What my Dad taught me about strong men…

My dad had many, what you may call, “traditional” masculine traits. He knew how to box, he worked in the construction industry, enjoyed Friday onsite beers with the tradies, as a business owner he was well respected and could hold his own with fellow company CEO’s, he loved watching his beloved Fulham FC (COYW) and was a confident, powerful presence when he wanted to be.

However, his true strength came from his ability to find a connection with you, whether you be a homeless person or high-profile CEO. It came from his ability to empathise and his willingness to show his own emotions and vulnerability. I’d seen my Dad have a tear of joy as we were reunited on my annual visits to Australia (I lived in the UK, he lived here) and tears of sorrow when it came time for me to go home. I’d seen him be just as open to owning past mistakes and showing his sadness and regret for them, as he was telling a story that would have you full on belly laughing. I know I am not the only one who saw this side of him, as he wore his heart on his sleeve with many.

I was overwhelmed to see over 300 people attend my father’s funeral. As well as anecdotes of laughter and good times, I started to see a trend in the stories his male friends shared about him helping them through some of their worst times. Of him giving them a shoulder to cry on over a divorce or grief or a failing business or battling a mental health issue; people telling me they hadn’t felt like they could speak to anyone, but my dad had given them an empathetic ear and a safe space to have a broken moment of emotion. You see, when you are brave enough to share emotions of sadness, hurt and fear healthily, you will find it gives others permission to do the same. Not one of these people thought of my dad as weak; they all described him with the utmost respect, as honourable and brave.

Men grow up being taught to suppress their feelings with phrases like “big boys don’t cry”, “don’t be such a girl”, “take it like a man” and this needs to stop.

I want to counteract this with some life observations my Dad wrote in a letter to me on my 18th birthday. These are words that have helped me through some of my most challenging times and I have tried my very best to live by:

“Whenever you have a bad time in life remember that it always, without exception, gets better and often the worse it gets and the longer it seems to last the better life is once you have passed through it”

“Don’t ever be too proud to lean on people when you need to and be there for people when they need to lean on you, in this way you will measure people and they will measure you.”

“Experiences are to be shared, and people’s opinions will only be listened to if they are seen to have opinions in the first place”

“Measure tolerance by the way you would like to be tolerated”

“We are all learning together and neither age, sex, race, title or even experience is a guarantee that people are right”

“Respect other people’s opinions and learn from everyone, without following them blindly”

I have lost 2 close male friends in the past 8 years to suicide, the leading cause of death in Australian men aged 15 to 44. The thought that they didn’t know they could share their pain, that they thought doing so wasn’t the ‘manly’ thing to do, is an indescribable heartache. I want ALL men to know that it is not a weakness to show emotion, to break, to cry. That the strongest man I knew was my dad, not because of all the reasons in the first paragraph of this article, but for all the reasons listed thereafter.

In conclusion, let’s all do what we can by firstly being accepting of our own emotions and secondly, by helping others feel safe in accepting theirs because the inability of men to express themselves in a healthy way can be incredibly painful, sometimes fatal.