Young, Famous & African: If we don’t heal ourselves we’ll be the leaders of a messed up generation

Over the weekend, I binge-watched Young, Famous & African. This Netflix original reality series follows — you guessed it, young, famous (and presumably affluent) African media stars during a séjour in Johannesburg, South Africa.

For the mere fact that the show contributes to the much-needed library of African representation on the global media stage, I am content with its existence. Additional commentary about what it represented and how is for another day.

As I watched the mixed bag of affluent African experiences; from Black Love to Struggle Love, and Boss Lady vibes to catfights, the theme that rose to the surface throughout was the need to heal. We need to heal; as individuals and as a collective.

Watching Young, Famous & African signaled what lies ahead if we don’t work on ourselves as young adults.

When discussing Africa’s future, we often talk about the future of tech or politics in any given country, but this show had me thinking about the social future of Africa; what values we are instilling in the fabric of our culture.

Do we want the next generation to see us in our 40s, reeking of the same insecurities they are struggling with at 14?

Do we want our children to have to worry about if we are happy as they try to live out their childhoods?

Do we want our sons fathering so many offspring by so many women that they are unsure of how many they have? (Give a range of kids, rather than a definitive number)

Do we want our daughters to value the title, the ring, or the baby over happiness? (We have to ask ourselves what is really #goals)

Do we want our daughters to see us brag to another woman that “she isn’t even our husband’s type” because he has cheated so often that we know what he would typically go for? (That is not a flex, sis)

When we are at a big age and finally have big money, do we still want to have anything to prove to anyone?

Some things are clearly theatrics for increased entertainment value; yelling at each other to get a word in, and unnecessarily relaying information. It’s what goes beyond the camera lens that gives room for concern.

Many of the characters are a medley of insecurities coated in pride and ego.

Each character* underscores the need to heal from traumatic events and experiences — to avoid growing into big and old children, rather than adults. Young, Famous & African signals what lies ahead if we don’t work on ourselves in early adulthood.

What is frightening is the idea of big and confused children bringing actual children into the world before ever healing from their pain bodies (lingering emotional pain) that are evident and apparent in their interactions with the world around them.

And so on my screen, an alternative future presented itself to me. One that’s not unlikely in the absence of conscious efforts towards change. I thought:

This is what my love life could look like…

If I continue seeking the next best thing. The leap from partner to partner, multiple baby mothers, and lack of apparent remorse for infidelities discussed on the show is jarring. Sure polygyny (1 husband to 2+ wives) is still accepted and legal in numerous African countries today. Cameroon does not even have a limit to the number of wives a man can have. But these men have adopted traditional polygyny mindsets to justify their actions in modern monogamous commitments. This only further promulgates the cycle of broken black families.

When South African TV personality, Andile Ncube, explained why he was pursuing a relationship with the series villain, who is also a “friend’s” baby mama, I gave him the side-eye but let it slide. It was when he justified his pursuit with the quote below that I was surprised.

“I feel like everyone is against her and I don’t mind being her solitude… being her peace. You know that one person that when you talk to, nothing else exists? Even if it is doesn’t become a sexual thing, even if it just becomes a platonic thing, a friendship thing.” — Andile Ncube

The emotional intimacy Andile references is grandiose and sacred. One day, if I get the courage to write the piece These Days, the F**k Boys are Doing More than Just F**king, I might delve into the dangers of such a bond without plans for anything serious. Until then, I wonder about such men and whether they enter into situationships to fill voids and get validation.

The need to fix people, save people, “conquer” or “win” people, and be needed by people, is one worth exploring with a therapist.

Perhaps they seek companionship — maybe even a stable consistent presence, but do not know how to show up fully. Perhaps they fear their full selves will not be enough to sustain something meaningful over a lifetime. The solve? A rotation, giving smaller parts of themselves to different women. Each woman a quest to conquer, each one stunning, each one younger. Hurting those who love them most in the never-ending process. There is no end to “better”, younger, or hotter.

This is what my marriage could look like…

If I stick around with a guy giving the bare minimum. If I keep putting the needs of others before my own. In 10 years, I might celebrate his slightest effort and lick his face (show reference) like a puppy, bursting at the seams when he behaves himself because I don’t see it often. Maybe I’ll make a scene when he calls, broadcasting our love to the world with hopes that it will mask the shame he has brought on our union.

As I found myself harshly judging, however, I took a step back to wonder why. Often, when we come across people who serve as a mirror to the ugliest parts of ourselves, we judge them the harshest because we are not ready to face our own shortcomings. The show reminded me to meet these people with more empathy and less ego — more reflection, and less projection.

Annie Idibia and Ugandan socialite Zari Hassan’s relationship drove this point home for me. Both are cut from the same cloth — two deeply insecure women putting on a facade of being in control. One feigning control over her family, the other feigning control over men. (I.e. I have my baby daddy in the palm of my hand, I can get your man if I wanted).

In many ways, Zari is the pot calling the kettle black.

This is what my friendships could look like…

If I do not take pride and ego out of my communication and let my guards down to deepen my bonds. A thank you speech could be mistaken for an ego trip and my best intention will not be implied because of a lack of trust.

When pride is in the chat, we do not listen, we cannot empathize, we do not let our defenses down. We cannot see the other person and do not allow ourselves to be seen. We double down on our defenses to protect the child within who never got closure from whatever is being triggered.

When South African actress Khanyi Mbau advises Zari Hassan to show up humbly among her friends, there is a larger message for the culture.

We have to take pride and ego out of our relationships for them to flourish.

Khanyi states that though Zari is used to winning everything, friendships are not a battle to win. She can put her defenses down.

“Friendship is not rulership; you come in with an ego because you want to fight battles and come out with a final say…having friends means there are no levels.” — Khanyi Mbau

Zari, however, does not seem to grasp the message and instead insists it is somehow the way of the world that such strong personalities would clash.

“Where there are two women, two powerful forces coming together, there will be a clash.” — Zari Hassan

This does not have to be the case and this mentality is part of the culture we can do without for the next generation. Strong women and all kinds of strong personalities can co-exist. Prideful egos cannot. African pride is something different.

This is what my life could look like…

If I do not make peace with my past for fear of the wave of emotions that might come with facing it. Watching the show, I saw attempts to escape solitude for fear of what it may bring up, focusing on the problems of others to avoid facing the mirror, and a revolving door of relationships driven by the need to fix or be fixed.

To be young, famous, and even wealthy, but mentally unhealthy calls to mind the biblical reference: For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? [Mark 8:37]

Culturally, most Africans across countries have been raised to question the need for therapy, and the validity of inner work. The 7 episodes of Young, Famous & African were actually 7 cases for giving mental health the attention it warrants in our community.

In conclusion, I am grateful for the show. It motivated me to take therapy seriously. My hope is that while young (though perhaps neither famous nor wealthy yet):

May we double down on the work we need to do to heal our pain bodies, so they don’t rule us till the grave.

May we manage our hurt to avoid hurting others, especially those who love us unconditionally.

May struggle love and toxic masculinity not be in our futures.

May inner peace and true happiness be #goals above all else.

May we be young, rich, and whole.

This was written with every effort to avoid condemnation; holding space for everyone and their differences.

*As I do not know any of these people in any context beyond 7 episodes of a show, they have been discussed as characters in a story to drive home the point of this piece.

The title is a play on words from lyrics of Example’s song ‘Stay Awake’.

I am not a therapist.