By Tony Porter, CEO of A Call to Men
I want to talk about something that doesn’t get enough airtime: how community used to be our safety net, and how much we’ve lost as the world has grown more disconnected due to the growing presence of social media and the internet overall.
For generations, community was our shield. It was the network that caught us when life got heavy, the place where we could turn for compassion, guidance and accountability. But somewhere along the way, we’ve traded that in for isolation. We’ve exchanged relationships for Wi-Fi connections, and we’re paying the price.
An example that I think about is the experiences we have as men. Many of us were taught to “man up,” to stay silent, and to push through the pain alone. But no one can carry life’s weight by themselves. Healing doesn’t happen in a vacuum; it happens in community.
I saw this firsthand growing up in the Bronx. Back then, every man on the block was like a father to me, and every woman was like a mother. They corrected us. They protected us. They nurtured us as if we were their own. That collective care shaped who I am today.
My mother modeled it best. She was full of compassion, especially for those who were struggling. She never condoned harmful choices, but she always honored people’s humanity. She saw them. And in return, they respected and adored her. That simple act of choosing connection over judgment stayed with me. It’s why I do this work with the same belief: that our wholeness is tied to how we see and care for one another.
Today, that kind of community feels rare. We live in a culture that teaches us to “mind our business,” where checking in on someone else’s child or stepping in to help a neighbor can be seen as a sign of disrespect instead of love. And yet, those are the very acts that strengthen our bonds.
A few weeks ago, I saw a young boy riding an electric car down a busy city street. No adults in sight. I didn’t know him, but I stepped in. I made sure he got home safely and spoke to his father. Thankfully, his dad received it with gratitude. But I knew it could have gone the other way. That’s the tension we live in now, where care can be mistaken for intrusion.
We need to shift that. Because community no longer means geography. Today, when we say “the Black community” or “the Gen Z community,” we’re often talking about shared identity rather than shared space. And while that matters, it isn’t enough when young people are hurting and no one is close enough to notice.
So how do we move forward? We can’t go back to the way things were, but we can carry the values forward.
We can choose to care.
To intervene.
To ask questions.
To make eye contact with someone who’s hurting instead of looking away.
Whether you’re a father, a coach, a mentor, or just a man in the community, you don’t have to be perfect to be present. Just show up.
Because at the end of the day, this isn’t just about individual struggles. It’s about humanity. It’s about remembering that even in a disconnected world, we still belong to each other.