Mental Health and Masculinity

Unpacking Strength & Vulnerability

Growing up, I heard the same lines many boys did: “Be tough,” “Don’t let them see you cry,” and “Get over it.” They were served up as advice, as though emotional repression was some rite of passage into manhood. But looking back, I realize those words weren’t instructions—they were shackles. Shackles that kept me from understanding myself, from finding peace, and from building real connections.

With that said, this post is going to explore mental health and masculinity. Because there’s a lot at stake, not just for us as individuals but for the people who depend on us. Learning to break free from those shackles isn’t just freeing—it’s transformative.

Early Lessons in Anger

Let me take you back to my childhood. I was that kid in school who always felt like I was walking a tightrope. I grew up biracial in a time and place where that wasn’t exactly common, and well, we all know kids did hold back. I heard every black and white name you could think of including being called a zebra. The whispers that weren’t actually whispers, all because, well, when your different it will get you hurt.

...And what did I do with that pain? ...I turned it into anger.

Anger was easier to deal with. It was sharp, quick, and made me feel powerful—like I could control something in a world that constantly reminded me I was different. But here’s the thing: anger doesn’t solve anything. It just builds walls. And those walls? They kept me from understanding myself and from letting anyone else in.

The Cost of Avoiding Vulnerability

Men, we’ve been sold a lie. We’ve been told that vulnerability is weakness, that admitting pain is somehow less “manly.” But stuffing those feelings down doesn’t make them go away. It just packs them tighter until they explode—or worse, they start leaking out in ways we don’t even recognize.

For me, avoiding my emotions made me reactive. Every insult, every setback, every slight became a trigger for a blow-up. I wasn’t just angry; I was unpredictable. And that kind of anger doesn’t just hurt you—it hurts the people around you. Family, friends, strangers in the wrong place at the wrong time—they all caught the fallout of my refusal to deal with my pain.

What Society Gets Wrong

Let’s take a step back and talk about the bigger picture. Society loves the image of the stoic, unshakable man. The guy who “toughs it out,” never complains, and keeps his emotions in check. But here’s the irony: that version of manhood is a recipe for mental health disaster.

According to Harvard University, men are 3.5 times more likely to die by suicide than women. Why? Because many of us are taught that asking for help is a sign of failure. Instead of saying, “I’m struggling,” we say, “I’m fine,” until we’re anything but.

Let’s not ignore the fact that depression in men often looks different than in women. For us, it’s not always tears and sadness—it’s anger, irritability, and withdrawal. The American Psychological Association (APA) found that men are far less likely to be diagnosed with depression because our symptoms don’t fit the stereotypical mold.

Redefining Strength

So how do we redefine strength? It starts with flipping the script. Strength isn’t about how much you can endure in silence. It’s about how willing you are to confront what’s really going on inside, so you can learn what it feels like to actually be at peace. Here’s what I’ve learned:

1. Strength is Self-Awareness: It’s looking in the mirror and saying, “I’m not okay, and that’s okay.”

2. Strength is Connection: It’s reaching out, talking to someone (your spouse, best friend, your mentor or even a counselor), and realizing that you don’t have to carry the weight alone.

3. Strength is Vulnerability: It’s opening up about your fears, your struggles, and your pain—and discovering that it doesn’t make you weak; it makes you human. The other discovery that tends to develop out of this is that you gain a deeper understanding about your spouse, friend or mentor then you had prior. Being open allows the other person the ability to reciprocate in moments like this, ultimately strengthen your bond further.

   
   

A Different Kind of Example

I’ll be honest with you: it took me a long time to get here. But the turning point wasn’t some dramatic moment. It was small. In middle age life, well after those early struggles in school, during a conversation with someone who saw through my anger. They asked, “Why are you always so ready to fight?” And for the first time, I didn’t have a snappy answer. I just sat there, realizing that my anger wasn’t strength—it was armor. And that armor was suffocating me.

Since then, I’ve tried to model a different kind of masculinity for the people in my life. Not the tough-it-out version, but the kind that says, “Let’s talk about it.” The kind that admits, “I don’t have all the answers, but I’m willing to find them.”

This isn’t just about me or you—it’s about all of us. Because when we hold onto these outdated ideas about masculinity, we’re not just hurting ourselves. We’re teaching our sons, our brothers, and our friends that they have to do the same.

A study from Yale University found that boys as young as six start internalizing the idea that showing emotions is “unmanly.” Six years old. Think about that. If we don’t change the narrative, we’re setting the next generation up for the same struggles we’re trying to overcome.

If you’re reading this and thinking, “Yeah, but where do I start?” here are a few places:

1. Have the Hard Conversations: Whether it’s with a friend, a partner, or a therapist, start talking about what’s really going on.

2. Check In on Your People: A simple “How are you, really?” can open the door for someone who’s been waiting for permission to share.

3. Model Vulnerability: Be the guy who’s willing to say, “I’m not okay.” You never know who might be inspired to do the same.

   
   

Masculinity doesn’t have to mean shutting down or pushing through. It can mean standing tall in the face of your emotions, learning to express them, and teaching others to do the same. That’s the real strength—the kind that builds connections instead of walls, that heals instead of hurts.

So, let’s stop running from vulnerability. Let’s redefine what it means to be a man in a way that makes room for all of us—anger, sadness, joy, and everything in between.

Stay strong, stay open, and keep showing up.

-Troy Rienstra