Opinion: The Unapologetic Man is Extinct
How a generation of urban men traded their backbone for therapy-speak, social approval, and a lifetime of self-censorship.
by Aries Santos
Published on Jun 19, 2026
The modern Filipino male is quietly surrendering his instincts, and it’s tragic how comfortably we are settling into it.
I was at a bar in BGC last weekend when the bill arrived for the couple at the next table. The guy—early thirties, polo shirt—reached for it, then hesitated. He asked his date if it was okay for him to pay, phrasing it carefully—apologetically, even—like he needed her permission first. He added that he didn’t want to assume anything. She smiled and nodded, as if this was exactly how a man should handle the situation. It was a trivial thing, to be honest, but it landed heavier than it should have.
This is the mindset of the modern urban male up close: a perpetual surrender to tiny, everyday moments where he second-guesses his own nature. The impulse to simply lead or take care of something is choked out by a hesitant pause, a negotiation for approval. Not because anyone’s asking for it at that moment, but because he’s been programmed to believe that his natural behavior is inherently suspect.
We’ve reached a point where even basic masculine gestures now come with disclaimers. And the zeitgeist doesn’t just tolerate this—it rewards it. The man who softens himself, who crowdsources consent before acting, who peppers his speech with caveats in an effort to communicate he’s not “assuming” anything, is seen as evolved, sophisticated, civilized. The one who doesn’t is viewed with suspicion and derision.
It’s not deliberate. It doesn’t need to be. It just keeps happening, one obsequious act of kowtowing at a time, until the direct, unapologetic man starts to feel like an outdated concept from a distant era.
I finished my bourbon (straight, no chaser) and felt something between… dismay and exhaustion. Not because the scene was rare, but because it’s become normal. We’ve reached the point where natural male instincts—protect, provide, pursue, take up space—are treated as defects that require domestication.
This is what the last couple of years of pseudo-liberal, western postmodern messaging have done. It convinced a generation of young Filipino men that their instincts are toxic, their drive dangerous, their humor suspect, their strength something to be toned down. And far too many blindly accepted this deal, trading their backbone for social approval and online brownie points. They learned to speak in qualifiers, to apologize for their opinions, and to contract their judgment to whatever the current consensus demands.
The result isn’t kinder, “better” men. It’s smaller men. Men who are present but not really there. Men who measure their worth by how little offense they cause rather than what they build, protect, or stand for.
Listen, I have no interest in idealizing some knuckle-dragging version of caveman masculinity. But I refuse to accept the lie that the natural energy of men is something that needs to be tamed, shamed, or therapized out of existence. There’s a reason so many men feel quietly furious or hollowed out. They sense the con. They see it on Netflix, they hear it in podcasts, they read it on Threads. They know something vital has been taken from them, even if they can’t quite put their finger on it.
Being a man was never about dominating others. It was about having the courage to carry weight—for yourself, for your loved ones, for something bigger than your feelings. It doesn’t need safe spaces or validation from self-proclaimed cultural arbiters. It’s about responsibility, risk, and having the balls to be disliked.
We’re long overdue for a correction. Not a return to the 1950s, but a return to honesty. To men who speak plainly, stand upright, and refuse to shrink themselves to fit a cultural moment that despises who they naturally are.
The night felt heavier after I finished my drink. Not because the world had changed in the last hour, but because the weight of all the things we’re not supposed to say had settled in. Some truths land harder without a chaser.