with social norms.

When I got to high school, I became practically hobby-less. I started to get serious about running track and cross country. Was it initially a cop-out to get out of playing any other sports that didn’t interest me? Perhaps. But those decisions connected me with other kids that were sort of like me, or at least willing to be my friend, and I’m so glad I started taking it seriously. I love that sport. It will endlessly be a part of me. I am forever an athlete.

I continued to play a neutral role in other ways, hiding elements of myself from most people. I continued to follow local trends for a long time so that I would go completely unnoticed in my school. For the most part, it worked, and I could get through the four years without experiencing many social interactions that compromised my identity. But sometimes, people would yell in class, “Colin, why don’t you like football?” or “He’s so feminine, or maybe he’s just gay.” At the core of it all, it was bullying. Some people didn’t respect me. It was enough to compromise my mental health, and I lost myself. The once creative and energetic Colin was now backed into a corner to face anxiety and depression. I was only 13 and would cry myself to sleep because of my social identity. No 13-year-old boy should feel that.

At a time when you know so little about yourself, having other people make such bold assumptions about your identity had profound implications, leading me to doubt myself in specific ways and to convince myself that I wasn’t a real man. This was incredibly damaging, and I never felt comfortable talking to anyone else about it out of fear of judgment. Instead of being sensitive, I would bottle it up until the occasional cry session with my mom. I became so hyper-aware of every comment. I would be on high alert listening for my name in big crowds, checking the mirror to make sure I looked normal, and more highly narcissistic characteristics. I am still trying to resolve some of these.

My social problems at school followed me around for almost six years. But what hurt me the most about my middle and high school experiences is that I completely lost touch with the things that once brought me joy, and almost all the things I did were things that didn’t fill me with joy. I was once a unique individual, and now I was just disguised. I had closed myself off from my parents and siblings, so when they asked me how I was or how my day was, I would answer with a simple “good.”

But, when COVID suddenly changed everything, and I could stay home for as long as I did, I got to spend a lot of time self-reflecting. I explored more interests, started playing guitar more often, drew more, started film photography, and got back to doing the things I would do for fun so long ago. I felt completely comfortable doing it, and I was proud for once. But I still felt like I had no real hobbies.

When I returned to school, I was more inspired to be myself and keep exploring hobbies. I started to get creative with myself and the clubs, organizations, and sports I did. But just as I began to get comfortable, I graduated.

Then, I got to Villanova. My experience at Villanova has been valuable. I can only thank the many support systems that brought me here for giving me an outstanding education and an opportunity to live entirely comfortably. Thank you, Mom and Dad.

I went into college with the idea that I would completely reinvent myself– and to be honest– I did precisely that. I became a much more social person and did things I never thought I would do; I dressed in clothes I loved and joined organizations that weren’t just impressive for a resume but were fulfilling. I made friends who encouraged me to be myself and would tell me that they found me unique, which I rarely heard. When people see your uniqueness, you begin to appreciate them similarly.

Occasionally, I revert to the other Colin and still struggle with anxiety. I’ll look in the mirror most mornings, think, and breathe. Then think some more. I always struggle with my identity and recognize that I am a work in progress. My sexuality, emotions, friendships, and more are still confusing, but they’re supposed to be. I still have bad days when I want to go home to hug my parents and dogs or days when I just want to cry on my roommate’s shoulder. Many days I feel alone and maybe even more confused than I once was. Being human– being me– is not easy.

I know that I am who I am for a reason and that what makes me different is what makes me beautiful. I like sports, but who cares if maybe I didn’t? Masculinity is not one stagnant definition; I realize it differs for every boy and man. And if you don’t feel masculine, that’s even cooler. Your experience is just as valuable as mine.

I know that I am masculine. I’ve become much more emotionally intelligent than I once was and am more in touch with my feelings. I am not scared to open up about things that disturb or shake me, and I advocate for other people that are different and like me. That is masculinity to me. I hope that other boys on Villanova’s campus aren’t afraid to be truthful to themselves and feel the emotions that come over them. Trust me; I understand how difficult it may seem to face those. Just know that it doesn’t make you any less of a man. And if your interests make you seem just a little less manly, I just say screw it. Life is too short for that comparison. What makes you an individual is much more prosperous than what makes you like the people around you.

I am strong. I am a man. I am creative. I am Colin.

Villanova, if you are reading this, know that society has nothing on you. Be yourself and learn to love your uniqueness. Draw a picture, make a playlist, and do something that fulfills the personality from within– not the one people expect from you. And if you’re struggling with your definition of masculinity, you are not alone. I’m proud of your progress.

Colin N., Villanova University

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