Gay Men, Masculinity, and the Inheritance of Shame

The shame carried by gay men today is rarely just about the present. It’s layered with generations of silence, stigma, and distorted messages about masculinity. It was absorbed—metabolized—through years of exposure to family messages, religious doctrine, peer policing, media stereotypes, and everyday microaggressions. And often, it all began before we had the language to make sense of it. For trans men, this inheritance can take a different form — being misgendered or socialized in ways that denied their boyhood. The result is a similar, but not exactly the same, layering of shame.

This kind of shame is complex, not just emotionally but neurologically. In trauma theory, “complex trauma” refers to prolonged, repeated, and often interpersonal experiences of stress. It differs from “acute trauma,” which is typically rooted in experiencing or witnessing a single, identifiable and life threatening event (like a car crash or an assault). For complex stress, there’s often no singular “incident” to point to (although some may stand out), but the accumulation leaves a lasting imprint. It can appear to be subtle but can be deeply corrosive.

A metaphor may help: If your arm breaks, that’s acute trauma. If you overextend your arm again and again—carrying weight it wasn’t built to carry—it may not break, but it will become damaged to a point where it no longer functions as it used to. That’s complex.

For many gay men, this emotional wear comes from growing up in environments where gender and sexuality are tightly policed, even if unspoken. Sometimes it’s direct:

• “That’s not how boys act.”

• “Don’t be so sensitive.”

• “Stop being dramatic.”

• “Boys don’t like that.”

Sometimes, it’s subtler. A withdrawn glance. A unfriendly look. A laugh that lingers too long. A failure to affirm.

Over time, we begin to monitor ourselves—our voice, our laugh, our posture, our gaze. We pre-edit our behavior, trying to keep ourselves safe. This becomes internalized, shaping how we relate to others and, ultimately, how we relate to ourselves.

Psychologist Alan Downs called this dynamic “the velvet rage”—a deep, hidden shame masked by perfectionism, performance, or self-sufficiency. On the outside, we may appear successful. But beneath the surface, many of us feel an ache, a sense that we’re still not quite enough.

Performing Masculinity, Navigating Gender

Many cis gay men perform masculinity not because it feels authentic, but because it feels necessary. Masculinity, in a culture that treats it as social capital, becomes a survival strategy.

For some, this looks like building a polished, muscular, or hyper-capable persona. For others, it’s about excelling professionally or appearing tough enough to avoid ridicule or violence. And sometimes, it’s a mask worn even in queer spaces.

But masculinity isn’t neutral. It carries with it a complex legacy of power, privilege, and punishment. In gay male culture, it can be both fetishized and glorified—a narrow ideal of what it means to be attractive, desirable, or successful.

Of course, not all queer-identied men conform. Some actively reject traditional masculinity, embracing femininity, fluidity, drag, or something entirely their own . While for some there may be aspects of rebellion, importantly for many this is a return to the authenticity of self. Often hard-won, courageous, and essential.

For many, these truths were arrived at in the face of risk, rejection, or violence.

The Shame of Desire: Scapegoating and the Split Self

Beyond inherited shame, gay men must also contend with how society processes and projects its own sexual conflicts.

When healthy expressions of sexuality are systematically shamed or distorted, people who diverge from narrow norms—whether by orientation, gender expression, or refusal to conform—become lightning rods for cultural anxiety. The more tightly a society clamps down on erotic freedom, the more it tends to target those who can’t (or won’t) conform.

We’ve seen this dynamic repeatedly: politicians and religious leaders who denounce LGBTQAI+ people with moral fury, only to be revealed engaging in same-sex encounters or forms of harmful, non-consensual sexual behavior. These episodes are often chalked up to repression —but they speak more broadly to an internal splitting triggered by intolerance and narrowed norms, evoking shame.

Unwanted erotic feelings—whether related to orientation, fantasy, power, or perceived deviance—can provoke deep discomfort in those who never had space to explore or integrate them. Rather than face this discomfort, many split it off. They project it outward. And so, the people who symbolically embody what they fear in themselves become targets. This is the heart of scapegoating: punishing in others what one cannot accept in the self.

Historical and Psychological Roots

George Weinberg, who coined the term homophobia in 1965, understood it as more than fear of gay people. He described it as a visceral response tied to religious purity, fear of contagion, and the erosion of “home and family” ideals. His insight foreshadowed what queer theorists and sociologists would later expand: that homophobia isn’t just interpersonal bias—it’s a mechanism for maintaining a moral self-image.

Michael Kimmel (1997) noted that homophobia functions as a kind of masculine surveillance: a man’s fear that other men will see him as not man enough. This aligns with what Goffman (1963) described in his work on stigma: that social shame often arises from being seen as “the other.” In this framework, the "homosexual" becomes a cultural repository for unwanted feelings—vulnerability, desire, softness, deviance.

Add to that the political utility of scapegoating: Diamond (1995) and Herman (1997) traced how, in the late 20th century, anti-gay rhetoric replaced anti-communism as a tool for asserting moral superiority and group identity. The queer person becomes a symbol of everything the dominant group wants to cast out.

When queer people are targeted, it’s often because we are living proof that the rules of gender and sexuality are not fixed. That’s threatening to those who have built their identities around those rules.

Therapy as a Site of Unmasking

Healing shame involves understanding and facing it—with care, courage, and curiosity. This is not a process to jump into head first but rather a careful and thoughtful one that leads to liberation.

In therapy, queer-identified men can begin to:

• Name and explore internalized homophobia

• Reclaim exiled parts of self

• Soften self-criticism and perfectionism while still honoring our inner-protectors

• Reconnect with the body, nervous system, and our own somatic wisdom

• Redefine masculinity in ways that feel authentic

Shame withers in relationship. That’s why queer-affirming therapy isn’t just about insight—it’s about presence, attunement, and embodied liberation.

True deep healing often involves not just self-work, but work in relationship.

Click here to learn more about couple therapy -or- individual therapy.

To support this work, I’ve created a free PDF guide:
“Unlearning the Mask: A Shame Inventory.”

It includes:

• A self-assessment of internalized shame patterns

• Prompts for understanding your relationship to masculinity

• Practices for cultivating self-compassion and reintegration

Click here to download the guide

Sources and Research Notes:

This article was informed by:

• Alan Downs (2005), The Velvet Rage

• Mahalik & Jackson (2021), Masculinity and Mental Health

• Michael Kimmel (1997), Homophobia and Masculinity

• Kimmel, M. (2006), Manhood in America

• Weinberg, G. (1965). Coined the term “homophobia”

• Nichols & Clarke (1969). First usage of homophobia in Screw Magazine

• Goffman, E. (1963), Stigma: Notes on the Management of Spoiled Identity

• Diamond, S. (1995), Not by Politics Alone: The Enduring Influence of the Christian Right

• Herman, D. (1997), The Antigay Agenda