Over the past week, I’ve had the opportunity to sit in on the meetings of two other men’s help groups in my country.
Invariably, as someone who has been coordinating a men’s group since 2023, I would come to know of other such groups too. More so recently, when I joined up with a men’s network that was launched early June this year to bring as many of such groups as possible under one umbrella.
The idea being strength in numbers.
That launch on 6 June comprised 12 different men’s groups, and the number has since expanded to at least 14 or 15 in less than two months. Who knew there were so many such groups in town!
While it seemed like a good idea at the time to be part of such a movement to promote mental well-being for guys in my country, circumstances that happened since (and even prior to joining), have led me to think there might actually NOT be strength in numbers.
Let me try to explain what I mean.
Bonding Over A Shared Sense of Loneliness
When we first started, the founder of my men’s group and I were just two ordinary blokes.
We met up for coffee once a month for nearly two years, between 2021 and 2023. In those meetings, which lasted at least an hour and a half, we talked to one another honestly about our parenting joys and struggles.
Looking back now, I must say that we were an odd pairing. Under any other circumstances, our paths would never have crossed, let alone last for the duration it did!
We were at least a decade apart in age, as were our children. We had very different parenting situations — he had two daughters and no sons, while I had two sons and no daughters. He was formerly in IT and pastoral ministry, while I worked in the sectors of tourism and education before leaving full-time employment. He was born and raised elsewhere and spent years in different places. I, on the other hand, have spent nearly all my life in the same place.
I could go on and on about our differences, but you get the picture, right?
For all intents and purposes, Cliff Tam and I had very little in common.
But the one thing we did have in common kept us meeting up again and again.
What we had was a shared sense of loneliness and the need to find connections with other men who had taken the path less travelled to be more present with our children and family than with our careers.
We understood the need for deep-seated connections and a community, and were taking steps to find them.
From Six To 12 To 130!
As of now, much of our community’s story, how we grew from just Cliff and me in 2023 to over 130 members now, has been captured in one form or another (news articles, radio and podcasts interviews, social media, and websites) over the past 3.5 years.
While we were never about numbers, our surprising growth in such a short time gave us the confidence to believe we weren’t alone. Other fathers in similar life circumstances were also looking for connections and to belong to a community outside of their own families, relatives, neighbours, workmates, and friends.
Much of our growth has been organic, happening through word-of-mouth. Or courtesy of occasional media exposures that put us temporarily in the spotlight.
Plus, according to recent news reports, more fathers here are stepping out of full-time work to look after their children amid a gradual rise in paternal involvement at home.
The number of stay-at-home dads outside the labour force has also gone up. From about 1,500 in 2017 to 3,000 in 2025, based on data from the Ministry of Manpower’s annual Labour Force in Singapore reports. They now make up 7.4 per cent of residents outside the labour force for childcare in 2025, up from 3.5 per cent in 2022.
All to say that our little community’s growth from six to 103 in 3.5 years isn’t all that unbelievable.
Yet, as with many communities (including the two mens’ groups I met recently), growth in numbers may mean greater participation and presence, but not necessarily abiding connections and deeper conversations.
Growth Does Not Equal Connections
Observing the two mens’ group meetings the past week, I saw conversations taking place between strangers and old friends alike that ranged from the robust to the casual to the cautious.
Yet, there was an unsettling sense in me that somehow much of it was still pretty much on the surface, or worse, offers of quick fixes to challenges shared. There was also the rather unpleasant feeling that I should consider signing up for a paid course or programme they are running soon. To help men pick up tools to navigate better mental health.
So while the term “community” was bandied around very liberally, it didn’t feel like the organisers were so much building community as they were building a following. The corporate vibe that radiated from the slick salesy speeches delivered, especially by the second meeting I attended, added to my growing feeling of dread.
Community isn’t about a collection of warm bodies to fill seats and offering bags.
It’s about growing deep connections with like-minded men to see ourselves through the storms of life.
That won’t happen in large numbers. That only happens when we are small and deeply connected with one another.
And that takes time.
Turning the lens back on my own community of dads and our astounding growth, I must now wonder: Are we, like those other mens’ groups, in danger of forgetting this truism of time and deep connections in small numbers? The very essence of how Cliff and I got connected five years ago?
If so, maybe it’s time to stop bringing in new members and start downsizing to grow!
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