For decades, the walls of the Indian household have echoed with a specific kind of silence. It is not the silence of an absence of love, but the silence of a limited vocabulary of love. It is a silence born of survival, passed down from fathers who viewed their emotions as luxuries they could not afford, to sons who were taught that their value was measured in “carrying” rather than “feeling.”Although Gen Z men are trying to break the pattern, it was difficult for me to make them open up for this story. That hesitation wasn’t incidental, but it was the story.Even as young men today speak the language of therapy, self-awareness, and emotional growth and often document their journeys of self-teaching on social media, there is still a pause when the conversation turns inward. Words don’t come easily. Not because feelings don’t exist, but because they were never given a vocabulary.However, when comedian Samay Raina spoke about a truth so ordinary that most Indian men don’t say “I love you” to their fathers and vice versa, it resonated with a large number of both men and women. In Indian households, affection is often translated into sacrifice and responsibility. Fathers wake up early to work long hours, and that becomes their language of love. But somewhere in that process, emotional articulation is quietly left out of the curriculum.And this is why Samay’s Still Alive video became a cultural moment. When he advised men to open up and learn emotional intelligence, it struck a nerve. What followed was a wave of Instagram videos in which Gen Z men awkwardly, hesitantly, and sometimes jokingly told their fathers, “I love you.” Many laughed it off. Some were met with confusion. Others were met with silence. But in almost every case, something shifted. Because for the first time, affection entered a space that had always relied on assumption.Love was always there, just not spokenAnupam Dwivedi, a content creator, shares that love, in his household, was always meant to be silent. “Growing up, I understood one thing clearly: you can’t openly express everything to your parents. Especially as a boy,” he tells indianexpress.com.He describes a household where emotional restraint wasn’t enforced harshly, but it was simply understood. His father often emphasised that a man’s value lies in his actions, in service done without expectation. “Love is expressed through actions, not words.” View this post on Instagram A post shared by Anupam Dwivedi (@sutra.anupam) That belief shaped his relationship with his father. “Even today, saying ‘I love you’ to my father feels very awkward… actually, very, very awkward. Because neither was it ever said, nor was it ever heard growing up.”Story continues below this adAnd yet, when the moment came, unexpectedly, he took it. “I just said it suddenly… my heartbeat was so fast before saying it because it was my first time. But after I said it, I felt a sense of peace.Despite these shifts, societal expectations remain deeply ingrained. Anupam recalls being dismissed as a child when he got hurt. “The teacher said, ‘He’s strong, it won’t hurt him.’” Years later, during a deeply emotional moment at a temple in Vrindavan, he cried openly only to be told by a security guard, “You’re a boy, why are you crying?”Don't Miss | How Gen Z weddings swapped traditional grandeur for a dancing gorillaHowever, Anupam is incessantly trying to unlearn one habit that every Indian man is fed with: “Don’t cry or express.” “I am trying to be more expressive. I don’t want to hold back my tears anymore. I don’t want to say that I am okay when I am not.”The understood love of ‘desi’ householdsFor Sudhanshu Mishra, a journalist, the story captures something deeply embedded in Indian family dynamics. The idea that love does not need articulation to be real. “Being the youngest one in the family, at least the nuclear one, gives you a lot of room for emotional dialogue……like you can cry, argue, show tantrums and still be loved,” Sudhanshu shares.Story continues below this ad“For me, emotional expression was a given room….That I very much hold even till now….. however, in general……my father left home-town when he was really young, he also kinda had and still has a vulnerability factor, so you could always feel things, just don’t make it a whole scene for sure. “Be strong and build” was kinda the default setting,” he adds.But even within that space, there were boundaries. “Saying it out loud? Nah, still feels a bit awkward, though I can hug him at times when I feel like saying out loud is a bit cliché. Also, in a desi household like ours… it’s more like an understood thing than something we say. The relationship is solid, but it’s more actions greater than words. Respect takes up a bigger space than love…..because it’s sometimes seen as the same meaning words,” Sudhanshu shares.He has tried, in small ways, to push those boundaries. “Not in a revolutionary way, but here and there… trying to open up more, check in emotionally. Sometimes it works, sometimes it turns into ‘chhota muh badi baat’ or ‘batameezi’.”Garvit Joshi, a content creator, sees this shift as a matter of self-assurance and emotional awareness. “It honestly wasn’t easy at all. I even felt like I might get scolded or slapped. And yes, he did react with a slap, but deep down I know he loves me a lot, and that’s what really matters to me. Our bond has always been strong, just not very expressive,” he shares.Story continues below this ad“I’m trying to unlearn the habit of holding back emotions, especially with family. There is still some pressure to act a certain way as a man, but I feel our generation is slowly redefining that and making space for more authenticity,” Garvit says. View this post on Instagram A post shared by G A R V I T (@thegarvitghotala) For Ashutosh Kapoor, a content creator, things were different as he lost his father at a young age. “My Father passed away as I completed my schooling. But I remember sharing most personal issues with him, and he used to listen to them without judging me. So if I were to get a chance, I think I would be able to tell him that. My emotional relationship with my father was a mix of fear & support,” he shares.“Sidelining my personal emotions due to societal or family expectations,” Ashutosh says he is trying to unlearn this habit. Reflecting on his understanding of masculinity, he believes that embracing a sense of purpose and emotional/mental/physical strength is crucial.“For most of my life, masculinity was what I saw on TV/SM or what men around me looked like,” he says. “I tried meditations and yoga, after which I feel my masculinity is also about accepting my flaws and working to improve them without shifting the blame to anything external, be it a person or society.”Emotionally restricted menMental health professionals suggest that these experiences are not isolated. They are systemic, generational, and deeply conditioned. According to Arouba Kabir, a Bengaluru-based mental health expert, emotional suppression in boys begins much earlier than most people realise — often around the ages of five to seven, during primary school years.Story continues below this adIt isn’t shaped by one defining incident, but Arouba believes it is by hundreds of small, seemingly harmless moments: a boy cries, and someone laughs, he feels scared and is told to “be brave,” he gets hurt and is distracted instead of being comforted.“They’re cultural reflexes passed down through generations. But by adolescence, boys have already learned the emotional hierarchy: Anger is acceptable. Pride is acceptable. Achievement is celebrated. But fear, sadness, insecurity, vulnerability, those get quietly pushed underground. It’s less about repression and more about emotional training that stopped halfway,” she explains.Dr Aswathi R S Nair, founder of Vedhas Mind Health (clinical and rehabilitation psychologist, life coach, corporate trainer), notes how early this conditioning begins. “Around ages five to seven, emotional narrowing starts… not through one incident, but hundreds of small moments,” she says.“Gen Z men are more open to vulnerability,” says Dr Nair, “but they are still learning how to express it consistently.”Story continues below this adAlso Read | The rise of cleanfluencers in India: How content creators are redefining civic senseDr Munia Bhattacharya, senior consultant-clinical psychologist, Marengo Asia Hospitals, Gurgaon, puts it succinctly. “We didn’t raise emotionally weak men, we raised emotionally restricted men.”“Gen Z men are more emotionally aware, expressive, and open to vulnerability. They are more comfortable saying “I’m not okay,” or “I need help,” which was rare in older generations. However, there is also a layer of confusion. They are balancing traditional expectations with modern openness,” she adds.Arouba emphasises that creating safer emotional spaces for men begins with small, intentional shifts within families. She explains that instead of only asking boys about their achievements, it is important to ask how they feel; instead of rushing to fix their problems, to simply listen; and instead of only praising toughness, to also value honesty and openness.She further highlights that one of the most powerful changes comes from modelling, like when men see other men, such as fathers, uncles, or brothers, expressing emotions safely, it normalises vulnerability. She adds that how women in the household respond, continuing to offer the same respect and love, even when men show vulnerability, is crucial.Story continues below this adGen Z men are not free from pressure. They still carry expectations to be strong, stable, and composed. And most importantly, showing emotions is not something off the script, but an act of unlearning and perhaps creating a better world for themselves and their families.