Oh, to be a feminist in a village where blatant sexism is both allowed and encouraged. For the past year I've been in Mali, I have kept most of my feminist views under cover. After all, this is not my culture. I'm here to learn, not impose my personal ideals. I don't know if it's because I just got back from the US (which albeit still does have many gender issues, although compared to Mali it's a dreamland) or what, but lately I've been more frustrated than ever over the treatment of the women in my village. Let me give you a couple examples:
The first was what I dubbed for lack of a better term Sassolo Day. This is a day-long celebration of the founding of my village. I was excited to go to it - I was told that there is a big dance party, and I do like to dance. My neighbor Samba told me to make sure to bring my camera, because he wanted a picture of himself with the other old, 'wise,' men in the village. The day came, and I walked out to the celebration site with a friend of mine. All the men and boys were gathered under one tree, while all the women were gathered under another tree about 30 yards away. I noticed the gender separation, but decided to pull the white woman card. I should explain that white women are the third gender in Mali. I can get away with a lot of stuff that Malian women cannot, and by that same token I am frequently treated with less respect by Malian young men (their only exposure to white women is usually from some trashy soap opera, and those rarely portray strong, educated women). So I walk over to the men's tree, all confident in my white woman-ness, when all of a sudden they start YELLING at me to stop. I do so immediately (is there a snake around?) and my friend Diampulo walks up. "Why can't I come closer," I asked. "Samba wanted me to take pictures of the men." Response: "You're a woman. You can't do that." Wrong button to push, mister. If I was in America, I would have said something along the lines of "How dare you tell me I can't do something just because I am a woman! I am strong, educated, and empowered. I will do whatever I want, whenever I want, and I have a history of strong women behind me: women who fought for the right to own property and the right to vote; women who smashed the glass ceiling of corporate America to pieces; women who advocated for women's health, birth control, and family planning; women who fought to control their own lives and now do so fabulously. Take that you sexist, chauvinistic, pathetic excuse for a person." However, I was not in America. I was in Mali. I was an outsider observing this traditional ritual. So I didn't say anything. I returned to the women's tree, seething inside. Every day these women are told implicitly and sometimes explicitly that they can't do things because they are women. No reason other than that. After the men danced around and shot off their guns (feel like a man now? you put down women and shot off a gun, congratulations), they all headed off into the bush to discuss the village's plans for the next year. Dreading the answer, I asked my host mom why women did not go. Response: We are women. We can't go. "Why not?" Because that is tradition. We are women. We can't go.
The next night, several problems involving the garden project came bubbling up to the surface. My host mom, Coumbare, is the president of the women's association. She had told all the women that they would have a garden and a well. Now, the men in the village refuse to finish building the well. Why? Because they found out that they won't be paid. Keep in mind, that from the beginning the men understood that they would not get paid because the well and labor is part of the community contribution. Now, at the hungriest time of the year, they are refusing to work unless they get money to feed their families. The ethics of it are horribly complicated -- would you refuse to do work unless you got paid, knowing that the work would bring desperately needed money to feed your family, while at the same time knowing that you are going back on your word by refusing to work? Well now all the women are blaming Coumbare for the well not being finished, when it is not her fault at all. The men, two especially, have been lying to her for day after day, saying it will be finished when it obviously won't be. She told me that the two men had also recently told her she had to stop being part of the regional women's association because they did not like her being so involved. She was so upset - "Aissata, I didn't steal any money. I did my job well. I planted all the trees, I helped with their garden, I brought in new money, I helped with women's projects. Why do they not want me involved? I'm a good person. I want to help myself and other women like me have a better life. Why is that bad?" Without me saying anything, she answered her own question: "They are men. They do not like a woman being involved." I asked her if she was still involved, and she said no, "Those men are the leaders of my village. I have to live here. I can't go against them."
Those two men now refuse to help the women finish their garden - a garden that the women will do all the work in, and then their families - including the men - will benefit from increased nutrition and a permanent food source. The women will do all the work in the long-term, the men will benefit. Where is the men's logic in this? Furthermore, the men are now saying that the garden supplies - a wheelbarrow, two shovels, two buckets, etc - belong to the men, not the women. They refuse to give the supplies back.
I do not understand. Maybe I will never understand. All I know is that if they knew what kind of woman they were dealing with they never would have tried to ruin the project in the first place. Because now I'm angry, and I will not stop until the well is finished, the project supplies are back in the hands of the women, and the women are able to plant their garden. Watch out, Sassolo.
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