The Eight-Crayon Box: Why Boys Are Taught to Feel Less

I recently stumbled across (and subscribed to) a YouTuber named Jettro Jettro—a gamer who plays story-driven titles like Red Dead Redemption II and The Walking Dead. At first, I followed for the gameplay and shared love for open-world RPGs. But what kept me coming back wasn’t just the game—it was Jet’s emotional honesty. In the most dramatic scenes of the games he has played, he doesn’t hold back his tears. He says, plainly, “I don’t care if people see me cry. Men have emotions, and we’re allowed to feel them.”
And that moment hit for me—not just because of what he said, but because he had to say it at all.
The Emotional Divide
There is a realization I recently came to after starting my own therapy journey. This is based on my own experience growing up and reflects my personal perspective. If emotions were crayons, girls are often given a 64-count box. Boys? Just eight. And that limited emotional vocabulary doesn’t disappear with age—it deepens. When a boy is overwhelmed or confused, the only “acceptable” emotion might be anger, even when the more accurate one is frustration, embarrassment, or hurt. Girls, by contrast, are often allowed to explore and articulate a full spectrum: frustration, insult, shame, confusion, vulnerability. Now, to be fair, girls—who later grow into women—often have emotional expression used against them, too. They're frequently dismissed as 'too emotional' or 'irrational,' no matter how valid their feelings may be
But this limitation for boys starts early and it doesn’t end there. Let’s be honest—men didn’t invent emotional repression alone. Society did. And that society includes women. From moms to partners, teachers to friends, many people—regardless of gender—reinforce the idea that boys who cry are weak and men who feel too much are less 'manly.' Toxic masculinity is not a male flaw. It’s a societal script. And we’re all cast in it—until we choose to rewrite the part.
In fact, there's a name for this condition: alexithymia—specifically normative male alexithymia. It's a clinical term describing a widespread difficulty among men in recognizing and articulating their emotions. And it's not because they feel less—it’s because they've been taught, often since childhood, not to look too closely. This emotional illiteracy is not just a personal barrier—it’s a systemic outcome.
Emotional Repression Has a Cost
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Over 6 million U.S. men experience depression annually, yet many never seek help (WISHTV.com).
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Men die by suicide at a rate 3 to 4 times higher than women, accounting for nearly 80% of all suicides in the U.S (healthcity.bmc.org).
This is more than a cultural nuisance—it’s a public health crisis.
Why Relationships Suffer, Too
In intimate relationships, these emotional gaps show up under a microscope. Men struggle to name what they feel. Frustration turns to silence. Hurt becomes withdrawal. And when they finally do try to open up, they often face ridicule or discomfort—from both men and women. This becomes a vicious loop: repress, explode, feel shame, shut down.
Jet’s openness is an antidote to this pattern. He shows us that men crying isn’t weakness—it’s fluency.
This Men’s Mental Health Month, Let’s Try Something Radical
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Hand boys more than the “angry” crayon. Let them name shame, envy, sadness, joy, grief.
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Create spaces—homes, schools, workplaces—where male vulnerability is not only accepted but encouraged.
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Stop mocking men who express tenderness. Stop calling it “sassy,” “feminine,” or worse.
Strength isn’t silence. It’s expression, compassion, and courage. That’s what real men look like.
So here’s to Jet and to every man unlearning the eight-crayon box he was handed. May this month—and every one after—be about coloring with all the emotions. Loudly. Publicly. Proudly.