25/06/2026
Somewhere around the world right now, there is a man sitting alone in a parked car outside his house.
He has been sitting there for 45 minutes.
Not because he doesn't want to go inside. But because the moment he walks through that door, he has to be okay again. He has to be the father, the husband, the provider, the strong one. And he is so tired of being strong that his hands are shaking on the steering wheel.
But he will wipe his face. Fix his expression. Walk in. And smile.
Because that is what men do.
We know this man. He is our brother. Our father. Our friend. Our colleague and nobody knows he is falling apart because he has spent his whole life learning how to fall apart silently.
From the time he was a little boy and cried and was told "stop that, you're a man."
From the day he lost someone he loved and was handed a responsibility instead of a shoulder.
From every moment life broke him and he was expected to just keep going.
Society gave men armour and called it strength. But armour is heavy. And men have been carrying it alone for too long.
Here at the Centre for Gender Studies, Nasarawa State University, Keffi, we study what gender does to people and what it takes from them. And one of the things it takes from men is permission. Permission to hurt. Permission to heal. Permission to be fully, messily, honestly human.
So today, we are giving it back.
To every man reading this:
You are allowed to cry.
You are allowed to call someone and say I am not okay.
You are allowed to walk into a therapist's office and sit down and finally exhale.
You are allowed to have bad days, to feel lost, to break down, to need people.
It does not make you less of a man.
It makes you a man who is still here. Still fighting. Still choosing to heal.
That man in the parked car deserves better than silence.
So do you!
Share this for him. Share this for every man in your life who has never heard these words spoken out loud. 💙
