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Trump captured the support of young male voters in the 2024 U.S. elections, partly due to the influence of “manosphere” content creators. Figures like Joe Rogan, Adin Ross, the Paul Brothers, and Theo Von were uniquely effective in connecting with this demographic. Meanwhile, the Left struggled to resonate with young men and address issues important to them.  

A key topic of discussion has been the epidemic of male loneliness. Increasingly, men report feeling isolated and deeply depressed, driven by challenges such as difficulty forming meaningful connections, societal stigmas around expressing emotions, and a growing sense of purposelessness. The shift in gender roles also plays a role—men are no longer the sole breadwinners, as more women graduate and begin out-earning men, leading to a perceived loss of traditional identity and relevance.  

Masculinist content creators provide hope for young men who feel emasculated and insecure in a world where they often experience rejection and lack a clear sense of direction. Many blame feminism and “wokeness” for their struggles, believing these movements have stripped them of their power. However, the true cause may lie more in systemic issues like capitalism.  

I am not here to speak on American politics. But, I do have a 14 year old brother. 

I was watching a Max Bernstein YouTube video on the topic when pure panic took over me. I realised how little my mother and his dad monitored the media my brother consumes online. My parents never did with me. But what if my brother got pulled into the Red Pill community? What if he started consuming incel content and slowly became a raging misogynist, wishing harm upon women and seeing us as lesser beings? It sounds far-fetched—but not entirely. Indoctrination doesn’t discriminate. People from all backgrounds have fallen victim to harmful ideologies.  

I’ve seen it happen. I’ve gone to school with them, partied with them, called them my friends. Many of us had access to top-tier education. Our teachers constantly encouraged us to fact-check, taught us about propaganda, and explained the tools used to manipulate and persuade. Yet, I’ve seen those same people post absurd Instagram stories, overheard them say deeply questionable things about women, even down to admitting acts of sexual assault. Thousands of dollars spent on private education—undone by a few YouTube videos.  

In a panic, I texted my brother and asked him which content creators he liked watching online. He was confused and asked why. I said, “I’m writing a paper on influencers.” Being a teenage boy and not particularly interested in my work, he gave me a list. Thankfully, it didn’t concern me, and for a brief moment, I felt relieved.  

But that relief was short-lived. I knew things could change at any time. And what could I do to stop it? What could I, as his sister—a woman—do to ensure he wouldn’t end up hating me and all people of my gender?  

I thought about having those talks with him or monitoring his online activity myself, but I worried it might backfire. I recognise that I’m a misogynist’s worst nightmare—opinionated, headstrong, and unapologetic. Without my looks, I’d probably be a man-repellent, tolerated only by the strongest of the species, and I’m perfectly fine with that. But I might be too intense for a teenage boy who’s still figuring out who he is.  

I’m far too passionate about these issues. I know I’d end up word-vomiting all over him, covering him in big words, studies, theories, and statistics that would overwhelm him. Instead of engaging, he’d want to shrug it all off, to wash away everything I said. I’d take up too much space to actually help. I annoyed the hell out of my male peers in class, constantly keeping them in check, debating every issue, and standing up against sexist comments or behaviour. They found me absolutely insufferable.

The last thing I wanted was for my anxiety and paranoia to take over, leading me to overprotect my brother and suffocate him. I feared pushing him further away with my feminist tirades and relentless scrutiny, leaving him feeling ashamed of his masculinity. I didn’t want him to carry the burden of all men’s wrongdoings or grow tired of the constant feeling that he was inherently at fault.  

If I pushed too hard, he might feel the need to break free from me and from the women in his life—just to stand strong on his own. He might turn to the internet, searching for guidance on how to reclaim his identity, gravitating toward figures who teach him to take pride in being a man. He’d consume content that glorifies being “the alpha male,” letting those voices shape his idea of what it means to be strong, powerful, and worthy.  

Gym, protein, creatine, crypto, drop shipping, lambo, get any woman you want in 3 simple steps, upgrade, high value man, side hustle, alpha, alpha, alpha. 

It is hard to not be a man hating bitch, I have grown so extremely tired of living in fear doing the most mundane things, I am tired of hearing the most gnarly headlines about other women across the world losing their basic rights, another little girl getting raped by her perverted uncle, another woman killed in her own home… Heck! Even hearing my friends being victims of situationships and emotional manipulation. I wish I could be like some of these women who still have hope in men and believe that there more than just a few exceptions. I’ve always wondered where were these perpetrators mothers, sisters? Now, before you point at me and yell “IT IS NOT A WOMAN’S FAULT THAT A MAN BECOMES BE A SICKO!” I agree. I agree, girly, I guess partially. However, just like living through weaponised incompetence over and over again (something our male peers are so good at), I no longer trust brothers and fathers to do the job right. 

Yes, I’m sure your father is wonderful family man, but have you seen how he behaves when he goes out that the strip clubs? Oh he doesn’t go out to the strip clubs? How do you know that for sure?

Your brother is the sweetest, I’m sure he is at home, but do you know how he behaves with girls he is seeing? Do we know how the men in our lives truly behave when we aren’t there? 

We fail to remember that the men who hurt us and do the sneaky shit are also family members just like ours. Many of them were raised by great mothers, have sisters and in fact they like to use that as a way to prove that they’re good people and have an innate respect for women, but they have proven themselves wrong over and over again. It just isn’t enough. 

I don’t think my brother truly understands how anxious I am about the kind of man he will grow up to be. I like to believe he could never be a bad man—no, my baby brother is a good boy. He’s soft, empathetic, incredibly polite, thoughtful, and just so kind. We, as a family, have done our best to instill in him our values and norms, the kind that cling to your mind like barnacles on a whale’s back.  

Norms tend to stick, but values are more fragile—easily swayed by outside influences like greed or peer pressure. What if we didn’t give him a strong enough backbone? What if, despite our efforts, he lets everything we’ve taught him slip away?  

Secondary socialisation refers to the process of learning and internalising norms, values, and behaviours through new social institutions, groups, and experiences beyond the family (e.g., peers, schools, workplaces, and media). While it often intensifies during adolescence, it doesn’t only start in the teens—it continues throughout life as individuals encounter new social environments. This stage is often associated with rebellion, as teens push back against their families while exploring their identities but it is primarily about adaptation and growth through new social experiences. They adopt new values from their peers and what they learn in school, sometimes replacing older values with those that feel more aligned with who they are becoming.  

Don’t get me wrong—this can be a positive thing. Many teens break free from problematic family dynamics and find safe spaces through friendships that encourage them to grow into better people. But, like anything in life, the opposite can also happen. I’ve had moments where I noticed negative influences creeping in—a questionable text from a friend popping up as he showed me something on his phone or an offhand comment that made me tilt my head a little. Things, I am sure didn’t come from our extremely open minded family but from outside influences.

In these moments, I try to stay calm and remind myself that he’s experiencing life for the first time, just figuring things out just like I was at 14. Like we all still are. But sometimes, I can’t help it. My angry, feminist, 16-year-old self resurfaces, and I confront him, demanding to know how he could say something so ignorant. Then I see his confused eyes, trying to understand why that pissed me off so much? What is it that he didn’t know was so wrong?

So, I take a different approach. I ask him questions. I encourage him to think critically about what he’s saying before jumping to conclusions. Most of the time, his kind and understanding nature wins out, and every time, I feel an overwhelming sense of relief—like a superhero stopping an asteroid just before it crashes into Earth. The problem is contained.  

Moments like these have forced me to work on my patience and understanding, keeping the fiery teenage girl in me calm. For the first time, I care deeply about what a boy thinks. For the first time, I don’t want him to fear me.  

It hasn’t been easy watching my little brother, with such a big age gap between us, grow into a young man. In a way, I feel responsible for him. I’m not his mother, but it’s hard to accept how little control I have over the crazy things the internet throws his way. I could talk endlessly about the dangers of social media—its personalised algorithms, echo chambers, and how it limits diverse perspectives while amplifying extremes. But let’s face it, I’m powerless against the Zuckerborgs and Elongated Muskrats of the world. I can’t just yank his phone away. I have no control over who he will cross paths with. All I can do is trust him and occasionally remind him of the kind of family he comes from—one built on love and kindness. Let him form his own opinions and grow independently. That way, his beliefs will truly be his own, making him more confident and deeply rooted in his values—strong and set in stone.  

Sorong, January 2025