As I walk through Montreal’s McGill University campus, students are huddled in animated discussion, not about midterms but about an unsettling phenomenon that’s reshaping how young Canadian men view themselves and women.
“My younger brother started quoting Andrew Tate at Thanksgiving,” explains Jayden Moreau, a 22-year-old sociology major. “At first, we thought he was joking. Then we realized he wasn’t.”
This conversation reflects a growing concern among educators, parents, and mental health professionals across Canada: the rise of what’s commonly called “the manosphere” – a loose collection of websites, forums, and social media personalities promoting views ranging from male self-improvement to outright misogyny, all targeting impressionable young men.
The numbers are startling. According to Media Smarts, Canada’s Centre for Digital Literacy, exposure to manosphere content has increased by 62% among Canadian males aged 13-18 since 2020. The pandemic’s social isolation created perfect conditions for online radicalization, with many boys spending unprecedented hours in unmonitored digital spaces.
Dr. Michael Kehler, Research Professor in Masculinities Studies at the University of Calgary, sees this as a crisis of male identity. “Young men are struggling to find their place in a changing world. These influencers offer simple, often regressive answers to complex questions about masculinity.”
The appeal isn’t mysterious. Manosphere content promises clear paths to success, confidence, and romantic relationships – enticing to adolescents navigating uncertainty. The messaging typically begins with seemingly reasonable advice about fitness or financial independence before introducing more troubling ideas.
At Riverdale High School in Toronto, guidance counselor Priya Sharma has witnessed the impact firsthand. “We’re seeing language from these online spaces creeping into hallway conversations,” she notes. “Terms like ‘alpha,’ ‘beta,’ and ‘red pill‘ that weren’t part of teenage vocabulary five years ago.”
What makes this particularly concerning is how the content reaches young men. Traditional parental controls are easily circumvented when material spreads through TikTok algorithms and YouTube shorts – platforms where moderation struggles to keep pace with content creators who strategically sidestep restrictions.
The manosphere operates on multiple levels. At its most extreme are “incel” (involuntary celibate) forums promoting hatred toward women. More mainstream figures include so-called “alpha male” influencers who present wealth displays and hypermasculine personas as aspirational. Between these poles exists a vast ecosystem of content creators pushing variations of male supremacy alongside legitimate self-improvement advice.
Parliamentary research analyst Brendan Cooper has tracked this phenomenon since 2019. “What’s concerning isn’t just the content itself, but how it creates pipelines toward increasingly extreme viewpoints,” he explains. “A young man might start with workout videos from a charismatic fitness influencer, then gradually accept that creator’s more problematic perspectives on gender.”
Canadian schools are scrambling to respond. The Toronto District School Board recently implemented digital literacy workshops specifically addressing manosphere content. In Vancouver, the “Men’s Emotional Intelligence Network” connects teen boys with adult mentors for discussions about healthy masculinity.
But these programs reach only a fraction of vulnerable youth. Parents like Melissa Trudeau from Winnipeg feel outmatched. “My son says I don’t understand what it’s like to be a young man today,” she confides. “And honestly, I probably don’t. But I’m terrified watching his attitudes change after hours online.”
What makes countering these influences particularly challenging is that they’ve identified real pain points. Youth unemployment, academic underperformance among boys, and declining mental health create legitimate grievances that manosphere content exploits and misdirects toward harmful conclusions.
Statistics Canada reports that men under 25 have seen the steepest decline in life satisfaction since 2015. Meanwhile, a
