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Sugar and Spice … Brown/Black Boy Magic

I’ve been thinking a lot about brown and black boys lately. Before they become men, become objects of our desire and, often, our despair, they are lanky, awkward teenagers. And even before that, they are boys.

Boys who learn from their fathers. Or their absences.

Boys in a rush to grow up, taught to “man up”, told to “be tough”.

Boys who are told that a ‘real man’ never cries, that showing emotion is “gay”, that a ‘real man’ provides – but also shows her who’s boss. With words, with fists, with rape.

Lately I’ve been thinking about what the world does to these little boys, what we do. What we allow. The damage we inflict. The harmful stereotypes we perpetuate. The vicious cycle we lambast, but do nothing to change.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the role we as mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers; as friends; as a society play in the way boys grow into teens, grow into men.

Brown and black boys who grow into brown and black men who yell obscenities at women from across streets. Who rape, maim, kill.

Who think of women as possessions.

Brown and black boys vilified for being “weak”, “soft”, “gay” in a world that says the only way to success is through violence and dominance; boys who are taught that no matter how old the woman they lost their virginities to was, it can never be rape; boys who are never allowed a moment to just be… boys.

I don’t think we do enough to protect our boys from the toxicity of hyper-masculinity.

I don’t think we do enough to protect our boys – period.

From the moment they can crawl, we sexualise little boys as “lady killers”, “heartbreakers” and “players”.

We see affection between father and son as something foreign, something to be hidden, something to be replaced with a punch to the shoulder, a rough-housing, a lesson in what it means to be a “grown man”.

From the moment they are born, brown and black boys carry the weight of the world on their shoulders and aren’t allowed to even flinch under its weight.

We need to change this. Before it’s too late.

We need to raise boys who know that crying doesn’t make you anything but human; that who you love doesn’t make you any more or less of a man; that there’s no shame in feeling or failing.

We need to raise boys who know that their dreams are valid. Dreams of being a doctor or a dancer, a fire fighter or a family man, an accountant or an artist.

We need to raise boys who know that violence isn’t OK, even if the person receiving the fists looks just like them.

Boys who know that their genitalia doesn’t make them any more or less remarkable, but that they are. Inherently.

Special. Precious. Important.

Magic.

Brown/black boy magic.

– cindy@namibian.com.na;

@SugaryOblivion on

Twitter and Instagram

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