You were born into a world that handed you a head start. Whether you saw it or not, whether anyone told you or not. And I need you to know that’s not a guilt trip, it’s a responsibility.

I didn’t write this to lecture you. I wrote it because I love you. Because I’ve lived half a century on this cracked, beautiful planet, and I’ve watched too many good men stay silent while the world kept hurting people who didn’t deserve it.

And I never want that to be you.

So here it is, from a father who loves you with everything he’s got and still believes you can help build something better.

Be strong enough to be kind.

Kindness is not weakness. It’s courage. Anyone can puff up their chest, bark louder, or make themselves feel big by making someone else feel small. That’s not strength. That’s fear wearing boots.

Open doors, for everyone, not because they can’t, but because we all deserve small acts of grace. Offer your seat. Carry the heavy bag. And if they tell you they don’t need your help, respect that too. That’s the whole point.

No means no. Silence also means no. Anything less than a full-body yes? Still no.

Your desire is not a permission slip. Your feelings don’t entitle you to anything. And anyone who tells you otherwise is lying to you.

Sex isn’t something you win. It’s not a notch, a prize, a performance. It’s connection. Respect. Trust. If you don’t feel those things, walk away. Your body isn’t hungry for flesh. It’s hungry for meaning. Don’t feed it garbage and expect to feel full.

Listen more. Defend less.

When a woman tells you something made her uncomfortable, your job isn’t to argue, it’s to listen. You don’t have to fix it, explain it, or debate the nuance of her experience.

Just hear her.

If someone tells you they were hurt, the correct answer isn’t, “I didn’t mean to.” It’s, “I’m sorry.” Impact over intent. Every time.

Your feelings matter. Your power does too.

I know the world told you that crying was weak. That anger was strength. That showing emotion was some kind of failure of masculinity.

It was lying.

Feel everything. Then let those feelings make you more human, not more guarded. It’s okay to be soft. It’s okay to be unsure. Vulnerability isn’t just okay. It’s necessary. That’s how you stay connected to yourself , and to the people you love.

Feminism is not a threat to you. It’s a gift.

Supporting equality doesn’t mean you lose. It means everyone wins. You get to love stronger women, work with smarter leaders, raise bolder daughters.

Feminism isn’t anti-men. It’s anti-bullshit.

And if that makes you uncomfortable, lean in. The discomfort is where the growth is.

Call it out. Every time.

If your friends make a sexist joke, say something. If your co-worker talks over a woman in a meeting, interrupt. If someone touches someone without consent, step in.

It’s not enough to be “one of the good ones.” The world needs good ones to get loud.

You were born with privilege. Use it.

Use it to amplify voices that go unheard. Use it to make space at the table, or flip the damn table over if that’s what it takes. Use it to build bridges, not walls. Use it to challenge systems that benefit you but oppress others.

You can’t change where you started, but you can choose how you move through the world. That’s the part that matters.

Final thing. Maybe the most important.

You are loved. Fiercely. Without condition. Not for being perfect. Not for being tough. Not for how you perform masculinity. But for who you are, and who you’re still becoming.

So be proud. Be honest. Be brave.

And when in doubt, ask yourself this:

If I were the one being spoken to, touched, judged, hired, dated, ignored, or feared, how would I want to be treated?

Now go do that.

I’m more proud of you than I could ever express in a lifetime, but I’ll remind you as often as I can.

Love you forever.

More than you know.

— Dad