What Men Carry...

Surrounded by stigma, damaging stereotypes, gender roles, and expectations, men’s mental health concerns often go unnoticed and unaddressed. In a country like India, cultural traditions and norms require men to present a stoic, masculine, and unwavering front in the face of challenges, loss, and distress. Emotional expression, whether it be tears of joy, shame, or fear, is often viewed as a sign of weakness and vulnerability and is frequently condemned. The prevailing cultural expectations of men to “tough it out” leave them without a place where they can be themselves without the fear of shame or judgment. Because, mard ko dard nahi hota, right?

The idea that men should always handle things doesn’t come out of nowhere. From a young age, there’s often an unspoken rule to hold it together, be dependable, and not flinch in any circumstance. These messages were subtly conditioned consistently, and over time, they have become ingrained. It isn’t that men don’t feel as intensely, but the language to name those feelings, or the space to share them, often isn’t there. Over time, things like stress, grief, fear, and shame get pushed aside, as it rarely feels like there is a way or a space for them to be expressed in their entirety. Especially when it comes with a strong societal conditioning that some emotions or expressions are bad or will be looked down upon. When others around us have always been uncomfortable with our emotions, there is very little space or acceptance left for them, even within ourselves.  

When life feels overwhelming, it shows up in subtle ways, such as striking opponents in violent video games, lifting weights in the gym, indulging in substances, or making humorous jabs, among other things. These ways may be overlooked, missed, or misunderstood even by men themselves. 

Masculinity often comes tied to performance, of strength, of certainty, of being okay. So when emotions get heavy, showing them feels risky. There’s worry about being judged, seen as incapable, or even dismissed. And the thing is, it’s not only about how others see you but also how you view yourself when these things come up. After all, if you’ve always been the one others lean on, who do you turn to when you’re tired? 

Adding to that, men don’t always receive a supportive or empathetic response to vulnerability. Even amongst men, concerns may be dismissed or laughed at. This further prevents them from sharing, as years of social learning have told them to downplay, deflect, or “deal with it” privately. Vulnerability can feel unfamiliar. And when something feels unfamiliar, it’s easy to believe it must be unsafe. 

This is also reflected in statistics, as men make up the majority of suicide deaths in India and globally. While numbers may not tell the whole story, they do hint at the reality of the situation regarding men’s mental health.  

None of this is about blaming anyone or pointing at weakness or failure. It’s about unlearning a way of being that’s been passed down for generations and gradually creating space to live differently. A safely curated space that tells us that showing up doesn’t mean you need to have it all figured out, where emotional honesty isn’t met with discomfort, but with curiosity. 

One might wonder if the cultural impact influences the limitation of expression; whether, when asked about one’s well-being, the question would be met with vulnerability and honesty or disengagement. Would this world be able to hold such a space for the rawness, if at all it was expressed?