03/02/2026
This is a sample section from a recent written blog
A Pastoral and Research‑Led Rebuttal to the Incel Movement
By Jody Goldsworthy, CEO of Jonathan’s House
The incel movement is often spoken about as if it were a fringe curiosity — a dark corner of the internet populated by angry young men who have chosen bitterness over belonging. But that caricature is not only inaccurate; it is profoundly unhelpful. It obscures the real story: a story of loneliness, shame, trauma, and unmet emotional needs. It hides the truth that behind the label “incel” are boys and young men who have been failed by the systems, communities, and relationships that were meant to nurture them. And it prevents us from offering the compassion, truth, and hope that could genuinely change their lives.
As someone with a desire to go deeper into understanding of the issues facing men of all ages, I have spent the last three years listening to the voices behind the statistics. I have read the academic studies, the government reports, the forum posts, and the personal testimonies. I have sat with men whose stories mirror the emotional landscape of the incel community: rejection, isolation, confusion, and a longing for connection that feels perpetually out of reach. What emerges is not a movement of hatred, but a movement of hurt. Not a community of villains, but a community of wounded sons.
This rebuttal is not written to condemn incels. It is written because they deserve better than the lies they have been given. It is written because the gospel offers a truer story than the one they have been told. And it is written because the Church — if it is willing — can become the place where these young men finally feel seen, valued, and welcomed home.
Understanding the incel movement requires us to step away from sensational headlines and step toward the human beings behind the label. It requires us to see not a threat, but a wound. Not an ideology, but an ache. Not a problem to be solved, but a generation of sons who have never been told who they are.
Understanding the Incel Identity: A Wound, Not a Worldview
The first mistake society makes is assuming that incels are defined by ideology. The research tells a different story. Studies from universities across the UK and US consistently show that the majority of self‑identified incels are not driven by misogyny or extremism. They are driven by loneliness, rejection, neurodiversity, and untreated mental‑health challenges. High rates of suicidal ideation, autistic traits, bullying histories, depression, and social anxiety form the emotional landscape of this group.
These are not the markers of ideological extremism. They are the markers of emotional injury.
The incel identity is not primarily political. It is existential. It is the identity a young man reaches for when he feels he has no other identity left. It is the story he tells himself when he cannot make sense of his pain. It is the label he adopts when he believes he is fundamentally unlovable.
This is why the incel movement resonates with boys who would never consider themselves hateful. It gives language to their suffering. It gives shape to their confusion. It gives community to their isolation. It gives explanation to their rejection. And tragically, it gives permanence to their despair.
When a young man feels invisible, the incel narrative tells him why. When he feels rejected, it tells him who to blame. When he feels hopeless, it gives him a story that makes sense of the ache. But the story it offers is too small for the weight of his humanity. It reduces him to his wounds. It traps him in his shame. It names him by his pain.
And yet, for many, it is the only story they have ever been offered.
The Emotional Architecture of the Incel Narrative
To rebut the incel movement, we must understand the emotional architecture that holds it together. At its core, the incel worldview is built on a series of lies — lies that feel true because they grow in the soil of pain.
The first lie is the belief that they are unlovable. This is the foundational wound. It is the whisper that echoes through every forum, every confession, every late‑night post written by a boy who feels invisible. It is not a conclusion reached through logic; it is a belief formed through experience. When a young man has never been affirmed, never been chosen, never been told he matters, the absence of love becomes evidence of unlovability. Scripture speaks a different truth: “You are precious in my sight.” “I have loved you with an everlasting love.” “You are fearfully and wonderfully made.” The incel movement tells young men they are unlovable because they have been rejected. The gospel tells them they are loved because they were created.
The second lie is the belief that they are doomed to be alone. This lie is reinforced through deterministic language: “genetic destiny,” “looks hierarchy,” “permanent rejection.” It removes hope and replaces it with fatalism. It tells boys that their future is fixed, that their loneliness is inevitable, that their story is already written. But Scripture reveals a God who places the lonely in families. A God who builds community, not isolation. A God who says, “It is not good for man to be alone.” Hopelessness is not a personality trait. It is a wound.
The third lie is the belief that women are the enemy. This lie does not emerge from hatred. It emerges from fear. When a young man has been rejected repeatedly, or never affirmed at all, it becomes easier to blame an entire gender than to face the ache within. But Scripture calls men and women co‑imagebearers. It calls men to honour women. It calls all believers to treat one another with dignity, compassion, and love. The incel narrative dehumanises women. The gospel humanises everyone.
The fourth lie is the belief that they are defined by their failures. Many incels carry deep shame — shame about their appearance, their social skills, their inexperience, their perceived inadequacy. Shame becomes the lens through which they interpret every interaction. But the Father in the story of the prodigal son does not define his child by failure. He runs toward him. He embraces him. He restores him. Shame says, “You are your mistakes.” The Father says, “You are my son.”
These lies are powerful not because they are logical, but because they are familiar. They echo the internal narratives of boys who have never been affirmed, never been initiated, never been told who they are. They grow in the silence left by absent fathers, overwhelmed mothers, overstretched schools, and disconnected communities. They take root in the hearts of boys who have been left to interpret their pain alone.
Understanding from a Trauma Informed Point of Veiw
Cognitive Behavioural Therapy is not a theological tool, but it is a profoundly humane one. It helps us understand how thoughts, emotions, and behaviours become entangled, especially in people who feel rejected, ashamed, or hopeless. We use CBT not to reduce young men to clinical categories, but to illuminate the psychological loops that keep them trapped.
CBT teaches us that people do not simply “have” emotions — they interpret experiences through deeply held beliefs, many of which were formed in childhood or adolescence. When a young man has been bullied, ignored, or socially excluded, he may begin to form beliefs such as “I am unlovable,” “I am inferior,” or “I will always be alone.” These beliefs shape how he interprets every new experience. A neutral interaction becomes evidence of rejection. A moment of awkwardness becomes proof of inadequacy. A single disappointment becomes a prophecy of lifelong loneliness.
This is why CBT is so helpful here: it shows us that the incel identity is not a fixed ideology but a maintaining cycle. A young man feels lonely, interprets that loneliness as evidence of unlovability, withdraws socially, and then experiences even more loneliness. The cycle tightens. The beliefs harden. The despair deepens. And the online incel community becomes the only place where his pain feels understood.
CBT helps us see that this cycle is not a moral failure. It is a psychological trap. And traps can be escaped when someone is met with compassion, truth, and belonging.
Masculinity: The Incel Narrative, the Tate Narrative, and the Biblical Narrative
Any meaningful rebuttal to the incel movement must address the question of masculinity, because masculinity is the battleground on which many of these young men are fighting for identity. The incel worldview and the broader manosphere surrounding it are not simply offering opinions about gender; they are offering scripts for manhood to boys who feel directionless, fatherless, and unseen. These scripts resonate because they speak to deep longings within the masculine heart — longings for purpose, strength, belonging, and affirmation — but they twist those longings into something brittle, fearful, and ultimately destructive.
The masculinity offered by the incel movement is built on scarcity. It tells young men that worth is measured by desirability, dominance, and social ranking. It frames life as a competition in which only a small percentage of men can ever succeed. Masculinity, in this worldview, is something you either have or you don’t, and if you don’t, you are condemned to permanent inferiority. It is a masculinity defined by comparison, not character; by external validation, not internal strength; by fatalism, not growth.
Andrew Tate’s version of masculinity is different in tone but similar in structure. Tate offers a hyper‑individualistic, hyper‑competitive, hyper‑sexualised vision of manhood. He tells boys that to be a man is to dominate, to win, to accumulate wealth, to control women, and to project invulnerability. He frames emotional openness as weakness, compassion as naivety, and humility as failure. His message resonates because it offers certainty in a world that feels chaotic, and because it gives boys a script for confidence when they feel lost. But it is a script built on sand.
Both the incel movement and the Tate movement are reacting to the same wound: the absence of healthy, grounded, relational masculinity. Both movements are trying to answer the same question: “What does it mean to be a man when I feel like I’m not enough?” And both movements offer answers that feel empowering at first but ultimately deepen the very wounds they claim to heal.
Many young men today carry a deep, unspoken wound — a wound formed through absence, neglect, criticism, or emotional distance. It is the wound of never having been affirmed, never having been initiated into adulthood, never having been told by a father or father‑figure, “You have what it takes.” When a boy grows up without this blessing, he enters adulthood searching for a script that will tell him who he is. He looks for a story that will make sense of his longing for purpose, his desire for strength, and his ache for connection.
The incel movement and the Tate movement both offer such stories — but they are counterfeit stories. They promise strength without vulnerability, identity without intimacy, and belonging without relationship. They offer a way to feel like a man without ever becoming one. They appeal to the wound, but they cannot heal it.
The masculine heart is created with deep longings: the longing to live a meaningful life, the longing to face challenges with courage, the longing to be part of something bigger than oneself, and the longing to love and be loved. These longings are not toxic; they are human. They reflect the image of a God who is strong, courageous, creative, and relational. But when these longings are unmet, distorted, or wounded, they can be twisted into their shadows. The longing for purpose becomes aggression or despair. The longing for challenge becomes escapism or addiction. The longing for connection becomes entitlement or objectification.
The incel movement preys on these distorted longings. It tells young men that the “battle” they face is against women, against genetics, against society. It tells them that the “adventure” they seek is a fantasy world of online forums, self‑pity, and nihilism. It tells them that the “beauty” they long for is a trophy to be won or a gatekeeper who withholds their worth. It takes the deep desires of the masculine heart and turns them inward, trapping young men in a cycle of shame, resentment, and hopelessness.
Tate’s narrative does something similar. It offers a counterfeit battle — a battle for dominance, wealth, and status. It offers a counterfeit adventure — a life of excess, bravado, and performance. It offers a counterfeit beauty — women as objects to be conquered rather than partners to be cherished. It is masculinity without tenderness, strength without sacrifice, leadership without love.
The biblical vision of masculinity could not be more different. Biblical masculinity begins not with dominance, but with identity. Before Jesus performed a miracle, preached a sermon, or called a disciple, the Father spoke over Him: “You are my beloved Son; with You I am well pleased.” Identity precedes action. Worth precedes achievement. Masculinity, in the biblical sense, is not something earned; it is something received.
Biblical masculinity is rooted in being known and loved by God. It is shaped by courage, integrity, humility, and sacrificial love. It honours women as co‑imagebearers. It embraces vulnerability as a path to strength. It seeks purpose not in escapism but in calling. It faces challenges not for dominance but for justice, compassion, and truth.
It is not bravado.
It is not bitterness.
It is not dominance.
It is not despair.
It is identity, love, courage, humility, and honour.
This is the masculinity young men are starving for — a masculinity that does not shame their longing for strength, but grounds it in love; a masculinity that does not mock their vulnerability, but dignifies it; a masculinity that does not demand performance, but offers belonging; a masculinity that does not isolate, but connects; a masculinity that does not wound, but heals.
This is the masculinity the gospel restores.
This is the masculinity the Church is called to embody.
This is the masculinity that can speak life into a wounded generation.
A Pastoral Rebuttal: What Young Men Need Instead
As CEO of Jonathan’s House, I work daily with men who have been wounded by rejection, abuse, and social isolation. Many of them share the same emotional landscape as incels: loneliness, shame, confusion, and a longing for belonging. What they need is not condemnation. What they need is not lectures. What they need is not shame.
They need a place to belong before they believe. They need mentors who see their potential, not their failures. They need a community that teaches healthy relationships. They need a Father who runs toward them. They need a gospel that restores dignity.
The incel movement strips dignity away. The gospel restores it.
Young men need spaces where they can be honest about their pain without being mocked for it. They need older men who will sit with them, listen to them, and call out their strength. They need communities that teach them how to build healthy relationships, how to navigate rejection, how to express emotion, and how to grow into the men they were created to be. They need churches that do not shame their loneliness but honour their longing for connection. They need a story that is bigger than their wounds.
A Better Story for a Wounded Generation
The incel movement is not the enemy. It is a symptom of a deeper enemy: loneliness, shame, and hopelessness. Young men deserve better than a worldview that tells them they are doomed. They deserve better than a community built on despair. They deserve better than a story that ends in isolation.
They deserve the truth:
They are loved.
They are seen.
They are wanted.
They are not beyond hope.
They are not defined by rejection.
They are not alone.
The gospel offers a better story.
The Father offers a better embrace.
The Church must offer a better community.
And we, as leaders, researchers, and followers of Christ, must speak into this moment with courage, compassion, and conviction. Because these young men are not problems to be solved. They are sons to be welcomed home.
