What Have Men Been Carrying?

18 hours ago
3 min read

June is Men's Mental Health Month, a time set aside to encourage conversations around emotional well-being and the importance of seeking support. Yet for many men, the conversation itself can feel unfamiliar.

Nationally, men account for nearly 80 percent of suicide deaths in the United States. Black men are significantly less likely to access mental health services than their white counterparts, even as they experience high rates of trauma, stress, depression, and anxiety. According to Mental Health America, more than 60 percent of Black adults with mental illness receive no treatment at all. For Black men, the barriers are often compounded by stigma, limited access to culturally responsive care, financial pressures, exposure to violence, and longstanding distrust of healthcare systems.

Those statistics tell us something important. But they do not tell us everything.

They do not tell us about the father trying to provide while carrying grief he has never spoken aloud. They do not tell us about the man returning home after incarceration and attempting to rebuild his life while managing trauma accumulated over decades. They do not tell us about the violence interrupter who spends his days de-escalating conflict and his nights processing losses few people understand.

And they do not tell us about the men who come to work every day at BOSS.

Across our programs, Black men serve as clinicians, case managers, outreach workers, violence intervention professionals, housing specialists, peer mentors, and leaders. They sit with people in moments of crisis. They accompany families through grief. They respond to shootings, homelessness, addiction, and trauma. They advocate, mediate, coach, and encourage.

It also takes something out of the people who do it. Secondary trauma, burnout, compassion fatigue, and chronic stress are realities that many helping professionals quietly carry. For Black men working in communities they often come from themselves, the lines between professional responsibility and personal experience can become difficult to separate. The work is not theoretical. The losses are not abstract.

"People see strength, but they don't always see the weight." Amir Jalil

That weight deserves attention.Because healing cannot only be reserved for the people receiving services. It must also extend to the people providing them.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2ps8e6wBeUc

At BOSS, we believe care should be reciprocal. Healing circles, culturally grounded spaces, peer support, and conversations around mental wellness are not luxuries. They are part of sustaining the people who sustain communities.

This understanding is increasingly reflected across the country. Organizations and advocates are pushing for more culturally responsive care, greater representation among mental health providers, and investments in community-based approaches that recognize the unique experiences of Black men.

May our boys learn that falling apart is not something to hide. It's something we all experience—and something no one should have to rebuild from alone.

The question, perhaps, is not simply whether Black men are struggling.

The question is whether we are creating spaces where they can put some of the weight down. Because strength and vulnerability are not opposites. And being dependable should not mean being alone.

This Men's Mental Health Month, we invite our community to think differently about what support looks like.

Check on the men in your life.

Stay long enough to hear the answer.

Normalize therapy.

Encourage rest.

Create spaces where vulnerability is welcomed instead of questioned.

And remember that healing is not something people should have to earn.

It is something everyone deserves.