Little bunnies, robust lions and occasional sloths—all is par for the course in Disney’s latest animated hit, Zootopia. I won’t spoil it for you, promise, but for those of you who haven’t seen it, it’s not just about cute animals. 

Themes like racism make Zootopia more an adult movie than a kids’ cartoon, but it’s the fleshed-out characters that really make it shine. This is depicted best in thick-skinned male co-protagonist Nick Wilde, who at one pivotal moment says, “I promised myself I would never let anyone know that they got to me.”

As a 21-year-old boy who sometimes does grown-up things, I’ve echoed Nick at times. I grew up in a household where hard work spoke louder than emotions, where bouts of tears were solved with a pat on the back and a pithy “man up, boys don’t cry.” Expressing myself meant getting good grades. If someone got to me, it was only because he or she did better than I did on an exam, in which case I just had to one-up that person on the next one. Even now, I still can hear my grandma exclaiming, “Aiyah, what do boys have to cry for?”  

Maybe you’re not a second-generation Chinese American like I am, but you probably know someone who has had similar experiences. That’s because from an early age, men are taught what it means to “be a man.” This myth of masculinity is a systemic problem, and for that reason I don’t blame my parents for how they raised me. They were, after all, just doing their best. Whether intentionally or not, boys are raised to suppress their emotions.

One common myth about men is that they don’t care—shouldn’t care—about how they look, and those who do are “pansies.” That simply isn’t true, and yet, one look at the bland men’s section at your local clothing store seems to verify this. Men who do choose to express themselves through clothing are deemed “feminine.” 

Worse, men who express insecurity over how they look are called “weak” or “sensitive,” causing boys to grow up learning that it’s not okay to show weakness. This applies not only to clothing choices but also to daily decisions. Nationwide, clinic attendance rates are lower for men than for women, and according to a 2011 Esquire survey, one in three men haven’t even seen a doctor in over a year. The culprit? The myth of masculinity.

Boys are taught the opposite, however, when it comes to expressing their thoughts about girls’ bodies. Movies like Skyfall and Transformers depict women as only being good for their looks and teach boys to sexualize girls, while books like Fifty Shades of Grey fetishize the brooding, emotionless man. As a result, among their peers, boys can only gain respect for objectifying a girl’s body. 

Because that’s the “alpha” thing to do. But by objectifying girls in a desperate attempt to “be alpha,” adolescent boys compensate for their inability to express weakness and perpetuate the notion that talking about struggle isn’t “manly.” 

Unsurprisingly, this “alpha” culture has proven toxic to both women and men. One example is college fraternities, which have become infamous for sexual assault and “rape culture.” They even have a hashtag celebrating it: #tfm. Then there’s also the business world, where women are regularly sexually harassed on the job. And don’t even think about taking paternity leave, unless you want to be mocked for that, too. 

But it’s not just women who suffer; men are caught up in it too. The pressure to be alpha and not show weakness is one of the reasons there are so few body positive men. After all, if a man isn’t taught to express negative views about his own body, then how can he advocate for body positivity? Those who are openly body positive are criticized as being “hypersensitive” to “non-existent” issues. Alpha culture is also one of the potential reasons that boys are less likely to support LGBTQ rights than girls are. If you’ve ever heard a boy say “no homo,” then you know why: boys are so caught up with not being “weak” or “feminine” that they reject anything that might challenge their masculinity. Unfortunately, this behavior marginalizes LGBT boys who not only have to struggle to reconcile their feelings with traditional “manly” roles but also have to withstand the rejection of their male peers. 

So, we have a big, alpha male-sized problem. Unfortunately, simply telling men to reject their notions of masculinity probably isn’t going to do much. Taking them out to watch Zootopia probably won’t either. So what can we do? Here are some tips to get you started:

1. Ask them how they feel.

The first step to helping a man express himself is by asking him how he feels. Not just how he’s doing, but how he feels—about that midterm he just took, about losing his watch, about his parents’ divorce. Try not to let him scrape by with an impersonal answer like “it sucked” and instead encourage him to use “I” statements. Then, follow up with more open-ended questions.

2. Stop telling boys to “man up.”

I can’t stress enough how important this is. “Man up” is the most damaging advice you can give an adolescent boy who probably already struggles to express himself. It’s the equivalent of telling a crying child to shut up. It tells him that it’s not okay to express emotions and show weakness. It tells him that he should buy into alpha culture. It tells him that lying and saying, “I’m okay,” is always better than letting someone know that they got to him. So don’t tell him that. 

3. Let them cry.

Just do it. Validate his feelings. Offer him a tissue, hold him or get him some water. But let him cry. Trust me, he’ll feel better if he can let it all out. As a 21-year-old boy who’s been through depression, eating disorders, and PTSD, I’ve had my fair share of tears. And that’s okay. 

Our ingrained notions of masculinity aren’t going anywhere soon. We’ll probably still get Nick Wilde’s in movies for years to come. But empowering men with words and teaching them to accept their feelings—that begins now.

Jason is a third-year biology pre-med at the University of Chicago with a passion for mental and physical health advocacy. Outside of class, he co-leads a physical health student group, trains peer supporters to create a more connected campus, and sits as a student representative on his school’s wellness advisory board.