This article was sparked by a short Instagram clip called “Mommy tells me I’m a Girl.” which is also floating about on YouTube if you fancy losing your faith in humanity before breakfast.
The short of it? A divorced dad in California is being forced by the state to financially sponsor his son’s chemical and physical castration; yes, you read that right, because the boy’s mother has convinced him that he’s actually a girl. And because it’s California, the state has happily rolled out the red carpet for this circus, while Dad gets the bill and the emotional trauma.
Imagine working 50 hours a week, only for your hard-earned child support money to fund your son’s transformation whether you like it or not. If that doesn’t make you want to slap sense into somebody, I don’t know what will.
Now, before anyone jumps in swinging rainbow flags at me, relax, take some deep breaths and put away the pitch forks.
Let me be clear: this article is NOT about transgenderism. That’s a whole battlefield on its own and I’m not equipped for that battle.
My beef is with the kind of problems that crop up when a society has solved all the basic issues of life.
Hunger? Sorted. Housing? Sorted. Transport? Done.
Humans don’t sit back and enjoy the resulting peace, oh nooooo… Human beings get bored and start manufacturing new problems out of thin air. We invent social puzzles, and complicate life until everyone’s in therapy crying about oat milk and gender pronouns.
And here’s where it gets interesting. The more “first world” you are, the more individualistic you become. Which sounds empowering until you realise individualism often means isolation, anxiety, and everyone suing each other over who gets the dog in a divorce.
In contrast, so-called “third world” societies are still wrestling with life’s essentials: food, shelter, education, transport. Their lives may be rough, but at least the problems are real. Hunger is honest. Rent is straightforward. Power cuts are predictable. There’s no therapy bill for that, just light a candle, fan yourself, and continue.
Yet, bizarrely, many of these folks live happier, more grounded lives than people in London, Los Angeles, or Berlin who have everything except peace of mind.
Let’s do a little compare-and-contrast with some everyday scenarios.
1. Food & Health
1st world problem: “Oh no, Starbucks used regular milk instead of oat milk! I asked for gluten-free, lactose-free, dairy-free, oat milk foam. This is almond milk My tummy’s going to bloat, and my safe space is compromised.”
3rd world problem: “We’ve got one bowl of kenkey and two kids staring at it like a Premier League final. Strategy meeting required.
Now here’s the irony: the person crying over oat milk intolerance still goes home to a fridge that looks like the United Nations of yoghurt brands. The family with one bowl of kenkey? They ’ll eat, laugh, thank God, and go to bed in peace. Who’s really better off here?
2. Family & Relationships
1st world problem: Dad gets sued for misgendering his child and is treated like a criminal for not clapping hard enough at the kid’s identity parade.
3rd world problem: Dad gets dragged by in-laws because he hasn’t finished paying bride price. His goats are repossessed, his reputation in tatters.
Now, which of these men will sleep easier? The African father will drink a calabash of palm wine, joke about his lost goats, and still hold his child at night. The Western father, meanwhile, will sell his kidney to pay court bills, attend “co-parenting workshops,” and cry silently into his pillow. Again, the supposed advanced society looks like the mad house.
3. Housing & Lifestyle
1st world problem: “My rent is £1,800 for a shoebox in London. Also, my houseplants are dying and it’s giving me anxiety.”
3rd world problem: “Landlord has raised rent by 10 cedis. But if I slaughter a chicken for him at Christmas and compliment his growing pot belly, he might reconsider.”
Which deal would you take? The Western tenant, panicking about wilting succulents, or the African who knows that a well-timed rooster can pay more rent than money? Again, advantage: “third world.”
The Copycat Curse
Here’s the sad bit. Many Africans, because of our Olympic-level ability to copy, are sprinting headfirst into these Western problems. We mimic everything Western culture throws our way, no matter how absurd.
We swallowed democracy, fine. We swallowed jeans and Coca-Cola, fine. But then we kept going, chowing down things that don’t sit well with our traditions: teenage kids screaming at their parents, calling them “besties”; marriages collapsing because TikTok said “divorce is self-care”; and mental health crises skyrocketing because now everyone’s allergic to common sense.
Meanwhile, other cultures have been smarter. Look at South-East Asians, Indians, and Arabs. They modernised, sure skyscrapers, tech hubs, even space programs. But they never threw away their cultural backbone.
In India, family is still central. Divorce exists, but it’s nowhere near as high as in the West because people still marry, with community values in mind. In the Arab world, modernity sits comfortably next to tradition; you can have a Tesla parked outside, but inside the home, Dad is still Dad, Mum is still Mum, and respect is not negotiable. Even in places like Singapore or Malaysia, you’ll see smartphones everywhere, but kids still bow to elders and family units remain tight.
What’s the result? Lower divorce rates, stronger families, fewer kids medicated on antidepressants because “life is meaningless.” They’ve taken the best of the West (infrastructure, medicine, technology) but left the cultural junk behind. And that’s where some of Africa is failing spectacularly.
Why Simplicity Might Be the Real Luxury
Here’s the bitter pill: first world problems are often more destructive than third world problems. Hunger is brutal, yes. Lack of shelter is no joke. But at least those are real problems, solved with real solutions. A loaf of bread, a roof, a helping hand. But the problems of the West? They’re endless, invisible, and largely unsolvable because they’re rooted in the restless human mind. You can’t satisfy “I don’t feel like myself.” You can’t legislate “I want to be happy 24/7.” You can’t appease a society that invents new victimhood categories faster than Apple releases iPhones.
In contrast, in the so-called third world, life is raw, but it’s clear. You fight hunger, you hustle for rent, you grind to send your kids to school. These problems build resilience, humour, and a sense of community. Ask any African villager, happiness doesn’t come from endless choice, it comes from shared struggle and gratitude.
The Stats Don’t Lie: Costa Rica Laughs, America Weeps
The United States, once a shining star on the happiness charts. just slid to 24th on the Global Happiness Index (an all-time low), which is proof that gender fluidity, oat milk and self-driving cars can’t cure loneliness. Costa Rica, meanwhile, is sunbathing in the top 10, thriving on family, friends, and inorganic food anxiety.
Strip away wars, corruption and politicians stealing from the road fund, and you’ll notice many “third world” nations are happier simply because they face real problems, rent, food, power, not invented ones like therapy for dying houseplants.
Final Word
Don’t get me wrong, Africa must modernise. Running water, stable electricity, decent healthcare, please bring it on. Nobody is romanticising poverty. But we’ve got to be careful not to import every cultural package with our smartphones and Netflix subscriptions. Because if we blindly copy everything the West does, we won’t just lose our culture, we’ll adopt their mental health crises, their sky-high divorce rates, and their endless circus of invented problems.
Instead, maybe Africa should take a page from the Indians, Arabs, and South-East Asians: modernise without destroying tradition. Use technology, yes, but still uphold the family unit. Embrace progress, but not at the expense of sanity.
So maybe, just maybe, being “3rd world” isn’t always the curse it’s made out to be. Sometimes it’s better to fight over kenkey than pronouns. Sometimes it’s better to bribe your landlord with a chicken than pay £1,800 a month for a London shoebox. And sometimes, simplicity really is the luxury the West can’t afford.
