Still had my masculinity

Of course, I cried when my arm broke and my bone came out of my skin. Crying didn’t make me less of a man, even though I was seven years old that day. I always remember my father telling me “men don’t cry son” as if it was a law. I understood my father had his principles, but that doesn’t mean I have to live up to it. The idea that males can’t cry or show any kind of emotion didn’t make any sense to me. 

September 8th, 2008 has been just like any ordinary day, a little kid enjoying life at school. He would play, learn, eat, and connect with others. When 3:00 o’clock pm came and it was time to leave school, my mother would pick me up and we would walk home. My mother just like any other beautiful creation from God was very protective. As her only son the protection level was to the max, that I had to hold her hand as we walked. However, that day I decided to be a rebel and walk on my own without holding my mother’s hand. 

Being a rebel at seven years old wasn’t always the smartest idea. From a distance I saw a fire hydrant that looked extremely exciting to sit on. When I arrived, I sat on top of the hydrant and acted like I was a very fast driver. A Nascar driver to be exact. My mother yelled from a distance” get down from there.” So, I did because I love her very much and would give up my life for her. As I was getting off, my foot slipped and everything was in slow motion. I saw the floor coming closer and closer to my entire body fell on top of my arm. As I was on the floor hearing my mother yell from the distance “stay there,” like if I had any other place to be at. I stared at a weird stick coming out of my skin, until I realized that was my bone. I began to cry at that moment. My mother rushing to me and seeing my arm, she decided to lift me up and rush to the house. As she was running my eyes became a waterfall. She placed me in the back seat laying down as, she drove as fast as she can to the emergency room.

The emergency room was the last place I wanted to be at that day, after deciding to be a rebel. As we approached the emergency room, the thing that I felt extremely was that my beautiful mother had to carry me once again. She parked in the lower level of the structure when the emergency room is on the second level. As we approached the front desk the nurse immediately placed me on the hospital bed. My mother rushing with the medical team was on the phone with my father explaining the incident. When we finally made it to the room my mom was not allowed wasn’t allowed in, at that moment and she told me “everything will be fine.” As I leaned back on the hospital bed and resting my entire body, my eyelids began to feel like boats sinking. Everything around me was blurry until the anesthesia knocked me out. I guess it was time to fix my arm.

I believe it was around 8:30pm when I woke up and saw that I was lying down with a white rock-hard cast surrounding my arm. Realizing that I just had surgery made me tear up because of the adrenaline and emotions. ignoring my father’s principle that men don’t cry made me frightened of my fathers’ reaction. My father soon came into the room and said “hey bud, how do you feel” I replied “I feel okay, but I was very scared when it happened.” “Of course, it was scary son, your bone came out” he said, my mother came into the room and I gave her my thanks. I told my father “I’m sorry for tearing up” he replied “it’s you’re brave.” I felt like his response was a warm hug. 

The meaning to be a man is making your own decision even if it means to cry. A real man doesn’t care about what other people say or do. It takes a lot of guts for a man to show any kind of emotion because is not masculine. Men with emotion and sympathy are commonly seen as weak because they were raised to believe that. The principles that my father taught me didn’t make sense. Also, it takes a real man to make his own path even if it might lead to a broken arm because living life with tears will make an individual even stronger.