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Financially Impressive: The Invisible Emotional Contracts Between Kenyan Parents and Their Children

If a child grows up to be kind, healthy, responsible, self-sufficient, and decent—but not wealthy—has the sacrifice failed? Most people would instinctively say no. Yet many families behave as though the answer is yes. Not openly, of course. No parent sits their child down and says, "I didn't raise you to be happy. I raised you to be rich." But expectations have a way of revealing themselves. In comparisons with more successful relatives. In questions about promotions, land, and home ownership. In the disappointment that hangs in the air when a child is doing well enough to survive but not well enough to transform the family's fortunes. And perhaps nowhere is this tension more visible than in Kenya, where sacrifice is often treated as the highest form of love. Parents sacrifice for their children. Older siblings sacrifice for younger siblings. Entire generations sacrifice in the hope that the next one will live better. But what happens when sacrifice quietly becomes an...

Why Do We Read Women’s Choices as Personal Rejections?

A woman chooses not to marry. Another decides not to have children. A third chooses to invest her energy into her career, or perhaps into travel, or art, or activism. These are simple personal choices—no different from a man choosing to remain a bachelor, or a man choosing to have children later in life, or none at all.

And yet, in Kenya (and elsewhere), when women make these choices, the world often reacts as if she has staged a rebellion. Worse still, her decisions are interpreted not as choices for herself but as choices against men.

Why is that?

When Choice Is Misread as Rejection

When a woman says she does not want to get married, it is common to hear whispers: “She hates men,” “She was hurt before,” or “She thinks she’s better than everyone else.”
But when a man says the same? He is seen as independent, perhaps even smart for “avoiding drama.”

When a woman chooses not to have children, she is told she will regret it, that she is rejecting family life, that she is “selfish.” But when a man chooses not to have children, society accepts it far more easily—it’s his choice.

Even something as simple as a woman working long hours or pursuing advanced education is often interpreted as a statement about her rejection of traditional roles—or of men. Yet when a man does the same, no one asks him to justify it.

Recently, I took a Bolt ride. The driver, upon learning that I was single and childfree by choice, berated me. He insisted there must be something wrong with me, accused me of being “like a girl trending on TikTok” (Kanini, apparently), and declared that I would regret it. He then went further: if I didn’t want marriage, I should “at least get a child.”

The logic was baffling—why would a man encourage a woman to willingly step into single motherhood if not to prove some point? He even bragged that he could sire children with any woman who wanted them, but with zero responsibility. In his mind, he would be doing women a favor by allowing them to become mothers.

This isn’t just one man’s twisted reasoning—it’s a mirror of how many men view women’s choices. And disturbingly, it also reveals a culture where men see women without marriage or children as easy prey, especially for affairs.

The Double Standard in Play

It doesn’t stop at childbearing. Take Chriss Choreo, a talented Jamaican dancer who embraces her sensuality. Instead of celebrating her artistry, many men dismiss her as “too sexual” to ever be married. Her dance is not read as art, but as a rejection of respectability, of tradition, and ultimately of men.

Meanwhile, men who live sexually expressive lives, flaunt wealth, or openly avoid commitment are rarely condemned in the same way. Their choices are seen as their right.

The Problem Isn’t the Choice—It’s the Lens

The issue is not women’s choices. The issue is the fragile lens through which we have been socialized to view female autonomy.

Society has taught us that a woman’s life must orbit around men: around being chosen, pleasing, nurturing, supporting. So when she shifts her orbit—even slightly—it feels like defiance.

But women are not living their lives in reaction to men. They are not sitting down with a checklist of “How do I reject men today?” They are, instead, asking: What do I want? What fulfills me? What kind of life feels true to me?

Examples Around Us

  • A woman in her 30s chooses to remain single. Instead of accepting her preference, people constantly offer her “advice” as though her life is incomplete. She is accused of “rejecting men,” when all she has done is refuse to compromise on what doesn’t feel right.

  • A woman with children chooses not to remarry. Instead of respecting her choice, society reads it as bitterness towards men. Yet widowers and single fathers are rarely judged this way.

  • A young graduate pours herself into building a business. Instead of being celebrated, she is told she is intimidating men, or that she will “end up alone.” Meanwhile, her male peers receive applause for doing the exact same thing.

What if We Flipped the Question?

Why do we not apply the same scrutiny to men’s choices?

  • When men choose not to marry, we don’t call them “anti-women.”

  • When men say they don’t want children, we don’t accuse them of rejecting family life.

  • When men prioritize career or hobbies, we don’t tell them they are “selfish.”

So why do women not enjoy the same freedom?

Living for Direction, Not Rebellion

Here is the truth: women are not always saying “no” to men or society. They are saying “yes” to themselves. Their choices are not rejections—they are directions. A woman who chooses her path is not announcing war; she is simply walking in alignment with her values.

And yet, so much energy is wasted debating women’s choices instead of respecting them. What if, instead of seeing these decisions as threats, we saw them as expressions of individuality—the same way we do for men?

The Way Forward

As a society, we need to stop centering men in women’s narratives. Not every choice a woman makes is about men. Sometimes, it is just about her.

This means:

  • Learning to respect choices without demanding explanations.

  • Teaching both men and women that autonomy is not rebellion.

  • Asking ourselves why women’s lives are still policed so heavily compared to men’s.

Because at the end of the day, women don’t owe anyone an explanation for how they live. The sooner we understand this, the freer we all become.

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