Man Up:
Lessons on Manhood from Chinese Philosophy
In my late teens into my early twenties, I was just a few steps away from bring the kind of incel you read about on the news. Quiet, isolated, and antisocial, I was bitter at the world around me so I decided to do something drastic and move to the other side of the planet. If I hadn’t picked up the Dao De Jing back then, if I had stumbled on to something else, that drastic action could have been very different.
The plight of young men isn’t a popular one. When discussed, it’s usually in the context of some tragedy and rarely generates compassion. The numbers are difficult and don’t invite a positive opinion of men; 69.7% of murders, 69.8% of robberies, 66.4% of aggravated assaults, and 85% of rapes were perpetrated by men in 2024 (FBI Crime Data, 2024). Additionally, men were also the victims of fatal violent crime at a much higher rate – 77.2% of murders. When considering violence to themselves, men are nearly 4 times as likely as women to die by suicide. Nearly 70% of suicide deaths were white men alone.
I am this demographic, so I have some authority to speak on it. My emotional pains were the result of failing to meet expectations - mine and others. I wasn’t as popular, handsome or smart as I should have been. My environment wasn’t giving me what I perceived I needed – not just what I felt entitled to, but to what I felt was necessary to be worthy in society.
Especially in a city like Miami, which has a reputation for being superficial, reminders are everywhere. There’s the extra wrinkle of latin ‘machismo’ that informs what masculinity is supposed to be. I could never be that person, and the hopelessness that ensued was part of what pushed me to leave the US entirely.
Since returning, there have been a few occasions where I saw myself walking through the clinic doors; a young man trying to figure it out. Sometimes they come for an ache or pain like I did, or they’re looking for help with anxiety. I love all my patients, but there’s a special joy in these cases because I get to watch how those TCM concepts that shifted my perspective are helping someone new.
With that context, I’ll share a few of the ideas that helped me with my anxiety and dissatisfaction as explained by Chinese culture.
1. Should is a dirty word
I really shouldn’t worry so much about everything, but I can’t help it.
I’m only in my 30’s, I shouldn’t be dealing with this back pain.
I know I should eat better.
If you’re in an acupuncture clinic, it’s because you aren’t feeling your best. Adding unnecessary guilt or shame on top of back pain, insomnia, anxiety, or whatever you’re in for does nothing to improve your situation. After reading that sentence, if your reaction is “I know, I shouldn’t think that way,’ then this is for you.
‘Should’ isn’t real. It represents assumptions about reality and doesn’t address what’s actually happening. It’s a fantasy that only leads to anxiety and disappointment. When I began to police my use of ‘should’, my self-confidence improved. Daoists believe that there is no ‘should’, only what is:
There is a time for being ahead,
a time for being behind;
a time for being in motion,
a time for being at rest;
a time for being vigorous,
a time for being exhausted;
a time for being safe,
a time for being in danger.
- Dao De Jing, Verse 29
2. This, too, shall pass.
Youth and inexperience go hand in hand. I remember being convinced of a hundred truths, because that was the breadth of my experience. Everything was important and potentially catastrophic. When I was young, the image I had of myself was pretty bleak; ugly, uninteresting, untalented and unable to change any of it. I left for China to redefine myself, but those same criticisms were waiting for me when I returned. It stills happens sometimes; that knee-jerk reaction of ‘what if this is forever?’ Then, when confronted with prospect of eternal pain, clear thinking becomes a lot harder.
What was different when I returned, however, was that I knew change was inevitable. In Tai Chi practice, you’re rarely still. The movements are intended to flow seamlessly from one into the other, while the practitioner maintains balance. It’s meant to represent the dynamic nature of change, and learning to be solid no matter what’s going on. Relaxing into the postures is the only way to keep that stability. By extension, Tai Chi teaches ‘players’ (in China, practicing Tai Chi is called ‘playing’) that nothing is stagnant, so learn to go with the flow.
A rich man asked Sengai to write something for the continued prosperity of his family so that it might be treasured from generation to generation.
Sengai wrote: "Father dies, son dies, grandson dies."
The rich man became angry. "I asked you to write something for the happiness of my family! Why do you make such a joke as this?"
"No joke is intended," explained Sengai. "If before you yourself die your son should die, this would grieve you greatly. If your grandson should pass away before your son, both of you would be broken-hearted. If your family, generation after generation, passes away in the order I have named, it will be the natural course of life. I call this real prosperity."
- Zen koan
3. Let the River Carry You
Last year I was helping my father put up Christmas lights outside his house. There was an old light plugged into the extension cord that hadn’t been touched in a year and had rusted tight. My father struggled mightily, pulling as hard as he could to no avail. He threw up his hands in frustration and had me give a try. I’m far too delicate for hard labor, so I wiggled the cords side to side, and after a moment they slipped free.
Philosophy is always concerned about what to do. In China, there are three big schools of thought – Buddhism, Daoism, and Confucianism, each with their own idea about how to engage with the world. In particular, the principle of 无为, wuwei, or ‘effortless action’ struck me.
The premise of wuwei is illustrated by the story The Gorge of Lu:
Confucious was walking with his disciples when he saw a man throw himself over a waterfall up above. Aghast, he told his disciples to go save the suicidal man, but they were stopped when the stranger casually waded out of the river, unharmed.
“You must be a ghost to survive a fall like that!” Confucious exclaimed.
“Not hardly,” the man replied. “I’ve been swimming this river for much of my life. I’ve learned to go in with the eddies and out with the flows. I follow the water and forget myself, and survive because I don’t struggle against the current. That is all.”
Do you remember Newton’s Third Law of Motion? For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Force is met with force, but if you go with the circumstances, you can slip right through. Wuwei is, in essence, ‘go with the flow.’ Don’t get pissed at the waterfall for being there, learn to go with it to get what you want. It’s not the easiest thing, of course; it requires stillness, wisdom, and detachment. But when I learned not to cut against the grain, things got a lot easier. At least, the times when I remember.
Controversial though the statement has sadly become, it’s rough out there for men. The confluence of shifting social expectations, personal obligations, ambitions, and guilt is difficult to navigate. Social stigma about men who ask for help is also still quite strong, and this means men are discouraged from asking for help. A few cherry-picked insights from the Far East may not change your life, but it may offer some reprieve, and some hope. Look for help, so that you can develop the tools to help yourself.
