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LAGOS, NIGERIA - Mad men are trapped in their heads, prisoners in their cells. I'm not mad nor am I a prisoner. I'm a woman, yet I feel trapped.
Ngozi
Razak-SoyebiI understand from my mother that this feeling is my heritage ... my birthright. They expected a Philistine; I arrived with a clitoris, another daughter of Eve. The hopefuls dressed me in boy's clothing for the first few months of my life. It didn't alter my psyche. It didn't alter my fortunes, either.
From an early age, I recognized that I wasn't expected to do much with my life. I got an education because it was expected. If I did well, it was a bonus. If I excelled, it was a surprise.
In whatever situation I found myself, there were always just a handful of us. We were always outnumbered by these Philistines ... in the classroom, in the playground, in the church choir ... everywhere. We were like cherries in a fruit cake.
These Philistines recognized that, too. They viewed us as the competition and treated us with disdain. We were invited into their circle only when it suited their purpose and ignored most of the time.
I resented these Philistines even more than I did logarithms. They didn't know it, of course, because I had been groomed not to show it.
I would sit for hours plotting their ruin, and yet I let them get away with pulling my hair in the playground and stealing my lunch at meal times. My revenge was in the classroom. My reward? A bookworm no Philistine wanted to play with.
My resentment grew as I got older. I wasn't content with the theory of Adam losing a rib to Eve, and so I embraced history in high school with a passion worthy of mention.
I spent hours poring through the history books in search of a woman whose chromosomes were not considered inferior to these Philistines and whose genitals were not just mere receptacles. They didn't get as much mention or publishers' space as the likes of Usman dan Fodio, Bishop Samuel Ajayi Crowther, Sir Abubakar Tafawa Balewa and Herbert Macaulay, but they were there all the same. Queen Amina of Zaria, Queen Moremi of Ile-Ife, Emotan of Benin, Madam Tinubu of Abeokuta and the Aba Women Rioters of October, 1929. Strong women who dared to stand up and be counted, shaping the course of history.
Alas, history is filled with the battles they fought, yet grossly lacking in their inner thoughts and struggles against these Philistines whom they led to war in many instances and many of whom were responsible for their downfall.
And, like my mama used to say in that soft, whispery voice of hers that resonates through [my life], "My child, you can never tell what a freshly washed pot has been through just by looking at it."
Not satisfied with the history books, I turned to words in search of gender equality. It was a huge disappointment. Forefathers, fireman, tribesman ... gender-specific words and the widely accepted usage of the masculine gender form as reference to both sexes. The words trapped us even before these Philistines got to us.
The entrapment was worse up North [in my country]. There, the women were shrouded in black scarves and veils, locked up in Purdah and relegated to the background even in places of worship.
Down South, we considered ourselves lucky to shake hands with these Philistines.
Frustrated, I turned the searchlight to other living forms. I kept turning the pages when I read about the enviable position of the queen bee and queen ant. I slammed it shut when I read about the mating behaviour of the Praying Mantis. I wouldn't eat these Philistines even if they were served up on a gold platter! Especially not when they were at their most vulnerable. Not that they ever deserved our considerations, mind.
As a last resort, I decided to look offshore for some answers. I sat up straight when I stumbled on the suffragette movement in Britain. My heart thudded with pride when I read about these courageous women who took these Philistines head-on.
In the Holy Bible, Samson slew a thousand Philistines with the jawbone of an ass -- these Philistines don't cut across a very smart picture, do they? Anyway, these women did not even have the privilege of an ass's jawbone. All they had was their courage. My eyes misted over when I read Mrs. Emilia Pankhurst's, leader of the Women's Social and Political Union (WSPU), speech in the House of Commons:
"Sir, we want what men have. It may not be much, but we want it! We will have it with or without friction, and if we cannot have it through our organization, we will have it through our combinations, or without them if necessary. Men say that we women cannot grasp the potentialities of politics, but we women have made openings for leading politicians.I closed my eyes for a moment and felt myself being transported back in time. I could almost see those Philistines turning red in their faces, stealing glances at one another, choking on their glasses of water, coughing delicately behind shaky hands and, as a last resort, stomping out of the room with indignation."Many and varied argue against us that they have driven their most prominent points into us again and again. We refuse to be poked in the gallery of the house. Are we going to take it lying down? No! We will take it with our backs to the wall. A drunken man would say 'down with the petticoats', but I say down with the trousers and up with the petticoats, then we shall see things as they really are.
There is little difference between men and women. Furthermore, we say that as long as we are split as we are, men will always be on top of us. They block us in the house, they confine us to street corners. So we must change our positions. We must be on top."
I opened my eyes and the search was over. I recognized in that instant that I had the power to free myself. Surprisingly, it had been there all along even when those Philistines pulled my hair in the playground and stole my lunch.
The power is me.Freedom ... a much-bandied word, yet denied to many.
- For as long as there is a Lilliputian Philistine in the playground, I will walk tall.
- For as long as there is a Philistine in the corridors of power, I will walk tall.
- For as long as there is a Philistine who thinks there is much difference between men and women, I will walk tall.
- For as long as there is a Philistine ready to block us in the house, I will walk tall.
- For as long as there is one woman shrouded in black and kept in the shadows, I will walk tall.
- For as long as there is a Philistine ready to ridicule the birth of a female child, I will walk tall.
The power is me.
© 2005, GENERATOR 21.
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