YORK RESEARCH JOURNEYS

Professor Paul Galdas

When Paul said he wanted to train as a nurse, few people in his hometown knew what to make of it. It was the 1990s in Rothwell, a former mining community south of Leeds, and his academic results meant many assumed he would pursue a career in medicine. Friends and family responded with everything from quiet confusion to outright ridicule. His father, in particular, struggled to understand why he had chosen nursing.

“Nursing is still such a gendered profession,” Paul says. “The proportion of men in nursing today has barely changed since I started, around one in ten. Even today, I am met with a certain level of surprise when I tell people I am a registered nurse.”

“I have never seen myself as particularly brave, just the sort of person who is determined to follow their own instincts without worrying too much about what others think. That mindset has served me well throughout my career.”

Moving from an all-boys grammar school to a university course where he was one of only three men was a culture shock, but his sense of being in the right place only grew. The ambition had never been about prestige; it was inspired by his mother's career as a nurse at Leeds General Infirmary and a simple desire to care for people.

Paul's dad and Paul in his graduation robe and hat posing for a photo. His dad is wearing a black blazer, white shirt, and red tie. The bottom photo is of his mum wearing white nurses uniform. Both of them have are happy and suggesting they are proud of their accomplishment. — _{Paul and his dad in 2001 at Paul’s graduation with a BSc (hons) in Nursing and Paul’s mum in her nurse's uniform at Leeds General Infirmary around 1970.}

_{Paul and his dad in 2001 at Paul’s graduation with a BSc (hons) in Nursing and Paul’s mum in her nurse's uniform at Leeds General Infirmary around 1970.}

Paul Galdas is Professor of Men’s Health at the University of York. He is one of four international experts leading a major men’s health research programme with the global men’s health charity Movember. His work is driven by a practical mission to transform how health systems, services and organisations reach men before health problems escalate.

When Paul said he wanted to train as a nurse, few people in his hometown knew what to make of it. It was the 1990s in Rothwell, a former mining community south of Leeds, and his academic results meant many assumed he would pursue a career in medicine. Friends and family responded with everything from quiet confusion to outright ridicule. His father, in particular, struggled to understand why he had chosen nursing.

“Nursing is still such a gendered profession,” Paul says. “The proportion of men in nursing today has barely changed since I started, around one in ten. Even today, I am met with a certain level of surprise when I tell people I am a registered nurse.”

“I have never seen myself as particularly brave, just the sort of person who is determined to follow their own instincts without worrying too much about what others think. That mindset has served me well throughout my career.”

Moving from an all-boys grammar school to a university course where he was one of only three men was a culture shock, but his sense of being in the right place only grew. The ambition had never been about prestige; it was inspired by his mother's career as a nurse at Leeds General Infirmary and a simple desire to care for people.

“Even today, I am met with a certain level of surprise when I tell people I am a registered nurse.”

On the ward

After graduating, Paul took up his first post as a coronary care nurse at Birmingham City Hospital. It was a busy, intense environment where the vast majority of patients were men. Paul quickly noticed a troubling pattern: most had waited until their symptoms were severe before seeking help.

As a young working-class nurse, Paul found that many male patients felt comfortable opening up to him in moments of vulnerability. “I always remember one particular patient,” Paul says. “He was young, athletic and fit, a keen cyclist. He had suffered a heart attack completely out of the blue. He wanted an explanation for something that felt inexplicable. I remember telling him, ‘Look mate, this isn’t your fault. It isn’t something you’ve done.’”

“That experience taught me something about the fragility of life, but it also showed me that, despite the common perception, men really do care about their health.”

Questions of identity and belonging also ran through Paul's own family story. His surname, Galdas, was an anglicised version of Kaldas, brought to the UK by his grandfather who came from a wealthy family in Egypt and first arrived in Britain to study maths at the University of Leeds. He met and married Paul's grandmother, and the couple later moved back to Egypt, but were forced to flee during the Suez crisis. They returned to England and built a new life from scratch, running a grocery shop in Leeds.

Decades later, when Paul was 22, he and his father planned a journey back to Egypt together to trace their roots and connect with relatives they’d managed to find. But before they could board the plane, his father died unexpectedly, aged just 46. “I’ve never made that trip to Egypt,” Paul says. “It is something I would still love to do one day.”

Paul is in his white nurses uniform standing in front of a door with a smile on his face. In the background, there are cupboards with papers attached to them. — ^{Paul working as a nurse at St James' hospital in Leeds around 2001.}

^{Paul working as a nurse at St James' hospital in Leeds around 2001.}

On the ward

After graduating, Paul took up his first post as a coronary care nurse at Birmingham City Hospital. It was a busy, intense environment where the vast majority of patients were men. Paul quickly noticed a troubling pattern: most had waited until their symptoms were severe before seeking help.

As a young working-class nurse, Paul found that many male patients felt comfortable opening up to him in moments of vulnerability. “I always remember one particular patient,” Paul says. “He was young, athletic and fit, a keen cyclist. He had suffered a heart attack completely out of the blue. He wanted an explanation for something that felt inexplicable. I remember telling him, ‘Look mate, this isn’t your fault. It isn’t something you’ve done.’”

“That experience taught me something about the fragility of life, but it also showed me that, despite the common perception, men really do care about their health.”

Questions of identity and belonging also ran through Paul's own family story. His surname, Galdas, was an anglicised version of Kaldas, brought to the UK by his grandfather who came from a wealthy family in Egypt and first arrived in Britain to study maths at the University of Leeds. He met and married Paul's grandmother, and the couple later moved back to Egypt, but were forced to flee during the Suez crisis. They returned to England and built a new life from scratch, running a grocery shop in Leeds.

Decades later, when Paul was 22, he and his father planned a journey back to Egypt together to trace their roots and connect with relatives they’d managed to find. But before they could board the plane, his father died unexpectedly, aged just 46. “I’ve never made that trip to Egypt,” Paul says. “It is something I would still love to do one day.”

A SPARK OF CURIOSITY

In the wake of his loss, Paul made a decision that would reshape his career. Using a modest inheritance left by his father, he funded a Masters degree, taking his first steps into the world of research.

His postgraduate study soon led him to a PhD, shaped by questions that had emerged during his years on the ward. He had become interested in how men understood and responded to illness, and the role culture played in those responses. His research found that South Asian participants often framed health in relation to family and community, while white British participants were more likely to speak about managing symptoms privately.

“I became fascinated by how culture intersects with gender norms,” Paul explains, “particularly those ideals that connect masculinity with stoicism and self-reliance.” What began as quiet conversations at a patient’s bedside in Birmingham grew into a long-term research mission: dismantling the assumption that men are careless about their health, and understanding the complex social pressures that can prevent them from asking for help.

Alongside his growing passion for research, Paul’s postgraduate years revealed an unexpected love for the lecture theatre.

“Teaching is a remarkable experience,” Paul says. “I enjoy it as much as I love research. It is about inspiring people, challenging ideas together and learning things yourself along the way. I loved teaching for that, and I still do.”

That enthusiasm, coupled with a longstanding affection for Canada, soon drew Paul across the Atlantic. He had fallen in love with the country during a backpacking trip in his early twenties, and when an opening arose at the University of British Columbia, he applied.

A SPARK OF CURIOSITY

In the wake of his loss, Paul made a decision that would reshape his career. Using a modest inheritance left by his father, he funded a Masters degree, taking his first steps into the world of research.

His postgraduate study soon led him to a PhD, shaped by questions that had emerged during his years on the ward. He had become interested in how men understood and responded to illness, and the role culture played in those responses. His research found that South Asian participants often framed health in relation to family and community, while white British participants were more likely to speak about managing symptoms privately.

“I became fascinated by how culture intersects with gender norms,” Paul explains, “particularly those ideals that connect masculinity with stoicism and self-reliance.” What began as quiet conversations at a patient’s bedside in Birmingham grew into a long-term research mission: dismantling the assumption that men are careless about their health, and understanding the complex social pressures that can prevent them from asking for help.

Alongside his growing passion for research, Paul’s postgraduate years revealed an unexpected love for the lecture theatre.

“Teaching is a remarkable experience,” Paul says. “I enjoy it as much as I love research. It is about inspiring people, challenging ideas together and learning things yourself along the way. I loved teaching for that, and I still do.”

That enthusiasm, coupled with a longstanding affection for Canada, soon drew Paul across the Atlantic. He had fallen in love with the country during a backpacking trip in his early twenties, and when an opening arose at the University of British Columbia, he applied.

Learning from the best

The move proved transformative. Canada had a long and distinguished tradition of nursing scholarship and Paul found himself working alongside leading researchers, including his head of department, Professor Sally Thorne, as well as Professors John Oliffe, Joy Johnson and Pam Ratner.

“I was so lucky to have that level of support,” Paul reflects. “They invited me onto their projects, helped me refine my writing and encouraged my ideas. They believed in me. Over the four years I was there, that mentorship helped me build a competitive profile that set me apart.”

Canada changed Paul’s life beyond academia too. During his years overseas, Paul married his partner and they welcomed their first child. Yet the reality of raising a newborn thousands of miles from home eventually called them back across the Atlantic.

“We made the decision to return to the UK because we missed our friends and family,” Paul explains. “It was a scary experience being new parents with a baby who had no intention of sleeping. Once we got back, I quickly realised that parenthood is hard wherever you are!”

That period of exhaustion and transition sharpened Paul’s interest in fatherhood as a major transition in men’s lives, with implications for identity, relationships and engagement with health services.

Today, this insight forms a core pillar of his work as a Movember Institute Professorial Fellow, where Paul’s research will explore how to reach men during key life transitions.

“Fatherhood can create opportunities to engage men both proactively and when problems emerge,” Paul notes. “It is a period of major change, when some men may be more open to thinking differently about their health.”

Paul sitting in a chair, cradling a newborn baby in his arms. He is wearing a black t-shirt and a watch. — _{Paul's certificate for passing the Canadian registered nurse exam and Paul with his baby daughter in 2010.}

_{Paul's certificate for passing the Canadian registered nurse exam and Paul with his baby daughter in 2010.}

“Fatherhood can create opportunities to engage men both proactively and when problems emerge, It is a period of major change, when some men may be more open to thinking differently about their health.”

Learning from the best

The move proved transformative. Canada had a long and distinguished tradition of nursing scholarship and Paul found himself working alongside leading researchers, including his head of department, Professor Sally Thorne, as well as Professors John Oliffe, Joy Johnson and Pam Ratner.

“I was so lucky to have that level of support,” Paul reflects. “They invited me onto their projects, helped me refine my writing and encouraged my ideas. They believed in me. Over the four years I was there, that mentorship helped me build a competitive profile that set me apart.”

Canada changed Paul’s life beyond academia too. During his years overseas, Paul married his partner and they welcomed their first child. Yet the reality of raising a newborn thousands of miles from home eventually called them back across the Atlantic.

“We made the decision to return to the UK because we missed our friends and family,” Paul explains. “It was a scary experience being new parents with a baby who had no intention of sleeping. Once we got back, I quickly realised that parenthood is hard wherever you are!”

That period of exhaustion and transition sharpened Paul’s interest in fatherhood as a major transition in men’s lives, with implications for identity, relationships and engagement with health services.

Today, this insight forms a core pillar of his work as a Movember Institute Professorial Fellow, where Paul’s research will explore how to reach men during key life transitions.

“Fatherhood can create opportunities to engage men both proactively and when problems emerge,” Paul notes. “It is a period of major change, when some men may be more open to thinking differently about their health.”

“There are moments, particularly early in your career, when you wonder whether it is all a waste of time. You have to keep bloody going. Learning to handle rejection and keep pursuing the work is the only way forward.”

Persistence is everything

Paul returned to the UK with a young family and a stronger research profile, but without the collaborative network that had sustained him in Canada. In academic terms, he was starting again. He had to build new research teams, establish fresh partnerships and secure his own funding. The path was far from smooth. At one stage, he endured a string of 12 consecutive grant rejections from funding bodies that struggled to see the value in applying a gendered lens to men’s health.

“Persistence is everything in academia,” Paul says. “There are moments, particularly early in your career, when you wonder whether it is all a waste of time. You have to keep bloody going. Learning to handle rejection and keep pursuing the work is the only way forward.”

After a brief spell at the University of Sheffield, Paul joined the University of York, where he has worked for the past 15 years, achieving the rank of Professor on his 40th birthday.

When the Covid-19 pandemic struck, Paul was serving as Deputy Head of Department and Director of Teaching. As student nurses moved into extended clinical placements to support the workforce in a period of intense pressure on the NHS, Paul’s background as a registered nurse helped him connect the University’s responsibilities with the realities facing NHS partners.

“My role required me to have a very close relationship with our NHS partners and I regularly went out to the hospitals to help coordinate the student placements,” Paul says. “I understood the context because, at my core, I am a nurse.”

Persistence is everything

Paul returned to the UK with a young family and a stronger research profile, but without the collaborative network that had sustained him in Canada. In academic terms, he was starting again. He had to build new research teams, establish fresh partnerships and secure his own funding. The path was far from smooth. At one stage, he endured a string of 12 consecutive grant rejections from funding bodies that struggled to see the value in applying a gendered lens to men’s health.

“Persistence is everything in academia,” Paul says. “There are moments, particularly early in your career, when you wonder whether it is all a waste of time. You have to keep bloody going. Learning to handle rejection and keep pursuing the work is the only way forward.”

After a brief spell at the University of Sheffield, Paul joined the University of York, where he has worked for the past 15 years, achieving the rank of Professor on his 40th birthday.

When the Covid-19 pandemic struck, Paul was serving as Deputy Head of Department and Director of Teaching. As student nurses moved into extended clinical placements to support the workforce in a period of intense pressure on the NHS, Paul’s background as a registered nurse helped him connect the University’s responsibilities with the realities facing NHS partners.

“My role required me to have a very close relationship with our NHS partners and I regularly went out to the hospitals to help coordinate the student placements,” Paul says. “I understood the context because, at my core, I am a nurse.”

A PERSONAL TOLL

The responsibility took a personal toll. Serving on a national emergency response group, Paul received early briefings on hospital capacity, deaths among healthcare staff, and contingency planning.

“There were several occasions where I sat here in my office and cried,” he recalls. “I would get off those national NHS emergency calls talking about what was happening in Italy, about doctors and nurses dying, and I was terrified. I remember feeling completely overwhelmed, and then going home and seeing my wife acting normally like everyone else, because nobody knew yet, and thinking to myself that an apocalypse might be coming.”

At the same time, Paul’s research expertise was feeding directly into the national pandemic response. In June 2020, he was invited to act as an expert adviser at workshops convened to develop a briefing requested by the Scientific Pandemic Influenza Group on Behaviours (SPI-B), which provided behavioural science advice to the UK Government through SAGE. The request followed emerging evidence that men, particularly younger and middle-aged men, were less likely to adhere to government regulations and public health guidance, while also experiencing adverse health consequences during the pandemic.

Working alongside specialists in men’s health and behaviour change, Paul contributed evidence from men’s health promotion to the development of a logic model examining how public health guidance could engage men more effectively.

A PERSONAL TOLL

The responsibility took a personal toll. Serving on a national emergency response group, Paul received early briefings on hospital capacity, deaths among healthcare staff, and contingency planning.

“There were several occasions where I sat here in my office and cried,” he recalls. “I would get off those national NHS emergency calls talking about what was happening in Italy, about doctors and nurses dying, and I was terrified. I remember feeling completely overwhelmed, and then going home and seeing my wife acting normally like everyone else, because nobody knew yet, and thinking to myself that an apocalypse might be coming.”

At the same time, Paul’s research expertise was feeding directly into the national pandemic response. In June 2020, he was invited to act as an expert adviser at workshops convened to develop a briefing requested by the Scientific Pandemic Influenza Group on Behaviours (SPI-B), which provided behavioural science advice to the UK Government through SAGE. The request followed emerging evidence that men, particularly younger and middle-aged men, were less likely to adhere to government regulations and public health guidance, while also experiencing adverse health consequences during the pandemic.

Working alongside specialists in men’s health and behaviour change, Paul contributed evidence from men’s health promotion to the development of a logic model examining how public health guidance could engage men more effectively.

Meaningful change in men’s lives

Today, Paul chairs the National Men’s Health Academic Network, providing independent advice to the Department of Health and Social Care to support England’s Men’s Health Strategy. His collaborative work spans combined and local authorities, charities, male-dominated workplaces and sports organisations, tackling critical issues such as male mental health and suicide prevention.

Central to all of Paul’s work is a fundamental conviction: meaningful change comes from reforming systems, not from blaming individuals.

“The thing that keeps me awake at night is the relentless focus on blaming individual men for their health outcomes, typified by the repeated message that men simply need to talk more,” Paul says. “Talking matters, but many of the barriers to better health do not reside within individual boys and men. They are created or reinforced by the environments and social structures around them. Change means reshaping those structures so they offer genuine opportunities for healthier lives.”

“If we start from the assumption that poor health among boys and men is primarily a problem of their own making, we will get this wrong,” he adds.

“We need cultures that make room for different ways of being a boy or a man, and in which care, empathy and sensitivity are recognised as strengths. This is not about asking boys and men to become someone else. It is about enabling them to draw on capacities they already have.”

As the father of a teenage daughter and an 11 year old son, Paul experiences debates about social media, young men and modern masculinity as personal as well as professional. Yet he sees grounds for hope rather than despair. The fact that society is now talking openly about these issues, he believes, gives us a better chance of addressing them.

A lad from Rothwell

Ask Paul what has carried him through his own journey and he does not point to academic brilliance. “I do not think for a minute that I am the cleverest person in the building,” he smiles. “I am frequently blown away by how smart people in academia are. My own strength is communication: taking complicated ideas and making them accessible. That made me a decent teacher, and it helps me build partnerships beyond the University.”

Looking back across a career that spans hospital wards in Birmingham, lecture halls in Vancouver and national advisory panels in Westminster, Paul’s thoughts return to his roots in West Yorkshire.

“At the end of the day, I am fundamentally just a lad from Rothwell,” Paul says. “I think my father would be proud to know where the journey has taken me.”

“We need cultures that make room for different ways of being a boy or a man, and in which care, empathy and sensitivity are recognised as strengths. This is not about asking boys and men to become someone else. It is about enabling them to draw on capacities they already have.”

Meaningful change in men’s lives

Today, Paul chairs the National Men’s Health Academic Network, providing independent advice to the Department of Health and Social Care to support England’s Men’s Health Strategy. His collaborative work spans combined and local authorities, charities, male-dominated workplaces and sports organisations, tackling critical issues such as male mental health and suicide prevention.

Central to all of Paul’s work is a fundamental conviction: meaningful change comes from reforming systems, not from blaming individuals.

“The thing that keeps me awake at night is the relentless focus on blaming individual men for their health outcomes, typified by the repeated message that men simply need to talk more,” Paul says. “Talking matters, but many of the barriers to better health do not reside within individual boys and men. They are created or reinforced by the environments and social structures around them. Change means reshaping those structures so they offer genuine opportunities for healthier lives.”

“If we start from the assumption that poor health among boys and men is primarily a problem of their own making, we will get this wrong,” he adds.

“We need cultures that make room for different ways of being a boy or a man, and in which care, empathy and sensitivity are recognised as strengths. This is not about asking boys and men to become someone else. It is about enabling them to draw on capacities they already have.”

As the father of a teenage daughter and an 11 year old son, Paul experiences debates about social media, young men and modern masculinity as personal as well as professional. Yet he sees grounds for hope rather than despair. The fact that society is now talking openly about these issues, he believes, gives us a better chance of addressing them.

“We need cultures that make room for different ways of being a boy or a man, and in which care, empathy and sensitivity are recognised as strengths. This is not about asking boys and men to become someone else. It is about enabling them to draw on capacities they already have.”

A lad from Rothwell

Ask Paul what has carried him through his own journey and he does not point to academic brilliance. “I do not think for a minute that I am the cleverest person in the building,” he smiles. “I am frequently blown away by how smart people in academia are. My own strength is communication: taking complicated ideas and making them accessible. That made me a decent teacher, and it helps me build partnerships beyond the University.”

Looking back across a career that spans hospital wards in Birmingham, lecture halls in Vancouver and national advisory panels in Westminster, Paul’s thoughts return to his roots in West Yorkshire.

“At the end of the day, I am fundamentally just a lad from Rothwell,” Paul says. “I think my father would be proud to know where the journey has taken me.”

Paul Galdas is Professor of Men’s Health at the University of York and one of four international experts chosen to lead a major health research programme with the global men’s health charity Movember.

Bridging academia, policy and frontline practice, Paul leads national advisory networks and collaborates across the NHS, public health, employers and sport to build evidence-based solutions that reshape systems, inform national strategy and improve real-world outcomes for men and boys.

Find out more about Paul's work with Movember

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