Women Rule
Preparations for International Womens Day, which is this Thursday, are in full swing. After watching community leaders and boda-boda operators running around like chickens with their heads cut off (I’ve seen plenty of chickens doing it, and it looks ridiculous) in an attempt to “prepare” for World AIDS Day last December, Adrienne and I both vowed never to facilitate a community-wide event like that in my town again, especially one involving district officials.
Carren and I have been teaching an empowerment workshop at a girls’ high school outside of town, and I was perfectly content to restrict my IWD activities to this one project. I also distributed a few copies of an IWD flyer to some of my co-workers and encouraged them to talk to people about women’s rights and contributions, but beyond that I planned to be laissez-faire.
Well, somehow within 24 hours the flyer landed on the desk of the District Social Services office, which is in charge of events like this. The officer in charge quickly assembled an IWD committee that includes women from a local gender development NGO, and me. We have a week to mobilize people – to tell them about International Women’s Day, to get them interested in its themes, and to sell purple ribbons to raise money for the event.
Trying to talk to people about International Women’s Day has been interesting. Men always shrug it off as a day “for women only.” They don’t take it seriously for that exact reason. When I asked my supervisor if he wanted to buy a purple ribbon to show his support, he said, “I’ll ask my wife if she’s interested.”
I said, “March 8th is not just for women. It’s for everyone who supports equality and empowerment for women.”
“Women are already empowered,” he said.
“Oh, come on, they are not,” I laughed, fully expecting to see a big, sarcastic grin on his face. There wasn’t one. He was completely serious.
“Yes,” he said. “Women are empowered already. They do not need to be empowered again.”
I had no idea what he meant. I couldn’t put aside everything I’ve seen and heard in Kenya to the contrary, and simply ask why he thought that. Instead I said, “If women are so empowered, how come they’re the ones getting HIV? How come they’re having fifteen kids when they only want four?”
“Children are a blessing that God provides,” he said, as if I’d never heard that argument against family planning. “You get kids if it is God’s will.”
“Children are not a blessing when you can’t feed them all,” I said.
“You can feed them if you pray,” he said. “God will provide if you pray.”
“If prayer is the answer, why are there so many kids starving?” I asked, alluding to the fact that there is no shortage of prayer in Kenya.
“They are starving because their parents don’t pray,” he said.
Ah. Silly me.
This conversation was all the more frustrating because my supervisor is an educated man. He has lived all over Kenya. He runs a VCT, knows all the statistics about women and HIV, understands the social factors, including gender inequalities, that help spread HIV. He knows his community. He sees women and girls lose their futures, or their lives, to teen pregnancy, early marriages, lack of school fees, STDs, HIV, and the inability to decide what’s best for themselves.
It was disheartening because I know that my supervisor’s attitude represents the majority of men in my community. I kept emphasizing to the women on the IWD committee that when they go into their villages to talk about empowering women, they need to involve men, too. Women can only be empowered with the support of their brothers, fathers, pastors, neighbors and other men who care about them. As long as gender development activities are seen as “for women only,” a polarizing rather than uniting force, it will remain a struggle against the tide.
Later this afternoon I was at the chemist, wearing a purple ribbon. One of the pharmacists said, “This International Women’s Day, what will women buy for men on that day? You will buy us sodas.”
This prompted a female customer to begin ranting, “Women don’t have any rights. We ask for a Women’s Right Office at the district, and there is none. We are asking for rights, but there is no office to support us. So what can we do? We just have to go home to the same old husband.”
[Laughter all around.]
It’s still a long road ahead, but at least we’re stimulating discussion. I also discovered today that at first no one on the IWD committee was even clear about what the day is about. They all complained that when they went to talk to people about it, they didn’t know what to say. I was really glad and encouraged that these women had the self-awareness and initiative to ask for help.
When they saw the box of purple ribbons and quotes about women that I’d made, they wanted to help me make more. “They are so nice, it is not enough. People will want to buy many,” they insisted.
The most pleasant surprise of all, though, has been the support that we’ve received from the Social Services office. They are the ones that took the initiative to organize local women to plan the day’s activities. They began organizing a week in advance, which is extremely competent planning by Kenyan standards. The officer in charge even lectured the women for being three hours late to the first meeting. “We Africans cannot develop because we cannot keep time,” he said.
That morning I was in my house, debating whether it would be naïve to show up for the 9:00 meeting at 9:00. There was a series on the BBC about the significance of rice in Asian cultures, which I’d been looking forward to for a week (because the teaser sound bite featured a Chinese woman saying that her mom used to tell her that if she didn’t eat all her rice she’d marry a man with spots on his face, and I thought, hey, my mom told me the same thing!) The BBC report started at 9, and I knew the meeting wouldn’t start at exactly 9, but I decided to play it safe just in case government offices kept time better than regular Kenyans. I caught five minutes of the BBC series, and showed up at 9:20. The receptionist stared at me as if she wasn’t expecting any visitors for another few hours. I went to see the officer in charge, who told me to come back at 10:30.
“The others will probably be here by then,” he said. “We are poor here in Africa because we cannot keep time.”
I was upset that I had missed the BBC report for nothing, so in retaliation I didn’t go back to the office until 11. And I was still the only person who had shown up so far. The officer in charge began making phone calls. “If everyone is not here by 11:15 I will call off the meeting. It is you people who called for the meeting in the first place,” he barked into his cell phone.
Yeah. The meeting finally started at noon. Three hours late.
Carren and I have been teaching an empowerment workshop at a girls’ high school outside of town, and I was perfectly content to restrict my IWD activities to this one project. I also distributed a few copies of an IWD flyer to some of my co-workers and encouraged them to talk to people about women’s rights and contributions, but beyond that I planned to be laissez-faire.
Well, somehow within 24 hours the flyer landed on the desk of the District Social Services office, which is in charge of events like this. The officer in charge quickly assembled an IWD committee that includes women from a local gender development NGO, and me. We have a week to mobilize people – to tell them about International Women’s Day, to get them interested in its themes, and to sell purple ribbons to raise money for the event.
Trying to talk to people about International Women’s Day has been interesting. Men always shrug it off as a day “for women only.” They don’t take it seriously for that exact reason. When I asked my supervisor if he wanted to buy a purple ribbon to show his support, he said, “I’ll ask my wife if she’s interested.”
I said, “March 8th is not just for women. It’s for everyone who supports equality and empowerment for women.”
“Women are already empowered,” he said.
“Oh, come on, they are not,” I laughed, fully expecting to see a big, sarcastic grin on his face. There wasn’t one. He was completely serious.
“Yes,” he said. “Women are empowered already. They do not need to be empowered again.”
I had no idea what he meant. I couldn’t put aside everything I’ve seen and heard in Kenya to the contrary, and simply ask why he thought that. Instead I said, “If women are so empowered, how come they’re the ones getting HIV? How come they’re having fifteen kids when they only want four?”
“Children are a blessing that God provides,” he said, as if I’d never heard that argument against family planning. “You get kids if it is God’s will.”
“Children are not a blessing when you can’t feed them all,” I said.
“You can feed them if you pray,” he said. “God will provide if you pray.”
“If prayer is the answer, why are there so many kids starving?” I asked, alluding to the fact that there is no shortage of prayer in Kenya.
“They are starving because their parents don’t pray,” he said.
Ah. Silly me.
This conversation was all the more frustrating because my supervisor is an educated man. He has lived all over Kenya. He runs a VCT, knows all the statistics about women and HIV, understands the social factors, including gender inequalities, that help spread HIV. He knows his community. He sees women and girls lose their futures, or their lives, to teen pregnancy, early marriages, lack of school fees, STDs, HIV, and the inability to decide what’s best for themselves.
It was disheartening because I know that my supervisor’s attitude represents the majority of men in my community. I kept emphasizing to the women on the IWD committee that when they go into their villages to talk about empowering women, they need to involve men, too. Women can only be empowered with the support of their brothers, fathers, pastors, neighbors and other men who care about them. As long as gender development activities are seen as “for women only,” a polarizing rather than uniting force, it will remain a struggle against the tide.
Later this afternoon I was at the chemist, wearing a purple ribbon. One of the pharmacists said, “This International Women’s Day, what will women buy for men on that day? You will buy us sodas.”
This prompted a female customer to begin ranting, “Women don’t have any rights. We ask for a Women’s Right Office at the district, and there is none. We are asking for rights, but there is no office to support us. So what can we do? We just have to go home to the same old husband.”
[Laughter all around.]
It’s still a long road ahead, but at least we’re stimulating discussion. I also discovered today that at first no one on the IWD committee was even clear about what the day is about. They all complained that when they went to talk to people about it, they didn’t know what to say. I was really glad and encouraged that these women had the self-awareness and initiative to ask for help.
When they saw the box of purple ribbons and quotes about women that I’d made, they wanted to help me make more. “They are so nice, it is not enough. People will want to buy many,” they insisted.
The most pleasant surprise of all, though, has been the support that we’ve received from the Social Services office. They are the ones that took the initiative to organize local women to plan the day’s activities. They began organizing a week in advance, which is extremely competent planning by Kenyan standards. The officer in charge even lectured the women for being three hours late to the first meeting. “We Africans cannot develop because we cannot keep time,” he said.
That morning I was in my house, debating whether it would be naïve to show up for the 9:00 meeting at 9:00. There was a series on the BBC about the significance of rice in Asian cultures, which I’d been looking forward to for a week (because the teaser sound bite featured a Chinese woman saying that her mom used to tell her that if she didn’t eat all her rice she’d marry a man with spots on his face, and I thought, hey, my mom told me the same thing!) The BBC report started at 9, and I knew the meeting wouldn’t start at exactly 9, but I decided to play it safe just in case government offices kept time better than regular Kenyans. I caught five minutes of the BBC series, and showed up at 9:20. The receptionist stared at me as if she wasn’t expecting any visitors for another few hours. I went to see the officer in charge, who told me to come back at 10:30.
“The others will probably be here by then,” he said. “We are poor here in Africa because we cannot keep time.”
I was upset that I had missed the BBC report for nothing, so in retaliation I didn’t go back to the office until 11. And I was still the only person who had shown up so far. The officer in charge began making phone calls. “If everyone is not here by 11:15 I will call off the meeting. It is you people who called for the meeting in the first place,” he barked into his cell phone.
Yeah. The meeting finally started at noon. Three hours late.
posted by Justina at 10:25 AM
1 Comments:
Nice to see some new blogs...(even if they are a bit dusty)! -P
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