The final Cock Tales episode of the year didn’t tiptoe around anything. Held on Saturday, 22nd November 2025, and themed “Rhymes, Rage and Reality: Music, Youth and Violence”, the conversation landed right in the middle of International Men’s Week. For host Diquan Reid, it was the perfect moment—not just to “celebrate men and boys,” as he put it, but to take an unfiltered look at the forces shaping them.
Joining him were Devin Hodge and Lesroy Lake, two voices who combined research, raw honesty, and a clear worry about where young Anguillian men are heading.
From the start, Hodge made it clear: youth violence isn’t just a “young people problem”—it’s a public health issue. Young men, he said, are both the main perpetrators and victims, and the ripple effects hit everyone. Families. Schools. Healthcare. The justice system. “Men sit central to a lot of the incidents of youth violence,” he said, stressing how important the Department of Youth and Culture is in addressing the issue.
Lake drove the point home with a blunt truth: Anguilla’s prison is filled with men under 40. To him, the problem starts long before crime—“Men are actually neglected… there is no support or not much support for men.” In homes. In schools. In society.
And that neglect, the panel argued, shows up everywhere.
One of the strongest threads of the night was simple but heavy: what children see, they repeat. Lake said it plainly —“Violence does breed violence.” Kids absorb the patterns they witness, especially from fathers or father figures.
Hodge added that violence in small communities like Anguilla often has layers. Old conflicts don’t die; they’re inherited. Generational grudges get retold until they become part of young men’s identities. “From geopolitics to neighbourhood spats,” he said, the cycle repeats.
But both men agreed: cycles can be broken. Just not by accident.
When the conversation turned to music, the debate around Trinibad and other violent genres brought out some of the strongest opinions of the night. Hodge pointed out that many Trinibad artists themselves admit the line between “crime and music” is paper-thin. That, he warned, is where the real danger lies.
He didn’t argue that music creates violence, but he emphasized its influence. Everyone understands how music sets a mood — gospel for Christians in the morning, romantic R&B for date nights, hype tracks in the gym. So why pretend violent lyrics don’t also have emotional impact? Reid took a different angle. For him, the real pull of “badman” music is the lifestyle it advertises. Flashy jewellery. Power. Fearlessness. Respect. For teens without money or stability, that image is magnetic and music videos become roadmaps.
No one on the panel supported banning music, but they all agreed that not every song belongs in every space. Hodge recalled being at a community event when a song about “spitting skulls” blasted through speakers — with children present. That, he said, is where the line should be drawn. Reid floated the idea of fines for promoters who play explicit music around kids, noting that high schoolers overwhelmingly supported stricter limits. Lake countered that the real issue starts at home, where toddlers sing along to violent or sexual lyrics because adults normalize them.
And of course, as audience members reminded everyone: how do you regulate anything when a child with a smartphone can access the entire internet at any time?
Reid argued that music has always reflected society — calypsonians were airing dirty laundry long before TikTok. The difference now, he said, is that “we are desensitised and it’s normalized.” Not glorified. Just… shrugged off. Lake added that even toddlers are mimicking sexually suggestive dances, and adults brush it aside as “culture.” In the rush to seem trendy or unbothered, harmful behaviour slips through the cracks.
Local teacher, Neil Gumbs, in the audience, shared that he grew up surrounded by community support so violent lyrics never shaped him. Many young people today don’t have that buffer. Lake agreed, saying that even children raised with solid values can be swept up by peers, especially when friends feel like the only stable thing in their lives.
Hon. Merrick Richardson pushed the conversation deeper. Violent music doesn’t exist alone, he argued. It mixes with video games, early marijuana use, group pressures, and the emotional chaos of adolescence. Together, they “blur the lines.”
“You are what you listen to,” he said, especially when your brain is still developing and your guard is down. He also lamented how disconnected today’s youth are from moral grounding. Church attendance is down. Community leagues have faded. “That little voice saying, ‘this is wrong’ — a lot of children don’t hear it anymore,” he said.
Nobody sugar-coated the reality: parents are tired, young, stretched thin, and often doing their best with limited tools. Reid acknowledged that while parental controls help, it’s hard for someone working two jobs to monitor every lyric, video, or TikTok trend.
Lake added that parents often hand down their own media habits—good or bad. Expensive devices get used as pacifiers. Cycles repeat.
An audience member pointed out something many adults already feel — the people teens look up to are often the most entertaining, not the most responsible. Reid answered with a wrestling metaphor: if society wants healthier role models, it can’t just hope young men notice them. It has to “put all the lights, all the bells and whistles” behind them.
But Hodge revealed a harder truth: mentorship programmes often struggle to find male volunteers. “We find more women than men,” he said. Boys end up “raised to be boys and not men.”
Hodge highlighted how unforgiving the system can be. One early mistake and a young man becomes an outcast. He referenced the UK’s “spent convictions” system and argued Anguilla needs similar reform.
Reid added that economic inequality on the island feeds resentment. Many young men feel stuck at “the bottom,” and the frustration becomes combustible.
Sports came up frequently as one of the few reliable safety nets left. Coaches talked about watching teens release anger, find discipline, and gain confidence through physical activity and mentorship. Young men, they said, “follow what they see.” They need more examples of healthy conflict resolution, not fewer. Hodge called for significant investment in safe, welcoming spaces where young men from different communities can interact. Sports facilities. Community centres. Mentorship hubs. By 2028, he hopes Anguilla will have a dedicated facility focused solely on supporting young men.
Audience members also highlighted school initiatives like “Speak Your Truth,” aimed at addressing emotional trauma early. But they warned that unless older men confront their own issues, the next generation will inherit them unchanged.
By the end of the night, one thing was clear: the challenges facing young men don’t come from one source. They come from everywhere — music, culture, technology, absent fathers, strained households, drugs, violence, inequality, and a loss of community structure.
But the panel didn’t end on hopelessness. They stressed that change is possible and already beginning. Through intentional mentorship, stronger institutions, proactive parenting, moral teaching, and rebuilding community spaces, Anguilla can reshape the environment young men grow up in.
By Janissa Fleming