A Vision of Positive Masculinity
The End of a Series, the Start of the Conversation
When I started my gender transition from female to male, I knew that an important element of my journey would be finding healthy examples of masculinity to model myself after. I wasn’t interested in cliches or a stereotype of masculinity—I wanted the real deal: I wanted to be proud of the man I was becoming. But where would I find these examples in a society that is full of masculine negativity? Not only are the stereotypes largely negative, but many people are afraid of men or understandably critical of the very real dangers of toxic masculinity.
If I wanted to be a good man, I would have to dig deeper into the “rules” and default performances of gender in order to unearth something deeper and more true.
While it is true that there is no shortage of negative examples of masculinity today, there are still positive examples to be found. In this series on the Catholic performance of masculinity, we have observed some troubling patterns and issues that plague the Catholic Church and society at large (Christian Nationalism, gender essentialism, calling empathy a sin, etc). But at the same time, we have found and embraced healthy examples of masculinity: examples that deconstruct the expression and validation of masculinity as exerting power over others as the only way that we can move forward.
Note: this article is part of our in-depth series exploring masculinity in the Catholic Church—from toxic traditions to hopeful alternatives rooted in empathy, justice, and queer liberation. You can read the entire series here: The Full Catholic Masculinity Series.
As someone who went through purity culture programming, I (Emma) understand this articulation of masculinity as an exertion of power well. Purity culture is part of wider social purity movements centered on preserving the purity of White, straight, cis American women. It reinforces the idea that men are not only justified to beholden to commit violence against LGBTQ+ people and people of color in order to protect people that “challenge” or “threaten” white women. During the True Beauty retreat I attended as a teen, we were encouraged to pray for our husbands to find us—and keep ourselves pure of mind and body for him. This warped view of gender roles—placing men in a different category from women—only reinforces toxic patterns that harm both men and women.
But now, let’s turn our gaze away from problematic descriptions of masculinity for a moment and talk about what might actually be an aspirational vision for men today. What might we do as a church and society to support a positive and healthy masculinity? What will we offer as an alternative to saying things like “men are just lustful” and making it women’s responsibility? When will we stop using patriarchal interpretations of theology as a way to justify excluding people from clergy? When will our liturgies respect the true diversity of God’s inclusive theology?
These questions have everything to do with what it means to be a man. Consider this: the stereotypical view of men is that their physical strength and social power make them unpredictable at best and dangerous at worst. This is why we as a society continue to center men’s viewpoints and feelings over women (maligning women who show emotion while viewing male emotion as justified) and tolerate a level of violence that has immediate consequences for literally any other demographic (white male killers usually get calmly apprehended while Black men are often taken down fatally).
So what happens when we de-center cis-het white men? What happens when we level the playing field and actually treat everyone with human dignity? It’s a very different picture than what we’re seeing in the headlines right now.
Despite the current dumpster-fire of masculine examples, we do actually have some really great examples. The first one that comes to mind for Catholic examples is Pope Francis (enough said?). Not only has Francis made it a point to provide some measure of financial assistance to the local trans community of Rome, but he’s also given face-time and longer private meetings to trans people, such as myself (Max), who met the Pope after a general audience in October of 2024.
I was able to tell the Pope in Spanish that I am a transgender man, something that would’ve felt impossible (and unthinkable) with anyone other than Francis. And his commitment to the synodal process has signaled to every level of the church that he wants everyone to be heard, not just the (all male) clergy.
In Francis we have a leader who always centers the lived experiences of his flock by going out and meeting people where they are. This type of leadership turns away from the capitalistic drive to convert, colonize, and dominate. The Pope is not at all concerned with demonstrating an alpha masculinity, but rather in using his masculinity to support and uplift others.
Francis models a masculinity centered on humility and service. But he's not alone—history gives us more examples, including those who lived their faith in times of extreme oppression. Others that come to mind are Saint Maximilian Kolbe, a saint who offered his life in place of another prisoner in Auschwitz, a concentration camp where Nazi officials committed mass genocide of Jewish, LGBTQ+, disabled, and other individuals that did not fit an Aryan ideal. It stands in stark contrast to Catholic Trump-supporter Steve Bannon who did a straight-arm Nazi salute at CPAC. Although he later claimed it was a wave, it sent a clear signal to other Catholics aligning themselves with Trump supporters like Elon Musk.
And as opposed to Archbishop Fulton Sheen stating that “Judas Iscariot would be the patron saint of social justice,” there are male saints who actually espouse social justice ethics, including St. Oscar Romero who committed himself to liberation of the oppressed in El Salvador and St. Martin de Porres, who demonstrated lifelong humility and service to marginalized communities he was born into and many others.
Other saints like Saint Bernard of Clairvaux and Archbishop Malachy of Armagh represent a model of masculinity rooted in love, devotion, and spiritual empathy. Although Bernard would not have used terms like “gay” or “queer” during his lifetime, his relationship with Archbishop Malachy offers a model for same-sex life within monastic life. It reflects a long, yet often hidden history of queer men finding spiritual and emotional meaning within the Church and their communities.
As MCC minister Kittredge Cherry wrote on her website about queer saints (another great resource to explore), during the early Church, deep connections between men were seen as channels for divine grace. The pair challenge the idea that being gay or queer somehow invalidates masculinity, or that it means they cannot be part of the Church.
Diverse representations of masculinity are at the heart of what makes communities strong. As C.S. Lewis observed in his book Mere Christianity, “Sameness is to be found most among the most ‘natural’ men, not among those who surrender to Christ. How monotonously alike all the great tyrants and conquerors have been; how gloriously different are the saints.” This is an essential lesson for men today, who need guidance in finding their role in society and who feel that there is only one right way to be a masculine person, mirroring the construct that there is one right way to be a woman (as we highlighted in our gender essentialist piece).
I’m a transgender man who aspires to a positive vision of masculinity. I want to be the kind of man who people feel safe around—who listens, collaborates, and understands that true strength is found in community, not control.
I want to be a man who welcomes different perspectives, who doesn’t see disagreement as a threat but as an opportunity to grow. I want to be the kind of man who doesn’t need to impose his will on others to feel important but instead, like the Roman centurion in Matthew’s Gospel, can humbly ask Jesus to enter his home so that he may be healed.
And I want to be a man who practices gratitude. This series would not have been possible without the brilliant work of Emma Cieslik, who in addition to being a close friend is also an incredible writer and researcher. No matter what direction I wanted to take this project, she was always ready to dig deeper. My deepest thanks to her for the depth and perspective she brought to these discussions.
This isn’t the end of our work—it’s an invitation. An invitation to keep challenging the rigid ideas of gender that limit us all. An invitation to continue uncovering how masculinity, femininity, and queerness intersect with Catholic tradition in ways both harmful and hopeful. Most of all, it’s an invitation to imagine something better. A vision of masculinity that isn’t built on power, domination, or exclusion—but on love, justice, and community.
Let’s keep going!
This article is part of our in-depth series exploring masculinity in the Catholic Church—from toxic traditions to hopeful alternatives rooted in empathy, justice, and queer liberation. You can read the entire series here: The Full Catholic Masculinity Series.
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