Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz has been named his party’s vice presidential nominee, in part to serve as the Midwest’s avatar on the ballot. At the Democratic convention on Wednesday night, Walz formally accepted the nomination and sought to demonstrate his popular credibility while introducing himself to people across the country, many of whom had never heard of the governor until just a few weeks ago.
Walz spoke about his childhood in small-town Nebraska, his military service, and his time as a high school teacher and football coach, but the most powerful and emotive portrait of the man was not his, but his 17-year-old son, Gus. The teenager’s candor in showing his love for his father—his tears of pride, his sobs of joy—spoke volumes about the closeness of the Walz family. It sparked the kind of sentimentality the DNC exists for. But more than that, Gus Walz himself emerged as a rare and powerful symbol of positive teenage masculinity at a time when he and his peers were bombarded with toxic examples—figures like Andrew Tate and, yes, Donald Trump, who presented himself as a macho strongman.
For those of us watching at home, this poignant moment built slowly—and then happened all of a sudden. Young Gus, wearing a slightly oversized suit and a slightly loose tie, stood in the audience alongside his mother, Gwen, and sister Hope, cheering as his father spoke about public school teachers and respecting individual privacy. While Walz told the country about the fertility struggles he and his wife had endured, Gus sat silently, his mother’s arm around him. “Hope, Gus, and Gwen, you are my whole world and I love you,” Walz told his family. As he called out to the line, Gus jumped to his feet again, his lip beginning to tremble. Gus applauded along with the audience in the arena, put his hand over his heart, pointed to his father onstage, and shouted back, “I love you!” “That’s my dad!” he then proudly and tearfully shouted three times to those around him.
At other moments in the speech, Gus could be seen in close-up, breathing deeply as his eyes filled with tears. When his father finished, Gus stormed the stage with his family, hugging Walz and giving him an enthusiastic pat on the back. When other members of his extended family appeared, Gus hugged them and cried again, overcome by the moment. It was impossible not to be moved by this open and sincere display of a boy’s love for his father on prime-time television.
Since Harris became the Democratic nominee last month, much has been written about how Walz and Doug Emhoff, Harris’ husband, have served as positive examples of male leadership. From their willingness to stand behind a female leader to the candor with which they have spoken publicly about private issues — Walz discussing child-rearing difficulties or Emhoff taking responsibility for the breakdown of his first marriage because of an affair — the two men have been praised as “models of masculinity” and for representing “a different definition of male strength, one that is linked to women’s liberation and full civic participation.” The contrast is particularly stark when compared to the two men on the Republican ticket, both of whom have made sexist comments and surrounded themselves with influential “alpha males.” Young Gus can now surely be added to that list of positive male role models.
What makes young Walz’s public display of emotion and love so profound is that it comes at a time when many stories have heralded a hardening of teenage ideologies. While many young women in the U.S. are drifting left, conservatives have found a more receptive audience among young men. A 2022 poll found that 12th Boys in 1st grade were nearly twice as likely to describe themselves as conservative or liberal as their female peers (though many more described themselves as moderate). The trend comes at a time when young men are exposed to an internet awash in hyperbolic discussions of masculinity, where concepts like incels and tradwives are common knowledge. Extremists are also targeting young men with their online messages in the hope of recruiting them to the alt-right, a movement inextricably linked to the perception that masculinity is under attack. Meanwhile, thanks to online courses, misogynists like Tate have literally taught their male followers that women are beneath men and that men must remain “masculine” to attract them. Family members have described in painful terms how they have lost brothers, fathers and friends to this “alpha male” ideology.
All of this may explain why some on the right were so quick to attack Gus for crying. In now-deleted tweets, Ann Coulter called the boy’s behavior “weird” (adopting a line of attack Walz popularized against Republicans), while Trump activist Mike Crispi told his supporters that Gus was a “bloated beta male.” To his credit, though, Daily Wire co-founder Ben Shapiro, who has long worked to recruit young conservatives, recognized the genuine moment for what it was. “This is actually quite nice,” Shapiro wrote online.
The public’s expectations of the young children of candidates seeking high political office are low. Since Chelsea Clinton suffered a media frenzy, there has been a broad consensus among politicians, the press and the public that we should leave the children alone. But that doesn’t mean they don’t have symbolism or imprint on our culture. Think of the young Obama girls who walked on stage with their father on election night in 2008 or rolled their eyes every time he pardoned a Thanksgiving turkey when he made his corny jokes. Whether they like it or not, the children of our political leaders often hold up a mirror to their parents and to us.
Gus Walz’s story is already part of Tim Walz’s story. Not only has the family been open about their struggles with infertility, but his parents have also shared that he has a nonverbal learning disorder, ADHD and an anxiety disorder that have affected his development. “It took a while, but we immediately realized that Gus’s condition is not a setback – it’s his secret strength,” the Walzes told People magazine earlier this month. The openness and pride with which they talk about Gus and his disorders – disorders that, they note, are shared by millions of Americans – is another endearing example of the family’s relatability.
When Gus cried on Wednesday night, he became a symbol of something greater than himself: a strong sense of masculinity — or boyhood. Other young men across the country could see in Gus the catharsis that can come from defying stereotypes and expressing that love publicly and with pride. Gus’ tears may be his greatest secret power. still.
