"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. 

“I feel that I was born with this desire to make women look good.” – Mafoya Glélé Kakaï (Benin) 1/3

Mafoya Glélé Kakaï is a young feminist artist from Benin. She’s a poetess, a painter, and a self-reflective sculptress engaged in personal exploration through her artistic work. She uses art as an authentic medium to tell her story, express her emotions, and share her experiences as a woman and those of other women from her perspective. Mafoya calls herself an artivist because of her activist art that serves feminist causes in many ways. She is also a blogger and a human rights lawyer, with a focus on defending the rights of Beninese and African women.

In this conversation with Chanceline Mevowanou, Mafoya talks about her feminist journey and her engagements as an artivist. In the first part, she shares key moments from her childhood, especially her strong bond with her grandparents, and her love for reading and writing, as well as questions related to the treatment of women that she observed, particularly in traditions and social attitudes. In the second part, she talks about her relationship with her mother, gender stereotypes and social expectations related to the role of women, and the beginning of her artistic career. Finally, in the third part, the conversation focuses on Mafoya’s personal and artistic journeys as they relate to art and her feminist beliefs.  

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Hello Mafoya. Thank you for agreeing to chat with me. Please introduce yourself.

My name is Mafoya Glélé Kakaï. I'm a lawyer, painter, and feminist poet. I'm the coordinator of the Girl Talk program in Benin with the Choose Yourself organization. I'm also a blogger. My blog is called Agoodojie. It's a feminist blog that aims to break social taboos by tackling issues such as menstruation, female sexuality, women's physical and mental health, and also social issues that affect women. I'm originally from Abomey, more specifically Sinwé-Lègo. I grew up and live in Cotonou. I don't know if you can tell from my surname. I'm a descendant of a royal family in Benin. 

Yes, when I heard your surname, I figured. So, what is it like to grow up as a descendant of royalty? 

I grew up in Cotonou, as I was saying. I spent my early childhood in Akpakpa with my parents. We didn't live very far from my maternal grandparents. We spent a lot of time with them. Our parents were at that stage of life when you're building yourself up and you're working a lot. So, our grandparents were there. That meant we had trusted adults who could take care of us during the day when our parents went to work. When I say our parents, I mean my cousins and me. I had a pretty quiet childhood, a pretty good one, so to speak. I was quite a sensitive and curious child. I asked a lot of questions. 

It seems like your grandparents left their mark on your childhood. What were they like? 

I felt very close to my grandparents. There was this respect we had to have for grandparents, but they were also quite open to us, their grandchildren. They were very involved in our lives, above and beyond the respect we owe our elders, so they had a big impact on our childhood. 

Of the two, I was closer to my grandmother. At that age, she was my best friend. I was very moody and had a very clear-cut way of thinking, which meant I wasn't necessarily accepted in my immediate environment. My cousins and I often argued. And my grandmother was the one who understood me. Today, I wouldn’t say she understood me, but she accepted me fully and completely. Whenever something went wrong, I would go and take refuge with her. She often put me on her lap while she cooked. I don't recall us talking, but there were these little moments when I could take refuge in her. 

As for my grandfather, he was a veterinarian. I think it was he who gave me my love for animals. We'd always go and feed the animals in the henhouse. We usually went with my cousin, who's a few months older than me, and he used to hold her hand.

How old were you when these moments occurred? 

From when I was born to when I was 6-7 years old. 

Apart from your relationship with your grandparents, were there other significant things from your childhood? 

Yes, books! There was the first time I was enrolled at the French Institute, which was called the Centre Culturel Français (CCF – French Cultural Center) at the time. I think I was between 7 and 8 years old. It had a big impact on me because I've always loved books. I've been devouring books since I was a little girl, and I remember the first time I was taken to the CCF and went into the library, I felt like I was in paradise. My mother had taken me there. It's something we share, this passion for books. And it was a positive experience for me. 

And what books did you like to read back then? 

It was mainly collections of stories that I read. As a child, I was influenced by the tales of Ahmadou Kourouma. I also read Pourquoi le bouc sent mauvais (Eng: Why does the billy goat smell) and other tales from Benin. These were the story collections that fascinated me as a child. I also wrote poetry. My father is a published poet, and I grew up with this man, for whom everything had to stop around him for him to write, whenever he was inspired. He would gather us in the living room in the evenings - my brother, my mother, and me - and read us his poems. 

Do you remember the first time you wrote a poem? 

Yes, there was a contest organized at my school when I was in primary school, where we had to create objects that would be put in a treasure chest to be opened in 2050 to show the children of 2050 how we lived back then. I wanted to take part, but I didn't know what to do. I'd been drawing since then, but I didn't feel like using drawing as a medium. The day we had to hand in our ideas… because first we had to hand in the ideas and the best ideas would be selected. And when your idea is selected, you go through the next stages. I remember the day we had to hand in the ideas, we were back in school after the Christmas vacation. I was in the bathroom showering and I remembered my father writing. I said to myself, I'm going to try my hand at poetry. 

My idea was selected, and then I wrote the poem. My parents read it and corrected the minor mistakes I made. My poem was selected and I had to recite it at the ceremony where the works were then locked in the trunk. For a super shy kid like me, it was an event that left a lasting impression on me and made me want to write even more. 

That’s amazing. Anything negative from your childhood? 

Yes. The death of my grandparents for a start. They died within two months of each other, and then we moved. That's when we moved to Fifadji, the neighborhood I live in now. The death of my grandparents affected me tremendously. 

Oh, I’m so sorry.

Then there were the moments of inequality that I noticed. In primary school, when it came to electing class leaders, it was always a boy who was first in charge and the second in charge was a girl. As if girls couldn't hold the position of responsibility as well as boys. At the time, I didn't have enough courage to put myself forward for election, but whenever a girl ran for the elections, even when the boy opposing her was a very close friend of mine, I always voted for the girl. I feel I was born this way, with this preference, this desire to make women look good. So I was always on the side of women, no matter what. 

“I feel like I was kind of born this way, with this preference, this desire to make women look good.”

In 2006, when Marie-Élise GBEDO (the first Beninese woman to run for president) ran for office, I was asked at school, "If you could vote, who would you vote for?” I always said I'd vote for the only person who looked like me among the candidates: Marie-Élise GBEDO. She was the only woman I saw, so that's who I was going to vote for.

The first and only play I wrote was in the fifth grade. We had to create an end-of-year show, and I wrote a play about a woman who was going to try to convince the people of her village to vote for her in an election, and who ended up winning the election. This play was clearly inspired by Marie-Élise GBEDO, because when I was in the fifth grade, she used to run for elections and people were generally against her.

And I think that, too, was a feminist awakening, even if I didn't know it at the time. For a long time, I thought that I was weird, that I was an alien, because what seemed so legitimate to me - equality, gender equality - was not legitimate to others, and I couldn’t understand it. 

Speaking of feminist awareness and related things, are there other moments that come to mind?

There were also my observations on the imposition of colors. I wasn't happy about people trying to impose their love of pink on me, supposedly because it was a feminine color. I didn't like the fact that colors were gendered. To me, they were just colors. And for someone who has been artistic since childhood, I've never really had a favorite color. I like them all because, for me, they express different things at different times. And the fact that someone wanted to impose pink on me, irritated me. When there were so many objects to be handed out, and someone said to me, “Oh, you're a girl, you've got to use pink”, it truly pissed me off.

It was a moment of feminist awareness, even if at the time I didn't know why. I just started hating pink so deeply, that I couldn't comprehend why. However, now I've reconciled myself with color because not gendering colors means accepting all colors as they are and not rejecting so-called feminine colors. 

You mentioned being a descendant of a royal family. Are there things that you’ve observed within your family that also raised your awareness?

Yes, when we went to Abomey with my parents, for example, I could see how my brother was treated compared to me. When the adults asked me about my brother, they would usually ask “What about your older brother?” and I'd reply “I don't have an older brother. He's my little brother and he's fine.” And they'd say “Ah, even if he's a year old and you're seven or six, he's your big brother here.” And I'd say “No, I'm the older one, I'm the big sister.” 

When you have to greet the king or the community leaders, the men just rub their foreheads on the ground. I didn't understand why women had to annihilate themselves so much. I rarely kissed the ground. I did it the men's way. I also didn't like the fact that at every ceremony, the men sat around laughing and that it was the women who were in the kitchen. I always thought at the time that this was a life I didn't want for myself. These are things that negatively impacted me. 

In the second part of our conversation with Mafoya, we explore her thoughts about her relationship with her mother, gender stereotypes, especially social expectations related to the role of women, and the beginning of her journey as a feminist artivist. Click here for part 2.