By Abashi Rahab Ashezi
There is a man who leaves work every evening but does not head straight home. He is not held back by traffic or delayed by unfinished assignments. He is simply buying time.
Home, for him, is not always a place of rest. It is another arena of responsibilities, expectations and silent pressures. So he sits in traffic longer than necessary, staring at the stream of headlights, listening to nothing in particular, waiting for the weight of the day to ease before stepping into another round of obligations.
Nobody notices because it looks like an ordinary routine. Yet beneath that routine lies a reality many men know too well: exhaustion without an outlet.
From childhood, boys are taught to be strong, provide, endure and never break. They are praised for resilience but rarely taught how to process pain. A crying boy is told to stop. A struggling boy is told to be tough. Gradually, silence becomes confused with strength.
What society often calls masculinity is, in reality, emotional suppression.
As men grow older, many carry fears they can hardly explain. Some are afraid of repeating the mistakes of their fathers. Others fear failure, financial instability or being perceived as weak. Rather than confront these emotions, many retreat into work, isolation or emotional detachment because those are the coping mechanisms they have learned.
Cultural sayings reinforce the pattern. Phrases such as “African men don’t cry” or “a king must never be seen weeping” have created generations of men who are expected to provide but are rarely given permission to be vulnerable. Consequently, many learn that speaking about their fears may attract ridicule, while silence earns respect.
Yet silence does not erase pain. It merely stores it.
Behind countless smiles are men wrestling with financial pressures, disappointments, loneliness and identity crises. What remains hidden often emerges through anger, substance abuse, broken relationships and, in some tragic cases, suicide.
June, marked globally as Men’s Mental Health Awareness Month, serves as a reminder of this often overlooked crisis. While women are diagnosed with depression more frequently, men account for a disproportionately high number of suicide deaths worldwide. In Nigeria, the challenge is compounded by limited access to mental healthcare, with a severe shortage of psychiatrists and mental health professionals serving a population of more than 200 million.
Statistics, however, only tell part of the story. Behind every number is a father trying to stay strong for his family, a husband hiding his fears, a son struggling with expectations, or a young man quietly questioning his worth.
Untreated emotional wounds do not disappear. They are often passed from one generation to another, creating cycles of silence that become mistaken for normality.
The question before society is not whether men are strong. Their resilience is undeniable. The more important question is whether strength should mean carrying life’s burdens alone.
True strength is not the absence of tears or vulnerability. It is the courage to acknowledge pain, seek help when necessary and speak without fear of judgment.
Perhaps the greatest gift society can give men is not another reminder to be tough, but the assurance that they are human too. Because strength does not die when a man speaks. Sometimes, it begins there.
Abashi Rahab is a student of Strategic Communication at Yakubu Gowon University, Abuja. She can be reached at: abashirahab@gmail.com.