Dear World.

When I learned that my colleague was bringing Dear World to Tulane, I was pumped. I couldn't wait to see how our campus would respond and I felt confident our community had narratives that needed to be shared. Since the shoot happened a few weeks back, I've had a chance to connect more with Jonah, the Executive Producer for Dear World who took our photographs. He hosted a party at his place for Mardi Gras and like a true New Orleanian, opened up his home and we became friends. And he's fascinating. Amazing. As is the project. Although I'm beginning to think that Dear World is less of a project and more of a movement.

I didn't initially plan to participate in the photo shoot. What would I say? What narrative did I wish to share? What story needed my voice? I couldn't be happier that I tapped into my vulnerability and decided to share something that I've struggled with and care deeply about: masculinity. For me, my masculinity has always been wrapped in both my sex and my sexual orientation. I was born a male and that came with pretty high standards of what it means to be a man in this world. I can confidently say these standards were ingrained less in me by my father and more by everyone and everything else. I was simply an embarrassment on any athletic team growing up and that threatened my masculinity. I was a late bloomer in high school and that threatened my masculinity. I connected more with girls and theatre than I did with guys and football and that threatened my masculinity.

I was a kid who chose Barbies over baseball, and dressing up over getting dirty in the backyard. I never cared much for learning how to fix cars, and hunting and fishing (as much as my father tried) were never my forte. If all of these things defined masculinity, what it meant to be a "real" man, where did I fit in? Attending an all male high school for grades 8-12 didn't help either and in this sea of performance and posturing, I often struggled to find my place. I'd like to think I found my voice in college but even throughout my fraternity experiences - in the name of brotherhood - I often found myself pretending in order to fit the mold required of me by my brothers.

So when exactly I did find my voice, I can't say for certain. What I can say for certain is that I no longer let society or anyone else define what it means to me a man in this world. I can express my feelings, be vulnerable, lead with my heart, and connect emotionally with another man and still identify as masculine. I can cry in sappy movies, express interest in fashion, and enjoy Broadway shows and still identify as masculine. My ability to speak in "bro code" with the best of them, chug beers, and rub elbows in the gym with other dudes doesn't make me any more or less masculine than sharing a bottle of wine with a girlfriend and talking about love and life. 

What I've discovered on this journey is that I get to choose. How I identify. What that means. And how I express myself. I'm comfortable in my own skin and I strive to use my voice to encourage others to do the same. Do you. Be you. Define yourself.

Cheers.