(+035) 527-1710-70
In many households all over the world, boys are raised to be tough and showing emotion is a sign of weakness. From as early as childhood, the message is clear: man up, stay strong, do not cry. ‘Wewe ni mwanaume‘ becomes less of a statement and more of a lifetime instruction manual.
Over time, this kind of conditioning creates generations of men who learn to suppress their emotions, no matter how much pain they carry inside.
As the world marks Men’s Mental Health Month this June, it is becoming increasingly clear that men’s mental well-being is not just a personal issue; it is a global concern. In Kenya, according to the Kenya Mental Health Policy (2015–2030), one in every ten Kenyans suffers from a common mental disorder.
Men make up a large but often invisible part of this statistic. They are the ones who rarely speak up, who disappear into drinking dens, who smile in public but suffer in private. And when the pain becomes unbearable, too many choose to end it all together.
Mental health experts in Kenya and vocal influencers like media personality Oga Obinna have long warned about the silent crisis among men.
According to data from the Kenya National Bureau of Statistics (KNBS) and the Ministry of Health, men account for the majority of suicide cases in the country, with estimates suggesting men are four times more likely to die by suicide than women. And yet, the same men are the least likely to seek professional help.
This is because society has taught them that vulnerability equals failure. That therapy is for the weak. Admitting you are struggling is a sign that you have lost control.
The emotional load men carry is heavy. They are expected to be providers, protectors, and decision-makers. A man who loses his job is seen as having failed his family. A man going through emotional trauma is told to tough it up. Even within marriages, men are less likely to open up for fear of being misunderstood.
For young men, especially those living in urban areas, the pressure to succeed in a highly competitive economy can be overwhelming. Many graduate from university only to face years of joblessness. The frustration builds. And because emotional language was never taught, many resort to silence, alcohol, violence, or even crime.
Men’s Mental Health Month is not just about awareness; it is about action. It is about creating safe spaces for men to speak without fear of judgment. It is about encouraging families to have open, honest conversations. It is about teaching boys that it’s okay to cry, to feel, to ask for help.
Forget stoicism
We must begin by acknowledging what is often ignored. The reality is this: men cry. Men have panic attacks. Men battle insecurities. They self-harm. Some struggle with eating disorders. Many go to therapy. They carry trauma. They have body image issues. They are abused. They fall. And most importantly, men need love, care, and support.
These are not signs of weakness. They are signs of being human.
For far too long, society has expected men to be unbreakable, stoic in the face of pain, calm under pressure, and emotionless in moments of grief. This unrealistic expectation is damaging. It forces men to suppress their emotions and suffer in silence, leading to internal battles they should never have to fight alone.
It is okay
It is time we abandon the myth that masculinity means silence and strength at all costs. It is okay for men to unravel. It is okay to feel deeply. And it is more than okay to speak up.
True strength lies in vulnerability. Let us build a society where men are free to be fully human.
We must normalise therapy, mentorship, and peer support for men. We must start conversations in churches, barbershops, workplaces, and social clubs, the places men already gather. And more importantly, we must listen. Not to fix, but to understand.
If county governments and the Ministry of Health can collaborate with these organisations and include male-focused mental health campaigns in county budgets, the impact could be tremendous.
To every man reading this, whether you are a university student in Eldoret, a farmer in Kakamega, or a businessman in Nairobi, your mental health matters. Your silence does not have to be permanent. Speak. Share. Heal.
