Beyond 'man up': The new mental health movement sweeping men

Benjamin Munene stood outside the therapist's office, his heart pounding against his chest. At 32, the electronic businessman had never imagined he would find himself here, wrestling with a decision that challenged everything he believed about being a man. When he arrived for his first appointment, the therapist wasn't there—and Benjamin felt a wave of relief wash over him.

"I remember being torn between going to my first appointment or not. When I arrived, the therapist wasn't there, and that was a relief," he sighs, recalling that pivotal moment three years ago.

Benjamin's story mirrors that of countless Kenyan men who struggle in silence, trapped between their pain and societal expectations. In Kenya, conversations about men's mental health are increasing, but stigma still persists. Societal expectations often pressure men to suppress their emotions and maintain a facade of strength, regardless of the emotional toll it takes. This outdated mindset has been shown to cause harm not only to men but also to society as a whole, contributing to high rates of depression, substance abuse, and even suicidal thoughts.

Many men do not realize that their struggles are treatable. For those who seek therapy, there are spaces where they can confront their shame, fear, and trauma. This initiates a transformative journey toward healing.

Also read: Why men live in the shame and silence of sexual abuse

At 35, Benjamin looks back on those dark days with a clarity that only comes from walking through the fire. To most people, he looked fine, but behind that facade was a quiet chaos that had built up over time.

"I did bizarre things like wearing shoes on the wrong feet, putting on baggy clothes, and reciting Bible verses," he recalls. He had consumed too many substances and unknowingly dived into depression. "I kept telling myself that it was just because I lacked money and that I needed to be strong to push through on my own."

For Benjamin, the idea of therapy felt like admitting weakness as a man, which did not sit well with him. "Growing up, a man like me was supposed to be strong within the family and society," he admits.

After years of confusion, he received a wake-up call. When he finally called the therapist to inform him of his arrival, he was told to come back. He recalls the first session of his therapy journey with vivid emotion.

"It was the first time I let down my guard completely and shared things I had never shared before. It was the first place in a long time where I felt safe expressing myself out loud."

Week by week, session by session, he began unpacking years of unresolved trauma and overwhelming expectations of manhood. "I sought help because I was excessively using drugs, but then I realized it wasn't the core problem; there were deeper issues," he says.

After three sessions, Benjamin was advised to go to rehab for a more comprehensive outcome. "I thought rehab was for people who were crazy, and I was hesitant," he says. "The therapist told me, 'Trust me on this decision for you, and later you can reflect on whether it helped.' Those words motivated me to try rehab."

Therapy didn't fix everything; it wasn't a quick cure. However, it equipped Benjamin with tools to identify the missing links in his life.

"I started recognizing why I struggled with relationships, parenting, and life responsibilities," he says. "I also had second thoughts when the urge to drink crossed my mind—something I didn't experience before."

Today, he talks openly about his experience. Not because he has it all figured out, but because he understands many men silently endure what he went through.

"For me, being a man means admitting powerlessness and embracing the humility of wanting to learn," he says. "Therapy doesn't make you less of a man." He continues to attend therapy, not because he is broken, but because he sees it as the best investment in himself.

"Wherever my patterns began, it started with me and stopped with me," he says.

From rock bottom to helping others

Daniel Gachanja's journey began in a similar place of resistance. The 35-year-old psychotherapist never imagined he would seek therapy. He believed therapy was only for people dealing with serious problems, particularly trauma survivors, and never saw himself in that light. All he could see was an alcohol and drug addict who was somehow managing his addiction.

When his mother first suggested seeking professional help, he brushed it off.

"I remember thinking that my issues were supernatural and I sought help from the church, thinking I was bewitched," he recalls with a laugh. "I even got born again like 30 times." Yet, despite his efforts, he continued to return to his old habits.

"'I'm just stressed; I don't have money or a job,' was my excuse for everything, including being abusive to my family and drinking excessively," he says.

At the age of 29, Daniel finally took the first step to seek professional help. "I hit rock bottom, got very sick, and my friends disappeared while my family grew tired of me," he reflects. He had even dropped out of his actuarial science course at university.

On his first attempt to visit a therapist, he was actually drunk, feeling powerless over his addiction. Even then, the stigma of masculinity loomed large.

"I sought therapy partly so my family would see me positively," he admits. "I never wanted to appear weak."

He recalls his first therapy session, where he began to unpack the complexity of his situation and the societal expectations he faced. During the session, he felt wiser and found himself trying to sway the psychotherapist.

"In the local scene, I was called 'professor' and 'kiongozi (leader),'" he laughs. He felt the psychotherapist never acknowledged his well-versed titles.

Eventually, Daniel shed his hard exterior. He shared his desire to fit into every space, his search for identity, and his low self-esteem.

"For the first time, someone listened to me," he sighs.

He realised deeper issues were contributing to his addiction. Over time, armed with the tools and skills he gained in therapy, he learned to differentiate between healthy masculinity and toxic masculinity. "I can cry," he says boldly. He notices a change not only in how he views and respects himself but also in how he views others.

Fast forward to age 35, Daniel is now a licensed psychotherapist and the CEO and founder of a wellness centre.

"I started this career for my own personal development to better myself, but as I continued sharing my story, I decided to take a more professional route," he states.

He still continues his own therapeutic journey, believing that he is a work in progress and that therapy is a lifelong commitment. Therapy didn't fix him; it provided him with something he truly needed: a safe space to express his emotions without the fear of being judged.

Today, he appreciates every aspect of his journey. "I would probably have been a drunk actuarial scientist," he reflects.

Also read: When masculinity hurts: A doctor’s call to heal men’s minds

Nancy Kibiru, a licensed psychotherapist discusses the impact of men's mental health from her professional vantage point.

"For generations, men have been told to 'man up,' 'don't cry,' and 'shut up.' These cultural norms have prevented many men from seeking the mental health support they need. As a practicing psychotherapist, I have witnessed first-hand how damaging this silence can be, and how powerful it is when a man finally speaks out."

The tide, however, is slowly turning.

"Today, a significant number of men are entering therapy compared to the past. In my daily practice, a minimum of two men come seeking therapy," she says.

Nancy explains that in mental health discussions, anxiety can be likened to the flu, indicating a mental health imbalance. When anxiety persists, certain common themes may emerge, such as excessive exercising, overworking, and experiencing imposter syndrome. As is often said, too much of anything can be harmful.

Unfortunately, many men tend to use avoidance as a coping mechanism. Common issues that prompt them to seek therapy include relationship struggles, identity issues, career burnout, and psychological disorders. Despite the weight of these concerns, Naomi approaches them more gently.

"I utilize the skills I have gained in practice to align with my client's personality, allowing them to be themselves. On my end, I communicate in a way that makes them feel heard and understood," she explains.

"In our practice, we adhere to an ethical code that promises confidentiality for our clients, ensuring that therapy remains a safe space."

"Mental health is much simpler than many men perceive," Nancy says. It comprises three main aspects: first, thoughts—how we interpret and perceive things; second, feelings—what informs us about our emotional state.

"Men often identify negative feelings more readily. How many times have you seen a man say he is happy?" she chuckles.

Lastly, there are behaviours—our responses to experiences. In therapy, they follow a structured process.

"As a psychotherapist, I step into the client's world, navigating through their experiences, and identifying both positive and negative events. I examine how these events influence behaviour and choices. The ultimate goal is to achieve a healthy balance."

The results speak for themselves.

"You can often recognise a man who has sought therapy by how well he can regulate his emotions, maintain a healthier lifestyle—including financial management—and establish clearer goals. They acquire skills during therapy that enable them to navigate their environment more effectively. Relationships improve, both with themselves and others, including colleagues, family, friends, and the larger community."

The perception that therapy is for the weak or wealthy keeps many people suffering in silence. However, individuals like Benjamin and Daniel are helping to change that notion. Their stories remind us that there is always a solution, and it begins with facing our challenges.

"Men can break the stigma surrounding mental health by advocating for themselves, vocalising their experiences, and challenging the traditional norm of silence. Those who have benefited from therapy can also refer others, thereby positively impacting society. It must start with each individual," Nancy advises.

She recommends viewing therapy as a vital tool that can be integrated into daily life.

"I recommend getting a psychological check-up every six months to catch early signs of potential disorders. Individuals with bipolar disorder, for instance, could manage their condition better if they understand their genetic predisposition."

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