Male Grief in Australia: How Men Reclaim Themselves Through Loss
At-a-Glance Summary
Core idea: Australian men grieve differently, often through silence, work, and duty — and these expressions deserve recognition, not correction.
Why it matters: Misunderstanding male grief leaves many men unseen, unsupported, and silently suffering under outdated masculine scripts.
What helps: Understanding instrumental vs. intuitive grief, recognising “shadow behaviours,” and creating spaces that honour male ways of integrating loss.
Who it is for: Men carrying hidden grief, partners wanting to understand them, and professionals supporting men post-loss.
Core movement: Moving Male Grief in Australia from silence to language. From endurance to meaning and from loss to reclamation.
I maintained my composure throughout the funeral service. I delivered an eulogy for my son and supported my daughters while they spoke, but as his coffin moved behind the curtains, my grief hit me hard. My then-wife jumped, startled, and grabbed my arm, and I stifled my sobs. Her action may have been to support, but it was a reminder that, as a man, the expression of grief, even profound grief, had to be curated within public spaces.
Male Grief in Australia – The Southern Land of Silence
Silence has long been mistaken for strength, and as men, we have learned that if we stay quiet, no one can see where we are breaking.
Our private survival strategies became a public story about manhood — one that still defines what strength is supposed to look like in Australia. Indeed, the Australian masculine identity has been shaped by stoicism, mateship, and the unspoken code of endurance. From the ANZAC legend to the modern worksite, men are taught to function under pressure and to keep emotions in check. When grief enters that world, many default to what is familiar — holding steady, doing the next task, keeping it together.
Research indicates that these same ideals also restrict men’s willingness to seek support. An extensive systematic review found that traditional masculine norms — self-reliance, emotional control, and fear of appearing weak — consistently predict lower help-seeking across contexts (Seidler et al., 2016).
This helps explain why grief in men often goes underground, expressed through work, withdrawal, or irritation rather than visible sorrow.
Connell (2005) describes this as the masculine double bind: men are expected to be emotionally literate yet penalised for vulnerability. The result is dissonant grief — a gap between what is felt and what has been shown.
“This isn’t a failure of men to grieve properly — it’s a failure of our understanding to recognise the many legitimate ways men process loss.”
Historical Roots of Stoicism
The colonial era planted the roots of stoicism deep in Australian identity. In a harsh penal system, emotional restraint often served as a means of survival. The gold rush rewarded perseverance and self-reliance, and after two world wars, the ANZAC ideal made silence and mateship into moral virtues (Ward, 1958; Damousi, 2001; Crotty & Larsson, 2010). Generations on, the digger, the stockman, and the battler remain as symbols of strength that influence how Australian men handle their grief.
Australian culture celebrates those who “cop it sweet” and keep moving (Connell, 2005). This cultural DNA makes it difficult for men to view grief as anything but a private burden to be managed, not a communal experience to be shared.
The Modern Double Bind
Today’s men face conflicting expectations. To be emotionally open but also endlessly dependable. The qualities that made their grandfathers heroes, emotional restraint, self-reliance, and protective silence, are now sometimes labelled as dysfunctional. This creates an internal conflict between inherited survival codes and modern ideals of emotional literacy (Martin & Doka, 2010).
Male Grief in Australia – Why is it different?
Because masculine identity here has long been tied to stoicism, mateship, and silence, men have learned to process grief through action and endurance rather than through verbal expression (Connell, 2005; Flood, 2020).
Reflect:
When you have lost something or someone, does silence feel like avoidance, or was it your way of staying close?
Question: What if silence could be a language of love, not a symptom to fix?
Is Silence Always Suppression — or Can It Be Sacred?
Silence can be a form of reverence, a way for men to honour what words can’t reach.
Silence as Ritual and Reverence
Across Indigenous and spiritual traditions, silence functions as ritual rather than repression. In Sorry business, prescribed quiet allows spiritual connection and communal healing. Within Christian monasteries, silence becomes a vessel for contemplation. For many men, stillness is not absence — it is presence (Rees, 2021).
In Western therapeutic culture, however, silence is often viewed as an issue. Men are encouraged to “open up,” but are not always given the words to express themselves.
For some, the workshop, the walk, or the long drive replaces the confessional — spaces where emotion and spirit come together without words.
“For some men, quiet contemplation is emotional engagement — not avoidance.”
Recognising silence as sacred allows men to keep their dignity while grieving. It reframes quiet not as failure but as discipline and presence. Dr Judith Jordan (2017) notes that relational connection doesn’t always require speech; sometimes shared silence builds deeper trust.
Is silence always a sign of avoidance?
Not necessarily. For many men, silence is how they process pain — it can represent connection, reverence, or steadiness (Jordan, 2017; Rees, 2021).
Reflect:
What happens inside you when you pause long enough to listen to the quiet?
Question: So how can we begin to treat silence as wisdom rather than weakness?
Why Do Men Often Turn to Work, Anger, or Withdrawal?
Because these are culturally sanctioned ways to keep functioning while grief reshapes them.
Men often turn their energy into action, not because they do not feel, but because they translate emotion into motion. Viktor Frankl’s insight that meaning can be found through purposeful work helps explain this (Frankl, 2006). The widower who returns to the job site early isn’t escaping; he is rebuilding structure where meaning has collapsed.
For many men, grief first shows up as irritation, restlessness, or bursts of anger. Beneath that heat lies something quieter — helplessness, fear, or love with nowhere to go.
Psychologists describe anger as a cover emotion — a shield against vulnerability. It is easier to clench than to collapse.
Harvard Health notes that anger can be a natural part of grief, especially when loss feels unfair or beyond control, but it becomes harmful when it blocks access to underlying sadness or meaning (Harvard Health Publishing, 2021).
Recognising anger as grief’s messenger — not its enemy — allows men to approach it with curiosity instead of shame. Naming it can be the first step in redirecting its energy toward healing or repair.
“Shadow grief is grief seeking expression where culture permits — even if the outlet is not sustainable.”
Why do men often express grief through work or anger?
Because these outlets are socially acceptable ways to stay productive while honouring private pain. Work and anger can both carry meaning when emotional language feels inaccessible (Golden, 2010; Elison, 2023).
Reflect:
When have you channelled pain into action — and did it help you hold your ground?
Question: What if work and solitude could be re-imagined as rituals of meaning, not signs of avoidance?
Work as Meaning-Making Ritual
In Australian culture, work has long symbolised identity, purpose, and duty. After loss, many men channel their grief through contribution — continuing a legacy or providing for those left behind.
Tom Golden describes this in Swallowed by a Snake as the “masculine side of healing” — grief expressed through movement, purpose, and creation rather than words or tears (Golden, 2010). His insight reframes action not as denial but devotion — a language of love translated into doing.
This aligns with Martin & Doka’s (2010) research on instrumental processing: a structured way of experiencing emotion through tangible tasks. For these men, purpose becomes a stabilising force. Frankl (2006) described meaning as the final form of endurance — the human capacity to shape suffering into purpose.
However, while productive grief can honour connection, it risks exhaustion if it becomes the only form of expression. Work can sustain, but it can also conceal. The key is intention — to let work serve meaning, not to avoid it.
The Wisdom of Strategic Withdrawal
Male withdrawal patterns often indicate sophisticated emotional intelligence rather than avoidance. Many men instinctively realise they need solitude to restore internal balance before re-engaging. Withdrawal can serve as protective regulation — a space to process the unmanageable.
Dr Michael Flood’s (2020) longitudinal research indicates that men who honoured this private processing early in grief tend to engage more genuinely in relationships later. Those who suppressed solitude to meet external expectations often felt emotionally fragmented.
Instead of criticising withdrawal, support systems can reframe it as disciplined self-regulation. It’s a man’s way of saying, “I will come back when I can bring my full self.”
How Do Instrumental and Intuitive Grief Differ — and Why Does It Matter?
Men often grieve in practical ways by doing, building, or fixing—rather than instinctively through emotional release. Both are valid, and both carry depth.
Neuroscientific studies (Fine, 2017) suggest some individuals process emotional energy through cognitive and motor networks rather than emotional centres. The man who builds a memorial garden or repairs his father’s tools is not avoiding emotion — he is embodying it.
However, cultural narratives still elevate intuitive grief — crying, sharing, emoting — as the “proper” path. When men don’t fit that model, they are told they’re “stuck.”
However, grief is oscillatory — a dynamic process of moving between confronting the pain of loss and restoring everyday life. This rhythm is captured in the Dual Process Model of Coping with Bereavement, which describes how healthy adaptation alternates between loss-oriented and restoration-oriented coping (Stroebe & Schut, 1999).
What is the difference between instrumental and intuitive grief?
Instrumental grief expresses feeling through action, while intuitive grief expresses feeling through emotion. Both are authentic and necessary aspects of integration (Martin & Doka, 2010; Stroebe, 2022).
Reflect:
Can you recall moments you moved between doing and feeling?
Question: What if you could trust both as legitimate languages of grief?
The Grief Spectrum – Moving between Doing and Feeling
Most men don’t fit neatly into a single type of grief. They shift fluidly between modes depending on relationships, context, and safety (Stroebe, 2022). The man who appears stoic at work may cry alone in his car. The one who jokes with mates may write quietly in a journal at night. This is not inconsistency but adaptive complexity.
Relational-cultural theory (Jordan, 2017) shows that connection doesn’t require constant openness; it requires resonance. For some men, side-by-side activity, like fishing, fixing, or walking, is the language of empathy. These rituals of proximity become bridges of belonging that carry grief safely between isolation and intimacy.
“Men do not need to choose between thinking and feeling — they need permission to move between them.”
What Happens When Grief Goes Underground?
When grief is unrecognised, it seeks expression in shadow — through overwork, drinking, irritability, or detachment.
Shadow behaviours often start as adaptive strategies. The man who drinks to sleep is coping with unbearable emotion. The one who overworks is safeguarding identity through usefulness. However, when these become long-term, they disconnect us from ourselves and others.
Dr Sherry Turkle (2021) describes this as “digital displacement” — where emotional needs find temporary outlets in screens, risk, or distraction. In men, this displacement may appear as control or hyper-functionality. The grief is not gone; it’s just wearing a mask.
What is shadow grief?
Shadow grief refers to hidden or displaced expressions of pain — when grief emerges through behaviour rather than words because culture discourages vulnerability (Flood, 2020; Turkle, 2021).
Reflect:
Where might grief be hiding behind “coping”?
Question: So how can we help men bring shadow grief into daylight — without shame?
How Does Grief Reshape a Man’s Identity?
Loss dismantles the structures that define a man — provider, protector, partner — forcing him to rebuild his sense of self from the inside out.
When work ends, a father dies, or a marriage breaks up, the masculine identity scaffold often collapses. Grief then becomes a question of identity reconstruction: Who am I now that the roles have shifted?
Somatic awareness offers clues. Many men feel grief first in their bodies — chest tightness, clenched jaw, fatigue — before recognising it emotionally. Bringing attention to these sensations allows grief to be felt safely, one piece at a time (Van der Kolk, 2014).
“Grief doesn’t always ask for words — sometimes it asks for breath.”
How does grief affect a man’s sense of identity?
Grief can strip away roles that once defined him — like father, husband, or provider — creating the need to rebuild identity from within rather than through performance (White, 1990; Oliffe, 2024).
Reflect:
Which parts of your identity have felt most tested by loss?
Question: What if reclaiming yourself begins with noticing what still feels alive?
Trauma, Complicated Grief, and the Male Body
For many Australian men, grief does not occur in isolation — it intersects with trauma. Military service, workplace accidents, family violence, and early neglect often combine with loss, creating complex emotional landscapes (Herman, 1992). Trauma can disrupt mourning, replacing sadness with numbness or heightened alertness.
Dr Judith Herman’s three-phase model — safety, remembrance, and reconnection- explains why some men must first regain a sense of safety before they can allow themselves to feel. In those early stages, their efforts to establish control can resemble stoicism — a survival process, not resistance (Herman, 1992).
Men also inherit intergenerational trauma from war, migration, institutional abuse, or colonial histories. Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander men experience grief intertwined with dispossession and community loss (Rees, 2021). For them, healing is often communal rather than clinical—expressed through ceremony, movement, and connection to country.
Somatic research shows grief often lives in the body (Van der Kolk, 2014). Tight chests, clenched jaws, disrupted sleep: these are the body’s grief languages. Helping men notice physical signals becomes the first step toward emotional integration.
How does trauma shape grief for men?
Trauma can block or distort grief, creating survival-based responses like numbness or hyper-control. Safety must precede emotional release (Herman, 1992; Van der Kolk, 2014).
Reflect:
How does your body carry loss — tension, fatigue, restlessness, or silence?
Question: What if listening to your body could become the doorway to the grief you have been avoiding?
Identity Reconstruction After Loss
Significant loss can shatter a man’s sense of self. The provider who loses his job, the protector who fails to prevent tragedy, the husband who becomes widowed—all must rebuild their identity without familiar anchors.
Narrative therapy approaches (White, 1990) encourage re-authoring identity stories that incorporate loss while respecting what still exists. Instead of “getting over” a past self, men are invited to carry forward what is vital and let go of what no longer fits.
Dr Christopher Oliffe’s (2024) work shows that men who successfully reconstructed identity after loss often adopted alternative masculinities as caregivers, creators, or mentors. They did not abandon strength; they redefined it.
Identity reconstruction is therefore not recovery — it is reinvention. Men emerge changed, carrying loss as part of wisdom, not weakness.
What helps men rebuild their identity after a major loss?
Reconnecting with meaning and redefining strength through contribution, creativity, and relationship (Oliffe, 2024; White, 1990).
Reflect:
What parts of your story are asking to be rewritten?
Question: So, how can you begin to live from the version of yourself grief revealed?
Cultural and Relational Contexts
The expression of male grief in Australia is shaped by the company men keep. Relational-cultural theory (Jordan, 2017) suggests that connection — not isolation — heals. But for men, connection often happens indirectly. Silence, side-by-side, shared labour, and humour become relational rituals.
Australian men often grieve through mateship: offering help, fixing fences, or driving hours to a funeral without saying much. This is not detachment; it’s care in translation. Younger generations are gradually widening this bandwidth — experimenting with emotional language while still valuing presence and humour (Salter, 2022).
Grief is also influenced by culture and by a sense of belonging. Cultural bereavement — the grief that follows migration or loss of cultural identity — can unsettle a man’s sense of self and silence expression. Research describes cultural bereavement as a profound disruption to both belonging and meaning-making (Bhugra & Becker, 2005). In multicultural Australia, many men carry unspoken grief for what was left behind — language, faith, or family — losses that rarely find words but still weigh on the heart.
“Mateship is evolving — from doing for each other to feeling beside each other.”
How do relationships influence how men grieve?
Relationships provide the context that determines which emotions feel safe to express. Men adapt their grief to protect those bonds (Jordan, 2017; Salter, 2022).
Reflect:
Who has stood beside you in your most challenging moments — and how did you know they were there for you?
Question: What if grief is not meant to be solved alone but witnessed differently?
What Support Actually Works for Men in Grief?
Approaches that respect male processing styles — action-based, narrative, and peer-driven — are the most effective (Seidler et al., 2016).
Traditional talk therapy can feel foreign to men who are wired to solve rather than verbalise. Integrative models such as walk-and-talk therapy, solution-focused work, and narrative mentoring meet men in motion. These approaches invite reflection without demanding confession.
Peer mentoring, men’s groups, and Men’s Sheds provide belonging—the antidote to silent endurance. Shared activity allows grief to breathe between words. Group laughter, humour, and shared ritual can create subtle but profound validation (Flood, 2020).
What kinds of support do men respond best to after loss?
Support that includes action, structure, and story — rather than purely emotional dialogue — helps men process grief naturally (Seidler et al., 2016; Martin & Doka, 2010).
Reflect:
Who are the men you could walk beside — or let walk beside you?
Question: What if connection is less about sharing everything and more about not walking alone?
Community and Cultural Interventions
While Men’s Sheds have proven transformative for many, there is scope to evolve them. Digital Sheds could reach isolated men. Culturally specific Sheds might honour diverse traditions of mourning. Grief-specific programs could weave together projects, storytelling, and remembrance (Rees, 2021).
Workplaces, too, have a role. Bereavement policies that account for differing timelines and male grief expressions alongside peer-led support and mental health first aid can create environments where men’s losses are recognised rather than hidden (Australian Psychological Society, 2018).
Families and partners also need education on male grief styles. Recognising that a man’s silence, work, or humour might be care reduces unnecessary conflict and helps connections survive the strain of loss.
“The goal is not to change how men grieve — it is to ensure they’re met where they are.”
How can communities better support men’s grief?
By expanding programs that normalise male-specific expressions of mourning and create structured spaces for connection (Flood, 2020; Rees, 2021).
Reflect:
What could belonging look like for men who have never had permission to grieve in their own language?
Question: So how can we design communities that see male grief as honourable, not hidden?
Future Directions and Emerging Understanding of Male Grief in Australia
Understanding male grief requires recognising that grief isn’t a problem to fix but a lifelong connection to loss (Attig, 2011).
More longitudinal studies are needed to observe how men adapt over time — how they incorporate losses into their sense of identity and meaning-making (Stroebe, 2022). Research should also acknowledge Australia’s diversity: Indigenous, migrant, and queer men each navigate grief through different cultural and spiritual frameworks (Bhugra & Becker, 2005; Rees, 2021).
As masculinity changes, so must our frameworks. Grief models that honour silence, duty, humour, and embodied expression will help men stay whole while mourning. This isn’t about moulding men into emotional archetypes — it’s about broadening our compassion to meet them where they are.
“Grief changes a man — but it can also deepen his humanity.”
What direction should male grief research and support take next?
It should include diverse masculinities, long-term adaptation, and cultural context to inform truly inclusive care (Stroebe, 2022; Rees, 2021).
Reflect:
How could the way we understand male grief today shape the world our sons inherit tomorrow?
Question: What if the future of masculinity lies not in emotional control, but in emotional integration?
Related Reading: Exploring Men’s Grief and Renewal
These reflections continue the conversation on loss, identity, and rebuilding strength – each exploring a different facet of what men carry and how they rebuild their sense of identity.
A foundational guide on how men experience and express grief.
What happens when a man’s true self goes underground.
How silence intersects with identity and belonging.
The importance of spaces and pathways that honour how men deal with grief.
The story of Orpheus from Greek Mythology has lessons that help us navigate grief.
Key Takeaways
- Male grief is diverse, culturally shaped, and often invisible.
- Silence, work, and withdrawal can be authentic responses — not avoidance.
- Anger can be love in disguise; shadow behaviours often signal unspoken pain.
- Support that matches men’s grief languages (peer, action-based, narrative) works best.
- Reclaiming begins with naming — what was lost, what still matters, and what remains to be lived.
What is the main lesson from understanding male grief?
That there is no single “right” way to grieve — recognising diverse masculine languages of loss allows men to reclaim meaning without shame.
Frequently Asked Questions
Why do Australian men often grieve in silence?
Silence has deep cultural roots in Australian masculinity, shaped by traditions of stoicism, mateship, and endurance. For many men, silence is not avoidance but a meaningful form of respect and reflection.
Is anger a normal part of male grief?
Yes. Anger can be an authentic grief response — often representing love, loyalty, and protest against loss rather than aggression.
How does work help men process grief?
Purposeful work can act as a structure for meaning-making. Many men honour those they have lost by continuing their legacy through action.
What are “shadow grief” behaviours?
Hidden coping patterns like overwork, drinking, or withdrawal that begin as adaptive but can become harmful if grief remains unspoken.
How can families support grieving men?
Respect each man’s natural rhythm of processing — through work, silence, or reflection — and offer presence without pressure.
Where can Australian men find support?
Lifeline (13 11 14), Beyond Blue (1300 22 4636), MensLine Australia (1300 78 99 78), the Australian Men’s Shed Association, and the Black Dog Institute.
You don’t have to hold it alone.
Grief does not end when the funeral is over. It settles in the spaces no one sees — in the workbench, the drive, the quiet.
Name what you lost. Honour what still aches.
When you are ready, talk it through with someone who understands.
I offer 1:1 mentoring for men navigating loss, identity, and life after grief.
Book a complementary 30-minute call or message me directly through Mentoring Through the Maze.
Start with what you can name. We’ll go from there.
About the Author
David Kernohan is the founder of Mentoring Through the Maze – For Men Reclaiming Strength and Self.
A former fundamentalist minister, father, and long-term community leader, David mentors men navigating grief, identity loss, and spiritual disconnection.
His work helps men rebuild clarity, courage, and grounded purpose through reflective, non-clinical mentoring.
Learn more at Mentoring Through the Maze.
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