Back in my college days, I was a proud member of the university swim team. Like many athletes, my teammates and I often leaned on a motto to push us through those grueling practices: “hard core.” It was a term that captured the essence of enduring pain and challenges, whether from lengthy training sessions, the mental hurdles of competing, or simply navigating the ups and downs of student life. To be “hard core” was the ultimate badge of honor—signifying strength, resilience, confidence, and independence. It was all about being tough.
The reality, however, is that toughness was never my strong suit. I’ve got a tender heart and a sensitivity that runs deep. It’s hard for me to watch others struggle without wanting to jump in and help. I cry easily, overthink past conversations, and often take things to heart. In short, I’m more of a softy than a hard nut.
For much of my life, I tried to harden my softness, convinced that it was a flaw. Society seemed to be sending me a clear message: stop crying, toughen up, and grow a thicker skin. I attempted to mask my sensitivity with a facade of indifference, but it never sat right with me. I’m not indifferent, I don’t have a tough exterior, and honestly, I don’t want to be hard. I want to embrace my softness—and I want my children to do the same.
The challenge is that we live in a world that often pushes us to be tough. It’s easier to see things in black and white, to ignore the complexities of life, and to shut ourselves off from the emotions of others. When you toughen up, you avoid the messy feelings that come with empathy and connection. It’s a simpler way to exist, but it’s not a fulfilling one.
Choosing to remain soft is a conscious decision, and I’m committed to guiding my children in that direction. Just the other night, my son Lucas asked why wealthy individuals don’t simply share their money with those in need so that everyone could have a home and enough to eat. I beamed at him and said, “That’s a wonderful thought, buddy!” I wanted him to feel proud of his kind heart.
I didn’t delve into the complexities of social issues, nor did I mention that some people might dismiss his idea as naive. I refrained from discussing the debate between capitalism and socialism. Instead, I wanted him to drift off to sleep believing that his compassion and natural softness are exactly what the world needs—because they are.
Everywhere we turn, children are bombarded with messages urging them to toughen up and build a thick skin. But you know what? That’s not what the world needs more of. What we truly need is more tenderness, empathy, and compassion. It’s not about constructing walls but rather building bridges. Our children don’t need to be hardened; they should cherish their innate softness and love.
The world outside may be harsh, but we don’t have to be. I will encourage my sons to express their feelings and care deeply. I’ll remind them to always be kind—kinder than necessary. And I’ll teach them that in a world eager to make them hard, sometimes the strongest thing they can do is remain soft.
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In summary, by fostering a culture of compassion and tenderness in our homes, we can empower our children to navigate the world with love and understanding, rather than hardness.