I am a feminist

I had started writing this post over a month ago, meaning to post it on International Women’s Day. However, I kept re-writing parts and delaying, worrying it sounded too angry or reactive. After being harassed on the way to church today by a man who tried to convince me that I wanted to have sex with him (once you are black you never go back, and have I ever tried dark chocolate??) angry is exactly how I felt. It is time to stop re-wording things and post it as it is. If a little emotion peeps through, so be it. 

What does it mean for me to be a woman and a feminist in Southern Africa? I present to you my own thoughts, stories, and experiences of what it means to me, respectfully acknowledging that other women, and men, might come at this from a very different set of experiences or perspectives.

The term “feminist” has some extreme references that are not necessary reflected in this blog, however, I choose this word because nothing else quite fits. I choose it in order that I might begin exploring what feminism means to me at this time.  

There’s more to the story I told last month, the one about the taxi driver wanting to marry me for 20 cows. First of all, we forgot to pay him for the ride and he forgot to ask, which is kind of hilarious. But that’s not the part I want to tell. It is this; the next day we were with some colleagues of Keke’s and she was telling them the funny story from the day before. Her male friend exclaimed, “Only 20 cows!? Next time you take a taxi bring me along and we’ll get a better deal.” Later that day he started joking that I was his girlfriend, and that didn’t stop even when someone pointed out that his fiancé might not be too pleased.

Here is my dilemma. This type of joking conversation seems very normal here. Even not-so-joking declarations of love and requests for my hand in marriage are every-day occurrences in my life. It gets so that I can’t develop a professional relationship with young men because before the day is out they are asking to marry me.  So, just because it is normal, or just because they are “joking”, does that make it right? I can think of plenty of examples from my own Canadian culture of norms that are oppressive, discriminatory, or demeaning towards women.

Just because it is normal doesn’t mean it is right.

I had a whole speech ready to hand it to this guy, ready to challenge him as a young leader in his country to set an example of respect towards women, challenge him to re-think the implications of such social norms. What does it say about his views towards women when his whole demeanor suggested I should be happy to “pretend” date him because he thought it was a good idea, not because he asked me. As if I couldn’t do better than an arrogant prick like him! I had the opportunity to say all these things, but I choked. I felt too alone, too aware I’d just be brushed off as an uptight girl who can’t take a joke, and what business did I have commenting on Lesotho culture anyway?

What does it mean for me to be a feminist in Southern Africa? This is a question I often ask myself, and there is no easy answer. It is easy to be a feminist in New Brunswick. Other people can write the provoking blog posts and I can nod in agreement and go on with life. But now it is my turn to write.

I am a feminist.

Sometimes being a feminist means refusing to let random teenage guys take my picture when I am at the beach in Mozambique. I ask them if it is respectful to try and take someone’s picture without even greeting them first, in a culture where greeting is very important. They look embarrassed and leave me alone after that.  

Sometimes being a feminist means stiffening my shoulders and focusing my eyes in the distance as drunken men hiss and call after me on the street.

I am a strong woman.

Sometimes being new to a country I would do anything just to fit in. I find myself carrying my male colleague’s bags that he handed to me as we walk out of the store together. At first I feel happy that I belong, happy that he is treating me, a foreigner, like any other woman. Wait a second. What am I doing?? I don’t want to carry his bags for him! I am too embarrassed to give them back. Am I a strong woman?

Sometimes people ask me if I think it is better to be a man or a woman. Sometimes people laugh at my idealism when I make a point about woman’s rights or equal opportunity. But at least if they join in the discussion the first step has been won.

Sometimes the divide in the debate is generational, not gender based. Are teenage girls who wear short skirts somehow to blame when they experience sexual violence? The room is split and it is not men versus women.  There is hope.

When I moved to Machanga in Mozambique last year I had the chance to pick out the motorcycle I wanted. In a place where few women know how to drive, having wheels gave me freedom and independence. I knew exactly what I wanted: a cute little scooter with the tank under the seat and electric starter. Totally impractical for the rural roads I was driving, but very important for me for three reasons. The tank under the seat instead of between the knees meant I could wear a skirt while riding. The electric starter meant no kick-starting, which requires sturdy shoes (not heels) and more weight than I’ve got. The small scooter size meant I could easily push it up a wooden plank and into my house every night for safekeeping. I am perfectly capable of riding a big Honda XL 125CC bike much more suited to rural sandy roads, but I didn’t just want freedom to get around. I wanted freedom to get around while rocking heels and a pencil skirt. People are always well dressed in Mozambique and it is important to look nice and wear smart shoes. Quite seriously the second thing I bought for my new apartment was a clothes iron (the first being a toaster). My scooter let me dress how I want and still have the freedom to get around. The definition of independence shouldn’t mean to be like a man.

I am an independent woman.  

Here, when you meet a new person, instead of asking what you do, people ask if you are married. An elderly man, when he heard I was single at 26 said to me, “Don’t worry, God will provide someone for you.” I asked him if God is not providing for me now when I am single.

I am a strong woman.

I see other women who are strong, courageous, loving, independent, strong-willed, compassionate, caring, genuine, and generous, and I am inspired.

I am a strong woman. Sometimes I feel it, and sometimes I don’t. Sometime I laugh, sometimes I cry. Sometimes I feel intimidated and am angry at myself for it, because I am strong, right? Sometimes I am vulnerable. Sometimes I am victorious.

I am all these things. I am a woman. I live with hope, not bitterness.  I live in this world but I try to live so that tomorrow, even in the smallest of ways, it might be a better one.