When people hear that I grew up in a household of fourteen—with ten of those family members being female—they often respond with a mix of curiosity and disbelief. “Ten sisters?!” they say. Yes, ten. Add in my mother, my maternal grandmother, and an aunt, and you can understand why my childhood was nothing short of a crash course in navigating womanhood—while trying to figure out my own path to manhood.
In my book, A LOT OF PEOPLE SLEPT HERE, I share the layered stories of growing up as the first-born son in a house filled with strong, outspoken, and deeply complex women. It wasn’t just chaotic or crowded—it was formative. That household became my first classroom in learning respect, responsibility, and emotional intelligence.
Learning by Observing
In a home where women were the majority, I learned to observe more than I spoke. I watched how my mother managed her emotions, how my sisters stood up for themselves, and how conflicts were resolved not with fists, but with words. My mother, especially after the passing of my father, was the rock of our family. She worked in male-dominated environments, raised her children with discipline and love, and never once allowed pity to take root in our home.
She didn’t preach feminism, but she lived it in action—and watching her taught me that real strength is quiet, consistent, and unyielding.
Respect Wasn’t Optional—It Was Expected
With ten sisters, I quickly learned that respect wasn’t a suggestion; it was a requirement. You couldn’t just bark out orders or expect things to go your way. You had to listen. You had to care. And you had to learn to negotiate in a space that didn’t revolve around you.
That dynamic reshaped how I saw manhood. It wasn’t about domination or control—it was about presence. I saw firsthand that being a man didn’t mean being the loudest voice in the room. It meant being grounded enough to hold your own, humble enough to share space, and wise enough to learn from those around you.
Humor Was a Survival Tool
In a house that size, there was no room for ego—but plenty of room for laughter. I became the prankster, the troublemaker, the one with a mischievous streak that often landed me in hot water. (Ask my mother about the Smooshed Frog Incident!) But behind the laughter was a coping mechanism. Humor helped me process growing up poor, being the odd one out at school, and figuring out my identity in a world that didn’t always feel welcoming.
Those lighthearted moments taught me resilience. Life wasn’t always fair, but it could be funny. That small lesson carried me through some of the darkest chapters of my adulthood.
Manhood Means Protection, Not Power
One of the most enduring lessons I learned as a boy surrounded by women was the role of protector. My father, before he passed, instilled in me a belief that men must always defend women and children—not because they are weak, but because we are accountable.
This lesson stuck with me through raising three children on my own after divorce, through my 35-year federal career, and now into my work as a writer. Real men don’t posture—they protect. They show up. They listen. They care.
The Balance of Softness and Strength
Too often, society teaches boys to avoid vulnerability. But in my house, emotions were on full display. Tears weren’t hidden; they were wiped away by a sister’s hand. Failures weren’t mocked; they were met with encouragement. That environment allowed me to understand the true balance of manhood: the ability to be both soft and strong. It’s in that balance that leadership, compassion, and legacy are born.
A Final Word on Legacy
What It’s Like Growing Up with 10 Sisters isn’t just a personal story—it’s a reflection on what manhood can be when shaped by empathy, exposure, and education. My sisters helped raise me, challenge me, and in many ways, define me. They gave me a blueprint for understanding women not as opposites or mysteries, but as equals—and sometimes, superiors—in strength, wisdom, and fortitude.
In a world still struggling with gender roles and toxic masculinity, I offer this truth: growing up with ten sisters didn’t make me less of a man. It made me more of one.
If you’re looking for a story that blends humor with heart, hardship with hope, and memory with meaning, I invite you to read A LOT OF PEOPLE SLEPT HERE. You might not have grown up with ten sisters—but you’ll find something in these pages that speaks to you, your family, and your own journey toward becoming who you’re meant to be.
Because sometimes, the best way to learn about manhood… is to grow up with a house full of women.