21/06/2026
Please take the time to read this from my dear friend and colleague.
Three in four suicides are male.
How lonely must a man become before death feels safer than being known?
Today, many men will be celebrated for being fathers, others will spend the day grieving the father they never really had.
Some are grieving a father who died, some a father who was there but absent, and some fathers sit today carrying the unbearable weight of not knowing how to give what they themselves never received.
The bar for fatherhood is higher now than it has ever been, to provide, protect, to be emotionally present, to be strong, but soft, steady but vulnerable.
Many men are trying to build something they were never shown how to make.
A boy learns early what is acceptable.
His tears may be tolerated at five, mocked at ten, and despised by fifteen.
So many boys become fluent in silence long before they reach manhood.
Silence is a strange inheritance.
We have taught men to wear it like a well-tailored suit.
Be solid.
Be strong.
Provide.
Protect.
Hold it all.
Whatever the cost.
But beneath the suit, however sharp it looks, there is often terror. Terror of inadequacy, rejection, dependency, weakness, tenderness.
Our blueprint for masculinity has become unwearable.
Boys growing up today are carrying the weight of their fathers, and their fathers before them.
We have told them to be softer than the men who raised them, yet we shame them when they are.
We ask them for emotional intelligence,
without ever being teaching them how to hold their own emotions.
So many young men wrestle with identity, and why wouldn’t they? The blueprint they inherited contradicts itself at every turn.
Be strong, but not hard.
Be open, but not needy.
Be powerful, but not too much.
Be sweet, but not weak.
Somewhere beneath these impossible expectations, are we surprised they stopped talking?
Perhaps it is our task now, not theirs to say..
Your softness is not weakness.
Your tears tell me you feel.
Your gentleness invites me closer.
Show me your tears, please ….
Don’t hide them ..teach me how to hold them.
Show me your anger, I am not afraid of it..
Let me hold that too…
I am sorry we have taught you to shut up and put up..
To carry pain on your own ..
To perform survival so we could call you strong ..
We must do better…
We must step into THE SPACE BETWEEN US ..
For our boys,
For our men.
Space for tears, space for rage, space for collapse without shame.
Teach us how to hold your tenderness.
Teach us how to stay with you when you let us see your pain.
Teach us how to hold the parts of you
the world told you to bury.
Because how we hold you, will shape the world that comes after you.