There’s a stretch of open field between Naledi and Mapetla (in Soweto). I grew up playing soccer there. One day, an older boy tackled me viciously and my knee was terribly injured. I cried but one old man said to me, “tigers don’t cry. Don’t be a woman. Don’t cryâ€Â. I tried not to cry but it was painful. Subsequent pains associated with injury were met with the conviction that “African men don’t cry.†Over the years I have subscribed to this saying and I have been a "real man".
I have watched my father and uncles fighting tears at the funeral of their mother some years ago. They were “real men†and I admired and respected them for being "strong" and above all for being great "African men".
In my adult age, I’ve at times been hurt so much I wanted to cry, but I can’t, because my I think my son will see me as a weakling. My son has just lost her mom, I’ve lost a friend and a beloved. While I want to remain strong for him, I also want him to feel that I’m fully with him – like crying with him. He cried most of last night. He was crying this morning. I want tears to come down my face, but they can’t. I think because in my head, “tigers don’t cry†and I was made to believe that I’m a tiger.
Do real men cry?
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