I.
There may be times when we are powerless to prevent injustice, but there must never be a time when we fail to protest. – Elie Wiesel
I have always been of the impression that the casual objectification of women and girls, even when framed as humour, is sustained by toxic notions of masculinity—the very ones that ridicule men who speak up against such acts—and that this culture creates the conditions in which sexual violence against women and girls is normalised. Anyone who knows me knows my passionate tendencies to speak against all forms of gender-based violence, and often, hacking at the root of such acts—the very nest which breeds such deeds. For instance, when you consider most violent acts against women, the very cause of them, almost eighty per cent, would have a connection to toxic masculinity. And this so often happens because we live in a society where women are habitually reduced to bodies, where objectification is common and rarely called out. After all, it is ‘harmless’. However, over time, the repeated framing of women as objects of consumption erodes empathy and reinforces entitlement. The body stops being a body that belongs to someone; it becomes a site for commentary, evaluation, and to use as you like, to take whatever you want from it. So, men beat women. Men beat and rape women. Men beat, rape, and kill women. And I am not being prophetic or apocalyptic. This has happened; is happening; would continue to happen if many people, especially men, do not stand against this. If men do not join in on the fight, let other men know that this is an inherent problem. Yet, here lies the fact that most men who speak against such acts are seen as not man enough; seen as breaking some bro code we have no idea had been instituted. And that is where I break a sweat.
Once, in a general high school WhatsApp group, an old schoolmate shared a flyer of a lady—she could have been his sister, girlfriend, or simply a friend—who was contesting in a national beauty pageant and needed votes. The flyer was shared plainly and politely as a request for support. She needed votes to escape eviction or make it to the final selection—I have forgotten exactly what it was. But what I do remember clearly, and with such repugnance, is the comments which followed when that post was made. Most were tasteless, with conversations and questions about her beauty and why any lady thinks she can just get up and go to a beauty pageant. Clearly, these young men had expectations, and whether or not this young lady in question met them is not my focus. But also, the very foundation that allows these guys to have expectations, in the first place, is part of my contention. While I have nothing against the beauty pageantry industry, we can all agree, or disagree (you are allowed your differing opinions), that the premise of that institution, despite the empowerment it seems to convey, has over the years become a spectacle for the male gaze—intended or not. That, however, is a conversation for another essay.
Anyway, while I was scrolling through the chat, I came across a very specific comment that made me pause for a second. Or it could have been more than a second, because I remember experiencing the five stages of grief while reading over the comment, again and again, except on my journey through the stages, I stopped at anger. And when I am angry about something I care deeply about, I do not sit and stew in my anger. I speak up.
‘But this lady is chopable’ The comment stared at me, unblinking, valiant and mocking in its existence.
‘This is wrong! Why would you say that?’ I commented.
‘It’s alright, Osofo,’ the guy replied. Osofo. Pastor. That word sent me over the edge, so much so that I surprised myself with how much effect it had on me.
Now, in that context, he wasn’t just calling me that to imply my holier-than-thou response, if we were to call it that. I wouldn’t have had a problem with it. There is nothing wrong with being a pastor; it is an honourable calling—on a good day. And if the term merely suggested a higher moral ground, I would have accepted it without protest. But anyone who has grown up among boys like these—or in a very toxic masculine community—knows that to be called a ‘pastor’ (if that wasn’t really what you are) rarely had any predilection to being morally upright. Or at least, it used to be, but not anymore and certainly not in that context.
To understand what I mean, consider this. In Christianity, Christians are expected to exhibit the fruits of the Holy Spirit, which, among many others, include gentleness, kindness, and patience. These are often fallaciously interpreted as timidity, lack of courage, or weakness. And in a society such as ours, a boy exhibiting any of these traits immediately has a personality that contrasts with ‘macho’ masculinity, which thrives on aggression, aloofness, and the like. Ergo, such a boy is a ‘soft boy’ or an ‘uncool boy’ or a boy who doesn’t know ‘wossop’. At its cruellest, it could mean such a boy is a ‘sissy’. And that was what unsettled me.
‘I am not a pastor, but it would be easy to brand me as such, ‘cos why not? Objectifying the woman’s body is for the ‘cool’ guys, and anyone else who chooses not to do that is a pastor,’ I replied.
What followed was a flurry of responses, all eventually collapsing into the familiar defence: It was just a joke.
II.
It is important to take action and to realise that we can make a difference, and this will encourage others to take action, and then we realise we are not alone and our cumulative actions truly make an even greater difference. This is how we spread the Light. And this, of course, makes us all even more hopeful. — Jane Goodall
On the evening of that altercation, as I lay on my bed, a book in one hand and bread criminally overspread with chocolate spread in the other, my mind kept returning to the exchange, replaying it in a loop.
It was just a joke.
Just a joke.
But was it really?
How many women and girls have had to suffer at the hands of one man or another because of ‘just a joke’? How much disrespect would you subject a woman’s body to, because you wanted to have a play day? The lady’s flyer had been shared for a reason. She needed help to win a contest. How did that purpose become so easily discarded, replaced instead by sexual commentary? How does a request for support turn so quickly into an opportunity for objectification? In this age, it is unsettling that some men still struggle to see women beyond their sexual utility. Yes, she was beautiful—probably why she was in a pageant. But what would it take to acknowledge her beauty without reducing her to a body for consumption? What would it take to focus on why her picture was shared, rather than what could be taken from it? Even as a joke, it was wrong.
But in my pondering, I tried to look through other lenses, despite my obvious predisposition to favour my cause. What is wrong is wrong, but you cannot live in this world of ours and thrive by seeing things as either black or white. Sometimes you have to dip your toe in the coloured muddle; even investigate the grey areas. And so I considered Psychologists Peter McGraw and Caleb Warren’s Benign Violation Theory, which proposes that humour occurs when something violates a social norm but is perceived as safe, acceptable, or ‘benign.’ Therefore, his ‘joke’, according to this theory, would work when it breaks a rule without appearing to cause real harm. Then, I asked myself: was there not a clear cause of real harm?
I concede that what is considered harmless often depends entirely on where one stands. For the men in that group chat, calling a woman ‘chopable’ may have felt trivial, even playful—a momentary violation made benign by familiarity, by shared masculinity. But for the woman whose body was being discussed, and for the broader culture that learns, repeatedly, that women’s bodies are public property, the violation is anything but harmless.
Again, I concede that it would be easy to dismiss it as harmless, but I think I have done the maths for you in my earlier paragraphs and would not go over how language trains perception and perception shapes entitlement and entitlement diminishes consent.
Also, have you seen the current news?
The District Court-Police Headquarters has remanded Daniel Osei, Chief Executive Officer of a popular fast-food company, into police custody for allegedly raping a 16-year-old student in East Legon.
A 49-year-old fisherman was jailed for defiling a 13-year-old girl at Mumford.
A wave of anger and frustration has gripped South Africa after the murder of 30-year-old Olorato Mongale, allegedly by a man she went on a date with. It is the latest in a series of high-profile cases of violence against women and children in the country.
Why do these keep happening? I have done the work for you. Join the dots.
III.
Why has what is so grotesquely abnormal become normalised to us in this country? — Graça Machel
Returning to what happened in the group, I am sure it wouldn’t be surprising if I say no one else spoke against that absurd comment. Not even the guy who posted the flyer—someone I can be one hundred per cent sure had some kind of relation with the lady. But that was nothing on him, or maybe it was. But anyway, I am certain he didn’t want to subject himself to the confrontations I endured, or worst case, be seen as uncool.
Undoubtedly, what happened in the group was a clear case of policing of masculinity, which I have, in my short years on earth, experienced or watched other men experience. A very good example of how moral objection is feminised or mocked. Sociologist R.W. Connell calls this hegemonic masculinity — a model of manhood that polices itself by mocking softness and rewarding aggression, sexual entitlement, emotional suppression, and dominance. Within this logic, the ultimate proof of masculinity is, sometimes, the reduction of a woman to a sexual object. This has, in time, procreated an unending well of misogyny, which is causing some of the violence against women crises we face today. If South Africa has already declared this as a nationwide crisis, then you know it has passed the level of casual modalities. It is a human rights disaster. Because, put aside the gender, these are human beings who are being subjected to one act of violence or the other for the reason that society fails to speak against little instances such as the one in the WhatsApp group. And although I acknowledge that humanity has come a long way, because clearly, there are men like me who are willing to join the fight and speak against this violence, we still have a lot of work to do.
The fight against misogyny, against toxic masculinity, against patriarchy is not one left for women, or the ‘butch raging feminists’ as they are so labelled. If you have ever had a sister, a daughter, a fiancée, a wife, a mother, or a dearly beloved female friend, then you’d know you have to do all you can to make the world safe for them, to join them in their protection against these cruelties.
So, if speaking against misogyny makes me less of a man, then, by all means, picture me in a skirt.
References:
- Connell, R. W., & Connell, R. (1995). Masculinities.
- GhanaWeb. (2025, July 18). Man remanded into custody over alleged rape of 16-year-old student. GhanaWeb. https://www.ghanaweb.com/GhanaHomePage/NewsArchive/Man-remanded-into-custody-over-alleged-rape-of-16-year-old-student-1992351
- McGraw, A. P., & Warren, C. (2010). Benign violations. Psychological Science, 21(8), 1141–1149. https://doi.org/10.1177/0956797610376073
- Savage, R. (2025, June 13). South African woman’s murder prompts anger at country’s high level of femicide. The Guardian. https://www.theguardian.com/world/2025/jun/13/south-african-womans-prompts-anger-at-countrys-high-level-of-femicide
Boakye D. Alpha is a published poet, screenwriter, filmmaker, vlogger, book blogger and entrepreneur. He holds a Bachelor of Arts in English from Kwame Nkrumah University of Science and Technology and has won several awards and scholarships for his works, including the Tony Elumelu Storytellers Fund and the Multichoice Talent Factory scholarship for emerging filmmakers in Africa. His writings have been published in known magazines globally, including GUAP Magazine (UK) and Shallow Tales Review, among others. He is dedicated to using his skills to tell stories that address societal issues and advocate for the minority. Boakye is also a supporter of mental health, diversity and inclusion, reading culture, and literacy among children and young adults. He is also against gender-based violence and child marriage. He founded Ontherise Media Africa, a volunteer-based media group and Earnest Writes Hub, a community that supports writers in improving their skills and finding inspiration. He is the CEO of Alpha Writing Consult and co-founder of Dare to Dream Studios, a film production company based in Nigeria. He currently lives in Norwich, England.
