BANYANA BAAKA: TikTok Sensation Shares Harrowing Childhood Abuse and Calls for Justice for Boys
Lincoln Engelbrecht is widely recognised for his electrifying catchphrase – ‘Banyana Baka! Banyana Baka!’ - which draws over 78,000 Facebook followers and 71,000 TikTok fans to pause, watch, and listen.
But as a child, no one paused. No one watched. No one listened. Now 26, the Kanye-born content creator is speaking out about the trauma that shaped his early years.
In a candid interview with The Midweek Sun, Engelbrecht revealed that between the ages of five and six, he was sexually molested by a trusted aunt - an experience that shattered his innocence and
left him burdened with misplaced guilt and emotional confusion.
“My aunt molested me and made me feel I owed her something,” he said. “I was tired of dying inside. I want to let go of the weight. It wasn’t my fault, I don’t have to carry the shame of someone else’s actions.”
Engelbrecht lost his mother as a toddler and was raised by his grandmother and extended family. What should have been a safe, nurturing environment became a source of deep psychological harm.
He recounted how his aunt, significantly older, would undress and violate him, acts that left lasting scars.
“I was just a baby. That age is for playing and singing phonics, not surviving trauma,” he said.
Two decades later, the pain persists. Engelbrecht struggles with trust, intimacy, and emotional regulation.
Diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder, he experiences intense mood swings, impulsivity, and a fractured sense of self. Self-harm has become a coping mechanism.
“I never had a childhood,” he said. “Sometimes I wonder if I was born gay or if it’s because of the hatred I developed toward women. I’m 25 and still confused about my sexuality. It’s a daily battle.”
He described how trauma distorts his relationships: “I hurt people before they can hurt me. Even when I love someone, I push them away. Sex feels like being used again; it’s dirty and disgusting. I’m impulsive. I don’t think things through. I feel pain on a level most people can’t comprehend.”
Engelbrecht recalled the moment his grandmother discovered the abuse after catching him mimicking the acts with a puppy. His innocent remark, “That’s what my aunt does,” was met with violence and silence.
“She beat me and told me never to speak of it again. I loved her, but she broke me more than my monster did.”
Counselling failed to help, and Engelbrecht turned to alcohol to cope. “It helps me function,” he admitted. “But I know I have a problem. Without it, I can’t manage, I go into withdrawal.”
Despite the darkness, speaking out has brought some relief. “It’s helped me heal. I know it wasn’t my fault. I know people love me. I just wish we lived in a world where victims’ voices mattered more than their abusers’.”
He urged other male survivors to break their silence. “It can happen to anyone. Silence lets it happen again. There’s no shame in surviving; only in letting known abusers continue.”
Engelbrecht believes male victims are often unseen, unheard, and judged. “There’s this idea that men can’t be raped or molested. It’s wrong.”
He criticised the government and institutions for failing boys.
“Even officials who should help make absurd, judgmental comments. Let survivors lead the fight. Teach boys early. I only understood what happened to me in Standard Three or Four. That’s too late.”
His message is clear: “It’s not taboo anymore. Talk about it, and talk loudly. Otherwise, we’ll keep raising angry men who bottle up pain until they explode on someone who’s done nothing wrong. The cycle will continue.”