It's No Shame, Mate: Let's Real Talk About Men's Mental Health

G'day everyone,

I'm Eddie Solien, and if you're joining me for the first time, here's a little about me. I'm a proud LGBTIQA+ member and Torres Strait Islander with roots tethering me to the beautiful Badu Island. In my walkabout through life, I've not only embraced my cultural and sexual identity but also learnt to live with disability — managing Severe Heart Failure with left ventricle dysfunction, Auto Immune Pancreatitis, and Type 2 Diabetes. Each sunrise brings a new challenge, but also, a chance to be grateful for the journey.

Today, I want to yarn about something close to my heart and essential for our brothers, uncles, mates, and all the other men in our lives — mental health. It's a bit of a sticky topic, right? We've grown up in this sunburnt country thinking we've got to be tough as nails, quiet about our struggles, and always ready to 'she'll be right' our feelings away. But here's the truth, blokes: it's no shame in admitting when things are a bit crook.

Men's mental health is often the elephant in the room — especially for us Indigenous blokes. We're raised to be strong, resilient, the providers, and protectors. And that's deadly, but not at the cost of our wellbeing, eh. We see it all around; our mates struggling in silence, our uncles with a furrowed brow, our brothers with a weighted laugh. We know it, deep down, but the words don't come easy.

But why's it like that? Why's the idea of reaching out so hard?

There's this worry, isn't there? That talking about our mental health will make us seem less "manly," that we'll somehow lose respect. This mentality is more damaging than we realise. It's a bit of a bludger, to be honest. It sneaks up on us and our loved ones, creating a silent battle that many lose without ever voicing a single word.

Here's what I've learnt, though — opening up about our struggles is one of the bravest things we can do. It's not just about helping ourselves; it's about setting a legacy for the young ones coming up. It's showing them that strength isn't about copping it sweet all the time, but having the courage to say, "Hey, I need a hand."

In our communities, we've seen the impacts of intergenerational trauma, discrimination, and loss. As a queer Indigenous man, I've faced my fair share of battles, both physically and mentally. But I also know we're a community of survivors, of storytellers, and of immense cultural strength. We have the power to change the narrative on mental health.

And it's not just talk. Getting help can be practical, too. Whether it's having a yarn with someone you trust, getting in touch with a mental health professional, or even connecting with support groups (there's heaps of LGBTIQA+ and Indigenous-specific services, too). These steps, no matter how small they seem, are part of a journey to healing.

So, let's break the stigma. Let's make it right for men to express vulnerability without the fear of shame. Mental health doesn't discriminate; it affects us all. And dealing with it should be no different.

To all the men out there, remember: it's no shame to reach out. It's brave, it's strong, and it's deadly. You're not alone, and your story is an important part of our shared journey. Let's look out for each other, eh?

Peace

E