OPINION: What young Kenyan men say when no one is watching

A young Kenyan man recently sent this anonymous message to a chatbot late at night:

“Mbogi wanasema mimi si mwanaume nisipolala na huyo mama… tangu lini mtu ashajiita mwanaume kwa sababu ya kulala na wanawake?”

This translates loosely to English to “My crew tells me I’m not a man if I don’t sleep with her. Since when did sleeping with women make someone a man?”

That single sentence may explain more about the state of masculinity in Kenya than a dozen policy reports.

Across the country, young men are navigating a rapidly changing social and economic reality with very few spaces to process what it means. The old expectations of manhood remain firmly in place - provide financially, dominate socially, suppress vulnerability, prove masculinity constantly - but the conditions needed to meet those expectations are shifting.

And many are struggling quietly.

This struggle is unfolding against the backdrop of a much larger crisis. Kenya now ranks among the world’s most active hubs for online manosphere content in the English-speaking internet. Conversations rooted in resentment, performative masculinity, misogyny and emotional isolation are no longer fringe internet culture. They have entered mainstream youth spaces - WhatsApp groups, TikTok feeds, Telegram channels and everyday peer conversations.

At the same time, Kenya recorded its deadliest year for women in 2024, with femicide cases rising sharply. Statistics show that in 2025 alone, at least 220 women were killed, with many deaths linked to intimate partners or family members and often preceded by abuse, threats or coercion. Young men also continue to die by suicide at a rate three to five times higher than young women, often in silence.

These crises are connected more than we often admit.

One of the clearest windows into this reality is emerging through anonymous youth engagement platforms and chatbots where young men speak more honestly than they often can in public. In these spaces, several themes appear repeatedly.

Many young men feel crushed by the pressure to provide financially in an economy where stable work is increasingly uncertain. Some describe sleepless nights worrying about how they will feed their children. Others speak openly about shame, failure and hopelessness.

Peer pressure also continues to police masculinity aggressively. Young men describe being mocked for showing emotional vulnerability, remaining loyal in relationships, or refusing sexual pressure from friends. Masculinity becomes something constantly performed for other men.

Economic shifts inside households are creating further tension. As more women gain financial independence, some young men are struggling to reconcile this with older ideas of male identity tied almost entirely to provision and control. The cultural script for masculinity has not evolved as quickly as the realities young people are now living.

And into that uncertainty, the global manosphere is arriving fast.

The language is increasingly familiar: “simp”, “nice guys finish last”, women as manipulators, emotional detachment as strength. Many young Kenyan men are repeating scripts imported almost directly from American online culture, often without fully recognising where those ideas originate or the harm they pose.

What makes this dangerous is that many young men do not feel safe discussing these pressures openly. Vulnerability itself is often treated as weakness. Help-seeking feels unmasculine. So, the questions, fear and confusion remain underground until they surface through violence, withdrawal, emotional collapse or online radicalisation.

This is why the conversation around gender equality in Kenya needs to become more nuanced.

Too often, public discourse frames young men only as perpetrators, obstacles or problems to solve. But many are also navigating deep social confusion, economic anxiety and emotional isolation. A society that ignores this reality creates fertile ground for more resentment, not less.

Addressing masculinity is therefore not separate from addressing gender-based violence. It is central to it.

This is where narrative and culture matter.

Young people do not form their understanding of masculinity primarily through policy papers or workshops. They absorb it through stories, peers, music, influencers, family dynamics and digital ecosystems. If harmful narratives are spreading at scale, healthier alternatives must also exist at scale.

Programmes such as Surround Sound Kenya are beginning to show what this can look like in practice: combining mass media storytelling with anonymous digital safe spaces where young men can ask questions without fear of judgement

Encouragingly, many young Kenyan men are already questioning the old scripts quietly. They are asking whether manhood must always be defined through dominance, sexual conquest or financial control.

The challenge is that these voices often remain private. The task now is to make them visible.

Not through moral lectures but through relatable stories, trusted platforms and public conversations that reflect the realities young people are already living. Young men need to see versions of masculinity that feel aspirational, culturally grounded and socially accepted.

Because this conversation is ultimately not about political correctness. It is about social stability.

A generation of young men is negotiating identity in real time under economic pressure, digital influence and cultural transition. What emerges from that negotiation will shape the future social fabric of the country itself.

The good news: many young men are already trying to write a different story. Here’s what one told us recently:

I realize that being a 'man' doesn't mean I have to act tough and silent all the time. True strength is having the courage to speak up about my challenges, to be vulnerable and to show respect to my female peers."

The question is whether we are willing to hear them before the louder voices drown them out.

[Bridget is the MD, Shujaaz Inc. and Wame Jallow is the Executive Director of Shuga Global]