The most challenging part about being an activist is that people create, and expect you to fit into certain boxes. The problem with me is that I am not a ventriloquist. I don’t like being put into boxes or to speak in ‘choreographed’ tones and therefore more often than not I do end up offending or disappointing some people but I can live with that. When you put yourself into the line of fire you can’t complain when the bullets come flying your way. If you catch one and bleed it’s just another day in the office. So, my attitude, when life happens, is to shape up or ship out. Mostly, I shape up. For me, the worst bullet is to have to fight another woman.
This past week, a racist online encounter made me realize that all these years my feminism has been naive, and deliberately oblivious to the complexity of the intersectionality of race and patriarchy in Africa. It was my own rude wake up call on how racism can impede feminism and aid patriarchy, presenting a double barreled problem for me as a feminist. Continue reading “My rude wake up call on how racism helps partriachy”