A Brother Through Hardship /
Matt Brown is a passionate community leader and advocate for change
As a survivor of domestic violence and distressed mental wellbeing throughout his youth, Matt Brown is no stranger to close shaves. Now, as willing community leaders, Matt and his wife Sarah have made it their mission to lead our porihanga in cutting through the prejudice of mental health, to combat New Zealand’s alarming rates of suicide and family violence. It all begins in the seat of Matt’s barber chair.
There are two facets to Matt Brown. There is the talented barber who has built his business upon a foundation of empathy and respect for his clients. The ‘Matt Brown experience’ involves getting comfortable in the upholstery of his barber chair and receiving a truly superb haircut. Somewhat of a hair wizard, Matt creates hair art which involves shaving designs such as celebrity portraits, national flags or idiosyncratic symbols into his clients’ hairlines. However, Matt ensures the rudimentary nature and classical principles of barbering keep him grounded. He especially prides himself on providing a quality fade, or taper haircut; a seemingly simple, yet (according to Matt) oft botched procedure. ‘Many barbers have inflated egos… it’s all about what they can post on Instagram. I apprenticed from an orthodox Turkish barber in Auckland, and he taught me that I exist only to serve the client.’
The other side to Matt has a deeply vulnerable core that is guiding his approach to aiding our community. Speaking at TedxChristchurch in 2019, Matt described his childhood in one word: unsafe. ‘My first memory of Christmas I was three years old, and I remember my father picking up the Christmas tree, and beating my mother up with it. By the age of 10 [I] had lived in every women’s refuge in our hometown… this became a normal and accepted part of our world.’
Matt goes on to describe how his existence was defined by the inability to share his feelings with anyone. He wore metaphorical masks to protect himself, acting as the boy he thought others, particularly his father, wanted him to be, as the horror of domestic abuse continued to encapsulate his youth.
When Matt began his barbering profession and business – then, from his backyard shed – he discovered the importance of combining his technical skills with a listening ear. Matt recalls a momentous evening when he was visited by a particularly perturbed young man, who upon completion of his haircut broke down crying, announcing that he was going to commit suicide. ‘I grabbed him, hugged him, and cried with him. Thankfully, after our talk, he decided not to go ahead with it.’
This was a symbolic moment for Matt. He learnt that his barber chair was a sanctuary that allowed men to
remove their masks. Rattled by the epidemic of mental illness in New Zealand, and its ensuing consequences,
Matt and Sarah Brown then began a campaign to prioritise healing in their community.
Let’s consider the magnitude of the issues that Matt is attempting to combat. In 2018 alone, police investigated a total of 133,022 incidents of family violence nationwide; that equates to approximately one incident every four minutes. In 2015/2016, there were 16,394 findings of child abuse or neglect. Furthermore, one in three women report having experienced physical and/or sexual violence at the hands of a partner in their lifetimes. Two important things must be noted here. Firstly, although the issue is predominately gendered against women – 98 per cent of deaths attributed to domestic violence were women at the hands of an intimate male partner – men are also commonplace victims of intimate partner violence. For example, 550 requests (10 per cent of total applications) for protection orders were made by men in 2016. Secondly, this ratio is not mirrored; although one in three women suffer at the hands of a partner, one in three men are not, therefore, perpetrators, as many perpetrators are repeat offenders.
Over the 10-year period of 2006 to 2016, New Zealand’s suicide rate indicated no improvement. In 2016, 553 Kiwis took their own lives. This time, the issue is gendered against men. For every female suicide, there were almost three male suicides. The most at-risk age group: 15to 24-year-olds.
Finally, the suicide disparity between Māori and nonMāori individuals is alarming; Māori are affected at double the rate, for both men and women. So, a harrowing number of women, men and children in our society are being mistreated with horrifying, and for some, regular bouts of domestic violence.
Where is this coming from? From Matt’s perspective, it begins in childhood. ‘From a young age, boys are raised in an environment where they don’t talk about emotions. They’re taught that it’s not okay to cry, no matter how upset they’re feeling. Where is this tough mentality getting us as a society?’ he says. ‘I’ve seen men display the fact that “they don’t cry” as a badge of honour. To deprive yourself of the ability to display emotion isn’t something to be proud of.’
‘If you’re sad in our home, you cry, and Matt models acceptance of vulnerability to our kids; particularly our son,’ adds Sarah.
When I met with Matt and Sarah, I asked Matt to
describe the feelings of being a father and husband: ‘[My family] have helped me heal from my traumatic past; they all teach me how to be a better man. My kids give me a sense of gratitude and belonging, and Sarah supports and challenges me. She is my safe place.’
We then flipped the exercise, and I asked Matt to put himself in Sarah’s shoes and look back at himself. ‘That’s a good question!’ Sarah announces, with a smile.
‘I’m patient, stubborn, but kind. We have our disagreements at times; I can bury my heels into the ground. But I know that I am loving.’
As Matt talks, Sarah nods along with him, and adds, ‘He is very present, emotionally intelligent and sees beyond the surface level. That’s why people feel seen by him.’
Matt’s practised embrace of his vulnerabilities is palpable. ‘Vulnerability is showing up and letting yourself be seen. Walking in your authentic shoes, flaws and all,’ he says. To heal from childhood traumatic experiences, as both Matt and Sarah have had to do, they believe it starts with dressing your psychological and emotional wounds. ‘You need to have the courage to clean your wounds and then allow them to turn into scars. The damaged area won’t be as pretty as before, but it will be a lot tougher, and it will help you get through [similar circumstances] in the future,’ Sarah explains.
Whenever Matt and Sarah attempt to engage with people who are hurting, this philosophy guides their means. ‘If someone is struggling, I start by telling my story. I take my mask off, signalling to them that they are safe to do the same. I then listen to them and learn about their story, or find the right questions to draw it out,’ says Matt. ‘However, healing is still the responsibility of every individual.’
This latter sentiment is the north star of Matt and Sarah’s latest community initiative: She is Not Your Rehab. The anti-violence movement was birthed from the interpretation of the abuse that Matt and Sarah witnessed in their lifetime. It provides a space for men to find support in their struggles with violence and distance from their loved ones. However, it also promotes the understanding that a journey into
‘Boys are raised in an environment where they don’t talk about emotions. They’re taught that it’s not okay to cry, no matter how upset they’re feeling. Where is this tough mentality getting us as a society?’
healing is a personal cross to be carried; it is not a burden to be completely and brutally devolved onto another. ‘We play victim because of how we were raised; we then transfer that pain to our [partners] and children,’ says Matt.
Sarah builds on this. ‘We say to people, “No matter how bad your start to life was, you’re not the only one in the world with hardship; it is your responsibility to take ownership of the hard work that is the healing process.” The people that don’t [accept this] live in their victimhood forever, and their pain is continually transferred onto those around them.’
The success of this approach is regularly manifested at their Men’s Monthly Collective. I attended one such meeting and witnessed a participant, a man of a physically imposing and confronting stature, begin to tell us of his resentment for his ex-spouse, legal counsel and parole officers, all of whom consistently told him that his manner of communicating was intimidating. But it was what he said next that took, I suspect, the entire room by surprise. ‘I practised my way of communicating by speaking to myself in the mirror, and I saw for the first time what they were seeing.’ The room erupted in admiration of his bravery to take this fundamental first step.
The combined prevalence and severity of mental illness in our society does not simply allude to an epidemic; it confirms one. The work of Matt and Sarah has been an instrumental cause for awareness and a catalyst for positive change. However, eliminating the consequences of psychological neglect, such as suicide and family violence, relies on the propensity of each citizen to turn to their neighbour and ask, sincerely, ‘Are you okay?’ In tandem with this, we must become comfortable with gazing inwards and asking ourselves, ‘Am I okay?’
It is okay to not be okay, but it is ultimately the action that one takes from that position that matters.
The work of Matt and Sarah has been an instrumental cause for awareness and a catalyst for positive change.