Nobody prepares you for the moment your parents become your dependents. For many Nigerian men, becoming the “man of the house” means paying rent, funding siblings, covering emergencies and carrying entire households before they’ve had a chance to build their own lives.
For Men’s Mental Health Awareness Month, we spoke to seven men about the financial and mental cost of being everyone’s safety net.
“I became the ‘man of the house’ at 19” — Jamal*, 29
I was 19 when my dad went to prison for workplace fraud. The shock contributed to my mum’s stroke, which left her unable to walk properly. As the first of five children, everyone looked to me to provide.
I was in 200 level, but I had to start random hustles to make sure we survived. At one point, I worked in a poultry farm during the day and did security work at night. While my classmates were talking about girlfriends, I was calculating the cost of school fees and my mum’s blood pressure meds. My dad was released two years ago, but I’m still the breadwinner.
“I’ve inherited my dad’s responsibilities” — Jeremiah*, 26
My dad sort of handed over the “provider” baton to me after I passed out from NYSC. This is mostly my fault. My first job was remote and paid in dollars, and I excitedly told my dad about it. More foolishly, I gave him half of my first salary (about ₦500k) as a gesture of appreciation for funding my life up to that point.
That’s how the billing started.
He started expecting an allowance every month. He’d ask me, “They haven’t paid you?” when I delayed sending him money.
Now, whenever my siblings ask him for money, he sends them to me. Last year, I paid our ₦1.8 million house rent. It was supposed to be a loan, but he hasn’t repaid me yet. It’s exhausting because I should be planning for my future, but I’m inheriting bills.
“40% of my salary goes to black tax” — Ben*, 28
In 2021, my parents invested almost everything into a business partnership with a family friend. The friend disappeared with the money. The stress nearly destroyed my parents. It completely destroyed their finances.
I was a 23-year-old final-year university student when the whole thing happened. My plan to pursue a master’s abroad immediately went down the drain. Instead, I focused on getting a job as soon as possible to support my home. It’s been five years, and now, 40% of my salary goes to my parents and younger sister.
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“I’m not the firstborn, but since I’m a man, there are expectations” — Kingsley*, 29
My phone notifications are my biggest source of anxiety. Since my dad retired from the police force six years ago, every call from home has either been about hospital bills, rent or a family emergency.
It’s wild because I’m not even the firstborn. I have an older sister, but as a man, the expectations just fell on me. Two years ago, I tried a thing where I said no to every request and stubbornly refused to send money, but my mum called me crying that they hadn’t eaten for days. I had to start sending money again.
These days, I try to keep it to a ₦80k monthly allowance for my parents and lock up whenever new requests come in. Sometimes, though, emergencies come, and my strategy to limit my black tax fails.
“I provide for my sister and her baby” — Mike*, 27
I lost my dad when I was 4, so I’ve been hustling for as long as I can remember to supplement whatever money my mum manages to give me. Once I started earning a reasonable income at 20, I naturally took on most of the household bills.
Recently, my financial responsibilities have increased. My younger sister, who had a baby, isn’t on good terms with the baby’s daddy. So, she and the baby now live with my mum and me. I’m spending a fortune on diapers, baby food and clothes. I don’t really mind because it’s my sister. However, I sometimes can’t help thinking about the fact that I earn ₦1.5 million/month and have zero savings.
“I can’t wait to have the final say on my own money” — Caleb*, 22
I’m my parents’ retirement plan. They don’t say it outright, but it’s obvious in the way they plan my money for me. My dad says things like “when your salary comes, help us with X amount so we can do so and so,” or “Let’s try to pay for XX by month’s end.”
I can’t object because I work with a family friend, and everyone knows how much I earn. I can’t wait to leave this house and get another job so I can have the final say on what to do with my own money.
“It’s hard, but I’m glad I can support my family” — Nonso*, 35
I’ve been the breadwinner since I was 18 after my dad left our family in Nigeria to marry another woman abroad.
I did several odd jobs for years to keep my sisters in uni and support my mum’s petty trading income. I never went to uni myself, but I now run a successful business and still support my family. It gets hard at times, especially when I think about the fact that I can’t spend anyhow because of the people depending on me. But I know my sisters see my sacrifices and are incredibly grateful to me.
The oldest one changed my car tyres a few months ago and comes to my place randomly to cook for me. I have a wonderful family, and I’m glad I can support them.
*Names have been changed for the sake of anonymity.
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Boluwatife Oni
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