In writing this article, I am discovering that perhaps workplace inclusion in its entirety isn’t just about making space for others but also about freeing people from outdated expectations. For many men, the unspoken script of masculinity at work says, ‘be tough, don’t show vulnerability, stay in control.’
A few months ago my cousin and I were having one of our long chats. He had just come from a leadership workshop where they discussed how to create psychologically safe workplaces. The conversation then veered towards women, marginalised groups, and emotional safety. My cousin then revealed, “I get why this matters, but honestly, I’ve been told to 'man up', ‘Jikaze, we ni mwanaume’ my whole life, so I don’t really know what I’m allowed to feel, let alone say.” He later added, “I support this stuff, but I just don’t want to say the wrong thing.”
I remember not exactly having the right words to say. I paused and remember thinking that this was very honest, and I’m sure he is not alone. In writing this article, I am discovering that perhaps workplace inclusion in its entirety isn’t just about making space for others but also about freeing people from outdated expectations. For many men, the unspoken script of masculinity at work says, ‘be tough, don’t show vulnerability, stay in control.’
That script is not only exhausting, it’s isolating. I can only imagine that when men feel like the only options are to dominate or disappear, they either overcompensate or check out, and neither response serves inclusion. So if we want to build workplaces that are truly equitable, we also need to make space for men to redefine what strength looks like.
As organisations push for diversity and inclusion, many men are quietly asking: What’s my role in all of this? What if I say the wrong thing and get it wrong? The mistake is thinking inclusion is just a women's and marginalised individuals' issue.
The cost of exclusion is measurable; McKinsey reports that companies in the top quartile for gender diversity on executive teams are 25 per cent more likely to outperform on profitability. Yet, only 27 per cent of men in leadership see themselves as “strong advocates” for inclusion, according to LeanIn.org. In East Africa, a 2024 study by the African Leadership Centre found that male-led organisations that embraced shared leadership styles saw a 40 per cent increase in team cohesion and a measurable reduction in attrition rates among women. In short? Inclusion can be strategised and modelled. Inclusive cultures are modelled by those who hold social capital, and in many workplaces, that’s still men.
Masculinity at work has long been defined by dominance, stoicism, and control, traits that reward performance over partnership, but today’s workplace problems – remote disconnection, generational divides, and psychological safety – require vulnerability, collaboration, and emotional fluency – the very traits men have been taught to suppress. Perhaps it’s time to redefine leadership? Not by abandoning masculinity, but by reclaiming it. And what if inclusion wasn’t about making space for others but with them?
Here are 4 ways men can build more inclusive workplaces
1. Shift from defender to listener. You don’t need to have all the answers, but you do need to be present. Instead of jumping to “not all men” or “I didn’t mean it like that,” try “Help me better understand how that impacted you.”
2. Practise active amplification. In meetings, use your voice to elevate others. “That’s a great idea; let’s go back to what Aisha said,” or “I want to make sure we don’t skip over what John just shared.”
3. Redefine strength as emotional range. Empathy, tenderness, and self-awareness are strengths, not soft skills. Emotional literacy increases trust and reduces fear-based culture.
4. Measure inclusion. Notice who speaks the most in our meetings? Who gets promoted? Who gets interrupted? Ask yourself: What’s our retention rate by gender or ability? Data drives accountability.
In hindsight, here is what I wish I had said to my cousin that day: Inclusion isn’t a guilt trip, and it’s not about silencing yourself to make space for others. Nobody is perfect, and you don’t have to be either to make a meaningful impact. I know of men in the workplace who have definitely impacted me deeply; they didn’t always have the right answers, but they made space for me to belong. They taught me that some of the most respected leaders aren’t the ones who took up the most space, but the ones who made everyone feel they belonged in that space.
