Buwa Culture and Feminism

Feminism
and culture
A JOURNAL ON AFRICAN WOMEN’S EXPERIENCES
Volume 2 / Issue 2 / December 2013

EDITORIAL
By Alice Kanengoni
T All of this reminded me of the tendency of
his was the response given by one
young woman at the start of OSISA’s
annual regional feminism training course
in Zimbabwe. And it is definitely not an
isolated perception of the much talked
about relationship between feminism and
culture – part of the reason why the two-week
feminism course hosted by OSISA
and the Institute for Peace, Leadership
and Governance at Africa University is
so important! It got me thinking about
how the nexus between feminism and
culture has often been understood – or
misunderstood – and how this has shaped
people’s understanding of their realities.
One thing was very clear here – at least for
me – that feminism was regarded as some
appendage to one’s life, which somehow had
to be ‘fitted’ and ‘married’ to one’s cultural
context. And it also got me thinking about
how culture has often been viewed as some
kind of container into which behaviours,
practices and actions have to ‘fit’.
many people to plead ‘culture’ when they
want to dismiss arguments and behaviours
that challenge the status quo. This issue of
BUWA! provides space to critically engage
with the positive and negative aspects of
cultures, which influence the lives of women,
and to explore women’s and feminists’
experiences and understanding of these as
well as to look at some of the perceptions and
misconceptions about the interface between
culture and feminism – both of which are
broad and multi-faceted phenomena.
This issue offers some definitional
considerations from an anthropological
perspective, as well as exploring the interplay,
and manifestations, of culture in the web of
human existence, including in the realms of
spirituality and faith, tradition and custom,
body politics and associated relationships,
among many others. And it covers a range of
topics – from exploring the interface between
states and cultures to establishing how state
policies and administrative structures have
colluded with cultural practices to deny and/
or jeopardise women rights, as in the pieces
by Shamillah Wilson and Onai Hara.
A cluster of articles draws attention to
the dynamics of how men have related
with culture in defining certain kinds of
masculinities. Many men invoke culture
to justify unhealthy masculinities that
take away the freedoms of women and
girls. Kopano Ratele and Mbuyiselo
Botha discuss the broader theoretical
understandings of masculinities, while Julio
Langa brings it closer to home by providing
an African perspective. Stephanie Leitch
demonstrates how, further afield, some
men have gone to the extent of invoking
the law and legal frameworks to reclaim
men’s rights, as evidenced by how men
are organising in the Caribbean. This is
also a phenomenon that our region has
“I am not a feminist because I cannot divorce myself from my
cultural context and also because feminism is not practical in my
culture, and is for the elite.”
BUWA! A Journal on African Women's Experiences
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Nowhere are body politics as pronounced as
in the institution of marriage – an institution
that is often regarded as a sacred cow in
cultural debates. Marriage for most women,
especially in Africa, equates to signing away
control of their bodies. A telling illustration is
the skewed way in which women – especially
those in heterosexual marital relationships –
have been infected and affected by HIV and
AIDS compared to their male counterparts.
There are mixed views among feminists
regarding the institution of marriage and
how it has positioned women. While some
feminists have argued that many of our
continent’s cultures have set heterosexual
marriage relationships and feminist principles
on an inevitable collision course, others
view the apparent clash between the two as
not all that dramatic. Mike Zulu describes
how the nature of his 26-year marriage to
Doo Aphane has allayed some of these
fears among their friends and relatives.
It is worth noting that discourses and debates
about marriage, culture and the positioning
of women often pit heterosexual marriage
relationships against same sex marriage
alternatives or, in some cases, relationships
outside of marital relationships. In this
issue, Hleziphi Nyanungo sheds light on
some lesser-known models of same sex and
non-sexual marriages among women in
Africa, which still, she argues, tend to follow
patriarchal dynamics of power and control.
Another institution that has also been
regarded as a sacred cow is religion,
and feminists have long focused on how
patriarchy employs religion as a tool – often
in partnership with culture – to oppress and
suppress women. A lot has been written over
the years on some of the key religions that
are prevalent in southern Africa, including
Christianity and some African traditional
religions. Less has been shared about the
realities of women practising the Islamic faith
in the context of southern Africa. Ruthelle
Kunje shares the peculiarities of a woman
growing up as a Muslim in Zimbabwe. She
observes that Islamic religious practices
and traditional Shona practices are not very
different – both suppress women, especially
with regard to women not being able to
make important decisions about their lives.
Closely linked to culture and religion are
the arts and people’s performances, which,
to a significant extent, reflect and mirror a
community’s beliefs and practices, and in
turn influence and shape those practices.
Some artistic forms of expression that have
embodied this are songs, music and dance.
While feminist research has looked into
how some song lyrics denigrate women
and perpetuate patriarchy, dance forms
have drawn less attention. Gibson Ncube
and Margaret Chipara provide a feminist
analysis of erotic dance styles, and argue that
while some feminists find such dance styles
demeaning and denigrating of women, their
bodies and sexuality, erotic dancing can also
be considered as a means of empowering
women given that it allows them to subvert
patriarchal ontologies that regard women
as objects that are to be deployed by men
for their own pleasure. Ncube and Chipara
challenge feminist readers and writers to
explore this debate further so as to discover
how useful erotic dance is in the struggle for
women’s emancipation and empowerment.
But what about pop music? There are often
heated debates about whether such music
could possibly incorporate any progressive
and/or affirming messages about women.
Emma Machokoto looks at contemporary
pop artists, such as Lady Gaga, Beyoncé
and others, and highlights the tensions
that exist between their song lyrics and the
video images that often accompany them.
This issue paints a picture of cultures that
are constantly evolving but that do not
necessarily change the underlying way that
women are perceived and treated. This is
aptly captured by Monica Cheru in her
analysis of how practices of welcoming new
brides into a family have transformed in
shape, but have remained essentially the
same in terms of value and the message
that they put across about women. One
would have expected that with information
technologies changing the way that
people in the world relate to one another
and how cultures evolve, there would be
have been some fundamental shifts in
how women are structurally positioned.
However, Fungai Machirori confirms that
this has not been the case, arguing that
feminists have not effectively appropriated
the social media and ICT tools that
have revolutionised social, commercial
and other relations across the globe.
The issue concludes with a piece by
Hleziphi Nyanungo, who argues that
feminists are not talking to each other
enough across generations and that this
has to change if harmful cultural and other
practices are ever going to be replaced by
real respect for women’s rightful citizenship
and freedoms. There is, she believes, an
urgent need for greater intergenerational
dialogue to foster real change.
Alice is the Editor of BUWA! Write to her with comments and
submissions at alicek@osisa.org
been increasingly experiencing, although
the trend has been more in relation to
men organising to promote gender
equality rather than to reclaim men’s
rights. Initiatives such as the Fatherhood
Initiative have pushed the envelope to focus
more on redefining masculinities through
encouraging progressive fatherhood
practices. It is important to note that in all
these initiatives – as well as in most of the
articles in this issue – culture is often at the
centre of such discourses and debates.
One of the most visible – and sometimes
also most invisible – sites on which culture
has impacted on women’s rights and
freedoms is their bodily integrity. There
is a lot of politics that plays out in relation
to women’s bodies in the name of culture
– from women elongating their labia for
men’s sexual pleasure as Chanda Katongo
decries, to myths and mysteries around
masturbation and menstruation as explained
by Glenda Muzenda, to cultural barriers
to women’s access to strategic economic
resources, such as mineral wealth, as
Wadzanai Chimhepo illustrates by using
the experience of women in the gold mining
fields of Zimbabwe’s Penhalonga district.
Part of this politics stems from the debate
about women’s fashion and notions of female
beauty, with culture again being used as
the key determinant of what is beautiful,
what is fashionable and what is acceptable.
Varyanne Sika argues that fashion has
shaped women’s identities and makes a
case for using fashion to achieve feminist
objectives, while pushing for a feminist
body of knowledge around the subject to
allow this to happen. Similarly, Portia Loeto
tracks the historical transformation of what
is defined as an ‘attractive’ woman’s body,
from tubular to slender and many other
shapes in between, and tries to address
the central question – what is beautiful?
She concludes that these ‘attractiveness’
trends have damaged women’s self-esteem,
self-confidence and self-worth.
feminists are not talking to each other
enough across generations and this
has to change if harmful cultural and
other practices are ever going to be
replaced by real respect for women’s
rightful citizenship and freedoms.
Editorial
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Sex and Health
CONTENTS 57 63
Notions of Beauty and Attractiveness
By Portia Loeto
I am Married to a Feminist
By Mike Zulu
Female Husbands without Male Wives:
Women, culture and marriage in Africa
By Hleziphi Naomie Nyanungo
Feminist Perspectives on Islam and Culture
By Ruthelle M. Kunje
Dancing with Power:
Does Erotic Dance Empower or Commodify Women?
By Gibson Ncube co-authored with Margaret Chipara
“Who Runs the World…Girls!” (Beyoncé)
Feminist or Not?
By Emmah Machokoto
Old and New Ways to Celebrate a Bride
By Monica Zodwa Cheru
Technologies and Power Dynamics in Women’s
Public and Private Spheres
By Fungai Machirori
I Am Not Your Daughter!
– A fictional conversation on intergenerational dialogue in the
women’s movement
By Hleziphi Naomie
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The State, Culture and Oppression
By Shamillah Wilson
State Culture and Oppression
By Onai Hara
Profeminist Black Men:
Engaging Women Liberationists, Undermining Patriarchy
By Kopano Ratele and Mbuyiselo Botha
Notions of Sex, Masculinity and
Manhood in African Cultures
By Julio Langa
Mixed Messages:
The Ideological Schizophrenia of Men’s Organizing
Around Fathering
By Stephanie Leitch
Elongation of the Labia Minora:
A Violation of women’s bodily autonomy
By Chanda Buumba Katongo
Menstruating and Masturbating:
The stains and strains of experiencing bodily
pleasure for women
By Glenda Muzenda
Women and Mining:
A Case of Golden Crumbs
By Wadzanai Chimhepo
Fashion for Feminists:
How fashion and dress shape women’s identities
By Varyanne Sika
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of gender equality has been attacked by the patriarchal structure and
sexism of ‘traditional’ culture as a foreign concept. All state policies
have gender implications and affect the social status of women as
well as their control over their livelihoods. Women’s marginalisation
at the level of the state and state policy-making is clearly visible
in the low number of women parliamentarians worldwide. In fact,
women’s status has never been the main issue on party platforms,
in electoral campaigns or in any party manifesto. In reflecting on
visible power, Veneklasen et al (2006) note that visible power
discriminates against certain interests and people through biased laws
and policies as well as unrepresentative decision-making structures,
which do not adequately involve the voices or interests of women.
As such, some feminists have formulated the term ‘patriarchal state’,
whereby the state functions mainly in the interests of men and
maintains or actively supports the oppression of women (Dahlerup,
1987; Kong and Chan, 2000). For feminists, the dominance of
men in this particular arena is but one of the key characteristics
of a patriarchal state. While a significant number of women now
occupy important positions in government and civil society,
these women are challenged by the continued dominance of the
‘male discourse’. Regardless of how many women enter into the
political arena, if that arena is still defined by men’s perspectives,
there will be few opportunities to promote women's issues.
The traditional human rights framework places an emphasis on
the duty of the state to uphold the rights of its citizens within the
public sphere (i.e., politics and the market). The state (as opposed
to individuals, communities, multinational corporations, etc.) is taken
to be the primary violator of rights. However, a major obstacle is
Analysis
One of the greatest achievements of feminist movements is
our analysis of power. Analysis and concepts are necessary
ingredients for effective action as they help us to ground our
strategies, and develop critical thinking and political skills. And
each time we analyse issues and situations, we gain new insights.
In looking at the state of women’s rights, our analysis as feminists
starts with our understanding of patriarchy as being a system of
male authority that legitimises the oppression of women through
political, social, economic, legal, cultural, religions and military
institutions. Men’s access to, and control over, resources and
rewards within the private and public sphere derives its legitimacy
from the patriarchal ideology of male dominance. Patriarchal
ideology enables and legitimises the structuring of every aspect
of our lives by enabling the framework within which society
defines and views men and women to construct male supremacy
(AFF, 2006). A critical component of our understanding of
patriarchy is that it is systemic and not directed at individuals but
is a broad system that maintains unequal relations of power.
The state
In the context of guaranteeing women’s rights, activists have
directed considerable attention towards the ‘state’. In referring to
the ‘state’, I refer to governmental institutions, both elective and
administrative, at both local and national levels. In the developing
world, states have complex and different formations, although most
are moving towards democracy and neoliberalism in the global era.
This is also the most visible form of power that we see as citizens.
Prior to the establishment of the modern state, other institutions –
including churches, clans, tribes and traditional authorities – upheld
the rules and managed the processes related to the reproduction of
life. The norms, symbols, rituals and traditions that are ascribed to
a particular society are often referred to as culture. While culture in
its essence is meant to be an uplifting force in societies, the realities
are that culture and tradition can enable or obstruct; they can
oppressive or liberating for different people at different times (Jolly,
2002). However, culture is not static. It changes and it is within this
context that meanings are ascribed to terms such as gender, gender
dynamics and gender roles in African society (Tamale, 2007).
In looking at the reality of women’s lives, we have to understand
that in many African countries, civil law exists alongside customary
law. While the onset of democracy on the continent was meant
to herald the promotion of equality for all, we still suffer from
some very strong and outdated attitudes towards differences in
genders and the rights of men or women. Very often, the project
“For feminists, the dominance of men in
this particular arena is but one of the
key characteristics of a patriarchal
state. While a significant number of
women now occupy important positions
in government and civil society, these
women are challenged by the continued
dominance of the ‘male discourse.”
The State, Culture
and Oppression
By Shamillah Wilson
T block progress towards the goal of social transformation. Some
he state as an institution has invariably colluded with patriarchy to
oppress women, and this has been done through codification of
cultural identities that advantage men and disadvantage women. This
piece exposes the relationship between state, culture and oppression.
In the past few decades, women’s and feminist movements
have made great strides in advancing the rights of women.
The engagement of women in international development
processes following the United Nations Decade of Women
(1975–85) signalled a transition for women’s movements – as
they began developing holistic analyses of the issues impacting
on women’s lives, and made connections between political,
economic, social and cultural realities as well as between local,
national and global spaces for organising and advocating.
But reflecting on the current state of women’s rights, particularly
on the African continent, gives us much to ponder on. The
realities that women encounter on a daily basis include pervasive
violence, economic inequality, and a struggle to survive conflict,
environmental changes and a backlash in many places against the
gains of recent decades. The fact that only 32 out of 54 African
countries had signed the Protocol on Women’s Rights in Africa
by the end of 2012 is indicative of the challenges that continue to
would argue that 32 signatories is a success since there is no
denying the importance of ensuring that we have the necessary
national, regional and global legal instruments in place to tackle
gender inequality. Yet, our reflections over time have made
us realise that getting progressive policies adopted is but one
step in a broader process since legislation on its own does not
necessarily translate into broader gender equality nor has it really
transformed the daily lives of many African women. Culturally, the
patriarchal status quo remains relatively unchanged, and requires
us to confront and challenge it unequivocally – and holistically.
When considering how to move forward, what we know is that,
despite the promise of our past successes, many activists now find
themselves struggling – in the face of increasing conservatism – to
hold the line and ensure that there are no further rollbacks of the
important gains we have made. So as we search for more effective
ways to engage and transform power, we have to ask ourselves
why our current strategies and approaches seem inadequate
in terms of the struggle to overcome poverty and injustice. To
do this we need to understand the complexities of power and
empowerment, and then we have to strategize about how best to
respond to them in ways that use, build and transform power.
Shamillah Wilson is an independent feminist consultant and life
coach. She is based in South Africa, but her work has focused on
women's human rights, young feminist leadership development
and institutional development across the globe.
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makes sure that women
remain monogamous.
At the same time, the
law does not disturb or
challenge the polygynous
sexuality of African men.
A number of examples
are telling in this regard.
For instance, the tabling
of the Traditional Courts
Bill in South Africa in 2012
caused considerable debate. The bill will enable traditional leaders
to be appointed presiding officers of traditional courts, where they
will rule on both civil and criminal matters involving members of
traditional communities. These presiding officers will be able to hand
down fines, forced labour or, perhaps most controversially, remove
‘traditional benefits’. In the context of communal land ownership
– common in most of South Africa’s traditional-authority areas –
this includes access to land, which in turn translates into access to
food, income and shelter. The ability to earn a living and feed one’s
family will be dependent on the whims of traditional leaders.
Legally, chiefs will rule over their subjects, making laws, deciding on
cases and handing down punishments, with near complete control
over people, law-making and access to benefits and land. This
particular bill is set to have the most harmful impact on women.
Already, in many traditional courts, women are not allowed to
represent themselves or even speak during proceedings. This bill
reinforces this by allowing for women to be represented by their
husbands or family members (the bill prohibits legal representation
in traditional courts) – entrenching existing discriminatory practices.
In practice, many rural women already struggle with decisions by
traditional authorities that regularly attempt to strip them of things like
land access and inheritance rights. Other gaps include the fact that
there is no explicit recognition of crimes such as physical and sexual
abuse, which are currently considered private or ‘domestic’ matters
not fit to be brought before a public court. Fortunately, the bill was
withdrawn until further notice in late November 2012 (BuaNews,
2012), but the fact that such a dreadful bill could have been tabled
in the first place highlights the on-going power of patriarchy in
South Africa – in spite of the country’s progressive constitution.
Similarly, in November 2012 in Swaziland, policy-makers opposed the
protection of women from stalking. The senators argued that stalking
was part of social and cultural norms and so proscribing it would
violate the culture of Swazis. One senator went even further and
decried the criminalization of forced marriages saying that the custom
was important as it ensured that a girl’s father was able to benefit from
his daughter’s marriage since
the girl would be given to a
man who has cattle to pay the
bride price (Littlejohn, 2012).
In enforcing progressive
national legislation, the
key challenge is influential
religious and traditional
leaders who use religion and
culture to compromise the
human rights of women. For
"...there is no explicit recognition of
crimes such as physical and sexual
abuse, which are currently considered
private or ‘domestic’ matters not fit
to be brought before a public court."
example, Liberia and Mali are obliged under Article 5 of the Protocol
to enact laws that criminalise Female Genital Mutilation (FGM)
but due to pressure from religious and traditional leaders they have,
to-date, failed to honour this obligation. Article 14 on reproductive
health rights is another sensitive issue with religious leaders and
has resulted in Kenya and Uganda entering reservations against
some sub-articles, while other countries have delayed ratification.
In addition, some countries have taken issue with 18 years being the
minimum age of marriage, even though all countries have ratified
the UN Convention on the Rights of the Child (D’Almeida, 2011).
In April 2013, Uganda considered a series of extraordinary
measures, including one that would see women arrested for
wearing skirts above the knee in public. The proposed law would
mark a return to the era of Dictator Idi Amin, who banned short
skirts by decree. The government-backed bill would also see
many films and television dramas banned and personal internet
use closely monitored by officials. Introduced by the Ethics and
Integrity Minister, a former Catholic priest, the anti-pornography
bill contends that there has been an ‘increase in pornographic
materials in the Ugandan mass media and nude dancing in the
entertainment world’. It proposes that anyone found guilty of
abetting pornography faces a 10-million shillings (US$4,000)
fine or a maximum of 10 years in jail, or both (AWID, 2013).
The attacks on women’s bodies and freedoms even extend to
slashing national budgets to deal with fiscal deficits. The effects
on women are compounded. They range from increasing poverty
among women, unemployment as shrinking budgets lead to
job cuts in health care and education (industries where women
predominate), and ultimately a situation where women suffer the
consequences of the State’s inability to take care of its citizens.
While there are specificities according to local contexts and
traditions, the common trait behind these policies and practices
is the desire to exercise control and to regulate sexual and human
reproduction, which impacts most dramatically on the lives and
that in most African states, colonial laws provided that the long
arm of rights did not extend into the private or domestic sphere.
In pluralist legal systems, this realm was basically governed by
indigenous customs and cultures. Many post-independence African
constitutions exempted personal (private) laws (e.g., marriage,
divorce, adoption, burial, inheritance and succession) from the
operation of the non-discrimination principle. In reality, males
have created – and still create – political culture worldwide, so it
is no surprise that male values, needs and ambitions dominate.
Furthermore, in a context of increasing conservatism and religious
fundamentalism, relationships between state and religious and
cultural groups are governed by whether or not the state needs the
help of those groups to consolidate its power. This type of power is
referred to as hidden power (Venklasen et al, 2006). While religious
and cultural groups may not be formal decision-makers (elected,
appointed or otherwise), they nevertheless maintain their influence by
controlling who gets to the decision-making table and what gets on
the agenda. Hidden power works to exclude and devalue the concerns
and representation of other less powerful groups, like women. In
addition to controlling the public agenda and public debate, public
and private institutions are often structured to systematically exclude
and discriminate against certain types of people and ideas.
We know that the family is a gendered space closely associated with
women (albeit headed by men). Therefore, it follows that the African
Protocol on the Rights of Women views women as the custodians of
morals and traditional values. In as far as this holds true, when ‘rights’
and ‘culture’ are constructed as conflicting parallel systems, the points
of contact between gender, rights and culture become extremely
foggy. In other words, if African culture is synonymous with women,
and the concepts of ‘rights’ and ‘culture’ continue to be viewed as
being at odds with each other, then African women would first have to
strip themselves of culture before enjoying their rights (Tamale, 2007).
Ultimately, the perseverance of a patriarchal model of governance
continues to make women the objects of political decisions that
they do not shape politically, and which are biased towards men,
especially male state bureaucrats, and traditional and cultural leaders.
How does the patriarchal State collude
to maintain women’s oppression?
The response to who defines law depends on which law one is
referring to. Where reference is made to state law, it is the state that
defines the law through its established institutions and channels. It
is the state again which takes responsibility for the implementation
of such laws through the hierarchy of courts established under its
judiciary and other quasi-judicial structures that may be in place.
This view of the state as the sole definer of law is referred to as
legal centralism. It puts the state and its structures at the centre
of social order. Feminism recognises that there are regulatory
forces other than the state, which the state takes into account.
The multiple legal codes in operation in Africa are part of the
colonial legacy and they reflect customary, religious and imported
common law values. However, this reality raises questions about
whose customary laws are recognised by the courts since custom
and culture are dynamic. Feminism is concerned with the regressive
interpretations of customary and religious law by courts. It is just
as concerned about the individual rights of women as it is about
communal rights that are espoused by customary law. The multiple
legal codes commonly find application in family law matters such as
marriage, inheritance, maintenance, custody of children and property
ownership by women, which is where the personal status of women is
determined. Women also take with them into the public arena the status
already accorded them within the family. Adherence to patriarchal
traditionalist values lends itself to a particularly masculinist terrain that
promotes gender inequality in the operation of multiple legal codes.
How this plays out in our lives is that the system of patriarchy ultimately
works through a process of law to create a system that defines what
it means to be men and women in a society. Veneklasen et al (2006)
refer to this as invisible power. It is the most insidious of the three
dimensions of power and – by influencing how individuals think about
their place in the world – it shapes people’s beliefs, sense of self and
acceptance of the status quo, including their own sense of superiority
or inferiority as ‘natural’. This is how the process of socialization,
culture and ideology perpetuate exclusion and inequality by defining
what is normal, true and acceptable. These processes also help to
make injustices like poverty and sexism invisible to the society at
large, and make those who experience systematic discrimination
the object of blame – indeed they often blame themselves.
This is evident in how the structuring of family, institutionalisation of
marriage and heteronormativity serve as effective gatekeepers for
women, especially as the concepts are introduced at an early age and
so they are internalized by both men and women. As noted by Tamale
(2007), the main reasons why patriarchal, capitalist societies need to
regulate and control the sexuality and reproductive capacity of women
is to keep women’s bodies in the domestic arena, where as ‘decent
wives’ and ‘good mothers’ they remain dependent on their breadwinner
husbands. Secondly, and more importantly, it is supposed to guarantee
the paternity and legitimacy of the children of the marriage.
Guaranteeing paternity is considered vital to ensuring that descent
through the male line is retained and that property is bequeathed to
the husband’s offspring. In order to achieve this objective, the law
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while the state is correctly seen as patriarchal and clearly
biased against women, much of the (women’s) movement’s activism
is, in fact, addressed to the state and carries a definite, albeit
unarticulated expectation that the state will, or should, or
must, support women’s rights and equality” (Shaheed 1997).
References
AFF (2006). Charter of Feminist Principles for
African Feminists. African Feminist Forum
AWID (2013). Uganda Bill criminalises mini-skirts
http://www.awid.org/News-Analysis/Women-s-
Rights-in-the-News2/Uganda-Bill-criminalises-miniskirts
BuaNews (2012). Controversial Traditional
Courts Bill withdrawn
http://www.polity.org.za/article/controversial-traditional-
courts-bill-withdrawn-2012-11-29
Chimtom, NK (2012). Giving women land,
giving them a future
http://farmlandgrab.org/post/view/21174
D’Almeida, M (2011). African Women’s
Organizing for Ratification and Implementation
of the Maputo Protocol
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Ratification-and-Implementation-of-the-
Maputo-Protocol
Dahlerup, D. (1987) ‘Confusing Concepts –
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Littlejohn, Maureen (2012). Stalking in the
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the-name-of-culture/
Shaheed, Farida. (1997) “Women, State
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Saigol. Engendering the Nation-State. Lahore:
Simorgh Publications
Tamale, S (2007). The Right to Culture and
the Culture of Rights: A Critical Perspective on
Women’s Sexual Rights in Africa, Sex Matter,
Urgent Action Fund. 2007
Veneklasen, L, Valerie Miller, Lisa Veneklasen,
Molly Reilly and Cindy Clark (2006 Making
Change Happen: Power: Concepts for
Revisioning Power for Justice, Equality and
Peace. Just Associates.
To that end, we have to challenge o bodies of women. Therefore, they link very closely with the political urselves with this quote:
project of patriarchy to help keep women in the domestic sphere by
depriving them of the possibility of developing their full potential.
Moving forward
We need to locate our strategies in the understanding of the changed
political-economic context within which we work – a context of
neo-liberal globalisation in which conservatism and fundamentalism
fuel, and are fuelled by, ever-increasing militarization. In addition,
we need to understand how this impacts on the range of African
women’s rights but particularly our reproductive and sexual rights,
and our capacity to address the violations we experience.
Firstly, we need to come up with a combination of old and new-fangled
ways of engaging with the decision-making and power
structures of cultural and religious institutions. To do this, we
need to map our possible allies and those who we can persuade
to join in our efforts. It is important that we direct our efforts at
all three levels of power – visible, invisible and hidden – in order
to continue the fight for African women’s rights in the private
sphere. Our articulation of the notion of democracy and how we
conceive our states must be grounded in the idea of moving from
purely representative democracies to more participatory ones.
This implies moving our struggle for political participation beyond
the usual debates about quantity and quality to debates on the
governance structures we are participating in, and whether or not
they facilitate active, participatory democracy – and how to ensure
that they confront the very systemic characteristics of patriarchy.
African women have fought patriarchy and male privilege for
centuries. But we need new tools – new activist tools – that
we have had a part in designing and formulating. Although we
recognise the state as an important perpetuator of patriarchal
power, it can also become a significant source of social reform
even if the factors driving reform are not entirely pro-women.
"African women have fought patriarchy and male privilege
for centuries. But we need new tools – new activist tools
– that we have had a part in designing and formulating. "
Photographed by K. Kendall
11
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10
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When my application was finally considered, I was given a
confirmation letter and a declaration of renunciation that I had
to deliver to the Zambian embassy to denounce my Zambian
citizenship – a citizenship I don’t believe I ever owned in the first place.
The processing took a few days. It looked as though the Zambians
were quite eager to offload me to someone else – although they
(the Zimbabwean authorities) didn’t appear very eager to take me
in! But at last I could now apply for a Zimbabwean passport.
This whole experience made me wonder what citizenship really
means. I now hold a Zimbabwean passport and citizenship, but I
also now feel that I do not truly belong here. If I belonged here why
did I have to struggle that much to get documentation? Had it not
been for my education, I would not have gone through all the long
processes required to get my hands on Zimbabwean citizenship.
At least I am not now sitting at some border with an unknown
citizenship status. But I wonder how many other people are
sitting at various borders – not knowing who they are anymore.
How many people have suffered because of the decisions that
were made by their parents before they were even born? And
what hope do they have when all the power to decide where they
‘belong’ resides with countries’ laws and regulations governing
citizenship – particularly outdated patriarchal laws and regulations
that still prioritise fathers – and is not necessarily based on their
understanding of who they really feel they are? I sincerely think
a better way to make such decisions should be considered.
It troubled me for months that I could be treated as a foreigner after
being born and living in a country for the first 18 years of my life –
without ever leaving it. It broke my heart. I thought it was impossible
for somebody to be said to belong nowhere. Surely everyone
belongs somewhere? And I did not see why I had to suffer because
my father was a Tumbuka born in Zambia, and I had no trace of him.
Growing up, I never identified with my Zambian relatives whom I
had never seen and had no desire or motivation – or indeed hope
– of ever meeting. I thought I had nothing to do with them. In my
current predicament I began to feel that at least being identified as
one of them might have been much better than being said to belong
nowhere. Since my father was not around to explain to me who the
Tumbuka people are, I had to learn about their beliefs and practices
from books and whenever I had an opportunity to interact with some
of them. I felt forced to relate with people I really didn’t identify with.
By then I was in the final year of my A level studies at school. I
needed to belong somewhere: I had to be a citizen of some country
to hold a passport, since I intended to go to university the following
year. Since enrolments are limited at Zimbabwean universities,
preference is often given to citizens, which would obviously
hamper my citizenshipless chances. In addition, foreign students
are required to pay double the tuition fees, and to apply for study
permits. Without a passport, it would also be impossible for me to
leave Zimbabwe to go to university abroad. My tertiary education
and my future were now at stake. I felt my future slipping away
from under my feet. I felt really disadvantaged by the system.
I seriously considered exploring how to get Zambian
citizenship. But I knew this was going to be another very long
process and I knew that my mother did not have the capacity
to finance all the necessary expenses. And since my family
lives in Zimbabwe, it would be impossible for me to stay in
Zambia and study there because I do not know anyone there,
as we have failed to trace any of my father’s relatives.
At this point in time, my urgent need for a passport meant that I
was left with no option but to renounce my ‘foreign’ citizenship.
I was informed that the process would take anything between
six months to God-knows how many years! I was informed that
there was an option to make an emergency application and
that this would reduce the waiting time significantly. This made
sense since it was an ‘emergency application’. But the reality
soon dawned on me, as I joined the long and winding queues
at the offices for these ‘emergency documents’. My greatest
worry at this point was all the time I was spending in queues
rather than in class – and I was in an important examination
year: a critical year in my studies. Indeed, in my life.
"Without a passport, it would
also be impossible for me
to leave Zimbabwe to go to
university abroad. My tertiary
education and my future
were now at stake. I felt my
future slipping away from
under my feet. I felt really
disadvantaged by the system."
State, Culture and
Oppression
By Onai Hara
Onai Hara is an undergraduate student at the University of Zimbabwe
studying for a BA (Hons) in Social work. She is also an active youth
volunteer with the CAAF Trust. She is particularly interested in helping
orphans and vulnerable children and rural disadvantaged women to
unlock their potential and discover their inherent purpose.
never imagined that a simple act of processing identity
documents – that I thought I was entitled to – could be
I
that demanding, complicated and tiresome. I soon realised
that I had neither power nor control over the procedures
as they are stipulated in statutory instruments.
My father, being Zambian, migrated to work in Zimbabwe
where he got married and where my siblings and I were born.
This is where we have lived our entire lives. Even after my
father left for Zambia (and never returned), we all remained
and lived in Zimbabwe. This was about 15 years ago, and ever
since then my siblings and I have been under the care of our
mother. We were all raised among the local people and naturally
shared the local norms, beliefs and languages: I speak all three
of Zimbabwe’s official languages. I had a Zimbabwean birth
certificate and national identity card. As far as I was concerned,
this made me Zimbabwean. Indeed, nothing could have made
me more Zimbabwean than that. And this was my blissful
belief for the first 18 years of my life. How wrong I was!
When I turned 18 my world changed completely. I confidently
went to the passport offices to apply for passport. I was informed
that it was impossible for me to apply for a passport as I did not a
valid citizenship certificate with me. I was obviously confused since
I had both a Zimbabwean identity card and a Zimbabwean birth
certificate. Besides, for 18 years I had lived in the country, gone to
school and had participated in all other normal activities – and at no
point had I ever been asked to justify my nationality or citizenship.
I needed someone to explain this bizarre situation to me.
I was told that I was, in fact,
citizenshipless – I was neither
Zimbabwean nor Zambian. I
wondered if this meant that
I belonged nowhere.
The explanation was that because my father was born in Zambia
that also made me Zambian, even though I had never been to
Zambia myself! Because my father held a Zambian passport, my
own Zimbabwean national documents were now rendered irrelevant
in deciding my citizenship. This meant I could not get a passport of
the nationality that I had known myself to belong to my entire life. I
couldn’t help but reflect on the fact that it had been 15 years since my
father had left us in Zimbabwe, never to return and never to contact
us again. However, this was just the beginning of my nightmare.
The system in my home country (Zimbabwe) could not grasp
that I was not a foreigner in this place – the land of my birth
and home. Surely a Zimbabwean birth certificate and identity
card confirmed my right to be a Zimbabwean? But apparently
not. Indeed, the response wrecked my world: I was told that
I was, in fact, citizenshipless – I was neither Zimbabwean nor
Zambian. I wondered if this meant that I belonged nowhere.
State, Culture and Oppression
13
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Introduction
e put it up front that we disagree
with each other about whether it
is appropriate for men to call themselves
feminist. On the one hand, Mbuyiselo is
convinced that it is not only conceivable for
men to be feminist, but that it is courageous
and ethically desirable, and that (African
male) feminism is an elaboration of ubuntu/
botho. As Mbuyiselo has said, and Kopano
fully agrees, ubuntu/botho is a negation of
any form of oppression, and feminism is thus
an articulation of this philosophy of non-oppressive
relationality that ‘I am because
you are, and you are because I am’. “At the
most simple level,” Mbuyiselo has said, “to be
a feminist male means to embrace values that
seek gender justice for all.” (Botha, 2012).
On the other hand, Kopano feels that, given
the power of words, the use of the term
feminist for men should be used with caution.
For him the best term for men working with
women on gender equality is pro-feminist.
This disagreement over what to call ourselves
– feminist, pro-feminist, anti-patriarchal or
antisexist men – may be significant at one
or other point in time, but it only represents
a difference in tactics. Frankly, we cannot
consider what men call themselves to be
as fundamental as their active support for
struggles against gender inequality, sexual
and gender-based violence, or any other
issue relevant to women’s struggles against
patriarchal domination. However, at the
strategic objective level, it is important
that men refrain from being opportunistic,
hijacking or undermining the gains made
by the women-led feminist movement.
Indeed, we are in agreement that the
struggle should be fought side-by-side,
with women leading the gender struggle.
The same lesson about who must lead
different struggles for social justice was
learned during the national liberation of
South Africa – namely that the liberation
struggle would be led by African people.
“At the most simple level,” Mbuyiselo has said, “to
be a feminist male means to embrace values that
seek gender justice for all.” (Botha, 2012).
It is important to underline that on
several occasions we disagree with one
another, and often enough challenge
each other with love. This, we believe, is
significant enough to make explicit.
The debates
Writing in the Introduction to the 1996
edition of Biko’s collected essays on
black consciousness, I write what I like, his
comrades Malusi and Thoko Mpumlwana
(1996, page xiii), argued: ‘The struggle to
re-order the attitudes and relationships of
women themselves, between women and
men…is as fundamental as the struggle ever
was for the re-ordering of race relations for
blacks in South Africa and the world.’ It was,
of course. And it remains so to this day.
What this seeks to demonstrate is that even
though many political activists and scholars
have tended to privilege one struggle over
another – whether class over race, race over
gender, gender over sexual orientation, or
vice versa – particularly African and black
women have lived within the strangling sense
of being pressed to keep some parts of their
lives in the dark. For instance, a number
of African and black women authors have
articulated the experience of being almost
compelled to consider racial liberation as
more urgent than gender rights, or the
converse. In a similar vein, it is self-evident
at this moment in our history that for
South African black lesbians, transgender
individuals and gay men, equality on the basis
of gender and race without specific attention
to sexual identities and freedom can mean
the difference between death and life – that
right on the basis of race does not protect
one from violent injury. For these individuals,
obviously the struggle for recognition of
their gendered sexualities continues.
For African and black women liberationists
and feminists the world over – amongst
whom there are, to be sure, important internal
contestations – what the Mpumlwanas came
to recognise goes without saying. Yet, if
activists and critical writers also fail at times
to see the forms of inequality as interlocking,
it behoves us to talk more, teach better,
protest more effectively, march longer and
write more powerfully against race oppression
(or gender, or other forms of oppression) to
undermine the grid of injustice. In order to
better perceive the nature and changing faces
of inequality, men and women must come
to see that the struggles against racialised
inequality do not do away with the need to
struggle against gender, sexual and economic
inequalities and other forms of injustice.
Inequality structures the world. Power over
others is attractive and systemic. Through
various channels, patriarchal power and
heterosexism, just like racist domination,
are rendered psycho-socially enjoyable to
many men and women. The same is true for
other kinds of power, with power related to
money perhaps the clearest embodiment
of the enjoyment that people derive from
power over others. Oppression, then, takes
W
Profeminist Black Men: Engaging Women Liberationists, Undermining Patriarchy
Profeminist Black Men:
Engaging Women Liberationists,
Undermining Patriarchy
By Kopano Ratele and Mbuyiselo Botha
Kopano Ratele is a Professor in the Institute of Social and Health Sciences at the
University of South Africa (UNISA) and co-director of the Medical Research Council-
UNISA Safety and Peace Promotion Research Unit. He has a range of scholarly and
wider cultural interests including in the areas of violence, sexuality, race and traditions,
and men and masculinities. He is chair of Sonke Gender Justice.
Mbuyiselo Botha works for Sonke Gender Justice Network where he is responsible for
media and government relations. He worked extensively as the dissemination officer
for the International Red Cross based in South Africa in the 80s. He was a founder
member of the South African Men’s Forum and is currently the secretary general of the
Forum, where he deals with issues of advocacy, training and community based structure
building. He is also a member of the national steering committee for the planning of the
annual activities for the 16 Days of activism against violence against women and children
campaign. Mbuyiselo co-hosts a weekly talk-show on Kaya FM (In conversation with
men). In 2007, then President of South Africa Thabo Mbeki expressed his appreciation
for Mbuyiselo’s work with men to enhance gender equality in South Africa.
Simply for men to be present in the room when important explicit discussions of
gender inequality are being held, to be listening without being dominant, and to
be on the side of the interests of gender equality, is a game changer.
– Sisonke Msimang, 2013.
The power of patriarchy has been to make maleness feared and to make men feel
it is better to be feared than to be loved.
– bell hooks, 2004.
15
BUWA! A Journal on African Women's Experiences 100
14
100

easier and concern ourselves with the gender
politics of another stalwart of the national
liberation struggle, current president of the
ANC and head of state of South Africa,
Jacob Zuma (cf., Ratele 2006). Or we could
delve deeper into the sexual politics of the
expelled leader of the ANC Youth League,
Julius Malema, for which Mbuyiselo Botha
and Sonke Gender Justice Network took
him to the Equality Court and won1 (see
Ratele, Shefer & Botha 2011). Or, because
as we write this we are challenged by and
could respond to the retrogressive discourse
of gender represented by the businessman
and television personality Kenny Kunene
and his fifteen or more girlfriends who know
each other and live in his house and are
currently dominating the South Africa media
space2, we could concern ourselves with that
discourse of black masculinity. However, we
cannot only take the seemingly easy cases. It
is a belief that we hold dear that sometimes
we must resist the urge to go along.
The fact is there are many reactionary
discursive currents undermining the
development of anti-patriarchal masculinities
in South Africa that must be addressed.
These include the hyper-visible pattern
of masculinity, which tends to be most
attractive to certain kinds of mass media that
champions consumption as is represented
by Kunene and other prominent men. It
seems to us that Kunene and more generally
masculinity (and gender) that revolves around
capitalist consumption are attractive to the
media for the very reason that they are an
effective check against the real liberation
of young black men and women from
capitalist patriarchy: they send confusing
messages about sexual relationships,
money, masculinities and femininities.
Secondly, there is a resurgent traditionalist
gender position that seeks to recreate
tribalistic masculinities and femininities,
represented by traditional and political
leaders such as Chief Phatekile Holomisa3
and the king of the Zulus, Goodwill
Zwelithini.4 President Zuma also sometimes
employs a discourse based on Zulu culture
and tradition to support his gender and sexual
practices.5 One of the main problems with
gender traditionalism is its refusal to critically
reflect on the contents of culture and tradition
as prejudiced against women and supportive
of an injurious patriarchy (Ratele 2013).
While cognisant of the differences within
women’s movement and gender activism,
as well being aware of many feminists who
work with men, there is, thirdly, a discourse
that appropriates gender talk to argue that
men cannot change. This discourse may also
be tied to a view that is largely indifferent to
men’s lives except in connection to violence
against women. bell hooks (2006) suggests
that this type of reformist talk sees gender
‘freedom as simply women having the right to
be like powerful patriarchal men’ (as opposed
to being like ‘poor and working class men’).
Interestingly, this reactionary discourse
mirrors the monist antiracist discourse (that
we started with above), which understands
black men’s social condition as primarily a
result of white racism, thus minimising black
men’s and women’s oppression by (both white
and black) patriarchy. It must be obvious
that we regard both racism and patriarchy,
among others, as imprisoning black men
(and women) from living truly free lives.
Defining ourselves as black in the way Biko
spoke of blackness is to learn to question the
prevailing socio-political and economic order.
To claim to be Biko’s black (as opposed to
non-white) is the beginning of the process
of unlearning a still hegemonic view of
what it means to be a black in the world.
Yet Biko’s black subject needs a sex, a
gender. He – although, as shown above, the
subject at times is a she – needs a liberating
sex/gender education. Liberated black
manhood is about, in our view, a questioning
attitude towards the patriarchal and sexual,
not only the racial, order. Black manhood
is a gender value, not only a racial attitude.
Progressive black masculinity is a stance and
a perspective on the patriarchal, heterosexist,
white world – where all the terms carry
equitable weight, although we are well aware
that these are not exhaustive of all the terms
in the struggle for justice and equality.
We are not aware of whether Malusi and
Thoko Mpumlwana were gender and queer
activists. However, what is clear from their
Introduction is that to come to be part
of struggles whose aim is to make wider
society realise that we are not only black,
men (and women) need a consciousness of
women’s liberation and feminist struggles.
The transformation of black men into
active supporters of gender and sexual
equality demands engaging in deliberate
education for social justice. It is only through
a consciousness of women’s liberation
struggles and feminist insights that men
come to appreciate that a racist injury is
no worse than sexist traumatisation. It will
not happen by itself that men (and women)
comprehend the fact that sexual and gender-based
violence is a systematic weapon of
hetero-patriarchal masculinity. (Again, we
admit, the picture is more complex, the
violence more entwined). Conscientisation
in feminism and women’s liberation struggles
is the surest route towards grasping the
perversity of the patriarchal condition, where
biological femaleness reduces a person to
the status of a perpetual minor or second
class citizen – and to voicelessness.
It might be obvious to many people, but
it is important to state this: we are not
only men. We are also well-employed,
black, heterosexual subjects. While critical
work with men and masculinities gives
privileged focus to men as a gender, to the
constitutive power of gender in relation
to racial order, the converse is also vital to
understand. In other words, we need to
understand black men’s gender construction
from the location of race. If some men
see their problem with gender equality as
caused by the colonial destabilisation of
on various entrancing guises in different
contexts. As such, women’s and men’s
struggles are ultimately always against unjust
power. It is not against symptomatic injustice
that we ultimately struggle. Although it might
be urgent at different points of history and
in different contexts to mount resistance,
it is not merely against isolated oppressive
acts of racism, gender and sexual violence,
economic exclusion, nationalism, culturally
oppressive practices, or any other monistic
view of oppression that we need to fight. For
black women and men especially, it would
appear that this view of struggle as more than
simply against any single form of injustice
would be obvious. Evidently, it is not. To be
sure, all of us are given daily mis-education
about how to think about the world and our
own lives through various means (actually
induced and estranged from thinking
for ourselves) – with the media, formal
education system and our social relationships
being the most powerful vehicles in this
process of alienation. Therefore, none
of us can do without on-going critical
political education or conscientisation.
The Mpumlwanas also noted that, while
they shared Biko’s passion for the liberation
of black people from apartheid, they slowly
came to admit the masculinist politics of
Biko’s emancipatory project. Their insight
possibly provides the foundation for the
transformation of (antiracist) black men’s
masculinities. The two activists observed
that the experience of being oppressed
because of one’s sex is no less, and no
more, than being subjugated because of
one’s skin colour. Even then, the two black
consciousness activists would also state that
the gender prejudices in Biko’s work must be
seen in the context of his historical period,
and that Biko was a product of his time.
But this reads like a careful attempt not to
say something negative about Biko. It comes
across as a justification for the gender biases
that characterised Biko’s politics. The truth is
that Biko was ahead of his time in many ways.
He was a man who did not quietly accept
what the apartheid government intended
black people to be – docile, unquestioning
and politically unaware. He stood up against
the racial order that wanted to put him in
his subservient black place. He questioned
the world not only for himself. As part of the
founders of a new progressive movement in
South Africa, he led black people towards
the on-going task of imagining themselves
anew. In initiating projects informed by
a self-belief in black abilities and beauty,
he started the continuing endeavour to
give a new content to blackness in South
Africa. And Biko’s inquiring attitude was not
only directed at the racist system. He also
questioned his would-be student fellow-travellers
in the then dominant white-led
student organisation, the National Union
of South African Students (NUSAS), and
led a walkout from the organisation. He
convincingly rejected the representations
about black conditions from both the white
and black media as contained in his ‘Letter to
SRC presidents’ (Biko, 1996). And, publically,
he cuttingly questioned the recognised
black political leaders, including the leaders
of the African National Congress (ANC),
the Pan-Africanist Congress of Azania and
the South African Communist Party, and
stalwarts of the national liberation struggles –
such as Nelson Mandela, Oliver Tambo and
Robert Sobukwe, let alone people like Gatsha
Buthelezi and other homeland leaders.
In brief, if Biko was a product of his
patriarchal racist time, he was, thankfully,
a bad factory design both for apartheid
and the conservative black order. For his
insubordination, his psycho-political acumen
in relation to the workings of power, Biko is
the best starting point for black conscious
men committed to gender equality. The key
point here is that we could make our lives
all of us are given daily mis-education about
how to think about the world and our own lives
through various means (actually induced and
estranged from thinking for ourselves) – with
the media, formal education system and our
social relationships being the most powerful
vehicles in this process of alienation.
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References
Biko, Stephen B. 1996. I Write What I Like.
London: Bowerdean Publishing.
Botha, Mbuyiselo. 6 October 2012. I may be
a proud feminist, but I am no sissy. City Press.
Retrieved 17 April 2013 from http://www.
citypress.co.za/Columnists/I-may-be-a-proud-feminist-
but-I-am-no-sissy-20121006/.
hooks, bell. 2004. The Will to Change: Men,
Masculinity, and Love. New York: Washington
Square Press.
Mohanty, Chandra Talpade. Under Western
Eyes: Feminist Scholarship and Colonial
Discourses. Feminist Review 30 (1988): 61-88.
Mpumlwana, Malusi & Mpumlwana, Thoko
1996. ‘Introduction’, in Biko, Stephen B. I Write
What I Like (x-xxiv). London: Bowerdean
Publishing.
Msimang, Sisonke 2013. ‘Chairperson’s Letter’ in
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Cape Town: Sonke Gender Justice Network.
www.genderjustice.org,za. Ratele Kopano 2006.
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Ratele, Kopano 2013. Masculinity without
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Ratele Kopano, Shefer Tammy and Botha
Mbuyiselo. 2011. Navigating past “the white
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and Keith Pringle (eds), (2011) Men and
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(247-259). New York: Palgrave MacMillan.
SAPA (23 January 2012). ‘Zwelithini: Gay
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Endnotes
1. Julius Malema, ex-president of the African
National Congress Youth League, told a
meeting of students in January 2009 that
when a woman didn’t enjoy it, she leaves
early in the morning. Those who had a nice
time will wait until the sun comes out, request
breakfast and ask for taxi money.” Malema’s
comments were an oblique response to the
woman who had taken ANC president and
current head of the state Jacob Zuma to
court for rape in 2006. Zuma was acquitted
of the charge. At the time, the Young League
leader appeared to be close to Jacob Zuma,
the president of the mother body, the ANC.
Malema has since been expelled from the
ANC for behaviour unrelated to his sexism.
2.See Charles Cilliers 7 April 2013. Inside
the Sushi King’s sexy Sandton harem.
City Press. Retrieved 17 April 2013 from
http://www.citypress.co.za/entertainment/
inside-the-sushi-kings-sexy-sandton-harem/.
For feminist responses see, e.g., Lizl
Morden April 15 2013 The case of Kenny
Kunene and the 15 girlfriends. FeministsSA.
com. Retrieved 17 April 2013 from http://
feministssa.com/2013/04/15/the-case-of-
kenny-kunene-and-the-15-girlfriends/;
Pumla Gqola 14 April 2013 Sushi King’s
monster’s ball. City Press. Retrieved 17
April from http://www.citypress.co.za/
columnists/sushi-kings-monsters-ball/
3. Chief Phatekile Holomisa, Head of the
Congress of Traditional Leaders and an ANC
member of parliament, was reported to have
said that “homosexuality was a condition that
occurred when certain cultural rituals have
not been performed.” He also said that the
National House of Traditional Leaders “wants
to remove a clause from the Constitution
which protects people on the grounds of
sexual orientation.” (Rossouw, 2012, p. 5).
4.In 2012, the Zulu monarch was reported
to have called people with same-sex desires
‘rotten’. According to media reports, King
Zwelithini said, “Traditionally, there were
no people who engaged in same-sex
relationships. There was nothing like that
and if you do it, you must know that you
are rotten. I don’t care how you feel about
it. If you do it, you must know that it is
wrong and you are rotten. Same sex is not
acceptable.” The king was speaking during
the 133rd commemoration of the Battle of
Isandlwana at Nquthu in northern KwaZulu-
Natal. (Mdletshe 2012, SAPA 2012)
5. See Pillay, Verashni (22 Aug 2012).
Zuma: Women must have children. Mail
& Guardian Online. Retrieved 18 April
from http://mg.co.za/article/2012-08-
21-zuma-women-must-have-children.
their culture by western white traditions,
we cannot afford to be dismissive of such
views. We exist within orbits of hegemony
and subordination. Therefore, to be
successful, anti-patriarchal black projects
on masculinity must grapple with not one
issue – patriarchy only – but rather with
all of the entangled roots of inequality.
Concluding reflections
Our disagreements notwithstanding, we
are clear about what connects us. Above
all, we are connected by the idea that for
men like us both patriarchy and racism hurt
our health. We are agreed that the aim of
the project to liberate black masculinities
is to challenge the twinned ideologies of
male and white superiority (as well as other
social injustices). We are opposed to sexual
and gender-based violence and hetero-patriarchal
racial power. We seek to reveal
the deleterious effects of men’s gender
power over women. After the feminist insight
by, for example, Chandra Talpade Mohanty
(1988) – and significantly, other feminists
from the global South or black American
feminists – who showed that women are not
an ahistorical, universal and fixed category,
we are aware that men are not homogenous
and that due to their economic, racial,
political, cultural and sexual positions they
have power over other men. We challenge
the structural and episodic violence of, and
on, men. We want to contribute to founding
new forms of healthy manhood. Following
bell hooks, we think our work in partnership
to feminist women and gender activists is to
show that ‘patriarchal culture continues to
control the hearts of men precisely because
it socializes males to believe that without
their role as patriarchs they will have no
reason for being’ (hooks, 2004, page 115).
This is, then, what we learned from the black
consciousness movement and the struggle
for national liberation more generally. We
learned to love justice for all women and
men. We learned to learn from women, to
listen without fear, aggression, or prejudice.
We learned to question power. We learned
about what a critical black self-awareness
as part of identities entails. We learned to
love ourselves quietly again. We learned,
therefore, that we would never be true to
ourselves if we went back to an obedient,
unreflective ‘yes baas’ kind of existence. A
reflective, profeminist black view implies
always approaching our condition and
practices as heterosexual, married, men and
black with a constructive questioning attitude.
It entails always examining and ‘doing’ race,
gender, sexuality and other categories
within which we are socially positioned,
and all men’s and women’s practices more
generally, with a critical eye. Thus, whereas
we learn from the anti-racist project of the
black consciousness movement to love
blackness and overcome the ideology of
white superiority, from feminism we learn to
reject male superiority and to create new self-definitions
that liberate masculinities from
patriarchal, homophobic and capitalist power.
Out of these lessons, we come to the
conclusion that what we are doing in claiming
the space of profeminist African masculinities
is engaging in the process of contributing
towards moulding a different social order
that will allow out children to flourish. We are
investing in the future where the boys and
girls we are raising can live in a world where
they can be anything they set their minds to
be. There are times when we recognise that
we might not get to such a world ourselves.
Nonetheless, with Martin Luther King in
mind, we see ourselves as fertilising the
ground for a future where girls are educated
for a feminist, confident, happier and healthier
life, and black boys and white boys genuinely
believe – in their hearts and not just their
brains – in girls’ and women’s rights to their
own views, goals, feelings, bodies, health and
independent lives. In that future, boys are also
empowered with a progressive education,
which prepares them for an egalitarian,
democratic, non-violent and healthier life.
“Out of these lessons, we
come to the conclusion
that what we are
doing in claiming the
space of profeminist
African masculinities
is engaging in the
process of contributing
towards moulding a
different social order
that will allow our
children to flourish."
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In many African communities, the initiation
rite constitutes a very crucial stage in an
individual’s life. The initiation rites symbolize
the transition from boyhood to manhood.
During this process, boys are exposed
to community traditions so that they can
learn how to behave. They are trained to
become full community members. It is a
very influential process and strongly affects
what individuals subsequently consider
to be wrong or right. Initiation rites are
perhaps one of the most ‘definitive’ of all
the rituals – during which we are told about
social expectations, about who we must be,
and about what we are permitted to think,
speak and experience (Osório 2009).
For that reason, when I learned about
this gang rape, I first felt deeply sorry for
the young lady, whose life was in great
danger and whose future had been so
viciously and seriously compromised
– particularly given the fact that there
are significant institutional, political
and economic challenges that limit the
support that can be given to survivors of
sexual violence in Mozambique. Indeed,
the double victimization of women
survivors of violence is very common
practice even within those institutions
that are supposed to be supportive and
helpful such as the police and hospitals.
But I also asked myself why she was subjected
to such a punishment. What makes a
group of young men rape a woman as if it
is a natural thing to do? And I felt deeply
concerned about the expectations that were
being created among the boys as future
full community members. They were being
taught to look at women’s bodies as objects
and without any kind of restraint. The rape of
a young woman during such a critical social
shaping process will create an even stronger
belief in men’s dominance over women – and
ensure that men’s ‘right’ to engage in similar
practices will be dangerously reinforced. In
my understanding, this is particularly worrying
in a context of highly sexualized masculinities.
Indeed, several studies (Matsinhe 2005,
Macie and Maharaj 2011, Ratele 2011)
have shown that in most of our so-called
‘African cultures’, the male identity tends
to be strongly sexualized. To a large
extent, it is constructed around sexual
experiences and attitudes towards sex and
women that shape, and are shaped by,
men’s conceptions about what is it to be
(or not to be) a real man. Examples of how
sex is a significant constitutive theme in
dominant masculinity narratives includes
the fact that “it is closely associated with
our sexual partners, their sexual appeal,
the size of our penises, the claims that we
make about our sexual stamina, whether
we can maintain a healthy erection and
how virile we are.” (Ratele 2011, page.399)
From youth to adulthood, we tend to over
value our sexual performance, which is
commonly reduced to penetration and
long lasting intercourse. We often refrain
from engaging in expressions of sexuality
that involve a strong component of
communication, endearment, tenderness
or any demonstration of emotion since this
is not supposedly part of the male world.
Usually, a man who shows ‘too much’
affection, particularly to a woman, is likely
to be ridiculed by his peers and to have his
manhood questioned. How many of us have
never felt embarrassed when using terms of
endearment such as ‘darling’, ‘sweetheart’
and ‘baby’ in our relationships? How easy
has it been for us to say ‘I love you!’ to our
beloved people?
It is not surprising that in our masculinity
narratives we usually tend to represent
ourselves as sexually skilful and successful.
This is often expressed through stories of
seduction and sexual stamina, which often
resemble ‘olympic’ endurance competitions.
It is also noteworthy that having a sexual
narrative seems to be of vital importance
to many of us – so that we can confirm and
reconfirm our manhood with others. Even
if we have to make up a story, in one way
“To many of us, there is
nothing more frightening
than to be seen as
sexually weak! The idea
that we can also have
challenges in our sexual
life – such as early
ejaculation, infertility
or erectile problems
– is unimaginable."
or another we seek to demonstrate how
knowledgeable and experienced we are
in sexual matters. This is probably one of
the reasons why we sometimes find almost
ridiculous gaps between what some men
tell about their sexual experiences and what
they really do or even know about sex.
To many of us, there is nothing more
frightening than to be seen as sexually
weak! The idea that we can also have
challenges in our sexual life – such as
early ejaculation, infertility or erectile
problems – is unimaginable. The
construction of a friendship with a woman
is also impossible for many of us because
we fail to regard women’s bodies as
anything other than an exclusive place for
‘realising our manhood’. Any woman we
meet is a potential target for our sexual
satisfaction. Yet, male erotic stories –
regardless of their accuracy or not – play
an important role in the construction and
reproduction of friendships among men
as well as in shaping the masculine ethos.
Notions of Sex, Masculinity and Manhood in African Cultures
Notions of Sex, Masculinity
and Manhood in African
Cultures
By Julio Langa
n January 2012, a very shocking sexual
assault was reported in one of the
I
main Mozambican daily newspapers.1 A
group of 17 young men, supported by their
‘spiritual leader’ raped a young woman in
the northern city of Pemba. As reported
in the newspaper, these young men were
going through an initiation rite, which was
taking place in an area relatively isolated
from the rest of the community members.
This event – as commonly happens in many
other similar rituals and practices in African
communities – is surrounded by a set of
fixed prohibitions and norms that should
guide the behaviour of those being initiated,
but also their relationship with others during
Julio Langa is a Mozambican trained in Social Science and
Anthropology at Eduardo Mondlane University in Maputo. In the
past 8 years, he has been working in the field of social work, research
and human rights. He has worked with national and international
institutions such as the Foundation for Community Development,
UN Women, Forum Mulher, Engender Health and Helvetas as a
Programme Manager, consultant, trainer and activist. Julio is co-founder
of the Men for Change Network (HOPEM), a civil society
movement dedicated to the advancement of healthy masculinities,
education for gender equality and peace building in Mozambique.
Currently he is the National Coordinator of HOPEM.
the course of the initiation. This event tends
to be strongly mystified and sanctified so
that people are not supposed to talk about
it or question it. In this case, the victim was
raped, allegedly, because she knowingly
and repeatedly ‘profaned’ the geographical
(and symbolic) limits that were established
between the initiation site and the other
community areas. Therefore, she was
brutally ‘sentenced’ to terrifyingly violent
sexual punishment.
This act of aggression was extremely
outrageous and problematic in many ways.
On the one hand, the victim was subjected
to an unbelievably horrific experience in
which a number of her fundamental rights
– enshrined in Mozambique’s constitution
and laws – were violated. On the other hand,
it also explicitly revealed a lot about the
values, attitudes and behaviour of young
men towards women that are perpetuated
in the name of culture and tradition. In this
case, we had a striking example of how
masculine mentality and practices can
totally women’s human rights. Furthermore,
this kind of violation promotes a sense of
entitlement among boys and men, which
legitimates their punishment of women
whenever they think it is necessary. It also
sent a very clear message about male
supremacy over women’s bodies.
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and unemployment many men have
not been able to conform to this ideal
of masculinity. Therefore, they have
been using sexuality to compensate
for this ‘lost’ of social power.
In this context, sexuality and violence
are reactions to this ‘crisis’ in traditional
masculinity. These men strive to keep their
manhood by sexually dominating their
partners, being unfaithful and living a life
of very liberal sexuality. Violence against
women is also an apparent alternative to
not having economic power, particularly
for young men who cannot provide their
partners with gifts and money (Groes-
Green 2009). The idea behind this trend
is that if I am not economically successful
at least I am successful in seducing women
and I can offer erotic experiences through
good sexual performance and skills. Thus,
they try to preserve some control over
women through sexuality (Aboim 2008
and Groes-Green 2009). In this context, it
is not surprising that 54 percent of female
respondents to a survey on violence against
women reported having suffered some sort
of male physical and/or sexual violence at
some point in their lifetime (MMAS 2004).
Among young men, there are several
myths about not having sex. In one group
discussion with young men that I attended,
it was said that if you do not have sex
for long time ‘you will be nervous all the
time’, ‘you will become infertile’ and ‘you
can even go crazy’. In Mozambique, the
pressure for young people to behave
according to the standards expected by
their peers is often symbolized by the
notion of ‘matreco’. This expression is
very popular in young men’s slang all
over the country and it has an equivalent
word with a similar meaning in almost all
native languages. It carries a number of
ambivalent and negative connotations
about men’s attitudes and behaviour,
particularly in the context of sexuality.
The ‘matreco’ is, for instance, a man
who is not sexually pro-active or ever
seen with a female partner; is unable
to make many girls his girlfriends or
sexually ‘satisfy’ them; cannot keep his
girlfriend ‘under control’; does not show
‘attitude’ or shows ‘too much’ sensitivity;
and demonstrates ‘women-like’ attitudes
and behaviour, such as talking about
his feelings, being too emotional etc.
This notion of ‘matreco’ is dangerous
to young men and women. Under
this kind of categorisation, young
people grow up believing that the use
of strength to address interpersonal
relationship challenges – as well as (self)
exclusion from sexual and reproductive
responsibilities – is quite acceptable for
a man. And they end up engaging in a
sexual culture conducive to HIV infection
and sexual dominance over women.
Some final thoughts
Undoubtedly, the sexual terrain is one
of the central loci of masculinity and
male power in our societies. The attempt
by many men to behave according to
predominant and strongly sexualized
forms of masculinity explains a number of
challenges that we face today in the field
of sexuality and human rights. Existing
values and beliefs in the society as a
whole, along with specific expectations
placed on male individuals, also create
a favourable context for many men to
engage in dangerous masculinities. In
this article I gave a few examples on how
men tend to express masculinity and
sexuality. This is something which has
only been possible with the active – or
silent – complicity of many of our cultural
institutions. I did not intend to generalise
the ideas or examples that I raised in this
article (it is known that masculinity can
take many forms and interact with several
factors according to specific contexts)
but simply to interrogate problematic
notions of sex and masculinities.
Indeed, I think it is time for us, as men,
to challenge all harmful views, beliefs
and values about what it means to be
a man, particularly those concepts
that are harmful to women but often
negative to us too. While the kind of
men that we are today is a result of how
we have been socialised within a broad
set of social institutions, we should never
forget that through the same processes
of socialisation it is possible to unlearn
gender and masculinity myths. Besides,
social institutions can also be changed.
There is evidence that we can make changes
in the way we deal with sexuality and other
issues constitutive of masculinity. A World
Health Organization study (WHO 2007)
came to the conclusion that the behaviour
and attitudes of men and boys that have
often been considered unchangeable
can, actually, be changed and lead to
better health outcomes for men, their
partners, families and children. Therefore,
seeking change in our masculinities is
not only beneficial for the millions of
"These men strive to keep
their manhood by sexually
dominating their partners,
being unfaithful and
living a life of very
liberal sexuality.
Violence against women
is also an apparent
alternative to not having
economic power..."
The issue of male engagement with multiple partners is one of the
most visible consequences of the phallocentric construction
of masculinity. It has been widely discussed and recognised as
one of the main drivers of the HIV epidemic, which needs to be
addressed in public policies and programmes across Africa.
In fact, to be (or at least to be seen as)
sexually competent, especially in the eyes
of other men, is usually ‘rewarding’ to our
manhood. This ‘competence’ includes
always being ready for a sexual adventure
and placing a high value on ‘success’ with
women, which is often translated into
engagement with several partners and
efforts to have sex without any emotional
involvement. These are very prominent
elements of manhood in our context. They
are also part of the most desirable and
celebrated forms of manhood. Usually, these
elements come with the notion that we, as
men, know all about sex and sexuality and
that we understand the matter better that
women – therefore we have to teach them
everything. But, deplorably, often the basic
physical characteristics of sex are all that we
know about sexuality. It seems to me that
we are still very far from a comprehensive
understanding of sexuality.
So, as we tend to place sex at the centre of
our relationships, our sexual stamina is like a
natural weighing-machine that tells us how
manly we are. Having an erect penis (the
tusa or kustumba in southern Mozambique)
is apparently the most important thing in
our lives. Judging by the way we tend to
overestimate and ‘obey’ our erect penises,
one would end up thinking that the rest
of the body is part of the penis and not
the other way round – or even that sexual
desire is above any other human need. To a
large extent, the male power in the society
is built on a functional and active penis.
Our sexuality and, therefore, our manhood
are generally phallocentric. This explains,
partially, why we seek to demonstrate the
functionality of our penises or exercise their
erections in many problematic ways – from
using our status to get sex (in schools,
workplaces etc.) to having many kids with
different women to engaging in sex with
multiple partners. In many cases, the
centrality of the tusa to our self-(or sex-)
esteem results in sexual assaults and other
abusive behaviour towards women.
Almost madly we tend to create a number
of arguments to sustain our efforts to praise
and satisfy our penises. One of the most
common arguments is that having several
female partners is an inherent characteristic
of what we call ‘African culture’ – so people
should not deny their own cultures. Some
men also believe that having sex with
several partners is very important to their
health as much as we need to eat different
kinds of food (Macie and Maharaj, 2011)
so “a man cannot eat the same food
every day, he needs to have a varied diet.”
(Matsinhe 2005, page.167) Another ‘reason’
is that having a lot of sex, including with
several partners, is natural because men
have greater sexual needs than women.
(Matsinhe 2005, Macie and Maharaj, 2011)
The issue of male engagement with
multiple partners is one of the most
visible consequences of the phallocentric
construction of masculinity. It has been
widely discussed and recognised as one of
the main drivers of the HIV epidemic, which
needs to be addressed in public policies
and programmes across Africa. Research
in Mozambique shows that the violation of
women’s sexual rights is also one of the root
causes of the HIV/AIDS epidemic. Many
young men are still growing up believing
that having several partners is an indicator
of real manhood. In addition, the perception
that the man is the one who has to take
control and make decisions about a couple’s
sexual life is common among young people
(Cruz e Silva, Teresa e Andrade, Ximena
2006) since they are socialised to be the
‘head’ of the relationship with their female
partners (Groes-Green 2009). Among
certain groups of men, sexuality seems to be
the last bastion of their masculinity.
According to some studies (Aboim 2008
and Groes-Green 2009), economic
dynamics where men are not necessarily
the main breadwinners any more have
challenged traditional conceptions of
masculinity. Traditionally, male power over
women was based on the man’s financial
authority and ability to provide for the
family, along with sexual dominance.
However, due to the dynamics of poverty
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Mixed Messages:
The Ideological Schizophrenia of
Men’s Organizing Around Fathering
By Stephanie Leitch
Stephanie Leitch is a social activist and conceptual artist. Her
work focuses on issues of gender equality through performance
and organizing. Her mediums include installation, public space
intervention, street theatre and film. Stephanie is currently
pursuing a Master's Degree at the Institute of Gender and
Development Studies UWI, St. Augustine and has been
a tutor within the department for the past three years. In
line with her popular alias Barefoot Contessa, Stephanie
produces the series Barefoot Trails on the Caribbean's
premiere art magazine ARC's web-platform, as well as weekly
features at the Trinidad Express WOMAN magazine.
n the Caribbean, there are a number of men’s groups who
advocate for the rights of men and one of their primary
concerns is parenting. Considering the extensive theorising
around ‘male absenteeism’ in the region by both Anglo and
Caribbean scholars in an attempt to explain dysfunctional
Caribbean homes, this recent phenomenon of male activism
around father’s rights takes on some level of poetic irony.
According to the Single Father’s Association of Trinidad and
Tobago (SFATT), the reason that so many female-headed
households exist in the Caribbean is not because men are
absent but because they have been forcibly pushed out of their
children’s lives. As a result, their attempts to achieve ‘equality’
within the legal justice framework in relation to custody and
visitation rights have been consistently anti-woman and anti-feminist
in their approach. In other words, women and mothers
have become the new enemy of functional families, even
though the ways families are seen as functioning has shifted.
Renowned Caribbean feminist scholar Rhoda Reddock argues
that a ‘new men’s movement’ emerged in the Caribbean in the
1990s. Some of the more active groups concerned with parenting
across the region include the Caribbean Male Action Network
(CARIMAN), Fathers Incorporated (recently re-named ‘The
Barry Chevannes Fathers' Resource Centre) in Jamaica, the Men’s
Educational Support Association (MESA) in Barbados, and the
SFATT. According to Reddock, men’s groups typically take one of
three forms: men’s rights that seek to ‘regain’ rights that have been
taken; conservative men’s groups that advocate for a reversion
to the ‘ways things were’ based on a divine or religious basis; and
pro-feminist men’s groups, which are committed to rethinking
masculinity and acknowledging how traditional gender roles have
been detrimental to women and men. Some positive examples
of male organising include the regional organisation CARIMAN,
which is widely cross-sectional in its advocacy and committed to
gender justice, and Fathers Incorporated, which was founded by
one of the Caribbean’s most significant male feminist scholars
and activists Barry Chevannes. However, the work of these
groups is not very visible for a number of reasons. Despite the
ambition and promises of the Caribbean Community Secretariat
(CARICOM), many island states remain disconnected from each
other and civil society organisations have not been much more
successful in establishing sustainable networks at a regional level.
I References
Aboim, Sofia (2008) “Masculinidades
Violence and Sexual Performance Among
MMAS (2004) National Survey on Violence
na encruzilhada: hegemonia, dominação
Young Mozambican Men” in Nordic
Against Women. Maputo: MMAS
e hibridismo em Maputo” in: Análise
Journal of African Studies 18(4): 286–304
Social, vol. XLIII (2.º), 2008, 273-295
Osório (2009) “Initiation rites a much-needed
Matsinhe, Cristiano (2005) Tábula rasa;
debate” in; Outras Vozes, Suplemento do
Cruz e Silva, Teresa e Andrade, Ximena
dinâmica da resposta moçambicana ao
boletim n° 28. Maputo: WLSA Moçambique
(2006) “Feminização do SIDA em
HIV/SIDA. Maputo: texto editores
Ratele, Kopano (2011) “Male sexualities and
Moçambique: a cidade de Maputo, Quelimane
masculinities” in Tamale, Sylvia (ed.) African
e distrito de Inhassunge na província da
Macia, Manuel & Maharaj, Pranitha
sexualities. Cape Town: Pambazuka News
Zambézia como estudos de caso”, in: Outras
(2011) “As noções de masculinidade
Vozes nº 10. Maputo: WLSA Moçambique
mais dominantes que influenciam o
WHO (2007). Engaging men and
comportamento sexual dos homens em
boys in changing gender-based
Groes-Green, Christian (2009) “Hegemonic
Moçambique” in; Teles, Nair et al (orgs)
inequity in health: Evidence from
and Subordinated Masculinities: Class,
Mosaico Sociólogico. Maputo: UEM
programme interventions. Geneva
Endnotes
1. Noticias 14 de Janeiro de 2012. Maputo
women whose bodies have been used as
the terrain for many of us to exert our
dominance but also to our own health. It
is an opportunity to develop knowledge
and skills that will allow us to fully enjoy
positive and healthy expressions of
sexuality, which we have been neglecting
for the sake of being a superman.
The idea of ‘African culture’ as an
excuse to continue practices that violate
women’s human rights seems to me, in
many ways, a very difficult argument to
sustain. There are not any attitudes or
behaviours that are essentially ‘African’,
that would genuinely distinguish us from
the rest of the world and that are not
subjected to historical and social change.
Furthermore, the complete welfare of
African women and girls – a reality that has
been historically denied and continuously
postponed in most of our countries – should
be placed above any culture. We should
consider it an ultimate goal in itself.
As men, I think we have a huge responsibility
towards the women of our communities.
Praising our cultures should not hinder
the advancement of human rights. We
should redirect the efforts that we tend
to waste on realising our manhood into
addressing the challenges that many women
face as a result of our own behaviour and
discriminatory social institutions. For me,
this is what it means to be more responsible
to the society that we are part of!
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