Male Coaches in Cheer

I’ve been in this sport long enough to win world titles, coach internationally, and see almost everything this industry can throw at you.

But nothing has tested me more than the unspoken challenges of being a man in a space built largely for — and run largely by — women. It’s a reality we don’t talk about enough. And it’s time we did.

Important: This is my personal perspective — not tied to any specific program or my current role.

I’ve been in cheer most of my life — first as an elite athlete, now at 29 as a coach and choreographer.

As a male athlete, my intensity, ambition, and drive to be the best were celebrated.

As a male coach — especially working with young women — those same traits can be received very differently.

From my experience, male coaches often face:

• Saying the same thing as a female coach, but having it received as more intense, direct, or aggressive — forcing constant adjustment in delivery.

• Being perceived through the lens of someone’s personal history with men — a bias female coaches rarely encounter.

• Feeling the ripple effects of other men’s mistakes in the industry.

You adapt. You soften. You reshape yourself — because you care about the athletes. But it’s exhausting.

Coaching overseas adds another layer. In Australia, the “work to live” mindset shifts priorities — cheer isn’t always number one. World-class athletes still emerge, but as a male coach, it means adjusting not just your delivery, but sometimes your definition of success.

I’m not speaking for all men, but I will say this: balanced, positive masculinity can strengthen team culture in ways that go beyond skill or strength.

I’ve had moments where I spoke with the best intentions, only to be in a parent meeting two days later. I’ve been tested to my face — where my response had to be grace, patience, and sometimes calculated silence.

So here’s my question:

How do male coaches set boundaries and stand firm without it being seen as a problem?

These experiences have made me wiser, but they’ve also revealed just how different the road is for male coaches.

My life so far — 29 years — has been one of blessings, contrast, and challenge. I’ve learned that perspective is everything, and no one owns the truth.

Conversations like this need to happen. Approached with respect, they can help the next coach who faces these same challenges feel less alone.

I’m done feeling guilty for my past/current emotions and approaches. Sharing my perspective will always invite pushback — and that’s fine. But I won’t stay silent out of fear of those who shout louder than they listen.

So I’ll keep showing up, leading, and speaking — because male coaches deserve a voice in the conversation about the sport we love.

If you’re a coach — male or female — how have you navigated these dynamics? I’d love to hear your story in the comments. Your perspective matters in this conversation.

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