“Men don’t cry”

Such an ordinary, everyday phrase. And at the same time, a deeply destructive one. For your men, if you are a woman. And for ourselves, if you are a man.

Because it’s not about the words themselves, but about the prohibition embedded in them. The prohibition against being confused. Against being weak. Against saying: “I simply can’t cope.”

So women are allowed to cry, to talk things through, to admit that they are not managing. And this is called honesty, vulnerability, processes, stages, and a thousand other formulations. While for a man it seems easier - because he doesn’t cry.

I conducted a small survey on LinkedIn. The question was about adaptation abroad. 67% said that it is harder for men.

What I personally observe in my work and conversations with male emigrants:

• Social expectations are still higher: you are expected to “get on your feet” quickly, be a pillar of support, and not lose your footing.

• Men are far less likely to unite for mutual support without competition or dominance. Have you ever seen men’s psychological support circles (apart from AA)? I haven’t.

• Asking for help is still perceived as a defeat, even though in reality it is a basic survival skill in a new reality.

• Emigration always resets a person’s social and professional status. And men experience this blow to their identity more acutely than financial difficulties.

• An internal conflict of autonomy is added: the habitual need to be independent clashes sharply with the forced dependence on help in a new country.

• There is also the non-standard nature and conflict of masculine models. What was considered normal in Ukraine may be perceived here as rigidity or intolerance.

That is why many processes of men’s adaptation take place behind tightly closed doors of rented apartments. In a sense of isolation. In tension that accumulates over time and eventually turns either into depression or into aggression.

Why am I writing all this? Because sometimes it is extremely important to look around and see not only yourself, but also your partner. To see his challenges and his childhood patterns. Because this is not a competition about who has it harder - women or men. Everyone has their own experience, wherever you are and whoever you are. And only when we see the human problem - not a “man’s” or a “woman’s” one - can this path truly be walked together.

So what do you think - who has it easier?