Let’s talk about the word “bro.”
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Let’s talk about the word “bro.”
On the surface, it sounds harmless—even friendly. But underneath, it often signals a culture that excuses arrogance, entitlement, and pack mentality, all dressed up as camaraderie.
A “bro” is the person who laughs at cruelty because it’s entertaining. The one who turns someone else’s discomfort into sport. The one who thinks inside jokes and mockery matter more than basic respect. That’s not just casual slang—it’s a posture that normalizes being inconsiderate.
When people lean into the word “bro,” they’re not just tossing around an expression. They’re reinforcing a culture of lowest-common-denominator bonding, where aggression is celebrated, harm is dismissed, and civility is treated like weakness. That’s not a culture I want to encourage.
Some may disagree, and that’s fine. But I see it differently. When “bro” is doubled down on—used in the very sense I find problematic—it makes clear that bro culture is alive and well. And I avoid “bro,” “bruh,” “brah,” or “dudebro” for good reason.
What surprises me is how rarely people stop to ask why. They treat my aversion to the term as a quirk, when for me it’s a principle. The world doesn’t need more bros. It doesn’t need more Andrew Tates. It doesn’t need more Donald Trumps.
This is one of my lines in the sand. And the fact that so many people seem comfortable embracing “bro” as an identity—that, to me, is a problem worth naming.
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Let’s talk about the word “bro.”
On the surface, it sounds harmless—even friendly. But underneath, it often signals a culture that excuses arrogance, entitlement, and pack mentality, all dressed up as camaraderie.
A “bro” is the person who laughs at cruelty because it’s entertaining. The one who turns someone else’s discomfort into sport. The one who thinks inside jokes and mockery matter more than basic respect. That’s not just casual slang—it’s a posture that normalizes being inconsiderate.
When people lean into the word “bro,” they’re not just tossing around an expression. They’re reinforcing a culture of lowest-common-denominator bonding, where aggression is celebrated, harm is dismissed, and civility is treated like weakness. That’s not a culture I want to encourage.
Some may disagree, and that’s fine. But I see it differently. When “bro” is doubled down on—used in the very sense I find problematic—it makes clear that bro culture is alive and well. And I avoid “bro,” “bruh,” “brah,” or “dudebro” for good reason.
What surprises me is how rarely people stop to ask why. They treat my aversion to the term as a quirk, when for me it’s a principle. The world doesn’t need more bros. It doesn’t need more Andrew Tates. It doesn’t need more Donald Trumps.
This is one of my lines in the sand. And the fact that so many people seem comfortable embracing “bro” as an identity—that, to me, is a problem worth naming.
@atomicpoet I was all on the same page as you until you decided to close it with making it political.
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@atomicpoet I was all on the same page as you until you decided to close it with making it political.
Tim Nolte I am Canadian. Trump is not my friend.
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Let’s talk about the word “bro.”
On the surface, it sounds harmless—even friendly. But underneath, it often signals a culture that excuses arrogance, entitlement, and pack mentality, all dressed up as camaraderie.
A “bro” is the person who laughs at cruelty because it’s entertaining. The one who turns someone else’s discomfort into sport. The one who thinks inside jokes and mockery matter more than basic respect. That’s not just casual slang—it’s a posture that normalizes being inconsiderate.
When people lean into the word “bro,” they’re not just tossing around an expression. They’re reinforcing a culture of lowest-common-denominator bonding, where aggression is celebrated, harm is dismissed, and civility is treated like weakness. That’s not a culture I want to encourage.
Some may disagree, and that’s fine. But I see it differently. When “bro” is doubled down on—used in the very sense I find problematic—it makes clear that bro culture is alive and well. And I avoid “bro,” “bruh,” “brah,” or “dudebro” for good reason.
What surprises me is how rarely people stop to ask why. They treat my aversion to the term as a quirk, when for me it’s a principle. The world doesn’t need more bros. It doesn’t need more Andrew Tates. It doesn’t need more Donald Trumps.
This is one of my lines in the sand. And the fact that so many people seem comfortable embracing “bro” as an identity—that, to me, is a problem worth naming.
@atomicpoet I can see where you are coming from, but I’m but I don’t really think of it as a bro culture thing. I do think “bro” implies a level of familiarity which is not appropriate for many situations and can come across as crass if used inappropriately.
I’ll “bro” my closest friends, and I’ll “bro” my kids, but that’s about it. I think that many kids nowadays probably use “bro” in situations that are not appropriate but maybe that’s just a matter of not having developed enough maturity to understand different social situations?
It’s kind of like “dude” in the 90s. There was a certain type of kid who called everyone “dude” with no regard for whether it was appropriate or not - he’s a dude, she’s a dude, the teacher is also a dude for some reason… but nowadays I feel like the word “dude” isn’t so rough around the edges. It’s not appropriate for strangers, but acceptable among friends.
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@atomicpoet I can see where you are coming from, but I’m but I don’t really think of it as a bro culture thing. I do think “bro” implies a level of familiarity which is not appropriate for many situations and can come across as crass if used inappropriately.
I’ll “bro” my closest friends, and I’ll “bro” my kids, but that’s about it. I think that many kids nowadays probably use “bro” in situations that are not appropriate but maybe that’s just a matter of not having developed enough maturity to understand different social situations?
It’s kind of like “dude” in the 90s. There was a certain type of kid who called everyone “dude” with no regard for whether it was appropriate or not - he’s a dude, she’s a dude, the teacher is also a dude for some reason… but nowadays I feel like the word “dude” isn’t so rough around the edges. It’s not appropriate for strangers, but acceptable among friends.
SeasonsChange I see where you’re coming from, and I understand the comparison to “dude” in the 90s. But for me, “bro” isn’t harmless slang. It carries baggage that’s worth looking at closely.
First, “bro” is gendered. It sets up an inside/outside dynamic—bros on the inside, everyone else on the margins. Even if it’s not intended that way, it normalizes exclusion by default. And when exclusion is based on gender, it reinforces the very patterns that feed toxic masculinity.
Second, “bro” is often used as a diminisher. Chill out, bro. Don’t take it so seriously, bro. It’s shorthand for brushing someone off, trivializing their feelings, or cutting them down while pretending it’s casual. That dynamic doesn’t build respect—it erodes it.
Third, “bro” creates a sense of fake familiarity. It gets used to imply closeness that isn’t there, as if a single word can override the need for trust or mutual understanding. That kind of assumed intimacy often feels presumptive and even manipulative, especially in spaces where people don’t know each other well.
When you put it all together, “bro” talk ends up doing more harm than good. It excludes, it diminishes, and it fakes bonds instead of building real ones. That’s why I don’t do bro-talk. If the goal is to create spaces that are open, respectful, and genuinely welcoming, the simplest step is to drop “bro” altogether.
