I thought being a man meant being tough and strong. But real strength comes from asking for help

Most people think a serious injury ends your story. For me, it’s where mine truly began.

When back injuries forced me to leave professional rugby, I found myself bedridden post-surgeries and on the other side of the world from my family. Rugby had been a big part of my life, and my identity was built around being the strong, silent type who pushed through pain and never asked for help. I equated strength with physical toughness and believed that if I lived up to this ideal, I’d be worth something. But now, I couldn’t get to the shower without help. Even basic tasks – groceries, cooking, washing – required reaching out to others. I literally couldn’t make it on my own. At first, I felt helpless and guilty for relying on others.

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In those vulnerable moments, something shifted. Asking for help, once a last resort, became my new reality. To my surprise, people showed up, not just out of obligation, but because they cared about and respected me. We connected in ways I’d never experienced through physical strength alone. I began to see that I was stronger not when I endured alone, but when I could open myself up to others’ support and connection.

My relationships deepened with trust and honesty. I started to see that people valued me for more than just my strength and ability to get things done. This experience expanded my understanding of myself – and of masculinity.

The harmful impact of ‘Man Up’ culture

At the time, I was beginning work with sports teams and university students, exploring how to create healthier team cultures and prevent bullying and harassment. That work led to the founding of Beyond Equality, a charity which has since worked with over 100,000 men and boys across the UK. Through more than 5,000 workshops, we’ve given men space to discuss their experiences and to explore how they’re shaped by different ideas of masculinity – so they don’t have to go through a serious injury in order to have these reflections.

I see diversity in men’s views on being a man, shaped by family, culture, sexuality, class and their personal history. But there are common themes: for example, many men feel a deep reluctance to “be a burden.” I recall an older man in a workshop revealing he had been hiding his cancer diagnosis and treatment from his family for six months because he didn’t want to add to their stress – “this is something I’ve got to get through alone”.

We see the seeds of this isolation sown in boys. If they cry, they’re told to “man up”. If they show emotions at school, they’re expected to laugh it off with the boys. If they’re passionate about something “uncool”, they’re taught to hide it. Boys are taught that there’s only a handful of emotions they can acceptably show – anger, humour, toughness – and given few tools to process anything more.

This is part of a constellation of expectations they absorb from peers, relatives, adult role models, social media and media: that men should be tough, strong, silent, always in control, straight, and sexually dominant. Many men resist these ideas, but most feel, in some contexts at least, judged against them. For some, these stereotypes feel restrictive; for others, they feel like blueprints for manhood.

The problem is, this blueprint causes harm. Men feel isolated, struggling alone with impossible expectations, while those around them may suffer the consequences of their dominance, aggression, or withdrawal. In a vicious cycle, often services presume men don’t want or aren’t suited to support, so accept that they won’t be able to reach some groups of men.

The power of self-awareness and connection

In our work, we help men develop self-awareness, so that we can step back in moments of anger and ask, “Why am I feeling this way? What’s really causing this pain? How can I address the root of the problem?” rather than taking it out on themselves or those around them.

Over the past year, we’ve run workshops to help men’s groups – community support networks, sports clubs, men’s circles, faith groups, men’s sheds – connect more deeply and develop tools to talk about wellbeing and masculinities. This need is especially obvious among older men who may have lost friendships over the years, finding themselves disconnected just as they’re redefining their identity outside of work. Building support structures through regular connection can help us navigate life’s bigger challenges as they arise.

We need to make a shift to seeing our wellbeing as collective, not only individual. So many of the struggles people are going through are bigger than them, linked to economic pressures, problems at work, family troubles, social marginalisation or social pressures

Focus on individual resilience misses a huge point – if resilience is the ability to get through difficult moments, to cope, to carry on, then a major element of our resilience is collective, built on the connections and relationships that we’ve built.

Men’s role in preventing harassment

Reexamining our expectations of men can also help prevent sexism and gender-based violence.

My first workshops with men were a response to the 2010 Hidden Marks report, which highlighted that many women students had experienced harassment or assault. In these workshops, I gave men space to talk about their experiences without judgement and encouraged them to see themselves as part of the solution.

What I quickly learned was that many had embedded beliefs about flirting, banter, and relationships that led to harm. For instance, some men believed that if a woman accepted a drink or danced with them, she “owed” them something in return. Many men had learned to approach relationships as if women were objects to be won through confidence and charm, rarely considering women’s experiences or safety.

In our workshops, we help men understand where these beliefs come from and why they’re harmful. In their place, men built confidence and skills in creating more consensual, healthier relationships.

A call to redefine masculinity

My injury taught me that I’d bought into the stereotype that men should be invulnerable. Letting go of that belief wasn’t a weakness; it was a powerful step toward a healthier, more fulfilling life. Now, I want to encourage other men to redefine what it means to be strong.

True strength isn’t about toughing it out alone; it’s about showing compassion for ourselves and others. My story didn’t end with injury. It began with the realisation that empathy and self-awareness are the real markers of strength. If more men embraced this, we’d all live in a better, safer world.

Dan Guinness is a former pro-rugby player and managing director of Beyond Equality. 

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