In Kashmir And Beyond, Male Silence Is A Public Health Issue

By Dr. Ashraf Zainabi

Sorrow in Kashmir often travels in silence. But not always the kind you'd expect.

While stories of women's silent suffering have rightly received attention, another kind of silence, one that cloaks men's pain, remains overlooked.

Behind stoic faces and restrained words are men carrying emotional burdens they've been taught never to name. These are not just personal struggles, they are public health concerns, social realities, and cultural blind spots.

From early childhood, Kashmiri boys grow up hearing the phrase:“Kar xhop-pe, Waddan cheukh kor-re hind paet-th”-don't cry like a girl.

This casual dismissal of emotion stays with them, shaping their sense of manhood and gradually teaching them that vulnerability is something to be ashamed of.

Emotional expression becomes unfamiliar, even dangerous. And while girls may find support networks within their families or friendships, boys often drift into emotional isolation.

This is not unique to Kashmir. Across the globe, boys are socialized to equate silence with strength. Whether it's“man up” in the U.S.,“men don't cry” in Latin America, or“be tough” in urban Africa, these phrases may vary by region, but their impact is remarkably similar.

They create generations of men who don't just avoid expressing pain, they often don't know how to.

The consequences of this emotional muting are devastating. According to the World Health Organization, men account for nearly 75% of global suicide deaths. In India, NCRB data for 2022 revealed that nearly 1,20,000 men died by suicide, more than twice the number of women.

The leading causes included family issues and illness, pressures that are often suffered in silence, especially among men who lack emotional support systems.

In Kashmir, where political instability has already taken a toll on mental health, men are particularly vulnerable. A 2021 report by the Kashmir Psychological Society highlighted a 40% rise in suicide rates among young men in the valley over the past decade.

Experts cited untreated depression, substance abuse, and cultural taboos around expressing vulnerability as key contributors.

This silence extends beyond mental health and into domestic spaces. The dominant narrative around domestic violence focuses, rightly, on women, who are overwhelmingly the victims.

But in doing so, we risk ignoring a telling truth: that some men, too, face violence at the hands of their partners or in-laws, and have little or no recourse.

A stark example of this emerged from the life of Atul Subhash, a 34-year-old IT professional from Uttar Pradesh. Facing an acrimonious divorce, Atul accused his wife and her family of abuse. His accusations were public, but his suffering ended in suicide.

His case, far from being isolated, sheds light on a silent minority: men who are victims of abuse but remain trapped in shame, fear, and disbelief that they'll be taken seriously.

Data on male victims is hard to come by, largely because most men don't report. India's Protection of Women from Domestic Violence Act (2005) does not recognize male victims, leaving them without legal protection.

Social workers and psychologists in Kashmir say that while male victims do exist, their silence is often more impenetrable than their pain. They fear ridicule, disbelief, or worse: being told they deserve it.

Recently, Kashmiri rights activist Dr. Raja Muzaffar Bhat helped open up this conversation with a video program on male victims of domestic violence, the first of its kind in the region. The program shared real stories of men facing physical and emotional abuse, offering a rare public space where their pain was acknowledged, not mocked.

But isolated efforts are not enough. The emotional suppression of men has ripple effects. It damages marriages, where emotional inaccessibility can lead to detachment or conflict. It affects children, who grow up unable to connect with emotionally absent fathers. It corrodes health. Stress-related conditions like hypertension and heart disease are more common in men, partly due to repressed emotions.

And it weakens social fabric, creating individuals who feel disconnected from themselves and those around them.

Religious teachings, ironically, offer a more balanced view. The Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, openly wept, comforted the grieving, and spoke of love and compassion. Christianity, Buddhism, and other faiths also value empathy and emotional honesty. But religious ideals often get lost beneath cultural constructs of masculinity, which value control over connection, toughness over tenderness.

Globally, there is a slow shift. Scandinavian countries have begun integrating emotional education into early childhood curricula, teaching boys and girls alike how to name and process feelings.

Campaigns like“Movember” have helped bring men's mental health into the mainstream. In India, organizations like Men Welfare Trust and Save Indian Family Foundation are advocating for greater recognition of male suffering. But the momentum remains limited, especially in traditional societies like Kashmir.

What's needed is a multi-layered approach. Schools must teach boys that expressing emotions is not weakness, but resilience. Parents should create space for emotional conversations with their sons. Not just when they're hurt, but as part of daily life.

Religious and community leaders can challenge toxic masculinity by emphasizing compassion and emotional integrity. And lawmakers must begin to discuss protections for male victims of abuse. Not at the expense of women's rights, but as part of a broader, inclusive understanding of human dignity.

The global gender debate cannot afford to be one-sided. If we are truly committed to justice, empathy, and healing, we must recognize that suffering is not gendered, and neither is the need for care.

In Kashmir and beyond, many men are breaking silently under the weight of expectations they never chose. To listen, to believe, and to include their pain in our conversations is not to deny anyone else's suffering, it is simply to acknowledge a truth long ignored.

Silence may be taught. But it can also be unlearned.

Author is a Teacher and Researcher Based in Gowhar Pora Chadoora J&K, and Advisor at The Nature University, Kashmir.

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