Masculinity in an Age of Emergency – Why Men Are Breaking in Silence
- Feb 4
- 4 min read
Written by Param Singh Sahni, Humanistic Therapist & Coach
Param Singh Sahni is a BACP-registered Humanistic Therapist, Trustee at the Metanoia Institute, and founder of The Work. He works privately, supporting people with their mental health needs and specializes in emotional resilience, grief, identity, and trauma-informed care rooted in compassion and social justice.
I am writing this from a place of urgency, not abstraction. In the space of a single month, three men, each of whom I had a personal or professional connection to, have died by suicide. One left a note. One overdosed. One was found in the woods.
There is no safe distance from this. No academic framing that fully protects against the impact of such losses. When men die in this way, something fractures not only within families and communities, but within masculinity itself. These deaths force us to confront what men are being asked to carry, silently and alone, in a world that offers few places for that weight to be set down.
This is not a metaphorical crisis. It is an emergency.
Masculinity is not failing, men are being failed
Much of the current discourse frames masculinity as inherently toxic, outdated, or dangerous. While critical examination of power, entitlement, and harm is essential, this narrative often overlooks a quieter truth: many men are not clinging to dominance, they are drowning.
This is particularly true for men from the global majority: Black and Brown men, men of colour, ethnic men, and those of us who are consistently “othered.”
For these men, masculinity is not merely a social identity, it is a survival strategy forged under pressure. From a young age, many are instructed explicitly or implicitly to man up, to endure, to suppress vulnerability in order to remain safe, employable, or socially acceptable.
At the same time, they live with a constant threat: being profiled by police, scrutinised in public spaces, or treated as suspicious simply for existing. Many are told to “go home” while standing on the land of their birth, or that of their parents. For children of immigrants, masculinity is shaped not only by gender expectations but by inherited survival narratives, less about thriving, more about enduring.
The double bind of the “othered” man
For many men of colour, masculinity exists within a relentless double bind.
If we remain silent, we are seen as emotionally unavailable or disengaged.
If we speak up, we risk being perceived as aggressive, unstable, or threatening.
If we respond to harassment, we are often the ones arrested.
If we don’t respond, we are told we should have stood up for ourselves.
Brown men are stereotyped as terrorists, black men as criminals. Both are inherently suspect. This is not paranoia, it is pattern recognition.
The psychological cost of living within this bind is immense. Hypervigilance becomes normal. Anger is swallowed or redirected. Fear disguises itself as numbness. Grief has nowhere to go. Over time, this pressure does not dissipate, it accumulates.
And when there is no space for that accumulation to be processed safely, it often turns inward.
Suicide is not a lack of strength, it is the end of endurance
The men I am holding in mind were not weak. They were enduring.
Enduring loneliness. Enduring shame. Enduring cultural dislocation. Enduring expectations they could neither meet nor reject.
One left a note. One numbed himself until his body could no longer cope. One disappeared into the woods. Different circumstances, the same despair.
Suicide in men is frequently misunderstood as impulsive or selfish. In reality, it is often the final outcome of prolonged endurance when the internal resources men are taught to rely on (self-control, silence, stoicism) finally collapse under sustained pressure.
This is what happens when masculinity is defined as containment without release.
Emotional regulation is a social justice issue
Conversations about men’s mental health, particularly for men of colour, must move beyond wellness rhetoric and into structural reality. Emotional regulation is not a “soft skill,” it is a life-saving capacity.
Many men were never taught how to:
Recognise emotional states before they overwhelm
Locate feelings within the body
Regulate distress without shutting down or exploding
Ask for help without fear of humiliation or threat
Instead, they learned to endure until something broke.
For men already living under racialised stress, this absence of emotional education is not benign, it is dangerous.
Community is not optional
Men do not heal in isolation. One of the most damaging myths of masculinity is that growth must be solitary. For men who already experience social marginalisation, seeking help can feel like further exposure or risk.
Yet when men gather without hierarchy, bravado, or performance, something essential returns. Shame softens. Language emerges. The nervous system settles. There is relief in being seen without needing to prove.
Community is not a luxury. It is an antidote.
A closing reflection
I am writing this because three men are gone. Because I do not want to carry another name in my body. Because silence is no longer an option.
Masculinity does not need to be erased. It needs to be expanded, contextualised, and humanised—especially for those who live at the intersections of race, migration, and historical trauma.
If you are a man reading this and recognise the weight described here, know this: you are not broken. You are responding to an impossible load. And you do not have to carry it alone.
This conversation is not for later. It is happening now. Lives depend on it.
Read more from Param Singh Sahni
Param Singh Sahni, Humanistic Therapist & Coach
Param Singh Sahni is a BACP-registered Humanistic Therapist and Trustee at the Metanoia Institute. He is the founder of The Work, a platform dedicated to supporting the mental health of men of colour through vulnerability, connection, and culturally sensitive care. With nearly a decade of experience, he has supported people through life’s challenges related to addiction, behavioural patterns, and relational difficulties. He also works privately with individuals navigating grief, identity, emotional regulation, and life transitions. His approach is rooted in compassion, justice, and creating spaces where people feel seen, heard, and supported.
