By Ebuka Ukoh
‘Be a Man’ is a phrase that many African boys grow up learning. But it can be one of the most harmful. It’s important to understand how such messages can influence young minds and to promote healthier perspectives.
If a man is exhausted, anxious, overwhelmed, unable to sleep, and carrying responsibilities that are slowly crushing him, is he healthy simply because his blood pressure is normal? Every June, nations are reminded to pay attention to men’s health. We encourage men to check their blood pressure. We remind them to exercise. We talk about prostate cancer, diabetes, heart disease, and routine medical screenings. These conversations matter, save lives, and must continue.
Yes, men’s health
But every year, I find myself wondering whether we are talking about the whole story or merely the part that is easiest to see, because men do not die only from disease, but also from burdens nobody sees. Some die from loneliness; nobody notices. Some die from worries they never speak about. Some die from years of carrying responsibilities that become heavier with every passing season. And some die long before death arrives, slowly exhausted by the weight of expectations placed upon them.
Growing up
Across Africa, and particularly in Nigeria, many boys grow up hearing a familiar phrase: “Be a man.” It is spoken by parents, teachers, relatives, coaches, faith leaders, and sometimes by strangers. Often, it is well-intentioned. The phrase is meant to teach responsibility, resilience, discipline, courage, and sacrifice. Yet, somewhere along the way, many boys learn a different lesson. They learn to hide pain. They learn to suppress fear. They learn to carry burdens silently. They learn that asking for help is a sign of weakness. They learn that struggling should remain private. And they learn that a man is expected to endure almost anything without complaint.
Men’s fears
For many men, this becomes a way of life. The father, who worries about school fees, says nothing. The husband, struggling financially, says nothing. The young graduate, unable to find meaningful employment, says nothing. The entrepreneur, watching his business fail, says nothing. The man battling depression says nothing. The man who cannot sleep says nothing. The man, overwhelmed by anxiety, says nothing. The man, grieving a loss, says nothing. Not because he does not feel. Not because he does not hurt. But because somewhere in his journey, he mastered silence as part of manhood. The tragedy is that silence often disguises suffering. Some men have become so skilled at appearing strong that even those who love them most do not realise they are struggling.
Men’s mental health
Across Africa, mental health conditions affect millions of people, yet access to care remains severely limited. Men remain significantly less likely to seek professional support for emotional and psychological challenges. Suicide rates among men continue to exceed those of women in many countries. Researchers consistently identify stigma, social expectations, and pressures around masculinity as major barriers preventing men from seeking help. According to the World Health Organisation, approximately 150 million people in Africa live with a mental health condition, yet treatment remains inaccessible for many. Men are significantly less likely to seek help, even when experiencing depression, anxiety, or emotional distress.
Yet statistics alone cannot capture human reality. To understand men’s health in Africa, one must look beyond hospitals. One must look at the farmer who can no longer safely access his land because of insecurity. One must look at the commercial driver navigating dangerous roads. One must look at the soldier deployed repeatedly into conflict. One must look at the father calculating how to stretch an insufficient income across rent, food, transportation, school fees, healthcare, and family obligations. One must look at the countless men lying awake at night, carrying worries they cannot easily share.
Health begins long before a hospital visit. Health begins in the conditions under which people live. In Nigeria and across much of Africa, conversations about men’s health rarely account for the realities many men navigate daily. The farmer worried about insecurity, the young graduate facing unemployment, the commercial driver navigating dangerous roads, and the father carrying the weight of an entire household are all confronting health challenges, even when they never enter a hospital. Stress, uncertainty, and prolonged economic pressure leave marks on the body and mind just as surely as disease does.
Health begins with whether people feel safe. Whether they feel supported. Whether they feel hopeful. Whether they believe they can ask for help without shame. This is why Men’s Health Month should challenge us to ask harder questions. What is happening to the emotional health of African men? What happens when a society teaches men how to provide but never teaches them how to process pain? What happens when strength becomes confused with silence? What happens when resilience becomes an excuse for neglect?
Men’s burdens
Perhaps the greatest misunderstanding about men is the belief that because many carry their burdens quietly, those burdens do not exist. But silence is not the absence of struggle. Often, it is evidence of it. The strongest men I have known were not men who never needed help. They were men who possessed the courage to acknowledge when they did. They understood something many of us learn too late. Strength is not pretending everything is fine. Strength is confronting reality honestly. Strength is asking for support before a crisis becomes a catastrophe. Strength is telling a trusted friend, “I am struggling.” Strength is speaking to a spouse, sibling, mentor, pastor, imam, colleague, counsellor, doctor, or friend when life becomes overwhelming. Strength is recognising that no human being was created to carry every burden alone.
Father’s Day
As Father’s Day [June 21] approaches, my thoughts turn especially to fathers. Many fathers carry invisible burdens. The burden of provision. The burden of protection. The burden of leadership. The burden of responsibility. The burden of appearing strong even when they feel exhausted. Yet, fathers are human before they are providers. They are human before they are protectors. They are human before they are leaders. And like every human being, they need support, encouragement, rest, understanding, and care. If we want healthier families, we must care about fathers’ health. If we want healthier children, we must care about fathers’ well-being. If we want healthier communities, we must care about the burdens men silently carry.
Perhaps this Men’s Health Month, the most important question is not whether men are visiting the doctor often enough.
Perhaps it is whether the men around us feel safe enough to tell the truth about how they are really doing. Because if we are honest, many men are not fine. And pretending otherwise has cost us far too much.
As we celebrate fathers and reflect on men’s health, let us build homes, communities, workplaces, and places of worship where men can be honest without shame and vulnerable without fear. Let us create environments where asking for help is met with support rather than judgment, and where emotional struggles are treated with the same seriousness as physical illness.
This Father’s Day, let us remember the fathers, grandfathers, mentors, brothers, sons, and countless men who quietly carry responsibilities, seen and unseen. Let us check on the men who always say they are “fine.” Let us encourage the friend who has withdrawn, support the father carrying burdens alone, and create space for honest conversations about stress, grief, anxiety, and exhaustion.
Men’s silence
Most importantly, let us reject the dangerous idea that strength requires silence. True strength is not found in suffering alone. It is found in the courage to speak, the wisdom to seek help, and the humility to accept it. If we want healthier fathers, healthier families, and healthier communities, we must ensure that no man feels he has to carry every burden by himself because a man’s value is not measured solely by what he provides. His humanity measures it. And every man deserves the dignity, support, and care needed not merely to survive, but to flourish. This Men’s Health Month, let that be our commitment. Not simply to keep men alive, but to help them live well.
Mr Ukoh, a PhD student and coauthor of Built By The Ancestors, writes from his base in New York, the United States