Let me pipe up real quick.
They say men got low emotional intelligence.
That we’re emotionally unavailable. Unaware. Unwilling to name our feelings.
But what if some of us ain’t emotionally dumb —
We just don’t got the words?

On paper, emotional intelligence is simple:
Name it. Know it. Process it.
Cool. Easy enough.
But what do you call that feeling when everything in your life feels rented —
Your car. Your house.
Even your kids.

Yeah, they say fatherhood is beautiful.
They say watching your kids grow up is bittersweet.
But what about not getting to watch them grow up?
What do you name that?

There’s no emoji for that.
No self-help checklist.
No quick fix for a man sitting in a quiet room thinking about the bedtime stories he missed
Because a court, a system, or a broken relationship told him
“Every other weekend should be enough.”

It’s not that we don’t feel.
It’s that we feel so much we go numb.
And when the pain don’t got a name,
It just stays stuck in your chest,
Punching at your ribs from the inside.

They say “use your words.”
But half the time, the words we know don’t match what we feel.
We know how to say “I’m mad.”
But that ain’t quite it.
It’s not just anger — it’s powerlessness.
It’s not just sadness — it’s grief for a life you imagined but can’t seem to reach.
It’s not just stress — it’s carrying everything on your back and still being told “you’re not doing enough.”

They call it emotional intelligence like it’s a subject in school.
But where was the class that taught us how to grieve while still clocking in for work?
Who showed us how to stay calm when someone talks reckless about your role as a father —
in front of your own child?
Where’s the textbook for watching your baby walk away and knowing
you won’t see them again for two weeks?

Here’s what they don’t say:
Most men don’t lack emotional intelligence.
They lack safe spaces to practice it.
They lack language that makes room for masculine hurt
without making it look soft or shameful.

So we go quiet.
Or we go hard.
We either shut down, or blow up —
Not because we don’t know how we feel,
but because we’ve never been taught how to translate it.

And yeah — I know.
Some feelings don’t have a name.
But just because it ain’t got a label
don’t mean it’s not real.
You feel it when you’re alone in your car
and the silence feels louder than the engine.
You feel it when you hold back tears not because you don’t feel,
but because you don’t trust what would happen if you finally let go.

That’s emotional intelligence too.
Recognizing the storm, even if you don’t know what to call the thunder.

So maybe it starts small.
Not with healing your whole past.
Not with reading some book or sitting in some circle you’re not ready for.
Maybe it starts with just checking in with yourself:

“What am I feeling right now?”
“Where do I feel it in my body?”
“What might’ve triggered this?”

You ain’t gotta answer perfectly.
You ain’t gotta name it like a therapist.
Just notice it.
That’s the first step.
That’s masculine emotional intelligence:
Not letting your emotions control you,
but not denying they exist either.

Because if you can’t name it, you can’t tame it.
And if you never face it, it starts showing up in other places:
In your tone.
In your silence.
In how quick you snap on somebody who didn’t deserve it.
In how you stop answering calls.
In how numb you go in rooms that used to make you feel alive.

You don’t have to live like that.
You don’t have to be a mystery to yourself.

So what’s emotional intelligence for men?
It ain’t therapy speak.
It’s survival.
It’s control.
It’s peace.
It’s knowing when to speak and when to breathe.
It’s walking away when you want to swing.
It’s telling your homie “I’m not good right now” instead of just going ghost.
It’s crying without apology, and healing without shame.

It’s masculine.
It’s necessary.
And it’s yours — even if you’ve never had a word for it before.

Remember, we all carry something.
But here, you don’t have to carry it alone.
Pipe Up.

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