When I first agreed to be part of SBS’s masculinity panel, I genuinely thought I was walking into a space for open conversation. A chance to unpack, reflect, and explore how masculinity impacts all of us in different ways, especially those of us coming from different walks of life. I knew it would be layered and complex, but what I didn’t expect was to find myself in a room that felt more like a debate stage than a space for real dialogue. One that quickly lost its meaning.
The panel was intended to be a televised discussion on masculinity and traditional gender roles, hosted by The Feed on SBS. The premise of the debate was to explore how modern men relate to masculinity, gender expectations, and evolving social roles.
To do so, The Feed brought together six men from different walks of life: Online fitness coach Chris Katelaris, men’s performance coach Clayton Harrop, advocate against men’s violence and speaker Tarang Chawla, mental health speaker and clinical psychologist Mitch Wallis, former Married At First Sight contestant Dean Wells, and myself — an advocate and cultural commentator who aims to engage with conversations of masculinity and gender through an intersectional lens.
While our lived experiences varied, the common thread was that many of us hold platforms outside of that room where we regularly speak to audiences about these topics.
As someone who has long spoken about the intersections of identity, masculinity, and systemic power, particularly around gender and violence, I came into that panel ready to share my truth — not to argue my humanity.
But from the moment we sat down, it became clear that nuance was not the priority. Reaction took precedence over care. The loudest voices in the room were often those most unwilling to listen, and many times they spoke over the men who didn’t reflect their version of masculinity. Particularly men of colour, who were dismissed under the excuse of “it’s just my opinion”.
There were some in the room who treated empathy like weakness and viewed emotional intelligence as something to mock rather than embrace. Others used the opportunity to derail the conversation and centre women, not out of care or allyship, but because their entire understanding of masculinity and patriarchy is shaped by misogyny.
Until we actively unlearn those ideals, none of us will be free.
To be clear, I don’t regret showing up. But I do regret how that space was shaped and ultimately edited.
Many powerful moments of reflection, not just from me but from others, were cut. What the public saw leaned heavily into conflict and provocation, which may generate views but does little to push the conversation forward in a meaningful way.
What felt especially harmful was watching outdated, misogynistic views be platformed without challenge, especially in a room where most of the producers and crew that day were women. That alone created another power dynamic.
Looking back, I can’t help but wonder: Would that panel have played out the same way if a man had been moderating the conversation? Would it have still spiralled?
One moment in particular stayed with me. Rhetoric that stemmed directly from purity culture and the control of women’s autonomy. Views that reduce women to their sexual pasts, or uphold their value only in relation to men, are not just regressive. They’re dangerous.
Giving those views airtime in 2025 without challenge or context isn’t bold. It’s careless.
It legitimises outdated thinking and emboldens the very culture that continues to dismiss women’s rights. Especially in a country where women are still more likely to experience violence from a partner or someone they know.
And let’s be honest, not everything needs to be debated. Human dignity is not a hot take. Some of these ideas aren’t controversial. They’re harmful.
When you give them a platform under the guise of “hearing both sides”, what you’re really doing is giving oxygen to views that dehumanise women and marginalised people.
For people like me, a queer, Black, and proudly outspoken man, the risk of stepping into these rooms is that you’re only welcome if you stay quiet.
I’ve seen how the media frames things. A white man expressing his opinion is called passionate. A person of colour challenging him is called aggressive. When you dare to name the power structures at play, you’re labelled divisive.
But silence has never protected us. It only ever made others more comfortable at our expense.
We need to talk about masculinity. Absolutely. But we need to do it in spaces that value care, responsibility, and truth. Not just the illusion of balance. Masculinity isn’t just what men are taught.
It’s what society expects from them, often at the cost of their emotional freedom and the safety of others. Reimagining masculinity means creating room for men to be vulnerable, accountable, and self-aware.
That’s the conversation I showed up for, and unfortunately, that’s the one we still need to have.
In a statement provided to PEDESTRIAN.TV, a spokesperson for SBS said: “The Feed Debate invites content creators with significant reach and who have different viewpoints on a topical issue to come together in a forum and discuss that issue.
“Like all our content, The Feed Debate is subject to the SBS Code of Practice, which states that SBS will share a diversity of views and perspectives, and requires our news and current affairs programs to provide balanced and impartial coverage.”
Jeff Kissubi is a local writer and activist. You can find him on TikTok and Instagram.
The post Jeff Kissubi: Here’s What The SBS Masculinity Panel Didn’t Show You appeared first on PEDESTRIAN.TV .
