What Does It Mean to Be a “Good Man”?

Let’s be honest. Most of us were never taught what a good man really is. We were taught how to survive. How to provide. How to keep it all in. We were handed templates built on fear and control—and then called “good” for staying quiet.

But being a good man is not about playing small or performing for approval.

At Fathership Program Inc., we believe a good man is an integrated man. A man who does the inner work, not for applause, but to stop the cycle. To find peace. To show up with truth, presence, and purpose.

The Wild Man Isn’t Dangerous—He’s Free

In Iron John, Robert Bly introduces the Wild Man—not as some barbaric beast, but as the part of us that’s been buried under shame, church pews, school desks, and societal pressure. He’s the one who remembers. The one who roars. The one who knows how to feel.

The Wild Man is not reckless. He’s the part of you that knows how to hold pain without numbing it. The one who can stand barefoot on the dirt, cry for his children, and still carry wood for the fire.

He is strength without armor.

Reclaiming your Wild Man means giving up the lie that you have to be tame to be trustworthy. It means returning to your body, your breath, your instincts, and the truths you buried to stay safe. It’s not about becoming aggressive. It’s about becoming whole.

Emotional Bravery: The Work No One Sees

You want to talk about courage? Forget cliff diving and bar fights. Emotional bravery is sitting across from your child and knowing you failed to protect them—and choosing to become the kind of man who never looks away again.

It’s facing grief instead of drowning in it. It’s learning to feel anger without using it as a weapon. It’s being honest with your partner, even when honesty costs you comfort.

For me, emotional bravery meant surviving the unbearable. My daughter was a victim of a predator, a child predator who almost stole everything. The rage, the guilt, the shame… it could have crushed me. And for a while, it did. But that moment—that pain—was the seed. It was the initiation into something more.

That’s when Fathership Program was born.

Not from some polished business plan. But from the fire.

The Archetypes of the Positive Masculine

In King, Warrior, Magician, Lover, Moore and Gillette offer us a roadmap for masculine wholeness—four archetypes that, when integrated, create a man who doesn’t need to prove anything… because he already knows who he is.

The King

The King is the grounded center. He blesses, he holds space, he builds and protects—not through fear, but through love and structure. When I think of the King, I think of the version of myself I’m becoming. The one who leads his family through storms, even when he’s limping. The one who listens more than he speaks. The one who serves.

The Warrior

The Warrior acts with purpose. He’s disciplined, clear, and focused—not reactive. He fights for something, not just against everything. The Warrior in me shows up when I push through chronic pain from my surgeries. When I keep showing up to serve others, even when my body says to stay in bed. The Warrior says: “Not today. We’ve got work to do.”

The Magician

This is the thinker, the teacher, the guide. He’s the part of me that found healing in books like The Tools, Man’s Search for Meaning, and The Power of Now. The Magician helps us turn pain into insight, suffering into systems, trauma into transformation. Every time I write these blogs, or sit with another man in his mess, I’m letting the Magician speak.

The Lover

And then there’s the Lover—the one who feels. Who connects. Who sees beauty, even in a broken world. The Lover is the part of me that melts when my grandchildren smiles. The part that grieves, that sings, that holds. We’ve been taught to kill the Lover to be men. But without him, we’re just machines pretending to be okay.

Meaning in the Wounds

Viktor Frankl once wrote, “When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves.” That hit me different after I lost a lung. After I battled kidney cancer. After I laid in bed wondering if anyone would care if I didn’t wake up.

I used to want to live forever. Now I’m just grateful to be here long enough to make this count.

Pain stripped me down. But it also showed me what matters. And it’s this: We are not meant to carry it alone.

That’s why Fathership Program exists. For the men who have no map. For the ones who were told to man up, shut up, and provide until they drop. For the ones who know there’s more—and are ready to do the work.

Being a good man doesn’t mean being perfect. It means being honest. It means being willing.

Willing to face your shadow. Willing to break the cycle. Willing to rise as King, Warrior, Magician, and Lover.

And willing to make your pain mean something.

Work Cited (APA 7):

• Bly, R. (1990). Iron John: A book about men. Da Capo Press.

• Deida, D. (2004). The way of the superior man: A spiritual guide to mastering the challenges of women, work, and sexual desire (Rev. ed.). Sounds True.

• Frankl, V. E. (2006). Man’s search for meaning. Beacon Press.

• Moore, R. L., & Gillette, D. (1990). King, warrior, magician, lover: Rediscovering the archetypes of the mature masculine. HarperOne.