By Sandzile Mabuza Communications and Advocacy Coordinator at Kwakha Indvodza
What does it really mean to be a man in Eswatini? And what can we learn from understanding masculinity as a concept, particularly when we begin to examine the experiences of young boys?
I come from Mbadlane, a rural community in the Lubombo Region. Although the area has experienced considerable transformation and development in recent years, much of what makes it a rural community remains deeply rooted in its way of life. This was perhaps even more evident during my childhood.
In many households, owning cattle was more than an economic consideration. It was part of a way of life, deeply embedded in Swati tradition and community expectations. Boys were traditionally expected to look after cattle, often spending hours herding them in the mountains and grazing fields. It was an experience that formed part of growing up and, in many ways, shaped how boys interacted with one another and understood their place in the community.
But what happens to a boy who does not own cattle, does not look after them and does not necessarily participate in the activities that define the childhood experiences of other boys around him?
My family never really owned cattle, not because we could not afford them, but simply because my parents did not consider owning cattle a necessity. While other boys spent their days looking after livestock, I was often indoors watching cartoons. When I went outside, it was usually because I had been asked to.
Whenever I interacted with other boys my age, there was one word that almost became part of my identity: Cheeseboy.
In a broader context, the term can sometimes be used playfully or even as a compliment. However, when a name becomes a repeated form of mockery, its meaning can change considerably for the person receiving it. I experienced this regularly.
At some point, I asked my father to buy me goats so that I could also have something to look after, just like the other boys. He did. I thought this would change how the other children perceived me, but it did not.
Perhaps because one thing had remained unchanged: I still did not participate in many of the activities they enjoyed. I had become accustomed to keeping to myself, and whenever they asked why I did not engage in the things they did, I never really had an answer.
Looking back, I recognise that children will sometimes be children. They develop their own ways of interacting, creating identities and establishing social expectations. But beneath these seemingly ordinary childhood interactions, there can be experiences that adults do not always see. Sometimes, what appears to be harmless teasing can develop into exclusion, harmful labelling and bullying.
I never really viewed my experiences as bullying at the time. I understood the environment I was growing up in and the children I was interacting with. But understanding the context does not necessarily mean that the experience could not have been harmful.
So, what does this tell us about masculinity?
My experience is more than a personal childhood story. It speaks to a much broader conversation about how boys learn what it means to be male, how communities establish expectations around masculinity and how those expectations influence the identities of young boys.
Researchers such as Raewyn Connell have challenged the idea that masculinity is a single, fixed identity. Instead, masculinity is socially constructed and shaped by relationships, institutions, culture and the environments in which people grow up. There are different ways of expressing masculinity, and these expressions are not necessarily experienced or accepted equally.
In a community where looking after cattle is considered an important part of growing up as a boy, what happens to the boy who does not participate? Does he become less of a boy because his childhood looks different? What about the boy who prefers staying indoors, enjoys activities that others consider unconventional or simply does not fit into the expectations established by his peers?
These are important questions because masculinity is not only shaped by what boys are taught to do. It is also shaped by what they are discouraged from doing, the behaviours they are expected to demonstrate and the identities they are allowed to embrace.
Where do we go from here?
Understanding these experiences requires us to move beyond generalisations about boys and men. It requires us to listen, to ask questions and to recognise that boys growing up in the same community can have very different experiences of childhood and masculinity.
This is why the work of organisations such as Kwakha Indvodza remains important. Through engaging boys and young men, we have an opportunity to understand the environments shaping their experiences, challenge harmful expectations and encourage healthier, more inclusive expressions of masculinity.
When we begin to understand that today’s boys are tomorrow’s men, the picture changes. We start to recognise that boys are not simply future adults who need to be prepared for tomorrow. They are individuals whose experiences, perspectives and voices matter today. They deserve to be listened to, understood and cared for.
Perhaps the starting point is not telling boys what it means to be a man, but creating spaces where they can explore what it means to them, without fear of being judged or excluded for being different.
