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. :)

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. 

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. 

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.

Guest Writer: Lydia Kasese; Decisions

It seems this Guest Writer thing might become a monthly show. August's guest writer is a Miss Lydia Kasese. You should know I like her. Very much. so here you go... (UnEdited)

GUEST WRITER; LYDIA KASESE'S DECISION

Today, I decided I will not get into a relationship until I get my first degree. My friends' reaction to this over lunch was, “can I take note of this so I can remind you next week when you decide to start dating?”, we laughed about it and spoke about all the other things we had said we would not do but ended up doing the following week.

Just to put it out there I am not doing this because I want to focus on my academics and boys will be a major distraction because I am a firm believer in fun. I came to this conclusion because it dawned on me that I am worth so much more than what guys at this university are willing to offer. I'm worth more than sweaty nights gyrating on guys dicks in a club, sneaking into their residents late at night and sneaking out at 5am so their friends wont know that i'm the “hoe” he hooked up with. I am worth so much more than being a side-chick to a “boy” I know wont ever learn to love me right but because I am lonely I will stick with him. And I call them “boys” because men are so scarce nowadays, but its not just the boys, decent girls are even more scarce.

If I come off sounding bitter then you caught me. I'm not bitter from my own experiences, but because I have seen girls degrade themselves to a door mat and let boys wipe their dirty feet all over their hearts. I have seen girls trade their self dignity for the sake of not being lonely. I have seen girls trade their name for the title “bitch” just so they could be popular amongst the guys. Heck my friends have bent over backwards , leaned over side ways and cried and begged for a boy that threw away what they thought was “love”.


In all honesty, I do not know much about love. I thought I was in love once but turns out I wasn't. My best friend told me “you will know you are in love when you are willing to die for someone”. I have never loved anyone to be willing to give my life for them, my family yes, but not anyone else. But that is not the point. The point is, I do not know much about love but I have an idea of what it should be like. I think love should be like stripping off your clothes and standing in front of an audience you do not know knowing they will see your imperfections but knowing that they will love your imperfect bits anyway. Love should feel like those moments after the honey-moon phase when you find out that I snore like a pig but you still love me for that. Love should be you not being able to sleep because you went a whole day without talking to me.

This kind of love is hard to find in a place where everyone comes to shag and have the “time of their lives”. You cant find it in a place where boys are driven by peer pressure into seeing how many girls they can date at one time without being caught. You cant get this in a place where talk of commitment is as rare as virgins. True, there may be exceptions out there. There maybe boys out there that are willing to settle down and want something more than a quick shag, but lets be realistic how many of these guys are there? Five? Fifteen? And how many of these already have girls? Three quarters of them? All of them?  I don't know, I really don't know.

Let us be realistic ladies. We all know that boys dream of coming to varsity not for a degree but for all the “babes” that the Hollywood has painted exist. Boys are coming to varsity to have the time of their lives, get high and get laid. Getting committed to you is probably the last thing on his mind. But then again I do not know much about boys and relationships either so I will leave it at that. But this is my decision and my choice, who knows, I may change my mind about this decision next week, 2 months from now or even right before I get my degree. I really dont know, i'm human and my head has the tendency to deceive me sometimes. Who knows I just may come across a guy who actually wants to settle and “make love” once in a while and not just shag. I may even find a guy who loves spending time with me not because he knows there's sex coming his way but because being with me makes him happy. Until then, this is me riding solo, piloting my own plane and enjoying the view from above.

BIO;

My name is Lydia Kasese. I'm a student at Rhodes University. I dabble in poetry, I love the arts and music. I love reading, writing. I'm open minded about a lot of things and still unsure about a lot more. I'm not sure of who I am yet but i'm absorbing what society and the media has to offer me and picking out what I find fit in creating myself as a woman. Feel free to follow me on twitter @Ms_Lilly_Py or on my email address nykasese@yahoo.com

Still On "Your Fuck A N*gger Tip"?

"Still On Your "Fuck A N*gger Tip"?"

My best friend just asked me this. 

So I find myself in another situation were I'm trying to reason why I'm the single 18 year old that "supposedly" hates men. I don't hate men. I adore them. I'm team gender equality for males too, Team Where is the boy child?, Team cook for your husband. But my best friend has come to the conclusion that I hate men or the male species as I like to call them. She says my face falls into a grimace when any one of our friends mentions a boyfriend or a crush. Followed by the statement, "boys are such idiots".

 I'm what the African-american black community refer to as an "Angry Bitter Black Woman." But i'm just African. We don't have "Angry Bitter Black women". Further more if we do, I'm sorry to say I cannot be counted among them. "Angry Bitter Black Women"usually have something to be angry and bitter about; A baby daddy that wont pay child support, a white woman stealing her man, not being able to find a job. I'm an 18 year old girl, no baby ( hence no baby daddy), no man ( hence no white woman stealing my man), and I'm currently typing this from my 4digit paying part time job ( hence no unemployment). 

So how did I, end up in the "Angry Bitter Black Women"Category? I decided to land here. Or maybe they put me here. I mean if I can be categorized as one I must be giving of all the right vibes right.

• Feminist? CHECK
• Single? CHECK

So of course I must hate men. Wrong! I hate relationships. BINGO! That's why I grimace at the mention of boyfriends and crushes. Is it too much to ask to go through a girl's night or lunch without listening to anyone sulk about what an ass their boyfriend is? really? That is all I'm asking. To not be involved anyone's relationship. To not have to look at BBM ( Black Berry messenger) Display Pictures of people making out( that is disgusting why are you taking pictures while kissing), or endure the tears of a friend after a break up? I don't know what to say when this happens. I don't know how to react when you tell me what a fool he is. Truth told by the second minute into the conversation I've stopped listening and I'm trying to think of what to say to make you feel better. I feel horrible the whole time because I now feel like I am such a bad friend. Then on top of it... You're allowed to call your boyfriend a fool but I'm not. Even when he is a fool. 

Not only do I hate other people's relationships ( except for the occasional "nxawww aren't they cute") I pretty much despise the idea of me being in one. I'm 18 for Pete's sake!!! *insert me singing  Young, Wild and Free _ Snoop Dog ft Wiz Khalifa * I read a tweet the other day, "if by this age you haven't realized your parents were right about a lot of things you A. are not growing up, or B. didn't have very good parents" So I'm happy to say I have very good parents and I'm growing up because * sighs* MY MOM WAS RIGHT ABOUT BOYS. Yes, she was. In fact she is. No not the "boys just want to get into your pants talk"( that's my daddy's thing). My mother's reason for not dating at a young age was one and only one, "Relationships will hold you back from achieving what you want to.". That is it really. That's why I'm single. 

I'm single because I have dreams, ambitions and plans that don't allow for me to have a boyfriend. At least not now. Relationships are about compromise. They're about work, time and effort. Love doesn't build a relationship. I wish it did because I believe in love so much.  Trust doesn't build a relationship. Time and effort does. I don't have the time and effort to spare. My plate is full. I have a full time  (9 to 5) job. That I'm hoping will become part time as I go back to being a full time 3rd year student ( double majoring in politics and administration) this august. I run two of my blogs, ( check out my new poetry/photography blogspot Scribbles). I'm also now Brand Manager for my cousin's DJ group HouseNerds. I'm an Amway consultant. Manage my own poetry career. and For Pete's sake I'm trying to get a novel published.

I don't like to report to anyone. I don't like to discuss my ideas before I go for it. I just go for it. I'm too independent for all that. Even questions "like were are you?""who are you with?" I don't have the energy for the drama. Or for the emotional commitment of a relationship, Sure they're boys I like, boy's i'd take home and show my parents but I know I wont give them 100% . They deserve 100%. Everyone does. But at this point in my life, Tshepo Jamillah Moyo deserves 100% more than anybody else. I'm so filled with myself and my ambition that quite frankly there is not a thing any man out there can offer me that I don't already have. I have so much love filling my heart from my family and friends that a life partner wont change anything. besides, before you can be with or love someone you have to be comfortable with yourself. To define yourself, because otherwise you mesh together and become an ugly mess. So until i have the time and effort to spare.. I am Single and Happy with it.

CHEERS TO BEING SINGLE

I also wanted to include a BBM a male friend of mine sent me on his opinion as to why I'm single it made me smile. :)

Slut Walks

I picked up on this topic a little too late, perhaps a lot too late. But I however felt the need to inform you guys, or rather discuss the wave of Slut Walks that hit Canada and other countries in the beginning of 2011 (told you I was late). So what are slut walks? I’m absolutely sure that the African media just did not give this enough coverage for all of you to be aware of it.  And I am an African blogger.

The Slut Walks started in Canada. They are a protest against the legal system, as well as society’s concept of what a proper lady should be. They consist of women all over the world taking to the streets dressed as sluts. The protest was triggered when a detective (not even a rapist) defended a rapists saying that some women were dressed as sluts so he was not surprised that they were raped. This wasn’t a private statement. This was public at a press conference.

Let’s start with the concept of the word Slut. It’s a dirty word isn’t it, nasty. I’m certain it tastes bitter in your mouth. The word slut belongs amongst the other derogatory words used to describe a woman. I googled the word slut: a woman who is promiscuous, a person who lacks ability to exercise sexual restraint, a saucy girl (really?), a prostitute, a girl that is provocative in her dressing and behaviour. The list is endless. The saucy one really surprised me though. Personally I’m very conservative. I flinch a bit when I see butt cracks, or cleavages or thighs.  My friends are annoyed by my obsessive need to cover up their bras, or pull up their pants. But I wouldn’t call them sluts. I wouldn’t call any woman dressed provocatively a slut.

For a man to rape a woman, then stand in court and have his lawyer argue that she was dressed as a “slut”, absolutely disgusts me. Really? She wore a short skirt so you raped her? You shoved her in a bush, stripped her naked, and raped her. You didn’t care that she cried and screamed and kicked. You just raped her. You took her gift and made it yours, stole her right to pick when and how. And then you stand there and call her a slut. Such men are pathetic. They really are, but even more pathetic is the “justice” system that allows these men to use that ridiculous excuse.  

I was going to give you facts. I was going to write to inform. This blog post was me telling a story. It was supposed to be me evaluating the effects that the slut walks have on the systems, on women. But I can’t. I’m too emotional a creature for that. I got angry as I did my research I got upset. So I can’t be objective. I would ask you to forgive me but the reason you read my blog is because I’m opinionated and emotional. So I have to call out the men that abuse and rape women. I have to tell you guys that they are not men they are creatures. But they are not the danger to our society. They aren’t. Not even in the tiniest bit. The danger to our society is the men and women who are friends with these creatures. The ones that do nothing; that defends them like that detective in Canada. Or even me.

Me? Yes even I have played a role in women abuse. I have a story to tell you guys. About a boy, I don’t know if I can say names or the whole truth. I want to. I want to post his picture here so I can protect all the girls in Botswana from him. But it would be termed cyber bullying or defamation of character. Anyway, back to my story. I know a boy who hits girls. He hits his girlfriends. I don’t associate with him. I cut all ties with him when I realised how abusive he is. But I did the worst thing after that. I kept quiet. Even when one of my friends started dating him I kept quiet. I thought she would think I was bitter. Like most girls in Botswana would. But that is no excuse I kept quiet and he abused her for 11months, almost a year. I knew nothing about it then of course.

Silence is the death of all women out there. Saying something to my friend wouldn’t have put him in jail but it would have saved her 11months of pain. That is what speaking out is about. His friends know he is abusive. They say nothing, they laugh when he cracks jokes about “disciplining women”. They are cowards when he is pulling her by her hair outside BnB. People like this are what is wrong with our society. People like me, who blog about him without saying his name cause they are scared of petty laws. We are the problem here because we have the power to stop these monsters. Yet we stand on the side lines and say “she was dressed like a slut.” Or “she aggravated him”. Or even worse we say nothing at all. We give them power. We supply the victims.

So I beg you don’t stay silent. Warn your friends. Defend them. Don’t be a coward like me. Because it sucks to hear your friend’s horror stories and know you could have saved them. You can’t help the monsters but you can help the victims, by saying something. So thank you to the women who participated in the slut walks and said something.

In the words of Mam’Ruby of generations, “you could be naked, and no man has the right to touch you”.

"One Love? "Alfarita Marley

Alfarita “Rita” Marley was or rather is the wife of late reggae legend Robert Nesta Marley aka, Bob Marley. She is also the mother to his children. Not only the ones has she given birth to, but even the ones that Bob had out of wedlock. That he gave other women, and told her she couldn’t possibly have all the children he wanted and therefore he was saving her the pain. Sure maybe I pulled it out of context. Maybe I am just a wee bit bias. Ok I lie I am very bias. In fact reading Rita Marley’s book “My Life with Bob Marley; No woman, No cry”http://www.reggae-reviews.com/nowomannocry.html has completely changed my opinion of the man. Not that I had a very great one to begin with. I have never really idolised the man, only recently did I start to enjoy his music. (By recently I mean around 14years old).

 In case you have not read the book, the Marleys were married for about 15years. For those 15years Rita Marley shared her husband with a large number of concubines. (Not really concubines but sleeping with a married man makes you one. #JUST SAYING) She probably would have continued to do so had he not passed on. #GOD RESTS HIS SOUL. I know better than to attack a man that a woman loves. And loving Bob Marley is what Rita did best. So why does a feminist like me put a woman like Rita Marley who according to traditional feminists (I consider myself a modern feminist. Promise to explain difference in the next blog.) Is a weakling for not divorcing Bob after his countless PUBLIC affairs, on my list of inspirational women?

It isn’t because she is “Bob Marley’s” wife (that however does automatically make her noteworthy). It is not even because she is a great singer. It isn’t even because of her charity work in Africa or her choice to take Ghana as her home. It isn’t even because she had really sexy kids with him (yes I know they are old now but the pictures of young Ziggy are more attractive than Justin Beiber #FACT).     But because and I now will quote Rita;                                                                                                      “when I found out about this new situation (bob’s now public cheating) my first thought was that I need to stand on my own two feet.  Even though I still loved Bob, and I was glad to see him and for the time being wanted to remain his wife, I realised I could not completely trust this man anymore with my life and my children. I really had to try and forget him for a while _ even if it was hard to do_ and focus on the four children.” Rita Marley makes the list of women who inspire me because of her unbeatable strength to love a man who needed her love. She put away her own feelings for Bob and supported him because he needed her and that right there requires:

a)      A prominent ability to be selfless.

b)      A sense of strength to be able to still put her children first.

 I don’t know really. It’s hard for me to describe. Because I in my beautiful opinion, really believe that women these days lie to themselves. Its one thing to say “I will leave him if he cheats on me” and it’s another when it actually happens. What I adore about Rita is that she never let Bobs affairs stop her from being the woman she wanted to be. She never let it stop her from doing the things she wanted to do for herself and for her children. I come from a country where women’s rights are constantly being violated by men. But what is painful for me is when a woman who is able-bodied and whose husband no longer cares sits, and wallows, and does nothing for her children. She waits for her husband to feed, them to clothe them, while he lives his life. Rita was faced with a situation. She did not know whether Bob will care for her children so she took charge. I am compassionate to the women in Botswana, the women in the world that are abused by men. Do not misunderstand me. It is just that some women are in situations that allow them opportunity to care for their children yet they choose not to.

Rita Marley put her love for her children first. Not because she loved Bob any less but because they needed her more. It is just Rita Marley’s story touched me. It really touched me.  For some people Bob’s behaviour is repulsive, but when you read that story, their story, in Rita’s eyes you realise that Bob really loved Rita. And maybe not the way women expect to be loved but the way Rita was okay with being loved.  Official Bob Marley Page Rita Marley"s Foundation site