08/29/2026
DROP THE CLUTCH. LOSE THE F*€KS.
Our Brothers in the Trades
We’re going to change things up a little bit with this one.
If you’ve followed our Drop the Clutch. Lose the F*€ks. series, you know we spend a lot of time talking about our veterans. Veteran su***de and mental health are incredibly important to us, and that’s not changing.
But for this one, I want to widen the circle a little bit.
I want to talk about my brothers and sisters in the trades.
Construction has been a huge part of my life. I’ve spent most of my adult years on jobsites, working alongside carpenters, electricians, plumbers, ironworkers, operators, laborers, roofers, painters, foremen and superintendents.
These are my people.
And we have a problem that we don’t talk about nearly enough.
Su***de.
WE TALK ABOUT SAFETY EVERY SINGLE DAY
If you’ve ever worked construction, you know how much we talk about safety.
Hard hats. Safety glasses. Fall protection. Trenches. Ladders. Lockout/tagout. Equipment inspections. Silica. Confined spaces.
Toolbox talks.
JSAs.
Near misses.
Safety stand-downs.
We spend an incredible amount of time and money trying to make sure everyone who walks through that gate in the morning goes home at the end of the day.
And we absolutely should.
But while we’ve gotten pretty damn good at talking about the things that can kill us on the job, we haven’t gotten nearly as good at talking about the things killing us when nobody is watching.
The numbers are staggering.
Research from CPWR, The Center for Construction Research and Training, estimates that approximately 5,200 construction workers ages 16 to 64 died by su***de in 2022.
In 2023, it was roughly 5,100 more.
Compare that with traditional workplace fatalities.
Construction recorded 991 fatal occupational injuries in 2022 and 982 in 2023.
That means we’re losing roughly five people in construction to su***de for every one we lose to an occupational injury.
Think about that.
We’ll shut down a jobsite because somebody isn’t tied off.
We’ll stop work because a trench isn’t properly protected.
We’ll investigate a near miss, rewrite the safety plan and hold another toolbox talk.
Again, we should.
But somewhere along the way, we also need to start paying attention to the guy standing next to us.
THIS ISN’T A SMALL PROBLEM
CDC research from 2021 found the su***de rate among men working in construction was approximately 56 deaths per 100,000 workers.
Across all industries, the rate among working men was about 32 per 100,000.
When researchers looked specifically at construction and extraction occupations, the rate among men climbed to approximately 65.6 per 100,000.
Women in the trades aren’t immune either.
The su***de rate among women working in the construction industry was approximately 10.4 per 100,000, compared with about 8 per 100,000 across all industries.
And when looking specifically at construction and extraction occupations, the rate among women was approximately 25.3 per 100,000.
Another analysis of construction su***des found something else that puts the size of this problem into perspective.
Construction represented roughly 7.4% of the American workforce, yet accounted for approximately 17.9% of su***des where an industry could be identified.
And approximately 97.8% of construction workers who died by su***de were men.
Those numbers should bother every one of us.
SOME OF OUR TRADES ARE GETTING HIT HARD
When you start breaking the numbers down by trade, this becomes even more personal.
CDC data showed some of the highest su***de rates among male workers in trades we see on our jobsites every day.
Construction laborers were around 91 deaths per 100,000 workers.
Structural iron and steel workers were around 86.1.
Roofers were approximately 79.9.
Glaziers were around 69.6.
Carpenters were approximately 69.4.
Brickmasons, blockmasons and stonemasons were around 63.1.
Construction supervisors were approximately 61.7.
Equipment operators were around 58.6.
Electricians were approximately 52.1.
Plumbers, pipefitters, pipelayers and steamfitters were around 49.4.
Painters and paperhangers were approximately 44.1.
These aren’t just numbers to those of us who work in construction.
These are the guys standing around the gang box in the morning.
They’re the carpenter giving the electrician s**t.
The operator who’s been sitting in the same excavator since before half the apprentices were born.
The ironworker yelling something inappropriate from three floors above you.
The laborer busting his ass all day.
The foreman trying to figure out how he’s supposed to make schedule with half the manpower he needs.
The superintendent sitting alone in the trailer after everyone else leaves, trying to solve tomorrow’s problems before heading home to deal with his own.
These are our people.
AND IT’S NOT JUST THE YOUNG GUYS
One thing that really stood out to me while looking into this was age.
In 2021, workers ages 35 to 44 accounted for the largest share of construction su***de deaths among both men and women.
About 25.9% of male construction su***des and 26.3% of female construction su***des were in that age group.
But when researchers accounted for how many people were actually working within each age group, men ages 55 to 64 had the highest su***de rate among male construction workers.
That should make us stop and think.
We’re talking about people right in the middle of their careers.
The 38-year-old carpenter trying to support a family.
The 43-year-old foreman dealing with a divorce.
The 50-year-old superintendent carrying the pressure of a multimillion-dollar project.
The 59-year-old tradesman whose back hurts, whose knees are shot and who has spent his entire adult life defining himself by what he can build.
This isn’t somebody else’s problem.
It’s ours.
WE’RE REALLY GOOD AT BUSTING BALLS
Let’s call construction culture what it is.
We bust each other’s balls.
Relentlessly.
Sometimes that’s practically our love language.
You screw something up, you’re going to hear about it.
Show up wearing something ridiculous, you’re going to hear about it.
Do something stupid at 7:30 Monday morning and there’s a good chance you’ll still be hearing about it Friday afternoon.
And most of us wouldn’t change that part of the trades.
But there’s another side to our culture.
We’re also really fu***ng good at telling ourselves to suck it up.
Back hurts?
Work.
Didn’t sleep?
Work.
Marriage falling apart?
Work.
Money problems?
Work.
Haven’t felt like yourself in six months?
Get your ass up and go to work.
There is absolutely something to be said for toughness.
The trades require it.
But somewhere along the way, some of us started believing toughness meant silence.
It doesn’t.
THE STRONGEST GUY ON YOUR CREW CAN STILL BE STRUGGLING
Mental health problems don’t always look like someone sitting alone crying.
Sometimes they look like a guy working 60 hours a week.
Sometimes it’s your best foreman.
Sometimes it’s the guy who never misses a day.
Sometimes it’s the funniest guy on the crew.
Sometimes it’s the superintendent everyone calls when the entire job goes sideways.
Sometimes it’s the person everybody else depends on.
Then he gets in his truck at the end of the day and drives home.
And nobody sees what happens after that.
You can be strong and still be struggling.
You can be successful and still be struggling.
You can have a wife, kids, friends, a good career, a nice house and money in the bank and still be struggling.
A man can carry steel all day and still be carrying something inside that he can’t lift by himself.
MAYBE SAFETY NEEDS TO MEAN MORE
We spend our entire careers teaching construction workers how not to die on the job.
Maybe it’s time we put the same fu***ng effort into helping them survive everything they’re carrying outside of it.
Keep talking about fall protection.
Keep talking about trench safety.
Keep doing the JSAs.
Keep wearing the glasses.
But maybe every once in a while, our toolbox talk needs to include something else.
How are you guys doing?
Not as some corporate checkbox.
Actually ask.
Know your people.
When the loud guy gets quiet, pay attention.
When somebody who never misses work suddenly starts calling off, pay attention.
When somebody’s drinking gets heavier, pay attention.
When you know someone’s going through a divorce, custody battle, financial trouble, injury or major life change, check on them.
You don’t have to be a therapist.
You don’t need some perfectly rehearsed speech.
Sometimes it starts with something as simple as:
You good, brother?
And if the answer is no, don’t run from it.
Listen.
Grab a cup of coffee.
Sit in the truck for ten minutes.
Help him make a phone call.
Help him find someone who knows what the next step is.
You don’t need to have all the answers.
Sometimes you just need to make damn sure he isn’t looking for them alone.
DROP THE CLUTCH. LOSE THE F***S.
This is where this series comes back around.
Maybe we need to lose the f***s we give about looking tough.
Lose the f***s about somebody finding out you went to counseling.
Lose the f***s about what the guys at work might say.
Lose the f***s about admitting life is kicking your ass right now.
Lose the f***s about pretending everything is fine when it isn’t.
Asking for help doesn’t make you weak.
Sometimes asking for help is the toughest fu***ng thing a man can do.
And being the brother who sits beside him when he finally asks matters just as much.
At Ride With Purpose, we’re going to continue talking about our veterans.
We’re going to continue talking about veteran su***de.
We’re going to continue standing beside the men and women who served this country and came home carrying battles most of us will never completely understand.
But today we’re widening that circle.
Because su***de doesn’t care whether you wore combat boots or work boots.
It doesn’t care whether you’re a veteran, carpenter, electrician, ironworker, operator, laborer, foreman or superintendent.
And sometimes the person who needs somebody isn’t across the country.
Sometimes he’s standing ten feet away from you wearing a hard hat.
Check on your people.
Then check again.
And if you’re the one struggling, give somebody the opportunity to stand beside you.
Because here’s the truth:
The project will get built without you.
Someone else can hang the drywall.
Someone else can pull the wire.
Someone else can set the steel.
Someone else can run the equipment.
Someone else can finish the punch list.
Someone else can take your position.
But your family can’t replace you.
Your kids can’t replace you.
Your friends can’t replace you.
Your brothers and sisters in the trades can’t replace you.
You are worth more than your production.
More than your paycheck.
More than your title.
More than what you can build with your hands.
So stay.
Tomorrow morning, we’ll figure the rest of this s**t out together.
DROP THE CLUTCH. LOSE THE F*€KS.
Ride With Purpose. Live With Purpose.
If you or someone you know is struggling or in crisis, call or text 988 to reach the Su***de & Crisis Lifeline. If someone is in immediate danger, call 911.
