In his biweekly column, Langley Shazor speaks to issues important to men within the territory.

From the time a boy becomes old enough to notice how men move, he learns a quiet rule: men are supposed to know. Know what to do, what to say, where to go, and how to fix it. Uncertainty is treated like weakness, and hesitation looks like failure. The world does not often give men room to say, “I don’t know.” The expectation is confidence without question, direction without doubt, and strength without struggle. Many men grow into adulthood carrying the weight of always needing to have an answer, even when life itself refuses to make sense.

This myth has been passed down through families, cultures, and faith traditions alike. It began with good intentions. Men were meant to be dependable. They were expected to lead their homes, make hard decisions, and protect those they loved. But over time, what began as responsibility became rigidity. The expectation to lead turned into an expectation to know everything. Somewhere along the way, men forgot that leadership is not about having all the answers, it is about having the courage to keep searching for them.

The truth is, there are moments in every man’s life when answers do not come easily. When the plan collapses. When the job falls through. When love ends and explanations do not heal the hurt. Life is unpredictable, and so is growth. Yet, instead of admitting uncertainty, many men fake composure. We put on the mask of control, convincing ourselves that confidence is the same as clarity. But there is a difference between being grounded and being guarded. The first builds trust; the second builds walls.

The pressure to always have the answers can quietly erode a man’s peace. It turns leadership into performance. He starts making decisions based on how they will look, not whether they are right. He begins to fear failure so deeply that he stops learning. When a man believes his value depends on always being right, he loses the ability to be real. He becomes defensive, dismissive, or detached; not because he does not care, but because he does not know how to admit that he is uncertain. The myth robs him of the freedom to grow.

We see this in homes where fathers cannot apologize because they think authority means never being wrong. We see it in relationships where men struggle to communicate because they confuse vulnerability with weakness. We see it in workplaces where men compete instead of collaborating because admitting that someone else might know more feels like defeat. This myth not only isolates men from others but also from their own potential. A man who cannot admit what he does not know limits his capacity to become who he could be.

The most secure men are not those who have all the answers. They are the ones who have learned how to ask the right questions. They know that wisdom is not a destination but a discipline. They understand that curiosity is not a threat to authority; it strengthens it. A man who keeps learning, listening, and evolving will always lead better than one who insists on being right. Humility, not certainty, is what earns trust.

We need to create space for men to unlearn the idea that leadership means perfection. The most effective leaders are not those who never make mistakes, but those who learn quickly from them. The greatest fathers are not the ones who always know what to do, but the ones who keep showing up, willing to listen, adjust, and grow. The best partners are not those who never falter, but those who refuse to let pride stand in the way of understanding. A man who can admit when he does not know everything is not less of a leader; in fact, he is more of a man.

Faith also plays a role in this shift. There is a kind of quiet strength that comes from trusting that you do not have to see the whole path to start walking. Some men have been taught that faith is about certainty, when in truth it is about surrender. It takes humility to lead with faith — to say, “I do not have all the answers, but I believe there is one.” When a man learns to lead with that posture, he replaces arrogance with assurance. He begins to see that wisdom often comes not from control but from trust.

Admitting uncertainty does not make a man weak; it makes him wise. It frees him from the pressure to perform and opens the door to genuine connection. It allows him to build relationships based on truth instead of image. It teaches him to listen, really listen, without needing to prove himself in every conversation. It allows his children to see that imperfection is not failure, but part of the human experience. And it gives him permission to breathe, to learn, and to change.

Culturally, we have to stop rewarding pretense. Too often, men are celebrated for being decisive, even when their decisions are damaging. We praise confidence, even when it comes at the cost of honesty. We admire control, even when it isolates. But real leadership is not about pretending to have all the answers; it is about creating an environment where truth can exist. A man who leads with honesty inspires others to do the same. He makes it safe for others to say, “I’m figuring it out too.”

Growth starts where certainty ends. When a man finally accepts that he does not have to know everything, he becomes teachable. And a teachable man is an unstoppable one. He learns from mistakes instead of denying them. He listens to perspectives instead of dismissing them. He becomes stronger not because he knows it all, but because he refuses to stop learning. That kind of humility builds wisdom, and wisdom builds legacy.

We live in a world that is desperate for wise men, not loud ones, not perfect ones, but grounded ones. Men who can say, “I don’t know,” without shame, and then have the courage to find out. Men who see questions not as threats but as opportunities. Men who lead from honesty, not ego. When we start honoring that kind of manhood, the myth that men should always have the answers will finally lose its grip.

Manhood is not proven through certainty. It is revealed through growth. The strongest man in the room is not the one who knows everything. It is the one who is willing to keep learning long after the applause fades.

Editor’s Note: Opinion articles do not represent the views of the Virgin Islands Source newsroom and are the sole expressed opinion of the writer. Submissions can be made to visource@gmail.com. 
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The community on St. John turned out Saturday evening to celebrate the retirement of Dr. Elizabeth Barot in Frank Powell Sr. Park in Cruz Bay.

Barot worked at the Myrah Keating Community Health Center for 40 years, often arriving in the middle of the night to tend to the medical needs of countless residents and visitors.

Barot was praised during warm testimonials from Health Department colleagues and patients. Alston “Big Al” Smith presented a handmade clock of mahogany wood in the shape of a stethoscope. More than 26 family members — some from the Philippines, Barot’s native country — attended the celebration.

She gained fame by delivering babies at (what is now) the Westin Beach Resort when the clinic was twice badly damaged by hurricanes, and the hotel served as an emergency center. Two of these “newborns,” now adults, briefly appeared on the bandstand with her.

Throughout the evening, you’d hear people say, “She saved my life.” They’d recount stories of an appendicitis diagnosis, or a suicide attempt, or a bad fall leading to a head wound, or even a cow goring.

Whatever the emergency, patients were met with a professional who was competent, reassuring, kind, and nonjudgmental. Of course, part of Barot’s mojo was making it look easy.

When he got up to speak a few words, Dr. Joseph De James, her co-worker, suggested that her job was more difficult than she let on. “She taught me every bad swear word in Tagalog (the national language of the Philippines),” he said.

De James, who has worked at the clinic for 25 years and is still known as “the new doc,” said Barot helped ease him into the challenges of working in a rural health center. “She taught me not to complain,” he said.

On the Schneider Regional Medical Center Facebook page, Barot is quoted as saying, “Before I treat a patient, I make sure that they feel at ease – because comfort comes before care. That’s how trust is built. Every patient deserves time, attention and kindness.”

At the end of the formalities, Alecia Wells, who organized the event and served as the mistress of ceremonies, sent the crowd off to eat and dance with the words, “You’re all in Love City, so remember, it’s all about love.”