I have two boys. They’re aged two and four. They are hilarious, gorgeous, rambunctious, affectionate, big-hearted boys.
Little boys who love openly and cry easily – over lost Thomas the Tank Engine Trains, over the injustice of not being allowed to eat ice-blocks for breakfast, over lost teddy-bears. They are little boys who are curious and exhausting and loving and soft and who love to tumble around crashing and banging and laughing.
And I’m incredibly worried for them. I’m worried for where they are going to be in a decade. Fifteen years. Twenty. Forty.
Because this past week it hit home to me that something is very broken in the way we are raising our boys.
Watch: Ann Marie Houghtailing explain why raising men is the most important thing she can do in her life at TEDxSanDiego. (Post continues after video.)
In the past week my heart was strangled with stories about violence and misogyny perpetrated by men. An innocent teenage boy was killed by a coward punch to the head when a group of male strangers decide to attack someone for their own amusement. A father decides to kill his two little boys as well as himself when he drives off the Port Lincoln Wharf.