Online Reporter
Amos Mpofu and Taygeta Larsyn Zihwi, Correspondents
MANHOOD is often associated with leadership, protection, provision and guidance. Men are expected to be the pillars of strength, providing for their families, preparing them for the future, predicting and mitigating challenges as well as polishing the fabric of society.
Despite their significant contributions, men often find themselves under-appreciated, with many celebrated days focused on femininity.
This has led to concerns and questions as to when society would recognise the value men.
Men’s efforts to provide, protect and nurture their families deserve appreciation and motivation. A little recognition can go a long way in boosting their morale and encouraging them to continue their good work.
As we mark Men’s Health Month this June, let’s redefine traditional notions of masculinity and encourage men to express their emotions freely.
The outdated mantra “men don’t cry” is being re-evaluated, and rightfully so. It’s essential to create a safe space for men to express their feelings without fear of judgment or ridicule. By doing so, we can work towards a more balanced and empathetic society where men and women can thrive together.
Let’s take a moment to appreciate the men in our lives — fathers, husbands, brothers, and friends — who work tirelessly behind the scenes to keep our families and communities thriving. Let’s show them that their efforts are valued, and their emotions are valid.
In rethinking manhood and masculinity in Zimbabwe, it is fair to say in many Zimbabwean communities, a silent crisis is unfolding — one that is deeply affecting our men. While economic hardships, cultural pressures, and evolving gender roles continue to shape the daily lives of Zimbabwean males, their mental health remains largely neglected.
This silence is not just deadly, it is feeding a dangerous trend — the rising use of harmful intoxicants such as mutoriro, broncleer , marijuana and bootleg alcohols.
Psychologists say they have witnessed first-hand the psychological toll this crisis has on men, particularly the young and unemployed. Zimbabwean society often expects men to be unbreakable providers and protectors — pillars of strength in every storm.
But what happens when the storm lasts too long? When joblessness persists? When trauma is normalised? When emotions are suppressed? The answer, sadly, is that many turn inward or worse, to substances.
There are multiple, interlocking causes of this crisis. Firstly, there’s the economic strain. With unemployment rates among the youth alarmingly high, many men feel inadequate, hopeless and disillusioned.
A man who cannot provide for his family in a society where masculinity is often measured by financial success suffers immense internal turmoil. Secondly, there’s a deep seated stigma around mental health.
Cultural narratives have long discouraged men from speaking about their emotions. Phrases like “indoda ayikhali” (a man doesn’t cry) have become emotional shackles. This forced silence means that even when men are experiencing depression, anxiety or suicidal thoughts, they rarely seek professional help. Many are not even aware that their feelings have a name let alone that treatment is available.
Thirdly, the breakdown of community support systems has exacerbated the crisis. In traditional Zimbabwean society, extended families, elders, and communal networks played a key role in offering guidance and a listening ear. Today, urban migration, poverty, and modernisation have eroded those support systems, leaving many men isolated.
Substances offer temporary relief, which is their trap. Drugs like mutoriro create fleeting euphoria, dulling the weight of real life problems. Broncleer, cheap and easy to get from the black market, provides an escape from the noise of the mind. But this escape is short-lived and often fatal. Addictions take root quickly, leading to mental deterioration, family breakdowns, crime and even death. More disturbingly, these substances are now circulating widely in our high density suburbs, schools and growth points. Peer influence and the need to feel “brave” or “numb” in the face of despair push many young men into first use. For some, it’s simply a way to cope with the trauma of abuse, failure or rejection.
Community psychology offers a holistic and action-oriented lens to understand and address this crisis. We must urgently demystify mental health in Zimbabwe. Campaigns in schools, churches and workplaces must openly discuss depression, anxiety, trauma and suicide particularly among men.
Men’s mental health groups, led by trained community facilitators, can provide safe spaces for sharing and healing. A group of peers can often reach where a formal clinic cannot.
Engaging youth before they spiral into substance abuse is key. Schools should incorporate emotional literacy programmes that teach boys to identify, express and manage their emotions constructively. Traditional beliefs that silence men’s pain must be challenged and reformed.
This can be done through storytelling, radio programmes, local drama and even music that speaks openly about men’s struggles. Substance abuse rehabilitation, job placement, counselling and life skills training should be provided as a bundle. Healing a man involves restoring both his mind and his sense of purpose.
Men in Zimbabwe are not broken but many are breaking. They are breaking under the weight of expectations, silence, poverty and trauma. And the substances they are turning to are not solutions — they are symptoms of a larger, systemic neglect. As a nation, we must rise to this challenge. Our men need to know that seeking help is not weakness, it is wisdom. Mental health is not a luxury, it is a necessity.
And if we want stronger communities, we must begin by healing our men. Let us create a Zimbabwe where every man knows, it is okay to feel, it is okay to speak, and above all, it is okay to ask for help. All this is complemented with planting the sense of belonging in men by appreciating their input to their families, communities and country at large.
