In all the bustle and commotion of life, I discovered only last Sunday the Safe Haven behind Mullum’s Civic Hall as I sauntered by. In the adjacent park, I happened upon one beautiful brother from Tasmania, named Johan, and asked if he knew how long it had been there. ‘Since the floods,’ he replied.
As I perused the leaflets stuck to the walls, one with a long list of helplines caught my attention, at the bottom of which was a phone number for MensLine. Most arresting was that, upon careful rereading, there were no specific women’s helplines. Of course there are organisations with dedicated support for women, but what’s important about this as a man, I realised, is that it’s basically a licence for vulnerability, something which the dominating culture does not readily grant to males, though apparently the tide is shifting.
‘Our secrets make us sick,’ concurred Johan as I shared my insight with him, fighting back tears. That licence, the MensLine phone number, is 1300 789 978. I didn’t call it, but was happy to know it was there. I walked away with the sunshine in my face.
For four decades The Echo has printed the stories some people loved, some people hated, and some pretended not to read. If you want us to keep telling the truth, the real truth, not the sugar-coated version. We’ll need your support to keep the presses rolling. 
