Feminist: Not with a Capital F but capital FEMINIST

Last night I lost my first friend due to being a FEMINIST, and yet i feel no remorse or saddnes or the littlest bit of disdain. Since my return from the Young Women Botswana Feminism Leadership Course I am terribly intolerant of any form of misogyny, sexism, racism or even homophobia in my personal space. Something I find extremely funny because on the second last day I told a girl she would lose friends now as a self proclaimed feminist. I told her her world had changed. I was so unawares that despite identifying as a feminist since the first time the word was spat at me this course had changed me. I thought I had long ago reached the peak of being a feminist. That I was at the highest level of understanding. That I understood what needed to be done but I had no idea that this course would make me face patriarchy without fear. I did not even know I had ever been afraid till last night.

When I applied to the Young Women Botswana Feminism Leadership Course I was confident I would get in, I immediately began making arrangements to make sure that the 9 day program in Francistown would not inconvenience my school work or projects. I was excited because I thought the course would prepare me to lead my team. But it changed so much. Firstly I felt a bit proud to find out I had been accepted out of over 90 nation wide applications, I felt both honored and a bit intimidated when I found out that the 25 or so other participants had real cvs while I was going on "I am a feminist cause I was born this way" vibes. 

The one thing I hated about the trip from the moment I applied till the moment I arrived back home was that I would be leaving my family, my free wi-fi, my airconditioned home, and most importantly my personal space for a whole 11 days. It was terrible for me to have to have a roommate. The sad part is my roommate is actually such an amazingly nice person to live with, unfortunately I am not. I've always had my own room so to fall asleep with someone else in the room was difficult for me, so I spent a lot of late nights in the garden. To write poetry or work while someone is in the room also extremely difficult so I got no writing done in 11 days. I also got sick at one point and having to buy medication I had at home was just terrible. Also I got fucken bit by bed bugs in case you wanna stay at Tati River Lodge. But the staff took care of me when I was sick so my scars and I forgive them.

activities

mentally emotionally and physicalle exhausted

But francistown was an amazing experience. The 9 day course was extensive and intensive. We covered entire modules in one day, with multiple activities and large content. On some days I wanted to nap more than anything but it didn't happen. It was like nap rehab. But they weren't just extensive academically, they were emotionally exhausting modules and on one particular day I found myself calling my best friend crying while wishing his white t shirts were available to ruin with my mascara. In fact by the fourth day he could hear I wanted to come home. 

But I didn't really, there was too much knowledge to consume, too many brains to pick, too many women to love and lil zero and I did love them. I felt like this was a place i belonged, not francistown, not that hotel, not with those women but within the African feminist movement. I got to learn from some of Africa's greatest feminist contributors. I mean I met Doo Aphane (Google Her) who is probably King Mswati's least favorite woman, Maude Dikobe (Google Her) a lover of African diaspora and african literature who gave me receipts to pre colonial references of feminists. I also met Isabella aka Bella (Google Her) who produces at least 80% of all the food she eats a goal I have. I also met Elsie Alexander (Google Her) who is actually my best friend Brett Pearmain's grand aunt and a woman in politics. Got fascilitated by Alice Kanengoni (Google Her) who innitiated the gender department in OSISA. Irene Ramatala (Google Her) an activist for arts and culture in botswana who also recognized me as the daughter of Alla Moyo and put my mother on the movement in Botswana wall as one of the feminists who have made a difference. 

A few of the fascilitators were also age mates if I could say... they included Lorato Mpelega, Portia Loeto and Lillian Moremi who I had already met in Young Women Rising as well as Mandipa Machacha who I might possibly wanna be when I grow up. Her or Doo I think. It's impossible to ever be able to put this entire trip and the effect it has had on my life into words. The only thing I guess is for me to show you. It's a monday today but this should have been last week's #feministfriday post so here you go...

Also because she might kill me if she doesn't get props. Thank you to the beautiful Analyn for continuing to bother me about putting this up. You can totally be my woman crush this Wednesday.

Also another thank you to both TAWLA and OSISA for giving me the opportunity to meet the beautiful sisters I shared my space with in Francistown. You are all such amazing women in your own right. 

Signing out, 

FEMINIST also known as Tshepo Jamillah Moyo. 

A poet, writer, and Super Hero. 

A sister in the Movement.

XOXO

Me and Gender rights pioneer swaziland's Doo Aphane

Young Woman Rising

Hi guys... It's silly to apologise everytime I go missing but here I am again. If you haven't liked our Facebook page... search 1Third of A Woman and press like to get all the interesting stuff young women should read. Now this is to update you on what a young pretty feminist like myself has been up to.

A few months ago I was as usual trolling the internet trying to find someone to make fun of or something to be mad about when I stumbled across a call for participants for a workshop by Young Women Rising. Of course I applied. And unexpectedly I was selected to join a group of other girls. They're so many. I now call myself a young Riser.

Young Women Rising is the baby of Portia Loeto a gender studies lecturer at the University of Botswana. Upon our first convening she expresses how slowly she is nurturing it and why Young Women Rising is important to her. "It's about creating spaces where young women can discuss and take action against the things that bother them." was a phrase that came up often in her description of the initiative.

The group has met twice so far and I fall more and more in love with the young women I've met through these workshops. Upon our first convening we discussed when we realised we were girls and what being a girl meant to us. It was interesting for me to listen to other ladies share their experiences. Considering that I've grown up in the home of a feminist I never really had gender stereotypical roles in my house.

Some of the girls shared growing up with single parents, some with male siblings, some even with their grandparents. It made me wonder how different my childhood might have been if I had had a brother. Would my father still consider me his best friend?

Some of the girls shared their hardships growing up, everything from step parents to orphanhood, to not always having the best. I actually almost felt guilty for my middle class privilege. One is a rape survivor with the most vibrant smile and laugh. She looks like she floats on candy floss clouds and tastes like blueberry cheesecake ice cream. Her happiness is so infectious I want to take her home and cuddle her on the days when my soul is grey.

A mathematician or as she says "geek" who is tired of being bullied in her male dominated field. A set of twins who are "the going" as they'd say. Comrades. Almost nearly as amazingly interested in politics as my first year classmates in POL 101. I wish I still cared about it nearly as much. But I honestly only care about amazing (black) women.

The group is large. I could talk about them all day. I mean we've even got two mother's on the team and they both have sons which makes me really fucken happy. for lack of a nicer word. Because their sons have no choice but to be amazing cause I mean dope moms. There's also two young ladies who really care about their GPAs but have time for everything else while I personally am still trying to find where it is one sees their GPA. (sorry mom)

Oh Gosh.. they're so many. All so amazing in their own way. All with such different opinions, different paths, different ambitions but so inspirational. They make me feel less alone. Maybe that's not something particularly amazing to write about. But I wish you could meet them. You'd love them almost nearly as much as I do.

“Madam Speaker, Sir” beyond the Politics

Authored by Speaker of Parliament Margret N. Nasha, “Madam Speaker Sir” has without a doubt ruffled a few feathers in the past weeks since its release. In this memoir MmaNasha as we’ve fondly come to know her shares with us the achievements and disappointments in her somewhat extraordinary life. While the book is no literary marvel in the sense of its basic writing, MmaNasha’s honesty makes it a good enough read.

In this Memoir the iconic woman leaves no stone unturned. She freely discusses her childhood, that of her children and even her ex-husbands adultery and her criminal dealing with it. It’s hard to imagine the respectable Speaker of Parliament throwing a pile of bricks at someone’s house but still quite humorous.

However, her chapters on her family (including the other woman) show a side to MmaNasha that young girls in our country need to see, that even she is a woman. It puts her within reach, makes her relatable giving inspiration to young women that beyond their dirty laundry, cheating boyfriends, controlling men and beautiful children is something that belongs solely to them.

It is un-debatable that Madam Speaker, Sir was a necessary book in our society today. Not only in reminding young women that she is amongst those who broke the barriers that we are allowing to be reintroduced in our lives, but also in reminding us that Botswana is a democracy. That, within that democracy is the freedom of speech.

While MmaNasha now faces criticism for openly discussing the politics of the ruling party, President Seretse Khama Ian Khama’s leadership style, and secret missions she participated in during her years long servitude as a Minister one cannot dispute that she has reminded the country of freedom of speech. In this book she discusses the compliance of BDP members in advising the president, confirms the existence of fractions in the party which has been whispers in the society. Although she does expose the deceiving and destructive nature of these fractions, there is nothing to be shocked about.

MmaNasha has shown herself to be a revolutionary, releasing a book that could quite possibly end her political career on such an important year. What this book does tell us about her is that she is here for the people and above all for herself. Madam Speaker, Sir is a book that was owed to each and every Motswana, regardless of political affiliation, age and gender, and quite frankly it would be impossible to forgive MmaNasha if she had never published it.

Here is a link to an interview Dr. Nasha did with Echoe newspaper where she discusses Women and how we need to stop being apologetic for our ambition. P.S she has amazing nails too. :)

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ... by Maya Angelou

My mom sent me this in my teen years. Truth told with Maya having passed away I thought I'd share it. Dr. Angelou was a phenomenal woman and quite frankly her life speaks for her. 

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE …
enough money within her control to move out and rent a place of her own, even if she never wants to or needs to…

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE …
something perfect to wear if the employer or date of her dreams wants to see her in an hour…

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE …
a youth she’s content to leave behind….

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE …
a past juicy enough that she’s looking forward to retelling it in her old age….

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE …
a set of screwdrivers, a cordless drill, and a black lace bra…

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE …
one friend who always makes her laugh… and one who lets her cry…

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE …
a good piece of furniture not previously owned by anyone else in her family…

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE …
eight matching plates, wine glasses with stems, and a recipe for a meal that will
make her guests feel honored…

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE …
a feeling of control over her destiny…

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW…
how to fall in love without losing herself..

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW…
how to quit a job, break up with a lover and confront a friend without ruining the friendship…

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW…
when to try harder… and WHEN TO WALK AWAY…

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW…
that she can’t change the length of her calves, the width of her hips, or the nature of her parents..

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW…
that her childhood may not have been perfect…but it’s over…

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW…
what she would and wouldn’t do for love or more…

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW….
how to live alone… even if she doesn’t like it…

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW..
whom she can trust, whom she can’t, and why she shouldn’t take it personally…

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW…
where to go…be it to her best friend’s kitchen table or a charming Inn in the woods
when her soul needs soothing…

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW…
What she can and can’t accomplish in a day, a month…and a year…

Best Ayiorwoth (22), founder of GIPOMO, Uganda

"When Best Ayiorwoth lost her parents at a young age, she had to cut short her high school education because her older siblings struggled to pay her tuition in the Nebbi District in northernUganda.

Having always wanted to take her education further, this was a massive disappointment and inspired her to start an award-winning microcredit business at the age of 19, that would go on to help hundreds of women and young girls in Uganda.

Ayiorwoth realised that if she could empower mothers financially, they would support the education of their children, particularly young girls. “I have seen that when families can’t maintain all their children at school and have to make a choice, they would often choose a boy over a girl,” she told How we made it in Africa.

At 17 she moved to Kampala and joined S7 Project, a skills empowerment centre, where she started to form her business idea for Girls Power Micro-Lending Organisation (GIPOMO). Using her savings earned while working in a restaurant, Ayiorwoth returned to her home community in early 2011 and started giving monthly micro loans to women with small businesses, on the condition that they kept their children, especially young girls, in school.

GIPOMO has helped 64 women start their own businesses, 111 women expand their existing businesses and kept 168 girls in school by supporting their mothers. Last year Ayiorwoth won USh. 1m (US$400) at the FINA Africa Enterprise Business Challenge and first place and $25,000 at the Anzisha Prize.

Ayiorwoth credits much of GIPOMO’s success to the good mentor she had at S7 Project and advises other young entrepreneurs to look for mentors.

She also believes her success comes from using the challenges she has faced as inspiration to make a difference in both her life and the lives of others.

“[Aspiring entrepreneurs] have to actually do something that they feel strongly passionate about, and in most cases they should seek inspiration from their own experience… If you had a terrible experience, you should despise the experience to the extent that you are continuously seeking a solution for it,” she advises others."

This article is an exerpt from Here. Thought you guys should meet Best. 

Jada Pinkett-Smith: “The War on Men Through the Degradation of Woman”

“How is man to recognize his full self, his full power through the eye’s of an incomplete woman? The woman who has been stripped of Goddess recognition and diminished to a big ass and full breast for physical comfort only.

The woman who has been silenced so she may forget her spiritual essence because her words stir too much thought outside of the pleasure space. The woman who has been diminished to covering all that rots inside of her with weaves and red bottom shoes. 

I am sure the men, who restructured our societies from cultures that honored woman, had no idea of the outcome. They had no idea that eventually, even men would render themselves empty and longing for meaning, depth and connection.

There is a deep sadness when I witness a man that can’t recognize the emptiness he feels when he objectifies himself as a bank and truly believes he can buy love with things and status. It is painful to witness the betrayal when a woman takes him up on that offer.

He doesn’t recognize that the [creation] of a half woman has contributed to his repressed anger and frustration of feeling he is not enough. He then may love no woman or keep many half women as his prize.

He doesn’t recognize that it’s his submersion in the imbalanced warrior culture, where violence is the means of getting respect and power, as the reason he can break the face of the woman who bore him 4 four children.

When woman is lost, so is man. The truth is, woman is the window to a man’s heart and a man’s heart is the gateway to his soul.

Power and control will NEVER out weigh love.

May we all find our way.”

~ Jada Pinkett-Smith, Sinuous Magazine 

Draw Blood

When I was 5
my mother told me to
punch till i drew blood.
I didn't get why
she was so mad.

When I was 12
a man said I liooked sexy
in shorts.
I stopped wearing shorts.
Or playing outside.
I closed my legs,
I sat like a lady.

I wear shorts now.
I walk at night.
I drink tequila.
I reject nice guys.
Someone told me I was
asking for it.

I remembered then,
my mother said...

"when a boy tells you he owns you punch till you draw blood."

Book Review: A Renegade Called Simphiwe

Reading A Renegade Called Simphiwe has been somewhat of an exhilarating experience. Often the book which is written by South African academic and author Phumla Dineo Gqola is mistaken for a biography of South African musician Simphiwe Dana. However, A Renegade Called Simphiwe is written way beyond Dana and her experiences.  It is without a doubt an excellent record and observation of multiple aspects of South Africa and without a doubt the patriarchal world as a whole.

Through writing about Simphiwe Dana’s opinions, challenges, achievements and South Africa’s reaction to her, Phumla gives you an extensive view of the relations not only between the artist and the audience, but relations within South Africa itself. She explores everything from the Simphiwe’s definition of ‘soft feminism’ to her opinions on monogamy, all the while still finding space to discuss the Language situation in South Africa.

Phumla Dineo Gqola presents you with a one of a kind of book, one she describes as “the kind of book I would like to read”. While the book does explore a variety of things it’s quite clearly written with an intensive view on the relations of males and females in the patriarchal society. It opens you up to a large number of truths.

Phumla’s ability to write about Simphiwe Dana as a woman, a writer, a mother and even an artist, as well as her opinions without validating or invalidating them is spectacular. On countless occasions she disagrees with Simphiwe but is not forceful of her opinion over Dana’s something that writer’s today lack. While the book is not exclusive to female readers, It is without a doubt the perfect gift for any lady during this woman’s month. 

We should all be feminists: Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie at TEDxEuston

Being A Fit Motswana

I recently hit 50kg. I’ve never been 50kg so it’s quite a messy experience being caught between, “you’re just growing” and “oh my I’m getting fat”. Fortunately one thing is certain about me, when I don’t like something I don’t like it. So I don’t like weighing 50 KG. So I decided to finally follow through on my vow that 19 would be the age of healthy. I however completely underestimated how difficult it is to be a fit African girl.

As is the case in most cultures, feasts are a common way of celebrating anything.

 Here in Botswana we glorify women and even babies with a thick appetite and thick body to match it. When I was younger my “skinny” figure was a cause for concern for my family, a little bit of teasing from my cousins and once a partner that sat and watched me eat because he suspected I didn’t eat much. Food is a form of bonding, it’s a way of interacting and accompanied by the modern lifestyle it is really fostering bad eating habits and unhealthy lifestyles.

I had no idea of this until I started my attempt at being physically fit and healthy but a little secret on this side of the world is that no one really likes and supports a fit black woman. The comments are exhausting and I’ve stopped trying to share this part of my life with anyone. “Don’t get that tight ass, that’s for white women”, “but You look perfect”, “are you benching your boyfriend or?” just some of the comments I’ve received. I walked into the gym and an instructor even exclaimed that I was attempting to ruin a perfectly good body.

 Honestly I’d like to make it clear that it’s not about how I look really, actually never mind abs are pretty cool. But this is about being Healthy and Fit: it’s about getting to the top of the stairs and not needing a nap as well as oxygen mask, getting through 8 hours of sleep as well as waking up with no trouble. Two weeks in and I am already waking up before my alarm clock rings.

But the worst part is really how difficult it is to find the foods that my new lifestyle requires. I’ve suddenly began to sympathize with Vegetarians and Vegans because in this country well there is no healthy option; Except for Green salad. There is always green salad for some reason. Living in my parent’s house doesn’t make it any easier for the record. My father keeps forgetting I do not drink Fizzy drinks while he laughs at my attempts at working out. I forgive him because he has promised to buy me the Nike trainers which all the cool fitblrs have.

Truth told if the tumblr blog community of “Fitblrs” had more black women I’d probably feel less alone in my journey. But I’m finding it hard to find body idols or role models that are anything close to what I look like. Sadly the truth is being a fit black girl is proving to be a very difficult and lonely path. Since I’ve been trying, failing and succeeding for about the past 8months I’ve decided I’m not falling off the healthy living train ever again, simply because starting again is so damn exhausting.

Honestly it is your body but I feel wonderful. So I thought there is probably another girl out there who needs a start and well I’m going to share what I’ve learnt in the past 8 months.

• Water and sleep are your best friends.
• Squats are your booty’s best friend, while running is the best all body work out there is.
• Eating clean isn’t dieting, it is the way humans should eat. Simply start by cutting packaged processed foods ( Fizzy drinks, crisps, etc).
• Eat. Eat. And Eat. Your metabolism needs at least 4 meals a day.
• Breakfast matters.
• Gym is not a delete bad eating button.
• You have the time to work out. 10min of skipping rope before your morning shower does wonders.
• Take the stairs. And the long way.
• Quitting is never doing it. Falling off is fine.
• You don’t have to give up your favourite foods.
• Also weights don’t mean bulk they mean muscle.
• The first two weeks hurt, and then it feels good. So don’t fall off.
• 
  

Why White America has ruined White Men for me.

There is a white American marine texting me right now. He calls it flirting and would like to take me on a date. It’s cute, Shems. He is currently in my country for some service with the United States Embassy and how I met him is really such an awkward story I’d rather not share.

Now despite this young man having all the qualifications I usually have for men whose advances I bother to entertain he is failing miserably. Unfortunately I’m sorry to say it’s because he is white. I've never had an interest in a white man so I thought, hey maybe I’m just not that into him. But now I’m absolutely sure it has everything to do with him being a white man.

How might I know this? Every time he says I am gorgeous I see porn title flashing through my mind, “Ebony slut hungry for some white dick”, “Black maid seduces white boss”, “explorer gets jungle fever”... Basically I see myself being made into a fetish. Like when Justin Beiber *cringes* cheated on Selena Gomez with a certain African American model and White America’s headline punch line was “Justin Beiber Cheats with Black girl”. Basically would I become “the first black girl I dated” or “Oh but I date black girls”? Then I wonder if his friends made jokes about him enjoying some African pussy while down here. I also wonder if I’m on a 20 things to do before I am 30 list. “Go to Africa and bang African girls.”

Am I over thinking this? Yes? No? Maybe? Have I watched too many Tyler Perry (I didn’t know better) movies? Or have I been on the Zimmerman hashtag too long? Because I want to Google where he is from and check how many black boys have been shot in that neighborhood and how their courts dealt with it.

It doesn’t go just that far, the worst for me is whether he’ll use pictures of us to justify why as a white male who dates black women he does not fall into the category of racists that support Zimmerman’s murdering a 17 year old black child. 

Is he aware that he has white privilege? And that in my city when we go out girls will snicker that I’m seeing him for his bank account. Despite him probably making not much more than me (that’s a lie I’m a student and journalist, my bank account doesn't know what money is) but white is synonymous with rich in Africa.

I also wonder if on our first date he’ll ask to touch my hair now that it’s out of its braids. I wonder how I will feel about him touching it even if he was trying to be innocently cute in getting it out of my face. I also find myself wanting to ask him how he feels about the fact that the United States system is designed to keep the poor  just that, poor, and that well the poorest were black. 

But I’m not sure how he’ll react and if my opinions might tantamount to hate speech therefore landing me in Guantanamo bay being force fed Monsato GMOs. After all he is a marine, he might be patriotic and ready to die for his country and stuff and I’m just here a 19 year old black girl trying to get her driver’s licence. So maybe despite it eventually coming from him being a white American male, it might also simply be that I cannot be with someone that I cannot be comfortable voicing my opinion to. 

1thirdofawoman reconstruction

Hi there,
I'm sorry first of all. But I was not happy with one third of a woman at all.
So i decided to spend a little money in having some graphics designed for the blog. Yes I know people DIY all the time but i figure if you're going to google me this will come up. It better look good and represent me well.
So until further notice 1thirdofawoman will not be up. Hopefully we wont have to move but I'm prepared to make this work now. Professionally.

with love, TJ.

A War is Coming *warning graphic images will follow*

TOO MANY WOMEN DOWN

I read another angry blog today. This One is by a pretty black South African lesbian woman who lives in Johannesburg and writes poetry. She is angry about a number of things, white privilege, the ANC, lesbians and homosexual stereotype, and the common women battles. She is so angry; she uses vulgar language when she passionately rants on twitter. You know what, it’s scary. I’m not out here to judge her being angry. I don’t even care that she is black lesbian and an activist. I don’t know her. I have no title deed to be able to say anything about her. But it sure scares me that she isn't the only Angry woman out there. Blog posts by so many young ladies are talking about the anger and how they're affected by it, from SiyandaWrites to That Cracked Black.  It is even scarier that they have every reason to be. They're also tiring of writing about it. 

FREE SELF DEFENSE CLASSES IN INDIA

IT BEGINS HERE.

Statistics show an increase in rape. It’s being recorded and sent around as porn in South African high schools., it’s being used to teach women lessons, as weapons in war, or for the fuck of it and the sad part is whole town’s are covering it up. I’m in tears as I type this because we’re losing the battle. I don’t know why I was sitting here thinking that if I sit on my lap top and I type about these things somewhere somehow I would save the world. I’m crying real tears because despite spending the morning reading tweets about how perpetrators should alone be left with responsibility of their actions; I’m sitting here thinking I’m not doing enough. I’m sitting here thinking how unfair it is that I grew up in a home were my father is a good man and my mother is treated like a goddess while majority of my friend’s have sad childhood memories, missing fathers or battered mothers. I’m not angry anymore. I’m sad and scared.

I’m sad because every time I walk down the street and a man whistles and hollers I say hi because I’m scared he might consider me rude and decide to rape me because of it. But then again he might rape me because my “Hi” was flirtatious. Well, he might also just do it for the fucks of it. Literally.  But I’m also scared that it might be one of my friends on a night out, when I've had a few too many so I’m quitting drinking this year. But then it could be a cousin. You know what I feel like right now? My friend recently became a father to a very pretty little girl, when he told me it was a girl my heart sunk. I got sad because that is one more burden for me. That saddens me. Because I love being a woman but I’m still feeling like the moment I was born and I had a vagina. Well I was screwed.

IT IS COMING TO AN END

But women are getting angry. They’re getting angry and they are mobilizing the troops. There is a storm brewing, there is a war coming world. It is going to be messy. They won’t fight with their muscle like you men do. They won’t use brutal force. They will use your seeds. They will take your daughters and they will teach them to hate men. They will take your sons and teach them to hate themselves. We've seen the race wars, the tribal wars, civil wars; tell me how will we survive when the women rise to the goddesses they are? How will you protect yourself from your mother? Will you kill them all? Will you beat them into submission? There is a war coming and I fear the future generations that will be born in its times. How will man and woman survive without one another?

ABOUT CROP TOPS, MINI SKIRTS, LOW RISE JEANS, IMMORAL DRESS AND SWAZILAND

I was going to write an article on Swaziland's recent decision to enforce the 1889 law that bans "immoral dressing". But I figure if you've read SLUT WALKS and you know how I feel about women being told how to dress. But I feel it is my duty to share with you a certain young lady I love and adore's article on it. I was going to ask her to write something on it as soon as I came back from my holiday because she is actually from Swaziland  well, half way. But anyway, she beat me to the punch because she doesn't holiday, and here is a link to my soul mate Siyanda Mohutsiwa blog SiyandaWrites.

About The Author

Siyanda is a 19-year-old BSc undergraduate studying Mathematics/Statistics at the University of Botswana. She lives for mathematics, literature and laughing loudly at her own jokes. She has a particularly inexplicable passion for feminism, pan-Africanism and a growing interest in the socio-economic landscape of her country. She also has a border-line psychopathic love for dead African heroes. She refuses to reveal more on that issue.

Her sometimes indiscernible cries to her imaginary audience can be found on Twitter (@siyandawrites). If you happen to be in the country you can find her articles in the award-winning Sunday Standard’s The Telegraph. If you aren’t, a quick browse through the Sunday Standard website will land you in her articles.

Email siyandawrites@gmail.com for inquiries regarding freelance writing and editing.

P.S I am glad I don't live in a country that subjects me to so much. They're still too many women out there in such situations. allow me to say it but too many of our women down in the field. But at least i know a lot of women whose skill and passion is strong enough to pull the rest out. My Christmas wish is that more of them are born and none of them are afraid to fight the war. 

When I grow Up I Want to be Pope

I don’t really want to be pope when I grow up, but I imagine there is a little girl somewhere in this world kneeling in a Roman Catholic Church praying she gets to be Pope one day, so this one is for that little girl. I’m not a very religious person. By religious of course I mean I don’t belong to a particular church. I’m not atheist either because I use Rollo Reese May’s definition of an atheist,  “call it confidence in the universe, trust in God, and belief in one’s fellow men or what not, the essence of religion is the belief that something matters- the presumption that life has meaning. So the religious person is one who has found meaning in life. And an atheist is one who cannot, or has not found it.” I have found my own meaning. I don’t think my issue is with religion, or God. Although I've been told there is a special place for me in hell, that’s not my issue. I think my issue is with institutions in general. I don’t like institutions, religious or not. I simply do not want to be institutionalized. 

Albert Einstein apparently said “Imagination is more important than Knowledge.” How true would you say this statement was? How important is innovation in any field? The thing with institutions is they slowly murder your ability to be imaginative. Like, Harper Lee said, “The book to read is not the one that thinks for you, but the one that forces you to think.” You know what the problem with being institutionalized is? The problem with being institutionalized is we have a bunch of rules dictating what you can and cannot do. You know what the sad part is, you have a billion people in the world walking around thinking they’re special. In the words of Dash Incredible, “saying everyone is special in their own way is just a nice way of saying no one is special.”

 Do you remember in primary? There was a stage where you learnt that little speech. “My name is Tshepo. I am 7 years old. When I grow up I want to be a Insert Teacher’s choice.” that sentence is the first step into being institutionalized  Fire-fighter, soldier, teacher, doctor all of these careers these teachers picked for you are that first step. Of course unless your parents are “baby boomers” they've also been institutionalized  No teacher picked I want to be “a broke poet travelling through Europe appreciating art eating French croissants, and bar-tending for a little bit of money.”

I mean my baby sister came home the other day and told me she wanted to be a doctor. She is seven. When I was her age I wanted to be a princess. So I’m thinking she is either really smart and has figured out her older sister is a flop, ( I've decided I want to write for a living and be an activist I’m typing this in the hope that it will save me the conversation with my mom. Hi mom.) and her parents need something to be proud of. Or I've been screwed from day one. Anyway back to institutionalization.

We live in a world where we’re fed mixed singles. On one hand you’re told you’re unique, be yourself, you’re special, on the other you’re fed mass everything. Mass education, Mass religion, Mass clothing, even be unique is becoming a mass message. So here we are humans, who are brought up in homes with individualistic believes then taken to institutions with mass believes. Imagine if my family had been catholic, I’ve spent my whole life with my parents telling me I can do anything I want, I can be anything I want. Imagine then that I came home from Sunday school and told my mom, hey mom guess what I've decided I want to be pope. I’m imagining my mother has to tell me why I can’t be pope, which from the research I've done stems down to me being a girl. I’m imagining telling your child they can’t be something because they’re not allowed to must be traumatizing.

So I don’t like institutions. I don’t like schools. I didn't like reception. I didn't like primary, middle school or high school. Unfortunately varsity has changed nothing. I like education. I like knowledge. I have an undying thirsting desire for knowledge. I’d rather read my text books at home than sit in class. But I would also rather sit on Google and find ways to prove those text books wrong. I’m probably just anti social but truth told I don’t think I even like the institution of a country or a government rather. I've read this blog post over so many times and feel it makes no sense. But let us see how this will work out. I have no reason for hating institutional-ism other than that I am also a sad result of it. I wish I wasn't  because maybe then I would believe my dad when he said I should be Botswana’s first female president. But unfortunately the institutions tell me I won’t be, because Botswana’s Political institutions do not foster female presidents or even politicians. So I’m sorry, I’m sorry to all the Catholic little girls that will never get to be pope.

BEAUTY AND THE BEAST

The title of this post is the title of a newspaper I read this morning. One I’m typing this sitting next to, distraught. I haven’t had anything to say for months, which is rare because I always have something to say, so perhaps I should say I had nothing worth listening to. But I've been caught up in my own world for a bit now so I again apologize. I however find my heart in turmoil and somber moods this morning, and felt a need to share with you why. In case you have not picked up this week’s, The Midweek Sun you probably should. This week’s headline “Beauty and the beast”a story that describes how, Thabo Masilo a 21 year old Botho College student raped, robbed and murdered 17 year old Tshepang Motlhabane. I have a lot of things to say, but my hearts to heavy to say all of them.

I’m not writing this so I can call Thabo names or call him possessed by demons, or ugly, or a beast because truth is so many women get raped, robbed and murdered so often you’re more likely as a woman to get raped than graduate school in some countries. I’m writing this because of some of the things I read in the article that raised flags for me. I’m not looking for someone to blame, I’m just highlighting what went through my head as i read this article, which for lack of better information is my only source of light as to what happened in that sad home on that day.

“The stranger was 21 year old Thabo Masilo, a botho collage student. It later turned out the assailant is a serial thief and rapist on the police wanted list.”_The Midweek Sun I don’t understand. So we know where this boy goes to school, he has been on a wanted list and they still couldn't find him? We have a population of about 2 million. In the whole country, how is it not possible to find these people on “the wanted list”? How? The police have a show on BTV, have you seen the wanted list? I want to see it. So I can know. So I can put it up on this blog and you guys can call them when you see these guys walk down a street. Because you see them, you walk past them every day. That is an extremely scary thought. That I probably walked past this guy a billion times in game city, maybe he even hit on me since Botho College boys are always hitting on me in Game City.

Then the MP Ntuane’s radical statements on how the security guards should have allowed the people to assault the criminal. I don’t know man, you’re going to solve the crime in your constituency by encouraging a different crime? Like really that’s your plan? Instead of commending the security guards for responding immediately and not allowing the perpetrator to escape while they waited for the police, you’re going to ridicule them. Call out the police for not being first on the scene.

“He told us he came under the pretense of inquiring about a servant’s quarters to rent. Then he asked for water to drink at which point he followed the girl inside the house, locked it, and proceeded to rape, rob and stab her repeatedly”_ mother (The Midweek Sun)

I live in a village on the outskirts of Gaborone. Villages are quite, wholesome, one big family, but my neighbors will all tell you I do not open my gate for anyone. I stand inside, you stand outside we communicate through a wall. It’s a simple safety and security thing. Something we take for granted. I've therefore put together a list of simple things to do to ensure your safety as a woman. Maybe not ensure but improve your safety..

GOING OUT

• ·         Turn down drinks bought and poured when you’re not present, for the simple reason that they’re more likely to be spiked. This applies to both alcoholic and none. Roofies knows no boundaries.
• ·         Random rides home? Cabs are not the safest. But they’re safer than a random person you met in the club after a couple of drinks. Opt for cabs with home offices or centers like smiley cabs, hello cabs etc. As compared to the individual cabby.
• ·         The buddy system. Try to share cabs with your friends rather than each taking their own cab or ride home. That way you can make sure you’re safe.
• ·         Also watch your friends and who they’re with, the assumption is they’re doing the same for you. Culprits are intimidated by a lurking friend that will not be separated from her friend. They’re less likely to act if a pack of females sticks together.
• ·         If you’re drinking. Drink responsibly. Blacking out in a car, floor, bathroom is not sexy neither is it safe.
• ·         Opt to take cycles being the “designated driver” even if no one is actually driving. It makes sense to have at least one of you sober enough to be the brain of the group.

AT HOME

• ·         Follow your instincts. You are not obliged to open a door for any one you do not know. Neither are you obliged to even answer a door. Even if it’s the police. ( I ignore them at my gate all the time)
• ·         If you are home alone, do not disclose this information. Try to give the impression that someone is in the house with you. Call out a random name or something if you feel uncomfortable with someone inquiring.
• ·         Double check locked doors as well as locked gates and closed windows.
• ·         Refrain from watching TV or listening to music at high volumes as this impairs your capability to hear what is going on outside. That does not mean go outside if you hear something.

WHEN DRIVING

• ·         Keep your handbag, laptop bag other valuables in the boot of the car or in a place they cannot be seen.
• ·         Have your windows installed with a shatter proof film, it can both protect you from the sun as well as impair someone’s view of what’s in the car. It can prevent injury if your window is smashed in a smash and grab.
• ·         Do not pick up hitch hikers, stop for break downs, etc
• ·         Make sure your car has good maintenance to avoid having a break down in a dangerous place.
• ·         Learn how to change tyres. A flat tyre can be changed within 45 minutes, less of a security risk than waiting for 2 hours for your knight in shining armor to come save you.
• ·         Avoid back roads and unlit roads after dark.

Other tips

• ·         Avoid elevators. No building in Botswana is that high you cannot take the stairs. You do not want to be stuck in an elevator with a person that scares you.
• ·         Heels make for very good weapons; if you find yourself in a bad situation use them.

If there are anymore tips you’d like to add. Do post them in the comments box. J

My condolences to the family of that young girl and may her soul rest in peace.

Super Hero Stunts

Let’s talk feminism. I imagine you’ve been reading this blog for a while and have come to the conclusion that it’s written by a female for females. You’ve also probably also come to the conclusion that I’m “politicking my outrageous, wild, provocative shit” as one of my twitter followers @PRLBeekstar put it. You’ve seen the Feminism tag. If you know me personally, you’ve probably even heard me say “In my spare time (which is disappearing with every passing day) I run my feminist BlogSpot.” If you know me personally you probably know that I fight very few wars. One of which happens to be the war for women’s rights. This is how I view myself, Human before Woman, Woman before African, African before Writer, and Writer before poet. These are also the order of my wars. I fight for humanity, then women, followed by Africans, Writing then poetry. But you should also know that even though I’m very judgemental I accept people for whom and what they are. Which is what I feel a lot of women need to start doing.

This semester I’m taking a lot of classes that seem to continue to bring up the feminism issue. Which is weird right? I mean considering my majors. So I’m in class opening my mouth (because it just has a brain of its own) and having to encounter such strong opposition. On Monday(13 August) in my contemporary Africa class we were discussing how colonialism had a strong influence in cementing the patriarchal systems of Africa by making them law. For example the known custom that the first born male inherited everything was now a law. It further fuelled patriarchy in that it allowed men to be the bread winners in the family by sending them off to earn income in fields or mines, leaving the women as temporary head of households. So I being me of course decided to ask my lecturer if he thought that colonialism could be blamed for the degrading and disregard of women in today’s African society. I went on to further elaborate that by this I meant that did he think that before colonialism; before Africans had laid their eyes on the “white man” did he have any prior knowledge to them having lived as equals (women and men)? I wasn’t asking to be controversial. I was asking simply because I assumed he might share a writing or text he had read about Pre-colonial African History. I’ve read a few internet sites on how women were viewed as goddesses back in the day. But I was hoping for an academic source.  Either way my intentions aside, the class headed into a discussion and I was again misunderstood.

A student argued that our chief ideology still carried patriarchy as they were no women. I argued that when I said equality I didn’t mean we’re the same. I meant a mutual understanding and respect for each other. I went further on to say that people need to understand that when tribes went to war, chiefs led the troops. It only made sense to send a man. Another argued that the initiation that women’s clitorises were cut off to increase a man’s pleasure during sex. I argued that men had circumcisions performed at their versions of these ceremonies. Furthermore they were probably unaware of the pleasure nerves located in a clitoris. My favourite answer however was by a gentleman in my class from Uganda. His theory consisted of a thing I call the male ego (I intend to write a paper or thesis on this one day). According to him, “men probably lived with a mutual respect and harmony with their women. Maybe even viewed them as sacred and goddesses. However when slavery came, two things happened, men were stripped of their title as protector and they were beaten into submission. They reacted as any man who prides himself would; they looked for the next thing to assert power over, something weaker than them, Women. Maybe this was the answer I was looking for. Maybe it was an excuse I wanted to give African men to at least have a little faith in them. But I was content with this answer.

Then Today (15 August 2012) I again went of blasting. We were discussing recruitment methods in Personnel Management 306, when the topic of blood tests came up. Our lecturer mentioned that in certain sections of the working economy a pregnancy test is required. He went on to further mention that in the BDF for example, even two years after admission for training or a job getting pregnant is an offence. But doesn’t this question the labour laws that protect women from gender discrimination in the work force? Doesn’t it go against all my principles? As the voice of women in my class went on to get dramatic and touched over this. Sighing out loud and protesting to my lecture as if he’d made the policy, I fell into Human. Remember I’m human before female? My first objective is to preserve human life. My lecture required I give my opinion on this and my answer was,      

       “I’m a feminist. My definition of feminism of course is simply my belief that being a woman should not pose as an advantage or disadvantage anywhere in my life. But the fact of the matter is as a woman you have a responsibility to your child before yourself. If you’re going to work in a radioactive environment save us the law suits and use birth control. If you’re going to join the army don’t be dumb enough to think you’re going to war and not risk losing your child. Quite frankly women need to accept they’re women and stop being so dramatic.”

I didn’t tell you these two stories just so you know what I’m doing in my classes. I told them to you because they have one common denominator here even though they’re so completely different discussions. In the first story, my question is misunderstood to mean that I think women and men are equal, while in the second one the women show an urge to want to be equal. Women and Men the gender equality movement, I’m over that. I’ve BEEN over that. I’m not about that life. In fact I’ve never been about it. That’s not my war. That’s not what this blog is about. And if you thought it was I suggest you leave now because it is about to get ugly.

I refused to celebrate Woman’s day this year because I’m a woman every day of my life. I once asked a homosexual acquaintance why gays wore their sexuality so out there. He said “it’s a title we’ve been given, a label. We have to wear it proudly so it loses its power to hurt us.”  What does that mean? I’m not a transgender little boy hidden in a woman’s body, I am a woman. I don’t need to be told I’m a woman. I don’t need to be reminded or taught how to become a woman. I’m a woman that is it. I know where my responsibilities lie. I know what I’m supposed to do. I feel like a woman. Now these myths that women and men are equal screw it. Fuck it. I’m not about that. We have roles. We’re like lock and key. We’re an oiled machine that works well or at least worked well at one point. The truth is if we’re going to be honest as women it’s going to hurt.

I mean let’s put aside the jobs we have. Let’s put aside our egos. Let’s put aside this feminism concept. What do you want? What do you need? Is it protection? Maybe it is safety? Respect is an option. That’s what I want for all women; Respect. I don’t want to sit here and tell you a lie. Half truths like you can do anything a man can do when you put your mind to it. Truth is let’s stop with the super hero stunts. Let’s pack away the capes. You can’t go and be a soldier and be pregnant. That’s why you have options, Birth control, Condoms. I mean you even have abortions as an option. It’s your body. It’s your life. It’s your dreams. You make the choices, you make the decisions. You’re not a man. Truth is unless you’re planning on having a sex change you probably will never be. It’s fine. It really is. You’re a woman. That’s fine as well. Accept it. You’re not going to be equal to a man; neither will you be inferior or superior. You’re one with him, a team. You’re a human before a woman. All you need is respect.