Chapter 4: The choice within

A few weeks later, JJ’s uncle invited him to a community gathering. It was a tradition after initiation season, a time when elders, parents, and newly initiated boys sat together to share lessons about manhood.

The hall buzzed with conversation, the walls echoing with the deep voices of elders and the nervous laughter of young men. JJ sat in the back, shoulders tense, his hands clammy. He already knew the words he would hear—commands dressed as wisdom.

When one elder stood to speak, his voice filled the hall with authority.

“A man,” he declared, “must never show his tears. Tears are for women and children. A man holds his pain in silence. That is strength!”

The crowd nodded in agreement. Some boys straightened their backs, eager to prove they were listening. JJ felt his stomach twist. The words stabbed at old wounds. He thought of the nights he had suffered in silence, of the times he nearly exploded with anger at Light, of how close he had come to losing himself.

He glanced at his uncle, who sat calmly beside him, eyes steady as though urging JJ to decide for himself. Then he thought of Light—her patience, her whispers of truth, the way she reminded him that love was not weakness.

JJ’s heart pounded like a drum. His legs trembled as he stood, every pair of eyes turning toward him. Fear threatened to choke him, but he forced himself to speak.

“With respect, elders… I was taught that silence makes a man. But silence nearly destroyed me. I carried pain like a hidden wound, and it poisoned me. I hurt in ways no one could see, because I thought speaking out made me less of a man. But I’ve learned something different.”

The hall grew still. His voice wavered, but he pressed on.

“I’ve learned that strength is not silence—it is truth. A man is not weak because he cries. A man is strong when he chooses to heal, when he refuses to let pain turn him into a stranger to himself. I am standing here not as someone perfect, but as someone who refuses to hide anymore.”

Whispers rippled through the hall. Some elders frowned, their faces carved with disapproval. But others looked uncertain, their silence heavy with thought. The young boys, however, stared at JJ with wide eyes, as if seeing something they had never dared to imagine—a different way to be a man.

JJ sat down, his body shaking, but his heart lighter than it had ever been. He had not just spoken for himself—he had spoken for every boy trapped in the same silence.

Later that night, as he walked Light home, she squeezed his hand and smiled.

“You were brave,” she said softly. “Do you realize what you’ve done? You’ve planted a seed. It may not grow today, but one day, another boy will remember your words and find courage to speak.”

JJ looked up at the stars, the same stars that had once watched over him in his darkest nights. For the first time, he felt free. Not because the scars were gone, but because he had chosen to live beyond them.

He knew the journey ahead would not be easy. But he also knew this: manhood was not defined by silence, but by the courage to face the truth—even when it shook the walls of tradition.