Caught between feminism and tradition

The modern Kenyan woman finds herself caught between embracing feminism with all the freedom it promises, and still being the perfectly “good” African woman, wife and mother, as conflicting as that may be. PHOTO| FILE| NATION MEDIA GROUP

What you need to know:

  • Responding to comments to her post, she stated that while not all men behave like this, those who do, don’t get called out because women are afraid of being labeled  ‘bad girls’, “…the number of idiotic conversations I found myself in where a guy said something really sexist and the women present responded with, ‘Ok, Me (sic) I am not a feminist, but…’ because she knows that saying she’s a feminist will make her fall out of favour with such guys…”

On 31st August, 2016, one Ciku Kimeria published a long post on her Facebook timeline.

“You are a good Kikuyu woman…” she began and went on to describe an incident that happened when she was having an informational session with a man from a client company. The man held a more junior position at his company than Ciku held at hers. At the boardroom, the tea lady brought in some tea and walked out without serving it. What then transpired was the subject of Ciku’s Facebook post. She wrote: “I reached over, served him (out of politeness, no servitude) served myself and (upon finishing) found him smiling fondly at me (and then he said) ‘You are good Kikuyu woman.’”

Ciku then launched into what his statement implied, “you know your place,” she wrote. “You may be well-educated, but you have not forgotten your roots – you are to be subservient to men. Though you rank higher than me in a professional setting, you remember that that the only hierarchy that is of importance in our interaction today is that of gender. You are a good Kikuyu woman…”

AFRAID OF BEING LABELLED AS BAD GIRLS

Responding to comments to her post, she stated that while not all men behave like this, those who do, don’t get called out because women are afraid of being labeled  ‘bad girls’, “…the number of idiotic conversations I found myself in where a guy said something really sexist and the women present responded with, ‘Ok, Me (sic) I am not a feminist, but…’ because she knows that saying she’s a feminist will make her fall out of favour with such guys…”

That is a place the modern Kenyan woman often finds herself caught in between very often; having to explain that in spite of everything (feminism and equality) that may suggest otherwise, she is still a “good” African woman. But what is a good African woman? I pose this question in a roundabout way to Margaret Mwangi, a 63-year-old retired primary school teacher, when I ask her what she thinks of Wambui Otieno (the late freedom fighter). She smiles, creases her brow and almost whispers; implying a deeper meaning in her careful Kikuyu, “I don’t want to ruffle feathers but…” she pauses, seemingly looking for a better way to express her thoughts. Finally, she shrugs “…a good African woman just doesn’t do some things … ni kwirehera kirumi (that’s calling forth a curse)…”

This is a similar philosophy to what Bi Mswafari, the host of a local advice TV show which runs during prime time on weekends at a local TV station, preaches; that women have to behave in a certain way, no matter how modern they consider themselves to be. Adorned in colourful African wear, she commands a motherly presence in seamless Swahili that seems to underscore her image as a sage with a well of deeply-rooted cultural wisdom. She dishes advice on marriage and homemaking that sometimes rubs some people the wrong way, while getting cheers from others. During one past show, the show’s co-host and news anchor Kanze Dena pointed out to the authoritative auntie that a section of the (female) audience was not happy with her commentary and were demanding for her removal from the show. Unfazed, Bi Mswafari assumed her tough stance and declared, “Girls nowadays don’t want to hear the truth … it’s like asking them to chew a bitter malaria pill … I never said that women shouldn’t be educated. But even with all the education, a woman should stay conscious of the fact that she is married … lazima mme awe juu … Mungu amesema mme ni kichwa … kizazi cha sasa kimeharibika.” (A husband must be at the top. God said that a husband is the head, but the current generation which is spoilt (doesn’t want to hear that)).

CONFLICTS WITH CHANGING PERSPECTIVE

Thirty-two-year-old Beatrice Nafula, an administrator at a hospital in Nairobi, who watches Bi Mswafari’s show on occasion, finds that it often in conflicts with her changing perspective as a budding feminist. She talks of one show where Bi Mswafari asked women to dress conservatively.

“Remember that the beauty of your arms, legs and thighs is supposed to be your husband’s secret  ... so you should only dress sexily when you are alone with your husband, to seduce him, but dress respectfully when you are in public,” Bi Mswafari stated.

When watching this show and others before it, Nafula often finds herself making snappy remarks and bursting into shocked laughter: “I cannot believe this woman!” She often mutters to herself. “What about My Dress, My Choice? Do I dress for men or to express myself? How am I supposed to be at home welcoming my husband in a ‘sweet’ voice when I work at night? How come when a man cheats, gets a Mpango wa Kando, it is always the wife’s fault?” Nafula believes that Bi Mswafari means well, but that it is simply impossible for the modern Kenyan woman to be that subservient, even if she wanted to.

A woman hangs on an Embassava bus on Tom Mboya Street in Nairobi during a protest dubbed "My Dress, My Choice" on November 17, 2014. The women were protesting the striping of a woman at the Embakasi stage in the city. PHOTO | BILLY MUTAI | NATION MEDIA GROUP

“It is not that this generation is spoilt. We live in a different time and some of these things she preaches are not practical. Even if I wanted, I cannot be a housewife like my mother and even my mother, doesn’t want me to be a housewife!” she explains.

Talking to more women, emphasises a different reality, that many are caught in between opposing sides – the desire to be somewhat subservient and the desire to embrace some feminism, which they already have even without making a conscious decision to do that. Judy Maina, a 40-year-old wife and mother of three, who runs a textiles business, says that she is at a place where she finds it hard to reconcile what it means to be a liberated woman and to be a ‘good African wife and mother’ at the same time.

“I am the type of person who would rather spend a Sunday afternoon in a café having coffee with a friend, than at home; but I worry about how that reflects on me as a (good) wife and mother. There is always that concern,” she says, adding that while she feels like a feminist, she doesn’t like the activist label that can come withthat tag.

“A subservient woman is one who has accepted her role as nothing more than a wife and mother. I am not that,” she asserts, but adds: “But I would like to be the kind of woman who carries her wifely and motherly duties impeccably, while still being able to have a life outside the prism of wifehood and motherhood, such that my husband takes some of the roles at home  (like babysitting our children) when I’m out pursuing other interests (like having a good time with my girlfriends, without feeling guilty). Does it have to be one or the other? Why can’t I have both?”

The problem, she states, is realising that, either way, women on both sides of the coin are disadvantaged, “…even for the so-called ‘liberated’ woman, true freedom can only be a reality when, for example, a woman in power can dress like this (pointing at my skimpy sundress) and be taken seriously…when a power woman will be able to excuse herself from a meeting and confidently say that she has to go and re-apply her lipstick ... when a woman who drinks will not be judged more harshly than a man who drinks as much…you know what I mean?” She poses.

Like Judy, Catherine Nzavi, 30, who runs an agricultural business feels that the problem with reconciling being an African woman while staying true to feminist ideal lies in the fact that women are currently caught between two worlds.

“We are Africans with these ingrained thought processes passed down to us by our mothers, but at the same time global cultural influences that are in conflict with our own culture also influence who we are.

“So a part of me wants a relationship where whoever makes it home first cleans the dishes and fixes dinner, but this thought makes me unsuitable for the “wife material” tag. Another part of me feels like I am responsible for (and I actually enjoy) cooking and cleaning up after my man (which I think makes me a bad feminist). Part of me wants us to split the bill (because I am an independent woman with my own money), but part of me still expects a man to provide and protect (which I suppose makes me a terrible feminist).”

 

Former freedom fighter Wambui Otieno Mbugua and her husband Peter Mbugua during their wedding celebration at the St Andrew’s Church on February 4, 2011. PHOTO| HEZRON NJOROGE

 

 

Is there a point of convergence between being African and feminism?

It is argued that the first wave of feminism was begun by, and centred on issues only relevant to, the middle- and upper-class white woman. As such, as the movement evolved, women around the world found it necessary to define feminism within their own cultural contexts. 

Fitting feminist ideals into an African context has thus not only given rise to a breed of Afro-feminists, but it has also generated a passionate discourse about what it means to be ‘an African woman’ and a ‘feminist’.

Minna Salami is a writer, commentator and founder of MsAfropolitan, a globally recognised feminism blog and who was once lauded as ‘one of the women changing the world’ (by Elle magazine), describes ‘Afropolitan’ as ‘a feminist space where African heritage realities are…understood with the tools and nuances of modern day globalization’.

In an article titled ‘A brief history of African feminism’, she writes, “…I am exasperated with the continued suggestion that feminism is un-African…” She argues that while the term ‘feminism’ is, like all English words, an import to Africa, the concept of opposing patriarchy is not foreign. According to her, African feminism started as far back as the early twentieth century, but as a movement, it stemmed from the liberation (from colonialism) struggles in the mid-20th century.

Among other African women, she mentions Wambui Otieno, a Kenyan Mau-Mau freedom fighter, as an ‘African feminist Icon from this period’.

Iman Hassan, a Somali-born Canadian, who is also a law and political science graduate is part of the source of Salami’s exasperation. Hassan writes that despite having taken a fair share of women-based courses and believing in the concept of equality, she nevertheless became disillusioned on realising that the narrative around feminism seemed to exclude black women. “I can understand why African women feel the need to participate in the feminist dialogue,” she says, “However, I could never label myself a total feminist. Traditional feminist rights emerge from the context of these (Western) societies. Many western feminists fail to comprehend that African women do not feel the same urgency to be liberated from their traditional gender roles.”