From Outsider to Springbok Dreamer: How One Boy Found Belonging Through Rugby

When Lutho* got on the bus to Cape Town, he didn’t cry. There was no dramatic farewell or tearful goodbye — just a quiet nod to his uncle and a duffel bag half-zipped. At thirteen, he was used to silence. He sat by the window and watched the rolling hills of the Eastern Cape disappear behind him, knowing he was heading to live with relatives he had never met before. Distant family. People who shared a surname but not much else.

Cape Town was overwhelming from the moment he arrived. The city felt colder, not just in temperature but in spirit. The streets were unfamiliar, the pace faster, the voices louder. The house he moved into was cramped and busy. The relatives he lived with seemed distracted, burdened by their own lives. Lutho had a place to sleep and food most days, but no one asked him how he was adjusting or if he missed home. He floated through the household, unnoticed.

At school, things weren’t any better. He was the new kid with the soft accent and secondhand shoes. He didn’t speak unless spoken to. Teachers noted he was polite but disengaged. Classmates mostly ignored him. He spent break times alone, scrolling through TikTok, pretending he didn’t mind being left out. It was easier to get lost in someone else’s life on screen than to face the ache in his own.

The truth was, Lutho felt invisible. And for a long time, he believed that was just how it was going to be.

Then, one Tuesday afternoon, a teacher handed him a slip and told him he’d been enrolled in something called School of Hard Knocks. He didn’t ask what it was. He assumed it was another afterschool programme to tick a box. He showed up because he didn’t want to get into trouble.

He was wrong about it.

The first thing he noticed was that no one yelled. The coaches spoke to him like they actually cared whether he was there. No one forced him to talk or prove himself. They let him hang back at first, watching the others, observing the drills. When they handed him a ball, he took off without thinking — weaving between cones, light on his feet, fast.

Really fast.

“Where did you learn to run like that?” one of the coaches asked. Lutho shrugged. He didn’t have an answer. He hadn’t thought of himself as an athlete before.

The next week, they asked him who his favourite rugby player was. He answered quickly: “Cheslin Kolbe.” That, he was sure about. He’d watched every highlight reel of the Springbok wing — his speed, his footwork, his ability to outrun men twice his size. Kolbe was proof that being small didn’t mean you couldn’t make an impact. That you didn’t have to shout to be powerful. Lutho saw himself in him — quiet, quick, underestimated.

Still, it wasn’t just the rugby that brought Lutho back every week. It was the conversations afterward, when the coaches checked in with each boy individually. For the first time since he’d left the Eastern Cape, someone asked Lutho how he was doing — and actually listened.

He didn’t open up right away. It took weeks. But eventually, piece by piece, he started sharing bits of his story. That he missed home. That he felt like a stranger in his new family. That he wanted to run away sometimes — just leave school, leave Cape Town, disappear.

The coaches didn’t lecture him. They didn’t dismiss his feelings. They acknowledged the loneliness. They spoke about anxiety and sadness in ways that made sense to him. They taught the boys how to recognise what was happening inside them — and how to deal with it, instead of shutting down or lashing out.

Lutho started to change. It wasn’t dramatic, but it was real. He began paying attention in class again. He made friends through the SOHK sessions — other boys who didn’t laugh at him when he fumbled the ball, who shouted his name when he scored during scrimmages. He began to feel like he belonged somewhere.

And most importantly, he began to dream again.

Now, when he talks about Cheslin Kolbe, it’s not just admiration. It’s inspiration.

“I want to play for the Springboks one day,” he says, quietly but without hesitation. “I know I’m small. But Kolbe made it. So maybe I can too.”

Lutho isn’t running away from his life anymore. He’s running toward something.

He still scrolls TikTok sometimes. He still misses home. But he’s not drifting through the day like before. He’s got goals now — small ones, like staying on top of schoolwork, and big ones, like joining the school rugby team next year.

His story isn’t finished. But for the first time, he’s the one writing it.

*Name changed to protect identity.

Why This Story Matters

There are thousands of Luthos across South Africa — boys who look fine on the outside but are barely holding it together inside. Boys who have been relocated, displaced, or left behind. Boys who carry invisible weight every single day.

Without intervention, many of them fall through the cracks.

School of Hard Knocks exists to change that. Not just through sport, but through consistent adult mentorship, mental health literacy, and emotional support.

Rugby is the hook. Connection is the breakthrough. And belief — the kind that’s backed by action — is what changes lives.

If you want to support more young people like Lutho, here’s how you can help:

• Donate to fund SOHK programmes in schools and communities

• Volunteer your time or expertise

• Share this story

• Partner with us to reach more children across the country

Because the next Cheslin Kolbe might be out there right now — feeling invisible, waiting for someone to see his potential.

Let’s be the ones who see him.

www.schoolofhardknocks.co.za
info@schoolofhardknocks.co.za
+27 (0)87 150 2140

A call for compassionate conversation, emotional support, and holistic approaches to youth wellbeing in South Africa

Across South Africa, and increasingly around the world, young people are spending more hours than ever glued to their screens — particularly on TikTok. This isn’t just a trend. It’s a symptom.

What once felt like harmless entertainment is now becoming a powerful emotional coping mechanism for adolescents who are overwhelmed, unsupported, or quietly suffering in environments where they don’t feel seen. They scroll not just out of boredom, but to numb out — to forget the problems they don’t have the words for, the fears they don’t know how to name.

And as much as it may be tempting to blame technology, the problem isn’t TikTok itself.

The real issue lies in what young people are trying to escape — and in the gap between their emotional needs and the support systems available to meet them.

What Are Our Youth Running From?

In our work at School of Hard Knocks (SOHK), we engage with students facing complex emotional and environmental challenges:

• Homes affected by poverty, overcrowding, or neglect

• Communities exposed to violence or instability

• Schools where mental health remains underfunded or misunderstood

• Families where emotional expression is discouraged or stigmatized

In these contexts, many students internalize the idea that talking about how you feel is weak. That vulnerability is dangerous. That nobody really wants to know what’s going on inside.

So, they stay quiet.
And they scroll.

A recent global survey by Common Sense Media found that 62% of teens use social media to cope with feeling sad, stressed, or anxious. For many South African youth, this number is likely higher — especially in low-income communities where access to mental health resources is limited, and safe emotional spaces are nearly nonexistent.

Why TikTok?

TikTok, in particular, is built to grab attention and hold it. With its endless scroll and rapid-fire algorithm, the platform can provide:

• Instant gratification: Every swipe brings something new.

• Emotional distraction: Videos are short, humorous, or uplifting, which can momentarily mask deeper distress.

• Illusion of connection: Even passive viewing makes youth feel “plugged in” to a broader community.

• Minimal demand: Unlike in-person conversations, TikTok doesn’t require them to show up, explain themselves, or be vulnerable.

It’s soothing. It’s numbing. And for kids in pain, it works — at least temporarily.

But here’s the problem: numbing isn’t healing.

What gets pushed down doesn’t go away. It builds. And without safe outlets, many young people start to lose the ability — or even the desire — to engage in real-world connection.

The Mental Health Implications

Researchers Jean Twenge and W. Keith Campbell have extensively documented how rising screen time among adolescents is directly linked with increases in anxiety, depression, loneliness, and disrupted sleep patterns. These outcomes are particularly concerning in communities already grappling with trauma, grief, or economic hardship.

Other studies from the Centre for Humane Technology and UNICEF echo similar findings:

• Excessive screen use correlates with reduced self-esteem and increased body image concerns, especially among adolescent girls.

• Social media “comparison culture” deepens feelings of inadequacy and isolation.

• Youth with unaddressed trauma are more vulnerable to digital dependency, using apps as emotional escape routes.

In short: our kids aren’t just addicted to their phones. They’re starving for support.

So What Do They Actually Need?

Taking away the phone is not the answer. In fact, it often backfires. When adults try to “ban” social media without addressing the underlying emotional need, young people feel even more misunderstood — and their trust in us erodes.

What we need to offer is connection over control.
Support, not shame.
Curiosity, not criticism.

Here are key ways we can start to support our youth in healthier, more sustainable ways:

1. Talk About It (Without Judgment)

Start the conversation. Ask what they’re watching. What makes them laugh? What makes them feel worse? What trends are they seeing that affect how they think about themselves?

By treating social media as something to explore together — rather than something to punish — we build trust and open the door to honest dialogue.

2. Create Offline Spaces That Feel Safe

Many young people say they spend time on TikTok simply because there’s nowhere else to go — emotionally or physically.

That’s why SOHK works to create structured environments through sports, group coaching, and behavioural sessions where students feel safe to explore their identity, emotions, and challenges. In these spaces, they don’t have to perform. They just have to show up.

3. Teach Emotional Literacy

When young people can name what they’re feeling — sadness, frustration, boredom, loneliness — they’re far more likely to seek help instead of self-soothing through distraction.

Our programmes, especially NxtGenMen and NxtGenWomxn, equip students with Dialectical Behaviour Therapy (DBT) techniques, mindfulness tools, and guided discussions that help them build a vocabulary around their emotional world. This reduces emotional avoidance — and therefore, screen dependence.

4. Model Digital Boundaries (Not Fear)

Adults are also guilty of screen overuse. Instead of lecturing youth about their habits, we must look at our own. What would it mean to create phone-free time during meals, school breaks, or group sessions? Not as punishment, but as an invitation to presence?

Boundaries become sustainable when they’re collaborative and consistent — not reactive.

5. Provide Consistent Adult Presence

It only takes one adult to make a massive impact in a young person’s life.

At SOHK, coaches serve as that presence — someone who shows up, listens without fixing, and reflects back each learner’s value and potential. When youth have a trusted adult who checks in regularly, their risk of depression and anxiety drops significantly.

That adult could be a teacher, parent, coach, mentor, or school counsellor. The title doesn’t matter — the consistency does.

What We See at SOHK

At School of Hard Knocks, we don’t try to “fix” kids. We build relationships. We offer alternatives. We introduce tools. We challenge behaviour — but always with compassion.

Through rugby, group dialogue, lay counselling, and restorative practices, our learners begin to:

• Understand their emotions and trauma

• Trust others again

• Experience belonging in real-time

• Set goals for their future

• Reduce screen dependence without even realizing it

Because when real connection is available, the need for numbing starts to fade.

Hope Over Hype

It’s easy to fear social media. It’s harder — and more effective — to look at why our youth are using it in the first place.

The goal isn’t to take TikTok away. It’s to make sure it’s not their only escape.

Let’s not punish them for wanting relief. Let’s offer them something real.

How You Can Help

If this mission resonates with you, here are 3 ways to support the emotional wellbeing of youth in your community:

1. Donate to SOHK: Your funding helps us run trauma-informed programmes, train coaches, provide meals, and reach more learners across South Africa.

2. Start Conversations at Home: Ask your child or student about their online world. Don’t fix — just listen.

3. Partner With Us: Bring SOHK to your school, business, or community group. Together, we can tackle trauma — and rebuild connection — one conversation at a time.

Final Thoughts

We are raising a generation of digital natives in a world of emotional scarcity. But there is another way forward — one rooted in understanding, consistency, and community.

Let’s not shame the scroll.
Let’s meet our youth where they are — and walk with them toward something more.

www.schoolofhardknocks.co.za
info@schoolofhardknocks.co.za

It’s not about being perfect. It’s about being there.

The first time I walked into one of our SOHK schools, I wasn’t sure what to expect.

I wasn’t a trained social worker. I wasn’t a teacher. I was just someone who said “yes” to volunteering my time. One afternoon a week. That’s all I promised. One afternoon to show up, listen, be present.

That one afternoon turned into a year. And it changed the way I see young people — and the way I see myself.

Here’s what I learned: you don’t have to have all the answers to make a difference. You just have to keep showing up.

We Think They Need Grand Gestures. They Don’t.

They need someone to remember their name.

They need someone to ask how their test went, even if they said it didn’t matter.

They need someone to high-five them when they finish a drill or pick themselves up off the ground after falling.

They need an adult to look at them like they matter — not just because of their grades, or their behavior, or their future potential — but because they exist.

And honestly? That doesn’t take a whole lot of time. It takes presence.

We All Want to Help. We Just Don’t Know How.

“I don’t have time.”

“I’m not qualified.”

“I wouldn’t know what to say.”

We hear it all the time. And to be fair, I used to say it too.

But after months at SOHK, I’ve watched volunteers who were accountants, shop owners, stay-at-home parents, and university students walk into our schools and make a world of difference — not because they had the right words, but because they showed up and listened.

You don’t need to fix anyone. You don’t need to lead a session.
You just need to be there.

A Lot of These Kids Have Been Let Down — Again and Again.

They’ve seen adults leave. Teachers change. Parents disappear. Systems fail.

So they stop expecting anything to last. Or anyone to care.

But when someone comes back — again and again — that belief starts to shift.

The quiet kid who wouldn’t talk to anyone starts asking you questions.
The one who always acts out begins to soften.
They start to open up. They test the waters.
And eventually, they let you in.

Not because you’re special. But because you stayed.

What Happens When You Stay

What happens when you show up once a week, consistently?

You start to see the difference you make. Not always in big, cinematic moments — but in small, powerful ways.

A kid who was barely showing up at school starts attending regularly because of the rugby sessions.
A girl who's always watching from the sidelines finally raises her hand and says, “I want to try.”
A teen who scrolls TikTok for five hours a day starts talking to real people again.

We’re not promising miracles. We’re offering momentum.
And that’s how real change happens.

It’s Not About Time. It’s About Presence.

Some people can’t give money. Others can’t commit to full-time service.
But if you can give two hours a week — or even two hours a month — you can change someone’s life.

Show up for a term.
Show up for a session.
Show up once, and see what happens.

When you sit in the circle. When you help pack the kit. When you drive a student home. When you just listen — something shifts.

Because showing up is the opposite of abandonment.
It’s saying, “I see you. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Don’t Wait Until You Feel “Ready.”

You’ll never feel ready.

You’ll think:
“I’m not good with kids.”
“I won’t relate.”
“I don’t want to say the wrong thing.”

But here’s what we’ve learned: youth don’t need experts. They need allies.

Someone who will listen without judgment.
Someone who doesn’t flinch at their stories.
Someone who’s willing to witness their truth and still believe in them.

If you can do that — even imperfectly — you’re already what they need.

Let’s Be Real — This Isn’t Just About Them

Volunteering at SOHK isn’t charity. It’s community.

It’s connection. It’s growth. It’s healing for all of us.

You might come in thinking you’re here to give.
But trust me, you’ll leave having received more than you imagined.

Perspective. Gratitude. A sense of purpose.
Maybe even a renewed faith in what people — young and old — are capable of.

If You’re Still Wondering If You Can Help, Here’s Your Answer:

Yes. You can.

You can:

• Help lead warm-ups at a rugby session.

• Sit next to a kid and ask them about their day.

• Be a quiet, calm presence during a tough moment.

• Share your skills behind the scenes if you’re not comfortable on the field.

It all matters. And it all counts.

Ready to Get Involved?

We need you.
Not your perfection. Not your resume.
Just your presence.

Here’s how:

• Visit: www.schoolofhardknocks.co.za/volunteer

• Email: info@schoolofhardknocks.co.za

When the alarm goes off, Ayanda is already awake.

It’s not even 6am yet, but she’s been up for a while, boiling water, making sure the younger kids are dressed, and packing her brother’s lunch. Her little sister is crying because she doesn’t want to go to crèche, and Ayanda tries to comfort her while checking the time — she still needs to iron her own uniform before the school transport arrives.

Ayanda is 14 years old (name changed to protect identity). She lives in Khayelitsha. And while she’s technically in Grade 9, she’s also the unofficial adult in her household.

Her mother leaves for work early in the morning. Most days, she’s gone before Ayanda even gets out of bed. Her father hasn’t been around for years. There’s no extended family nearby to help. So Ayanda does what she’s always done — she steps in.

She helps with cooking, cleaning, doing laundry by hand, and looking after her two younger siblings. It’s become so normal that no one really questions it anymore. Teachers at school call her “mature for her age.” Her neighbours say she’s “so responsible.” People often admire how she seems to have it all together.

But the truth is, Ayanda is exhausted.

Carrying More Than Anyone Realises

Ayanda doesn’t complain, but it’s clear that the weight she’s carrying is affecting her.

She struggles to stay awake in afternoon classes. She barely has time to study. When she gets home from school, she immediately shifts into adult mode: checking homework, cooking supper, and getting the kids ready for bed. Only once the house is quiet does she even think about her own schoolwork — and by then, she’s often too tired to focus.

She’s not doing badly in school, but she’s falling behind in some subjects. Her teachers are starting to notice that her once-consistent participation has dropped. She doesn’t raise her hand in class anymore. She keeps her head down. She looks drained.

At home, no one asks how she’s feeling. Most people assume she’s coping because she never causes problems.

But what they don’t see is how anxious she feels all the time — constantly worried about money, safety, or whether her siblings will be okay. What they don’t hear are the quiet moments where Ayanda tells herself to “just get through the day,” because she can’t afford to fall apart.

When Things Start to Crack

One Thursday morning, Ayanda doesn’t get up for school.

Her body doesn’t feel sick — but her chest feels tight, and she can’t stop crying. There’s no one to explain it to, and even if there were, she’s not sure what to say.

It’s not that something terrible happened. It’s that everything has been too much for too long.

By the time her mother calls to ask why the kids aren’t ready, Ayanda is already panicking. She feels like she’s failed. She’s let everyone down.

This is what emotional burnout looks like. But Ayanda doesn’t know that word yet. All she knows is that she’s tired — not just physically, but in a way that sleep can’t fix.

Finding Support Through SOHK

That afternoon, Ayanda still goes to her regular session with School of Hard Knocks (SOHK). It’s one of the few parts of her week where she feels safe. The sessions are structured but informal. There’s no pressure to perform. It’s a space where emotions are allowed, and where adults actually listen.

The day’s topic is about stress and emotional triggers. The coach leads a discussion on what it feels like when your body is under constant pressure. They talk about signs of burnout, how to recognise anxiety, and how to ask for help — even when it feels hard.

One of the girls in the group shares something that hits home for Ayanda.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m the parent in my house. But no one asks me if I’m okay.”

Ayanda doesn’t speak right away, but the words sit with her. She’s not the only one. And that knowledge alone gives her some relief.

In the second half of the session, the group practices simple grounding tools: breathing exercises, ways to calm the nervous system, and how to notice when you need a break. They also talk about setting boundaries — what it means to say no, to ask for rest, or to give yourself permission to just be a teenager.

For Ayanda, this is a turning point. She’s never heard an adult talk about emotions like this. She’s never been told that taking care of herself matters just as much as taking care of others.

What Mental Health Awareness Gave Her

Over the following weeks, Ayanda begins applying what she’s learned.

When she starts to feel overwhelmed, she takes 10 minutes in her room before starting homework. She doesn’t always have the option to rest for long, but even short pauses help.

She tells her teacher privately that she’s been struggling to concentrate. They work out a plan for support.

She starts writing in a small notebook — not full journals, just short thoughts, feelings, reminders that her needs matter too.

Most importantly, she begins to see herself differently. Not as someone who’s failing, but as someone who’s managing a lot and doing the best she can. The shift is small, but meaningful.

Why Programmes Like SOHK Matter

Ayanda’s story is not unusual. Across South Africa, thousands of young people — especially girls — are taking on adult responsibilities while still trying to finish school. These children are often praised for their strength, but their mental health is quietly slipping.

Without support, the pressure can lead to:

• Depression

• Anxiety

• Dropping out of school

• Long-term emotional trauma

SOHK doesn’t claim to fix every problem in these students’ lives. But it does offer something essential: emotional literacy, mental health tools, and trusted adult support.

It creates space for young people to be seen — not just for what they do, but for who they are and what they’re carrying.

Final Words: Small Interventions. Big Impact.

Ayanda still wakes up early. She still cooks. She still helps with homework. But now, she’s learning that she doesn’t have to do it all without support. She’s learning how to ask for help, how to name what she’s feeling, and how to give herself space to just be a teenager again — even if only for a few minutes a day.

That’s the impact of SOHK. It’s not just about rugby or group workshops. It’s about teaching young people that their emotional wellbeing matters — and giving them the tools to take care of it.

If you believe in supporting students like Ayanda, we invite you to get involved:

• Partner with SOHK

• Sponsor a mental health programme

• Volunteer your time or resources

Because behind every “strong” child is someone silently hoping for support.

Let’s be the ones who show up.

www.schoolofhardknocks.co.za
info@schoolofhardknocks.co.za
+27 (0)87 150 2140

The school holidays are winding down. And while some students are excited to reunite with friends and routines, many are feeling the familiar tension:

Early mornings. Homework. Pressure. Social stress. Performance anxiety.

For parents, caregivers, and educators, Term 3 can feel like the toughest stretch of the academic year. Energy is dipping, yet expectations keep rising. It’s a term that often demands stamina — not just from students, but from the adults around them too.

So how do we prepare for it?
Not just logistically — but mentally, emotionally, and energetically?

Here are 10 ways to help young people — and the grownups supporting them — enter Term 3 with a mindset rooted in calm, clarity, and care.

1. Reflect Before You Reset

Before diving into new goals, pause and reflect:

• What worked well in Term 2?

• What challenges stood out?

• What did your child/student need more (or less) of?

Reflection grounds us in reality — so we don’t repeat patterns or carry old stress into the new term.

Try it: Ask your child or class, “What was the hardest part of last term? What was the most fun?”

2. Ease Back Into Routine — Slowly

Don’t flip the switch from late nights to 6am wake-ups in one go. In the last week of holiday, begin adjusting:

• Bedtime and wake-up gradually

• Meal times

• Screen limits

This soft landing helps the body and brain adapt — and reduces the shock to the nervous system.

3. Create a Calm, Clear Prep Space

Whether at home or school, the physical environment impacts mental focus. Use the last few days of break to reset:

• Tidy up study areas or desks

• Restock stationery or notebooks

• Create a calendar with important Term 3 dates

When your surroundings are clear, your mind can be too.

4. Talk About Emotions — Not Just Schedules

Many learners are secretly anxious about returning to school. Instead of just listing what needs to be packed or bought, ask:

• “How are you feeling about the new term?”

• “What’s something you’re nervous about?”

• “Is there anything we can do differently this time?”

Listening without trying to fix builds emotional safety and trust.

5. Set Realistic, Personal Goals

Help your child or class choose one or two small, meaningful goals for Term 3.

Examples:

• “I want to raise my maths mark by 5%.”

• “I want to ask more questions in class.”

• “I want to go one week without missing homework.”

Keep the focus on progress, not perfection.

6. Prioritise Movement and Play

As pressure builds in Term 3, so do mental health risks: burnout, anxiety, and withdrawal.

Schedule time for:

• After-school movement (walks, sports, dance)

• Unstructured play (especially for younger learners)

• Family or class games that spark laughter and connection

A balanced nervous system leads to better behaviour and learning.

7. Practice Saying “No” to Overload

If your child or your classroom is already full, avoid piling on every opportunity. Ask:

• “Does this bring value — or just more stress?”

• “Are we doing this to impress others, or because it supports our goals?”

Protecting rest time, creativity, and joy is a form of preparation.

8. Build In Emotional Checkpoints

Once Term 3 begins, don’t wait until meltdown mode to talk about stress.

Use regular check-ins:

• Home: 10-minute evening conversations about the day

• School: Weekly class circles or journaling sessions

• Personal: Encourage learners to track their mood with a colour system or short sentence

Checking in often helps catch emotional strain early.

9. Make Gratitude a Daily Habit

Gratitude isn’t just “positive thinking.” It’s a proven tool to rewire the brain away from survival mode.

Create simple rituals:

• “What’s one thing that went right today?”

• “What made you feel proud this week?”

• “What’s something small that felt good?”

This builds mental resilience for tough days.

10. Remind Everyone: Progress Looks Different for Everyone

Some students will come back ready to thrive. Others may return carrying anxiety, grief, or fear — often invisible.

Support looks like:

• Patience with learners who struggle to engage at first

• Celebrating non-academic wins (emotional growth, effort, kindness)

• Keeping expectations high but human

Every learner’s journey through Term 3 will be unique — and that’s okay.

Final Thoughts: Preparation is an Act of Care

Preparing for Term 3 isn’t just about books and uniforms. It’s about:

• Helping learners feel emotionally safe

• Giving them tools to manage pressure

• Creating routines that support focus and joy

• Offering steady support when things get hard

At School of Hard Knocks, we’ve seen time and time again:
When a young person feels seen, supported, and understood — they rise.

Let this term be one of compassion-led learning, for everyone involved.

Want to support a student’s mental wellbeing this term?

• Donate to sponsor a coaching or lay counselling session

• Partner with SOHK to bring mental health programmes to your school

• Volunteer your time, presence, or skills

www.schoolofhardknocks.co.za
info@schoolofhardknocks.co.za

The statistics are sobering:

• Every 3 hours, a woman is murdered.

• Over 50,000 sexual offences are reported annually — and countless more go unreported.

• Gender-Based Violence (GBV) affects women, children, and LGBTQ+ individuals across every province, every class, every age.

We see the headlines. We mourn the losses. We hold vigils, change profile pictures, and demand justice.

But still, it continues.

At School of Hard Knocks (SOHK), we believe that prevention must go deeper than policy and punishment. It must start with healing the emotional wounds that fuel the cycle of violence.

This blog explores the deep connection between unaddressed mental health struggles and the epidemic of GBV in South Africa — and how investing in emotional literacy, safe spaces, and early intervention is one of the most urgent steps we can take to shift this national crisis.

GBV is Not Just a “Women’s Issue.” It’s a Mental Health Issue.

Most conversations about GBV focus on what women can do to stay safe:

• Don’t walk alone.

• Dress modestly.

• Avoid certain areas.

But the real question is this: What’s going on in the hearts and minds of those who commit violence?

Many perpetrators of GBV are carrying:

• Deep emotional trauma from childhood

• Unprocessed grief, anger, or shame

• Cultural conditioning around power and dominance

• Mental health struggles that go untreated or misdirected

This does not excuse the violence.
But if we don’t understand the root causes, we will keep treating symptoms — and missing opportunities for real prevention.

The Link Between Suppressed Emotion and Explosive Violence

In South African society, boys are often raised in emotionally barren environments. They are told:

• "Man up."

• "Stop crying."

• "Don’t be weak."

• "Control her or be controlled."

By the time they are teens, many have already learned to:

• Shut down vulnerability

• Express pain through aggression

• Confuse control with love

• View emotional need as failure

When these internal struggles are never spoken about, they fester.
When there’s no outlet, no language, no intervention — the pressure builds.

And in many cases, it explodes into acts of control, domination, and violence.

How Unhealed Trauma Fuels the Cycle

Both victims and perpetrators of GBV often carry trauma.

For those who commit acts of violence, research shows strong links to:

• Early exposure to domestic violence

• Lack of positive male role models

• Mental health issues like depression or unresolved anger

• Poor emotional regulation skills

• Beliefs rooted in patriarchal entitlement

When a child grows up in survival mode, without emotional support or structure, their nervous system becomes wired for fear, dominance, or disconnection.

If that pain is never acknowledged or treated, it eventually spills into relationships, families, and communities.

The Invisible Wounds of GBV Survivors

For survivors, GBV is not just a physical violation — it is a psychological wound that can linger for years, affecting:

• Trust and intimacy

• Self-worth and identity

• Concentration and academic performance

• Emotional regulation

• Long-term mental health (anxiety, PTSD, depression)

Many survivors of GBV go unheard and untreated, especially in underserved communities.
They are expected to move on, speak softly, or forgive quickly.

At SOHK, we refuse to let these wounds remain invisible.

Our Approach at SOHK: Healing from the Inside Out

We believe prevention begins in safe spaces where emotions can be processed, not punished.

Our work with students in high-risk schools integrates:

• Mental health literacy

• Safe group dialogue

• Sports-based emotional regulation

• Gender identity and masculinity conversations

• Lay counselling and trusted adult support

Our NxtGenMen programme helps boys unpack what it means to be a man — and offers new scripts that don’t involve violence, dominance, or suppression.

Our NxtGenWomxn programme gives girls tools to understand boundaries, emotional triggers, and how to seek help when feeling unsafe.

This is prevention. Not only of violence — but of emotional collapse.

What We See in Schools Every Week

A Grade 9 boy breaks down crying after being told he doesn’t have to be the “man of the house” at 15.

A girl who used to self-harm starts drawing again — because for the first time, someone asked her what she needed instead of punishing her.

A coach stops a fight by asking the group to take three deep breaths — and they do.

These aren’t miracles. They’re the result of consistent emotional support and safe adult presence.

That’s how change starts: in small, repeated moments of healing.

How the Mental Health Gap Blocks Progress on GBV

The truth is, South Africa cannot end GBV without investing in mental health.

Why?

Because:

• You can’t change behaviour without emotional awareness.

• You can’t expect accountability without self-regulation.

• You can’t teach respect without giving young people the tools to respect themselves first.

When mental health is ignored:

• Boys are left to fend for themselves emotionally, turning to violence or numbing as coping.

• Girls are left without support to recover, rebuild confidence, or speak out.

• Families remain stuck in cycles of silence, denial, and blame.

This is why the mental health crisis and the GBV crisis must be tackled together.

What We Need to Do Differently as a Society

1. Teach emotional literacy in every school
   Every child should learn to name emotions, ask for support, and handle conflict without violence.

2. Create more safe spaces for boys
   Not just detention or discipline. Actual spaces for boys to explore identity, vulnerability, and healing.

3. Support survivors with more than pamphlets
   Survivors need consistent mental health care, not just hotline numbers.

4. Involve men in prevention
   This is not just a women’s fight. Men must be educated, supported, and held accountable with compassion and structure.

5. Fund community-led mental health initiatives
   Grassroots organisations like SOHK are already doing the work — they just need more backing.

Final Thoughts: Healing is Not Soft. It’s Revolutionary.

We’re often told that mental health work is secondary — a luxury.
But we know the truth.

Healing is not a luxury. It is the foundation of any just society.
Because violence does not begin with a fist. It begins with pain that has nowhere else to go.

At School of Hard Knocks, we are holding that pain — and transforming it into power, self-awareness, and new pathways.

We are raising a generation that learns:

• How to express without harming.

• How to lead without dominating.

• How to listen to their own hearts — and others.

This is how we end GBV.
Not just by reacting to tragedy, but by building emotionally resilient communities before the violence starts.

Join Us.

Support our programmes.
Sponsor a mental health workshop.
Partner with us to bring NxtGenMen and NxtGenWomxn to your school.
Be part of the solution.

Because when we care for the hearts and minds of our youth, we are shaping a future where violence is no longer the language of pain.

www.schoolofhardknocks.co.za
info@schoolofhardknocks.co.za