The silent struggles of men: Issues fathers don’t talk about

“and I am the most miserable man alive, and more so because no one at this dinner table has the slightest notion of what’s tearing me up” - André Aciman 

Societal norms are leaving men increasingly confused as time goes on. Just 50 to 100 years ago, the male role was clearly defined—labor-intensive work, becoming the breadwinner, getting married, and having children, often all before the age of 21. Our grandfathers were managing entire households while barely out of adolescence, following in their fathers' footsteps as the "pillar of the family." Women were seen as the emotional core—the caregivers, homemakers, and child-bearers—while men were expected to be the rock: stoic, unshakable, never showing emotion. 

Back then, the only acceptable emotional outlets for men were smoking, drinking, or working themselves into the ground. These behaviors became part of the identity of being a man. Struggles were suppressed, and any internal turmoil was buried under the weight of silent expectations. 

As comedian Chris Rock once said, "Only women, children, and dogs are loved unconditionally. A man is only loved under the condition that he provides something." That pressure hasn’t gone away—in fact, it’s only intensified. With the rise of digital culture, increasing costs of living, and relentless schedules, many men now feel more isolated than ever. The traditional definition of manhood no longer applies, yet society hasn't provided a clear replacement. 

Today, men are expected to be more than just providers—they’re also supposed to be emotionally available, supportive partners, involved parents, homemakers, and still “tough as nails.” It’s a confusing paradox: be vulnerable, but don’t be weak. Be a leader, but not controlling. Show emotion, but not too much. Meanwhile, cultural messages often glorify independence over partnership. Many women are now more career-focused and are delaying or opting out of traditional family roles, which adds another layer of complexity to modern relationships. 

Some women say they want a strong man who’s in touch with his feelings, but when he opens up, he’s sometimes seen as weak or incapable of leading. There’s a disconnect—between old expectations and new ideals, between what’s asked of men and what’s actually accepted when delivered. So again, the question arises: What is a man supposed to be these days? 

What Is a Man to Me? 

For many of us, manhood is tied to the pursuit of something greater. We look up to sports heroes, superheroes, even anime protagonists—not because they’re invincible, but because they overcome adversity. They struggle. They fall. And then they rise. Their value isn’t just in their strength, but in their resilience. 

Take Dragon Ball Z as an example. Goku pushes himself beyond his limits to protect those he loves. When he faces insurmountable odds, he evolves—becoming stronger, wiser, and more capable. That’s the journey many fathers face today. The pressure to provide, protect, nurture, and lead is real. Questions like: Am I enough? Am I doing enough? Am I keeping my family happy?—they're heavy. And when men feel unsupported, those pressures can become overwhelming. 

We live in a world that experienced collective isolation during COVID-19, and many people became comfortable being disconnected. But we’re not meant to be alone—humans are tribal by nature. Connection is vital to survival. 

Many men are still raised in environments where emotion equals weakness. From childhood, boys hear things like "man up" or "don’t cry," which stifle emotional growth. That suppression can lead to loneliness, broken relationships, and poor mental health. It's time to unlearn that narrative. It's okay to feel sadness, fear, even hopelessness at times—those emotions are part of being human. Real strength isn’t avoiding these feelings; it’s learning how to move through them and come out the other side. 

Men need safe spaces where they can be themselves. We need our tribe—the people who let us take the mask off, who allow us to be vulnerable without fear of judgment. 

One of the biggest reasons I started this blog is to connect with men who are struggling. My hope is to grow this into a supportive community or, at the very least, point people toward the help they need. If I can save even one person from reaching a breaking point, if I can keep one family from losing a father or a son, then this will have all been worth it. 

I want to empower men—especially fathers—through honest conversations, shared experiences, and connection. Because just like in nature, you can’t appreciate the sun without the rain. Vulnerability is not weakness—it’s a form of strength. And no one should have to carry their burdens alone.