This episode of Clemenz With a “Z” started with a story that honestly stopped me in my tracks: a pastor introducing another pastor from the pulpit by mocking his rental car as “a little gay.” But the deeper I sat with it, the more I realized this wasn’t really about a Prius, or even one awkward church moment. It was about the systems so many men have been raised inside, systems that teach us to fear tenderness, police closeness, and perform strength at the expense of real connection.

In this episode, I explore masculinity, emotional safety, church culture, brotherhood, purity culture, and the quiet loneliness so many men carry underneath the performance. I also reflect on my own experience growing up in the ICOC, the complicated beauty of male friendship inside high-control environments, and the example my father gave me of a different kind of manhood—one rooted not in fear, but presence.

If something in this conversation resonated with you, I’d love to hear from you. You can email me at clemenzwithaz@gmail.com, or send me a DM over on Instagram at @clemenzwithazpodcast.

If you want to support the podcast financially, you can head over to ClemenzWithAZ.com, there’s a merch store there with shirts, stickers, all kinds of stuff. You can also donate directly through the GoFundMe, the link’s in the show notes. Every bit goes a long way in helping me keep these conversations going.

And if you’re looking for something a little more regular, check out my Substack: Devotions for the Disillusioned & Deconstructing. That’s where I share short reflections, devotionals, and some extra behind-the-scenes thoughts that don’t always make it onto the podcast.

And of course, the best way you can support the show is by subscribing, rating, and leaving a review wherever you listen to podcasts. Share it with a friend, post it on your socials, drop it in a group chat, it all helps more than you know.

This podcast keeps going because of listeners like you showing up, engaging, and passing it on. So thank you for being here, for listening, and for being part of this messy middle with me.

Until next time, take care of yourselves, and each other.