Aligned in Purpose: How Soup Kitchens, Religion, and a Good Job May Help Combat the Male Loneliness Epidemic

In recent years magazines and prized digital content creators alike have been leaning into this growing movement in which we showcase the worst of our lived experiences, our lowest moments, and counter-productive learned behaviors in an effort to decrease stigma and isolation around mental health issues.  I almost begin anticipating an echo for every time the phrase “so they,” the closest ethnic or socioeconomic group to the author, “know they are not alone,” is used as a storytelling motif — and, yes, that is coming from someone who published a book that at least partly serves to make other young Appalachians feel seen.  The first step to solving any problem is recognizing it, and it would certainly seem we have recognized a lot of things wrong.  

The list can be as continuous as one desires.  Social media addiction, substance use, global political strife, the dissolution of third spaces, and innumerable etceteras garner at the forefront of any willing mind, and, actually, this is something I tell my adolescent nephews all the time.  “As long as you’re trying to look for a problem, you’ll be able to find one.”  It’s easy, and after enough time, it becomes lazy.

Now, my exploration of these topics began in 2019 in the data collected by the Appalachian Regional Commission’s (ARC) Diseases of Despair release, the stereotypical reclining sofa of my therapist’s office chair, and a very personal exploration of the social mechanics of my lineage, so this is not to dissuade those who are just now feeling the invitation to explore their soul and locate the limiters, but becoming aware of the issue is not nearly enough.  The Harvard Independent cited “the erosion of stable, organized groups” as one of the most critical influences in the Male Loneliness Epidemic.  These are groups like jobs with shared occupational objectives, social sporting clubs, and community-driven religious organizations.  These are spaces where we once gathered together to strive forward together, and often there was a sense of communal belonging and social normativity that obliged us to return to these groups often, even and especially when we didn’t want to (this is important).

It’s true, many of the factors that influence our quality of life today are strained in ways parallel to the ways they were in previous generations.  War is not new, and neither is economic uncertainty or access to addictive substances.  What is novel in our time period is the availability, and sometimes I think encouragement, in navigating these things alone.

As we delve deeper into the technosocial age, personal identity curation continues to grow not just as a sort of skillset but almost as a necessity.  Attention is vast, but not infinite, and many spend their time vying to garner a little light in the rumble pit.  Even our men fortunate enough to be offline do not escape the pervasive tendrils that demand we look incessantly inward so that we can identify, hyperbolicize, and market forward the most attention-magnetic pieces of ourselves.  

Enough meta talk.  What am I getting at, exactly?  Servitude.  Gentleman, it may seem counterintuitive, but I actually think it’s time we gave a little less of a damn about ourselves, and gave a little more of our energy to improving the lives of others.  That shared purpose that once existed in the times where there were families to live in service of, sacred spaces to bow our heads, and wars (ones we may have believed in) to fight, but it can feel so hard to step into spaces that seem to have inherent purpose.  I promise you, for all the wariness, the work is not hard.

I came to this realization in earnest while running a chainsaw in the wake of Hurricane Helene, and I have been seeking this space, this purpose in service of others, so much more ever since.  A few other places it has appeared? Somewhere along the thwomps of a lopper clipping rhododendron on a volunteer trail crew day.  In the heat of oil splashing on my arm while preparing a meal for loved ones.  In the gaze of a dozen little ones gathered round while I shared stories from the mountains.  In the warmth of a kiss on the cheek after clearing snow from a neighbor’s car.  

Find the time to make servitude a practice, and let me know how it changes you.

Much love, y’all.