Masculine Stereotypes Quotes

I'd rather my son died in an accident than showed up with some bloke with a moustache.

Boys who spent their weekends making banana nut muffins did not, as a rule, excel in the art of hand-to-hand combat.

Within our culture, every school has a swimming pool. We lived on the coast. People swam in the surf. It's a very sporty nation and at that particular time anyone who had an artistic bent was very much an outsider. So if you liked reading or ideas or playing the piano then your dad viewed you as a sissy, basically.

The men who are messing up their lives, their families, and their world in their quest to feel man enough are not exercising truemasculinity, but a grotesque exaggeration of what they think a man is. When we see men overdoing their masculinity, we can assume that they haven't been raised by men, that they have taken cultural stereotypes literally, and that they are scared they aren't being manly enough.

Video games are a waste of time for men with nothing else to do. Real brains don't do that.

I never dreamed to be a fighter pilot, because those guys are jerks.

Crying never helped anybody do anything, okay? You have a problem, you face it like a man.

Man, without a saving touch of woman in him, is too doltish, too naive and romantic, too easily deluded and lulled to sleep by his imagination to be anything above a cavalryman, a theologian or a corporation director.

I used to love going fishing. I think it was really about the clothes. Nothing says real man like a vest with 38 pockets and a mesh hat with hooks in it.

I don't like soccer. I think it makes you soft. And by the way, you telling me it's the biggest whatever in the World, look, they drink tea everywhere too; they're pussies, you understand? I want some coffee.

I have always disliked being a man. The whole idea of manhood in America is pitiful, in my opinion. This version of masculinity is a little like having to wear an ill-fitting coat for one's entire life (by contrast, I imagine femininity to be an oppressive sense of nakedness).

The masculine spirit is under assault. It's obvious.

American men are allotted just as many tears as American women. But because we are forbidden to shed them, we die long before women do, with our hearts exploding or our blood pressure rising or our livers eaten away by alcohol because that lake of grief inside us has no outlet. We, men, die because our faces were not watered enough.

I never examined my role in male culture, in hyper masculinity. I never examined it, nobody ever called me on it.

I wasn't sure if the word boys should mean dim or incomprehensible. I was hovering between the two, with a healthy dose of testosterone-poisoned.

I don't want to smoke cigars or go to stag parties, wear jockey shorts or pick up the check.

I would want my son to value himself as a person. To hold himself to a higher standard, and to not listen to all the stuff that's shoved down men's throats about what they're supposed to do and how they're not supposed to feel. I want him to know that he's a person and he's allowed to have emotions and be vulnerable. That doesn't mean he's not strong.

Nobody ever asks men about the work-life balance, and I just find that interesting, because clearly, I would imagine most men also want to be good fathers, and I'm sure they want to be good partners.

When I was at University I had a sort of fear about going to the gym and that kind of blokeish environment, which was rooted in a feeling of total inadequacy, which is what fear is.

Better to be a jerk that knees than a knee that jerks.

I have a problem with a lot of men's fragrances because they are very strong. Somebody somewhere thinks that masculine means powerful smells, and I find them overbearing and not very pleasant.

I believe in a uniform for work, but why, because we're men, do we have to be ghettoised into grey suits?

It would have been convenient to be gay. Just because of the grooming, the narcissism, stuff like that. But I have this kind of roaring heterosexuality. Traditional, uncomplicated heterosexuality, an almost cliched Robin Askwith thing.

As a guy develops and practices his masculinity, he is accompanied by an invisible male chorus of all the other guys, who hiss orcheer as he attempts to approximate the masculine ideal, who push him to sacrifice more of his humanity for the sake of his masculinity, and who ridicule him when he holds back. The chorus is made up of all the guy's comrades and rivals, his buddies and bosses, his male ancestors and his male cultural heroes--and above all, his father, who may have been a real person in his life, or may have existed only as the myth of the man who got away.

Usually, like, anyone that would adopt, like, 'masc,' period, to describe them - it's a very phony, stereotypical masculinity.