Feeling strong: reframing masculinity and mental health

These days, it feels like everyone you know is running a marathon, working on their 5km pace, or joining an early-morning running club. When one of these new runners suddenly feels pain in their knee, or rolls an ankle, the first thing we say to them is, “Have you gone to physio?” It’s so obvious to us that when someone is in physical pain, they should take a break and be treated for that pain. So why is it so difficult for us to apply this concept to mental health?

When a teenage boy tumbles on the rugby field and grabs his leg in pain, we gasp and call for a medic. But what if that same rugby boy came onto the field crying, upset about his performance, or recovering from a fight with a friend? When he complains about anxiety surrounding an upcoming test, or is upset over a painful rejection, can we confidently say that we’d have the same level of concern? Would we recommend that he talk about his emotions or go to therapy with the same eagerness we would insist that he visit a physio?

Mental health for men and boys is often treated like a swear word. There are myriad stereotypical tropes that perpetuate this issue, namely, “Boys don’t cry”; “Be a man”; “Real men are tough, assertive, strong.” The list is endless. Each one tells boys and men that they cannot be emotional, vulnerable, or sensitive, and that any sign of this is a sign of weakness. Mental health has been positioned as something for the broken or weak, and has been made taboo for the strong, indestructible man that every boy is supposed to grow into.

But what if this wasn’t the case? What if mental health was reframed as mental fitness, something that requires professional support to obtain and hone? Nobody questions why a man would want a personal trainer to work on his physical fitness goals, but they might look at you strangely if you mention going to therapy for assistance in maintaining your mental health. That needs to change, and that change starts at the beginning.

For most people, the first time we struggle with mental health is in high school. High school is daunting for all teenagers in one way or another. High school presents social anxiety about fitting in, making friends, or being popular. However, we often brush this aside in the case of boys. “They’re boys,” we say, “give them a ball, and they’ll make friends easily”.

If two boys get into a fight, we say, “They’ll give each other a punch or a smack, and the fight will be over.” We end up undermining the struggles that teenage boys go through at school by pigeonholing them. We reduce manhood to sport and physical strength, negating the spectrum of personality, hobbies, and qualities through which so many men and boys are characterised. We allow no space for talking through their emotions; their struggles with making friends; or not fitting into the stereotypes they’ve been boxed into. Many teenage boys feel that they cannot be anything other than “okay”, and don’t feel that they can talk about their mental-health struggles with their peers or male friends.

When they struggle with performance in school or on the sports field, the enormous amount of pressure that these teenage boys are under is often overlooked. They are expected to be tough and just get on with it. In reality, it’s not that men don’t feel, it’s that for so long, it’s been assumed that feeling any sadness or pain meant not being strong, when in fact the opposite is true. Real strength lies in feeling pain, joy, and everything in between, in owning every emotion.

We need to reframe this. Men and boys should be able to feel comfortable to talk about their mental-health struggles openly and honestly. As a community and society, we need to take active steps to foster a culture that allows for men not to be okay, and gives them the support they need to maintain a healthy mind. There are already some platforms in place that are taking the necessary steps to destigmatise male mental health.

OurSpace is a new initiative from Hatzolah Connect. It aims to create spaces to teach and work on social-emotional learning, providing weekly sessions where students are encouraged to feel, reflect, and champion their sense of mental and emotional fitness. It’s through initiatives like OurSpace that we begin fostering a narrative around mental health characterised by the same qualities we attribute to physical fitness: strength, resilience, commitment, and consistent growth and development.

This is the narrative that schools and youth movements should work to maintain and develop. Because like physical fitness, mental fitness for men and boys is something attainable. We can’t expect our boys to be the best rugby players, top of their class, a world-changing leader, and a future chief executive without giving them the necessary support, help, and love to get them there.

Talking about running marathons doesn’t get you anywhere, running does. So it’s not about big talk, it’s about action. The mental-health assemblies and social media campaigns are powerful, but they amount to nothing if we don’t commit to instilling a culture centred on destigmatising the conversation about mental health for men and boys. We are just at the beginning of the journey towards healthy masculinity, but much like a marathon, we can’t expect to achieve it without dedication and hard work. Let’s get to it.

• Levi Marx is a third-year psychology student at the University of the Witwatersrand, and the mind behind OurSpace, a new Hatzolah Connect initiative.
• Dani Sack holds a degree in organisational and industrial psychology from the University of the Witwatersrand, and is the programme co-ordinator for Diller Teen Fellows Johannesburg.