8 min read | Written By: Lydia Bigcraft, Photos By: Maegan Castleton
Music played in the background of a focused session of the Men of Hope program, as the young men of Salt Lake Valley Detention intently drew artistic portraits they felt represented their ideal form of masculinity. Looking around the room, it was clear that most of the young men considered 6-packs and tall-in-stature protectors with tattoos and grim faces, the key features of the ideal man. As facilitators and mentors, we encouraged the youth to think beyond these portraits, pushing the boundaries of their internalized perceptions of masculinity and leadership.
We asked: When you look in the mirror, is this who you see? Is this who you want to see? Is this the definition of masculinity you want to be defined by, or rather, confined by? Quiet faces looked back at us, pondering these questions. Is this who I want to be? We could see them weighing the pros and cons of a life defined by this narrow definition of male identity. “I don’t know where this image of a man came from,” a youth responded, breaking the silence, “I never really had a father-figure to show me what it means to be a man.”
Throughout the Men of Hope program, youth were challenged to discover and define for themselves what kind of men they wanted to be. They engaged in lessons on productive communication, conflict navigation, space-making, community building, and healthy masculinity. The young men were challenged to trust us as mentors to equip them with the skills they need to be Men of Hope who could reimagine for themselves and their families, what it would look like to be a healthy man and leader.
“Tell me about your bracelet,” I nudged a youth sitting next to me wearing an embroidered, hand-made bracelet tied loosely around his wrist.
“It’s matching one with my son.” I smiled and invited him to share more. “Well, he used to wear it, he passed away while I was in here. He was about 16 months old when it happened.” I asked him how he was doing, managing such loss. He shrugged his head, not wanting to say more.
“You went to the [University of Utah]?,” another youth looked at me. “My dad has a giant red ‘U’ tattooed on his neck… He never even went to school there,” he shook his head disapprovingly as he chuckled at the memory of his dad’s tattoo. I asked the youth if he was close with his dad. “Nah, he was always in prison, serving big-time. My stepdad, though, was good. He at least was there for me more than my dad was, I would go visit my stepdad when he was in prison because I knew him. I like him, though.”
Over the course of 11 sessions, the young men opened up, sharing stories like these about their fathers and their own journeys navigating fatherhood as teenagers who are system-involved and unable to be present with their own sons. They discussed the losses they grieved, the hardships they faced, and the hopes they held close — motivating them to press into the program and improve themselves for the sake of their kids.
“How old is your son?” I turned to the youth sitting next to me.
“He’s about 1-years-old now.” He forced a sweet smile, but there was sadness behind his eyes, “I hate that I’m in here and that I can’t be there for him,” he took a breath and gathered himself. “My mom says that it’s okay, that I can be kind to myself, but I can’t believe I’ve left my kid. I want him to know his father. I want him to know me.”
At another time we were talking again when he questioned me: “Why do you come here, like why would you want to be here, you know, be with us?” he asked shyly.
“Because we care about you and believe in you! It’s important to take care of our community, and you are our community. You deserve the love and care like the other kids outside, so we come inside to be with you.” His face brightened with a wide smile, one I won’t easily forget.
“I think you guys are really cool. I want to, you know, be like you when I get out, I want to come back in, if I get out, and tell kids that there’s another way. I think it would be really cool to do that, you know if they let me.” His voice trailed off as he nodded and he continued to write.
“I think that’s really cool, too,” I said, sharing his excitement over wanting to join us in our work of supporting system-involved youth.
To celebrate the exceptional work of the youth, we invited the young men’s families for a Leadership Recognition Luncheon, where the youth were honored with certificates for completing the programming. The young men held their children, and hugged their sisters, mothers and grandmothers, brothers, fathers, and grandfathers. As families gathered, embracing each other with tears and pride, I was overwhelmed by the hope that filled the space.
As each youth walked across the stage tall and proud, shaking my hand firmly before posing for a picture with their certificate, the room applauded and cheered loudly. This, I believe, is the power of community engagement — it brings dignity and support to our youth, it allows them to be confident in their identity and see themselves as the leaders and men we believe they can be. As the celebration came to a close, a grandfather of the youth approached me with watery eyes, “He is my grandson,” he spoke quietly pointing to one of the young men. “Lydia, thank you so much for this,” the grandfather looked at me sincerely, composing himself for fear his watery eyes might spill.
“You have an amazing grandson, you should be very proud of him and the work he is doing to choose better,” I said–I felt honored by his gratitude.
“Thank you,” he paused, “I am proud of my grandson, thank you.” With that, he looked at me with his kind eyes and I could see how grateful he was to have experienced this reunion with his grandson. I watched him walk away slowly and give his grandson a final hug goodbye.
The power of Men of Hope was evident in the moments of connection, restoration, and transformation shared between the youth, facilitators, and family members. Through the young men’s commitment to the program, their trust in us, and willingness to be vulnerable, we were able to mentor them through the journey of exploring what it means to become Men of Hope who are empowered to be the changemakers in their families and communities.
To learn more about the Utah Division of Multicultural Affairs and our youth programming, please subscribe to our newsletter or email Lydia Bigcraft.