Post by aeichener on Feb 15, 2006 14:27:02 GMT 3
I would like to widen the scope a bit. We have busily been discussing party politics, bigmanism and corruption. But we should not cast our gaze away from the equally pressing conditions of daily life. Women's rights and children's rights are more important than the contingent decision which bigwig from the male power elite now gets his place at the feeding trough.
OO had recently posted about environmental issues and one of Kenya's "first peoples", the Yaaku. This gave rise to a long and very instructive thread. He has mentioned currently the issues of workers' exploitation and environment issues in the Lake Naivasha flower business (and has rightly pointed out that one must differentiate here; wholesale condemnations serve nobody).
Today I have read an article in the Nation Supplement which instigated me to post. The article is well-written and well disposed, clear yet duly researched, poignant yet fair and circumspect. It is a true example of good and solid Kenyan journalism, the kind which we can only very rarely find these days in the USA (but often in Europe).
The one thing that I wonder about however, is why the editors - these sloths - did actually accept such a good article and bring it into print. But okay, that's just my pet peeve about the state of Kenyan pressrooms and the hierarchies of ascending incompetence; my constant bitterness, if you like to call it this way.
So yes, here is the link to the Nation article of 15th February 2006:
Kwamboka Oyaro: I knew he was a stingy, rich man... Please have a look at this powerful piece.
IMHO, the problem as such is not limited to Kenya or Africa. And it's not an issue of Global South vs. Global North, though such male failure is a lot more frequent where people are poor, and thus cannot be detached from economy. But it is mostly a gender issue. Absconding, deserting fathers are a nuisance in Germany, Switzerland, in England, in the USA, wherever.
The question is inhowfar the legal system supports the plight of women and children. Here indeed, as in countlessly many other cases, the Kenyan laws are antediluvial. It is difficult enough to get spousal support from a deserting husband, or after a divorce, but it's impossible in the far more frequent cases of children born out of wedlock.
I hope that the constitutional case of the small girl from Machakos will finally become a markstone of legal development. And Millie Odhiambo must be commented for her zeal and resourcefulness. Apparently, CRADLE has not even a few shillings left to maintain their website and email accounts, so it is all the more important that this case be brought to a good end, and would not perish for lack of legal funds.
As to the substantial issue behind it: the title already indicates that not every case of non-payment is necessarily reproachable. A father who is destitute himself obviously can contribute little to the upbringing of a child he once engendered. Yet, at least some occasional monetary contributions, out of a sense of decency and honesty, should be expected; and if that be not possible, maybe a kind of different support now and then, as Oyaro has hinted (like, sharing or alternating some of the responsibilities of child-rearing, e.g. such as looking after the kids or taking them for a weekend, even if one lives no more together and the relationship has ended).
A frequent counter-argument, esp. in the USA, is the cartoonish and derogatory image of single black women as welfare queens. It is, in my eyes, nothing but a modern transfiguration of the old racial "coon" image, only differently gendered today. The single mother, lazy and lecherous, irresponsible, four kids from five men, and living off other people's incomes. Such cases exist, uindeniably; but the sexist cliché is just a modern facet of an older racist prejudice. Most single mothers are strving very hard to make ends meet; and a writer whom I otherwise do not hold in high esteem recently published an excellent blog entry about The Myth of the SBW (Strong Black Woman). It was a brilliant and witty article with some other content, and I will therefore just reproduce an excerpt of the pertinent part via quotation, of course with due source indication at the end:
* * *
Why, THE MYTH OF THE STRONG BLACK WOMAN, of course. It is so simple and so clear that it is somewhat amazing that we are still bamboozled. You see, we (“we”being the black women who are the “johns” of this particular scam) think that being an SBW is something to which one should aspire; we feel complimented when we are included in the category of others similarly valorized; and we blame ourselves for any indication that we are falling below the standards of the SBW. Is this not the most delicious trick ever played on anyone? On some levels, it is so beautifully clever that it leaves those Anglo Leasing schemers in the kindergarten class of con-artists to which they rightly belong. It is said that the greatest feat that Lucifer, Son of Morning, the Fallen One, etc., ever achieved, was convincing people that he did not exist. Well, SBW have been inflicted and infected with the reverse syndrome. The greatest achievement the rest of the world ever achieved was convincing black women that SBW existed, and that our job was to grow up into one such, subsequently to be one in the most exemplary fashion possible, and faithfully to remain one without pause or rest until the grim reaper relieved us of the burdens of our mortality.
It is really terrifyingly, astonishingly and ineffably well-crafted, this myth. Insofar as, so long as we are kept either desiring, or believing ourselves actually to be, Strong Black Women, there is no amount of pure nonsense, abuse, overwork, ingratitude, exploitation, underappreciation, and just plain shit that we will not put up with. You see, SBW, of course, can make ten dollars stretch into meals for a week, clothes for everyone, payment of bills, and school fees, etc.,— this is just a well known and, indeed, required characteristic of SBW. SBW are, by nature, ready, nay, eager to work five jobs at a time so as to feed and clothe their nearest and dearest without expecting, and more properly, absolutely rejecting any help. One has, after all, one’s pride as a Strong Black Woman. SBW are also expected to give command performances as free, endlessly sympathetic and reliable therapists, counselors, substitute mothers, and wise women, who willingly provide free emotional and mental labour to everyone else.
You have a problem? Go and cry on an SBW shoulder, which is guaranteed (why else are they SBW?) to be there, to provide cleenex, food and appropriate ego validation and finally, to manage to complete the four hours worth of work interrupted and delayed by your tales of woe. This function of the SBW is usually taken advantage of by non-SBW without so much as a “by your leave”, much less an offer to return at a more convenient time. This is because of course, your (non-SBW) problems are real and agonizing, your world has been shattered by recurrent crisis #57, and you know that the SBW will understand, even if she has never had such a crisis herself. SBW, nota bene, cannot themselves complain, may not have moments of self-doubt, and never need a sympathetic ear as a balm to their problems, which a) they rarely seem to have and b)they are anyway self-evidently capable of dealing with on their own in the expected silent fortitude of their kind. SBW, it is understood, do not suffer emotionally as much as the other, more fragile and helpless non-SBW population: because they ARE strong, and thus, better able to endure. This is like having a bullet-proof vest when the shooting starts: the unprotected get to scream and wail and run for cover whilst the SBW who are already armoured and thus have no fear, should promptly assume their assigned rescue service, feeding service, administrative, and problem-solving roles. Whence, in addition to everything else, comes the ugly fact that SBW are granted less time for grieving, assumed to have less sense of loss and suffering and required to have a faster recovery time from trauma than everybody else, so that they can go and take care of the anguish and malaise of others. Well, naturally. It is an SBW thing: you wouldn't understand and are very careful not even to try.
Think about it. How do we think of Micere Mugo (or insert favourite female role model here?) Do you know how much CRAP that woman has had to go through? Do we ever ask ourselves what sort of toll it took on her, what scars were left, whether she ever needed to lock herself in the bathroom and weep, if she ever thought of giving up and why she didn't, what demons plagued her at night whilst the world slept, what private spaces of knowing pain and knowing suffering her poetry comes from, whether she ever lost her faith and her certainty in the cause, and if, indeed, by now she is not so tired by all those years of giving, giving and giving--to us, I am reminded to add--that if we had any decency we would stop taking from her? It is not that we have been to the well one too many times, rather it is that we seem to think that the well itself will continue to be there even if we dismantle its walls and supporting platforms in a sort of Platonic "the perfection of the form of the well" fantastical complacency.
Many of us who have or have had the kind of mothers or aunts or honorary aunts whom we admire and who make us proud and to whom we owe, well, um, that would be-- everything?— should know what I mean. Whilst acknowledging all their sacrifices, their struggles overcome and their achievements, have you ever thought that they accomplished then not BECAUSE of some spurious “extra” strength but despite the weaknesses common to us all? I’ve thought of my own mother, whom I have idolized my whole life, because she did just amazing things. She was the first this and the first that. She was the only African woman ever to do x. She left a lasting legacy through her work in y. She also managed to bring me up, protect and shelter me, and mould me into a competent human being…but what about her life? How often do I ask myself if she was ever frightened, insecure, confused, lost? How often do I ask if she ever yearned for opportunities lost, regretted decisions made, missed absent friends? The answer to that would be “once.” Today. Because before today, she was just absolutely perfect and pristine. Before today I would have reacted to such a suggestion of human failings and fears in MY mother with snorting and indignant incredulity—except I realized how wrong that would be. Pedestals do not really give one much room to move or to be.
The problem with the myth of the SBW is this. It falsely supposes that SBW have powers, skills and capacities beyond those of ordinary mortals (sort of like super heroes) so that their achievements are a)not as difficult to attain as they would be for others and b)somehow inhere in the very quality of SBW-ness, itself. When you look at this logic for long enough, it becomes pretty obvious that we don’t need to thank SBW or even to congratulate them. After all, they have only achieved what their innate SBW-ness allows, nay, compels them to achieve. Where is the agency of these women here? How do we honour them by making their achievements banal by not contextualizing them in human frailty? If Superman leaps over a tall building at a single bound, well, yawn, stretch and change the channel. If I were ever to leap over a tall building at a single bound, I WOULD EXPECT SOME SERIOUS ATTENTION, ASTONISHMENT, ADORATION and for everyone to realize that having done all this leaping about, I would fairly obviously need a good long rest. Conversely, I most certainly would NOT appreciate having immediately presented to me another building, over which I am also expected to leap without question or hesitation.
Well, that is it for me. SBW are permanently OFF the list of things that I want to be when I grow up. I am going to treasure and revel in and treat tenderly all my weaknesses and mistakes and failures—all of which I have in amazingly copious quantities--because they make my achievements that much more precious to me.
Let the Age of the Weak Black Women begin!!!
* * *
Source:
Wambui Mwangi: Black Women’s Mythology Revisited or “Loving my Inner Conwoman”, 31st Jan 2006, in:
madkenyanwoman.blogspot.com/
Alexander
OO had recently posted about environmental issues and one of Kenya's "first peoples", the Yaaku. This gave rise to a long and very instructive thread. He has mentioned currently the issues of workers' exploitation and environment issues in the Lake Naivasha flower business (and has rightly pointed out that one must differentiate here; wholesale condemnations serve nobody).
Today I have read an article in the Nation Supplement which instigated me to post. The article is well-written and well disposed, clear yet duly researched, poignant yet fair and circumspect. It is a true example of good and solid Kenyan journalism, the kind which we can only very rarely find these days in the USA (but often in Europe).
The one thing that I wonder about however, is why the editors - these sloths - did actually accept such a good article and bring it into print. But okay, that's just my pet peeve about the state of Kenyan pressrooms and the hierarchies of ascending incompetence; my constant bitterness, if you like to call it this way.
So yes, here is the link to the Nation article of 15th February 2006:
Kwamboka Oyaro: I knew he was a stingy, rich man... Please have a look at this powerful piece.
IMHO, the problem as such is not limited to Kenya or Africa. And it's not an issue of Global South vs. Global North, though such male failure is a lot more frequent where people are poor, and thus cannot be detached from economy. But it is mostly a gender issue. Absconding, deserting fathers are a nuisance in Germany, Switzerland, in England, in the USA, wherever.
The question is inhowfar the legal system supports the plight of women and children. Here indeed, as in countlessly many other cases, the Kenyan laws are antediluvial. It is difficult enough to get spousal support from a deserting husband, or after a divorce, but it's impossible in the far more frequent cases of children born out of wedlock.
I hope that the constitutional case of the small girl from Machakos will finally become a markstone of legal development. And Millie Odhiambo must be commented for her zeal and resourcefulness. Apparently, CRADLE has not even a few shillings left to maintain their website and email accounts, so it is all the more important that this case be brought to a good end, and would not perish for lack of legal funds.
As to the substantial issue behind it: the title already indicates that not every case of non-payment is necessarily reproachable. A father who is destitute himself obviously can contribute little to the upbringing of a child he once engendered. Yet, at least some occasional monetary contributions, out of a sense of decency and honesty, should be expected; and if that be not possible, maybe a kind of different support now and then, as Oyaro has hinted (like, sharing or alternating some of the responsibilities of child-rearing, e.g. such as looking after the kids or taking them for a weekend, even if one lives no more together and the relationship has ended).
A frequent counter-argument, esp. in the USA, is the cartoonish and derogatory image of single black women as welfare queens. It is, in my eyes, nothing but a modern transfiguration of the old racial "coon" image, only differently gendered today. The single mother, lazy and lecherous, irresponsible, four kids from five men, and living off other people's incomes. Such cases exist, uindeniably; but the sexist cliché is just a modern facet of an older racist prejudice. Most single mothers are strving very hard to make ends meet; and a writer whom I otherwise do not hold in high esteem recently published an excellent blog entry about The Myth of the SBW (Strong Black Woman). It was a brilliant and witty article with some other content, and I will therefore just reproduce an excerpt of the pertinent part via quotation, of course with due source indication at the end:
* * *
Why, THE MYTH OF THE STRONG BLACK WOMAN, of course. It is so simple and so clear that it is somewhat amazing that we are still bamboozled. You see, we (“we”being the black women who are the “johns” of this particular scam) think that being an SBW is something to which one should aspire; we feel complimented when we are included in the category of others similarly valorized; and we blame ourselves for any indication that we are falling below the standards of the SBW. Is this not the most delicious trick ever played on anyone? On some levels, it is so beautifully clever that it leaves those Anglo Leasing schemers in the kindergarten class of con-artists to which they rightly belong. It is said that the greatest feat that Lucifer, Son of Morning, the Fallen One, etc., ever achieved, was convincing people that he did not exist. Well, SBW have been inflicted and infected with the reverse syndrome. The greatest achievement the rest of the world ever achieved was convincing black women that SBW existed, and that our job was to grow up into one such, subsequently to be one in the most exemplary fashion possible, and faithfully to remain one without pause or rest until the grim reaper relieved us of the burdens of our mortality.
It is really terrifyingly, astonishingly and ineffably well-crafted, this myth. Insofar as, so long as we are kept either desiring, or believing ourselves actually to be, Strong Black Women, there is no amount of pure nonsense, abuse, overwork, ingratitude, exploitation, underappreciation, and just plain shit that we will not put up with. You see, SBW, of course, can make ten dollars stretch into meals for a week, clothes for everyone, payment of bills, and school fees, etc.,— this is just a well known and, indeed, required characteristic of SBW. SBW are, by nature, ready, nay, eager to work five jobs at a time so as to feed and clothe their nearest and dearest without expecting, and more properly, absolutely rejecting any help. One has, after all, one’s pride as a Strong Black Woman. SBW are also expected to give command performances as free, endlessly sympathetic and reliable therapists, counselors, substitute mothers, and wise women, who willingly provide free emotional and mental labour to everyone else.
You have a problem? Go and cry on an SBW shoulder, which is guaranteed (why else are they SBW?) to be there, to provide cleenex, food and appropriate ego validation and finally, to manage to complete the four hours worth of work interrupted and delayed by your tales of woe. This function of the SBW is usually taken advantage of by non-SBW without so much as a “by your leave”, much less an offer to return at a more convenient time. This is because of course, your (non-SBW) problems are real and agonizing, your world has been shattered by recurrent crisis #57, and you know that the SBW will understand, even if she has never had such a crisis herself. SBW, nota bene, cannot themselves complain, may not have moments of self-doubt, and never need a sympathetic ear as a balm to their problems, which a) they rarely seem to have and b)they are anyway self-evidently capable of dealing with on their own in the expected silent fortitude of their kind. SBW, it is understood, do not suffer emotionally as much as the other, more fragile and helpless non-SBW population: because they ARE strong, and thus, better able to endure. This is like having a bullet-proof vest when the shooting starts: the unprotected get to scream and wail and run for cover whilst the SBW who are already armoured and thus have no fear, should promptly assume their assigned rescue service, feeding service, administrative, and problem-solving roles. Whence, in addition to everything else, comes the ugly fact that SBW are granted less time for grieving, assumed to have less sense of loss and suffering and required to have a faster recovery time from trauma than everybody else, so that they can go and take care of the anguish and malaise of others. Well, naturally. It is an SBW thing: you wouldn't understand and are very careful not even to try.
Think about it. How do we think of Micere Mugo (or insert favourite female role model here?) Do you know how much CRAP that woman has had to go through? Do we ever ask ourselves what sort of toll it took on her, what scars were left, whether she ever needed to lock herself in the bathroom and weep, if she ever thought of giving up and why she didn't, what demons plagued her at night whilst the world slept, what private spaces of knowing pain and knowing suffering her poetry comes from, whether she ever lost her faith and her certainty in the cause, and if, indeed, by now she is not so tired by all those years of giving, giving and giving--to us, I am reminded to add--that if we had any decency we would stop taking from her? It is not that we have been to the well one too many times, rather it is that we seem to think that the well itself will continue to be there even if we dismantle its walls and supporting platforms in a sort of Platonic "the perfection of the form of the well" fantastical complacency.
Many of us who have or have had the kind of mothers or aunts or honorary aunts whom we admire and who make us proud and to whom we owe, well, um, that would be-- everything?— should know what I mean. Whilst acknowledging all their sacrifices, their struggles overcome and their achievements, have you ever thought that they accomplished then not BECAUSE of some spurious “extra” strength but despite the weaknesses common to us all? I’ve thought of my own mother, whom I have idolized my whole life, because she did just amazing things. She was the first this and the first that. She was the only African woman ever to do x. She left a lasting legacy through her work in y. She also managed to bring me up, protect and shelter me, and mould me into a competent human being…but what about her life? How often do I ask myself if she was ever frightened, insecure, confused, lost? How often do I ask if she ever yearned for opportunities lost, regretted decisions made, missed absent friends? The answer to that would be “once.” Today. Because before today, she was just absolutely perfect and pristine. Before today I would have reacted to such a suggestion of human failings and fears in MY mother with snorting and indignant incredulity—except I realized how wrong that would be. Pedestals do not really give one much room to move or to be.
The problem with the myth of the SBW is this. It falsely supposes that SBW have powers, skills and capacities beyond those of ordinary mortals (sort of like super heroes) so that their achievements are a)not as difficult to attain as they would be for others and b)somehow inhere in the very quality of SBW-ness, itself. When you look at this logic for long enough, it becomes pretty obvious that we don’t need to thank SBW or even to congratulate them. After all, they have only achieved what their innate SBW-ness allows, nay, compels them to achieve. Where is the agency of these women here? How do we honour them by making their achievements banal by not contextualizing them in human frailty? If Superman leaps over a tall building at a single bound, well, yawn, stretch and change the channel. If I were ever to leap over a tall building at a single bound, I WOULD EXPECT SOME SERIOUS ATTENTION, ASTONISHMENT, ADORATION and for everyone to realize that having done all this leaping about, I would fairly obviously need a good long rest. Conversely, I most certainly would NOT appreciate having immediately presented to me another building, over which I am also expected to leap without question or hesitation.
Well, that is it for me. SBW are permanently OFF the list of things that I want to be when I grow up. I am going to treasure and revel in and treat tenderly all my weaknesses and mistakes and failures—all of which I have in amazingly copious quantities--because they make my achievements that much more precious to me.
Let the Age of the Weak Black Women begin!!!
* * *
Source:
Wambui Mwangi: Black Women’s Mythology Revisited or “Loving my Inner Conwoman”, 31st Jan 2006, in:
madkenyanwoman.blogspot.com/
Alexander