Cross-Generation Sex is a window to luxury, misery

By Eriah Lule

Campus nights and unexpected encounters

Back at campus, a classmate invited us to her birthday party, sponsored by her partner. The evening was lively until a man, resembling a parent in age, approached her for a dance. He was close to his mid-sixties. What followed became the talk of the boys’ circles.

Last Saturday, while I was sitting with my friend Norah learning how URA exemptions apply to SMEs, another classmate drove by in a BMW X6. He parked to greet familiar faces, flaunting a finely sculpted gym body. As he left, Norah whispered: “He went from zero to hero in a month, he is now dating a lady in her late 50s and moved from Kireka to Nakasero Apartments.”

In her research thesis, Mabel Mbabazi defined Cross-Generation Sex (CGS) as a sexual relationship between a man and a woman with at least a ten-year age gap.

The 21st Century: A virtual approval era

If the 20th century was defined by the arms race, the Cold War, and Pan-Africanist movements for independence, the 21st century has taken a different path. Many compete for apartments, cars, gadgets, hangouts, vacations, partners, big-spending habits, and reality TV fame.

It is a Virtual approval century, where success is often measured by wealth, lifestyle, or relationships, frequently funded through CGS and amplified by social media, a true Celebrity Era.

A Philosophical lens

In his work An Introduction to the Principles of Morals and Legislation (1789), English jurist Jeremy Bentham developed the Utilitarian theory, proposing that actions are morally right if they promote happiness or pleasure, and wrong if they produce pain or unhappiness. Bentham aimed to maximise overall happiness while minimising suffering—a vision that resonates strangely with today’s pursuit of luxury, despite its hidden costs.

The Luxury of CGS

Walk into any recreational hotspot in Kampala and you might question whether you are still in Uganda. Lavish rides, extravagant spending, opulent residences—Airbnbs, apartments, even palaces—and daily social media updates showcase a lifestyle where the sources of income often remain a mystery. Captions like “Small girl, big God” or “King/Queen of Soft Life” glorify wealth and comfort over effort and skill.

The misery behind the glamour

Yet behind the glitter, there is despair. Bentham’s philosophy foreshadowed a sexual revolution, which peaked in the 1960s and 70s. Today, many parents exploit their daughters as bait for wealthy older men, extracting money under the guise of attempted harassment.

Rising single parenthood among women aged 18–35, increasing from 20 per cent to 30 per cent according to the Uganda Bureau of Statistics (2024), reflects societal shifts. Many young women turn to CGS for survival, often resulting in pregnancies fathered by absentee men.

In my previous article for the Nile Post, “Meat Selling: A New Normal for Gen Z,” I discussed how young people embrace technology and social media to fund luxury lifestyles. Nude videos, dating apps like Tinder, Tan Tan, Badoo, OkCupid, Bumble, Hinge, and WhatsApp groups facilitate CGS. Some create OnlyFans or strip chat accounts, while others venture into pornography or homosexuality—all for financial gain.

Public health and social implications

With an 80.6 per cent literacy rate and a 2.8 per cent unemployment rate, many Ugandan elites normalise CGS and meat selling, contributing to public health challenges. Uganda’s HIV prevalence stands at 5.1 per cent, with 38,000 new infections and 19,000 AIDS-related deaths in 2024 (Uganda AIDS Commission). While the six-month HIV prevention injection Lenacapavir, developed with support from Ugandan scientists, offers hope, the ultimate protection lies in vigilance and prayer.

A sad generation with happy pictures

As Pallaso’s song Ffetuliko ku guno omulembe—loosely translated as “This is our generation”, suggests, we live in a generation that smiles in photos but hides its struggles. CGS, social media validation, and the pursuit of soft life have created a façade of happiness, masking underlying societal and moral dilemmas.

The writer is a communication practitioner.