A long time ago, I dated a guy who facilitated recovery groups because he was a recovering addict. He was a respected professional who develop
A long time ago, I dated a guy who facilitated recovery groups because he was a recovering addict. He was a respected professional who developed an addiction. Part of his healing involved serving as a leader among other recovering addicts.
I went to a few meetings he facilitated, but because I was not an addict, I had to sit there and keep my mouth shut. Listen and learn. Why do I say it like that? Because NA/AA members mean it. What may work for a person healing through violence and abuse may not work for someone who has a possible added complication of addiction.
By the way, I was humbled and honored to be allowed in that space among people doing extremely difficult and courageous work.
I think about that when I think about the reception women in general receive when we speak about what we need. Suddenly it is all about how men’s needs aren’t getting met. 
Alcoholics Anonymous members and women are often talked about as if they’re doing the same kind of boundary work. On the surface, both groups are “learning limits,” “learning to say no,” and “learning self-protection.”
But the ground underneath them is not the same. And that changes everything.
For members of Alcoholics Anonymous (Alcoholics Anonymous), boundaries are built inside a recovery container. The premise is already established: addiction is the problem, sobriety is the goal, and the group agrees—at least in theory—that the person’s autonomy must be restored. When a member says “I can’t be around that,” or “I’m not available for this,” the framework is designed to support that. The boundary is treated as part of healing from a recognized condition. There is structure, language, steps, sponsors, and a shared narrative that legitimizes withdrawal from harmful patterns.
Even when AA is imperfect, the core idea is this: the person is allowed to name what harms them, and the system is supposed to adjust around that truth.
Now place women in the same sentence.
Women setting boundaries are not operating inside a mutual agreement that their autonomy is already respected. They are often setting boundaries inside systems that were built to negotiate their availability, not protect their refusal.
A woman saying “no” is rarely treated as a clinical or structured act of recovery. It is treated as a social disruption. A problem to manage. A personality issue. A relationship complication. Sometimes even a moral failing.
And this is where the divergence becomes sharp.
For many women, especially Black women, boundaries are not learned in supportive containers. They are carved out in real time against pressure, expectation, entitlement, surveillance, and consequence. A woman’s boundary is often met with interrogation instead of recognition:
Why are you saying no?
Are you overreacting?
Can you explain it better?
Can you compromise?
Can you make it more reasonable for others?
Notice the direction of the pressure. In AA, the system bends toward protecting sobriety. For women, the social system often bends toward preserving access to them.
That difference is not cosmetic. It is structural.
There is also a deeper layer. In addiction recovery, the harm is named clearly: alcohol, drugs, compulsive behavior. The enemy is externalized in a way that allows clarity. But women’s boundary violations are often normalized as “just life,” “just relationships,” “just work,” “just family,” “just culture.”
So when a woman sets a boundary, she is not only resisting a person or situation. She is resisting normalization itself. She is interrupting the expectation that her labor, time, emotional care, sexuality, patience, and silence are always available.
That is why women’s boundaries are so often punished at the social level. Not because they are unclear, but because they are clear in a system that depends on them being flexible.
For Black women specifically, there is another historical weight layered in. Boundaries collide with a legacy where refusal was not simply discouraged but punished economically, physically, and socially. In that context, “no” has never been neutral. It has carried risk. So even today, when a Black woman sets a boundary, she is not only navigating interpersonal discomfort. She is moving against centuries of conditioning that trained systems to interpret her availability as default.
This is why women’s boundaries often require repetition, justification, emotional labor, and defense. Not because women are unclear, but because the environment treats clarity as negotiable.
In AA, recovery language gives members permission to detach from harm without needing to make harm acceptable to others. “I’m not going there.” Full stop. The legitimacy is already built in.
Women are often asked to translate their boundaries into something socially digestible before they are accepted at all.
So the real difference is not in the act of boundary setting. It is in what surrounds it.
One is supported by a system that recognizes harm and prioritizes recovery.
The other is enacted within systems that often depend on women absorbing harm quietly so that everything else can continue uninterrupted.
And that is the quiet truth: women are not just setting boundaries. They are negotiating for the right to have boundaries treated as real in the first place.
The answers that we seek do not lie in continuing to interrogate women’s spaces, services, and groups. Women create spaces of safety and care allllll of the time. We carry mini care packages in our purses for other women (lotion, hand sanitizer, pads, tampons, headache medication, first aid items, breath mints). We must start having conversations around how men can begin to take care of one another…and maybe then taking care of others can start becoming their standard default setting too.
I’ve had enough of conversations that revolve around why women aren’t MORE accommodating to random men in society. Where are the conversations around why male spaces aren’t accommodating to all men in the first place? Something similar happens in conversations around Black women healing spaces. People want to know why they can’t come in but as a facilitator and participant, I have come to understand that that question centers on an entitlement to access. Such folks have no concern for the impact on the participants. You can explain it until you are without breath…
How Black women need a space where they aren’t feeling the need to protect, defend, and explain their own cultural practices. How culture impacts healing. How that’s not strange, it’s human. Happens all over the world. How you don’t want to leave your culture; you want to heal and make it better. How the emotional fallout around the discussion has decentered the entire point of the group. You came to this place to focus on healing. And around and around it goes.
When we center the conversation on making men’s spaces more accommodating to all males, we finally start talking about dismantling those rigid, traditional hierarchies. It moves the needle toward creating environments where different generations, backgrounds, and expressions of masculinity can genuinely coexist—without the exhausting pressure of conformity or constant posturing.
Most importantly, focusing on how men communicate, support, and hold one another accountable in their own circles relieves women’s spaces of that educational burden. It is not women’s job to teach men how to respect boundaries or build healthy communities.
When you look at places like mentorship groups, workplaces, or community forums, which of these male spaces do you think needs this shift the absolute most?
Shifting the focus to how male spaces can become healthier means changing the foundational culture of how men interact with one another. It requires moving away from rigid hierarchies, posturing, and conformity, and moving toward authentic connection, mutual support, and internal accountability.
Here are 10 concrete ways to start making men’s spaces more accommodating to all males:
1. Normalize Diverse Expressions of Masculinity
We need to drop the narrow “alpha/beta” or hyper-tough stereotypes that force males into a rigid box. Actively welcome and respect men who are quiet, artistic, sensitive, or have non-traditional interests. A space isn’t actually accommodating if a male has to perform a caricature of manhood just to be accepted.
2. Prioritize Intergenerational Mentorship
Intentionally bridge the gap between young boys, young adults, and elders. Create environments where older men offer real wisdom, life skills, and emotional grounding to younger males, while younger males bring fresh perspectives. This helps reduce the isolation that happens so often across different age groups.
3. Establish Clear Codes of Internal Conduct
Move completely away from “boys will be boys” passivity. Healthy male spaces set explicit expectations for mutual respect, banning hazing, bullying, slurs, and degrading talk. When boundaries are crossed, men must address it directly with one another instead of ignoring it or sweeping it under the rug.
4. Foster Active Emotional Literacy
Encourage a culture where talking about stress, fear, failure, grief, or mental health struggles is seen as a sign of strength and resilience, not weakness. This means creating spaces where men can finally drop the “I’m fine” armor and speak honestly about their lived experiences without judgment.
5. Transition from Competition to Collaboration
Too many traditional male environments—from sports to corporate culture—are built purely on dominance and ranking. Shift the focus toward shared goals, mutual aid, and collective success, where a man’s value isn’t tied solely to outperforming his peers.
6. Introduce Non-Alcohol Centered Environments
A massive portion of male socializing revolves around bars and drinking, which automatically excludes those in recovery, younger males, or anyone who just wants a clear-headed connection. Create active, hobby-based, or discussion-focused spaces where alcohol isn’t the primary anchor.
7. Support Healthy Boundaries and Consent Education
Make the discussion of boundaries, personal autonomy, and consent a normal part of male-to-male guidance. When men explicitly model and discuss respecting the boundaries of others—and setting their own—it builds a culture of safety that benefits everyone.
8. Practice Direct, Constructive Accountability
When a man acts out, causes harm, or struggles with destructive behavior, the community shouldn’t just ostracize him or cover for him. Real accommodation means having the courage to lean in, call him out directly, and provide a clear pathway for self-correction, growth, and rehabilitation.
9. Value Vulnerability Over Stoicism
Redefine what it means to be strong. Show that true maturity involves acknowledging limitations, asking for help when needed, and admitting mistakes. When leaders in male spaces model this vulnerability, it gives permission for every other male in the room to do the same.
10. Focus on Shared Action and Purpose
Men often connect best “shoulder-to-shoulder” while doing a task, rather than just sitting “face-to-face” talking. Use community service, building projects, fitness, or learning new trades as the vehicle to bring diverse groups of males together, using shared labor to build trust and break down social barriers.
Some women notice that at family gatherings it is the women who cook the food, serve the meals and drinks, make the entire atmosphere male cozy. Versus hanging out with women where women take turns. If you host, someone brings a cute gift. If you cooked, another woman may say, “I got the dishes.” When males are present, accommodation is an expectation. Maybe a man grills or something. But I’ve been the lady sitting who was admonished for being “lazy” because (gasp) a man had to endure fixing his own plate. Now if this is a family or cultural practice, by all means please don’t let me interfere with tradition. Respect.
But the community at large is different.
A critical component of women-only spaces is the total relief from being evaluated through an external, sexualized, or patriarchal lens. Without the dynamics of heterosexual courtship or systemic gender dynamics in the room (the expectation to center on and cater to men), participants can interact, dress, and express themselves entirely on their own terms.
We can’t help men, our communities, or society by continuing to enable this. Enabling dysfunction. The system can’t be functional if it does not serve all the men. We can support men in doing what we do. (Where support does not mean: hold your hand and do it for you.)
When women create dedicated spaces, the design and culture are typically built around safety, relational depth, and mutual support. These environments—whether formal organizations, support groups, creative circles, or informal gatherings—often thrive because they intentionally reject standard adversarial hierarchies in favor of community care.
P.S. Just know, the people who keep witness standing and interrrogating the very notion of women’s spacesa, services, and groups are not concerned about women. Or girls.
How to Respond with Strength When Abusers Accuse You of Playing the ‘Victim’ – WE Survive Abuse
Why Defending Your Boundaries Doesn’t Make You Hateful—It Makes You Strong – WE Survive Abuse
When “I Am” Becomes a Demand – WE Survive Abuse
10 Signs You’re Being Asked to Tolerate the Intolerable – WE Survive Abuse