“Freedom means I should take responsibility for myself and do things that I believe are good.” - Wiyaala (Ghana) 4/4

photo source: wiyaala.com

This is the final part of our conversation with Wiyaala, the Lionness of Africa. Wiyaala is from Funsi in the Upper West Region of Ghana. A global icon, she stands out with her distinct voice, her unique style and her dedicated engagement to support girls in her community to achieve their dreams.

In our conversation, she opens up about her childhood and her earliest influences (Part 1), and her journey as an artist, including bold choices about her music and stage persona (Part 2). She also talks about feminism and the work she does to combat child marriage and support girls and women in her community (Part 3). In this fourth part, Wiyaala shares her insights on life, freedom, and the impact she is influencing.

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You’re involved in social justice work, and one of the areas that stands out is the issue of child marriages. What inspired you to focus on child marriage as one of the causes you champion through your platform, your music, and your messages?

Well, I have seen child marriage so many times in my community, and in different parts of Africa. And as an African woman, when you go out there sometimes - maybe even all the time - you are like a walking gallery of all the problems and things that have happened. Many people are probably wondering if you have also been through it. Then, you are automatically turned into a mouthpiece. I believe that there are so many young girls who probably have even more talent than me. I have been lucky to have opportunities that they may not have had. So, if I find myself in a position to give a helping hand to a sister, a daughter, to make life better for them, I will do it. 

In my community, I can't be the only girl that can sing. I'm sure there are other girls, but they probably don't even know because there's no platform. There's nobody coming back to this community to even give them the time of day. Everything is done elsewhere, maybe in the big cities. I used to watch TV in the village, and they would be airing some children's shows. One day, I asked my mother when they would come to my village to do the show so that we could also perform. My mother would just laugh. Now I understand why she was laughing. The road to my village is not very good. Nobody even knows about Funsi. Even as I got very famous in Ghana, people didn't know where Funsi was until I started singing.

And what does giving a helping hand look like for you?

When I look back and think about all the girls who didn't get a chance, I do what I can to create those opportunities. 

When I was a child, I saw girls being taken from the market to be wives almost every market day. One day, it was supposed to be somebody who didn’t live far, and I was actually called to see if I could help, and I did. Then I decided that since nobody was coming to my community, and none of us had been able to do something, I'm going to create that platform that I wanted when I was a kid and I didn't get it. We all care but we can't all be at different places at the same time. So wherever I find myself, maybe I should also add my small contribution. So I decided to build these platforms, starting with an art center in the community to encourage the girls to come on that stage. I created a platform and we have beauty pageants. We have dance competitions. We have a drama club to encourage young girls in particular and also boys to use this platform to gain some self-confidence, show their talent to their parents, show the world, see themselves doing it and see the words of encouragement they are getting from around the world. I believe it will change a lot of things that some of them didn't know about. If I had this platform as a kid, only God knows, I would have cried. That is how I got involved in community and advocacy for the girl child. 

Have you seen an impact in your community, especially in terms of child marriage and its prevalence? 

For me, the impact has been great. I have seen it ever since we started the Girls’ Club. Actually, I wasn't the one who started this group. When I started going back home, one day about seven girls between the ages of eleven and thirteen came to my house and said, “sister Wiyaala, we are also dancers. We would like you to be our leader and teach us to dance. And when you're doing your shows, we want to come and dance for you.” 

I said okay, and each time we danced, they wanted to dance some more. So we formed the Girls’ Club. It was just the girls, and we started performing whenever we could. Their parents were happy, and other parents were like, “but my daughter can dance too, she must join.” Then during one of our performances, we had a talk with the whole community and I gave an example of myself and how all my talents would have been hidden if my parents had married me off.  I challenged them to think about how many girls’ dreams they’ve killed with child marriage. I encouraged them to allow the girls to go to school and gain knowledge, so that they would know what to do as they grow up. They will have enough knowledge to choose wisely. 

And did that make a difference?

The Club changed a lot of perceptions, because I also told them that their children need to be enrolled in school to join the club. So every child there has gone back to school. Some have become teachers, some are going to become nurses, and it's amazing. I didn’t even get involved financially. Some of the parents have seen what I'm doing, and they believe their daughters matter as much as their sons. They even asked us to also include boys, so we now call the group ‘Girls and Boys Club’.  And it's been really good because if you're teaching the girls, the boys should also join so that we teach one another, and change the mentality that girls must do things because they are girls, and boys must do things because they are boys. We get to know how we can all grow in a community and respect one another. We also have people always coming to give us advice and sending things to encourage the children and this helps them to become even more serious. So, that’s the impact for me. 

photo source: wiyaala.com

That’s very inspiring. I know you've touched a bit on the commodification of the bodies of female musicians and the timelines they give you within which you bloom. You're putting out your art and expressing yourself, and sometimes people describe it as provocative for a woman of your cultural background. What is your usual reaction to this? And how do you deal with some of those comments? 

I accept criticism, because even before I put out a video, I know it's not everybody that is going to like it. I always get people saying, “Oh, you're exposing your body. You're dancing too sexually” and all that. I am aware and it's my art. It’s part of my art. My dance moves, my dressing. What some people term as exposing my body has been done before. I'm not the first to do this. That is how I present my art. When I'm offstage, I'm in my normal clothes. But when I'm going on stage to portray my music and art, which is related to my African culture, all my costumes are inspired by traditional dancers. I enhance the traditional costume to fit my art and my body, because my body is different from any other person’s. So when people say I'm exposing myself, my dressing is not good, they're just hypocrites. And I refuse to agree with them that it’s raunchy. 

We have traditional sexy moves, we have traditional sexy songs that we sing so well. I have taken the same thing to the platform, and I'm singing about our culture. So sometimes I just don't let it get to me. It's art, and art can be crazy. I always pray that everybody would look at the beautiful side, but at the end of the day, I've psyched myself not to be angry because it’s not always going to be everybody that agrees with you. I concentrate on the people that see the art for what it is, and I just put my energy there. I don't have time for negativity because it takes me backwards and it’s a place I don't want to go to. I've locked that door. [Laughs]

[Laughs] It was interesting to learn that you design and sew your own stage outfits. How does that make you feel, using your hands and your many talents to create exactly what you want and present yourself that way?

Every time I'm making a costume and I go to pick the fabric, there's this excitement in my heart. I see the design in my head, the colour I want and how it's going to sit on my body. I always want everybody to know I decided to make my own costume by default. Initially, I couldn't make a dress. Well, maybe I could, but I just didn't know. And in those days, I'd go to a tailor or seamstress and they knew I didn't have money so they would have me going back and forth. I could only afford the material and I would ask them to help with making the costumes. If they agreed and I shared what I wanted, they would refuse because they thought I didn’t have money and so, I couldn’t tell them to make me short dresses.  They would just make the dress they wanted and tell me to take it. I would then take it home and cut it up into what I wanted. But when the tailor saw that I had cut the dress, they got really mad. This happened twice, and then I realized that I won't get the costumes I wanted from the shops. So I decided to make my own costumes. For the first few ones, I really destroyed the material. I wore it; it was in your face, but it made me stand out immediately. Some people were insulting it and I had to keep explaining until I said you know what, I'm not going to explain myself to anybody. If you don't like it, that's your problem. 

I kept doing it and getting better. Today, I have a very clear idea of what I want, and I know the body type I have, so I create what fits me. Now, I use traditional costumes more because it really makes the meaning of the dance and the music go together very well. It's like the music is talking to the dress and the dress is also talking to the music, and that is the power of African music. I design according to the dancing. I do a lot of African dances and I dance with my legs a lot so I cannot wear anything that will restrict my legs from jumping. That is how I make my costumes and I enjoy doing it.

That's wonderful! I know that you make a very intentional choice to honor African traditions and culture - specifically your own culture and tradition - while also pushing against certain things like child marriage that people have seen as part of our culture for a long time. How do you navigate that and create a balance between these two things that are clearly important to you? 

I’m able to do that, first with the help of social media, and then the messages in my songs. Yes, this is Africa, and this is who we are. But the world has moved and we have also moved. Yes, we are educated, but that doesn't mean that I will dump my traditional wear and wear only suits. Africa has changed. We have our troubles, but I will also show the positive side of Africa because the negative side has been shown almost every day. There are great Africans doing things; there are beautiful cities, towns, and countries around Africa.

There are some problems that I'm not waiting for anyone to come and help me solve because I know I can solve them myself. Every time I find the opportunity to solve a problem, I solve it. So that the rest of the world knows that we can do our thing. We are not perfect, just like any other place, but don't only project our bad side. That image will haunt us in different ways. So I will not allow that to happen. But at the same time, I do my best to still stay grounded because I'm from a home that will be embarrassed or a bit sad if I do some things that are inappropriate. Staying in my community has also kept me grounded, to always remind me where I came from, how lucky I am to be where I am and how I shouldn’t mess up this opportunity. For some of us, opportunities like this come every once in a while. 

So, keeping myself grounded has really helped me balance it all. I’m a human being, and I'm not perfect but I'm trying my best. It's not easy. That's why I can't wait to be able to also mentor one or a few singers, so that when they take on some of the work. I can’t do it alone. I need to involve more young women and even young men to join me in spreading these messages. I hope and I'm praying that I get the strength and the energy to get this done before the Lord calls me one day. [Laughs]

We hope there’s so many more years before that call. You touched on something very important, which is helping other young people, and I had a question about your connection to your community. We've seen videos of you walking in the morning to go get your Waakye and enjoying it. How has your community supported you with your music and also the causes you champion? 

The support I'm getting from the community has been good for the past three to four years. It wasn't like that when I moved back home. My community members were not ready to believe that I came home and still mingled with them. They would say things like, “You went to the white man's land. You went to heaven and you're coming back to this hell. This girl is not serious”. When I started with the girls that were dancing, some parents were not very happy. They thought I had failed and came to use the village children for my own gain. They wanted to see me in Europe living the “good life”, so they can believe that they can also go there. When I came back, it was not inspiring for them. 

I decided that I was not going to say anything. Just like my name, the doer knows what they're doing. I got my sisters and we started our own thing. We renovated some old buildings by ourselves, and within a few months, people started seeing something. They were like, “Wait a minute. We think this girl is doing something good. We shouldn't be like this. Let's help.” When we were building the Art Center and I explained to them what the center was for, they agreed that we didn't even have a place to meet for entertainment. So they came out and contributed free labor. Women fetched water, and men did the building. Everything changed. 

Now if I have a programme with the kids, I always have young boys come in to ask; “what do you need?” And before they realized, people were traveling from different parts of the world to Funsi to come and see the children play. Funsi is on the map. This is just something we all decided to come together to do. I can confidently say that people in Funsi have been very supportive. Ghana has become very supportive. And things are going well. My community members have been very supportive and protective. If you need anything, you just have to say it and they are around to help you. And they've seen the results of whatever impact that we have on the community. So it's become positive.

I’m glad it’s turned towards a positive direction. In a past interview you said, “I want to highlight the freedom to be free. To do things as a young woman.” This resonated, because my feminism is about freedom, liberation. It's about being able to do what I want to do, and achieve my dreams without all the limitations around me simply because I am a woman. What does freedom look like to you?

Oh wow! For me, freedom is… first of all, I'm happy. I'm comfortable and confident. I don't have to fight anybody for anything because I'm a woman. Things should be accessible to me, to exploit without being questioned just because I'm a woman. I should be listened to and taken very seriously, because I also have good ideas. And people should be willing to support me because they know I have something good, and not just because I am a woman. 

I should be able to speak my mind confidently without somebody coming to say, “You’re a woman, you can’t say that.” But more importantly, whatever a man can do, I am also going to do the same without being judged. I always say men and women are different. There are certain things that one can do and the other can’t do, and this is because of how we were born… nature. You can't fight the hand of God. But at the end of the day, we are all people and we should be free, given equal opportunities and allowed to try. 

Freedom is all of the things that I have mentioned: happiness, freedom to think, freedom to speak, freedom to choose who I want to marry, freedom to have a baby when I want to have it,.. free. Freedom also means I should take responsibility for myself and do things that I believe are good. 

And if you had all the freedom in the world today, what is one thing that you would do?

[Laughs] I don’t even know what I would do if I had all the freedom in the world. I would spread as much love as possible. Love will bring peace, joy, and work. It will stop egos, looking down on people, and fighting. When there is love, everybody is calm. With love, they say everything is possible. Everybody will be doing something positive. I will spread a lot of love.

That’s beautiful. And it reminds me; you mentioned that you love motorbikes. Tell us some more about that love.

I grew up riding motorbikes and running errands. I think one of the first things a lot of young people - both young women and men - in my region use is a motorbike. Everybody rides, and you don't even need a teacher. You teach yourself how to ride. Many of us start riding even before we get a license. So some of us really love motorbikes. In fact, we adore motorbikes. They are like number one, before even cars.

In my community, if you really want to impress someone, you buy them a motorbike, and you see the joy in their face. Our roads are such that a bike is faster than a car, so everybody loves it. I have another level of love for motorbikes, because when you ride a bike, it's like you're on top of the world. You're free, you’re flying, and you can feel the air. Motorbikes give me this feeling of freedom. I'm controlling the driver’s seat and I go where I want to go.

It's such a beautiful way to close out our conversation, taking that motorbike as a symbol of freedom. But before that, I’ll ask our Eyala closing question. What is your feminist life motto?

I would say: dare to be different. And I got this from people's words. They used to say, “You're so daring and different.” You don't care what people say. You are doing it in a different way. Don't be afraid to be different when you are doing it. Don't ask for permission. A lot of the time, we do that and we are held back. Just do it. When you are different, it’s good. So dare to be different. Go for it. That's me.

Thank you so much Wiyaala. I really enjoyed this conversation and I hope you enjoyed it as well. Is there something that you came into this interview thinking, “I'm going to talk about this” but our questions haven't led to that answer? This is your moment to share.

What can I say? I think I've said almost everything. Yes, I know sometimes people want to ask whether I’m married or not. That's another freedom part of my mind that I always say: as for that one, I like to keep it private.

[Laughs] And that’s a question we intentionally don’t ask. So we'll agree to keep that one private. 

Thank you Jama!

Thank you for the work you do to impact lives, and change communities and mindsets. Thank you so much, Wiyaala.

Enjoy the music!

Love Wiyaala’s music or looking for a chance to discover her incredible talents? Explore some of her songs on her website.

We’d love to hear your thoughts on this fconversation. Let us know in the comments below, or let’s chat on Twitter, Facebook or Instagram @EyalaBlog.

“My feminism is to empower myself and empower the next generation of young women” - Wiyaala (Ghana) 3/4

photo source: wiyaala.com

Our conversation with the iconic Wiyaala continues. In the previous parts, she shared memories from her childhood and her earliest influences (Part 1), as well as her choice to sing in her language, the reception to her music in different parts of Ghana and the rest of the world, and some of the challenges she has faced (Part 2).

In this third part, we dive deeper into her experiences as a female artist in a male-dominated field, and she shares ideas on what women can do to resist and thrive against the misogyny in the music industry. We also explore her thoughts on feminism, and how she shows up as a feminist in the spaces she creates and has access to.

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I’m curious about what your experience has been in a male dominated industry. Have you faced challenges that happen specifically because you are a woman thriving in an industry controlled by male gatekeepers?

Oh, yes! It was right in my face as soon as I got into the industry. In fact, it was so in my face that you could almost touch it. That feeling… you could almost touch it. 

In what ways did you experience this?

In the songs you are about to sing; you would even have engineers trying to tweak your songs to sexualise you so that you can sell. They are only looking at your pretty face and how they can use your sexuality to make you a sex symbol. Many women were also just seeing us as people who were out there for the highest bidder. They saw us musicians as people who were looking for the guy with money to come and marry us, and then we would disappear. There was just this belief - and I think it is still there - that a woman can't handle the industry. That we are too fragile and won't be strong enough. So when you get into spaces and it's all men, they will try to undermine you. But we are all here to do business. If I can carry a baby in my stomach and push out a life, why would you think that I can’t handle the music business? There's nothing that a woman cannot handle. 

It wasn't easy. They tried to sexualise you and influence how you dress. You do the shows and it’s mostly the men or young boys that will show up to watch. And you start “making it”, people begin to harass you about having a baby. They would tell you things like, “your clock is ticking.” I'm always saying: this womb is my womb. I decide what is going to live there. Maybe I'm not ready yet. Maybe I can't have a kid. Maybe I already have a kid, or maybe I have adopted.  We are all from different backgrounds and we have things that we might place ahead of certain things. 

Another thing I was hearing was, “you are too dark, you should lighten your skin.” I haven’t had anybody try that with me now. It has changed and I'm very happy. But in the past, I was encouraged to bleach my skin and I said no. I'm not touching my expensive skin. This is me. If you don't like me, I'm sure some people will like me. 

It’s wild the things that female artists deal with, both within the industry and the wider public. 

Yes! I was even told that I needed to increase my buttocks. If I had a big bum, then I could shake it. But then, I'm here to sing and I'm not singing with my buttocks. Someone also told me to slow down and take my time because the things people were advising me to do were like bubble gum and would disappear quickly. That I would be replaceable. The industry would give me a short period of time and then lift someone else up.  

I also think that the reason the industry is male-dominated and has become a challenge is because almost every corner is taken by men. I don't know whether it's because women are not interested in these roles, or that we have our own ways of handling these roles, but we are not stepping forward. For example, I used to pick ideas from the guys that I started with. Almost all of them had at least a laptop in their bedrooms where they could make their own beats before they brought it to the studio. But many of the female artists would rely on the engineers for help. The guys were buying laptops and other instruments to learn how to make basic things. And this really motivated me and I started to reinvest in myself. I decided to get a laptop and a guitar so that I could also write my own songs. I’ve become really good at the guitar, and some of those guys are also great sound engineers now. 

What can be done to have more women in the industry investing in learning and growth in similar ways?

I just believe there's a way we women can do things on our own terms, in our own way, with our own energy and just create the right environment. We need women engineers and producers. There are not many. I don't know how many women own record labels, but we need women in all these roles. We can learn a lot of these things online. We can invest in the equipment. We can beat the narrative of just being a “pretty woman” in the industry. 

And when we get some experience and have made it to the top, set up the space to help another woman. So that when a sister comes to you, we help each other and cut out certain things that a man may have tried to do that has nothing to do with music. If many of us do this, we can also dominate in our own way. Men can do their thing, we can also do our thing and we'll all meet in the middle. 

I think it can be challenging, especially hearing some of the experiences you have shared. But it may very well be the challenge that’s needed to change the current reality.

It’s not just a one-day job. When you stay true to yourself and you take things step by step, you build and you grow. When you love something, enjoy it. It will grow with you and the older you get, the better you can get. And it's going to be forever.

In the end, I can also help somebody. I can help a sister. Because the journey is not easy. It wasn't easy, but all in all, I survived. I survived.

You have, and in such a beautiful and powerful way too. Some people have to do the hard work so other people don't have to suffer through the same things… Let's talk about feminism. Do you identify as a feminist? 

I always say this. I tell somebody that I'm a woman. I have my rights and I also have my responsibilities. I will do what I can do. I will do what I love. You will not stop me or look down on me because I'm a woman. I will respect you but you will respect me, too. I will dare to dream and sometimes stand out and be different. And you will not shut me up. 

If this and so many other positive things might come out strong and intimidate any man to call me a feminist, then yes, I am a feminist.

When did you come to that realization? Was it something that happened in your life or things that you observed around you? 

I didn't even know the word “feminist” meant all these things that a woman stands for. I think that I have been feminist from the word “go”, because I didn't do the ordinary. I played my football. I am muscular. I loved it. I didn't hide it. If you are a guy and you are rude to me, I would reply with the same energy to the extent that I got physical with some people. When I was growing up, I didn't do the usual, especially just because I am a woman. And these were just things I was doing out of passion and love. 

I look back now, and even at what I'm still doing now, and realise how difficult it has been. People would call me stubborn and say no one would marry me because I didn’t listen and I showed my muscles. I was told that I was too independent and that I should allow room for men to help me because I needed them. I was also told that I am “too know”, which is an expression for people who think they are too smart. And that was how some people related to me, and I always resisted it. 

When I finally got to hear the word “feminist” and I got to understand what it means, I was like, “Well, I guess I am a feminist.” And if anybody doesn’t understand that, that's their problem. I am a feminist. My feminism is to empower myself and empower the next generation of young women who want to also go out there and do something for themselves, because it's possible. I know it's difficult, but it's not as difficult as some people try to make it seem. So that's why I know and I always say, yes I am a feminist. 

I think that's a story that many feminists actually share. We believed this for a long time. We just did not know there was a name for it. Talking about names, you are known as “the lioness of Africa” and it’s how you introduced yourself at the start of this conversation. Did you choose this name, or was it given to you?

Well, two things. First of all, I chose the name because of Africa. Lions are found in Africa, and are considered the kings of the jungle. And since I'm the lioness, I am the queen. I’m very, very proud. And I chose that because when I step out there, yes, I am an African and I'm out here, but don't think I can be manipulated. You're not going to look down on me and try to be racist. I am the lioness of Africa, the queen of Africa, and I'm here to tell you about my continent. I will roar and you will hear my name. I am not against you. I'm just here to make friends and make music and go. I'm not coming to intimidate you. Don't be afraid of me. I'm not taking anything from you. Let's be friends and go on. 

When some people call me, they expect me to come as an African with a calabash. To fit their image of an African who is not educated, and just something to come and look at. So it was an opportunity for me to embrace my African-ness with pride and show them. I am African! I will teach you about Africa. But I'm not doing that with hate and racism or through being full of myself. I will take my time and teach you about my continent. I'm in a position to make a change, and the change must start with me. My attitude. My mentality. I am not mentally enslaved to anybody and I wasn't born a slave. And nobody's going to do that to me. 

“I am the lioness of Africa, the queen of Africa, and I’m here to tell you about my continent. I will roar and you will hear my name. ”

You realise that you are like a gallery, and an opportunity to showcase Africa in a good light. And I don't joke with these moments. I actually let people know this is who we are. I am proud of being an African woman and going out there to sing in my own language. And I also appreciate that there's so many people out there who listen, support, buy and really want to know about Africa. In the end, we are friends. And you know, the lioness is strong, it’s independent, it's a very majestic, very intelligent animal. It can hunt for itself. It doesn't need the lion to do that. It has babies and takes care of them. For me, every African woman is like that. We are all lionesses in our own right.

In the final part of this conversation, we chat with Wiyaala about the work she does in her community to uplift girls. She tells us about the impact of her actions, the support she receives from the community, and her vision of freedom for herself and for all girls and women. Click here to read this part.

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We’d love to hear your thoughts on this part. Let us know in the comments below, or let’s chat on Twitter, Facebook or Instagram @EyalaBlog.

Learn more about Wiyaala on her website, and follow her on social media @Wiyaala.

“I learned that I have to sing in my language to get to my people.” - Wiyaala (Ghana) 2/4

photo source: galahala.com

We are in conversation with Wiyaala, the Lionness of Africa and global music icon from Funsi in the Upper West Region of Ghana. In the first part, she shared memories from her childhood, as well as the people and spaces that inspired her journey. 

In this second part, she tells us about launching her career, making bold choices about language and appearance, and the challenges she faced as she carved out a place for herself in Ghana and globally. 

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You are described as the only woman in the world singing in Sissala. What inspired this decision, and is this tied to the concept of home that you talked about earlier?

The concept of home, yes. It was an intentional decision, and I think I was inspired by Madonna, but not really influenced by her real life, the way she dressed, or the way she talked. I don't think I've ever really been that influenced to copy somebody so much that I became them. She inspired me through her music and her dancing, but when I started singing, I was nothing like her. My voice was different. And I was singing in my language. 

I already spoke English and I could write in English. So when I wrote these songs from Madonna, I had to sing them in English. I later started singing only English songs because unfortunately, I didn’t have access to the videos of any African musician that sang in their own language. I didn't even know the likes of Angélique Kidjo and Brenda Fassie. I had never heard of them. I never saw them. All I saw was African Americans or white Americans singing. So it took me a long time before I saw African women also singing with more power. There was no internet available at the time, and so I could not access any videos. The only time I heard African women singing was with the Shaka Bundu Girls. Those were the tunes that we danced to in the village. 

So I started singing in English, and it was good. There were really some nice people who encouraged me, but they only started with giving me compliments. They would say, “Wow! You have something good. Keep going. You can sing in English but you sound so much like Celine Dion and the pop singers around the world. I don't think anybody can help you in this part of our world. If only you were born in America, you would be like Celine Dion.” That’s what I was always hearing. I think they meant well when they said that, but part of me was like “no, I don't have to go to America to make it. You guys must also appreciate what I'm doing.”

Was that when you made the decision to sing in Sissala?

At some point, I decided to go to the studio and record my songs. I didn't have any money, so I told the sound engineer that I would sing if they needed a backup singer. In return, they would record my songs. He and a producer that was there told me that my voice was really good. He also said the same thing about being in America. But then, he also asked me to sing in my language so that they could get a feel of that, too. I listened to his advice and I sounded even better. And that was it!

I learned that I have to sing in my language to get to my people. If I don't sing in the language that they understand, they'll probably not even realize the talent that I have. So when I started singing in my language, people from the villages and towns around were so happy. And they would talk about the message in my music, too. That was when the magic happened within my community, and I just blew up locally. Of course not with money, but I was popular. And everybody was like, “Wiyaala, you can sing!” 

What were the messages in your song at the time? It seems there was a strong connection there. 

For some reason, I just chose to sing about good things… education. I even did some songs about when I was asked to take my education seriously. So I ended up becoming the “goody-goody singer”. The first time I tried to sing about sexy songs, I got a bit of backlash, but gradually people just got used to me and said “she's an entertainer.” 

So, some of the decisions were deliberate. It got to a point where I just knew that I had to sing in my language if I really wanted to let my people feel my talent and support me. Then when I got the chance, I started adding the English which I was already doing. And then they knew, “she's not going anywhere. She's here with us”.

What was it like moving from becoming popular in your community and having your people appreciate your music, to becoming the global icon you are now? 

Well, it became the opposite. When I left my community and I kept singing in my language, the sounds and rhythms were amazing. I was lucky to meet my manager John, who decided to invest in the sound because it was great. But after we played for a while, the production needed to step up. And he said, “your voice is as good as any other artists around the world. You need some investment in the sound. If it's a local production that you are doing, we will follow that same production and rhythms from your country, but we'll bring it up to international standards.”

With that, I got to the bigger cities, even within Ghana. However, a new problem came up. People told me, “we don't understand you. The songs are nice, but we don't have a clue what you're talking about, so we can’t play them for you.” Now when you go abroad, they don't care if they don't understand the language. They can just feel the beauty of the art through my voice, the emotion, and the instrumentation. And to top it off, I just came out as an African woman who wasn't even trying to be anybody. I was not imitating anybody. I'm just here to be happy and make music, make friends. I'm just a simple Sissala girl who is following her dreams and I'm hoping I'll meet nice people like me. So, the people abroad got it quickly. 

And that wasn’t the same in Ghana?

In some parts of my country, people said no unless I sang in their languages as well, not just English. I realized that it’s the usual “okay, you're not from this area or from the same ethnic group”. And this is something they do amongst each other… We all do it in Ghana. It’s only recently that people are giving up the idea, and thinking “if we are all saying let's stop the tribalism, it starts now. We have to stop and just enjoy the music.” So it wasn't really a problem on the international platform. In my region, I was also very popular. But it was not the same in the bigger city of my country. 

And then gradually, the people realised that I was out there singing, and perhaps started feeling embarrassed that people from outside Ghana were singing and dancing to the rhythms of our own country when they weren’t. I think that helped to change the perception of many people in Ghana. At the end of the day, everybody just accepted me for who I am. And thanks to the education I was encouraged to take seriously, I was able to communicate these songs on the stage and explain them to the crowd in English, which is widely spoken around the world. 

This helped me and today, I can choose to sing in English or sing in my language. I can still express myself. This is why I always tell every young girl: no matter the talent you have, get as much information and education as you can. It may not only come from the classroom, but get it and add it to your craft. It will take you far.

You talk about the initial reception in the bigger city in Ghana, and how this may have been because of where you come from: Northern Ghana. Do you think that the shift in relation to your music has also influenced a change in perceptions? Would you say that your music is helping to bridge the divide?

Northern Ghana has always been seen to be the poorest among all the regions of the country. In fact, it was - and is still - considered the youngest region. So it's like the youngest always gets the last of everything. Unless you are the parents’ favorite, which means somebody who is part of making the decisions is from your region, so you’re prioritized. Unfortunately, the North always seems to get the last of everything that has to do with development. 

Things have changed quite a lot now, but during the time I came out as an artist, that really affected me. Unfortunately, for the few northerners that started singing, many of them didn't go to school and could not speak English very well to express themselves. It was very obvious during the interviews, especially on TV, when they would speak and you could immediately tell that they did not have a good formal education. But when they express themselves in their own languages, the messages in their music are full of wisdom. You know that they are intelligent, but they didn't get the chance to go to school. And there was a lot of poverty. 

So when I was coming out, people expected me to be the same. Unfortunately, I was not the northerner that they had in mind. When I started talking, everybody was quiet. So, I used the opportunity to also educate people about the North. It will shock you that there were people in Ghana who didn't think I was a Ghanaian. People in the entertainment industry thought I was born in Nigeria, South Africa, Togo, or Burkina Faso because they didn't even know there was a place called Funsi in the first place. All they know is the North, and when they say “North” it means one town or one region; that’s Tamale and we all spoke Dagbani. They had no clue that we have four northern regions, and we all speak different languages. The cultures are similar, but so different. But they almost boxed me into one: “You’re a northerner, so you must speak indigenous Hausa.” I realized that this was my opportunity to educate many Ghanaians who don't know anything about where I'm from. 

And have you seen any changes?

I started projecting the North a lot. We are getting better. And I also realized that every time I went back home, I should let people know where I came from. There's nothing embarrassing about it. Let everybody know your roots so that at the end of the day, we know that we are all the same and we all start from somewhere. I'm just an ordinary girl that decided to go for it.

Initially, I took it for granted. I'd go home and just live my life, and when it was time to go out and perform, I would do it. Then one day I got back home and I showed my house; everybody was shocked. It was my opportunity to show the rest of the world and Ghana that this is Wa, it's not Tamale. Tamale is different; the Upper East is different. But I always want to show it in a good light. Because if I'm preaching peace and I'm not peaceful myself, what am I doing?

In the third part of our conversation, Wiyaala shares her experience as a female artist shining in a male-dominated industry, her ideas for the growth and development of women in music, and her definitions of her feminism. Click here to continue reading.

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Learn more about Wiyaala on her website, and follow her on social media @Wiyaala.

"Being a feminist artist means using your art to help the movement grow." - Mafoya Glélé Kakaï (Benin) 3/3

This is the third and final part of our interview with Mafoya Glélé Kakaï, feminist lawyer, painter, and poet from Benin. 

In the first part we explored her childhood, marked by a love of reading and writing, and her questions about gender inequality. In the second part, she shared her reflections on her relationship with her mother and gender stereotypes, particularly the social expectations associated with the role of women. In this final part, we explore her personal and artistic journey, her conception of artivism, her creations, her feminist vision, and her future plans as a feminist artivist. 

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As an artist, activist, and feminist, how would you describe the way all these roles are interconnected in your daily life? 

I'm a woman who grew up in a patriarchal society and my art is a bit of a diary in some ways. I have a lot of abstract stuff, but I have a lot of work that expresses what I see. I'm very sensitive to the status of women, and quite often when I paint, I transcribe how I feel about being a woman and what I see around me, regarding the treatment of women in society. When you're a woman living in a patriarchal society, when you talk about yourself, it’s impossible not to talk about the realities of women. You cannot avoid talking about the pain that comes with being a woman. Being an African woman is full of pain and difficulties.

So, even without wanting to, even without looking for it, my art naturally becomes a way for me to resist. There's poetry too. I tend to link some of my paintings to poems. I can write an activist poem and then paint a canvas that corresponds to that activist poem. So, I sometimes have paintings linked to poems. 

If you had to talk about the themes at the heart of what you create, at the heart of your artistic work, what would they be? 

First, women. The way I see women, especially African women, because I'm an African woman. I also talk about the way society sees women. I have a painting that can be found on my Instagram page that’s called: Femmes invisibles (Invisible Women). I think that's how I called it. It's a canvas that, for me, expresses the way women are present in the world. They make the world, but they're also invisibilized and ignored. I'm also talking about myself, my feelings, my emotions. Many of my paintings simply reflect my feelings at a given moment. 

What do you think artivism is? 

Artivism is about using art to express our vision of society, to express what we'd like society to be, not just what we see. What we see, yes, but what we'd like to see in society. It's a way of using our art to denounce what we find wrong with society and to use that art to fight oppression. And that's what I do. I call myself an artivist, a feminist artivist. As I've already said, I create works that show women's experiences and, at the same time, the change I want to see. 

I also run art workshops with feminist activists in Benin. In November 2023, the Fondation des Jeunes Amazones pour le Développement (FJAD), a women's and feminist organization, organized LA TRÊVE FÉMINISTE (The feminist truce). This was a safe and soothing space where women could participate in wellness workshops, therapy sessions and relaxation activities, promoting their physical and emotional recovery. I led an art therapy workshop. Art therapy allows us to externalize our feelings and recharge our batteries. I know that for me, for instance, when I'm very angry and I go into my studio, paint, and put that anger on canvas, I feel much better afterward. I feel reborn, alive again.

Having done art therapy with activists, I know that it's an activity that truly allows us to relax and express ourselves. I think we need to use art more often in the activist community as a means of expression or regeneration. It's an interesting idea because, as you know, activism is extremely exhausting. We're trying to navigate an environment that's not favorable to us. 

How do you think art can be used to further feminist causes? 

Art has never been separated from feminist struggles. As far back as the 70s, there were plenty of artists who used art to talk about the violence women experienced and to denounce the way society treated women. Art is a tool, a reflection of society. And when you use art to denounce society, you manage to reach layers that you wouldn't necessarily have reached outside art. There's graffiti, for example, which is an art form that was originally used to subvert society, but which women artists have also used to denounce gender-based violence, sexist and sexual violence.

Art also provokes discussion. I have a lot of work right now that I've painted for an exhibition that is fully feminist. I've shown them to my private circle for the moment and the works have generated a lot of discussion. These works can create feminist conversation and I look forward to showing them publicly. I'm bubbling over with anticipation just thinking about it because, among these works, there are themes and things that are truly specific to me in my personal history and that I know many women share. This is how art serves the cause. 

Beyond that, many artivists have used part of their income as artists to fund feminist collectives. Personally, it's an idea that appeals to me a lot, and one that I'll probably do when I can really make a living from my art.  Actually, being a feminist artist is a way of using your means of expression to help the movement grow. 

LE SEXE FAIBLE | Artwork BY MAFOYA GLELE KAKAÏ

Very inspiring. How would you describe your creative process? 

I have different creative processes. Often, it starts with an impulse. You could say an intuition. I see the final work taking shape in my head and then I go into my studio and paint. Or if I can't be in my studio, I always have a little sketchbook with me and I make little sketches of the idea and then I go and paint. With poetry, it's the same. It starts with an impulse, an intuition, a feeling, and then I start writing. 

And sometimes, a situation presents itself to me and I want to create something out of it. That's when I do my research. I gather my thoughts. I define the medium with which I'm going to express my idea based on the situation I've seen or heard. And then I do the research. I take out my little notebook and try to imagine how I'd like to express what I've witnessed. Then I take my time. It's no longer like an emergency, whereas my first process was really based on urgency, i.e. I must externalize it at that moment. It's like a pressing need. I have to get it out, so I don't lose it. If at that moment, it's poetry and I'm in the middle of a conversation for example, I stop the conversation and ask the person to excuse me. I take out my phone or my notebook, write or draw my little picture and come back to it later.. 

Do you intentionally practice any rituals to stimulate your creative process? 

Yes, there are activities or situations that I intentionally create to trigger a creative process. For example, if I want to make a purely feminist piece, I'll get in my studio and start listening to a feminist podcast. And it often inspires me. I can listen to the podcast, and the host or guest will say a word or a phrase that will give me the idea I need to work with. 

What materials do you use for your artistic creations? 

I create with acrylic paint, sand, shells, cowrie shells, flowers, objects, beads, and papier-mâché́ that I make myself. I use quite a lot of beads in my work. 

Do these tools have specific meanings in your work in general? 

Yes, they do. When I use the cowrie shell, for example, every time I use it, it's to symbolize the female sex. The cowrie's shape already resembles a vulva. So, every time I use cowries in my work, it's to express the female sex. It's true that I've drawn it before, but I often express it in an abstract way, trying out cowries in select pieces of work. 

And the flowers, depending on the flower… I've been using isaora a lot lately. The isaora is a flower that symbolizes strength and courage. And when I use isaora in my work, it's very much to symbolize the strength and courage of women in the face of adversity. Because to live as a woman is to live in adversity all the time. The beads… if you notice, I use tools that are quite socially associated with femininity. We African women wear beads on our hips, we wear beads on our ankles, we dress in beads. I really like these reminders of femininity when working with beads. The sand and shells are simply a reminder of the earth and nature, to which I'm very close in my work. 

I saw that you have a lot of creations with Afro hair. Does this have a specific meaning in what you create, like the elements you just mentioned? 

Yes, absolutely. I have to say that when I discovered natural hair - it’s very funny even for me to say that because it's something you're born with. It was in late 2015 when I was caught up in the wave of transition back to natural hair. I was passionate about it. I had a certain fascination with Afro hair because it's rooted in our history. Today, I would say that wearing natural hair is a total political act. Incorporating this into my paintings is a way of recalling the naturalness of the African woman, which is her Afro hair. It's a way of living in a society where standards of beauty are not necessarily set by us, but we subscribe to them. I want to show in my art that Black women are beautiful with their natural hair, and even beyond beauty, that it's acceptable to wear your Afro hair. 

How do you feel about all this personally; talking about yourself and women through your art? 

That's a good question because I haven't really asked myself this. For me, it's much easier to express myself through art than to sit down and talk to someone. I'm a very private person. With art, I don't ask questions, I don't think, I just express myself. It's my own state of expression, actually. When I started painting again, it was often on impulse, and it was like my secret garden, but not so secret. Especially since I don't do figurative work and that it takes a bit of interpretation to understand, especially the paintings that have to do with my own feelings. How do I experience it? I experience it as liberation. 

“ For me, it’s much easier to express myself through art than to sit down and talk to someone.”

Who are the women artists who inspire you? 

There's Frida Kahlo. Honestly, how do you put it? It's a bit of a cliché to love Frida Kahlo when you're an artist, but her work, the way she was, the way she expressed herself in her art, the way she made herself vulnerable in her art, it's something I've always been drawn to. Even back when I didn't know her, there were certain works of hers that I'd seen on the internet which fascinated me. When you talk about artists who reveal themselves totally in their art, Frida Kahlo embodies that. She talked about fairly sensitive subjects like the loss of children, in other words, things that many women can experience, but which we rarely see women talk about because of the taboo that surrounds them. 

Among African women, there's a Senegalese painter I truly like: Younousse Sèye, because of her pioneering work. She's one of the forerunners of contemporary African art, and I love the way she arranges the cowries on a canvas. I think those are the two I can name right now. 

What challenges do you face in living, creating, and living as a feminist artist? 

For the moment, the challenge is to be visible and make myself known. It's quite complicated for me, as I'm not naturally an extrovert. But I do try to get out as much as I can, to show my work and, there's this intimate side to my work. Given that a lot of what I do comes from deep inside me and that I'm an introvert, I tend not to necessarily want to... I find it hard to show what I do because I feel I'm being exposed. But I know it's important for me to show because I don't have that much to share. I don't have that much to share to keep it to myself. I must get it out there. So, I'd say for now, those are the challenges I have. 

What are your projects, not only in the field of art, but also combining art and feminism? 

I already want to put together exhibitions and show my work. I want to evolve more in the art world and make myself better known. Secondly, I want to use the artistic influence I've gained to influence the feminist cause, to feed it some more, and to give a greater voice to my sisters working in the field. I also want to work with communities that need art, to draw inspiration from women's stories to create art and show their experience through my art. 

You'll get there! Do you experience a certain sisterhood with other women in the practice of your art? 

I'd say I've met a lot of women artists and it's always a pleasure to talk to them, to realize that we have so much in common. I have a project and I've already talked about it with a few Beninese women artists, and I hope we'll be able to pull it off. It's to create an organization of Beninese and African women artists because I don't think we're going to close ourselves off with activism. And it will be an interesting way of living and building our sisterhood. I'm always talking to other women artists, and that's been a real eye-opener for me. Because we advise each other, we discuss career paths, we give each other tips. From what I've seen, and from my own experience, I'd say that women are pretty united in this business. 

And beyond the artistic community, I'm trying to cultivate my relationships with other women more and more. Given that we grew up in a society that didn't encourage us to reach out to each other. 

Today, I take great pleasure in bonding with other women, and talking to other women, even though I'm an introvert who finds it hard to reach out to others. When I meet other women, especially in the activist world, I try to chat with them. I've had some very nice encounters in the activist world, I've had lots of opportunities thanks to the women I've met, and I'm happy to say that we're in the process of building this sisterhood. It's something I feel very strongly about because I'm a fervent believer in the fact that it's the sisterhood that will truly enable us to go all the way, to overcome the constraints of patriarchy and even to defeat it. 

I'm a firm believer in that, too. What does being a feminist mean to you? 

For me, feminism is about standing up against the things that oppress us as women and prevent us from being fulfilled and being ourselves. It's about working so that women, the other women around us, can do that too. That's how I see my feminism. Because I know that we don't all have the opportunity to make the choices that will set us free. So, for those of us who do have the opportunity to make that choice, we must do so for others and work in whatever way we can to enable other women to make those choices too. 

And to end what has been a wonderful conversation, what is your feminist motto? 

Wow! That's something I hadn't really thought about. Do I have a feminist motto? I don't know if we'll call it feminist. I often say that I want to be a woman who will leave her laughter as a legacy. Because often, as African women, what we leave as a legacy is our suffering. When we talk about our mothers or the women who lived before us, we focus much more on what they did, how they suffered, how they died out, and how they sacrificed themselves for society. And we rarely talk about happy women, who were fulfilled. And that's what I want to leave as a legacy. That's my motto. I've written it in my notes, I've written it in my diaries. I want to be a woman who leaves a legacy of laughter. 

Thank you so much for chatting with us, Mafoya!

“I didn't want to be a good woman in the eyes of society” - Mafoya Glélé Kakaï (Benin) 2/3

Our conversation with Mafoya Glélé Kakaï, feminist lawyer, painter, and poet from Benin, continues. In the first part, we talked about key moments of her childhood, notably her strong bond with her grandparents, her love of reading and writing, and her questioning of the gender inequalities she observed. 

In this second part, she shares her thoughts on her relationship with her mother, gender stereotypes and social expectations of women's roles, and the beginning of her journey as an artivist. 

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How did your parents react to your questions? 

I was lucky enough to have quite open-minded parents who never put a stop to my impulses. Especially my father, since it's his family we're talking about. He was always there to answer my questions when we went to Abomey. He answered my questions as best as he could. And when I told him that I didn't agree with the way things were going and that there were things that disgusted me, he let me express myself without restricting me.

But sometimes my reactions shocked my father a little. When I discovered the word feminist and started expressing myself about feminism and everything, I bought a T-shirt that had “feminist” written on it. The first time I wore it, when my father saw it, he smiled and said, “You don't need to write it down, we already know”. 

Did your relationship with your mother play a role in your questioning and realizations? We haven't talked about it much so far. 

Yes, my relationship with my mother played a role, but not in the sense of encouragement. My mother is an exceptional woman. She excels in her work. She's a real professional role model for me. She's very organized. She trained as a French teacher. Then she trained to become an inspector. And to do that, she had to go back to school when she was already working. But some things were a bit difficult. When I observed my mother, and how uncomfortable she was, especially at parties, I felt pain. It made me want to get away from the model she was. I thought she worked too hard, did too much, and risked her health in the kitchen. 

My mother could spend a day or two preparing for the party, and by the time everything's ready, by the time the party's supposed to start, I would look at her and she was tired, exhausted. She couldn’t enjoy the work she'd done; she couldn't eat. She was still on the lookout to make sure everyone was enjoying themselves, that everyone was feeling good instead of relaxing and enjoying the party too. And when the party was over, there’s the tidying up that follows immediately. It was work upon work.

I think that was the first thing I noticed that made me decide I didn't want to be a woman like that. Because if being a woman means working so hard, with no rewards other than “Wow, that's delicious! Truly Madame GLELE, I don't know how you do it all. You’re an exceptional woman”, I don’t want it. There’s something my father’s family used to say to her: “A non sin asou”. And that’s something I didn’t like because, if you translate it into French, it sounds a bit like “you celebrate your husband, you truly submit to your husband”. I didn’t like it. It’s very paradoxical. 

Why do you say that? 

Because in her work, my mother never let herself be pushed around. She was always brilliant. She gave me a love of literature, and we often had discussions about characters in books. She'd give me books to read, and then, since I studied literature in school and she was a French teacher, we'd discuss and work on what I'd read. When I read books like So Long a Letter by Mariama Bâ or Caught in the Storm by Seydou Badian, we'd discuss the female characters. I'd tell her what I thought of the way a particular female character had been portrayed. I'd tell her that I didn't always agree with the way a certain character or a certain thing had turned out. And she'd tell me what she thought. Our discussions were very intellectual. 

I've often noticed this paradox too. Between what some women are as themselves and what they are when they try to conform to the expectations of patriarchal society, it's not the same thing. 

When I saw my mother struggling, despite her frail health, and doing everything to please, well, to fulfill the social role she'd been assigned, I said to myself, “Oh no, I don't want to live that kind of life.” And that was a big argument between her and me, because I told her I didn't want to. Fearing how I was going to be perceived in society, she told me I had to do it, to be a good woman in the eyes of society. I made her understand that I didn't want to be a good woman in the eyes of society, that I wanted to be a whole person. A whole human person and not just a woman in the way society sees women. And I struggled a bit with her about these things. 

How did you deal with this? 

I took great pleasure in learning to cook the things I liked to eat. Unfortunately, it caused her a lot of worry and pain. Precisely because I told her there was no point in me learning to cook something if I didn't like it. And she would say, “But what if your husband likes it.” And I'd tell her that he would cook it himself. I've seen my father cook several times and my mother, as I said, has health challenges. When I was a child and she had to be in hospital because of her illness, my father used to cook for us.

So, for me, it's normal that if you like to eat something, you know how to cook it. When we cooked something or when my mother cooked something he didn't like, he didn't tell my mother, “Go and make me something else. I want to eat that.” He'd go into the kitchen and make himself what he wanted to eat. And it was these little examples that showed me that there were other models for couples that could be possible. 

It’s an example that we don’t hear about very often in our contexts.

Another thing: when my brother was having fun and she told me I had to come to the kitchen to learn, that irritated me. I would say to her, “There are two of us, why do I have to be the only one?” And she'd say, “Well, he'll have a wife and you'll have a husband.” It made me angry because I understood where she was coming from. She didn't want me to look bad in society. She often told me about the famous mother-in-law test, the cooking test, and she would proudly tell me how she passed her own test, which was given to her by one of my father's aunts. And she'd tell me how she passed her test with flying colors, and she hoped I'd pass mine with the same success. But I didn't want to learn to cook just to pass a cooking test. 

I've heard of it, but only very vaguely. What's this cooking test? 

The cooking test is often carried out at the mother-in-law's house or in the home of one of the future husband's aunts. During a visit, they would ask the future daughter-in-law to cook certain things. And it's a test in the sense that you're not automatically asked to cook when you meet your in-laws. It comes out of the blue. You'll arrive one day and they'll say, “Oh, there's such and such in the kitchen. Can you cook so we can eat? Can you help me out today?” But it's just a test, and at the end, when you've finished cooking, they'll say, “Ah well, you've cooked well, you've tidied up well, you're ready to be our son's wife”. It's something like that. But there's really no test. On the other hand, you'll rarely hear that the daughter's family has tested the future son-in-law in some way. It's always a test for the daughter-in-law. 

It's one of the practices that reduces women to cooking and housework and perpetuates sexist stereotypes. 

It's unbelievable and outrageous for me. Having said that, I'm happy to say that today, my mother is freer from this burden. And I'm happy to have contributed to that. We both influence each other. And over time, my feminist stance has opened her eyes to certain things. For example, last March 8, she asked me to help her write a text that spoke of the very essence of International Women’s Day. She refused to buy the uniform cloth, but engaged in some feminist outreach, instead. I was proud of her. I thought, “Wow, that's my mom”.

When she goes to school assemblies to discuss sexuality with students and talk about consent, and sexual and reproductive rights, I'm happy because I say to myself, in real life, we talk a lot, but she listens when I talk to her too. Now, when she reflects, she realizes that society is evolving and that, yes, I don't necessarily need to learn how to cook this dish or another, because there are plenty of catering services. And I tell her, beyond catering services, if you like to eat something as a human being, you need to know how to cook what you like to eat. 

“Over time, my stance, my feminism, opened her eyes to certain things.”

Well done! In the beginning, you introduced yourself as a painter, historian, and poet. Can you talk to me about that? 

After graduating from high school, I studied diplomacy and international relations in university. It wasn't a personal choice. I didn't exactly know what to do when I graduated, because what I was passionate about was art, poetry, and writing, but there wasn't any artistic training. Today, I know there's a school on campus, but there wasn't one before. There was also prejudice against artistic work in our country because there's so little financial security in this profession that parents don't necessarily encourage their children to pursue this career. 

I was told about diplomacy, how I could travel as a diplomat, and all that. I also saw this training as an opportunity because with traveling, I could talk about art. So, I thought, why not? I was also passionate about history, and it's a course where you talk a lot about history and geopolitics. I'm not going to say that I hated my training. I truly enjoyed studying diplomacy and international relations. I learned a lot. 

So, while you initially went into diplomacy and international relations, you still had a passion for art, poetry, and writing. How did you experience the transition between your academic studies and your decision to return to your artistic passions? 

Two years after my diplomatic studies, I enrolled in law school to obtain a law degree. I hadn't finished that when I heard about the UNESCO Chair and the master’s in Human Rights and Democracy. I'd already started reading up a bit on feminism. So, I said to myself, by doing a master's in the defence of human rights, I can also end up doing something that will enable me to contribute to the defence of women's rights. So, I did my master's. 

In the meantime, I had a chat with my father, and he said to me, “You've got a degree now. I think it's time you got back to your passions: drawing and art. Now is the time to devote yourself to it. You've already got a diploma, so if you need to find a job with a diploma, it's already done”. I must admit that I had begun to doubt my ability to be an artist, even though I think that, whether you make a living out of it or not, when you're an artist, you will always be one. It was after my master’s that I said to myself, well, I can't go on like this. This is something I love. It's something that's... I can't explain my connection with art. I must try. I bought some art supplies and started drawing again. 

How did your passion for art come about? 

It's something that came naturally to me because I don't know anyone around me who draws or paints. It came naturally to me. I know that drawing was one of my favorite classes in primary school. I've always been drawn to creating something that doesn’t exist, something that comes from me.

As a child, I used to crush chalk. Both my parents were French teachers. I used to take the colored chalk sticks they brought home and crush them, then mix them with water. And on A4 paper, I'd make little drawings and so on. For Mother's Day, for example, I'd give my mother drawings or little paintings, which were always abstract at the time. Or I was already interested in collage at the time. Collage is a technique I use a lot in my artistic practice today. I used to take seashells, make flowers out of them, and glue them onto paper or old calendars to make them last longer, and give them to her for Mother's Day. It just came naturally to me. 

In the third and final part of our conversation with Mafoya, we talk about artivism, her personal and artistic journey that combines her art and her feminist convictions. Click here to read part 3.