It's not until we stretch our heads above the planes of Africa that we see how the depths of narcissism have drowned our souls—a normalized torment we don't recognize.

It is quite common to see a group of friends get together to compare and laugh about how each had it worse from their parents, where one talks about how their parents were either physically or emotionally abusive, or both. Things we all laugh about, trying to give some sense of meaning to the pain, but it's not until we really look beyond the boundaries of our borders that we see that this common and normalized experience shouldn't be normal or accepted.

It is quite a status quo in most African households that we exchange emotional love for materialistic gains; parents forgo any form of emotional relationship and provide materialistic or economic gifts in return. Obviously, this isn't all Africa, but a large number.

Love and feelings are something of a discomfort in Africa, and this is something we see recycling over and over through generations. This isn't to say love doesn't exist in Africa because it does, but it also lacks largely in a lot of other areas.

African Narcissism survives in the bellies of the traditional family; in public, no one knows how to put on a show better than an African family; laughing, smiling, and comparing the achievements of the children, you could be fooled to believe that there's no place like home, but as soon as the door locks Parents face change, and the kids bear witness to hurtful scenes such as emotional and physical abuse, emotional neglect, etc. Torments behind closed doors are turned into tales shared with friends; tales you quickly discover are a common theme across families; in fact, it's so common that it would be considered abnormal if you didn't go through it in one way or another.

But let's not confuse them. African narcissism isn't a product of hate; it's clear that parents don't hate their kids. But rather, it's a manifestation of traumatic experiences and emotional wounds passed down over generations, from grandparents to parents and from parents to their kids. African narcissism is the result of unhealed and undiscussed traumatic experiences that are hidden and locked in the depths of the soul, but they don't die there; rather, they poison the mind, mouth, and heart of the individual, a poison so common that it's mistaken for oxygen, a poison that is passed down to the souls of each generation.

It's no coincidence that we have little to no public assistance in issues of our charity and human rights movements, because how can we breathe air into the lives of those organizations when we breathe out poison? The normal African probably doesn't know that such things exist, but it's the same way we don't know that therapy exists, and most times, if we do, we laugh it off, ridiculing its use and laughing at anyone who dares look for help in it.

So how do we get rid of this poison? A poison that has stained our lungs for generations. The first step would be to realize and understand that there's a poison there in the first place, the poison of trauma and pain, and to accept that we all have this poison in us.

The next step would be to do some research—an action as simple as looking into "narcissistic family dynamics" and seeing how the actions of our society towards us manifest themselves in unwanted traits. Understanding this and sharing it with those we know and love, this small action would be seeds planted to grow trees of hope, and at the end, maybe not everyone understands this, but the few that do will be a start to a new Africa, a new change, and that's something worth fighting for.