The Armor of Masculinity: Why “Man Up” Is Hurting Men

“Boys don’t cry.” 
Three simple words—often said casually, even lovingly—can shape a lifetime of emotional silence. It begins with the simple fall in the schoolyard, men are told, in subtle and explicit ways, to toughen up, hide their feelings, and never show weakness. The phrase “man up” may seem like motivation, it was a way to dismiss a fault and encourage getting back up, however it was really a muzzle. It tells men that to be strong in silence. But in a world facing a mental health crisis, this cultural script is beyond outdated. 

To understand how we got here, we have to look at the history of masculinity and where these ideals came from. The phrase “man up” has roots in older ideas of manhood tied to war, labor, and survival. In earlier generations, being a man often meant being the provider and protector in totality—it was strictly men in roles that required physical endurance, emotional control, and unflinching resilience. Vulnerability, in that context, was seen as a liability, and made you unworthy of employment. 

It didn’t stop there however, as industrialization and media evolved, so did the masculine ideal. In Hollywood films, the strong, silent type—think John Wayne or Clint Eastwood—became the archetype of manhood. Emotions were for women to show. Real men didn’t flinch, didn’t cry, they never felt pain, and certainly didn’t ask for help. These narratives were reinforced in advertising, sports culture, and even crept into well-meaning family dynamics. Fathers told sons to "man up" not out of cruelty, but because it’s what they were taught too, generations teaching the only way they knew how-their own upbringing and learning. 

Over time, this exoskeleton, absolutely impenetrable became the default expectation. Emotional expression was feminized and therefore discouraged in men. Compassion, softness, and emotional nuance were seen as incompatible with being a “real man.” The result? A culture where silence became the price of acceptance amongst peers and partners. 

This emotional stoicism comes at a steep cost. Men are significantly less likely to seek help for mental health issues, yet they die by suicide at exponentially disproportionate rates to their female counterparts. They’re more likely to engage in substance abuse, suffer from untreated depression, and experience isolation. When emotions have no healthy outlet, they find unhealthy ones to quell them. 

Suppressing pain doesn’t make it disappear. It just pushes it aside, only for it to creep to the surface, rearing it’s head in a big way like a whale surfacing. Society demanded bottling up feelings leaving men emotionally unequipped to navigate grief, conflict, or vulnerability, and are often disconnected from their own inner selves. 

The traditional pillars of masculinity—stoicism, control, dominance—are increasingly at odds with what we now understand about psychological well-being. Mental health requires openness, reflection, vulnerability, and the ability to form deep emotional connections—all of which have historically been labeled as "unmanly." 

Around the world, more men are beginning to speak up—athletes sharing their therapy journeys, fathers expressing love openly, artists unpacking their trauma through creativity. These stories matter. They show that vulnerability is not the opposite of strength; it’s a deeper version of it. 

We can reshape masculinity to include emotional expression without losing the resilience and courage that define it. That starts by giving boys permission to feel emotions, and giving men space to speak on their feelings. This means teaching emotional literacy early, celebrating male role models who embody both strength and softness, and normalizing mental health conversations amongst men. 

The phrase “man up” might have been meant as a rallying cry, but it’s become a prison. It tells men to wear armor instead of being human. But real strength doesn’t come from hiding pain—it comes from facing it. From choosing connection over isolation. From choosing to feel, even when it’s hard. 

It’s time to break the cycle and rewrite the rules. When men are free to be whole—to cry, to ask for help, to be vulnerable—they don’t become less of a man. They become more of a human being. And that’s where true masculinity begins.