Hug Your Male Friends More

Friends Having a Conversation

Source: Cedric Fauntleroy / Pexels

In November 2024, I had the privilege of speaking on a panel at the inaugural Grieftastic Book Fair, an event that brought together authors and practitioners who work in the space of grief and loss. The panel I joined focused on something I had honestly never heard of until I was invited: disenfranchised loss.

Disenfranchised loss refers to grief that isn’t acknowledged or validated by society, which makes it harder for people to openly express their pain. For me, that definition hit home. My wife, Jane, died of leukemia in 2017. In my memoir Ride or Die: Loving Through Tragedy, A Husband’s Memoir, I chronicled our ordeal and my own isolation. Being “Jane’s husband” became my identity during her illness. After her death, I felt imprisoned by grief—no walls or bars, just an invisible haze of sorrow and dread that seemed impossible to shake.

Walking into Grieftastic, I expected a somber, heavy atmosphere. What I found instead surprised me—a community energized by connection.

It wasn’t about despair. It was about presence.

Everyone in that space understood loss without needing to spell it out. There was an unspoken recognition, the kind you feel when you reunite with an old friend—you don’t need to narrate the hard parts, because you’re already understood.

That spirit of connection was strongest on my panel. At one point, an audience member asked a deceptively simple question: “What is one simple way we can help men deal with grief and loss?”

I’d been asked similar questions before, usually on podcasts, and my answers had been thoughtful but unsatisfying: Treat grieving men like humans, don’t push them to “open up,” mix everyday life with moments of honesty. All true—but still heavy, like grief hanging in the air.

This time, something different came out of my mouth.

“Well,” I said, “I’d say more hugs. Men need more hugs. I even do Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu so I can cuddle aggressively with other men.”

The room laughed, but it wasn’t just a joke. I meant it.

Why Men Don’t Hug

In American culture, we’ve long lived with a silent rule: Anger is acceptable for men, tears for women. Men who cry risk judgment. Men who show tenderness risk ridicule. As a result, many men shy away from physical expressions of care—especially with other men.

That avoidance comes at a cost. Grief is not meant to be shouldered alone, and neither is life. Yet for many men, physical affection stops at a handshake, a slap on the back, or a quick fist bump. Anything more risks crossing an invisible line.

The consequence is that men can find themselves emotionally starved, even in the company of friends.

Why Hugs Matter

Science confirms what many of us feel instinctively: Hugs matter.

Research shows that physical touch reduces stress, lowers blood pressure, and releases oxytocin—the “bonding hormone” that helps us feel safe and connected. Hugs even boost the immune system, protecting us from the wear and tear of stress.

When words fail, a hug can still communicate: You’re not alone. I’ve got you.

For men in particular, hugs aren’t just about comfort. They’re about permission—permission to be vulnerable, to receive care, and to show affection without having to hide behind humor or stoicism. They open a door that culture too often keeps shut.

Friendship Needs Touch

Friendship is one of the most underrated yet powerful forces in men’s lives. Spouses and families matter deeply, but friends provide something different: a peer connection, a mirror of shared experience, and a bond that doesn’t hinge on obligation.

But here’s the problem: Too many male friendships lack depth. They revolve around activities—sports, gaming, drinks—but rarely venture into the realm of real support. Without touch, even good friendships can remain shallow.

Friends Essential Reads

A Surprising Secret to Maintaining Friendships

Wicked's "For Good"—Memory, Friendship, Music of Becoming

Think about the last time you hugged a male friend. Not a quick shoulder bump, but a real embrace. For most men, the answer is “it’s been a while.” Yet those moments of physical connection do something subtle yet profound: They signal safety, trust, and a sense of belonging.

At Grieftastic, when other men shared their stories of loss, I felt an immediate kinship. It wasn’t that I lacked the courage to share before—it was that their presence gave me permission. In the same way, a hug from a friend can be that small but powerful gesture of permission: It’s OK. You’re seen. You matter.

The Bigger Picture

We’re living in a loneliness epidemic. The U.S. Surgeon General has gone so far as to call it one of the defining public health issues of our time. Men are especially at risk. Rates of male loneliness have risen steadily, and many men admit they lack even a single close friend.

Hugs won’t fix the loneliness epidemic on their own. But they are a start. They’re a reminder that we are wired for connection. They’re a way to normalize physical affection between men without shame. And they’re a bridge toward building deeper, more resilient friendships.

A Simple Action

So what’s one thing you can do this week? Hug your male friends more.

Normalize it. Don’t wait for a funeral or a crisis. Hug a friend when you greet him. Hug him when you say goodbye. Let it be as natural as catching up over coffee or watching a game.

Because sometimes the most powerful way to say “I’m here for you” doesn’t require words at all.