For years, Tobi Ajewole* believed that staying silent made him strong. He had a stable job, paid the bills, and never showed weakness. Even when his elder brother died by suicide in 2020, he didn’t cry.

Instead, he drowned himself in work, numbed his grief with alcohol, and told everyone around him, “I dey alright.”

But inside, he was unravelling.

“I was screaming in my head every day,” he told Guardian Life. “People thought I was functioning, but I was just surviving.”

Tobi is not alone. Across Nigeria, countless men are quietly battling mental health challenges. In a culture where masculinity is often defined by endurance and emotional restraint, men are taught to suppress feelings until the silence becomes too loud to bear.

Conditioned to stay silent

From early childhood, boys in Nigeria are conditioned to hide vulnerability.

Crying is discouraged. Showing fear is labelled weak. Expressions like “man no dey cry” or “stop talking like a woman” are drilled in until they become truth.

Dr Miracle Ihuoma, a clinical psychologist based in Lagos, believes this cultural conditioning plays a significant role in how men grow up to process emotions.

“Cultural expectations shape how individuals handle pain, fear, and sadness,” Ihuoma said. “When a boy hears repeatedly that ‘men don’t cry’ or is mocked for sounding emotional, he learns to associate vulnerability with weakness.”

Over time, these beliefs become internalised. Boys grow into men who feel ashamed to express pain. As Ihuoma put it, “We have raised generations of emotionally conservative men who find it difficult to open up, even in distress.”

The consequences are devastating.

The World Health Organisation (WHO) reports that men are more likely to die by suicide globally. Although Nigeria lacks detailed national data, local mental health experts agree that silence is costing lives.

‘I was battling demons in my mind’

For Ayomide Badmus*, a 34-year-old tech worker in Abeokuta, his downward spiral began when he lost his job during the pandemic.

“I was the first son. Everyone depended on me. When I couldn’t provide anymore, I felt useless,” he shared.

Rather than seek help, Ayomide withdrew from the world. He ignored calls, avoided friends, and started losing the will to live.

“I considered ending it,” he said. “But one day, I came across a tweet about therapy. That tweet saved my life.”

Ayomide eventually joined an online support group and began therapy sessions on WhatsApp. It was his first time opening up. “It changed everything,” he said. “I didn’t know how much I was carrying until I said it out loud.”

Where are the safe spaces?

Despite stories like Ayomide’s, therapy still feels like a foreign concept to many Nigerian men. Some see it as a luxury for the rich or “oyinbo people.” Others don’t trust the idea of talking to a stranger about personal struggles.

But this perception is beginning to shift.

Organisations such as Mentally Aware Nigeria, She Writes Woman, and The Psychosocial Hub now offer free or subsidised sessions, including anonymous hangouts for men. The goal is to normalise therapy in local spaces.

Professor Taiwo Obindo, President of the Association of Psychiatrists in Nigeria (APN), said men can experience all forms of mental illness, but conditions such as substance use disorder and completed suicide are more common in males.

“Mental health conditions tend to start earlier in males,” Prof Obindo said. “But many delay seeking help due to stigma, financial pressure, or the belief that they must always be strong.”

The breaking point

Marriage counsellor and relationship coach, Ojonimi Ojotule, said men often keep emotional struggles to themselves until they are overwhelmed.

“Men hardly open up emotionally. This is one reason suicidal tendencies are higher among them,” Ojotule said. “They don’t talk about what they’re going through. Most of it can be traced back to how we were raised, always being told ‘men don’t cry’ or ‘don’t show emotion.’”

According to him, most men never saw their fathers cry, and so they grow up believing silence is strength. “When a man walks into counselling, it’s usually because his wife pushed him or he has reached the limit,” he said.

Ojotule said men commonly speak about the heavy burden of provision. From paying rent and school fees to meeting societal expectations of what a “real man” should be, the emotional toll is enormous.

He also noted that some men set unrealistic life goals, like owning a house by age 35 or 40. When those targets are missed, many spiral into self-blame and quiet despair.

“A few even speak on fertility issues, being married for years without children. These things wear men down,” he added.

Ojotule also explained that men and women handle emotional stress differently.

“Men feel better solving problems on their own, while women feel better by talking about their problems. Most men don’t welcome unsolicited advice. To them, it feels like criticism. But to many women, that same advice is seen as love.”

Different forms of healing

Not every man is willing to sit on a therapist’s couch, and that’s okay.

Some find peace in prayer. Others open up at the gym, with their barber, or through creative expression.

Zionkhimanee, a 26-year-old gospel singer, said music is his therapy.
“I grew up where boys had to be hard,” he said. “So I put my emotions into lyrics. That’s where I’m soft.”

His track Ginjah Me explores growing up without support and the emotional baggage it left behind. Listeners reached out, saying they could relate.

“That’s when I realised I wasn’t alone,” he said.

The deadly pressure to provide

Economic hardship has made daily life harder for everyone, but for men, societal expectations make it worse. Fuel prices are high. Food is expensive. Job security is shaky. And still, men are expected to provide.

“They see us as ATMs,” said Uche Ajukwu*, a father of three in Anambra. “Even when we’re drowning, we must smile and say ‘I’m okay.’”

Uche was diagnosed with high blood pressure at 38 and later developed anxiety. “The doctor said my body was tired of pretending,” he recalled.

Breaking the silence

But a quiet shift is happening.

This Men’s Health Month, more men are turning the spotlight inward, not just on fitness or prostate checks, but on the hidden wounds they carry.

Some public figures are using their platforms to speak up.

In 2023, singer Johnny Drille opened up on stage about falling into depression due to the economic situation. “I know the economy is difficult and hard, but I want you to know that you are not alone,” he said.

Other entertainers like Falz and Don Jazzy have also hinted at their emotional struggles. In Nollywood, male characters are beginning to show vulnerability. Crying, therapy, and breakdowns are slowly becoming part of the script and it matters.

How women can help

Ajetunmobi Abolaji, a social worker at the Federal Neuro-Psychiatric Hospital, Yaba, Lagos, said women have a big role to play in protecting their husbands from emotional stress.

“I always say, don’t give birth to a child you can’t take care of,” she said. “It’s not about your husband dying or walking out, but if anything happens, can you stand on your own?”

According to Abolaji, when a woman is financially stable and emotionally strong, her husband feels less pressure, and that alone can help prevent depression.

She advised women to stop exposing their husbands to unnecessary family pressure. “If you know what he earns, protect him,” she said. “Just because others are sending their kids to private universities doesn’t mean you must follow. Live within your means.”

She added that women shouldn’t compete with their friends over clothes and lifestyle. “Buy your own cloth, sew it well, and rock it with pride. You’ll still look good for yourself,” she said.

A  better system

Younger Nigerian men, especially those in their 20s and 30s, are rewriting the script. They are choosing softness over silence.

From therapy apps to podcast confessions and social media threads, a new emotional vocabulary is emerging.

“I’m not ashamed to say I’m in therapy,” said Fola Adebola*, a 29-year-old designer. “The old model of manhood doesn’t work for me. I choose peace.”

But mental health support in Nigeria remains inadequate.

There are only a few hundred certified therapists in a country of over 200 million people. Public hospitals rarely prioritise mental well-being. Workplace policies are even worse.

Experts are calling for the establishment of free mental health clinics in every local government area, the inclusion of therapy services in Health Maintenance Organisations (HMOs), the implementation of mental health days at work, and the integration of emotional literacy into school curricula.

“The government should prioritise the mental health needs of men,” said Obindo. “Men need to be encouraged to open up more to share their pain, disappointments, and internal conflicts with someone they trust.”