Significant changes are unfolding among American men, with Gen Z at the forefront.
In the 2024 presidential election, men aged 18 to 29 swung sharply in their political alignment. Roughly 56 percent voted for President Donald Trump, a stark reversal from 2020, when the same percentage backed Joe Biden. Not since George H.W. Bush’s election in 1988 has a majority of young male voters backed a Republican for president.
This groundswell isn’t exclusive to the voting booth — it’s happening at church, too. While Gen Z as a whole remains less religious than previous generations, a growing gender divide is emerging. Young women are becoming increasingly secular and progressive, but young men may be moving in the opposite direction.
Here’s a closer look at why Gen Z men are embracing traditional values — and the far-reaching implications for politics, faith, and society.
Are Gen Z men really becoming more religious and conservative?
The answer is more nuanced than you might think — and it largely has to do who’s sticking with their beliefs, especially when compared to their female peers.
In the U.S., the percentage of Gen Z men identifying as religiously unaffiliated has remained relatively stable over the past decade, staying around 35–36 percent, according to the nonprofit Public Religion Research Institute (PRRI). This suggests that this cohort isn’t increasingly moving away from religion, as has been the case with Americans at large in recent years. In contrast, the same survey found that the share of young women in the same age group identifying as unaffiliated has risen from 29 percent in 2013 to 40 percent in 2024, showing a clear shift away from organized religion among women.
This marks a major reversal of historical norms — not just here in the U.S., but globally. Social scientists have long argued that women are universally more religious than men across all societies, cultures, and faiths. PRRI CEO Melissa Deckman says there are a couple of reasons why women have historically been more religious than men, including social roles.
“For most of American history, women didn’t really work much outside the home. Now, of course, there were always women who did — don’t get me wrong,” Deckman tells Katie Couric Media. “But generally speaking, the church provided a socially accepted space where women could take on leadership roles, organize, and be part of a larger community beyond the home. Churches have always relied on the unpaid labor of women.”
Ryan Burge, a political scientist at Eastern Illinois University, points out that by some measures — like church attendance — young men may actually be more religious than young women. In 2024, 30 percent of men reported attending church weekly, compared to 27 percent of women, according to the nonprofit news site Religion Unplugged. This represents a reversal from 2000, when 47 percent of women and 38 percent of men attended weekly services.
What’s driving this shift among Gen Z men?
This phenomenon seems to be driven by a mix of cultural, psychological, political, and digital forces.
At its heart, Deckman argues, it’s a reaction to the ways young men are falling behind, especially when measured against their female peers. Today, about 60 percent of college students are women, while men make up just 40 percent, a gap that would have been unthinkable a few decades ago.
One of the loudest responses is the rise of the “manosphere” — a sprawling, loosely connected ecosystem of YouTube channels, Reddit forums, and TikTok accounts where a combative vision of masculinity is taking root. In these spaces, anti-woke, anti-feminist, and pro-tradition messages dominate, fueled by a sense of lost status and growing frustration.
“There has been a real emphasis on Christian manhood, fueling a sense of masculine resentment — blaming feminism, liberalism, and so-called ‘woke culture’ for displacing masculine authority and robbing men of what they believe is rightfully theirs,” says Kristin Du Mez, a history professor at Calvin University.
Religion — particularly conservative Christianity — is now being reimagined as a kind of countercultural refuge. Men are encouraged to reclaim a sense of identity and purpose, pushing back against the perceived pressures of modern secular progressivism. Influencers like Andrew Tate and Jordan Peterson amplify this worldview, packaging traditional gender roles, self-discipline, and faith into viral, bite-sized content.
“A common theme is that men have lost their way,” Deckman explains. “They argue that what we really need to make America great again is a return to a time when young men were stronger and in charge.”
Politics is another major force influencing the shift of young men toward more conservative and religious views.
“Young men tend to be more moderate, while young women — particularly those who are college-educated — are much more liberal,” Burge tellsus. “This divide is especially pronounced on social issues, such as acceptance of transgender people, where young men and young women differ by about 18 percentage points.”
Amidst this growing political polarization and the broader mental health crisis, Deckman notes that religion may also serve as a source of structure, meaning, and belonging.
“We’re having this big, ongoing conversation about the harmful effects of social media on kids,” she says. “And in the midst of that, people are looking for something that offers comfort, meaning, and purpose. In some ways, I think religious institutions can help provide that.”
What does it all mean?
The widening gender gap in religion and conservatism — with young men becoming more religious and right-leaning while young women trend secular and progressive — carries far-reaching cultural and political consequences.
As values diverge, romantic compatibility is becoming increasingly strained. Religious Gen Z men, for example, may prioritize traditional family structures, while secular women often value independence and egalitarian partnerships. Dating apps both reflect and reinforce these divides, offering filters based on religious affiliation and political ideology.
The effects are already visible: More women are prioritizing their careers and autonomy, with only 34 percent actively seeking a relationship, compared to 54 percent of men, according to the Pew Research Center.
These shifts could deepen existing demographic challenges. The U.S. marriage rate is near an all-time low, and the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention reports that the number of births fell by an average of 2 percent annually between 2015 and 2020 — even before the pandemic accelerated declines.
Du Mez warns that the growing divide between young men and women is having serious consequences.
“Young men and women are no longer gathering in the same social spaces and are instead spending time in increasingly separate media echo chambers,” the history professor tells us. “All of this creates the conditions for unhealthy relationships and, ultimately, a destabilized social order.”
In the U.S., where religion and politics are deeply intertwined, a gender-based realignment could intensify political polarization even more. As men move right, they may bolster support for populist or socially conservative candidates. Meanwhile, women drifting left could strengthen progressive coalitions focused on issues like reproductive rights and secular governance. It’s no longer just a red-versus-blue divide — we’re seeing a growing split between male and female worldviews.
Religious institutions aren’t immune to these shifts either. While some young men may find structure and meaning in church communities, the absence of women could lead to unintended consequences. Without their traditional contributions to organizing, volunteering, and leading, these institutions risk becoming weaker, more insular, and less connected to the broader community.
“Women have long been the backbone of American Christianity throughout much of the nation’s history,” says Du Mez. “This raises some very practical questions: Will men step into those roles? Will churches undergo dramatic transformations? Or could this ultimately lead to the weakening of religious institutions — and perhaps Christianity itself?”
What began as a quiet drift in values is now a widening fault line — reshaping how Gen Z finds meaning, love, and community in a fractured world.
