Of all the things that a man may be in his lifetime, being a father is perhaps the best of all. Of course, I am well aware of the personal bias, rather than a lived fact, that assertion carries, being that I am not a father. Even at that, I know men who are fathers in the genuine sense of the word. To be a father, much more than to be anything else, a man, I have observed, ‘must’ order his life; be a man—in no ordinary sense—who leads, exemplifies, sacrifices, protects, provides and a whole lot more. It is not that some of these things are not required in other social roles he has to play, say, for instance, to be a husband; it is that in fatherhood, there is no concurrent play at returns, yet men are more willing to commit to it.
As a son, a man grows to honor his parents for the provisions they make available for him and the life they help him live. He is to ‘be there’ for his sisters, especially if you are in a culture like Yorùbá or in an Abrahamic religion like Islam. He does the latter with reverence to his parents and as a learning ground for treating his women later in life. But not all men are lucky to grow as sons who have model parents; the familial ties are not particularly incandescent these days, and men, who later grow to be fathers, are caught in the crossfire. This is the villain origin story of absent fathers, useless husbands; it is also the black pot that begets the white pap of the responsible, kind men. While a group, terrified by mental wars, revisit their pains on the world, the other learns to suffer the mental attacks and prevent themselves from becoming the demons that hunt them.
It is Men's Mental Awareness Month, and here is one confession: this is the first time in my 20-something years of existence when I am conscious of it. Most men are like me. The knowledge somehow eludes us, uncuriously so. This says a lot about the tendency of men to put themselves last, to think less of their own well-being. When Mother's Day(s) is marked, there is enough hype and talk. Deservedly so. For Men's Mental Health Awareness Month, for Father's Day, more conversation, more intentional steps should be taken. Not only by women, not only by men, but by everyone. Men are not stones, fathers are not logs of wood. The way that masculinity has been conscripted into the long list of institutions that regress the world makes it hard to argue the vulnerability of men.
Men are not stones, fathers are not logs of wood.
In Yorùbá, for instance, it is noticeable in the language where men are praised for the suffering and hardship they can withstand. “Ọkùnrin mẹ́ta,” (three-man man) or “ọkùnrin tí wọn fí ń ṣépè fún ọkùnrin (the man that inspires the maledictions of men),” or “ọkùnrin wàwà-wówó” (man of strength and steel) does not leave room for vulnerability. In Yorùbá culture, men are the apotheosis of not only what works but what survives, even though it does not always work for men nor do men always survive. This mentality ensures that even when a woman succeeds at something or has to endure something, the best of praises are laced with masculinity; “obìnrin bíi ọkùnrin,” (a man-like woman) is an all-timer here. There's also “obínrin kìí jẹ́ Ikúmólú; obìnrin tó bá jẹ́ Ikúmólú, a jẹ́ pé ikú pa akọni ilé wọn ni” (a woman is not named Ikúmólú; any woman whose name is Ikúmólú, the brave one of her family must have died). Even when a man is of honor or successful, there seems to be a need to stake these things all the time; for my nonagenarian father, it is often in a declaration: tí ẹnikẹ́ni bá bi ẹ́ pé ta ló sọ bẹ́ẹ̀, sọ pé èmi ni (if anyone asks you who says it, tell them I said so).
The language that the world speaks to men is the language of war contracts: you either show brawniness or cease to be. And men die, in all manners of way. When a man cannot allow himself to live the simple dreams of ambition and peace but of commodities and power, it stifles a part of his humanity that society later complains about. Young men come to terms with this harsh reality when it becomes obvious that women of their age will condition them to either the love they fantasise or the depression they have accumulated. He finds out that as a 25-year-old man, he and a 25-year-old woman are socially decades apart. The man submits to silence where he should talk, because even an admission of pain is a letdown, the other accrues sympathy even from the same man who probably has more suffering than she does. His silence, rather being understood as a reaction he is forced to give, not the one he prefers, becomes a prison where the good in him is locked up with demeaning remarks.
Men should speak up, fathers should speak up, but where and to whom? A man trusts the woman he loves with what his struggles are, and the woman considers her weak, lost, unworthy immediately. There are no spaces for men to breathe, only combat rings. This may account for why the most suicides are done by men. They seek help less than women do. According to Yuna, “Women still receive depression diagnoses at nearly twice the rate of men, partly because men often avoid discussing emotional problems or seeking help.” What is less discussed is what makes men go quiet or avoid help. In relationships, in tough situations of life, in their own personal struggles. Men prefer to take the euthanizing route, because that absolves them of the pains of failure and the pains of vile judgements in those -ships.
There are no spaces for men to breathe, only combat rings.
The discussion about men's mental health is difficult for many reasons, but more universally for two. For one, men are arguably the chief builders of institutions, of cultures, and the more dominant gender in many social settings is the male. Notwithstanding being the victims, it is still largely up to men to create the missing spaces for their own wellness, whatever help the female may render. For another, most of the cultures are not without any major concerns for the women; which means that the absence of ease for men in a culture does not invariably mean that the women in the same culture have it easy. The question then is, who makes it easy for men, and how?
The answer, for me, goes back to family, goes back to mothers and fathers. To raise men who are not only better for the society, who are not only going to be responsible fathers, but also for themselves, families need to do better. When a boy child is toughened up with punishments, with unfriendliness, adulting into softness and care becomes a personal battle long lost before started. Chivalry is not a composite of unspoken pains disguised as poise; chivalry is a skill that makes men honorable to their families, the society, the women, as much as they are to themselves. Families should help teach that. Men should no longer be trapped in the binary of “weak or strong,” but admitted to the more compassionate considerations that acknowledge their struggles while not reducing them to mistakes of nature.
Perhaps, the Yorùbá literary doublespeak may come in handy here again: ẹni tí yóò dá aṣọ fún ‘ni ti ọrùn ẹ̀ làá wò (the person who will clothe one will be seen task-worthy by the attire they put on). We need better men, but better men should first be better for themselves. More men need to give unto themselves an ample amount of grace they extend to the world. It is also time we made it better for better men, starting with the fathers, any man or would-be man in your space. Expecting men to be better for the world should not exclude the world being better for men.
That man who you see as a leader sometimes deserves to be led, back to the belief that he matters. That man that gives a lot deserves to be given too. That man that fights for everyone deserves to be fought for too. That man that takes responsibility needs someone to be responsible for him, if only at his lowest. That man who loves deserves to be loved just as much. He is your father, he is your brother you have always known, he is your friend, he is your colleague, he is your coworker, he is someone you trust, and easily seek help from. Happy Father's Day and Men's Mental Health Awareness Month.
Leave a Comment