The Testosterone Paradox: Why Buddhist Monks and Prison Inmates Have More in Common Than You Think

I picked up a book about testosterone expecting to learn about biology. Maybe some facts about muscle growth or libido. Standard hormone stuff. Instead, I walked away thinking about prison systems, basketball camps, and what it means to build a world where men can be strong in love instead of fear.

The book is called T: The Story of Testosterone by Carole Hooven. She’s a former Harvard researcher who spent years studying what testosterone actually does in humans and animals. What I discovered surprised me. Testosterone isn’t just about making men bigger or more aggressive. It’s about amplification. And what gets amplified depends entirely on the environment.

That insight has been following me around for weeks. Because if it’s true, then we have way more influence over masculinity than most people think.

What Testosterone Actually Does

Here’s what Hooven’s research taught me. Some of it was new. Some reminded me of things I’d forgotten or hadn’t fully understood.

Testosterone plays a foundational role in human development. All embryos start from the same blueprint. For the first six or seven weeks, male and female embryos are structurally identical.

Then, if the embryo carries a specific gene called SRY, it triggers the development of testes. Those testes start producing testosterone, which drives the formation of male internal reproductive organs and helps shape the brain. Later in development, testosterone gets converted into an even more potent form that creates external male genitalia.

Without that testosterone surge, the embryo follows the female pathway. So, testosterone isn’t just “the male hormone.” It’s the differentiating hormone. It actively drives male development. This means that even an embryo with XY (typical male) chromosomes can develop female-typical external genitalia if testosterone isn’t present or if the body can’t respond to it properly. Sex development is more complex than just XY equals male and XX equals female.

Testosterone’s influence doesn’t stop at birth. It continues through puberty. Testosterone increases muscle mass, especially in the upper body. It strengthens bones, increases red blood cell production, deepens the voice. These aren’t cosmetic changes. They’re fundamental shifts that affect physical performance and capability.

And here’s where I think it gets really interesting. Testosterone also influences the brain during critical developmental windows. It affects everything from spatial ability to risk-taking to status sensitivity. In adult men, testosterone levels rise after victories and fall after losses. This isn’t just about sports or competition. Research shows that men’s testosterone can spike after winning elections, closing business deals, or even their favorite team winning a game.

And testosterone creates its own feedback loop. When men experience victories or success, their testosterone levels spike. When they lose or face setbacks, testosterone drops. So, success breeds more testosterone, which can fuel more success. But it also means that failure can create a downward spiral. The hormone literally responds to what’s happening around it.

The key insight from Hooven’s work is this: testosterone doesn’t determine destiny. It creates predispositions. It amplifies what’s already there.

“T" is not a potion that turns the meek into warriors or that causes rampant bellicosity,” Hooven writes. “Its effects depend heavily on individual and environmental factors, and in humans especially, winning and achieving high status can often be accomplished without any physical aggression at all. T tends to do what the situation requires.”

She quotes Stanford biologist Robert Sapolsky, who joked during a lecture that “if you shot up a bunch of Buddhist monks with testosterone, it would lead not to violence but to random acts of kindness.”

That made me pause. Because it reminded me of something we understand about addiction. You don’t put an alcoholic in a bar and expect them to stay sober. You create environments that support their success. If testosterone is powerful, and the research shows it is, then maybe the question isn’t what testosterone does to men. Maybe the question is: how do we create environments where men can thrive through love instead of trying to control through fear?

The Feedback Loop

This is where things get complicated. And important. Most people talk about masculinity as either biological destiny or cultural conditioning. But Hooven’s research suggests something more nuanced. It’s not nature versus nurture. It’s both. And they reinforce each other.

Testosterone helped shape masculine culture over thousands of years. The physical strength, the risk-taking, the competition for status. These became cultural norms. But now those cultural norms feed back into how testosterone gets expressed. They create the environment that testosterone amplifies.

It’s a feedback loop. Biology influenced culture. Culture influences biology. Round and round.

That loop can go in different directions. If the culture rewards dominance and control, testosterone amplifies that. If the culture rewards purpose and courage, testosterone amplifies that instead.

We’re not stuck with the current version. We’re just living with the version we’ve built.

Where I’ve Seen This Play Out

I was thinking about all of this a few weeks ago in Virginia. I’d gone down for a justice immersion weekend, and one of the events was a luncheon for returning citizens. Men who had been incarcerated and were rebuilding their lives.

That room was one of the most love-filled spaces I’ve ever been in. And I kept thinking about testosterone.

These weren’t small or soft men. Many had the build, voice, and presence that society typically reads as high testosterone. They’d survived decades in environments built around fear, control, and survival. But these men had found something that shifted what their strength was in service of.

There was vulnerability. Accountability. Joy. Men celebrating each other’s growth and holding space for each other’s pain.

I sat with Sam Harris; someone I’d met at the previous year’s event. He told me how his transformation didn’t start when he got out. It started while he was still inside. He organized men’s groups in prison. Led grief circles. Modeled emotional honesty and vulnerability.

Sam created a different environment. And testosterone responded accordingly. Instead of amplifying aggression or posturing, it amplified courage and connection.

That conversation reminded me of a story of my own. When I was in eighth grade at basketball camp, I had a choice. Stay in my age group where I’d dominate and win trophies, or move up to play against older, stronger players. Moving up meant getting pushed around. It meant being average, maybe even invisible.

I chose to move up.

That week changed me. I couldn’t rely on height or easy scoring in the paint anymore. I had to adapt. I discovered I could shoot from deep. I found a defensive game I didn’t know I had. By the end of the week, I was named best defender at camp. As a skinny eighth grader guarding varsity seniors.

Same biology. Different environment. Different outcome.

The coaches created a culture that rewarded effort and growth over dominance. My testosterone responded by fueling resilience and adaptation instead of just trying to overpower others.

The Systems Question

This brings me to the bigger question. If testosterone amplifies what’s in the environment, what kind of environments are we building?

Take our prison system. Most incarcerated people are young men, right in their peak testosterone years. We put them in hyper-masculine, fear-based environments where violence and dominance are survival strategies. Then we’re surprised when that’s what gets amplified.

But what if we designed differently? What if we built systems where testosterone could fuel purpose instead of posturing? Where strength meant contribution, not control?

I think about this with youth sports too. We spend so much time arguing about fairness and safety. But what if the deeper question is: are we creating environments where testosterone amplifies fear-based strength or love-based strength?

Fear-based strength clings to control. It needs to dominate to feel secure. Love-based strength chooses challenge and growth. It finds identity in contribution, not conquest.

Same hormone. Different story about what it means to be strong.

The Choice We’re Making

Near the end of her book, Hooven writes about her young son. She explains how testosterone will likely shape his experience differently from his female peers. But then she says something that stuck with me:

“Because of the testosterone that he is on the way to producing, Griffin will likely differ from most women in many of the ways I’ve described in this book. Becoming a man is a beautiful thing. But like every man, my son should enjoy his T responsibly.”

That line reminded me again of environmental design. We don’t tell people with addiction that the substance is evil. We help them create environments where they can succeed. We acknowledge that certain substances are powerful and that context matters enormously. Same with testosterone. Testosterone isn’t inherently good or bad. It’s just powerful. Like any powerful force, what matters is what we do with it.

The question isn’t how to suppress it or control it. The question is: what are we giving it to amplify?

Right now, too many of our systems amplify fear. Competition for scarcity. Dominance hierarchies. Control through force. And testosterone responds by turning up the volume on all of that.

But we could build differently. I think we could create systems where testosterone amplifies love. Where it powers care instead of control. Where it fuels connection instead of dominance. Where strength means the courage to be vulnerable, to grow, to admit when you’re wrong.

I think about that room in Virginia. About Sam’s grief circles in prison. About coaches who reward effort over outcome. About what might become possible when we change the story that testosterone gets to amplify.

Testosterone isn’t going anywhere. It’s part of being human. But the environment we create around it? I believe that’s up to us.

And if we want to heal the world, maybe we need to get curious about creating environments where testosterone can fuel love instead of fear. I’m not sure exactly what that looks like yet. But I am certainly excited to explore it.