The world has expectations of black boys before they take their first breath. Society demands resilience, toughness and strength— – premature armour against a world that rarely offers them softness. Black boys are told to be “men” long before they are allowed to be children, and the result is a generation that carries emotional wounds they never learned to heal from.
In many communities, strength is equated with silence. Pain must be swallowed and must never be shown. If a black boy cries, he is scolded, told to “man up”,” or worse, ridiculed. Over time, this emotional suppression becomes their norm, a suffocating cloak of unhealthy masculinity. They are not allowed to express fear or sadness, so these feelings mutate into anger and aggression — the only emotions that society seems to accept from them. But what happens when these boys, burdened by trauma, begin to live up to the labels imposed on them?
For many black boys, unresolved trauma shapes their behaviour. The lack of emotional outlets forces them to seek relief in other, often harmful, ways. A boy who has lost a parent to separation or neglect may act out in school, not because he is “bad,” but because he cannot articulate his pain. A neurodiverse boy with ADHD or AUTISM might be labelled as “disruptive” instead of getting the support he needs. In both cases, the system punishes rather than helps, reinforcing the cycle of misunderstanding and neglect.
Unhealthy masculinity teaches these boys that vulnerability means weakness. As they grow up, this belief becomes entrenched. They become teenagers who reject emotional attachments and hide their pain with defiance. They seek belonging in gangs or dangerous friendships, attracted by the illusion of strength and loyalty these groups promise. For some, aggression becomes their language, a way to navigate a world that sees them as a threat even before they have done anything wrong.
The consequences of this cycle are devastating. Black boys are disproportionately affected by disciplinary actions in schools, pushing them further away from education and closer to the streets. Their names become statistics in discussions about incarceration and violence, but their stories go untold. Each life lost on the streets or through the justice system represents not just an individual, but the failure of an entire community to nurture and protect its most vulnerable members.
Breaking this cycle requires more than just teaching people how to behave or imposing more discipline. It requires a change in society’s thinking about black boys. They need spaces to explore their feelings safely and without fear of judgment. Schools, families and communities need to work together to provide emotional education, mental health resources and role models that challenge unhealthy masculinities.
It also means fighting the systematic neglect that forces black boys into these roles. From creating inclusive classrooms to helping parents heal themselves sufficiently, to creating harmonious and healthy living and loving environments for children, to improving access to mental health services, change must come from all corners of society. Black boys deserve more than just survival; they deserve a life in which they can thrive without being weighed down by the burden of outdated ideals.
Unhealthy masculinity is not a strength — it’s a cage. For traumatised black boys, the key to freedom is accepting their vulnerability and teaching them that their feelings are not enemies, but guideposts. Only then can they begin to heal.
Written by Victor Kwesi
counselling psychologist
BLOGGER @POEMSTELLIUM
INSTAGRAM @VICTORKWESIWRITES @theapostleoflight