OP-ED: Grown men cry
I come from a family where grown men cry. My dad cried at the drop of a hat. Don’t get me wrong, it was not in a melodramatic way. It was that quiet, involuntary welling up that happens when a TV ad lands perfectly. You know, like when a soldier returning from war surprises his kid at school, or when a dog finally finds its way back to its family.
Neuroscientists and psychologists have spent decades taking apart the old notion that emotion clouds judgment. Daniel Goleman’s work on emotional intelligence made clear what many good leaders already knew intuitively: people who can read a room, sense rising tension, or anticipate emotional consequences tend to make better decisions, not worse ones. They are leaders who build trust and defuse conflict because they understand that logic does not operate in a vacuum.
Growing up in an English household and then spending Sundays with my dad’s Italian family, I was always conflicted. One side rarely showed emotion. In fact, I remember my mother speaking with her siblings at a funeral. Her conversation went something like this: “When I die, just put my ashes in a coffee can and set them out for the trash pickup.” But the Italian side was, well, much more sensitive.
Much of American culture believed in keeping a “stiff upper lip.” It held that any kind of emotion, especially in men, should be treated as a defect. Emotion represented a lack of toughness. It was seen as a liability, something that had to be managed, fixed or mocked.
I’m happy to tell you that assumption is wrong.
Those same neuroscientists and psychologists have discovered that empathy – the capacity to feel with others, not merely for them – is not a weakness of character. It is a form of intelligence. And in a world defined by volatility and war, it may be one of the most underappreciated strengths we have.
Researchers have found that highly empathetic people are tuned to micro-expressions. They recognize shifts in tone and respond to unspoken discomfort. They notice what others miss. Research has also shown that empathizers often recognize interpersonal conflict sooner and adjust their behavior more effectively. That’s not being too fragile; it’s being able to recognize patterns earlier.
So, what about crying? Emotional tears are not a loss of control. They are a physiological process that helps regulate stress. Not unlike taking several deep breaths, they activate the parasympathetic nervous system. What does that do? It releases oxytocin and endorphins. What do they do? They promote calm and recovery. Crying helps the body reset after emotional overload.
Does that mean tears always feel good in the moment? Of course not. But over time, emotional expression tends to support better emotional resolution, not worse. People with strong empathy often develop sophisticated internal regulations because they feel so much. They learn when to hold ’em, when to listen, and when to pause.
Less than 20% of humanity has this superpower. They are wired for depth. That depth can fuel creativity, caregiving, leadership and moral clarity. So quit asking them to apologize for being human. Remember when the nurse stays late, the teacher spends their own time to help you, or the leader averts a crisis by sensing it early — those are the people we praise. But in our current culture, we keep rewarding bluntness and perceiving it as strength. We confuse our leaders’ numbness (or dumbness) with toughness and their aggression with confidence.
In my family, the men still cry at commercials, but they also show up. They listen. They notice when someone is struggling before that person asks for help. I’ll take that model of masculinity and humanity any day.
Empathy is strength, directed outward, and we desperately need more understanding and less bravado.
Nick Jacobs is a resident of Windber.