Why Silence Was Adaptive Then (and Harmful Now)
Thoughtful gay man reflecting on emotional silence and vulnerability.
Many gay men come into therapy carrying a quiet, persistent belief:
“I’ve been out for years, but still can’t speak my truth.”
In my work as a therapist, I hear this often—and it almost always comes with shame. But this belief misses something essential.
For many gay men, silence wasn’t a personal failing. It was a survival skill.
Silence as a Survival Strategy in Childhood
Growing up gay, silence often helped us avoid rejection. It protected us from standing out, from wanting too much, from asking questions that felt dangerous, or from expressing feelings that might not be welcomed. Emotional silence—especially internal silence—was a way to stay safe.
Nothing was wrong with you for going silent.
Your nervous system did exactly what it needed to do.
Many of us learned early to prioritize other people’s needs over our own. We learned to minimize feelings, dismiss discomfort, and move quickly past our own reactions with thoughts like “Other people had it worse” or “My needs don’t really matter.” Over time, silence became automatic—not just in relationships, but inside ourselves.
That strategy worked then.
Why Silence Becomes Harmful in Adulthood
The problem isn’t that silence was adaptive—it’s that it often outlives its usefulness.
Adult relationships require emotional presence. Intimacy requires risk. Emotional regulation requires expression. When silence remains the default coping strategy, it can show up as loneliness, disconnection, sexual dissatisfaction, resentment, depression, or chronic self-doubt.
This is often when gay men turn the blame inward:
Why is this still hard for me? Why haven’t I figured this out yet?
But continued silence doesn’t mean you’re broken. It means you’re still using a strategy that once kept you safe—even though the context has changed.
How Therapy Helps Gay Men Unlearn Silence
Therapy isn’t about forcing vulnerability or digging endlessly into the past. It’s about learning skills that were never fully modeled.
In therapy, many gay men practice:
Naming emotions instead of minimizing them
Asking for needs without apology
Noticing self-silencing patterns in real time
Tolerating discomfort in connection rather than retreating from it
Being witnessed without having to perform or explain themselves
We needed to protect ourselves then, and unlearning that behavior takes focus and effort.
That effort doesn’t mean you’re behind. It means you’re doing important developmental work now—work that was not been available to you earlier.
From Survival to Choice
Silence helped you survive in a world that didn’t always make room for you.
Now, with support, you get to decide whether it still serves you.
Many of the themes in Out of the Shadows speak to this shift—from survival strategies rooted in childhood to more intentional, emotionally connected ways of living as adults.
If this resonates, you’re not alone. You’re not late. And you’re not failing.
You’re learning how to stay connected to yourself while staying connected to others—and that’s real growth.
If you’re ready for more, check out my new book club coming this spring.
