KenyaOnAShoeString: Real Advice for Real Kenyans

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 “selfi...

People think they marry for love . But more often than not, they marry to be safe, to be seen, or to be saved. In Kenya , marriage and children are presented as the natural checkpoints of life. You grow up, finish school, get a job, marry, and have children. This sequence is rarely questioned, because to question it feels like rebellion against culture, religion, and even family. Yet if we strip away the social scripts , the reality is unsettling: very few Kenyans choose marriage or children freely. Marriage as Escape Look closely at the stories around you. Many people marry to escape poverty . For women, this often means marrying a man who can provide more stability than their families could. For men, it may mean marrying into opportunity, or at least a semblance of respectability. The marriage certificate becomes a survival tool — less about romance, more about relief. Others marry to escape abuse . A young woman grows up in a home where beatings and insults are daily bread, and...

“You did your part, I did mine. But did we ever really see each other?” In many Kenyan marriages, the rhythm of life is predictable: one partner provides, the other supports. Bills are paid, children are raised, meals are cooked, intercourse is expected, and the relationship trudges along—sometimes decades long—on the fuel of duty. And yet, under the weight of this routine, many couples are strangers in the same home. There is silence where there should be softness, avoidance where there should be safety, and distance in a space meant for closeness. We have mistaken duty for love , and we are paying the price for it. What is Emotional Generosity? Emotional generosity is the willingness to offer kindness without accounting. It’s not just saying “I love you” but showing up when it's not convenient. It’s the soft listening in between the chaos, the vulnerability to share your fears, and the courage to affirm your partner’s worth without being asked. It's choosing empathy over...