A few days ago, I listened to a CBC radio panel discussing the surge in family violence across Canada and in my home province of Nova Scotia in particular. The panelists spoke compassionately about women’s experiences, the need for more shelters, trauma recovery, and funding for survivor services.
What struck me deeply was what they didn’t talk about: men.
Not once did the conversation examine the role men play in family violence or how cultural and economic pressures shape male behaviour. This silence is telling—and dangerous.
Most family violence is committed by men. Yet public discourse often stops short of addressing the root causes embedded in masculinity and systemic issues.
We respond with emergency funding and survivor support, which are vital. But without confronting the foundations, we’re merely managing the symptoms.
A Surge in Violence—and a Gaping Hole in the Conversation
Family violence has reached its highest level in over a decade. In 2023, police-reported family violence in Canada rose 3%. Shelters are full. Resources are stretched. Yet, most of our public responses remain stuck in crisis management—emergency funding, protective orders, and survivor services. All crucial, yes. But we need to ask:
Why are so many people violent nowadays? What has changed?
Until we’re willing to talk about that—openly, honestly, and yes, uncomfortably—we’ll be stuck mopping up the blood without ever fixing the leak.
How are we Raising our Kids?
A key hypothesis worth considering is the shift in how Gen X and Millennials have been raised—marked by greater emotional protection but weaker emphasis on personal accountability, respect for limits, and managing frustration. Does this underpin some of the increased family violence we see today?
When someone (or a whole generation) grows up feeling entitled to have their needs met immediately and without consequence, it can foster frustration, conflict, and sometimes aggression when reality doesn’t align with those expectations. If this is true, then addressing family violence requires more than a short-term band-aid crisis response—it calls for reshaping how we socialize children and young adults.
Teaching emotional resilience, responsibility, tempering expectations (no, you can’t have everything your heart desires), learning how to regulate emotions (sometimes accepting less-than-wished-for outcomes with quiet dignity is the right thing), and respectful communication from an early age becomes essential to breaking cycles of violence before they start.
Economic Shifts, Social Strain, and Masculinity in Crisis
Over the past six to seven years, Canada has experienced profound social and economic shifts that have intensified pressures on families—and by extension, on masculine identity. These shifts must be part of any honest discussion about family violence.
Secure affordable housing: Government policies have played a role in creating the current housing crisis. For example, the decision to shut down support for affordable housing co-operatives some years ago removed a promising tool for community-based stable housing. Yes, there were governance and financial management issues in some co-ops, but tossing the baby out with the bathwater isn’t the way to manage social policy. These policy shifts, including greater support for profit-driven developers, directly contributed to rising homelessness and housing insecurity—conditions known to destabilize families and escalate household stress.
Food insecurity: At the same time, food insecurity has worsened, forcing many to rely on food banks often stocked with overprocessed, low-nutrient foods. Poor nutrition affects mental and physical health, exacerbating fatigue, irritability, and conflict.
I hear things like “that’s all we can afford to provide…it’s better than nothing.” I quake. Are those the only choices—starvation or slow poisoning with food that is patently bad for you?
Jobs and employment: The labour market has transformed rapidly, with automation, gig economy jobs, a growing shift to virtual and online work, and the use of AI. We all feel somewhat under threat. A “permanent job” isn’t that anymore. Many people, especially in traditional industries, face displacement and uncertainty.
And then there’s DEI: While Canadian Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI) policies represent sincere efforts to address historical injustices and challenge entrenched colonial and patriarchal systems, they are sometimes experienced as exclusionary by those who feel left behind—particularly when retraining and upskilling opportunities are inaccessible to them. This perception can fuel alienation and resentment.
It seems many young men today feel punished through exclusion for the privileges their fathers and grandfathers once enjoyed. They see DEI not as an equalizer but as discriminatory. There is also a common perception that when a woman or other person favoured under DEI policies is appointed, they are there only because of DEI and that they’re not necessarily competent.
What do our corporate and government employers do to overcome such perceptions (and sometimes realities)?
What about the DEI appointee who behaves arrogantly—‘untouchable’ because of their DEI status? Isn’t this the same playbook as the white male chairman appointing his lazy, unqualified son to a key position, and everyone just has to accept it?
Can we see how such workplace experiences feed into male feelings of exclusion, unfairness, and lack of social justice? That they risk alienation from work and society—and may feel less accountable for any spur-of-the-moment acting out?
Toxic Masculinity Under Economic Strain
Toxic masculinity—cultural norms linking masculinity to dominance, emotional suppression, and control—often worsens under economic and social stresses.
It’s not just about financial independence.
It’s about an ego tied tightly to the traditional “breadwinner” role.
Many men experience real distress when their partners gain employment first, earn more, climb the career ladder faster, or claim to share financial decision-making power. Being trapped in the “head of household” paradigm generates intense internal conflict.
When men’s identities depend on this rigid role, any perceived loss—unemployment, housing, changing family dynamics—can trigger withdrawal, aggression, or controlling behaviour, all of which risk escalating family violence. The pressure to maintain this narrow masculinity often isolates men emotionally, limiting their ability to seek help or express vulnerability.
Being denied a promotion so he can be a better “breadwinner” because a woman got the job he wanted—could that fuel family violence?
“Toxic Feminism”
We also need to talk about the term “toxic feminism.” It sometimes surfaces in family violence and gender discussions, often as a defensive pushback against critiques of masculine toxicity.
While there can be kernels of truth—such as when feminist discourse becomes overly adversarial, dismissive of men’s experiences, or plays out as ‘entitlement’, it’s also clear today’s feminist movement has at times strayed from the thoughtful, inclusive philosophies championed by pioneers like Betty Friedan and Germaine Greer. Those earlier voices emphasized dialogue, equality, and dismantling rigid gender roles for everyone. Returning to those foundations could help bridge divides and foster a more collaborative healing approach.
Violence Against Indigenous Women and Girls
The crisis of violence against Indigenous women and girls in Canada is a tragic and urgent reality. Indigenous women are disproportionately over-represented among those who have disappeared or been murdered: victims of systemic racism, historic trauma, and ongoing marginalization that increase their vulnerability.
Ignoring these realities when addressing family violence risks perpetuating injustice and missing critical opportunities for healing and prevention within Indigenous communities.
While many perpetrators of violence against Indigenous women and girls are Indigenous men—often family members such as fathers, brothers, or cousins—it is important to recognize that non-Indigenous men also commit a significant portion of these crimes. This mixture of perpetrators reflects broader impacts of colonialism, displacement, and systemic racism, which have fractured communities and created complex social dynamics that aren’t “fixed” by the mere provision of remedial support to the victims.
Addressing root causes requires understanding this complexity without resorting to simplistic blame, focusing instead on the social, economic, and historical factors that perpetuate violence and marginalization.
There have been meaningful steps toward addressing violence against Indigenous women and girls through community-led initiatives and culturally grounded programs. Healing lodges, Indigenous-run support services, and restorative justice practices have shown promise in fostering accountability and breaking cycles of violence. Investments in mental health and addiction treatment tailored to Indigenous peoples, along with efforts to improve housing and economic opportunities, are making a difference. However, these programs remain underfunded and unevenly available.
Building on what works means expanding these initiatives, ensuring sustained funding, and strengthening partnerships between Indigenous communities and government agencies to create lasting change.
Towards a Holistic Prevention Strategy
To sustainably reduce family violence, we must link cultural change with economic and social supports.
Investing in affordable, community-driven housing—where residents have a genuine say in how their homes and neighbourhoods are designed and managed—as opposed to purely market-driven housing developments focused on profit, is more than just providing shelter. It builds social connections and stability that are essential to preventing violence. Along with improving food security and expanding accessible retraining programs for skills development and enhancement, these investments are foundational violence prevention measures.
Reshaping masculinity to decouple identity from the breadwinner role, expanding emotional intelligence, and supporting peer accountability through initiatives like Men’s Sheds must be part of the solution.
Only by addressing these intertwined factors can we break the cycles of violence and build stronger, healthier families.
Men’s Sheds: Healing Through Connection
Programs like the Men’s Shed movement, which started in Australia some years ago and is now well established in Canada, offer a hopeful model for providing men with appropriate social support. Men are far less likely to speak out and ask for help than women. This initiative was developed by men for men—understanding how men interact, provide social support, and feel safe to explore solutions to deeply personal problems (like “I’m the breadwinner but my wife makes more than me since her most recent promotion”).
Men’s Sheds provide communal spaces where men build projects together—woodworking, metalwork, gardening—while fostering emotional connection and peer support. These non-judgmental environments nurture trust and allow men to express themselves in ways that traditional therapy sometimes cannot.
In Canada, Men’s Sheds have helped reduce social isolation and improve men’s mental health—key protective factors against violence. They show how meeting men “where they are” can gently shift toxic cultural norms toward healthier masculinity.
Do We Have The Courage To Name What Hurts?
And In Naming It Choosing Change, Not Harm
Family violence is not just a women’s issue. It is a social issue, a relational issue, and a men’s issue.
When we focus only on crisis management, we inadvertently leave the burden of change on women. By asking “What makes a man violent?” and “What makes him feel powerless or desperate to control?” we open the door to real change.
It takes courage to shift from silence to insight. But insight is what will set us free. Let’s talk about how to heal what’s broken. All of it. Not just talking about the Band-Aids for the victims of family violence.
All of it.
May 18, 2025