“You need the power of a support system that will protect you. ” : Aya Chebbi (Africa -Tunisia) – 3/3

This is the final part of my conversation with Aya Chebbi, and I must say I have felt very intrigued by Aya’s story. We have spoken about her pan-african identity and how it influences her work (Part 1); her experiences during the Tunisian revolution and her work as the AU Youth Envoy (Part 2). 

In this final part, we discuss feminism, feminist organising and navigating patriarchal spaces.

When you spoke at the W7 event in Paris, the first thing that you did was to introduce yourself as a feminist. What does that mean when you say you're a feminist?

Being a Pan-Africanist equals being feminist, I don't separate both, and I always say there is no Pan-Africanism without feminism. Pan-Africanism would not have existed if not for the feminist women who drove liberation movements. If women didn't sacrifice, if they weren't behind the scenes of the liberation struggle, there wouldn't be a Pan-African agenda. In my mind, they're so interlinked, and for me, when I say Pan-African, it includes the feminist lens. Feminism for me is being self-liberated as a woman. It's not about any woman coming to you and saying, “You have the right, this person cannot beat you because of this.” If you are not liberated and you cannot be you in every single space, for me, you can't come and lecture me about feminism. 

What would you say was the defining moment in this journey in your life? It doesn't have to be the moment when you said, “Oh, I'm a feminist” but it is a moment that you think is a defining moment in that journey, that you have had as a feminist so far. Either a moment of transformation or a moment of realization.

I think there are so many moments but when I started traveling and focusing on youth, being part of women circles was so eye opening because I was also in a bubble where the definitions of feminism, sisterhood, and womanhood can be limiting. Coming into these other spaces, I realized there’s so much more and that made me feel I'm a part of a bigger movement. I'm a part of - at the time I didn't even realize this -  the sisterhood or rather a community of women who are fighting for their rights and believe in it and make you believe that we can do it. I think so many conversations with women inspired me. Also, I grew up as an only child and all my life I was surrounded by men, not women. It had always been portrayed to me that there is jealousy between women, and I felt betrayed by my women friends and female friends.

“When I first got support from a woman, it was so defining for me.”

It completely changed my idea of what a community of womanhood is about, it became about support because you are a female and because I hear your pain. That’s also when I realized that in my life, I need a support system. I need women to be in my life. I think that also defines my feminism, because when you fight for feminism, at the end of the day you're like an amateur in masculine spaces without really fighting with other women. It doesn’t make any sense. The global feminist movement made sense to me, because I wouldn't, before, define myself as part of global feminism, the fourth wave of feminists, because I disagree ideologically. For me, everything comes together if a woman comes and gives me a hug and in that sincere moment of sisterhood.

So, your feminist experience is coming in the moments of sharing and caring rather than the moments of big talk?

Absolutely. The Eyala Circle we had in Vancouver was so healing for me. It was so healing to be in a safe space, even when I don't share. Also, I’ve never learned how to be vulnerable, and it's so hard. It's still so hard to be in a safe space and be vulnerable and to share your own experience. But hearing others just empowers me, and you could share the pain without saying any word. That is so helpful.

But there are some spaces, and many of them you are in, that they don't just let you be a feminist. When I was living in France and I was interested in questions around being a black girl in France, about the entire racism movement, even Pan-Africanist movement and there was this refusal to integrate any issues around your specific challenges as an African woman. I can only imagine it’s the same for you even today. Is that something that you encounter or not? How does that manifest and how do you navigate that? How do you negotiate?

I think it's worse because you're young and you're female. It’s like double crime. This is something I'm still navigating because every time I think… patriarchy is so creative. Every time I think to myself, “I can manage this, I encounter this, I know how to put people into their place.” And then patriarchy comes in a different way, manifests differently.

I also had a horrible experience in France, when I delivered remarks at the Generation Equality Forum in Paris in Summer 2021. I was proudly wearing my African dress and wrap sitting on a panel with Melinda French Gates, Prime Minister Sanna Marin and minister Elisabeth Moreno. The speech was picked up by Brut and went viral and I received the most Islamophobic and misogynistic comments and direct messages. I had to disconnect from my social media for a week. 

In diplomacy and even the most educated spaces, there is always power involved which makes it more complicated. How to handle it? Honestly, it's a work in progress. I feel good in my skin when I am just me, free, bold, unapologetic and I’m trying to do more of that and fuck the patriarchy.

How do you channel that power, as a young woman, African, North African speaking for Africa? How do you navigate and negotiate those times when patriarchy comes, because it can be so devastating in the small things? 

I was talking about this yesterday, in a group with Moroccan youth. We were talking about harassment and people wanting to see me fail. A mechanism that works for me, that I started three months ago, is to write diaries and treat people as characters. Whether it's patriarchy or whether people who want to use me, manipulate me, the people who want to instrumentalize me or people who want to see me fail, I would just observe their behavior. 

I remember the first three months I would be very reactive to things and get frustrated. That doesn't work in the world of politics and diplomacy and it doesn't bring me any friends. And I think once I started writing, I started taking my time to absorb all that was coming and deal with it. And I think that helped me to manage some difficult situations. I started to smile more when others are uncomfortable with my presence or opinion, or leadership style.  

What do you think is the aspect of your personality that makes you a successful feminist activist?

I’m not sure I am a successful feminist.  Success for me is when I reach my goal and I don't feel like I accomplished my mission, so I don't feel like I'm successful. Success for me is not obvious, so, I don't know about that. I would say I’m inspiring, yes, because I see many people change things after we meet and something that really touched me, but I don't see it as success. But something in me that puts me in this space or gives me the platform comes back to my childhood. I lived like a nomad with my father and I have encountered many experiences that made me understand diversity. Even when I started traveling, meeting people who don't look like me, different in everything, ideology, experiences etc. I was prepared for it by 20 years of me moving around Tunisia and understanding our mosaic. I didn’t see it as something to navigate, but something that came naturally. 

When I started traveling and started really believing the Pan-African vision, taking it, convincing people, and recruiting people into it, people believed in me or joined me because I engage them with all the layers that they have. I did not know that here’s my power, but after a decade, seeing how the movement grew and how people really took it and self-organized, I’m proud to say that I've been part of that as a Tunisian, despite all the stereotypes about me.

“Growing up with values of how you become part of people beyond any differences and diversity is the best thing.”

What gives you the biggest sense of achievement as a woman, as a feminist?

Honestly, there are many. Some of them are very personal. But also a big policy change that I’ve been part of in Tunisia where we changed the law that used to allow rapists to marry survivors, and where we managed to push back on a law that said women are complementary to men. We had huge protests, and men were on the front line with us and those big moments of winning feel great as a feminist. However, on a daily basis, it's really whatever you can to fuck patriarchy. Other times where, as a community and as feminists, we come together and feel empowered, it also fulfils me. And it’s so beautiful.

One of the things that I’m seeing since I launched Eyala… I'm realising as I speak with people and people talk to me about their experiences, making a decision to live your life a certain way or to liberate yourself, as you said, sometimes it's a big decision, and sometimes it’s a small one. What's the biggest decision that you've had to make? What would be your advice for somebody who's on the fence and not knowing even how to go about it?

I think first to claim your right to choose, to be. I made many decisions that I feel are self-liberating starting within my family even though the consequences were difficult, especially for my parents. My extended family is very conservative, religiously. There are specific ways, cultures, values, they would not understand why I live like this or I believe this. Eventually, everyone became proud of what I stand for. They finally see me. I think the biggest decision I made was to stand up against the elders in the family and just be like, “This is who I am.” 

Let me give you some background. I was adopted by my dad's brother. My biological parents already had four kids when I was born, and my father decided to ‘gift’ me to his brother to raise as his child. We left the village when I was four years old, but we would go back every vacation. We’re very connected to the village and my grandmother. The father who raised me is a feminist even though he wouldn’t admit it. But he was empowered to be, to rebel, and regardless of our disagreements, my right of choice was guaranteed. 

The year I turned 18, things changed because I now had my own life, and my own decisions. That whole year was difficult for me. It was a defining school year with my baccalaureate, but also a year where my father went to Democratic Republic of Congo for a UN peacekeeping mission. I’m very attached to my father, my feminist and it was just my mom and she also faced so much pressure. First, after I got my period people started looking at me as a woman and not a child anymore and started to tell me not to do things. My biological parents also felt entitled. They started to say “We have a say in your life. You can't just behave like this or wear this or whatever.”  We went to the village for my sister’s wedding, and I had a public disagreement with my biological father in front of the whole conservative extended family, the village, the community. Can you imagine me, this little thing standing in front of the eldest, publicly disagreeing with him.  You know what, I’m not going to this wedding and I’m going to wear this dress.” And then my cousin was like, “If Aya is not going, I'm not going.” It was a whole fucking mess. And even the bride was waiting for me to decide what to do. 

Wow, that’s so much power! What happened next? What did you decide?

At that moment I realised what can happen when you speak up. At that moment you are that quiet girl, and you're like, “Here’s oppression coming, so what should I do?” I would have never done anything in my family if I didn't know my father is a feminist because he backs me up; he protects me. He wasn’t even there but I felt empowered to be me. I was confident. I'm like, “I have my dad.”  You need the power of a support system that will protect you. I would say stand up for your rights and speak up only if you have protection, a protective system that can get you out of trouble, be it your father, your friend, your comrade. Create that support for yourself and be radical.  

And sometimes we must create that system for ourselves. As a feminist, as a woman, but generally as you, as Aya, what is a book that you turn to that you think is a book that has had a big impact for you?

There are many. Let me start with Tahar Haddad. He was a Tunisian feminist and he wrote a book in Arabic which talks about women in Islam and society. Coming from a society which claims to be liberal and progressive since 1956, then growing up in an oppressive environment, it just grounds me, in the idea that it starts from community. He talks a lot about policy and law and how we need to advance women's rights, that women are half of humanity and women are half of society. You can’t just paralyze half of society. I read many books about Elissa (also known as Dido), founder of Carthage. People say the story is a myth, but I want to believe she existed. Every time I feel like I'm judged because of my radical self, I go back to that and I’m like, “If she did it, I can do it.”

And what is your feminist’s life motto? 

Badass, I say it too much. I say it in policy spaces too, and the last time I said it was in South Sudan in front of the First Lady and the Vice President. And then the one who was coordinating was like, “I couldn't believe it, Aya, you said it in front of the First Lady.” It just defines, for me, what a full female is. It’s like, “I'm fucking me, badass”. It just makes me feel so good. 

It’s the perfect way to end our conversation. A badass note. I’ve really enjoyed speaking with you, Aya. Thank you so much for making the time to share all of this with me. 

Note from Eyala: This interview was first recorded by Françoise Moudouthe in July 2019. Updates were made in April 2022 to reflect changes and progress in Aya’s journey since the first interview period.

Want to connect with Aya?

Or give her a shout out? Find her on Twitter aya_chebbi

Let us know your thoughts in the comments below, or let’s chat on Twitter, Facebook or Instagram @EyalaBlog.

“I'm a diplomat with an activist spirit” : Aya Chebbi (Africa -Tunisia) – 2/3

Aya Chebbi was the first African Union Envoy on Youth. Photo provided by Aya

I am in conversation with Aya Chebbi, pan-african feminist organizer and the first AU Youth Envoy. In the first part of our interview, Aya spoke to us about her African identity and her root in pan-africanism. 

In this second part, we dig deeper into the vision for a united Africa and explore Aya’s experience in her role as the AU Youth Envoy. 

I want to know about your style, because you’re always dressed to kill. I have a sense that it's not just about style, but that you're making a point with what you wear. Am I wrong? 

No, you’re not. I think it is identity and self-liberation. You know you grow up wearing what people tell you to wear and there are specific standards of beauty, especially as a female person. My experience with my hair made me realise that how I'm seen reflects who I am. I was bullied for my natural hair and so I used to cut it very very short, but then was forced to have straight hair so my mom would wrap it every night in long tights to be perfectly in shape for the next day. The moment I showered, I would have to go to the salon to do my hair. This was standard in the family.  

When I went to university, I no longer had the time or money to do that and remember being shocked that I had curly hair. I loved being natural and just showering and going out with my hair as it was. In my family, especially at the beginning, the first two to three years, I would hear “Go and fix yourself, you're a mess. What is this hair? You’re a mess.” It's always heard that straight hair is what is proper. I realised my hair was political and used it to make a point about that being who I am and liking it. It takes courage, as well, to wear some of the things that I wear and walk in a room. I'm not coming in a suit and a tight skirt or the idea of what a young woman should wear, what a diplomat should wear, even in the hallways of the African Union. 

“I realized my hair was political and used it to make a point about that being who I am and liking it. ”

My Pan-African identity helped me to take the courage and assert, “This is how I want to be seen. I love my African earrings. I can't take them off. This defines me.” That’s why I dress the way I am, because it's Pan-African for me. Every piece is from some parts of Africa and it’s like, “I am all Africa and I’m walking.” And especially in Tunisia, I love that when people see me they start asking questions, “Oh my God, where is this from?” And then we start a conversation. And I love that; I love provoking that. It helps me in North Africa to start an African conversation which is hard to have. I also realized that when I’m traveling, I blog about food, about clothes, and many of the people who follow me want to go and visit these African countries. That makes them love or become curious about it, and I love that. It is changing the narrative. 

Today, what does a united Africa look like? If we can make Pan-Africanism, as you understand it today, work, what does that look like? What is that utopia for you? 

As much as I am inspired by the ‘60s, I think we have a different vision because they built borders and they fought to have nation states. For me, it's the opposite that my generation seeks today. It’s borderless and not driven by personal interests or colonial borders. People could drive and go anywhere. People would know the history of Tunisia, what Tunisians did in 2011. A Zambian child, for example, would know what Tunisians have changed and would inspire them to do something. We would be economically so powerful, we would not give a shit about colonial imperialism, we would sit at the United Nations and define things. The unity I envision has to do with a population that is conscious as Africans, a common sense of African-ness, of belonging to this space. It also has to do with leadership. Without a Pan-African leadership, it's easy to sell our resources and our agendas. We need leadership that thinks, “I will not do this to you because it's going to harm Ghana, my neighbor, or Algeria. I will not do this to you because it's going to harm Kenya.” That mindset that I should think about other countries, people as African, ideologically… that's what I would see a Pan-African leader would do.

I agree it can’t just be one leader who is thinking Pan-Africanist in a Pan-African way. It has to be a pool. Is that what you were thinking about when you started the Africa Youth Movement? 

Yes, learning from Tunisia’s revolution which was a leaderless movement.  I don't believe in Gandhi, Mandela, Martin Luther King, or the idea of one person who started something and brought the whole movement together. That, in fact, has erased many women from history. I do believe that there are leaders and people who impact or influence other people's lives, but I think if the others don't give a shit it would never happen. With the Afrika Youth Movement,  at the beginning, my idea was to bring together youth who were like me in 2011 and didn't know shit about who they are and bring them to the space and say, “Maybe this is who you are.'' I am very extremist in my Pan-Africanism, and that’s why I say I ‘radicalize’ youth because I ask critical questions and I have an agenda too. I don’t go in saying: “Maybe you're this or maybe you’re that.'' I lead with, “You’re African first.'' I'm recruiting as many youth as possible to this ideology of being African first and having the interest of our community first. 

What has that looked like? I would imagine it to be a very challenging endeavor given the diversity even within single nations.

It had taken seven years to build this movement before I left, and now looking at other movements like Black Lives Matter, which we think are big movements and massive, I think it would take more than what we’re currently doing. Whenever I travel, I realize the ones I'm recruiting are pretty much the elite. And many of them will be in leadership positions, but that will not mobilize the grassroots. And if my cousin who lives now in the North West of Tunisia on the Algerian border in the middle of nowhere is not believing in this, then we're not going to do anything. If a revolution erupts tomorrow, they wouldn’t know. They didn’t even know the revolution happened. They don’t know who’s the president. So, if you don't have these people to mobilize, then we will not arrive there.

Is this what you want to focus on next? How do you see it happening?

For me, the dream would be for the 300 million young people in Africa to all be Pan-Africanists. If I had the resources in four years, that is my goal. Between 2012 and 2015, when we started the Facebook group and launched the movement, I went to 35 African countries, deliberately selecting them, and using every single opportunity to stay longer and organize.  I would go to global conferences and then convene African meetings on the side. I was deliberate. I had a strategy. I would also always go to universities, the massive spaces where I can find many young people at the same time. 

Before I was appointed as the AU Youth Envoy, I was going to do a video and I started a tour to go everywhere and deliver talks in Africa about decolonization. My dream was to reach 3 million youth in one year. Learning from the Tunisian revolution, I would also connect them to the movement… that is the infrastructure. I would recruit these people and their following, bringing all these movements together. 300 million is a big number, but I think if we target the right people who have a significant following and mobilization magic, we can. It's not impossible; we can. 

You mention you were inspired from what you've learned from the revolution. Thinking back, how did that experience really mould who you are today as a woman, as an African, as a Tunisian?  

The revolution was life changing for me. First, because I think it came at the right time - my graduation year. It came at a time when I was being rebellious within the family, challenging extended family who tried to oppress me as a woman. I was quite radical, within my family, but I wasn’t political. I was afraid to be an activist or political because my father is in the army and could not participate in politics, and my mother was also harassed because she was wearing the veil. I put my energy in community service through photography and reading workshops in children’s hospitals. 

When the revolution came, I was fearless and I was ready because of my community service experience. I went to the refugee camp. I joined the Red Cross and others. I see my fearlessness as being in a space where you're not alone and you can say: “I don't give a fucking shit if you'll kill me because I am fucking going to win and if I die, we have a legacy because all these people are going to stand up.” They tried to frustrate me by taking my camera, because I was blogging at the time. I remember I had been scared of the police all my life but the revolution broke my fear of the system, of the institution, of the establishment. I had never felt so powerful in my life. The word “freedom” made sense again. 

You mentioned blogging and I know that your blog Proudly Tunisian had quite the following, even beyond Tunisia. Tell me more about that in relation to the revolution. 

The second thing I learned during the revolution was related to blogging because I had a duty to tell the world what's happening. I was really frustrated, and technology empowered me. When my pieces started to be picked up by international media, I saw how powerful my voice is. I used to tweet the New York Times and tell them, “No, this protest had this number, not this number.” And they would change it! I realized how I can use my voice and how I can shape conversations. I realized if I did not speak up, I would never change things. 

Another thing I learned was organizing because it was totally organic and a beautiful chaos. Many of my friends now, I met them on the streets. We were all organizing online. We didn’t know each other and somehow, we were coordinated. When Ben Ali left, we had to organize to prevent others from hijacking the space. I learned that organizing takes time and effort, and brings a lot of people together and takes inclusivity. Concepts of coalition building, organizing, bringing people, listening to people, getting feedback, made sense at the end. In the first two years, there were also many betrayals and hijacking of our movement, so I also learned that organizing is about observing and listening and not making quick judgments and getting back and engaging people because you will need them. 

“I learned that organizing takes time and effort, and brings a lot of people together and takes inclusivity.”

This is how I managed to organize because organizing youth is hectic, but also organizing African youth, who are so diverse in one country with diverse ethnicities, clans, languages etc. Even people in one country cannot sit and speak together. If I didn’t have a very strong Pan-African drive, I would have given up many times. This is what I took to the youth movement later; that it is not just about winning the fight, but building within. There are so many things I learned; I need to write a book about a revolution, one day. 

You should! I've been working in the NGO sector and international development and this whole, meaningful youth engagement, I don't even know what it means, at this point. When you were appointed as the AU Youth Envoy, what did you think about the position? 

It came as a surprise, and I did not expect to be selected because two years before I was selected, I was in the AU staging a boycott and I walked out of the same room I gave the acceptance speech. They had organized an intergenerational dialogue and I didn't like how the whole thing was working. It didn’t feel like a dialogue, and didn’t seem democratic, and I walked out with 20 other young people. 

However, I applied because I thought I deserve it and I thought that's the next level I want to be organizing within the system. I also applied for the UN Youth Envoy and I was one of the finalists. It was a total surprise, and I appreciated the way I was selected. It was a rigorous and transparent process that took several weeks. I love to tell that story to inspire youth that you can be in positions of leadership you deserve. You don't have to know someone or work for your government or because you know or are liked at the AU. And many people still think my government nominated me or something, but I spent all my life in civil society. And I also tell them being an activist can take you to diplomacy, to politics, to wherever you want to be. It's not the position; it’s what you want to do. Titles are only vehicles of change. I'm very proud of this role. I love it. I love serving the youth constituency. I hope I did it justice. I think the AU is very relevant to be united. 

And in the 2 years that you spent in this role, what has success looked like for you?

I hope I did justice to this role and built the foundation for a strong youth space within the institution. I put everything together in a legacy report to amplify the impact of young people and show what young people can do when you open more space for innovation.

I grew in between the revolution and now, I grew from resisting the system, to wanting to be in the system and change things from inside. It was scary for me. I didn't want to compromise on myself - my noisy loud radical self - and my values. I'm a diplomat with an activist spirit, and what I want to be is a bridge between generations, between disconnected systems. The problem is that as young people, we’re the radical ones and we call the system out. But then we don't know the common ground. At the same time, it's very frustrating for me to sit in rooms with old men who don't give a shit about their youth population. And who, at the most basic level, I'm not even talking about policy or implementation. I'm talking about convincing the person of why you should care. 

Tell me about that experience of navigating these spaces as a young person, especially in a leadership role. How did you feel doing that?

Currently, I'm exhausted from punching the system and I think we should find a way to dialogue with them. It's not working for us to just organize ourselves outside the corridors of power. This has become my call to curate Intergenerational Co-leadership, that we both have to find a solution together and dialogue. These spaces exist because we accept them, and we accept to be there and sit and be used. I'm moving to a space where I am organizing. I'm going to invite you to fit in my agenda and to make a commitment. That makes me feel more confident, more powerful, more agenda driven, and I'm not used as a young person. 

I would wish, after those two years, for this concept to become embedded, to be a normal thing that we should be having every day and every space to be intergenerational and co-led. The process of leadership, of governance, conversations, all the high-level things we're talking about should have this inter-generational co-leadership. I also see a difference with women's spaces. I think maybe in these spaces, people feel so inspired by other generations and they’re more comfortable to speak to an elder, than in spaces with old men.  

I agree about the difference in women’s spaces, where co-leadership is a model that many of them are adopting. I know you’ve spoken about your experience as a young person in that space that’s often dominated by older men. What was your approach as a woman?

I led in this role as a female leader. My idea of female leadership is collaborative. It is emotional intelligence; it is about uniting people around Pan-Africanism, uniting people around the African agenda. They're both linked first because I feel that we have been deprived from knowing all the women who have contributed to the liberation. I know inside me there was a massive women's movement behind it. Also, the men who inspire me like Thomas Sankara, are feminist. I can’t see Thomas Sankara as feminist without being Pan-Africanist because he fought for Africa being self-independent and said it cannot be without women’s participation and emancipation. 

You can't unite our continent or anything without being a feminist, without believing in equality and without believing that women are fundamentally part of Africa's revolution. 

In the next part of the interview, we discuss Aya’s feminist journey and her efforts to organize young Africans across the continent. Click here to read this final part.

Note from Eyala: This interview was first recorded by Françoise Moudouthe in July 2019. Updates were made in April 2022 to reflect changes and progress in Aya’s journey since the first interview period.

Join the conversation!

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

Want to connect with Aya? Follow her on Twitter @aya_chebbi

“I don’t consider myself as being from one part of Africa only” : Aya Chebbi (Africa - Tunisia) – 1/3

One thing about Aya Chebbi is that you can’t not notice her! She stands out in every way, from the clothes and jewellery she wears, to her language and her radical feminist approach. 

When Aya attended our first ever Eyala Circle, held in Vancouver in 2018, I noticed that it was the quietest I have ever seen her. She hardly said anything, and I was curious about how she could be loud in spaces that require for us to be out there, and how much in a space of shared community and vulnerability, she was very quiet, reflective and inward-looking. 

Everytime I see someone who is so outgoing and bold, I’m always interested in hearing from them, to know what their story is. When someone has a strong public persona, people often forget that they have nuances and complexities. When I got the chance to speak with Aya, I asked if she would share her story with me, and she agreed. I really wanted to know more, and I hope that our conversation brings out those complexities. 

We discuss her African identity and how pan-africanism forms the basis of her work (Part 1 below). We also spoke about her work and lessons as an organizer during the Tunisian revolution and her experience as the first AU Youth Envoy (Part 2). We ended our conversation with a discussion on her journey as a feminist activist and navigating patriarchal spaces(Part 3).

Let’s begin! 

Hello Aya, thank you for accepting my invitation. And what a treat that we’re able to have this conversation in person, here in Morocco! I’ve been thinking about a way to introduce you that is brief but still does all your achievements justice… not that easy! How do you like to introduce yourself?

The first thing I always say is that I’m Pan-African. When you meet someone, they always ask you, “where are you from?” and when I say I’m African, they want to reduce that to the country I grew up in: Tunisia. But I don’t consider myself as being from one part of Africa only. 

I am not only African. I’m ‘pan-African’. It’s not the same. Being Pan-African is both about my identity and my ideology. By calling myself a Pan-African, I’m saying not only that I belong to Africa, but also that I want to unite Africa. Like Nkrumah said “I am not African because I was born in Africa but because Africa was born in me”.

Let’s start with the identity part. 

I’m North African; I have a Mediterranean identity, an Amazigh identity, a Maghrebin identity, but also an African identity, and none of them erases the other, you know? 

I’ve been living in North Africa for a while now, and it would be an understatement to say that not everyone feels as African as you do…

It’s true, and it’s sad, because we’ve been deprived of our African identity. Things changed after independence: everything became Arabized and Islamized. We don’t study anything about African history in school, and there’s a language barrier that makes it difficult to read writings from authors from the rest of the continent. 

So how did the awareness about your own African-ness come about?

I think it came through two experiences I had early in my journey. I joined my father who worked in the Tunisian army, at the Choucha refugee camps at Ras Jdir that he set up and managed on the Tunisian – Libyan borders following the fighting between pro-Gaddafi forces and rebels in Libya. About one million refugees, mostly African migrants, fled across the border into Tunisia. It was like being in a history book about Africa. I would just sit there for hours and talk to people from ‘Senegambia’, Benin, Sierra Leone and other countries and history I’d never even heard about. And yet I found myself relating with some of their stories. 

Secondly, the experience of crossing colonial borders and visiting countries was so important. My first few trips were to Kenya and Senegal. I felt at home sharing meals, breaking the fast, talking about Islamisation, learning about the connection between Swahili and Arabic, and walking down Habib Bourguiba avenue in Dakar. That familiarity was eye-opening, especially coming from a country where people have all these stereotypes about the rest of Africa. 

And were you ever on the receiving end of stereotypes about your own identity from other Africans?

During my time in Kenya in 2012, I realised that most people who looked at me wouldn’t think of me as African. They thought I was from Spain or Brazil and would call me Mzungu or something like that. I became hungry to know why people would think I'm not African, so I’d ask them. Almost every day I would explain: “I'm from Tunisia. That’s in North Africa. I'm African.” That was the start of claiming my identity. 

The more I traveled across Africa, the more obsessed I felt with the idea of Pan-Africanism. I started to read about how North Africans relate to the rest of Africa, and I started reading about the African liberation movement. It just fascinated me how countries got independence one after the other because of solidarity, of the whole ideology of coming together as African and liberating ourselves. This is how my current identity came about, became strong, and became political. I really believe we've got our whole shit together.

My conversation with Aya is off to a powerful start, indeed. In the second part, we explore more of her thoughts on pan-africanism, and learn about her experience as the first AU Youth Envoy. Click here to read Part 2.

Note from Eyala: This interview was first recorded by Françoise Moudouthe in July 2019. Updates were made in April 2022 to reflect changes and progress in Aya’s journey since the first interview period.

Join the conversation!

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

Want to connect with Aya? Follow her on Twitter @aya_chebbi