The Wound, the Tree and the Fruit
Today I had the privilege of speaking at the Thrive Men’s Weekend on a subject that sits at the heart of so much of the work I do: The Wound, the Tree and the Fruit.
One of the greatest lessons from my own healing journey is this, we often meet people’s behaviour without understanding their wounds. We see the anger, withdrawal, control, insecurity or inability to communicate. But sometimes those are only the fruit. Underneath may be rejection, abandonment, shame, fear, betrayal ,or a little boy who learnt very early that being strong meant never saying, “I’m hurting.”
Understanding our wounds does not excuse harmful behaviour. It helps us identify the root and take responsibility for healing it.
Because when a man heals, it can change the way he husbands, fathers, communicates and creates emotional safety in his home. And ultimately, it can change what the next generation inherits.
Maybe instead of only asking, “What is wrong with you?” we also need to ask, “What happened to you?”
And then have the courage to ask ourselves: “What is happening inside me?”
We can pass wounds down. Or we can pass healing down.
Domestic Violence Happens to Men Too
But do we really create enough space for men to say, “I am being abused,” without questioning their masculinity, laughing at them, or telling them to just deal with it?
Abuse is not only physical. It can look like control, humiliation, threats, intimidation, isolation, financial control, or constantly living in fear of your partner.
And this is why creating safe spaces for men matters.
I’m really encouraged that this weekend our Thrive Men’s Community is having a weekend away, where men are able to come together and talk openly about relationships, fatherhood, marriage, mental health, trauma, pressures, struggles, and the things men do not always have permission to say out loud.
It is a start.
Because if we want men to speak, we also have to build spaces where they know they will be heard.
So I keep asking myself: how many men are suffering quietly because they believe asking for help will make them look weak?
And perhaps an even bigger question for us as a community is: what are we doing to make it safer for men to speak before they reach breaking point?
Strength is not silence. Sometimes strength is simply being able to say, “I need help.” Continuing the Conversation.
I’ve written more about the many faces of domestic violence, including the experiences of men, women and migrant families, on my blog: “The Many Faces of Domestic Violence: Men, Women, Families and the Weight of Migration.”
We need more conversations. More safe spaces. And more permission for men to tell the truth about what they are carrying.
