Can We Talk About Men Who Are Stuck Between Religion, Patriarchy, Conservatism, Loss of Power, Machismo, Traditional Roles, Stoicism and Modern Emotional Expectations?
I said to a friend recently that “We are about to witness a silent extinction across England, Wales and Scotland. A whole cohort of men in Britain whose bloodlines will end in the next 30 years.” They will not be able to procreate and start a family. Thus, the entire bloodline will end. This cohort of men are living in a psychological no-man’s-land, suspended somewhere between the world of their fathers and grandfathers, and the world they find themselves living in now. They are not old enough to belong to the traditional era, and not young or flexible enough to feel at home in the emotional expectations of the modern one. I said to my friend that I believe that because they are unable to adapt to the new requirements of partnership, intimacy, community, and identity, they will not be able to pass on their genes. He paused, thinking I was exaggerating. But look at the numbers:
- 1 in 3 men under 30 in the UK are now single.
- More men than at any point in history are reaching 40 without children (Office for National Statistics).
- The fertility decline is sharper in men than women; more men are becoming “childless for life.”
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Can We Talk About Gypsy, Roma and Traveller Boys and Men Who Defy Norms? The Mental Health Struggles of Gypsy, Roma & Traveller Men Who Defy Norms
Britain often prides itself on diversity. I keep hearing about EDI, where ever I go. I keep hearing about reasonable adjustments. Yet there is a population so close and yet so unseen that most people could not name a single one of its members. Gypsy, Roma and Traveller boys and men are among the least represented and least understood groups in the country. And within that already invisible world exists an even smaller one — boys and men who think differently, love differently, dream differently. The ones who ask questions that make the elders uncomfortable. The ones who want to heal, to study, to collaborate, or to simply breathe outside of tradition. These are the invisible minority within the invisible minority, and it’s time we talked about them.
According to NHS data, suicide among Gypsy and Traveller men is estimated to be up to six times higher than the national average. Yet few services exist that understand the pressures these men face, or the quiet rebellions that stir among them. Behind those numbers are untold stories, men who question, who doubt, who want something different. A Traveller man who seeks therapy in secret. A boy who wants to study law instead of laying tarmac. A father who leaves the road to protect his children from violence. They are the ones caught between honour and honesty, between heritage and healing. To understand them is to understand a Britain that has long looked away.
Sexual Violence Against Boys and Men — The Taboo, Undocumented, Unresearched Secret World
Sexual Violence Against Boys and Men — The Taboo, Undocumented, Unresearched Secret World
I’m sitting across from a man in his 40s. By all intents and purposes, he is well-dressed, confident and he smells good. He looks like someone who might give a presentation at work or buy a round of drinks at the pub. Behind the obvious, when he had walked through my therapy door 5 mins earlier, I could tell there was something behind his eyes, I could sense it, but I awaited to see and hear more from him. It’s our first session. I go through confidentiality, explain pluralistic therapy, and let him know that he can begin wherever he feels comfortable. The room is quiet, the kind of silence that stretches and tests the air between two people. It is as if he is waiting for me to start to intiate, but I hold the silence and space for him to begin. Then, after a pause that feels like forever, he looks at me and says, “I was a prisoner of war.” His voice is flat, almost rehearsed, but his eyes tell a different story. He explains that during his capture, he was tortured and raped repeatedly. For several days, they used his body as a weapon against him, assaulting him, forcing him to watch as other men were also raped and brutalized. Some of those men never came back. Others were mutilated before his eyes. He describes how they would hang him upside down, bind him, and hurt him in ways that words struggle to hold. He has never spoken about it until this moment. Since returning home, he has tried to take his own life more than once. The memories come like waves — sudden, unstoppable, and merciless. The shame, the loss of control, the guilt of survival, they’ve all lived inside him, unspoken, for years now. Sitting across from him, I am aware of the privilege and the burden of this first disclosure. Therapy, for him, is not about insight or coping strategies, not yet. It’s about giving shape to something that was never meant to be spoken, something buried beneath discipline, silence, and fear. In that moment, my role isn’t to fix or analyse. It’s to hold the unbearable, to let his story breathe for the first time without interruption, disbelief, or shame. This man is not an exception. He is part of a silent population of males in Britain, the uncounted, the unheard, and the unseen. I have heard so many stories like this. Stories that most people would either not believe or would laugh at. One client told me that he once refused to have sex with his girlfriend because he wasn’t in the mood. Over the years, she would mock him, call him pathetic, say he wasn’t a real man — and eventually, she would coerce him. “You don’t have to do anything,” she would say, “just lie there.” I’ve had multiple clients tell me they’ve woken up to find their partner having sex with them. Others have shared that objects were inserted into their anus without consent, by their girlfriends or wives. And then comes the question: how do you even report this? Who do you tell about this level of violation and humiliation? How do you walk into a police station and try to explain that your girlfriend or your wife sexually assaulted you? Stories like these don’t make the newspapers. They don’t appear in national statistics. In fact, they rarely get heard at all. Time and time again, we are told that the vast majority of sexual violence is experienced by women and girls, and while that’s undeniably true in many cases, it’s not the full picture. It doesn’t reflect the hundreds upon hundreds of men I’ve sat with in therapy who have told me their stories, stories of coercion, violation, and shame. I believe one of the major issues in British society is that we do not take male rape and sexual violence seriously. We are not recording it properly, we are not researching it deeply, and we are certainly not building systems that make it easier for male survivors to come forward. And if we already recognise how difficult it is for women to report sexual violence — due to shame, disbelief, and stigma, we must also acknowledge that for men, that difficulty can be even greater. We also need to recognise that male sexual violence manifests differently. For many men, it happens in the context of war or coercion, not necessarily brute physical force. Let’s be honest here now, in most cases, women cannot overpower their male partners physically. But some use other forms of control, manipulation, emotional coercion, humiliation, and threats, to force compliance. These tactics are just as violating, but far less recognised. And this doesn’t begin in adulthood. I cannot tell you how many boys have told me in therapy that they “lost their virginity” at 12, 13, 14, or 15 — to a woman or girl much older than them. These experiences are not rare; they are disturbingly common. This isn’t about diminishing what women and girls endure. It’s about expanding the truth to include what boys and men endure too. Because until we can name it, count it, and talk about it, these men will remain where they have always been: silent, invisible, and alone.Get in touch
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