There is a phrase that often comes up in conversations about men and mental health: “men don’t talk.” It is repeated so often one would think it is a biological fact. But I do not think men are born silent. I think we are taught to be.

Think about it: the little boy who cries at school and is told to toughen up by his teachers, the teenager who shows fear and is told he is being soft, the young man who admits he is struggling and is met with a joke, a subject change or uncomfortable silence. Over time, men learn never to air their struggles. By the time most men reach their twenties, they have spent years mastering the art of saying “I’m fine” while meaning the exact opposite.

This leads to the creation of a generation of men who genuinely do not know how to articulate their feelings. As a result, many young men feel lonely yet are surrounded by people.

Everything from the outside seems fine. You still show up to events. You still laugh. You still have people around you at school or at work, but there is a layer of glass between you and everyone else. You are not sure when it appeared. Your friendships are mostly built around doing things together rather than saying things to each other. You play football, watch matches or share memes with people who do not know what is really happening in your life. 

Research consistently shows that men report fewer close friendships compared to women. A 2021 survey by the Survey Center on American Life found that 15% of men had no close friends at all. This figure has risen from 3% in 1990. These are not small numbers. They represent millions of men navigating job loss, heartbreak, grief and failure without a single person they feel they can confide in.                     

I also think that most mental health services, support groups and community spaces were not designed with young men in mind. They often emphasize emotional articulation in ways that feel alien to men. In my opinion, telling someone to “just open up” is rarely effective when every previous attempt to do so was met with dismissal or silence.

What I think tends to work better is creating spaces where conversation happens alongside activity. It could be walking, building something, playing a game or cooking. This is not a workaround or a lesser form of connection. For many men, it is actually the most natural entry point into the kinds of conversations that truly matter.

I am not writing this from the other side of the struggle but from somewhere in the middle of it. I am writing it because I have sat in that silence myself and I know how much it costs over time. The friendships I let thin out because I did not know how to say I was struggling. The nights I talked myself out of texting someone because I did not want to be a burden. 

None of this made me stronger. It just made me lonelier.

The thing I have come to understand, slowly and imperfectly, is that asking for help is not a sign of weakness. It is actually one of the hardest things a person can do.

If you are a young man reading this and any of it feels familiar. I am not going to tell you to simply go and open up to someone. I know it is not that easy.

But I will say this: the silence that feels like protection can become a prison, and the people around you may be more ready to listen than you believe.

The first step does not have to be a deep heart-to-heart conversation. It can be a walk with a loved-one, a text or a question. It can be small and imperfect and still be a meaningful step forward.