I have this friend I’ve known since high school who, at first glance, you would probably not consider a “mountain folk.” He’s super into computer science, loves to study Taoism, and if you find him in the early hours of the morning or late enough into the night, he’s probably got a yerba mate in his hand. But he grew up nestled in the Appalachian mountains living a very different life, one defined by the good word of God, boiled poke leaves, and “that’s a nice deer you got there.”

I had a long conversation with him the other night about his life growing up. He has this wonderful appreciation of the world he had when he was young, made extremely evident in his passion for the stories he shares. But he also feels that the person he is now is someone very far removed from that side of his life, and I can tell it’s a point of conflict in him, especially when dealing with perceived masculinity. Would the hard-edged, hard-working people of Appalachia be able to see his passions and his worlds having shaped him into a man? The people of this world hunt not just for sport, but to put something on the table; my friend is a vegan. The people of this world are God-fearing, hymn-singing worshippers who attend old unlit churches every Sunday; that’s a life my friend doesn’t subscribe to anymore.

Is he still a man? Still “masculine,” in the sense that he has grown up to be strong?

This is a strange comparison to make, but I grew up Catholic. In high school, I tried my hardest to be the staple Catholic young adult, and now it is something that I no longer subscribe to. But I still feel the expectations of that old life weighing on me, and I can’t help but wonder if I am doomed to forever see myself  not as someone who has moved on with their life, but rather someone who has failed themselves as a result. There is a restlessness in creating such a drastic change in oneself, especially when that point of change is something so rooted into one’s youth. But I told my friend at the end of that conversation that I so greatly appreciated how he never let that point of conflict slow him down. He has never allowed his old side to stop his pursuit of his passions, never slowed his curiosity into the world outside of where he grew up.

So is he still a man?

I think so. I think I need to extend my appreciation for him to myself and follow in his stead. I think it’s so easy to catch ourselves inside the pressure of appeal that sometimes we forget who it is that we need to appeal to.

Appeal to yourself. Love your change. That’s what makes you strong.