Timi epitomized strength, even his physique a testament to his rugged nature. Firmly entrenched in his beliefs, he considered vulnerability a trait meant for women, an attribute incompatible with his masculine identity. Despite the weariness visibly etched into each step on his journey homeward, he maintained a façade of unwavering resilience
It had been a particularly grueling day at work, and the weight of disappointment bore down on him as he trudged home. Timi pushed open the creaking door of the small, dimly lit room he shared with his younger brother, Michael. The sad look on his face when he told him he couldn’t get his school fees, shattered him.
Without a word, Michael stormed out of the room angrily, and Timi ran after him.
“Let him go,” he heard their mothers who were watching her favorite show say.
Turning away, he caught a glimpse of her loving gaze and the open arms she extended toward him. It was enough for the dam to break. Had she seen his struggles, the relentless pressures that he shouldered? If he had delayed a second longer, he would have masked up and pretended he was fine, as he often did.
Timi fell into the embrace of his mother, her arms wrapping around him with the warmth of understanding and unconditional love. He couldn’t hold back anymore. He burst into heavy, loud tears, grateful his younger siblings weren’t home to witness this vulnerability.
Why would he restrain it, he wondered? Wasn’t he the one who had yearned to be able to cry aloud without having to hide behind closed palms? The burden that weighed him down was not solely society’s expectation of unyielding strength from a man, but the overwhelming responsibilities he had taken on. Since his father’s untimely passing, he had stepped into the role of the family’s provider and protector, becoming both husband and father to his younger siblings. He was only a child too.
His loud wail eventually subsided into hiccups, and slowly he let himself out of his mother’s comforting embrace. Realizing what had just happened, embarrassed, he abruptly took to his heels. It didn’t feel as liberating as he had thought it would.
She watched him go, a mixture of concern and understanding in her eyes. The last time he saw him cry was the day his father was buried. But today, he had seen her son in a moment of vulnerability, a side of him he had kept hidden for so long. But perhaps, in that moment of openness, Timi had found a safe space to be himself, even if it was only for a brief moment.
After a lot of contemplation, she followed him to his room and sat beside him. “Timi, crying doesn’t make you weak. It means you’re human. You don’t always have to bear the weight of the world on your shoulders. It’s okay to let your emotions out. You’ve been so strong for all of us, but remember, it’s not weak men who cry.”
As he watched his mother in her wheelchair, he realized the truth in her words. He could be strong and vulnerable at the same time. He didn’t need to be a solitary hero. Sometimes, he could lean on those who loved him, including his mother.
As Timi sank into the recesses of his thoughts, he remembered an article on vulnerability. It was an article he had chanced upon weeks before the emotional outburst that changed his perspective. It emphasized breaking stereotypes and embracing emotional authenticity. Each word of that piece now felt like a lifeline, a guide through the maze of societal expectations. It was a narrative he hadn’t fully understood then, yet its resonance lingered, a quiet companion in the chaos of his emotions. That article, now a beacon of truth, painted vulnerability not as a weakness but as a beacon of strength—a realization that echoed within him as he reflected on the journey he had just experienced.
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