She sat in the corner, on the small wooden chair that steadily held her weight in life, and would be kicked out from under her heavy frame welcoming her to the mysterious land of the dead. This small wooden chair that had been a participant in so many of the events leading up to this…
I am a life-long student. This a report of the lessons I have learnt. I learnt that I should always sit with my legs together. That a lady does not sit with her legs apart- it is bad manners, they said. I learnt that shame was lodged in between my legs. My brother learnt to…
Red is the colour of shame. It is the colour of unwelcome transitions and unfamiliar unchartered paths. It is the colour of womanhood, the signifier of pain, the dawn of alien traditional practices and the becoming of an alien. When the depths of girl’s body sheds tears, red tears, it signifies that a bridge has…
A small rectangular mirror stands on the stool next to my bed. Stained. Ordinary. Cheap, it must have cost no more than 100 shillings. There is nothing extra-ordinary about it. There is nothing extra-ordinary about my morning ritual that is tied to it either. Every morning, I place it against the wall, struggling…
One day, I will tell these tales to my daughter. Tales of glass ceilings, shattered by brave women. Women who wield pens and bright minds, courage and the strongest will. Women who would have ridden in on horse backs with shouts of defiance proudly drawing their swords against centuries of entrenched patriarchy if this were…
AfricanFeminism (AF) 