A Reflection for Men’s Health Awareness Month
June is Men’s Health Awareness Month—a time to shine a light on a broad range of issues impacting men’s well-being. This year, the focus is on “Closing the Empathy Gap”—highlighting the urgent need for increased attention, funding, and support for areas like mental health, emotional well-being, and education.
Over the past few months, I’ve spent time exploring the importance of mental health, and this topic continues to be front and center in my mind. In my practice, I often see male patients hesitate to speak openly about their mood or emotional stress. Many quickly brush off these conversations with vague mentions of “work stress” or “being tired.” They might acknowledge problems like trouble sleeping, but in the same breath insist they’re “fine” and “handling it.”
I think about my own father—stoic and stone-faced, rarely showing how the weight of family and work impacts him day to day. But like many men, he has his tells. I won’t call them out here (just in case he stumbles across this post!), but I can always tell when he’s carrying more than he says. When I gently bring up therapy or support, he’ll chuckle and tell me he’s just tired. But I know it’s more than that.
Empathy—the ability to understand and share the feelings of another—isn’t just a buzzword. It’s a critical tool in how we care for the men in our lives. Throughout my career—whether working with veterans during my internship and residency, or now with my own private patients—I’ve learned that meeting men where they are emotionally is far more effective than pushing them to open up before they’re ready.
Instead of pressing my patients to talk about their mood, sexual concerns, or personal struggles, I’ve shifted my approach. I focus on listening, on holding space, and on being nonjudgmental. That shift has allowed some of my most guarded male patients to open up in ways that continue to surprise me. There’s an old saying: “You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink.” That phrase has become a quiet mantra for how I approach care.
When I sense that a male patient is holding something back, I gently lead them toward the “water.” Then—I “cop a squat,” if you will—and wait. I create an atmosphere of safety and trust, watching for that fleeting moment when they’re ready to drink.
I’ve learned that just because I want to help in one way doesn’t mean it’s the right way—or the way they need. Sensitivity, patience, and presence often speak louder than advice or instruction.
So this month, I invite you to do the same. Take a step back. Practice empathy. Look at the men in your life—partners, fathers, sons, brothers, friends—and try to see their stress through a different lens. Pay attention to what’s not being said. Let their nonverbal cues be your guide. Create a space where pressure is replaced with patience and reassurance. Remind them, in both words and actions, that they’re not alone.
Closing the empathy gap starts with each of us—and it starts now.
