Boyhood in Literature

An examination of how boyhood is portrayed in literature and its contributions to toxic masculinity.

Around April of 2025, conversations circulating growing concerns of a rise in misogyny amongst young boys flooded internet talking spaces, brought on by the release of Netflix’s Adolescence. The show was met with mixed reviews. Some overwhelmingly support the show, claiming that it should be required material for educators and others working with children. Others scathingly critical claim it to be radical or an unrealistic depiction of teenagers which makes it a pointless statement. I was in the former group. That being said, this is a literature blog, not a television one. While Adolescence’s themes will be referenced, it will ultimately be used as a stepping stone to talk about - you guessed it - books. The main reason Adolescence was so groundbreaking is because it touched on a topic that so many are affected by, but few acknowledge. The growing social network of adults is influencing young boys. Its held up by misogyny, toxic masculinity, and the declining mental health crisis among young boys. While I hold literature very dearly, there’s a long chain history of books being perpetrators of these issues. Let’s talk about it.

Before movies and television took the world by storm, books and comics were the leading contributors to pop culture and, henceforth, highly influential on young people. Realistically, they still are. In the world renowned series Harry Potter, the protagonist Harry’s life - to put it plainly - sucks. Harry grows up in an abusive household where he is bullied, starved and forced to perform vigorous manual labour as a child before being whisked away to an unfamiliar world where his life is constantly in mortal peril. But, how many times does Harry cry? From what I can gather, extremely rarely. No one even keeps track because it’s so insignificant when he does cry. Only when something absolutely devastating happens is Harry allowed to cry, and even then, he has to immediately pull himself back together after doing so. Meanwhile Hermione, his female companion cries regularly throughout the story, from happiness, sadness, frustration. She is allowed to lose control of her emotions in a healthy way and is one of the most respected characters from the series. Harry on the other hand is hardly a fan favorite, Draco Malfoy, the bully turned morally gray character, even steals his spotlight on multiple occasions. One of the most paramount moments that Draco is recognized and admired for is a scene where he’s crying. Harry's lack of emotional depth didn’t win him any fan favors in comparison to Hermione and Draco which begs the question, why was he written this way? Because, Harry is the role model for boys. Boys aren't supposed to be like Draco. His crying is almost like a rerouting sign. Like, ‘Hey if you're a bully that means you're weak and not manly, you don’t want to be like Draco right? Look at how pathetic he is’. The portrayal of Draco as inferior to Harry eliminates him as a role model for boys. Boys aren’t supposed to be like Hermione either, girls are. Girls are allowed to cry openly without it interfering with them being strong, independent, and intelligent. Both of these characters are given the right to feel, and react accordingly to a situation because they aren’t in the spotlight. Boys are supposed to be like Harry, and boys supposedly don’t cry. Harry is forced to shelve his emotions, shelve his personal feelings, for the greater good of the world both inside the series and outside. Whether subconsciously or not, the author forced Harry to be ‘Brave’ and a ‘leader’ when really, she’s not enforcing positive values. She’s showing that even when boys undergo deep trauma they need to bottle their emotions if they want people to acknowledge them. Harry was forced to grow up too fast. He was robbed of the innocence of a boy long ago, but society still demanded that he continue to sacrifice like one. 

Now, for a broader scope let’s look at a more modern example. In Suzanne Collin’s A Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, Coriolanus perfectly embodies the toxic nature of masculinity. His sense of self is extremely fragile in many aspects. He craves control above all, and his worldview shatters when he can’t obtain it. He restricts his emotions in order to appear strong. He’s highly possessive over his female partner, Lucy Gray Baird. At times, it’s shown he views her as an object more than anything. However, the brilliance of his depiction is that instead of falling victim to the idealized perception of boyhood like JK Rowling, Collins instead is aware of it and weaponizes it within the character to make a critique of the world. The reason, however, he makes such a good example is because an unfortunate amount of people do not understand this. There’s a fine line to walk in the Mano sphere, red pill, masculine territory. Yes, these boys are victims. But, no, the solution is not to coddle them and accept their behavior unconditionally because ‘they need it to feel good about themselves’. I personally spoke to many adults about Adolescence who seemingly completely missed the point of the show. They all echoed the same sentiment, ‘That poor boy’. But wait, isn’t that the sentiment I’ve been pushing this whole time, that we should have empathy for the boys who aren’t allowed to cry? Yes. Yes we absolutely should have empathy for them. But empathy doesn’t always mean acceptance. Sometimes, it means understanding someone so we can best ask them how to change. It’s not these boys' fault for playing the role we told them to play. But they do need to stop. The constant pandering to them once we’ve realized what we’ve done isn’t an end all solution. The pity people felt for Coriolanus and Jamie is the same pity that makes them have more sympathy for a sexual assaulter over the victim. 

So why should we let fictional boys cry? They aren’t real after all. Should literature not reflect the idealized versions of what we should be and provide role models for young people? Yes, it should, and that’s exactly why the boys in the media should be allowed to cry. Countless examples have existed: Thomas in Maze Runner or Percy Jackson in the PJO series have elicited tears without being emasculated. There’s no excuse to allow the media to hold boys to these unrealistic standards. Especially at such crucial stages of development when they are young, figuring out their identities, and looking for role models. Few boys have somewhere safe to turn too. Between men like Andrew Tate, blaming women for men’s lack of romantic success, and characters like Harry being served as unobtainable golden idols of boyhood, it's no surprise that feelings of isolation, insecurity and inferiority are on the rise within teenage boys. However we cannot allow them to perpetuate these mindsets, and we have a responsibility as a society to nurture them, but not their mindsets. Sometimes, the easy way isn’t the right way. Yes, it would be easy to let the teenage boy who gets rejected one too many times to comfort himself with theories crafted by men who have ‘hacked the dating scene’. After all, no parent wants to see their child suffer, feel ugly, or feel like they are not good enough. But, instead of letting them fall prey to those traps, teach them what masculinity should truly mean and offer them security so if they are rejected, they can understand that it’s not their fault nor the woman’s and it’s okay to be hurt by rejection. Obviously, toxic masculinity rears its head in many spaces but interactions with women or girls seem to be the most prominent or at least draw the most attention. Some would argue it’s due to the presence of violence within them. I am no way claiming that the boys are the victims in situations of domestic violence or sexual. However, there’s a hard line to walk in these conversations and part of that is addressing the issues that boys deal with that lead them down these paths without placing the blame onto women. Ultimately, the path to ending toxic masculinity and misogyny as a byproduct of that isn’t clear, but maybe if you’re reading a book and you notice your male protagonist isn’t crying, don’t simply accept it for how it is. Challenge it.