Being a Man, Today!

The air hung heavy, thick with unspoken words and the weight of expectations. I sat at my desk, a sense of hesitancy shrouding me in a suffocating aura. The deadline for this piece loomed, a task that felt as daunting as the weight of the question: 

My mind drifted back to my high school years, a time when the future seemed as vast as the savanna. Our classroom was a battleground of sorts, a crucible where we wrestled with the complexities of gender roles, each voice vying to be heard, to be understood.

It was during one heated debate, sparked by our history teacher’s rather unconventional approach to the subject, that the question of what it meant to be a man first began to take root in my mind. Our history teacher, a man of stern demeanour and piercing gaze, was a champion of the old guard, a man who believed in the inherent strength and resilience of the masculine spirit. He instilled in us a sense of duty, a responsibility to uphold the traditions that had shaped our society for generations. He saw women as the embodiment of grace and beauty, their role in society one of nurturing and support, a complement to the masculine drive to conquer, to create and to lead. His words, like sharp-edged stones, chipped away at my naive understanding of the world, leaving behind a rough-hewn foundation of what it meant to be a man.

I learned to value strength, both physical and mental, to take responsibility for my actions, to be a provider, a protector and a leader. This was the blueprint for manhood, a blueprint that seemed to be etched in the very fabric of my being. Yet, as I navigated the complexities of adulthood, I began to question the rigidity of this framework. The world, once a familiar landscape of concrete and steel, now seemed to be shifting beneath my feet, the ground unsteady, the air thick with the scent of change.

It was in my English class, where I encountered a different kind of man, that my perspective on masculinity began to shift. Our English teacher, a man with a gentle spirit, was a master storyteller, a weaver of words who painted vivid images and stirred emotions, and he had a knack for making us question our assumptions and for seeing the world through different lenses. He was a charmer, charismatic and a friend to the girls. I remember an instance where I stormed into his office, fuming with misplaced anger after receiving a love letter from a girl in my class. I wanted to report her, to have her punished, but the English teacher simply smiled, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief, and gently said, "Keep this letter safe, these are the high school memories you will treasure." He was the embodiment of the type of man I aspired to be, one who embraces compassion, vulnerability, and a deep understanding of the human heart.

One particular debate in the English class stands out in my memory. The girls were lamenting the lack of support for women in society. "There are girls' rights, women's rights, female empowerment initiatives, but no one cares about the boys," one classmate argued. "Men only matter when they have money." The teacher, ever the voice of reason, responded, "If as a man you need the government or rights groups to stand up for you, then you are not man enough." With that, he silenced the debate, reminding us that true manhood was not about entitlement, but about taking responsibility for ourselves and our actions.

The world, it seemed, was caught in a tug-of-war between tradition and progress, and I found myself grappling with the tension between the values I had been taught and the realities of a world in flux.

I thought of the Shona proverb, "Kufa kwemurume kubuda ura." It spoke of a man's duty to fight until his last breath, to never give up, to face his fears and challenges with unwavering determination. This was the essence of manhood, a core value that transcended the shifting tides of societal norms.

In the Shona culture, a man is a pillar, a protector, a provider and a leader. He is expected to be strong, resilient, and responsible, a beacon of stability and strength in a world that can often feel chaotic and uncertain. Yet, there is also a tenderness, a sensitivity beneath the surface, a deep well of emotion that is often hidden from the world.

We are taught, “Men don't cry." Society whispers that vulnerability is weakness and that tears are a sign of weakness. Yet, as I look around me, I see so many men struggling, carrying the weight of their emotions, their anxieties, their fears, in silence.

The truth is that men are not immune to pain, sadness and fear. We are human beings, complex and flawed, with a spectrum of emotions as vast and varied as the human experience itself.

Being a man in a modern world requires a delicate balance. It requires us to embrace the strength and resilience that are in our nature but also to acknowledge and embrace our vulnerability. It requires us to be kind, compassionate, and empathetic, to understand and support the women in our lives, to be allies in the fight for justice.

The qualities of a good man are not defined by a rigid set of rules, but rather by his character, his integrity, his compassion and his unwavering belief in the power of humanity. He is a man who stands up for what is right, who speaks out against injustice, who is not afraid to be vulnerable, and who understands that true strength lies in being both powerful and kind.

He is a man who embraces the complexities of the world, who sees the beauty in diversity, and who is willing to challenge the stereotypes that have held us back for far too long. He is a man who understands that his place in society is not defined by dominance but by collaboration, understanding, and working together to create a more just and equitable world for all.

Change begins with me. With each and every one of us. I want to be the change! A man who embodies the best of what it means to be human, a man who is strong and compassionate, a man who honours the traditions of his past while embracing the possibilities of a future that is filled with hope and promise.

For in the end, the true measure of a man is not his strength, but his character, his integrity, his compassion, and his unwavering belief in the power of humanity.