By Adonis Byemelwa
On the 19th of November each year, International Men’s Day arrives quietly, so quietly, in fact, that many people around the world often wake up to an ordinary morning without ever realising a global observance is unfolding. There is no chorus of radio announcements, no city-wide decorations, no avalanche of supermarket discounts or themed advertising campaigns.
If Mother’s Day tends to sweep in with bouquets, billboards, brunch reservations, and Facebook tributes by the millions, International Men’s Day slips in almost unnoticed, like a humble guest at the back of a crowded room. And yet, there is something profoundly meaningful about this understated arrival.
For those who pause long enough to notice it, 19 November turns into a small but meaningful moment, a reminder that behind the world’s noise stand men and boys who shoulder quiet burdens, who love in ways that often go unseen, and who move through their struggles without asking for applause.
The date, chosen in 1999 by Dr. Jerome Teelucksingh of Trinidad and Tobago to honour his father and a moment of national unity, has grown into a reflective pause each year. Yet beyond the history lies a simple truth: International Men’s Day isn’t about elevating one gender, but about finally acknowledging experiences long treated as background hum in society.
The contrast with Mother’s Day is striking. As that day nears, celebrations flourish everywhere: ads, special events, crowded restaurants. The love shown is real and well-earned. But when November 19 arrives, it goes by with much less fanfare, and many men still feel unsure about being celebrated. Their stories, especially in Africa, are part of a culture that values endurance more than expression.
In Tanzania and elsewhere, you see this in fathers rising before dawn to chase income that barely stretches far enough, in young men carrying the expectations of entire families, and in boys urged to be “strong” long before they grasp what strength truly asks of them.
You see it, too, in the internal battles men fight, stress, financial strain, and emotional fatigue, while still trying to appear steady for those who depend on them. International Men’s Day simply asks us to notice today.
In recent years, public figures such as former Speaker Job Ndugai have revived an essential conversation: what happens to boys when society forgets they need guidance, care, and emotional nurturing just as much as girls? His remarks, captured in a widely circulated video, touched a nerve because they reflected something many Tanzanians had quietly observed for years.
Walk into many schools, and the contrast is visible. Girls’ academic performance has soared, supported by years of targeted interventions designed to uplift them, protect them, and create opportunities. This progress is vital; no one disputes that. Girls deserve every ounce of support and investment they receive.
Yet boys, who once occupied the center of educational focus, now sometimes find themselves drifting. In certain schools, teachers speak of boys who mask their insecurities with disruptive behaviour; boys who fall into drug use or truancy because discipline becomes their only language; boys who perform poorly but receive little specialised encouragement.
The difference becomes even starker in urban areas where unmonitored environments expose young men to dangerous temptations. While girls’ dormitories might be fenced, guarded, and equipped with water, libraries, and sanitary facilities, boys’ hostels are often left to improvisation, their environments shaped less by structure and more by survival. It is not uncommon to see boys spending nights in bars or shabby gaming centres; their futures negotiated against the backdrop of dim neon lights and cheap beer.
Such imbalances are visible well beyond the school grounds. Attend a community event, and you will likely notice the girls standing proudly in uniform lines, sometimes cheerful, sometimes shy, but present. The boys, however, often show up looking restless, withdrawn, or simply absent.
The same pattern repeats itself in churches, youth programs, and even political rallies. A troubling question arises: why do so many boys feel invisible in spaces meant to shape their futures?
Across Africa, the suffering men endure often goes unspoken because society expects men to withstand hardships without complaint. Consider the young man trying to find work in an economy where opportunities dwindle each day, feeling he must appear confident in front of his family even though he doesn't know how he'll pay next month’s rent.
Consider the father who silently sells his belongings to keep a child in school, then walks into his home with a smile so the sacrifice looks effortless. Consider the men who grapple with depression but lack safe spaces to open up, who fear that admitting emotional pain would make them appear weak. Or the teenage boy who grows up surrounded by narratives that label men as inherently privileged or problematic, making him doubt his own worth before adulthood even begins.
These stories echo from Dar es Salaam to Nairobi, from Kampala to Lagos, from rural villages to expanding urban centres. And although each circumstance is different, a thread of shared experience connects them all: the silent weight of responsibility African men carry, often with little acknowledgment.
This is why the 19th of November matters, and why its quiet arrival does not diminish its significance. In fact, the subtlety of the day gives room for deeper reflection. International Men’s Day asks us to slow down and observe the men and boys in our lives with new eyes.
It encourages society to rethink the idea that men must always be pillars without cracks. It challenges us to build environments where boys are guided, not just disciplined; where men are heard, not merely expected to endure; where emotional well-being is seen as strength, not weakness.
What makes International Men’s Day particularly meaningful is that it does not seek applause or competition. It does not demand the grandeur of Mother’s Day, nor could it, because historical circumstances have shaped each celebration differently.
Rather, it asks for balance: a recognition that empowering girls should never mean abandoning boys, and that both genders thrive most when supported in harmony. The day reminds us that society needs emotionally healthy fathers to raise strong daughters, and confident, guided boys to grow into honourable men capable of leading stable families.
When we celebrate men on 19 November, we acknowledge not only their visible contributions but also their unseen burdens. We acknowledge the young man learning to navigate an unforgiving world, the father fighting to keep his family afloat, the grandfather whose quiet wisdom anchors generations, and the boy who is still figuring out who he wants to become.
We honour the men who work tirelessly without expecting gratitude, who choose integrity over convenience, who hold their families together during hardship, and who continue to hope, even when life feels heavy.
On this day, we recognise that every man’s story matters, whether spoken or silent. We recognize that boys deserve the same encouragement, emotional safety, and guidance society eagerly provides to girls. And above all, we recognise that men and boys, like everyone else, flourish best when they are valued, not for their perfection, but for their humanity.
International Men’s Day may not arrive with fireworks or grand displays, but its significance runs deeper than spectacle. It invites us to pause, to see, and to understand. It invites us to celebrate the strength that doesn’t shout, the love that doesn’t demand attention, and the endurance that rarely receives applause. And in doing so, it gives 19 November the quiet dignity it deserves, a day that, though humble, speaks loudly to the heart of what it means to be human.