When men were taught not to feel

In the evolution of humankind, nature initially shaped the role of men through necessity. Survival demanded strength, endurance, and provision. Later, as humans formed civilisations, society began to define not only what roles men would play but also what responsibilities they would carry. What remained constant across both nature and society was the expectation that men would be providers. What changed, however, was the treatment of men’s emotions.

While nature places no inherent limits on emotional expression, society has long taught men to control their feelings in the pursuit of practicality, authority, and power. Psychologists note that in early childhood, boys and girls express emotions with similar openness; meaningful differences emerge only later, as

social norms reward restraint in boys and discourage vulnerability. Over time, this conditioning leads men to equate strength with control rather than openness.

Thinkers such as Jean-Jacques Rousseau argued that humans are born emotionally open but are shaped by societal expectations. Historically, emotional restraint became less a personal choice than a social requirement. In many traditional societies, men were permitted to express feelings only within certain personal relationships, such as those of a son, brother, or father, while beyond these roles, open displays of vulnerability were discouraged. A well-known historical example is Abraham Lincoln, who privately struggled with profound melancholy in a political culture that demanded constant composure. Had men of his era been allowed to speak openly about their suffering, the isolation and burden of unshared emotions might have been lessened.

Male vulnerability was particularly discouraged in public and social life because it conflicted with the roles men were expected to perform. Men were cast as protectors, providers, warriors, and authority figures, positions that required emotional control. Importantly, traditional societies did not eliminate male emotion; they regulated it. Men could grieve in ritualised ways, express devotion, loyalty, or righteous anger, and confide selectively in trusted figures such as elders, comrades, or spiritual leaders. However, emotions that challenged one’s authority or role, particularly fear, self-doubt, or vulnerability in public, were discouraged, reinforcing a culture in which men learned to carry much of their emotional burden alone.

Over time, men learned to align themselves with social expectations rather than natural emotional instincts, believing this alignment would ensure stability and ease in life. Today, modern societies are slowly recognising that suppressing emotions, especially among men, comes at a high cost. There is growing acknowledgement that emotions and feelings are not weaknesses to be contained but human realities that need expression. For instance, workplaces now offer counselling and wellness programmes to help employees manage stress. In sports, athletes are openly discussing anxiety and burnout. Australian cricketer Glenn Maxwell took a break to address emotional fatigue, while English cricketer Ben Stokes has spoken about anxiety and personal loss, reminding fans that it is ‘OK not to be OK’. NBA player Kevin Love has shared his experiences with panic attacks and depression, and football star Kylian Mbappé has highlighted the stigma still surrounding mental health in elite sports.

That said, modern societies have redefined male vulnerability rather than fully embracing it. Men are now encouraged to speak about emotions, mental health, and personal struggles, but this permission remains conditional. Vulnerability is welcomed only when it is non-threatening to existing power structures, when it leads to healing, productivity, or self-improvement, and is often expected to be managed privately through therapy or controlled spaces.

This raises an important question: has modern society truly allowed men to open up? And if so, why now?

The answer lies partly in structural change. Modern economies rely less on physical endurance and more on emotional intelligence, communication, and cooperation. Emotional awareness has become an asset rather than a liability. As rigid gender roles weaken, the old justification for emotional suppression loses its authority. If men are no longer only warriors or sole

providers, emotional restraint is no longer structurally necessary.

Additionally, rising rates of depression, suicide, addiction, and burnout among men have forced societies to reconsider emotional repression, not purely out of empathy but out of necessity. Globally, men account for roughly 72 per cent of suicide deaths, highlighting how societal pressure to suppress emotions can have deadly consequences. Modern cultures also place increasing value on individuality, authenticity, and personal fulfilment, and emotional expression aligns with these ideals, even when it is commercialised or managed.

In short, society allows men to feel and share, but often only within limits. The challenge ahead is whether men will be truly free to express their emotions without conditions, or whether social convenience will continue to dictate what they may and may not feel.

The writer is a specialist in yoga and mental healthcare; views are personal