Today I share a post with Baikong! It a guest blog of sorts. I did a post for her in celebration of Women’s Day. About the women of Africa. A version of that blog is below. But I encourage you to go and visit her site. Please do – it is excellent. Go to The Life of a not-so Princess. And she promised to do a blog here soon. In the meantime…
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Long Live Mama Africa
I am always amazed at how people from outside Africa look at Africa and always have an “oh shame” expression on their faces. They somehow feel sorry for the people of Africa. You know. How could you not? How could you not feel sorry for the people of Africa when all you see in the papers and on the charity cards are the faces of hungry children and suffering women. You can’t have a heart and not feel sorry for them. Especially not for the women of Africa. Or can you? Sorry is not the emotion we want you to feel when you look at us. And sorry is not the feeling you should have when you look at the women of Africa. They have given birth to Africa. To all the children of Africa. And they carry Africa on their backs. The same way they carry the children of Africa on their backs. They carry Africa and the children while they work in the fields. While they toil in the sun. Getting the food ready for our people to eat. Don’t feel sorry for them. Celebrate them. They are the power in our arms. The speed in our footsteps. And the food of our souls. Hear them roar.
Let me tell you a story that plays out in Africa every single day. And then you will know to never feel sorry for the women of Africa.
Every single day you will find women selling fruit next to the road. Walk the dusty roads of Africa and there they are. Working from before the sun rises to after the sun sets. To sell their goods as people commute to work and back. And they walk for miles to go and buy those fruits and vegetables. To get ready to open the “doors” of their business in time to hit the commuters before they are all off to work. And they sit their day in and day out. Waiting for the commuters to come back. Selling their fruits and their vegetables. Bananas. Apples. Oranges. Mangoes. Tomatoes. Carrots. Potatoes. Whatever goes and grows in that region – and what they can find at the main market. Come rain or sun, floods to droughts. They sit there and sell their goods. And feed the people. And you want to feel sorry for them?
Don’t. Do not feel sorry for them. Think of Bill Gates when you see these women sitting there. Running their business. With a hundred competitors each side. Competing for the same small group of buyers. They run their business. But they also run Africa.
Celebrate them because they run their businesses with all those competitors on both sides. And hardly any schooling. And no business training. And they support an extended family. Feeding them and keeping them safe while the men are off somewhere else. Making war or making love. With another. And you want to feel sorry for them? What is there to be sorry about? These are strong women. Women with pride. Women with a business sense that Bill Gates could only dream of. They run a successful business with nothing but the sweat on their foreheads and strength of their souls and the heads on their shoulders. They don’t suffer. They don’t suffer fools.
No. Don’t feel sorry for them. They are the arms who cradle Africa. Feel sorry for the men of Africa. Feel sorry for the men of Africa because they don’t know what they are doing. Feel sorry for the men because they make the wars. And the women bury the dead. Feel sorry for the men who beat our women. And the women give birth to them. Feel sorry for the men who have no pride. And the women pick up the pieces behind them. Yes. The women of Africa clean up after the men. These men with no pride. These women of strength.
You know why the men of Africa are so weak? Because the women of Africa is so strong. The men see it in the eyes of the women. This strength. And they know they can never be that strong. And they do whatever they can to kill that light in their eyes. But you can’t. Not with African women. They are too strong. And that is what makes the men so weak and so scared. They can never roar like the women of Africa. Never. And they know it.
Yes. We men treat the women of Africa like second-class citizens. We treat them like that because we know we can never be that strong. We can never be the backbone of Africa. We can never give berth to a nation. We can never care for Africa the way the women do. We are not Africa. We can never be the women of Africa. That is why we call her Mama Africa. She is our soul and she is our life. She gives us life and she keeps us safe. Viva Mama Africa. Long Live the Women of Africa.
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This was inspired by the women in my life. My mother, my wife, my daughters and my sisters. I love you all. You inspire me.
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March 26, 2008 at 2:17 pm
Great post – I spent a lot of time in sub-saharan Africa and your post really brought back all those sweet sweet memories.
March 26, 2008 at 10:48 pm
This is a wonderful post, my friends from Africa would agree. I see these woman in exactly that same way and it makes me proud to be a woman, even one only related to them by sharing gender.
I love this blog btw.
March 27, 2008 at 12:40 am
Your post spoke to me. I spent a month in Senegal on a study abroad program, and furthermore, my family is from Egypt, so still in Africa (a huge and incredibly diverse continent). I get so annoyed when I tell people here in the U.S. that I’ve been to West Africa and they say things like “oh, are they all starving there?” or “oh, you must really appreciate the things you have now!” Argh, Africa is the cradle of the most ancient and amazing civilizations, and also a whole continent full of women from literally hundreds if not thousands of ethnic groups who now, after colonialism, endure some of the worst hardships every day. WHY are these women not lauded as heroes? Why are their stories not being told through THEIR eyes?
I disagree that we should feel bad for the men of Africa. On one level, because of global oppression against blacks and Africans, yes, African men are oppressed. But when they beat, rape, and harass African women, that is their sole doing. Their responsibility alone. Women should not have to suffer at the hands of men. That is not the natural order of things. It is sexual and political oppression. Let us not go from seeing African women as willess and “dirty” animals to being, on the flip side, idealized and dehumanized goddesses that have to save supposedly powerless African men either. African women are humans first and foremost and they should NEVER have to clean up after men or endure the men’s abuse. It is not and should not be meant to be that way. Let us celebrate African women as women, not some abstract ideal.
April 21, 2008 at 5:59 pm
as an african looking african-american woman, i have always had an affinity for africa, and a circle of african friends and acquaintances. the southern states in the us, as it turns out, are a very african place, replete with their own ways that parallel those of africa. for example: the subjugation of african women by african men was not unfamiliar to me because it was/is my way of life as a southerner raised in a traditional black household that puts boys first as a preference and is much harder on girls in a deliberate way.
i can’t even begin to imagine where african women find the strength to soldier on alone, against great odds, and in the face of such sexism and abuse. then again, i don’t know how we do it, either. to paraphrase that great gospel song — my soul looks back and wonders how my great-grandmother and my grandmother (who is still alive and well, thank Jesus) got over.
it’s not about African women in Africa. it’s about African women everywhere.
sometimes i think it’s just some massive media ploy that’s undoing us. that if some black girl stood up with some real live righteous indignation and gave the world another image, and demanded respect, we’d all get it. flood the marketplace with a million angela davises! but no. they’re all too busy bling-blinging or writing stupid sappy love songs or conquering the entertainment industry to care.
(sigh.)
these things come in waves. perhaps the next one will belong to the african women of the diaspora.