What if masculinity wasn’t what we were taught to admire?
What if it was something quieter,
steadier,
and far more powerful?

when someone loves us for who we are,
not for our highlight reels,
not for our past,
and not for who they want us to be but:

The real,
unfiltered,
and sometimes ugly us.

yes,
the ugly us.
the one underneath the filters.
the one that has the demons and the insecurities.
when they don’t flinch or are embarrassed at our flaws.
the one who don’t play bout you and will square up if someone disrespects you.

You better hold on to them.
Tight. AF

i used to believe masculinity lived in the gym.
it was big biceps,
played sports,
and an intimidating stare.
some males,
sure,
but i’ve learned:

Just because someone looks like a man,
that doesn’t mean they act like one.

muscles don’t equal depth; a scowl doesn’t make you safe.
masculinity is not a role we play,
a script we memorize,
or photos we post.
it’s how we show up for ourselves and our loved ones,
especially when no one’s watching.
i thought about this when alex fine spoke out after cassie’s testimony yesterday…

jackals with horrible pasts have got to learn to shut the fuck up.
it is so weird seeing jackals with abuse/bad behavior behind them,
cosigning other people with abuse/bad behavior in front of them.
chris brown is always interjecting himself with tory lanez nonsense.
when he decided to put his fork down from eating his food to post ^that,
i have never seen such a fast turn around in “shoulda kept that fork in ya hand”.
he posted that may 14th and was arrested on the 15th.

according to “people“….

the day before mother’s day,
i had this dream about my mother i can’t stop thinking about…

Have you ever felt like your life is lowkey under construction,
but you’re the only one standing in the rubble with no blueprint in sight?

i think i finally understand addiction.
that quiet but slippery kind.
it’s where you’re just trying to feel anything “other than”.
we don’t always run to crack.
sometimes it’s just retail therapy,
drink throughout the week,
subbin’ aimlessly to find the best onlyfans,
or racking up trophies through fucking.
anything to dodge the weight pressing down on your chest.
anything to avoid the silence where the truth lives.

i’ve been there lately.
not just emotionally,
but physically cornered.
trapped.
it’s like i’ve been living in a house with no doors,
no windows,
and just a constant draft of bad energy.
that house tho?
that is my current home…

I can smell this picture.

it’s no secret that males with money pay for companionship.
they skip to the front of the line and head straight into VIP.
there are some who use their money to be predatory,
but there are others who are genuinely looking to purchase connections.
i’ve heard stories of rich males who pay for more than sex.
they actually drop dollars for intimacy.
they’ll hire an escort to have dinner and talk.
no sex on the menu.
they are lonely,
can’t trust everyone,
and it’s easier to purchase loyalty.
i know what you’re thinking.

Well,
shit,
I’m available.

…but that is the thing about males who are in a higher tax bracket.
THEY pick who they’ll drop dollars on.
sometimes they pick good and other times…
well,
everyone meet datari austin.

he makes so much bank that…

Do men brag because they’re proud…
or because they’re hiding their true nature?

we can always count on a male to tell us how big his dick is.
the details won’t be spared on how well he plans to use it on us.
he’ll brag about how thick his wallet is and how flashy his lifestyle looks on paper.
at first glance,
it all sounds like confidence.
we’re blinded by the flex of the biceps or the wallet.
i’ve learned that true confidence is quiet tho.
all the other shit is performance enhancing drugs.
the moment we demand something real from him:

Support
Presence
A fuckin’ backbone

the mask starts to slip and what’s underneath?
it’s not not strength or not maturity…