Rogelio, on the other hand, is someone who has sought to plumb his own feelings over the course of several seasons, and the show celebrates him for it. He has learned to better understand the women around him—his daughter Jane, his wife, Xo, and his co-parent and sometime nemesis, Darci. After being held hostage by a kidnapper in Season 2, Rogelio healed by talking through his trauma, and later fell in love with therapy at the suggestion of his wife. His strength and charisma spur from his growing honesty with himself and with those he loves.

Characters like Rogelio—as well as Cisco Ramon and Joe West, the best friend and adoptive father, respectively, of the titular costumed crime-fighter on The Flash—debunk a monolithic portrayal of manhood that never really existed to begin with. In flouting gender stereotypes and behavioral expectations, they can also expand boys’ perceptions of acceptable emotion beyond forms of anger. I want more Ciscos, who are not embarrassed to be beaten in combat by a girl and, rather, expect it from a girl who is a better-trained fighter. I want more Joe Wests, who defers to his daughter’s leadership more than his own. I want more Rogelios to show more 5-year old Mateos the freedom to be themselves, and fewer Zacks to teach fewer 5-year old mes, confused and trapped in an emotionally constricted box.

Earlier this season on Jane the Virgin, Mateo felt powerful after accomplishing what he thought was a magical feat. “I’m like Wonder Woman, daddy!” he yelled, flexing his muscles. I wanted to hug the scene, in which a boy character was shown relating to a woman—to aspire, even—without shame, and with heart-swelling pride. Damn right you’re strong like Wonder Woman, Mr. Sweet Face. May a whole generation of boys grow to be just as strong as her and Nubia, I thought as I watched. Perceptions of masculinity are informed by everything and everyone around us, and for me, a latchkey kid with hours of entertainment budgeted into each day, media played as significant a role in shaping those ideas as did my own parents. For better or worse, it taught me what it meant to be a boy—at least, what I understood it to mean.

Critical reception has reflected the demand for shows like Jane the Virgin, with its portrayals of nonmarried co-parenting, its thoughtful Latinx representation, and its myriad complex identities. At the end of its fourth season, the award-winning drama still reaches more than half a million viewers per episode. Camil himself is a three-time Teen Choice Awards nominee—a reminder that adults aren’t the only ones watching the series, that young people are tuning in as well. It’s meaningful for kids to see a Latin American star in touch with his sensitive side, as likely to have a passionate outburst as he is to offer a heartfelt apology after realizing any damage he’s caused. It’s meaningful, too, that his intimacy isn’t reserved simply for romantic relationships, that he establishes close ties with anyone who is important to his family, including a special bond with Jane’s boyfriend-turned-husband, Michael.