Silence Is Killing Men

Living in a dorm with 20 other guys, I’ve learned something terrifying: the people in the most danger are the ones least likely to say it.

This year at a boarding school, I have lived with a total of 20 other guys. Living with so many incredible 17 year old men has taught me a lot, but one of the things it’s forced me to do is to be aware of my friends’ mental health. One of my friends dealt with insomnia due to violent and disturbing dreams. Another refused to sleep, and admitted to “accidentally” hurting himself. Another said he had tried to end it. These are just a few stories of what some of these men have gone through, but the sad truth is, there are plenty more I could have included. There was one pattern I noticed across all of my friends: none of them volunteered this. I had to notice something was wrong, and push. When they did share, and I talked to them about talking to their advisor or a teacher or a therapist, they all said “I just have to be a man.”

This is a phrase that most men are familiar with. It’s been used to justify dealing with mental health issues in unhealthy ways. Phrases like that, in addition to, “real men don’t cry,” are told to men for most of their lives, and prevent many from reaching out for help. But even for those who do, many are met with “get over it,” “suck it up,” or “be a man.” The barrier preventing men from sharing starts as being told one of these phrases, and is reinforced almost anytime a man tries to share his feelings or struggles. What starts out as just a few offhand comments becomes internalized, repeated, and enforced, turning it into a violent cycle of pain.

At first, I thought this was just bad luck. A few isolated cases. It isn’t. What I learned made me realize that the issue is worse than I thought. According to a survey, 44% of men don’t take care of their mental health. Despite higher rates of women dealing with depression and anxiety, men are four times more likely to commit suicide. At first, these statistics might seem contradictory, but they fit perfectly when we understand that seeking help is greatly stigmatized for men. Therapy and other similar mechanisms are seen as a sign of weakness. As a result, fewer men (13.4%) receive any mental health treatment than women (25.7%), and the same goes for medication (20.6% vs. 10.7%).

The way to solve this isn’t easy, but it is necessary. As a society, there are small things we can do. Everyone needs to take some time and talk to the men (or other men) in their lives. Saying “hey, how are you doing,” isn’t enough. It has to mean something. It has to mean giving them the space to talk. This is a two way street though, men need to be open to this, and start feeling comfortable opening up.

We need to redesign men’s mental health support. The first way of doing this is adapting therapy to men to make them feel safer and comfortable, without clashing with how many men are expected to see themselves. More importantly, though, we need to start incorporating mental health education and support in places men already occupy, such as schools and youth and high school sports teams, so that young men have healthy habits before going out into the world.

The most important thing? Men need to reject definitions of masculinity that are causing men so much harm. Any definition that says men can’t cry, need to always be strong, or can’t express emotions just don’t work. The problem isn’t that men aren’t strong enough. The problem is that we’ve defined strength in a way that leaves no room for humanity. And when we’ve stripped away men’s humanity, they start to crumble internally, until it shows externally.

I shouldn’t have to drag my friends into conversations about whether they’re okay. They should be able to say it themselves and be heard. This isn’t to make men softer. It’s to keep them alive.

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This Post is republished on Medium.

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Photo credit: iStock