The Gift of Tears: Let The Boys Cry
“Stop that crying—or I’ll give you something to cry about!”
– A phrase familiar to too many children in post-war homes
I grew up in 1940s Belfast, a child of silence and stoicism, where Catholic guilt hung in the air like the smell of coal smoke, and tears were seen as signs of weakness or manipulation.
At home, at school, in the church pew – children were expected to be seen and not heard. And crying? That was a punishable offence.
I remember being caned in primary school for getting a spelling wrong. That was the way they “taught” us. Imagine now the child who was neurodivergent, or simply developmentally delayed, from early trauma: a child born from an unwanted, concealed pregnancy, navigating poverty. Already not in a learning state, then punished for it.
I was that child. Imagine all those others who were dyslexic in a world that didn’t recognise such a thing, or where alcoholism was rife and domestic abuse acceptable, how those children were inevitably developmentally impaired, but were judged, shamed and punished for it.
Over time, I learned to freeze. My tears stayed inside, my throat tightened and my voice silent. Crying was unsafe, shameful, even dangerous. Dangerous to be seen and heard.
The Emotional Prison
Jason Wilson, in his powerful book Cry Like a Man, calls this state “emotional incarceration.” Boys, especially in the African American community, were raised to be “hard,” never to cry, never to feel. The price? Broken families, suppressed rage, chronic illness, and the silent passing of trauma from one generation to the next.
Wilson’s turning point came when he allowed himself to cry. He discovered, through vulnerability and faith, that crying is not weakness—it’s release. It’s freedom. It’s love.
“Crying is not weakness; it is release, healing, and courage.” – Jason Wilson
That was my discovery, too, years later in therapy. I had built an entire life on strength, performance, and coping. But beneath it all was a reservoir of tears dammed up since childhood.
When I finally allowed them to come, they surprised me. I would cry when speaking to my sons—when I didn’t want to. I worried I’d be seen as manipulative, over-emotional, or, worst of all, playing the victim. But these tears weren’t performative. They were truth.
SIGN UP TO MAILING LIST
The Prophetic Path of Grief
In The Tears of Things, Richard Rohr offers another framing: the sacred trajectory of the prophet.
Anger → Grief → Compassion
We move through outrage not to hate, but to lament. And from lament to transformation.
Rohr teaches that grief is not weakness—it’s spiritual maturity. We don’t bypass it. We walk through it. It breaks us open to grace.
He draws from the Latin phrase lacrimae rerum—“the tears of things”—to describe the sorrow built into the fabric of the world. To weep is not to be defeated. It is to say: I see the truth, and I care enough to feel it.
ADHD, RSD, and The Unnamed Tears
It wasn’t until I was diagnosed with ADHD in my 70s that many puzzle pieces clicked into place. One of them was the intense emotionality I’d tried so hard to suppress.
The literature now recognises that ADHD often comes with Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria (RSD)—a tendency to feel acute emotional pain at perceived rejection or failure. We cry not because we’re weak but because our nervous systems are tuned like harps to disappointment and disconnection.
Research shows that crying is a biopsychosocial regulation mechanism, an emotional “downshift” that helps our bodies and brains recover from stress. But it only works when we feel safe enough to cry.
Suppression—the old script—costs us. Raised cortisol. Suppressed immune function. Strained relationships. High emotional load.
Sometimes, I still find myself crying and don’t know why. I believe, in those moments, we may even be picking up tears that don’t belong to us. From an ancestral or energetic lens, we carry unresolved grief that hasn’t been wept. Our mothers’ grief, our grandmothers’ and our inner child’s.
The Sacred Gift of Tears
The Christian mystics saw tears not as failure, but as grace. They spoke of the Gift of Tears – a holy compunction that purifies the soul. St. Catherine of Siena, Margery Kempe, even Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane – tears were seen as the soul’s way of saying: “Here I am. Broken. And open.”
“Let yourself be broken open—not in despair but in hope – by the tears of things.” – Richard Rohr
These days, I cry more than I’d like. A song. A memory. A sudden sense of beauty or loss. But I’ve stopped fighting it.
Now I say: these are my soul’s saltwater.
This is my body praying.
This is how I heal.
SIGN UP TO MAILING LIST
Reflection Prompt
What were you taught about crying when you were young?
How has that shaped your ability to feel and express emotion now?
What would it mean for you to reclaim the Gift of Tears?
A Loving Invitation
If my story resonated with you—perhaps you, too, were raised in the era of “be strong, don’t cry”—then I invite you to reconsider what strength really means.
Strength is not stoicism.
Strength is being willing to feel.
To soften.
To love.
Join us in the Reclaim Your Life group, where we create space for your tears, stories, and personal growth. We work together, healing what was silenced, crying what was suppressed, and reclaiming our full humanity.
Let your tears come.
Not as surrender—but as sacred self-respect.
With tenderness,
Grace Chatting
Further Reading
If you’d like to explore more about the wisdom and healing power of tears, these books offer rich insight:
- Jason Wilson – Cry Like a Man: Fighting for Freedom from Emotional Incarceration
A raw and inspiring memoir that redefines masculinity, showing how vulnerability and tears can free us from emotional prisons. - Richard Rohr – The Tears of Things: Prophetic Wisdom for an Age of Outrage
A guide through outrage and grief into compassion and love, rooted in the prophetic wisdom of the Hebrew scriptures. - Ad Vingerhoets – Why Only Humans Weep: Unravelling the Mysteries of Tears
The leading scientific study on crying, exploring its psychological, biological, and social meaning. - Margery Kempe – The Book of Margery Kempe
The first English autobiography, written in the 15th century, where tears are described as a spiritual gift and a pathway to divine union. - St. Catherine of Siena – The Dialogue
A mystical classic describing the role of tears in spiritual purification and intimacy with God.