"We need more feminist convening spaces where we can talk about our realities." - Marie-Bénédicte Kouadio (Côte d'Ivoire) 2/2

Our conversation with Riane-Paule Katoua, Marie-Bénédicte Kouadio, and Mariam Kabore continues.  In the first part, we talked about their feminist awakening, the realities and concerns they face, and how they live out their feminist convictions.

In this second part, they discuss their relationship with reading, feminist education, the importance of documenting African women's stories, and their dreams as feminists.

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How do you deal with the fact that people are always out there trying to attack feminists, bringing up the tough questions? 

Marie-Bénédicte: It was hard at first. Because I like to respond to everything. When I'm attacked, I immediately respond. So, I tended to be on the defensive all the time. When someone attacks me, I react. The more you engage in the movement, the more you see that there’s more to it than that. We’re indeed all human, and often some words are very strong. Some things are said that truly hurt and you wonder, should I answer, shouldn't I answer?

Now, I think you must learn not to respond to everything. At worst, you simply make fun of it and move on. Whatever you say, they'll keep attacking you, putting you down. So, it’s better to move on and focus on the important battles. The ones that will be useful for our mission and make women's rights move forward. The advice of my predecessors also allows me to take a step back. Sometimes it’s indeed really annoying and I still talk back, but these days I try as much as I can to stay out of debates that don't make the movement move forward in any way. 

It's not always easy, but we'll get there. Getting back to books, are there any feminist books you've read that have had an impact on you?

Marie-Bénédicte: Yes, many, many books have had an impact on me. For example, there's a French book called Féminisme et Pop Culture, by Jennifer Padjemi. It's a book I came across totally by chance, but it truly impacted me because it tackles feminist issues, the main issues. The author, a woman, does it with examples from everyday life. She chose pop culture, cinema, music, and TV series, and uses these examples to show the progress of feminist struggles. For instance, in the book, she talks about the representation of Black women in TV series. So before, you were in a pattern where there were no Black women at all in series, or if they were there, they had the role of the nannies or housewives. They were made invisible.

That’s really interesting. 

Marie-Bénédicte: This is one of the first books I recommend. It's an easy read, even though it's quite bulky. There's another book I read not long ago. It's a kind of autobiography by an Ivorian feminist, Madame Georgette Zamblé. It's a sort of autobiography, and at the same time, it deals with feminist issues, how she discovered herself as a feminist, how she managed, to effectively change things in her community, how she fought certain battles and all. I thought it was a very interesting read because it brings you comfort as a young woman, as a young feminist. It’s a confirmation that you're not actually crazy. If there are ladies in their fifties talking to you about the very things you're going through right now, the battles you're waging, it's clear that you're not crazy. You haven't made anything up as people say. You didn't bring it from the West, as they say on Facebook.

Would you say that the books you read contributed to your feminist education?

Marie-Bénédicte: Absolutely. Books, regardless of the genres we read, inevitably influence our culture and our personality. So, reading books that have to do with feminism, clearly shapes you. It allows you to go deeper into certain notions, to even learn about the history of feminism. In any case, it makes you realize that these are just battles, that they're worth fighting, and that you're doing the right thing by doing your bit. It's always good to have more culture and more arguments. You obviously won’t want to get into every discussion, but it’s good to know how to defend your opinions when necessary. And it's always good to have examples to back up what you're saying.

Mariam, did you have access to books and feminist content to educate yourself?

Mariam: Internet! Thank you, Internet. I’m someone who likes to research a lot and I found some books. I think the first one I read was a book by Simone de Beauvoir. There are books I couldn't get my hands on because even when you go to the library, you can't find them. I’ve also read a Nigerian author, I think. Otherwise, most of what I read to learn more was either articles or academic theses.

How do you think we can popularise more feminist content to enable more girls and young women to educate themselves?

Mariam: For me, the best thing would be to have books about feminism in libraries. Most high schools and universities have libraries. And you’ll never, ever find a feminist book on their bookshelves. If you find a feminist book there, it's because someone snuck it in. You might stumble across it. But if you look for a feminist section, you’ll never find it. So, if this kind of effort were already being made at a library level, we'd make progress. I remember that when I was in high school, I spent a lot of time in the library reading everything and anything. So, I think it would have been very instructive. And that was going to start from a young age. Now we also need more bookstores and specialised libraries, like 1949 Books. We need a lot more feminist bookstores because we need to highlight feminist messages. 

I see that more and more feminist associations have feminist libraries in their headquarters.

Mariam: Yes, we need book clubs, for example. We get together once a month and discuss books. And then there’s something that we can all do: share feminist messages, all the time, like evangelists.

A bit like Jehovah's Witnesses.

Mariam: Frankly, if I had the determination of a Jehovah's Witness, I would achieve anything in life. With that kind of determination, anything is possible. I can imagine what it would be like if feminists did that. We knock on doors, and people open. And then we say: “Do you know what feminism is? No? Let me explain” (bursts out laughing).

That would be amazing.

Mariam: Let me explain. Do you know we live in a patriarchal society?

Hahaha. bell hooks, an African American author, brought up a similar idea. She said, “Imagine a mass feminist movement where people go door to door handing out texts, taking the time (like religious groups do) to explain to people what feminism is...”

Mariam: She's not wrong. Because when you're indoctrinated, it's hard to change if you don't get the information.

Riane, how did you end up working at 1949 Books?  

Riane-Paule: So, I had finished my studies. And I was scrolling on Facebook and following Edwige DRO, the director of 1949 Books. I was doing some research, because I wanted to interview her for a personal project. And so, I followed her Facebook page, and she put out the call for the internship. I thought, “Why not?” I was aware that I didn't know enough African women writers, Black ones too. So, I said to myself, “Okay, why not? It will allow me to understand, learn, and discover. To acquire knowledge.” I was accepted and started working there. 

Since you've been at 1949 Books, what have you liked the most about working there?

Riane-Paule: Many things. The first is to learn, to discover. Because each time, I discover the writings of Black women writers. Women who look like me. Black women writers, writings, stories. Through their stories, through their works, I learn about the other realities for Black women all over the world. Other theories, other women writers, other women writers from past centuries. Then there's also the fact that I’m working with the founder. I don't talk much about her, but she has a huge knowledge of history. So, I'm still learning from her. And finally, I like that I can share what I'm learning, what I'm discovering, with the people who come to read. Young people, children, they're used to coming here to read.

And what books have made the biggest impression on you at 1949 Books?

Riane-Paule: Well, the first one is "Les traditions-prétextes: le statut de la femme à l'épreuve du culturel" by Constance Yaï. I didn't know there were theory books like that. I didn't think some Ivorian women thought like that and could even write about it. There's that and Maryse Condé's book, "Moi, Tituba sorcière…", which I love. As time goes by, I think there will be several other books that will impact me through my reading.

Have books influenced the way you experience feminism?

Riane-Paule: Awareness is also knowledge. I think that as I've read more and more books, I've gained confidence. I've gained confidence now because I know, I'm learning. So, I know how to defend my feminism better. So, I don't know what people could say to try and discourage me, to make me think that what I'm doing is wrong. So that makes me more confident. I've also become aware of everything that women go through too, everywhere. Confidence and self-assurance. That's what it gives me.

That's true, yes. Knowledge is power.

Riane-Paule: That's why we must learn. Because when we learn, we can defend ourselves and we can try to share and attract other people who are in doubt. In other words, even feminists must keep learning. It's good to be an activist, but it's also good to acquire knowledge. We don't write much either. We need to write more. Books, articles. Write our history, write how we think, the life or society we'd like. Read, write, and then share. Always share. Even in the smallest corners. That's how I see it. 

It's a bit like sharing feminism, like Mariam said.

Riane-Paule: Yeah, exactly. I'll give an example of stories. I mean, if every woman wrote her own story, there would be fewer people talking for us. I feel that men talk too much for us. That's how we used to be. You see the guys on Facebook saying: “Ah, our moms. Our moms used to be like that.” The funny thing is, it's not true. If the moms of yesterday could write about what they went through, even if it was only in a home, recounting everything they went through, and their feelings, I don't think we'd be hearing all this nonsense.

You make a good point.

Riane-Paule: My cousin came to the library recently. The first question he asked me was: are there any books explaining feminism in Côte d'Ivoire? He's too much into his privileges, you see. Because he sees it as a Western thing, you know. So, he was looking for a book that tells the story of Ivorian feminism. I told him, “Brother, read. I suggested some books. When the girls, college girls, come to the library, I give them a book by Mariama Bâ first.

You're doing the right thing.

Riane-Paule: That's right. We must read what's going on here. I'm not going to start with feminist theories, by the way. I say read Mâriama Bâ. You'll find out. Then, beyond books, feminist content must be diverse, i.e., books podcasts, or articles.

Marie-Bénédicte: For example, there's ORAF, l’Organisation pour la réflexion et l'action féministe (EN: Organization for feminist thought and action), which has a library and some very good books too. These are places where subscriptions don't have to be expensive. You can spend part of your Saturday there, reading a bit, discovering new things. It's always very interesting to participate, to go to places like that.

That’s very interesting. In your opinion, how can we ensure that today, teenage girls can begin to have access to education about feminism?

Marie-Bénédicte: Teenage girls aren't necessarily on the Internet, many of them don't even have cell phones yet. They're in schools, they're at home, so it's really about creating small spaces, going out and talking to them. Not necessarily even about feminism, but already talking to them about their rights as young girls, talking to them about consent, talking to them about periods, trying to deconstruct the taboos within them. That's the first step.

Then there's reading. We've talked about it. Many of us have been educated on these issues through reading as well. There are more and more books intended for this age group, teenage girls, which give them the first tools to understand what feminism is all about. I'm thinking, for example, of "Nous sommes tous des féministes" (We should all be feminists by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie), which was produced as a comic strip. It is much easier for them to read the comic and understand it. There's also "Dear Ijeawele, the Manifesto for a feminist education". There are little books like that, which aren't difficult to read, which aren't very long, and which will already give them the basics of what feminism is. The older they grow, the more these notions will be a part of them.

That's right. How would you define feminism in your own words?

Marie-Bénédicte: As I see it, feminism is the fight to consolidate women's rights and a fight to welcome new rights, because the acquisition of rights is not yet complete. Many things are still denied to us as women. Being a feminist means ensuring that women's rights today are not violated, that we don't backtrack, and fighting to welcome new rights.

What are your dreams as a feminist?

Marie-Bénédicte: My greatest dream is that feminism in West Africa will reach a point where women are no longer seen solely through the prism of marriage and the household. That they are truly seen as human beings, and that from then on, they are recognised as having all the rights that should be recognised. I want the weight of African tradition on the status of women to be lifted. My other dream is that the bonds of sisterhood that Ivorian and West African feminists have forged should not, for whatever reason, deteriorate, and that we should continue to make these bonds strong because it's together that we'll be able to achieve the ideal we want.

You talk about sisterhood. How do you think we can consolidate this sorority?

Marie-Bénédicte: I think we've already understood a little and we're making progress. For example, we had our small conversation circle here at the 1949 Books. So, you don't need 100 or 1000 people for bonding. Whenever we can get together, we shouldn't hesitate to come, whether it's for a book club, a conversation circle, or an activity organized by another organization. You always must be where your sisters are, to support them, to let them know that you know how hard they're working for the cause. I'm there to support them in case they get tired or need me. So, I think we need to multiply feminist meeting spaces and make more single-sex spaces, where we can talk about our problems and our realities. That can only strengthen our ties.

Being a sister means being connected.

Marie-Bénédicte: Exactly.

Riane, what does sisterhood mean to you?

Riane-Paule: So, sorority is a bit of a complicated term for me, you see. I don't know how to say it, but it means "being together". I think that, first, women don't all have the same experiences. Even in the feminist context, we don't all have the same experiences. So, being aware that we're different and trying to understand others while remaining united on the same objective. You see, the ultimate goal is women's liberation. That's how I see sisterhood.

How would you define feminism?

Riane-Paule: Simple: women's freedom of choice. That's how I've always defined feminism, or at least that's how I define it. Freedom of choice, the freedom to let women choose what they want, and how they want to live their lives. How they want, without forcing them to follow societal rules. Freedom of choice for women.

Do you have a dream that's close to your heart as a feminist?

Riane-Paule: Yes, I have a dream that's very close to my heart. I'm planning to host a podcast on the representation of women. I've always been interested in women's representation. So, my feminist fight is more about representation. I'd like to have more women in different spheres who inspire us as young girls, even those younger than me, in different spheres. Free women. More free women. More women with clear goals. More women who don't follow society's dictates. That's my dream.

That's what you started doing with the Meet Her Podcast.

Riane-Paule: Yes. It's early days, so I'm taking it slow. 

Congratulations! What about you Mariam?  

Mariam: One of the things I love about cinema is that you can express yourself through it. And when you can express yourself, you can say anything. I'm very keen to do that in my future work. Through what I'm going to create, maybe create representation for young girls. Because there's really no representation here. There's very little representation, even in cartoons. I would have liked to see a woman in the cartoons I used to watch, who doesn't want to have children. A representation of a woman who says, "Okay, I don't want to have kids. I'll do what I want." But there's no such thing. Maybe in foreign films, but here, you won't see any film where a woman says she doesn't want to have children.

The film I made this year is a bit about that. The title of the film is "Memoirs of a Mother". I haven't uploaded it online yet. It's about a woman. Because we live in a society where women are pressured to have children. Whether it's outsiders you don't even know or family, this is exhausting. And that’s how nervous breakdowns happen. It forces some women to do things that put their lives at risk.

Definitely! To wrap up, there's a question we often ask in our conversations. What's your feminist motto? Is there a thought, a phrase, or something that particularly animates us or is close to our hearts as feminists?

Mariam: I don't know. But personally, in everyday life in general, I like to go by what I feel. So, when I can fight, I fight. If I can change something, I do my best to do so...

Marie-Bénédicte: Well, I wouldn't say I have a motto per se but I do have a phrase that sums up everything I think as a feminist about what surrounds us. I usually say, for example, that the patriarchy is lying to you. That's my phrase. There are many, many inequalities today in male-female relations because the patriarchy lies to us and doesn’t stop. And until we get out from under its lies, many people still won't be able to understand what feminist struggles are about. It would be more than that, but my phrase as a feminist, which I won't stop saying, is that the patriarchy is lying to us.

Riane-Paule: For me, it's learning, reading and sharing.

Thank you, Mariam, Riane and Marie-Bénédicte. It’s been delightful to talk with you.

"I don't want to convince anyone. I simply want to act in my own feminist way" - Riane-Paule Katoua (Côte d’Ivoire) 1/2

Riane-Paule Katoua, Marie-Bénédicte Kouadio, and Mariam Kabore are young feminists from Côte d’Ivoire who advocate for women's rights. Marie-Bénédicte is a trained lawyer and a feminist activist in the Ligue Ivoirienne des Droits des Femmes (English: The Ivorian League for Women's Rights). Riane-Paule is also a trained lawyer and a librarian at 1949 Books the library of women's writings from Africa and the Black world. She is also a host of the “Meet’Her Podcast” podcast. Mariam is a young filmmaker, and a photography and art enthusiast who loves discovering new things.

We met them in Abidjan, Yopougon, during a gathering organized by Eyala at 1949 Books. Chanceline Mevowanou engages them in conversation about their feminist awakening, their journeys as young feminists, and their experiences of living feminist values and struggles at a personal level.

This conversation is in two parts. In this first part, they speak about their concerns, the realities that prompted them, and how they live with their feminist convictions. In the second part, they discuss their relationship with reading, feminist education, the importance of documenting African women's stories, and their dreams as feminists.

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Hi Riane, Bénédicte and Mariam. I was delighted to meet you at 1949 Books a few weeks ago. It was a wonderful moment of connection with in-depth exchanges. Thank you for agreeing to share your feminist journeys with Eyala. Could you introduce yourselves?

Marie-Bénédicte: I’m Marie-Bénédicte Kouadio. I’m a trained lawyer and a feminist activist. I work with the Ligue Ivoirienne des Droits des Femmes (English: The Ivorian League for Women's Rights), precisely in their legal department. Apart from that, I love reading. All kinds of genres, feminist literature and literature in general. It truly is my favorite pastime. I have a blog where I share my reading notes with my followers.

Mariam: Mariam Kabore. I’m a young filmmaker still in training. I've just finished my degree. Yay!

Riane-Paule: Hey, I'm Riane-Paule KATOUA. I'm 24 years old. I studied law. I work as a librarian at 1949 Books. I love reading, too. I love discovering content, i.e. films, books, and authors. I love learning about new things.

You're all passionate about works of the mind and books. We met in a library, and that makes perfect sense, haha! Riane, where did you get this passion for reading, books and all?

Riane-Paule: As far back as I can remember, I've always loved reading. Ever since I was a little girl. I remember that in primary school, the pupils were rewarded with books at the end of each year. I always got books, and my mother also bought me books. So, that’s how I discovered the stories. They were more stories about pharaohs, that sort of thing. That's where my love of reading and history started. When I got to secondary school, it began to get on my nerves because the books we were offered were boring. So, I stopped reading in middle school. It was just after graduating high school that my feminist spirit kicked in. I said to myself that I had to read, I had to understand more about what it was all about. That’s how I started reading again.

Indeed, the books on the college syllabus weren't always the most interesting.

Riane-Paule: Not at all. In any case, I couldn't find myself. I spent all that time thinking that I didn't like reading anymore. And it was only after high school that I said to myself, well, I've got to start asking myself some questions. What books would I like to read? What would I like to learn? And that's when I started reading again, and so on. So, I read feminist books, sometimes historical books. There are different types of books, but it's all about my interests and what I'd like to learn and discover.

And you, Bénédicte… how did your passion for books, literature, and writing come about? You read a lot and even share your book reviews online.

Marie-Bénédicte: I'd say since I was very young too. I cannot say exactly when it started, but as far back as I can remember, I've always loved to read. I used to ask for books as Christmas presents, and as soon as I was old enough, I started going to the library. So, I've had this passion for reading ever since I was a little girl. And logically, the more you read, the more you develop your writing skills. So, writing came much later, but that's okay. I quite like it too.

So how did your feminist journeys begin?

Mariam: It all started at home. I'm the youngest child of the family. And when you're the last in the family, you're everyone's “slave” in a way. And at one point, I realised that there were certain tasks that I was being asked to do, that my brothers weren't being asked to do. My brothers, like my cousins, are older than me, but I believe we all have the same body parts. Why do I have to do this for them? At home, I intentionally refused to go near the kitchen. I have no problem with cooking. It's important to cook because you need to be able to feed yourself. But I intentionally decided to stay away from there because I was told “Because you're a woman, you have to know how to cook”.

Also, when I was little, I wanted toys. I always loved video games. People used to buy me dolls. What for? I asked, I cried, and eventually, they stopped buying me dolls. They only bought me mixed toys. I was given Legos, game consoles, and these sorts of things. Well, I can say that my fight started there, unconsciously when I was a child.

And outside of home, was there anything that struck you about how women were treated?

Mariam: Yeah, it happens all the time. For example, the film industry, which is my field, is a very sexist environment. I know a girl in my class who’s a production major. And every time she goes for an interview, she's offered sex. Automatically. There are no half-measures. In other words, each time she goes for a job, she's offered something else and told: “If you don't want it, leave it. And you won't have a job”.

It's infuriating to see how sexism and gender-based violence are everywhere.

Mariam: And that's one case among thousands. I've spoken with many other women in the film industry. And it's very common. There's one thing I've noticed again at work. I was an intern on a series here. I had a position where we were with the photography team. With this team, there's a lot of stuff to lift. There are tripods. There's a lot of stuff, you know. And I felt like my natural abilities were being minimised. I mean, I can carry a tripod. It's not heavy. I don't know about that. They intend to help you… except that you don't need help and you didn't ask for help. And in the business, that happens all the time, all the time. It's like good intentions. But really, you feel like... I don't know if you know what I mean.

Yes, I understand. It's ordinary sexism. When did you start talking about feminism, using specific terms to address these realities?

Mariam: Actually, I started putting words to it very recently. It was during the first year of my cinema degree. I knew about feminism from afar, but I'd never fully gone into it in depth, reading and informing myself. I hadn't done it. I just knew the definitions. And then, for me, it was just common sense. So, really, everyone should be a feminist. When I was a freshman… this must have been in 2020, there was a thing called 16 Days of Activism. And it was right next to my university. I decided to check it out. That's where I first met Riane actually. She was already in an association called Mouvement Femmes et Paroles (English: Women and Words movement). When I went there, I discovered a whole universe. I saw women and people who talked about various themes. They talked about gender-based violence and period poverty… And that's when I realised just how big the issue was, and how much there was to do. After that, I even joined an organization

And Riane, you mentioned talked about your feminist awakening. How did that happen?

Riane: So, feminism was something within me before I even knew it was feminism. I was frustrated by everything I was going through. In our house, there's one really popular dish: foutou. Every lunchtime, we had to mash the plantain. And my grandmother would always get offended: "Why don't you mash it? Why don't you go and sit next to your aunt and mash the foutou?" It annoyed me. So, I had to force myself to go and sit down to watch how to mash the foutou. But as time went by, I couldn't pretend anymore. So, I stopped cooking. It was truly boring to me. I was always told that I had to know how to clean and cook because "your husband...", that I had to know how to do everything assigned to women, that I had to know how to wear dresses... It annoyed me.

Obviously.

Riane: At school, too, the teachers had sexist words at every turn. "Why do girls outperform boys in such and such a subject? Why?" Sexism all the time. Misogyny and harassment bothered me. And the looks on the outside, the inappropriate gestures that were commonplace. It all frustrated me.

I thought I had to find out what it was all about. And strangely enough, I did some research. I didn't know what I was looking for, but I did some research and came across videos, for example, of Christiane Taubira. I think that's how I discovered feminism, through her too. I learned about her struggle, and what type of politician she was. I said to myself, ah yes, that's feminism. I continued my research, read books, and so on. Actually, I read more articles than books at first.

The first feminist content I read was also articles.

Riane: I read a lot of articles to try and understand it step by step. At first, I saw it as a European movement. I didn't know it was a movement here. In other words, I didn't think there was a feminist movement here. The more I read, the more I saw writings and theories coming out. That's where my awakening to feminism began.

What about you, Bénédicte?

Marie-Bénédicte: I'd say it came from certain inequalities I witnessed in my own home, even before I had social media. There were a lot of unfair treatments at home. Men had a lot of privileges that I didn't have, and I always wondered why. For example, in my house, boys didn't wash the bathrooms, simply because women showered there too. My dad used to say that a boy couldn’t clean where menstruating women also showered. So, right from the start within our family, we were already locked into these shackles of gender roles, a woman's place, a man's place. I didn't think it was normal.

These stories of women's place, men's place, hum...!

Marie-Bénédicte: And the more you grow up, the more you have access to social networks, and to the media, you see that there are women who are killed simply for being women. Or that some women are raped, beaten by their partners. We don't have to go through that. Because there are very few men who experience this kind of situation simply because they're men. This kind of inequality and trampling of women's rights that I noticed in our society pushed me to get involved too.

So how did you start to speak out about these realities?

Marie-Bénédicte: At home, long before I defined myself as a feminist, I didn't follow all these rules about what boys and women should or shouldn’t do. I was a bit stubborn. People back home were already used to it. When I started identifying as a feminist, it didn't really surprise the people at home. It's more the people outside, the friends, the people who will tell you that you've joined the feminist group, the girls who hate men club. You've joined their group, you're going to start waging war against men. But actually, that's not it at all.

This is just absurd, eh?

Marie-Bénédicte: People start to see you as a man-hater, someone out to fight against the established rules of society. It was more difficult when it was in the eyes of my friends. Even now, there are some people I can't talk to about this because they're closed off to conversation. They don't even try to understand. They immediately say that when you call yourself a feminist, that means you hate men, and that you want all men to disappear from the face of the earth.

I've noticed that you express yourself a lot online. 

Marie-Bénédicte: Yes. I discovered some Ivorian activists like Carrelle Laetitia, Meganne Boho, and Marie-Paule Okri on social media.  There was a woman who had been a victim of violence. So, they all got together, and as they say, they raised hell. At one point, they were the only ones you could see. Although not everyone liked what they were doing, they were the only ones you could see. I said to myself that I wanted to do what they did because there's a lot of inequality in our society. Women’s rights are disregarded. And that's why I wanted to get involved as a feminist activist. I joined the League. 

Mariam, when you started talking about feminism, how did people react? 

Mariam: At home, it's a bit of a problem. People disagree. But I’m used to it. We don't stop talking just because some people disagree. So, sometimes, I get into endless debates with the people at home. I stand firm in my opinion, on my position. Frankly, it's like every day outside. It's all the same. I cut ties with some friends of mine because I found out I couldn’t stand them. So, for the sake of peace, I left. There are others too… maybe they do it to tease me, but as soon as something comes up, they tell me: “Yeah, the feminist will have something to say now.” They do it all the time. Sometimes there are negative connotations to it. I don't know why. Anyway, you know how people are.

The sloppy jokes, the bizarre allusions... Anyways!

Mariam: But there's nothing negative about being a feminist. 

Would you say that feminism has changed you and how you live or do things?

Mariam: Yes. As I was learning more and more about feminism, I realised that there were a lot of things I was unconsciously doing and thinking, “Wow, this is wrong!” For example, you can say things and unconsciously exacerbate rape culture.

That’s very serious. There are certain things that, now, I wouldn't allow myself to say at all. So, yes, there was a huge reassessment, even professionally. In the films I watch, I've realised that there are more male directors than female directors. And yet, there are as many female directors as male directors. It's just that female directors are made invisible. Now I’m mindful, and I watch movies made by women. It also came with a wave of independence. The independence I had before is stronger now. 

Ah, that's great.

Mariam: Yes. Even in my way of watching films, especially African ones, I'm very judgmental. For example, I remember seeing an Ivorian film. I don't think anyone saw the problem. Maybe it was just me. How do you say again? I am probably paranoid. In the film, there were two children. They were sitting in the back, and the parents were there saying something like, “Ah, he's your husband, you'll be a good wife, you'll cook.” And I thought it wasn’t the kind of message children should hear. I thought it was inappropriate for children.

You're not paranoid. What you say about movies is important. Society shapes us through the mass media, and films often convey messages that need to be questioned. What do you think it means to be a feminist in Côte d'Ivoire?

Mariam: Being a feminist in Côte d'Ivoire? It's a 24/7 battle. First, because it's easy to get into situations where you meet people who make inappropriate comments. We're also in a country where, from my point of view, for example, pedophilia is very trivialised. There was a case of a little girl in primary school who became pregnant by one of her teachers. And in an article, they wrote that they had a relationship. I was outraged. A minor. Anyway, like I said, it's a constant battle. There are misogynists everywhere.

I read some articles about this case, and it was rather unfortunate. Riane, you said that you initially didn't know there was a feminist movement here. How did you later discover this movement?

Riane-Paule: It's also through social networks. I saw that there were associations. And there were quite a number of them. There was the League, Stop au Chat Noir, and Mouvement Femmes & Paroles, the organization I'm currently working with. It's an association that works to combat sexism and gender-based violence through education. So, I found myself more connected with their work. I think education is the best tool to try and change people's mentality. So, I felt more comfortable with the association I'm part of. I joined them in 2021-2022, I think. And that's where I started my activism.

And when you started naming yourself as a feminist, what was the reaction of those around you? 

Riane-Paule: I remember once, someone asked me “Ah yes but are you a feminist?”. I said, “Yeah, I'm a feminist”. They replied, “But why are you a feminist? You can't call yourself a feminist with all the jokes you see on Facebook.” I asked what they knew about feminism. No answer. And that's the funny thing.  You see people misunderstand feminism. And then there's dishonesty. Dishonesty, in the sense that there’s the option to look things up. People could decide to be informed about it, to understand it, but they have no desire to do that. They choose to do nothing and say: “Oh, they're frustrated, that's it”. A parent told me once:  “Oh yeah, those frustrated girls aren't going to get married. So, you want to stay in that group too”.

The reactions are almost similar everywhere!

Riane-Paule: This won’t change anything about how I feel or my activism. I prefer actions anyway. Yes, you must try to convince people. But I don't want to convince anyone. I simply want to act in my own feminist way.

In the second part of our conversation with Riane-Paule Katoua, Marie-Bénédicte Kouadio, and Mariam Kabore, we talk about their relationship with reading, feminist education, the importance of documenting African women's stories, and their dreams as feminists. Click here to read part 2.

“I think it's important to hold each other with grace in our healing process” - Lorato Palesa Modongo (Botswana) 5/5

This is the fifth and final part of our conversation with Lorato Palesa Modongo, African feminist and psychologist from Botswana. 

We have explored Lorato’s early feminist awakening (Part 1); her education and experiences as a social psychologist (Part 2); her thoughts and experiences in African feminist movements and spaces (Part 3); and her observations on the tensions that sometimes hinder intergenerational African feminist movement building, as well as possible solutions to bridge the gap (Part 4). In this last part, we discuss personal and collective healing to support our movements, Lorato’s current work with the African Union and her journey towards self-reconciliation to unearth her vision of herself. 

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Every time we get together in feminist spaces and the issue of intergenerational movement building comes up, it's always that same cycle of blame, and the conversation hasn't really moved from that point towards solutions. What would that step look like in your own thoughts and based on the experiences you have had? 

I think for me it is firstly, trying to understand. If we get to the ‘why’, we will understand that it becomes the issue of agency, self-determination, and using what you have in that moment. If we go to the ‘why’ we will see that the conversation is bigger than just us being deliberate about thinking that the other group is inefficient or to blame. We will find that there are other interconnected things in the background. After the untangling, I think it's important in our healing process, to hold each other with grace. Lots of grace. I am really lucky that I've sort of been in spaces where there's lots of grace; where even if I've made a mistake, there is grace. 

This grace will actually allow us to forgive, because moving from blaming also includes acknowledging and forgiving. Sometimes even when there's not been any ask for forgiveness, you forgive, you give grace, and you chart out new paths. 

After the untangling, I think it’s important in our healing process, to hold each other with grace. Lots of grace.

Let the conversation be, “why are they not giving us space?” Then we arrive at: ‘they're not giving us space because they were socialized in a society that believes that when you are young, you don't know anything’.  Because that is how they grew up and influenced their processes. Nobody listened to them when they were younger. Even subconsciously, they still hold the trauma, and it comes into the spaces that we engage in.

So, we can hold the wonder of the knowledge and all the immense work that they have done, while we also hold them as these people who are also untangling the complexities of their lives. And they just want what we all want, which is freedom and emancipation. I think that's what it looks like for me. 

What opportunities do you see or what opportunities can we create to now facilitate this healing, this forgiveness, this creation of space for grace and then moving forward towards liberation? 

Mentorship! I think mentorship presents a big opportunity. And I’m talking about deliberate mentorship where we can get to hear each other's stories even on a personal level. I think there's something that humanises somebody when you get to hear their story. We can create different platforms where we can be mentored. Also in mentorship, it's not just the older person filling you up. You're also filling them up. 

Secondly, I think there's so much opportunity for documenting. We all need to document, do archiving work, memory work, go back to our communities and engage with those older women and write whatever they're giving us down. Let's digitise it. Let's thrust it into the spaces so that people can engage with it. Let's form partnerships with memory institutions in our different countries, in different communities, to see how we can amplify the work that's being done by these memory institutions. 

I think there are many opportunities, but there are also opportunities for funding. How can we make collaborative spaces where we are funded to realise all these things that we're talking about? We always leave the issue of funding behind. If you don't have access to funding, you’re probably not going to do a lot of work, particularly in the current economy. It is a conversation that needs to be had. How do we ensure that? How do we compensate these voices that we say we want to legitimize as well? Because I don't think speakers in the Global North speak for free, right? So, my grandmother, when she's teaching me things, why can’t she be compensated for that work? That's part of the work of legitimizing people's voices and knowledge systems and the knowledge production. 

Tell me about the work you're doing currently in Burkina Faso and how it fits in with your feminist journey, and all of the things that we've been discussing.

I'm currently with the African Union Center for girls’ and women's education in Africa, AU/CIEFFA. Their headquarters is here in Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso. I'm currently the Gender Research Analyst. So, in terms of the policy work that's being done here, we look at the numbers and look at the qualitative data on girls' education in the continent. What are some of the patterns and trends that we're seeing in order to put that into policy when we are strategising on governments’ need to invest in girls’ education in Africa?

We also know the issue of data in Africa. We don't have access to reliable, consistent data. So, we can’t paint a real and true picture. But now we say, in the absence of statistics, the qualitative narrative counts. What are the voices of the people on the ground? How can we amplify these voices to make a case for governments, for member states to return girls to school? That's the work I'm doing. 

You’ve only been there for a year or so. Have you found feminist space there? 

I don't speak French, so it's really difficult to authentically connect with people here because it is a Francophone country. Language is such a powerful tool, not just for communication, but also for community. So unfortunately, I haven't been able to do that yet.

We are getting close to wrapping up. Are there things that you wanted to share that we haven’t touched on?

Yes, I think in the discussion of intergenerational feminism, there's a lot of collective healing that needs to happen. There's a need for collective rest, collective joy, and collective love as well. And what does that love look like? It means love for community and love for self, because love for self includes things like discipline, integrity, accountability, and being guided by ethical feminist principles. And I know that we define these for ourselves, but there's also a need for collective definition of the feminist principles that guide us. 

And I want that soft landing for all of us. I think we deserve to glow. We're fighting but we are glowing because there's joy, there's love, there's peace, and there's so much going on. We all deserve that in our individual spaces, but in the collective as well. We carry a lot of generational trauma. The voices of our great, great grandmothers which were not able to be articulated, and their dreams which were not able to be realised because of how the system stifled them is traumatic, generationally.

I think it's important for us to be the generation that the trauma ends with, or at least for the burden to lessen. I don't want my children carrying the burden that I did. I think healing works - healing the brain, healing the mind, healing the spirit, healing the heart, and healing the body. Eating healthily, hydrating while we're doing this work, resting, showing up as healed as much as we can, right? I think that is very, very important. 

You talked about glowing and I had a specific question about your red lipstick, coming to this interview, because it's your signature and it’s fire! I’m actually surprised it’s not on you today. [Laughs] What's the story?

Actually, there was no profound, big symbolic story. I just kind of liked it and  there is no deep profound story to it. I just liked it. I kind of like fashion. It is cute. 

Do you find yourself in moments where you feel like you need to reconcile that cute, “I am here, I am fashionable” look with the idea of feminists as not beautiful.

Actually, being cute came as a result of the reconciliation I did. I got a scholarship from the Mandela Rhodes Foundation (MRF), and they have four development workshops for their scholars - on leadership, education, entrepreneurship, and reconciliation.The reconciliation is on self-reconciliation. The question was what do we want to reconcile within ourselves. My answer was “I want to be soft and cute.” And once again, I'm going to honour my friend Iris because we have had multiple conversations on this. 

I grew up as a tomboy. At the time, I thought it was a choice, but it wasn't really a choice. I was being a tomboy because I kind of wanted to look like the boys. I realised they didn't torment me as much as they tormented the other girls we played with.  So, I was trying to protect myself by being tomboyish. That was my signature look - the baggy pants. Then later going through the MRF process I realised that I actually enjoyed playing around with fashion. I want the quirky earrings. I want the red lipstick. I want the shades. I want the cute dress. So, the reconciliation led me to knowing that I can still look that way while also doing the work, because it's also a way of confronting the misrepresentation of what feminism is. 

And to end, please tell me : what is your feminist life motto? 

I know it's a cliché but truly “the personal is political.” I draw a lot from that because even when I'm thinking, this is just my own personal experience in the house, I realise how it's connected to politics. 

But if I have space for another, it is the remembrance that feminism has given me words to articulate things. And in my articulation, I felt like I was breathing. And when you breathe, you’re alive. So that's my feminist motto: to continuously navigate and untangle and make sense, and in the process, breathe. Then I'm able to take strides in the world. 

I love it. Thank you so much, Lorato. I'm really glad that I got to have this conversation with you. 

Connect with Lorato!

Or give her a shout out? Find her on Twitter @LoratoPalesa

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

“Reflecting on the progress already made by people who walked before me gives me courage” - Lorato Palesa Modongo (Botswana) 3/5

This is the third part of our conversation with Lorato Palesa Modongo, an African feminist and psychologist from Botswana. 

In our series of conversations exploring intergenerational African feminist movement building, we have explored Lorato’s early feminist awakening (Part 1) and her education and experiences as a social psychologist (Part 2). In this part, we explore her thoughts and experiences in African feminist movements and spaces.  

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We’ve talked about building the future we deserve and what that looks like for you. You're actively involved in different feminist spaces as part of the work you do. What has been your experience? 

The experience is a myriad of emotions. I believe that the world can achieve positive change because we have seen it. Who knew that two black women right now can be sitting talking; two African women exchanging ideas? We can publicly share our thoughts and state our ambitions without fear of backlash. We go to school, we vote, and we run for political office.

So, I know that humans have the capability and capacity to change the world. That helps me when I feel tired and drained. Even in the moments when I feel disillusioned, and feel like there is no progress, reflecting on the progress already made by people who have walked before me gives me the courage that one day, hundred years from now, our work will matter. So that is helpful. 

What does that recognition look like? Is it something that you do internally or is it also an external recognition that goes to those people who have laid the path? 

Yes, it goes both ways. It's internal, with me constantly remembering and acquainting myself with the work that has been done before. It is also recognising even the voices that may not be legitimised as sources of knowledge. It is observing women in the villages doing the work and acknowledging that even when they don't name themselves as feminists, even when they don't name their work as feminist work, I'm able to see that this is actually it. That's the internal recognition. 

The external recognition goes into something as simple as paying homage to their work and incorporating it in our own work to show people that what I'm feeling and thinking is not new. I may be articulating it in a different way, but it is not new. People have felt and thought about these issues, people have done work and you may have not seen it because of obvious reasons including a lack of documentation, which is why I'm saying that platforms like Eyala are very important. Nobody can come 50 years from now and say there was not a single woman documenting work in The Gambia when we can Google it and see that Jama Jack was doing the work. So that's why we're grateful for spaces like this. The external recognition also goes with the peer networks that we have, also acknowledging each other in our spaces.

You mentioned that your experience has been a mix of emotions. Tell me more about that…

We're human. We get tired, but it's part of the human experience, particularly when you interact a lot and you get exposed to the work, because not everybody gets into the work with good intentions. We have to acknowledge that each movement has its own wins and challenges. I think there is a disillusionment that sometimes comes and the question that says, “Is it even worth it? Why can't I just look at these things and ignore them like everybody else?”. Unfortunately, I'm not wired that way. I can't see poverty and ignore it, especially when I know that there's enough resources for all of us. So just that contestation, that disillusionment, that anger sometimes, that losing hope. But the beauty of it is that because of the community that I have built, we share ideas, and we reflect authentically and openly with each other. 

What would you say has been a key takeaway from these reflections at your own individual level, but also as part of the community around you?

One of my really great friends, Iris, helped me so much. She taught me about rest as a deliberate feminist act of resistance. Capitalism demands for you to be exhausted so that you don't have any strength to fight anything anymore. You then tap out and there's nothing you can give anymore and the movement fizzles out. Then patriarchy advances and gains momentum. So, it's important to view rest as a form of resistance. Take some time out to go back to the source, to your why, to how we can collectively organise in different ways, but to also just rest and not think about anything. 

I've realised that I love water bodies. They intimidate me but there's also something that is healing for me. So sometimes, my rest also looks like going to the beach, just going on a vacation to a country that has a beach and just being there. I'm minute, I’m insignificant in the face of all of this. But I'm also significant in that I can make a small difference. 

And then lastly, I think it's just knowing that we would have tried. So, the activism work brings all of that. It's the anger, the disillusionment, the renewed confidence, the learning, the courage, and the loss also. It’s the grief because there are certain things that we lose in the journey, but it's also the collective grief.

What are some of the things you may have lost and are possibly still grieving or have grieved over as part of the journey?

I think it was some parts of myself. If I meet newer parts of myself, it means older parts either go or they’re rebuilt. There were some parts that had to go. I lost some friendships where maybe people would feel comfortable with joking about things like rape. I don't joke about it. So, there was a time that was painful because I felt like I'm constantly having to be a party pooper. It was painful then, but it's not painful now. There was a time I was hiding or diminishing. And I think I grieved for that part, because then I cheated myself. There were opportunities I could have gone after, but I didn't because I was shying away. And I'm sorry to that Lorato. 

But there is also the collective grief in the sense that you see that women are being faced with this similar plight. You read about sexual violations, about rape, about their political ambitions, about this, about that. And you see that it's kind of the same, in the collective grieving. But the collective joy as well. Yeah, the collective joy…

Let’s talk about that! How do you make space for joy for yourself but also within feminist spaces that you find yourself in which can sometimes get really serious, really technical, but also very much rooted in anger?

You know, when we say there's so much power in naming things, I think it frees you. It gives you relief, and there's joy in that, because the tension of you feeling these emotions that you cannot package goes away. When you package them through words, you breathe, and there's joy in that. There's so much joy in being able to articulate yourself. 

It is also the capacity to hold the bad and the good at the same time, and to say, what does justice, freedom, democracy, and joy look like for me? It is being able to dream about feminist futures and knowing that there’s joy in that imagination. It is knowing that I can share that imagination with my friends, and they can share their imaginations with me, and it is filled with joy. So, I think just being able to share that assists so much, but also just being able to read the stories of success. 

I remember, in Botswana, one of the young feminists I look up to, Bogolo Kenewendo. She's a former Minister Of Trade and Investment in Botswana. She has always been doing a lot of social justice work, and she gave so much inspiration to a lot of us. She was bold, she was courageous, she was assertive. So even when she was selected as a minister, it didn't really come as a surprise. She's always done the work. And as a Minister, she was doing the work, articulating social justice issues, and there was so much joy in that; in that there was a young woman, and you were seeing the work that she's doing. So, when we're documenting and collecting voices, I think there's so much joy in finding that there is a thread that binds us. And we have now, and we will have the tools to somewhat challenge patriarchy. 

In Part 4, Lorato shares her observations on the tensions that sometimes hinder progress, as well as possible solutions to bridge the gap. Read it here.

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.

“For me, freedom means just being and not having to explain your choices”- Lorato Palesa Modongo (Botswana) 2\5

Our conversation with Lorato Palesa Modongo continues. Lorato is an African feminist from Botswana. She is a Psychologist, with interests, skills, knowledge and over 7 years’ experience on Social Psychology, academia, qualitative research on gendered violence, decolonialism and African feminisms. 

In the first part of this conversation, Lorato shared with our Jama Jack about her feminist journey. In this second part, we further explore her education and experiences as a social psychologist and how this connects to her work and actions as an African feminist. 

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So, we are going to dig into your journey with education. Why psychology?

Four parts! The first part is that I wanted to do law. I grew up resisting, fighting, just saying no to people. And the beautiful part is that I was given that space at home. Even though the whole gender roles thing was happening, there was space for curiosity and for being inquisitive and for saying no. So, I applied for law and unfortunately, I didn't make it to law school. I was really sad because I had centred my being around becoming a lawyer. I was like, “What the hell am I going to do? What is my next choice?” At the time, a lot of people were doing economics because the President of Botswana at the time was an economist. He was doing very well, and he was always on these international platforms talking about development, so everybody also wanted that. So, I was like okay, let me give it a try and I actually enrolled in economics and the calculations there… hmph [Laughs]

You were like “Not for me” huh?

I was like, “I am not going to do that.” So, all economics students had to do ‘Introduction to Psychology’, and there was a young woman who had just come in from the United States. Her name is Dr. Mpho Pheko. She was very brilliant, energetic, confident, knowledgeable, stylish, and well articulated. And she just didn't take any nonsense from the students. Our classes were in big auditoriums where it’s like 200 students and she wasn't intimidated by that huge number. I mention this because she looked very young, and that was really interesting for me. I had a conversation with her, and she told me what psychology was. So that's the second part: representation. Because I saw someone that I identified with, and was inspired by.. 

And the more I got into the field, the more I saw that it affirmed the curiosity that I talked about, the inquisitiveness, the understanding of human behaviour. The giving meaning to things that were happening and the making sense of the world.  It was such a huge moment for me. 

The fourth layer was largely a spiritual thing. I dream a lot when I sleep. So, my grandfather basically came to me in a dream and said: “you have to do psychology” and he gave me the reasons, and they made sense. Considering that my grandfather then didn't know what psychology was, it was interesting that in the dream, he was explaining the reasons why I needed to do it. When I told him years later, he said “You know that my grandfather also appeared in my dream to tell me that I'm going to do what I'm doing now?”

Oh wow! For real?

Yes! So, that is the spiritual side of things. Those are my four reasons. I was rejected by my first love: law; I saw somebody that I admired doing the work, so there was representation; but it also was a space for my curiosity and understanding of human behaviour. And lastly, the spiritual side of it. So, I believe I was called into it. 

That’s incredible. And what has that journey from your education to the work you do now looked like?

Beautiful and rewarding. Every day I do my work, I don't feel like I'm working. I just feel like I'm stumbling into newer parts of myself, newer parts of the work and finding ways to be a better self, but also for the community, the society, at all levels, including the global level. But I think the most beautiful tool it has given me is finding words to articulate internal contestations, because …you know when you can name things and the power in naming things? 

Yeah! I know too well what that power feels like and what it shifts in your mind.

That has been the beauty of it. There are many aspects that I don't agree with - the colonial gaze of the field, or the westernisation if we want to put it that way. For example, the most basic one, the fact that clinical psychology uses diagnostic manuals to diagnose people with mental health issues. Sure, there's that, but it completely ignores the spiritual aspect and indigenous knowledge of Africans. It ignores that Africans are also spiritual beings. So sometimes people are hallucinating not because they have schizophrenia, but because maybe they are called to do ancestral work, or healing work or whatever type of work. And they will hear voices, they will see things. All they need is to do whatever they believe they need to do, and then they are good. But if psychology is going to diagnose them with schizophrenia, it means we're using a colonial gaze and for these people we take into mental institutions, we will try to put them in a box as per colonial rules, and I have problems with that. 

I think the reason we need more African psychologists is to also articulate those contestations and to confront the industry, but to also come up with new ways of thinking and imaginations around societal issues. I think that's the beauty of it; that even though I don't agree with certain elements of the discipline of psychology as a field in Africa, I believe it is an opportunity for us to create knowledge, re-imagine human behaviour, and create new ways of making sense of the world.

Clinical psychology completely ignores the spiritual aspect and indigenous knowledge of Africans. It ignores that Africans are also spiritual beings.

What would creating knowledge look like in this sense? Who is creating this knowledge, and for whom?

I should clarify that it’s not just to create knowledge, because knowledge does exist. But to say how do we legitimise various sources of knowledge. Who is referenced and why are they referenced? Why are you referencing some old psychologist from the global north, but disregarding my grandmother's musings, sayings, and knowledge around human behaviour? You find that there's a lot of psychology work, even in our language in something as simple as our proverbs, or our idioms. 

In my language when you are feeling really, really tired, you say, ‘ke a go itheetsa’. In English, it means “I want to rest” but the direct translation is, “I want to listen to myself”. Meditation is basically that; it is you listening to yourself. Going to therapy is somebody assisting you with listening to yourself. But this knowledge has always been there. 

So, for me, creating knowledge means  an opportunity for us to legitimise sources of knowledge of our people, creating new ways of thinking about knowledge, about psychology, about the human condition, about being. We should also understand that we mingle now with different people from different backgrounds, and the world is evolving and expanding with new forms of thinking. How do we borrow from what we have to make sense of where we are now, so that we can envision and imagine better futures, or more healed futures? 

So, your main practice is in social psychology and not clinical. What was the root of this choice? Is it all of these things that you're saying?

Yes, yes. So social psychology is not pathologising and diagnosing. It just wants to ask: what is happening in society? Where does that come from? It doesn't individualise issues. Clinical psychology individualises issues because it says, “Lorato, you have schizophrenia.” Social psychology says, “Okay, why are we seeing a lot of cases of violence in our society? What are the patterns?” 

And what do you see as the connection between your practice in social psychology and your feminism? How do you connect the two, but also how do you bring your African intersectional feminism into your professional work as a social psychologist? 

Oh, they definitely link. And I think when I tell people that I feel happy about my choice of career, it is because it's like a pot where things are all in and they complement each other in that sense. Like I say, it’s because patriarchy is a system that was causing those internal and external frictions. Then social psychology says, “Patriarchy is causing that because…” and then attached meaning and answers to the questioning. And because I have meaning and the words, when I get to the activism space, I am able to articulate better, to teach better, to learn better. But I’m also able to take what I get from the activism space to feed the knowledge production on the other side. So, they kind of assist each other with making sense of the world, and the issues I am interested in.

Earlier, you mentioned the issue of the valuation of African traditional knowledge, legitimising it and using it to build the future that we deserve. What does that future look like for you?

It looks like freedom, to put it very simply. Freedom of being, freedom of expression and freedom in knowing that we don't even need to validate the information and the knowledge that we have. I have problems with the term “indigenous knowledge”. I don't like it because why are we naming it indigenous? The fact that it is called indigenous means that there’s something that is not indigenous, and that knowledge is the knowledge that is thrust into the public discourse. I think our African knowledge is just that: knowledge. 

You think there is first choice knowledge, and then you have a second class and so on…

Exactly! And that’s why you had to name it that. If you saw it as just knowledge, then there's freedom in that because I don't have to legitimise it. So, freedom for me is being. And what does being look like? You don't need to explain your choices. You are just being the fullest, highest expression of yourself, considering that you're not harming anyone and you are living life in this interconnected ecosystem, with other people and with the environment. I think that's what the future looks like for me. The freedom to be.

Lorato shares more on this in the next part of our conversation, where we also get into her experiences organising within feminist movements and spaces. Click here to read this third part. 

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.

“I really don't like patriarchy as a system” - Lorato Palesa Modongo (Botswana) 1\5

Lorato Palesa Modongo is an African feminist from Botswana.  She is a Psychologist, with interests, skills, knowledge and over 7 years’ experience in Social Psychology, academia, qualitative research on gendered violence, decolonialism and African feminisms. 

In our series of conversations exploring intergenerational African feminist movement building, Jama Jack interviewed Lorato to learn about her feminist journey from an early age of consciousness and resistance to her current involvement and engagement in feminist movements at various levels. We also learn about her educational background and how it connects with her work as a feminist (Part 2); her thoughts and experiences being a part of feminist movements and spaces (Part 3); her observations on the tensions that sometimes hinder intergenerational African feminist movement building, as well as possible solutions to bridge the gap (Part 4); and finally, personal and collective healing to support our movements, Lorato’s current work with the African Union and her journey towards self-reconciliation to unearth her vision of herself (Part 5). 

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Hello Lorato! Thank you so much for joining me today. We are really glad that we can get to speak to you and learn more about you, your journey, your feminist work, and a lot more. How do you like to introduce yourself?

I was having a conversation with a friend, and I was saying that I’ve realised that the way I introduce myself - not evolves - but changes depending on where I am. So back in the day I used to describe myself as a young Motswana girl. Then I moved to South Africa for my post-graduate and because of what I was confronted with at the time, I found that how I introduce myself changed to: “I am a young Black woman”. I knew I was a woman; I knew I was an African and I didn’t find a need to announce that I was Black. But now that I was in South Africa, I found myself needing to highlight the Blackness into my identity. 

With time I found that I needed to then move to not saying I’m just a Black woman, but I’m a Black feminist. In the journey, I found that I also had to state what that feminism looks like which, for me, was an African intersectional feminist. 

So, where I’m at currently, I really like introducing myself as: I’m Lorato. I’m from Botswana, firstly. I’m a young African Black woman, and I believe in the African intersectional feminist ideology; it anchors me, amongst other layered anchors. I’m also a psychologist researcher, and I specialise in Social Psychology. I do development work, community building in the different communities I find myself in at national, continental and international levels.

And when you say you’re rooted in African intersectional feminism, what does that mean? 

It means that I recognise that I am African. I was born here, my roots are in Africa. The intersectional part is understanding how other –isms are linked and multi-layered. When I recognise the oppressions against my being, I also have to recognise the ways in which I am privileged and how I can use that privilege in other spaces. I think that’s important. 

As much as I understand sexism or racism, I also understand classism and the fact that for me, having three university degrees, being able to articulate myself in English, having gotten those qualifications in colonial institutions, has the  power to help me enter certain spaces that others are not privileged to enter. And this is not because I’m necessarily the best person. So, I recognise and acknowledge that. At the same time, I acknowledge that even if I'm in those places I'll always be viewed as Black, as young, as a woman, as being African or from the “global south”. But the feminist part of it is at the core of it. I just really don't like patriarchy as a system.  I don't know if we will ever get to a point where we completely eliminate it.

Have you been able to identify the source of that hate for patriarchy? Is it something in particular that happened at a point in your life?

Definitely. I vividly remember, I was 8 years old back in my village. I grew up in an extended family and I was raised by my grandparents. My uncles - my dad's little brothers - were almost my age, or slightly older than me. There were the two of them and me… so, three kids. My grandmother did pretty much everything in the house. She cooked, she cleaned, and she took care of us. And in my mind, I thought she was doing all those things because she was older. 

One time they left us by ourselves, and they went for the weekend, so we did what kids do. My uncles cooked, we didn't do the dishes, and we messed up the house. When they came back the conversation was, “Why is my kitchen so dirty? Why is the sink full of dishes and there is a girl at home?” And I was eight years old. I paused and said “Ah, but they are older than me. They’re supposed to be cleaning.” In my mind, that's how things went. Adults had to do adult things and I was a child. I didn't see my uncles - I would call them my brothers - as men. I saw them as just people, and older. So, I said no, and I started protesting… [Laughs] 

My grandmother did everything in the house. I thought she was doing all those things because she was older. 

That was the beginning. That's when I started observing that my grandmother is not doing these things because she's older, because my grandfather is not doing them, right? I just started always protesting at home to a point where they just started calling me Emang Basadi.  The feminist movement in Botswana was gaining momentum and the civil society organisation that was really driving the wave was called Emang Basadi, which means “Women, stand up”. 

And when they called you that, did you also internalise it and say “yes, this is who I am”? Or did it create a conflict?

I was like “Yes, women must stand up. What is this?” I even started teaching my younger cousins. So, if I saw one of them who’s a girl cooking, I'm like okay, that's good. But if I see her doing the dishes after cooking, and the boy is not, I tell her to stop.

I know for a lot of us, we started feministing even before we had the language of feminism that we now use, with the awareness that we now have. Do you remember when you first started calling yourself a feminist? 

I remember it, yes. It was around 2010/11, but I was tip-toeing around it and walking on eggshells when using the word. And this was in Botswana. I had been recruited into a research project by one of my lecturers in the Department of Sociology. There was a research project by the Africa Gender Institute, which is based in the University of Cape Town and they were doing this multi-institution action-based research on gender, politics, and sexuality in the lives of young women between the ages of 16 and 25 in five SADC Universities. The University of Botswana was selected as one of them, and I was in the team doing the action-based research. I was still a student there. We were just describing our stories, our lives and what we envisioned, until I stumbled upon this word that was describing the work that we were doing, but I had never heard of before. Also, social media wasn't big then. 

Yeah. It was still in the baby stages compared to what we see now, at least in terms of using it as a tool for movement-building.

Right! And the internet itself wasn’t big then. I remember I didn't even have a computer. We used to go to the University library to use the computers there. I tried to search for that word and all the things I saw were bad things. The ownership and the claiming of the word was just... It was a contested space. To put it very bluntly, it was embarrassing to claim that word, because then you were saying that you are this angry person. For context, Botswana is described as one of the most peaceful countries in Africa because of the peace and the democracy. And the activism movement isn't that big. It then becomes as if you go out of your way to look for something to fight about. So, I didn't use the word. I was aware of it, but I deliberately didn't use it. 

Until I went to South Africa… and because I was going to do my post-grad in psychology, and I had an interest in social psychology, I had to engage more with thought around that. And then I saw the word and because a lot of people were using it and there were a lot of people doing the work that I loved, I was like, “oh, it's not really a biggie.” So, I started reading more about it, using it more, feeling more confident, more independent and affirmed, not just by my peers, but also by people like my supervisor, for example. When he would introduce me, he would say, “she's doing amazing feminist work.” And people will be like, “Oh, we want you on this project.” So, I was like, “Oh, there's no shame?” So, I think the South African space affirmed it, but I learned about it in Botswana in 2010. 

You talk about doing the research and everything you saw was bad. What was this bad? What did it look like? 

It was the media representation. It was the way people talked about it, the nuances around how it was positioned in day-to-day conversations. But it was also tapping into the issue of sexuality as well. And at that time, I wasn't ready to have conversations around sexuality. And I think the world I was living in wasn't even having those conversations, because we didn't even have the words to describe sexuality. For example, when people said, “Oh, they are lesbians”, it was an insult at that time. So that was one of the many contestations around it. But also… I think the immediate rejection of the word. There was no space to even say, “no, what we mean is…”. It was immediately rejected. 

Was this because of the culture in Botswana? What really was the source of that rejection where there wasn't even space for that kind of conversation? 

Culture first and foremost. But I also think the packaging of feminism perhaps and the lack of information, like I said. The women's rights movement blew up in terms of visibility in the advent of social media. We have to acknowledge the power of social media. That you get to see in real time, the happening of conversations. And you have better access. But back then you had to wait maybe for a publication either on print media or books. And the energy and appetite that people put in to seek knowledge is not necessarily as immediate as we see it now, on social media. I literally have to swipe my phone, and I'll be confronted with the information. So, I also think the lack of information and knowledge and understanding is what caused the resistance. 

In the second part of our conversation with Lorato, she tells us about the path that led her to social psychology and how she engages at the intersection of this field and her feminist actions. Click here to read Part 2. 

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