The reception class at my school had a big box of toys by the door. After lunch our teacher would invite each of us to pick one toy from the box and return to the play rug where we would play until home time.
There was a huge toy lorry in the box, almost as big as myself. It was every child’s favourite - scuffles and fights would break out over this toy. The teacher had to ration the time each child could have it.
I had never managed to get my hands on this toy so I came up with a plan. I would spend the last five minutes of the lunch break standing by the door in the playground. When the teacher rang the bell and we all had to stand like statues, I would be closest to the entrance, would be first into the corridor, be first to the classroom and sit in the corner of the rug, nearest the toy box.
That lunchtime I waited by the door in the playground. The bell rang and we were ushered in. I was turning right, towards my classroom at the end of the corridor. As I turned right, from my left I heard "whack!"
I looked over my shoulder and saw a teacher standing over a boy. He'd obviously been naughty - he was inside during the lunch break - and he was from the infant school, no more than 7 years old. The boy was holding his face and crying - that breathless cry, where the child can't catch his breath and ends up gulping more than sobbing.
"Stop crying, boys don't cry," yelled the teacher as she raised her hand to hit him again.
I turned away and carried on walking. As much as I wanted to run to my classroom, I knew now was not the time to break the “no running in the corridor” rule.
I remember thinking to myself, "Oh my god, imagine crying in front of a teacher. How embarrassing. I'd rather die than cry at school." I was four years old and already indoctrinated into toxic masculinity. The thought of crying, showing emotion or asking for help had already been beaten out of me.
I realise I can't remember a time when it was acceptable to lay bare my failings and plead forgiveness.
Before women mock men for toxic masculinity, a man’s inability to admit being vulnerable or ask for help, they should realise that every man over the age of 40 was never allowed to show emotion at school and often at home too. We were hit and told to “man up” before we even learned to read or write.
It’s correct that we encourage men to engage with their emotions. We have made healthy inroads into equality; schools are now far better at engaging with boys. However, this does not magically undo the years of brutality that went unnoticed. These scars may never heal; older men may never be able to open up about the abuse that went on. Meanwhile the phrase “toxic masculinity” is a cruel insult used to belittle those who suffered.