This piece was originally published in SAARI Collective’s fortnightly newsletter. Subscribe to it here!

We see young boys being asked, “What does it mean to be a good man?” It’s an important question. 

A new generation is redefining what it means to be a man, dusting off the dictionary of feelings and using it more often and more intelligently. They’re proactively looking after their health physically, mentally and spiritually. They’re putting in the work to unlearn the stubborn modes of operating that cause harm, to decolonise themselves, to open their hearts to deeper self-discovery, to share their struggles and to become active listeners. 

They’re helping create a new framework for dealing with stress, anxiety, depression and anger, and for normalising the idea that it’s right to take time to prioritise your health.

The question of being a ‘good man’ opens a vulnerable space, because being a man can often come with a shame-filled response psychologists call ‘the broken mirror.’ We see examples of broken mirror masculinity all around us: 

➡️ Men commit a significant amount of violence against women. 

➡️ Men police other men by shaming them into adhering to strict gender norms, or telling them to ‘man up.’ 

➡️ Men are more likely than women to get sick from serious health problems.

➡️ Men die in greater numbers than women from almost every non-sex-specific health problem. 

➡️ 8.6 Australians die daily from suicide, with 75% of those being male.

➡️ Men visit the doctor less often, for less time, and usually only in the later stages of illnesses. 

➡️ 43% of Australian men feel lonely. 

It’s the new generation that is working to change these facts. To create a world where boys who begin life beautifully don’t follow an inevitable pathway to become closed off teenagers and unhealthy, isolated men. 

It’s hard work. It’s generational work. It’s the work of a passionate minority of men and others who support them.  

South Asian men also get lonely. Mental health stigma in our cultures makes it harder to open up. Cultural expectations and family pressures to be like your stoic elders or live life on their terms can eat you up inside. 

South Asian male migrants can face challenges in translating what they previously thought was normal cultural behaviour into the Australian context, while at the same time facing discrimination. 

Looking at all of that in the mirror everyday, it’s no wonder the mirror breaks. It’s no wonder men don’t feel whole. It’s no wonder they can feel a sense of isolated futility and struggle to the point of mental health breakdowns or death.  

In Growing Up Muslim In Australia, writer Irfan Youssef describes the pressures he faced: 

“The Desi culture placed restrictions on us that we didn’t quite understand until we breached them. It was not only oppressive but totally devoid of any relevance to the challenges we faced growing up in Sydney. It was more of a hindrance, a nuisance. Apart from watching Indian movies that made us cringe, or listening to uncles give speeches in God-awful English at functions, we really had no structured training in how to be a Desi.

“We could never ask for what we really wanted. This painful process of self-denial for the sake of the other is called takalluf in Urdu. 

“Imagine going to a friend’s house. It’s a hot day and you are dehydrated. Your friend offers you a glass of water. Common sense says you take it. Desi sense says that you refuse at least twice until your host virtually attaches a drip full of water to your arm.” 

Irfan met Azmat, a Pakistani international student, who had become an atheist. He noticed that she didn’t have any support, with no family in Australia and not enough money to see a psychologist. He arranged for her to visit his parents in Sydney, despite the stigma of bringing an unmarried Muslim girl to his house, because he knew they would see in her the pain they had once seen in him. 

Irfan used his vulnerable moments, his brokenness to see that hurt in someone else. And he stood up against it. He challenged his cultural norms to find a way to help someone in need. 

In all the pain of men, in the midst of all the miserable statistics, we should pause to celebrate the moments when men make choices that lift others up. The boys and men who, in spite of all their challenges, change this world for the better. 

There is dignity and nobility, faithfulness and courage, energy and honour in our men. We need every one of these men to see that, to take steps to be healthier mentally and physically. But most importantly, to be healthier emotionally. To find healthy ways to unlearn their shame, and to wield their power and status responsibly. To see themselves less as broken or unsuccessful, and more as the empathetic leaders they can be, working towards a world with greater equality. 

There are a lot of examples of South Asian Australian men who are taking steps to redefine what a ‘good man’ is. Podcasts like Bottled Up, organisations like Shakti Mental Health, advocates like Tarang Chawla, Vinny Nair, Kashif Bouns, Tharindu Jeyadeva,  Shanaka Jayakody,  Sharan Velauthan, Omar de Silva, Sunil Menon, Shankar Kasynathan, Nazeem Hussain, Shaun Christie-David, Vasan Srinivasan and Irfan Youssef are some of the many names we see as examples of open, honourable and vulnerable South Asian Australian men. 

We encourage you to take time to connect with, and where possible, celebrate the South Asian men in your life. 

If you’re a man and you struggle with saying these kinds of words to other men, send them what you’ve just read. That will help them take action to be healthier and more connected. 

And if that happens, it benefits all of us.

If you’re in urgent need of help, please contact Lifeline at 13 11 14. 

Umeed Psychology and IndianCare offer culturally sensitive help. 

You can also contact Beyond Blue and Headspace for more options.