“I don't like being forced into something, especially if it doesn’t suit me” - Dr. Aissa Bouwaye Ado (Niger) – 3/4

Our conversation with Dr. Aissa Bouwaye Ado, a decade-long public worker from Niger goes on.

She already told us about her desire to go to school when she was a young girl (Part 1), and about her fight against being forced into marriage at the end of her adolescence (Part 2). In this third part, we talk about the growth of her resistance. 

Dr. Aissa was interviewed by Françoise Moudouthe in late 2019 as part of a global project documenting girls’ resistance. The conversation was edited into this four-part interview by Nana Bruce-Amanquah and Chanceline Mevowanou for our #GirlsResistWA series. You can learn more about the series here. 

Trigger warning: this conversation contains mentions of violence and abuse which may be triggering for readers. Kindly take a moment to decide if you want to keep reading. If you do proceed, we encourage you to centre your wellbeing and stop reading at any point, as you need.

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How would you define resistance? What does it mean to you?

First, you must know what you want. I don't like being forced into something, especially if it doesn't suit me. Everyone in the family knows me. Since childhood, it's been like that. I'm very respectful and I respect the hierarchy and everything. But when someone tries to show me that "it's not that, it's by the commandment that we have to..." and that I must do something, well, I'll weigh up whether it's convenient for me to do. But if it doesn't suit me, even in my professional life, I don't think I can do it.

During your adolescence between the ages of 10 and 20, what was the hardest thing about the resistance you were leading during this period? 

There was a lack of freedom and guidance. At that time, nobody was there to guide you. You were either in boarding school or at your guardian's house. You're prevented from going out, you're prevented from having the freedom to see someone who wants to come and see you...and you don't have counselling. That’s how it was.

For example, at that time, we didn't have sex education, and nobody talked to us. We girls, alone in the boarding school, didn’t know anything about our menstrual cycle, and nobody told us why. At that time, no one even told us that when you start menstruating, if you meet a man, you will get pregnant. We grew up that way, without guidance. You have boyfriends and you go out when you can, but the challenge was to make sure I did not betray my parents. I couldn’t carelessly get pregnant like that. Because it's a shame for the family. When I see the girls now say, "You must talk to kids, ensure they have sex education programs, etc.”… we didn't have that.

When you were young, you grew up in a very conservative environment. Did you have examples around you of people who resisted? 

No, I was the only one. Before, they used to do forced marriages like that: they gave young girls to people who came to say they were not married, then the girl became the second wife, the third wife, and sometimes even the fourth wife. But after I resisted, I heard my cousins say, "Oh, since Aissa refused...” I heard the uncles say, "It's all Aissa, since she set an example for them, people are outraged” and things like that. I didn't imagine that I was making such a big change.

At what point did you decide that you weren't going to fight just for yourself? 

When I started working in the professional world. In my professional life, I was offering family planning services. The religious people used to go against me all the time. They said that they didn’t allow women to have access to contraception. I had to fight for legal contraception in Niger. Before that, whenever I helped a woman get contraception, the religious people would summon me to court.

You could say that the system was still very much against you.

Yes, you know Niger. The religious and cultural contexts are very complex. These are interpretations. The religion they advocate for doesn't say that exactly. Nobody dared to confront conservative people like that, but I did.

How did resistance become a central part of your life? Was there a transition? Or did it just happen?

No, I think it just happened. I think that it’s something I’ve always been interested in and that was driving me. I'll give you an example. In 2013, I was on a pilgrimage to Mecca. You've seen how I dress; I'm veiled and everything. When we got on the bus, they said men should be in the front and women in the back. A man stood in the middle, and he said to the women only: “Go to the back, go to the back”. When he came and lifted my head, he said, "Go on, get out". I said, "According to whom? According to what passage of the Quran? Leave me alone”. The man continued and finally, they were all sitting down. I did not move. There were men in front of me, men behind me, and no one dared to say anything to me. What happened? Nothing.

Have you faced any more dangerous situations because of your resistance? 

One day, some religious people managed to take me hostage. My staff and I were celebrating the 10th anniversary of the legalisation of family planning in Niger. They came, and they ripped the microphone away. They got rid of all my staff and the midwives, and were singing their religious songs. They said that I gave teenage girls the pill. I said, "Even tomorrow, if a teenage girl becomes a mother and she comes to my centre, I will give her the contraceptive pills. You religious people don't talk to fathers so they can take on their responsibilities and give the proper education to the girl”. They told me, "You’re a woman, what are you doing among men? Get out."  I refused to come out. I was in a room at the table with the Minister of Health. I said, "Tell me what passage of the Qur'an says that? You must tell me the passage of the Qur'an that says that a woman should not stay here". We were held hostage from 8:30 pm to 11 pm. 

That’s terrible! How did you resolve the situation?

Around 11:00 p.m. I came to the door and said, "I'm going to the bathroom”. I wrote something on a piece of paper and I handed it to my driver. I told him to go to the police. And then I came back into the room. They ripped the cloth off where the men and the pictures were. I said, "In your pocket, there's no ID card? There is no ID card in our pocket? These are the pictures, right?" They left me afterward. It was quite a story, I tell you!

Now that Dr. Aissa has told us some incredible stories of her resistance, we'll talk more about solidarity and the impact of her resistance on others in the fourth and final part. Click here to read it.