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

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?

Our Guest Writer: THE TRUTH ABOUT HEAVEN AND HELL!!! by Mbi Chengeta

There are an estimated 6 billion people in the world, that’s 6,000,000,000 people! The average life expectancy of a person is estimated to be around 70 years of age. With all the natural disasters, people smoking, the global aids epidemic, terrorism, drug overdoses, liquor related deaths, accidents, murders, war, etc. I’m sure the average life expectancy is much lower. 

Test my statement by visiting a cemetery sometime and you’ll be surprised how many people have died at a much younger age. Nevertheless, let’s suppose that the average person lives to be 70 years old. 6,000,000,000 divided by 70 equals 85,714,285. This means that 85,000,000 people, on average, die every year. If we divide 85,000,000 by 365 days in a year, this means that an average of 232,876 people are dying every day in this world. Are you shocked yet? You'd never think from the censored daily news that so many were dying. 

I’ve never heard anything like this regularly on radio or TV, but it's a fact. Every day in this world, 232,000 people fulfill their appointment with death. Could you imagine reading the front page of a newspaper and seeing something like... “232,000 PEOPLE DEAD!”? It happens every single day my friend! The reason you’ll never see something like this is because it isn’t glamorous. People like to hear about the one person who was shot to death, or the CEO that jumped out of his office window. 

The news media isn’t interested in how many people are dying around the world. There are natural deaths occurring all over the earth every second, 24 hours a day, but we never hear of them. Deaths resulting from crime, war, disaster, sickness, injury, poison, disease and starvation are seldom heard of from other countries. We only hear of the tip of the ice-berg! 

You can’t disagree with the math! 6,000,000,000 people will all be dead in 100 years! (ok, maybe 99.9%). 

How many people live to be 100? NOT MANY! By dividing 70 into 6,000,000,000, we found that 85,000,000 humans will die every year on average (more or less from year to year, but all will be dead in approximately 70 years). We also found that dividing 365 days into 85,000,000 means that an average of 232,000 humans die every day.

Now, let’s say that one in ten people are genuine born-again Believers. We are clearly told in Matthew 7:14 that few people ever make it to heaven!, “Because straight is the gate, and narrow is the way, which leadeth unto life, AND FEW THERE BE THAT FIND IT” (Matthew 7:14; Luke 13:23,24). [quoting a relative stance among religions]. How tragic! How horrible! Honestly, I would be very surprised if more than one out of every hundred people are truly saved and on their way to Heaven!

Consider the billion people in China who know not the Lord Jesus Christ! Consider the countless hundreds of millions of Arabs (Islamic Muslims) who worship Allah and the prophet Mohammed. Consider the billion Catholics around the world that worship Mary and are trying to earn their way into Heaven through the keeping of the Seven-Sacraments and good works. 

''A philosopher is not a great philosopher if He does not question another philosopher......!!!'' 

On and on, religion and more religion! Countless billions of people are trusting in their religion to save them instead of questioning each other to share an undiscovered common salvation. Surely, nine out of ten people in this wicked world are bound for a Godless, eternal hell. So I have no doubts whatsoever that 90% of the people in this world are going to Hell. Why? For one simple reason, there is only one true religion, and to know it is a roll of the dice. See you on the other side!

About the author

Mbi Chengeta is an abstract artist living in Gaborone Botswana. He is best known for his tattoo's at GC Tattoo parlor, Artistic Drawings and contemporary written work.

find him on facebook at "Raven Mbi Chronicles" or suggest to join his facebook group Limited Edition Script where his work can be found.

Women Across Borders

The Amazing Contrast Between Oppression of Women In The Eastern and Western cultures.

 How do we draw the line.

Find the balance.

France tried banning the Burkha in protest of the Islamic Religion's Supposed Oppression of women.

However, i think it should be understood that mainstream Islam does not require it's female followers to wear the burkha. just like mainstream Christianity does not require its female followers to only wear skirts... it does not stop fundamentalists of both religions from taking it to the extreme.

 In India a dowry is payed during marriage. the question often posed is, whether or not the dowry does not make the man feel he purchased a woman and therefore he owns her?

My father told me he payed a Dowry for my mother as is done in the African culture.

He also told me that the boy wanting to marry me would also pay.

He explained that the Dowry in Africa lost its meaning when it became money rather than cows.

He says the dowry was invented for a man to prove what he was willing to do to marry a woman.

For example my Grandfather asked my father to pay a certain breed, color and sex of cows for my mother.

My father had to find the cows specified. Which was not Easy.

Does Culture lose its Value when Modernized?