Feminism and culture

Transcription

Feminism
and culture
A JOURNAL ON AFRICAN WOMEN’S EXPERIENCES
Volume 2 / Issue 2 / December 2013
EDITORIAL
By Alice Kanengoni
“I am not a feminist because I cannot divorce myself from my
cultural context and also because feminism is not practical in my
culture, and is for the elite.”
T
his was the response given by one
young woman at the start of OSISA’s
annual regional feminism training course
in Zimbabwe. And it is definitely not an
isolated perception of the much talked
about relationship between feminism and
culture – part of the reason why the twoweek feminism course hosted by OSISA
and the Institute for Peace, Leadership
and Governance at Africa University is
so important! It got me thinking about
how the nexus between feminism and
culture has often been understood – or
misunderstood – and how this has shaped
people’s understanding of their realities.
One thing was very clear here – at least for
me – that feminism was regarded as some
appendage to one’s life, which somehow had
to be ‘fitted’ and ‘married’ to one’s cultural
context. And it also got me thinking about
how culture has often been viewed as some
kind of container into which behaviours,
practices and actions have to ‘fit’.
All of this reminded me of the tendency of
many people to plead ‘culture’ when they
want to dismiss arguments and behaviours
that challenge the status quo. This issue of
BUWA! provides space to critically engage
with the positive and negative aspects of
cultures, which influence the lives of women,
and to explore women’s and feminists’
experiences and understanding of these as
well as to look at some of the perceptions and
misconceptions about the interface between
culture and feminism – both of which are
broad and multi-faceted phenomena.
This issue offers some definitional
considerations from an anthropological
perspective, as well as exploring the interplay,
and manifestations, of culture in the web of
human existence, including in the realms of
spirituality and faith, tradition and custom,
body politics and associated relationships,
among many others. And it covers a range of
topics – from exploring the interface between
states and cultures to establishing how state
policies and administrative structures have
colluded with cultural practices to deny and/
or jeopardise women rights, as in the pieces
by Shamillah Wilson and Onai Hara.
A cluster of articles draws attention to
the dynamics of how men have related
with culture in defining certain kinds of
masculinities. Many men invoke culture
to justify unhealthy masculinities that
take away the freedoms of women and
girls. Kopano Ratele and Mbuyiselo
Botha discuss the broader theoretical
understandings of masculinities, while Julio
Langa brings it closer to home by providing
an African perspective. Stephanie Leitch
demonstrates how, further afield, some
men have gone to the extent of invoking
the law and legal frameworks to reclaim
men’s rights, as evidenced by how men
are organising in the Caribbean. This is
also a phenomenon that our region has
BUWA! A Journal on African Women's Experiences
1
100
Editorial
been increasingly experiencing, although
the trend has been more in relation to
men organising to promote gender
equality rather than to reclaim men’s
rights. Initiatives such as the Fatherhood
Initiative have pushed the envelope to focus
more on redefining masculinities through
encouraging progressive fatherhood
practices. It is important to note that in all
these initiatives – as well as in most of the
articles in this issue – culture is often at the
centre of such discourses and debates.
One of the most visible – and sometimes
also most invisible – sites on which culture
has impacted on women’s rights and
freedoms is their bodily integrity. There
is a lot of politics that plays out in relation
to women’s bodies in the name of culture
– from women elongating their labia for
men’s sexual pleasure as Chanda Katongo
decries, to myths and mysteries around
masturbation and menstruation as explained
by Glenda Muzenda, to cultural barriers
to women’s access to strategic economic
resources, such as mineral wealth, as
Wadzanai Chimhepo illustrates by using
the experience of women in the gold mining
fields of Zimbabwe’s Penhalonga district.
Part of this politics stems from the debate
about women’s fashion and notions of female
beauty, with culture again being used as
the key determinant of what is beautiful,
what is fashionable and what is acceptable.
Varyanne Sika argues that fashion has
shaped women’s identities and makes a
case for using fashion to achieve feminist
objectives, while pushing for a feminist
body of knowledge around the subject to
allow this to happen. Similarly, Portia Loeto
tracks the historical transformation of what
is defined as an ‘attractive’ woman’s body,
from tubular to slender and many other
shapes in between, and tries to address
the central question – what is beautiful?
She concludes that these ‘attractiveness’
trends have damaged women’s selfesteem, self-confidence and self-worth.
2
100
feminists are not talking to each other
enough across generations and this
has to change if harmful cultural and
other practices are ever going to be
replaced by real respect for women’s
rightful citizenship and freedoms.
Nowhere are body politics as pronounced as
in the institution of marriage – an institution
that is often regarded as a sacred cow in
cultural debates. Marriage for most women,
especially in Africa, equates to signing away
control of their bodies. A telling illustration is
the skewed way in which women – especially
those in heterosexual marital relationships –
have been infected and affected by HIV and
AIDS compared to their male counterparts.
There are mixed views among feminists
regarding the institution of marriage and
how it has positioned women. While some
feminists have argued that many of our
continent’s cultures have set heterosexual
marriage relationships and feminist principles
on an inevitable collision course, others
view the apparent clash between the two as
not all that dramatic. Mike Zulu describes
how the nature of his 26-year marriage to
Doo Aphane has allayed some of these
fears among their friends and relatives.
It is worth noting that discourses and debates
about marriage, culture and the positioning
of women often pit heterosexual marriage
relationships against same sex marriage
alternatives or, in some cases, relationships
outside of marital relationships. In this
issue, Hleziphi Nyanungo sheds light on
some lesser-known models of same sex and
non-sexual marriages among women in
Africa, which still, she argues, tend to follow
patriarchal dynamics of power and control.
Another institution that has also been
regarded as a sacred cow is religion,
and feminists have long focused on how
patriarchy employs religion as a tool – often
in partnership with culture – to oppress and
suppress women. A lot has been written over
the years on some of the key religions that
are prevalent in southern Africa, including
Christianity and some African traditional
religions. Less has been shared about the
realities of women practising the Islamic faith
in the context of southern Africa. Ruthelle
Kunje shares the peculiarities of a woman
growing up as a Muslim in Zimbabwe. She
observes that Islamic religious practices
and traditional Shona practices are not very
different – both suppress women, especially
with regard to women not being able to
make important decisions about their lives.
Closely linked to culture and religion are
the arts and people’s performances, which,
to a significant extent, reflect and mirror a
community’s beliefs and practices, and in
turn influence and shape those practices.
Some artistic forms of expression that have
embodied this are songs, music and dance.
While feminist research has looked into
how some song lyrics denigrate women
and perpetuate patriarchy, dance forms
have drawn less attention. Gibson Ncube
and Margaret Chipara provide a feminist
analysis of erotic dance styles, and argue that
while some feminists find such dance styles
demeaning and denigrating of women, their
bodies and sexuality, erotic dancing can also
be considered as a means of empowering
women given that it allows them to subvert
patriarchal ontologies that regard women
as objects that are to be deployed by men
for their own pleasure. Ncube and Chipara
challenge feminist readers and writers to
explore this debate further so as to discover
how useful erotic dance is in the struggle for
women’s emancipation and empowerment.
But what about pop music? There are often
heated debates about whether such music
could possibly incorporate any progressive
and/or affirming messages about women.
Emma Machokoto looks at contemporary
pop artists, such as Lady Gaga, Beyoncé
and others, and highlights the tensions
that exist between their song lyrics and the
video images that often accompany them.
This issue paints a picture of cultures that
are constantly evolving but that do not
necessarily change the underlying way that
women are perceived and treated. This is
aptly captured by Monica Cheru in her
analysis of how practices of welcoming new
brides into a family have transformed in
shape, but have remained essentially the
same in terms of value and the message
that they put across about women. One
would have expected that with information
technologies changing the way that
people in the world relate to one another
and how cultures evolve, there would be
have been some fundamental shifts in
how women are structurally positioned.
However, Fungai Machirori confirms that
this has not been the case, arguing that
feminists have not effectively appropriated
the social media and ICT tools that
have revolutionised social, commercial
and other relations across the globe.
The issue concludes with a piece by
Hleziphi Nyanungo, who argues that
feminists are not talking to each other
enough across generations and that this
has to change if harmful cultural and other
practices are ever going to be replaced by
real respect for women’s rightful citizenship
and freedoms. There is, she believes, an
urgent need for greater intergenerational
dialogue to foster real change.
Alice is the Editor of BUWA! Write to her with comments and
submissions at [email protected]
3
100
Sex and Health
CONTENTS
06
The State, Culture and Oppression
12
State Culture and Oppression
14
20
25
30
34
40
47
57
53
By Shamillah Wilson
By Onai Hara
Profeminist Black Men:
Engaging Women Liberationists, Undermining Patriarchy
By Kopano Ratele and Mbuyiselo Botha
53
Notions of Beauty and Attractiveness
58
I am Married to a Feminist
61
10
67
Notions of Sex, Masculinity and
Manhood in African Cultures
70
By Julio Langa
Mixed Messages:
The Ideological Schizophrenia of Men’s Organizing
Around Fathering
76
By Stephanie Leitch
34
Elongation of the Labia Minora:
A Violation of women’s bodily autonomy
By Chanda Buumba Katongo
81
86
Menstruating and Masturbating:
The stains and strains of experiencing bodily
pleasure for women
By Glenda Muzenda
93
Women and Mining:
A Case of Golden Crumbs
By Wadzanai Chimhepo
63
By Portia Loeto
By Mike Zulu
Female Husbands without Male Wives:
Women, culture and marriage in Africa
By Hleziphi Naomie Nyanungo
Feminist Perspectives on Islam and Culture
By Ruthelle M. Kunje
Dancing with Power:
Does Erotic Dance Empower or Commodify Women?
By Gibson Ncube co-authored with Margaret Chipara
“Who Runs the World…Girls!” (Beyoncé)
Feminist or Not?
By Emmah Machokoto
Old and New Ways to Celebrate a Bride
By Monica Zodwa Cheru
Technologies and Power Dynamics in Women’s
Public and Private Spheres
By Fungai Machirori
I Am Not Your Daughter!
– A fictional conversation on intergenerational dialogue in the
women’s movement
By Hleziphi Naomie
Fashion for Feminists:
How fashion and dress shape women’s identities
By Varyanne Sika
44
4
96
5
96
Analysis
The State, Culture
and Oppression
One of the greatest achievements of feminist movements is
our analysis of power. Analysis and concepts are necessary
ingredients for effective action as they help us to ground our
strategies, and develop critical thinking and political skills. And
each time we analyse issues and situations, we gain new insights.
By Shamillah Wilson
In looking at the state of women’s rights, our analysis as feminists
starts with our understanding of patriarchy as being a system of
male authority that legitimises the oppression of women through
political, social, economic, legal, cultural, religions and military
institutions. Men’s access to, and control over, resources and
rewards within the private and public sphere derives its legitimacy
from the patriarchal ideology of male dominance. Patriarchal
ideology enables and legitimises the structuring of every aspect
of our lives by enabling the framework within which society
defines and views men and women to construct male supremacy
(AFF, 2006). A critical component of our understanding of
patriarchy is that it is systemic and not directed at individuals but
is a broad system that maintains unequal relations of power.
Shamillah Wilson is an independent feminist consultant and life
coach. She is based in South Africa, but her work has focused on
women's human rights, young feminist leadership development
and institutional development across the globe.
The state
T
he state as an institution has invariably colluded with patriarchy to
oppress women, and this has been done through codification of
cultural identities that advantage men and disadvantage women. This
piece exposes the relationship between state, culture and oppression.
In the past few decades, women’s and feminist movements
have made great strides in advancing the rights of women.
The engagement of women in international development
processes following the United Nations Decade of Women
(1975–85) signalled a transition for women’s movements – as
they began developing holistic analyses of the issues impacting
on women’s lives, and made connections between political,
economic, social and cultural realities as well as between local,
national and global spaces for organising and advocating.
But reflecting on the current state of women’s rights, particularly
on the African continent, gives us much to ponder on. The
realities that women encounter on a daily basis include pervasive
violence, economic inequality, and a struggle to survive conflict,
environmental changes and a backlash in many places against the
gains of recent decades. The fact that only 32 out of 54 African
countries had signed the Protocol on Women’s Rights in Africa
by the end of 2012 is indicative of the challenges that continue to
6
96
block progress towards the goal of social transformation. Some
would argue that 32 signatories is a success since there is no
denying the importance of ensuring that we have the necessary
national, regional and global legal instruments in place to tackle
gender inequality. Yet, our reflections over time have made
us realise that getting progressive policies adopted is but one
step in a broader process since legislation on its own does not
necessarily translate into broader gender equality nor has it really
transformed the daily lives of many African women. Culturally, the
patriarchal status quo remains relatively unchanged, and requires
us to confront and challenge it unequivocally – and holistically.
When considering how to move forward, what we know is that,
despite the promise of our past successes, many activists now find
themselves struggling – in the face of increasing conservatism – to
hold the line and ensure that there are no further rollbacks of the
important gains we have made. So as we search for more effective
ways to engage and transform power, we have to ask ourselves
why our current strategies and approaches seem inadequate
in terms of the struggle to overcome poverty and injustice. To
do this we need to understand the complexities of power and
empowerment, and then we have to strategize about how best to
respond to them in ways that use, build and transform power.
In the context of guaranteeing women’s rights, activists have
directed considerable attention towards the ‘state’. In referring to
the ‘state’, I refer to governmental institutions, both elective and
administrative, at both local and national levels. In the developing
world, states have complex and different formations, although most
are moving towards democracy and neoliberalism in the global era.
This is also the most visible form of power that we see as citizens.
Prior to the establishment of the modern state, other institutions –
including churches, clans, tribes and traditional authorities – upheld
the rules and managed the processes related to the reproduction of
life. The norms, symbols, rituals and traditions that are ascribed to
a particular society are often referred to as culture. While culture in
its essence is meant to be an uplifting force in societies, the realities
are that culture and tradition can enable or obstruct; they can
oppressive or liberating for different people at different times (Jolly,
2002). However, culture is not static. It changes and it is within this
context that meanings are ascribed to terms such as gender, gender
dynamics and gender roles in African society (Tamale, 2007).
In looking at the reality of women’s lives, we have to understand
that in many African countries, civil law exists alongside customary
law. While the onset of democracy on the continent was meant
to herald the promotion of equality for all, we still suffer from
some very strong and outdated attitudes towards differences in
genders and the rights of men or women. Very often, the project
“For feminists, the dominance of men in
this particular arena is but one of the
key characteristics of a patriarchal
state. While a significant number of
women now occupy important positions
in government and civil society, these
women are challenged by the continued
dominance of the ‘male discourse.”
of gender equality has been attacked by the patriarchal structure and
sexism of ‘traditional’ culture as a foreign concept. All state policies
have gender implications and affect the social status of women as
well as their control over their livelihoods. Women’s marginalisation
at the level of the state and state policy-making is clearly visible
in the low number of women parliamentarians worldwide. In fact,
women’s status has never been the main issue on party platforms,
in electoral campaigns or in any party manifesto. In reflecting on
visible power, Veneklasen et al (2006) note that visible power
discriminates against certain interests and people through biased laws
and policies as well as unrepresentative decision-making structures,
which do not adequately involve the voices or interests of women.
As such, some feminists have formulated the term ‘patriarchal state’,
whereby the state functions mainly in the interests of men and
maintains or actively supports the oppression of women (Dahlerup,
1987; Kong and Chan, 2000). For feminists, the dominance of
men in this particular arena is but one of the key characteristics
of a patriarchal state. While a significant number of women now
occupy important positions in government and civil society,
these women are challenged by the continued dominance of the
‘male discourse’. Regardless of how many women enter into the
political arena, if that arena is still defined by men’s perspectives,
there will be few opportunities to promote women's issues.
The traditional human rights framework places an emphasis on
the duty of the state to uphold the rights of its citizens within the
public sphere (i.e., politics and the market). The state (as opposed
to individuals, communities, multinational corporations, etc.) is taken
to be the primary violator of rights. However, a major obstacle is
7
96
that in most African states, colonial laws provided that the long
arm of rights did not extend into the private or domestic sphere.
In pluralist legal systems, this realm was basically governed by
indigenous customs and cultures. Many post-independence African
constitutions exempted personal (private) laws (e.g., marriage,
divorce, adoption, burial, inheritance and succession) from the
operation of the non-discrimination principle. In reality, males
have created – and still create – political culture worldwide, so it
is no surprise that male values, needs and ambitions dominate.
Furthermore, in a context of increasing conservatism and religious
fundamentalism, relationships between state and religious and
cultural groups are governed by whether or not the state needs the
help of those groups to consolidate its power. This type of power is
referred to as hidden power (Venklasen et al, 2006). While religious
and cultural groups may not be formal decision-makers (elected,
appointed or otherwise), they nevertheless maintain their influence by
controlling who gets to the decision-making table and what gets on
the agenda. Hidden power works to exclude and devalue the concerns
and representation of other less powerful groups, like women. In
addition to controlling the public agenda and public debate, public
and private institutions are often structured to systematically exclude
and discriminate against certain types of people and ideas.
We know that the family is a gendered space closely associated with
women (albeit headed by men). Therefore, it follows that the African
Protocol on the Rights of Women views women as the custodians of
morals and traditional values. In as far as this holds true, when ‘rights’
and ‘culture’ are constructed as conflicting parallel systems, the points
of contact between gender, rights and culture become extremely
foggy. In other words, if African culture is synonymous with women,
and the concepts of ‘rights’ and ‘culture’ continue to be viewed as
being at odds with each other, then African women would first have to
strip themselves of culture before enjoying their rights (Tamale, 2007).
Ultimately, the perseverance of a patriarchal model of governance
continues to make women the objects of political decisions that
they do not shape politically, and which are biased towards men,
especially male state bureaucrats, and traditional and cultural leaders.
How does the patriarchal State collude
to maintain women’s oppression?
The response to who defines law depends on which law one is
referring to. Where reference is made to state law, it is the state that
defines the law through its established institutions and channels. It
is the state again which takes responsibility for the implementation
of such laws through the hierarchy of courts established under its
judiciary and other quasi-judicial structures that may be in place.
8
96
This view of the state as the sole definer of law is referred to as
legal centralism. It puts the state and its structures at the centre
of social order. Feminism recognises that there are regulatory
forces other than the state, which the state takes into account.
The multiple legal codes in operation in Africa are part of the
colonial legacy and they reflect customary, religious and imported
common law values. However, this reality raises questions about
whose customary laws are recognised by the courts since custom
and culture are dynamic. Feminism is concerned with the regressive
interpretations of customary and religious law by courts. It is just
as concerned about the individual rights of women as it is about
communal rights that are espoused by customary law. The multiple
legal codes commonly find application in family law matters such as
marriage, inheritance, maintenance, custody of children and property
ownership by women, which is where the personal status of women is
determined. Women also take with them into the public arena the status
already accorded them within the family. Adherence to patriarchal
traditionalist values lends itself to a particularly masculinist terrain that
promotes gender inequality in the operation of multiple legal codes.
How this plays out in our lives is that the system of patriarchy ultimately
works through a process of law to create a system that defines what
it means to be men and women in a society. Veneklasen et al (2006)
refer to this as invisible power. It is the most insidious of the three
dimensions of power and – by influencing how individuals think about
their place in the world – it shapes people’s beliefs, sense of self and
acceptance of the status quo, including their own sense of superiority
or inferiority as ‘natural’. This is how the process of socialization,
culture and ideology perpetuate exclusion and inequality by defining
what is normal, true and acceptable. These processes also help to
make injustices like poverty and sexism invisible to the society at
large, and make those who experience systematic discrimination
the object of blame – indeed they often blame themselves.
This is evident in how the structuring of family, institutionalisation of
marriage and heteronormativity serve as effective gatekeepers for
women, especially as the concepts are introduced at an early age and
so they are internalized by both men and women. As noted by Tamale
(2007), the main reasons why patriarchal, capitalist societies need to
regulate and control the sexuality and reproductive capacity of women
is to keep women’s bodies in the domestic arena, where as ‘decent
wives’ and ‘good mothers’ they remain dependent on their breadwinner
husbands. Secondly, and more importantly, it is supposed to guarantee
the paternity and legitimacy of the children of the marriage.
Guaranteeing paternity is considered vital to ensuring that descent
through the male line is retained and that property is bequeathed to
the husband’s offspring. In order to achieve this objective, the law
makes sure that women
remain monogamous.
At the same time, the
law does not disturb or
challenge the polygynous
sexuality of African men.
A number of examples
are telling in this regard.
"...there is no explicit recognition of
crimes such as physical and sexual
abuse, which are currently considered
private or ‘domestic’ matters not fit
to be brought before a public court."
For instance, the tabling
of the Traditional Courts
Bill in South Africa in 2012
caused considerable debate. The bill will enable traditional leaders
to be appointed presiding officers of traditional courts, where they
will rule on both civil and criminal matters involving members of
traditional communities. These presiding officers will be able to hand
down fines, forced labour or, perhaps most controversially, remove
‘traditional benefits’. In the context of communal land ownership
– common in most of South Africa’s traditional-authority areas –
this includes access to land, which in turn translates into access to
food, income and shelter. The ability to earn a living and feed one’s
family will be dependent on the whims of traditional leaders.
Legally, chiefs will rule over their subjects, making laws, deciding on
cases and handing down punishments, with near complete control
over people, law-making and access to benefits and land. This
particular bill is set to have the most harmful impact on women.
Already, in many traditional courts, women are not allowed to
represent themselves or even speak during proceedings. This bill
reinforces this by allowing for women to be represented by their
husbands or family members (the bill prohibits legal representation
in traditional courts) – entrenching existing discriminatory practices.
In practice, many rural women already struggle with decisions by
traditional authorities that regularly attempt to strip them of things like
land access and inheritance rights. Other gaps include the fact that
there is no explicit recognition of crimes such as physical and sexual
abuse, which are currently considered private or ‘domestic’ matters
not fit to be brought before a public court. Fortunately, the bill was
withdrawn until further notice in late November 2012 (BuaNews,
2012), but the fact that such a dreadful bill could have been tabled
in the first place highlights the on-going power of patriarchy in
South Africa – in spite of the country’s progressive constitution.
Similarly, in November 2012 in Swaziland, policy-makers opposed the
protection of women from stalking. The senators argued that stalking
was part of social and cultural norms and so proscribing it would
violate the culture of Swazis. One senator went even further and
decried the criminalization of forced marriages saying that the custom
was important as it ensured that a girl’s father was able to benefit from
his daughter’s marriage since
the girl would be given to a
man who has cattle to pay the
bride price (Littlejohn, 2012).
In enforcing progressive
national legislation, the
key challenge is influential
religious and traditional
leaders who use religion and
culture to compromise the
human rights of women. For
example, Liberia and Mali are obliged under Article 5 of the Protocol
to enact laws that criminalise Female Genital Mutilation (FGM)
but due to pressure from religious and traditional leaders they have,
to-date, failed to honour this obligation. Article 14 on reproductive
health rights is another sensitive issue with religious leaders and
has resulted in Kenya and Uganda entering reservations against
some sub-articles, while other countries have delayed ratification.
In addition, some countries have taken issue with 18 years being the
minimum age of marriage, even though all countries have ratified
the UN Convention on the Rights of the Child (D’Almeida, 2011).
In April 2013, Uganda considered a series of extraordinary
measures, including one that would see women arrested for
wearing skirts above the knee in public. The proposed law would
mark a return to the era of Dictator Idi Amin, who banned short
skirts by decree. The government-backed bill would also see
many films and television dramas banned and personal internet
use closely monitored by officials. Introduced by the Ethics and
Integrity Minister, a former Catholic priest, the anti-pornography
bill contends that there has been an ‘increase in pornographic
materials in the Ugandan mass media and nude dancing in the
entertainment world’. It proposes that anyone found guilty of
abetting pornography faces a 10-million shillings (US$4,000)
fine or a maximum of 10 years in jail, or both (AWID, 2013).
The attacks on women’s bodies and freedoms even extend to
slashing national budgets to deal with fiscal deficits. The effects
on women are compounded. They range from increasing poverty
among women, unemployment as shrinking budgets lead to
job cuts in health care and education (industries where women
predominate), and ultimately a situation where women suffer the
consequences of the State’s inability to take care of its citizens.
While there are specificities according to local contexts and
traditions, the common trait behind these policies and practices
is the desire to exercise control and to regulate sexual and human
reproduction, which impacts most dramatically on the lives and
9
96
bodies of women. Therefore, they link very closely with the political
project of patriarchy to help keep women in the domestic sphere by
depriving them of the possibility of developing their full potential.
To that end, we have to challenge ourselves with this quote:
Moving forward
We need to locate our strategies in the understanding of the changed
political-economic context within which we work – a context of
neo-liberal globalisation in which conservatism and fundamentalism
fuel, and are fuelled by, ever-increasing militarization. In addition,
we need to understand how this impacts on the range of African
women’s rights but particularly our reproductive and sexual rights,
and our capacity to address the violations we experience.
while the state is correctly seen as patriarchal and clearly
biased against women, much of the (women’s) movement’s activism
is, in fact, addressed to the state and carries a definite, albeit
unarticulated expectation that the state will, or should, or
must, support women’s rights and equality” (Shaheed 1997).
Firstly, we need to come up with a combination of old and newfangled ways of engaging with the decision-making and power
structures of cultural and religious institutions. To do this, we
need to map our possible allies and those who we can persuade
to join in our efforts. It is important that we direct our efforts at
all three levels of power – visible, invisible and hidden – in order
to continue the fight for African women’s rights in the private
sphere. Our articulation of the notion of democracy and how we
conceive our states must be grounded in the idea of moving from
purely representative democracies to more participatory ones.
This implies moving our struggle for political participation beyond
the usual debates about quantity and quality to debates on the
governance structures we are participating in, and whether or not
they facilitate active, participatory democracy – and how to ensure
that they confront the very systemic characteristics of patriarchy.
African women have fought patriarchy and male privilege for
centuries. But we need new tools – new activist tools – that
we have had a part in designing and formulating. Although we
recognise the state as an important perpetuator of patriarchal
power, it can also become a significant source of social reform
even if the factors driving reform are not entirely pro-women.
References
AFF (2006). Charter of Feminist Principles for
African Feminists. African Feminist Forum
Photographed by K. Kendall
AWID (2013). Uganda Bill criminalises mini-skirts
http://www.awid.org/News-Analysis/Women-sRights-in-the-News2/Uganda-Bill-criminalisesminiskirts
BuaNews (2012). Controversial Traditional
Courts Bill withdrawn
http://www.polity.org.za/article/controversialtraditional-courts-bill-withdrawn-2012-11-29
"African women have fought patriarchy and male privilege
for centuries. But we need new tools – new activist tools
– that we have had a part in designing and formulating. "
10
96
Chimtom, NK (2012). Giving women land,
giving them a future
http://farmlandgrab.org/post/view/21174
D’Almeida, M (2011). African Women’s
Organizing for Ratification and Implementation
of the Maputo Protocol
http://awid.org/News-Analysis/Friday-Files/
African-Women-s-Organizing-for-theRatification-and-Implementation-of-theMaputo-Protocol
Dahlerup, D. (1987) ‘Confusing Concepts –
Confusing Reality: A Theoretical Discussion
of the Patriarchal State’ in A. Showstack
Sassoon (ed) Women and the State. London:
Hutchinson.
Jolly, S (2002). Gender and Cultural Change.
Overview Report. Bridge Cutting Edge Pack
Kong, L.L.L. and Chan, J. ‘Patriarchy and
Pragmatism: Ideological Contradictions in State
Policies’, Asian Studies Review 24(4): 501-531.
Littlejohn, Maureen (2012). Stalking in the
Name of Culture. Date: 25 November 2012
http://maureenlittlejohn.com/2012/11/stalkingin-the-name-of-culture/
Shaheed, Farida. (1997) “Women, State
and Power: The Dynamics of Variation and
Convergence Across East and West” in
Neelam Hussain, Samilya Mumtaz and Rubina
Saigol. Engendering the Nation-State. Lahore:
Simorgh Publications
Tamale, S (2007). The Right to Culture and
the Culture of Rights: A Critical Perspective on
Women’s Sexual Rights in Africa, Sex Matter,
Urgent Action Fund. 2007
Veneklasen, L, Valerie Miller, Lisa Veneklasen,
Molly Reilly and Cindy Clark (2006 Making
Change Happen: Power: Concepts for
Revisioning Power for Justice, Equality and
Peace. Just Associates.
11
96
State, Culture and Oppression
State, Culture and
Oppression
It troubled me for months that I could be treated as a foreigner after
being born and living in a country for the first 18 years of my life –
without ever leaving it. It broke my heart. I thought it was impossible
for somebody to be said to belong nowhere. Surely everyone
belongs somewhere? And I did not see why I had to suffer because
my father was a Tumbuka born in Zambia, and I had no trace of him.
By Onai Hara
Growing up, I never identified with my Zambian relatives whom I
had never seen and had no desire or motivation – or indeed hope
– of ever meeting. I thought I had nothing to do with them. In my
current predicament I began to feel that at least being identified as
one of them might have been much better than being said to belong
nowhere. Since my father was not around to explain to me who the
Tumbuka people are, I had to learn about their beliefs and practices
from books and whenever I had an opportunity to interact with some
of them. I felt forced to relate with people I really didn’t identify with.
Onai Hara is an undergraduate student at the University of Zimbabwe
studying for a BA (Hons) in Social work. She is also an active youth
volunteer with the CAAF Trust. She is particularly interested in helping
orphans and vulnerable children and rural disadvantaged women to
unlock their potential and discover their inherent purpose.
I
never imagined that a simple act of processing identity
documents – that I thought I was entitled to – could be
that demanding, complicated and tiresome. I soon realised
that I had neither power nor control over the procedures
as they are stipulated in statutory instruments.
My father, being Zambian, migrated to work in Zimbabwe
where he got married and where my siblings and I were born.
This is where we have lived our entire lives. Even after my
father left for Zambia (and never returned), we all remained
and lived in Zimbabwe. This was about 15 years ago, and ever
since then my siblings and I have been under the care of our
mother. We were all raised among the local people and naturally
shared the local norms, beliefs and languages: I speak all three
of Zimbabwe’s official languages. I had a Zimbabwean birth
certificate and national identity card. As far as I was concerned,
this made me Zimbabwean. Indeed, nothing could have made
me more Zimbabwean than that. And this was my blissful
belief for the first 18 years of my life. How wrong I was!
When I turned 18 my world changed completely. I confidently
went to the passport offices to apply for passport. I was informed
that it was impossible for me to apply for a passport as I did not a
valid citizenship certificate with me. I was obviously confused since
I had both a Zimbabwean identity card and a Zimbabwean birth
certificate. Besides, for 18 years I had lived in the country, gone to
school and had participated in all other normal activities – and at no
point had I ever been asked to justify my nationality or citizenship.
I needed someone to explain this bizarre situation to me.
12
100
I was told that I was, in fact,
citizenshipless – I was neither
Zimbabwean nor Zambian. I
wondered if this meant that
I belonged nowhere.
The explanation was that because my father was born in Zambia
that also made me Zambian, even though I had never been to
Zambia myself! Because my father held a Zambian passport, my
own Zimbabwean national documents were now rendered irrelevant
in deciding my citizenship. This meant I could not get a passport of
the nationality that I had known myself to belong to my entire life. I
couldn’t help but reflect on the fact that it had been 15 years since my
father had left us in Zimbabwe, never to return and never to contact
us again. However, this was just the beginning of my nightmare.
The system in my home country (Zimbabwe) could not grasp
that I was not a foreigner in this place – the land of my birth
and home. Surely a Zimbabwean birth certificate and identity
card confirmed my right to be a Zimbabwean? But apparently
not. Indeed, the response wrecked my world: I was told that
I was, in fact, citizenshipless – I was neither Zimbabwean nor
Zambian. I wondered if this meant that I belonged nowhere.
By then I was in the final year of my A level studies at school. I
needed to belong somewhere: I had to be a citizen of some country
to hold a passport, since I intended to go to university the following
year. Since enrolments are limited at Zimbabwean universities,
preference is often given to citizens, which would obviously
hamper my citizenshipless chances. In addition, foreign students
are required to pay double the tuition fees, and to apply for study
permits. Without a passport, it would also be impossible for me to
leave Zimbabwe to go to university abroad. My tertiary education
and my future were now at stake. I felt my future slipping away
from under my feet. I felt really disadvantaged by the system.
I seriously considered exploring how to get Zambian
citizenship. But I knew this was going to be another very long
process and I knew that my mother did not have the capacity
to finance all the necessary expenses. And since my family
lives in Zimbabwe, it would be impossible for me to stay in
Zambia and study there because I do not know anyone there,
as we have failed to trace any of my father’s relatives.
At this point in time, my urgent need for a passport meant that I
was left with no option but to renounce my ‘foreign’ citizenship.
I was informed that the process would take anything between
six months to God-knows how many years! I was informed that
there was an option to make an emergency application and
that this would reduce the waiting time significantly. This made
sense since it was an ‘emergency application’. But the reality
soon dawned on me, as I joined the long and winding queues
at the offices for these ‘emergency documents’. My greatest
worry at this point was all the time I was spending in queues
rather than in class – and I was in an important examination
year: a critical year in my studies. Indeed, in my life.
"Without a passport, it would
also be impossible for me
to leave Zimbabwe to go to
university abroad. My tertiary
education and my future
were now at stake. I felt my
future slipping away from
under my feet. I felt really
disadvantaged by the system."
When my application was finally considered, I was given a
confirmation letter and a declaration of renunciation that I had
to deliver to the Zambian embassy to denounce my Zambian
citizenship – a citizenship I don’t believe I ever owned in the first place.
The processing took a few days. It looked as though the Zambians
were quite eager to offload me to someone else – although they
(the Zimbabwean authorities) didn’t appear very eager to take me
in! But at last I could now apply for a Zimbabwean passport.
This whole experience made me wonder what citizenship really
means. I now hold a Zimbabwean passport and citizenship, but I
also now feel that I do not truly belong here. If I belonged here why
did I have to struggle that much to get documentation? Had it not
been for my education, I would not have gone through all the long
processes required to get my hands on Zimbabwean citizenship.
At least I am not now sitting at some border with an unknown
citizenship status. But I wonder how many other people are
sitting at various borders – not knowing who they are anymore.
How many people have suffered because of the decisions that
were made by their parents before they were even born? And
what hope do they have when all the power to decide where they
‘belong’ resides with countries’ laws and regulations governing
citizenship – particularly outdated patriarchal laws and regulations
that still prioritise fathers – and is not necessarily based on their
understanding of who they really feel they are? I sincerely think
a better way to make such decisions should be considered.
13
100
Profeminist Black Men: Engaging Women Liberationists, Undermining Patriarchy
Profeminist Black Men:
Engaging Women Liberationists,
Undermining Patriarchy
By Kopano Ratele and Mbuyiselo Botha
Kopano Ratele is a Professor in the Institute of Social and Health Sciences at the
University of South Africa (UNISA) and co-director of the Medical Research CouncilUNISA Safety and Peace Promotion Research Unit. He has a range of scholarly and
wider cultural interests including in the areas of violence, sexuality, race and traditions,
and men and masculinities. He is chair of Sonke Gender Justice.
Mbuyiselo Botha works for Sonke Gender Justice Network where he is responsible for
media and government relations. He worked extensively as the dissemination officer
for the International Red Cross based in South Africa in the 80s. He was a founder
member of the South African Men’s Forum and is currently the secretary general of the
Forum, where he deals with issues of advocacy, training and community based structure
building. He is also a member of the national steering committee for the planning of the
annual activities for the 16 Days of activism against violence against women and children
campaign. Mbuyiselo co-hosts a weekly talk-show on Kaya FM (In conversation with
men). In 2007, then President of South Africa Thabo Mbeki expressed his appreciation
for Mbuyiselo’s work with men to enhance gender equality in South Africa.
Simply for men to be present in the room when important explicit discussions of
gender inequality are being held, to be listening without being dominant, and to
be on the side of the interests of gender equality, is a game changer.
– Sisonke Msimang, 2013.
The power of patriarchy has been to make maleness feared and to make men feel
it is better to be feared than to be loved.
– bell hooks, 2004.
Introduction
W
e put it up front that we disagree
with each other about whether it
is appropriate for men to call themselves
feminist. On the one hand, Mbuyiselo is
convinced that it is not only conceivable for
men to be feminist, but that it is courageous
and ethically desirable, and that (African
male) feminism is an elaboration of ubuntu/
botho. As Mbuyiselo has said, and Kopano
fully agrees, ubuntu/botho is a negation of
any form of oppression, and feminism is thus
an articulation of this philosophy of nonoppressive relationality that ‘I am because
you are, and you are because I am’. “At the
most simple level,” Mbuyiselo has said, “to be
a feminist male means to embrace values that
seek gender justice for all.” (Botha, 2012).
On the other hand, Kopano feels that, given
the power of words, the use of the term
feminist for men should be used with caution.
For him the best term for men working with
women on gender equality is pro-feminist.
This disagreement over what to call ourselves
– feminist, pro-feminist, anti-patriarchal or
antisexist men – may be significant at one
or other point in time, but it only represents
a difference in tactics. Frankly, we cannot
consider what men call themselves to be
as fundamental as their active support for
struggles against gender inequality, sexual
and gender-based violence, or any other
issue relevant to women’s struggles against
patriarchal domination. However, at the
strategic objective level, it is important
that men refrain from being opportunistic,
hijacking or undermining the gains made
by the women-led feminist movement.
Indeed, we are in agreement that the
struggle should be fought side-by-side,
with women leading the gender struggle.
The same lesson about who must lead
different struggles for social justice was
learned during the national liberation of
South Africa – namely that the liberation
struggle would be led by African people.
14
100
“At the most simple level,” Mbuyiselo has said, “to
be a feminist male means to embrace values that
seek gender justice for all.” (Botha, 2012).
of gender and race without specific attention
to sexual identities and freedom can mean
the difference between death and life – that
right on the basis of race does not protect
one from violent injury. For these individuals,
obviously the struggle for recognition of
their gendered sexualities continues.
It is important to underline that on
several occasions we disagree with one
another, and often enough challenge
each other with love. This, we believe, is
significant enough to make explicit.
The debates
Writing in the Introduction to the 1996
edition of Biko’s collected essays on
black consciousness, I write what I like, his
comrades Malusi and Thoko Mpumlwana
(1996, page xiii), argued: ‘The struggle to
re-order the attitudes and relationships of
women themselves, between women and
men…is as fundamental as the struggle ever
was for the re-ordering of race relations for
blacks in South Africa and the world.’ It was,
of course. And it remains so to this day.
What this seeks to demonstrate is that even
though many political activists and scholars
have tended to privilege one struggle over
another – whether class over race, race over
gender, gender over sexual orientation, or
vice versa – particularly African and black
women have lived within the strangling sense
of being pressed to keep some parts of their
lives in the dark. For instance, a number
of African and black women authors have
articulated the experience of being almost
compelled to consider racial liberation as
more urgent than gender rights, or the
converse. In a similar vein, it is self-evident
at this moment in our history that for
South African black lesbians, transgender
individuals and gay men, equality on the basis
For African and black women liberationists
and feminists the world over – amongst
whom there are, to be sure, important internal
contestations – what the Mpumlwanas came
to recognise goes without saying. Yet, if
activists and critical writers also fail at times
to see the forms of inequality as interlocking,
it behoves us to talk more, teach better,
protest more effectively, march longer and
write more powerfully against race oppression
(or gender, or other forms of oppression) to
undermine the grid of injustice. In order to
better perceive the nature and changing faces
of inequality, men and women must come
to see that the struggles against racialised
inequality do not do away with the need to
struggle against gender, sexual and economic
inequalities and other forms of injustice.
Inequality structures the world. Power over
others is attractive and systemic. Through
various channels, patriarchal power and
heterosexism, just like racist domination,
are rendered psycho-socially enjoyable to
many men and women. The same is true for
other kinds of power, with power related to
money perhaps the clearest embodiment
of the enjoyment that people derive from
power over others. Oppression, then, takes
15
100
on various entrancing guises in different
contexts. As such, women’s and men’s
struggles are ultimately always against unjust
power. It is not against symptomatic injustice
that we ultimately struggle. Although it might
be urgent at different points of history and
in different contexts to mount resistance,
it is not merely against isolated oppressive
acts of racism, gender and sexual violence,
economic exclusion, nationalism, culturally
oppressive practices, or any other monistic
view of oppression that we need to fight. For
black women and men especially, it would
appear that this view of struggle as more than
simply against any single form of injustice
would be obvious. Evidently, it is not. To be
sure, all of us are given daily mis-education
about how to think about the world and our
own lives through various means (actually
induced and estranged from thinking
for ourselves) – with the media, formal
education system and our social relationships
being the most powerful vehicles in this
process of alienation. Therefore, none
of us can do without on-going critical
political education or conscientisation.
The Mpumlwanas also noted that, while
they shared Biko’s passion for the liberation
of black people from apartheid, they slowly
came to admit the masculinist politics of
Biko’s emancipatory project. Their insight
possibly provides the foundation for the
transformation of (antiracist) black men’s
masculinities. The two activists observed
that the experience of being oppressed
because of one’s sex is no less, and no
more, than being subjugated because of
one’s skin colour. Even then, the two black
consciousness activists would also state that
the gender prejudices in Biko’s work must be
seen in the context of his historical period,
and that Biko was a product of his time.
But this reads like a careful attempt not to
say something negative about Biko. It comes
across as a justification for the gender biases
that characterised Biko’s politics. The truth is
that Biko was ahead of his time in many ways.
He was a man who did not quietly accept
what the apartheid government intended
black people to be – docile, unquestioning
and politically unaware. He stood up against
the racial order that wanted to put him in
his subservient black place. He questioned
the world not only for himself. As part of the
founders of a new progressive movement in
South Africa, he led black people towards
the on-going task of imagining themselves
anew. In initiating projects informed by
a self-belief in black abilities and beauty,
he started the continuing endeavour to
give a new content to blackness in South
Africa. And Biko’s inquiring attitude was not
only directed at the racist system. He also
questioned his would-be student fellowtravellers in the then dominant white-led
student organisation, the National Union
of South African Students (NUSAS), and
led a walkout from the organisation. He
convincingly rejected the representations
about black conditions from both the white
and black media as contained in his ‘Letter to
SRC presidents’ (Biko, 1996). And, publically,
he cuttingly questioned the recognised
black political leaders, including the leaders
of the African National Congress (ANC),
the Pan-Africanist Congress of Azania and
the South African Communist Party, and
stalwarts of the national liberation struggles –
such as Nelson Mandela, Oliver Tambo and
Robert Sobukwe, let alone people like Gatsha
Buthelezi and other homeland leaders.
In brief, if Biko was a product of his
patriarchal racist time, he was, thankfully,
a bad factory design both for apartheid
and the conservative black order. For his
insubordination, his psycho-political acumen
in relation to the workings of power, Biko is
the best starting point for black conscious
men committed to gender equality. The key
point here is that we could make our lives
all of us are given daily mis-education about
how to think about the world and our own lives
through various means (actually induced and
estranged from thinking for ourselves) – with
the media, formal education system and our
social relationships being the most powerful
vehicles in this process of alienation.
16
100
easier and concern ourselves with the gender
politics of another stalwart of the national
liberation struggle, current president of the
ANC and head of state of South Africa,
Jacob Zuma (cf., Ratele 2006). Or we could
delve deeper into the sexual politics of the
expelled leader of the ANC Youth League,
Julius Malema, for which Mbuyiselo Botha
and Sonke Gender Justice Network took
him to the Equality Court and won 1 (see
Ratele, Shefer & Botha 2011). Or, because
as we write this we are challenged by and
could respond to the retrogressive discourse
of gender represented by the businessman
and television personality Kenny Kunene
and his fifteen or more girlfriends who know
each other and live in his house and are
currently dominating the South Africa media
space 2 , we could concern ourselves with that
discourse of black masculinity. However, we
cannot only take the seemingly easy cases. It
is a belief that we hold dear that sometimes
we must resist the urge to go along.
The fact is there are many reactionary
discursive currents undermining the
development of anti-patriarchal masculinities
in South Africa that must be addressed.
These include the hyper-visible pattern
of masculinity, which tends to be most
attractive to certain kinds of mass media that
champions consumption as is represented
by Kunene and other prominent men. It
seems to us that Kunene and more generally
masculinity (and gender) that revolves around
capitalist consumption are attractive to the
media for the very reason that they are an
effective check against the real liberation
of young black men and women from
capitalist patriarchy: they send confusing
messages about sexual relationships,
money, masculinities and femininities.
Secondly, there is a resurgent traditionalist
gender position that seeks to recreate
tribalistic masculinities and femininities,
represented by traditional and political
leaders such as Chief Phatekile Holomisa 3
and the king of the Zulus, Goodwill
Zwelithini.4 President Zuma also sometimes
employs a discourse based on Zulu culture
and tradition to support his gender and sexual
practices. 5 One of the main problems with
gender traditionalism is its refusal to critically
reflect on the contents of culture and tradition
as prejudiced against women and supportive
of an injurious patriarchy (Ratele 2013).
While cognisant of the differences within
women’s movement and gender activism,
as well being aware of many feminists who
work with men, there is, thirdly, a discourse
that appropriates gender talk to argue that
men cannot change. This discourse may also
be tied to a view that is largely indifferent to
men’s lives except in connection to violence
against women. bell hooks (2006) suggests
that this type of reformist talk sees gender
‘freedom as simply women having the right to
be like powerful patriarchal men’ (as opposed
to being like ‘poor and working class men’).
Interestingly, this reactionary discourse
mirrors the monist antiracist discourse (that
we started with above), which understands
black men’s social condition as primarily a
result of white racism, thus minimising black
men’s and women’s oppression by (both white
and black) patriarchy. It must be obvious
that we regard both racism and patriarchy,
among others, as imprisoning black men
(and women) from living truly free lives.
Defining ourselves as black in the way Biko
spoke of blackness is to learn to question the
prevailing socio-political and economic order.
To claim to be Biko’s black (as opposed to
non-white) is the beginning of the process
of unlearning a still hegemonic view of
what it means to be a black in the world.
Yet Biko’s black subject needs a sex, a
gender. He – although, as shown above, the
subject at times is a she – needs a liberating
sex/gender education. Liberated black
manhood is about, in our view, a questioning
attitude towards the patriarchal and sexual,
not only the racial, order. Black manhood
is a gender value, not only a racial attitude.
Progressive black masculinity is a stance and
a perspective on the patriarchal, heterosexist,
white world – where all the terms carry
equitable weight, although we are well aware
that these are not exhaustive of all the terms
in the struggle for justice and equality.
We are not aware of whether Malusi and
Thoko Mpumlwana were gender and queer
activists. However, what is clear from their
Introduction is that to come to be part
of struggles whose aim is to make wider
society realise that we are not only black,
men (and women) need a consciousness of
women’s liberation and feminist struggles.
The transformation of black men into
active supporters of gender and sexual
equality demands engaging in deliberate
education for social justice. It is only through
a consciousness of women’s liberation
struggles and feminist insights that men
come to appreciate that a racist injury is
no worse than sexist traumatisation. It will
not happen by itself that men (and women)
comprehend the fact that sexual and genderbased violence is a systematic weapon of
hetero-patriarchal masculinity. (Again, we
admit, the picture is more complex, the
violence more entwined). Conscientisation
in feminism and women’s liberation struggles
is the surest route towards grasping the
perversity of the patriarchal condition, where
biological femaleness reduces a person to
the status of a perpetual minor or second
class citizen – and to voicelessness.
It might be obvious to many people, but
it is important to state this: we are not
only men. We are also well-employed,
black, heterosexual subjects. While critical
work with men and masculinities gives
privileged focus to men as a gender, to the
constitutive power of gender in relation
to racial order, the converse is also vital to
understand. In other words, we need to
understand black men’s gender construction
from the location of race. If some men
see their problem with gender equality as
caused by the colonial destabilisation of
17
100
their culture by western white traditions,
we cannot afford to be dismissive of such
views. We exist within orbits of hegemony
and subordination. Therefore, to be
successful, anti-patriarchal black projects
on masculinity must grapple with not one
issue – patriarchy only – but rather with
all of the entangled roots of inequality.
Concluding reflections
Our disagreements notwithstanding, we
are clear about what connects us. Above
all, we are connected by the idea that for
men like us both patriarchy and racism hurt
our health. We are agreed that the aim of
the project to liberate black masculinities
is to challenge the twinned ideologies of
male and white superiority (as well as other
social injustices). We are opposed to sexual
and gender-based violence and heteropatriarchal racial power. We seek to reveal
the deleterious effects of men’s gender
power over women. After the feminist insight
by, for example, Chandra Talpade Mohanty
(1988) – and significantly, other feminists
from the global South or black American
feminists – who showed that women are not
an ahistorical, universal and fixed category,
we are aware that men are not homogenous
and that due to their economic, racial,
political, cultural and sexual positions they
have power over other men. We challenge
the structural and episodic violence of, and
on, men. We want to contribute to founding
new forms of healthy manhood. Following
bell hooks, we think our work in partnership
to feminist women and gender activists is to
show that ‘patriarchal culture continues to
control the hearts of men precisely because
it socializes males to believe that without
their role as patriarchs they will have no
reason for being’ (hooks, 2004, page 115).
This is, then, what we learned from the black
consciousness movement and the struggle
for national liberation more generally. We
learned to love justice for all women and
men. We learned to learn from women, to
18
100
listen without fear, aggression, or prejudice.
We learned to question power. We learned
about what a critical black self-awareness
as part of identities entails. We learned to
love ourselves quietly again. We learned,
therefore, that we would never be true to
ourselves if we went back to an obedient,
unreflective ‘yes baas’ kind of existence. A
reflective, profeminist black view implies
always approaching our condition and
practices as heterosexual, married, men and
black with a constructive questioning attitude.
It entails always examining and ‘doing’ race,
gender, sexuality and other categories
within which we are socially positioned,
and all men’s and women’s practices more
generally, with a critical eye. Thus, whereas
we learn from the anti-racist project of the
black consciousness movement to love
blackness and overcome the ideology of
white superiority, from feminism we learn to
reject male superiority and to create new selfdefinitions that liberate masculinities from
patriarchal, homophobic and capitalist power.
Out of these lessons, we come to the
conclusion that what we are doing in claiming
the space of profeminist African masculinities
is engaging in the process of contributing
towards moulding a different social order
that will allow out children to flourish. We are
investing in the future where the boys and
girls we are raising can live in a world where
they can be anything they set their minds to
be. There are times when we recognise that
we might not get to such a world ourselves.
Nonetheless, with Martin Luther King in
mind, we see ourselves as fertilising the
ground for a future where girls are educated
for a feminist, confident, happier and healthier
life, and black boys and white boys genuinely
believe – in their hearts and not just their
brains – in girls’ and women’s rights to their
own views, goals, feelings, bodies, health and
independent lives. In that future, boys are also
empowered with a progressive education,
which prepares them for an egalitarian,
democratic, non-violent and healthier life.
References
“Out of these lessons, we
come to the conclusion
that what we are
doing in claiming the
space of profeminist
African masculinities
is engaging in the
process of contributing
towards moulding a
different social order
that will allow our
children to flourish."
Biko, Stephen B. 1996. I Write What I Like.
London: Bowerdean Publishing.
Botha, Mbuyiselo. 6 October 2012. I may be
a proud feminist, but I am no sissy. City Press.
Retrieved 17 April 2013 from http://www.
citypress.co.za/Columnists/I-may-be-a-proudfeminist-but-I-am-no-sissy-20121006/.
Mpumlwana, Malusi & Mpumlwana, Thoko
1996. ‘Introduction’, in Biko, Stephen B. I Write
What I Like (x-xxiv). London: Bowerdean
Publishing.
hooks, bell. 2004. The Will to Change: Men,
Masculinity, and Love. New York: Washington
Square Press.
Msimang, Sisonke 2013. ‘Chairperson’s Letter’ in
Sonke Gender Justice Network Annual Report:
March 2011 – February 2012. Johannesburg/
Cape Town: Sonke Gender Justice Network.
www.genderjustice.org,za. Ratele Kopano 2006.
Ruling masculinity and sexualities. Feminist
Africa 6, 48-64.
Mohanty, Chandra Talpade. Under Western
Eyes: Feminist Scholarship and Colonial
Discourses. Feminist Review 30 (1988): 61-88.
Ratele, Kopano 2013. Masculinity without
Tradition. Politikon: South African Journal of
Political Studies, 40:1, 133-156.
Ratele Kopano, Shefer Tammy and Botha
Mbuyiselo. 2011. Navigating past “the white
man’s agenda” in South Africa: Organizing men
for gendered transformation of society, in
Elisabetta Ruspini, Jeff Hearn, Bob Pease
and Keith Pringle (eds), (2011) Men and
Masculinities Around the World: Transforming
Men’s Practices (Global Masculinities Series)
(247-259). New York: Palgrave MacMillan.
SAPA (23 January 2012). ‘Zwelithini: Gay
comment was a ‘reckless translation’’. Mail &
Guardian. Available online at http://mg.co.za/
article/2012-01-23-zwelithini-gay-commentwas-a-reckless-translation/ (accessed 11 May
2012).
Endnotes
1. Julius Malema, ex-president of the African
National Congress Youth League, told a
meeting of students in January 2009 that
when a woman didn’t enjoy it, she leaves
early in the morning. Those who had a nice
time will wait until the sun comes out, request
breakfast and ask for taxi money.” Malema’s
comments were an oblique response to the
woman who had taken ANC president and
current head of the state Jacob Zuma to
court for rape in 2006. Zuma was acquitted
of the charge. At the time, the Young League
leader appeared to be close to Jacob Zuma,
the president of the mother body, the ANC.
Malema has since been expelled from the
ANC for behaviour unrelated to his sexism.
2.See Charles Cilliers 7 April 2013. Inside
the Sushi King’s sexy Sandton harem.
City Press. Retrieved 17 April 2013 from
http://www.citypress.co.za/entertainment/
inside-the-sushi-kings-sexy-sandton-
harem/. For feminist responses see, e.g., Lizl
Morden April 15 2013 The case of Kenny
Kunene and the 15 girlfriends. FeministsSA.
com. Retrieved 17 April 2013 from http://
feministssa.com/2013/04/15/the-caseof-kenny-kunene-and-the-15-girlfriends/;
Pumla Gqola 14 April 2013 Sushi King’s
monster’s ball. City Press. Retrieved 17
April from http://www.citypress.co.za/
columnists/sushi-kings-monsters-ball/
3. Chief Phatekile Holomisa, Head of the
Congress of Traditional Leaders and an ANC
member of parliament, was reported to have
said that “homosexuality was a condition that
occurred when certain cultural rituals have
not been performed.” He also said that the
National House of Traditional Leaders “wants
to remove a clause from the Constitution
which protects people on the grounds of
sexual orientation.” (Rossouw, 2012, p. 5).
4.In 2012, the Zulu monarch was reported
to have called people with same-sex desires
‘rotten’. According to media reports, King
Zwelithini said, “Traditionally, there were
no people who engaged in same-sex
relationships. There was nothing like that
and if you do it, you must know that you
are rotten. I don’t care how you feel about
it. If you do it, you must know that it is
wrong and you are rotten. Same sex is not
acceptable.” The king was speaking during
the 133rd commemoration of the Battle of
Isandlwana at Nquthu in northern KwaZuluNatal. (Mdletshe 2012, SAPA 2012)
5. See Pillay, Verashni (22 Aug 2012).
Zuma: Women must have children. Mail
& Guardian Online. Retrieved 18 April
from http://mg.co.za/article/2012-0821-zuma-women-must-have-children.
19
100
Notions of Sex, Masculinity and Manhood in African Cultures
Notions of Sex, Masculinity
and Manhood in African
Cultures
By Julio Langa
Julio Langa is a Mozambican trained in Social Science and
Anthropology at Eduardo Mondlane University in Maputo. In the
past 8 years, he has been working in the field of social work, research
and human rights. He has worked with national and international
institutions such as the Foundation for Community Development,
UN Women, Forum Mulher, Engender Health and Helvetas as a
Programme Manager, consultant, trainer and activist. Julio is cofounder of the Men for Change Network (HOPEM), a civil society
movement dedicated to the advancement of healthy masculinities,
education for gender equality and peace building in Mozambique.
Currently he is the National Coordinator of HOPEM.
I
n January 2012, a very shocking sexual
assault was reported in one of the
main Mozambican daily newspapers.1 A
group of 17 young men, supported by their
‘spiritual leader’ raped a young woman in
the northern city of Pemba. As reported
in the newspaper, these young men were
going through an initiation rite, which was
taking place in an area relatively isolated
from the rest of the community members.
This event – as commonly happens in many
other similar rituals and practices in African
communities – is surrounded by a set of
fixed prohibitions and norms that should
guide the behaviour of those being initiated,
but also their relationship with others during
20
100
the course of the initiation. This event tends
to be strongly mystified and sanctified so
that people are not supposed to talk about
it or question it. In this case, the victim was
raped, allegedly, because she knowingly
and repeatedly ‘profaned’ the geographical
(and symbolic) limits that were established
between the initiation site and the other
community areas. Therefore, she was
brutally ‘sentenced’ to terrifyingly violent
sexual punishment.
This act of aggression was extremely
outrageous and problematic in many ways.
On the one hand, the victim was subjected
to an unbelievably horrific experience in
which a number of her fundamental rights
– enshrined in Mozambique’s constitution
and laws – were violated. On the other hand,
it also explicitly revealed a lot about the
values, attitudes and behaviour of young
men towards women that are perpetuated
in the name of culture and tradition. In this
case, we had a striking example of how
masculine mentality and practices can
totally women’s human rights. Furthermore,
this kind of violation promotes a sense of
entitlement among boys and men, which
legitimates their punishment of women
whenever they think it is necessary. It also
sent a very clear message about male
supremacy over women’s bodies.
In many African communities, the initiation
rite constitutes a very crucial stage in an
individual’s life. The initiation rites symbolize
the transition from boyhood to manhood.
During this process, boys are exposed
to community traditions so that they can
learn how to behave. They are trained to
become full community members. It is a
very influential process and strongly affects
what individuals subsequently consider
to be wrong or right. Initiation rites are
perhaps one of the most ‘definitive’ of all
the rituals – during which we are told about
social expectations, about who we must be,
and about what we are permitted to think,
speak and experience (Osório 2009).
For that reason, when I learned about
this gang rape, I first felt deeply sorry for
the young lady, whose life was in great
danger and whose future had been so
viciously and seriously compromised
– particularly given the fact that there
are significant institutional, political
and economic challenges that limit the
support that can be given to survivors of
sexual violence in Mozambique. Indeed,
the double victimization of women
survivors of violence is very common
practice even within those institutions
that are supposed to be supportive and
helpful such as the police and hospitals.
But I also asked myself why she was subjected
to such a punishment. What makes a
group of young men rape a woman as if it
is a natural thing to do? And I felt deeply
concerned about the expectations that were
being created among the boys as future
full community members. They were being
taught to look at women’s bodies as objects
and without any kind of restraint. The rape of
a young woman during such a critical social
shaping process will create an even stronger
belief in men’s dominance over women – and
ensure that men’s ‘right’ to engage in similar
practices will be dangerously reinforced. In
my understanding, this is particularly worrying
in a context of highly sexualized masculinities.
Indeed, several studies (Matsinhe 2005,
Macie and Maharaj 2011, Ratele 2011)
have shown that in most of our so-called
‘African cultures’, the male identity tends
to be strongly sexualized. To a large
extent, it is constructed around sexual
experiences and attitudes towards sex and
women that shape, and are shaped by,
men’s conceptions about what is it to be
(or not to be) a real man. Examples of how
sex is a significant constitutive theme in
dominant masculinity narratives includes
the fact that “it is closely associated with
our sexual partners, their sexual appeal,
the size of our penises, the claims that we
make about our sexual stamina, whether
we can maintain a healthy erection and
how virile we are.” (Ratele 2011, page.399)
“To many of us, there is
nothing more frightening
than to be seen as
sexually weak! The idea
that we can also have
challenges in our sexual
life – such as early
ejaculation, infertility
or erectile problems
– is unimaginable."
From youth to adulthood, we tend to over
value our sexual performance, which is
commonly reduced to penetration and
long lasting intercourse. We often refrain
from engaging in expressions of sexuality
that involve a strong component of
communication, endearment, tenderness
or any demonstration of emotion since this
is not supposedly part of the male world.
Usually, a man who shows ‘too much’
affection, particularly to a woman, is likely
to be ridiculed by his peers and to have his
manhood questioned. How many of us have
never felt embarrassed when using terms of
endearment such as ‘darling’, ‘sweetheart’
and ‘baby’ in our relationships? How easy
has it been for us to say ‘I love you!’ to our
beloved people?
It is not surprising that in our masculinity
narratives we usually tend to represent
ourselves as sexually skilful and successful.
This is often expressed through stories of
seduction and sexual stamina, which often
resemble ‘olympic’ endurance competitions.
It is also noteworthy that having a sexual
narrative seems to be of vital importance
to many of us – so that we can confirm and
reconfirm our manhood with others. Even
if we have to make up a story, in one way
or another we seek to demonstrate how
knowledgeable and experienced we are
in sexual matters. This is probably one of
the reasons why we sometimes find almost
ridiculous gaps between what some men
tell about their sexual experiences and what
they really do or even know about sex.
To many of us, there is nothing more
frightening than to be seen as sexually
weak! The idea that we can also have
challenges in our sexual life – such as
early ejaculation, infertility or erectile
problems – is unimaginable. The
construction of a friendship with a woman
is also impossible for many of us because
we fail to regard women’s bodies as
anything other than an exclusive place for
‘realising our manhood’. Any woman we
meet is a potential target for our sexual
satisfaction. Yet, male erotic stories –
regardless of their accuracy or not – play
an important role in the construction and
reproduction of friendships among men
as well as in shaping the masculine ethos.
21
100
The issue of male engagement with multiple partners is one of the
most visible consequences of the phallocentric construction
of masculinity. It has been widely discussed and recognised as
one of the main drivers of the HIV epidemic, which needs to be
addressed in public policies and programmes across Africa.
In fact, to be (or at least to be seen as)
sexually competent, especially in the eyes
of other men, is usually ‘rewarding’ to our
manhood. This ‘competence’ includes
always being ready for a sexual adventure
and placing a high value on ‘success’ with
women, which is often translated into
engagement with several partners and
efforts to have sex without any emotional
involvement. These are very prominent
elements of manhood in our context. They
are also part of the most desirable and
celebrated forms of manhood. Usually, these
elements come with the notion that we, as
men, know all about sex and sexuality and
that we understand the matter better that
women – therefore we have to teach them
everything. But, deplorably, often the basic
physical characteristics of sex are all that we
know about sexuality. It seems to me that
we are still very far from a comprehensive
understanding of sexuality.
So, as we tend to place sex at the centre of
our relationships, our sexual stamina is like a
natural weighing-machine that tells us how
manly we are. Having an erect penis (the
tusa or kustumba in southern Mozambique)
is apparently the most important thing in
our lives. Judging by the way we tend to
overestimate and ‘obey’ our erect penises,
one would end up thinking that the rest
of the body is part of the penis and not
the other way round – or even that sexual
22
100
desire is above any other human need. To a
large extent, the male power in the society
is built on a functional and active penis.
Our sexuality and, therefore, our manhood
are generally phallocentric. This explains,
partially, why we seek to demonstrate the
functionality of our penises or exercise their
erections in many problematic ways – from
using our status to get sex (in schools,
workplaces etc.) to having many kids with
different women to engaging in sex with
multiple partners. In many cases, the
centrality of the tusa to our self-(or sex-)
esteem results in sexual assaults and other
abusive behaviour towards women.
Almost madly we tend to create a number
of arguments to sustain our efforts to praise
and satisfy our penises. One of the most
common arguments is that having several
female partners is an inherent characteristic
of what we call ‘African culture’ – so people
should not deny their own cultures. Some
men also believe that having sex with
several partners is very important to their
health as much as we need to eat different
kinds of food (Macie and Maharaj, 2011)
so “a man cannot eat the same food
every day, he needs to have a varied diet.”
(Matsinhe 2005, page.167) Another ‘reason’
is that having a lot of sex, including with
several partners, is natural because men
have greater sexual needs than women.
(Matsinhe 2005, Macie and Maharaj, 2011)
The issue of male engagement with
multiple partners is one of the most
visible consequences of the phallocentric
construction of masculinity. It has been
widely discussed and recognised as one of
the main drivers of the HIV epidemic, which
needs to be addressed in public policies
and programmes across Africa. Research
in Mozambique shows that the violation of
women’s sexual rights is also one of the root
causes of the HIV/AIDS epidemic. Many
young men are still growing up believing
that having several partners is an indicator
of real manhood. In addition, the perception
that the man is the one who has to take
control and make decisions about a couple’s
sexual life is common among young people
(Cruz e Silva, Teresa e Andrade, Ximena
2006) since they are socialised to be the
‘head’ of the relationship with their female
partners (Groes-Green 2009). Among
certain groups of men, sexuality seems to be
the last bastion of their masculinity.
According to some studies (Aboim 2008
and Groes-Green 2009), economic
dynamics where men are not necessarily
the main breadwinners any more have
challenged traditional conceptions of
masculinity. Traditionally, male power over
women was based on the man’s financial
authority and ability to provide for the
family, along with sexual dominance.
However, due to the dynamics of poverty
and unemployment many men have
not been able to conform to this ideal
of masculinity. Therefore, they have
been using sexuality to compensate
for this ‘lost’ of social power.
In this context, sexuality and violence
are reactions to this ‘crisis’ in traditional
masculinity. These men strive to keep their
manhood by sexually dominating their
partners, being unfaithful and living a life
of very liberal sexuality. Violence against
women is also an apparent alternative to
not having economic power, particularly
for young men who cannot provide their
partners with gifts and money (GroesGreen 2009). The idea behind this trend
is that if I am not economically successful
at least I am successful in seducing women
and I can offer erotic experiences through
good sexual performance and skills. Thus,
they try to preserve some control over
women through sexuality (Aboim 2008
and Groes-Green 2009). In this context, it
is not surprising that 54 percent of female
respondents to a survey on violence against
women reported having suffered some sort
of male physical and/or sexual violence at
some point in their lifetime (MMAS 2004).
Among young men, there are several
myths about not having sex. In one group
discussion with young men that I attended,
it was said that if you do not have sex
for long time ‘you will be nervous all the
time’, ‘you will become infertile’ and ‘you
can even go crazy’. In Mozambique, the
pressure for young people to behave
according to the standards expected by
their peers is often symbolized by the
notion of ‘matreco’. This expression is
very popular in young men’s slang all
over the country and it has an equivalent
word with a similar meaning in almost all
native languages. It carries a number of
ambivalent and negative connotations
about men’s attitudes and behaviour,
particularly in the context of sexuality.
The ‘matreco’ is, for instance, a man
who is not sexually pro-active or ever
seen with a female partner; is unable
to make many girls his girlfriends or
sexually ‘satisfy’ them; cannot keep his
girlfriend ‘under control’; does not show
‘attitude’ or shows ‘too much’ sensitivity;
and demonstrates ‘women-like’ attitudes
and behaviour, such as talking about
his feelings, being too emotional etc.
This notion of ‘matreco’ is dangerous
to young men and women. Under
this kind of categorisation, young
people grow up believing that the use
of strength to address interpersonal
relationship challenges – as well as (self )
exclusion from sexual and reproductive
responsibilities – is quite acceptable for
a man. And they end up engaging in a
sexual culture conducive to HIV infection
and sexual dominance over women.
Some final thoughts
Undoubtedly, the sexual terrain is one
of the central loci of masculinity and
male power in our societies. The attempt
by many men to behave according to
predominant and strongly sexualized
forms of masculinity explains a number of
challenges that we face today in the field
of sexuality and human rights. Existing
values and beliefs in the society as a
whole, along with specific expectations
placed on male individuals, also create
a favourable context for many men to
engage in dangerous masculinities. In
this article I gave a few examples on how
men tend to express masculinity and
sexuality. This is something which has
only been possible with the active – or
silent – complicity of many of our cultural
institutions. I did not intend to generalise
the ideas or examples that I raised in this
article (it is known that masculinity can
take many forms and interact with several
factors according to specific contexts)
but simply to interrogate problematic
notions of sex and masculinities.
Indeed, I think it is time for us, as men,
to challenge all harmful views, beliefs
and values about what it means to be
a man, particularly those concepts
that are harmful to women but often
negative to us too. While the kind of
men that we are today is a result of how
we have been socialised within a broad
set of social institutions, we should never
forget that through the same processes
of socialisation it is possible to unlearn
gender and masculinity myths. Besides,
social institutions can also be changed.
There is evidence that we can make changes
in the way we deal with sexuality and other
issues constitutive of masculinity. A World
Health Organization study (WHO 2007)
came to the conclusion that the behaviour
and attitudes of men and boys that have
often been considered unchangeable
can, actually, be changed and lead to
better health outcomes for men, their
partners, families and children. Therefore,
seeking change in our masculinities is
not only beneficial for the millions of
"These men strive to keep
their manhood by sexually
dominating their partners,
being unfaithful and
living a life of very
liberal sexuality.
Violence against women
is also an apparent
alternative to not having
economic power..."
23
100
women whose bodies have been used as
the terrain for many of us to exert our
dominance but also to our own health. It
is an opportunity to develop knowledge
and skills that will allow us to fully enjoy
positive and healthy expressions of
sexuality, which we have been neglecting
for the sake of being a superman.
The idea of ‘African culture’ as an
excuse to continue practices that violate
women’s human rights seems to me, in
many ways, a very difficult argument to
sustain. There are not any attitudes or
behaviours that are essentially ‘African’,
that would genuinely distinguish us from
the rest of the world and that are not
subjected to historical and social change.
Mixed Messages:
Furthermore, the complete welfare of
African women and girls – a reality that has
been historically denied and continuously
postponed in most of our countries – should
be placed above any culture. We should
consider it an ultimate goal in itself.
The Ideological Schizophrenia of
Men’s Organizing Around Fathering
By Stephanie Leitch
As men, I think we have a huge responsibility
towards the women of our communities.
Praising our cultures should not hinder
the advancement of human rights. We
should redirect the efforts that we tend
to waste on realising our manhood into
addressing the challenges that many women
face as a result of our own behaviour and
discriminatory social institutions. For me,
this is what it means to be more responsible
to the society that we are part of!
Stephanie Leitch is a social activist and conceptual artist. Her
work focuses on issues of gender equality through performance
and organizing. Her mediums include installation, public space
intervention, street theatre and film. Stephanie is currently
pursuing a Master's Degree at the Institute of Gender and
Development Studies UWI, St. Augustine and has been
a tutor within the department for the past three years. In
line with her popular alias Barefoot Contessa, Stephanie
produces the series Barefoot Trails on the Caribbean's
premiere art magazine ARC's web-platform, as well as weekly
features at the Trinidad Express WOMAN magazine.
I
References
Aboim, Sofia (2008) “Masculinidades
na encruzilhada: hegemonia, dominação
e hibridismo em Maputo” in: Análise
Social, vol. XLIII (2.º), 2008, 273-295
Cruz e Silva, Teresa e Andrade, Ximena
(2006) “Feminização do SIDA em
Moçambique: a cidade de Maputo, Quelimane
e distrito de Inhassunge na província da
Zambézia como estudos de caso”, in: Outras
Vozes nº 10. Maputo: WLSA Moçambique
Groes-Green, Christian (2009) “Hegemonic
and Subordinated Masculinities: Class,
Endnotes
1. Noticias 14 de Janeiro de 2012. Maputo
24
100
Violence and Sexual Performance Among
Young Mozambican Men” in Nordic
Journal of African Studies 18(4): 286–304
Matsinhe, Cristiano (2005) Tábula rasa;
dinâmica da resposta moçambicana ao
HIV/SIDA. Maputo: texto editores
Macia, Manuel & Maharaj, Pranitha
(2011) “As noções de masculinidade
mais dominantes que influenciam o
comportamento sexual dos homens em
Moçambique” in; Teles, Nair et al (orgs)
Mosaico Sociólogico. Maputo: UEM
MMAS (2004) National Survey on Violence
Against Women. Maputo: MMAS
Osório (2009) “Initiation rites a much-needed
debate” in; Outras Vozes, Suplemento do
boletim n° 28. Maputo: WLSA Moçambique
Ratele, Kopano (2011) “Male sexualities and
masculinities” in Tamale, Sylvia (ed.) African
sexualities. Cape Town: Pambazuka News
WHO (2007). Engaging men and
boys in changing gender-based
inequity in health: Evidence from
programme interventions. Geneva
n the Caribbean, there are a number of men’s groups who
advocate for the rights of men and one of their primary
concerns is parenting. Considering the extensive theorising
around ‘male absenteeism’ in the region by both Anglo and
Caribbean scholars in an attempt to explain dysfunctional
Caribbean homes, this recent phenomenon of male activism
around father’s rights takes on some level of poetic irony.
According to the Single Father’s Association of Trinidad and
Tobago (SFATT), the reason that so many female-headed
households exist in the Caribbean is not because men are
absent but because they have been forcibly pushed out of their
children’s lives. As a result, their attempts to achieve ‘equality’
within the legal justice framework in relation to custody and
visitation rights have been consistently anti-woman and antifeminist in their approach. In other words, women and mothers
have become the new enemy of functional families, even
though the ways families are seen as functioning has shifted.
Renowned Caribbean feminist scholar Rhoda Reddock argues
that a ‘new men’s movement’ emerged in the Caribbean in the
1990s. Some of the more active groups concerned with parenting
across the region include the Caribbean Male Action Network
(CARIMAN), Fathers Incorporated (recently re-named ‘The
Barry Chevannes Fathers' Resource Centre) in Jamaica, the Men’s
Educational Support Association (MESA) in Barbados, and the
SFATT. According to Reddock, men’s groups typically take one of
three forms: men’s rights that seek to ‘regain’ rights that have been
taken; conservative men’s groups that advocate for a reversion
to the ‘ways things were’ based on a divine or religious basis; and
pro-feminist men’s groups, which are committed to rethinking
masculinity and acknowledging how traditional gender roles have
been detrimental to women and men. Some positive examples
of male organising include the regional organisation CARIMAN,
which is widely cross-sectional in its advocacy and committed to
gender justice, and Fathers Incorporated, which was founded by
one of the Caribbean’s most significant male feminist scholars
and activists Barry Chevannes. However, the work of these
groups is not very visible for a number of reasons. Despite the
ambition and promises of the Caribbean Community Secretariat
(CARICOM), many island states remain disconnected from each
other and civil society organisations have not been much more
successful in establishing sustainable networks at a regional level.
25
100
Mixed Messages: The Ideological Schizophrenia of Men’s Organizing Around Fathering
...these courts remain largely resistant to acknowledging rape within marriage
and many have aggressive anti-abortion laws, which reinforce the notion
that women and their offspring are the property of husband and state.
A contextual appreciation
There has been a call for fairness in law by outfits such as SFATT,
based on the notion of a ‘traditional bias’ towards women with
regards to the custody of children. However, this requires an
interrogation of what existed before and whether or not men
and fathers have always held a disadvantaged position in relation
to the way family and civil cases have legally been decided.
Legislation around marriage, divorce, maintenance and custody have
historically marginalised the needs of women as wives and mothers,
calling into question the victim status of men within the family court.
Based on colonial law, which has persisted within the Caribbean,
women and children have been considered property of the patriarch.
Divorces were hard to come by both legally and socially for women,
who were bound to marriages out of the fear of losing their children.
The pervasiveness of patriarchal ideology within law also had other
implications for women’s bodily autonomy and reproductive capacity
– elements of which are still visible within Caribbean courts. For
example, these courts remain largely resistant to acknowledging rape
within marriage and many have aggressive anti-abortion laws, which
reinforce the notion that women and their offspring are the property
of husband and state. In many cases, women have been denied fair
compensation in divorce settlements if they do not work outside the
home and have been viewed as not contributing to familial assets.
It was not until 1981 that the Trinidad and Tobago Matrimonial
Proceedings and Property Act was amended to include the
‘contributions made by each of the parties to the welfare of the family,
including any contribution made by looking after the home or caring
for the family’ and that the Status of Child Act acknowledged the
equal status of children born out of wedlock. Nearly twenty years
later, the Cohabitational Relationships Act of 1998 acknowledged
these informal unions and made provisions for the maintenance of
children produced both within and outside of those relationships.
This brief overview helps to contextualize some of the legislative
tensions that have existed around issues of intimate-partner
26
100
relations and parenting, which had – and continue to have
– highly gendered implications, particularly in relation to
women’s negotiations around economic and social autonomy.
Women have borne the burden of inadequate remuneration
for their domestic contributions, been confined to marriages
out of the fear of losing their children and assets, and been
vulnerable to a lack of protection outside of formal marriage.
If SFATT’s claim of a legal bias towards women does exist, the
gender relations of power become significant to understanding
the shift in the legal system’s approach to family over time and is
not an ahistorical phenomena that can be ‘fixed’ by ensuring that
women have an equal chance of losing custody of their children.
A closer look at SFATT
Founded just a year ago in August 2012, SFATT primarily
advocates for legislative reform and has enjoyed high levels
of media attention and visibility since its inception. There
were over a dozen published articles in Trinidad and Tobago’s
three major daily papers – the Trinidad and Tobago Newsday,
Trinidad Express Newspapers and Trinidad and Tobago
Guardian – between September 2012 and June 2013. Textual
analyses of these articles reflect a very strong anti-woman
position by members of SFATT, which is couched in, and
justified by, the language of equality, based on the assumption
that women hold unequal power within the family and
access to this power is being actively withheld from men.
In its own words, SFATT is an advocacy group, primarily
concerned with the ‘injustice meted out to children who have
been forcibly estranged from their fathers’ (SFATT website).
The President of SFATT, Rhondall Feeles, who functions as
the voice box for his membership said that, "We believe that if
the court systems [were] more on a level playing field women
[would] stand just as great a chance as men of losing custody
of their kids and having to pay maintenance…the court has now
become a house of revenge for relationships gone sour.” (Wayow,
“Single Fathers’ Association: Court system needs to change”).
Members of SFATT have been successful in acknowledging how
gender roles have created the perception that men are less capable
at parenting, without an equal sensitivity to how this organising
structure may also work to privilege women and mothers within
the ‘private sphere’ of the family. There is much talk about the
unfair labelling of men as ‘deadbeat dads’ and incapable of
being ‘natural nurturers’, which are legitimate concerns in need
of interrogating and yet a strategy aimed at the transformation
of these ideas remains absent from the organisation’s approach.
Instead, the group overwhelmingly promotes the idea that the
legal system is being co-opted by bad women who ‘abuse the
system since they are not called upon to account to the same
extent as men’. (Hanoomansingh, “Single fathers who care”)
Women are being constructed as ‘money whores’ and ‘sacrificers
of children’, who will keep fathers at bay by any means necessary.
According to Feeles, “Maintenance is real popular, they have
no problem...they not going to say, ‘give me less money’. They
never ask for less money, they always asking for more.” (ibid)
Another member interviewed on Father’s Day echoed similar
sentiments saying that, “It is a fact that some child maintenance
money never goes to the child but to finance personal leisure needs.
Any survey will show that around Carnival time, some children in
these situations don’t get the money allotted to them because of
Carnival expenses.” (Waldropt-Ferguson, “I am a Single Father”)
However, the most startling claim came from the organisation’s
Public Relations Officer, Dexter Mahadeo, who accused women of
using the ‘trump card’ of sexual abuse to bar men from seeing their
children. These kinds of attacks on women, whether or not they
hold any truth, offer no real challenge to the structural inequality
based on the institutionalisation of gender within law, nor do they
create space for building alliances with women or encouraging
the support of women’s organisations, which have been doing
work within the region around parenting for the past thirty years.
An analysis of the justice system’s resistance to the increased
participation of men and fathers needs to extend outside of
a conspiracy between women and the state, if any progress
is to be made. According to Feeles, the association has
begun to assist men who have been abused with the help
of professional psychologists and lawyers, and has also
launched a community outreach project to encourage
fathers to become more involved in their children’s lives.
On a superficial level, these initiatives seem useful, but outside of
public pronouncements there is little evidence that these efforts
have prioritised action-based solutions that address the critical
areas of power and privilege, which act as necessary precursors
to a progressive politics of masculinity. This does not mean that
men should not be counselled if abused, but if an unequal amount
of time and resources are being put into responding to male
perpetrators of violence how useful is an equality-argument when
we know that women are disproportionately (to put it mildly)
affected by gender-based violence? It also seems unlikely that any
programming led by the organisation will sufficiently challenge
the construction of gender roles, if women are being painted in
ways that do not promote an understanding of the positionalities
of women and men and the motivations that inform decisions
around parenting. It remains unclear how SFATT is actually
engaging and inspiring male participation in children’s lives, in ways
that promote gender equity and justice and act as a challenge
to the institutionalisation of gender within the legal framework.
What is particularly curious is the way that single parent families
themselves are being constructed, with seemingly contradictory
sentiments being expressed by SFATT’s executive. On more
than one occasion, Feeles seems to have drawn a link between
‘broken homes’ and criminality, claiming that, “domestic and
family issues were the main cause of many of the problems in
society and crime would be decreased drastically if those issues
were addressed.” (ibid) He further suggested that the court
system was weighted against men because they were ‘no longer
in the matrimonial home’. (Ali, “Dads in despair”) This presents
an ostensibly negative evaluation of single parent households
and other non-normative arrangements, which is then mapped
onto the courts that sanction men for breaking the nuclear unit.
Feeles also attempts to offer some kind of socio-historical
justifications for his claims, vis-à-vis the ‘single mother and
father syndrome’, which he identified as the source of children’s
suffering and has been ‘developing at a fast rate in Trinidad and
Tobago’. According to the article, ‘children born and abandoned
out of wedlock’ – or more specifically ‘fatherless children’ – ‘are a
growing phenomenon, especially in rural areas.’ (ibid) Based on
this evaluation, Feeles decided to accept women into SFATT’s
membership. In other words, this implies that morally depraved
women, who have been having children out of wedlock and
contributing to the incidence of single parent homes, need to
be corrected through the guidance of SFATT, and that children,
who are not living within the domicile of the paternal parent,
are fatherless and have been abandoned. This concept is of
course based on the inaccurate and unhistorical notion that
single parent households are somehow a new phenomenon
that is on the rise (see further Christine Barrow, 1999), further
compounded by the reproduction and re-inscription of imperial
discourses of how men and women can successfully contribute
to family life, which is solely understood through, and weighed
against, the singular construct of heterosexual marriage.
27
100
Mixed Messages: The Ideological Schizophrenia of Men’s Organizing Around Fathering
Meanwhile, Mahadeo, who is largely responsible for SFATT’s
web-content, shares this negative evaluation of single parenting,
although his justifications lie in mental health, rationality and
‘belief ’. In his post “The Legal System is in a bind – and it’s
not their fault” Mahadeo says, “Both rational mentally healthy
adults…should be able to work on their misunderstandings and
resolve their differences and not separate in the first place.
And, personally, I believe this is where a strong and common
central belief system proves invaluable.” However, his concluding
statements in the same post reveal quite different sentiments,
which are more in line with SFATT’s political aims of shared
parenting, expressed through reminding women and mothers
of their unfair advantage. “Yet, there still may be some light. If
the legal system reviews the recent research...it would realise
that equal shared parenting and dual residences for the child
can alleviate the pain and suffering of all parties involved; even
that of the victor in the custody battle who, if she is wise, would
realise she has lost more than she has won.” These sentiments
beg many questions of the motivation and direction of this group,
which seems to be advocating for a return to traditional gender
roles and the reinstitution of formal unions between men and
women, as opposed to the valuing of single parent arrangements.
Concluding reflections
"If the legal system reviews the recent
research...it would realise that equal
shared parenting and dual residences
for the child can alleviate the pain and
suffering of all parties involved; even
that of the victor in the custody battle
who, if she is wise, would realise she
has lost more than she has won."
It is quite obvious that the fathers of SFATT are being driven by their emotions: the
pain of being separated from their children and the anger that they direct towards
women and the legal system, which they blame for their disenfranchised position. These
emotions are important to organising and have indeed compelled women to start
movements and sustain them. However, if women restricted their critique of the world
to the level of individual men and failed to address the pervasive structural inequalities
that keep women subordinated, or the ideologies that informed those structures in
the first place, they would willingly embrace the imposed banner of man-hater.
This does not mean that SFATT or other organisations committed to men’s engagement
with family need to change their focus away from men but that their priorities need to be
identified within the larger context of the society and an awareness of the intersectional
nature of oppression based on the power inherent in gender relations between individuals
and within structures. This awareness can help to guide and fashion an appropriate
response by men’s organisations in support of fathers and family, so that they can begin
to meaningfully engage with the critical issues of fatherhood and gender justice.
Outside of the organisation’s unabated criticism of women,
SFATT still lacks a clearly defined politics of how fathers can
critically engage with mothers, communities and structures,
including the law, in order to produce equitable relationships
between parents and their children. In thinking about how
other men’s groups have been organising in the region, SFATT
would do well to study organisations like CARIMAN, which
offer an exemplary and advanced understanding of gender
relations, how they function in relation to parenting, the law and
a number of other areas that are related and cross-sectional.
One of CARIMAN’s positive strategies has been to partner
with women’s organisations that share a commitment to
gender justice and family. One example is UNIFEM’s ‘Share
the Care’ campaign in 2010, which used research undertaken
in Barbados and Trinidad in 2008 entitled Child Support,
Gender Equality and the Administration of Justice. This
highlighted the unequal burden of care on women and the
poverty in households headed by single women, and was used to
mobilise stakeholders regionally, with CARIMAN’s input being
critical and representative of men’s perspectives (CARIMAN
website). This type of intervention supports the importance of
research-driven advocacy within formal organisations because,
as those who organise will tell you, if you do not know what
the problem is, you cannot work toward creating a solution.
28
100
References
Ali Azard, “Dads in despair,” Trinidad and
Tobago Newsday, November 5, 2012
Act http://rgd.legalaffairs.gov.tt/laws2/
alphabetical_list/lawspdfs/45.51.pdf
CARIMAN http://cariman.org/
Single Father’s Association of Trinidad and
Tobago http://www.sfatt.org/
Hanoomansingh Peter, “Single Fathers who
care,” Guardian Media Limited, July 23, 2013
Matrimonial Proceedings and Property
Waldropt-Ferguson, “I am a single father,”
Trinidad Express Newspapers, June 14, 2012.
Wayow Sue-Ann, “Single Fathers’ Association:
Court system needs to change,” Trinidad
Express Newspapers, September 13, 2012.
Wayow Sue-Ann, “Single father call for ‘Family
Ministry,’” Trinidad Express Newspapers,
December 11, 2012
29
100
Elongation of the Labia Minora: A Violation of Women’s Bodily Autonomy
Elongation of the Labia Minora:
A Violation of women’s bodily autonomy
By Chanda Buumba Katongo
Chanda Buumba Katongo is a young Zambian women’s rights activist and award
winning journalist. It has always been Chanda’s ambition to be a champion of young
people’s sexual reproductive health and rights and a major player in the public health
sector, one who will influence positive changes in the lives of young people, especially
young women. She is currently working as Gender Programmes and Advocacy Officer
at Youth Vision Zambia, an NGO dedicated to providing sexual reproductive health
information and services. Chanda also works with a feminist organisation called
Generation Alive, which is committed to amplifying young women’s voices, visibility
and collective organising power to change the norms, institutions and policies that
perpetuate inequality and violence.
I
often feel defied by the reflection
of my own body when I look in the
mirror, because what I see in the mirror
brings me to the realisation, whether I am
conscious about it or not, that like most
young African women I have little or no
control over my own body and sexuality.
I still have vivid memories of my early teenage
days when my sisters and I were constantly
being told to pull our labia minora (inner
vaginal lips). We were bombarded with
multiple coercive reminders to pull our labia
minora for reasons that were never clearly
explained to us apart from: “Girls who do not
stretch their labia minora never get married.”
As if that were not enough, every now and
then when my auntie was round, she would
‘inspect’ how far we had gone with pulling
our labia minora, by making us lie down
on our backs and conducting a physical
inspection of our genitals. The problem
was that each time I tried to manually tug
on my labia minora, I found it very painful
and I would immediately stop – leaving
myself feeling ill-treated and confused.
30
100
I recall my auntie and some other female
relatives explaining to me that the reason
for stretching the labia minora is for sexual
enhancement – but sexual enhancement
that is primarily aimed at granting sexual
satisfaction to the male partner. But it
never excited me that my vagina had to be
modified for the sexual gratification of a man.
A man who I had not even met or seen yet,
someone who I was not even sure I wanted
to meet ever in my life. Eventually, because
the practice made me feel uncomfortable,
I stopped and promised myself that I would
not put myself through that pain again.
But I had still been forced to experience
what I consider forced bodily modification
and bodily interference because my aunties
made me conform to the social construct
that suggested that I would not be attractive
to men if my labia minora were not the
‘desirable’ length. It goes without saying
that having been coerced into pulling my
labia minora as a teen, I was denied my
right to bodily integrity and the liberty to
make my own choices about my body.
Ku-kuna imichino
The Zambian phrase ‘ku-kuna imichino’
translates as ‘pulling/stretching the labia
minora’. It is a process during which a girl
pulls her inner labia (labia minora) in order
to make them longer. The lengthening
of the labia minora is a common practice
in many African cultures, particularly in
sub-Saharan Africa. Sporadic information
can be found to confirm that several tribes
and ethnic communities in Congo, Malawi,
Mozambique, South Africa, Namibia,
Zambia and Zimbabwe practice labia minora
stretching – a practice that is very common
in Rwanda, Uganda Burundi, and Benin.1
Typically, Zambian young women are
expected to get married and then they
are expected to fulfil their husbands’
sexual desires – and the elongation of
their labia minora is one of the ways
to supposedly ensure sexual pleasure
for their husbands, as prescribed by
cultural norms and traditions that are
often not questioned or challenged.
Supporters of labia
minora elongation say that
stretching the labia minora
is different from female
genital mutilation because
the process of elongating
the labia minora does not
involve any cutting or
wounding of a woman’s
genitals whatsoever.
Pulling the labia minora is taught to many
young girls in Zambia at puberty or even
before puberty for the purpose of enhancing
a man’s sexual pleasure and this is based on
the belief that elongated labia minora increase
sexual pleasure for both a man and woman
during intercourse. This traditional practice
is so deeply rooted in Zambian culture that it
is not a question of whether a girl will begin
stretching her labia minora, but when she
will begin stretching. And most parents –
including urban parents – ensure that their
daughters are taught how to be ‘sexually
appealing’ and are told to begin pulling their
labia minora from as early as ten years old.
Usually, a girl’s auntie, grandmother or some
other female relative, who has bought into this
social construct, is the one who introduces this
practice to a young girl. At the specified time,
the girl’s female relatives will sit her down in a
secluded place and teach her how to stretch
her labia minora. She will be taught verbally,
and sometimes through demonstration –
learning exactly what to stretch and how to
go about the whole process of pulling. Some
girls are told to use Vaseline during the process
of ‘pulling’ the labia minora, while others
are told to use local leaves or herbs that are
said to soften the skin of the labia minora so
that the process of pulling the labia minora
will be easier. It is believed that the herbal
substances or leaves that are used during
elongation of the labia also help to keep the
stretched labia minora at the desired length.
The process of stretching the labia minora must
be done on a regular basis and for an extended
period of time in order for the labia minora to
reach the expected length. A young woman
usually does the manual stretching of her labia
minora on her own, with possible inspection
and continued guidance from a female family
member. Indeed, women will continue to pull
their inner labia even after they are married.
Women who choose not to abide by or submit
to this cultural expectation are regarded as
defiant and insubordinate girls/women.
The social pressure that young women
are put under to pull their labia minora is a
valid basis for classifying the practice as an
injustice – and a violation of a women’s right
to control their own bodies and sexualities.
Indeed, I believe that this practice is done
in the name of a culture that uses sex and
violence to control women’s bodies in ways
that force us to remain subordinate to men.
Pleasure or Pain?
Supporters of labia minora elongation say that
stretching the labia minora is different from
female genital mutilation because the process
of elongating the labia minora does not involve
any cutting or wounding of a woman’s genitals
whatsoever. The practice is defended on the
basis that it not only upholding ‘African’ culture,
but is also ‘not harmful to women’ – and is
done for the ‘positive’ purpose of increasing
sexual pleasure for both men and women
(unlike the more brutal forms of female genital
mutilation, which severely reduce a woman’s
chances of experiencing sexual pleasure).
I talked to several young women in Zambia
to garner their personal views on labia minora
elongation. Some said that the practice
of elongating their labia minora was like
an accessory to them, and confessed to
believing that longer labia are likely to
keep their male partners ‘faithful’ to them.
Some confessed that having elongated
labia minora gave them a feeling of selfsatisfaction, self-worth and pride. And I
know some young women who perceive their
experiences of elongating their labia minora
as a positive practice that offers increased
sexual pleasure for them and their male
partners. These women view the stretching
of the labia as a way of beautifying their
genitals to arouse and appease their male
partners in the bedroom. They thus perceive
labial elongation as a positive practice in
their lives linked to sexual fulfilment.
This shows that while there are social
pressures to elongate one’s labia minora, a lot
of women regard the process of stretching
their labia as a positive force in their lives,
not for their own sexual pleasure but for the
pleasure of their male partners and for the
purpose of cultural identity. Even though this
‘positive’ feeling is associated with the burden
of ‘keeping’ their male partners faithful to
their marriage. When asked about the pain
involved during the process of tugging and
pulling the labia minora, some replied that the
pain was worth it – illustrating how powerful
the social and cultural pressures are around
labia stretching. Indeed, many women see
it as a cultural practice that increases social
integration and maintains social cohesion.
On the other hand, opponents of labia
minora elongation emphasise that the
practice is detrimental to the health and
wellbeing of women and describe it as
a cultural form of abuse and violence
against women and link it to the violation
of women’s human rights. Indeed, the
World Health Organisation (WHO)
classifies the elongation of the labia minora
as a form of female genital mutilation
(FGM) – grouping it with the other FGM
procedures, such as female circumcision,
which pose serious health hazards. 2
31
100
Elongation of the Labia Minora: A Violation of Women’s Bodily Autonomy
So while supporters of labia minora elongation
claim that it is a cultural practice that is aimed
at increasing women’s sexual satisfaction,
institutions like the WHO, health specialists,
women’s rights activists, feminists and other
groups condemn the practice, saying that – on
the contrary – this practice lessens women’s
sexual satisfaction. In particular, critics of
the practice argue that stretching the labia
minora reduces a woman’s sensitivity during
sexual acts, stressing that the ‘more the
labia minora is pulled the more the clitoris
is shrunk and the clitoris eventually ends
up receding inside the vagina, therefore
reducing women’s chances of reaching
sexual climax’. (Fekit, 1996, pages 112-113)
And although it has been stated that longer
labia minora offer sexual pleasure for both the
men and women, my conversations with some
Zambian women about this practice have
indicated that women are probably elongating
their labia to appease their men in the
bedroom and not for their own sexual pleasure.
So is this practice really aimed at increasing
the sexual pleasure of both women and
men? It seems that it is more about the
sexual satisfaction – and gratification – of
men. That is the bottom line! And as young
African women, we pay the price for this not
only through the pain and irreversible bodily
modifications, but also through losing control
of our sexualities. This is a reflection of how sex
can really be about men’s sexual pleasure and
women are just there to facilitate their pleasure.
Culture vs. bodily autonomy
Any discourse on the cultural practice of
pulling the labia minora should not ignore or
omit the issue of consensual versus nonconsensual engagement in this practice. As
has already been alluded to, girls are usually
introduced to this practice by female relatives
and are not given options or asked to consent
to the modifications that they are being taught
to make to their bodies. Therefore, in my
opinion, it is fair to say that this practice is a
violation of women’s right to bodily autonomy.
32
100
Reclaiming women’s bodily autonomy
"...girls are usually introduced to this practice
by female relatives and are not given options
or asked to consent to the modifications that
they are being taught to make to their bodies."
If the practice of labia minora elongation was
done with the full consent and agreement of
young women and girls, then it may be more
feasible to disassociate this cultural practice
from the violation of women’s bodies and
rights since women would be consenting to the
practice and they would be pulling their labia
minora because they want to. If this were the
case, I would consider classifying labia minora
elongation as a valid customary practice.
However, the reality is that, like other forms
of FGM practiced in other parts of Africa,
young women and girls are given very little
room for choice around this issue due to the
powerful influences of culture and tradition.
to patriarchal authority and its
control of female sexuality, which are
the norm in communities where a woman’s
lineage is traced through her father, are
considered seditious and insubordinate.
Among the population of young women
who are educated, living in urban settings
and less dependent on their male partners,
some have been brave enough to resist
these harmful cultural practices. They
have become more and more aware of the
politics that surround their bodies and the
role these cultural practices play in denying
them their bodily autonomy and integrity,
as well as their self-worth and wellbeing.
It is also important to take cognisance of the
fact that – because of our lack of choice and
the powerful influence of tradition and culture
– many girls in Zambia accept the practice
of labia minora elongation as a necessary,
and even natural, part of their lives and have
adopted the rationales given for the existence
of this practice. Another problematic cultural
practice that has been normalised is the use
of herbs to make the vagina ‘dry’, which is a
practice that is based on the belief that men
enjoy dry sex. It is also important to make
mention that these cultural practices, which
require women to make modifications to their
genitals to please their male partners during
sex, increase women’s chances of contracting
HIV and expose them to other diseases too.
This is when it begins to feel as though
culture is an enemy of young women.
Yet culture and tradition should not be
the enemies of young women. Instead,
they should involve a set of historical
traditions, knowledge and values whose
adaptation should remain relevant in
contemporary society. I believe that within
an African context, culture can offer us
indispensable values such as communal
support and universal respect, which
make up the essence of ‘human rights’
as they are now globally framed. But in
many cases, culture is used to entrench
inequalities between men and women in
ways that further subordinate women.
Considerable societal pressure is brought to
bear on a girl who refuses to conform to the
tradition of labia elongation. As has been
alluded to earlier, those that do not conform
So can these negative aspects of
culture be modified or eliminated to
provide the foundation for progressive
societal norms that will support the
realisation of the rights of women?
The practice of labia elongation should
be construed as a means of policing the
female body and should continue to be
described as such as long as it continues
to deny women the opportunity to make
choices or exercise autonomy over their
own bodies. Unfortunately, autonomy and
choice are concepts that are often unavailable
to women in societies that practice labia
elongation and other forms of female genital
mutilation. This is proven by the practice of
labia elongation, which requires disfiguring of
the female body for cultural reasons that are
not very clear, in ways that deny women the
opportunity to make autonomous choices
about the shape or look of their vaginas.
It must also be mentioned that it is pointless
to concentrate on whether the elongation
of the labia is a ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ practice.
Instead the dialogue around this controversial
matter should set the stage for the creation
of an effective and meaningful cross-cultural
which is deeply rooted and clearly at play
within these harmful cultural practices.
dialogue that can lead to the restoration
of women’s bodily and sexual autonomy.
This dialogue needs to acknowledge and
address patriarchal control over women’s
bodies and women’s sexualities, which are
context specific, culturally defined and
often reinscribed by women. Indeed, the
restoration of women’s bodily autonomy
and integrity calls for a long term ideological
struggle against cultural practices that
stimulate patriarchal domination and violate
young women’s bodies and sexualities.
My observation is that mainstream initiatives
or efforts against female genital mutilation –
and other cultural forms of violation against
women’s bodies – in sub-Saharan Africa are
apolitical and do not factor in the oppression
of women in more holistic terms but focus on
addressing the acts of violence associated
with individual practices. And although some
of these efforts have dared to focus on issues
of class and gender in their analysis of female
genital mutilation, there has not been much
attention paid to patriarchal sexual control,
Feminist analyses of female genital mutilation
and female genital modification stem from
a starting point of patriarchy coupled with
an understanding of the function of sex,
sexuality and culture in upholding an unequal
and oppressive society. This approach
provides a useful framework for the analysis
of female genital mutilation in sub-Saharan
Africa since it focuses on the lived realities
of African women and the structures that
shape their lives. Of particular interest is
the subjugated knowledge of marginalised
women and the structures that are in place
to contribute to the oppression of women in
ways that deny women their bodily autonomy
and the ability to control their sexualities.
Self-awareness of the body politics at
play in African women’s lives is significant.
Continued feminist discourses on the female
body are necessary in order to provide greater
insights into women's rights to pleasure.
References
Fekit, Hithen 1996. Female Bodies & African Culture.
McFarland, Michigan
Internet Sources
http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/labia_stretching#-mw-search
http://www.fgmnetwork.org/gonews.php?subaction=showfull&
id=1203781002&
Endnotes
1. Labia Stretching http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/labia_stretching cited:
23rd March 2013.
2. Female Genital Mutilation, Education & Networking http://www.
fgmnetwork.org/gonews.php?subaction=showfull&id=1203781002&
33
100
Menstruating and Masturbating: The Stains and Strains of Experiencing Bodily Pleasure for Women
Menstruating and Masturbating:
The stains and strains of experiencing bodily
pleasure for women
By Glenda Muzenda
Glenda Muzenda is a PhD candidate with an interest in sociology,
focusing on gender and sexuality in Africa. She is currently working
in South Africa on sexuality in the context of significance, pleasure
and agency of young girls as well as how to engage men and boys in the
development discourse. As human rights advocate, she is also interested
in how these ideas intersect with Ubuntu, culture and policy.
I
n everyday life, knowledge of life is not shaped
only by theory. It is also our experiences that
produce what we claim to know. I spent over seven
years in a Catholic boarding school in Zimbabwe,
which formed a critical part of my socialisation. My
experiences around issues of sexuality exposed me
to particular hierarchies and gender relations. Older
girls had their own sleeping areas and only a few slept
in the same dorm as us. Education and classes were
rigorous. Our life was routine. We woke up at 6am,
showered before breakfast at 7am and started school
at 8am on the dot. It was important to follow the
routine. Play time was limited to conversations with
nuns while knitting the world’s largest quilt. In fact,
they were not conversations but rather monologues
on the morality and purity of young girls relating to
sexuality and mostly we just nodded in ‘agreement’.
Aged seven, I questioned things a lot and got into
trouble a lot. The older girls were very much like
sisters and we soon became very close and had
access to their dormitories, which were spacious
and allowed for more clothes and shoes. They also
had perfume, which they sprayed in our armpits
on the Saturdays when boys came for our oncea-month social nights. They made sure that there
were leaders in our group who took the young girls
back to the dorms to sleep while they remained
with the boys. They were the gate-keepers, who
knew what was going on at any given time, and
who took us in and showed us the ropes.
34
100
By the time I turned eight, I
attended night rituals that started
as a discussion with my friend and
became sessions devoted to labia
elongation. Saru*1 was in my class
from grade one and she shared a
bunk with me. She was the one who
gave instructions to several other
girls. In my group there were about
six girls that met every evening.
I was inquisitive and would not
have been left out and did not need further coercing to be part of
this group. But what took place behind the washing line was never
discussed or talked about. A blanket was laid out on the wet grass
and we were asked to sit. Having been asked to take our underwear
off before arriving, we sat with our legs wide open. I remember
being asked if I wanted to become a good woman with a wonderful
house and a husband – after which she searched for my small inner
lips, found them and rubbed them between her fingers. *Sarudzai
was the one who further instructed me to grab the ‘nyanga’ (horns
in English) – or my inner labia – and stretch them. I agreed to the
process of stretching and pulling my labia and I never questioned
it. I am not sure why I said nothing at that point, although a lot of
questions are lingering in my mind now. There was little talking
or noise during these activities, which took place every night in
different ways.
By the time I turned eight, I
attended night rituals that
started as a discussion with
my friend and became sessions
devoted to labia elongation.
The next year saw changes in our bodies, my breasts popped out
like small raisins, while other girls became quite full in the chest area.
From girls with flat chests, to blossoming bosoms to fully breasted
girls, we all took turns being visited by our sisters. Girls with fully
grown pubic hair also had their own meetings about how to groom
their body and shave their pubic hair when it was ‘overgrown’. I
heard some say that when their pubic hair was moist from sporting
activities it caused body odour, which was not acceptable to – and
was indeed punished by – the nuns because they linked it to sexual
activeness or the start of sexual intercourse. Although I was still
flat chested and had barely any hair in my pubic area, I was allowed
to join the older girls on their nightly rendezvous. Over time I
participated in the nightly ‘lip elongating calls’, which took place from
the time I was 9 and continued – although less and less frequently –
until I turned 11. The group sessions became less regular as the girls
grew older because they could do the pulling on their own and in
their own time rather than waiting to do it in a group, since they had
been taught how to by the older girls, who also looked forward to
initiating new recruits.
In the shower room, we all lined up to shower one after the other
– with mostly the flat breasted girls washing in the open, while the
other girls who had fully developed
breasts and pubic hair washed in
cubicles or before the official waking
time in order to avoid conduct with
those of us who were still ‘virgin
minded’. We were only allowed to
use a cubicle when it was vacant
but if one of the older girls came,
we had to scram or face her wrath
for not vacating it – and we never
questioned an older girl for pushing
a younger girl out of a cubicle.
One morning, while waiting to shower, I noticed a piece of bloodied
cotton wool fall out of the heater, which I later discovered was an
incinerator. I can vividly remember feeling as if I had been struck
on my head as I gazed at the cotton wool on the wet floor, with the
blood trickling into the pool of water in the main room. The nun
on duty had arrived to remind me to take my shower since I was
standing their mesmerised by the sight of so much blood. Her eyes
told me not to even think about asking a question – so I ran into the
cold shower.
Menstruation was a hidden process for most girls my age. Only
when we showed visible signs of development were we allowed to
talk about the changes happening to our bodies – and only when we
were acknowledged by a nun or an older girl. What we learned on
our own and in our own contexts was disregarded. The ‘developed’
girls (about 35) lived in different, private dorms with single beds for
each girl, unlike ours that housed over 150 plus students of varying
ages in open bunks beds.
The secrecy around menstruation during my school years meant it
could just as well have been a plague – and what should have been a
normal process for any girl became traumatic for some, such as Saru,
who moved beds and became reclusive in her behaviour. Fearful of
being seen throwing her soiled sanitary towels away, she hid them
under her bed – planning to dispose of them later. But by the end
of the week, they gave a stench and the senior matron found out.
She called her to show her the stained mattress and lashed her while
we watched. She was told that she would have to wash earlier with
the older girls, about how to clean herself and about not playing
with boys. She told us that she had started menstruating over a year
before and had been told by the older girls to keep it hidden and
never tell anyone who had not started ‘bleeding’ yet. Neither the
nuns nor the senior matrons ever talked to us about menstruation ds
or explained to us how our bodies would change. Periods were never
discussed. And we never questioned what was happening. In fact,
asking questions about menstruation was never an option.
35
100
Discourses on menstruation
Menstruation is a critical part of a woman’s reproductive health, yet
it has been shrouded in mythical tales and secrecy. Several taboos
restrict the acceptance of menstruation as a normal process that
women and girls go through in life. Social and cultural restrictions
have made it difficult for girls and women to participate in family
gatherings when they are menstruating. In some cases, women are
not allowed to cook in the kitchen or use the same rooms as family
members when menstruating. Often women in my community
would not cook when they had their periods because it apparently
spoils the food or brings a curse. Kottoh (2008) explains that young
women are often restrained and policed during menstruating for fear
of dirtying and spoiling areas they occupy.
In cultural terms, menses means a woman who is not sexually
available but who also needs to be controlled because she can
be sexually irresponsible and at risk of danger. (Muholi 2008)
Muholi adds that in her Zulu culture ‘umqomboti’ – or traditional
beer – spoils if a menstruating girl or woman enters the room
where the beer is brewing. Only postmenopausal women and
virgins are allowed to cook and work with guests. These forms of
containment and restriction are preached through institutions such
as the church, schools and family. It is as though it is abnormal to
have a period. Indeed, hostility even emerges among women, who
condition girls to hide their periods as if it is a curse. Men follow
this trend by making blood stains on a dress or bedding seem like
a life threatening issue – as if being exposed to menstrual blood is
somehow dangerous.
Indeed, while writing this, I was rebuked for asking my brother to buy
pads or tampons for me. I was lying sick in my bed and he was the
only person around – and he did not complain. In fact, he asked me
what brand I preferred! But speaking out loud about menstruation
brings reprimands and cutting stares. When suffering from
premenstrual syndrome (PMS), it is best to say it is a tummy bug
or headache rather than say it is PMS. My own mother claims that
it is embarrassing for women to say that they are bleeding because
it disgusts men. Needless to say, it makes it very difficult for girls
growing up when none of the older women around them – relatives,
nuns, matrons – want to discuss this important part of life. How are
girls meant to learn about menstruation when the women who know
them best – and who have, of course, experienced menstruation
themselves – never talk about it?
And things should be different now but they are not. Men, women,
boys and girls all go through life orientation classes now so they
are aware of females’ bodily functions, but these issues still remain
hidden and coded. ‘I have a headache’ or ‘sorry I have to care for the
36
100
In cultural terms, menses means a woman
who is not sexually available but who
also needs to be controlled because
she can be sexually irresponsible and
at risk of danger. - Muholi 2008
children tonight’ are the usual refrains – every month, like a broken
record. My women friends use these excuses when they have their
periods to deter their partners from sexual intercourse. Surprisingly,
I have yet to hear any of the men that I know ask about a way to
cure these monthly headaches. Indeed, the male perspective on
menstruation often involves describing menstruating and PMS
women as ‘bitches from hell’ – a good enough reason for women to
keep their periods private and hidden.
For many girls who were in school in the 1980s, cotton wool was used
by girls who came from average, working class families, while richer
girls used sanitary towels. It was a matter of status being able to buy
sanitary towels. I remember being asked if I was poor because I was
using cotton wool when I started menstruating.
During my conversations with Annet Kiura 2 , she told me that boys
would make fun of girls saying ‘ako kwa mwezi’ – meaning that one is
bleeding. Kiura explained that schoolgirls, who were publicly known
to have started menstruating, would be ostracised by their teachers,
especially if they accidentally spoiled their uniform. She said that
girls in her class were publicly humiliated after a piece of unused
cotton wool was found on the classroom floor. The male teacher
said, “I use cotton wool to clean my son in case he injures himself but
it is so shameful for you girls to carelessly throw this in class”. She
said that all the girls froze and did not move for fear of further scorn
and whoever dropped the piece of wool was never known. Kiura
added that “boys giggled as the male teacher cast all abuses on us
and although we had female teachers, none came to counsel us on
our changing bodies.”
Kiura argued that since women have been silent – and remain
silenced – about menstruation, they have helped to perpetuate
ideas that it is dirty and unnatural, and to facilitate gender bias
towards women because of this totally healthy and natural process.
As recently as July 2012, her research into women’s reproductive
health rights in literature led her to the Koran to look for a verse
that apparently refers to menstruating women as being ‘dirty’.
She knew her colleague had a Koran so asked to read it. And
she was shocked when her colleague uttered, “Before you hold
this Koran, I must ask you if you are on your period because you
know my religion does not allow a woman to hold the Koran if
she is bleeding.” When Kiura said that she was menstruating,
the owner of the Koran read the book to her since Kiura was not
allowed to handle it. Kiura told me how humiliated, ashamed
and ‘dirty’ she felt after this interaction with her colleague.
Linking menstruation to masturbation
In January 1988, I entered secondary school aged 13. I started my
menses in April and remember right before my period, having
sensations I had not had before. Although I did not know what
masturbation was then, I knew I enjoyed touching and feeling my
body. Sarudzai was also at the school with me and had already
made connections. Within weeks, she informed me that the
older girls condoned certain behaviours. For example, mutual
masturbation was tolerated among close peers, but complete
discretion was to be exercised. She also instructed us that we
had to make sure we washed our hands afterwards and, most
importantly, that we were never to be found out, especially by the
nuns. We stayed away from boys and enjoyed growing as girls and
breaking the silence about our growing bodies and exploring what
had been hidden. We stretched and pulled and shared bleeding
stories of pain and cravings. It was finally like a sisterhood and
often in the following years, I spotted girls who had felt as out of
place as I had in primary school, beginning to feel more comfort.
And I let the younger girls know that I was there for them if they
ever needed help or had any questions about their developing
bodies. This was important for me, as I knew how hard it had
been for some girls, including myself, who did not know what was
happening to our bodies and did not have anyone to ask all of our
unanswered questions.
Back home during the holidays, elderly women took us to the river
to bath. There we laughed and teased each other about not having
breasts or hair covering our vagina area. The elderly women
whispered and chuckled, seated in positions where our bodies were
exposed to their eyes. We freely threw water over our backs and at
our cousins – whom we shared the secrets of clitoral stimulations
with at night.
It is surely time to get over erotophobia – the fear of erotica
and pleasure? Machera (2004, page160) recalls the lashings she
received from her mother when she was found masturbating and
how she was forbidden to masturbate because it was ‘bad manners’.
The regulatory process is deeply seeded in the socialisation process,
with discussions about normal events such as menstruation and
masturbation being silenced through fear and shame – and it is our
bodies that suffer from being denied this expression.
In Something like a War – a profound and heart breaking
documentary produced in India in the early 1980s with funds from
the Ford Foundation – women shared their experiences about
their sexuality. Those who could no longer give birth because they
had been involuntarily sterilized after their husbands gave consent
spoke of how they looked forward to bleeding. One woman talked
about the power of her body to change so suddenly when she
bleeds and the power she gains with every period as she sensually
feels her body’s suppleness. Known today as the sex drive or
feeling horny, it is the same sensuality and revitalization of the
body that we also experienced and shared.
The reality is that masturbation is rarely discussed among women
and there is little written about it – and most people still stigmatise
it as a perverted act. As much as we sex talk and talk sex, women
are still supressed when it comes to their bodily explorations and
pleasure. The idea of pleasure is very much about penetration and
friends have explained how they fear discussing other possible
means of pleasure since they do not want their partners to ask
how they know where to be touched, since this could lead to a
breakdown in trust and even accusations of infidelity.
Girls’ agency is exercised from an early childhood, as they learn
how to manipulate their small vaginal lips by elongating them in
preparation for becoming a woman, according to Tamale (2005,
page 16-17). Through these practices, girls become aware of
their bodies and know the capacities of the labia for pleasure
and stimulation not only for the man but for themselves as well.
Tamale explains that these rites of passage enable young girls
to explore their bodies by encouraging them to pull their inner
vaginal lips in order to elongate them for purposes of sexual
pleasure and stimulation. Vance 3 argues that most western
scholarship has left certain aspects of sexuality untouched and
thereby created the illusion that they do not exist – implying that
African women are vulnerable and passive. Critical aspects of
sexuality, such as sex drive, have been considered pre-cultural by
western scholars. However, Tamale (2005) points to studies that
show how young girls are encouraged to learn about their bodies
through exploring and pulling their labia for pleasure. Then again
masturbation is a sexual practice requiring nothing more than
intimacy. Masturbation includes clitoral and labia stroking or softly
touching, cunnilingus (use of the tongue), the use of sex toys such
as vibrators and more.
37
100
Today, just as Tupperware comes in many forms, sizes and colours to suit
every woman’s needs in the kitchen, the variety of sex toys have brought
a new dimension to self-love and pleasure through masturbation.
Twenty years ago, baby showers became a fad – and created private
spaces for women to talk and discuss sexual and marital matters.
Baby showers were not only about baby clothes and celebrating the
gift of life, but were also an opportunity to share knowledge on how
to multi-task in the bedroom – how to have sex and feed the baby at
the same time. Women still shared sexual stories that were not to be
spoken of again – well not until the next baby shower or event. And
then, towards the end of the 20th century, we started seeing another
trend involving the import of sex toys and parties based around the
gadgets (an indication that women are starting to take care of their
own needs). Needless to say, in patriarchal and heteronormative
societies, it is felt that women who use these toys negate the role
of their partners, even though these gadgets can be potential allies
when erectile dysfunction and lack of pleasurable foreplay exist.
Therefore, I know that some of my friends keep their toys hidden in
the back of the closet.
Today, just as Tupperware comes in many forms, sizes and colours
to suit every woman’s needs in the kitchen, the variety of sex toys
have brought a new dimension to self-love and pleasure through
masturbation. Some toys appeal to virgin users and come with
handy instructions, while others can be used when one feels the
need during menstruation since they are easily washable with soap
and water. And most of the toys are small enough to be carried in
a handbag. All you need is your hand, batteries and a private space
to pleasure yourself. And from small to large dildos and soft to hard,
these sex toys are also great for spicing up your sexual relations –
and indeed relationships – with your partners.
Conclusion
Non-heteronormative sexual practices, sexual diversities and
experiences that link to innovative and critical perspectives on
health and reproduction need to be explored. These sexual
freedoms are for all women whether married, single, celibate
or asexual. Defining sexuality needs its own space that is not
encroached upon by patriarchal and heteronormative norms.
And the desire to tread without men does not mean that we
do not need them. We want them as partners, friends, brothers
and fathers to critically engage with patriarchy. But as women
we need to work to change narratives and critically contest
oppression and restrictive categories, and produce the knowledge
that speaks to our experiences as diverse women. We can do
this by understanding our sexuality and recognising the stigmas
associated with sexual pleasure, such as masturbation, and steering
these towards positivity. While the penis has been known and
understood to be served by the vagina, the truth is that the vagina
monologues have raised the bar for women’s agency to see beyond
the suppression of sexuality and pleasure. We keep writing and will
gain ground through our studies of African sexuality – for pleasure
is right at our fingertips.
References
Kottoh, M.A.2008. Traditional Menstrual
Practices: Sexual and Reproductive Health and
Gender implications for Adolescent Girls.
Lorde, A. 1984. “Uses of the Erotic: The Erotic
as Power”, in Sister Outsider: Essays and
Speeches. New York: The Crossing Press.
Pereira, C. 2003. “Where Angels Fear to Tread?
Some Thoughts on Patricia McFadden's ‘Sexual
Pleasure as Feminist Choice'”, Feminist Africa 2.
Lorde, A. 1983. The master's tools will never
dismantle the master's house' in Smith, B. Home
Girls: A Black Feminist Anthology. Kitchen
Table: Women of Color Press, New York.
Machera, M. 2004. Opening a can of
worms: A debate on female sexuality
in the lecture theatre. Re-Thinking
Sexualities in Africa, 157-172.
Tamale, S., ‘‘Eroticism, Sensuality and
‘Women’s Secrets’ among the Baganda: A
Critical Analysis’’, Feminist
Africa 5 (2005), 9–36.
Internet
WHO definition of type-IV female genital mutilation at http://www.who.
int/ mediacentre/factsheets/fs241/en/
http://www.zanelemuholi.com/Ngiyopha_by_Z.Muholi.pdf
Endnotes
1. *Names have been changed to protect identities of school girls in
1980-1989
2. Annet Kuira is a researcher and scholar working on reproductive health
issues in Kenya. The narratives herein were captured during conversations
(2011-2013) and are published with her consent.
3. Vance argues that anthropologist have left out experiences that are
non-western in favour thereby creating a gap where other sexualities exist.
38
100
39
100
Women and Mining: A Case of Golden Crumbs
Women and Mining:
A Case of Golden Crumbs
By Wadzanai Chimhepo
Wadzanai Chimhepo is a Zimbabwean development economist. In
addition to serving as a research consultant, she is also a feminist
researcher. She has extensive experience in local economic
development that promotes sustainable livelihoods. Wadzanai also
has a passion for women’s participation in economic development
issues. She is a member of the Economic Society of South Africa
(ESSA) and the Inclusive Growth Research Community for the
Research Project on Income Distribution and Inclusive Growth in
South Africa. She holds a Masters in Peace and Governance (AU)
and a BSc Economics (AU).
W
omen in Penhalonga – a Zimbabwean gold mining
community around 18 km north of the city of Mutare
– are being forced to survive on the golden crumbs that fall
from the table, while the men feast on the golden cake. Indeed,
research I conducted in gold mining communities in eastern
Zimbabwe revealed that culture and patriarchy are colluding
to keep women from claiming their rightful seats at the gold
mining table and from securing their own slice of the cake. In
particular, like many other communities in southern Africa,
people in Penhalonga believe that a woman’s presence at
a gold mining site will make the gold ‘disappear’. Based on
this belief, women are not welcome at any site where gold is
being mined, even when they have legal rights to the mine.
Focusing on one community in eastern Zimbabwe, this
article will explore the implications and consequences
of this belief on women’s access to, and control of, this
precious mineral – and examine the ways in which mining
shapes women’s relationships in their communities.
As I walked up the winding roads of Penhalonga, my heart was
bubbling with excitement - finally a chance to spend a day in
a gold mine had availed itself. At the time, I was a graduate
student conducting studies on women’s participation in mining
and spending a day underground was a necessary part of my
research project, which sought to explore how gender influences
women’s access to, and control of, natural resources. During the
course of the study, which focused specifically on gold mining in
Penhalonga, it became very apparent that culture plays a large role
in determining women’s levels of involvement in this industry. It
also became very clear that an enormous tension exists between
40
100
women’s legal rights and the impediments
imposed by culture on their ability to
access and control mineral resources.
In preparing for my journey to the mines, I
would picture myself going down the tunnel
to dig out a bucket of ore, which I would
process myself and see how productive I
could be in a mine. This eagerness kept
me going even as Mother Nature created
serious challenges for the mission. Being
the rainy season, the roads, which were
mostly footpaths, were muddy and slippery,
which made it very difficult to manoeuvre
my way up into the gold-rich mountains.
After a long and arduous journey on bare feet
(I had to remove my sandals because they
had no grip) in light rain that made walking
uphill on the already slippery paths an almost
impossible task, I finally arrived at the edge
of the 10 hectare claim 1 that I had intended
to observe. However, before I could set foot
on the claim, more than a dozen men started
shouting and telling me not to move a step
closer to the mine – and that I had to go back.
At first I thought that they were just teasing
me, especially as two men were approaching
from the mine and were obviously coming
to welcome me – since what else would they
be coming all the way over to me to say?
41
100
However, much to my chagrin, the two men had
actually come to tell me that I should turn around
and leave as I was not allowed to go any closer to the
entrance to the mine shaft. This was unimaginable
for me. To think that I had trudged this far in the rain,
risking slipping and breaking a limb just to be told
that I had to go back – because this was a no-go area
for women. This was not something I could accept
so I pushed my luck and tried to negotiate with them
to be allowed in. But my efforts in were in vain, as
the men made it clear in no uncertain terms that
they would not allow me onto the claim because my
presence in the mine would make the gold disappear.
“It is very difficult to make a profit from
mining. Things happen in your absence
and all you get at the end of the day
are reports that there is not much gold
in the mine. When, in actual fact they
would have sold the gold or the ore and
shared the money among themselves.”
In the local Shona language spoken, they said,
“Mukatosvika padhuze sembo rinokava, tinoziv sei pamwe
mutori kumwedzi.” (If you go any closer, the gold will disappear,
especially if you are menstruating, which we cannot tell.)
You can imagine how I felt at that point; I had just been
told that the essence of my womanhood was a curse. As
I turned to leave the mine, I felt angry at such harsh and
demeaning words and for being physically barred from the
claim. I had experienced – first hand – how a particular set of
cultural beliefs barred women’s direct access to mining.
The curse of the monthly scarlet flow!
In another incident during this study, the influence of these cultural
beliefs was again very apparent. I went to a house in a township
to interview Mai Tariro, 2 a woman whose husband is a small-scale
gold miner. Baba Tariro is also in the business of buying and
purifying gold; a scenario that made his wife an ideal participant in
this research. As we were talking, I asked Mai to show me the gold
purification process and the tools that her husband uses for this job.
Even to this day I still vividly remember the bewildered expression
on Mai’s face. When I asked why she looked so surprised, she said
it was not possible for women to touch the tools or to get too close
to the gold mill – even though the tools were right under her roof! I
felt let down, like I had lost a battle. And the reason she gave for this
bizarre rule was the same taboo – the curse of the menstrual cycle!
In Shona culture, there is a taboo that prohibits women from
having contact with men while they are menstruating, generally
because they are considered to be possessed by unclean spirits
during their periods. As in the Maroon culture of Jamaica, the
taboo forbids women from having sex, travelling or cooking for
men. As such, women cannot work with men for a number of
days each month (Hinton, Veiga and Beinhoff, 2003, page 15).
42
100
This makes women less attractive employees
in the mining sector as this perceived
‘uncleanliness’ is also thought to affect the
mineral yield. The fact that no one can tell when a woman is
menstruating, except the woman herself, means that people in
the community prefer women to stay away from the mines at all
times – and even refrain from touching any of the miners’ tools.
Shangwa (2011) asserts that in some Zimbabwean communities,
girls and women suffer humiliation and isolation during their
periods. Menstruation is not considered a natural biological
process, but rather as a curse. Some communities even believe
that a menstruating woman cannot cook or even add salt to the
food as this is believed to cause people eating it to experience
back pain. The other reason that makes women stay away from
normal day-to-day activities, such as travelling, is that soiling their
clothes with menstrual blood is considered an embarrassment and
women are discouraged from risking it (Shangwa 2011, page 3).
owning a claim does not give women permission to actually go to the
mines. And even though they can legally own mines, they are culturally
barred from physically managing the day-to-day activities at their
mines. Instead, they have to employ, and rely on, male supervisors
to do that – meaning that mining is not a viable option for women.
As Mai Rumbi said, “It is very difficult to make a profit from
mining. Things happen in your absence and all you get at
the end of the day are reports that there is not much gold in
the mine. When, in actual fact they would have sold the gold
or the ore and shared the money among themselves.”
I also discovered that the cultural beliefs around women’s menstruation
had implications that went beyond limiting women’s physical access
to the mines. My study revealed that women are also prejudiced when
trying to acquire gold claims. The women I interviewed lamented
the fact that their applications for claims are not given serious
consideration when compared to applications from men. Mr Molai, a
council employee who I interviewed during the study, corroborated
this assertion and acknowledged that women faced challenges with
service providers in the gold mining industry. He cited the example of
the mine pegger who gives priority to claims belonging to men while
women remain on the waiting list. This prejudice may explain why in a
community of around 7,000 people, only two women own gold claims
– alongside hundreds of claims owned by men (Tripmondo, 2012).
Such cultural beliefs are not unique to this community. Menstrual
taboos also play an important role in determining women’s
developmental participation in society in many other cultures. In some
communities, women are even exiled to a menstrual hut for a portion
of the month and needless to say this reduces a women’s productivity.
However, in a study carried out in N’tulo and Manica in Mozambique,
while women are believed to attract bad spirits and are therefore
banned from working in the mines, they are permitted to sell food
and beer to the miners (Hinton, Veiga and Beinhoff, 2003, page 15).
As I continued with my study, I also learned that apart from taking
advantage of the women owners’ physical absence from their mining
sites, male employees also harbour perceptions that their female
bosses do not know anything about mining – attitudes born out
of cultural perceptions of women as being inferior to men. Mai Ta
and Mai Rumbi both revealed that their male employees do not
accept instructions from them since the prevailing culture of male
domination makes it unacceptable for men to take orders from
female bosses. Furthermore, men in the area generally believe that
it is inferior to work for a woman so they often quit female-owned
claims to go and work on male-owned claims so that female-owned
claims are often understaffed, which reduces their turnover and
profits. “I have to constantly recruit miners to work in the mine
because these boys are always running away,” said Mai Ta. “On
recruitment they sound sincere [because of desperation] but once
they are in the mountains they leave and join neighbouring claims
owned by men. All you get are reports that so and so has left.”
Legally empowered, but culturally disabled
Picking up the cake crumbs
An interview with the only two female claim holders in that
community, Mai Rumbi and Mai Ta, revealed that they are forced to
depend on men to gain physical access to their gold claims. So even
Due to these attitudes and practices, women in these communities
have resorted to indirect gold mining activities. These are
undertakings that are not directly linked to gold production but
provide some access to gold revenue. For instance, women in
Penhalonga dominate the periphery industries, such as selling
food, clothes and other goods, entertaining the miners, selling
sex, and working as porn stars (Chimhepo, 2012, page 56).
Many feminist scholars have noted – and challenged – the
culture of patriarchy that positions women on the economic
periphery. This is certainly the case in Penhalonga, where women
have been relegated to low income activities that are culturally
permissible, since their direct participation in gold mining is
hindered by beliefs embedded in their society as well as by
patriarchal nuances that shape the perceptions of the people in the
community and how they conduct their lives (Rathgeber, 1990).
Gender based exclusion is rooted in the cultural norms and beliefs that
frame the rules governing how women and men interface in social,
economic and political spheres (Hinton, Veiga and Beinhoff, 2003;
Kandiyoti, 1998). In Penhalonga, patriarchy is the order of the day. And
it is clear that cultural factors prohibiting women’s participation in gold
mining perpetuate unequal power relations between the genders.
Other cultural aspects, such as female domesticity and notions of
what is and is not appropriate behaviour, have contributed to the
marginalisation of women in this sector. Most women seem to have
accepted this status quo and appear content with their husbands’
providing for them (Kandiyoti 1998, page 137). For example, during
an interview with a woman whose husband is a miner, she intimated
that she is satisfied with staying at home and taking care of their
house and their children. And she was adamant that there was
absolutely no need for her to engage in any income generating
activity, especially gold mining. She asserted that women have
their place – at home with the children – while the men go out to
work and provide for the families. Other interviews revealed that
even those women whose families were surviving on less than the
average income would not consider working in the mines to earn
additional money, as they believe that they belong in the home.
“according to the ethos and values
of the community, it is extreme
and immoral for a female to be
seen among the men in the river.”
43
100
Many of the women also pointed out
that they were prohibited from mining,
even from alluvial mining in the river,
for traditional and cultural reasons,
including the belief that the gold would
disappear and the notion that women
should not work with or among men. As
one elderly woman told me, “according to
the ethos and values of the community,
it is extreme and immoral for a female
to be seen among the men in the river.”
Furthermore, as I observed, men engaged
in alluvial mining make it difficult for
women to join them. These men were
working without clothes, which would
make women very uncomfortable.
Finally, kinship also plays a major role in
ensuring that women are left scrabbling for
crumbs. Kandiyoti (1998) asserts that kinship
contributes to determining how women
participate in their community. In Penhalonga,
kinship only counts male relations, which strips
women of their rights to participate as equal
and rightful citizens. Women are traditionally
thought of as not having any rights to own
property and resources – forcing them to rely
on men. This results in women’s bargaining
power being eroded and so they succumb
to their subordinate roles. Indeed, most
Penhalonga women are not aware that they
can apply directly for mining licences, believing
that they have to be represented by men.
“Women are traditionally
thought of as not having
any rights to own property
and resources – forcing
them to rely on men. ”
Conclusion
Reflecting on my experiences in Penhalonga, I
am convinced that there is an urgent need to deal
with the gender based exclusion that is rooted in
patriarchal culture. Gender based exclusion of women
can only be eliminated by firstly demystifying key
cultural pillars that uphold current gender roles.
In Penhalonga, the gold mining industry is governed
by myths and taboos that act as barriers to the
participation of women. However, it is time for
women to be allowed into the core of the gold mining
industry and not to remain confined to the periphery.
In line with Boserup’s, (1971) assertion that women
need to be treated as economic agents not simply
as recipients of development, gender equity is a
necessary step to ensuring equality and therefore,
more resources have to be allocated to women to
compensate for the historical and social disadvantages
that prevent women and men from operating on
level playing field (Rathgeber, 1990; Snyder 1995).
To ensure women’s full participation in the gold mining
industry in Penhalonga, fundamental shifts have to be
made to enable a more equitable relationship between
women and men in an attempt to neutralize the
gender roles that are hindering women’s progression.
This shift must go beyond mere policies on paper to
allow for existing planning processes, methodology
and action to be revisited so as to transform power
relations between women and men (Hausler 1997).
Gender mainstreaming and sensitivity in relation to
day-to-day issues at the local level are also critical,
as is genuinely involving and consulting women.
Finally, to fully remove the cultural barriers that women
face in their attempt to access and control resources,
there is a need to educate both women and men about
gender issues and about how they impact on access
to resources. Imparting knowledge will enlighten
women and encourage them to challenge the status
quo and reverse the cultural imbalances that exist
between them and men. This includes exposing and
neutralising cultural beliefs that characterize women
as being possessed by bad spirits that remove the
gold from the mines. If these changes are made, then
women will finally be able to sit around the table
and claiming their fair share of the golden cake.
44
100
45
100
Fashion for Feminists:
References
Boserup, E. (1971). Woman’s Role in Economic
Development. New York: St Martin’s Press.
Braidotti, R., Charkiewicz, E., Hausler, S. and
Wieringa S. (1994). Women, the Environment
and Sustainable Development: Towards a
Theoretical Synthesis. London: Zed Books.
Goebel, A. (2002). Gender, Environment and
Development in Southern Africa. Canadian
Journal of Development Studies Vol XXIII, No
2, 293 – 316
Hausler, S. (1997).Gender and Environment:
Recent Initiatives to Improve Sustainable
Development Policy and Practice. [Abstract].
Gender Technol Dev. Sept–Dec 1 (3) 27 – 48
Hinton, J.J., Veiga, M.M. Beinhoff, C. (2003)
The Socio–Economic Impacts of Artisanal and
Small Scale Mining in Developing Countries.
Netherlands: Swets Publishers
Jackson, C. and Pearson R. (1998). (Ed).
Feminist Visions of Development: Gender
Analysis and Policy. London: Routledge
Momsen, J.H. (2004). Gender and
Development. London: Routledge
Moser, C. (1989). Gender planning in the third
world: meeting practical and strategic needs.
World Development, Vol.17, No.11, 1799-1825
Moser, C. (1993). Gender Planning and
Development: Theory, Practice, and Training.
London: Routledge
Moser, C.O.N. and Levy C. (1986). A Theory
and Methodology of Gender Planning:
Meeting Women's Practical and Strategic
Needs. London: University College
Naples, N.A. (1998). Grassroot Warriors:
Activist Mothering, Community Work and the
War on Poverty. New York: Routledge
Nikkhah and Redzuan (2009). Participation as
a Medium of Empowerment in Community
Development. European Journal of Social
Sciences – Vol 11, No 1
Parpart, J.L., Connelly, M.P. and Barriteau, V.E.
(2000). Theoretical Perspectives of Gender
and Development International Development
Research Centre. Ottawa
Rathgeber, E.M. (1990). WID, WAD, GAD:
Trends in Research and Practice. The Journal of
Developing areas, Vol 24, 480 – 502. Retrieved
January 20, 2012, from http://www.jstor.org/
stable/4191904
Razavi, S. and Miller, C. (1995). From WID
to GAD: Conceptual Shifts in the Women
and Development Discourse. Switzerland.
United Nations Research Institute for Social
Development
Resurreccion, B.P. and Elmhirst, R. (Eds) (2008).
Gender and Natural Resources Management:
Livelihoods, Mobility and Interventions.
London: Earthscan
Endnotes
1. A claim is a piece of land over which the land holder has asserted a right
of possession and the right to develop and extract a discovered, valuable,
mineral deposit.
2.Names have been changed to protect respondent identity.
46
100
How fashion and dress shape
women’s identities
Rico, M.N. (1998). Gender, the Environment
and the Sustainability of Development.
Santiago: United Nations
By Varyanne Sika
Synder, M. (1995).Transforming Development:
Women, Poverty and Politics. North Yorkshire:
Intermediate Technology Publication
Varyanne Sika is a feminist, a writer and researcher.
She is currently pursuing a Master of Arts in
Development Studies at the Institute of
Development Studies, University of Nairobi and
working as a researcher.
Shangwa, A. (2011). The Girl Child and
Menstrual Management in Zimbabwe.
Electronic Resources
Online Business Dictionary. http://www.
businessdictionary.com/definition/economicefficiency.html (Accessed by 25 April 2012)
Penhalonga http://www.tripmondo.com/
Zimbabwe/manicalandprovince/mutare/
attractions-in-mutare/ (Accessed by 27 March
2012)
Gender http://www.fao.org/docrep/007/
y5608e/y5608e01.htm (Accessed by 15 April
2013)
Menstruation Taboos http://www.
globalpressinstitute.org/africa/zimbabwe/
menstruation-remains-taboo-hinderseducation-causes-health-problems/page0/1
(Accessed by 23 April 2012)
F
ashion is viewed by some as retrograde, profligate, superficial,
even anti-feminist, while others have a deep passion for fashion
and describe themselves as ‘fashion addicts’ or ‘fashion junkies’.
Fashion – being a largely female dominated sphere – generally affects
women’s lives more than it does men’s. Drawing on Erik Erikson’s
theory of development and identity formation in which an individual’s
development spans his or her lifetime, this paper explores the different
ways in which women’s identities are shaped by, and expressed
through, fashion. It also discusses the notion that being fashionable
is anti-feminist and explores the various ways in which fashion can be
used to achieve feminist objectives.
A matter of identity
"You ought to have some papers to show
who you are," the police officer advised me.
"I do not need any paper. I
know who I am," I said.
"Maybe so. Other people are also
interested in knowing who you are."
-B. Traven, The Death Ship
Our identities are not only ours to form and to anchor our existence
on; they guide other people’s interaction and behaviour towards us.
A myriad of opportunities exist to present or express ourselves to the
people around us, to guide them about how they should act towards us,
to have their actions towards us reinforce our identities or to disregard
them when they fail to. We have bio lines or ‘about me’ pages on
online social platforms, signatures at the end of our emails, passports
and identification cards, body language, opinions, behaviour and
mannerisms, and tools with which we communicate our identities.
And visual communication of our identities through dress and/
or fashion is ubiquitous and a fundamental tool that proclaims who
we are, both to ourselves and to people around us. Getting dressed
every day is a compulsory, non-negotiable activity for most people;
we can hardly ever exercise our preferences on the matter. Instead,
we decide how to execute the dressing process. What we choose
to wear can determine rejection or acceptance into different social
groups, whether or not we get a job, a promotion, respect, admiration
and attention. Our dressing and fashion choices have psychological,
social, political and economic meanings and consequences.
Identity is a complex and sometimes ambiguous concept, which can be
loosely understood as the set of different meanings that define a person
in his/her society (Burke 1980). An attempt to understand identity has
resulted in an agreement by scholars of the subject that we possess
multiple identities. There are three widely accepted bases of identity –
social, role and personal identity. Our overall identities are a blend of the
three identities we possess. We play different roles in society – one could
be a student, mother, daughter, wife, politician, woman, mentor and many
others. The roles we play in society dictate our identities and our identities
prescribe our feelings, mannerisms, thoughts and general behaviour. Our
identities are inextricably linked to our society; we cannot be understood
outside our societies, as Erik Erikson postulated. Personal identities are
tied more to individuals than they are to social and role identities. The
three bases of identities – social, role and personal – are interrelated
but expressed separately in separate contexts (Burke, Stets, 2000).
47
100
Fashion for Feminists: How Fashion and Dress Shape Women’s Identities
Women’s social identities – these are their
identities in relation to various social
groups they belong to or aspire to belong
to – are arguably the aspect of their
identities that fashion influences the most.
In discussing how fashion has shaped the identity of women, we must
examine the ways in which fashion has shaped women’s social identities,
role identities and personal identities. Greg Stone (1962: p. 93) says “a
person’s identity is established when others place him as a social object
by assigning him the same words of identity that he appropriates for
himself.” According to Stone, outward appearance and presentation
helps in forming and maintaining one’s identity. Presenting ourselves in
whichever way we choose proclaims to the society and to ourselves the
identity we are enacting or embodying.
Fashion shapes women’s social roles and personal identities
Fashion, whether in urban or rural areas, is one of the many symbols
of class division in society. There exists ostentatious fashion and more
financially accessible fashion, but never cheap fashion. Our focus will be
on women living in urban areas who interact with fashion the most.
Women’s social identities – these are their identities in relation to various
social groups they belong to or aspire to belong to – are arguably the
aspect of their identities that fashion influences the most. Women get
a sense of social identity from social groups, which could be based
on race, class or politics; they enhance their status and self-image by
enhancing the groups to which they belong. Note that interaction is not
a prerequisite of social group membership. Since fashion already divides
women into those who can afford it and those who cannot, women
who can afford to interact with fashion are already considered de facto
members of the middle class and the upper class. Sub groups within
the two classes exist, each with its own subculture. An example of these
subcultures is the ‘Afro’-prefixed subcultures.
Fashion among middle class Kenyan women in urban areas and women
living in other urban areas in Africa, for instance, can be described as
‘Afro-contemporary’, ‘Afro-centric’, or ‘Afro-chic’, especially during
this period of the rise of African prints and fabrics, such as the shuka,
kanga, batik, and the famous Ankara fabrics, among others. There
are African print shoes, African print runway designs, African print
accessories, African print umbrellas and African print car seat covers.
African print is basically ‘in’ right now. There are those women who want
48
100
to belong to this group and they want to be seen as fashion-forward
without ‘succumbing to western culture’. These are poets and artistic
personalities, who attend Afro-fusion concerts and art exhibitions: they
are Afro-centric Afropolitans.
On the other hand, there are those women who consider the African
print trend a fad. They know that the only reason the trend exists
is precisely because of Western influences, such as famous fashion
designers who have looked occasionally to Africa for inspiration – like
Louis Vuitton, who used what is popularly considered East Africa’s
maasai traditional fabrics for his entire Spring-Summer 2012 collection,
or Jean Paul Gaultier’s 2005 Hommage á l’Afrique haute couture
collection or Yves Saint Laurent, whose African inspired collections
date back to 1967. The women who consider fashion itself a fad tend to
be women who are non-conformist or simply women who are not at all
concerned with fashion per se – they merely wear clothes because of
social pressures.
Whatever the case and whatever the current fashionable trend,
there are always women who buy into the trend, those who rebel
against it and those who are unaware of it. Fashion in this particular
case separates social identities into fashion-forward, non-conformist
and those oblivious to it. According to Henri Tafjel’s Social Identity
Theory (McLeod, S. A. 2008), social categorisation takes place first;
we categorize social groups and identify which group we categorize
ourselves as belonging to. Social identification takes place next; we
adopt the identity and values of the groups we have categorised
ourselves as belonging to. Finally, social comparison takes place; we
begin to compare the group to which we belong to other groups. For
instance, a woman who categorises herself as belonging to the ‘Afrocentric’ subculture will begin to dress in a certain way – by paying close
attention to or emphasising or incorporating fabrics and accessories
that are considered to be African – and she will adopt the value system
of this group with exceptions to things that are in conflict with her
other identities. For example, she might not be willing to cut off all her
chemically-treated hair and start growing her natural hair because she
prefers wearing her hair straight. Or she might cut off all her chemicallytreated hair and keep her natural hair but she will not be willing to wear
kitenge fabric trousers or any ‘Afro-centric’ outfit for that matter. An
urban African woman will express and proclaim her social identity by
adhering to the fashion trends or parts of the trends associated with
women who belong to this fashionable middleclass group, while another
urban African woman will rebel against the trend to indicate that she
belongs to a different non-conformist middleclass group.
v– lies in the categorisation of the self as an occupant of a particular
social position and adopting the meanings and expectations that are
associated with the given role and its performance (Stets & Burke,
2000). Although different people may have different meanings and
49
100
As women, we have been taught either to ignore our differences,
or to view them as causes for separation and suspicion rather
than as forces for change. Without community, there is no
liberation, only the most vulnerable and temporary armistice
between an individual and her oppression…in our world,
divide and conquer must become define and empower.
different expectations for the same role identity, we can explore some
of the more universally accepted role meanings and expectations
for women. Women play roles such as mothers, wives, students and
professionals. Role identities are only ever expressed in relation to
the society or to other identities. There are fashion choices that are
considered appropriate and inappropriate for mothers in the society –
respectability and modesty are generally guiding principles for fashion
among mothers and wives but there is leniency towards younger women
who are allowed to make bolder and more provocative fashion choices
for which they are not judged. Such younger women are simply called
eccentric personalities. A mother who makes a young girl’s fashion
choices is frowned upon in society, gossiped about and ostracised in
some cases.
Occupational attributes are also affected by what women choose to
wear. These attributes include honesty, professionalism, efficiency,
reliability, intelligence and competency (Kwon, 1994). In work places,
successful women who wear mini-skirts and high heels generally have
a negative reputation and the notion is usually that they gave sexual
favours to achieve their success. On the other hand, women at work who
wear clothes that are considered decent are associated with positive
values and attributes, such as being hard working, focused, honest and
trustworthy. With knowledge of social norms and the culture of the
society they live in, women’s role identities tend to lean more toward the
socially acceptable values even if they are in conflict with their social or
personal identities.
Personal identity is the lowest level of self-categorisation according to
the social identity theory (Brewer, 1991). Personal identity is how we see
ourselves distinct from other people in the groups to which we belong.
Our personal identities focus on our own beliefs, goals and value
systems, and our fashion comes in all forms. At this level of identity,
women often wear whatever they like because it makes them feel good
about themselves and makes them feel happy, confident, less selfconscious and free from social expectations and constraints. Similarly,
fashion restricts women’s freedom and self-confidence because of the
image of perfection synonymous with fashion marketing. Hence, some
women will work hard to become as close to the perfection advertised
50
100
in the fashion industries, while others will decide to peg their selfconfidence on other things outside of fashion. In this case, the aspects
of women’s personal identity that are affected by fashion tend to be
self-esteem, self-confidence and self-acceptance.
Is fashion anti-feminist?
“A girl should be two things: who and
what she wants.” - Coco Chanel
So what do feminists say about fashion trends and the fashion
industry? Feminism’s overarching credo is that women must be
allowed the right to be who or what they want to be and to do
whatever they want to do, as long as they are not breaking any laws or
infringing anybody else’s rights. As such, it is not surprising that some
women hold the belief that fashion is anti-feminist. Some feminists
argue that the fashion industry has for decades favoured one female
body ideal over all others and peddled the notion that a woman is
not much if she isn’t adorned in the latest fashion. Indeed, it is easy to
understand how and why most people think of feminists as being antifashion and of fashion as being anti-feminist. This is mainly because of
how fashion models tend to be objectified – and how they represent
only certain body types. This objectification can be blamed on what
drives and motivates most designers: sex appeal. Models will often
present designs worn without bras, extremely short shorts, transparent
clothing, backless dresses, pelvis-high slits and ‘barely-there’ blouses,
which wouldn’t be a problem in a ‘perfect society’. However, it is
important to note that these body revealing designs are solely for
the pleasure and gaze of men. Thus the sexist nature of the fashion
industry aggravates feminists, who struggle to curb the objectification
of women. Women are forced to believe that unless they resemble as
much as possible the ideals advertised in magazines, advertisements
and runway shows, they are simply not attractive or appealing to men.
However, not all fashion is overtly sexual and objectifying. Feminists
can enjoy fashion without being vilified for it. After all, women should
be able to do what they want and be whomever they choose to be. The
idea of women formulating rules to control other women’s freedom by
dictating what they are allowed and not allowed to be interested in, even
if these preferences are negative products of patriarchy, is itself an antifeminist idea. Not everything born out of patriarchy and not everything
born out of fashion is oppressive to women. Fashion may be considered
by some women as superficial, sexist and oppressive, but if feminists
refuse to participate in it, we are signing away our power to influence it.
And differences over fashion should not be a divisive issue among
feminists. Instead, our differences should be addressed comprehensively
to unify feminists and bolster feminists’ efforts to achieve their goals. As
Audre Lorde says in her essay, The Master’s Tools will not dismantle the
Master’s House (2007):
“As women, we have been taught either to ignore our differences, or to
view them as causes for separation and suspicion rather than as forces
for change. Without community, there is no liberation, only the most
vulnerable and temporary armistice between an individual and her
oppression…in our world, divide
and conquer must become
define and empower.”
Based on the above assertion, it
can be concluded that fashion
is and also isn’t anti-feminist. As
far as the feminist movement
is concerned, differences of
opinion on the matter should not
separate feminists into various
camps because unity within
the movement is vital to the
cause. We simply cannot – and
must not – allow the cliché that
‘women are their own worst
enemies’ to be perpetuated.
Fashion as machinery for feminist activism
Fashion has been used by feminists in the past to make political
statements and break free from oppression. Black American women
in the 1960s and 1970s wore denim overalls instead of dresses as they
fought to dress on their own terms. Women all over the world have
embraced the colour pink as the universal colour for breast awareness
campaigns and breast awareness month. Fashion typography is growing
in popularity and being used everywhere to declare different personal
or political messages. We have black women wearing t-shirts and other
clothing with tags such as ‘I love my black’, ‘I’m a natural’, and ‘I love
my kinky hair’, among others. Chimamanda Adichie said in a recent
interview that her hairstyle is a political statement against the idea that
“beauty has become this homogenous thing.” Marc Jacobs designed
‘Free Tibet’ tote bags, which were purchased by many women who
shared his sentiments. International pop stars Beyoncé and Katy Perry
wore ‘Obama’ dresses and accessories in support of his re-election,
while Vivienne Westwood wore an ‘I am Julian Assange’ t-shirt in
support of the Wikileaks founder.
Lady Gaga wore a satirical meat
dress at an awards show, which
ridiculed the notion of women’s
bodies as meat, while the popular
fashion blog ‘Man Repeller’ creates
an anti-sexist and anti-‘male
approval’ outlook on fashion. And
various women in Arab countries
have posed in pictures wearing their
burqas but slightly revealing the
lingerie they wear underneath them.
"Vivienne Westwood wore an ‘I am
Julian Assange’ t-shirt in support
of the Wikileaks founder. Lady
Gaga wore a satirical meat
dress at an awards show, which
ridiculed the notion of women’s
bodies as meat"
In the past, women were
oppressed by corsets, which
restricted their movement,
and were not allowed to wear trousers, which were much more
comfortable and appropriate for sporting and other activities, and
in both cases fashion contributed significantly to the liberation
of women. Chanel made – and popularised – non-corseted
dresses to allow women to move freely, while Amelia Earhart wore
trousers because it was ridiculous to fly a plane in a dress, which
helped to popularised not only trousers among women but also
the notion that women could do anything. African women can
learn to enjoy fashion, harness and exploit its power, and change
the patriarchal aspects of it, which they may find problematic.
Fashion has thus been used in
feminist and other such campaigns
and succeeded tremendously –
and could be again. And two key
questions that need to be addressed
by feminists in societies and organisations – as well as by feminist
intellectuals – are how can feminists further exploit the power that
fashion wields to their advantage? And how can feminists use fashion as
a tool for activism instead of dismissing it as anti-feminist?
For instance, what if all working women were mobilised to only wear
trouser suits to work for a week (or even longer) to campaign against
the infamous pay gap between men and women? And what if women
decided not to carry their handbags or purses to work but to turn up
with briefcases instead as an additional aspect of the pay gap campaign?
I believe that this would send an important protest message in a nonviolent, legal – and powerful – fashion. Or what if women universally
refused to purchase clothing from fashion designers who insist on using
51
100
Notions of Beauty and
Attractiveness
size zero models and instead purchased clothes from designers who create items for women of
all sizes? It is highly likely that designers would be forced to stop pushing impossible body ideals
on women because at the end of the day, the designers want to sell their work and earn a living.
By Portia Loeto
As an industry whose consumers are mostly women, fashion could be a powerful tool for
feminists. However, just like any other machinery, efficiency depends on knowledge of the
machine’s parts and functions. Fashion should be explored further because the possibilities of
using it for good are as endless as there are questions surrounding its relationship with feminism.
Portia Loeto is a gender analyst from Botswana, with an academic background in
gender and education. She graduated from the University of Botswana with a Masters
of Education in Gender Education. She works with an NGO called the African Women
Leadership Academy as a Gender Programme Assistant. Portia sums herself up as
an individual working on the holistic scope of gender issues, including body politics,
equality and equity, gender mainstreaming, women and civil society, capacity building
and, most importantly, amplifying the voices of young women in their respective
communities.
Thomas Carlyle in his book Sartor Resartus (1836) – meaning
The Tailor Re-tailored – said of clothes:
“We have disquisitions on the Social Contract, on the Standard of Taste, on the Migration of the
Herring…Philosophies of Language, of History, of Pottery, of Apparitions, of intoxicating liquors…
The whole life of humanity has been elucidated: scarcely a fragment or fibre of his Soul, Body, and
Possessions – not a cellular, vascular, muscular Tissue – but has been probed, dissected, distilled
desiccated and scientifically decomposed… How then comes it that the grand Tissue of all Tissues, the
only real Tissue, should have been quite overlooked – the vestural Tissue, namely, or woolen or other
cloth; which Man’s Soul wears as its outmost wrappage and overall; wherein his whole other Tissues
are included and screened, his whole Faculties work, his whole Self lives, moves, and has its being?”
It is a fascinating point. Why don’t we have a collective body of knowledge on clothing and
fashion, given its ubiquity and the complexities of our attitudes towards it and interaction
with it? Why don’t feminists have a collective body of knowledge on fashion?
"T
References
Audre, L. (2007). The Master’s Tools will Never
Dismantle the Master’s House. Freedom,
California: Crossing Press.
52
100
Carlyle, T. (1836). Sartor Resartus. Fraser’s
Magazine.
Brewer, M.B. (1991). The Social Self: On being
the same and different at the same time.
Personality and Psychology Bulletin, 17.
Kwon, Yoon-Hee. (1994). The Influence of
Appropriateness of Dress and Gender on the
Self-Perception of Occupational Attributes.
Clothing and Textiles Research Journal No. 12
Burke, P. J. (1980). The self: Measurement
implications from a symbolic interactionist
perspective. Social Psychology Quarterly, 43.
McLeod, S. A. (2008). Social Identity Theory.
Retrieved from http://www.simplypsychology.
org/social-identity-theory.html#
Burke, P. & Stets, J. (2009) Identity Theory
New York: Oxford University Press.
Stone Gregory, P. (1962). Appearance and the
Self. New York: Wiley, 1965.
Wilson, E. (1985). Adorned in Dreams: Fashion
and Modernity. Berkeley, California: University
of California Press.
Wolf, N. (1991). The Beauty Myth: How Images
of Beauty are used Against Women. New York:
William Morrow.
he female body is a cultural artefact
defined and redefined over time in
response to broad cultural and historical
transformations. Historically, the body
has taken on a tubular and slender form in
eras in which the female mind has become
more politically, economically and socially
independent. One need only reflect upon
the popular image of the 1920s flapper and
the 1970s fashion models to observe the
validity of such an assertion” – Hesse-Biber,
Howling, Leavy and Lovejoy (2004).
do to look like her? What do they think of my
looks? These are some of the questions that I
believe have plagued the minds of most of us
as teenagers and young women on countless
occasions. For me, growing up in Botswana
– a patriarchal society where how you look is
determined by a plethora of external forces
– has been a real challenge. And I hope this
article can shine some much needed light
on this issue and so help everyone – but
especially young sisters across the region
– who are battling with these questions.
Hesse-Biber, Howling, Leavy and Lovejoy
depict the body as a contested site of
struggle by comparing it to a historical canvas
– a surface that is constantly transformed
according to the painter’s wishes over time.
As a young woman, this subject has proven
to be close to my heart, perhaps because of
my own experiences and the experiences of
other sisters, who have always grappled with
the notion of beauty and attractiveness. What
is beauty? Do I look beautiful? What can I
Patriarchy, gender and the body
The notion of beauty and attractiveness is
synonymous with one’s body image; how we
view ourselves and how we think other people
think of us in terms of looks or appearance. I
believe that as societies, we tend to minimise
the role patriarchy has played in influencing
body image. Patriarchy strives to exercise
control by defining what beauty is, controlling
the mobility of women, exerting violence
53
100
"...a core belief of most cultures
was that women should display a
certain body type as per society
standards. It is for this reason
that women have constantly
tried to look a certain way – a
way that is deemed attractive
at any given point in time. "
and constructing social norms that impact on
women’s lived experiences. Throughout history
and up until the present day, a core belief of
Batswana culture – and indeed many other
cultures on the African continent and beyond –
is that women should have a certain body type.
Society often begins projecting socially
constructed gender expectations on children
before they are even born. This is evident in the
colours used to decorate the nurseries. Colour
codes in the form of blue and pink, pierced
ears, head bands and clothing designed for
infants’ provide a gendered foundation that will
provide a template for much of the children’s
lives. Things such as toys, books, cartoons
and video games develop a framework that
cultivates children’s identities, their relationships
with others and most importantly how they
view the world. The process of socialisation is
embedded in patriarchal values, where beauty
is emphasised for girls, while independence
and adventure are emphasised for boys.
According to Lighthouse (2006), body image
refers to personal constructions and public
projections of our body and body parts, often
in attempted conformity with parameters
of ‘beauty’ established in socio-cultural or
non-personal contexts. In other words, body
image ‘involves our perception, imagination,
emotions and physical sensations of and
about our bodies’ in relation to values that
54
100
are not necessarily
innate but ‘learned or
expected culturally’.
Body image concerns
have been measured by
several authors (Phares
et al., 2004; Thompson
and Stice, 2001; Rand
and Wright, 2000), who
have had differences
when it comes to how
body image issues affect
women, men, adolescents
and children. Akram
and Borland (2007)
report on the negative
affect of women’s and
men’s body image
concerns and their attitudes towards
physical appearance. They conclude that
women tend to focus more on the physical
appearance aspects of body image and tend
to be more negative about their bodies, and
compartmentalise them more than men.
This compartmentalisation allows women
to isolate parts of their bodies for criticism
and specific analysis and thus women tend
to be more body focused than men (p.312).
Body image is generally the subjective sense
we have of our appearance and our body.
There is much evidence that image plays
a central role in people’s lives – so much so
that people spend a lot of money on their
looks, from hairstyles to make up to plastic
surgery. Although both women and men are
on the quest to look good, studies have shown
that this quest for beauty is more profound
for women – and that it is women who fret
more about their bodily ‘imperfections’.
Women and the body ideal
What is attractive varies from one culture
to another and definitely from one historic
period to another. In some cultures, facial
scarring is attractive, while drooping breasts
are in others. In the historical context, a core
belief of most cultures was that women
should display a certain body type as per
society standards. It is for this reason that
women have constantly tried to look a certain
way – a way that is deemed attractive at
any given point in time. Failure to conform
to the prevailing body ideals always results
in some form of image dissatisfaction. The
dissatisfaction with how one looks may be a
manifestation of several ideals emanating from
socialisation, culture, peers and the media.
Today, most women are plagued by the
thin-ideal in which a certain thin body size
is desirable. However, it is evident that this
female preoccupation with looks is by no
means a recent phenomenon. Body image
ideals have always existed in societies and
have continued to evolve over time. A
study by Prevos (2005) reveals that the
preoccupation with thinness is not a recent
development. In the early 1940s, it was found
that people with ectomorphic bodies were
perceived by others as nervous, submissive
and socially withdrawn. By the late 1980s this
perception had changed and thin people were
considered to be the most sexually appealing.
(2007) suggest that for many girls and women
in Western cultures, appearance is central
to their self-definition. They are socialised
early into learning that their bodies should
be used to attract others and they learn to
see themselves as objects to be looked at
and evaluated by appearance. This pressure
is constantly reinforced by a strong cultural
ideal of female beauty – an ideal beauty has
become synonymous with thinness (p.315).
Women often go through body enhancement
procedures to achieve the desired societal
body ideals. These body image enhancement
procedures range from traditional approaches
(grooming, dieting and exercising) to extreme
surgeries (tummy tucks and liposuction) – and
can even involve potentially deadly eating
disorders (anorexia nervosa and bulimia). It
is quite evident that the pressure to conform
to the ideal body image can be stressful
and has resulted in the majority of women
suffering from a negative body image.
The female body as a
contested site of struggle
Women tend to internalise this thin ideal
and this internalisation is a result of individual
attitudes that are approved of by significant
or respected others. Kandel (1980) calls this
a process of social reinforcement. Agents
of socialisation – such as family, peers and
the media – are believed to reinforce the
thin body image through comments or
actions that serve to support and perpetuate
this ideal, including by teasing women
about their weight, encouraging them to
diet and glorifying ultra-slim models (p.
238). It can be attested that these sources
increase expectations concerning the
benefits of thinness, such as increased social
acceptance, and these expectations play a
major role in the propagation of this ideal.
A contested site of struggle is a phrase often
used to depict the fact that women’s bodies
are not neutral entities. There is more to the
body than just flesh and blood. Women’s
bodies are not neutral in the sense that
there are so many external factors that act
upon them and eventually dictate the way
of life of women. A woman’s body has come
to be recognised as a contested terrain in
contemporary societies, where battles for
control are. The war on women’s bodies
ranges from acts of extreme violence to bills
targeting ‘indecent dressing’ to attacks on
women wearing mini-skirts. Along with being
bombarded by messages about their bodies on
a daily basis, women live in fear of violence and
this is a strategy to control women’s ability to
think, feel, move freely and act independently.
With the rise of globalization, many aspects
of Western culture have been emulated by
the rest of the world. Akram and Borland
The struggle for independence and liberation
for women has not been easy, especially due
to the external forces acting on the female
55
100
body. Society has always used direct and
indirect levers to control women’s bodies
in one way or the other. So even the
greater equality of opportunity for women
in recent times has resulted in a cultural
demand for women to be thin – political,
economic and social gains have coincided
with increasing pressure to lose weight. A
woman who climbs the corporate ladder is
stereotypically expected to look a certain
way so even ‘liberated’ women still end
up having to conform to a certain ideal.
This is an example that a woman’s body
can never be a neutral entity. Someone
has to have some kind of control over it.
The role of the media
The media has proved to be a powerful
source when it comes to how women
view themselves since many magazines,
newspapers and television programmes are
geared towards portraying the ideal woman
– from her expected roles to how she should
look. The preceding statement is supported
by Gill (2007), who argues that we live in a
world that is increasingly saturated by the
media and information and communication
technologies. One of the earliest and
most famous studies conducted by the
National Organization of Women in the
United States of America found that more
than one third of adverts showed women
as domestic agents, who were dependent
upon men. Most importantly, the study also
reported many examples of women being
depicted as decorative objects (pp. 7-10).
And this is important because the media
has such a profound impact on the lives
of women – providing a platform for their
dreams and aspirations, particularly when it
comes to achieving the ideal body type.
The fashion industry has been openly
criticised for promoting the thin ideal using
models that are too thin, even though this
thin goal is unattainable for most women.
Advertisers have defended their continued
use of this unhealthy and unattainable
56
100
ideal with the argument that ‘thinness sells’
but it also causes damage since the use
of ultra-thin models makes many women
feel bad about their bodies since they end
up internalizing thin as the ideal shape.
"The media has proved to be
a powerful source when it
comes to how women view
themselves since many
magazines, newspapers and
television programmes are
geared towards portraying
the ideal woman – from
her expected roles to
how she should look."
The cosmetics industry has also perpetuated
a negative body image. According to
Gallagher and Hebert (2007), cosmetics
companies promise women an outcome
and suggest an ideal way of looking.
Voluminous eyelashes, moisturising lip
colour, natural looking face powder and
age defying creams all become part of an
ideology of beauty. This ideology works
by transforming an ideal beauty into a
timeless and universal standard towards
which ‘ideal women’ should strive (p.57).
This quest for the ideal has certainly taken
another dimension on television where we
see Western programmes such as Extreme
Makeover and I Want a Famous Face.
Most of these programmes are premised
on transforming the appearance of women
from ugly ducklings to swans in a single
show – although the techniques use range
from new hairstyles, clothes and makeup
to extensive plastic surgery. Gallagher and
Hebert (2007) argue that female bodies
often develop the status of a commodity –
the ideal version of which, as prescribed by
society, can be achieved through various
processes, including surgical means.
Women are put under immense pressure to
look ideally ‘beautiful’. Makeup has become
an integral part of many women’s lives
since it gives them the chance to transform
– or rather to ‘improve’ – their looks and
generate self-esteem. It must be noted
that the same advertisements that claim
to unlock every woman’s beauty instil the
notion that women are somehow inherently
flawed without beauty enhancing products.
This subtext leads to body dissatisfaction
and consequently low self-esteem in many
women – and highlights once again the ongoing battle for control of women’s bodies.
References
Hesse-Biber, S.N., Howling, S.A, Leavy, P.,
& Lovejoy, M. (2004). Racial identity and the
development of body image issues among
African American adolescent girls. The
Qualitative Report, 9 (1) 49-79.
Thompson, J.K., & Stice, E. (2001). Thinideal internalization: Mounting evidence for
a new risk factor for body-image disturbance
and eating pathology. Current Directions in
Psychological Science, 10(5), 181-183
Online encyclopaedia – Body politics:
Feminism and racial. http://encyclopedia.jrank.
org/articles/pages/6016/Body-Politics.html
Rand, C., & Wright, B. (2000). Continuity and
change in the evaluation of ideal and acceptable
body size across a wide age span. International
Journal of Eating Disorders, 28(1), 90-100
Lightstone, J. (2006). Improving Body Image.
http://www.edreferral.com/body_image.htm
Phares, V., Steinberg, A. & Thompson, J.K.
(2004). Gender differences in peer and parental
influences: Body image disturbance, self-worth
and psychological functioning in pre-adolescent
children. Journal of Youth and Adolescence,
33(5), 421-429
Prevos, P. (2005). Differences in body image
between men and women. Psychology Working
Paper Series, Monash University, Melbourne
Akram, S., & Borland, H. (2007). Age is no
barrier to wanting to look good: Women on
body, image and advertising. Qualitative market
research: An international journal, 10(3) 310-333
Bordo, S. (1999). The male body: A new look
at men in public and private. New York: Farrar,
Straus & Giroux
Kandel, D.B. (1980). Drug and drinking
behaviour among youth. Annual Review of
Sociology, 6, 235-285
Gill, R. (2007). Gender and the media.
Cambridge: Polity Press
Dittmar, H. (2008). Consumer culture, identity
and wellbeing: The search for the good life and
the body perfect. New York: Psychology Press
Gallagher, A.H., & Pecot-Hebert, L. (2007).
You need a makeover!: The social construction
of female body image in A Makeover Story,
What not to Wear and Extreme Makeover.
Popular Communication, 5(1), 57-79
57
100
By Mike Zulu
Mike Zulu is an Information Technology Specialist. He has served in various
corporations such as Usutu Pulp, Barclays Bank and Standard Bank. He is currently
running a family business establishment focusing on real estate and retail. Mike is
a staunch supporter of civil society organisations that seek to make society a better
place for all. A golf and squash player, Mike is married with two children.
I
Dad was a very humorous Zulu and a fan of khala mdubadune (a local
radio programme). He would deliberately engage Doo in many radio
gender debates. They would argue and laugh and when he ran out of
reasons to argue his case, he would conclude by saying “sazalwa kunje,
sathola kunje” (it was like this when we were born, it was the order of
the day). Needless to say, Doo takes every opportunity to espouse her
feminist principles and demonstrate why the status quo should change.
The larger, extended family obviously had its own unspoken views.
Despite all the doubts and reservations that my relatives had about our
‘way of doing things’, they appreciated the relationship we had forged
as a family. Dad was diabetic and he did not enjoy prescribed diets
mainly because he liked his salty, fatty meat and his beer. But each time
he came to visit, Doo would cook for him the ‘diabetic way’ and he
would enjoy the food and ask for recipes. Meanwhile, Mom had a heart
condition and was also well looked after. She would spend weeks visiting
us and I remember her saying “ngiyaphumula uma ngilapha makaFezi,
ngiyabonga bantwa bami” (I rest when I am here, thank you my
children). So Doo played her role as a makoti but this did not undermine
her feminist principles. And as time progressed, this balance gained her
the respect of the extended family.
have been happily married to Doo Aphane, a feminist and a
human rights activist, for 26 years. Doo has dedicated most of
her working life to advancing the gender agenda. She is unwavering in
her desire and determination to fight for gender equality. It does not
matter where and in whose presence, even within the family. But she
has equally played her role as a wife and as a mother to my children.
people who should be afforded equal opportunity are often scorned.
Feminists are harshly regarded as man-haters, and yet being married
to a feminist myself, I have come to realise that these assertions are far
from the truth.
Values of our marriage
While my family was receptive and happy about our marriage, they
believed that I, as the man, would lead and take the major decisions
about my new family. In the beginning, my mom and the larger family
could not understand why Doo was not using my surname – why
she was not Mrs Zulu. Doo explained to my mum that Aphane is her
real identity just like my mother’s real identity was not Zulu, adding
that they were, in fact, the only non-Zulus in the household. And she
pointed out that in the end it is about choice; whether one wants to
change one’s surname or not. As the years went on, Mom enjoyed
being called Kwena (her maiden name) and our children called her
Kwena and knew her as that. She was forever Kwena to most of the
immediate family and we still use that name to this day. I recall when we
were drafting the epitaph for her tombstone, Doo insisted that we also
write her birth surname, arguing that future generations should also
know her maiden name and be able to trace their lineage. My mum’s
brother was very happy with that.
We also go beyond the call of duty whenever we have family gatherings,
such as weddings and funerals, and this is something that amazes some of
my family members. And it has helped to change their views about Doo.
Whereas they may judge her for being firm and outspoken when she
sees an injustice, they tend to warm up to her when they realise that she is
comfortable in her own skin. Through her resolute activism for women’s
rights, she has won the hearts of many in the family. She is readily available
to fight for the rights of women folk whether born or married into our
family. Both male and female relatives have come to strike a positive cord
with her through her availability for them in this respect.
My parents also expected Doo to wear a headscarf, which is the
traditional dress code for a makoti (bride) whenever we were home
but Doo had other ideas. It was through dialogue and open minds that
we were able to engage them on these issues and come to a peaceful
understanding. The advantage we had was that Mom and Dad always
looked at an issue from several angles and gave careful consideration
to a situation before taking a decision – so after much dialogue reason
Community perspective
First and foremost, our marriage is based on love, respect, sharing,
honesty, laughter and understanding of one another, our families
and our two children. We respect each other and our individual and
collective views. We share not only resources but challenges and
achievements. We are honest to our union; we value it above all else.
We laugh a lot at issues and ourselves. We understand each other and
debate our viewpoints and reasoning. I could say that it’s the values
that we have set for ourselves and that we believe in that have been
the anchors of our relationship for all these years. We do not take these
values for granted but cherish them. In hindsight, I can see that we had
a similar outlook to married life and that is what attracted me to her.
In all this, Doo is open, honest and expects – and where need arises
demands – reciprocation in the values that our marriage is based on.
Being married to a feminist is being married to a human being – God’s
creation with God-given capabilities. My understanding of feminism
is advocacy for equality between men and women on all fronts where
naturally possible. I believe – and time has proved it over and over
again – that anyone blessed with a human brain is capable of excelling
in whatever they do. That capacity is God-given. Unfortunately, it
seems not all people see it that way; some regard women as minor
citizens. As a result, those who view women as equal to men and as
58
100
prevailed over feelings and stereotypes. They realised that it is not the
dress code or the surname that brings unity to a family but love, respect
and understanding.
Family perspective
But most importantly, we raise our two children (a boy and a girl)
collectively, with no separation of duties and responsibilities between
Doo and me. We share the tasks that go with responsible parenting – no
task is mine or hers. This is one of the joys of life, for both parents to raise
their children and for kids to be raised by both parents.
Time and again, I would get indirect questions about my wife and her
thinking and views. A prominent professional once warned me that Doo
was ‘waking up sleeping dogs’. Occasionally, people hold their breath
when I am introduced to them and they learn that I am the husband of
Doo Aphane. Indeed, there was one instance that still makes me laugh to
this day. We were out eating shisa nyama and some guys were chatting
about everything and the conversation got round to relationships. Doo
stated airing her feminist views on relationships and one of them asked
her if feminists can have relationships with men. At which point my
friend said “Here is Doo’s husband” pointing at me. I cannot explain the
man’s reaction and the laughter that followed his reaction. Sadly, the talk
changed and shisa nyama was devoured in hushed tones.
We are also a family that likes to entertain and always have people
coming over to our house. Sometimes people express their amazement
about our ‘normal’ lifestyle as they drool over Doo’s cooking and homemaking skills. In fact, many cannot believe her level of skill on the home
front. This confirms their stereotypical view of feminists – that they must
be sloppy around the home simply because they dare to speak out about
things they view as despicable.
Feminist principles are positive in our marriage
There are a lot of benefits in marrying a feminist, as long as one is
willing to share in the work, dividends, ideas and decisions. One of the
major benefits for me is not having to bear the burden of making all the
decisions purely because I am the man in the relationship. I personally
have benefitted from these principles. We are both independent
of each other yet at the same time dependant on each other.
Independence enables one to pursue her/his choices, with the comfort
of knowing that they are not alone. More importantly, no one is shortchanged because of gender differences. When we can all do whatever
we want irrespective of gender (or any other form of discrimination)
then the community, nation and indeed the world are the winners
because all of us – and not just a fraction of the population – can
contribute. It is satisfying to know that one has meaningfully contributed
one way or the other to a worthwhile course. I am in a marriage where
each partner contributes according to his or her ability, not according to
societal expectations. I find it refreshing because it enables me and my
wife to be just who we are. I believe in fairness. I do not see the benefits
of inequality. And I am happy that we have raised our children
on these good principles.
"Time and again, I would get indirect
questions about my wife and her
thinking and views. A prominent
professional once warned me that
Doo was ‘waking up sleeping dogs'."
59
100
I supported Doo throughout her journey when she took the
Government of Swaziland to court in 2009 because the system still
denied women married in community of property the right to register
title deeds in their name. I am happy that she won and that we could
jointly register our property and that after her victory, other wives and
husbands can now register the title to their land as couples.
And the need for this kind of legal challenges is clear. A female
cousin of mine was a hawker and had a good business going. Over
the years, she bought a plot but she could only register it in her
husband’s name, which she did. She then proceeded to build a family
house. Sadly, the husband sold the property without her knowledge
and she only learned from the new owners that the property had
been sold. She lost her house because then she was not considered
‘adult enough’ to be able to jointly register property with her
husband. Just imagine the devastation that the loss of her property
had on my cousin and her children.
Female Husbands without
Male Wives:
So I will continue to support Doo in her endeavours for the sake of a
better life for all. If the truth be spoken, many people have benefited
– and continue to benefit – from the work of feminists like Doo. Sadly,
few are willing to admit that feminists have contributed to bettering
their lives – be it in the corporate, public or private spheres.
Women, culture and marriage
in Africa
Give everyone a chance
How many capable girl-children have been systematically channelled
into ‘lesser’ professions because no one believed that they were
as capable as their male counterparts? What a waste of human
brainpower and what a waste of potential contributions to society.
Think of the benefits to humanity if all these brains were to be allowed
to realise their full potential. The loser is the individual, family and
community at large. Discrimination of any form is wasteful. After all
has been considered, there is nothing peculiar about feminism – it
promotes a normal, shared life where everyone is a winner.
Hleziphi Naomie Nyanungo is a scholar and a researcher, who has held faculty
appointments at Penn State University (USA) and Africa University (Zimbabwe). Her
research interests are primarily in the areas of education, governance and women’s
studies. Hleziphi coordinated the Young Women’s Leadership Course from 2009–2012
and continues to be involved with feminist movements in southern Africa.
M
arriage is a key institution in many, if
not all, societies. In some societies
marriage is seen as a defining marker in the
transition from childhood to adulthood.
Marriage is also how relationships and kin
networks are formed. If you have doubts
about how central this institution is to
society, consider how the issue of marriage
rights has been played out at different
points in the history of any society. People
were discouraged, and in some cases
outlawed, from marrying outside of their
class, caste, race, religion or ethnic group.
Families would disown daughters and
sons who married the ‘wrong’ person.
Whatever your views on marriage may be, it is
undeniably a key social institution with major
implications for the accordance of rights
and privileges in a particular society. So,
60
100
what does culture have to do with marriage?
Cultural norms, beliefs and values set the
rules for all aspects of marriage, which include
who we marry, when we marry, how we marry
and what is expected of us in a marriage. It
would not be an exaggeration to say that
culture has everything to do with marriage.
Marriage is, after all, a cultural and social
construct. As such, cultural beliefs inform
the framework of what marriage customs
and practices are considered acceptable
in a society. Both culture and marriage are
important constructs to the struggle for
gender equality in society. The purpose
of this paper is to critically examine the
implications for women’s lives in specific
traditional African marriage customs
practiced across the continent. The
paper looks at the various ways in which
these marriage customs support and/
or challenge systems of patriarchy.
Female husbands without male wives
When we think of marriage, the image
that often comes into our minds is of a
union between one man and one or more
women. However, the current focus of the
marriage debate is same-sex marriages.
We are seeing some countries in the world
passing laws that make it legal for people
of the same sex to marry each other. South
Africa is presently the only country in Africa
where same-sex marriage is legal. There
is a prevailing perception that the concept
of same-sex marriage is foreign to Africa.
However, there is a specific form of same
sex marriage, commonly known as woman
61
100
Female Husbands without Male Wives: Women, Culture and Marriage in Africa
marriage that has been practiced in Africa since before the
advent of colonialism. Woman marriage is where a woman marries
another woman. It is important to note that woman marriage in
this context is not the same as lesbian marriage. The nature of the
relationship between the women married to each other in these
traditional woman marriage arrangements is legal and social but
not sexual. Thus, while woman marriage is same sex marriage, it is
not lesbian marriage because there is typically no sexual attraction
and/or involvement between female husbands and their wives. A
female husband is a woman who is legally and socially married to
another woman. Kevane (2004) estimates that approximately 5–10
percent of the women in Africa are involved in woman-to-woman
marriages. Traditionally, woman marriage has served as an avenue
through which women exercise social influence and patronage
in societies where inheritance and succession pass through the
male line. In such societies, woman marriage makes it possible
for women to gain social status as the head of the household.
In some societies, such as the Nandi people of Western Kenya,
women who are older (beyond child-bearing age), never married
and have no children are prime candidates to become female
husbands. This is because they will want an heir to inherit their
name, wealth and property. A woman in this situation will find a
younger woman to marry and bear her children. She will become
a female husband by giving bride-wealth and observing all the
other the rituals asked of a suitor by the bride’s family. The wife
may have children with any man she wishes, or a man chosen by the
female husband, but the legal and social ‘father’ of the children will
be the female husband. The giving and receiving of bride-wealth
accords the female husband the same rights over the children as
any other husband (Sacks, 1982). As the social and legal father of
the children, the female husband will support the children as would
any other father, regardless of who the biological father may be.
An anthropological study conducted by Oboler (1980) found that
the Nandi female husband is considered culturally male and thus
allowed to take on male roles. For instance, a female husband may
be allowed to take on political roles that women are typically not
allowed adopt. A female husband is also unlikely to carry things
on her head and so forth. Oboler interviewed a female husband
who described the typical male role she plays when entertaining
visitors: “When a visitor comes, I sit with him outside and converse
with him. My wife brings out maize-porridge, vegetables and
milk. When we have finished eating I say, ‘wife, come and take
the dishes’. Then I go for a walk with the visitor.” (1980, p. 77)
The Abagusii people of Western Kenya have a slightly different
form of women marriage. An example of woman marriage among
the Abagusii would be where a mother with only female children
62
100
"South Africa is presently the
only country in Africa where
same-sex marriage is legal.
There is a prevailing perception
that the concept of same-sex
marriage is foreign to Africa."
The three variations discussed above certainly do not represent all the variations of woman
marriage practised across the continent. The benefit to the female husband is obvious in
all the variations – namely material and social security. What, if any, are the benefits to
the wives in woman marriage? Why would a woman consider marrying a female husband?
Oboler (1980) suggests that there are several reasons that make this arrangement appealing
to women. It is a viable option for young women who have children out of wedlock in
societies that shun single mothers. This is an avenue through which they can attain
social acceptance and economic stability. Wives of female husbands cite greater sexual
and social freedom as compared to those with male husbands since they are not limited
to one sexual partner as is often the case in male-female marriages. There is also less
possibility of abuse in woman marriage models. Finally, female husbands are often likely
to give bride wealth of higher value than men because they are more anxious to marry.
marries a woman for a fictitious son (Oboler, 1980).
In patriarchal societies, daughters or their offspring
cannot carry on the family line – that is the preserve of sons. In
such a situation, a woman who only has daughters fears risking
everything due to the absence of male heirs to perpetuate the
family name and inherit the family wealth. To resolve this dilemma,
a woman without sons may marry a young woman with the
expectation that she will bear a son for the family. The purpose
of the union is therefore to provide a male heir for the family.
The woman that gives bride-wealth takes responsibility for, and
has rights over, any children born by the bride. The biological
father will have no rights over the children. This kind of marriage
is classified as woman marriage although it is done on behalf of
a non-existent son. Single mothers in Western Kenya are said to
view this as a good alternative way of obtaining economic security
and social acceptance when they have children out of wedlock.
Another variation of woman marriage is where a woman is
simultaneously wife and female husband (Sacks, 1982). A married
woman, who is independently wealthy, can choose to set up
a compound of her own that is separate from her husband’s
compound. She would do so by marrying one or more women
to be her wives and bear her children, which would make her
a female-husband in her own compound and a wife in her
husband’s compound. This form of woman marriage is known
to be practiced among the Lovedu of South Africa (Sacks,
1982) and the Igbo of Benin and Nigeria (Eskeridge, 1993).
The Lovedu are known to be the only African society that still
have a female monarch often referred to as the Rain Queen.
The queen herself has been known to be a female husband to
many wives. Ifeyenwa Olinke, an Igbo woman who lived in the
19th Century, was a famously enterprising woman, who socially
overshadowed her less prosperous male husband. As a symbol
of her prosperity and social standing, she married nine wives
(Eskeridge, 1993). Her husband did not have as many wives.
63
100
Culturally old enough, legally too young
Another marriage practice not often talked about is child marriage.
In many societies in Africa, child marriage is an accepted marriage
custom. Studies conducted by the International Center for Research
on Women (ICRW) and Plan UK reveal that the custom of child
marriage is alive and well with estimates that more than 14 million
girls (approximately 42 percent of girls under the age of 18) in subSaharan Africa alone will be married before they reach the age of 18.
Undoubtedly, child marriage is a marriage custom that is
detrimental to the lives of women in Africa (and all other places
where it is practiced). Young girls are robbed of their power to
decide for themselves if, when, and who they will marry. They
become wives before they can legally find employment. They also
become wives before they are citizens who can vote, and more often
than not, they become mothers while they are children themselves.
A key reason that child marriage happens is that it is an accepted
cultural custom in the particular societies in which it is practiced.
To get a sense of what child marriage means to the lives of women,
consider the story of Mereso Kisulu, a young woman from Tanzania
who became a bride at the age of 13. She had probably started
menstruating not long before she was forced to become the wife
of a man in his 70s, who already had several other wives. As she
explains, “My family received a bride price from my husband and
then he took me away to become one of his wives. He beat me
regularly so I fled back to my village. But my father and brother
told me the price had been paid, this was no longer my home; I had
to return” (Kisulu, 2013). Mereso gave birth to her first child at the
age of 14 and was the mother of five children by the age of 19.
In Malawi, 11-year-old Mwaka Sembeya faced a similar fate
(LaFraniere, 2005). Poor crop harvests brought starvation to the
Sembeya family and so Mwaka’s father borrowed money (US$16)
from Mr Kalabo to feed his family. When Mwaka’s father could not
repay the debt, he agreed that Mwaka would become Mr Kalabo’s
wife to settle his debt, even though her new husband was at least 30
years older than her. In another case, 14-year-old Beatrice Kitamula,
also of Malawi, became the wife of a 63 year old widower to whom
her father owed a cow. The debt between the two men was settled
through her marriage (LaFraniere, 2005). It is hard to imagine
two men negotiating a deal where one says to another: “Since I
am unable to give you back your cow, you can take my daughter
to be your wife,” but poverty is a powerful motivating factor for
child marriage, especially where culture makes it acceptable.
In my own country of Zimbabwe, I have heard of situations where
a girl-child is raped and her family chooses not to pursue formal
64
100
“Our traditional values dictate
that girls are meant for marriage,
and when the men decide we are
biologically ready, we are married.”
-Kisulu, 2013)
criminal rape charges on condition that the rapist agrees to marry
the girl. The girl becomes wife to the man who raped her. Rarely
do these stories make it into our newspapers and when they
do, they are not the main headlines. They are not considered
newsworthy since it is felt that they are not major violations, as
cultural traditions are being followed. Like elsewhere, our cultural
traditions make the custom of child marriage acceptable.
amount for the bride-wealth (or bogadi as it is known in the local
language) among the Tswana. This is in contrast to what happens
in other societies where it is the receivers of the bride-wealth (the
bride’s family) who dictate the desired gifts and the givers (the
groom’s family) are expected to comply. However, as in many other
African cultures, bride-wealth in Botswana transfers the affiliation
of children from their mother’s lineage to the father’s lineage.
The cultural backdrop makes it acceptable for these young girls to
become wives before they are ready, and often against their own
wishes. Mesero Kisulu, the Tanzanian woman who was a childbride at 13 explains: “Our traditional values dictate that girls are
meant for marriage, and when the men decide we are biologically
ready, we are married.” (Kisulu, 2013) Child marriage continues
to happen even in countries where laws prohibit it because the
prevailing cultural norms and values legitimise the marriages.
There are few – if any – social and legal penalties for marrying
underage girls because it is accepted as a cultural practice.
Child marriage reveals perceptions of women as property to be
exchanged in return for goods and as beings with a limited say in
determining what happens in their lives. Embedded within such
values, child marriage is a marriage custom that supports and
perpetuates systems of patriarchy privileging men over women.
As noted above, bride-wealth goes to the family of the bride.
In fact, some anthropologists postulate that bride-wealth is
a mechanism for resource circulation in traditional societies.
Wealth comes to the family when daughters are married. This
wealth is then used by the sons of that family to marry daughters
from other families (Anderson, 2007). However, it is the family
of the bride that benefits from bride-wealth exchange, not the
bride herself. If any portion of it goes to the bride, it is usually a
minimal amount. The wealth is in exchange for the bride – she
is the object of exchange, not the recipient of the wealth.
Bride-wealth and bride’s wealth
Whatever the type of marital union, entering into a marriage in
most African societies is a lengthy process, which typically involves
phases that include family introductions, negotiations, exchange
of gifts and wealth. A key feature in many traditional African
marriage processes is the exchange of bride-wealth. Bride-wealth
generally consists of a combination of material and monetary items
that the family of the groom gives to the family of the bride. It is
commonly believed that these items are given by the groom and
his family as an expression of gratitude to the family of the bride.
In addition to gratitude, bride wealth is also tied to rights over
children and exclusive sexual rights over the woman. In many
African societies, a man only has legitimate rights over children
when he has given bride-wealth for the woman with whom he bears
the children (Kevane, 2004). There are societies where if a married
woman chooses to leave the marriage for another man then her
new husband will be expected to reimburse the former husband
for the bride-wealth that he gave. The nature and quantity of the
gifts vary considerably across cultures. What and how much is to
be exchanged is usually determined by the family of the bride, and
often in negotiation within and among the families involved. The
Tswana culture would be one exception in this regard. According
to Van Allen (2003), it is the family of the groom that sets the
The Somali culture presents a variation that challenges the
arrangement where the bride is the object of exchange. Bridewealth (mehr) is given to the bride herself, and not to her family.
Even when the marriage ends, the bride is entitled to keep this
wealth, which is primarily in the form of livestock, money or
gold. Newly married women generally use their bride-wealth
to start a business or enterprise for themselves (Affi, 2003).
Without the exchange of bride-wealth, the children are affiliated
with their mother’s lineage. The Uduk people of eastern
Sudan are a good example of this custom. Their traditional
marriage custom is characterised as a ‘free system of marriage’
(Kevane, 2004). It is ‘free’ in the sense that there is no material
or legal pledges made between families in connection with
the marriage. Marriage happens when individuals decide they
want to marry, and it ends when they decide to terminate
their union. There are no elaborate or formal ceremonies
and rituals when entering or terminating a marriage. Among
the Uduk, children belong to their mother’s lineage and not
their father’s as is the case in most patriarchal societies.
Reflections: cultural loopholes
The various marriage customs described above highlight that there
are traditional marriage customs that af firm and support women’s
status as citizens – and producers (and not merely re-producers) –
of society. The Somali marriage custom, where the bride-wealth is
given to the bride suggests that women in this society are not seen
as mere dependents of their husbands but are also encouraged to
be enterprising in their own right. This suggests that the culture of
65
100
this particular society supports women’s economic independence
in the context of a marriage. In contrast, child marriages do the
exact opposite by reducing the girl-child to an object of exchange.
While I find the notion of female husbands quite empowering for
some women, I also note a contradiction in that the patriarchal
arrangement is maintained. The female husband gets to enjoy legal
and social privileges over her wife, the same privileges enjoyed
by any male husband over his wife. For example, the rights over
children are not shared between the female husband and her
wife. The system of patriarchy is further maintained to the extent
that female husbands only marry female wives, and not male
wives. I see it as akin to the black slave owners during the times
of slavery. The status of slave owner may have put some black
people on a par with white slave owners, but the status of the slaves
remained the same no matter the race of the slave owner. I am
not suggesting that the institution of marriage is like slavery for
women. I am, however, suggesting that there are unequal power
dynamics between husbands and wives in marriage arrangements
in strict patriarchal societies and these dynamics are mirrored in
woman-to-woman marriages. The son-less mother who marries
a wife in the hope that she will provide a male heir is creatively
protecting and securing her family’s interests. However, she is still
affirming the cultural preference for male heirs over female heirs.
Many African countries have made notable inroads into making it
possible for daughters to inherit property. However, the cultural
battle has yet to catch up to the legal battle in many contexts.
My aim in this paper was to describe some lesser known
traditional African marriage customs. I am certain that there
are many other marriage customs that challenge or perpetuate
patriarchy, which could have been included in this discussion.
My challenge to the reader is to research what some of these
practices might be in her/his particular cultural context. I contend
that when we know more about all the African traditions that
oppose and maintain patriarchy, we will be in a stronger position
to challenge and critique the arguments that use African
cultural customs and traditions to validate oppressive practices.
Therefore, we need to highlight and celebrate traditional
African marriage customs (and other cultural practices) that
support women’s equality in our different cultural contexts.
Feminist Perspectives on Islam
and Culture
By Ruthelle M. Kunje
Ruthelle Mutsa Kunje is 31 and lives in Zimbabwe. She is a mother, counsellor and youth
worker who has worked with children and young women in vulnerable circumstances for
more than 10 years. She derives her inspiration from God and music.
L
eah (not her real name)’s parents
were born in Malawi and emigrated
to Zimbabwe (then Rhodesia) in search of
greener pastures in the early 1970s. They got
married in Zimbabwe through an arranged
marriage union. Her father was 15 years older
than her mother and had left a family back
in Mangochi in Malawi. He started his new
family in Zimbabwe and as he was a practicing
Muslim, Leah became Muslim by default.
During the early years of her life, Leah could
not distinguish between religion and culture as
the two are often intertwined. However, what
was very clear to her early in her life was the
gender disparity between male and female.
Over half of the Malawian population
practice Islam. Ephraim Mandivenga states
that Islam came to Malawi through several
different routes. It was introduced to the
country through the Jumbes – local rulers
who represented the Sultan of Zanzibar and
who held sway along the coast of Lake Nyasa
(now Lake Malawi) for most of the second
half of the 19th century. During the same
period, the Yao – an ethnic group that was
until then based in Mozambique – migrated
to the southern tip of the lake, bringing Islam
with them. Additionally, as Christianity spread
in tandem with colonisation, adopting Islam
was seen as a means of resisting colonization.
Nowadays, over 70 percent of the people
of Malawian origin living in Zimbabwe
are practicing Muslims or practiced Islam
during their childhood years. Most speak
Chewa at home and Arabic during religious
celebrations. Their Islam has long been
practiced according to customs aligned
those of local Zimbabwean communities.
The Muslim population has accepted certain
aspects of Islamic law, known as Shari'a,
while rejecting – or simply ignoring – other
parts it. In the typical life of a Zimbabwean
Muslim, the way of life that is adhered to
is a mixture of Zimbabwean and Malawian
cultures. Even though one is Muslim, there
References
Adams, M. (2003) Cameroon. In L. Walter
(Ed.), The Greenwood Encyclopaedia
of Women’s Issues Worldwide: SubSaharan Africa (Vol. 6, pp. 53–79).
Westport, CT: Greenwood Press
Affi, L. (2003). Somalia. In L. Walter (Ed.), The
Greenwood Encyclopaedia of Women’s Issues
Worldwide: Sub-Saharan Africa (Vol. 6, pp.
389–404). Westport, CT: Greenwood Press.
Anderson, S. (2007). The Economics
of Dowry and Brideprice. Journal of
Economic Perspectives, 21(4), 151 – 174.
Child Marriage Facts and Figures | ICRW.
(n.d.). Retrieved July 12, 2013, from http://www.
icrw.org/child-marriage-facts-and-figures
66
100
Early and forced marriage - facts and
figures - Plan UK. (n.d.). Retrieved
July 12, 2013, from http://www.plan-uk.
org/early-and-forced-marriage/
LaFraniere, S. (2005, November 27). Forced
to Marry Before Puberty, African Girls
Pay Lasting Price. The New York Times.
Retrieved from www.nytimes.com
Eskeridge, W. (1993). A History
of Same-Sex Marriage. Virginia
Law Review, 79(7), 1419–1513.
Oboler, R. S. (1980). Is the Female Husband a
Man? Woman/Woman Marriage among the
Nandi of Kenya. Ethnology, 19(1), 69–88.
Kevane, M. (2004). Women and
Development in Africa: How Gender Works.
London: Lynne Reinner Publishers, Inc.
Sacks, K. (1982). Sisters and Wives:
The Past and Future of Sexual Equality.
Westport, CT: Greenwood Press.
Kisulu, M. (2013, March 8). Married at 13
to man in 70’s: Child bride who’s changing
attitudes. CNN: African Voices. Retrieved
May 29, 2013, from www.cnn.com/2013/03/08/
opinion/child-marriage-kisulu
Van Allen, J. (2003). Botswana. In L. Walter
(Ed.), The Greenwood Encyclopaedia
of Women’s Issues Worldwide: SubSaharan Africa (Vol. 6, pp. 21–51).
Westport, CT: Greenwood Press.
67
100
Feminist Perspectives on Islam and Culture
cultural beliefs since many African cultures
place no value on women and view them as
nothing more than commodities or assets.
Islam has no room for female
participation in any area,
except in child bearing and
rearing. Decision making
is left to the men in the
family or community.
are some things that are culturally practiced
at home but are not practiced at the Mosque.
However, these differences between religious
and cultural practices are often not visible
to children. But the gender inequality is
clear to all from a tender age since boys
are treated differently from girls – in terms
of social status, schooling opportunities
and even duties around the home.
Gender differences are mostly visible at
religious ceremonies and events. Women’s
participation is mostly centred on the
generally accepted ‘women’s roles’. Islam has
no room for female participation in any area,
except in child bearing and rearing. Decision
making is left to the men in the family or
community. Once a woman is married, she is
expected to do the bidding of her husband
without questioning his motives or agenda.
Leah’s mother gave birth to five daughters
– to the disappointment of her husband. His
disappointment grew to become a cancer
that ate him up day and night. The family
lived in a two roomed cabin in a high density
suburb of Mbare, so there was no privacy.
Every fight and every argument always
ended up with Leah’s father exclaiming
about the worthless children – labelling
them mazuda (useless coins). This showed
his total disregard for women – a disregard
that emanated from his religious and
68
100
Muslim children are ordinarily expected
to attend Madrassas (school of learning)
from the age of 6 and such schools are
found in most high density suburbs and
farm communities in Zimbabwe. The
Islamic doctrine is ingrained in the young
children and lessons are taught separately
for boys and girls. In cases where there
is no space or not enough teachers, girls
sit on one side and the boys on the other.
Over the years, one learns that the two
sexes never mingle, even when praying.
At the Madrassa one is taught to recite in
Arabic, write in Arabic and sing in Arabic.
Women are not considered an integral part
of the Muslim religious community. Their
role is to support the men and they do not
perform any duties pertaining to religious
activities or ceremonies. But it not just Islamic
practices that create this divide. Malawian
culture also works to suppress the rights of
girls and women. The culture is meant to
protect the girl child, but it actually acts as a
hindrance to her progress and development.
Therefore, as she was growing up, Leah was
not exposed to some of the opportunities
that were offered to her male counterparts.
A girl like Leah is expected to take part in
rituals without questioning and to act like a
sheep being led to the slaughter, in order to
be qualified as an ideal woman. For instance,
in rituals such as the ‘coming of age’, she
has to undergo female genital mutilation –
although it not clear whether this is primarily
a religious or a Malawian cultural practice.
According to a paper entitled Female Genital
Mutilation: Religious, Cultural and Legal
Myths written by FORWARD, the Islamic
Cultural Centre and the London Central
Mosque, ‘female genital mutilation has
been erroneously associated with Islam’. In
fact, it is practiced predominantly in parts
of Africa, the Middle East and Asia where
it has acquired a religious dimension due
to the justification that the practice is used
to ensure female chastity. However, there
is a lot of secrecy surrounding this ritual
(known as Chinamwari). The ritual is in two
phases – the first phase is for girls and the
second is for those who are older and about
to enter into marriage. In Malawi, there are
some areas which are less developed and
girls can take six months to go through the
first phase. In Zimbabwe, it usually takes one
month. The second phase for older girls or
young women is conducted over a two week
period. Once a girl goes through the ritual,
she is sworn to secrecy for the rest of her life.
If one divulges what happened during the
ritual, it is said that the girl’s family will be
cursed – even that her parents might die.
Leah experienced Chinamwari at the age
of eight, while she was in Malawi. The
process took six months. Observing how
these Chinamwari rituals are conducted, it
is interesting to note the clear intersection
between culture and religion. The rituals are
spearheaded by elders of the community as a
cultural practice, and on graduation day, the
celebrations are carried out at the Mosque! It
becomes difficult to distinguish if the practice
is borne out of culture or religion, or both!
Both cultural and religious practices are also
closely intertwined in relation to marriage.
A girl is considered to be ready for marriage
at a very tender age under both Islamic
and Malawian cultural norms. Marriage in
Islam is a contract (Katb el-Ketāb) between
a man and woman to live as husband
and wife. A formal, binding contract is
considered integral to a religiously valid
Islamic marriage, and outlines the rights
and responsibilities of the groom and bride.
The marriage must be declared publicly.
After the death of her father, Leah’s mother
could no longer afford the school fees
so she entered into an agreement with
another family to marry off her child in
return for assistance with the school fees.
Leah was to be married to a 55-year-old
man. In order to escape this, she ended up
getting into early marriage to a Muzezuru
(Shona or local person). Generally,
Zimbabwean Muslims girls in rural areas
find themselves is the same predicament.
Divorce is permitted and can be initiated
by either party. However, in reality it does
not happen that way. Culturally, a woman
cannot request a divorce and is expected to
stay put and not leave her marital home.
The parents of a married couple can have
an agreement for their children to marry,
and culturally one is expected to carry out
the wishes of one’s parents. However, with
Zimbabwean Muslims of Malawian descent,
marriages tend to be arranged for the girls
and not for the boys. Parents from well-to-do
families expect their children to marry into
better families. In comparison to the marriage
cultures among local Zimbabweans, where
the man pays lobola in the form of cattle and
money, the Malawian marriage agreement
involves the exchange of chickens and gifts.
However, nowadays, the marriage contracts
of Malawian Muslims in Zimbabwe are largely
conducted using Zimbabwean Shona cultural
practices. The Shona marriage involves
exchange of clothes (nhumbi) in front of a
witness, and then the marriage ceremony
(lobola). Custody of the children born in
these marriage regimes is also interesting
since they are said to belong to the woman.
Islam and Malawian cultural practices
encourage polygamous marriages. Leah’s
father married two other women and later
divorced her mother. Leah’s father had
felt ‘betrayed’ by her mother because she
bore so many girl-children. Other wives
were catered for, but Leah’s mother had to
engage in an income generating activity to
send her children to school. Even though
Leah’s father was not contributing much
to their upkeep, this did not stop him from
demanding conjugal rights or heaping insults
on Leah’s mother, whenever he was drunk.
shown where their loved one was buried. This
is often a traumatising experience for women,
who are denied the chance to pay their last
respects and participate in bidding farewell
to their loved ones. A lot of women tend to
struggle with closure after their relatives die.
Conclusion
It is clear from Leah’s experience – and the
experiences of other women practising Islam in
Zimbabwe – that Islam and culture are strongly
interwoven. It is not easy for one to deduce if
the practice being carried out is premised on
Islam or local cultural practices. However, the
important point is that both the Islamic religious
practices and local cultural influences seem
to benefit men at the expense of women.
Women’s activism and open debate in Islamic
communities are limited to their quarters
or meetings. At the Mosque, women and
men do not mingle, and when women
are in public, they always have to be fully
covered – the whole body except for the
face. This results in older girls and youths
not taking part in extra curricula activities
that require one to undress like athletics and
swimming. A lot of talented women do not
pursue their talents in these areas, resulting
in them living limited and unfulfilled lives.
Funeral rites are another area where Islam
displays gender inequity. When practising
Muslims die, they no longer belong to their
family. The mosque takes over and rituals are
performed according to religious rules. No
female is allowed to attend the burial ceremony,
which is the preserve of men. Female family
members of the deceased are only allowed
to visit the gravesite the following day to be
Girl-children growing up in a Zimbabwean
Muslim community are made to feel like
observers of their own lives. They are not
consulted about events that pertain to their lives
and when decisions are made, they are expected
to loyally – and unquestioningly – comply. In this
setting, both Islam and culture deny women their
rights as well as claims over their own feelings.
They also tend to collude to disadvantage
women. However, it is important to note that
we are talking about the Islamic and the cultural
practices that are followed in this specific setting.
It is impossible to generalise and conclude that
the same is true elsewhere. But it is definitely
fair to say that women in Islamic communities in
Zimbabwe and Malawi are discriminated against
– due to both religious and cultural practices.
Endnotes
1.Mandivenga, Ephraim: The Role of Islam in Southern Africa
2.'Female Genital Mutilation: Religious, Cultural and Legal Myths' http://www.iccservices.org.uk/
news_and_events/updates/female_genital_mutilation.htm
3.Wikipedia :Free Encyclopaedia; Marriage in Islam
4.Forward ; http://www.forwarduk.org.uk/key-issues/fgm/fgm-islam
69
100
Dancing with Power: Does Erotic Dance Empower or Commodify Women?
Dancing with Power:
Does Erotic Dance Empower or
Commodify Women?
By Gibson Ncube and Margaret Chipara
Gibson Ncube is currently a PhD candidate in the Department of Modern Foreign Languages at Stellenbosch
University. His thesis is on queer sexuality in North African Francophone literature. His general research
interests include cultural, gender and queer studies
Margret Chipara is a lecturer in the Department of Modern Languages at the University of Zimbabwe. She
teaches courses in Portuguese and Lusophone literature and culture. Her research interests include gender
studies, onomastics, literary and non-literary translation studies. She also works as a freelance translator
(French/Portuguese to English).
body parts or their functions are abridged
to merely apparatuses or considered
representative of the individual as a
whole. Gervais et al rightly explain that
‘sexual objectification is a specific type of
appearance focus concentrated on sexual
body parts. According to objectification
theory, when people sexually objectify
women, they separate women’s sexual body
parts or functions from the entire person,
reduce the sexual body parts to the status
of mere instruments, or regard the sexual
body parts as capable of representing the
entire person’ (2012: 743). Objectification
and commodification of women attests
to intricate ‘cultural norms that refigure
women’s bodies as objects of consumption
for the male gaze’ (Wesely, 2003b: 656).
With this in mind, it is interesting to note
that in the past two years, Zimbabwe
has witnessed an explosion of erotic pole
dancers, who have strummed a sensitive
cord in this predominantly conservative
and religious society. Although female
dance groups have existed for a long time
in Zimbabwe, this new crop of dancers
is defiant in the manner in which they
commercialise highly erotic dance routines
in bars and night spots across the country.
These dancers have publicly showcased
the female body, which had previously
been regarded as the private ‘province
and property of men’ (Miller 2014: 4).
Not only have they commercialised erotic
dancing, but they have also triggered
a heated debate on the female body in
contemporary developing nations, which
are increasingly becoming capitalist.
T
“the female body, its eroticism
and sexuality has been reduced
over the ages to nothing
more than an object that is
at the disposal of men."
he adoption of western lifestyles and cultures – coupled
with the broad socio-political and economic transformations
that Zimbabwe has undergone – has resulted in the emergence
of numerous erotic dance groups in different towns. Two
diametrically opposed discourses present themselves in relation
to the topic of erotic dancing and striptease. On one hand, a
conservative discourse has framed these dances as a cultural
infiltration and a form of neo-colonialism, which denigrates,
commodifies and objectifies women and their bodies. On the
other hand, a somewhat progressive discourse views these
dances as a means of liberating and empowering women from
cultural taboos and patriarchal stereotypes, which have been
deployed to suppress women. Drawing on the work of Judith
Butler, this paper cautiously navigates how these different
points of view have been presented in the Zimbabwean media
to show that erotic dancers have played an important part
in opening up the discourse on women and the potential
agency that is to be found in their sexuality and eroticism.
The woman’s body as culturally constructed
Culturally controlled and organised in such a way that it provides
pleasure solely to men, the female body, its eroticism and
sexuality has been reduced over the ages to nothing more than
an object that is at the disposal of men. Cultural machinations
have efficiently worked to suppress the female body together
with a woman’s access to erotic and sexual gratification. Through
a process that has come to be known as objectification, women’s
70
100
71
100
"the capitalist and patriarchal societies continue
to subordinate women given that ‘once a girl
reaches puberty all teachings are directed
towards pleasing one’s future husband as
well as being a gentle and obedient wife."
Through a close reading of articles on the
electronic version of The Herald, the widest
circulated daily newspaper in Zimbabwe,
this paper attempts to demystify this
proliferation of erotic and pole dancing
in Zimbabwe, which is epitomised by
two highly controversial dancers, Beverly
Sibanda and Noleen Sifelani, who are
popularly known as Bev and Zoey.
In an article on Beverley, Mbiriyamveka
(2012) explains, albeit sarcastically, that the
‘mere mention of her name conjures images
of sensual, seductive and erotic dances – an
effort of female dignity. In a world where
dancing is assumed a vertical expression of
horizontal desires, many men who flock to
Beverly Sibanda’s shows are left drooling.
What a pleasure manager!’ The expression
‘vertical expression of horizontal desires’
in this quotations refers to the manner in
which dance (which is performed normally
in the vertical position) is used to express
sexual desires (which are expressed
ordinarily in the horizontal position).
Bev and Zoey were the subject of many
conversations and articles in Zimbabwe
in 2012 and even though lawfully licensed
by the Censorship Board of Zimbabwe,
both dancers were arrested in September
2012, and charged with public indecency.
Theoretical underpinnings
The female body and sexuality are
important sites through which the
oppression of women is sustained and
72
100
enforced, not just in Africa
but in various parts of the
world. Through the ages, the bodies and
sexualities of women have been deftly
controlled so as to perpetuate patriarchal
demands, which restricted women to
nothing more than their reproductive
functions. According to McFadden
(2003), this state of affairs inadvertently
led not only to a subordination of women’s
sexuality but also to the systematic
suppression of their erotic and sexual
expression. Tamale explains further in this
respect that ‘more broadly, the need to
control and regulate women’s sexuality
and reproductive capacity is crucial in
capitalist societies’ (2005: 10). For her,
‘such control consolidates male domination
through men’s control of resources and
their relatively greater economic power.
The patriarchal family engenders theses
economic relations, in which men, as
household heads, exercise control over the
lives of women and children who effectively
become the man’s control’ (Ibid).
In her analysis of female sexuality in
Zimbabwe, Kambarami (2006) alludes
to the manner in which the capitalist
and patriarchal societies continue to
subordinate women given that ‘once a girl
reaches puberty all teachings are directed
towards pleasing one’s future husband
as well as being a gentle and obedient
wife. Her sexuality is further defined
for her, as she is taught how to use it for
the benefit of the male race’. In such a
manner, female sexuality and eroticism is
‘privatised’ for the sole pleasure of males.
And the domestication and privatisation
of female sexuality and eroticism have
both been used to perpetuate and
consolidate the patriarchal status quo.
The erotic dancers who will be analysed
in this paper have – albeit unwittingly
– subverted this status quo, which has
sought to domesticate female sexuality
and eroticism. They have achieved this
by moving female sexuality and eroticism
from the privacy of the bedroom into the
public sphere – and so helped to blur the
boundaries between the public and the
private in as far as the female body and its
sexuality and eroticism are concerned.
Art or cultural deviance?
Exotic dancing as Egan explains is often
‘viewed as a culturally marginal site’
(2003: 105) because its production and
consumption remains stigmatised, even in
the West, because it has frequently been
‘falsely coupled with illegal forms of sexual
labour (prostitution, escorting) as well as
with ‘deviance’, promoting the view that
women who perform this work are, in fact,
pathological’. In an article in The Herald
of 21 September 2012, Zoey also attests
to how the ‘arts industry in Zimbabwe
is tricky because people think that pole
dancing is dirty’. Numerous comments on
the online version of this article cement this
point of view. One comment states that
‘Zoey there is nothing good about your
industry, chihure chiri professional chete”
(it is simply professional prostitution),
while another laments that exotic dancing
‘tries to spice up evil so that it looks (and
tastes) good but remains poisonous’. These
comments reflect the contentious nature
of exotic dance, which has been striving to
impose itself on mainstream Zimbabwean
culture. This mushrooming of exotic
dancing, which has been exaggeratedly
dramatized by the Zimbabwean media,
stirs up old fashioned anxieties about
the public exhibition of women’s
bodies, their sexuality and eroticism.
However, while some people consider
erotic dance routines to be pornographic
and immoral, others regard erotic
dancing as a means of liberating
women from patriarchy, which has
prescribed not just their behaviour but
has also imperiously controlled their
sexuality and bodies for so long.
Self-liberation and empowerment
through erotic dance
In her seminal article ‘Performative Acts
and Gender Constitution: An Essay in
Phenomenology and Feminist Theory’,
Judith Butler explains that identity is
instituted by way of a ‘stylized repetition
of acts’. She further argues that ‘gender
is instituted through the stylization of the
body and, hence, must be understood
as the mundane way in which bodily
gestures, movements, and enactments
of various kinds constitute the illusion
of an abiding gendered self ’. Butler
alludes here to the fact that femininity
is established by a replication of certain
codes of behaviour, which are deemed
societally appropriate for the female
gender. In her analysis of femininity
and women’s sexuality in Zimbabwe,
Kambarami (2006) shows that since time
immemorial, patriarchy has managed
to compel women to adhere to certain
stylized behaviours, which have served to
‘keep women in subordinate positions’. She
believes that these modes of behaviour
include ‘gentleness, passivity, submission
and striving to please men always’.
Exotic dancing presents itself as a symbolic
space, where women can fight against
the debilitating patriarchal conception of
women’s bodies and sexualities. Exotic
dancing is an emblematic space in which
women like Bev and Zoey are able to
reconstruct their bodies in a way that
gives them agency. During the fleeting
but impressive moments when they are
on stage, these exotic dancers are free
from societal and patriarchal demands.
For that evanescent moment, the dancers
are subjects and dominatrices, submitting
spectators (who are mostly males) to the
splendour of their eroticised bodies. The
lustful suggestiveness of the erotic dance
transforms the dancers into liberated
subjects, who have broken free from the
limitations of patriarchy. Within the spatiotemporal confines of the dance routine,
the exotic dancers defy conventional
representations of female sexuality as
passive and acquiescent to men.
As further developed by Whitehead
and Kurz (2009: 229), through the erotic
dance, the ‘female subject is constructed
as empowered through her access to
control and choice’ as to when and how
she positions herself as a sexual and erotic
spectacle. In an interview with Muchemwa
(2012), Bev explains that this empowerment
of the female subject does in fact go
beyond the spatio-temporal confines of
the erotic dance routine in a night club.
She elucidates on the change in how she
is seen by other women in Zimbabwe.
“Previously, women were jealous of me,
thinking that I was a home-wrecker but
that has since changed because they
now appreciate that I am an artist,” she
said. “Recently, I have been attending
women’s parties where besides dancing,
the women also want me to teach them
how to dance as well as perform in bed.”
So erotic dance is not only liberating and
empowering for dancers like Bev. It also
liberates and empowers other women,
who do not use dance to earn a living. By
teaching and sharing her eroticised dance
moves with other women, Bev helps them
to liberate themselves from the passive and
subordinate roles that these women have
come to know as fact. Therefore, there is
an important link between erotic dancing
and women opening up to the possibility of
perceiving their existences differently. As
Evans, Riley and Shankar (2010: 115) point
out, the potential impact of ‘technologies
of sexiness’, such as erotic dancing, cannot
be underestimated in creating a ‘new,
liberated, contemporary sexuality for
women; sex is stylish, a source of physical
pleasure, a means of creating identity,
a form of body work, self-expression,
a quest for individual fulfilment’.
Although some can argue that this in
essence perpetuates the objectification
of women (i.e. learning to dance for the
purpose of pleasing their men and not
necessarily for their own benefit), some
radical feminists such as Ronai and Ellis
contend that depicting erotic dancing
as reproducing the ‘power dynamics of
the mainstream’ (1989: 295) should not
necessarily neglect the fact that women can
derive feelings of individual empowerment
through erotic dancing. They explain that
during the moments in which they perform
erotic dances, women ‘may feel a real
sense of power over men’. No matter how
‘transient’ and fleeting these moments may
be, Ronai and Ellis find that erotic dancers
destabilise the heteropatriarchal power
relations, which replicate the objectification
and commodification of women.
However, Wesely concludes that the
relative power that erotic dancers
might have during the course of their
performance does not, unfortunately,
transfer into ‘legitimate arenas’ because
erotic dancing does not ‘elevate their
status or influence in political, social
and economic realms that shape power
relations’ (2003a: 487). Meanwhile, Regehr
argues that the power that erotic dancers
might have on stage is rendered ineffective
in relation to the true emancipation of
women because empowerment methods
should strive to ‘achieve their effects
73
100
"...erotic dance is
self-defeating
in its quest to
liberate female
dancers because it
merely perpetuates
patriarchal
tendencies, which
devalue and
commodify women’s
bodies and their
sexuality."
by equipping people with requisite
knowledge, skills, and resilient self-beliefs
of efficacy to alter aspects of their lives
over which they can exercise some control’
(2012: 136). Therefore, we can argue that
empowerment can potentially be achieved
if erotic dancing equips women with selfconfidence, skills and knowledge that they
can use to elevate and sustain themselves
in other facets of their existences.
The current proliferation of erotic
dance has shown that there is need for a
sweeping shift concerning discourses on
the female body and sexuality. There is
an imperative necessity to move from the
patriarchal conception of femininity being
constituted as subordinate to a dominant,
active and omnipotent masculinity. The
‘fierce urgency of now’ – to borrow Martin
Luther King Jr’s phrase – is to recognise
that it is possible for women to possess a
74
100
Even though exotic dancing can be
viewed as a means of self-expression
by women, it is also possible to regard
it as representing a commodification of
women and the commercialisation of their
eroticism and sexuality. Some critics have
argued that erotic dance is self-defeating
in its quest to liberate female dancers
because it merely perpetuates patriarchal
tendencies, which devalue and commodify
women’s bodies and their sexuality.
In the case of Bev and other exotic dancers
in Zimbabwe, the main observation made
by analysing articles in The Herald is that
most of the comments posted by men not
only objectify erotic female dancers but
also denigrate, trivialise and vilify them.
Commenting on a story on Bevy carried
by The Herald of 28 September 2008,
Mhofutichafa33 remarks that he is ‘still
wondering why she has won the heart
of male fans ONLY’. Another reader,
Munyadzangoko qualifies Bev’s dancing
as “Chihure chekudyisana chibereko pane
vanhu” (prostitution that involves dishing
out one’s uterus in public). These two
examples portray the dancers as erotic
objects and to some extent agents of
immorality. Particularly in the second
example, the woman is completely
depersonalised, objectified and reduced
to nothing but a uterus. Once these
dancers are reduced to sexual and erotic
objects, which are solely valued for their
ability to entertain a predominantly male
audience, then all they will be able to do
is replicate patriarchal ontologies that
circumscribe female bodies and sexualities
as commodities to be used by males.
Thus, although female dancers, such
as Bev and Zoey, have become more
visible and even successful through erotic
dancing, comments posted on The Herald
articles about exotic dancers show that
the sexualisation and objectification of
these women is far from being diminished.
One hypothesis that can be offered is
that female erotic dancers are directly
responsible for the manner in which
their male spectators objectify them –
seeing in them nothing more than sexual
and erotic objects. As Miller (2012: 4)
explained, ‘in a patriarchal culture, in
his hunter’s role, the male can and will
feast his eyes on any female object that
catches his fancy. Women, on the other
hand, have to beautify themselves, make
themselves more desirable and ‘sirenlike’ to catch the man’s attention’.
Moreover, the female dancers are
disempowered by the mere fact that they
have to objectify and ‘sell’ themselves to
make money. This though is no different
from any other profession in which people
dress up, go through their routines and
so earn a wage or salary. However, what
makes the exotic dancers different is that
their wages are earned by displaying their
quasi-naked erotic bodies to a group of
males, who see in them nothing more
than sexual objects on the stage. Erotic
dancing in its inherent denigration and
commodification of women renders
its very representation problematic, in
particular from a feminist point of view.
Erotic dancing simply seals particular
constructions of femininity and feminine
sexuality, which in the end fail to unsettle
the power relations within society at large.
confident, active and autoerotic sexuality,
which is not necessarily dependent on
the masculine. A pivotal element in the
construction of this ‘different’ feminine
sexuality (hyper-sexuality even) is based
on the supposition that it is represented
via erotic dancing as dominant and feisty,
as opposed to the submissive or victimised
object used by males for their own
pleasure. As such, erotic dancing goes a
long way in providing a ‘physical display of
women taking ownership of their sexuality’
(Regehr, 2012:139) and their bodies.
Commodification of women
through erotic dancing
If this view is valid, female dancers such as Bev and Zoey
actively take part in their own exploitation by men. By
acquiescing to the patriarchal commodification of their bodies
and sexuality, these dancers involuntarily perpetuate their
own objectification. Through a trivialisation of their sexuality
and eroticism, these dancers reinforce the idea that they are
commodities that can be used and disposed of by men.
Conclusion
This paper has attempted to show that while erotic dancing can
be viewed as demeaning and denigrating to women, their bodies
and sexuality, it can simultaneously be seen as a way to empower
women by allowing them to subvert patriarchal ontologies, which
regard women as objects that are to be deployed by men for their
own pleasure. Furthermore, this paper has attempted to show
the complex view of contemporary femininities in Zimbabwe
through an analysis of erotic dancers. It has been argued that erotic
dancing, in the context of a patriarchal and capitalist contemporary
Africa, has the potential of subverting and transgressing the
symbolic limits of gendered expectations. It is also undeniable
that dancers such as Bev and Zoey have provoked necessary
and much needed debate on prevailing cultural discourses about
women and the agency that is innate to their bodies and sexualities.
Therefore, it is anticipated that the framework of erotic dancing
that has been presented in this paper will provide a worthwhile
and provocative contribution to thinking through questions of
female sexuality and eroticism in contemporary African contexts.
Bibliography
Butler, Judith. (1988). “Performative Acts
and Gender Constitution: An Essay in
Phenomenology and Feminist Theory.”
Theatre Journal 40(4): 519-531.
Female Subordination in Zimbabwe.”
ARSRC: University of Fort Hare.
strategies of the table dancer.” Journal of
Contemporary Ethnography 18(3): 271-298.
Egan, Danielle. 2003. “Eroticism,
Commodification and Gender:
Exploring Exotic Dance in the United
States.” Sexualities 6(1): 105-114.
Mbiriyamveka, Jonathan. (2012). “Beverly
opens up on life, love. The Herald, 18 July.”
http://www.herald.co.zw/index.
php?option=com_content&view=article&id=473
79:beverly-opens-up-on-life-love&catid=43:ent
ertainment&Itemid=135, Accessed: 12 /10/2012.
Tamale, Sylvia. (2005). “Eroticism, Sensuality
and ‘Women’s Secrets’ among the Baganda:
A Critical Analysis.” Feminist Africa 5: 9-36.
Evans, Adrienne, Riley, Sarah & Shankar, Avi.
(2010). “Technologies of sexiness: Theorizing
Women’s Engagement in the Sexualisation of
Culture.” Feminism & Psychology 20(1): 114-131.
McFadden, Patricia, 2003. “Sexual Pleasure
as Feminist Choice.” Feminist Africa 2.
http://agi.ac.za/sites/agi.ac.za/files/fa_2_
standpoint_1.pdf Accessed 31 July 2013.
Gervais, Sarah. et al. (2012). “Seeing
women as objects: The sexual body part
recognition bias.” European Journal of
Social Psychology 42(6): 743-753.
Miller, Jean Baker. (2012). Toward a new
psychology of women. Boston: Beacon Press.
Hlatini, Hlatini. “Bev, Zoey freed.”
http://www.herald.co.zw/index.
php?option=com_content&view=article&id
=53579:bev-zoey-freed-&catid=46:crime-acourts&Itemid=138, Accessed: 30/11/2012
Kambarami, Maureen. (2006). “Femininity,
Sexuality and Culture: Patriarchy and
Wesely, Jennifer K. (2003a). “Where am
I going to stop?: Exotic Dancing, Fluid
Body Boundaries and Effects on Identity.”
Deviant Behaviour 24: 483-503.
Wesely, Jennifer K. (2003b). “Exotic Dancing
and the Negotiation of Identity: the Multiple
Uses of Body Technologies.” Journal of
Contemporary Ethnography 32: 643-669
Whitehead, Kally & Kurz, Tim. (2009).
“Empowerment and the Pole.” Feminism
& Psychology 19(2): 224–244.
Muchemwa, Moses. (2012). “Pornographic
dancer Bev invades Bulawayo.” http://www.
zimeye.org/?p=58208 Accessed: 31/11/2012
Regehr, Kaitlyn. (2012). The Rise of Recreational
Burlesque: Bumping and Grinding Towards
Empowerment.” Sexuality & Culture 16:134–157.
Wolf, Naomi. (1990). The Beauty
Myth: How Images of Beauty Are Used
Against Women. London: Vintage.
Ronai, Carol, and Ellis, Carolyn. (1989).
“Turn-Ons for money: Interactional
75
100
“Who Runs the World…Girls!” (Beyoncé) Feminist or Not?
“Who Runs the World…
Girls!” (Beyoncé)
Feminist or Not?
By Emmah Machokoto
Emmah Machokoto is a lawyer and holds a Bachelor of Laws (Hons) from the
University of Zimbabwe. She is currently studying towards a Master’s degree in the
Legal Aspects of HIV/AIDS with UNISA. She also works as a Research Associate for
Women Development a consultancy firm whose major focus is human rights and
gender-related issues.
"This music is a reflection of
how women are viewed and
treated by society at large,
which is why fans are – in
most cases – not shocked by
the lyrical content of these
songs because it is merely
a translation of their dayto-day lived realities."
Women as objects
opular culture (pop culture) refers
to cultural activities or commercial
products reflecting, suited to, or aimed at
the tastes of the general mass of people.
Within the ambit of pop culture, exists
pop music, which has been described as
a slippery concept, perhaps because it is
so familiar and so easily used. It is music
accessible to a general public (rather
than aimed at elites or dependent on any
kind of knowledge or listening skill). It is
music that is produced commercially for
profit as a matter of enterprise not art.
Defined in these terms, pop music includes
all contemporary popular forms – rock,
country, reggae, rap and so on (S. Frith,
W. Straw, and J. Street 94). Because
sexual objectification, misogyny, violence
76
100
This music is a reflection of how women are viewed and treated
by society at large, which is why fans are – in most cases – not
shocked by the lyrical content of these songs because it is merely
a translation of their day-to-day lived realities. Therefore, it
is hardly surprising that their records artists have made these
artists both popular and millionaires. The likes of Jay-Z, Eminem
and Lil Wayne, to name just a few, are examples of rap artists
whose songs have been linked to violence and misogyny, yet
they continue to sell the most albums and to boast millions of
loyal fans (women, girls, men and boys alike) the world over. As
noted by Frith et al, pop music is not an art but a craft as it is
not about realising individual visions or making us see the world
in new ways but about providing popular tunes and clichés that
express commonplace feelings, such as love, loss and jealousy.
and gender stereotypes have been abundant in pop music’s
lyrics and videos for many years, it is not surprising that
pop music has been labelled ‘un-feminist’ and criticised for
being one of the many factors that perpetuate misogynist
views of women. Some argue that pop music over the
past three decades has also been part of a larger cultural
resistance to feminism – an attempt to block progress
toward gender equality and resuscitate male domination.
In one research study, a content analysis of rock music videos
found that a majority (57 percent) presented women in a
‘condescending’ manner (e.g. unintelligent, sex object or victim)
and a fifth placed them in a traditional sex role (e.g. subservient,
nurturing or domestic), while eight percent displayed male
violence against women. Only 14 percent presented women as
fully equal to men. A more recent study of rock videos found that
traditional sex role stereotypes continue to predominate – with
57 percent of videos again depicting women in a ‘conventional’
manner (e.g. passive, dependent on men, accenting physical
appearance), while just a third presented them as strong and
independent. Country music also casts women in subordinate
roles. A study of 203 country music videos featuring male
performers found that two-thirds devalued women by portraying
them in a condescending manner or in traditional gender roles,
while only nine percent presented women as fully equal to men.
There have been suggestions that degrading sexual references
are far more common in some genres than others, with the vast
majority of such references being found in rap and R&B/Hip-Hop.
Interestingly, these happen to be the most popular genres among
young people today, regardless of demographic characteristics.
In Misogyny in Rap Music: A Content Analysis of Prevalence
and Meanings, the research identified five misogynistic themes
that appear with some frequency in rap music – (a) derogatory
naming and shaming of women; (b) sexual objectification of
women; (c) distrust of women; (d) legitimisation of violence
against women; and (e) celebration of prostitution and pimping.
As Lay argues, ‘popular music can be read as a vehicle for
heterosexual male concerns and, more importantly, for the
recuperation of hegemonic masculinity’. Stated differently,
this music can be seen as part of a larger ideological process
of persuading the population that heterosexual male
supremacy is natural and normal. But what can we make of
popular songs, such as Beyoncé’s ‘Run the world (Girls)’,
which appear to af firm women? This article explores the
dynamics that make the issue neither black nor white.
For most people who are in love, it would be a dream come true
to have a partner who can put pen to paper, come up with a
wonderful love song and sing it for them. So you can imagine my
shock and disbelief when I heard that popular rapper Kanye West
had released a song titled ‘Perfect B***h’, which was specifically
dedicated to his girlfriend Kim Kardashian. I did not care to listen
to the song because the title itself put me off. However, I did
follow the debates surrounding this song and I gathered that
‘b***h’ has found some level of acceptance in hip hop culture
Come inside, pick up your bags off the sidewalk
Don't you hear sincerity in my voice when I talk?
Told you this is my fault, look me in the eyeball
Next time I'm pissed, I'll aim my fist at the drywall
Next time? There won't be no next time
I apologize, even though I know it's lies
I'm tired of the games, I just want her back, I know I'm a liar
If she ever tries to f**ng leave again, I'm a tie her to the bed
And set this house on fire.
Introduction
P
and popular usage as another term for ‘woman’. This raised a very
important question for me – what influences the other, music
or society? At first I thought this would be one of those chicken
and egg scenarios until I read the words of Adams and Fuller
(2006), who suggest that one of the reasons why rap artists use
misogynistic lyrics in their music is that they have internalised
negative stereotypes about women that are prevalent in society.
Individuals, state actors, feminists, gender activists and many
other key players continue to grapple with violence against
women so it feels like a blow in the face to listen to the lyrics in
the song ‘Love the Way you Lie’ by Eminem featuring Rihanna:
77
100
“Who Runs the World…Girls!” (Beyoncé) Feminist or Not?
This song tells the story of a serial woman batterer
and is loaded with violent lyrics – and clearly it is
opposed to everything that feminism stands for.
Can you be a feminist and enjoy pop music?
The ‘Perfect B***h’ debates also raised another question – can you
be a feminist and enjoy pop culture and pop music specifically?
Despite all the perceived and apparent misgivings about whether or
not there are feminist spaces within pop culture, I strongly believe
in the existence of such spaces. In the pop music arena there are
certain songs that are in sync with feminist goals and objectives.
I will use Katy Perry’s ‘I kissed a Girl’ and Lady Gaga’s ‘Born This
Way’ to explore feminist views on sexuality in pop songs:
78
100
I kissed a girl and I liked it,
the taste of her cherry chapstick.
I kissed a girl just to try it,
I hope my boyfriend don't mind it.
It felt so wrong,
it felt so right.
Don't mean I'm in love tonight.
I kissed a girl and I liked it (I liked it).
No matter gay, straight, or bi,
Lesbian, transgendered life,
I'm on the right track baby,
I was born to survive.
No matter black, white or beige
Chola or orient made,
I'm on the right track baby,
I was born to be brave.
be such? Or when they start believing that women and men are equal
and start pushing for equality whether it is the private or public spheres?
If one chooses to put the emphasis on the labelling then certainly a
non- feminist cannot sing a feminist song and so Katy Perry’s song is
of no benefit to the feminist movement. However, if one chooses to
focus on actions then these songs are as feminist as songs can get.
Beyoncé Knowles’ ‘Run the World (Girls)’ is one of her many
refreshing songs in terms of its lyrical content, as it actually
paints a picture of an empowered woman. The song's title and
lyrics are an unapologetically aggressive message promoting
female empowerment. The second verse of the song goes:
It's hot up in here
DJ don't be scared to run this, run this back
I'm reppin' for the girls who taking over the world
Help me raise a glass for the college grads
41 rollin' to let you know what time it is, check
You can't hold me (you can't hold me)
I work my 9 to 5, better cut my check
This goes out to all the women getting it in,
You're on your grind
To other men that respect what I do
Please accept my shine
Boy I know you love it
How we're smart enough to make these millions
Strong enough to bear the children
Then get back to business
Although feminist theories regarding sexuality vary widely, they all
seek to challenge and refute compulsory heterosexuality and heteronormativity, as this infringes each individual’s right to choose who
to be involved with sexually. I label both the above songs feminist as
they not only create a space through which sexuality can be discussed
but they also clearly challenge hetero-normativity. Katy Perry’s lyrics
point to a girl who kissed another girl and liked it. However, when she
accepted the Woman of the Year award from Billboard in 2012, Perry
stated that although she believes in the strength of women she is not a
feminist, while Lady Gaga is also on record as saying she is a ‘little bit
of a feminist’. Needless to say, there was a public outcry by declared
feminists following this public ‘denouncing’ of the movement.
In what may seem to some as a contradiction of terms, the song’s
video has scenes of scantily dressed women, including Beyoncé
herself, gyrating seductively to the beat of the song. Does the
video take away from the positivity of the title and lyrics? Or do the
images actually reinforce it? For me this question is answered by
how one interprets the on-going war on the female body. In many
African contexts, women continue to fight – among other battles
– the what-to-or-what-not-to-wear war. In a recent development,
which focussed the world’s attention on the kingdom of Swaziland,
the Swaziland Young Women’s Network organised a miniskirt
march during 2012’s 16 days of activism to protest against a law
making it a crime for women to wear miniskirts. Although the law
criminalising the wearing of miniskirts was promulgated in 1889,
a lot of people were openly supporting it and claiming that it was
still relevant more than a century later. Against this backdrop, my
interpretation of the dress code and dances in the video is that they
represent a celebration, and total ownership, of the female body.
This then brings to the fore questions that I personally like to keep
asking – is feminism in the labelling or in the actions? When does one
become a feminist? When women come out in the open and claim to
While sexual objectification of women remains an issue in a
world that is increasingly becoming pro-choice, we should desist
from blindly assuming that every scantily clad female we see in
a pop video translates to sexual objectification. This undermines
the ability of such individuals to make informed and conscious
decisions regarding their bodies. As a musician, Beyoncé has
built up one of the largest fan bases not only in the United
States but also worldwide. She could sing or dance in a sack and
still make millions, which makes me doubt that her videos are
meant to portray her purely as an object for display and public
consumption. I see them as statements telling patriarchy that
you cannot tell me what to wear and how to carry my body.
As more and more women succeed in the music industry, we are
starting to see a lot of semi-naked men in their videos and already
there have been debates regarding male objectification. Females are
now being given the opportunity to gaze at bare chested males in
the same manner as males have long been able to stare at semi-clad
females. And this raises another intriguing question – should we
continue to bemoan female objectification in pop music videos or
we should celebrate the increasing number of scantily-clad males
as the first (dance) steps towards levelling the video playground?
Although many artists may choose not to be associated with
feminism, there are spaces within pop music that can be viewed
as feminist in terms of their lyrical content. Closer to home, I was
pleasantly surprised when I listened to a song entitled ‘Women’ by
Pro-verb, one of South Africa’s popular rap artists. He may not be
a feminist but his song speaks volumes about the empowerment of
girls and women, as it acknowledges that girls have to work twice as
hard in this patriarchal world. It also touches on domestic violence
and challenges the stereotypical views of women as housewives.
Remember your own goals and live your own
dreams too/ learn all of the lessons
That life is gon teach you/ cause Life’s good/
and I would take it back if I could/
To being a kid again remember to treasure your
childhood/ I can imagine growing
Up as a girl is hard/ you have to work twice
as hard/ cause this world is harsh/
But don’t ever let a man put his hands on you,
in fact warn him/ that if he touches
You I’ ll put my hands on him/ you don’t have
to be a housewife and stay at home/
And you don’t have to stay in the kitchen those days are gone/
you don’t have to get his money girl get paid on your own/ I’ ll
tell you all about the birds and bees the day you’re grown/
To all the women in my life and all the women in the
world/ the women that are wives and to all the little
girls/ still growing up to be women listen to the verb/
I appreciate you and I scribbled a little verse.
79
100
Old and New Ways
to Celebrate
a Bride
By Monica Zodwa Cheru
Each of the women came bearing gifts for the new bride. The gifts included
kitchenware and live chickens. The idea behind these gifts was to present
the new bride with practical items to start her married life.
Conclusion
Pop music undoubtedly contributes to the perpetuation of misogynist views of women
because some of its lyrical content celebrates and condones violence against women and
degrading sex. Although sexual objectification of women is a huge issue in the business,
there is a need to avoid assuming that all women in pop music are, or feel, objectified
because for some this is an avenue through which their empowerment and total ownership
of their bodies can be channelled. The reality is that, depending on one’s understanding
of feminism, there are spaces within pop music that can be described as being feminist.
Celebrating a bride in a traditional setting: Kupururudzira Mwenga
I
recently had the opportunity to accompany a new bride to a ceremony held in her
honour. The ceremony is known as kupururudzira mwenga in Zimbabwe’s Shona
language. Kupurudza is the Shona word for ululating in celebration and mwenga
means bride. Thus, this was a ceremony to celebrate a new bride in the family.
References
1. http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/
popular+culture accessed 15 March 2013
Fuller, Journal of Black Studies, (Vol. 36,
No. 6, p. 938-957 – Sage Publications)
11.http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/ladygaga/
bornthisway.html accessed on 27 March 2013
2. The Cambridge Companion to
Pop and Rock (September 2001 –
Cambridge University Press)
6. Ibid p. 96
12.Noah Berlatsky in an article published
on Dec 5 2012 “Katy Perry’s aversion to
feminism shows feminism is still radical”
http://www.theatlantic.com/sexes/
archive/2012/12/ accessed on 27 March 2013
3. Misogyny in Rap Music: A Content Analysis
of Prevalence and Meanings – Ronald
Weitzer & Charis Kubrin, The George
Washington University, Washington, D.C.
4. Ibid
5. The Words Have Changed But the Ideology
Remains the Same: Misogynistic Lyrics in
Rap Music – Terri M. Adams & Douglas B.
80
100
7. Degrading and Non-Degrading Sex
in Popular Music: A Content Analysis
– Brian Primack, Melanie Gold, Eleanor
Schwarz & Madeline Dalton
8. Ibid
9. http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/
eminem/lovethewayyoulie.html
10. http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/katyperry/
ikissedagirl.html accessed on 27 March 2013
Monica Zodwa Cheru is a Zimbabwean journalist, author
and communications consultant. In both her fiction
stories and media articles, there is the underlying theme
of women and children’s issues. She strongly believes
that most perceived barriers for modern women are of the
making of their own minds rather than outside forces. She
is the founding editor of Cool Lifestyle, the first dedicated
children’s newspaper in Zimbabwe. She is married with
three children aged 5, 11 and 19.
13.Ann Powers in an article published
on 13 December 2009 “Frank Talk with
Lady Gaga” http://articles.latimes.
com/2009/dec/13/entertainment/
14. http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/
beyonceknowles/girlswhoruntheworld.html
The ceremony took place in a thatched-roof kitchen, typical of rural homesteads in this area.
The mother-in-law and a group of her female friends and relatives were gathered to welcome
the bride and help induct her into her new role as a married woman. In all there were about
15 women, who were all about the same age as the mother-in-law or older. I was struck by
the absence of younger women but it was explained to me that younger women – namely
daughters and daughters-in-law – were not allowed to be present because the older women
would feel constrained in what they could do and say in front of them. The women, dressed
in modest attire, were seated on reed and goatskin mats on the floor of the smoky hut.
Each of the women came bearing gifts for the new bride. The gifts included
kitchenware and live chickens. The idea behind these gifts was to present the new
bride with practical items to start her married life. Taking turns, each woman stood up,
performed a highly sexualized dance to a tune sung by the crowd, and presented her
gift to the bride. Each presentation of a gift was accompanied by a lecture to the new
bride on a specific aspect of marriage and how to be a good wife. The women told
the new bride about everything from personal hygiene to child care, from extended
family relations to sexual matters. A couple of women even enacted a graphic parody
of the missionary position and told the bride that she must always sleep on the left
side of the bed so that she can use her right hand to sexually stimulate her man.
81
100
Although the mood was jubilatory and laughter was the order of the
day, there was never any doubt that the lessons were to be taken
seriously. And it was clear that the bride was lapping up the words of
wisdom. Watching this ancient custom, I was struck by the similarities
between this traditional ceremony and the modern kitchen party.
Celebrating a bride in a modern setting: A kitchen party
Kitchen parties became popular in the nineties in urban areas
of Zimbabwe. I am using the term kitchen party to include baby
showers, baby welcomes, kitchen top-ups, bridal showers and round
table investment parties, which fill up the occasional weekend for
women of all levels of education and wealth in Zimbabwe. But in
this paper, I will focus mainly on the kitchen party that is organised
to celebrate a bride, sometimes known as a bridal shower.
The female relatives of the prospective bride typically throw the party
as a surprise pre-wedding event for her. The women who attend
usually include the bride’s relatives, future in-laws, friends, workmates
and acquaintances. Sometimes the parties can involve more than 200
guests but most tend to be more intimate affairs of around 30 women.
Unlike the women at the traditional ceremony, the women who
attend kitchen parties are typically dressed in the latest fashions. The
party usually takes place in a hotel or in a spacious family lounge.
Refreshments served consist of wide selections of catered food
and drinks to suit different tastes. And copious amounts of alcohol
flow. Women who are members of churches that frown on alcohol
consumption often join in, albeit discreetly by drinking alcohol from
tea cups. Those who bring children are often charged a penalty
for exposing minors to the explicitly sexual talk and dances.
There is usually a set programme with the keynote speech delivered by
a female pastor or another leading church woman. A few other women,
including the paternal and maternal aunts, also give brief speeches,
which generally contain all sorts of tips for the bride-to-be on how to
successfully run a marriage. Anyone else can add their two cents after
the designated speakers. Financial prudence, religion, appropriate
behaviour, submissiveness to the spouse and the place of a woman’s
career in marriage are some of the typical topics. But predictably
most of the discussion hinges on how to sexually satisfy men.
Same ceremony in different settings
As a journalist, creative writer and women’s rights activist, I believe
that gender equality can only come from the mental emancipation
of women. I have become convinced that all other markers
of equality like economic, political and social empowerment
82
100
your dirty linen in public. Even your mother-in-law here should
not know of your arguments with your husband. A slap in the
day is no reason for you to refuse your husband sex at night. A
home is made by a woman and if you are not strong yours will fall
apart and you will become the laughing stock of the village.”
"The message passed from one generation
of women to the next is exactly the same
– ‘Be submissive, please your husband
sexually and accept his extra-marital
dalliances as the lot of a woman in life
and you will have a happy marriage".
naturally follow a woman who is free in her own mind. The first
step is when one takes responsibility and control over one’s
own body, especially when it comes to sexual and reproductive
health because it is at the core of our being as women.
Watching the Chivi women induct a new member into the sisterhood
of married matrons I realised that whether women are rural, poorly
educated and economically marginalised or urban and educated,
when it comes to sexual reproductive health matters, they are sisters
to the core. They remain caught up in the tradition of denying their
own sexual and health needs in the name of being good wives.
The message passed from one generation of women to the
next is exactly the same – ‘Be submissive, please your husband
sexually and accept his extra-marital dalliances as the lot of
a woman in life and you will have a happy marriage’.
Women tell each other that they are the objects of a man’s sexual
pleasure and must therefore strive to please him all the time. The
woman’s own sexual pleasure is subordinate to that of her man, and
she is expected to get her fulfilment from knowing that she has
pleased him. It is all about what he wants, not what she needs. As
one elderly lady told the bride at the rural ceremony, “You should
make sure that you are clean and fresh smelling before you get into
bed at night. And it does not matter what has happened during
the day, if your husband wants sex you must give it to him.”
Another woman stood up to support this point and went further
to link it to gender-based violence. She warned the young bride,
“Do not embarrass yourself and the family by creating drama
every time you have an argument with your husband. You should
learn to handle these things yourself and not go about airing
This sounded like an eerie echo of the message that one hears at the
urban kitchen party, “You must be ever ready. Even if you know that
your husband is coming from another woman, just open your legs
and show him the wealth that he has at home. Never ever deny your
husband his conjugal rights. Nothing, even
disputes, must come between you and
your man when it is time for lovemaking.”
The underlying message is that talking about
domestic violence is an embarrassment
to the woman who has opened up, her
husband and the extended family. Therefore,
many women are socialised into believing
that reporting violence is tantamount to
airing dirty family linen in public. And it
is women – not men – who are teaching
each other to be ashamed when they are
victims. Women have been doing it for
generations – laying the blame on the victim.
Celebrating submission?
The rural ceremony made me recall the last kitchen party that
I attended. It was a bridal shower where I met a fellow HIV
activist who, like me, was related to the wife-to-be. We both
sat through the proceedings and remained silent as the bride’s
mother and sisters joined other women in telling her that if
she wanted a happy marriage she must always acquiesce to
her husband’s wishes and accept her husband’s word.
Later, I asked my fellow activist why she had not taken the initiative to
say that as women we need to use this safe space
to discuss HIV and related issues. She said that
she found it difficult to take her professional
life into her personal one because she did not
want to be stigmatised by family and friends as
a bad influence. She was afraid that she would
be accused of being a home-wrecker and worse
just for saying that a woman must look out for
her own health. And I was not in a position to
judge her because I am equally empowered
and had not said anything to educate the new
bride on how to protect herself from such
potential dangers during her marriage.
The underlying
message is that
talking about domestic
violence is an
embarrassment to the
woman who has opened
up, her husband and
the extended family.
Therefore, many
women are socialised
into believing that
reporting violence
is tantamount to
airing dirty family
linen in public.
Another issue that I find particularly
disturbing is the deliberate silence on HIV
and other related health concerns at both
these gatherings. No one talks about sexually
transmitted infections (STIs), cervical
cancer, or the rights of the unborn children
to protection from disease. No one tells the
bride that it is her responsibility to protect
herself from STIs. No one gives the new
bride advice on what to do if her husband
does not satisfy her in bed. No one says
anything about how the chances of a person
passing on HIV are highest soon after they have been infected, meaning
that a man coming from the arms of an infected mistress is highly
dangerous. No one says anything about how some STIs have very few
signs and symptoms. No one tells the new bride about marital rape.
Condoms are rarely mentioned unless it is to tell a woman not
to freak out when she finds them in her husband’s pocket. The
message is unequivocal – the condom has no place in the marital
bed and is only something to be used by the man in extra-marital
sexual encounters and a sensible woman will be happy that her
husband is using protection when he sleeps with other women.
We were both familiar with the story of
how the Minister of Regional Integration
and International Co-operation, Priscilla
Misihairabwi-Mushonga had been vilified for
talking about sex and condoms as political
metaphors. The Chronicle Newspaper carried
a scathing attack on the prominent politician
labelling her as vulgar because ‘using the word
condom, whether literally or as a figure of
speech, can be revolting’. This underlines the
social stigma attached to women who dare to
talk about sexuality in any manner that does
not adhere to the traditional outlook. Member
of Parliament Tabitha Khumalo also dared to
speak out about female sexuality – discussing
the rights of commercial sex workers and saying
it was time to legalise and regulate the trade – and she was tarred with
the same brush. Many female politicians distanced themselves from
her statement and never stood by her when the media attacked her.
So the modern day kitchen party perpetuates the old customs
by creating a private space in which women actively set out to
discourage each other from breaking out of the mould of accepted
views and mores, which support existing power imbalances between
the sexes. By ignoring these matters women are implicitly stating
83
100
that the marriage union is a universally safe space for them. And yet
there are many accounts of women who were married as virgins and
were always faithful to their spouses suffering mental breakdowns
when they test positive for HIV. Therefore, these ceremonies,
whether they are traditional or modern, are actually events where
women set each other up to suffer disappointments and stress.
Another negative aspect of the kitchen party is the lack of an
equivalent platform for men to be taught about what women need
and about the husband’s role in a marriage. Traditionally, there is no
male equivalent of Kupurudzira mwenga and the guy gets away with
a few cursory words of advice and admonishment from family friends
and uncles. Modern bachelor parties do not play a complimentary
role to the kitchen party either. They are generally riotous assemblies
during which the groom’s mates give him a last chance to enjoy the
freedom that he will leave behind when he enters matrimony.
No one ever talks to the men about how their actions will impact on
their partners and children should they bring HIV and other STIs
into the home. As the women talk to each other about submission
and the importance of sexually fulfilling their partners, no one is
teaching the men the facts about the female body or about how to
relate to their wives as equal partners. Thus most men enter marriage
equipped with only some myths learned from friends and relatives.
Re-claiming safe spaces for women
A sticky point that comes up often in relation to sexual reproductive
health challenges for women is their inability to negotiate the use
of condoms in the marital bed. It is no surprise given the absence
of spaces where women, particularly married women, are taught
about this. The kitchen party and its more traditional counterpart are
good places to start the crusade. It is time for women to analyse the
points where they suppress themselves and each other, if they ever
hope to truly achieve equality in both the professional and private
spheres. These ceremonies to celebrate the bride should become a
place where women educate each other on how to deal with abuse,
infidelity and other marital problems from an empowered position.
Bibliography
Choice-betweeen-marriage-andaids (2012) http://www.radiovop.com/
index.php Accessed 5 March 2013
Demographic and Health Survey
2010-11. Calverton, Maryland:
ZIMSTAT and ICF International
HIV/AIDS in Zimbabwe, updated 2013,
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/HIV/AIDS_in_
Zimbabwe: Accessed 28 February 2013
84
100
Outcome of the CEDAW Review
Zimbabwe 2012 (Zimbabwe
Women Lawyers Association)
Women want loving husbands, 2012,
http://www.dailynews.co.zw/article/
News: Accessed 28 February 2013
Zimbabwe National Statistics Agency
and ICF International (2012)
85
100
Technologies and Power Dynamics in Women’s Public and Private Spheres
Technologies and Power
Dynamics in Women’s Public and
Private Spheres
By Fungai Machirori
Fungai Machirori is a journalist and blogger who holds a BSc. (Hons) Degree in Journalism
and Media Studies, as well as a MSc. in International Development. In 2012, she founded Her
Zimbabwe, Zimbabwe’s first web-based platform for women. Machirori is a contributor to various
other online platforms such as the Mail and Guardian’s ‘Voices of Africa’, the UK Guardian’s
‘Guardian Africa Network’ and Worldpulse. In 2012, Machirori was a visiting researcher in new
media and feminist activism at the Five Colleges Women's Research Center in Massachusetts.
She has delivered talks at platforms including TEDx Harare, BlogHer and Women Deliver.
I
once gave a keynote address at a symposium
held in Zimbabwe on the role that social media
can play in building various sectors of Zimbabwean
society. Having started up Her Zimbabwe, a webbased platform for Zimbabwean women in 2012, it felt
good to be part of an event that acknowledged the
role that social media is playing – and will continue
to play – in our lives as Zimbabweans. The force
of the Internet is unstoppable, and it is important
to have discussions about how best to harness its
potential for the causes that we champion.
And yet as I looked through the programme of
presenters and innovators speaking at this symposium,
one thing struck me. As in most aspects of public
life, there was a dearth of female representation
with only two of the programme’s main presenters
– out of more than 10 – being women.
Where are Zimbabwe’s women in social media,
I asked myself? Have modern technological
innovations effectively silenced us? Is the
patriarchal status quo under any real threat, or is
social media aiding and abetting its perpetuation?
The following paper will seek to answer these
questions while positioning the promise of modern
technologies within a context-specific paradigm.
86
100
Cyberfeminism
Initially encouraging ‘techno-utopian’
expectations, cyberfeminism – feminism as it
relates to cyberspace and women’s appropriation
of new media tools for self and collective
empowerment – had prophesied a new world
for women; a world which would offer them
a chance to create more equitable platforms
and modes of interaction and communication,
thus nurturing an emancipatory environment to
fight and end patriarchal hegemony. But more
recently, cyberfeminism – the school of thought
encompassing the intersectionalities of feminist
rhetoric, modern technologies, identity and power
– has had to undergo some serious re-evaluation.
In the cyberfeminist utopia, modern technologies,
particularly the Internet, would allow for the full
expression of the fluidity of women’s identities.
The cyborg, as popularised by the work of Donna
Haraway in the 1980s, would be a fusion of flesh
and machine, blurring the lines between the
material body and the digital realm. In this ‘third
space’, pre-existent hierarchies – of race, class,
gender, for instance – would be eliminated to make
way for new formulations of identity and ‘self ’.
"the largest social networking platforms
– such as Facebook, Twitter, Instagram,
Tumblr and LinkedIn – were all founded
by men. And where women are visible, a
great burden rests on their shoulders."
But through the realisation that modern technologies have
offered little space for women to claim full use and control of
their potential, such optimistic perspectives on new technologies
have become tempered with considerable cynicism.
Market leaders in innovative technological sectors remain maleled companies. In fact, according to a recent research study
on companies in Silicon Valley, the famed US headquarters of
technological innovation, only 3 percent of the technological firms
in the area were founded by women.1 Additionally, the largest social
networking platforms – such as Facebook, Twitter, Instagram,
Tumblr and LinkedIn – were all founded by men. And where women
are visible, a great burden rests on their shoulders. An example is
Marissa Mayer, who has been CEO of Yahoo! for less than a year
and who has come under intense public scrutiny for, among other
things, taking a two-week maternity break and banning employees
from working from home – a move that angered the mothers of
young children since the decision no longer allowed them the
flexibility to work from home and take care of their children.
Ironically, given women’s underrepresentation in social media
leadership, global statistics show that women generally make up the
largest share of social media users. In a 2012 US study2 of women’s
use of social media, women were shown to be overall leaders in the
use of social media across various sites and said to be five times more
likely than men to use Pinterest, one of fastest growing platforms
globally. Pinterest is a social media site that has largely leveraged
itself through appealing to women’s perceived normative domestic
pursuits, such as cookery and fashion. It has come under fire from
some feminists for peddling ‘kitchen porn’, placing unrealistic
expectations of domesticity and beauty on women and therefore
reinforcing patriarchy though ‘trivialising’ women’s interests and
catering narrowly to the private sphere of women’s interactions.
The arguments against women’s wholesale uptake of Pinterest
echo the body of western feminist rhetoric that places a premium
on women’s movement from more private and domestic
spheres of interaction into more public, male-dominated and
politicised spaces. As Hassanin 3 articulates, “Domesticity is the
whole package of life that does not fit into the ideal worker’s
terms of reference, i.e. raising children, household duties,
social duties that interfere with paid work, and so forth.”
The debate is therefore not only about whether women own social
media and technological innovations. But it is also about what they
are using them for. Indeed, have Facebook, Pinterest and other sites
provided the emancipatory cyberfeminist promise for women to
explore the fluidity of their identities? Or have they merely served to
further entrench women’s position on the margins of public discourse?
In essence, it appears that a limited range of interests and pursuits
have been packaged and marketed to women, by men, so much so
that the dominant use and consumption of social media lies with
women, while ownership and innovation remains the preserve of men.
Women of the global south
But these generalisations about women’s use of social media cannot
be made across all women and across various global contexts. For
the majority of women of the global south, use of the Internet still
remains perilously low and knowledge of sites such as Pinterest,
Facebook and Twitter remains privileged. While the United
Nations Human Rights Council (UNHRC) has passed a resolution
supporting freedom of expression via the Internet as a basic human
right to be guaranteed and protected by nation states, this remains
an unmet goal, particularly for the women of the global south.
According to a recent report produced by the US-based
chip-making giant, Intel4 ,23 percent fewer women than men
are online in the global south, representing 200 million fewer
women than men online today. In sub-Saharan Africa, the figure
expands to 45 percent fewer women being online than men.
It is well documented that women who have access to online skills and
resources derive various social, economic and political opportunities. For
example, they are able to sell their wares online and to extract important
information about individual and collective health and governance.
And yet women face many barriers to participation in the online space,
including the costs of connectivity, lower levels of literacy (and so
computer literacy), and curtailments on their mobility and therefore
their ability to visit spaces such as cyber cafes to acquire Internet skills.
While mobile phones have been touted as one of the foremost
solutions to the African woman’s connectivity woes, it is also
known that she is 24 percent less likely to own a phone than a
man. Across the nations of the global south, there are 300 million
fewer female mobile phone subscribers than male ones.5
87
100
However, it is no wonder that women’s use of the Internet is so
heavily proscribed. Zimbabwe’s Demographic Health Survey
(ZDHS) findings6 for 2010-11 revealed that 67 percent of rural
women and 45 percent of male rural respondents reported having
no exposure to any form of mass media (radio, television and
newspapers) at least once a week, compared with 21 percent of urban
women and 13 percent of urban men. This means that a significant
proportion of Zimbabwe’s population, particularly those who are
rural-based and already marginal in many other ways, is going
without any exposure to traditional media, let alone the Internet.
Note what Buskens and Webb had to say (2009: 4) 7, “It is…
generally recognised that the nature and direction of the
information society’s development is not grounded in the realities
of women, particularly women who experience poverty as well as
gender discrimination, and who do not hold positions of power
in the public realm.” In essence, what the Internet and modern
technologies are doing for some women is to further push them
towards the margins of society, adding to the discriminatory
factors that are already working against their development.
While access in nations of the global south is markedly different
to access in western nations, one key similarity in the gendered
use of modern technologies does exist – a lack of access to
the spaces where men create and cultivate the knowledge and
skills that enable them to perpetuate patriarchy and power.
A qualitative study8 on gendered computer use conducted at
the University of Zimbabwe proved that access to computers on
campus, even when it was said to be egalitarian, revealed gendered
biases towards male students. As most of the postgraduate
students involved in the study did not have access to a personal
computer, there was a heavy reliance upon campus computer
facilities to carry out research and type out assignments.
However, female students were consistently in the minority of
computer facility users, peaking at 19 percent representation, even
though they constituted 51 percent of the total enrolment.
While the computer facilities were offered on a ‘first come,
first served’ basis, what this policy glossed over was the reality
of the challenges that female students faced in being the first
to be served – for instance, coming to campus late due to
domestic duties and leaving early for the same reasons.
This lack of a consistent claim to the online space means that
most women interact with modern technologies less frequently
– and therefore less confidently – than men. And when they do
gain access – as with examples from the West – their interests
are often limited to a range of stereotypical feminised roles.
88
100
The urban tech savvy: Our hope for Africa?
Of the 10 African countries with the highest Internet market
penetration, only one – Morocco with 53 percent – can boast that
more than half of its population is able to access the Internet. 9
Yet we have seen how people in some countries, such as Tunisia
(39 percent) and Egypt (34 percent), have harnessed the power
of the Internet and social media to oppose – and indeed help
overthrow – tyrannical governance systems during the Arab
Spring uprisings. Facilitated by young, tech savvy North Africans’
use of social media, these uprisings are widely regarded as
having initially helped to bridge many of the divides, including
religious and political differences, between participants.
A significant proportion of urbanites are online in Africa today.
Vast numbers of communal and personal blogs abound in
Africa’s cyberspace with many turning to social media – and
citizen journalism – to recount their personal experiences
of Africa, gender, politics, identity and many other societal
constructions. While these bloggers and activists do not represent
the totality of women and men on the continent – since they
are very often highly educated and enjoy access to various
resources (expendable income, decent Internet connectivity,
social capital and others) – what they have begun to do is to
create an online space to interrogate and reposition African
norms and traditions, and therefore the broader discourse.
Describing the fluidity and flexibility of female African bloggers’
writing from a study she conducted, Somolu (2007: 481) 10 notes,
“It became apparent that…in describing everyday experiences,
the bloggers were writing from their perspectives as women
living in Africa. Some of the frustrations they experienced
and wrote about were clearly shared by many other women
(for example, cultural expectations of women's roles in life,
sexual harassment from men, pressure on women to look
attractive, societal pressure on women to marry before the
age of 30), as these posts tended to generate many responses
and much discussion, particularly from other women.”
led me to blogging four years ago as a means to
regain ownership and control over my narratives.
Through my uncensored explorations, I have been
able to unpack taboos about the vagina, abortion,
homosexuality and a variety of other themes, as
well as to initiate discussions with women who
would ordinarily cower from such talk. Many young
Zimbabwean female bloggers has also found their
own spaces online with prominent voices such as
those of human rights lawyer, Rumbidzai Dube, who
unpacks Zimbabwe’s legislative environment from
a feminist perspective, and Delta Milayo Ndou,
who in a conversational manner deconstructs life,
love and everything else. In these spaces, women
are instigators of important discussions about the
issues that affect them, other women, and men.
"I’m tired of people immediately assuming
that to blog about African women is to blog
about charity work. I’m tired of this idea that
African women can only be objects of pity. I’m
tired of the notion that African women can
or should only interact on select topics."
- Ms Afropolitan
Another factor that enables conversations,
particularly those of a sensitive nature that
can expose women to harm, is the protection
of anonymity that online space can provide.
For instance, one of Zimbabwe’s most vibrant
political dissension spaces, Sokwanele, remains
anonymous, thereby allowing its moderators
to expose issues and express opinions, which
go against the conservative status quo.
continent is home to women of a variety of races, classes, tribes,
and a disparity of social, political and economic leverage?
Furthermore, as Afropolitanism – a neologism
combining the African identity with cosmopolitanism
and projecting a worldview that espouses an urban
and culturally savvy African identity – continues
to gain purchase across the continent and beyond,
an emergent diasporic voice is speaking up
and decrying the notion that Africans who are
online and blogging are merely advancing an
elitist, and therefore self-indulgent, agenda.
There are many different Africas and many different ways to be African,
which intersect with a variety of issues and circumstances that need to be
deconstructed progressively and documented digitally. As Delta Milayo
Ndou posits , “If we were to wait until every woman had access to ICTs
before recommending blogging as an empowerment tool, we'd be like idiots
who do nothing because they feel that what they could do is too little.”
Mainstream media continues to marginalize women’s voices in
relation to public discourse. By 2009, men constituted 59 percent
of employees in media houses in southern Africa.11 When South
Africa, which accounted for over half the employees in the
sample was excluded, the number of women working in media
houses fell to just 32 percent. Zimbabwe has the lowest figure
in the region – with just 13 percent female representation.
One of those voices is Minna Salami’s. Blogging
at Ms Afropolitan, she wrote a piece entitled
‘Who is an African woman?’, which included
the following statement; ‘I’m tired of people
immediately assuming that to blog about African
women is to blog about charity work. I’m tired of
this idea that African women can only be objects
of pity. I’m tired of the notion that African women
can or should only interact on select topics’.
It is this lack of representativeness, as well as disenchantment
with the partisan nature of the mainstream news media that
So whose voice should be allowed to speak on behalf
of African women’s issues, bearing in mind that the
For a continent with a multitude of challenges, blogging to articulate
one’s identity or opinions may seem trifling. And yet this represents
a necessary means for women to enter the public sphere and express
their personal and collective concerns and aspirations, as well as to bring
often-private discussions out into the public realm, where they can be
debated and critiqued by women and men as the conveyors of culture.
Her Zimbabwe, the platform that I coordinate, has a mandate that resonates
with Ndou’s words. The platform does not presume to be the solution
to women’s Internet access and connectivity woes. Instead, it positions
itself as a space where women who are online can connect and build an
online feminist network and solidarity. It also harnesses the power of
sharing personal and alternatives narratives about Zimbabwean women’s
lives. But we must remain cognisant about the power dynamics that this
online – and therefore exclusionary – solidarity is at risk of creating.
With more information and knowledge becoming accessible online, a
lack of access to online resources and networks for some means that
this new feminist model of organising will omit women in the offline
sphere if no conscious efforts are made to link back to them. Ultimately,
such schisms among women enable the patriarchal structuring of
society to perpetuate itself upon the divisiveness among women.
89
100
‘Clicktivism’ and ‘slacktivism’
But online organising and activism face other challenges. ‘Slacktivism’ – a neologism
combining slackness and activism – is a term that is increasingly being used to
describe online activity. Do the petitions and advocacy messages and clicks to
like and share help to actually make a difference to real people’s lives?
In her cautioning against use of the word, Mary Joyce 13 notes, “Slacktivism conveys the
image of the lazy activist, a politically active person who decides to sign an e-petition
rather than attend a street rally. Though it is indeed easier to join a Facebook group
or make an online donation than to canvass door-to-door or participate in a sit-in,
this choice rarely occurs in the real world. The politically active will be active both
online and offline. They have found a new realm for their action. The politically
inactive would never have canvassed or participated in a sit-in in the first place. Click
and something changes or sign an online petition and something will happen.”
Those who are online championing causes are often the same people who are offline running
campaigns, but the challenge for activists remains how to get online audiences to champion
causes beyond the few minutes that their attention is held captive by an attractive website
or page. A clear strategy and framework for merging offline and online spheres is much
needed in women’s organising so as to ensure equitable division of labour and benefits.
Conclusion
When we speak of modern technologies, we need to unpack the array of issues
that these bring not only from a standpoint of women’s consumption, but also
their production and innovation. It is only through such a holistic approach that
the real promises and shortcomings of these technologies can be evaluated.
But ultimately, we need to remain cognisant of the fact that modern technologies are
neither the destination, nor the end – but rather a means to the destination. Modern
technologies can both help and hinder progress in reducing gender inequities. They
can create new forms of marginalization and harm through cyber violence and by
widening the gaps and dichotomies between rural and urban women, while at the same
tie leveraging space for women’s lives and stories to be shared and acted upon.
The utopian ideals of cyberfeminism have long since been cast aside. But there
is still much hope for cyberfeminism to thrive in a world where we can live both
in our material bodies and in the fluidity of cyberspace. The onus is upon us as
African women to use these new media tools for our own good and to marry
the online space with the work that we have begun in the offline realm.
References
Africa - Fixed and Wireless Broadband
and Internet Markets and Forecasts URL:
http://www.budde.com.au/Research/
Africa-Fixed-and-Wireless-Broadbandand-Internet-Markets-and-Forecasts.
html?r=51 [Date Accessed 28 March 2013]
Buskens, I. and Webb, A. (2009). Introduction,
in African Women & ICTs: Investigating
Technology, Gender and Empowerment. Eds.
Webb, A. and Brenner, J. London, Zed Books
Duggan, M. And Brenner, J. (2013). The
Demographics of Social Media Users –
2012. http://pewinternet.org/~/media//
Files/Reports/2013/PIP_SocialMediaUsers.
pdf [Date Accessed 26 March 2013]
Intel (2013). Women and the Web: Bridging
the Internet Gap and Creating New
90
100
Global Opportunities in Low and Middle
Income Countries. URL: http://www.intel.
com/content/dam/www/public/us/en/
documents/pdf/women-and-the-web.
Joyce, M. (2012). 5 Reasons Not to Use
the Word “Slacktivism”. URL: http://
www.meta-activism.org/2012/04/5reasons-not-to-use-the-word-slacktivism/
[Date Accessed 31 March 2013]
Mbambo,-Thatha, B., Mlambo, E. and
Mwatsiya, P. (2009). When a gender-blind
access policy results in discrimination:
realities and perceptions of female students
at the University of Zimbabwe, in African
Women & ICTs: Investigating Technology,
Gender and Empowerment. Eds. Webb,
A. and Brenner, J. London, Zed Books.
Hassanin, L. (2009). An Alternative Public
Space for Women: The Potential of ICT,
Webb, A. and Brenner, J. London, Zed Books.
Vital Wave Consulting. (2010). Women &
Mobile: A Global Opportunity; A study on
the mobile phone gender gap in low and
middle-income countries URL: http://www.
vitalwaveconsulting.com/pdf/2011/WomenMobile.pdf [Date Accessed 26 March 2013]
Wadhwa, V. (2013). Silicon Valley
Discriminates Against Women But There
is Hope. URL: http://www.forbes.com/
sites/singularity/2013/03/20/silicon-valleydiscriminates-against-women-but-thereis-hope/ [Date Accessed 26 March 2013]
91
100
I Am Not Your Daughter!
Bibliography
Odell, A. (2012). ‘How Pinterest is Killing
Feminism’. http://www.buzzfeed.com/
amyodell/how-pinterest-is-killing-feminism
ZDHS (2011). Zimbabwe Demographic
and Health Survey; 2010 -2011 URL: http://
www.measuredhs.com/pubs/pdf/PR6/PR6.
Paciello, M. and Pepicelli, R. (2012). ‘Changing
Role of Women in Society’, in Arab Society
in Revolt: The West Mediterranean
Challenge. Eds. Merlini, C. and Roy, O.
Washington DC, The Brookings Institution.
Salami, M. (2012). Who is an African
Woman? URL: http://www.msafropolitan.
com/2012/09/who-is-an-african-woman.
html [Date Accessed 29 March 2013]
Wajcman, J. (2004). Technofeminism.
Cambridge, Polity Press.
– A fictional conversation on intergenerational
dialogue in the women’s movement
Hleziphi Naomie Nyanungo is a scholar and a researcher, who has held faculty
appointments at Penn State University (USA) and Africa University (Zimbabwe).
Her research interests are primarily in the areas of education, governance and
women’s studies. Hleziphi coordinated the Young Women’s Leadership Course
from 2009–2012 and continues to be involved with feminist movements in
southern Africa.
Somolu, O. (2007). ‘Telling Our Own Stories’:
African Women Blogging for Social Change.
Gender and Development. 15 (3): 477 – 489.
Wilding, F. (2003). Next Bodies in The
Feminism and Visual Culture Reader.
Ed. Jones, A. London, Routledge.
I
Endnotes
1. Wadhwa, V. (2013). Silicon Valley
Discriminates Against Women But There
is Hope. URL: http://www.forbes.com/
sites/singularity/2013/03/20/silicon-valleydiscriminates-against-women-but-thereis-hope/ [Date Accessed 26 March 2013]
5. Vital Wave Consulting. (2010). Women
& Mobile: A Global Opportunity; A study
on the mobile phone gender gap in low and
middle-income countries URL: http://www.
vitalwaveconsulting.com/pdf/2011/WomenMobile.pdf [Date Accessed 26 March 2013]
9. Africa - Fixed and Wireless Broadband
and Internet Markets and Forecasts URL:
http://www.budde.com.au/Research/
Africa-Fixed-and-Wireless-Broadbandand-Internet-Markets-and-Forecasts.
html?r=51 [Date Accessed 28 March 2013]
2. Duggan, M. And Brenner, J. (2013). The
Demographics of Social Media Users – 2012.
URL: http://pewinternet.org/~/media//
Files/Reports/2013/PIP_SocialMediaUsers.
6. ZDHS (2011). Zimbabwe Demographic
and Health Survey; 2010 -2011 URL: http://
www.measuredhs.com/pubs/pdf/PR6/PR6.
10. Somolu, O. (2007). ‘Telling Our
Own Stories’: African Women Blogging
for Social Change. Gender and
Development. 15 (3): 477 – 489.
7. Buskens, I. and Webb, A. (2009).
Introduction, in African Women & ICTs:
Investigating Technology, Gender and
Empowerment. Eds. Webb, A. and
Brenner, J. London, Zed Books
11. Made P. and Lowe Morna, C. (2009).
Glass Ceilings: Women and Men in Southern
Africa Media. Johannesburg, London.
3. Hassanin, L. (2009) An Alternative Public
Space for Women: The Potential of ICT,
Webb, A. and Brenner, J. London, Zed Books.
4. Intel (2013). Women and the Web:
Bridging the Internet Gap and Creating
New Global Opportunities in Low and
Middle Income Countries. URL: http://
www.intel.com/content/dam/www/public/
us/en/documents/pdf/women-and-theweb.pdf [Date Accessed 26 march 2013]
92
100
8. Mbambo,-Thatha, B., Mlambo, E. and
Mwatsiya, P. (2009). When a gender-blind
access policy results in discrimination:
realities and perceptions of female students
at the University of Zimbabwe, in African
Women & ICTs: Investigating Technology,
Gender and Empowerment. Eds. Webb,
A. and Brenner, J. London, Zed Books.
12. Machirori, F. (2010). Young Zimbabwean
women bloggers’ voice roar! URL:
http://yfa.awid.org/2011/12/youngzimbabwean-women-bloggers-voiceroar/ [Date Accessed 30 March 2013]
13. Joyce, M. (2012). 5 Reasons Not to
Use the Word “Slacktivism”. URL: http://
www.meta-activism.org/2012/04/5reasons-not-to-use-the-word-slacktivism/
n the lobby of a hotel in Maputo, Lesego and
Maidei are having a chat over drinks at the
end of a long day of meetings at the Southern
African Women’s Forum. Among the many
things that these two women have in common
are that they are both African and are active and
passionate feminists. Interestingly, these two
things are simultaneously the basis of solidarity and
tension between them. You, the reader, have the
privilege of listening in on their frank discussion
about one of the key causes of tension between
younger and older feminists in southern Africa.
Introduction: Feel the Tension
Lesego: I sense that you are harbouring a lot of
anger towards me. The way you addressed and
responded to my contributions in the meeting
suggested that there is something going on
here. You talked to me like you were talking to
one of your peers. For you to talk to me that
way – me – someone who is old enough to be
your mother – is simply disrespectful. I know you
know better so there must be more to this story.
Tell me, what is going on here my daughter?
Maidei: Here we go again! You are calling me your
daughter again. Don’t you realise how patronising
you are – or matronising in this case. We are equals
in the struggle – sisters engaged in the struggle
against patriarchy. I am not your daughter!
93
100
I Am Not Your Daughter! – A Fictional Conversation on Intergenerational Dialogue in the Women’s Movement
Lesego: My goodness! What are you going
on about? How can you be offended by
my referring to you as ‘my daughter’? You
young people don’t know what you are
talking about, and you don’t know your
boundaries. Being someone’s daughter is
a good thing – not an insult. I guess you
are not old enough to understand that.
Maidei: See what I am talking about?
Now you are dismissing me because
of my age…only because I have said
something you do not agree with.
Lesego: Ok Maidei, I can see that I have
upset you although I don’t understand why
you are so upset. I am sorry and it certainly
was not my intention. Let’s try this again. I
am glad that you suggested that we have
this chat so that maybe we can start to
understand each other’s points of view
and get to the heart of the tension that is
getting in the way of our dialogue as two
women of different generations. Maybe
you can start by telling me why my calling
you ‘daughter’ is offensive. You are, after all,
young enough to be my daughter. In fact,
you are probably younger than my oldest
daughter who is turning 35 this year. And
you know, in our culture, anyone young
enough to be my daughter is my daughter.
I mean no disrespect referring to you as my
daughter and I would certainly not take any
offense to you referring me as ‘mother’.
Maidei: My anger is not so much directed
at you but at your generation of feminists.
Maybe I did overreact to your comment
but it’s not the first time that a feminist
of your generation has referred to me
as ‘daughter’. It’s just that the ‘motherdaughter’ relationship comes with some
cultural baggage. You have said so yourself;
that you think I should address you in a
particular way because you are older than
I am. So now instead of focusing on the
points that I am actually making, you get
hung up on whether I am addressing you
respectfully or not. This cultural baggage
94
100
influences how we relate to each other and
communicate with each other in the women’s
movement. It couches not only how we
talk, but also (perhaps more importantly)
how we listen to, and hear, each other. It
seems culture is contributing to the tension
in the dialogue between the generations in
the feminist movement. Maybe if we can
unpack this cultural baggage to see what it
entails, we will make some strides towards
resolving the tensions constructively.
Lesego: You know what Maidei; I think you
are onto something there. I had not thought
about this before. We both know that there
is tension between the younger and older
feminists in our region, if not the whole
continent. And you know what; this tension
is weakening the women’s movement in
our region. While we share the same goal,
we seem to be working against each other
instead of working with each other to achieve
our goals. Talking as an ‘older’ person (not
old mind you), it just seems like the younger
feminists have an attitude and no respect
for us older feminists or the history of the
movement in our region. I haven’t really
thought about how the younger feminists
view us. I like this idea of ‘unpacking’ the
cultural baggage as a step towards better
understanding the tensions between us and
hopefully finding ways to resolve it. So okay –
let’s unzip the baggage and start unpacking.
Maidei: I think there are basically two major
questions we should address. First, is the
question of how African cultures frame
dialogue between generations; and second is
the question of how the feminist movement
frames dialogue between generations.
Lesego: Yes, let’s start there because then
it will allow us to see the contradictions (if
any) between intergenerational dialogue
in the broader society and in the women’s
movement. From your personal experiences,
what is your response to the first question
you posed: How do African cultures
frame dialogue between generations?
Inter-generational dialogue
in African cultures
Maidei: I don’t know about you, but I have
grown up in a context where those who are
older are considered to be more able and
wiser than those who are younger. I was
taught that I should never challenge people
who are older, that if I have a problem with
someone who is older, I should seek the
help of another older person to advocate on
my behalf because it would be considered
disrespectful for me to do so on my own. So
the message I have received consistently is
that the duty of youth is to learn from older
adults...certainly not vice-versa. If and when
a younger person speaks up in the company
of people who are older, it is considered
disrespectful. And this is true in all social
institutions – family, church, school...
and yes, also the feminist movement.
That is how I see it. How do you see it?
Lesego: Oh yes...that is true of my
upbringing as well. It was very pronounced
when I was growing up. Age was a big deal –
the older you were, the more power you had
to influence decisions. I remember being
chastised by my grandmother for refusing
to do something that my older sister asked
me to do for her. My grandmother said that
I was being stubborn for not obeying my
older sister. When I tried to argue my case
and say that what my sister was asking of me
was unfair – my grandmother insisted that
it didn’t matter what my sister was asking of
me, I should obey her simply because she is
older. Indeed, age is always a consideration
in my culture. Here is another example: there
was recently a situation in my husband’s
family that required the family to come
together to make some decisions. You could
see clearly how power was influenced not
only by gender, but also age. The men had
more say than the women, and the older had
more say than the younger amongst them.
Maidei: Oh yes – I can think of just as many
examples in my own family. Those who are
older are expected to be consulted and
approve any family decisions. The younger
ones may be asked for their input but
they are not the ones that make the final
decisions. Sometimes it even looks like age
trumps gender. You know those times that
the elderly aunt or grandmother will have
the final say on an issue and those younger –
men or women – will just have to live with it.
Lesego: It is important to highlight that age
is not just about the number of years that
one has accumulated – it is always relational.
In African societies, we are more likely to
see each other in relation to each other.
So, if we are of the same generation, I am
likely to see you as a sister – older sister or
younger sister. If you are at least 20 years
older than me, then you are my mother or
aunt, 20 years or so younger then you are
my daughter and so forth. So this is really
not about how old a person is – it is about
how old the person is in relation to another.
Maidei: That is a really important point
Lesego. That is precisely what the issue
is. It is not about how old one is, but the
role assigned to one on the basis of age in
relation to the age of others. We can see
that clearly by looking at how women relate
to each other in our context. For example,
a little sister is supposed to relate in a
certain way to an older sister. A daughter
is supposed to relate in a certain way to
her mother, and vice-versa of course. And
more often than not, these are not equal
roles. We see that clearly in the example
you gave of your grandmother chastising
you for not obeying your sister. That is
what is expected of younger sisters – to
obey. Similarly, a mother is not expected
to obey her daughter but a daughter is
expected to obey her mother. A daughter
who does not obey her mother or aunt,
in my context, is considered a ‘bad’
daughter because ‘she does not listen’.
Lesego: Oh yes, you are so right. Our
cultures assign a set of behavioural
expectations on the basis of each person’s
appointed role. If I refer to you as ‘daughter’,
I can ask things of you that I would not be
able to ask of someone that I refer to as
‘mother’. For instance, I can ask my daughter
to make me tea but I would not ask that
of my mother. In the case where I refer to
someone as my daughter, I am giving myself
permission to ask things of her. Of course,
she can also ask things of me that she would
a mother, but it is clear who has more power
in that relationship…if you know what I mean.
Maidei: I don’t think this is necessarily a
negative aspect of African cultures. Like
other cultural beliefs and norms, it has
its advantages and disadvantages. In
my personal and social life, I find it quite
comforting for the most part. I confess
that I struggle with this expectation
to ‘obey’ but I do like that everyone is
connected and that the roles are fluid.
And so no one is always the mother,
and no one is always the younger sister.
And so in one instance I am the little
sister but in another, I am the mother. I
like that I have relatives wherever I go.
Lesego: I like that too. I like that no one
is ever a stranger; we are always, in
some sense, related to each other. Yes...
it is a comforting. But I think there are
some difficult aspects of this cultural
practice, particularly beyond the social
and family spheres of our lives. Maybe
this is a good place for us to tackle
that second question: How do African
cultures frame inter-generational
dialogue in the women’s movement?
Inter-generational dialogue
in the women’s movement
Lesego: My involvement in the women’s
movement really took off when I was
chosen to be one of the women to attend
the famous Beijing Conference in 1995.
I am sure you have heard about that
conference – it was really a turning a point
for the fight for women’s rights, especially
in the global South. That conference really
lit the fire under us – we made influential
contacts that helped us get the resources
we needed, we had new tools to use in
our advocacy and strategizing, and we
had clearer priorities. We were on fire and
really got things moving. Many of the really
strong women’s organisations that you see
around were formed after that conference
– many of them by those of us who were
at that conference. We came together to
challenge the system, and we really were
able to change a lot of things. And you can
imagine the kind of opposition we had to
put up with. But we were ready and up to
the challenge. Let me be clear here – I am
not saying the women’s movement started
after the Beijing Conference. Women
in Africa have always been challenging
gender oppression in their societies; in their
lives. I always make the argument that if
feminism is about challenging oppression
on the basis of gender, then there have
been African feminists from the beginning
of time. So we don’t claim to be the ones
that started feminism in our respective
African countries. But it is my generation
that really organised the feminist and
women’s movements in our region. We
set up the organisations, networks and
forums to pursue the feminist agenda.
Maidei: You know what – I was just a baby
in 1995. I hardly knew my own name, let
alone the plight of women or gender
inequality. We have heard about the
Beijing Conference and know that it was an
important turning point, but we have moved
on from then. Why do you and your peers
always throw it in our face? It is thrown in
our face as if it is a badge of honour – like
you guys are ‘bigger and better’ feminists
than us because you went to the Beijing
conference or because you are older.
Lesego: I will be honest here. When
you see us still involved in the women’s
movement as we are – it is because we
95
100
I Am Not Your Daughter! – A Fictional Conversation on Intergenerational Dialogue in the Women’s Movement
gave it all we had. Many sisters gave up the
fight to change things a long time ago. For
some of us, this became our profession
and purpose in life. We made some serious
sacrifices for this movement. And now we
see you young women acting without any
regard for the work we have done to bring
us to this point, and paying us no respect.
People who were just born yesterday think
they can now lead the movement....
Maidei: With all due respect, we mean
no disrespect. It is just that this Beijing
Conference turning point, while really
significant to the movement, is not a priority
to us. It is something that happened but the
world has moved from there, and we want to
build the movement beyond that. We want to
talk about the issues that we are confronting
now. We want to have the space to define
issues and set priorities for the movement
as well. Instead, more often than not we
are dismissed and told to wait our turn to
lead the movement. That is what frustrates
us. Yes, we may not know it all but nobody
does. We may not share your experiences,
but that should not make our contributions
as a later generation of less value to your
generation. That is where our frustration is.
Our opinions, contributions, priorities are
not given much value simply because we
are younger. We are not trying to take over
the movement; we just want to be given
the space to make equal contributions.
Lesego: Indeed – this one is a complicated
issue. I am trying to think about how this
links up to our earlier discussion about
intergenerational dialogue in our societies.
Maidei: Yes, we need to think about that so
we can move the conversation forward. It
does seem to me like this is a topic that shuts
down the dialogue whenever it comes up.
The emotions (for both of us) around this
issue are strong. Maybe for now we can put
the emotions aside and focus on creating
the dialogue. I hope you won’t take any
offense to this, but it is almost as if the older
feminists see themselves as the ‘mothers’ of
the movement and we are the ‘daughters’
and ‘grand-daughters’ of the movement.
Lesego: Okay, okay – I think I now see
the relevance of cultural norms relating
to the relationship between generations.
Daughters do not challenge mothers.
And the mothers are the ‘founders’
of the movement, so to speak. Is
this what you are getting at?
Maidei: Yes, that is exactly what I am talking
about. When your generation says to us,
who are younger, respect us because of what
we have sacrificed for the movement, it is
like when a mother says, ‘I carried you for
nine-months, and suffered this and that for
you....’ I don’t know anyone who will try to
oppose her mother once that is said. It shuts
down the dialogue and those of us who dare
to challenge are dismissed as disrespectful.
Lesego: I don’t know if we can take it that
far, but I do see what you are saying. So
what we are essentially doing is taking
the cultural norms and imposing them on
how we relate to each other as people of
different generations in the movement.
Instead of being sisters of different ages
engaged in the same movement, we have
mothers, aunts, older sisters, younger
sisters and daughters. Those layers of
power and control will undoubtedly
influence our dialogue. Yes, I see that...
Maidei: I must say it feels really good
to share this with you and feel like you
are hearing me without being defensive
or saying I am disrespecting you.
Lesego: I feel the same way Sister. See, I
didn’t say little sister or daughter! Seriously
though, I had not given any thought to
how this can be part of the reason for the
‘attitude’ we see in the younger sisters of
the movement. I – and I’m sure I’m not the
only one – just saw it as people who were
young and didn’t understand. It had not
crossed my mind that just as much as you
did not understand us, maybe we also did
not understand you. So it does feel really
good to be talking honestly about this. Now
the question is: how do we resolve this?
Lesego: We are coming up with good
ideas but the real challenge is how
these ideas can be implemented.
Granted, we won’t be able to deal with all
the factors that influence the dynamics of
intergenerational dialogue but let’s think
of some ways that we can resolve this little
piece of it with the hope of promoting
healthier dialogue between the generations.
well and what hasn’t in the movement. This
way we take the lessons learned from the
past and use them to inform the present
and the future. I have another idea as well.
I think we should redefine what we mean
by ‘sister’ in the context of the movement.
Improving the dialogue
Maidei: Well, at the moment we talk of
respecting and valuing each other as
sisters but we assume we mean the same
thing. A sister in the movement is a sister
regardless of how old she is. We will respect
and value her opinions and experiences.
It doesn’t mean that we will always agree
with her – that is not respect or valuing.
But it does mean that we will give her
equal space to share her views and ideas
in whatever forum. And we will assess her
contributions on the basis of their content
and not on the basis of how old she is.
Maidei: So now we are thinking of ways
to improve the dialogue between us?
I think it is important to find ways to
acknowledge and celebrate the work that
has been done by the sisters that have
gone before us. It is important for not only
the older generation, but the younger
generation and even those that come after
us. Efforts to acknowledge and celebrate
how far we have come and those that have
brought us this far will be also inspiring
and motivating. It doesn’t have to be
something grand that makes people larger
than life – projects such as documenting
‘her-stories’ might be a good way to start.
Lesego: I like that idea Maidei. I think
documenting the history of the women’s
movement in our region is so very important.
And if the younger feminists take this on,
it is a clear sign to us – the older feminists
– that you are acknowledging the work we
have done. Of course, the project should not
be just about valorising what we have done
but also critically analysing what has worked
Maidei: Oh – you have put my very thoughts
into eloquent words. I absolutely agree with
you. I don’t mind when people disagree
with me, but I do mind when they dismiss or
disagree with what I say by making reference
to my age. I don’t mind when people do not
vote for me for a particular office because
they don’t think I am capable, but I do mind
when they assume I am not capable only
because of my age. As you say, the true
spirit of sisterhood would see us valuing
each other based on what we say and do
and not on the basis of how old we are.
Maidei: Oh yes, that is the real challenge.
But maybe let’s leave that for our next
conversation. We can both give it
some thought and come back to share
ideas for how to implement it.
Lesego: Yes, let’s do that. We can also
invite other sisters to share their ideas
for improving intergenerational dialogue
and implementing these ideas.
Maidei: Great idea Lesego. I will transcribe
our conversation and post it on a forum
where others can share their ideas. As we
are winding up, let me thank you again for
making the time to talk through this. I am
feeling hopeful that there are ways to improve
the dialogue between our generations.
Lesego: I too am grateful that we made
the time to do this. As I said earlier, there
is much more to this issue than what we
have focused on. But this has been a
good beginning. The movement is about
solidarity. Solidarity cannot happen without
dialogue. I feel really good knowing
that just in talking about this, we have
contributed in some way to strengthening
the solidarity within the movement. I look
forward to our next conversation Maidei.
Endnotes
1. Women’s Movement and Feminist Movement are used interchangeably in this paper to refer to the movement to fight against gender
inequality and promote women’s rights.
96
100
97
100
notes
98
100
99
100
Volume 2 Issue 2 December 2012
BUWA! is published by the Open Society Initiative for
Southern Africa (OSISA)
© Open Society Initiative for Southern Africa (OSISA) 2013
Open Society Initiative for Southern Africa (OSISA)
President Place
1 Hood Avenue/148 Jan Smuts Avenue (corner Bolton)
Rosebank, Johannesburg
PO Box 678, Wits 2050
Johannesburg
Tel: +27 (0) 11 587 5000
Fax: +27 (0) 11 587 5099
Design and layout: Garage East
Production: DS Print Media
Title concept: BUWA! is an adaption of the Suthu ‘bua’ meaning ‘speak’.
The opinions expressed in this journal are those of the individual authors
and do not necessarily represent the views of OSISA or its board.
We appreciate feedback on this publication.
Write to the Editor at: [email protected]
editorial team
Editor: Alice Kanengoni
Editorial team: Naomi Hleziphi Nyanungo; Mazuba Haanyama; Tsitsi Mukamba; Vicci Tallis; Yaliwe Clarke
100
100

Feminism and culture

Transcription

Similar documents

African customers, African partners PM Zone: Foreign Customers

African American Heritage Festival

Akpe Brochure Short

Emerging African News

8.5 x 11

the full set of slides as a pdf

Africa Political Map

Markham public library

mabula private game reserve - 2016

Saturday, June 16th 2:00 to 5:00 pm Tickets: $15