For generations, the image of a ‘real man’ was crystal clear; stoic, strong, emotionally impenetrable, sole provider, protector, and patriarch. In many societies, this idea of manhood was rarely questioned, passed down like a family heirloom from father to son. But in today’s world, the mold is cracking. Slowly, steadily, masculinity is being redefined – and not just by academics or activists, but by men themselves.
When 39-year-old Peter Kariuki was laid off during the pandemic, he faced an identity crisis. As a father of two, raised by a single dad who “never missed a day of work in 30 years,” Brian equated manhood with employment. When his wife temporarily became the breadwinner, he spiraled into depression.
“I felt like I wasn’t a man anymore,” he admits. “But therapy helped me realize I am more than my job. I’m a partner, a dad, a man who shows up even when I’m down.”Brian’s story is not unique. It reflects a quiet revolution taking place in living rooms, barbershops, offices, and WhatsApp groups across Kenya. The traditional metrics of masculinity, economic dominance, emotional detachment, sexual conquest, are being challenged by a generation unafraid to question the norms that once defined them.
In many African cultures, masculinity has historically been shaped by rites of passage. For example, among the Kikuyu, Maasai, and Luo communities, initiation ceremonies mark the transition from boyhood to manhood.
These rituals often emphasize discipline, bravery, and responsibility. But as society evolves, so do the meanings of these ceremonies.
According to a 2020 report by UNESCO’s Culture and Gender program, many African rites of passage are being revisited to align with contemporary understandings of gender equity and human rights. The report notes:
“While rites of passage remain culturally significant, there is a growing movement to incorporate teachings on emotional resilience, respect for women, and mental health, offering a more holistic approach to manhood.”
This shift signals a broader cultural reckoning; one that honors tradition while challenging outdated ideologies that equate masculinity with dominance or emotional silence.
The rise of the digital culture has opened Kenyan men to broader, more diverse expressions of masculinity. On Instagram and TikTok, young men share skincare routines, journal entries, dance challenges, and poetry. Masculinity, once viewed through the narrow lens of toughness, is now celebrated in vulnerability and self-care.
Take Mike Njuki, a 22-year-old student, for instance; his style blends vintage thrift finds with bold, unconventional pieces – think wide-legged trousers, layered jewelry, and bursts of color that refuse to whisper.
His Instagram is a curated celebration of individuality.
“My style is my perception of what is appealing, whether in style, trim, silhouette or fabric. Different people come up with conclusions about what aesthetic they think I was going for or that which I’m exuding,” he says.
Njuki represents a growing number of young Kenyan men who are using fashion not just for flair, but as a form of identity, protest, and freedom. “Style,” he adds, “is my way of saying I exist on my own terms.”
This pushback against rigid masculinity isn’t just aesthetic. It’s emotional, spiritual, and psychological. Kenyan men are claiming space for softness, for struggle, for healing. And they are finding solidarity in doing so.
When masculinity meets emotion
One of the most radical shifts in how masculinity is being redefined is the increasing prioritization of emotional literacy.
For decades, phrases like “man up,” “boys don’t cry,” or “be the rock” were code for emotional suppression. But now, men are giving themselves permission to feel, to cry, to heal.
“Growing up, most definitely, sharing stuff was a NO! Leave alone talking to someone else about my issues, my major shift happened when now I had to be in a position to help men to process their issues which now gave me a paradigm shift to start embracing therapy and being open to it,” Emmanuel Maundu, a psychologist, mentioned.
In Kenya, mental health conversations are slowly becoming mainstream, with more men attending counseling, joining online forums, and creating safe spaces to talk about fatherhood, trauma, identity, and even sexual abuse, topics once hidden in shame.
Fatherhood, fashion, and finding freedom
Modern fatherhood has also become a front line in the battle against outdated masculinity.
Gone are the days when fatherhood meant discipline and distance. Today, many men are embracing nurturing roles, showing up not just financially, but emotionally and physically in their children’s lives.
“My dad never changed a diaper in his life,” laughs Kioko, a 35-year-old accountant. “But my daughter calls me her best friend and that means more than any salary ever will.”
Social media is filled with viral clips of dads braiding their daughters’ hair, dancing with their sons, and attending school plays. It’s a new form of pride, a quiet revolution in how care and love are expressed by men.
Romantic relationships are also being transformed. As gender roles evolve, so do expectations around partnership and intimacy.
Many women now seek emotional availability and presence over financial power, well some of them. They want partners who are secure enough to communicate, apologize, nurture, and share responsibilities.
“It’s not about men being less masculine,” says Wanjiru, a 22-year-old student. “It’s about being fully human, it is OK for a man to be emotionally in-touch with his emotions, doesn’t mean you are weak.”
This shift is challenging for some men who were raised to lead, control, or dominate in relationships. But for others, it’s liberating.
“I used to think being romantic was unmanly,” admits Omondi Austine, 27. “I can cook for my woman, I can clean, that doesn’t make me less of a man. She loves it, and I love it too.”
So, is traditional masculinity outdated? Perhaps not entirely. Values like responsibility, resilience, and courage are still relevant but the definitions are expanding.
Masculinity today can be tender. It can cry. It can say “I don’t know.” It can be adorned in kitenge robes or pastel suits. It can co-parent, dance, cook, and be coached through heartbreak.
By Britney Kamadi
