A leaked sex video depicting a 16-year-old Zimbabwean boy and an adult woman is spreading like wildfire across X and Telegram. The public reaction, however, is not a clamour for justice but a celebration of standardized masculinity. This exposes something sinister in our society.
Legally, in both Zimbabwe and Nigeria, such an act is a crime under Child Protection Acts, with offenders risking between 10 years and life imprisonment. Yet when the victim is male, the act is rarely framed as sexual exploitation. Instead, it is treated as a hallmark of masculinity by fellow men, who celebrate the abuse as a performance of manhood rather than condemn it as a violation. This forces a burning question: why is sex, through society’s lens, constructed as a conquest for men, and what doom does this spell?
The answer lies in cultural narratives where the line between masculinity and toxicity is blurred. A male child is defined in languages synonymous with dominance. He must be in the active position, never the passive. His sexual exploits are considered proof of his validity, and the age of his partner becomes irrelevant so long as she is a woman. This hedonistic narrative breeds a fatal lack of vulnerability, which often later erupts as rage. To fit society’s definition, boys learn to bottle up emotions. No boy is born hedonistic or dominant; he is socialized by a society that feeds him narratives of what he should be, what is expected of him, and how he must behave to be termed a man—something he already is by biology.
This toxic masculinity in African culture is not merely a foreign import, though colonialism amplified it. It is ingrained as tradition. It begins the day a boy is born. The first question is rarely “Is the baby healthy?” but “Is it a boy or a girl?” If it’s a boy, the room erupts. In some villages, guns are shot into the air, palm wine flows, and prayers are louder. The Yoruba would say,Ako ni ogidan bi” meaning “a tiger gives birth to a fierce, masculine offspring” emphasizing ferocity and might. Then the indoctrination begins. In East Africa, a Luo or Kikuyu boy goes through initiation to learn that pain must not move him. In contemporary settings, he is socialized: he must not like pink nor dolls; he plays only with guns, balls, and toy helicopters. If he gets into a fight with a girl and cries, he is shamed. “A woman beat you and you are crying?” He learns to suck it in. “Men don’t cry” is not advice; it is law. By ten, he learns that tenderness is weakness, and weakness brings shame upon his father, his lineage, his entire gender. He looks to his father or other male figures for more lessons in stoicism.
This conditioning is acutely enabled by poverty and class. For a boy denied economic power, sexual conquest can become one of the few accessible currencies of status. When material resources are scarce, the body and its perceived prowess are amplified as a source of value. The narrative that a woman will yield “so long as you have money” twists into a more desperate formula: if you have no money, then force, persistence, or the myth of innate sexual potency must become your tools. Thus, toxic masculinity flourishes not just as culture, but as a distorted compensation for systemic disempowerment. When he hits puberty, he does not learn about consent; he learns manipulation and coercion. He is told, “Women will open their thighs so long as you have money or if your thing is big.” He is taught that “How she says No matters. If it is soft, it means YES. If it is harsh, don’t give up. She will agree eventually.” A Yoruba adage captures this: “Ko jen gbadun l’obinrin gba fun”—meaning “The one who doesn’t easily give is the one a woman eventually accepts.” This shows zero respect for women’s desires, endorsing persistent pressure until she agrees.
Within this framework, the worst failure a man can be in many African societies is not a rapist, but impotent or gay. It is a disgrace to the BROTHERHOOD. This explains the relatively high incidence of “kito” killings; the murder of LGBTQ+ individuals, particularly gay men and transgender women. The insult “You behave like a woman” was once the ultimate slight. With the visibility of the LGBTQ+ community, that insult lost its sting for some, but it deepened the perceived threat to the brotherhood.
In Nigeria, the media,particularly social media,worsens matters by framing masculinity strictly along lines of sexual performance. The subconscious diction used in reporting sexual encounters reproduces inequality. To many, sex is not an act between two consenting adults, but an act a man does, positioning him as dominant and the woman as submissive. This is why the 16-year-old boy is not seen as a victim, but as a performer. When the news broke, certain X influencers used playful language to trivialize the crime: “16-year-old smashes 33-year-old woman! Legend!” Others framed it as a collective win: “Brotherhood is proud!” Some even used the criminal evidence to jab at feminists: “If it were reversed, you all would be calling for the man’s head.”
Consequently, the boy is not viewed as a victim of statutory rape, but as someone who has “won.” The violence done to him becomes invisible, replaced by applause from men who were themselves socialized to equate sexual activity with status. This is the danger of performative sexuality: it normalizes exploitation and turns victims into unwilling symbols of masculinity. It reinforces a culture where boys are denied the right to innocence and emotional expression because society has already drafted them into the relentless performance of manhood.
Amplified by social media and echoed by male-dominated communities, this narrative becomes even more potent. Platforms like X do not just reflect public sentiment; they shape it. They turn harmful narratives into trends, celebrating what should be condemned and framing a child’s trauma as entertainment or proof of virility. This not only deepens gender inequalities but erodes the legal and moral boundaries meant to protect minors. This performative sexuality harms boys more than we realize by stealing their childhood. A 16-year-old child should not be in a situation where cultural narratives leave him open to sexual exploitation and manipulation. The dangerous doctrine that places sexual conquest above personal safety and humanity drafts boys into a cult they cannot yet fathom. The consequences, from pornography addiction and sexual violence to hypersexuality, cannot be overstated.
Breaking this cycle requires a conscious, multi-layered rebellion. It begins with individuals, especially men, refusing the script by embracing vulnerability, rejecting the shame of tenderness, and actively teaching boys about empathy and consent rather than conquest. It requires communities to celebrate different milestones for sons: integrity, kindness, and emotional intelligence. It demands institutional change: schools must implement comprehensive sexuality education that dismantles coercion, and media platforms must be held accountable for amplifying abuse as achievement. Legal systems must prosecute the sexual exploitation of boys with the same seriousness applied to girls, sending an unambiguous message that a child is a victim, regardless of gender.
Brotherhood, be not proud! A community that cannot protect or correct an abused child, but instead cheers the abuse, farming media engagement and cheap points to fuel agendas against others, is no different from an evil cult.
Nusrat Lasisi is a women rights activist, creative writer and student. She can be reached via email @nusratlasisi2000@gmail.com, Facebook, Instagram, X(Twitter) @ nusratdreteller.
