Male Loneliness Isn’t New

Male Loneliness Isn’t New.

We Just Couldn’t Name the Ache.

It feels like suddenly, everyone's talking about the "Male Loneliness Crisis." It’s a hot topic on social media, in articles, even popping up in casual conversations. But calling it a "crisis" makes it sound like a sudden event, a new plague that just appeared out of nowhere. As if we weren’t carrying this quiet ache, this unspoken distance – this male loneliness – for generations. As if we weren’t living with the slow fallout of men struggling with connection.

As a man who's wrestled with this himself, I know this isn't a surprise. Any man who’s done some honest inner work – or loved someone brave enough to do theirs – recognizes this landscape of male isolation. What’s new is that we’re finally, tentatively, speaking its name out loud: the Male Loneliness Crisis.

And maybe that speaking is a good thing. Maybe we’re starting to chip away at the deep-seated shame around needing connection. But let’s be crystal clear about what this isn't. This isn't about dating apps failing us. It's not because feminism somehow went "too far." And it is absolutely not because women suddenly "have impossible standards."

No. What we’re witnessing is the slow, grinding fallout of a system – patriarchy – that taught men that their worth was tied to stoicism, that emotional restraint was strength, and that needing anyone or anything was the ultimate weakness. This is the root cause of the Male Loneliness Crisis.

The Deep Roots of Male Loneliness

This story has roots that reach deep into our collective past. Think back to the 19th century, the age of industrialization. As the world split sharply into a public, work-focused sphere and a private, domestic one, men were increasingly cast into a rigid new mold: the self-reliant, emotionally unexpressive breadwinner. Older forms of male camaraderie, like close-knit workshops or community guilds that sometimes allowed for emotional bonds, gave way to a new ideal of the solitary, stoic provider. The one who provides. The backbone who must never buckle or cry. This wasn't just a cultural suggestion; it became an enforced ideal that fueled male loneliness. We learned it in the hushed reverence of church, the performative toughness of locker rooms, the unspoken rules of family dinners, and even, sometimes, in therapeutic spaces that reinforced traditional gender roles.

And generation after generation, we passed that lesson on, deepening the patterns of male isolation.

Psychologist Niobe Way's decades of research interviewing adolescent boys paint a heartbreakingly clear picture. At 11, 12, 13, these boys describe their close male friendships with remarkable vulnerability. "We talk about everything," one boy might say. "He knows me better than anyone else." But chillingly, by high school, that language vanishes. The open affection fades, replaced by guardedness and casual banter. Why the shift? Because they’ve learned the rules of the patriarchal game: Emotional closeness between males is dangerous. It's too soft. It risks being labeled "too gay" or simply "too much."

So, boys learn to trade authentic vulnerability for a performance of detached competence. And these patterns don't magically disappear at 18. They follow us relentlessly into adulthood – shaping marriages, fatherhood, fueling addictions, driving workaholism, manifesting as explosive rage or corrosive silence. Eventually, these patterns can calcify into men who genuinely don't know how to identify or articulate their emotional needs, because they were taught from boyhood that the very act of needing is shameful. This is the direct line to the Male Loneliness Crisis.

The Public Health Toll of Disconnection

This isn't an abstract philosophical point. It's a documented public health crisis. The 2023 U.S. Surgeon General’s report didn't just sound an alarm about loneliness in America; it quantified a silent withdrawal: men today report having significantly fewer close friendships than in previous generations. [[Link to Surgeon General's Report Summary]] This escalating disconnection isn't merely an unfortunate social trend; it has a body count. It's directly linked to increased rates of heart disease, clinical depression, suicide, and a shorter life expectancy for men. It's a slow-motion collapse, and for many men experiencing this profound male loneliness, the full gravity of it doesn't register until it's too late to easily course-correct.

And let's be unequivocally clear again: Feminism did not cause this Male Loneliness Crisis. If anything, feminist thinkers were among the first to name and dissect the problem. Bell hooks, for example, wrote powerfully about how patriarchy doesn't just wound women; it actively steals men's capacity to love and be loved. [[Link to info on bell hooks / The Will to Change]] She called the patriarchal bargain for men precisely what it is: an offer of societal power and control in exchange for emotional starvation and isolation. Feminists weren't attacking men; they were, and are, pointing to a fundamental wound created by the system and advocating for a way out that liberates everyone from rigid gender roles that fuel isolation.

It's also critical to remember that this male loneliness doesn't affect all men equally. The patriarchal story often tries to flatten "men" into a single, monolithic experience. But loneliness hits differently, and often harder, if you're a Black man navigating a world that too often sees you as a threat, making vulnerability feel physically unsafe. For a Black man, where hyper-vigilance is a survival skill, emotional vulnerability can feel doubly risky, deepening male isolation. It's different if you're a gay man who internalized shame around your identity, cutting you off from authentic connection. It's different if you're an autistic man who was never given the tools to understand the neurotypical social scripts everyone else seemed to intuitively grasp. Add layers of class, disability, immigrant status, or other marginalized identities, and the pathways to connection become even more complex and obstructed by systemic barriers. If we are going to talk honestly about male loneliness, we absolutely must be ready to talk about all men, in the fullness of their diverse experiences.

The Unseen Burden and the Double Standard

There’s another layer here that’s often overlooked, one carried largely by partners – often women, but also men and non-binary people – who have stood in the emotional gap. These are the partners who have held space for men's silence, who have carried the emotional weight for two within a relationship, who were implicitly or explicitly told, "you are the only safe space for this man's feelings." This isn't equitable love or intimacy; it’s a form of emotional outsourcing – placing the entire burden of a man's emotional world onto one person. It's not healthy interdependence; it's a dependency that limits growth for both people involved and stems from the man's inability to process feelings due to patriarchal conditioning and resultant male isolation. If you are one of those partners, I see you, and I acknowledge the toll that takes. Healing the Male Loneliness Crisis requires men to step up and learn to carry and process their own emotional world, rather than relying solely on their partners to do it for them.

Yet, the path forward isn't a simple flip of a switch. Even in spaces seemingly open to emotional depth, a subtle, confusing double standard can exist for men trying to practice vulnerability. I'm reminded of a story Brené Brown shared. After a talk on vulnerability, a man approached her and said, "My wife and daughters love the idea of vulnerability… until I actually do it. Then they’d rather see me die on top of my white horse than fall off it." This anecdote resonates because it captures a quiet fear many men carry: the apprehension that if we genuinely show our messy, unsure, vulnerable selves, even the people closest to us, the ones who say they long for more depth, might ultimately recoil or pull away.

And here’s where the shared systemic conditioning comes sharply into focus. While men historically built and disproportionately benefited from patriarchy’s architecture, we are all conditioned within this system, and it shapes everyone’s expectations of gender. This includes how we react to male vulnerability, which is key to addressing the Male Loneliness Crisis. Girls and women may be taught to say they want sensitive partners in theory, but they too can be unconsciously shaped to feel uncomfortable or even repelled by male vulnerability in practice, particularly when it challenges traditional ideas of male strength, competence, or the feeling of safety derived from a partner's perceived unshakability. When a man reveals fear, shame, or helplessness, it can trigger deeply ingrained responses in others. For some, especially those who have been hurt by men's unprocessed or destructively expressed emotions, a man's vulnerability may not feel like a bid for connection, but rather a sign of instability or even a potential threat. This recoil isn’t necessarily cruelty; it’s a complex interplay of societal conditioning, learned gender roles, and sometimes, personal trauma.

So, the lesson men learn young is reinforced throughout life: you're allowed to hurt, but only silently. Be soft, perhaps, but never uncertain or dependent. Express emotion, but only the "acceptable" emotions (like anger or pride) and at the "right" volume and time. Anything outside of that narrow script risks triggering shame – not just from other men upholding the code, but potentially from the people you love most, who are also navigating the system's rules. This dynamic perpetuates the cycle of male loneliness and isolation.

Naming the System, Finding the Way Forward

Naming this complex dynamic isn’t about assigning blame. It’s about pursuing truth and clarity. If we genuinely want to untangle the knots of male loneliness and isolation, we have to admit that the system shaping us isn't confined to locker rooms or men's retreats. It lives subtly and overtly in family dinners, in romantic partnerships, in parenting styles, and especially, in silence. And healing this systemic wound requires everyone – men, women, and people of all gender identities – to look honestly at the roles we’ve been taught to play, the expectations we hold, and the ones we are willing to rewrite to combat the Male Loneliness Crisis.

So, where do we go from here, collectively and individually? The path out of the Male Loneliness Crisis begins with conscious effort.

We start by consciously stopping the blame – particularly the misdirected blame towards women or external factors. We stop hiding behind the tired masks of irony, sarcasm, or forced detachment that maintain male isolation. We begin the slow, often uncomfortable, process of remembering what we’ve lost. The ease of friendship we had as boys. The capacity for unguarded affection. The younger version of ourselves who simply longed for someone else to say, "Me too."

We need to build new muscle – emotional literacy, genuine curiosity about our inner lives and the lives of others, and the courage to offer and receive care. This won't happen overnight, and it won't be perfect. But it can happen, slowly. One conversation at a time. One genuine hug that lasts a beat longer than comfortable. One small risk of vulnerability.

Building connection to combat male loneliness might look like sending a text to a male friend just to say you're thinking about him, with no agenda. It might be committing to reading bell hooks or other thinkers who challenge patriarchal norms instead of mocking them. It might be telling your son, explicitly and genuinely, that it is okay and good to cry, and showing him you mean it. It might be asking your own father or an older male figure what he was afraid of when he was younger. Or, powerfully, it might be allowing yourself to finally feel and express grief, sadness, or fear after years of learned numbness. Consider seeking therapy specifically focused on relational issues or emotional intelligence, joining structured men's groups focused on emotional growth, or engaging in community activities that build camaraderie beyond competition.

This isn't about rescuing men from some inherent weakness. It is about reclaiming our full, complex, messy, beautiful humanity. Because the truth is, the longer we maintain the pretense that we don't deeply need connection, the more we wither from the inside out. And in that process, the world loses the immense value of what men, when connected to their full selves, can offer: genuine tenderness, fierce loyalty, reciprocal care, emotional depth, and true, present strength.

The Male Loneliness Crisis is undeniably real. But it is not new, and it is not inevitable. It was built piece by piece by the system we all inhabit and perpetuate. Which means, piece by piece, we can choose to uncreate it.

If we are brave enough to feel again, and brave enough to let others see us doing so.

Resources & Next Steps:

• Looking for support or ways to connect? Consider exploring:

  • Therapy focused on relational issues or emotional intelligence. [[Link to Therapy Resources Page - Internal or External]]

  • Structured men's groups (check for local or online options focused on emotional growth, not just activity). [[Link to Men's Group Directory - External]]

  • Community organizations or volunteer opportunities that build camaraderie.

  • Books like Niobe Way's "Deep Secrets" or bell hooks' "The Will to Change: Men, Masculinity, and Love." [[Link to Book Listings]]

  • Information on the U.S. Surgeon General's report on the loneliness epidemic. [[Link to Report]]

Embracing Wholeness: Understanding Resistance and Enhancing Intimacy in LDS Relationships

EMBRACING WHOLENESS: UNDERSTANDING RESISTANCE AND ENHANCING INTIMACY IN LDS RELATIONSHIPS

Introduction

Swiss psychiatrist Carl Gustav Jung, famed for his invaluable insights into the human psyche, opined, "What you resist not only persists, but will grow in size." For Latter-day Saints, incorporating this philosophy into our relationships opens the door to increased closeness and personal evolution. It's achieved by recognizing and merging the elements of our personalities that we may initially resist. Dive into Stanford's Encyclopedia of Philosophy for an exhaustive study of Jung's oeuvre. For further reading on Jung's work, you can check out Stanford's Encyclopedia of Philosophy.

The Role of Resistance in LDS Relationships

Resistance is a normal human response to change, discomfort, or perceived threats, often appearing as avoidance, denial, or procrastination. Jung's observation highlights that when we resist specific thoughts, feelings, or experiences, we unintentionally empower them, causing them to persist and possibly grow in magnitude.

Central to this idea is the concept of the "shadow," a term introduced by Jung to describe the repressed or disowned aspects of our psyche. The shadow represents parts of ourselves that we might view as negative, shameful, or unacceptable. By resisting or suppressing these aspects, we inadvertently give them more control over our lives and impact our LDS relationships. If you're interested in a comprehensive understanding of the "shadow" concept, you can refer to this Verywell Mind article.

The Gift of Resistance for Personal Growth in LDS Couples

Although it may seem counterintuitive, embracing and confronting our resistance can lead to personal growth and increased intimacy in our relationships. When we deny or suppress parts of ourselves, we hinder our potential and create internal conflict. The paradox is that by facing what we resist, we can move beyond it, fostering self-awareness, compassion, and a deeper understanding of our true selves. For guidance on strengthening relationships within the LDS context, please check this resource.

Welcoming the Shadow to Improve LDS Relationship Intimacy

Jung believed that by integrating the shadow, we could achieve psychological wholeness and a more balanced personality. This process involves acknowledging, understanding, and accepting the aspects of ourselves that we have been resisting. Here are some steps to welcome the shadow and nurture personal growth in LDS couples:

1. Self-awareness: Cultivate self-awareness to recognize and understand our resistance. Pay attention to recurring patterns, emotional triggers, and areas of discomfort in your life. These may point to unresolved issues or repressed aspects of your psyche that affect your LDS relationship.

2. Compassion: Approach your shadow with curiosity and compassion. Instead of judging or condemning these aspects of yourself, seek to understand the root causes and the role they play in your life and LDS relationship.

3. Expression: Discover healthy ways to express and explore your shadow. This could involve journaling, creating art, or participating in open and honest conversations with trusted friends or a therapist.

4. Integration: Endeavor to incorporate your shadow into your self-concept. Recognize that these aspects are a part of you and that they hold valuable insights and lessons for personal growth and LDS relationship enhancement.

For an interesting perspective on the resistance in the context of psychological growth, visit this Psychology Today article.

Conclusion

Jung's insight that "what you resist not only persists, but will grow in size" serves as a powerful reminder of the significance of facing our inner obstacles and embracing our authentic selves. By acknowledging and integrating the shadow, we can transform resistance into growth, ultimately leading to more balanced and fulfilling lives and LDS relationships. As Latter-day Saints, we understand the importance of continual progression, and embracing our resistance can be an invaluable catalyst for change and self-discovery in our journey to improve LDS relationship intimacy. For professional insights into how therapy can help with shadow work, refer to this GoodTherapy article.