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Here’s the truth behind that statement, said in a way that respects the weight of what you’re pointing out:

“Lift yourself up by your bootstraps” was originally written as a joke—an impossible task.
It literally meant “do the thing you can’t possibly do by yourself.”

So when someone says it to a person who has no boots, no straps, no ground to stand on, or who’s been pushed down by systems, trauma, or lack of resources, it becomes not just unrealistic—it becomes dismissive.

Here’s the deeper meaning behind your point:

You’re not rejecting hard work.
You’re saying: “How do you expect me to rise when you deny me the very tools you tell me to use?”

That’s a legitimate, powerful critique.

Think of it like this:

  • You can’t tell a man to “just swim” when he’s thrown into the water with his hands tied.

  • You can’t tell someone to “create opportunities” in a system that blocks opportunity on purpose.

  • You can’t preach “self-reliance” while denying access, education, credit, land, safety, or basic stability.

That phrase often gets used to shift responsibility away from systems and onto the individual, even when the individual never had a fair starting point.

Franklin’s-story

Franklin Fitzgerald Selvage: Living Authority, Not Performance

1. The Cultural Shift: The ’80s and ’90s

In the late ’80s and through the ’90s, I noticed a shift in the cultural narrative about men. Media, advertising, and everyday storytelling began portraying men as almost incapable on their own. Women were often shown as smarter, more competent, and necessary even for the smallest tasks — finding coffee, locating toilet paper, navigating simple decisions. This wasn’t just humor; it was a subtle message that men could not manage life independently, that their thinking, presence, or capability was secondary.

This cultural distortion of manhood created confusion. Men began measuring themselves against external narratives, feeling inadequate or performative. Masculinity became about appearances and validation rather than internal integrity, purpose, and authority. This is where society misleads men: forgetting who they are and becoming afraid to fully step into manhood.

2. Moving Beyond Performative Masculinity

I read David Deida’s The Way of the Superior Man at a point in my life when I was still navigating performance — still testing myself against external expectations and measuring masculinity by societal standards. The book was valuable for that season: it gave language to certain dynamics, especially in relationships, purpose, and sexual polarity.

But as I grew, I realized that Deida’s framework was only a lens, not the full measure of a man’s life. Where it emphasizes masculine energy in contrast to feminine energy, I moved beyond performative masculinity into authority. Authority does not compare, perform, or seek validation. It is internal, steady, and grounded in truth, competence, and alignment across spirit, mind, and body.

3. Spiritual Authority

Spiritually, I anchor myself in God. My prayer, reflection, and surrender are the foundation of my authority. They allow me to act decisively, with clarity and calm, grounded in something far greater than myself.

Jesus said, “I have given you authority to tread on serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy, and nothing shall by any means hurt you.” That authority isn’t symbolic; it’s real, operational, and active. It forms the core of how I navigate life — making decisions, holding space for others, and aligning all aspects of my life with truth.

4. Emotional and Physical Alignment

I have rebuilt myself emotionally and physically. Discipline, patience, and self-awareness are my tools, giving me steadiness that does not need validation. I no longer allow emotions or cultural narratives to dictate my choices.

Physically, I reclaim what was lost through careful attention, discipline, and respect. A strong, healthy body supports a strong, disciplined life. This alignment between spirit, mind, and body is the essence of true authority, enabling endurance, presence, and action.

5. Authority in Action: Legacy and Influence

Authority is the integration of spirit, mind, and body in alignment. It is living a life of integrity, where steadiness carries through every space, and legacy is formed by the consistency of unseen work. I do not declare it; it shows in how I act, how I influence others, and how I steward what I am entrusted with.

Legacy isn’t wealth or accolades alone. It’s the lives I touch, the systems I build, and the example I leave. True authority produces enduring influence, not because it seeks recognition, but because it is consistent, wise, and aligned.

6. Enduring Love and the Titus 2:2 Life

I love that endures forever. I don’t have to be Jesus to reflect eternal qualities — I can simply be me, Franklin Fitzgerald Selvage. I can embody patience, kindness, humility, and steadfastness.

In living this authority grounded in love, I step into the role described in Titus 2:2: sober, temperate, sound in faith, in charity, in patience. I model real manhood not through performance, but through alignment, integrity, and love that persists beyond circumstance.

7. My Truth: Authority Over Approval

This is my truth: I do not measure myself by cultural narratives of masculinity, nor by the approval of others. I measure myself by authority — quiet, consistent, disciplined, and enduring.

In spirit, mind, and body, I am aligned. In my actions, I am steady. In my legacy, I endure. And in this, I am at peace.

Franklin's Universe