THE UNFINISHED BOYS:

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By ’Rele Pearce

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There is a conversation many African women whisper privately but rarely write publicly: the rising crisis of young men who cannot seem to “launch” into adulthood.

These men are not lazy. They are not incompetent. Many are brilliant, emotionally warm, and professionally capable. Yet, they remain stalled in a transitional space between boyhood and manhood — unable to stand fully alone, unable to separate from the mother who raised them.

Recently, I heard a provocative claim: “If you are a single mother, you are almost guaranteed to enmesh with your son.” Difficult words. But as a woman who navigated single motherhood for many years, I know the deeper truth: This conversation is not about blame. It is about structure. It is about the invisible architecture of our homes and how emotional labor, when unshared, can inadvertently stunt the very children we are trying to save.

The Mother — Son Fusion: Where the Boundary Vanishes

In a two-parent home, an emotionally present father performs a quiet, structural function: He is the boundary. He redirects the mother’s emotional energy back into partnership, breaking the subtle over-closeness that can form between a mother and child. He is the one who says, “He is a child, not your companion. Let him try. He will be fine.”

In psychology, this is called Differentiation — the developmental ability to separate from the parent without a crushing load of guilt.

But in a single-mother home, when the “adult seat” is empty, the son often sits in it by instinct. Not because the mother chooses it, but because the emotional load is too heavy for one person to carry. The son becomes the mother’s emotional equal. The line between nurturing and partnership blurs.

This is Enmeshment — a fusion of emotional boundaries that feels like closeness but functions like a limitation. The son grows, but he does not launch.

The Cost to the Daughter: Growing Old Too Soon

If enmeshment keeps sons “young,” it has the opposite effect on daughters. In the absence of a partner, many single mothers lean on their daughters as confidantes and decision-support systems.

Sons stay children.
Daughters become “mini-mothers.”

The daughter grows up too quickly, taking on the emotional weight of an adult before she has finished being a child. This is not a failure of love; it is an overload of responsibility.

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The Yoruba Layer: “Ọmọ kì í yọ̀ mọ́ ìyá rẹ̀ kó di ẹrú”

In Yoruba culture, we revere motherhood — and rightly so. We say “Ìyá ni wura” (Mother is golden/precious). But that reverence can sometimes blur into an over-responsibility that prevents release.

There is a subtle cultural script that rewards the “dutiful son” who never leaves his mother’s emotional orbit. We praise his loyalty, but we fail to see his stagnation. Culture becomes comfort; comfort becomes closeness; and closeness becomes a cage.

My Story: The Architecture of Release

As a single mother raising my daughter, I understood early that love without boundaries collapses into fusion. I felt the quiet fear:

“What if I am raising her too close to my exhaustion? What if I am not preparing her to stand without me?”

I made an intentional decision that was difficult but necessary: I sent my daughter to boarding school.

Not because I wanted distance, but because I wanted her to have a life that did not orbit around my survival story. I did not want my child to carry the weight of my struggles and my strength.

Release is the most advanced form of maternal love. African motherhood celebrates sacrifice, but it rarely celebrates release. Yet, release is what produces adults.

What African Sons Need: A Blueprint for Independence

1. Refuse the “Man of the House” Label: Love him deeply, but maintain the hierarchy. He is your son, not your emotional partner or protector.

2. Seek Relational Mirrors: Boys need to see versions of manhood — uncles, mentors, coaches — that do not depend on their mothers’ approval.

3. Responsibility That Grows: No eternal boyhood. Adulthood is a muscle that must be exercised through chores, financial boundaries, and decision-making.

4. Heal the Interior: Unhealed maternal wounds make children “emotionally too important.” A healthy mother is the only one who can truly release a son.

The Courage to Love Without Possessing

The goal of motherhood is not attachment; it is competence. It is not dependence; it is adulthood.

To the single mother carrying it all: You are not failing. You are simply carrying more than one human was ever meant to carry alone. Your son needs a mother who loves him enough to hold him — and a mother who is courageous enough to let him go.

-’Rele

Author’s Note: Further Reading

Salvador Minuchin — Families and Family Therapy: The foundational text on structural family systems and how boundaries define health.

About The Author:

’Rele Pearce is the author of Second Time Around. She writes about the interior architecture of African homes and the courage required to build a meaningful “Second Chapter.”