By Lina Juarbe Botella
I’ll be the first to tell you, I don’t have all the answers. I’m a mother, not a miracle worker. But what I do have is a commitment to show up for my sons, even when it’s hard, especially when it’s hard. And these days? It’s more complicated than ever.
That’s why I’ve stopped striving for perfection and started focusing on presence. When the world feels loud, confusing, or even dangerous, my sons don’t need all the right words. They need to know I’m right here. Showing up looks different every day: sometimes it’s listening without fixing, sometimes it’s asking hard questions, and sometimes it’s just sitting in silence together. But the common thread is connection. Because at the end of the day, that’s what anchors them and me through all the noise
Disconnection is the Enemy
There’s more access now than ever before. Access to useful information, yes, but also access to harmful content. What worries me isn’t just the content my kids see, but also how easily they can access it. And even easier to believe it.
Raising boys in a digital world means you’re raising them alongside YouTube algorithms, Reddit threads, TikTok trends, and, unfortunately, misogynistic influencers who make manipulation look like manhood. According to the Pew Research Center, teenage boys outrank teenage girls on almost all social media platforms when it comes to usage. You can’t monitor it all. Trust me, I’ve tried. But what I’ve learned is that connection, not control, is what keeps our boys grounded.
When my son tells me something that scares me, I have to fix my face. Literally. Because if I flinch, sigh, or judge, I risk shutting the whole conversation down.
That doesn’t mean I don’t have boundaries or values. It just means I lead with curiosity. I’ve learned that asking, “What do you think about that? How did that make you feel?” is often more powerful than giving a lecture.
My job isn’t to be the expert. My job is to be a student of my son’s experience, and that requires humility. If I want him to care what I think, I have to prove that I care what he thinks, too.
And that connection starts with us. The mothers. The caregivers. The village.
What concerns me is how easily we can become disconnected as families. I’ve caught myself scrolling while one of my kids is talking to me. I’ve had to tell myself, “Put the phone down. Be present.” Because if I’m not fully in the moment, how can I expect them to be?
We have to carve out intentional time, not perfect time, not performative time, but real, honest moments where our kids feel seen, heard, and valued.
Rejection Hurts, But It Doesn’t Have to Harm
Rejection is a part of life. We know that. But our boys? Many of them are still learning. And oftentimes, they are learning in misogynistic spaces online where rejection can turn into rage. I’ve seen it. We’ve all seen it, boys lashing out because they don’t know what to do with the pain of not being chosen, not being liked, not being seen.
That’s why I invest in creating moments to increase their capacity to deal with all that life has to offer, while surrounding them with other folks who can support, challenge, and encourage them. I ensure that my sons have three circles of support: people at school or work, individuals in extracurricular activities, and me. Always me.
I tell them, “I’m on Team You.” Not just when things are easy, but also when they are uncomfortable. When they’re in trouble, when they don’t even want to talk, I’ll still be here.
We Are the Generational Blessing
I often think about the medicine I inherited from my own mother. She passed last year, but her love still lives in how I show up today. When I’m unsure, I ask, “What would my mom do?” And I hope that someday, my kids will do the same. Not because I was perfect. But because I was present.
And that’s what I hope more mothers and more communities will commit to. Not perfection. Not performance. Just presence. Just effort. Just showing up, even when you’re scared, even when you mess up, even when you don’t know what the hell to say.
That’s how we pass down generational blessings.
That’s how we raise boys who don’t run from feelings.
Boys who don’t lash out when they’re hurt.
Boys who lead with respect, not rage.
Boys who can seek authenticity.
Today, I still don’t always know what to say, and it’s often not easy. But it’s worth it. Our sons are watching. Let’s give them something real to look up to. Let’s give them ourselves.
If You Feel Like You’ve Lost the Connection…”
Takeaways for Those Supporting Their Sons:
- Presence is the Real Flex
You don’t need the perfect words or a Ph.D. in parenting—just show up. Consistently. Quietly. Messily, if you have to. Presence is a love language, and our boys are fluent in it. - The Internet Isn’t Raising Our Kids. Disconnection Is
We love to blame TikTok and YouTube, but the real danger isn’t the screen; it’s the silence between us. Don’t just monitor what they watch. Nurture how they feel. - Lead with Curiosity, Not Control
When your son says something that makes your chest tighten, breathe. Fix your face, ask questions, and lean in. Curiosity opens doors. Judgment slams them shut. - Rejection Without Support Becomes Rage
Unprocessed pain turns into explosions. Our boys need room to feel disappointment without shame. Help them hold it. Help them heal it. - It Really Does Take a Village
Be intentional about building your child’s circle. Make sure they know who else they can run to and remind them they’re never alone, even if it’s not you they go to first. - Lost the Connection? You Can Still Rebuild
Start with a walk. A meme. A moment of silence. The bridge back doesn’t have to be grand’ it just has to be honest. It’s never too late to reach for them.
Modeling Healthy Manhood Starts with Us
If we want boys who aren’t afraid of their feelings, who know how to sit with discomfort instead of causing it, we have to give them something real to mirror. Vulnerability. Tenderness. Love.