Credit: Cultura Creative via Adobe Stock.

31 July 2025

By Jon Swain and Brendan King

In this post we report on an ethnographic study exploring the lives of a group of young Black, Asian and minority ethnic (‘BAME’) men in London (King and Swain 2025), drawing on our wider work on masculinities (King 2022; King and Swain 2022). We highlight the often-contrasting roles and power dynamics experienced by these men between ‘the street’ and the home. In particular, we note how much they loved and respected their mothers, set against the derogatory attitudes they often appeared to hold towards other women. Our research suggests that policy is missing a trick in not better recognising, and working with, these mothers in countering the pull of violent and misogynistic street cultures.

‘Philogynous masculinities’

The 50 men in our study were ‘BAME’, working class men aged 18–22, living on a London housing estate. Most grew up fatherless. They, and their mothers and local youth workers, told us of their poor experience of schooling and of violence and trauma alongside institutional racism. In exploring the men’s lives, we utilised the concept of ‘philogynous masculinities’, defined as the fondness, love and adoration of women. This is because we also found that while some of the young men enacted a distinctive and often violent cultural form of street masculinity, they could also, and often did, display a caring, loving, respectful and highly protective side in terms of their attitudes, practices and relationships with their mothers. As one youth worker, Darius, said: “The majority of young men love their mothers deeply.”

Mothers’ roles

The men in our study respected and appreciated their mother’s sense of invulnerability, their knowledge and wisdom, for managing the household and looking after the home, and for always being there; they stuck around, even when their son transgressed. The young men prized their mother’s loyalty and their ability to work multiple jobs while simultaneously providing food and care:

“I’m close to my mum as she’s the one who puts food on the table, pays the bills and keeps everything on point – she’s the one who runs the house.” (Tyrell)

In the absence of a father or male caring figure, these mothers often had to perform both ‘mum’ and ‘dad’ roles; they practised a form of matriarchal femininity, and, in their sons’ eyes, they exercised power and authority, particularly in the private setting of the home.

As well as carer, cook, cleaner and breadwinner, the mothers fulfilled other important familial roles, not least primary influencer, teacher/guide and disciplinarian.

Darius [the youth worker] spoke about the mothers’ dual role and responsibility in shaping their sons’ values and identities and trying to keep them away from powerful and often negative peer influences:

“They [mothers] take on huge responsibilities in teaching the young men how to be men, all while swimming upstream and fighting the influence of gangs and all that nonsense.”

Mothers also saw their responsibilities as teachers and guides. For example, when school did not teach her son about Black history, one mother assumed this role herself:

“…it’s important [my son] understands more about who he is, what it means to be a young Black man. I gave him stuff to read, nothing major, but stuff he wouldn’t get at school.” (Angela)

In many ways, the matriarchal and even heroic status, respect and control the mothers displayed at home echoed features of the estate’s street masculinity. This included physical disciplining: young men described mothers grabbing spoons, belts and shoes to reprimand them. When disciplining their children, mothers knew they had to be strong and strict as well as caring and, once again, embody both mother and father:

“There’s a lot of nonsense around here. Lots of these young men are running around pretending they are grown men and hurting each other. Lots of them don’t have strong parents in their lives, so we, especially us mothers, need to be strong for them, give them discipline and keep them out of trouble as much as we can. There aren’t many people helping us, so most of us have to do this alone, without fathers – the boys’ dads – around to help us. Lots of us are both mum and dad to these young men … which is a lot to handle.” (Laurette)

We must add, though, that mothers’ exalted status did not, generally, extend to other women. In contrast to how the young men viewed and treated their mothers (and, to a lesser extent, their sisters), they often regarded other young women as being inferior, or they objectified them. They would subject young women to misogynistic taunts, whilst social media presented opportunities to make similar comments online. Some young women were also suspected of being ‘gold-diggers’, looking to exploit them like portrayals in popular rap music.

Reflections

Our study was a small one, and in the space available here we can provide only the headline themes. Nevertheless, the mothers’ status in these young men’s eyes was striking. It highlighted to us mothers’ potentially powerful role as sponsors for positive change and the scope for them to be a greater focus for policy interventions or services working with young (BAME) men, especially those at risk of violence, victimisation or knife-carrying. If mothers invest in an intervention, their sons may likely follow due to their admiration for their mothers’ choices, values and practices. This is worthy of further exploration in research with affected communities.