Boys At Church.

I met most of my lifelong friends at church, bonded over all-night services that felt more like adventures than sermons. We were a pack of eleven- and twelve-year-old boys, reckless and defiant, doing things kids our age had no business doing—sneaking out after dark, flirting boldly with girls, defying elders with a smirk. We knew the consequences but dove in anyway, eyes wide open.

We weren’t like most kids our age, who envied our confidence and craved the attention we got from girls—sometimes even older girls and women. To outsiders, it didn’t make sense. But I knew exactly what set us apart: we were little boys with no clue what we were doing, yet we carried ourselves like we owned the world.

I’m telling you this for free—it was our refusal to bow down. Most Ghanaian kids our age were timid or passive-aggressive, shaped by a parenting style that silenced them, teaching them to obey adults whether right or wrong. Not us. Our families raised us differently, free from that mindset. We came from different homes but shared the same fire—unafraid to speak our minds, careless of what others thought.

That was the secret. We said what we felt because who was going to stop us? We spoke without fear, never begging or looking up to anyone as a savior. Money couldn’t control us or silence our tongues. That raw confidence drew girls in, like a quiet spell. They didn’t always know why they fell for us, but it was that energy—speaking our truth, looking them in the eye, being unapologetically ourselves. When girls felt that, they let their guard down, giddy and vulnerable.

I noticed it early, this superpower we wielded. But it was a double-edged sword. That same boldness turned us into dogs, chasing fleeting thrills and leaving distractions in our wake. For me, it started to weigh heavy. The late nights, the shallow flings, the reckless charm—it was rubbing off on me, and I didn’t like who I was becoming.

I had to change. I had to distance myself from the squad. It wasn’t easy, but I didn’t want to be a dog anymore.

I didn’t want to be a Dog at church.