The Silent Pandemic: When Men Are Abused and No One Wants to Talk About It
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By Vixen Blonde
Male abuse exists. Male suicide is rising. Silence is killing men.
Introduction: The Part We’re Not Allowed to Say Out Loud
In my line of work, I meet all kinds of men.
Young. Old. Wealthy. Struggling. Educated. Rough. Quiet. Loud.
Different backgrounds. Different lives.
But more and more, I’m seeing the same thing.
These men are broken — not because they are weak, but because they have been emotionally, psychologically, and financially abused, and no one takes them seriously when they say it.
We talk — loudly — about violence against women.
We build campaigns. We fund programs. We run awareness weeks.
And we should.
But when men are abused?
We go quiet.
That silence is not neutral.
That silence is deadly.
The Abuse No One Recognises
Not all abuse leaves bruises.
Some abuse isolates.
Some controls money.
Some withholds affection.
Some erodes confidence so slowly the victim doesn’t realise it’s happening.
These men don’t call themselves victims.
They call themselves idiots.
They excuse her behaviour.
They shrink themselves to keep the peace.
They try harder. Give more. Say less.
Until they disappear from their own lives.
Friends stop hearing from them.
Family sees them less.
The things they once loved quietly vanish.
And without anyone saying, “This isn’t normal”, they start believing that it is.
Masculinity Is the Cage
Men are taught early:
Don’t cry.
Don’t complain.
Don’t admit weakness.
So when a woman is controlling, humiliating, or cruel, it’s framed as a joke.
She’s got you by the balls, mate.”“Better get back to the ball and chain.”
Except sometimes… it’s not a joke.
Sometimes it’s coercive control — the same behaviour we rightly condemn when men do it to women.
But when it happens the other way around?
We laugh. Or we dismiss it.
Why They Come to Me
Many of these men feel overwhelming shame for seeking an escort.
They aren’t immoral.
They aren’t careless.
They aren’t “players”.
They are starving.
Starving for touch.
Starving for affection.
Starving for validation.
Human connection is not optional. It is biological.
You don’t withhold comfort from a baby and expect it to thrive.
Adults are no different.
Sometimes I am not a fantasy.
Sometimes I am the last place they feel human.
Yes — they know it’s transactional.
Yes — they know it may not be real.
But hope, even imperfect hope, keeps people alive.
The Double-Edged Sword: Guilt and Shame
Afterwards, the guilt hits.
They believe they’ve committed the ultimate sin: cheating.
But is seeking professional, non-emotional physical support the same as starting an emotional affair with a coworker?
If you’re sick, you see a doctor.
If you’re struggling mentally, you see a psychologist.
Why is seeking physical or emotional support suddenly immoral when the system around you has already failed?
Do we really think a man who’s already terrified is going to sit down and say:
“I’m lonely. I’m hurting. I need affection.”
— knowing exactly how that vulnerability will be weaponised?
Why They Don’t Leave
People ask, “Why doesn’t he just leave?”
Here’s why:
1. Fear of financial ruin
Control over money is control over survival.
2. Children used as leverage
The threat of losing access to children keeps many men trapped.
3. Trauma bonding (Stockholm syndrome)
Over time, the abuser becomes the perceived source of safety — even while causing harm.
And sometimes, the most devastating tactic of all appears:
False accusations.
Weaponised intervention orders.
Claims designed to control, not protect.
When systems are abused, real victims lose credibility — men and women alike.
The Suicide Link No One Wants to Face
Let’s stop pretending this is theoretical.
Men die by suicide at significantly higher rates than women in Australia.
In 2024 alone, over three-quarters of suicide deaths were male.
Research shows that a significant proportion of men who die by suicide have a history of domestic or family violence.
This is not coincidence.
Isolation + shame + disbelief + loss of identity = catastrophe.
By the time people intervene, it’s often too late.
So What Do We Do?
We stop looking away.
We notice when a mate disappears.
We notice when someone stops calling.
We notice when laughter fades.
We ask:
“Are you okay, mate?”
And we mean it.
We tell them:
Your feelings are valid
You’re allowed to cry
You’re allowed to be angry
You’re allowed to be sad
You are enough
No matter what she says.
No matter what she does.
You are enough.
We speak up — socially, legally, politically — before silence costs another life.
Because at what point does it become our business?
When we’re cutting someone down from a rope?
When we’re standing in a hospital corridor?
When we’re attending another funeral?
If You’re Struggling — Reach Out Now
Australia – 24/7 Support
📞 Emergency: 000
📞 Lifeline: 13 11 14
📞 MensLine Australia: 1300 78 99 78
📞 Suicide Call Back Service: 1300 659 467
You are not weak for asking for help.
You are human.
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