Category: Blog

[tp lang=”en not_in=”fr”]Podcast with Thokozile Makhanya, Board Member of Biowatch a public interest organization that publicises, monitors and researches issues of genetic modification, and promotes biological diversity and sustainable livelihoods. In this podcast Thoko speaks about the importance of resisting the use of genetically modified organisms, the importance of farmers rights and food sovereignty. Please click link below to listen to the podcast.

Podcast featuring Thokozile Makhanya, Biowatch, South Africa[/tp]

[tp lang=”en not_in=”fr”]Podcast avec Thokozile Makhanya, membre du conseil de Biowatch une organisation d’intérêt public qui publicise, surveille et analyse les enjeux de la modification génétique, et favorise la diversité biologique et les moyens de subsistance durables. Dans ce podcast Thoko parle de l’importance de résister à l’utilisation d’organismes génétiquement modifiés, l’importance des droits des agriculteurs et la souveraineté alimentaire. Veuillez cliquer sur le lien ci-dessous pour écouter le podcast.

Podcast avec Thokozile Makhanya, Biowatch, Afrique du Sud[/tp]

(Thoko was interviewed by Nana Darkoa Sekyiamah, Communications Specialist, AWDF)

[tp lang=”en” not_in=”fr”]On Friday March 7, 2014 AWDF and partner, Brand Woman Africa, brought together influential African women artists, authors and musicians to honor International Women’s Day here in Accra. The evening began with a gallery opening featuring the works of Sena Ahadji, Kis Keya and Zohra Opoku. There was a common theme of identity and self-discovery among the artists’ works, which were very thought-provoking for the gallery-goers. The next phase of the night continued with readings and discussion with authors, Boakyewaa Glover, Yewande Omotoso and Alba Simprim led by their friend and colleague, Kinna Likimani. The women garnered a lot of laughter and appreciation from their audience. Finally, we concluded the night with two sensational performances by up-and-coming talents, Cae and Diana Bada. They made sure the crowd left the Alliance Française feeling energized and stunned in awe of the power of women.[/tp]

[tp lang=”fr” not_in=”en”]Le vendredi 7 Mars, 2014 AWDF et son partenaire, Brand Woman Africa, ont réuni d’influentes femmes africaines artistes, auteures et musiciennes pour célébrer la Journée internationale de la femme ici à Accra. La soirée a débuté avec une ouverture de la galerie présentant les œuvres de Sena Ahadji, Kis et Zohra Opoku Keya. Il y avait un thème commun de l’identité et de la découverte de soi parmi les œuvres des artistes, qui ont été très à la réflexion pour la galerie de spectateurs. La seconde partie de soirée a continué avec des lectures et des discussions avec les auteurs, Boakyewaa Glover, Yewande Omotoso et Alba Simprim débat mené par leur amie et collègue, Kinna Likimani. Les femmes ont recueilli beaucoup de rires et de l’appréciation de leur auditoire. Enfin, nous avons conclu la nuit avec deux performances sensationnelles de talents à venir va-et-Cae, et Diana Bada. Ils se sont assurés la foule a quitté l’Alliance Française excitée et assommée par la crainte du pouvoir des femmes.[/tp]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A HUGE thank you again to all of those who made it out that evening! We appreciate your continued support of our mission and of women across the African continent!

Photos by Emily Barnard and Portia Duah

 

[tp lang=”en” not_in=”fr”]African Women’s Development Fund has been honored with two nominations in this year’s Ghana Blogging and Social Media Awards! One for ‘Organisation with the Best Social Media Presence’ and ‘Best Organisational Blog’!

As an organisation, we have made it our goal to be as active as possible on social media and to be able to share in our triumphs with you. It is important for us to be able to interact with the people that have continually supported our mission from the beginning, and to reach new people who will join our cause as well!

Also, this year our Communications Specialist, Nana Darkoa, has been nominated again in the category of ‘Best Blog’ for her Adventures from the Bedrooms of African Women blog! Please be sure to show your support for her hard work as well!

Thank you to all who have made AWDF feel so respected and loved!

Be sure to VOTE and tell your friends!

Where to vote: here!

More info about the awards: here.[/tp]

[tp lang=”fr” not_in=”en”]Le Fonds AAfricain de développement de la femme a été honoré avec deux nominations au Ghana Blogging de cette année et les Social Media Awards! Un pour ‘Organisation avec la Meilleure Présence médias sociaux »et« Meilleur Blog organisationnel »!

En tant qu’organisation, nous avons fait notre objectif d’être aussi actif que possible sur les médias sociaux et d’être en mesure de partager nos triomphes avec vous. Il est important pour nous d’être en mesure d’interagir avec les gens qui ont constamment soutenu notre mission depuis le début, et d’atteindre de nouvelles personnes qui se joindront à notre cause ainsi!

En outre, cette année, notre spécialiste des communications, Nana Darkoa, a été nommée à nouveau dans la catégorie de «Meilleur Blog» pour ses aventures depuis les chambres de femmes africaines blog! S’il vous plaît assurez-vous de montrer votre soutien pour son travail acharné ainsi!

Merci à tous ceux qui ont fait AWDF sentir si respecté et aimé!

Assurez-vous de voter et de dire à vos amis!

Où voter: ici!

Plus d’infos sur les prix: ici.[/tp]

On Saturday March 8^th, African Women’s Development Fund (AWDF) facilitated an all-day Writer’s Master Class. Critically acclaimed South African novelist Yewande Omotoso, whose debut novel Bom Boy was shortlisted for the 2012 Sunday Times Fiction Prize, led the creative writing workshop at the AWDF resource center. The 28 attendees represented a wide range of ages and experiences: younger and older women, aspiring and professional writers. Ms. Omotoso began the event by inviting each attendee to share her name, and the reason she decided to come to the workshop. “Writing is not an easy thing that comes to me… I’m here to learn,” said one attendee. “I am here because my biggest source of inspiration is female writers,” said another attendee. When it came her turn, Grace, the human resource manager for AWDF, stated: “Writing is everybody’s business.” We could not agree more. After the introductions, Ms. Omotoso revealed a surprising bit of information: “I’m just beginning the workshop [by saying] that I don’t know if workshops always work.” In order to grow as a creative writer, “there is something that you have to do in your own quiet hours.”

 

For Ms. Omotoso, the decision to pursue a career in writing was a difficult one. Her parents encouraged her writing at a young age, but when she told her father that she wanted to be a professional writer, he told her, “You should have a proper job that gives you money,” continuing to say that, “I never want you to have to depend on a man, I never want you to have to be shortchanged because you don’t have your own career.” While her father’s concerns were valid, Ms. Omotoso has been able to have her own career, and was able to share her wisdom with us. She led the group in a second introductory activity: a truth and a lie. Each attendee told a fact about herself along with a myth. Ms. Omotoso explained that when you are a fiction writer “you are in the world of make believe and you are trying to be a good liar.” We learned from the game that being a good liar does not simply mean being able to convince people that the lie is true. It means being able to surprise people, make them laugh or stare with wonder.

 

Ms. Omotoso showed us a book called The Amazing Story Generator that she uses as a writing tool. By shuffling the flaps of the book, different, sometimes outlandish, ideas for stories appear. “If something is startling or absurd, we look a bit deeper.” She explained how many writers recycle the same tired phrases, so we must challenge ourselves to be original. “I call it being lazy or using shorthand… They use clichés. For instance, a ‘beautiful’ woman… What if you couldn’t use that word and had to show me in a different way?” She discussed other challenges that plague contemporary authors: “Sometimes perfectionists struggle with writing or making art because you have to make a mess first.” Many of the attendees responded to this notion, discussing how fear of judgment often impedes their ability to put words on a page. According to Ms. Omotoso, a writer must have the strength to be gentle with herself and still charge forward in her work: in other words, she must have “gold ovaries.” After this talk, the attendees shared the introductory paragraphs to their own short stories, sharing opinions and advice.

After a brief writing exercise, the legendary Ghanaian writer Ama Ata Aidoo made a guest appearance, and conducted a special session. Ms. Aidoo appreciated the work of the attendees: “The bar has been set so far!” she exclaimed. She spoke about her current love for flash fiction: a short story that is told in 500 words or less. She recommended using flash fiction as warm-up exercise. Aidoo discussed her hesitations about infusing her work with a political agenda. However, “when you have what I describe as a politicized imagination, nearly everything you write has a political tinge to it.”After reading a short story of hers, she talked about her experience, explaining that she does not like being described in terms of “firsts.” “I like the feeling that I stand on the shoulders of some really fantastic people…” Undoubtedly, Ms. Aidoo serves as an inspiration for many of the women in attendance.

After Ms. Aidoo’s departure and a delicious lunch, Ms. Omotoso initiated a writing exercise: choose a partner and describe them in 100 words. After this activity, the group discussed the difficulties surrounding dialogue. Several attendees said that they actively work to avoid writing dialogue. Others shared the dialogue that they had already written. Although some women expressed trepidation about dialogue, far more feared writing sex scenes. The group launched into a discussion about the discomfort that comes with writing sex scenes, and how it is necessary to push against this discomfort in order to express the realities of African women’s lives. “We are afraid to write [sex scenes], but if we don’t write it [50 Shades of Grey author] EL James writes it, or some porn king writes it,” remarked Ms. Omotoso. The women in the workshop discussed an explicit scene in The Justice by Boakyewaa Glover, commending Ms. Glover on her fearlessness. Noting Ms. Glover’s repeated use of the word “gorgeous,” one attendee remarked: “Ugly girls can have good sex, too!” This exemplifies the importance of African women telling their stories: no two voices are the same. The Writer’s Master Class gave women an opportunity to share their thoughts on the writing process, and have their work critiqued by successful writers.

We are thankful to Yewande Omotoso, Ama Ata Aidoo, and the attendees for making this event a huge success.

 

By Sarah Lewinger

Photos by Emily Barnard

A statement from the leaders of the Civil Society Coalition on Human Rights and Constitutional Law:

For the past few days since the Anti Homosexuality Act was signed into law,
the Coalition Legal Committee has been engaged in plans for challenging the
law as agreed upon in the Legal Strategy Meeting.

As such, seven advocates from five law firms have been engaged to prepare to
challenge the AHA. The team has been officially working on the case since
Friday 28th and have held five meetings jointly since then, and many smaller
meetings.

The petition is already drafted, and input has been sought and obtained from
over 20 lawyers worldwide. I would like to thank those who have made input
in the petition. I believe we have a pretty watertight case now.

As for petitioners, we have 10- 1 Professor of Law as the leading
petitioner, 1 MP who is among the authors of the minority report, 1
journalist/political commentator, 1 former leader of opposition, 1 openly
gay medical doctor, 3 LGBTI leaders, and two organisations.

We have so far finalized 5 affidavits- for five of the petitioners and five
are being finalized. We expect to have all affidavits in by tomorrow, and to
have all of them commissioned by tomorrow.

We have also prepared two applications for stay of implementation of the
law, and also to stop the on going media outings. These will be filed
alongside the main petition.

We expect to hold out last pre filing meeting on Sunday and then we file on
Monday. The necessary fees have already been paid in full and are also
working to ensure there is media attention when we file.

I would like to thank all those who have provided support to us during this
process.

We thank you so much for the continued solidarity.

– Adrian Jjuuko, Chairperson of the Legal Committee of the Coalition

Read the official Coalition statement on the Anti-Pornography and Anti-Homosexuality Acts in Uganda: Coalition Statement.

Please check out their website as well for more information on what they do: Coalition website.

[tp lang=”en” not_in=”fr”]Next Friday, March 7, AWDF and our new partner, Brand Woman Africa, will be hosting an International Women’s Day celebration at the Alliance Française d’Accra. In anticipation of this artistic adventure, the press and several artists who will be featuring their work, were invited to the AWDF headquarters for a small meet-up. Despite the heat, everyone had a chance to share a bit of themselves and we heard from AWDF CEO, Theo Sowa; BWA Founder, Anita Erskine-Amaizo; AfterSchool Ghana Founder, Kinna Likimani; and Alliance Française Director, Patrice Gilles.[/tp]

[tp lang=”fr” not_in=”en”]Vendredi 7 Mars prochain AWDF et notre nouveau partenaire, Brand Woman Africa, sera l’hôte d’une célébration internationale de la Journée de la femme à l’Alliance Française d’Accra. En prévision de cette aventure artistique, la presse et plusieurs artistes qui mettront en vedette leur travail, ont été invitées au siège d’AWDF pour un petit meet-up. Malgré la chaleur, tout le monde a eu la chance de partager un peu d’eux-mêmes et nous avons entendu du PDG AWDF, Theo Sowa; BWA Fondateur, Anita Erskine-Amaizo; AfterSchool Ghana Fondateur, Kinna Likimani; et l’Alliance Française directeur, Patrice Gilles.[/tp]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

AWDF, Brand Woman Africa, Alliance Française and the African women artists hope to see you all next Friday, beginning at 6 PM. International Women’s Day deserves to be celebrated, whether you know about feminism or not. Come show your support for these women, it is sure to be a night to remember.

Photos by Emily Barnard

[tp lang=”en” not_in=”fr”]The audience erupted with laughter at the unusual sight of five women moaning and gyrating, uninhibited, on stage. “Coochie!” “Pussy!” “Twat…” These and other similar slang words bounced off of the grand walls of the National Theatre of Ghana. People of various backgrounds filled the seats, some ready and some not quite ready, to experience an unconventional play on Valentine’s Day.

The Vagina Monologues is a play written by New York native, feminist, activist and performer, Eve Ensler. Since its premier in Ensler’s home city in 1996, women from different countries all over the world have performed their own adaptations. The five young women in this Ghanaian performance did an extraordinary job presenting the diverse selection of monologues dealing with the feminine experience. Each monologue tackles a specific issue such as love, sex, rape, menstruation, orgasm, birth, genital mutilation, female-male relations, and pretty much anything involving the vagina. The central theme of the piece is the importance of a woman’s vagina as a symbol of empowerment and individuality. Some women are shy about theirs, some are not shy at all, some have had wonderful sexual encounters, while still others have experienced grave trauma. All different types of women are represented in the script, and it attempts to address a vast array of controversial situations whether serious or funny. The cast chemistry was on point and each actress was fully committed to her role.

Some phrases and settings in the production had been changed to be more unique to the experiences of Ghanaian women. The actresses discussed Azonto music, the curvaceous body type, and interracial relationships, along with many other references. There was even a highlife musical act, performed by a man proclaiming his love and respect for women. Certainly, that aspect of the play could only have been found in a Ghanaian interpretation of the original. It added a very genuine dimension to the performance.

One of the scenes that really stood out was the one titled “Because He Liked to Look at It,” about how a woman comes to love and accept her vagina after a man had shown his intense appreciation for hers. He spends hours looking at it because of his belief that the vagina reveals a woman’s true beauty and essence. The sight of it was his main source of arousal. The young actress in the scene, Pearl Darkey, was a showstopper throughout the entire play, portraying a woman who was confident, sexy, powerful and self-loving. During the finale of the play Darkey even dropped into a split, as they took turns acting out the many ways that women express an orgasm. This triggered an uproarious round of applause and whooping from the crowd.

On a completely different note, the scene in which two actresses portrayed rape victims was extremely troubling. One of the actresses wore a white nightgown stained with blood, and the other had a head of unkempt hair and disheveled clothes. Their performances were heart wrenching, and brought attention to the realities of our world. Millions of women suffer everyday from abuse by their husbands, boyfriends, fathers, uncles, friends, and the list goes on. This scene was uncomfortable but necessary, so that people do not forget that we have to continue to promote and fight for the equal and just treatment of women. All in all, there was a good balance between fun and severe topics, culminating into one cohesive and fantastic show.

A Valentine’s Day evening at the theatre, watching The Vagina Monologues, was a perfect way to reflect on the importance of love for one another, and what a beautiful thing it is to be a woman.

By: Emily Barnard, AWDF Communications Intern[/tp]

[tp lang=”fr” not_in=”en”]Le public a éclaté de rire à la vue inhabituelle de cinq femmes gémir et tournoyant, sans tabou, sur scène. “Coochie!” “Pussy!” “Twat …” Ceux-ci et d’autres mots d’argot similaires ont rebondi sur les grands murs du Théâtre national du Ghana. Les gens de divers milieux ont rempli les sièges, certains prêts et d’autres pas tout à fait, à faire l’expérience d’un jeu non conventionnel lors de la Saint Valentin.

Les Monologues du vagin est une pièce écrite par Eve Ensler native de New York, féministe, activiste et interprète. Depuis sa création dans la ville natale d’Ensler en 1996, les femmes de différents pays du monde entier ont effectué leurs propres adaptations. Les cinq jeunes femmes dans cette performance ghanéenne ont fait un travail extraordinaire de présentation de la sélection diversifiée de monologues traitant de l’expérience féminine. Chaque monologue aborde une question spécifique comme l’amour, le sexe, le viol, la menstruation, l’orgasme, la naissance, les mutilations génitales, les relations femmes-hommes, et à peu près tout ce qui concerne le vagin. Le thème central de la pièce est l’importance du vagin comme un symbole de l’émancipation et de l’individualité. Certaines femmes sont timides sur le leur, certaines n’ont pas eu de rencontres sexuelles merveilleuses du tout, certaines en ont eu de timides, tandis que d’autres encore ont connu un traumatisme grave. Tous les différents types de femmes sont représentées dans le script, et il tente de répondre à une vaste gamme de situations controversées soient graves ou drôles. La chimie de fond était au point et chaque actrice a été pleinement engagé dans son rôle.

Certaines phrases et les paramètres de la production avaient été changé pour être plus proches des expériences des femmes ghanéennes. Les actrices ont discuté de la musique Azonto, le type de corps tout en courbes, et les relations interraciales, avec beaucoup d’autres références. Il y avait même un acte de highlife, interprété par un homme proclamant son amour et de respect pour les femmes. Certes, cet aspect de la pièce ne peut être trouvé que dans une interprétation ghanéenne originale. Il ajoute une dimension très authentique à la performance.

Une des scènes qui se démarque vraiment était celle intitulée «parce qu’il aimait à regarder,” sur la façon dont une femme vient à aimer et accepter son vagin après qu’un homme ait montré son intense satisfaction pour le sien. Il passe des heures à le regarder à cause de sa conviction que le vagin révèle la vraie beauté et l’essence d’une femme. La vue était sa principale source d’excitation. La jeune actrice dans la scène, Pearl Darkey, était un écueil dans l’ensemble du jeu, dépeignant une femme qui était confiante, sexy, puissante et s’auto-aimant. Au final le jeu de Darkey était même tombé dans une scission, comme ils se sont relayés agissant sur les nombreuses façons dont les femmes expriment un orgasme. Cela a déclenché une ronde d’applaudissements tumultueux et en a fait la coqueluche de la foule.

Sur une note tout à fait différente, la scène dans laquelle deux actrices dépeignent les victimes de viol était extrêmement troublante. Une des actrices portait une chemise de nuit blanche tachée de sang, et l’autre avait une tête aux cheveux hirsutes et les vêtements en désordre. Leurs performances étaient déchirantes, et ont attiré l’attention sur les réalités de notre monde. Des millions de femmes souffrent tous les jours de mauvais traitements infligés par leurs maris, amis, pères, oncles, et la liste continue. Cette scène mettait mal à l’aise, mais était nécessaire, de sorte que les gens ne doivent pas oublier que nous devons continuer à promouvoir et à se battre pour l’égalité de traitement et la justice des femmes. Dans l’ensemble, il y avait un bon équilibre entre plaisir et de graves sujets, culminant en un spectacle cohérent et fantastique.

La soirée de la Saint-Valentin au théâtre, à regarder Les Monologues du Vagin, était un moyen idéal pour réfléchir sur l’importance de l’amour pour l’autre, et que c’est une chose magnifique d’être une femme.

Par: Emily Barnard, AWDF Stagiaire en communications[/tp]

So let’s say I’m getting married. Firstly we’d have covered the bit about I’d prefer to keep my name. I’ve dated men who haven’t found this terribly bothersome and I’ve dated others who have. Someone once asked why I couldn’t double-barrel my name. It’s like, as a woman who chooses to marry, you’re either destined to change your name-identity completely or your name develops a Velcro complex and picks up someone else’s along the way. But compromise is a good thing, right? So I thought of the double-barrel thing. And I also wondered why I’m being so headstrong. I mean I love the guy, right? So take his freaking name, double-barrel it, Velcro him to me for life. And what about the children? Well, what about the children? Well, the love of my life continued, shouldn’t we all have the same name, like a team? I really liked that image. Being a team with my hypothetical family, like sharing DNA is insufficient, we all need the same surname too. Nice. So then maybe we could all Velcro our names, the man included. Then our union isn’t so much about a woman having to attach herself but about two individuals coming together, both shifting somehow, both adapting. Yeah, a kind of a “I’ll double-barrel if you double-barrel” kind of thing. Okay so my hypo-fiancé was cool with that and we’re going with it. I’m counting on his surname not having as many vowels as mine and that it’s half the length of mine (in order to save line space, ink, paper, trees – the whole thing).

 

After the debacle of a name we were so proud of ourselves and our ability to work through the really tough things in life that he proposed on the spot. I questioned him as to whether he would have freaked if I did the proposal instead. I offered him a form to fill out, the result of which clarified for me whether or not he’s the kind of man to be put off by a woman performing traditionally male activities. If I proposed would it have upset some fine balance between the sexes? So many books are written about how as women we shouldn’t compromise our femininity, let him change the bulbs, let him chase you, it’s some primal cave-time code you’re messing with so back off. Heck, I don’t know. The feminist in me wants to say “back off yourself, my femininity is intact, I’ll do what I damn-well please” but a lonelier version of myself thinks “oh, is that it?”. The two sides are holding talks and trying to reach an agreement, just waiting on the Middle-East peace talks to successfully conclude. Anyway suffice to say whoever I shack up with would pass the form with feminist flying colours.

 

Planning the wedding. I’m lucky to belong to a big community so we sweat over the long list of guest names, we consider robbing a bank so we can invite all our friends. It gets resolved by some miracle or other. I refuse to relate to the “big day” as some kind of ultimate Mecca for women, the happiest day of my life because I’m getting Velcro-ed. It’s the day a man I’ve fallen completely in love with and who loves me back will now be referred to as my husband rather than my boyfriend. Lover still sounds better but it is all semantics. We’re really joined now, to un-join would be expensive and messy. And embarrassing. All those guests, the great food long-forgotten, pissed off with you for lying – “till death” my foot.

 

The real issues start with questions like, do we do it in a church. Well I’m not particularly Christian. My Grandmother is though and I love her so if she insisted I’d do it for her. Okay, that was easy enough. But, I’ll have to stress to Granny, I won’t have any priest telling me about cleaving myself to the man, about being subordinate, about how he’s the head of the household (I know for a fact that my hypo-man can’t even multi-task, how the heck is he going to head the household?). I will insist on the right to veto any Bible passages that are meant to be read out. I’d, of course, prefer Rumi, Rilke, Kahlil-Gibran or even the Ifa Corpus as potential sources for readings but…Granny might not be appreciative. Again I’m not against compromise. The Bible has some good stuff too. I love that quote: “…a time to tear apart and a time to sew together…”. Needle work was really big in those days.

 

When it comes to vows we write our own. And if the man I’ve taken as my bestest of best friends opens his mouth and his vows end up rhyming I’ll stop the ceremony there and then, give him a chance to apologise (I have a very generous and forgiving nature) and if he stares dumbfounded, I’d have to conclude he has absolutely no comprehension of what really matters to me and I’d be making a very big mistake to Velcro my name to his. Wedding cancelled, guests are welcome to keep the party favours. But this won’t happen. My man (my hypo-man, remember) is way too everything-good to have missed the fact that rhyming vows are not okay. Instead he crumples his piece of paper (of course), puts his hand to his heart and speaks from there, not bothering to wipe away the tears – the big baby. Sigh.

 

Oh, but even before the vows there’s that whole thing about “who gives this bride away”. Now, I love my father. My father is basically my hero. My mother, my other hero, passed away over a decade ago. If she were alive I would have both my parents walk me down the aisle, one on either side. I hate the idea of being shifted from one man to another, no, please no. If there is any “giving away” to be done at all it should be from both parents, surely. But even this notion of parents giving away children is strange. In The Prophet Gibran writes: “Your children are not your children…They come through you but not from you, and though they are with you yet they belong not to you.”

 

But I don’t want my father to be injured. I also want to honour him, and my mother in spirit, for doing all the good things parents should and more. I’d happily hold my father’s hand and walk a few steps towards another man who happens to be the guy I’m about to marry. I’ll get over all my hang-ups. But maybe we could remedy the situation. I could carry a placard with me as we walk (elegantly, grace needn’t be compromised). The placard will hold the main tenets of my issue with this aspect of traditional wedding ceremonies, Times New Roman Font, 50pt. That way as we walk no one will confuse me for selling out on my feminist principles.

 

Dave or Femi or Frikkie or Ghandi or Chang (whatever this guy I’ll be with till death goes by) puts a ring on my finger, I put one on his. We kiss. I mean we really kiss and then we have a party. Oh, I forgot the best part, I’m wearing something I either bribed my sister-in-law into designing and sewing or it’s something I drew up myself. I know it’s not white, I know it’s not long and while I consent to lace there are absolutely no frills, no veils, no trails.

 

Seating is undramatic. I worry that the placard, now hung up on the wall behind the main table, is not visible to all. Chang (dear ever-patient ever-generous unthreatened Chang) tugs my hand and assures me it’s fine but he knows me well so he also makes a call for a 100pt replica to be prepared as well as a folder to be handed out to all the guests with the contents of the placard, a beginners feminist reading list and a Beyonce CD. The new placard is posted up before the starters are served. I’m thrilled with my new name Yewande Omotoso-Gong. Needless to say we live happily ever after, we argue aplenty (Chang belatedly realises I’m a nightmare to be married to) but we also make up, our combined EQ and IQ get us through the bad patches. And don’t forget the great sex which we enjoy well into our 70s. Chang eventually dies from an acute case of backache and I take up with a toy-boy, he eventually dies of backache too. I live till I’m 100 although I never re-marry and I keep my Velcro-ed name despite considerable pressure from Green Peace. Chang Omotoso-Gong, I miss you.

By: Yewande Omotoso

Yewande Omotoso is an architect, and a writer. Her debut novel Bom Boy was shortlisted for the 2012 Sunday Times Fiction Prize and won the South African Literary Awards for first time author. Yewande blogs at 1of6billion

I take for granted that ‘foreign-ness’ affords one a safety blanket not available to locals. So as they laze on the beach, she nestles her head between another’s bosom and strokes her side with her middle finger in a rather suggestive manner and at no point does she stop to think if this makes them uncomfortable. She never for a moment stops to think how her behaviour might impact them, in fact it is just in the moment before she closes her eyes in deep reverie that she realises why they choose to go to the beach at night because at least when the darkness falls those who plague the beach are all delinquent in some way, yet their kind…only their kind of delinquency is perhaps the most inadmissible. She doesn’t stop to think for a moment that her loud, boisterous games that cause her to speak of ideas and laws unimaginable to them and theirs may in fact be more than risqué and actually put them at risk. She doesn’t stop to think that when the time comes she can go back to her home where the law of the land and the law of the God she serves are separate, sovereign institutions. Institutions which she can choose to abide by or not, and yet she forgets they will remain here in this land where the law of man and that of the god they serve have been collapsed into one and the same code. So, she asks herself, “how does my happy differ from yours. Do our rainbows have the same colours? Do our hearts beat and break for the same reason? And is our struggle really the same?” Because while she can playfully look forward to the day when marriage could be a viable option for her, they dread the day their wedding bells will ring for a match will not have been made. While she speaks of her independence and freedom from eternal familial control, she forgets that here, in this place family defines who they are and will be. So again she asks herself, “does your happy differ from mine. Does my happy offend you? Does it colour you a colour to be recognised and scorned? Does my happy taint yours? Is it contagious?”

 

Due to the pervasive heteronomative cultures in many African nations, Nigeria inclusive, people in same-sex relationships face multiple layers of discrimination and are sworn to silence and often forced into hiding.

Home spits me out about three weeks into every visit. Home vehemently spits me out, and instead of standing my ground and fighting I pack my bags and run! I say no more of that because in the words of Audre Lorde, “your silence will not protect you.”[1] Feminist scholar Zora Neale Hurston wrote, “if you are silent about your pain, they’ll kill you and say you enjoyed it.”[2] So even if physically distanced from my Naija kin I join my voice to theirs and choose to guerrilla write my way to our collective freedom.

Even as I pen these words I question my authority and position as a liminal player at best. Admittedly I come to this struggle from a certain position of privilege having never truly lived out the sum of my identities in the land of my birth, Nigeria. The land that now challenges my very existence and right to human dignity. What I represent, and that of so many others like me poses such a threat to the heteronormative, patriarchal, islamo-judeo-christian Nigerian establishment that with the stroke of his pen our Oga at the top, President Goodluck Jonathan has deemed us criminal elements. Alas in the sea of corrupt politicians, human trafficking rings, 419ers, would be paedophiles, Boko Haram and other maleficent characters in Nigeria it is the homosexual person that is most frightful and dangerous. We are so dangerous in fact that just these words could land me in the slammer from anywhere between 10-14 years depending on what a judge requires as sufficient burden of proof, or indeed lack thereof.

One might ask why in the face of issues such as poverty, infant mortality, HIV/Aids, and Polio etc., I dare suggest fighting for the human rights of the LGBTQI community. The late Nelson Mandela said “to deny people their human rights is to challenge their very humanity.”[3] Simply because gay rights are human rights and it is the responsibility of any good and just government to dedicate itself to creating legislature that ensures the full recognition and protection of every citizen under the law and in accordance to international human rights standards and not at the expense of the lives and livelihoods of the particularly vulnerable minority populations. Development and Queer theorist Susan Jolly asserts, the “assumption that while in the North people need sex and love, in the South they just need to eat”[4], has become an impediment to defending the human rights of ALL people in the global South. Jolly goes on to say that “in fact, lack of freedom to express sexuality can threaten survival, the most basic of human needs”[5] companionship and love which are essentially private matters should be of no concern to lawmakers. And yet in the words of Anthropologist ElIen Gruenbaum, “the emotional tenor of the rituals {and process surrounding suppressing articulations of sexual desire and sexuality} seems to have played the role symbolic anthropologists identified as transferring physical sensations and emotions from the individual into loyalty to society’s rules.”[6] Thus the Nigerian government has essentially made policing sexuality and peoples most intimate lives an affair of the state, whereas they should be concerned with protecting the rights and full humanity of all its citizens and not just a privileged few.

On January 20^th this year we commemorated his legacy, which remains a source of inspiration for liberation and human rights struggles the world over. Writing from the Birmingham jail, on justice, legislation and human rights, Dr Martin Luther King Jr., invokes St Thomas Aquinas, “…any law that uplifts human personality is just. Any law that degrades human personality is unjust. All segregation statuses are unjust because segregation distorts the soul and damages the personality. It gives the segregator a false sense of superiority and the segregated a false sense of inferiority.”[7] With this new law President Jonathan and his cohorts in the Nigerian senate have connived to segregate and imprison all non-heterosexual persons and those who know them in Nigeria. They hope to erode the personality and human dignity of these persons, and parade them as fodder for corruption and mob justice. Environmental Geographer Jon Binnie argues, “sexuality can be defined as a private affair- belonging in the private sphere”[8] and as such should not be debated and legislated by government; as there are many more pressing issues at stake than who consenting adults love and what they choose to do in private. By legislating sexuality the government is denying citizens the full expression of their humanity and thus engaging in gross discrimination of people with same-sex sexuality. The Nigerian gay community has never rallied or demanded for marriage rights, this has never been on the agenda, and The Same Sex Marriage Prohibition Act has now been signed into law. This ruse of a law has essentially put a bull’s eye on the backs of otherwise perfectly law abiding citizens and made us Nigeria’s scapegoat.

Before I go any further I want to declare who I am for it is from the intersection of these identities that my authority, audacity and right come. I am a human being. I am a woman (cis-gendered female). I am a Nigerian, I am Edo, and I am an African. I am a Black person. I am also a God-respecting woman. Now pay attention to this part of my identity because it is this part that now renders me criminal, alien and fit for imprisonment in the land of my birth. I realise though that there is power in naming a thing for in naming my (our) sexuality and sexual identity, much like in naming a child into their destiny, we cease to be the person that was once invisible and explained away. At no other point in my young life than now have I appreciated the urgency and import of feminist Carol Hainsch’s words “the personal is political!”[9]

I am a Zami woman; this is my preferred term second to Amazon because both are rooted in the experiences of other women like me. Zami (n) is “a Carriacou word meaning women who work together as friends and lovers.”[10] Amazon, taken from the Dahomean Amazons[11], an elite group of warrior women who took an oath of loyalty to each other and swore to abstain from sexual relations with men. In fact men were forbidden to even touch or look at them, the punishment for which was death. Others understand this part of my identity to mean lesbian, Sapphic, dyke (another powerful term) or simply put a same-sex/gender loving woman. However one understands this, the bottom line is, I and other women like me are predisposed to pursuing romantic interactions with other women, much to the disdain of some straight men who consider women as objects for their pleasure and unfettered access. Particularly when it dawns on them that this in fact means we are not very likely to “pullover”[12] and “wind am well”[13] for their sport or for any other reason.

While it is very difficult to know what pre-colonial African histories offered definitively on this subject, there are several instances that serve as clues in the historical archive that allow us to debunk this notion of homosexual/homosocial behaviour as fundamentally ‘unAfrican’. If we look at the examples in many cultures the continent over, we can begin to understand the local mechanisms, through which same-sex sexuality was and still is permissible in various African states, Nigeria inclusive. The Southern African archive provides many examples of this. Kendall investigates “motsoalle (special woman-woman friendships) relationships in Lesotho. She explains that the value placed on the need for companionship and love, over physical pleasure and penile penetrations, creates a safe space for women”[14]. Ruth Morgan tackles the issue of same-sex coupling amongst sangomas (female traditional healers) in Southern Africa. Through her observation she cites other female same-sex communities and traditions across the continent. In each instance there exist social parameters – social, economic, spiritual, or simply cultural, namely adolescent rites of passage that all allow for the exploration and elaboration of same-sex sexuality.[15] Here in Nigeria we have the tradition of the fattening rooms[16], where young women are pampered and taught by the older generation of women. These lessons include things from beautification, mercantilism and domestic behaviours, the young women also “receive instructions on how to achieve sexual fulfilment”[17] from their elders. Yan Daudu[18] of the Hausa tradition provides yet another example of same-sex coupling. Chaka Zulus army considered intimacy between the male soldiers as fundamental in building battle loyalty. Let’s not forget the Igbo tradition of Female Husbands[19] researched extensively by scholar Ifi Amadiume. These examples may not speak directly to the issue of bodies coupling, but they do provide valid examples of same-sex communities that were revered, accepted and embedded in our cultural fabrics the continent over. Through this brief overview of various African traditions, it is clear that homosexual/homosocial behaviour is part of how African societies have forged communities and shaped identity throughout our known histories. What could be considered foreign, imported or borrowed is the overt sexual imagery and seemingly hedonistic values heralded as part of the protest of the western gay movement. These forms of protest are extremely context specific and cannot be translated on the rather conservative landscape of Nigerian and indeed other African cultural tapestries. That’s not to say that we do not have our examples of flamboyance, just look at the Wodaabe or Bororo[20] tradition amongst the Fulani’s in Niger or the reed dance of Swaziland where the maidens dance for the King and each other. Undeniably African cultural aesthetics tend to be sexually demure and frown on profligate displays be they homosexual or heterosexual.

A popular image floating around social media land now describes homophobia as “the fear that gay men are going to treat you the way you treat women and that a lesbian will treat your women better than you do.” The truth is such an analysis may in fact be too profound for Goodluck Jonathan and his fictitious 90%. For this descriptor to apply to the Nigerian case, people would have to be willing to question patriarchy, heteronormativity and hyper religious group-think and then be willing to accept that these models are deeply flawed and a better option exists.

Articles 3 and 5 of the Universal Declaration of Human Right state, “everyone has the right to life, liberty and security of person” and “everyone has the right to recognition everywhere as a person before the law”[21] respectively. The preamble of the Nigerian Constitution states, “to provide for a Constitution for the purpose of promoting the good government and welfare of all persons in our country, on the principles of freedom, equality and justice, and for the purpose of consolidating the unity of our people.”[22] As the highest law in the land, the constitution goes on to discuss the principles of democracy, social justice equality of status, and claims to frown upon discrimination of any kind. Clearly President Jonathan hasn’t read those parts. Aside from being a violation of international human rights, and the protections and rights enshrined in the Nigerian constitution, this law will also prevent people from accessing vital public health services and threaten their very survival. This law also doesn’t account for those between genders, intersex and transgender/sexual persons. Professor Wole Soyinka affirms “the biological truth is this: some are born with imprecise gender definition, even when they have sexual organs that appear to define them male or female. Years, indeed decades of scientific research have gone into this, so what is needed is understanding and acceptance, not emotionalism and the championing of ‘moral’ or ‘traditional’ claims.”[23] I would argue that this law is yet another desperate attempt by our Oga at the top at misdirection. With this law, he has effectively thrown the masses a rather cheap and scanty bone to further distract them from the actual problems with governance in our society. The smoke screen is successfully deflecting attention because Nigerians seem to be susceptible to the same tricks throughout our history. We delight in creating vacuous binaries, highlighting difference, searching for otherness instead of looking for points of coalition in hopes of improving our collective situation. Nigeria’s own rapper and cultural icon M.I. admits, “life is bisexual anybody can blow.”[24] Indeed human beings are very complex and nuanced creatures, no one, not even Jonathan Goodluck, his cohorts and the fictitious 90% can begin to fathom the fullness of human condition. We are all the sum of our parts, and the law should strive to preserve, embrace, and protect the diversity of its population at all costs.

By: OsaZami -lobuhle- Oh

 

References:

all that I ask of you is to stay past the pain for the pleasure.” – Goapele and Dwele – “You”

 

I remember this today, as I wind down from my full day of classes, 2 presentations, and a mandatory seminar. All week I have been fretting about these two presentations, because I am not the best public speaker. My knees shake, my voice trembles, throat dries up, my thoughts are all jumbled, I’m a Black girl in a predominantly white institution, carrying lots of immigrant baggage: A recipe for disaster.

I try to make my words sound like the white students in my class.

Remember to enunciate, Rita.

Don’t talk too fast.

Avoid contractions.

Take the Rexdale out of your speech.

Take the T-dot blackgirlswag out of your body posture and facial expressions.

Make eye contact.

Smile often.

Repeat.

This is my daily struggle with each week in graduate school. You see, my imposter syndrome is coloured with all the layers of being Black and African and female and immigrant in a pale world. Despite years of “integration”, as one fellow Ghanaian student put it today, I still get nervous in a room full of white folks. And that is a hard confession. This same Ghanaian friend thinks that my many years of living in Canada should have helped with my “acculturation process” (-forgive him, he’s a sociologist). But in fact, every day I am fighting for dear life in this white supremacist system. I have to work at decolonizing every damn day. It’s a struggle to re-member what I never had has always been fragmented, while surviving in a country that never really wanted me -merely paid lip service to cultural diversity and multiculturalism. With all the Black feminist work I’ve read, all the sister circle reasoning sessions, all the decolonizing and deconstructing I’ve had to and have done over the better part of a decade, I still find myself questioning if I’m good enough supposed to be here. And the higher up I go, the fewer brown faces I see. The deeper the demand for “academic rigor”, the deeper the lactification. Every time a student uses a word I have not encountered, I think “Shit, how come I didn’t know that? Elmbank Middle School didn’t teach me that. Does everyone else know what she’s talking about?”

I have shame about talking about my immigrant baggage. My entire life I’ve tried to avoid those “Dangerous Minds” moments. Well-meaning white female teacher wants to know my struggle. Connect with me. Hear my sob immigrant story. I don’t need white people to repeat that stuff. Use my name in outside conversations. A model of the immigrant par excellence. Confirm their racist, sexist and classist biases about coloured girls. Nope. Not me. I am not the one. Never have been. Most of these students have no idea what it means for me to be here. Last-born child, first PhD in my immediate family. The tremendous pride and weight of it all.

Add to this that my work is firmly rooted in critical race consciousness and theory. I am literally thinking about race ALL. DAMN. DAY. My interior life is defined by this work. It’s hard not to see how it plays out in every day interactions, and even harder not to be demoralized by it.

So, in these moments, I have to remember why I am here. And no, not the direct justifications that led me here like hating my 9-5 non-profit, a shoddy labour market and my two year-long ongoing quarter-life crisis. But the real reason -the reason that is at the bottom of my gut. The core of my being.

I care about Black people.

I owe everything to the communities that raised me. I have a responsibility to Ghana, to Africa. I am trying to reclaim the cultures and traditions that were lost in my parents’ migration, but also honour the perspective that was gained in settlement. The type of perspective that only a second-generation Ghanaian-Canadian queer-identified feminist kaakyire* could offer. I desire to cultivate an intellectual life. It is the only way I know how to be in this world. I hold on to these things when grad school gets too tough, when I am suffocated by whiteness.

I have a story to tell. We all have stories to tell. And no one can tell our stories for us. We owe it to those that made it possible for us to be here. For those that will come after us.

 

*kaakyire means last born in Twi

*******

Rita Nketiah is a Doctoral Student at the University of Western Ontario in London, Canada, where she is currently studying in Women’s Studies and Feminist Research. Her research interests include Second-Generation African-Canadian identity, gender and sexuality, and the role of Diasporas in (African) Development. She is committed to ongoing conversations as a site of change, social transformation, and healing.