Masculinity is becoming a popular topic these days, but are we really talking about it? So often I see people roll their eyes–yeah, men included–dismissing the conversation as old and tired.

But the fact that people can feel this way about something that is still silently killing so many of our men–and those they love–is proof that most of of us either feel helpless or are in denial, and don’t have a clue. But it’s time to not only wake up but stay woke.

We must roll up our sleeves–both men and women–and fearlessly have the real and vulnerable conversations, especially if they make us uncomfortable, where we wrestle the concept of masculinity and manhood to  the ground, while getting our asses kicked in the process.

Only then will we discover, as Keon shows us, that masculinity can either be the sword that kills or the chisel that shapes–the choice is ultimately ours, and always has been, even if we never knew it.

Junior high school was when my voice started changing. Before then, I sounded like a young girl, even though I was a hefty kid. I got made fun of for that and having a swish when I walked. There were a number of things that made people see me as effeminate and I got called gay nearly every day in junior high school. And sometimes it was worse.

For example, one day I was walking down the stairs. And from the top, a group of girls poured a soda on me and ran. Eventually the tormenting pushed me over the edge and I snapped, trying to fight everyone in the classroom during my 8th grade year. I just couldn’t take it anymore.

In high school, you saw the tall basketball players and  the guys who worked out a lot. The girls had on their tight jeans that showed off their curves. And then there was me. I didn’t know how I fit in. I wasn’t the tallest or the most in shape. I tried out for different sports and didn’t like them, like football and track and field. And then I tried out for a dance team and finally found a place I could call my own.

I went to the high school that LL Cool J, Russell Simmons, 50 Cent, and even Ja Rule went to, which influenced the standard of masculinity. Those were the type of men all of the guys wanted to emulate. But I wasn’t really interested in that; I wanted to be different.

Although they focused on hip hop, we did everything from ballet to modern. With them, I found a place where I not only belonged but discovered guys who were going through some of the same struggles with masculinity that I was. We understood each other without having to talk about it. We were able to bond because we all felt the same way: we were different and didn’t fit the same standard of masculinity like the other guys.

Being a guy was hard because there were clear examples of what was considered masculine and wasn’t: you had the guys who were athletes and then you had us–the guys on the dance team. And even though we were more popular than the athletes, we were automatically assumed to be gay, whether we liked guys or not.

I went to the high school that LL Cool J, Russell Simmons, 50 Cent, and even Ja Rule went to, which influenced the standard of masculinity. Those were the type of men all of the guys wanted to emulate. But I wasn’t really interested in that; I wanted to be different.

Thanks to guys like Ryan Seacrest and models like Tyson Beckford, other artists and singers, they pushed the boundaries of masculinity and what guys could do. They were men but on their own terms. They were strong men but didn’t necessarily have to be big and muscular. They taught me that masculinity can be quite relative–there is no one way to be a man.

When I was younger, I tried desperately to train myself not to swish, “break” my wrists, or “pop” my neck. But now, I don’t see masculinity as a list of things I am not allowed to do, but another way in which I can just be myself.

For example, a single father could be effeminate but be an outstanding father who takes care of his kids. That doesn’t make him any less of a man. In different ways, men (and women) redefine what it means to be a man by making people understand that strength isn’t a quality that only exists in men. For example, my mother is the strongest person I know and, in many ways, she taught me to be a man.

To me, masculinity is about respect and providing, and it doesn’t always have to mean a lot of money. Sometimes it’s just being there. But there should be an understanding: men want the same thing as women. We want to be heard and held, too. It isn’t an “either/or,” but an “and.” It’s something we all want and  need.

When I was younger, I tried desperately to train myself not to swish, “break” my wrists, or “pop” my neck. But now, I don’t see masculinity as a list of things I am not allowed to do, but another way in which I can just be myself. I determine what kind of man I want to be and what masculinity means to me.