This Tribe Requires Young Men to Consume "Male Milk" to Become Men
Secrets of the Simbari: rituals, desire, and the making of warriors.
When we picture Papua New Guinea, vibrant headdresses and bustling tribal ceremonies usually spring to mind. But beneath all that color, certain practices in some of these indigenous cultures have long piqued outside curiosity—and sometimes shock. Enter the Simbari people (often referred to as the Sambia in some anthropological writings), rumored to have rites of passage involving what Western observers might call “homoerotic” or “ritualized” same-gender intimacy.
Welcome to a realm where cultural context flips our usual assumptions about sexuality on their head. Think of these rituals not as a celebration of “gay identity,” but as the Simbari’s local recipe for forging strong men, passing on vital life force, and ensuring communal survival.
Who Are the Simbari?
Tucked away in the rugged highlands of Papua New Guinea, the Simbari live in scattered hamlets surrounded by lush forests. Their days revolve around agriculture—taro, sweet potatoes, and bananas—plus hunting and gathering. Like many Highland peoples, the Simbari place a massive emphasis on warrior culture, complete with elaborate initiation ceremonies that mark a boy’s journey to manhood.
Of Warriors and Spirit Realms
For the Simbari, being a warrior goes far beyond swinging a spear. It means navigating a universe populated by ancestral spirits, magical forces, and sacred energy. Masculinity in this context isn’t merely about physical strength—it’s something mystical that must be cultivated through ceremonial acts, passed from elder to younger, ensuring the tribe’s survival both in this world and the next.’
The Rites of Passage: Myth or Reality?
So, what exactly is the fuss about? Some anthropological sources—particularly from the late 20th century—claim that Simbari initiation involves ritualized sexual contact between older youths or adult men and newly initiated boys. In Western terms, it might be labeled “homoerotic.” But for the Simbari, these acts are framed as a transfer of male essence (often described as “life force,” “vital fluid,” or “manly spirit”).
A “Feeding” of Masculinity
Central to this narrative is the claim that older initiates or mentors provide oral stimulation to younger boys—or vice versa—to exchange semen. The Simbari regard semen as the literal fuel for a boy’s transformation from child to warrior. Far from romantic or “gay” in the Western sense, this ritual is said to be about empowering the younger initiate, helping him absorb the physical and spiritual potency he’ll need as a future defender of the community.
So, do they have to do it?
According to these accounts, yes—at least traditionally. A boy who skips the ceremony risks remaining “weak” or “unfulfilled,” lacking the robust male aura the Simbari believe is crucial for everything from fighting enemies to attracting a wife. It’s not a casual affair; it’s a deeply ingrained social protocol, sometimes referred to by outsiders as “ritual homosexuality.” But that label can be misleading if it implies a shared Western concept of sexual orientation.
Not a “Gay Act”: Context Is Everything
Here’s the vital point: the Simbari don’t see this as a gay or bisexual practice. In fact, many participants later marry women, have children, and continue in heterosexual family life without contradiction. That’s because the intent behind the act isn’t about personal attraction or long-term sexual preference—it's about ritual duty, spiritual bonding, and the transfer of life force.
A Different Lens on Sexuality
In a society structured around clan alliances, fertility rites, and strict gender divisions, these intimate acts become a cultural tool for ensuring that each generation of men inherits the community’s essence. It’s less about lust, more about forging warrior bonds. From the Simbari vantage point, what Westerners label “homosexual” is a temporary, mentor-mentee dynamic that supports a much bigger cosmic agenda.
The Communal Drama
Now, picture a remote highland clearing: bamboo flutes, dancing, chanting, and smoke swirling into the canopy. The newly initiated boys, draped in ceremonial regalia, gather in a men’s house away from the eyes of women. Older warriors retell ancient legends of conquests and spiritual battles. At the climax of these storytelling sessions, a private exchange may occur—an intimate transfer of semen that solidifies the boys’ passage into manhood.
For Western anthropologists, glimpses of these rites ignited comparisons to secret societies or taboo rituals. They often describe the atmosphere as part sacred drama, part hush-hush sexual activity. But from the Simbari vantage, it’s simply how a boy becomes a warrior—nothing more, nothing less.
Culture Clashes and Controversies
The sensational nature of these rumors—and, for some, the moral implications—sparked heated debates. Christian missionaries, for instance, condemned these practices as sinful and tried to stamp them out. Some anthropologists found the accounts disturbing, while others attempted to interpret them within the Simbari’s own moral framework. Even within Simbari communities, attitudes can vary: not everyone agrees on discussing or performing these rites nowadays, especially under the gaze of outsiders.
Ethical Debates
Imposing Western Morality: Are outsiders demonizing a tradition that Simbari culture sees as necessary for communal health?
Accuracy vs. Sensationalism: Did some researchers overemphasize the sexual aspect for shock value or book sales?
Verification: How universal are these practices? Do they differ from hamlet to hamlet, or have they changed over time?
Scholar Gilbert Herdt famously studied similar practices among the Sambia (often equated with the Simbari), documenting these semen exchange rites in detail. His work, however, also triggered critique about research methods and potential sensationalism.
Beyond Western Labels
One thing is certain: in Simbari culture, a male mentor “feeding” a boy doesn’t place either in a Western-style gay identity. A warrior might mentor multiple youths over the years, then settle into married life. The entire system revolves around achieving masculine completeness—a communal coming-of-age rather than a personal orientation.
From Taboo to Transformation
Today, roads, schools, and missionaries reach deeper into Papua New Guinea’s highlands than ever before. Younger Simbari may opt out of these old customs, influenced by Christian teachings or urban life. Some villages have reportedly abandoned explicit sexual rites in favor of more symbolic ceremonies; others, if they still practice these acts, keep them under wraps.
For LGBTQ+ folks interested in global diversity, the Simbari story underlines a crucial point: “same-gender sexual acts” do not always equal “gay” as many in the West define it. In this culture, it’s about power transfer, ancestral continuity, and protecting the tribe.
Final Thoughts
Ultimately, the Simbari provide a captivating glimpse into how different cultures can weave sexuality, spirituality, and social structure into a single fabric. What outsiders see as scandalous or erotic might be, in its native context, nothing less than a sacred obligation ensuring the tribe’s future.
Whether these rites continue openly, fade away, or adapt to modern pressures, their legacy remains a testament to humanity’s boundless creativity in shaping identity and culture. So here’s to the Simbari—may their forest-cloaked ceremonies and fierce warrior ethos keep challenging our assumptions, reminding us that “normal” is always a matter of perspective in our stunningly diverse world.