Support truly
independent journalism
Our mission is to deliver unbiased, fact-based reporting that holds power to account and exposes the truth.
Whether $5 or $50, every contribution counts.
Support us to deliver journalism without an agenda.
Louise Thomas
Editor
While much has changed in the image of manhood in the past few decades, one overriding judgement about us still pervades: men don’t open up about our emotions, worries and feelings as much as we should. It’s a sweeping statement that’s nevertheless so deeply rooted in our society that we seldom question it. But what if it’s not as true as it once was?
Among a growing cohort of men I talk to who – for a wide variety of reasons – have opened up and become fluent in feelings, a problem has emerged. They might be fine with speaking out. They might just not want to talk to… well, you. If that seems unfair, ask yourself: do you even know what to say to a man who opens up to you? Are you ready for it, and would you even believe it if it happened?
This shift throws up an awkward gender divide in the process: women who have grown up with the baked-in assumption that men are incapable of being honest brokers of their own psyches, who maybe watched their mothers desperately try to extract depth from their fathers, are often finding it hard to adjust. If a man habitually opens up to other men, but never to the women in their life, does it even count? It’s an emerging culture shock that needs addressing. We wanted men to do the work so they’d open up. Maybe we all need to do the work now to become better listeners?
Far too many men still suffer in silence. It is untrue to say that the majority of men are liberated from patriarchy and are unconstrained by traditional ideas of how a man should act. But at the same time, men have palpably changed in this area over the past 20 years. Even the simple stigma around men being teary and emotional in public has come crashing down: where Andy Murray crying at Wimbledon as he did last week felt normal, Paul Gascoigne doing it at the World Cup back in 1990 was turned into a national joke (something Gazza chose to cash in on, in a subsequent blubtastic, jokey advert for Walkers crisps).
Statistically, men are doing better at opening up. A survey by the British Association for Counselling and Psychotherapy two years ago showed that across the board, men’s attitudes to mental health has shifted. Eighty-three per cent of men now say it’s a good idea to seek counselling or psychotherapy for a problem before it gets out of hand. Seventy-eight per cent of men say it’s more commonplace to discuss mental health than five years ago. The amount of men going to therapy is at 27 per cent. It’s also finally creeping up to parity with the 39 per cent of women who attend.
Unhelpfully for us all, as more men have sought therapy, some have dived headlong into using it as a form of manipulation. Much has been made of certain high-profile men using “therapy speak” as a way to be coercive and emotionally abusive. In 2022, after Love Island’s Georgia Harrison won a landmark case against ex-partner Stephen Bear for distributing revenge porn, Bear tried to excuse his actions by evoking the language of therapy and faking a mental health crisis. A year later, the professional surf instructor Sarah Brady accused her ex, the actor Jonah Hill, of being an “emotional abuser” for using “therapy speak” in their relationship.
In my worst moments, having been reluctantly bounced into conversations about my own state of mind with people I’m only semi-comfortable with, I’ve often resorted to judgement and dismissiveness
While it’s probably true we’re all misusing therapy terms – words like “gaslighting”, “toxic” and “triggered” spring to mind – it’s tragically in the DNA of certain men to take a wholly good and benign thing like therapy and make it awful. But thankfully these are extreme stories about extreme acts by extreme men. In general, it’s a blessing to us all that men are “doing the work”.
Ironically, though, while “therapy speak” is increasingly being demonised, I think there is lots to be learnt from incorporating it into our daily lives. While some may see it as fake and phoney, I unashamedly love people who fastidiously try to talk a bit like the therapists they go to. You don’t need to be pretentious with it, nor do you need to wear a polo neck. The basics suffice: being calm and patient, having a neutral demeanour and passive face, talking where possible in open-ended questions, never once making it all about you and your own life experiences, not firing off advice bullets every second. These are great ways to respond to someone unpacking their life in front of you. The trouble is, it’s all too rare.
In my worst moments, having been reluctantly bounced into conversations about my own state of mind with people I’m only semi-comfortable with, I’ve often resorted to judgement, dismissiveness, tons of random unsolicited advice and a straight-up invalidation of how I’m actually feeling. It is, as they say, “a lot”.
Men increasingly struggle to convince those around them that they are in fact looking after their mental health. In extremes, when a man is having a hard time, the lack of trust that they’re doing all the right things can result in a barrage of check-ins, a clamour of people wanting them to meticulously chronicle every bad feeling within, multiple times a day.
It may be unfair that men have to meet a higher threshold here, but guys working on themselves should proudly respond by becoming as reassuring as possible in their language. If you’re a man who’s being checked on by someone you don’t want to confide in, then kindly and convincingly tell them what you’re doing about the problem. If you’re able to, tell them that you’re talking about it with a trusted person (professional or otherwise) and try incorporating the words “I’m safe” – to allay any suspicion that a situation could escalate to a place of harm.
Nobody in their right mind would think they could defuse a bomb in an emergency, but most people think – unwisely – that they can adequately soothe and counsel anyone struggling with their mental health. Just as one era – that of the uncommunicative man – might be ending, the chirpy, un-nuanced notion of “a problem shared is a problem halved” might be worth retiring as well.
