“When I think of myself, I see a free Awa.”- Awa Fall-Diop (Senegal) 1/4
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Awa Fall-Diop is a Senegalese feminist activist, educator, and specialist in gender justice and building social movements. Her attachment to the values of justice, resistance, and conviviality was shaped by her upbringing in a working-class community and is now reflected in her activism.
In this interview, Chanceline Mevowanou speaks with Awa Fall-Diop about her activism and her feminist journey.
In this first part of the conversation, we will learn about her childhood, as well as the story of her mother, a woman from whom she takes her strength of character. Awa Fall-Diop also tells us how her upbringing and her activism within Marxist and PanAfrican organizations helped shape her political thinking and build her feminist beliefs. She also discusses her fight for equality for women in education and training (Part 2). In the third part of our conversation, she shares her thoughts on the impact that the Beijing Conference has had on African women’s rights and on the challenges that feminist movements face today. Finally, we discuss topics such as the diversity of African feminisms, sorority, and the importance of intergenerational relationships in activism (Part 4).
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Good evening, Maman Awa. I hope you are well.
I’m doing great.
Could you please introduce yourself to our community?
My name is Awa Fall-Diop. I am a pan-African feminist, a revolutionary activist for the liberation of Africa, the liberation of the human race, and the liberation of all women.
Thank you for agreeing to chat with me. I’m curious to know what shaped your journey. Where did you grow up?
I was born and raised in a well-known working class community of Senegal called Grand Dakar. In Senegal, saying “I’m from Grand Dakar” is enough to indicate that a person has experienced things, has a temperament, and doesn't tolerate any form of oppression or subordination. This is our neighbourhood’s trademark.
It’s a neighbourhood built by our parents since the colonial era, where I grew up and where I remember that every family was mine. I could eat with any family, if I didn’t like what we had at home. I could walk past a neighbour’s house, smell a dish that I found appealing and go in to eat, no questions asked. If I were in a backyard talking to other people and it was getting late, I was allowed to safely stay over and sleep in the house.
What you’re describing is wonderful. What memories come to mind when you reflect on your childhood in Grand Dakar?
This solidarity and conviviality between the families is something that always stayed with me. I believe it is also one of the foundations that make me feel comfortable in movements. Thanks to the way the neighbourhood was set up, it was easy to go from one house to another without ever getting into the street. There were passageways between every house. Sadly, it’s no longer the case today because of urban violence, burglaries etc. Now, everyone shelters themselves in their homes. That’s a shame, because it hinders human relationships and solidarity.
Where did the conviviality in your neighbourhood come from back then?
It was in the way the neighbourhood itself was created. Most of our parents were the first people to live there. They were young couples of originating from farming communities, who came to work in the city as labourers. There was a similarity in generation, origin and social status among them. As a result, the children of one family were like those of another. And it lasted. People like me still reside in the neighbourhood… Many folks were born in Grand Dakar and still live there. We even got married to one other. (She laughs).
It must have been an amazing experience to grow up there.
At some point we planned a huge reunion with the natives who are still alive. Those whose parents had to sell their houses or who lived in other areas also joined us. It was a wonderful gathering where we reminisced about our childhood and shared stories. We were all together again and vowed to do it every year, because the way we lived there is truly the area’s trademark.
This reunion must have been moving. You said that a person coming from this area was perceived as someone who rejected all kinds of oppression.
Yes, as someone who is driven.
Could you explain?
It may be because of our parents’ backgrounds; they left the rural world and wanted to succeed in the city. They did not only want to shape their destiny for themselves; they also wanted to shape their children’s destinies. That means educating the kids, setting them up in an environment that allows them to be people who know how to defend themselves, who know what they want, people who are driven. That requires a lot of determination.
Are there specific stories from your childhood in Grand Dakar that come to mind?
I remember two stories. Someone had rented out a room in the neighbourhood. He was a teacher and I was in the second grade, so I must have been 9 or 10 years old. A friend of mine lived in the house where he rented the room. Sometimes when we were passing by - we were a group of girls - he would call us and give us some money, 5 or 10 francs. Back then, 10 francs was a lot of money. Or he would give us candy. We would clean his room or clean his glasses. One time, I was passing by and I was by myself. He called me and said, “Clean my glasses.” I cleaned them and then he asked : “Are you menstruating?”* I immediately replied “Yes” and I left in a hurry. I went home and took my schoolbag to get my rulers. *(In French menstruating and rulers are the same word : règles)
My older sister was sitting nearby and she asked me “Why are you so frantic? What are you looking for?” I replied, “I’m looking for my rulers.” She said, “Why are you looking for them? I don’t see you studying.” Then I answered, “No, someone asked me if I had my règles.” My sister stormed off. I saw her leave, and she went out to hit the man. I was mad at her.
Why were you mad ?
I was angry with my sister because I thought : “She’ll deprive me of candy. She’ll deprive me of the 5-10 francs I'm given all the time.” She said to me, “I don’t want to see you go to his room ever again.” The next day when we woke up, the man had moved. I blamed my sister. It’s only years later that I understood what had happened. This man wanted to know if I was pubescent. You see, when we talk about gender-based violence, sexual abuse and rape of little girls, it’s real. And this reality is not new.
Unfortunately, it is still a reality in our communities. What is your second story?
This one impacted me positively haha! One night, we organized a party. The boys, without telling us, had rented a room next to the venue. During the evening, from time to time, one of them would leave with his girlfriend to go into the room. If you didn’t go into the room, you wouldn't know it existed. But I'd noticed that when a couple went out, it wouldn't even be five minutes before they came back. I couldn't understand why. When it was my turn, my boyfriend said, “Come on, let’s go somewhere to spend some time alone.” As soon as we turned into the street, we ran into the grown-ups who were there and they said, “Hey, go back to the party.” That's how I understood why every couple who went out came back in less than five minutes.
Hahaha… Speaking of grown-ups, what was your relationship with your parents when you were a girl?
I had a strained relationship with my mother until I turned 22 years old. Because I do whatever I want. When I think of myself, I see a free Awa. I was free. Unrestrained in my words, free in my actions, free in my movement. I didn’t like being prevented from doing what I wanted. Thankfully, I’m a fairly reasonable person.
Is that what caused friction in your relationship with your mother?
Yes. My mother was an extraordinarily strong woman. Allow me to go off topic for a moment, I’m going to share a part of my mother’s story.
Please do.
This is mainly about two years of her life. My mom was a Lébou. The Lébous are a community of fishermen in Senegal. They’re an inbred community, so my mom first married one of her cousins. She was the one who told me the story. She stayed married for eleven years and never missed a period. They lived in big compounds, so her husband’s brothers lived there with their wives and kids, too. At parties, the other husbands would buy several loincloths for their spouses. My mother would only get one. She was told, “Since there’s no one around to dirty your clothes, one loincloth is enough.” In the house, when she would call a kid to send them to the store, they would tell her: “If you want to send a child to the store, you should have one of your own.” Do you see this violence? When we talk about domestic violence, it’s not limited to assault and battery. It’s not only financial. The violence can also be psychological or emotional. She went through that for years, and then one night, she was grinding millet… You know, when you do that, you get blisters.
Yes, they form on the hands.
Exactly! She had blisters. At some point she stopped and wondered: “Who am I grinding for? No one gets my clothes dirty (meaning that no child urinated on her). Who am I grinding for?”. She put the pestle down, went to her hut, packed her belongings and went back to her parents’ home. And she was done with that marriage!
Two years later, she was on the train and she met my father. The train was crowded and a man (my dad) gave her his seat. That’s how they met and how their story began. Then my mother had her first pregnancy. She didn’t know she was expecting because she thought she was infertile. So she drank herbal concoctions, etc. When her first pregnancy was confirmed, her first husband came back. He came back to say it was his child because some children hide in the ribs for years before they’re born. They even went to court. My dad died later on. His brothers came and told my mother: “You’re a woman, you cannot run the household. So you need to sell the house and go back to your parents’.”
It’s sad that this still happens today. Many women are seen as incapable or unlawful, while they are the core of our families.
My mother refused. She told them: “The house I shared with my husband until he passed, is the house I’ll live in until I die.” They replied: “If you stay here, we won’t come to give you anything, not even a grain of rice. ”My mom said: “One day, I’ll be the one to bring bags of rice to your homes.” And that’s what happened. Later on, each time my uncles had challenges, she was the one who fought to fix their kids’ food, education and health issues and so on.
I understand why you said that your mother was exceptionally strong. How old were you when your father passed away?
I was 6 months old and my mom was 32 or 33. At the time, in 1956, she was young and there was no female head of household. In our neighbourhood, she was the first woman to be a head of household. She was this woman with a strong personality, who maybe raised me to be like her, and inevitably two strong personalities clash. Our relationship became more peaceful when I turned 21 or 22. That’s when we became confidants.
How did it go ?
She would always wait for me to be present to talk about serious topics. My older siblings complained. Before passing away, I’m the one she called to tell me : “Awa, I entrust you with the family.” Maybe because I’m the one who inherited her personality and her character the most.
Could you share some of the significant conversations you had with your mother?
We talked about many things, including sexuality. For instance, my firstborn is a daughter. She would tell me : “You have to massage her clitoris. If you don’t, she won’t be a real woman later.” You see? Or she would say : “You know, sexual intercourse isn’t penetration only. You can play.”
That’s so different from the narrative of these issues being taboo in African families. Do you think this open-mindedness influenced other areas of your life?
I believe that she passed that on to me as well. I have no taboos. I talk about sex, pleasure and life because it is a part of life. There’s no aspect of life that I do not talk about with complete peace of mind and serenity.
That’s inspiring. What was the socio-political climate for girls when you were growing up?
Girls’ access to education was not as important as it is now. The realisation of the necessity of educating girls was not as significant as it is today. However, my mother, who was illiterate, thought that every child had to go to school. Do you want to know why I know French so well?
Tell me
During the holidays, my mother would buy a dictionary and give it to me. I had to recite it.
Laughter…
I knew the dictionary by heart, le Petit Larousse. Her logic was simple: if you want to know Islam, you learn about it in the Quran. If you want to learn French, you learn it with the dictionary. And you couldn’t play until you recited your page.
In the second part, we'll talk about the construction of Awa Fall-Diop’s political and feminist convictions, shaped by her upbringing, her involvement in Marxist and pan-Africanist organizations, and her fight for women's equality in education. Click here to read the next part.
