The title of Dr Mzamo Masito’s new book, This Country Hates Our Boys, is deliberately provocative.
“It lands like a punch because it names an abandonment we all feel but rarely say out loud,” he explains.
Masito, founder of African Men Care, tells the Saturday Star that the book emerged not from a single incident, but from years of observation, research, and lived experience.
Abandoned by his biological father and raised in a home marked by violence, Masito says his childhood shaped both his personal journey and his professional mission.
Over two decades of working with boys and men, he details that he began noticing a troubling pattern: boys struggling academically and emotionally, and men grappling with unresolved trauma and instability.
“The decision to write this book wasn’t sparked by a single event, but rather a culmination of incidents and observations,” he says.
The urgency of his message is cemented by a personal tragedy. “The breaking point came with a personal tragedy: my older brother committed suicide, taking the life of his 8-year-old son as well. This horrific event made it impossible for me to remain silent. It was clear that we are facing a national crisis: boys, especially Black and coloured boys, are falling behind, and men are struggling. Furthermore, Black men and women are increasingly divided by hurt and anger, making it difficult to unite and confront this crisis head-on. We have forgotten that the love for the child, including the boy child, begins at the end of our competition,” he says.
Masito says the book’s framing, “South African boys are on their own,” captures a reality many feel but rarely articulate.
He describes boys’ struggles as an invisible crisis.
Expected to be naturally tough and to “man up”, boys’ emotional pain often goes unnoticed.
“Boys are assumed to be resilient by design. Society expects them to ‘man up', figure it out, and absorb trauma silently. We’ve built entire systems around girls’ vulnerability while rendering boys’ pain invisible, not because it doesn’t exist, but because acknowledging it threatens our narrative of male invincibility.”
According to Masito, society often focuses on disciplining boys’ behaviour but neglects their development and support systems. While he supports initiatives that empower girls, he cautions against framing gender support as a competition.
“It’s actually girls and boys, and no child should be left behind,” he says.
Asked about the highlight of bringing the book to life, Masito said it was not that it sparked debate but that it gave men permission to express long-silenced emotions. “The most profound moment it's been men feeling safe to say ‘Me-n too' and crying in public,” he says.
“The book gave permission to grieve boyhoods that were stolen. That’s the highlight, not that it sparked debate, but that it broke open a dam.”
Even the backlash, Masito argues, reinforces the book’s central point. Responses such as “Men always want attention” or “What about women?” illustrate how difficult it remains to discuss boys’ pain without resistance.
Masito says the power of This Country Hates Our Boys lies not in sparking debate, but in compelling action. “This isn’t a book to read and shelve. It’s a call to immediate action,” he says, emphasising that the responsibility to protect and support boys begins with individuals, fathers, teachers, mentors and communities. The book challenges readers to move beyond recognition of the problem to tangible interventions, from mentoring and emotional literacy to demanding policy change.”
Saturday Star