Every June, Men’s Mental Health Month sparks a familiar conversation:
Men don’t talk. Men need to open up. Men should go to therapy more.

But for many men, the real question isn’t whether they want support. It’s whether they can find it in ways that feel safe and meaningful, and whether it was actually built with them in mind.

Many men do want to talk. Many have tried. But when pain isn’t recognized unless it’s expressed in exactly the “right” way—calm, articulate, emotionally fluent—it’s easy to mistake self-protection for emotional absence. For some, silence isn’t about avoidance; it’s about experience. It reflects what’s been learned about what’s safe to say and what’s been met with silence, skepticism, ridicule, or shutdown.

And the cost of this silence is devastating. In 2022, men were nearly three times more likely to die by suicide than women—a tragic reflection of what happens when distress goes unheard or unseen for too long.

So maybe the question isn’t: Why don’t men open up?

Maybe it’s: What taught them to hold it in? And what support have they actually been met with when they did open up?

Who Are We Talking About When We Say “Men”?

Men’s mental health isn’t one story. It’s shaped by culture, history, identity, and social location. Yet mainstream conversations often focus on a narrow slice of experience—usually cisgender, straight, middle-class men.

But what about the rest?

• What about trans men navigating safety, gender affirmation, and health care systems that often overlook them?
• What about racialized men who’ve been told—explicitly or implicitly—that showing emotion could put them at risk?
• What about men who grew up in poverty, where survival took priority over emotional expression?
• What about neurodivergent men whose ways of communicating and connecting have been misunderstood, pathologized, or punished, rather than supported or accommodated?
• What about men living with chronic illness who are often expected to push through pain, stay quiet about fatigue, and prove their worth through productivity no matter what their body is carrying?

When we talk about men’s mental health, we have to expand who’s included in the conversation. The more narrowly we define “manhood,” the more people we leave out of the solution.

Silence Is Often a Strategy, It Is Not a Defect

Many men have faced punishment or dismissal for speaking up. Some were never taught it was safe to feel. Some carried responsibilities too heavy and too early, expected to be “the strong one” before they were ready. Others met rejection, ridicule, or withdrawal when they showed emotion.

So, when men seem distant or disengaged, it’s worth pausing before assuming they don’t want to connect.

For many, silence is not a lack of emotion. It’s protection and survival.

Many carry unspoken grief:

• Grief for what they never got to say.
• Grief for being misinterpreted.
• Grief for relationships that asked for more than they could give without ever asking how they learned to give love or communicate in the first place.

Flattening that complexity into clichés like “man up” or “get in touch with your feelings” risks reinforcing the very walls we want to dismantle.

The Problem Isn’t Just Talking. It’s How We Expect People to Talk.

Growth doesn’t always start with words. Many men express emotion in ways that don’t fit traditional ideas of vulnerability:

• Through humour.
• By being reliable.
• Through music, movement, or building.
• By staying busy because stillness feels overwhelming.
• By holding things together, so others don’t have to worry.

But what if these weren’t signs of emotional avoidance, but ways of coping, caring, and surviving?

If we want more men to feel safe to talk, we need to stop seeing those who don’t as emotionally stunted. Instead, see them as people doing the best they can and meet them where they are.

There’s No One Way to Heal

Healing isn’t one-size-fits-all. Support can look like:

• Spaces where men can openly share how they feel.
• Male and man-identifying representation in mental health spaces.
• People who listen without judgment or pressure.
• Recognizing how gender, race, class, culture, and ability shape access to care and safety.
• Honouring how people express themselves—through story, humour, or body language.

How You Can Support the Men in Your Life (And Yourself)

• Call out stigma where it starts. Not just in headlines or extreme examples, but in casual jokes, silence around emotion, or the instinct to downplay what someone’s going through. Stigma doesn’t always sound loud—it often sounds like “you’ll be fine” or “don’t make it a big deal.”
• Listen without fixing. Support doesn’t always mean finding the right words or offering advice. Sometimes it means just being there, staying present, and letting someone feel what they’re feeling without trying to change it.
• Be patient with silence. Silence isn’t emptiness. It can be a pause, a boundary, or a way of staying safe. Give it space without rushing to fill it.
• Create safety. Show up without judgment, ridicule, or pressure.
• Check assumptions. Avoid clichés like “man up” or “just talk to someone.” Avoid asking people to express themselves in ways that feel unnatural or uncomfortable to them. Ask what support actually feels like for them rather than guessing.
• Recognize that care looks different for everyone. For some, it might be humour. For others, it might be action, distraction, or simply staying close. What if we could look at these as ways of coping rather than signs of avoidance?
• Care for yourself, too. When we take our own mental health seriously, it sends a quiet message that others are allowed to do the same. Being open about what you’re carrying helps build a culture where no one has to do it alone.

Shifting the narrative around men’s mental health isn’t just about encouraging more conversations. It’s about dismantling the systemic barriers that shape who gets heard, who gets helped, and how healing is defined. It’s about challenging the cultural norms, institutional practices, and social policies that reward emotional suppression, pathologize difference, and treat vulnerability as weakness. When we widen our lens, meet people where they are, and recognize the many forms care can take—especially for those pushed to the margins—we make room for healing that is not only personal, but collective and justice-informed.

At VOX Mental Health, we believe care should be flexible and responsive, not one-size-fits-all. That’s why we focus on listening and responding with care that reflects each person’s unique story.