The Absence of Nurture That Leaves Them Nurturing an Absence

The mother wound is no small matter. It is an echo chamber where boys grow up hearing silence in the places they needed affirmation, and distance in the places they needed embrace. And like echoes, it follows them into boardrooms, bedrooms, and barbershops.

I am keenly aware that I was given a gift many men weren’t. My mother’s presence became my compass, guiding me toward tenderness without shame, and toward vulnerability without fear. But my proximity to the men carrying wounds kept me aware of different stories than my own. They didn’t have the same soft landing place I did. Their mothers, often worn thin by their own wounds, could be distant, dismissive, or demanding. These men carried that weight into adulthood, and when I listen to them… they admit what they’d never dare say aloud: they don’t want to need a woman because needing once left them neglected.

It reminds me that masculinity shaped without nurture becomes brittle. As I’ve continued to journey throughout manhood, I’ve witnessed brittle men break things like families, friendships, and futures. A mother is the first gardener of a boy’s soul. She can water him with affirmation or starve him with neglect. And no matter how old he grows, he will spend his life either blooming in that garden or searching for water elsewhere.

Elsewhere often means trying to do it alone, without the vulnerability to admit they don’t know how. Even when help is offered, some of us see it as weakness. Being able to receive the softness of femininity is taught in our childhood… a lesson many of our peers never had access to.

So when I speak of masculinity today, I speak not only of my own but of theirs… the men who never were affirmed in boyhood and adolescence. The men who taught me, by their honesty, that wounds don’t disappear just because we outgrow our childhood.

I honor my mother by living the lessons she instilled in me. I honor those men by refusing to ignore the stories they’ve trusted me with. For in the end, masculinity is not just about manhood… it is about humanhood. Every seed planted in boyhood grows into the forest we all must walk through together. And wounds can become seeds too… if we choose to water them with community.

We’re all responsible for ourselves… and my hope is that my brothers find more spaces to be vulnerable, so that we may nurture the absence together in community. My hope is that we ask our elder statesmen for help, leaning on their wisdom as mirrors of our future. Lastly, I pray we learn to listen without judgment, for the sake of collective healing. For in the end, wounds can wither us or water us…and the choice is ours.

So I ask: are we brave enough to let nurture return where it was once absent?

With love,

Aaron Abernathy