Toni Mejías, the spirited vocalist from the renowned group Los Chikos del Corn , climbs the stage every night, facing a more daunting battle than any tour could present: the oppressive weight of calorie counting, meal avoidance, and an incessant fixation on his own reflection . While audiences sing along with fervor, he grapples with an internal struggle that remains largely unseen. For a long time, even he was unaware of how to articulate this battle. After recognizing it, he penned the book Hunger, where he narrates his experience with an eating disorder that defied stereotypes: a man, a rapper, and supposedly strong. But strength is no shield against such issues; ultimately, no one is safe.
Mejías’ narrative exemplifies a larger, more pervasive dilemma. A growing number of men are quietly ensnared in food dynamics characterized by control, guilt, and rigidity. This struggle often occurs in silence, as male hunger is infrequently acknowledged, let alone openly addressed.
For decades, eating disorders were deemed a predominantly female issue . In the late 90s, studies indicated that male cases comprised just 5% to 10% of those treated at specialized clinics. However, recent research has begun to challenge that statistic. By applying diagnostic criteria tailored to men’s common concerns—ranging from muscular obsession to physical performance—it’s been found that the prevalence of eating disorders among men may actually match that of women, potentially reaching 7% . These figures suggest a significant underestimation of cases, largely due to stigma, lack of awareness, and traditional clinical bias.
Nuria Esteve, a nutritionist specializing in eating disorders , elaborates that men often exhibit differing symptoms that can be more invisible. It’s not unusual for men to avoid referring to their struggles as they may not identify them as problems. Instead, they often seek help for issues such as digestive discomfort, lack of energy , or body recomposition , pushing the underlying concerns to remain unaddressed.
The silence surrounding male experiences complicates the matter. Many men hesitate to seek help for fear of appearing weak. Without relatable references to normalize discussions, they struggle even more with self-recognition. Sara Bolo, a psychologist who specializes in eating disorders, emphasizes this point, stating that “Men often find it challenging to communicate their ailments or mental health struggles; they feel pressured to embody the ideal of strength and independence.”
For many years, the clinical and social perspective on eating disorders has predominantly depicted young, slim, and white females as the archetype. Conversely, discussions surrounding male eating disorders have been marginalized. Bolo explains that societal narratives often imply that emotional distress is a feminine trait, teaching men that discipline in controlling their bodies and diets equates to strength rather than illness.
The Perfect Storm Is Formed
With the advent of social media, a problematic obsession with the male body has taken root, fueled by fitness influencers and a lucrative industry of dietary supplements. Gyms transcend mere training facilities and have become arenas for demonstrating control, effort, and masculinity. Supplements like powdered protein and creatine have gained a reputation as essential tools for attaining an often-unattainable ideal physique.
This phenomenon, dubbed “protein chic,” transforms muscle into a coveted brand associated with self-worth. Unfortunately, this obsession leads many young men towards strict, obsessive routines devoid of professional guidance. Esteve points out, “Many come to therapy on hyper-protein diets low in carbohydrates or using supplements irresponsibly, driven by an urgent desire for rapid changes in muscle mass or fat loss, which often results in nutritional restriction.”
If unchecked, this phenomenon can cross a critical line: “When food becomes a mere calculation, a form of punishment, or an impediment to social life, we move from self-care to dysfunction,” Esteve warns. Amid this context, alternative male identities are emerging. Icons like Pedro Pascal are heralded as voices of a more vulnerable masculinity, yet the cultural expectation of stoicism and independence remains strong.
“Men often express that they can only eat if they’re planning to work out soon after, leading them to feel guilty if they skip a training session,” Bolo elaborates. Such thinking is frequently misinterpreted as sheer willpower rather than an illumination of the underlying issues. Ultimately, they become ensnared in a rigid lifestyle that suppresses their freedom.
The struggle to articulate feelings—whether it’s anxiety, fear, or discomfort—often contributes to the silent advancement of eating disorders among men. Food becomes a territory where they can assert some form of control amidst emotional turmoil.
In men, eating disorders often manifest as an obsession with increasing muscle mass, reducing fat, or enhancing physical performance. Esteve warns that phrases like, “I need to consume more protein to maintain muscle” or “I feel guilty for eating that without training” are red flags. Social isolation, avoidance of group meals, and concealing discomfort are other signs. Often, the controlling behaviors are dismissed as discipline, complicating identifications of the problem due to the underlying emotions—sadness, guilt, fear of failure, and low self-esteem.
Moreover, complex realities, such as experiences of trans men , intersect with these issues. Many individuals socialized as women face unique challenges related to body image and control, leading them to severe restrictions as a means of coping. The intertwining of gender dysphoria with eating disorders necessitates a nuanced approach that considers the multi-faceted nature of these experiences.
Rebuild from Within
Addressing eating disorders in men demands a comprehensive approach that encompasses nutrition, mental health, and emotional well-being. Esteve advocates for a flexible, individualized approach toward food that prioritizes emotional health. Bolo employs therapeutic techniques such as Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT) to help individuals confront their fears surrounding food and to cultivate emotional resilience.
Yet, transformative change often begins long before an individual seeks help. “We need to instill nutritional education that doesn’t glorify unrealistic bodies or enforce rigid norms,” Esteve asserts. Bolo emphasizes the necessity of training healthcare professionals to recognize symptoms in men and advocating for dialogues led by male role models to create safe spaces for men.
“Recognizing that something isn’t quite right is itself a courageous step,” remarks Bolo. “Obsession with body image, food, or training may mask deeper emotional issues. Seeking help doesn’t signify weakness; it symbolizes a commitment to oneself.”
Every man doesn’t simply stop eating or overeat; many obsessively fixate on what enters their bodies as if their worth is intrinsically tied to it. Though they struggle in silence, they are not isolated. It’s time to acknowledge their experiences and, more importantly, to listen without judgment.