The Girl with Yellow Shoes

June is Men’s Mental Health Awareness Month.

Did you know that about 70% to 80% of all suicide deaths worldwide are men?

I have always wanted an older brother. Obviously, that’s not possible. However, over the years of my life, I’ve developed relationships with men who would have taken up the role of a brother, a friend, a mentor. In my home, my dad and grandpa are outnumbered in a 2:1 ratio. Poor them. For me though, I think it puts me in a position to say some things about men.

The same society that tells a woman to cry and let it out is the same one that tells a guy that crying is a sign of weakness. I’ve seen my dad cry when his dad died. I’ve seen him cry when his best friend died. It wasn’t a sign of weakness to me. I’ve seen my grandpa cry when he speaks about his mom or grandmom who died long before I was born. I’ve seen him cry because he’s frustrated that he’s unable to do things he once did with ease. It wasn’t a sign of weakness to me. Instead, their tears tell me that the reaction love, loss, frustration and grief can look the same regardless of gender- it’s okay to cry.

When I first met my best friend seventeen years ago, he used to say he was a big, rough, hard stone (no tact, no feelings). Ask him now and he’d tell you that he’s a smooth rock, not so rough around the edges. He’d also want to tell you that I used to use the ‘f’ word a lot around him- Oh, why should he talk about his feelings? Inner me: Cuz you have them. Duh.

Of course, getting a stubborn rock to move is a waste of my time. Using a backhoe to try to move it wouldn’t help #iykyk. Instead, I’d do little things to meet him halfway when I knew something was off- I’d pyong game ‘til morning because it helped distract him. I’d watch shows of his choosing because it’d give him something else to think about or talk about until he was ready. When that time came, because it always did, I’d listen. Without judgement. I’d always listen. In seventeen years, those interactions tell me that men need someone to talk to as well, when they’re ready. Be ready to listen. It also told me that shark movies aren’t so bad and I’m not too terrible at playing game- but that’s just a side note.

Us girls have strong female friendships. We tell fantastical tales of sisterhood. But have you ever seen a group of men who are friends for a long time? Worst yet, from school days? A more beautiful love story is yet to be told. I have always admired the ease with which they support each other, the way time and distance have no effect on the depth or strength of their bond.

I have a friend who’s going through a rough patch at the moment. I know that I’m unable to reach him in a manner where he’d be willing to confide in me. So, I did the best thing. I reached out to one of his guy friends. I explained a little of the situation. With absolutely no hesitation, the reply to me was along the lines of, thanks for the heads up! I’d talk to him. His friend’s reaction told me that men care about the well-being of each other and it’s a beautiful thing to see.

Remember I wanted an older brother? I did get one kinna kinna. Brother from another mother sort of thing. He always answers the phone when I call. Whatever I have to say, he’d listen. He’d listen through my tears, my confusion, my doubt. He’d always listen. I’d call and he’d come over. Now, in all the years I’ve known him, he’d only hug me on occasion. But he knows that I’ve been dealing with a few things lately. Since he knew, every time he comes over, he gives me a hug. Maybe it’s subconscious. But I notice. His hugs tell me that men care.

The same society that tells women to be independent is the same society that tells men to be too independent. We can’t fault men for not wanting to ask for help when we live in a place that makes them providers and supporters, lovers and helpers vs provided for, supported, loved and helped. In my humblest opinion, “How can I help you make your plate lighter?” is one of the nicest things we can say to someone. I have a friend who committed suicide years ago. I say have, because in this and every other lifetime, he is going to be my friend. I know his plate was full. He was always a helper, always the biggest supporter, the greatest friend, the most consistent provider. But his plate was overflowing and there wasn’t anyone to lighten the load. The guilt from his passing felt heavy on my heart for the longest while- but his love and friendship told me that big hearts have hands that hold heavy things. We should always try to lighten the load.

If you’ve made it this far, and you’re a guy, I’m proud of you. I know you have a lot on your plate always but I think you’re doing a great job. I hope you have friends who support and care, uplift and meet you halfway to where you’re at. I hope there are spaces where you feel safe, loved and never judged. I hope you know that you deserve nice things too- self-care days and hobbies that immerse you in joy. I hope you know that crying is not a sign of weakness and it’s okay to not have it all figured out. But most of all, I hope you remember that we are glad you’re here.

If you’re struggling (and from Trinidad), the National Suicide Prevention Hotline is 800-COPE.