“I Longed For Male Friendships That Included Emotional Openness” – Alex Holmes On Belonging & Brotherhood
In 2016, I was sitting in my friend’s living room when he said, callously and seriously, “If you are homosexual, we can’t be friends.” His words hit me hard. It was a cold autumn night, and we had been talking about masculinity. Homosexuality inevitably came up, as it often did in these hyper-masculine conversations.
At the time, my friendships were in disarray. I had just returned to London after four years spent studying and working abroad in Réunion, a tiny island in the Indian Ocean. I quickly realised that I didn’t have many close connections left when I came back home. An old school friend introduced me to a new group, and I jumped at the chance, hoping to find a sense of belonging. I wanted brotherhood, envisioning long-lasting bonds where we’d grow together into our thirties and beyond.
We initially bonded over conversations about philosophy, fatherhood (though none of us were fathers), and what it meant to be a Black man in today’s world. But there were clear differences between me and the group. Most had strained or absent relationships with their fathers, while my relationship with mine was complex but intact. They were from the inner city, whereas I had grown up in a suburban neighborhood.
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Additionally, some of my closest friends weren’t heterosexual, and I wasn’t entirely sure I was either at the time. Yet, instead of embracing authenticity, I chose comfort – a perceived sense of camaraderie that stifled my true self.
Starting my journalism career in London, I soon found myself molding to fit in. I wasn’t into gaming, but I pretended to be. I valued intellectual curiosity and read voraciously, but I didn’t share that side of myself. So, when one of the guys declared his homophobic views on that autumn night, condemning homosexuality and stating he would cut off any gay friend, I felt deeply uncomfortable. He was the ‘alpha male’ of the group, leading the conversation. And though I disagreed, I remained silent, unsure how I had ended up in a group whose values clashed so strongly with mine.
That moment was a turning point. It taught me the critical importance of shared values in friendship. Homo-social groups – male-dominated friendships – can pressure members to conform. I realised that in such groups, if you don’t share the same values, you either adapt or risk rejection. As I sat there, I began to question the group’s influence on me and the kinds of messages they would pass on to their future children. It angered me that these regressive views still had such power, especially when queer Black men face so much violence and marginalisation, both within and outside their communities.
Looking back, I regret not speaking up. By then, I had come to value the acceptance and love shown to me by queer friends, who truly saw me in ways this group never could. That incident made me realise the importance of creating spaces where people can exist freely and authentically. This group, I saw clearly, wasn’t a place where I could do that.
The experience led me to reflect on friendship itself. CS Lewis once described friendship as “the least natural of loves”, something we choose rather than need for survival. Yet I believe friendships are essential – not just for surviving, but for thriving. Friendships provide emotional support, help us weather life’s storms and allow us to grow intellectually and emotionally.
In my twenties, I sought meaningful friendships with both men and women. I found male friendships often lacked the emotional depth I craved. Society expects men to bond through activities, while women are seen as bonding through empathy. This expectation felt limiting and outdated. I longed for male friendships that included emotional openness, where we could share fears and vulnerabilities, not just superficial experiences.
While I lost some friends in this pursuit, I also gained deep connections with people of diverse genders, sexual orientations and backgrounds. These friendships enriched my understanding of life, politics and spirituality. Having friends from all walks of life – queer, heterosexual, atheist, spiritual – helped me better understand myself.
However, many men, especially from older generations, still struggle with the concept of non-romantic friendships with women. There’s a persistent belief that male-female relationships must be sexual or romantic, which overlooks the value of true platonic bonds. I’ve learned to value both male and female friendships, though I recognise my shortcomings, including grappling with internalised misogyny. But I see these friendships as essential to a balanced, fulfilling life.
In the end, strong friendships – regardless of gender – depend on understanding and respecting boundaries. Boundaries aren’t walls but guidelines that protect emotional wellbeing. I learned this through therapy, after feeling drained and used in certain friendships. Over time, I’ve built relationships based on mutual respect, emotional support, and shared values.
Today, I have the friendships I deserve – ones filled with love, trust and acceptance. As a Christian man developing in my faith, I know there’s no room for hate or violence in these spaces. While friendships may not be necessary for human survival, they are essential for living a full and meaningful life. They help us grow into the best versions of ourselves, with the support of people who truly care. That, to me, is the ultimate gift of friendship.
Alex Holmes is a writer, coach, podcast host and men’s mental health specialist based in London. He is the author of Time To Talk: How Men Think About Love, Belonging And Connection
