Dear Darling, I Need You to Be a Man

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Dear Darling, Be a Man

I recently watched The Polygamist. A Netflix drama that follows Jonasi Gomora, a wealthy businessman and engineer with the libido of a Greek god and the stamina of a horse. There is plenty to unpack about Jonasi, but the character who has refused to leave my mind is his son, Menzi Gomora. From the first time I saw him, I knew that I hated him. He was everything I couldn’t stand about the shy pre-pubescent man.

“A pre-pubescent man?” you ask.

Well, I’d best describe him as the grown ass man who hasn’t gotten over the basic insecurities of adolescence.  How best would I describe it?  He lingered behind his older sister like a shadow. Quick to let her speak and too timid to look anyone in the face. While she was bold, loud and unapologetic, Menzi folded into himself. Shoulders slouched. Eyes lowered. Always smiling sheepishly, as if apologizing for taking up space.

I judged him instantly. He became the butt of every joke that came to my mind. His was the name I remembered to yell after every shot. His was the face that launched a thousand sighs.  I lounged in this state until something uncomfortable happened.

Slowly I realized I wasn’t looking at a stranger.

I had met such a figure before. In the mirror, on the streets of campus, in the clubs. The laser straight edge between puberty and adulthood every man had to cross.

Menzi reminded me of the boy who learned to observe life instead of participating in it. The boy who stood quietly in the corner, studying everyone else. The good boy. The one we all awarded as the most disciplined at the end every academic year. The one we all fell over to defend in case of conflict. The one that somehow slipped by unnoticed when it was time to get caned for making noise in class. I once used to be that good boy.

It was at this moment that I started feeling sorry for him. His situation was a little more complicated than I gave him credit for. How does a good boy learn to become a man when every man teaching him is broken?

As I watched Menzi, I realized my hatred was evolving into recognition. To an extent, I was rooting for him. Hoping that he would turn out a better man than those he saw around him. He was like a coin in the middle of a flip. It is only at the end that we would finally know if we would get a hero or a villain.

Men in general are not harmless. However, men like Menzi are a wild card. They’re often volcanoes pretending to be hills. They mistake obedience for character, silence for maturity and passivity for kindness. They spend years trying to become the “good boy” everyone praises, only to discover adulthood demands something entirely different. Watching him forced me to ask questions I had avoided for years.

Reflecting upon our world, no one ever teaches you what masculinity actually means? The message is only drawn towards what masculinity is not. A vague compilation of things found annoying to their own interests.

Like Menzi, I mostly sat back and observed the world. I watched fathers. Friends. Teachers. Movies. Churches. Music. I collected fragments of manhood without anyone ever helping me assemble the whole picture. Was I praised more for obedience than courage? Absolutely.

The adults loved the quiet child. The respectful child. The child who didn’t argue. The one who never caused trouble. But somewhere along the way, I began confusing obedience with virtue.

Have I mistaken being agreeable for being good? More times than I’d like to admit.

That is why Menzi unsettled me. I had seen it before. What happens when someone spends years suppressing themselves instead of growing. Sooner or later, something has to erupt.

Then finally, it happened. Menzi, the “good boy”, was heart broken. His father was having an affair with his crush. The world had made its move, reminding us all of that one rule.

Life is not fair.

His response? Menzi eventually began chasing quick sex, alcohol, money, validation or power not because he was evil, but because those are the only versions of manhood he’s ever seen modeled. During his villain arc, Menzi starts dressing better. He walks with confidence. Holds eye contact. Puffs out his chest. On the surface, he looks more like a man.

But he isn’t becoming a man. He’s becoming an imitation of the broken men around him.

Yet there are moments when he grows on me. One scene that stayed with me was when he visits his father’s children from another marriage. He doesn’t have to. He owes them nothing. Yet he chooses to spend time with them, becoming the older brother and perhaps the father figure they desperately need.

A hint of the good boy that survived. A kindness that matters. A sign that Menzi isn’t broken beyond repair. He’s simply trying to build a man from the pieces he has been given. And maybe that’s why I can’t completely hate him. He was a good boy.

But being a good boy doesn’t mean you’ll become a good man.

While writing Dear Darling, there is a realization that sits at the heart of the script. Society spends years teaching boys how not to be troublesome, but very little time teaching them how to become emotionally healthy men. We reward obedience in childhood, then expect confidence, leadership, vulnerability and emotional maturity to appear as adults.

Somewhere between “good boy” and “good man,” many get lost.

“This article is part of a series exploring the themes behind my upcoming short film, Dear Darling.”

Written by

Mugabe Victor

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