Rethinking the masculinity in men’s health

When I first came to the United States from 16-year-old Santiago, Chile, I admired public health. My grandmother is a public health nurse and has accompanied her to the clinic to see patients since she was a child. These experiences have inspired my interest in care and influenced my perception of health care today, especially with men.

In my experience, I see a pattern repeating between various cultures and communities: men wait too long and seek care. This delay is rooted in the way many of us, especially in the Latino community, to consider masculinity.

There is a constant cultural narrative, and seeking help is a sign of weakness. I heard the news from migrant workers, older men who manage chronic diseases such as diabetes and cardiovascular disease, and my research on familialism, which is a powerful cultural value that makes families above themselves. When a person sees himself as a provider, any disease becomes not only a physical challenge, but also a personal failure. Men feel strong, silently endure, never putting pain on others because they see the value they can give, not what they may need.

This view of masculinity is not only cultural, but also the whole view of society. Popular media, financial stress, and even online viral misunderstandings can make what it means to be a “man”. Many patients come up with preconceived ideas shaped by quick videos on Tiktok or headlines they see on Instagram. In some cases, they are more likely to trust a 15-second video than a trained provider, especially when that video is consistent with what they have learned throughout their lives: Real men won’t get sick, and if they do, they will handle it quietly.

Too many men ignore the symptoms until they can no longer work. We ended up seeing them in the emergency room, sometimes with advanced cancer or uncontrolled chronic diseases, if resolved earlier. I see men procrastinate care not because they lack information, but because they are ashamed of needing help in the first place. This inner shame becomes a barrier to care and is usually invisible to all but those who experience it.

Meeting this challenge requires systematic change and grassroots innovation. Organizations like the Men’s Health Network (MHN) are working to change the landscape. MHN is based on the recognition that nearly every major cause of death among men dies at a higher rate, but has spent decades advocating for policy changes and education programs to address the unique barriers men face in access to health care. They understand that effective outreach requires eliminating the cultural stigma that keeps people silent about health issues. They are committed to standardizing conversations about men’s health while driving systemic change, making health care more accessible and relevant to men’s life experiences.

One of the most effective ways to build on this foundation is to meet men, not only physically but emotionally and culturally. This means creating spaces where men feel safe to acknowledge their needs. This also means rewriting the narrative surrounding masculinity so that vulnerability is considered not a weakness, but a first step towards wisdom and health.

At the community level, this approach has a deep personal dimension. I work closely with a nonprofit called MyHealthiowa, through which we bring care to barber shops, religious institutions, food restaurants and sports events. We train community health navigators and volunteers to enhance our community capabilities. We provide cardiovascular screening, diabetes tests, and cancer education where people feel safe. If someone never walks into the clinic, we have to bring the clinic to them. Health cannot start with spaces where people feel unwelcome, unheard or invisible.

Meeting men in a familiar, trustworthy environment creates the foundation for real conversation. In these cases, the man lowered the guard. They ask questions they may never ask during their formal appointments. This comfort is crucial. If we expect men to change their behavior without first changing the conditions around them, we will continue to see preventable pain.

Taking care of yourself is how you take care of your family. We often say this in our propaganda because it folds the narrative in a way that resonates with men, especially in a culture where family is everything. Self-care is not self-indulgence, but service. When people prioritize their own well-being, they gain strength and stability and continue to support those who depend on them. This includes being mentally present, emotionally rooted and physically enough to provide and protect loved ones.

This information can be particularly powerful for men who internalize people who equal vulnerability to weakness. In fact, speaking out loud, seeking help and facing the disease directly requires strength. The greater the scope we normalize these behaviors, the more we will change the appearance of masculinity in health.

Photo: Robedero/Getty Images

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