Men like flowers too!

I have been wanting to write about this for some time. 

A dear friend of mine—who has since passed—once shared a simple but powerful observation: men like flowers too. It stayed with me. 

As a society, we tend to gift flowers to women. It’s almost automatic. A gesture so ingrained that we rarely stop to question it. But within that habit, there’s a quiet bias—one we may not even realize we carry. 

At Compass Point, we often talk about the importance of pausing—because it’s in the pause that awareness begins. And sometimes, what we notice is not what we’ve done… but what we’ve overlooked. 

My friend had a magnificent rose garden. Each season, when her roses were in full bloom, she would gather small posies and bring them into the office to share with her female colleagues. It was her way of spreading beauty—of bringing a piece of her garden into the workplace. 

One day, the president of the company asked her, quite simply, “Why don’t I ever get any roses?”  It caught her off guard. 

Despite her love of flowers, despite her generosity, she realized in that moment—she had been excluding him. Not intentionally, but instinctively.  The next day, she brought in an extra-large rose posy, just for him.  He placed it proudly on his desk.  And every year after that, he received roses too. 

I’ve seen this pattern surface in quieter ways. 

More often than not, it’s the men who are first to notice a floral arrangement—to pause, take it in, and offer a genuine compliment. There’s a quiet appreciation there. A curiosity. Sometimes even a sense of wonder. 

I was reminded of this when I gifted flowers to a friend’s husband to brighten a long winter day. His response was immediate and heartfelt: “Thank you so very much for the beautiful flowers! They are absolutely gorgeous. I’ve never seen anything like them—they’re such an eye-catcher on the living room coffee table.” 

A simple gesture, perhaps—but a meaningful reminder that appreciation for beauty knows no boundaries. 

Recently, we hosted a private floral workshop. As expected, there was a range of reactions. Some of the men were hesitant, unsure if it was “for them.” Others leaned in right away. 

But what stood out most was one participant in particular—the most reluctant at the start.  He joined in, slowly.  Then carefully. Then with surprising precision. 

By the end, his arrangement was one of the most detailed and intentional in the room. And the pride he felt? It was unmistakable. He couldn’t wait to share it with his wife—something he had created himself, just for her. 

At its heart, this isn’t just about flowers. 

It’s about the assumptions we carry.  The quiet exclusions we don’t intend.  And what becomes possible when we pause long enough to notice them. 

Creativity is not gendered.  Appreciation of beauty is not gendered. Connection is not gendered. 

And yet, sometimes our habits are. Sometimes the smallest pause can shift our perspective—  and expand who we include. 

And perhaps that’s the invitation. 

To offer the flowers more broadly. To share the experience more openly. To create space for connection in ways that feel unexpected. 

In our workshops, we often see this firsthand— what begins as hesitation becomes curiosity, and then pride, and then something quietly meaningful. 

Not because it’s about flowers— 
but because it’s about creating something, together.