By the end of today, 16 men in the UK will have taken their own life. This staggering statistic highlights a critical issue: suicide is preventable, yet it remains the most likely cause of death for our brothers, fathers, sons, or, as in my case – uncles – until the age of 45.

Alarmingly, three-quarters of completed suicides involve male subjects. We all have men in our lives whom we love, care about, and want to keep safe, and it is my biggest wish that no other family has to experience a bereavement by suicide. Yet, it’s rare we have open and frank conversations about the topic, and I can’t help but think: why is that?

The more I reflect and the more conversations I have with my male friends, the more I believe it’s because we still view suicide and having suicidal thoughts as taboo or abnormal. This isn’t all that surprising when you consider that suicide was only decriminalised in England and Wales in 1961. The lingering stigma surrounding mental health issues, particularly among men, has deep roots in societal expectations and norms.

OFF THE TABLE

Generally speaking, men are expected to be strong, dependable, and able to provide security and financial support. However, these stereotypes do not do justice to the complexity of what it means or how it feels to be a man. Rather, they lead us to blurt out futile expressions like “man up” and “pull yourself together,” or to have awkward reactions to seeing men cry. Is it really any wonder that men might not feel able to talk openly about the challenges they face for fear of judgment? Instead, we all stay silent, and suicide remains shrouded in stigma. The discomfort surrounding discussions of suicide is akin to the discomfort many feel when discussing sex, especially with our children. Often, it’s tempting to think: “If we don’t talk about it, it won’t happen – our kids won’t have sex.”

It’s equally tempting to think the same with suicide. The biggest fear I hear from people is that they think that by talking about the unthinkable, they’ll plant a seed in someone’s head. But we know this isn’t true. Suicide prevention organisations, such as Samaritans, tell us that talking openly and responsibly about suicide is important to help reduce the feelings of shame and stigma associated with it and ensure people receive the appropriate support.

A study for NHS Digital revealed that one in five adults has considered taking their own life at some point – although I would hazard a guess that this figure is, in reality, a lot higher. Perhaps the greater issue is that most of us wouldn’t have a clue how to respond to someone who told us they were having suicidal thoughts because we’ve never received training or education on the subject.

 VOCAL EXERCISES

So, what can we learn from how we approach sex education to help us start conversations about suicide? We know there are risks associated with sex – pregnancy and STIs, as well as emotional implications. And we take those risks seriously. Sex education has evolved since the 1940s and became compulsory in all schools in England from 2020. Pupils now learn about what makes a healthy relationship, as well as sex itself and related issues including sexting, pornography, and harassment. I’m not suggesting the current system is perfect – I’m sure you all remember your sex-ed classes and cringe at the thought – but they got us talking and thinking more openly about sex.

Moreover, sex education has been shown to increase young people’s knowledge about sexual risks, the use of contraceptives, and even delay sexual activity. Most parents (and teenagers) dread having the conversation about how babies are made, but we know it’s important to keep our children safe, so we do it anyway, even though it makes us feel awkward. Through accepting that sex happens and talking about how to stay safe, we reduce the risks and help break down the taboo.

IT’S GOOD TO TALK

So, what if we did the same with suicide? What if we accepted that suicidal thoughts are something that might happen for the men (and women) in our lives, and we started talking openly and responsibly about them? What if we introduced compulsory suicide awareness education into the school curriculum, which helped us converse about the topic responsibly? If we provided basic training on how to have these difficult conversations, informed people about the support that’s readily available, and kept educating ourselves throughout our lives on the evolving pressures and risk factors, would it help?

Could you go home tonight and talk to the man in your life about suicide, regardless of how uncomfortable it makes you – or him – feel? Can you ask if he’s ever had suicidal thoughts and listen to him without judgment, tell him you love him, and reassure him it’s OK to feel whatever he feels? It might be scary, but it could also allow him to redefine what “being a man” means – and ultimately, help save a life.

A CALL TO ACTION

As we navigate these conversations, it’s essential to remember that vulnerability is not a weakness; it’s a strength. By fostering an environment where men feel safe to express their feelings, we can begin to dismantle the harmful stereotypes that contribute to the stigma surrounding mental health. We can also encourage men to seek help when they need it.

It’s crucial to remind our loved ones that reaching out for help is a sign of strength, not weakness. In conclusion, let’s commit to breaking the silence surrounding suicide. Let’s create a culture where it’s okay to talk about our feelings, where we can support one another without fear of judgment. By doing so, we can help save lives and ensure that no family has to endure the pain of losing a loved one to suicide. Together, we can make a difference.