Real Men
This narrative was written by a remarkable 15-year-old student, a sophomore at The Putney School, whose perspective has been both humbling and inspiring. Through her words, I find a mirror that reflects parts of my own journey, and thanks to her insight, I feel more confident — and vulnerable — in sharing my story of manhood and masculinity with a broader audience. In a time when the world urgently needs to challenge and redefine outdated ideals of “what it means to be a man,” her work serves as a reminder that we can engage in these conversations with openness, honesty, and empathy. Young voices like hers give me hope and drive to explore these topics in a way that disrupts harmful norms and promotes a more inclusive understanding of identity.
“I wouldn’t say there was a family dynamic,” Abelardo began, describing how little time he spent with his parents. No family dinners — he would come home late anyway. His parents were always working, so he had to learn to cook at just nine years old. “The one thing that I never really made peace with my dad is the one time he saw me coming home with bruises, a swollen eye, and a broken rib, and he said, ‘Do you need to learn how to fight?’” His father passed away in February. Abelardo never seemed to care much for his father’s ideas about masculinity — his father was never even there, not even to play soccer. But still, his father wanted Abelardo to be the “traditional” man: a construction worker, the head of the house, the protector.
This year, I started Spanish 4, the first Spanish class with Abelardo. I had been nervous, doubting my ability to keep up with a class where the teacher primarily spoke Spanish. I’d only known him from a distance, as a tall, serious, Mexican man with graying hair, his warm expressions often hidden behind his beard. I’d glimpsed his humor only in brief moments when our Spanish 3 and 7 classes joined. This narrow impression fueled my anxiety until I walked into his classroom for the first time and saw “Putney memes” projected onto the board — funny, carefully curated pictures about our community, teachers, students, and life at Putney. Abelardo shares his love through laughter and relatability.
During the interview, he recounted what masculinity felt like to an eleven-year-old boy who’d just been beaten up. In attendance that day, Abelardo introduced himself with a grin, everyone laughing, as the hard reality of toxic masculinity hit him in the face — quite literally — as some older boys decided to “teach him how to be a man.” “My first plan of action was to go to the store and buy a pack of cigarettes. I was angry.” He was also young and had no idea how to control his anger — or even how to smoke. But when the same boys who’d hit him saw him with cigarettes, they pleaded with him for lessons. Suddenly, he was the cool, masculine guy. So, he let go of his values, doing something he didn’t believe in to gain their acceptance.
He surprised me when he said that he only began to see this masculinity as toxic after moving to Vermont. Working in a place that proudly waves pride flags and fosters acceptance, he started to question the values he’d repressed for survival back home. As a boy, he had such strong ideas about what masculinity could be, but a society in conflict with his values made him stay quiet, smoking cigarettes and keeping his beliefs hidden. He couldn’t voice that he didn’t want to grow up to be the “man of the house.” His anger grew as his thoughts and values misaligned, with no escape until much later. Now, his beliefs have solidified, and he’s loud and proud about diversity, constantly reworking his lessons and advocating for language that makes Putney a safer, more inclusive place.
On October 18, we had our first student council meeting of the year. One topic was the naming of the sports teams: the “open” team and the “girls’” team. Abelardo talked about how meaningful it is for him to coach an open team, reflecting on the shift from a time when the boys’ team reigned as a dominant, boys-only space. I could tell he was anxious about the possibility of a name change back to “boys’ team.” He feared that if that happened, everything would revert to the way it once was, with boys assuming their team was superior simply due to their gender. When he spoke on this topic, I saw a change in his eyes; his voice softened, filled with empathy and determination. He nodded as he spoke, wanting everyone to understand his desire to create a lasting change for us.
When I asked where he’s from, he hesitated. He told me he was born in Cuernavaca, near Mexico City, but it didn’t feel like home. “Home” is Vermont, but more specifically, Putney. Progressive education is his true home, more than the place he slept each night as a child. Some of his extended family severed ties when he openly supported a non-binary student, and although painful, this only deepened his commitment to his values.
The Almazán family wasn’t the traditional family growing up. By age nine, Abelardo was cooking his meals; as a teenager, he’d come home, say a quick hello, and head straight to his room. His mother would dress him in nice clothes before seeing extended family, saying, “Make sure we look like a normal family!” He would wonder, What is normal?
Abelardo is living proof of how patriarchy affects men. It affected his mind, filled his lungs with smoke, and challenged his heart. He sacrificed a traditional family for an open heart and a progressive soul, and that, to me, proves just how strong a man he truly is.
