2nd October 2025

Internalised gendered and other expectations can cause us to get very judgey-blamey (not a technical term) with ourselves, even if we feel like we’re quite self-aware.

Last autumn, I attended some grief café sessions that my other half (a Church of England priest) was running on a Tuesday morning – largely for myself, having lost my Dad some months previously, partly as a placeholder to make it easier for any other male wishing to attend what was otherwise an all-female circle.

(I might share more about the opportunities and pitfalls of the ‘clergy spouse’ role some other time).

One morning, by arrangement, we had two local undertakers drop by. While I was dressed casually, they were suited and booted (ever met a scruffy undertaker?) and they were lovely, no other word – it’s a real gift,  a vocation, to do what those guys do and they spoke movingly and with real empathy of how they have supported people through their journeys of grief.

I found myself, though, experiencing a surprising level of internal chatter, wondering how I might be coming across. This involved imagining them thinking “so what’s this guy doing? why isn’t he at work?” and all that nonsense, wishing I’d worn something other than my usual untidy off-work get-up. It turns out that male identity can still, in 2025, be very wrapped up in work and in being seen to be at work especially during traditional ‘office hours’.  

Having been remembering this over the past couple of days, I’ve also been remembering my three years or so as a Sure Start Children’s Centre Manager. This was, among other things, a valued chance to learn so much from experienced Health Visitor and Early Years education colleagues about child development. If I hadn’t had to step away due to Sure Start being downsized – all those cutbacks after the 2008 financial crisis, plus the 2010 change in government – I might still be working in a job role where I get to set up community play festivals and sing nursery rhymes with tiny children.

Anyway: if the counselling profession’s between 70% and 80% female (BACP membership data), Early Years was then at something around 98% – and as a happy, fulfilled member of the 2% Club I remember showing up to do some community liaison with a local parent-led playgroup and being greeted with “we don’t usually see a man on Thursdays!”. (How might it have felt to attend as a single, or any other kind of, dad?).

My sense is that it can often be easier to show up as male in a majority-female line of work than the reverse (for various reasons linked to structural inequality). Likewise - along with some awkwardness and mistrust - there can also be a ‘halo effect’ around single or so-called ‘hands-on’ dads, who get extra recognition and kudos for doing what mums do and are expected to do routinely. (‘She’s a real hands-on mum’ isn’t even a phrase, and the satirical website ‘Man Who Has It All’ has fun with these differences). ‘Easier’ doesn’t mean ‘easy’, though, and every individual circumstance is different.  

Overall, we can all experience inner awkwardness and outer pushback (however well-intentioned) when we show up as ‘other than expected’ whether that’s due to gender, social class, ethnicity or anything else.

If this happens once or twice then this may well be ‘one of those things, part of life’s rich tapestry’. If it happens regularly though (overt discrimination is a thing too and can have horrible consequences), then we may find ourselves experiencing the potentially tiring, upsetting effects of what psychologists call ‘minority stress’. We might then want to share those experiences with friends, family, a workplace mentor, a counsellor, to be heard non-defensively and with empathy as we find our own resilience strategies for ‘showing up unexpectedly’.