“Men are supposed to be rough and tough” is a quote my mother utters whenever I tell her I am feeling burnt out.
At a young age, I was plastered with the traits a man should have. My grandfather, a military man, taught me that I would never be a man unless I attained three specific traits, he called them the ‘3 S’s’ which consisted of: Smart, successful, and strong.
These seems straight forward however my grandfather had a twist to the word strong. His definition consisted of the physical aspect of being strong, however his definition of being mentally strong was to never show any vulnerability. Going back to being a military man, my grandfather believed any sign of vulnerability exposed could be used against one, thus taught me to never cry.
This image depicts what all us men have gone through at some point: wanting to burst out in tears however are forced to mask our emotions so we are neither judged for showing emotions or labeled as weak.
Taking his words to heart, I thought showing any emotion would make me less of a man. It did not matter if I scraped my knee in elementary school, got cut from the team in middle school, or getting friend zoned by my crush in high school. I did not cry. I would do anything to prevent those tears fall down my cheek. I would bite my tongue, I would squeeze my eyes shut, and progressively as I got older I would spew out a few curse words.
It did not matter if I scraped my knee in elementary school, got cut from the team in middle school, or getting friend zoned by my crush in high school. I did not cry. I would do anything to prevent those tears fall down my cheek. I would bite my tongue, I would squeeze my eyes shut, and progressively as I got older I would spew out a few curse words.
If I wanted to cry, I would have to wait until I was behind closed doors alone. I vividly remember the days I felt down, I would wait until everyone was asleep in my house before I let myself shed tears. Due to this at times I found myself sleeping less, and masking the pain by eating more and isolating myself, which were common symptoms of depression.
Going forth, preventing myself from showing any sign of vulnerability was not common out of nature, however. I went to a high school that reinforced the ideas of masculinity I learned at home. One day I saw a guy cry once during lunch and it was like seeing a fish climb a tree. Every eye in the entire cafeteria was glued to him.
A few people at my lunch table even whispered around calling the boy words such as a girl, a baby, one calling him a p---y. How odd, I thought to myself, I’ve seen so many girls cry and it’s the complete opposite reaction: when a girl cries we look the other way, we comfort them, and we don’t think twice about it but now that a guy shows emotion he’s being a baby?
Life went on and I continued to follow the principles my grandfather taught me until June, when tragedy hit and I lost my best friend, my grandmother. Unlike my grandfather, she showed whatever emotion she felt, and being able to show my vulnerability in front of her was why she and I were so close.
No matter how hard I bit my tongue, no matter how hard I squeezed my eyes and no matter how much I told myself that I was being a baby, my emotions were too strong and I could not stop the tears rolling down my face at the funeral. Once the first tear rolled down there was no stopping, I cried until my eye glands ran out of tears and were completely dry. Due to the environment of it being a funeral, I was covered in hugs and good words.
No matter how hard I bit my tongue, no matter how hard I squeezed my eyes and no matter how much I told myself that I was being a baby, my emotions were too strong and I could not stop the tears rolling down my face at the funeral.
After the funeral, I had a deep conversation with my friend, telling him whatever was on my mind. I don’t remember what exactly I said, but I do remember how reliving it was to tell someone how I felt: an experience I never felt until that day. All the emotions I’d kept bottled up, thinking it would make me more of a man, finally let loose. When I released those bottled emotions, it was staggering that being emotional and talking about how I feel did not make me weaker. Rather, it was the opposite: it cleared my mind, relived stress, and made me feel stronger.
I started to ask my closest friends -- friends who were taught the same ideologies I learned -- a simple question: “Are you okay? Something on your mind you want to talk about?” These friends I’ve known since childhood, people I thought I knew everything about, when asked these two questions regarding mental health, opened up a door to a part of them I never knew about.
I quickly came to realization that all of my friends including myself all battle problems mentally and keeping them secret is doing more damage than if we were to be open about it. Although we’ve known each other for years, none of us were confident enough to speak up about how we felt when down.
My friend group is no different than these men conducted in this interview by the Huffington Post UK. Although we do not show it, all of us men cry more often than you’d expect.
Although my friend group is now open to discussing mental health and why it’s okay to be down, that does not mean the world has made it a safe place for us to display our emotions. Unlike women, when us men cry in public, it is a sight to laugh at and to be considered feminine. The solution to making men more emotional and open is to normalize and to create a safe space for us men.
Normalizing men to seek the help they need would help throttle the engine for men to seek therapy. Although both men and women need help, only one third of therapy seekers are men a 2017 study shows.
Not only would normalizing men to show emotion help us as it would help with our mental health, but it would help with us being more transparent as we would no longer have to bite our tongues and hide behind a fake smile.
As I conclude my writing, I leave you with a quote by a man named Jip who was interviewed by Maud Fernhout regarding why he as a man cries:
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