We've made the wrong men famous.

My reaction to the “manosphere” becomes something more. A reflection on modern masculinity, the quiet presence of good men, and the standards I hope to pass on to my son.

Dear Leo,

I didn’t write what you’re about to read for you.

It came from a different place. A reaction to something I saw, something I couldn’t quite ignore. The kind of thing that makes you pause and think, is this really where we are?

At first, it wasn’t about you.

But then I thought about the world you’ll grow up in. The voices you’ll hear. The ideas about what a man should be and all the other interpretations of masculinity and what that looks like.

And I realised… I don’t get to stay quiet on that.

So this is me, trying in my own way, to leave you something steadier to come back to whenever you might need a refresher on what a man really is.

A good friend of mine (@projectponce) drew this picture of Leo and me roasting marshmallows on the fire.

The “manosphere”, is a growing corner of the internet made up of influencers, forums, and communities that claim to speak for men, often centred around masculinity, dating, power, and control.

Much of the content that leaves the manosphere is pumped with ego, anger, dominance, and a deeply distorted view of women.

I had to watch it twice to get through it. Not because it was complicated. Because it was uncomfortable. And if I’m honest… it left me feeling hollow.

Hollow at first, now compelled to do something. To somehow restore faith, a belief that good men exist.

But how have we arrived here?

In a world where men can behave like this, speak like this, treat women like this…and be rewarded for it. Not just tolerated. Rewarded.

Given enormous audiences, tremendous amounts of money, and praise.

And worst of all, they influence boys who are still figuring out what it means to be a man.

The problem isn’t that these men exist. It’s that we’ve made them famous.

I found myself looking around, thinking… what happened to men of honour?

Men with integrity that doesn’t bend when it’s inconvenient.
Men who protect, not perform.
Men who are loyal, quietly, not loudly for validation.

But then I caught myself. Of course these men still exist.

I think my initial reaction, and all the noise that followed, was fear talking. Maybe even the exact response this kind of content is designed to provoke.

Because men of honour don’t disappear. They just don’t shout.

They’re the ones holding the door open. Offering their seat on the train. Walking on the side closest to the road. Letting you go ahead at the checkout when you’ve only got a few things. Stopping to help when it’s needed. Stepping in when something feels off. Doing the right thing when no one’s watching.

No cameras.
No commentary.
No applause.

Just character.

And maybe that’s the problem.

We’re living in a time where noise is rewarded more than substance. Where outrage travels faster than integrity. Where algorithms don’t distinguish between influence and impact.

So we’ve amplified the wrong people.

Which begs the question…

Is it entirely their fault, or have they simply exposed an opportunity?

It feels similar to other things we see online, different examples, same pattern. Something extreme rises to the surface… and we consume it.

And in doing so, we validate it.

So what’s the antidote?

It’s not louder voices. Not more outrage. Not another version of the same thing dressed up differently.

The antidote is better men.

Men who are grounded in who they are, not performing for approval. Men who take responsibility for their actions, their words, their energy. Men who don’t need to dominate to feel secure. Men who can lead without controlling. Protect without possessing. Speak without degrading.

The antidote is visibility.

Because good men already exist. But too often, they’re quiet.

And in a world driven by attention, silence gets mistaken for absence.

So we need to show up.

We need to create space for men to be seen, not at their loudest, but at their most real.

The antidote is standards.

Not rules imposed from the outside, but values lived from within. Integrity when it’s inconvenient. Respect when it’s not reciprocated. Accountability without defensiveness.

Masculinity isn’t the problem. Distorted masculinity is.

And the only way to challenge that…is to live a version of it that’s undeniable.

And then there’s you, Leo.

I think about the kind of man you’ll become every single day.

You won’t be the loudest.
(Despite the Thompson gene.)

You won’t be the most followed (again, despite the Thompson gene). 

But you will be the kind of man people feel safe around. Someone they can rely on. Someone who makes others feel respected, heard, seen, and valued.

The kind of man who doesn’t need an audience to do the right thing.

He just does it.

There are good men out there, Leo. Plenty of them.

We just need to make them visible.

And for those who are unsure. It’s on us to set the standard.

Always,

Daddy x