Rethinking mental health in a system that was never made with them in mind
He did not fall apart. He did not fall to his knees. He just stopped coming in.
A few weeks before that, he was pulling longer hours, snapping more easily, laughing less. You would not have called it a crisis, more like a fading. A man going invisible. One choice at a time. That is how many men burn out—not in flames, but in a slow, silent erosion.
We say mental health matters. We put it on mugs, posters, and leadership slides. We make space for it—kind of. But what we often forget is that “mental health” does not mean the same thing for everyone. Men are not immune to overload. They are more likely to carry it in silence, and as a result, they are often overlooked.
Silence is not resistance
That silence is costing us more than we think. Across the world, data show men are significantly underdiagnosed, under-supported, and underrepresented in most mental health frameworks. Reports from the World Health Organization confirm that men are more likely to die by suicide, while local data from SADAG in South Africa shows how acute the risk is closer to home.
Men seek out therapy less often. And when they do, studies like those by Zac Seidler and colleagues show they exit earlier—not from indifference, but because the environment often does not meet them where they are. The unspoken message: if you do not speak the language of therapy, you are not ready for help.
But what if silence is the language?
For many men, silence is not resistance. It is an adaptation. A survival strategy learned young. James Mahalik’s work on masculinity and health behaviours shows how deeply social expectations discourage vulnerability. Men were not taught to feel safe inside their emotions. They were taught to perform over them. Talk is not the default. Action is. Expression is not familiar. Control is. By adulthood, emotional bandwidth is narrowed not because they are broken, but because they have been holding too much for too long without interruption.
A system not built for them
This disconnect is not just emotional. It is systemic. David Griffith and colleagues highlight how structural barriers—from underrepresentation in services to cultural stigma—undermine men’s access to care. Much of the research, training, and infrastructure around mental wellness was not designed with masculine processing styles in mind.
As a result, men’s experiences are often misread. Rage without context. Shame without words. Collapse without warning. What is often labeled as “emotionally unavailable” is a nervous system overflowing with experiences that have never been given a language.
Simon Robertson and colleagues argue that real progress in men’s mental health requires responsiveness to difference—designing interventions that acknowledge how men process, not expecting them to adopt frameworks not built for them.
Better doors, not better men
What men do not say still sits in the body. Bessel van der Kolk has shown how unspoken pressure embeds itself in physiology, surfacing later in addiction, illness, strained relationships, or decisions that leave families stunned.
Some men are literally dying of stoicism, and the only advice they hear is “talk about it.” That advice works for some. It does not work for all.
Men often respond better to approaches that are structured, contained, embodied, and private. Not because they are emotionally stunted, but because they have rarely been given access points that felt safe, familiar, or designed for them. Michael Norton’s research into ritual shows how symbolic, action-based practices can bring relief where words fail. The challenge is not to make men better at therapy. It is to build better doors.
The men you know are not cold. They are careful.
They are not unreachable. They are uninvited.
And they are not broken.
They are overdue for a system that finally speaks their language.