Déjà vu All Over Again

Much of the dialogue regarding gender issues in Kenya focuses on the cultural, legal and political inequalities between men and women.  There is a growing understanding that they are inextricably linked.  The rhetoric is very reminiscent of the ‘70’s and ‘80’s in the U.S., when I was first entering the job market and starting my family.

Kenya is moving, slowly, away from a culture where women are marginalized by their government, culture, social class and lack of education.  Although there are many articles, discussions and seminars that focus on why women should be allowed access to the workplace, they almost always are still linked to accommodation issues and needs related to childbirth and motherhood.  The implicit message is “hire a woman, but be prepared for the hassle.”  They don’t have enough experience yet to rely on the easy message that women will do a really good job if given the chance.

Outside the urban setting, many tribal cultures still view education of women as a waste of time and energy.  Yet women are increasingly represented in Kenya’s universities and professional schools.  The label “feminist” results in the same kinds of negative reactions from men and women that women encountered at home, but there appears to be an increasing willingness to talk about “gender issues.”

The culture here is intensely male focused.  Fidelity is a scarce quality; child care is the mother’s problem.  The needs of the man come first and foremost.  But women are starting to push back, especially as they gain more economic and political power to give that push some strength.  A letter to the editor in the Daily Nation this morning was evocative of prevalent and popular attitudes in the U.S. not more than 20 years ago:

“Let’s face it; a woman is not a robot, yet society forces her to act like one.  She wakes up in the morning, prepares her children for school, serves her husband breakfast, sits through annoying traffic jam on her way to work, works eight hours, and then rushes home to clean and cook and attend to her husband’s needs.  The least you can do as her son, daughter, or husband is to help.  Your mother ‘did it all’ because she did not go to work.”

I was raised in a huge Irish Catholic family in the Midwest where my highest and best use was to marry well.  My mom was unofficially excommunicated when she was 28 years old because she started using birth control after her fifth child. 

My dad’s approach to marriage and parenthood would fit in well here in Kenya.  During one of my visits home during college, I was in the kitchen talking with my mom, whom I adore.  My dad yelled at her to come pour his coffee.  He was watching TV on the couch; the coffee pot was right in front of him.  My mom went in and poured the coffee.  When she came back to the kitchen and saw the look on my face, she said “just leave it alone; it works for us.”

A few years later, I sent her a copy of Susan Brownmiller’s book, Against Our Will:  Men, Women and Rape.  When she called me later to tell me what a great book it was, she talked about Brownmiller's conclusions that men essentially have terrorized and dominated women unfairly since forever.  After several minutes, I asked her why she was whispering.  She said “your father’s in the next room and I don’t want him to hear me.”

My husband treats me with respect and makes me feel valued.  We are equal partners.  He’s been fully involved as a parent since our daughters were infants.  Those daughters are strong and independent, each with a strong sense of self.  Who would of thought.

It can happen here in Kenya as well.