Alec White-Cheshire was 10 years old when doctors first diagnosed him with anorexia. He's now lived with the illness for almost two decades, watching it shape his thoughts, his relationships, and the way he understands the world. "I developed as a child with an illness, which has now become entwined into who I am," he said. "And that's the hardest part to come to terms with."
What frustrates White-Cheshire most isn't sadness—it's the dismissiveness he's faced as a male patient. "Being male, I've experienced dismissiveness," he said. "People still just don't really understand the impact that any sort of eating disorder has on somebody … it just still seems to be portrayed as more of a choice rather than the illness it is." His experience reflects a broader crisis: about 365,000 men are living with an eating disorder around Australia, according to the Butterfly Foundation, yet men are four times more likely to go undiagnosed and less likely to seek help.
A Treatment Gap for Male Patients
Jackson Rose, a counsellor and supervisor for the Butterfly Foundation's helpline, said boys aged 16 and under are increasingly reaching out to support services. But the system isn't designed for them. "People don't think about it, but eating disorder programs in Australia are primarily female," he said. "If you're a male … and you have to go into an inpatient or outpatient program, 90-plus per cent of the people who you will go into that program with will be female. So there's no dedicated male eating disorder programs in Australia."
The research gap mirrors the treatment gap. Men make up 33 per cent of eating disorder diagnoses. But they represent less than 1 per cent of the empirical research on eating disorders and treatment, Rose said. "We see a lot more early intervention around female presentations of eating disorders … but we don't really have as much of that on the male side," he said. On average, just under 2,500 men have been diagnosed each year since 2012.
Pressure to Perform Masculinity
Rose identified pressure from influencers "pushing an ideal around masculinity" as one of the biggest drivers of disordered eating that helpline workers hear about. "It's very tied into looking a certain way, having that very muscular physique," he said. "That's also being transferred into a lot of other areas, we're seeing it in television, in movies … that masculinity is presented a certain way."
The numbers bear this out. According to the Butterfly Foundation's most recent BodyKind Youth Survey, published last year, 84 per cent of boys aged 12 to 18 reported a desire to be more muscular. Boys aged 15 to 17 showed the highest prevalence of body dissatisfaction in males, with 48 per cent of those in the 12 to 18 age bracket saying they never or rarely speak positively about their body. Body image dissatisfaction in men has tripled over the last 25 years, rising from 15 per cent to 45 per cent, according to the Australian Psychological Society.
Athletes Under Pressure
Former AFL player Brock McLean played 157 games over his 11-year career with the Melbourne Demons and Carlton Blues. In private, he was struggling with bulimia nervosa. "It was back in 2010 when I developed an eating disorder, based on what the coaches were asking me to do," he said. "I was spending so much time on the sidelines due to an injury, I was desperate to get back and play and I was willing to do anything for it. That included compromising my physical health and mental health."
InsideOut, an eating disorder research institute, says the line between healthy and unhealthy behaviours can become blurred for athletes. A study of Olympic athletes in 2019 found up to 19 per cent of male athletes experienced some kind of disorder. Rose said sports environments can leave men feeling they have to perform "ideals of masculinity." "I personally have spoken to some young men who are involved in sports and will often change eating habits," he said. "Very strict regimented eating styles, the clean and cut eating and bulking and cutting and cheat meals, all these kind of words people use are often covers for patterns of disordered eating."
Breaking the Silence
McLean, now recovered and raising two children with his partner Stephanie, said admitting he needed help changed everything. "Getting on top of my issues [meant] accepting myself for who I was and finding I could stop blaming myself for things that were outside of my control," he said. "Men struggle to talk about our emotions. We struggle to talk about our feelings. There's still this ingrained toxic culture that talking about our issues or our struggles or our mental health somehow emasculates us. But I've learned from experience that in fact, it's the total opposite. It's a huge sign of strength."
Eating disorders are one of Australia's deadliest mental illnesses. As many as a third of those diagnosed will attempt suicide, according to a 2023 study published in scientific journal Molecular Psychiatry. Despite this, a recent Butterfly Foundation Community Insights Report revealed nine in 10 people were not confident spotting the signs of an eating disorder.
White-Cheshire said he now considers himself stable in his recovery, but knows anorexia is a manipulative disease. "The hardest part really is that for so long you've been dismissed, and that's really hard to get over," he said. "Even once you get to the point where maybe someone is willing to listen or give the right support, it's still hard to break that barrier mentally. Because you're still not very sure whether that person's genuine. [But] you're not alone. No matter how much you feel like that right now, you can get to a point you will feel content and you will actually have your life back."
Why This Matters:
The absence of male-focused eating disorder programs and the near-total exclusion of men from research represent structural failures that leave hundreds of thousands of Australian men without adequate care. When men make up a third of diagnoses but less than 1 per cent of research, the healthcare system isn't just overlooking a vulnerable population—it's actively under-serving them. The tripling of body image dissatisfaction in men over 25 years, driven partly by media and influencer pressure to conform to narrow ideals of masculinity, shows how cultural forces can create public health crises without adequate institutional response. Rose's call for preventative programs and dedicated treatment spaces reflects what public health experts have long argued: early intervention and specialized care save lives. With eating disorders among Australia's deadliest mental illnesses and a third of patients attempting suicide, the gap between need and available support isn't just a policy shortcoming—it's a matter of life and death for men like White-Cheshire and McLean who've fought for recognition in a system that wasn't built for them.