The day that Netflix relaunched Queer Eye, a slicker, more zeitgeisty version of the original from the early 00s, I was on the couch, hands clutched to my heart, squealing with glee. I laughed, I cried, I believed. I found myself tallying all the men in my life that could use a healthy dose of Queer, and when I ran out of fingers on each hand and toes on each foot, I realised that the show and what it stands for could cure us of all of the hyper-masculine devil sitting on our shoulder.

More than just a makeover show, Queer Eye shines a spotlight on the joys of freedom and self-care. The premise (both in the old series and now) is this: five gay men sashay into the life of a man who is usually a combination of shy, messy, badly dressed and adorably useless.

The hosts make drastic changes to his home, often with a complete redecoration, they dress him up and fix his hair and skin, and give him tips on diet, exercise and culture before everyone cries and our hapless hero’s life is changed forever.

The diversity of the new season is truly delightful, with the “For a Straight Guy” being dropped from the title in favour of a mission to help just about anyone: gay guys, rednecks, cops and Christians.

Queer Eye would still be good if it was just about zazzy kitchen renovations and cute outfits. What makes it great is the personal transformations. You see, these men don’t just need help with shirt-and-short combos, they need help connecting. In a way, it’s a problem that we have been working on for decades, an idea that we are just creeping towards now: a world where men are free to be vulnerable.

Much has been made of toxic masculinity in the wake of the Weinstein revelations and the #MeToo movement, and it’s true: many men have extremely troublesome and often dangerous attitudes towards women, homosexuals and transgender people. Many feminists, myself included, have shuddered at the concept of “male empowerment” as touted by men’s rights groups. How could men be any more empowered, we ask, as we tiptoe around them, trying not to hurt their feelings, bending to their whims?

But perhaps men are just as trapped as we are, the cage is just a little nicer. If Queer Eye is anything to go by, straight men are in a prison of their own macho making; a prison where suicide, domestic violence, drug abuse and epidemic loneliness is rampant. A prison where a straight man is discouraged from showing uncertainty or vulnerability, from being able to weep and laugh and let his guard down. God, it must be exhausting being a man all the time! Surely sometimes, just like anyone else, men want to prance around and get in touch with what’s there, latent: their ever-terrifying femininity.

Just as most women know, there’s yin and yang to every person. We too have competing forces inside us. Without permission to assert this duality in our everyday lives, women are trodden on and men are silenced. What we see on Queer Eye is that the burdens of toxic masculinity are not only ours to bear. We see men on the show who are truly lonely and isolated. Of course, there is much work to be done if women want parity, but the first step might very well be empowering men to be vulnerable.

Within the first few episodes of the Netflix reboot, one of the hosts has addressed his fear of police from the black male perspective. Another explains his complex relationship with Christianity, and the five of them together manage to rattle a black, gay man out of his closeted cage with all the love and compassion and humour you could ask for.

When an icky subject comes up, the hosts are quick to open up the floor to conversation with a tongue-in-cheek “let’s unpack that!” The Queer Eye hosts are doing more than encouraging their guests, they are leading by example, communicating by using their own stories, their own fears, and their own fragility. This, my friends, is how to be a man!

There’s an open dialogue about the role of women in heterosexual society, a dialogue that often revolves solely around the tedium of domestic labour. We perform another role, too. Listening. Supporting. Encouraging. Holding. Emotional labour is being revealed as one of the (other) reasons women are so damn tired. Trying to cushion a male partner from feeling incompetent or inadequate (or anything less than delighted, lest they leave you for the secretary) is an exhausting task. But is this why heterosexual married men live longer than those who are unmarried? Because there are women to vent to?

When I’m having a hard time, talking it out with one of my many friends is the one thing that holds me together, a balm to the many papercuts of life. I break down my walls and tell people my real truth with such ease that it sometimes astounds me when I see my male friends unable to do the same.

The feminine characteristics that are so often negatively associated with being gay are the qualities we need men to embrace. The timing of Queer Eye’s reboot is unexpectedly perfect so, at the very least, watch the show and let it bring a little joy into your life. And at the most, bring a little more queerness into your life.

• Penelope Blackmore is a former Australian Olympic gymnast