Beyond the “alpha”, what Féile taught me about building better men
On Tuesday I went to a Féile talk held at Holywell Trust in Derry, it was a talk Dr Paul Caplat of Queen’s University Belfast on the subject of Toxic Masculinity and to say that it landed like a stone in a pond; ripples everywhere would be an understatement.
His case was simple and devastating: from day one, boys are handed a narrow script about what a “real man” should be; quiet, strong, unflappable. On screen and online they meet the same cardboard cut-outs: footballers and influencers selling the fantasy that you’re nothing unless you’ve a supercar, several girlfriends, and a Rolex heavy enough to double as gym equipment. It’s a performance, not a person.
Before the predictable pile-on begins, let me be clear. I’ve been accused of misandry on X simply for raising this. Lazy. Untrue. I love men, good men, and there are plenty of them. I’m a mother of two sons who are growing into wonderful young men. This isn’t anti-male; it’s pro-human. It’s about widening the script so boys don’t have to amputate half their emotional lives to qualify as “masculine”.
I once worked closely with a man society would instantly label an “alpha”: a decorated soldier, tough as old boots, all the swagger in the world. He also wore a baby carrier and shared the childcare; did this diminish his masculinity? Absolutely not.
He also helped build a school in Afghanistan; because he wanted to give what the Taliban wouldn’t: a chance for everyone to be educated. He learned the local language, listened, and earned trust; in return, locals warned him about a booby-trap.
That’s leadership: give and take, rooted in respect, not fear. And when it came to me and my work, he backed me because he saw my talents. Not because I’m a woman. Because of my skills, my perspective, the way I cut through noise and looked at problems differently.
He wanted me on his team, not as a box ticking ornament, but on merit. Guess what happened? We worked brilliantly and got fantastic results. Did that devalue his masculinity? Not in the slightest. So what exactly is there to fear from men who lead with strength and care, instead of posturing?
Dr Caplat also highlighted something many women already clock: in male-dominated environments, the loudest lads aren’t always the leaders.
I’ve spent enough time in those rooms to spot the overlooked ones straight away; the men who don’t do the endless “bants”, aren’t on the right society lists, and don’t need a chorus of backslaps to feel tall. They’re the ones who run psychologically safe teams. I know the term makes some people roll their eyes. It shouldn’t. Psychological safety is not “soft”; it’s disciplined decency. It’s the difference between a group that hides problems and a team that fixes them.
When you value men who can nurture, include and hold standards, you don’t get less performance; you get more trust, more ideas, and fewer disasters.
Which is why the current fashion in some corners to “re-masculinise” the workplace by celebrating aggression misses the point. Mark Zuckerberg has publicly mused that culture should celebrate aggression more. Dr Caplat put the question to us: do we really need more aggression in the world right now? I’ll go first: absolutely not. We need more courage, yes; the courage to be accountable, to tell the truth, to listen, to change. Aggression and courage are not the same thing, and confusing them is how we end up mistaking noise for leadership.
Because if you’ve glanced at our newsfeeds lately, lack of aggression is not the problem. Vigilante groups swaggering around with smartphone justice. The funerals of Vanessa Whyte and her two children, James and Sara Rutledge; lives ended in violence that has broken a community. Tommy Robinson, arrested yet again. And a steady drip of stories in between that normalise humiliation, threats and dehumanisation as everyday entertainment. The ambient temperature is already too hot. Turning the dial further isn’t bravery; it’s arson.
Another thread from Dr Caplat’s talk stuck with me: many men report believing their male friends are more sexist than they are. That misperception, call it pluralistic ignorance, if you like, helps explain why decent men in groups don’t challenge the “jokes”, the digs, the casual contempt. If you think everyone else is worse, you keep your head down. I’ve had countless conversations with male friends that begin, “I don’t think it’s OK, but…” and slide into, “FiFi, you didn’t grow up here, you don’t understand.” I do understand. In Northern Ireland the social script still splits men into two archetypes: the provider and the big man. If you don’t fit, what then? Where do good men who won’t play act at being an “alpha” go to be seen as leaders?
Here’s a place to start: change who we reward. Promote the men who hire women on merit, who insist on standards without humiliation, who shut down the sleaze in the WhatsApp group, who measure success by the health of the team as well as the headline metric. Stop confusing ruthlessness with rigour. I’ve seen what happens when you back that kind of leadership; it doesn’t make a workplace soft; it makes it excellent.
And this begins long before HR policies. We’re still handing boys cars and diggers, funnelling them into football, and policing their emotions like bouncers on a nightclub door. “Stop crying.” “Man up.” “Don’t sulk.”
We tell them, early and often, that tenderness is treason. Then we wonder why anger becomes the only emotion that feels safe to show. Anger is grief in armour. It leaks; it harms; it kills.
In the UK, men die by suicide at around three times the rate of women, and men are still markedly less likely to seek talking therapy. If we want fewer broken men and fewer broken women, we must stop teaching boys to saw off their empathy and call the stump strength.
For those tempted to protest, “I’m tired of being told men are the problem,” take a breath. You’re not the problem; you’re the underused solution.
Most of your mates probably agree with you more than you think. Be the first to say, “Mate, that’s not it.” You don’t need a cape, a title, or a six-figure watch to reset a room. You just need to go first.
I left Dr Caplat’s talk with more questions than answers, and as a mum, a pang of doubt; did I do everything right with my own boys? Maybe not. None of us does. But we can course-correct.
We can offer boys a script that includes competence without cruelty, authority without contempt, pride without domination. We can show that the most “alpha” thing a man can do is lead with courage and care; build the school, learn the language, back the woman at the table because she’s good, and still be as strong as steel when it counts. That’s not misandry.
That’s love, of men, of boys, and of a future where strength isn’t measured by who you can silence, but by who you can empower.
Love FiFi G xoxo
