“I was a radically rebellious young girl” - Fati Hassane (Niger) 2/4

In the first part of our conversation, Fati Hassane, feminist activist from Niger talked about her international upbringing and the political and social context in Niger. 

In this second part, we discuss her moving back to Niger as a teenager and the issues that captured her attention. 

Fati was first interviewed by Françoise Moudouthe in late 2019, as part of a global project documenting girls’ resistance. The conversation has been edited into this four-part interview by Françoise and Edwige Dro for our #GirlsResistWA series. You can find out more about the series here.

How would you describe the girl you were at that time?

I had already traveled to Niger twice while living abroad. Each time, it was for the holidays in quite privileged neighbourhoods. So, I didn’t really know what real life was like in Niger. It was when I went back to live there that I truly discovered my country and people's living conditions there. Then I was revolted. I was a radically rebellious young girl.

What exactly was it that incensed you?

There were two things. First, it was the general material living conditions of the people. The fact that there was no sewage, that many neighbourhoods had no running water or electricity, and that we would see women in Niamey having to carry water basins over their heads. There was also the fact that people didn’t have access to what I called real food: fruits, vegetables, enough meat at an affordable price.

The second thing was - I couldn’t express it that way at the time - but it was women’s conditions. I was revolted by the fact that several of my girlfriends got married while we were in middle school in Niamey. They were 12 or 13 years old, or even a little younger. And most of the other girls in school were thinking about marriage.

Of course, with my level of understanding back then, my anger was directed towards them. I would tell them: “Look at everything you can achieve in the world, and you want to quit school and get married? This can’t be right. Boys aren’t the only things that matter in life.” It’s because I didn’t realise that they were victims. I didn’t link their thought process to the world that incentivised them to think that way. 

I hear outrage in what you say, but also a feeling of helplessness…

Let me give you an example. We had a neighbour who had a new child every year. She was 17 and looked 30. She was married and was on her fourth child. To me and my sisters, this was outrageous. I didn’t know much about how the female body worked, but I could tell something was wrong. After her fifth child, I think, when this lady went to the Maternal and Child Health Center, she was given the pill and told that it was vitamins that she had to take daily. 

Even though she was illiterate, she felt that something wasn’t right, so she came and asked my sister and me what was written on the box. My younger sister and I said to her: “Listen, it’s a pill, and it will prevent you from having more children”. She didn’t believe us until my older sister confirmed it. And that’s when she said: “No, but something’s wrong here. Why would they prescribe me a drug to prevent me from having children when I’m married?”

We were kids, and so what could we tell her? How could we explain this to her? I was immersed in an environment full of these types of realities, and I was aware of the discrepancy that I felt quite violently. My obsession was about how to destroy this system to build a new one. I was, let’s say, very, very left-wing. But what could we do at this age?

How did you find your place in that new environment?

The transition was extremely difficult for my two sisters and me. Our little brothers had to adapt materially to life in the Sahel, but we, the girls, felt like we were in a straitjacket. We felt restricted. That's it, I think that's the word. Restricted from doing, restricted from saying, restricted from everything. I even remember an aunt who used to reproach us for the way we laughed. Yes, because as a young girl, if you are in the yard and the neighbour hears you, it means that you are laughing openly and loudly. You had to be discreet. We came from France where we could go to school by ourselves, go for a walk after school, or even take the train to visit nearby cities. But in Niamey, going out unaccompanied was very, very complicated. It was impossible.

Besides, we saw right away that we weren’t familiar with the proper codes. Many things happened that we didn’t understand and that people expected us to understand, as if…I don’t know. As if culture was a genetic thing. Although we had lived abroad our whole lives, people wouldn’t forgive us for not knowing some things. There was a certain intolerance when it came to that.

We had to adapt. We realised that we couldn't challenge some rules too head-on. So, our fight so to speak was to negotiate with the rules, to see how we could move the boundaries a little bit, and then find a little more room to breathe.

In the third part, we will talk about how Fati began to resist various societal expectations for women and develop her financial independence. Click here to read the next part.