By: Brandon Evans, Gainesville City School System Mentorship Coordinator and Founder of Men Alive, LLC
Every man knows what it feels like to carry something and say nothing about it. Sometimes it’s heavy. Sometimes it’s just the everyday weight of stress or worry. This June, for Men’s Mental Health Month, we want to talk about why that silence is so common, and why it doesn’t have to be.
For generations, men have been handed the same script. Be tough. Push through. Handle it yourself. That script starts young. Boys often learn early that showing emotion can feel risky, and many carry that lesson well into adulthood. But men of all ages, from students to fathers to grandfathers, experience the same difficult thoughts and feelings as anyone else. Fear, anger, grief, stress. Feeling those things doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human. And it’s okay not to be okay.
Growing up in the 90s, it was very uncommon for men and young boys to openly show emotion. I was blessed to be raised in a two-parent home where I received validation from both sides of that spectrum. My father expected us to be tough, resilient, and strong at all times. As I got older, I realized he was simply teaching what had been taught to him. My mother, on the other hand, was a nurturer who provided my brothers and me with a safe and comfortable space to express our feelings.
As an adult, I can honestly say that finding the right balance wasn’t always easy. Society has often told men that showing emotion is a sign of weakness. For years, many of us were conditioned to suppress what we felt rather than process it. However, as I’ve matured, I’ve learned to embrace emotional vulnerability. Even when it feels uncomfortable, I’d rather express my feelings than let them build up until they create a “volcano effect” that erupts in ways that can hurt me or others.
As the founder of Men Alive, LLC, I strive to create that same safe space for our young men. While we live in a time when conversations surrounding emotional and mental health are more prevalent than ever, the need for genuine support remains just as important. I believe it is our responsibility to validate our young men by reminding them that they are fully supported, heard, seen, and loved. Strength is not found in suppressing emotions. True strength is found in having the courage to acknowledge them, process them, and grow from them.
The pressures look different at every stage of life, but they’re real at all of them. School and the weight of expectations. Long hours at work. Financial strain. The demands of family and home. When something has to give, mental health is often the first thing men set aside. The common response is to stay busy, plow through, or burrow inward and hope it passes. But emotions we ignore don’t go away. They show up somewhere else, in our health, our relationships, and how we show up for the people who count on us.
In my opinion, the pressure of always being strong is one of the greatest threats to men’s mental health. Whether it’s the responsibility of providing for a family, succeeding at work, leading others, or simply showing up every day when people expect you to, the weight of being a man in today’s society can feel overwhelming. I also recognize that every culture experiences these pressures differently. As an African American man, there has often been an added challenge of trying to remain strong, present, and dependable while also navigating stereotypes and expectations placed upon us by society. For generations, many of us were taught to endure hardships in silence. Seeking help, especially through therapy, was often viewed as taboo within the African American community. There was a stigma attached to the idea of “getting help,” as if asking for support somehow made you weak.
But I believe many of us have encountered seasons in our lives when seeking help could have provided the tools we needed to better manage life’s challenges and protect our mental well-being. If I can be transparent, losing three of my mentees within a two-year period changed me forever. The grief was overwhelming, and for the first time, I realized that carrying that pain alone was not sustainable. I knew I needed help, and making the decision to pursue therapy was one of the most important decisions I’ve ever made.
Therapy did not erase the pain of those losses, nor did it make me forget the young men whose lives impacted me so deeply. What it did give me were the tools to process my grief, navigate my emotions, and move forward in a healthy way. It taught me that strength is not found in suffering silently. Sometimes the strongest thing a man can do is acknowledge that he needs support and have the courage to ask for it.
Today, I share that part of my journey because I know there are other men carrying burdens that no one sees. My hope is that they understand they do not have to carry them alone. Seeking help is not a sign of weakness. It is a commitment to healing, growth, and becoming the healthiest version of yourself.
This is why the conversation matters. The numbers are hard to hear, but they’re important. Men die by suicide at four times the rate of women, accounting for roughly four out of every five suicide-related deaths. Behind every one of those numbers is a father, son, brother, coworker, or friend.
We see a doctor when something hurts. Our mental health deserves the same attention, at every age. Reaching out can feel uncomfortable at first, and that’s okay. Discomfort isn’t a reason to avoid it. True strength is found in being vulnerable: the call to a friend, the honest answer when someone asks how you’re really doing, the decision to talk to a professional instead of carrying it alone. And the young men in our lives are watching. Every time a man opens up or checks in on a friend, he shows the next generation that asking for help is something strong men do.
As I mentioned before, I am the founder of a community-based mentorship program called Men Alive, LLC. Currently, we serve 40 young men ranging from 6th through 12th grade. Every day, I make the conscious decision to show up for them. Even through my own struggles and challenges, I understand the importance of being present because I want to provide them with something I feel I lacked growing up.
While I was blessed to have the love and support of both of my parents, I never had a mentor. I didn’t have that trusted person outside of my household whom I felt I could always turn to for guidance, wisdom, and encouragement. Because of that experience, my Executive Board and I strive to be that person for the young men we serve. We want them to know they have a safe place where they can be open, honest, and vulnerable without fear of judgment.
Over the years, we have witnessed firsthand the impact that support, accountability, and genuine relationships can have on a young person’s life. Many of our young men have overcome challenges that could have easily defined them. Examples such as childhood trauma, the loss of a parent, emotional abuse, abandonment, the absence of a father, and many other circumstances that have placed tremendous strain on their mental and emotional well-being.
By being there for them physically, spiritually, emotionally, and mentally, we have watched them transform pain into purpose and adversity into resilience. Their growth and success continue to remind us why this work matters. For the past 14 years, serving these young men has been one of the most rewarding experiences of my life. It has taught me that mentorship is about much more than giving advice. It is about showing up consistently, listening intentionally, and creating an environment where young people feel safe, seen, heard, and loved. When we do that, we not only help them navigate life’s challenges—we help them discover the strength that has been within them all along.
If you or someone you know is struggling, call or text 988 to reach the Suicide and Crisis Lifeline, free and confidential, 24/7. This June and every month after, let’s make sure the men and boys in our lives, at every age, know they don’t have to carry it alone.