About us

I was raised in Nairobi — not rich, not particularly religious or political, just a regular Kenyan kid growing up in a world that had a lot to say about what boys were supposed to be. “Boys don’t cry” was sprinkled everywhere — that was the environment for me and a lot of kids. That was the gospel. Being a man was about keeping things in, being tough, proving yourself — even when it hurt.

Over the years, I’ve lived and worked across 13 countries — from Somalia to Fiji — doing humanitarian and development work. I’ve sat in policy meetings at headquarters and eaten dusty rice with village elders. But none of that prepared me for what came in 2024 — a year that shook everything. I moved from a place I had come to love, I couldn’t find work, and nothing felt certain anymore. I was forced to sit with hard questions I’d spent years outrunning.

I had left formal work to be closer to my family, thinking I could still find my footing nearby. I couldn’t. Even with years of global experience, I couldn’t land a one-day contract. And maybe that was a gift — because it pushed me to stop running. To sit with the questions I’d avoided for years.

This podcast began as a personal reckoning — a space to untangle masculinity, responsibility, grief, fatherhood, power, and softness. I don’t have answers. I’m not here to tell you how to be a man. I’m here because I’m learning — and if what I find can help someone else feel a little less alone in their own journey, then that’s enough for me.

I speak with elders, thinkers, artists, friends, and strangers — people whose lives complicate the clichés about what masculinity is or should be. I want this podcast to be a space where African masculinities — in all their messiness and possibility — can be voiced honestly.

There’s room here for complexity. But not for cruelty. I won’t platform racism, misogyny, or oppression just to be “balanced.” I believe in naming things clearly. When there’s injustice, we call it what it is.

I’ve changed a lot over the years. There’s stuff I used to believe that now makes me cringe. I’ve learned that walking away isn’t always the answer — sometimes, the real growth is in staying, owning your shit, and saying sorry.

This podcast is part of that work. I hope you find something here worth sitting with.