The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies [1. ed.] 9783030280987, 9783030280994, 9783030281007

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Olajumoke Yacob-Haliso Toyin Falola Editors

The Palgrave Handbook of African Women’s Studies

The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies

Olajumoke Yacob-Haliso • Toyin Falola Editors

The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies With 54 Figures and 20 Tables

Editors Olajumoke Yacob-Haliso Department of Political Science and Public Administration Babcock University, IIishan-Remo Ogun State, Nigeria

Toyin Falola Department of History University of Texas at Austin Austin, TX, USA

ISBN 978-3-030-28098-7 ISBN 978-3-030-28099-4 (eBook) ISBN 978-3-030-28100-7 (print and electronic bundle) https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4 © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 All rights are reserved by the Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed. The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use. The publisher, the authors, and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, expressed or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institutional affiliations. This Palgrave Macmillan imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Switzerland AG. The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland

This Handbook is dedicated to our daughter and granddaughter, respectively Smart and Strong African Women of the Future: Betsega Candace Aanu Yacob-Haliso Simone Sade Friesen

Preface

This definitive Palgrave Handbook of African Women’s Studies is designed to be one of the few reference books of its kind, bringing together knowledge, scholarship, analyses, and debates on African women’s themes and issues. It unearths, critiques, reviews, analyses, theorizes, synthesizes, and evaluates African women’s historical, social, political, economic, local, and global lives and experiences. The chapters in this volume question the gendered roles and positions of African women and the structures, institutions and processes of policy, politics, and knowledge production that continually construct and reconstruct African women and the study of them. Thus, the Handbook enlarges the scope of the field, challenges its orthodoxies, and engenders new subjects and approaches. Its four-fold emphasis throughout is debunking erroneous and misleading myths about African women’s roles and positions; bringing their previously marginalized stories – herstories – to relief; centering these stories in the disciplinary studies of various aspects of Africa; and ultimately (re)writing the history of African peoples and societies with these herstories and provide a more complete and accurate account. The Handbook uniquely emphasizes connecting the past and present of women’s lives, activism, and scholarship, as well as identifying linkages and trends to inform present understanding, explanation, and future studies. Whereas most existing reference works have covered the African region without gendering the discourse, and others have explored the positions of women in specific national, regional, and sociopolitical contexts, there is almost no up-to-date reference text that focuses uniquely on African women as a category, and that simultaneously thoroughly covers the very broad range of issues that affect them, in one text. While questioning the existing structures of knowledge production that frame women’s lives and scholarship about women in Africa, the Handbook also advances new ways of teaching and learning about African women, a marked departure from previous efforts. Given the historical academic marginalization of African women in the representation and writing of the history of the continent as well as in the subjects of the humanities and social sciences, The Palgrave Handbook of African Women’s Studies is an important and groundbreaking contribution to the corpus of knowledge on women generally, on Africa specifically, and on African women more directly.

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The detailed, rigorous, and up-to-date analyses in this complete Handbook, undertaken from multiple theoretical, methodological, and transdisciplinary approaches, will be vital in charting new directions for the study of African women and will reverberate in future studies, generating contemporary debates and fields of study. IIishan-Remo Ogun, Nigeria Austin, TX, USA October 2021

Olajumoke Yacob-Haliso Toyin Falola

Acknowledgments

The Palgrave Handbook of African Women’s Studies was initially conceived as a single volume and part of a series of more than 20 Handbooks that Toyin Falola created, proposed and was commissioned to produce for Palgrave Macmillan Publishers. In partnering on this particular Handbook, our goals initially seemed quite simple: curate and update current studies of African women in one place, in an accessible format. In implementing the germinal idea, we have made every effort to bring the project into conversation with the current state of the field and to actively transcend it. It has been a truly spectacular, joyous, and yet humbling experience to serve as editors-in-chief of this important volume bringing together the finest scholars and scholarship in the field. The most important fact is that this has been entirely a collective effort, opening yet new vistas of collaboration in the scholarly movement of decolonizing the academy, and building bridges between North and South, Africa and the Rest, and one generation of scholars and others. Scholars based in every corner and region on the African continent are represented, including many others based in three other continents. We most sincerely thank all the authors of chapters in the Handbook for accepting our invitation to collaborate. Our contributors to the Handbook volume bought into the ambitious and expansive vision we pitched to them, authored extremely competent chapters in the volume, volunteered to take on topics that were difficult to assign, recommended specific subject or sub/regional experts from their networks, proposed topics, contributed syllabi for the postscript, and constantly gave words of encouragement. Our interactions with each were vibrantly varied, sometimes tense, according to our dynamic personalities, but always collegial, and we always found a feminist space of mutual understanding and empathy. Many of our authors encountered significant life-altering events during the course of their involvement with the project yet remained unwavering in their commitment. In one instance, one of our authors had a serious accident that left her with brain injuries, including loss of memory, and yet, through her period of difficult recovery informed us she had seen our email reminders, and she would honor her commitment. And she did, delivering a brilliant chapter. Before the Handbook was completed, Pamela Adaugo Nwakanma’s chapter, titled “Women, Entrepreneurship, and Economic Development in Africa” (Chap. ▶ 83) won the Kauffman Foundation Award for the Best Graduate Student Paper on inclusion and entrepreneurship. It was ix

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Acknowledgments

awarded through the American Political Science Association Class and Inequality section at the 2019 annual meeting. We were so happy for her! Our profound appreciation goes to our friends who out of no time devoted time to read and give critical and valuable feedback on the lengthy Handbook Introduction: Agnes Atia Apusigah, Jarpa J. Dawuni, Grace Ese-osa Idahosa, Omotola Adeyoju Ilesanmi, Pamela Adaugo Nwakanma, and Oluwatoyin Oluwaniyi. The section editors on the Handbook were absolutely phenomenal not only in conducting the academic task of managing the submissions to their respective sections, but going beyond this to doing the feminist labor of mentoring and nurturing less-experienced authors to completion. Thank you so much, Agnes Atia Apusigah (Development Processes), Franca Attoh (Gender-Based Violence), Elsada Diana Cassells (Politics), Anene Ejikeme (Women’s Movements), Oluwatoyin O. Oluwaniyi (Conflict and Peace), Sharon Adetutu Omotoso (Creativity, Arts, and Performance), and Olajumoke Yacob-Haliso (Researching Women; Politics; Re-writing Histories; Culture & Society). We are most grateful to our editors at Palgrave Macmillan for the tremendous enthusiasm on this project which propelled and motivated us greatly. Megan Laddusaw, Shaun Vigil, and Meagan Simpson were our commissioning editors, along with Michael Hermann in the Major Reference Works team. Their faith in us allowed bringing this work to life, especially as a Major Reference Work in the unique Online First publishing format which made the chapters immediately available to a global audience soon as each was ready. Shruti Datt was our absolutely fantastic first project manager at Springer whose clarity, focus, patience, commitment, organization, timeliness, excellent communication skills, and deft juggling of the many tasks on this project made our job so smooth for almost 3 years. We have been equally fortunate to work with Divya Rajakumar, who took over from Shruti and saw the project to completion. Thanks to Divya for making sure we did not lose momentum and for top-quality project management skills. We also acknowledge and appreciate the detailed review of four anonymous reviewers whose critical insights and questions were constructive. Studies on African women have always been a passion of both of us editors of this volume. As students of the history and politics of African societies, the centrality of women’s issues to our different subjects has been front and center in our scholarship. Toyin Falola’s early work on Yoruba market women and power1 opened up debates and provoked critical response. His earlier work included articles such as those on prostitution in Ibadan2 and on Swahili women.3 Falola has also partnered with many established and emerging women scholars to publish books especially focused on African women including Women’s Roles in Sub-Saharan Africa and Women, Gender and Sexualities in Africa (w. Nana Akua Amponsah), The Power of Gender, the Gender of Power: Women’s Labor, Rights and Responsibility in Africa (w. Bridget Teboh), Gender, Sexuality and Mothering in Africa (w. Bessie House-Soremekun), and Gendering Knowledge in Africa and the African Diaspora: Contesting History and Power (w. Olajumoke Yacob-Haliso), among many other books, articles, and other essays on the subject. Olajumoke Yacob-Haliso first conducted field research with women from various parts of Africa living in Nigeria for her Masters’

Acknowledgments

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dissertation almost two decades ago and has spent all her academic career since conducting fieldwork and writing on women in this and various other domains. In addition to the coedited book with Falola mentioned above, Olajumoke has published (w. Mobolanle E. Sotunsa) Women in Africa: Contexts, Rights, Hegemonies (2012) and Gender, Culture and Development in Africa (2017) as well as articles in African Affairs, Journal of Peacebuilding and Development, and elsewhere. Above all, we are supremely grateful for our families – the Halisos, Falolas, and extended others around the world, and our friends and colleagues, whose sacrifices, prayers, words of wisdom, and well-wishes held us up in this and previous projects. And we must acknowledge the work of the generations of African women – activists, scholars, matriarchs, sisters, leaders, fighters, writers, non-conforming, and more – whose tireless labor has made our vision and our dreams possible in this generation. Olajumoke’s mom, Mrs. Doris Taiye Oyinloye, deserves special recognition and appreciation, for being the embodiment of all the positive values associated with African women as intelligent, strong, compassionate, creative, resilient, generous, and spiritual beings. For the shortcomings and any errors in this final product, authors of chapters and editors of the Handbook take full responsibility for their work. Thank you. Babcock University The University of Texas at Austin March 2021

Olajumoke Yacob-Haliso Toyin Falola Editors

Notes 1. Falola, T. (1995). Gender, business, and space control: Yoruba market women and power. In B. House-Midamba & F. K. Ekechi (Eds.), African market and economic power: The role of women in African economic development (pp. 23– 40). Westport: Greenwood Press. Reprinted in Bretell, C. B., & Sargent, C. F. (Eds.). (2017). Gender in cross-cultural perspective (pp. 200–214). New York: Routledge. 2. Falola, T. (1984). Prostitution in Ibadan,1895–1950. The Journal of Business and Social Studies, 6(2), 40–54. 3. Falola, T. (1996). Swahili women since the 19th century: Theoretical and empirical considerations on gender and identity construction. Africa Today, 43(3), 251–268.

Contents

Volume 1 Section I Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

1

Introduction: Decolonizing African Women’s Studies . . . . . . . . . Olajumoke Yacob-Haliso and Toyin Falola

3

1

Section II Research and Knowledge Production on Women in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

45

....................................

47

2

African Feminisms Simidele Dosekun

3

Teaching Women’s Studies in Africa Toyin Falola

......................

65

4

Decolonizing the Curriculum on African Women and Gender Studies . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Grace Ese-osa Idahosa

87

5

Women and Indigenous Knowledge in Africa Chika Ezeanya Esiobu

...............

105

6

African Indigenous Knowledge Systems and the Empowerment of African Women . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Gloria Emeagwali

123

Women, Gender, and Knowledge Production in Anglophone Africa and Its Diaspora . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Jamaine M. Abidogun

135

7

8

Women, Gender, and Development in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Nana Akua Anyidoho

155 xiii

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Contents

9

Feminist Legal Theory, Human Rights, and Culture in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . L. Amede Obiora

171

10

Women, Gender, and Race in Post-Apartheid South Africa Edith Dinong Phaswana

....

197

11

Researching Women and Gender in Africa: Present Realities, Future Directions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Hibist Kassa

217

Postscript: Teaching Women’s Studies in Africa – Sample Syllabi . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Olajumoke Yacob-Haliso

235

12

Section III

African Women and Politics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

293

13

Women, Gender, and Politics in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ramola Ramtohul

297

14

Women in Political Parties in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Antonia Taiye Okoosi-Simbine and Ndifon Neji Obi

315

15

Women in African Parliaments: Progress and Prospects . . . . . . . Gretchen Bauer

335

16

Women in Judiciaries Across Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . J. Jarpa Dawuni

353

17

Women in Executive Political Leadership in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . Oluyemi O. Fayomi, Odunayo P. Salau, Rosemary O. Popoola, and Olalekan W. Adigun

375

18

Women in Local Government in Africa: Gender, Resistance, and Empowerment . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Nana Akua Amponsah and Janet Serwah Boateng

393

19

Women in/and the Security Sector in Africa Omotola Adeyoju Ilesanmi

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413

20

Gender Equality Policies and African Women: A Comparative Critique . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Kara Ellerby

429

21

Women, Quotas, and Affirmative Action Policies in Africa . . . . . Adebusola Okedele

449

22

The State of LGBT Rights in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Zethu Matebeni

465

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23

Women, Activism, and the State in North Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . Zahia Smail Salhi

24

Women of African Islands: Rights, Representation, and Participation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Aleida Borges

25

New Trends in Women and Politics in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Aili Mari Tripp

Section IV

African Women in Conflict and Peace . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

479

497 517

539

26

Women’s Roles and Positions in African Wars . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Oluwatoyin O. Oluwaniyi

27

Theorizing African Women and Girls in Combat: From National Liberation to the War on Terrorism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Siphokazi Magadla

561

Gendered Experiences of Refugee and Displaced Women in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Olajumoke Yacob-Haliso

579

28

541

29

Women, Terrorist Groups, and Terrorism in Africa Margaret Gonzalez-Perez

..........

603

30

Women, Terrorism, and Media: Framing of Chibok and Dapchi Schoolgirls’ Abduction Stories in Television . . . . . . . . . . Helen Odunola Adekoya and Mary Leka Beredam

621

31

Women and Peace Processes in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Adeola Aderayo Adebajo

639

32

Women and Peacebuilding in Postconflict African States Tanya Ansahta Garnett

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653

33

Women and Peace Education in Africa Funmilayo Idowu Agbaje

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669

34

African Women and Peace Education: Field Experiences . . . . . . Pamela Machakanja

687

35

DDR and the Education of Ex-Combatant Girls in Africa: A Gendered Analysis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Esther Mojisola Beckley

36

Women and Transitional Justice Processes in Africa . . . . . . . . . . Pamela Machakanja and Chupicai Manuel

703 721

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37

38

39

40

Contents

Women and Transitional Justice in Africa and Latin America . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Olajumoke Yacob-Haliso and Omonye Omoigberale

743

Conflict-Related Sexual Violence and Women’s Rights: Africa in Global Context . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Akissi Metonou

773

The United Nations and African Women in Peace, Security, and Governance . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Damilola Taiye Agbalajobi

793

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813

UNSCR 1325 and African Women in Conflict and Peace Omotola Adeyoju Ilesanmi

Section V Women and Gender-Based Violence (GBV) in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Violence Against Women in North Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Loubna H. Skalli

835

42

Sexual Offences in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Lillian Artz and Shelly Daphné D’Cruz

853

43

Violence Against LGBT(QI) Persons in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Lefatshe Anna Moagi and Azwihangwisi Helen Mavhandu-Mudzusi

873

44

Girls, Sexuality, and Gender-Based Violence in Africa Arit Oku

........

891

45

Female Genital Mutilation/Cutting in Africa: Patriarchy and Policy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Oghoadena Clementina Osezua and Aimiulimhe Emily Edobor

911

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Women in African Prisons Abidemi Omolara Fasanmi

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927

47

Women, Trafficking, and Forced Prostitution in Africa . . . . . . . . Franca Attoh

941

48

Non-state Actors and Violence Against Women in Africa . . . . . . Maryam Omolara Quadri

955

49

Violence and Women’s Health in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Taiwo M. Williams

969

50

Alternative Rites of Passage and Other Responses to Female Genital Mutilation/Cutting in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Damaris S. Parsitau and Ruth A. Aura

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Contents

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The Response to Gender-Based Violence in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . 1011 Peace A. Medie

Volume 2 Section VI

(Re)Writing African Women's Histories . . . . . . . . . . . . .

1023

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A History of African Women from Origins to 800 CE: Bold Grandmas, Powerful Queens, Audacious Entrepreneurs . . . . . . . 1027 Christine Saidi

53

A History of African Women from 800 CE to 1900: Bold Grandmas, Powerful Queens, Audacious Entrepreneurs . . . . . . . 1045 Christine Saidi

54

African Women and the Atlantic Slave Trade . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1059 Nemata Blyden

55

Women in Pre-colonial Africa: East Africa Nakanyike B. Musisi

56

Women in Pre-colonial Africa: West Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1099 Cyrelene Amoah-Boampong and Christabel Agyeiwaa

57

Women in Pre-colonial Africa: Southern Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1113 Lefatshe Anna Moagi and Butholezwe Mtombeni

58

Women in Colonial East Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1133 Susan Mbula Kilonzo and Jethron Ayumbah Akallah

59

North African Women and Colonialism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1151 Zahia Smail Salhi and Meriem Bougherira

60

Women and Colonialism in West Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1169 Gift Uchechi Ntiwunka and Chibuzor Ayodele Nwaodike

61

Women and Colonialism: Southern Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1185 Butholezwe Mtombeni

62

Women and Colonialism Across Africa Oluwakemi Abiodun Adesina

63

Writing Nigerian Women’s Political History Toyin Falola

64

Writing Nigerian Women in the Economy, Education, and Literature . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1235 Toyin Falola

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1073

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1203 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1219

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Gender, Authority, and Identity in African History: Heterarchy, Cosmic Families, and Lifestages . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1257 Christine Saidi, Catherine Cymone Fourshey, and Rhonda M. Gonzales

66

Colonialism and Gender in Africa: A Critical History . . . . . . . . . 1275 Funmilayo Idowu Agbaje

67

Women, Colonial Resistance, and Decolonization: Challenging African Histories . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1295 Yolande Bouka

68

African Women’s Letters as Intellectual History and Decolonial Knowledge Production . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1315 Athambile Masola

69

Challenges of Writing African Women’s Histories . . . . . . . . . . . . 1329 Egodi Uchendu and Zara Emmanuel Kwaghe

Section VII

Women's Movements in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

1345

70

Women, Social Movements and Political Activism in North Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1347 Moha Ennaji

71

The Arab Spring and Women’s Movements in North Africa . . . . 1365 Valentine M. Moghadam and Alice Verticelli

72

Rural Women Farmers’ Grassroots Networks in Africa . . . . . . . 1383 Tsehai Berhane-Selassie

73

African Women's Movements and Struggles over Land Robin L. Turner

74

LGBTI+ Organizations in Southern and East Africa: Fighting for Equal Rights . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1421 Anene Ejikeme

75

LGBTI+ Organizations in West Africa and North Africa: Fighting for Equal Rights . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1437 Anene Ejikeme

76

The “Subalternity” of Women in Social Movements and African Politics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1453 Khanyile Mlotshwa

77

The African Diaspora and Women’s Struggles in Africa . . . . . . . 1473 Amanda Coffie

78

The United Nations and African Women’s Movements . . . . . . . . 1491 Adebusola Okedele

. . . . . . . 1403

Contents

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African Women’s Movements and the African Union . . . . . . . . . 1509 Melinda Adams

Section VIII

African Women and Development Processes

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1523

80

African Women’s Formal and Informal Labor: A Comparative History . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1527 Lyn Ossome

81

Women and Community Development in Rural Africa: Deconstructing Dominant Narratives . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1543 Agnes Atia Apusigah and Florence Naah Bamora

82

Women, Land, and Law in Africa Patience Munge Sone

83

Women, Entrepreneurship, and Economic Development in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1583 Adaugo Pamela Nwakanma

84

Women in Agriculture in Contemporary Africa Manase Kudzai Chiweshe and Sandra Bhatasara

85

African Women in University Management and Leadership . . . . 1619 Grace Ese-osa Idahosa

86

African Women, Technology, and ICTs Olivia A. T. Frimpong Kwapong

87

Women, Poverty, and Empowerment in Africa Bernadette Mukhwana Wanjala

88

Women’s Empowerment and Women’s Health in Africa . . . . . . . 1681 Ngozi Nwogwugwu

89

Women and Development Policies in African States Amaka Theresa Oriaku Emordi

90

Women, Climate Change, and Sustainable Development in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1717 Ngozi Nwogwugwu

91

Gender Budgeting in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1733 Oluwabunmi O. Adejumo

92

Gender and Migration in North Africa Souad Belhorma

93

Women, Migration, and Development in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1767 Felicia Esinam Pufaa and Agnes Atia Apusigah

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1565

. . . . . . . . . . . . . 1601

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1639 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1657

. . . . . . . . . . 1701

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1749

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African Diaspora Women and African Development . . . . . . . . . . 1785 Oluyemi O. Fayomi, Oluwayemisi A. Adepoju, and Grace T. Adebayo

95

African Women and Globalization . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1805 Akosua K. Darkwah

Volume 3 Section IX African Women's Creativity, Arts, and Performance . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

1821

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Women and Art in Africa: A Historical View . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1825 Monica Blackmun Visoná

97

African Women in African Arts: Making Art for Change . . . . . . 1845 Adérónké Adésolá Adésànyà

98

African Women in African Arts: Activists, Cultural Brokers, and Boundary Breakers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1871 Adérónké Adésolá Adésànyà

99

African Women Writers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1899 Delphine Fongang . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1919

100

Women and North African Literatures Gibson Ncube

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African Women and African Oral Literatures . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1937 Mobolanle Ebunoluwa Sotunsa

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African Women and Theatre for Development . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1955 Vicensia Shule

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Nollywood and Women . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1973 Ezinwanyi E. Adam

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African Women Hip-Hop Artists Representing Transnational Identities: Y3 Fr3 Me Rebel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1993 Msia Kibona Clark

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African Women in Sports: A Critical Analysis of Selected Media Discourses . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2011 Jimoh Shehu

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African Women’s Internet Discourses Touria Khannous

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Women, Social Media, and Culture in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2045 Onyinyechi Nancy Nwaolikpe

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2029

Contents

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African Women and the Mass Media . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2063 Sharon Adetutu Omotoso

Section X

African Women, Culture, and Society . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

2081

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2085

109

African Women Traditional Chiefs and Rulers Lynda R. Day

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Women, Islam, and the State in North Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2101 Fatima Sadiqi

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Women, Islam, and the Law: Womanism, Shari’a, and Human Rights in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2117 Hauwa Ibrahim

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Representations of North African Women and African Islamic Religion in El Saadawi’s Zeina . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2133 Khatija Bibi Khan

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Women and Christianity in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2151 Sunday Didam Audu and Emmanuel Orihentare Eregare

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Women and African Traditional Religion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2169 Itohan Mercy Idumwonyi and Osamamen Oba Eduviere

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Womb Wisdom to Cosmic Wisdom: Women and African Spiritualities in Africa and the Diaspora . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2187 Oluwatoyin Vincent Adepoju

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The Role of Religion and Faith Actors in Violence Against Women and Girls in Africa: Challenges, Tensions, and Promise . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2209 Damaris S. Parsitau and Ruth A. Aura

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Gender, Motherhood, and Parenting in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2233 Lucille Nonzwakazi Maqubela

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Women in African Marriages: Voice, Visibility, and Value Augusta Olaore and Prince Agwu

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Widows, Widowhood, and Society in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2269 Abidemi Fasanmi and Sandra Ayivor

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African Queer Women Tackling Erasure and Ostracization: Love, Lust, and Lived Experience . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2287 Tiffany Kagure Mugo

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Gender, Disability, and Human Rights in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2307 Zahara Nampewo

. . . . . 2253

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African Women and HIV and AIDS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2323 Krista Johnson

123

Girls’ Sexuality Between Agency and Vulnerability . . . . . . . . . . . 2339 Deevia Bhana

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African Young Women and Alcohol and Substance Abuse Cecilia S. Obeng and Barnabas Obeng-Gyasi

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Women and Girls’ Education in Africa: Changes and Continuities . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2375 Florence Kyoheirwe Muhanguzi

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Women in Universities in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2393 Nana Yaw Boampong Sapong and Priscilla Owusu Amoako

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Girl-Child, Health, and Education in Africa Taiwo M. Williams

128

Women in Pastoral Societies in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2425 Blessing Nonye Onyima

129

Gender, Migration, and African Cultures . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2447 Olaocha Nwadiuto Nwabara

130

African Women, Culture, and Society in Contemporary African Novels . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2469 Ezinwanyi E. Adam

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Culture, Rights, and African Women’s Futures . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2487 Sylvia Bawa

Section XI 132

. . . . . 2353

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2409

Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

2503

Conclusion: Charting Future Paths for African Women’s Studies . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2505 Olajumoke Yacob-Haliso and Toyin Falola

Index . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2519

About the Editors

Olajumoke Yacob-Haliso is Professor of Political Science at Babcock University, Nigeria, where she has taught since 2002. She has published ten books and dozens of articles and book chapters on international relations, gender studies, and comparative politics. Professor Yacob-Haliso is coeditor of the Rowman & Littlefield book series, Africa: Past, Present & Prospects, and the Journal of Contemporary African Studies, among others. She serves on the editorial board of African Affairs, Journal of International Women’s Studies, Peace Studies and Practice, Journal of International Politics and Development, and so on. For her research, Olajumoke has been awarded grants and fellowships of the American Council of Learned Societies (ACLS), African Studies Association (ASA), Carnegie Africa Diaspora Fellowship Program (CADFP), International Development Research Centre (IDRC), University for Peace Africa Program (UPEACE), Council for the Development of Social Science Research in Africa (CODESRIA), American Political Science Association (APSA), and others. Professor Yacob-Haliso has been visiting scholar to universities in Africa, Europe, and the United States, including Rhodes University, South Africa, the Graduate Institute of International and Development Studies, Switzerland, Boston University, USA, and many others. Olajumoke Yacob-Haliso is incoming co-chair (2020–2023) of the Feminist Theory and Gender Studies (FTGS), Section of the International Studies Association (ISA), and currently Dean of the Veronica Adeleke School of Social Sciences at Babcock University, Nigeria.

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About the Editors

Toyin Falola, Professor of History, University Distinguished Teaching Professor, and the Jacob and Frances Sanger Mossiker Chair in the Humanities, the University of Texas at Austin. He is an Honorary Professor, University of Cape Town, and Extraordinary Professor of Human Rights, University of the Free State, South Africa. He had served as the General Secretary of the Historical Society of Nigeria, the President of the African Studies Association, Vice-President of UNESCO Slave Route Project, and the Kluge Chair of the Countries of the South, Library of Congress. He is a member of the Scholars’ Council, Kluge Center, and the Library of Congress. He is a Fellow of Clare Hall, Cambridge University, a Fellow of the Historical Society of Nigeria, and a Fellow of the Nigerian Academy of Letters. He has received over 30 lifetime career awards and 14 honorary doctorates. Palgrave Macmillan in 2016 released a book on him by Abdul Karim Bangura, Toyin Falola and African Epistemologies, and another was published by Carolina Academic Press in 2019, Falolaism: The Epistemologies and Methodologies of Africana Knowledge. Falola has published over a hundred and fifty books, some of his latest including the Palgrave Handbook of African Oral Traditions and Folklore, the Palgrave Handbook of Islam in Africa, and the Palgrave Handbook of African Education and Indigenous Knowledge.

Section Editors

Agnes Atia Apusigah Department of Development Education Studies Faculty of Education University for Development Studies Tamale-NR, Ghana

Franca Attoh Department of Sociology University of Lagos Akoka-Yaba, Nigeria

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Section Editors

Elsada Diana Cassells City University of New York New York, NY, USA

Anene Ejikeme Trinity University San Antonio, TX, USA

Oluwatoyin O. Oluwaniyi Department of History and International Studies College of Humanities Redeemer’s University Osun State, Nigeria

Section Editors

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Sharon Adetutu Omotoso Women’s Research and Documentation Center (WORDOC) Institute of African Studies University of Ibadan Ibadan, Nigeria

Olajumoke Yacob-Haliso Department of Political Science and Public Administration Babcock University IIishan-Remo Ogun State, Nigeria

About the Authors

Jamaine M. Abidogun Professor Emeritus, History. Jamaine M. Abidogun has a Ph.D. in Curriculum and Instruction and African and African-American Studies from the University of Kansas. Her research is on historical and contemporary cultural and education interactions in the USA, Africa, and Diaspora. She is Fulbright Research Scholar (2004–2005, 2013–2014) and a federal consultant, US Embassy, Nigeria. She served as Editor-in-Chief of the African Journal of Teacher Education, University of Guelph, and is a member of Fulbright Academy and Mid-America Alliance for African Studies. Her recent publications include Africa and the Diaspora: Intersectionality and Interconnections, coeditor S. Recker (Palgrave 2021); Palgrave Handbook of African Education and Indigenous Knowledge, coeditor T. Falola (Palgrave 2020); and African Science Education: Gendering Indigenous Knowledge in Nigeria (Routledge 2018). Adérónké Adésolá Adésànyà is an artist, art historian, a cartoonist, poet, peace practitioner, and professional mediator and conciliator. Adesanya studies and teaches ancient to modern African art and contemporary art/artists of Africa and the African Diaspora. Her publications in peer-reviewed essays, chapter in books, monographs, and edited volumes include Migrations and Creative Expressions in Africa and the African Diaspora (2008); Etches on Fresh Waters (2008); Carving Wood, Making History: The Fakeye Family, Modernity and Yoruba Woodcarving (2012), Art Parody and Politics (2013), and Akinola Lasekan: Cartooning, Art and Nationalism at the Dawn of a New Nigeria (2020). Ezinwanyi E. Adam was Resident Research Fellow at the West African Research Center (WARC), Fann Residence, Dakar, Senegal, in 2016. She has won many fellowships including Catalyst Fellowship of the University of Edinburgh (2019), Cadbury Fellowship of the University of Birmingham (2015), and 2015/2016 ACLS-AHP Postdoctoral Fellowship of the American Council of Learned Societies, New York, and grants from Human Sciences Research Council (HSRC), Pretoria (2017 and 2015) and Africa Institute of South Africa (AISA), Pretoria (2017 and 2014). Dr. Adam is passionately committed to achieving excellence in her chosen disciplines: comparative and African literature, gender and women’s studies, and xxix

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About the Authors

postcolonial and cultural studies, and is currently working on a book manuscript on contemporary African women’s issues. Melinda Adams studies gender and politics in Africa. Her work focuses on women’s political representation, particularly in the executive branch, the diffusion of gender equity initiatives, and domestic and regional women’s movements. Her research has been published in numerous journals, including Politics & Gender, International Feminist Journal of Politics, Governance, and Politics, Groups and Identities. Adeola Aderayo Adebajo (Ph.D.) is Senior Lecturer in the Department of Political Science, Tai Solarin University of Education, Ijagun, Ijebu Ode, Ogun State, Nigeria. Her areas of research are peace and conflict studies, gender studies, and political theory. She is a member of the International Political Science Association (IPSA), Organization for Women in Science for the Developing World (OWSD), Nigerian Political Science Association (NPSA), Society for Peace Studies and Practice, etc. She is a reviewer of International Journal of Research and Scientific Innovation in Social Science (IJRISS). She is currently writing a book on human displacement perspective of pastoralist-farmer conflict in Nigeria. Grace T. Adebayo is a research assistant to Professor Oluyemi Oyenike Fayomi. Her areas of research interest include migration and developmental issues. Grace T. Adebayo has publications in edited books, conference proceedings, and peerreviewed journal articles. She attended the prestigious University of Lagos, Akoka, Lagos, Nigeria, where she obtained the Bachelor of Science (Hons.) degree in Political Science and went further to Covenant University, Ota, Ogun State, Nigeria, where she obtained the Master of Science (Hons.) degree in International Relations. Grace Taiwo Adebayo has attended conferences both locally and internationally. Oluwabunmi Opeyemi Adejumo is a faculty member of Obafemi Awolowo University and a research fellow, and an alumnus of the Institute of Housing and Urban Development Studies, Erasmus University, Netherlands. She holds a Ph.D. (Economics) from Obafemi Awolowo University and is currently a scholar at the same university. She is an active member of the Inter-University Sustainable Development Research Programme (IUSDRP), Germany, and has participated as an associate editor for some of IUSDRP encyclopedia series on sustainable development goals. Her research interest includes labor, gender, and development issues. Helen Odunola Adekoya Helen started out as a pioneer broadcaster at Kogi State Broadcasting Corporation before going into academics in year 2000. Her research interest is in Development Communication and Advertising. With over 20 years

About the Authors

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working experience at the tertiary level, Helen has served as an active member of various research committees and has also attended many local and international conferences. To her credit, Helen has supervised ten Ph.D. works, many M.Sc. dissertations, and undergraduate research projects. She is an associate member of the Advertising Practitioner Council of Nigeria, including other local and international academic associations in Mass Communication. Oluwayemisi A. Adepoju is currently a Ph.D. student. Her Doctorate program is in International Relations, while her areas of specialization are gender studies, peace and conflict resolution, and development studies. She teaches Nigerian government and politics, introduction to international relations and citizenship education at Westland University, Iwo, Osun State, as a step toward her dream of being a professor in International Relations. As an ambitious student, she is already on her path to achieve her dreams to be the sound academic she has always wanted to be.

Oluwatoyin Vincent Adepoju is a scholar and publisher grounded in selfeducation at the intersection of global verbal and visual arts, philosophies, and spiritualities, complemented by degrees in literature. His focus is on questions of ultimate meaning as these relate to the concrete details of lived experience.

Oluwakemi Abiodun Adesina was educated at the University of Ibadan (Nigeria), where she obtained her B.A. (Hons.), M.A., and Ph.D. degrees in History. She is a 2013 Fellow of the American Council of Learned Societies (ACLS). Her research interests are gender and women’s history. She is a member of Board of the International Federation for Research in Women’s History (IFRWH) and the Women’s Research and Documentation Centre (WORDOC), Ibadan, Nigeria. She is the author of “State and Cross-Border Sex Trade in Colonial and Post-Colonial Nigeria” in Susan Dewey, Isabel Crowhurst, and Chimaraoke Izugbara (Eds.) Routledge International Handbook of Sex Industry Research. Olalekan W. Adigun is a political analyst and researcher based in Lagos, Nigeria. He has served as political adviser, public affairs specialist, and program officer to several civic organizations dedicated to youth and women participation in electoral processes. He is passionate about social movements, political violence, electoral participation, and youth/women in politics. He obtained his B.Sc. (Political Science) at the Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-Ife, and M.Sc. (Political Science) at the University of Lagos. He is currently pursuing a Doctorate degree in Electoral Studies at the University of Nigeria, Nsukka. Olalekan’s previous works have been published in reputable academic journals.

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About the Authors

Funmilayo Idowu Agbaje is a researcher and an expert in the fields of gender, security, peacemaking, peace-building, conflict management, negotiation, and social sector management. She has published academic papers on traditional instruments and processes of peacemaking in Africa; colonialism and the shaping of gender in Africa; colonial society: gender, class, and culture; African feminism and peacemaking, and contemporary issues in gender, insurgency, and post-conflict peacebuilding in Africa, among others. She has been a recipient of national and international scholarships, grants, and awards. She is a member of several academic and professional societies. Damilola Taiye Agbalajobi is a political scientist and gender specialist. Her areas of research interest are politics of development, gender and women studies, and international relations. She has ongoing research on nude protest as part of an evolving social movement action in Nigeria. The centrality of her study consists partly in the plan to interrogate this much-marginalized social act within the broader context of processes directed at deepening democracy and expanding the boundaries of development in Nigeria. Prince Agwu is a lecturer and research associate in the Department of Social Work and the Health Policy Research Group, University of Nigeria. He holds a First Class in Social Work and a Master’s in Social Policy and Social Work. He has published in several refereed journals. Prince is a member of the Editorial Board of the International Journal of Public Health and covers areas in social policy and social determinants of health. He is a part of several donor-funded studies and a lead investigator. Currently, he is the communication focal person for the Africa Health Observatory Platform, Nigeria.

Christabel Agyeiwaa is currently a Ph.D. student in History at the University of California, Santa Barbara. In 2019, she was awarded an M.Phil. degree in History by the University of Ghana, Legon. Her M.Phil. dissertation is entitled “Women as Agents of Change: A Case Study of Women in Cape Coast (1877–1957).” Her concentration is on African history, with broader research interests on women and gender history. Jethron Ayumbah Akallah holds a Ph.D. in History of Technology from Technical University of Darmstadt, Germany, and an M.A. (History) from Maseno University, Kenya. His research focuses on water and sanitation technology in Nairobi, with special interest in innovations within informal areas. Employing the concepts of co-production and postcoloniality, he breaks away from the history of technology that focuses on invention and origin by narrowing down to use, meaning, and effect. Jethron lays emphasis on the need for researchers to approach the Global South as a “technological space” rather than as “a source of technological data.”

About the Authors

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Cyrelene Amoah-Boampong is an African social historian with emphasis on gender studies. She is a fellow of the Centre for Gender Studies and Advocacy at the University of Ghana. Currently, she is a co-investigator in a supranational Andrew Mellon Foundation grant project, “Decolonization, the Disciplines and the University” under the auspices of the Makerere Institute of Social Research, Makerere University, and a co-researcher on the “Gender Equality and the Decolonization of Knowledge Project” with the QES-AS West Africa. Priscilla Owusu Amoako is a Master of Philosophy candidate in the Department of History, University of Ghana, Legon. She holds a Bachelor of Arts in History and Theatre Arts. Her area of research is gender and higher education. She is currently a history high school teacher. Nana-Akua Amponsah holds a Ph.D. in African History and Master of Science in Physician Assistant Studies. She has several publications including Women’s Roles in Sub-Saharan Africa and Women and Gender and Sexualities in Africa. Her current book project is titled The Reproductive Body and Biomedical Politics in British West Africa which examines the introduction and the implications of Western biomedical practices on African reproductive practices in colonial Ghana. Besides teaching courses in global and African history, Nana-Akua also works in Neuropsychiatry. Nana Akua Anyidoho has a B.A. in Psychology from the University of Ghana and a Ph.D. in Human Development and Social Policy from Northwestern University. Her research explores the ways in which marginalized social groups (in particular, women and young people) respond to globalizing and neoliberalizing policy structures in their struggles for social and economic rights. She publishes primarily in development studies, gender studies, and African studies journals. Details of her publications, projects, and professional service can be found at www.anyidoho.me Agnes Atia Apusigah is Professor of Development Sociology concentrating on gender, cultural, and education studies. She obtained her doctoral degree in Cultural Studies with Curriculum Studies from Queen’s University, Canada, in June 2002. She took up a position in August 2002 in the University for Development Studies in Ghana till August 2019. She has published and presented her work in conferences, journals, and books, locally and internationally. She has also served as reviewer and editor of various journals. Prof. Apusigah currently holds a post-retirement position as the Vice President of the Regentropfen College of Applied Sciences in Ghana. Lillian Artz is the Director of the Gender, Health and Justice Research Unit in the Faculty of Health Sciences at the University of Cape Town. She has published widely on domestic violence, sexual offenses, incarcerated women, and women’s rights to freedom and security in Africa. Her work has also included research on female and other key populations in prisons and psychiatric settings, the

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About the Authors

epidemiology and prevalence of child sexual abuse, exposure to coercive sexual experiences among HIV testing populations, torture prevention, as well as the medico-legal management of SGBV in conflict-affected, post-conflict, and transitional African states. Franca Attoh has a B.Sc. (Hons.) in Sociology/Anthropology from the University of Nigeria Nsukka and M.Sc. and Ph.D. in Sociology from the University of Lagos. She is Associate Professor in the Department of Sociology, University of Lagos. She specializes in irregular migration, criminology, gender studies, sociology of the family, social change, and culture. She had a decade experience in the private sector before joining the University of Lagos in 2007. She has 56 publications in national/ international journals. She is a laureate of Ford Foundation, CODESRIA in Dakar, Senegal, an alumnus of the CODESRIA Gender Institute, and a fellow of the Institute of Security Nigeria. She has varied experience in research and consultancy and has consulted for many organizations. Sunday Didam Audu Ph.D., is Associate Professor of Political Science. He holds a B.A. in Theology (with a Minor in History) and an M.A. in Religion. He has taught and published on various subjects including water conflicts, religion and politics, church history, and international relations. In collaboration with the United Nations Information Center, Nigeria, he was involved in the planning and execution of the first Babcock University International Model United Nations (BUIMUN) Conference. He was Adjunct Lecturer of Church History with the Adventist University of Africa (Kenya). He is currently the Vice President Student Development, Babcock University, Nigeria. Ruth A. Aura She is an advocate, a senior lecturer of law and gender, and Dean of Faculty of Law, Egerton University. She has undertaken research for public, private, and multinational agencies on a range of issues: legal reform, legal aid, violence against women, access to justice, human rights, women and property rights, land, gender and climate change, legislative drafting, and policy formulation, and has published widely in the subject areas in peer-reviewed journals and book chapters.

Sandra Ayivor was born and raised in Ghana. She holds a Doctorate in Curriculum and Instruction. She is currently the Instructor for Cultural Diversity in K-12 Classrooms at West Virginia University. Sandra’s past research focused on incorporating STEAM in K-12 classrooms, social mobility through higher education, international students’ postgraduation residency plans, and women’s empowerment. Her current research focuses on the incorporation of feminist pedagogy in colleges and universities. Sandra values family and relationships, and she has a passion for advocating for the less privileged in society. Her hobbies include cooking, singing, and dancing.

About the Authors

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Florence Naah Bamora (Ph.D.) is Lecturer and Head of the Department of Social Science Education in the School of Education and Life-Long Learning, University of Business and Integrated Development Studies. She obtained her doctoral degree in Gender Studies from the University of Hull, UK, in 2011. She also holds an ESRC Postgraduate Certificate in Qualitative Research Training from the same University. She completed her undergraduate degree (B.Ed. Honors) in Social Studies at the University of Cape Coast, Ghana, in 1996. Her research interest focuses on gendered analyses of educational issues, gender and schooling, women economic empowerment, and gender and development issues. Gretchen Bauer teaches African politics and gender and politics and researches women’s political leadership in Africa, with a current focus on women in parliament and cabinet in Ghana. Recently, she has been Fulbright Scholar at the University of Ghana, Legon, in 2016; a Senior Fellow at the Merian Institute for Advanced Studies in Africa (MIASA) at the University of Ghana, Legon, in 2019; and a 2019–2020 Democracy and Development Fellow at the Ghana Center for Democratic Development in Accra (GH-CDD). Sylvia Bawa is Associate Professor of Sociology at York University. Her research examines discourses of empowerment, decolonization, human rights, culture, and critical development. With a specific focus on women’s rights and empowerment in Africa, her work examines the ways in which historical forces and events shape orthodox conceptions of empowerment resulting in the production of distorted images and identities of African women in development discourse. Her publications appear in journals such as Third World Quarterly, African Identities, Qualitative Report, Development in Practice, and Canadian Journal of African Studies, and chapters in the International Human Rights of Women and the Palgrave Handbook of African Women’s Studies (Springer Major Reference Works Series). Esther Mojisola Beckley is a Doctoral Researcher at the University of Malta. Her research focuses on local feminist approaches to peacebuilding. She has also conducted research on the impacts of armed conflict on female ex-combatants as well as the education of girl soldiers in peacebuilding. Her research earned her an invitation from Malta’s Ministry for Foreign and European Affairs to assist in the development of Malta’s first National Action Plan on Women, Peace, and Security which was launched in October 2020. Souad Belhorma is a doctorate holder in language and English Literature. She is currently an associate professor of English Studies. She is the author of the book Women in the Informal Sector and Poverty Reduction in Morocco: The City of Fez as a Case Study. She has also authored different articles. Souad Belhorma also shows interest in different disciplines of research, such as poverty, gender issues, politics, and work. She holds certificates from courses on women’s rights, human rights,

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About the Authors

gender-based violence, and youth awareness, nationally and internationally. She has interned in different associations, as well as human rights and women’s rights organizations. Mary Leka Beredam has a Master’s degree in Mass Commination and is currently running a Doctorate degree program in the same field with specialization in Broadcasting. Her research interest is pitched around critical media analysis. Women, Terrorism and Media: Framing of Chibok and Dapchi School Girls’ Abduction Stories in Television is her first research publication. Tsehai Berhane-Selassie studied History for her first degree at Addis Ababa University and pursued Social Anthropology at the University of Oxford, earning a postgraduate diploma and a D.Phil. She has taught, engaged in civic society activism, and published articles on the non-literate societies of Ethiopia, history of Italian invasions of Ethiopia, migration in Sierra Leone, and refugees in Kenya. Her major publications include In Search of Ethiopian Women (a report), Gender Issues in Ethiopia (an edited book), and Ethiopian Warriorhood, Defence, Land and Society 1800–1941 (a monograph). Forthcoming soon is her monograph history of Ethiopian Resistance to Italian Invasions, 1935–41. Deevia Bhana is the DSI/NRF South African Research Chair in Gender and Childhood Sexuality at the University of KwaZulu-Natal. Her interests are in gender, children, young people, sexuality, and schooling. Among her recent book publications are Love, Sex and Teenage Sexual Cultures in South Africa: 16 turning 17 (Routledge, 2018) and a co-edited book entitled Gender, Sexuality and Violence in South African Educational Spaces (Palgrave MacMillan, 2021). Sandra Bhatasara (Ph.D.) is a sociologist, with also a background in Anthropology and Public Policy. Her research focuses on intersectional studies of gender, livelihoods, land and agrarian issues, environment and climate change adaptation in Zimbabwe, and Southern Africa. She coauthored a book titled Fast Track Land Occupations in Zimbabwe: In the Context of the Zvimurenga (Springer 2021). She also coedited The Political Economy of Livelihoods in Contemporary Zimbabwe (Routledge 2018). Other publications include women and land reform in Africa Review (2017) and a chapter in the book Land issues in African Urban Governance in Sub-Saharan Africa (Springer Series on Local and Urban Governance 2021). Nemata Blyden is Professor of History and International Affairs, specializing in African and African Diaspora history. She is the author of African Americans and Africa: A New History (Yale University Press, 2019) which explores the relationship between African Americans and Africa. She has also authored West Indians in West Africa, 1808–1880: The African Diaspora in Reverse (University of Rochester Press, 2000) and a number of articles. Professor Blyden was a consultant for In

About the Authors

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Motion: The African American Migration Experience for the Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture (New York). She has lived in Africa, Europe, and the Soviet Union. Janet Serwah Boateng (Ph.D.) is an experienced Research Fellow in Gender Studies and Political Science. She researches on gender and women in politics, governance, development studies, and development management programs. She is also skilled in thesis supervision and data analysis and has published several papers and book chapters. Janet puts her research and experiences into practical use and supports humanity in her institution and affiliated communities. She is passionate about sustaining the environment and developing humankind, which reflects in her writing and advocacy. Aleida Borges comes from an interdisciplinary background combining legal practice with research focusing on citizenship and political participation of minority groups such as women, youth, and the diaspora in Lusophone Africa. Her current research project focuses on how youth navigate spaces of social and political marginalization in Cabo Verde and São Tomé e Principe to solve localized issues in their communities. Aleida’s publications center on the Lusophone world with themes ranging from minority rights in Brazilian law to women in politics, governance, diaspora political participation, external citizenship, and civil society-led civic education. Meriem Bougherira was born in Algeria. She holds a B.A. and a Master’s degree in Literature and Civilization from the University of Skikda, Algeria, and a Ph.D. in Arab World Studies from the University of Manchester. She works and publishes mostly in the area of postcolonial studies in the Arab World, with a focus on the Maghreb region and Algeria. Her work engages with issues pertaining to postcolonialism, nationalism, cultural studies, politics, language, Arab diaspora, and gender studies and is mainly concerned with contemporary Algerian women’s writing, Arabophone, and Francophone. Yolande Bouka is a scholar-practitioner of peace and conflict whose research and teaching focus on state-society relations, political violence, gender, and field research ethics in Sub-Saharan Africa. Her scholarship is situated at the nexus of international relations, African politics, and gender studies. She holds a Ph.D. in International Relations from American University. Manase Kudzai Chiweshe is the winner of the 2015 Gerti Hesseling Prize for Best Paper Published in African Studies. His work revolves around the sociology of everyday life in African spaces with special focus on promoting African ways of knowing with specific interest in urban sociology, agrarian studies, identity land, and livelihoods. This work is directly focused on the lives and lifeworlds of rural

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communities. The work has multiple policy dimensions which speak to the lived experiences of small holder farmers. Dr. Chiweshe is widely published and has presented at numerous international conferences. Amanda Coffie has a Ph.D. in Political Science, specializing in International Relations and is a postdoctoral fellow of the Cambridge-Africa Partnership for Research Excellence, University of Cambridge. Coffie’s research focuses on refugees, Diaspora, the politics and practices of mobility and governance of migration, international organizations and postconflict peacebuilding. She has researched in Ghana, Liberia, Guinea, Canada, the United Kingdom, Botswana, and the Gambia. Coffie has published on comparative cases of African Refugees, Diaspora, and Migrants located in and out of Africa and on issues related to their agency, gender, resource transformational experiences, participation in community development, and rebuilding post-conflict societies. Shelly Daphné D’Cruz holds an M.Sc. in International Studies from the University of Montreal. Her professional background gave her the opportunity to work closely with SGBV survivors, and she continues to do so through her activism. Akosua K. Darkwah holds a Ph.D. in Sociology from the University of WisconsinMadison. She mainly studies the ways in which global economic policies and practices reconfigure women’s work in the Ghanaian context. In addition to her work on traders, she has explored the implications of global economic policies and practices for domestic workers, factory workers, farmers, and workers in the oil sector. Her work has been published in a range of peer-reviewed journals including Women’s Studies International Forum and International Development Planning Review. She serves as a committee member on the British International Studies Association’s Political Economy prize. J. Jarpa Dawuni is Associate Professor of Political Science with a research focus on women, gender, and the law. She is the editor of three pioneering books on women and the judiciary in Africa. She is the founding Director of the Center for Women, Gender, and Global Leadership at Howard University. She is a Fulbright Scholar and Carnegie African Diaspora Fellow. Her action-oriented research led to her founding of the Institute for African Women in Law, a nonprofit organization based in Washington, DC, dedicated to enhancing the capacity of women in law for change and societal development. Lynda R. Day earned a Ph.D. in African History from the University of WisconsinMadison and is currently a professor of African History at Brooklyn College of the City University of New York. Her awards include a Fulbright Fellowship, a Five

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Colleges Women’s Research Center Fellowship, and a position as Endowed Chair of Women and Gender Studies. She has lived and done extensive research in Ghana and Sierra Leone and has published numerous articles on women leaders in both those countries. She is the author of Gender and Power in Sierra Leone, the Last Two Hundred Years and Making a Way to Freedom: A History of African Americans on Long Island. Simidele Dosekun is a Nigerian feminist media and cultural scholar. Her research centers on black African women to explore questions of gender, race, subjectivity, and power in a global context. She is the author of Fashioning Postfeminism: Spectacular Femininity and Transnational Culture (University of Illinois Press, 2020) and coeditor of African Luxury: Aesthetics and Politics (Intellect Books, 2019). Her work has appeared in Feminist Media Studies, Feminism and Psychology, and Feminist Africa, among other journals. She is a member of the editorial collective of Feminist Africa. Aimiulimhe Emily Edobor is a lecturer of Sociology currently at the verge of completing her Ph.D. in Gender Studies. She has a strong passion for women, politics, cultural dynamics, and feminism which has led to the publication of several journal articles and book chapters. She has also written and presented papers in the areas of social change, labor and industrial relation, and conflict in society in many scientific meetings and academic conferences. She has been involved in Social Environmental Impact Assessment Projects in different locations at different times in Nigeria in particular. Osamamen Oba Eduviere holds a Bachelor of Arts (Religious Studies, 2008) and a Master of Arts (Philosophy of Religion, 2011) from the Department of Religious Studies, University of Ibadan, Nigeria. Her research focus is on philosophy of religion, mythologies, and gender studies. She has published several articles in peer-reviewed journals. She is currently working on The Role of Religion in Creating a Safe Space for the Girl-Child in Edo State, Nigeria.

Anene Ejikeme historian, teaches at Trinity University in San Antonio, Texas. Previously, Anene was Director of the Pan-African Studies Program at Barnard College, New York City. Anene’s research interests revolve around constructions of identity, and her publications include “From Traders to Teachers: A History of Elite Women in Onitsha, Nigeria, 1928–1940,” Journal of Asian and African Studies 2011 and “Hogan ‘Kid’ Bassey: Nigerian Icon” in Falola and Paddock, eds., Emerging Themes and Methods in African Studies (2008). In 2010–2011, Anene was the NEH Endowed Chair in the Humanities at Albright College in Pennsylvania. Since 2014 Anene has served as the Executive Director of the Africa Network, a consortium of liberal arts colleges.

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Kara Ellerby is Associate Professor in the Department of Political Science and International Relations. Her research focuses on global gender equality policy and the trade-offs on how state promotes women and their needs. She also researches post-conflict peacebuilding, analyzing the factors that ensure women’s inclusion in formal peace processes. Her 2017 book, No Shortcut to Change: An Unlikely Path to a More Gender Equitable World, won the American Political Science Association Victoria Shuck Award for the best book on Women and Politics. Gloria Emeagwali is an author and editor of numerous books and scholarly articles, producer of many video documentaries on Africa, and editor of “Africa Update.” Her websites “gloriaemeagwali.com” and “africahistory.net” provide vast resources on various aspects of African Knowledge Systems and history. Women Pay the Price first published by Africa World Press was one of her pioneering contributions to gender studies. She is the Recipient of the 2014 Distinguished Research Excellence Award, University of Texas at Austin, and the 2019 Distinguished Africanist Award, New York African Studies Association. Amaka Theresa Oriaku Emordi is an undaunted, prolific, and creative writer and a Nigerian citizen and resident in Nigeria. She obtained a Ph.D. in Political Science from the University of Ibadan in 2014. Amaka is a gender expert, passionate about gender equity, building a viral and rotund society, women education, and engagement in all levels of governance. Amaka also had the good fortune of having a stint in the multinational manufacturing industry where she worked as senior human resource personnel for 7 years before joining the university as an academic. She is married to Pastor Chris Emordi, and they are blessed with wonderful children. Moha Ennaji is one of the leading researchers and writers in North Africa. His many books include Muslim Moroccan Migrants in Europe (Palgrave) and Multiculturalism, Cultural Identity, and Education in Morocco (Springer). He has also edited several books, the most recent of which are The Maghreb-Europe Paradigm (Cambridge Scholars); Minorities, Women, and the State in North Africa (Red Sea Press); and Moroccan Feminisms (Africa World Press). Moha Ennaji has been a visiting scholar at Rutgers University and at the universities of Pennsylvania, Arizona, and Essex. His main areas of research cover language, gender, migration, and ethnicity in North Africa. Emmanuel Orihentare Eregare is Senior Lecturer in the Department of History and Director of General Studies (GEDS). Dr. Eregare serves also as Adjunct Professor in the Department of Theological and Biblical Studies at Adventist University of Africa, Kenya, among others. He specializes in Church History and Cultural History. He is best known for his book, Wow! Can I have Free Sex? Now or Never, among others, and has edited two scholarly books, Contemporary

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Christianity: Practice, Relevance and Responses and A Survey of Church Politics in the Twenty-First Century. He has published articles in reputable journals to his credit. Chika Ezeanya Esiobu is a researcher, writer, and a public intellectual. She holds a Ph.D. in African (Development and Policy) Studies from Howard University in Washington, DC, and is the author of Indigenous Knowledge and Education in Africa (Springer, 2019), in addition to numerous academic and nonacademic articles. Chika is the producer of Abagore, a documentary on indigenous technology and women economic empowerment in Africa. Chika has been invited to present her ideas across cultures, countries, institutions, and platforms, including TEDGlobal, London School of Economics, Pan-African Parliament, United Nations, African Union, Social Science Research Council, and Standard Bank South Africa, to mention few. Chika is currently the Principal of Julani Varsity in addition to other institutional affiliations. Toyin Falola is Professor of History, University Distinguished Teaching Professor, and Jacob and Frances Mossiker Chair in the Humanities, Department of History, the University of Texas at Austin. A recipient of over a dozen honorary doctorates, he has published over a hundred books, including multiple Palgrave handbooks on several African themes – philosophy, social ethics, folkore and oral traditions, Islam, and Indigenous education.

Abidemi Omolara Fasanmi is an advocate, researcher, and a public health expert with health, gender, and development work experience. She has over 15 years of interdisciplinary and multisector experience with government, nongovernment, and academia across three continents (Africa, Europe, and North America). Dr. Fasanmi is passionate about adopting innovative and community participatory research approaches that can inform transformative solutions. Her areas of interests are social epidemiology, gender, health policy, reproductive health, and communicable and noncommunicable diseases.

Prof. Oluyemi O. Fayomi is an astute multidisciplinary researcher and African Diaspora pundit. She is a versatile scholar and administrator with functional activities in teaching, research, and community development. Her areas of research interest include migration, regional integration, Diaspora, e-governance (global and regional health governance), gender, peace, security, environment, and development issues. She is a recipient of several academic and leadership awards, grants, and fellowships and a member of several academic and professional bodies. She has a number of publications in scholarly peer-reviewed journals, books, policy briefs, etc. She is Resource Person for the African Union on Remittances in Africa and the

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Executive Editor of the African Journal of International Affairs and Development (AJIAD). Delphine Fongang is a teacher/scholar in African and African diaspora literatures. Her teaching and research interests include postcolonial literature/theory, African Diaspora studies, African women’s life writing, and feminist theory/pedagogy. Some of her publications include an edited collection, The Postcolonial Subject in Transit: Migration, Borders, and Subjectivity in Contemporary African Diaspora Literature, as well as book chapters and journal articles that have appeared in African and Black Diaspora: An International Journal, a/b: Auto/Biography Studies, Research in African Literatures, and Spectrum: A Journal on Black Men. Catherine Cymone Fourshey is Associate Professor of History and International Relations and Director of the Griot Institute for the Study of Black Lives and Cultures at Bucknell University. Fourshey’s published articles focus on the intersections of hospitality and migration with issues of environment, economy, and politics in precolonial Tanzania. Fourshey has also worked to reconstruct topics on women and the construction of gender in Africa both in precolonial and colonial spaces. Her publications include a coauthored book Bantu Africa: 3500 BCE to Present as well as numerous book chapters and articles published in journals. Her research has been funded by NEH, Fulbright, AAUW, and the following universities: Bucknell, Notre Dame, Susquehanna, and UCLA. Olivia A. T. Frimpong Kwapong holds a Ph.D. degree from the University of Ghana and has studied as a Special Doctoral Candidate at Harvard University. In 2013, she served as Fulbright Visiting Scholar at Bloomsburg University, USA. Her research has focused on empowerment of women through adult education, open and distance learning, and the use of ICTs. She has published extensively in both local and international journals. She has authored five books and over 30 journal articles. Tanya Ansahta Garnett has nearly two decades of experience in international development as a professor, technical adviser, consultant, and researcher. As an educator both in the USA and in Liberia, she teaches international development theory and facilitates knowledge sharing with mid-career professionals. She is passionate about strengthening the effectiveness of international development through collaborative learning, critical thinking, organizational change management, pertinent evidence-based analysis, and participatory program design. Her research interests have focused on gender, peace processes, post-conflict societies, Africa, and the African Diaspora. She is a mother of three and lives in Liberia with her family.

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Rhonda M. Gonzales has broad experience as a university faculty and administrator. In addition to teaching all eras of African history, she has been interim Dean of the College of Liberal and Fine Arts, inaugural Vice President for student success, Associate Vice Provost for strategic initiatives, and Director of PIVOT for Academic Success. She is currently Dean for the College of Arts, Humanities & Social Sciences and Professor of History at the University of Denver. Her research centers on the longue durée of Bantu History. She is a Hispanic Association of Colleges and Universities La Academia de Liderazgo Fellow (2020–2021), an American Council on Education Fellow (2014–2015), a Ford Foundation Fellow (2000–2001, 2006– 2007), and an Andrew Mellon Foundation Fellow (2001–2003). Gonzales is PI and co-PI on grants totaling more than $11 million to build student success programs and research in Africa and Mexico. Margaret Gonzalez-Perez is Professor of Political Science at Southeastern Louisiana University where she teaches comparative politics and international relations since 1995. She completed her undergraduate degrees in Political Science and Spanish Literature at the University of Louisville and earned her Ph.D. in Political Science at Louisiana State University. Her publications include a book on women terrorists and another on political protest literature, as well as numerous journal articles, book chapters, and conference papers on terrorism, human rights, ethnic conflict, and the role of religion in terrorism. Hauwa Ibrahim is President of the Peace Institute with offices in the USA, Italy, and Nigeria; Visiting Lecturer, Harvard Divinity School 2010–2013; and Fellow at the Radcliffe Institute and Harvard Law School. She is lawyer, author, and mother. President Jonathan appointed her to join the effort for the rescue of 219 girls kidnapped by Boko Haram. Acting President Yemi Osinbanjo appointed her (2017) to Review Nigerian Armed Forces compliance with Human Rights Obligations. She’s the European Parliament 2005 Sakharov Prize for Freedom of Thought and currently spending the academic year of University of Oxford (UK). Grace Ese-osa Idahosa orcid.org/0000-0002-8950-6651, https://sites.google.com/ view/dr-grace-eseosa-idahosa Dr. Idahosa holds a Ph.D. and an M.A. in Political Studies from Rhodes University. She was a guest researcher at the Nordic Africa Institute between February and June 2020 and a 2019/2020 visiting scholar at the School of Social Science, Education and Social Work (SSESW), Queen’s University Belfast. Her research employs a structure, agency, and transformation framework to interrogate how social factors like gender, race, class, sexuality, and ethnicity intersect to enable/limit individual agency. Her research interests include political and social theory, body politics, agency and social transformation, organizational change, and institutional culture.

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Itohan Mercy Idumwonyi (Ph.D.) is Assistant Professor of Religious Studies. Her research interests include African religion, Africa’s new religious movement, African Diaspora religion, African studies, sociology of religion, African women religious history, religion, and gender. Her research employs theories and articulations from African-womanist religious thought and gender politics as a frame to highlight religious resources in negotiating boundaries for gender inclusivity. She has over 16 published papers in various journals and book chapters. Her research and scholarship have won generous funding. Omotola Adeyoju Ilesanmi holds a B.Sc. (Hons.) in Political Science, a Master’s degree in International Law and Diplomacy, and an M.Sc. in Political Science from the University of Lagos. In addition, she obtained a Ph.D. in Political Science from Babcock University, Ilishan-Remo Ogun State. Her research interest includes women and peacebuilding processes, conflict-related sexual violence, women, peace and security framework, gender, and security sector reforms. She also teaches courses on foreign policy analysis, diplomacy, and international law, among others. She is an alumnus of the Kofi Annan International Peacekeeping Training Centre, Accra, Ghana, and has published locally and internationally. Krista Johnson is Associate Professor and Director of the Center for African Studies at Howard University. She is also co-convenor of the Women, Gender and Sexualities Collective. She has published on a range of topics including gender and HIV prevention, global health governance in Africa, and race and racism in international relations. She has lived and traveled extensively throughout southern Africa, completed a Fulbright Fellowship in 2012 at the Centre for the Study of HIV and AIDS at the University of Botswana, and has been a visiting scholar at several African universities. She is a Carnegie African Diaspora Fellow for 2021. Hibist Kassa is Senior Researcher at the Institute for African Alternatives. She is also Research Associate at the Centre for African Studies and Chair in Land and Democracy in South Africa. She was a Postdoctoral Research Fellow with the Southern Centre for Inequality Studies at the University of the Witwatersrand. In 2019, she was awarded a Doctorate in Sociology by the University of Johannesburg. Her dissertation on Petty Commodity Production in Mining is being turned into a monograph for Brill. Her work covers the themes of the state, social reproduction, citizenship, and land and natural resources. Khatija Bibi Khan is full Professor and received her DLitt et Phil from the Department of English Studies at UNISA in the field of popular culture. Her main areas of research interests are the intersections between popular culture, literary studies, and mainstream media. She has published in South African and international journals on different genres in music, film, and literature. She has also contributed chapters both locally and internationally.

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She has published a book. Senses of Communities: Hip Hop Music, Islam and the Black Atlantic is a systematic interrogation of the interface between music, language, and the “literariness” of African American hip-hop popular culture. Touria Khannous is Associate Professor at Louisiana State University where she teaches in the departments of World Languages and Literatures and International Studies. Her research interests include cinemas and literatures of the Maghreb, postcolonial studies, and Black diaspora studies. Msia Kibona Clark work focuses on representations of Pan Africanism, African feminism, and African identities in popular culture. A Tanzanian feminist activist and scholar, her work also explores African women and the use of cyberactivism in digital and social media. Her scholarship includes several articles, chapters, and books on hip-hop in Africa and Black transnationalism, including the Hip-Hop in Africa: Prophets of the City and Dustyfoot Philosophers, Pan African Spaces: Essays on Black Transnationalism, and the forthcoming African Women in Digital Spaces: Redefining Social Movements on the Continent and in the Diaspora. Susan Mbula Kilonzo holds Ph.D. and Master’s Degrees in Sociology of Religion and postgraduate certificates in gender studies, peace and conflict studies, political economy analysis, and policy engaged research, among others. Susan has held research fellowship positions in various research institutes. She has over 60 academic publications. Some of her recent research works appear in Journal of Social Encounters 2020, 4(1); International Journal of African Catholicism 2020, 10(1); Journal of Gender and Religion in Africa 2018, 24(1); and International Journal of Technology Management & Sustainable Development, 2018, 17(2), among others. Susan has taught and researched widely in gender studies. Zara Emmanuel Kwaghe studied History at the Ahmadu Bello University, Zaria. In 2010, she obtained her Ph.D. in Social History. She is currently Associate Professor of History. Zara has attended several conferences and has published in both local and international journals such as Nigerian Journal of the Humanities, University of Benin, Benin City, 2011 (62–77); Kaduna Journal of Humanities Vol. 1. No. 1, 2017; Historical Research Letter Vol. 32, 2016; and International Journal of Integrative Humanism Vol. 12, No. 2, September, 2020. Zara Emmanuel Kwaghe has interest in gender studies and political history. Pamela Machakanja holds a Ph.D. in Peace and Security Studies from the University of Bradford in the United Kingdom, a Master of Arts degree in Peace and Conflict Resolution, a Diploma in Research Methods in Social Sciences, and a Diploma in Leadership and Policy Development, all from the University of Bradford. She also holds a Master’s degree in Educational Psychology and a Bachelor of Education degree from the University of Zimbabwe. Pamela’s research interests

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include peace education, gender, peace and security, and transitional justice, among others. Siphokazi Magadla is a Senior Lecturer in the Political and International Studies Department at Rhodes University, South Africa. Her Ph.D. examined women’s roles in the armed struggle and their participation in the South African National Defence Force-led military integration and demobilization process. She teaches on war and militarism in Africa; the armed struggle in South Africa; and African feminisms, gender, and citizenship. She is currently completing a book on women and the armed struggle in South Africa. Chupicai Manuel Ph.D. Candidate (D.Soc.Sci. International Migration, Human Security, and Border Studies), Master’s in Peace and Governance, Master’s in Intellectual Property Law, and Bachelor of Social Sciences in Sociology and Economics. He is currently affiliated to Africa University as a Lecturer in the area of peace and security, governance, and international relations. He has conducted research studies on women, peace and security, and women economic empowerment for UNDP and UN Women as a Team Leader in 2019–2020. Lucille Nonzwakazi Maqubela is gender scholar, activist, and author. She obtained a Ph.D. in Women and Gender Studies at the University of Warwick in the United Kingdom. She is a senior Lecturer in Sociology and a Program Leader of the Bachelor of Arts. She has written in areas of gender within families, motherhood and parenthood, domestic work, gender and transgender in higher education, as well as gender in mining. She is a chairperson of the Gender Forum at the University of Mpumalanga. Her current research interests are traditional marriages in South Africa and gender-based violence. Athambile Masola holds a Ph.D. from Rhodes University (South Africa) which looks at the life writing of Noni Jabavu and Sisonke Msimang. Her research broadly looks into African women’s writing with a particular focus on life writing. She also writes about the representation of African women in popular culture such as newspapers from the early twentieth century. Her current research looks into the transnational experiences of South African women in the early twentieth century. She is the Archive and Public Culture Guest Scholar for July 2020–June 2021 at the University of Cape Town. She is a lecturer at the Historical Studies at the University of Cape Town. Zethu Matebeni is a sociologist, activist, and writer whose research focuses on African queer studies. She has edited various volumes on African LGBTIQ life including Reclaiming Afrikan: Queer Perspectives on Sexual and Gender Identities (Modjaji Books, 2014); Queer in Africa: LGBTQI Identities, Citizenship, and Activism (Routledge, 2018); and Beyond the Mountain: Queer Life in Africa’s Gay

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Capital (UNISA Press, 2019). Her work appears in numerous journals, books, and blogs. Zethu holds the South African Research Chair in Sexualities, Gender, and Queer Studies. Azwihangwisi Helen Mavhandu-Mudzusi main research focus is on reducing new HIV infections and the improvement of the quality of life of people living with HIV in rural universities. Her focus is not only on academia but social issues and activism. Her activism is more evident in her advocacy for LGBTIQ (lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, intersex, and queer) individuals. This is shown by her publications, seminars, dialogues, awareness campaigns, and the number of students she is supervising to broaden community understanding and acceptance of the LGBTIQ community from 2011 to date. Peace A. Medie is Senior Lecturer in Gender and International Politics at the University of Bristol. She is the author of Global Norms and Local Action: The Campaigns to End Violence Against Women in Africa (Oxford University Press, 2020), and the novel, His Only Wife (Algonquin Books, 2020). Akissi Metonou is Lecturer of International Law and Diplomacy at Babcock University, Nigeria. Her main research area is women’s rights. She has been involved in women’s rights advocacy and leadership in over 32 countries across Africa and the Indian Ocean. Khanyile Mlotshwa undertook a Ph.D. in Media and Cultural Studies at the University of KwaZulu-Natal in Pietermaritzburg, South Africa. His research was conceptualized as a postcolonial and decolonial critique of the intersections of the media, migration, and the urban in representations of black subjectivity in postapartheid South Africa. Committed to a decolonial humanities, he experiments with transdisciplinary approaches in urban, migration, border, media, and cultural studies. He has published work in peer-reviewed journals and edited books. Lefatshe Anna Moagi is a feminist postcolonial scholar her research interest includes gender studies, black feminist thought, youth development, race, and political philosophy. She has written book chapters on issues pertaining to women studies. She is one of the five South Africans nominated for the Future Awards Africa 2015 in the Public Service category and has made the coveted list of 50 of the brightest and best young Africans in the past year and has joined an elite group of young people African leaders recognized by the Future Project over the past years. Her outstanding work is in line with her vision of transferring humanistic values and sees both ethical and moral issues adopted by the future generation. Valentine M. Moghadam was born in Tehran, Iran, and received her higher education in Canada and the USA. In addition to her academic career, Prof. Moghadam has been

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Coordinator of the Research Program on Women and Development at the UNU’s WIDER Institute (Helsinki, 1990–1995) and Section Chief on gender equality and development, UNESCO’s Social and Human Sciences Sector (Paris, 2004–2006). Her many publications include Globalizing Women: Transnational Feminist Networks (2005) and Globalization and Social Movements: The Populist Challenge and Democratic Alternatives (2020). Her latest book, co-authored with Shamiran Mako, is After the Arab Uprisings: Progress and Stagnation in the Middle East and North Africa (Cambridge 2021). Butholezwe Mtombeni is a holder of B.A. Tourism Development (University of Johannesburg), Honors in History (University of Johannesburg), PGCE (University of Johannesburg), Master’s in History (University of Johannesburg), MBA (MANCOSA), and M.Ed. in ICT (University of Johannesburg) and is currently a History Ph.D. candidate. He is a history lecturer at UNISA whose research interests are in African history, spanning from the precolonial to postcolonial eras, gender history, religion and slavery, social history, sports history, and agrarian history. Tiffany Kagure Mugo is co-founder and curator of HOLAA! a Pan Africanist hub that chronicles and gives information about sex and sexuality in the African context. She is a columnist, a podcast host, and author of the book Quirky Quick Guide to Having Great Sex, as well as a two time TED speaker. She also contributes to various platforms writing about sex, sexuality, and politics. She is on the board of the FRIDA Fund and was previously an Open Society Youth Fellow. Florence Kyoheirwe Muhanguzi is Associate Professor of Women and Gender Studies and Senior Researcher in the fields of gender and social development. She has extensive experience in gender and feminist research in areas including education, sexual and reproductive health, social protection, sexual and gender-based violence, women’s economic empowerment, and climate change. She has vast experience in both quantitative and participatory qualitative research and policy engagement. She has published in refereed journals and books widely on issues of gender and women’s well-being. She is a gender trainer and activist and is passionate about empowerment of adolescent girls and women. Nakanyike B. Musisi is a former Director of Makerere Institute of Social Research at Makerere University, Kampala. Her research interests are in gender, colonialism, missionary work in Uganda, social change, and education. Her articles have appeared in Signs: Journal of Culture and Society, Journal of African History, History in Africa, Gender and History, and in various edited collections. Zahara Nampewo is a Ugandan lawyer, academic, and human rights practitioner. Dr. Nampewo received her Ph.D. from Emory University in the USA. She completed

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her Master of Laws in International Human Rights from Nottingham University in the United Kingdom and her Bachelor of Laws at Makerere University in Uganda. Her areas of interest and expertise include human rights, health, and gender justice. She has published on a range of subjects including disability, family law, sexuality, and access to justice. Dr. Nampewo was winner of the 2019 Fifth Women in Law Award for “Female Lawyer Academic,” awarded by the Uganda Law Society. Gibson Ncube holds a Ph.D. from Stellenbosch University. He is Associate Professor of French and is currently an Iso Lomso Research Fellow at Stellenbosch Institute for Advanced Study. His research interests are in comparative literature, gender and queer studies, and cultural studies. His recent publications have appeared in journals like Social Dynamics, Current Writing, Journal of Commonwealth Literatures, Journal Southern African Studies, and Scrutiny 2. He is the author of the book La sexualité queer au Maghreb à travers la literature (L’Harmattan, Paris). He is also the Assistant Editor of the South African Journal of African Languages. Gift Uchechi Ntiwunka is Associate Professor of Public Administration and Gender Studies in the Department of Political Science and Public Administration, Babcock University, Nigeria. She has published several scholarly articles and book chapters in learned journals and peer-reviewed both nationally and internationally. She recently coedited a book titled African Indigenous Knowledges in the Postcolonial World: Essays in Honour of Toyin Falola, published by Routledge. Olaocha Nwadiuto Nwabara research examines global African cultural productions and cultural thought as African-centered artifacts and methods to correctively represent cultural identities as they engage the realities of race, ethnicity, and gender among transnational Africans. Adaugo Pamela Nwakanma is a political scientist that researches and teaches on the political economy of gender and development in various emerging economies with particular emphasis on the African context. She is the recipient of various research and teaching awards, as well as the NSF Doctoral Dissertation Research Improvement Grant. Prior to her doctoral studies, Nwakanma worked as an Urban Education Fellow and Vice-HBO Translator in New York City. She earned her B.A. in International Studies-Economics with a secondary field in Linguistics from the University of California, San Diego, in 2014. Chibuzor Ayodele Nwaodike is Senior Lecturer in the Department of Political Science and Public Administration, Babcock University, Ilishan-Remo, Ogun State, Nigeria. His qualifications include B.Sc. Political Science (Babcock) 2008, M.Sc. Political Science (Ibadan) 2010, and Ph.D. Political Science (Babcock) 2013. He is a

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member of Nigeria Political Science Association. His areas of research interests span comparative politics and development administration. He has published extensively in reputable national and international journals. He coedited a book, Leadership Skills with Drs. Ngozi Nwogwugwu and Abidemi Isola in 2021. He is currently the Program Coordinator for Public Administration in the same university. Onyinyechi Nancy Nwaolikpe is Senior Lecturer in the Department of Mass Communication, in one of the private universities in Nigeria where she teaches media studies courses. Nwaolikpe’s research focus includes development communication, media studies and journalism, women and gender studies, and adolescents studies. She has published well-researched articles in reputable local and international academic journals and books. Dr. Onyinyechi Nwaolikpe has won many research travel grants from Nordic Africa Institute, Swedish International Development Cooperation Agency (SIDA), Human Sciences Research Council (HSRC), Social Science Research Council (SSRC), and Africa Institute of South Africa (AISA) to present her research papers in international conferences. She is a member of professional and academic bodies, such as African Council for Communication Education (ACCE), Reading Association of Nigeria (RAN), East African Communication Association (EACA), Association of Communication Scholars and Professionals of Nigeria (ACSPN), International Association for Media and Communication Research (IAMCR), and Association for Education in Journalism and Mass Communication (AEJMC). Ngozi Nwogwugwu is Associate Professor of Political Science, specializing in Comparative Politics, Public Policy, Governance, and Gender Studies. He has authored and coauthored over 60 scholarly papers in reputable international and national outlets. His most recent publications include Yacob-Haliso, O., Nwogwugwu, N. and Ntiwunka, G. (Eds.) (2020). African Indigenous Knowledges in a Postcolonial World: Essays in Honour of Toyin Falola. Routledge, and Nwogwugwu, N. (2020). “Democracy and Good Governance in Africa.” In Rossi, I. (Ed.), Challenges of Globalization and Prospects for an Inter-civilizational World Order (pp. 677–692). Springer, Cham. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-44058-9_36 Cecilia S. Obeng is an established scholar in the field of maternal and child health. She has published seven books and has over 60 peer-reviewed publications. She has presented 100+ academic/professional and scientific presentations at conferences and has been an invited speaker at conferences. She has won US Department of State and US Health Resources & Service Administration (HRSA) grants, three teaching awards, three awards for mentoring students, and an award for her work on women’s issues, and on qualitative research. She has several years of teaching and research experience in maternal and child health and has mentored 100+ students. Barnabas Obeng-Gyasi is Senior Research Assistant currently working at Duke University School of Medicine. He is highly skilled in both wet lab work with

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excellent computer skills. He is a young researcher with peer-reviewed publications and has presented various works at multiple conferences. His research interests span health disparities among vulnerable populations, machine learning models, and environmental health awareness. Ndifon Neji Obi is a chartered mediator, trainer, and researcher. He holds Ph.D. and M.A. degrees in Peace and Conflict Studies from the University of Ibadan, Nigeria, and a B.Sc. degree in Political Science from the University of Calabar, Nigeria. He has five professional certifications from the United States Institute of Peace and Peace Operations Training Institute, USA, in peace and conflict-related courses. His research interests span alternative dispute resolution, gender, civil society organizations, elections, and conflict. He is a member of the Society for Peace Studies and Practice, Institute of Chartered Mediators and Conciliators, and Nigerian Political Science Association. L. Amede Obiora was educated at the University of Nigeria and Yale and Stanford Law Schools. She was Nigeria’s Minister of Mines and Steel Development, Coca Cola World Fund Visiting Faculty at Yale University, and a recipient of prestigious fellowships from the Institute for Advanced Study at Princeton, Center for Advanced Study in the Behavioral Sciences at Stanford, Rockefeller Foundation Bellagio Study Center, and the Djerassi Resident Artists Program. A former Manager of the World Bank Gender and Law Program, she was the Genest Global Faculty at York University in Toronto and the Gladstein Visiting Professor of Human Rights at the University of Connecticut. Adebusola Okedele holds a Ph.D. in Political Science. Her research has focused on women and gender studies, civil society organizations, human rights issues, transnational advocacy, and national development issues. She is Senior Lecturer with articles in reputable international and national journals. Adebusola has contributed chapters in edited books, and she is currently engaged in research on the gender effects of the COVID-19 pandemic. Antonia Taiye Okoosi-Simbine attended Ahmadu Bello University in Zaria and the University of Ibadan, Ibadan, Nigeria. She is immediate past National (Electoral) Commissioner at Nigeria’s Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC) and now Research Professor in the Political and Governance Policy Department (PGPD) of Nigerian Institute of Social and Economic Research (NISER). With a political science background, she has worked among others, in the areas of government and politics, elections, and women political participation in Nigeria. She has several publications written either individually or jointly with other colleagues. She is a member of several professional organizations such as the Nigeria and International Political Science Associations.

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About the Authors

Arit Oku is a gender and development specialist and technical writer with over 15 years of experience in sub-Saharan Africa supporting equality, inclusivity, development communications, sustainability, and sexual and reproductive health programs. She has two MA degrees in Women and Development and Literature-in-English and is currently working on her Ph.D. in Gender and Development. She is passionate about meeting people and sharing their stories. Arit lives in Lagos, Nigeria, and her work contributes to the achievement of equitable and sustainable systems across all sectors of society. Augusta Olaore Ph.D., L.M.S.W, is a leader in social work education, practice, and social services innovation. She has studied and worked in the UK, Nigeria, and the USA. Her area of interest is in children and family with emphasis on Indigenous care. Augusta was the pioneer Chair of the Department of Social Work and Human Services as well as the Director of Student Support Services, Babcock University, Nigeria. Her Doctorate degree is in Social Work from the University of South Africa and an MSW from the University of California, Los Angeles. Oluwatoyin O. Oluwaniyi specializes in peace and conflict studies. Her main research areas are conflict and conflict resolution, post-conflict peacebuilding, gender, and development studies. She is a Cadbury Fellow of the Centre of West African Studies at the University of Birmingham, UK, a fellow of the Centre for Peace and Conflict Studies at the University of Uppsala, Sweden, and a fellow of West African Research Association, among others. She is a recipient of several grants including the African Peacebuilding Network Individual Research Grant and the Council for European Studies Digital Fellow Program, New York, USA. Omonye Omoigberale has a Ph.D. in Political Science, with specialization in Peace and Conflict Studies, from Babcock University, Nigeria. Her research interest is in the area of law, transitional justice, gender, and conflict studies. Sharon Adetutu Omotoso is a researcher and teacher in Gender and Media Studies. She heads the Institute’s Women’s Research and Documentation Centre (WORDOC) and has previously worked as Acting Head of the Department of Politics and International Relations, Lead City University, Ibadan. Her areas of research interest include applied ethics, media and gender studies, political communications, philosophy of education, socio-political philosophy, and African philosophy in which she has published significantly. She coedited Political Communication in Africa (2017) and was editor of Women’s political Communication in Africa (2020), both published by Springer. Blessing Nonye Onyima is a Cultural/Medical Anthropologist, conducts qualitative ethnographic researches with themes on “Culture, Health, Gender, Environment,

About the Authors

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and Conflict Studies.” She holds Ph.D., M.A. Medical Anthropology, and B.A. Cultural Anthropology. She is a seasoned ethnographer and Senior Lecturer and is currently a Co-Principal Investigator in an ISC/NASAC sponsored Transdisciplinary research – “LIRA 2030 on Enhancing Urban Wetlands and Rivers Ecosystem Health.” She is Fellow of 2016 African Humanities Program (AHP/ACLS) Dissertation Completion Grant, laureate of ACU early career travel grant, and member of Nigerian Anthropological and Sociological Practitioners Association (NASA) and American Anthropological Association (AAA). She has published in local and international peer-reviewed journals, book chapters, and currently seeking postdoctoral opportunities. Oghoadena Clementina Osezua is currently Associate Professor of Social Anthropology. She works extensively in the areas of culture and gender-based violence with specific interests in human trafficking and changing family structures in West Africa. She is an award winner of several academic fellowships which include Carnegie fellowship for pre-dissertation, which was utilized in the University of Pretoria, South Africa, and Brown University Institute of Advanced Research (BIARI) at the Brown University in the USA. Tina is also an awardee of the Ph.D. dissertation grant by the Social Science regional body in Africa, CODESRIA, Senegal. Lyn Ossome is an Associate Professor of Political Studies at Wits University. Her specializations are in the fields of feminist political economy and feminist political theory, with research interests in gendered labor, land and agrarian studies, the modern state, and the political economy of gendered violence. She is the Editor of Gender, Ethnicity and Violence in Kenya’s Transitions to Democracy: States of Violence (2018) and co-editor of the volume Labour Questions in the Global South (2021). She is co-editor of the Journal of Contemporary African Studies and editorial board member of Agrarian South: Journal of Political Economy. Damaris S. Parsitau (Ph.D.) is Associate Professor of Religion and Gender Studies and the President of the African Association for the Study of Religions (AASR) in Africa and its Diaspora. She was also the 2018–2019 Research Associate and Visiting Research Faculty at the Harvard University’s Women Studies in Religion Programme (WSRP) where she taught and undertook religion and gender-related research. Dr. Parsitauis highly published in peer-reviewed journals and book chapters and sits on the editorial board of many journals. Her areas of expertise include feminist research, gender studies, religion, gender, sexuality, and gender-based violence, among many others. Edith Dinong Phaswana is Associate Professor at the Thabo Mbeki African School of Public and International Affairs at Unisa, where she is also Head of Academic Programs. Her specialization is in Development Studies, in particular African Development. Her research focuses on vulnerable people and state

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About the Authors

development. She is the coeditor of the award-winning title Black Academic Voices: The South African Experience (HSRC, 2019). She is also one of the recipients of the 2019 Mail and Guardian Top 100 Women Changing South Africa Award (Education category). Edith facilitates Civil Leadership module at the USAID’s Young African Leadership Institute (YALI) in Southern Africa. Rosemary O. Popoola holds a Ph.D. in International Relations from Covenant University, Ota, Ogun, Nigeria. She had close to a decade experience in teaching and research at Covenant University. She is the recipient of the 2018 Early Career Fellowship (ECF) at African Doctoral Academy, Stellenbosch University, South Africa; 2019 Best Doctoral Thesis in Lagos Studies by Lagos Studies Association; and 2019 University of Michigan African Presidential Programme postponed to Fall 2021 due to COVID-2019 restriction. She has attended significant academic conferences, roundtable discussions, trainings, and workshops in Nigeria, Kenya, South Africa, and the USA and published 12 peer-reviewed articles, 1 book chapter, and 10 conference papers. Felicia Esinam Pufaa is a Lecturer at the School of Education and Life-long Learning, SDD University of Business and Integrated Development Studies, Ghana. Felicia holds a Ph.D. in Social Studies; M.Sc. in Development Planning and Management; B.A. in Integrated Development Studies; Certificate in Education, Planning, and Abilities; Certificate in InterAction African Leadership Programme; and Certificate in Financial Management. She is a social educationist, development specialist, and social epidemiologist. Felicia has extensive experience in academia, research, consulting, and nongovernmental organizations (NGOs) work including working for Oxfam in Ghana. Felicia has published a book in Shea Butter Financing, book chapters and articles in areas such as women, migration and development in Africa, and child workers in agriculture, among others. Her hobbies are singing and walking. Maryam Omolara Quadri is Senior Lecturer in the Department of Political Science, University of Lagos, Nigeria. Her research interest includes public policy analysis, health policy and politics, gender, and development studies. Dr. Quadri was a visiting scholar in the Department of Political Science and International Affairs, Kennesaw State University, USA, 2011. She was a Commonwealth Professional Scholar at Roehampton University, UK, 2012. She is a Fellow of the American Political Science Association (APSA) Africa Workshop. Dr. Quadri has participated in many research endeavors and has also participated in many pedagogical trainings organized by Partnership for African Social and Governance Research (PASGR). She is a member of many professional bodies including National Association of Nigerian Political Science (NPSA), American Political Science Association (APSA), and National Association of Women in Academics (NAWACS), among others. Dr. Quadri is well published in both local and international journals.

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Ramola Ramtohul is Associate Professor, teaching Gender Studies and Sociology. She has a Ph.D. in Gender Studies from the African Gender Institute at the University of Cape Town. She has published widely on women, gender, and politics in Mauritius. Her research interests include gender, politics, and citizenship in multicultural contexts as well as high net worth migration and citizenship. She has received research fellowships from the University of Cape Town, American Association of University Women, University of Cambridge, and University of Pretoria. She is coeditor of the Journal of Contemporary African Studies and Island Studies Journal and a member of the editorial board of the journal Small States & Territories. Fatima Sadiqi is Professor of Linguistics and Gender Studies. She is the current President of the Association for Middle East Women’s Studies (AMEWS). Her books include Women, Gender and Language (Brill, 2003), Moroccan Feminist Discourses (Palgrave Macmillan, 2014), and Women’s Movements in the Post – “Arab Spring” North Africa (Palgrave Macmillan, 2016). Sadiqi’s work has been supported by numerous prestigious awards and fellowships from Harvard University, the Woodrow Wilson Center, the Rockefeller Foundation’s Bellagio Center, Fulbright, and currently the ZIF Center for Interdisciplinary Research (Bielefeld University, Germany). Christine Saidi is Professor of African, Gender, and World History. She has published two books, Women’s Authority and Society in Early East-Africa and Bantu Africa. She is co-writing a third book tentatively entitled Family Before Gender in Early African History. She is a co-recipient of a National Endowment for the Humanities fellowship and has received Fulbright fellowships, a Woodrow Wilson Women Studies grant, and a Social Science Research Fellowship and wrote a Rockefeller Humanities grant to set up an institute for the Study of Gender in Africa at the University of California at Los Angeles. Odunayo P. Salau obtained his B.Sc. and M.Sc. degrees in Industrial Relations and Human Resource Management at Olabisi Onabanjo University, Ago-Iwoye, Ogun state. In 2017, he bagged his Doctorate degree in Industrial Relations and Human Resource Management at Covenant University, Ogun state. SALAU is a man endowed with a passion for teaching, research, and learning. SALAU has obtained several awards in both Academic and Professional institutions. He is an associate and member of professional bodies like CICN, ICBAM, NIM, ISMN, and IPMN. He strives for excellence and precision at all times, obtaining professional distinction and academic proficiency in all positions and circumstances. Presently, he is a Lecturer in the Department of Business Management, Covenant University, and his research interests include organizational behavior, gender construct, employee relations, and human resource management.

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About the Authors

Zahia Smail Salhi is Chair of Modern Arabic Studies at the University of Manchester and specializes in Women and Gender in MENA, including MENA literature as a platform for women’s activism. Her recent publications include: “Tales of ‘Springs’ and ‘Revolutions’: Women, the Algerian Black Decade, and the Islamist Femicide,” in Women and Resistance to Radicalisation, Stiftung, 2017; Occidentalism: Literary Representations of the Maghrebi Experience of the East-West Encounter (EUP: 2019); “eWords for New Worlds: The Internet and the Empowerment of Iranian Women,” Middle East Journal of Culture and Communication, 12:3, 2019; “Sexuality and the Politics of the Body in Zainab Hifni’s Features,” Journal of Gender Studies, 29:8, 2020. Nana Yaw Boampong Sapong earned a Ph.D. in Historical Studies from Southern Illinois University Carbondale and is an alumnus of the Institute for Humane Studies, George Mason University. His areas of research include social history, labor/work, and institutional history. He is currently doing an introspective study of the problematic of the illusive global university, and challenges associated with academic labor, gender inequality, and neoliberal reforms. He teaches graduate and undergraduate courses in theory and methods, urban history, and intellectual history. Jimoh Shehu is Professor of the Department of Sport Science, University of Botswana. Before joining the University of Botswana, he had taught at the University of Dar es Salaam, Kenyatta University, and the University of Benin. His work draws on methods and theories of cultural studies to explore policies about sport and sportspeople, and how values, moral claims, social norms, and body politics inform and shape participation, identity formation, and gender disparities in sport. His recent work, “Governmentality and Gender Equality Politics in African Women’s Football: A Discourse Analysis of Selected Media Texts,” appears in Jean Monnet Working Paper No.13/20. Vicensia Shule is an independent theater, film, and online content producer with over 15 years of active production globally. She has authored over 20 academic publications in the areas of arts, cultures, and creativity. Vicensia Shule is a consultant, analyst, campaign initiator, and strategist in civil societies and public and private sectors. For over 15 years she has been conducting capacity enhancement trainings at community, national, regional, and international levels in the areas of creative communication, arts and cultures, women, politics, education, agriculture, health, and tourism. She has also served in various boards of prominent institutions locally, regionally, and internationally. Loubna H. Skalli is a scholar-practitioner specializing in the politics of development, youth, gender, and communication in MENA. She authored, coauthored, and

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edited over 30 journal articles, book chapters, and books. She is the book series editor of Communication, Culture and Gender in the Middle East and North Africa for Palgrave Macmillan. She consulted with numerous organizations including USAID, US Department of Labor, US Department of State, and the Global Fund for Women. She holds an M.A. in Social/Cultural Anthropology from Essex University, UK, and a Ph.D. from the Pennsylvania State University. She is a recipient of two Fulbright Fellowships. Patience M. Sone is an Associate Professor of Law and a permanent academic staff at the University of Buea-Cameroon. She is currently the Vice Dean in charge of Research and Cooperation in the Faculty of Laws and Political Science, University of Buea. She teaches and researches in areas relating to law, human rights, gender, conflict, and peace issues. She has published extensively in these areas and has supervised so many undergraduate and postgraduate theses. She obtained a Ph.D. degree in Law from the University of Buea in 2011. She has attended and participated in many workshops and conferences worldwide. She was a Post doctoral Fellow at the Institute for Dispute Resolution in Africa, College of Law, UNISA, 2015–2016 and was an LLM Ford Foundation Fellow in 2005. She received the UPEACE Doctoral Research Award for Peace and Conflict issues 2008–2010. Her email: [email protected] Mobolanle Ebunoluwa Sotunsa is Professor of Gender Studies and African Oral Literature. She was a visiting scholar at the School of African and Oriental Studies (SOAS), University of London, and a visiting professor/scholar in residence at the African Studies Institute, University of Georgia. Sotunsa served as the Head of the Department of Languages and Literary Studies Department at Babcock University from 2006 to 2009. Sotunsa is the coordinator of Gender and African Studies Group, Babcock University. She is also Director, Babcock University Centre for Open, Distance, and E-learning (BUCODeL). Aili Mari Tripp is Wangari Maathai Professor of Political Science and Gender and Women’s Studies at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. Her research has focused on gender/women and politics, women’s movements in Africa, transnational feminism, African politics, and the informal economy in Africa. She is author of several award-winning books, including Seeking Legitimacy: Why Arab Autocracies Adopt Women’s Rights (2019), Women and Power in Postconflict Africa (2015), African Women’s Movements: Transforming Political Landscapes (2009) with Isabel Casimiro, Joy Kwesiga, and Alice Mungwa; and Women and Politics in Uganda (2000). Robin L. Turner studies how public policies shape local political economies, influence constructions of identity, and affect people’s behavior. She has published on topics ranging from politics of tradition, land restitution, livestock politics, and nature tourism to decolonial pedagogy. She teaches courses that help

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students better understand the perspectives, experiences, and political strategies of historically marginalized people in Africa, the USA, and elsewhere in the world. Egodi Uchendu is Professor of History, Director of the Centre for Policy Studies and Research, and leader of African Humanities Research and Development Circle (AHRDC). She researches women’s history, conflict situations, men and masculinities, and emerging Muslim communities in Eastern Nigeria. Her publications include Nigeria’s Resource Wars (2020), Islam in the Niger Delta, 1890– 2017: A Synthesis of the Accounts of Indigenes and Migrants (2018), Women and Conflict in the Nigerian Civil War (2007), and Masculinities in Contemporary Africa (2008). She is one of the four editors of History in Africa: A Journal of Debates, Methods, and Source Analysis.

Alice Verticelli Ph.D. candidate in Political Science and Boston Consortium for Arab Region Studies Scholar Advisory Board, has a strong background in Middle Eastern and North African studies as well as migration and asylum. Her research currently focuses on the effects of EU migration policy in the Central Mediterranean. Monica Blackmun Visonà is Professor of Art History and Visual Studies and affiliate faculty in African-American and Africana Studies at the University of Kentucky. As the principal author of A History of Art in Africa (published by Prentice Hall in 2000 and Pearson in 2008), she is currently preparing an openaccess third edition with University of Michigan Publishing. She coedited (with Gitti Salami) A Companion to Modern African Art (Wiley-Blackwell, 2013) and is the author of Constructing African Art Histories for the Lagoons of Côte d’Ivoire (Ashgate, 2010, reprinted by Routledge, 2016). Bernadette Mukhwana Wanjala is an economist with 14 years of experience in research and teaching at the university. Her areas of interest include public policy analysis and evaluation, public sector finance, public finance management, development economics, macroeconomic modeling (including macro models, inputoutput tables, and social accounting matrices), gender analysis and gender aware macroeconomics (including feminist economics and gender-responsive budgeting), and impact evaluation. She has published several journal papers, book chapters, and working/discussion papers mainly in the areas of macroeconomics, economic development, and gender mainstreaming/gender-responsive budgeting. Taiwo M. Williams is Associate Professor of Counselling Psychology at Babcock University, Nigeria. She holds a Ph.D. in Counseling Psychology from the University of Ibadan, Nigeria. Her area of interest is youth and adolescent counseling, and

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she is interested in psycho-social issues affecting adolescents and women. She has worked with students as teacher, counselor, and administrator for over 17 years. She has publications in local and international journals and books on issues bothering on youth and adolescents. She is hardworking, honest, and highly dedicated to service. She is a mentor and companion to the youth. Olajumoke Yacob-Haliso is Professor of Political Science at Babcock University, Nigeria. She has published ten books and dozens of articles and book chapters. Olajumoke is coeditor of the Journal of Contemporary African Studies and serves on the editorial board of African Affairs, the Journal of International Women’s Studies, and so on. She has been awarded grants and fellowships by the American Council of Learned Societies, University for Peace Africa Program, Council for the Development of Social Science Research in Africa, American Political Science Association, and many others. Professor Yacob-Haliso is currently Dean of the Veronica Adeleke School of Social Sciences at Babcock University, Nigeria.

Contributors

Jamaine M. Abidogun History Department, Missouri State University, Springfield, MO, USA Ezinwanyi E. Adam Department of Languages and Literary Studies, Babcock University, Ilishan-Remo, Nigeria Melinda Adams Political Science, James Madison University, Harrisonburg, VA, USA Adeola Aderayo Adebajo Political Science, Tai Solarin University of Education, Ijagun, Nigeria Grace T. Adebayo Department of Political Science and International Relations, College of Leadership Development Studies, Covenant University, Ota, Ogun State, Nigeria Oluwabunmi O. Adejumo Institute for Entrepreneurship and Development Studies, Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-Ife, Nigeria Helen Odunola Adekoya Department of Mass Communication, Babcock University, Ilishan-Remo, Ogun State, Nigeria Oluwatoyin Vincent Adepoju Independent Researcher Compcros, Comparative Cognitive Processes and Systems, Lagos, Nigeria Oluwayemisi A. Adepoju Department of Political Science and International Relations, College of Leadership Development Studies, Covenant University, Ota, Ogun State, Nigeria Adérónké Adésolá Adésànyà James Madison University, Harrisonburg, VA, USA Oluwakemi Abiodun Adesina Department of History and International Studies, College of Humanities, Redeemer’s University, Ede, Nigeria Olalekan W. Adigun University of Nigeria, Nsukka (UNN), Nsukka, Nigeria Funmilayo Idowu Agbaje Department of Peace, Security and Humanitarian Studies, Faculty of Multidisciplinary Studies, Institute for Peace and Strategic Studies, University of Ibadan, Ibadan, Nigeria lxi

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Contributors

Damilola Taiye Agbalajobi Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-Ife, Osun State, Nigeria Prince Agwu University of Nigeria, Nsukka, Nsukka, Nigeria Christabel Agyeiwaa Department of History, University of Ghana, Accra, Ghana Jethron Ayumbah Akallah Department of History and Archeology, Maseno University, Maseno, Kenya Cyrelene Amoah-Boampong Department of History, University of Ghana, Accra, Ghana Priscilla Owusu Amoako Department of History, University of Ghana, Legon, Accra, Ghana Nana Akua Amponsah University of North Carolina Wilmington, Wilmington, NC, USA Nana Akua Anyidoho University of Ghana, Accra, Ghana Agnes Atia Apusigah Department of Development Education Studies, Faculty of Education, University for Development Studies, Tamale-NR, Ghana Lillian Artz Gender, Health and Justice Research Unit – Faculty of Health Sciences, University of Cape Town, Cape Town, South Africa Franca Attoh Department of Sociology, University of Lagos, Akoka-Yaba, Nigeria Sunday Didam Audu Department of Political Science and Public Administration, Babcock University, Ilishan-Remo, Nigeria Ruth A. Aura Institute of Women Gender and Development Studies, Egerton University, Nakuru, Kenya Sandra Ayivor Department of Educational Research and Administration, College of Education and Professional Studies, University of West Florida, Pensacola, FL, USA Florence Naah Bamora Department of Social and Business Education, Faculty of Education, University for Development Studies, Wa, Ghana Gretchen Bauer Political Science and International Relations, University of Delaware, Newark, DE, USA Sylvia Bawa Department of Sociology, Faculty of Liberal Arts and Professional Studies, York University, Toronto, ON, Canada Esther Mojisola Beckley Department of International Relations, Faculty of Arts, University of Malta, Msida, Malta Souad Belhorma Polydisciplinary Faculty of Errachidia, Moulay Ismail University of Meknes, Meknes, Morocco

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Mary Leka Beredam Department of Mass Communication, Babcock University, Ilishan-Remo, Ogun State, Nigeria Tsehai Berhane-Selassie Independent Scholar, Buttevant, Ireland Former Member of Institute for Advanced Study, Princeton, NJ, USA Deevia Bhana School of Education, University of KwaZulu-Natal, Ashwood, Durban, South Africa Sandra Bhatasara Department of Sociology, University of Zimbabwe and Research Associate, Harare, Zimbabwe Department of Sociology, Rhodes University, Grahamstown, South Africa Nemata Blyden George Washington University, Washington, DC, USA Janet Serwah Boateng School for Development Studies, University of Cape Coast, Cape Coast, Ghana Aleida Borges Spanish, Portuguese and Latin American Studies, King’s College London, London, UK Meriem Bougherira University of Manchester, Manchester, UK Yolande Bouka Department of Political Studies, Queen’s University, Kingston, ON, Canada Manase Kudzai Chiweshe Department of Sociology, University of Zimbabwe and Research Associate, Harare, Zimbabwe Department of Sociology, Rhodes University, Grahamstown, South Africa Amanda Coffie Legon Centre for International Affairs and Diplomacy, University of Ghana, Legon-Accra, Ghana Shelly Daphné D’Cruz Gender, Health and Justice Research Unit, Cape Town, South Africa Akosua K. Darkwah Department of Sociology, University of Ghana, Legon, Ghana J. Jarpa Dawuni College of Arts and Sciences, Department of Political Science, Howard University, Washington, DC, USA Lynda R. Day Brooklyn College-CUNY, New York, NY, USA Simidele Dosekun Department of Media and Communications, London School of Economics and Political Science, London, UK Aimiulimhe Emily Edobor Department of Sociology, Ambrose Alli University, Ekpoma, Edo State, Nigeria Osamamen Oba Eduviere Religious Studies Department, The University of Benin, Benin City, Nigeria Anene Ejikeme Trinity University, San Antonio, TX, USA

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Contributors

Kara Ellerby University of Delaware, Newark, DE, USA Gloria Emeagwali History and African Studies, Central Connecticut State University, New Britain, CT, USA Amaka Theresa Oriaku Emordi Department of Political Science, Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-Ife, Nigeria Moha Ennaji International Institute for Languages and Cultures, University of Fez, Fez, Morocco Emmanuel Orihentare Eregare Department of History and International Studies, Babcock University, Ilishan-Remo, Nigeria Chika Ezeanya Esiobu University of Rwanda, Kigali, Kigali, Rwanda Toyin Falola Department of History, University of Texas at Austin, Austin, TX, USA Abidemi Fasanmi Department of Women, Gender and Sexuality Studies, Rollins School of Public Health, Emory University, Northeast Atlanta, GA, USA Abidemi Omolara Fasanmi Satcher Health Leadership Institute, Morehouse School of Medicine, Atlanta, GA, USA Oluyemi O. Fayomi Admiralty University of Nigeria (ADUN), Ibusa, Nigeria Department of Political Science and International Relations, College of Leadership Development Studies, Covenant University, Ota, Ogun State, Nigeria Delphine Fongang North Carolina Central University, Durham, NC, USA Catherine Cymone Fourshey History and International Relations, Bucknell University, Lewisburg, PA, USA Olivia A. T. Frimpong Kwapong Department of Adult Education and HR, Studies, School of Continuing and Distance Education, College of Education, University of Ghana, Legon – Accra, Ghana Tanya Ansahta Garnett IBB School for International Studies, University of Liberia, Monrovia, Liberia Rhonda M. Gonzales The University of Texas at San Antonio, San Antonio, TX, USA Margaret Gonzalez-Perez Department of History and Political Science, Southeastern Louisiana University, Hammond, LA, USA Hauwa Ibrahim The Peace Institute, Sudbury, MA, USA Wellesley Centers for Women, Wellesley, MA, USA Grace Ese-osa Idahosa Centre for Social Change, University of Johannesburg, Johannesburg, South Africa

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Itohan Mercy Idumwonyi Religious Studies Department, Gonzaga University, Spokane, WA, USA Omotola Adeyoju Ilesanmi Research and Studies Department, Nigerian Institute of International Affairs, Victoria Island, Lagos, Nigeria Krista Johnson Howard University, Washington, DC, USA Hibist Kassa Centre for African Studies, University of Cape Town, Cape Town, South Africa Khatija Bibi Khan Department of Communication Sciences, University of South Africa, Pretoria, South Africa Touria Khannous Louisiana State University, Baton Rouge, LA, USA Msia Kibona Clark Department of African Studies, Howard University, Washington, DC, USA Susan Mbula Kilonzo Department of Religion, Theology and Philosophy, Maseno University, Maseno, Kenya Zara Emmanuel Kwaghe History and International Studies, Federal University, Nasarawa State, Lafia, Nigeria Pamela Machakanja College of Business, Peace, Leadership and Governance, Africa University, Mutare, Zimbabwe Siphokazi Magadla Department of Political and International Studies, Rhodes University, Makhanda, South Africa Chupicai Manuel Institute of Peace, Leadership and Governance, Africa University, Mutare, Zimbabwe Lucille Nonzwakazi Maqubela School of Development Studies, University of Mpumalanga, Mbombela, South Africa Athambile Masola Groenkloof Campus, University of Pretoria, Hatfield, South Africa Zethu Matebeni Department of Sociology, University of the Western Cape, Bellville, South Africa Centre for Women and Gender Studies, Nelson Mandela University, Port Elizabeth, South Africa Azwihangwisi Helen Mavhandu-Mudzusi Office of Graduate Studies and Research, College of Human Sciences, University of South Africa, Pretoria, South Africa Peace A. Medie University of Bristol, Bristol, UK Akissi Metonou Babcock University, Ilishan Remo, Nigeria

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Contributors

Khanyile Mlotshwa University of KwaZulu Natal (UKZN), Pietermaritzburg, South Africa Lefatshe Anna Moagi Department of Political Sciences, University of South Africa, Pretoria, South Africa Valentine M. Moghadam Sociology and International Affairs, Northeastern University, Boston, MA, USA Butholezwe Mtombeni Department of Political Sciences and Department of History, University of South Africa, Pretoria, South Africa Tiffany Kagure Mugo HOLAAfrica, Johannesburg, South Africa Florence Kyoheirwe Muhanguzi School of Women and Gender Studies, Makerere University, Kampala, Uganda Nakanyike B. Musisi History Department, University of Toronto, Toronto, ON, Canada Zahara Nampewo Human Rights and Peace Centre, School of Law, Makerere University, Kampala, Uganda Gibson Ncube University of Zimbabwe, Harare, Zimbabwe Stellenbosch Institute for Advanced Study (STIAS), Wallenberg Research Centre at Stellenbosch University, Stellenbosch, South Africa Gift Uchechi Ntiwunka Department of Political Science and Public Administration, Babcock University, Ilishan Remo, Nigeria Olaocha Nwadiuto Nwabara Department of English, State University of New York at Geneseo, New York, NY, USA Adaugo Pamela Nwakanma Harvard University, Cambridge, MA, USA Chibuzor Ayodele Nwaodike Department of Political Science and Public Administration, Babcock University, Ilishan Remo, Nigeria Onyinyechi Nancy Nwaolikpe McPherson University, Ogun State, Nigeria Ngozi Nwogwugwu Department of Political Science and Public Administration, Veronica Adeleke School of Social Sciences, Babcock University, Ilishan-Remo, Ogun State, Nigeria Cecilia S. Obeng School of Public Health, Indiana University, Bloomington, IA, USA Barnabas Obeng-Gyasi Biological Sciences, Purdue University, West Lafayette, IA, USA Ndifon Neji Obi Department of Political Science, University of Calabar, Calabar, Nigeria

Contributors

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L. Amede Obiora University of Arizona, Tucson, AZ, USA Adebusola Okedele Political Science Department, Tai Solarin College of Education, Ijebu Ode, Ogun State, Nigeria Antonia Taiye Okoosi-Simbine Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC), Abuja, Nigeria Arit Oku Centre for Gender and Social Policy Studies, Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-Ife, Nigeria Augusta Olaore Babcock University, Ilishan-Remo, Nigeria Oluwatoyin O. Oluwaniyi Department of History and International Studies, College of Humanities, Redeemer’s University, Osun State, Nigeria Omonye Omoigberale Department of Political Science and Public Administration, Babcock University, IIishan-Remo, Ogun State, Nigeria Sharon Adetutu Omotoso Women’s Research and Documentation Center (WORDOC), Institute of African Studies, University of Ibadan, Ibadan, Nigeria Blessing Nonye Onyima Department of Sociology and Anthropology, Nnamdi Azikiwe University, Awka, Nigeria Oghoadena Clementina Osezua Department of Sociology and Anthropology, Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-Ife, Nigeria Lyn Ossome Makerere Institute of Social Research, Kampala, Uganda Damaris S. Parsitau Institute of Women Gender and Development Studies, Egerton University, Nakuru, Kenya Edith Dinong Phaswana Thabo Mbeki African School of Public and International Affairs at Unisa, University of South Africa, Pretoria, South Africa Rosemary O. Popoola Covenant University, Ota, Nigeria Felicia Esinam Pufaa Department of Social and Business Education, Faculty of Education, University for Development Studies, Wa -UWR, Ghana Maryam Omolara Quadri Department of Political Science, University of Lagos, Lagos, Nigeria Ramola Ramtohul Department of Social Studies, University of Mauritius, Reduit, Mauritius Fatima Sadiqi University of Fez, Fez, Morocco Christine Saidi History Department, Kutztown University of Pennsylvania, Kutztown, PA, USA Odunayo P. Salau Covenant University, Ota, Nigeria Zahia Smail Salhi University of Manchester, Manchester, UK

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Nana Yaw Boampong Sapong Department of History, University of Ghana, Legon, Accra, Ghana Jimoh Shehu Department of Physical Education, Faculty of Education, University of Botswana, Gaborone, Botswana Vicensia Shule Department of Creative Arts, University of Dar es Salaam, Dar es Salaam, Tanzania Loubna H. Skalli University of California, Washington Center, Washington, DC, USA Zahia Smail Salhi University of Manchester, Manchester, UK Patience Munge Sone Department of English Law, Faculty of Laws and Political Science, University of Buea, Buea, Cameroon Mobolanle Ebunoluwa Sotunsa Department of Languages and Literary Studies, Babcock University, Ilisan Remo, Nigeria Aili Mari Tripp University of Wisconsin-Madison, Madison, WI, USA Robin L. Turner Department of Political Science, Butler University, Indianapolis, IN, USA Society, Work, and Politics Institute (SWOP), University of the Witswatersrand, Johannesburg, South Africa Egodi Uchendu History and International Studies, University of Nigeria, Nsukka, Nigeria Alice Verticelli Political Science, Northeastern University, Boston, MA, USA Monica Blackmun Visoná School of Art and Visual Studies, University of Kentucky, Lexington, KY, USA Bernadette Mukhwana Wanjala Strathmore University Business School, Strathmore University, Nairobi, Kenya Taiwo M. Williams Babcock University, Ilishan Remo, Ogun State, Nigeria Olajumoke Yacob-Haliso Department of Political Science and Public Administration, Babcock University, IIishan-Remo, Ogun State, Nigeria

Section I Introduction

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Introduction: Decolonizing African Women’s Studies Olajumoke Yacob-Haliso and Toyin Falola

Contents Objectives of the Handbook . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Contentions and Contestations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Subject: “African Women” and “Africa” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Debunking Myths . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Representing Stories and Storywriters . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Transforming the Academy, Rewriting History . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Studies on African Women/African Women’s Studies Through Time . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . African Women’s Studies: Authors, Anthologies, and Asymmetries . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Curating Themes: Outline of the Handbook . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Research and Knowledge Production on Women in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . African Women and Politics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . African Women in Conflict and Peace . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Women and Gender-Based Violence (GBV) in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . African Women and Development Processes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . (Re)Writing African Women’s Histories . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Women’s Movements in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . African Women, Culture, and Society . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . African Women’s Creativity, Arts, and Performance . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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O. Yacob-Haliso (*) Department of Political Science and Public Administration, Babcock University, IIishan-Remo, Ogun State, Nigeria e-mail: [email protected] T. Falola Department of History, University of Texas at Austin, Austin, TX, USA e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_120

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Abstract

The Palgrave Handbook of African Women’s Studies is a distinctive reference book bringing together knowledge, scholarship, analysis, and debates on African women’s themes and issues everywhere. It unearths, critiques, reviews, analyzes, theorizes, synthesizes, and evaluates African women’s historical, social, political, economic, local and global lives, and experiences with a view to decolonizing the corpus. The chapters in this volume question the gendered roles and positions of African women and the structures, institutions, and processes of policy, politics, and knowledge production that continually construct, deconstruct, and reconstruct African women and the study of them. Thus, this Handbook enlarges the scope of the field, challenges its orthodoxies, and engenders new subjects, theories, and approaches. In this way, the Palgrave Handbook of African Women’s Studies not only curates but also charts a path for the study of African women in all their variegated contexts and complexities from competing standpoints, centering women in the African world and worldview historically and contemporarily, and from multidisciplinary and transdisciplinary lenses. Importantly too, this Handbook creates space and opportunities for giving voice to African women everywhere to tell their stories and share their experiences, working with African women everywhere, thus representing a space for amplifying African women’s voices. This introductory chapter elucidates the objectives of the Handbook; engages the contentions and contestations in African women’s studies that propelled its unique decolonial approach; reviews the currents in the field over time; reveals its asymmetries and coloniality; and provides a detailed narrative map for navigating the parts and chapters in the Handbook. Keywords

African women’s studies · Gender · Africa · Decolonization · Knowledge production

Objectives of the Handbook The Palgrave Handbook of African Women’s Studies is premised on the urgent need to foreground the rich extant archive of knowledge about African women’s lives in the context of a global movement for the decolonization of African studies and of global women and gender studies. In this milieu, the study of African women suffers triple jeopardy: first, it is marginalized in the academy as the rest of African studies tend to be; second, it is marginalized within the corpus of African studies as women’s stories are historically relegated, even suppressed and invisibilized in all disciplines; and third, it was similarly overlooked in the development of women’s studies itself as white, middle-class, establishment feminism constituted itself as the mainstream of the field. Where African women’s issues are addressed in these studies, it is very

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often ahistorical, decontextualized, and objectivized to reinforce negative stereotypes and patriarchal and oppressive gender norms about women. Again, African women’s studies have often been overgeneralized to the peril of recognizing diversities (cultural/ethnic, regional, religious, class, age, gender, national, and so on). Also, the unique colonial and postcolonial experiences of African women imposed by the Berlin Conference, the Washington Consensus, and the neoliberal orthodoxy and their implications for governance, boundaries, and economics condone are often glossed over. At the same time, African women’s studies from the continent especially have been overwhelmingly populated by atomistic, single case study–type research, and few comparative or macro-studies that could make broad analyses possible. Consequently, this Handbook has as its fourfold emphasis throughout (1) debunking erroneous and misleading myths about African women’s roles and positions; (2) bringing their previously marginalized stories – herstories – to relief; (3) centering these stories in the disciplinary studies of various aspects of Africa and bringing these into conversation with one another; and (4) ultimately in so doing to transform the field and (re)write the history of African peoples and societies with these herstories to provide a more complete and accurate account. The Handbook emphasizes connecting the past and present of African women’s lives, activism, and scholarship, forging linkages and trends between microperspectives and broader comparative cases to inform present understanding and future studies. While questioning the existing structures of knowledge production that frame women’s lives and scholarship about women in Africa, this volume also advances new ways of theorizing, teaching, and learning about African women, a marked departure from previous efforts.

Contentions and Contestations This Handbook project has not been without some debate. We, the Handbook editors, were severally asked by collaborators, critics, and skeptics as we put together this volume over three years why this subject, what we hoped to achieve, how this would be done, and why this mattered. Our objectives have been clearly articulated right from the start, but we note that these questions mainly reflected fissures in the field, the unsettled nature of the subject matter, the sprawling scope of its concerns, problems of representation, as well as the uncertainties surrounding its future and transformational potentials. Outlined below are the broad contours of how we operationalized and acquitted the objectives mentioned above. By doing so, we attempt to (re)shape the field and further propel it forward.

The Subject: “African Women” and “Africa” The very subject constitution of the field that we engage in this text is itself a matter of immense contestation. “African women” can, of course, be constituted by sex,

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geography, sociologics, or by politics – categories dogged by complicated questionings that either suspect biological essentialism, bald primordial identities, or that require a sociopolitical consciousness of belonging to a group and pursuing common objectives. In establishing the central subject in the Handbook framework’s overarching design, we rather adopted an inclusive and embracing pan-Africanist approach. Thus, the subject of this Handbook, “African women,” is taken to refer in the broadest sense to all women of African descent, whether born or living on the continent or not. In the narrower, more specific sense, though, the dominant focus is on the issues and concerns of women living on the African continent – black, white, yellow, brown, red, and others; old, young, and child; dis/abled; rural, suburban, and urban; rich, middle class, and poor; cisgender, queer, trans-, or questioning; great and small; and everything in-between. “African women” here should not be taken to imply in any way that all women of African descent or living in Africa have certain common characteristics – save their humanity – that make the category homogenous and a given. On the contrary, the Handbook thrives on the recognition of the fact that the very labels, “women,” “African,” and “African women” are contestable and have been contested in many ways: Decades of feminist scholarship and activism have established the fact that sex cannot be taken as synonymous with gender; that many African cultures do not ascribe “gender” as a preeminent means of social stratification; and that within the label “women,” there is a staggering variety of experiences, identities, contexts, roles, perspectives, rights, and constraints such that no two “women” are exactly similar, even within the same local or continental setting. The “African Woman” of this Handbook is by no means a monolithic category, by no means essential or essentialized, and by no means frozen or fixed in time, history, and space. Furthermore, among scholars and writers of women’s stories, there is no consensus about whether to identify themselves and their work as “feminist” or not and about whether it is a “women’s studies” or “gender studies” framework that is more analytically useful in studying the African context. To the former, the Handbook welcomed on the one hand chapters whose main objectives were to provide a deep description of African women’s lives to provide pathways for future studies, as well as chapters whose main objectives further were to critique the gendered social foundations of African women’s experiences and to prescribe policy and academic remedies towards a transformation of society. We consider both approaches as merely two contrastive yet complementary points on a spectrum of feminist research. Thus, feminist politics permeated the project as both kinds of engagement are political and never taken as otherwise. To the latter concern, women’s studies and gender studies are not positioned in binary opposition to each other in this project. Rather they are understood as mutually constitutive, embedded, overlapping, contiguous, and simultaneous. While our focus headlined in the book and chapter titles was explicitly “women’s studies” however defined, the underlying assumption throughout the Handbook and chapters take as given the fact that gender is social structure, entrenched in institutions and processes of society, and therefore both inescapable and intimately wedded to the analysis of women’s lives. Thus, the Handbook takes seriously the fact that women live in a specific historically gendered

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societal milieux that positions them in particular ways relative to men and others in society, and beyond this, that there are several other extraneous or extra-local factors/ forces that intersect and contrive to shape their lives and livelihoods variously. The “Africa” regional focus of the Handbook is also apparent as most chapters cover a broad sweep of the continent. Others were specifically designed to focus on subregional groupings of African societies, while a few were particular about their localization to topics in a particular country. As mentioned previously, a lot of the work that constitutes African women’s studies is microlevel research and case studies. Of course, the merit of this prevalent approach is that it allows for specificity and nuance to avoid overgeneralizations and the creation of myths of equivalence. Nonetheless, macrolevel research has benefits for the advancement of the field that needs to be tapped into. Consequently, editors of the Handbook adopted the view that a broad regional approach was necessary to create unique masterpieces of synthetic writing on each topic which would marry the disparate studies on that particular topic into a systematic whole. The aim is to thereby develop fresh and original insights, produce comparative data, and facilitate theory building and network building too. Therefore, we rejected the artificial demarcation of the continent into North Africa and sub-Saharan Africa, seeing the history of the continent, from Cairo to the Cape as interconnected, and in the pan-African spirit of the Handbook. This division has also been a historical tool in reproducing long-standing notions of superiority and inferiority among Africans to stymie pan-African efforts. In some cases, as in the historical section of the Handbook, a subregional approach was decided to enable the cumulation and comparison of similar cases. In only a few cases were particular countries or subregions singled out for analysis. For instance, a few chapters were specifically focused on North Africa and others on South Africa. The former was necessary given the deep divide (both linguistic and cultural) in the literature that separates North Africa from sub-Saharan Africa in a way that has evolved parallel literature that has not encouraged cross-fertilization of feminist knowledge between both regions. Whereas most chapters were required to cover all of Africa from Cairo to the Cape in our pan-Africanist spirit, in each thematic section of the Handbook, some chapters were designed to cover North Africa specifically given that their subjects have unique literature on North Africa that needed to be foregrounded. The uniqueness of South Africa, which merited being singled out on a couple of topics, came from its specific experience with twentieth-century apartheid in a way that other countries in the region did not. Ultimately, these conceptual debates veritably contributed to the richness, depth, and breadth of the issues covered by this Handbook.

Debunking Myths In this Handbook, every assumption, every hypothesis, about African women is questioned, critiqued, deconstructed, reconstituted, and reinterpreted in the light of current developments in all the academic disciplines and consideration of contemporary currents in policy and activism. The most common imagery of African

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women is essentialist and monochrome. They are persistently depicted as marginal, voiceless, helpless, victims, powerless, weak, and in need of rescue, including in scholarship, policymaking, advocacy, development work, and most human endeavors. This is the most pervasive trope the scholar confronts in extant studies. From the beginning, we set out to combat this in all its forms to re/write African women’s stories and lives in ways that front the empowering narratives while not discounting practical limitations. Emphasis is in extracting the former from a milieu that has all too often glorified the latter aspect of African women’s lives. This Handbook challenges this dominant trend by persistently recognizing and re/telling the too-often obscured stories of African women’s agency, power, and contributions, with respect to all the themes covered in the chapters. Additionally, women of Africa are often assigned the nomenclatures and characteristics of subjection. They are often portrayed as a homogenous group and as flat characters – unchanging, staidly traditional, and imprisoned by “culture” and society wholesale. Nothing could be further from the truth as evident in vibrant contemporary scholarship that challenges the static notion of perpetually subjugated women of Africa and signify a dynamism not yet fully explored. Women in divergent African contexts confront their realities in divergent and unique ways based on their identities, opportunities, constraints, resources, and knowledge. African women and their lives and trajectories are as multicolored as an artist’s palette. What is more, from the earliest writings of postcolonial African feminists, the capacity of African women to change, adapt, renew, reinvent, and blatantly transgress societal and cultural gender norms that impose restrictive femininities on them has been well expounded. In amplifying these earlier voices and fusing their work with the literature and scholarship of an emergent generation that captures the many revolutionary, even subversive, lives of both ancient and modern African women, this Handbook further provides a new imaginary for the notion of who an “African woman” is.

Representing Stories and Storywriters Targeting genuine representation and participation of various subaltern voices and subjects, the Handbook casts a wide net thematically, geographically, in authorship, and intergenerationally. We sought to represent in broad strokes the universe of topics in the corpus of knowledge about African women, from the traditional subjects such as women and politics in postcolonial Africa, to emerging terrains of knowledge such as alternative media use by African LGBTQI+ people, sportswomen’s identities, social media and movements, and so on. Therefore, the main rationale for the inclusion of topics was to represent to the greatest extent possible the range of experiences of African women and the diversities of women in Africa. A close reading of the literature and attention to current affairs further directed the curation of these topics. As well, these topics have been the focus of decades of vigorous feminist activism platformed internationally by the UN World Conferences on Women (1975, 1980, 1985, 1995), the Beijing Platform for Action, the Protocol to the African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights on the Rights of

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Women in Africa (the Maputo Protocol), the Millennium Development Goals (MDGs), and now Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs). Additionally, the delineation of “African women” for the study is determinedly extended to women in every one of the 55 states on the continent – Black, White, and Arab, including women on African islands, the latter often considered on the extreme margins of the continent and ignored in many studies. To cover a diversity of experiences commanded deliberate attention to including topics addressing both the historical and contemporary lives of both famous and “ordinary” women. While some chapters were designed to be mainly historical, all others were required to cover also current conditions, the current state of knowledge about these and project future directions for scholarship. Contributions were intentionally invited from a diverse pool of scholars from across the continent – including Anglophone, Francophone, Lusophone, and Arabic – and the Diaspora, and from Europe, North America, and Asia, transcending the imposed divisions that section African women’s studies, as well as actively performing the emancipation of the African woman from the colonial gaze. By this latter objective, the Handbook sought to accent African women’s studies by African women (broadly defined), thereby providing a text that overturns the overwhelmingly Western-dominated studies of African women. And we sought to make the Handbook a meeting point and melting pot of generationally defined African women’s studies, connecting the concerns and perspectives of the first, second, and third generations of writers and scholars of African women’s studies, and uncovering new scholarship and activist voices that foretell the future of the field. This exciting assemblage of scholars has lent the Handbook a cosmopolitan and progressive outlook, capturing established canons while creating the space for new knowledge to emerge and flourish. We invite scrutiny in assessing the extent to which these objectives were achieved in the Handbook, even as this effort may be seen as merely a start in instituting and institutionalizing this modus operandi in African women’s studies for this millennium.

Transforming the Academy, Rewriting History By this dual objective of transforming and historicizing, the Handbook seeks to transcend the description of reality to reinvigorating the academy and reconstituting history. Drawing on an assortment of knowledge domains, the chapters in the Handbook deliberately attempt to provide a more complete depiction of African women’s lives and experiences. An interdisciplinary approach has allowed the coverage of individual subjects to be dynamic, multifaceted, and nuanced, and the intersections across various fields of study have elevated the analyses beyond narrow visions of minuscule realities. This pluri-disciplinary Handbook draws together perspectives, theories, and up-to-date empirical data from fields as varied as history, anthropology, sociology, biology, archaeology, health and life sciences, linguistics, political science, geography, literary and cultural studies, philosophy, law, economics, psychology, development studies, education, and many more fields. In achieving

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this, the Handbook successfully re-situates African women’s studies in these fields, finding new relevance for it within traditional disciplines and broader academic studies while conversely extending the concepts, models, theories, and understandings of those fields to an enlargement of our scope and methods. By this integrative process, the Handbook has made it impossible for African studies and studies of Africa to remain the same as before, having demonstrated both the versatility of its constitutive fields in enlivening African women’s studies and also the centrality of women and gender in Africa to their own subjects, premises, and perspectives. Even more, it is intended that this vibrant methodology ensures a further reconstruction of the very history of African peoples. To be sure, there is a revolution ongoing in the academy as scholars seek to retrieve the African past and present from the colonial gaze and divest African studies of its colonial baggage through efforts at decolonizing the field. In the Handbook, our vision is clear: to contribute to these efforts in the broadest way possible by applying the parameters outlined so far in this introductory chapter – debunking myths, representing diverse stories and storywriters, transforming the academy – and thereby reconstructing the intellectual history of African peoples, centered around African women’s studies. Following the explanation of the Handbook’s objectives and approach as outlined above, three further aims are pursued in this introductory chapter. We proceed to conduct a limited overview of the key developments in the academic shaping of the field, and this dovetails into a survey of the authors and anthologies that preexist this effort, and the gaps that this Handbook fills in that milieu. Finally, Handbook themes are unfolded to foreground their centrality to African women’s studies and their contributions to moving the discourse forward into the future.

Studies on African Women/African Women’s Studies Through Time The writing of women into. . . African history, has hardly begun. Compared with the history of many other parts of the world, the writing of the history of Africa itself is a fairly recent development. – Bolanle. Awe (1991)

Literature on women in Africa has burgeoned in the last few decades as global and local political developments have provided impetus for examining and critiquing women’s concerns, political and social contexts, and responses to these. Globally, women’s studies benefited from vigorous theorizing and vibrant activism, which produced the gains of so-called (Western) first-wave feminism, namely, suffrage and political rights; and of second-wave feminism, namely, removing the veil over women’s oppression in the private sphere, and challenging established knowledge systems, among others (Yacob-Haliso and Falola 2017). In the account of these developments, which spanned the late nineteenth century to about the 1970s, African women’s experiences and contributions were neither foregrounded, conscientiously recorded, nor integrated into the global narratives of women’s struggles and achievements. This is not surprising given Awe’s observation above, flagging

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the fact that African women’s invisibility in history is merely an extension of the marginality of African history itself within global historical studies. To extend this point, the writing of women’s history is also a relatively recent development given that historians until very recently were mainly preoccupied with political history centering great men, great wars, political powerplays, and the like (cf. Zeleza 2005). So, women have long been invisible in the study of various fields of human endeavor. In this context, therefore, the development of the field of women’s history and women’s studies more broadly were late developments, and when the invisibility of women in world history is combined with the contrived invisibility of Africa in the history of world affairs, as well as the consequent invisibility of African women in all these arenas, a triple jeopardy resulted. Nonetheless, African women began to feature in written records centuries before the colonial era in works by personalities such as the Muslim Moroccan writer and traveler, Ibn Battuta and the Tunisian historian, Ibn Khaldun. These works did not focus on women really, as women were only mentioned essentially as part of the landscape or general history being discussed, and even then, very perfunctorily. Women’s voices and women’s perspectives were largely silent in these records, except as one examines oral traditions, sculptures, art, and other forms of expression in these societies. Indeed, when the latter fact is considered, it is apparent that African women have for millennia spoken, sang, danced, drawn, sculpted, and written about their lives and experiences, and it is only that the (mostly) men who first began to document the history of African peoples overlooked these forms of expression and their female sources as unimportant. This trend was not quite different with the advent of European explorers, missionaries, and colonialists, many of whom wrote about the societies they encountered across the continent, which would be instrumentalized in justifying the violent takeover of African territories and the colonial ideologies such as Lugard’s Dual Mandate. With colonial occupation across the continent, some colonial governments commissioned studies of the societies they governed, buttressing the assertion by Hibist Kassa (▶ Chap. 11, “Researching Women and Gender in Africa: Present Realities, Future Directions,” this volume) that “ideological justification for domination was integral to mainstream anthropology, economics, political science, historiography, and sociology,” particularly as deployed in colonial Africa. Anthropologists produced some of the significant studies of women that marked the early twentieth century. Sylvia Leith-Ross (1965/1939) studied the Igbo women of Nigeria in the aftermath of the Women’s War of 1929 (known formerly in the literature as the “Aba Women’s Riots”), as part of the colonial enterprise (W.E.H 1939; Paulme 1963; Watson 2013). Monica Hunter Wilson was well known for her research on the Pondo of South Africa and the Nyakyusa of Tanzania (Hunter 1933; Brokensha 1983). There is also the life history, Baba of Karo, about an elderly Hausa woman, written by Mary Smith, wife of anthropologist Micheal G. Smith while both were conducting anthropological fieldwork among the Hausa in Northern Nigeria (Smith 1954). Denise Paulme’s ethnography of societies in West Africa is also notable here, focusing on women in everyday life, exemplified in her reader, Women of Tropical Africa (Paulme 1963). Paulme’s “analytical bibliography” in the same book covered writings about African women from 1882 to 1959, published

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in English, French, and German, including authors such as colonial officials and the United Nations, and describing a range of ethnic and social groups in all the geographical regions of the continent (▶ Chap. 69, “Challenges of Writing African Women’s Histories”). Important as they were for beginning to emerge a picture of African women for the wider world, a couple of observations may be made about these early efforts at writing African women’s history. Many of these studies were for the first time carried out by mostly White privileged women, positioned as colonialists, missionaries, journalists, and scholars from outside the continent. Following from this identification of the “externalization” of women’s studies in the recent past is the preoccupation with “strangeness,” as Desiree Lewis puts it (Lewis 2002) or what Mackay (1955) in reviewing Baba of Karo referred to as the “unusual.” This was so as the approach of these Westerners was often to establish demarcations between “western” and “non-western,” “civilised” and “primitive” societies, often resulting in the exoticization of African and other non-Western cultures perceived as the “other” (see Mamdani 2018/1996). As Mama (1998, p. 101) elegantly puts it in a review, we may not actually consider these studies part of the corpus of African women’s studies because they are “not ‘women’s studies’ in the movement-linked sense of the word, but scholarly studies of ‘other’ women, namely African women,” an important distinction, we aver. A survey of the field shows that by the 1980s, research on women and gender in Africa had bloomed. But before this time, in the 1950s and 1960s, women’s activism was inexorably linked with nationalist struggles for African states’ independence (Ampofo et al. 2004). In other words, feminist activism and the growth of women’s movements on the continent, as was the case in some other parts of the world, resulted in the founding and expansion of an academic field of women’s and gender studies in Africa. Importantly, one of the outcomes of this particular context for the founding of African women’s studies was that, because feminist activism in Africa (by whatever nomenclature as activists then and now have disputed labels) as a political positioning, focused on fighting against structures of oppression and disempowerment of women and transforming their circumstances, much of the earliest studies of African women disproportionately focused on women’s problems, disadvantages, and oppressions. Thus Steady (1981) spoke of African women’s deprivations as the basis of the authenticity of African feminism relative to others, and Busia (2018) referenced the rooting of African feminism in praxis and historical realities of anti-colonial, anti-imperial, and anti-racist resistance. A further result of the relationship between African nationalisms and the development of women’s studies was that initially, the study was mainly concerned with retrieving African women’s stories from the dustbins to which they had been consigned, first by the misogynistic colonial enterprise, and subsequently by the patrimonial, paternalistic postcolonial state that the Europeans left behind as well as the patriarchal social system of the African cultures. The first generation of African historians had contested the notion peddled by the Europeans that Africans had no history preceding colonialism to speak of and had set about as their primary duty the task of reconstructing the distant African past beyond the period-gates of

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colonialization (Ade Ajayi 1965, 1968; Dike 1956). These nationalist historians felt “it was necessary to firmly establish the existence, presence, note-worthiness and olden and authentic nature of precolonial African history” (Yacob-Haliso et al. 2021, p. 2). It is no surprise then that the study of African women would also take off from similar premises. The first generation of scholarship about African women, by African women themselves, emanated from their involvement in nationalist activities in the “modern” era. This is notwithstanding the fact that the field of African history being male-dominated barely recognized women’s scholarship in this regard and hardly included women in their histories. Yolande Bouka (▶ Chap. 67, “Women, Colonial Resistance, and Decolonization: Challenging African Histories,” this volume) points out that even scholars like Ali Mazrui and Walter Rodney, known for their sustained resistance to Eurocentrism, hardly recognized women and their lives and labor and contributions in their scholarship. Here was born the impetus for contemporary African women’s studies in its early years to establish its existence and relevance to the reconstruction of African history and seek to displace the androcentric nature of the extant studies in various other disciplines too. Nonetheless, Toyin Falola (▶ Chap. 3, “Teaching Women’s Studies in Africa,” this volume) rightly observes that women were late accessing tertiary education in Africa and finding space there as academics, a factor that cannot be discounted in the slow start to the flowering of African women’s studies in the immediate postindependence period. Colonial education privileged boys and men, both in access to primary, post-primary, and tertiary education, and in the range of courses and disciplines that were made available or deemed appropriate for the sexes (▶ Chaps. 126, “Women in Universities in Africa,” and ▶ 85, “African Women in University Management and Leadership,” this volume). For example, the Nigerian nationalist leader and feminist, Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti, revealed that as at 1947, “not more than one per cent of the women in Nigeria can read or write. Throughout Nigeria, which is 372,674 square miles, there are only four secondary schools for girls, three in the colony of Lagos, and one in the protectorate at Ibadan” (RansomeKuti 1947/2011, p. 544). Additionally, while men were being encouraged to train in varied professions and skills, women were funneled mainly into service professions such as teaching and nursing. So, there simply did not exist a critical mass of women scholars on the continent in the early 1960s and 1970s to cause significant changes to the androcentric and Eurocentric academic disciplines. In this wise, activism far outstripped scholarship, and in fact, activism became vital to rolling back the educational disadvantages and scholarly neglect highlighted above, namely, lack of women’s voices in the disciplines, scant attention to women’s experiences in extant studies, access to post-primary and tertiary education, and the lack of research and institutions for the study of African women. Still, Charmaine Pereira would note that even into the late 1990s, there remained a significant paucity of writing in women and gender studies on the continent, a “manifestation of larger social configurations of exclusion, discrimination and oppression” (Pereira 2002). As African women’s studies gradually flourished from the 1980s, it entered into debate with other strands of feminist scholarship and activism to carve its own distinctive niche. One important critique that had arisen in response to the Western

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feminism of the 1960s and 1970s was its tendency to oversimplify women’s concerns, homogenizing and essentializing women as if all women were the same. However, right from the beginning, studies on African women engaged race, class, and gender – decades before their Western counterparts did (Lewis 2002). These studies utilized critical, postcolonial, and political economy, as well as structuralist, Marxist, historical, and political analyses. Other feminist scholars of color in the West would then reject the idea that women everywhere had a universal experience. For these scholars, women of color had more in common with colored or Black men than with White women, emphasizing that “sisterhood cannot be assumed on the basis of gender; it must be forged in concrete historical and political practice” (Mohanty 1991, p. 58). Therefore, Black and African feminists have consistently rejected essentialism and theorized gender as extending beyond sex difference (Falola and Yacob-Haliso 2017). A further theoretical implication was created by these dynamics. The insistence on difference recognizes that social location in terms of race, ethnicity, residence (rural/urban), class, status, and access to power and privilege can significantly alter the meaning of gender as these other factors confer power on some women and men at the expense of others (Mohanty 1991, 2003; Steady 1981, 2005; Imam et al. 1997). Black feminist scholars critiqued feminist articulations of gender as it applies to their own situation, insisting that in the USA there is no way gender can be considered outside of race and class, and feminists must theorize multiple forms of oppression wherever these exist in society (Collins 2000; Crenshaw 1989, 1991). In the African context, scholars critical of the prevailing Western explanation of gender insisted on the need to theorize also the impact of imperialism, colonialism, liberation struggles, globalization, “modernization,” neoliberal economic reforms, the Bretton Woods institutions, and other local and global forms of social stratification on women and men (Mama 2001; Obeng-Odoom 2019; Christian 2019; YacobHaliso and Falola 2017). Gender in African women’s studies is, therefore, a highly contested concept, subject to different interpretations within different contexts since the fundamental implication of power differentiation and subordination does not hold the same meaning in every African society and culture. The two most celebrated works that have exemplified this complexity are Male Daughters, Female Husbands by Ifi Amadiume (1987) and The Invention of Women by Oyeronke Oyewumi (1997). These authors have shown that Western gender discourses need to be seriously disrupted based on the underlying assumptions and internal logic that drive Western feminism to more appropriately apprehend the African sociocultural context. Gender identities, they argue, must be seen as culturally and historically specific and holding social meaning for individual cultures. Thus, the recognition that gender is a socially constructed identity and structure, “historically grounded and culturally bound,” implies that “gender cannot behave the same way across time and space. If gender is a social construction, then we must examine the various cultural/architectural sites where it was constructed, and we must acknowledge that variously located actors. . .were part of the construction” (Oyewumi 1997, p. 10).

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Nonetheless, Oyewumi’s assertion that gender as a Western conceptual construct did not exist in the Yoruba community she studied has been critiqued based on a lack of empirical foundation for her claims, and even for “inventing an imaginary precolonial community in which gender did not exist” (Mama 2001, p. 69; cf. Olajubu 2004; Coetzee and Halsema 2018). Even so, research has flourished, which has sought to produce studies of African women considering the specificity of gender and history in constructing women’s lives. Lewis (2005) specifically identifies studies such as those by Adepoju and Oppong (1994), Johnson-Odim and Mba (1997), Karam (1998), Tamale (1999; see also Tamale 2020), Tripp (2000; see also Tripp 2015), about women’s activism, political and economic activities, and multiple roles, as critically extending feminist analyses of African women towards these ends. The current Handbook aims to bring this literature up to date and extend those studies and their relevance into the future. Similarly, Third World women’s organizations such as the Association of African Women for Research and Development (AAWORD) and the Development Alternatives for Women in a New Era (DAWN) challenged the Eurocentric approach to studying gender and adopted a critical gender research agenda (Steady 2002; Egwu 2003). In particular, the AAWORD was established in 1977 as an agenda-setting organization that rejected the Western-oriented development research on Africa and sought to facilitate research on women from feminist perspectives, research by African women themselves, and the link between activism and research in African contexts (AAWORD 1985, 1999). It, therefore, held workshops and trainings on methodology (1983), the crisis in Africa (1985), development assistance (1989), reproduction (1992), and gender theories and social development (2001). The organization’s pivotal role in its heydays has been well documented (Adeboye 2019; Pereira 2002; Mama 1996), attesting to the dynamism and transformational role that Africa feminist institutions can and do play in advancing feminist agendas and research. Scholarship and activism became two sides of the coin that engendered African women’s studies in this period, producing the initial corps of African feminist scholar-activists and research. According to Ampofo et al. (2004, p. 705), . . .feminist scholar/activists associated with the establishment of AAWORD [in 1977 were] Simi Afonja, Bolanle Awe, Nina Mba, [Omolara Leslie] Ogundipe, Filomena Steady, Fatou Sow, N’dri Assie Lumumba, Zenebeworke Tadesse, Christine Achola Pala Okeyo, and Nawal El Sadaawi. Those associated with the second phase of research activism [thereafter were] Amina Mama, Ayesha Imam, Charmaine Pereira, Maria Nzomo, Rudo Gaidzanwa, [Patricia] MacFadden, and Takyiwaa Manuh. . ..

Evidently, African women’s studies in its formative stages was far more sophisticated in its development than usually recognized, engaging frameworks that would come to be realized later as pivotal to disrupting gendered hierarchies of knowledge production. In addition to its early awareness and recognition of the diversity of women’s experiences and the multiple frames for analyzing these, in this historical moment, African women’s studies also derived directly from activist engagement

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with the structures of unequal global and national power to create institutions and spaces for women’s empowerment and upliftment. These significant advances are critical to the aims of The Handbook of African Women’s Studies.

African Women’s Studies: Authors, Anthologies, and Asymmetries There is a considerable body of eminent scholarly works that have played key roles in building a field of African women’s studies. Many Africanist and African scholars on the continent, in the Diaspora and from the Global North, before us theorized the nature, importance, subjects, and direction for studies of African women and women in Africa. One example is the Women Writing Africa (WWA) series, a two-decadeslong continental project (Busia 2018) which Athambile Masola (▶ Chap. 68, “African Women’s Letters as Intellectual History and Decolonial Knowledge Production,” this volume) analyzes as a decolonial project restoring African women’s intellectual history. It was hailed as “a project of cultural reconstruction” (Wits University Press 2009), and as “indicative of a new African feminism” (Ryan 2007). The following statement from some of the authors of the Southern Africa volume exemplifies some of the core issues at stake in any contemporary project to write about African women. WWA aims at finding spoken and written texts that will teach the world about women by making audible their inaudibility, and by making visible their invisibility. It addresses itself to all those who do not know Africa and could not care less about it, but who will have to listen because Africa is going to be important in the 21st century; WWA addresses all those who think they know Africa but have not considered women; and it addresses women all over the world who do not know that they have a history and a culture. (Rasebotsa et al. 2001, p. 105)

From the conceptualization of WWA until now, in the design of the current Handbook, the issues have not abated. In fact, they have become more urgent. Marked by a plurality of perspectives, politics, methodologies, and epistemological approaches, African women’s studies before ours have contributed to the corpus that the chapters in this Handbook draw from and build upon. In putting together the framework for the current text, it was necessary to take stock of similar works that existed, their unique contributions, map out important points of departure, or simply of consolidation. Many major international academic publishers and presses have major texts on women, often encyclopedia or reference works, on women and women’s history. Among others, there are The Oxford Encyclopaedia of Women in World History (Smith 2008), Sage’s The Multimedia Encyclopaedia of Women in Today’s World (Stange et al. 2011), and the Routledge International Encyclopaedia of Women (Kramarae and Spender 2000). Our initial observation from the preliminary survey was how there were many such encyclopedias, anthologies, and edited works on women in a global context and how relatively few focused on African women in particular. For decades, women scholars have sought to insert African women’s

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history, both into African and world history generally and into women’s history specifically. For example, as the Organization of American Historians published authoritative texts in the 1970s and 1980s on US and European women’s histories, Cheryl Johnson-Odim and Margaret Strobel conceived of the “Restoring Women to History” project to specifically write the history of women from the Global South in four regions they defined: sub-Saharan Africa, Asia, Latin America and the Caribbean, and the Middle East and North Africa (Berger and White 1999). Other texts have since been published that have achieved similar objectives (see Walter et al. 2003; Davies and Ogundipe-Leslie 1995), as well as numerous journal articles. The main challenge that has persisted beyond these developments relates to hegemonic knowledge, the colonial library’s persistence, and the deficits in representation that exemplify these trends (see ▶ Chap. 4, “Decolonizing the Curriculum on African Women and Gender Studies,” this volume). When other texts do focus on African women, they usually either do not include African or Africa-based scholars as authors and contributors or only marginally do so, with a few exceptions (such as Tamale 2011; Tripp and Kwesiga 2002). Conversely, much of the knowledge being produced on the African continent is neither visible nor accepted in knowledge centers outside the continent, and indeed, even within Africa, as the colonial fixation persists in some places. Therefore, this knowledge does not shape those discourses or the field as they should. In other words, the scholarship of African women about their own contexts and experiences are often inferiorized, ignored, not cited, and yet is expected to acknowledge and inculcate the scholarship of their counterparts in the hegemonic Global North who write about Africa and have constituted themselves the “authorities” about Africa from their positions in the distant neocolonial metropole. These two sides of the same problem – lack of representation of African women in the majority of studies and the discrimination against research by African women themselves – signify a distinct lack of collaboration on the same terms between Western, Western-based, African, and Africa-based scholars of women’s studies. Of course, the distinctions made in this discussion do not assume that clear binaries exist between two clear-cut oppositional poles of knowledge production and dissemination or the scholars that populate these domains; the reality is that the lines get blurry, especially in considering the tremendous contributions of African diaspora women in the Global North to the literature that we refer to here. But the persistent trends reflect hegemonic patterns and broader asymmetries in global knowledge production that are not only academic but socioeconomic and political too. The implication of the scarcity of African authorship in African women’s studies is that, in almost a century of research on African women, beginning from the colonial commissions in the 1920s till date in the 2020s, African women’s stories are still being told largely by others, still using largely Western, colonial, and often racist frameworks, still being interpreted from these external standpoints, still being tailored to fit the needs and dictates of external bodies and external audiences, and still somewhat disconnected from the academic and policy progress and transformation of the continent. Cognizant of this state of affairs, it was pertinent that works in this Handbook privilege the imperative of contributing to decolonizing African women’s studies

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and deliberately subvert the trends outlined above. This was considered of paramount priority, in spite of the tremendous additional effort that this entailed, in order to produce a text based on mutual collaboration that neither marginalized African authors, sources, and concerns, nor completely excluded the West for its established wealth of knowledge, expertise, and academic contributions, where tenable.

Curating Themes: Outline of the Handbook African women’s studies have thrived in the last four decades or so, especially when the breadth of literature inculcates local and international sources, as well as orature, literary, visual, and other artistic and written sources. Major themes that have concerned feminist authors and writers of African women’s stories have closely mirrored those championed by African women’s activism in recent decades. To summarize an intense period of activity in women’s rights mobilization, certain themes are identifiable: increased political representation of women; the human rights of women; poverty and economic underdevelopment; violence against women; women in conflict and postconflict societies; local, global, and structural barriers to women’s empowerment (cf. Badri and Tripp 2017). This Handbook has sought to appropriately capacitate the major movements in the development of subjects of concern over the decades of feminist activism and the vast range of topics, themes, and sources in the field when elasticated beyond established formal sources of social-scientistic knowledge. Thus, the nine parts of this Handbook emanated from this effort and headline capacious subjects that examine different dimensions of African women’s lives, past, and present. These nine parts (of unequal length), moderated by subject-expert section editors, include Research and Knowledge Production on Women in Africa; African Women and Politics; African Women in Conflict and Peace; Women and Gender-Based Violence(GBV) in Africa; African Women and Development Processes; (Re)Writing African Women’s Histories; Women’s Movements in Africa; African Women, Culture, and Society; and African Women’s Creativity, Arts, and Performance.

Research and Knowledge Production on Women in Africa Much of this introductory chapter has focused on making a case for a decolonial, feminist and Africa-centric approach to the writing of African women’s lives and experiences. While all chapters and the overall Handbook framework foregrounded this consideration, two particular parts were purposely designed to interrogate the empirical and scholarly problems in researching women from this approach and show how this is done. Thus, while the part on “Research and Knowledge Production on Women in Africa,” which leads the first volume of this Handbook, interrogated epistemological, conceptual, philosophical, pedagogic, and political issues in research on African women, the part on “(Re)Writing African Women’s Histories,” which leads the second volume of the Handbook, demonstrated how this could be

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practically achieved by tackling the extant and established histories and knowledges, and rewriting these from a feminist, Africa-centric, and decolonial standpoint. The Handbook’s vanguard part on “Research and Knowledge Production on Women in Africa” provides a masterful analysis of theoretical issues in African women’s research, teaching, and epistemologies. This meta-theoretical part engages many of the epistemological debates raised in other parts and chapters of the Handbook that problematize the modes of knowledge production about African women and the implications for African women’s studies. The section is also prescriptive in parts, charting future directions for research, teaching, and knowledge about African women on the continent and in the Diaspora. One of the most persistent and yet unresolved disputations of African women’s studies is the distillation of the concept of feminism and its dis/contents in the African context. Especially since African women encountered transnational feminism in the United Nations Decades and Conferences on Women in the second half of the twentieth century, there has been no consensus on labels, with the politics of naming and ideology remaining rife. Divisions subsist about whether an “African feminism” exists, what would be considered “African” about an “African feminism,” whether African women can and should be “feminists,” what else to call the African experience of feminist politics and ideology, and the value-laden nature of the “feminist” label on the continent among different generations of African women and activists even till date. We, the editors of the Handbook, decided early on that it was impossible to speak of feminism in the singular in the African context given the variety of ideas that the concept speaks to, especially when considered from diverse perspectives rooted in historical experience and feminist praxis. In the chapter, “African Feminisms,” Simisola Dosekun takes us on a critical exploration of diverse theories and models that have relation to the conception, engaging a close reading of the major texts, scholars, and ideas that have constituted the debate, and the contradictions to be found in any attempts at resolution of the question. The contents and contestations in the curriculum and classroom in African women’s studies are the focus of Toyin Falola and Grace Idahosa. These authors argue that African women’s studies have been subject to the distortions of the colonial gaze and the colonial library and remain burdened by the politics of inequity and discrimination in global knowledge production that marginalizes African women’s contributions to scholarship about themselves and about other aspects of society. As Falola provides a detailed and critical historiography of the development of African women’s studies and its interrelation with transnational feminist activism and Diaspora and Black women’s studies, Idahosa enunciates the critical ingredients of what a decolonized women and gender studies curriculum in Africa would look like. The positioning of the field as a tool for decolonizing African studies is foregrounded in both chapters as well as its potentials in the march towards Africa’s emancipation and transformation. One of the important ways African peoples’ contributions have been marginalized in the global scheme of affairs is in the simultaneous denigration and appropriation of their indigenous knowledge in the international academy and economy. Indigenous knowledge systems are products of a people’s interaction and

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experiences with their particular environment, and relate to their cultures, attitudes, skills, knowledge, and, being organic, are critical to their survival in that environment. The negotiation and transformation of African indigenous knowledge systems by the colonial and postcolonial conditions of African and African diaspora societies are addressed by the next three chapters of the Handbook. Gloria Emeagwali conceives African indigenous knowledges (AIK) as an epistemological tool for understanding, articulating, and analyzing the African past and present. Chika Ezeanya Esiobu establishes the importance of African women to the transmission and conservation of AIK, especially in an age of rapid urbanization and rural-urban migration. Esiobu carefully lays out the critical role of women in the domains of indigenous technologies, indigenous medicine, indigenous agricultural systems, indigenous pedagogies and early childhood education, and the conservation of biodiversity. While lauding the potentiality of AIK for the decolonization of the knowledge industry and for promoting gender equity, the empowerment of women, and even nation-building, Emeagwali admonishes that indigenous ideologies, institutions, and practices that act as barriers to women’s empowerment need to be demolished as well. Jamaine M. Abidogun’s chapter interrogates the gendered knowledge construction and identity formation in three African contexts resulting from the interaction between Western (Anglophone) and African indigenous education systems. Important theoretical considerations are next advanced. For several decades, the development discourse and the tension between culture and human rights in African women studies have been dominant in analyses by academics, policymakers, international institutions, and donor agencies alike. These theoretical debates subsist and are still widely deployed by scholars, provoking exploration of their neologics and contemporary application. Nana Akua Anyidoho provides a theoretical review of the women, gender, and development discourse and its permutations over time and evaluates how gender ideologies and myths, the gendered division of labor, and unequal power relationships impact African development. In their chapter on feminist legal theory, human rights, and culture in Africa, L. Amede Obiora employs feminist legal theory (FLT) in an analysis of how the persistent tension between human rights–based and culture-based arguments in international law and national legal systems have severely constrained the expansion of African women’s rights, and how legal scholars question the legitimacy, coherence, and cultural validity of human rights. Nonetheless, Obiora triumphally declares Africa’s global leadership even on overcoming this tension. The chapter juxtaposes the success of the Maputo Protocol, the African treaty with the most consensus and the least reservations of any human rights treaty, against the fate of the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW), the global treaty with the highest number of reservations to it in the whole world, with most of the reservations being culturalist. Extending the discussion, Edith Phaswana, in their chapter on the intersections of race, class, and gender in contemporary South Africa, marshals longitudinal data to interrogate and ultimately laments the nation’s stalled promise. Obiora does observe that South Africa was the only country on the African continent

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to initially enter reservations to the Maputo protocol on the unique basis of its national laws being superior in their comprehensive protection of women’s rights and freedoms – rather than on cultural premises, as with others. Drawing on decolonial feminism and intersectionality theory, Phaswana warns against changes and continuities in South Africa that threaten to perpetuate the ignominious legacies of apartheid for Black, poor, and female South Africans even more than 75 years after the transition to democracy. In closing this important part of the Handbook, Hibist Kassa draws together insights from the work of African feminists, which engage key ontological, epistemological, and methodological debates in African women’s studies, and advances historicization, contextualization, and decolonization as necessary processes of ethical reconstruction in knowledge production about Africa.

African Women and Politics The multifaceted realm of politics has historically been the ultimate platform and common graveyard for African women’s aspirations, protection, and leadership. A feminist approach to politics advocates collapsing the artificial public/private binary to enable the interrogation of the politics of the personal, and the personal in the political. While this is achieved in more than one section of this Handbook, in this part on African Women and Politics, women’s personal and public experiences with formal and informal political processes, policies, and institutions are dynamically explored and analyzed. Ramola Ramtohul provides an overview of key statistics, themes, and trends in women’s political presence in national institutions, their political activism, and the constant restraining power of patriarchy and patronage. As political parties are the primary vehicle for selecting and electing political leadership in most countries of the world, Antonia Taiye Okoosi-Simbine and Ndifon Neji Obi situate political participation of African women within the structural and patriarchal constraints that political parties present, making them both platforms and obstacles to women’s involvement in politics in Africa. Separate but similar logics propel women’s representation in other key institutions of government – the legislature, executive, judiciary, local government, and the military. In all instances, though to varying degrees, African women’s numeric participation or descriptive representation is abysmally low in the political institutions mentioned, and both the explanations and solutions all implicate similar factors and forces at work, including structural and personal, macro- and microlevel variables. Gretchen Bauer marshals empirical data and theoretical literature to explain the progress in African women’s descriptive and substantive representation in African parliaments relative to other world regions and the promise that this holds for more democratic political systems and spaces in the future, if the gains are sustained. While literature abounds on women in African parliaments, research on women in the judiciary and African women judges is only beginning to take off with recent scholarly interventions. The chapter by J. Jarpa Dawuni hereby deploys a new “matri-legal feminism” framework to situate African women judges historically and

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contextually within national legal systems and societal gender structures. In identifying which women are on the judicial bench, how they got there, assessing their substantive representation of women’s interests, and the challenges they face at the intersections of gender, class, and professional hierarchies, Dawuni’s chapter succeeds in gendering knowledge on the subject to mitigate its predominantly androcentric focus towards transforming legal research on African women. As African women’s participation in the leadership of the executive branch has been the lowest of all three arms of government, Oluyemi O. Fayomi and associates found that addressing relevant political, socioeconomic, and gender dynamics we already found in the analysis of women’s participation in parliament and the judiciary would also improve Africa’s performance on this metric. While local government administration seems ideal for women’s participation as they are better able to fulfill their normative gender roles and at the same time participate in policymaking and implementation on issues that are deemed as traditionally women’s interests, in most African countries, women in local government administration are scarce, and when found there, occupy the lowest positions, inform Nana Akua Amponsah and Janet Serwah Boateng. But perhaps the state sector that is most closed to gender equality is the security and defense services sector. Here, women are not only very poorly represented by discriminatory recruitment, promotion, retention, and leadership appointment processes, but also it is one in which, as Omotola Adeyoju Ilesanmi explains, security sector reform is persistently resistant to gender mainstreaming, gender equality, and gender transformation initiatives due to entrenched masculinist traditions and cultures that define these institutions to the exclusion of the feminine gender in all its forms. In remedying the above-entrenched and institutionalized political discriminations against women, scholars and activists advocate implementing policies to enable gender equality and equity practices and mechanisms to encourage the participation of women, elevate them to leadership, and broaden their substantive impact on the political process positively. This has led to the extensive adoption of gender equality policies across the continent, but Kara Ellerby found that these policies have not enjoyed commensurate success. Ellerby’s chapter argues that this has been the case, especially concerning the representation of women in parliament, women’s economic status, and the incidence of male violence against women, mainly due to significantly lower implementation and the persistence of informal practices and politics that scuttle the objectives of these policies. Most gender equality policies end up merely adding women to stir, leaving gendered political institutions in place and thereby sabotaging social transformation for women. Adebusola Okedele’s chapter on quotas and affirmative action policies reinforces this argument by analyzing resistance to the adoption of quotas in many African countries and the lacking evidence that increased descriptive representation in other places durably transforms social and gender inequities. The rights of other minoritized groups, along with women’s rights to equal political participation and representation, in this case, LGBTQI+ rights in Africa, are contested and resisted in almost every African country. Zethu Matebeni posits that homophobia in Africa was introduced by colonialism, the trans-Saharan slave

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trade, and the incursion of Islam and Christianity into the continent, affecting not only sexual and gender identities but also the very notion of human rights itself. Expanding the discussion to North Africa, Zahia Smail Salhi traces how women’s activism in that region was strategically conducted around the adoption of family codes as a gateway to accessing the fullness of their citizenship rights in contexts that were restrictive to various extents. For African islands that host up to 30 million people cumulatively, there are varying trends in women’s representation, opportunities, socioeconomic dynamics, and enjoyment of their rights and dignity. While citing limited progress in African island nations such as Cabo Verde and Seychelles, Aleida Borges shows that despite the relative stability and prosperity that some islands have experienced, women, for the most part, have not been able to achieve full rights and representation. In a summative closing chapter, Aili Tripp collates and analyzes enormous comparative data and synthesizes the various explanations advanced in the literature to derive and posit new trends in African women’s representation in politics. Placing these within an international context of decline in major conflicts, political liberalization, the influence of women’s movements, and external norms that reward women’s numeric inclusion, Tripp asserts that extant explanations are inadequate as regional and subregional variations need to be accounted for in Africa.

African Women in Conflict and Peace One of the African continent’s signal features in the postindependence era has been the proliferation of armed conflict between and especially within states, spurred by both internal and international factors. The masculinist nature of political violence has tended to overshadow women’s manifest presence and involvement in these wars, the focus of the present part of this Handbook. Section editor Oluwatoyin O. Oluwaniyi flags off the part by tackling the mentioned tendency of scholarship on armed conflict to be gender-blind, to diminish the involvement of women in a wide array of nontraditional gender roles during war, to overlook women’s symbolic presences as cultural bearers of national identity, as well as fail to interrogate the continuing impact of these experiences beyond the period-gates of conflict and postconflict. Siphokazi Magadla demonstrates in a stinging critique of extant literature that the major continuity in studies of war and war-making is the denial of women’s involvement and contributions to combat in wars ranging from the anticolonial wars of liberation to contemporary terrorist conflicts. This elision arises from the artificial binaries of the public/private, civilian/military, girl/woman, and combatant/noncombatant divisions that are not gender-neutral but have become normalized in policy and scholarship over time. Refugee and displaced women are also theorized in Olajumoke Yacob-Haliso’s chapter as gendered beings whose experiences beyond victimhood are shaped by their personal intersectionalities and the structural violence that precedes, permeates, and continues even after war, from a continuum-of-violence perspective. Like Magadla, Margaret Gonzalez-Perez spotlights the absence of women as perpetrators and combatants, this time particularly in

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terrorist groups, glancing back to the Mau Mau of Kenya and forward to the contemporary use of women as suicide bombers in the Boko Haram conflict in West Africa. For their part, Helen Odunola Adekoya and Mary Leka Beredam further scrutinize how women victims of terrorist groups, in this case the unfortunately famous Chibok and Dapchi abductees of Boko Haram, are framed in media discourses which ultimately further deepen their misfortune. As African women tend to be erased in the annals of agential participation in conflict, they are rarely included in the narratives of peacemaking, peacebuilding, and postconflict reconstruction. Adeola Aderayo Adebajo describes the range of roles that women take on throughout the processes of peacemaking and laments the constraints that limit their inclusion at decision-making levels. In particular, Tanya Ansahta Garnett spotlights the patriarchy embedded in neoliberal peacebuilding models adopted in postconflict contexts as limiting the potentials of women for structural and impactful social change in conflict resolution processes and peacebuilding in many African countries. The often-ignored necessity of designing pedagogic and education systems to counter the ravages of war in the postconflict period preoccupies Funmilayo Idowu Agbaje, whose chapter advocates a thorough reconstruction of the education systems of postwar nations to recognize and utilize women’s expertise and skills in both formal and informal peace education efforts. Pamela Machakanja buttresses Agbaje’s essay with an in-depth analysis of case studies from across the continent that demonstrate the possibilities, achievements, challenges, and limitations of peace education systems in several postconflict countries. Continuing on this theme but from a slightly different angle, Esther Mojisola Beckley brings to relief the especial neglect of education programs for girls and women who are ex-combatants due to the male-focused nature of most disarmament, demobilization, and reintegration (DDR) programs. This has resulted in long-lasting debilities for the women and girls whose psychosocial needs have not been appropriately anticipated, planned, and implemented. In their respective chapters, Pamela Machakanja and Chupicai Manuel analyze the varying approaches towards gender justice in transitional justice programs in Liberia, Sierra Leone, and Rwanda, while Olajumoke Yacob-Haliso and Omonye Omoigberaile provide a comparative discussion of the nature of violence experienced by women in conflict and the restorative remedies available in Africa and Latin America. The impact of conflict-related sexual violence (CRSV) on women in African conflicts is analyzed by Akissi Metonou in her chapter which situates this pervasive harm within global trends and proposes a restorative reparations transitional justice paradigm as remedy. Recognizing the pivotal role of intergovernmental organizations in Africa’s conflict resolution processes, Damilola Taiye Agbalajobi interrogates the role of the United Nations in promoting the nexus between peace, security, and governance for African women. Omotola Ilesanmi’s closing chapter draws together the insights from women’s multifaceted roles in conflict and peace processes in evaluating the successes, challenges, and impact of the landmark UN Security Council Resolution 1325 (UNSCR 1325) on women, peace, and security.

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Women and Gender-Based Violence (GBV) in Africa Violence against women was early on the agenda of African women’s activism, and it was African women who foregrounded it on the international agenda as they theorized the violence that had become endemic in their various societies in the postcolonial period. Indeed, the WHO (2012) indicates that women and girls in Africa experience some of the highest levels of intimate partner violence and sexual violence in the world, a situation since compounded by the Covid-19 pandemic during which UN women has warned of GBV as a “shadow pandemic” (UN Women 2020). Chapters in this part take pains to define and expound the dynamics of the phenomenon and assess the responses of various actors to it. Starting with North Africa, Loubna H. Skalli contends that North African states, “with rare exception” have a “high tolerance” for violence against women as, despite being signatories to major international human rights treaties, and despite the determined efforts of the women’s movement there, significant legal obstacles and lack of political will remain to obstruct its mitigation. Zeroing in on sexual offenses, in particular, Lillian Artz and Shelley D’Cruz provide a majestic overview of their range, dimensions, definitions, problematics, and solutions to bridge gaps in scholarship, policy, and practical interventions. In the chapter by Lefatshe Anna Moagi and Azwihangwisi H. Mavhandu-Mudzusi, the disproportionate violence experienced by LGBTQI+ persons in Africa, occasioned by rampant homophobia, stigma, and discrimination, is addressed. They also spotlight the relative silence on the issue in African gender studies as scholars seeking to escape stigma avoid the study of LGBTQI+ issues, leaving the subject to only a few determined activist-scholars. The concept of “safe spaces” is deconstructed with empirical evidence concerning violence against girls in Africa as Arit Oku analyzes girlhood in Africa and societal sources of violence against girls. Oghoadena C. Osezua and Aimiulimhe E. Edobor characterize female genital mutilation/cutting as a product of patriarchal contestation and control of female bodies and women’s sexuality and the policies that may be addressed to this. In African prisons, women face additionally complex structures that impose everyday violence on them. Abidemi Fasanmi argues that the ideologies of confinement, correction, and punishment upon which prisons are instituted are gendered and have an inimical and lasting impact on female prisoners’ mental health – even beyond the prison time. Fasanmi more so connects the larger social context to the immediate context of imprisonment by linking the construction of womanhood in many African societies to the causes of incarceration, women’s particular experiences in the prison system, and to the lasting and devastating physical, health, economic, and social consequences of incarceration for women. Franca Attoh weaves together the multiple and complex international, local, and personal factors that enable, sustain, and exacerbate trafficking of African women and their involvement in forced prostitution. Asymmetries in the international political and economic order, globalization, and the rise of non-state actors such as terrorist groups and sophisticated human smuggling rings have facilitated the trafficking of women from various parts of Africa to North Africa, the Middle East, and the Global North. A variety of non-state actors implicated as perpetrators of gender-based violence are

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analyzed in the chapter by Maryam Omolara Quadri and their embeddedness within family, communal, and societal structures that complicate efforts to eliminate the violence that women in these social spaces face. Moving the discussion forward, Taiwo M. Williams cumulates in their chapter the multidimensional health impacts of the multiple forms of gender-based violence discussed in preceding chapters, including various physical injuries, substance abuse, depression and mental health problems, and death. All the chapters in this part, one way or the other, ruminate on designing appropriate responses to gender-based violence, which disproportionately affects women, girls, and LGBTQI+ persons in Africa. The question of the different roles to be played by state and non-state actors, and the complicating influence of conservative social forces such as culture and religion make the discussion difficult to resolve. Using cultural embeddedness theories, Damaris S. Parsitau and Ruth A. Aura conduct a critical analysis of diverse kinds of interventions that have been attempted for dealing with female genital cutting, one of the most contentious forms of gender-based violence in Africa. The innovative but controversial Alternative Rights of Passage (ARPs) implemented in many parts of Kenya is found to have had only moderate success as it has had unintended effects, leading to pushbacks. The chapter by Peace Medie, which closes this part, provides a historical and thematic overview of the diversity of state responses across the continent and non-state actions against gender-based violence. While states have responded to pressure from women’s rights advocates and international organizations by adopting laws, creating policies, and institutions, the response has been very uneven and inconsistent, and the implementation of these initiatives has been severely wanting, almost across the board.

African Women and Development Processes Having introduced the centrality of development discourse to African women’s studies in the opening chapters of this Handbook, this part conducts an in-depth examination of African women’s productive engagement in diverse economic activities and sectors and unearthing their invaluable and unaccounted-for contributions to development on the continent. Lyn Ossome, Agnes Atia Apusigah, and Florence Naah Bamora confront the foundational premises on which African women’s work and contributions are transposed. Ossome decries the “modernist vulgarisms” that impose Euro-Western, capitalist modernity on assessments of African women’s economic life and the “vulgar dichotomy” that separates “formal” from “informal” work in a context in which intersecting structures and identities make it difficult to quantify or qualify women’s work in such terms. Employing a social reproduction framework, this chapter thus aimed to “write a feminist history of women’s labor in Africa that takes seriously both the existing conditions of labor and the structural legacies which determine those conditions.” Ossome cites colonial accumulation and liberal capitalism as the basis for the feminization of unvalued work and the social inequalities and exploitation that is characteristic of African societies today.

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Apusigah and Bamora also critique the tendency to set up artificial binaries and dualities in studying African women and further demonstrate that African women living in rural areas have been mis/understood, mis/appropriated, marginalized, and erroneously framed as problems and a challenge to Africa’s socioeconomic progress in development discourses. Having established the basis for analyzing women’s economic activities about their labor and the narratives about them, the next set of chapters explore African women’s ownership of, and access to, other productive resources, broadly defined to include land, capital, entrepreneurship, education, technology, and ICTs. Patience Munge Sone informs us that in much of Africa, women only have access to land use and not control of land, even though women use land more for family and communal benefit than others. Land laws tend to be gender-neutral, thereby reinforcing discrimination, and in most places, it is customary rather than statutory laws that dominate practice, thereby entrenching women’s disadvantages and robbing them of land rights. As land is central to agricultural productivity in Africa, Manase Kudzai Chiweshe and Sandra Bhatasara locate African women in the spectrum of agricultural policy and practice, from land access to labor, policy, decision-making, livestock, and horticulture. They find similarly as Patience Sone that almost across board, patriarchal agricultural systems greatly marginalize and exclude women from the economically lucrative parts of the agricultural value chain. Moving to women’s entrepreneurship, Adaugo Pamela Nwakanma indicates that with Africa having one of the highest women entrepreneurship rates globally, it is deplorable that Africa-led development and empowerment initiatives are often ignored in development practices. Consequently, this chapter sets about spotlighting the work of development initiatives led by African women for African women who are changing the narrative. This part of the Handbook explores other sectors that impact African development trajectories. Grace Ese-osa Idahosa emphasizes the scant attention paid to women’s representation and inclusion in University leadership and management and distils some of the critical trends, contestation, and gaps in the research to provide insight on policies, processes, and practices that could ensure women’s ascension to senior leadership positions in African Universities. Engaging technology as having enormous potential for the empowerment and emancipation of African women, Olivia A. T. Frimpong Kwapong examines the position of women in the development, deployment, and utilization of technology broadly defined and suggests the need to bring to relief their ground-breaking contributions as not just users, but developers of technologies and ICTs. Empowerment, as a buzzword of development practice in the developing world, is carefully unpacked next. The complex relationship between gender, poverty, and empowerment is considered in the chapter by Bernadette Mukhwana Wanjala. Conceptualized as the “feminisation of poverty,” the interplay of gender and poverty shows women’s extreme vulnerability due to unpaid and lower-paid work, fewer assets, and productive resources than men, and enhances the need for restoring women’s rights and defining gender equality in terms of economic empowerment and women’s meaningful participation in economic decision-making at all levels. Ngozi Nwogwugwu argues that the higher the level of women’s economic

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empowerment and education, the better they can take life-saving decisions regarding their own health and well-being and participate in decision-making on health policy targeting and improving women’s health issues and services. Amaka Theresa Emordi explains how women’s exclusion from planning and implementing externally imposed development policies has perpetuated their disadvantages and contributed to their disempowerment. Ngozi Nwogwugwu identifies the potential for women to be most affected by climate change impact as they predominate in the agriculture, health, and environmental sectors, with negative implications for the attainment of sustainable development as in the SDGs by 2030. Ultimately, countries must seriously effect and implement gender-budgeting initiatives to begin to institute equitable gender relations locally and nationally, to enhance development, says Oluwabunmi Adejumo. Adopting a long historical view, the remaining chapters in this part explore the centrality and vitality of African women’s migration to economic empowerment and development in Africa. In a chapter that addresses recent media reports about “waves” of migration through North Africa to Europe and elsewhere, Souad Belhorma traces the migration of women into and out of North Africa both as a sending and receiving region for migrants and the impact of these migratory movements on gender role change for the region and peoples involved. Felicia Esinam Pufaa and Agnes Atia Apusigah further elaborate on the emerging concept of the “feminization of migration,” the push and pull factors creating this process, women’s experiences of violence and discrimination, their contributions through remittances, and the dire need for more gender-disaggregated data as well as policy monitoring and evaluation. For African diaspora women, Oluyemi O. Fayomi et al. explain that it is the interplay of global structural economic relations, social identities, and cultural relations that produces a particular politics for African diaspora women who embody these complexities in their relations to the development of their natal countries. What better way to close this part than with Akosua Darkwah’s explication of the shifts in the academic and policy discourse from “development” to “globalization.” The involvement, impact, and agency of African women in “globalization from below,” conducted through social networks that evolve through time and space as they crisscross intra-regional and inter-regional borders as traders, are the basis for this interrogation.

(Re)Writing African Women’s Histories The second volume of this Handbook opens with this part on histories whose sole purpose is to question, challenge, and deconstruct the established, malestream histories of African societies with a reformulation of those stories and a foregrounding of African women’s experiences and knowledges, their herstories, in these records, for posterity. The first section of the part partitions the stories geographically and temporally, employing, though not necessarily endorsing, a periodization that recognizes the impact of the colonial situation; while the second section of the part is devoted to a critical analysis of the major themes and challenges

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that emerge from the effort of rewriting African women’s, and indeed, all of African history from a gender perspective. The two leading chapters by Christine Saidi adopt a longue durée, comprehensive, state-of-the-art, and multidisciplinary approach to writing the history of African societies, situated on the foundational fact of Africa as the cradle of all humankind. Covering the period from origins to 800 CE, with the second chapter extending up to 1900, these two chapters call into question long-standing understandings of gender roles, gender relations, gender concepts, and the gendered history of humankind, and of African societies from Egypt to Axum to Bantu land extending from West to East, to Central, and Southern Africa. Engaging the latest genetic, linguistic, and archaeological research, Saidi advances the “grandmother hypothesis,” matrilineal clans and worldviews, woman leaders, gender equity, and motherhood as persistent characteristics of these societies, thereby subverting a unilinear thesis of patriarchal authority on the continent. The rise of Islam would significantly alter African gender dynamics, as would the integration of the Western and Eastern coasts by Islamic trading routes from around 700 CE, and eventually the Atlantic Slave Trade and colonialism. Much remains unknown about women’s full-length experience in the transatlantic slave trade as there is a dearth of sources, and none akin to Olaudah Equiano’s narrative of his capture and enslavement, observes Nemata Blyden. In the chapter on women’s involvement in the transatlantic slave trade, Blyden not only pieces together scarcely available evidence to reconstruct the history of enslaved African women but also explains how gender affected their experience, resistance, and the transformation that the trade wrought on their lives and futures. In the description of precolonial East Africa, Nakanyike B. Musisi also draws on recent innovative scholarship in multiple disciplines, including historical linguistics, to construct a longue durée view of how ecology, trade, war, violence, calamities, institutions of monarchy, motherhood, and spirituality impacted the lives of ordinary and elite women, and how they, in turn, shaped those forces through innovation and contestation. Cyrelene Amoah-Boampong and Cristabel Agyeiwaa assert women’s heterogeneity in precolonial West Africa, from Asante to Mali to Zazzau, whose dynamic and diverse roles in various spheres transformed their societies. Contrary to the gender oppression school of historical analysis, Anna Lefatshe Moagi and Butholezwe Mtombeni contend that Southern African women in the precolonial period featured in important roles in production, politics, and religion were independent, controlled their bodies, owned their labor. and determined their destinies. Colonialism would greatly alter these trajectories across the continent, as much scholarship from across the postcolonial world has demonstrated. According to Zahia Smail Salhi and Meriem Bougherira, North African women had to engage two colonial onslaughts – the Arabic/Islamic incursions of the seventh century CE and European colonialism of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. While they were indeed abused and exploited under these colonialisms, they became agents of revolutionary change, from Algeria to Morocco to Tunisia and Egypt, subverting the stereotype of the passive, submissive North African woman. Similarly, Butholezwe Mtombeni blames the colonial library for wrongly constructing Southern African women as helpless and powerless victims of patriarchal precolonial

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societies, passive participants in colonialism, and domesticated subjects. East African women, who had voice, rights, and respect in their societies, had these challenged by the colonial economy’s transformations and political space, explain Susan Mbula Kilonzo and Jethron Ayumbah Akallah. For West African women, colonialism unleashed their dynamic strength against oppression in their famed fierce resistance to colonial rule and their effective nationalist mobilization, according to Gift Ntiwunka and Chibuzor Ayodele Nwaodike. In two refractive chapters, Toyin Falola interrogates the wide-ranging themes above as portrayed in the scholarly literature on Nigerian women in politics, the economy, education, and literary works to demonstrate their agency in historical terms, their significant loss of status over time with the colonial onslaught, women’s determined resistance throughout, and the lasting significances. In a regionally comparative and summative chapter, Oluwakemi Abiodun Adesina parses the contexts and relative impact of colonialism and women’s multifaceted encounters and responses to the ideas of empire, public life, social, and economic change, anti-colonial struggles, and armed resistance. The remaining chapters in this part are devoted to examining overarching themes from the writing of African women’s history and to historiographic and critical evaluation of the scholarship on this. In their articulation of the concept of the Bantu Matrilineal Belt, Christine Saidi, Catherine Cymone Fourshey, and Rhonda M. Gonzalez describe an area of the continent covering up to two-thirds of sub-Saharan Africa made up of people who speak approximately 450 Bantu languages, in a geographical space stretching from Southern Cameroon to South Africa and far east across Central and Eastern Africa and as far north as Somalia. This region has the most communities operating matrilineal principles than any in the world. It is in this context that Saidi et al. prove that biological sex alone was not a means of deciding who could make decisions or wield authority and “power and authority are not inherently mono-gendered, but rather they unfold and are expressed in multiple sites within any given society.” Thus, rather than hierarchies, they propose heterarchy, that is, multivalent, multi-sited, complementary, competing, and overlapping centers of authority; cosmic families as a representation of social and political power; and lifestages “as transformational processes that shape access to authority and status in a Bantu historical context” (emphasis in original). The implication of this is that, historically, large parts of Africa operated nonpatriarchal, nonhierarchical, decentralized authority systems – a rewriting of the history that fundamentally changes how we think about traditional and contemporary Africa. Funmilayo Idowu Agbaje offers a critical history of colonialism and gender as complex social processes that, in their interaction, produced the altered gender roles, gender identification, and gender stratification in the postcolonial situation. Using feminist international relations scholarship and an assortment of historical sources, Yolande Bouka critiques the androcentrism in much of the literature within African studies on anti-colonial resistance, which erases women’s contributions, while the colonial encounter itself defined which spaces of nationalist contestation were taken seriously and not, thereby minimizing women’s involvement. Positionality is the lens through which Athambile Masola dissects four

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letters from four women from different historical decades and different parts of Africa – Egypt, Botswana, Sierra Leone, and Uganda. In doing this, Masola deftly interprets these letters as decolonial sources of knowledge production as the epistolary form was traditionally used by women to subvert their marginalization in public discourse. In the closing chapter of this part of the Handbook, Egodi Uchendu and Zara Emmanuel Kwaghe sum up by highlighting the myriad practical, linguistic, structural, cultural, and political constraints on the production of African women’s histories, and as they rightly conclude, these deficiencies ultimately lead to the distortion of African history in its entirety.

Women’s Movements in Africa At the heart of the momentum for the emancipation of African women, the decolonization of the knowledge corpus about them and the advancement of women’s interests on the social, political, and economic fronts are the vigorous work of activist women and (sometimes) men who articulated the issues, confronted the authorities, marched and rallied, and organized and mobilized for change. In this part, we pay homage to the work of generations of women in movements across Africa over time, their triumphs and successes, and the evaluation of progress on the issues they fought for. Beginning in North Africa, Moha Ennaji frames the intertwined forms of oppression that women in Algeria, Egypt, Morocco, and Tunisia encounter within an intersectionality framework and analyzes the impact of the women’s movement from a social movement and countermovement theoretical perspective. Three dominant types of women’s movements have been historically influential in this region – secular feminism, which adopts Western feminist views while retaining cultural authenticity; Islamic revivalist feminism, which advocates gender equality and social justice within an Islamic framework; and state feminism which entails the government’s official policy for improving the conditions of women. Ennaji argues that while feminist movements have been powerful in advancing women’s rights in North Africa, they have been constrained by the political Islam countermovement, a dynamic that has shaped the comparative impact of the women’s movement on the political environment, as well as vice versa. At the dawn of the Arab Spring protests in North Africa from 2011, women’s movements in five North African countries (above including Libya) were at different stages of development and influence, and this greatly affected both the nature of the protests and the outcomes in terms of women’s rights, participation, and empowerment, assert Valentine M. Moghadam and Alice Verticelli. This chapter extends the discussion to recognize the increased volume of refugee and migrant voyages into the region, including many women desperate to reach Europe, and examines women’s movements and “women on the move” in connection with the uprisings and their consequences. Recognizing the large-scale customary deprivation of women’s rights to ownership of land in Africa, Tsehai Berhane-Selassie employs three case studies from Western and Eastern Africa to both show grassroots women as repositories of specialist agricultural knowledge,

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which is vital to productivity and sustainability, and how linking their innovative strategies and organizing efforts to state policies and laws can be useful in this regard. On their part, Robin L. Turner reviews contemporary women’s and land rights movements’ struggles for land and property rights in Africa, drawing on case studies to show the efforts to increase women’s access to and control of land and property, barriers to equitable land distribution, land and legal reforms, and also documents the role of women in gradually propelling a shift to more genderequitable practices in many places. One commonality shared across Africa is the illegality, stigmatization, and public rejection of LGBTQI+ persons and homosexuality. In the broad coverage of the hard struggle for LGBTQI+ rights in Africa, section editor Anene Ejikeme notes that more than half of all African countries have laws on the books that criminalize homosexual activity, with penalties ranging from a maximum of 14 years in prison in Kenya, if convicted, to a minimum of 30 years in Malawi. Ejikeme unearths, documents, and appraises the work of various organizations, and some individuals too, working to promote full citizenship and legal rights for LGBTQI+ persons in all the African subregions. Khanyile Mlotshwa helps us to discover patterns of subalternity in women’s representation historically in political movements and in the record of these. The largely unexplored role of African diaspora women is the focus of the chapter by Amanda Coffie. Coffie recognizes the contextual specificity of women’s struggles on the continent but makes the important link between these and major continental struggles such as independence, democratization, and sustainable livelihood. On their part, Diaspora women’s direct engagement with women’s struggles in Africa has been limited, though they have engaged in struggles with broader objectives. Altogether their discernible involvement has been beneficial for African women’s movements. International organizations have long been involved in shaping African women’s lives one way or the other, and the United Nations since its founding has been especially at the forefront in advancing women’s lives, referred to by Margaret Snyder, pioneer head of UNIFEM, as the “godmother” of the transnational women’s movement. Although Adebusola Okedele notes the UN’s impact, especially in supporting African women’s activism for governments to adopt goals, standards, and legislation, the chapter carefully enters the caveat that African women’s movements have not been solely dependent on the UN to achieve their objectives. In light of this, it is fitting that the closing chapter in this part on African women’s movements returns the focus to their agency, autonomy, doggedness, and impact, as well analyzed by Melinda Adams’ chapter, which examines their engagement with the African Union. This chapter foregrounds African women’s critical role in shaping the transition from the OAU to the AU, calling for genderbalanced organizational leadership structures within the institution, advocating for gender equity policies, and lobbying for the adoption, ratification, and implementation of women’s rights legislation. In this way, African women’s movements, while continuing their work with national governments to ensure implementation of regionally set targets, have successfully shaped the character, impact, and very existence of the African Union.

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African Women, Culture, and Society In this expansive part, the chapters analyze the multisided faces and impacts of culture, social structures, institutions, and processes on women’s lives in Africa. It covers topics in traditional leadership; women, religion, and spirituality; marriage and family; marginalized and minoritized identities; health; education; migration; and the future. By engaging cultural issues head-on, this part of the Handbook deconstructs the premises by which African cultures are wholesale considered static, backward, and detrimental, and restores women to visibility and agency in the (re) writing of cultural and social issues in Africa. Women’s leadership in traditional African societies is surveyed in Lynda R. Day’s chapter, which makes the point signposted above that “traditional governance” are local forms of political organization which were created by Africans in specific historical times and places and which predated colonialism, are still revered and contested, and have never been static. In this milieu, women leaders in all parts of the continent existed, holding significant political power based on the complementarity of gender roles and status, deriving public authority often from spiritual authority, playing leadership roles in kinship groups, and by virtue of motherhood status, and as critical economic actors. The next few chapters explore African women’s interactions with formal and personal religions and spiritualities. Fatima Sadiqi situates women in North Africa within the intersection of Islam and the state from the premodern era to the postmodern era, with Islam specifically defined as fiqh, or “legal Islam” or “Islamic jurisprudence,” in contradistinction to “shari’a,” which is spiritual Islam, the totality of moral and ethical values that derive from Islam’s sacred texts. The intersection of Islam and the state imposed a system of belief that encompassed political, socioeconomic, moral, spiritual, and intellectual life, thereby institutionalizing a set of patriarchal rules such as gender segregation, veiling, and polygamy that placed women in a subordinate status in society. This state of affairs was entrenched by legal Islam, in particular, family codes, but over time, women’s movements have challenged the monopoly of legal Islam and demanded reforms. In a contrary fashion, the legal scholar, Hauwa Ibrahim, contends that womanism is a core value in Islamic legal texts and in Shari’a, and these are interconnected with human rights. In their essay, Khatija Bibi Khan advances the discussion by employing a literary analysis of the work of the self-confessed “creative dissident,” Nawal El Saadawi, in the African literary tradition of viewing the novel as a cultural and creative narrative invested with moral authority. Khan observes that El Saadawi’s novel, Zeina, depicts how Arab subaltern women from different class backgrounds encounter the patriarchy and fundamentalist oppression in their society. The chapter considers the female characters and the traditional Islamic religions in the novel as ambiguous, reflecting how human female subjectivities, especially in the Arab world, portray, perform, and change in unexpected ways. Preceding parts discussing the entry of colonialism into Africa have already shown how the encounter with Christianity was one of the forces that altered African gender relations, like Islam discussed above, but in its own way. The chapter by Sunday Didam Audu and Emmanuel Orihentare Eregare examines the role, status,

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and contributions of women to the formation of the church, beginning in North Africa and Egypt and extending throughout Africa, and describe the forces that led to the relegation of women’s positions and the establishment of male dominance in both theology and mission as time passed. The rise of African indigenous churches and the Pentecostal movement has done a lot to propel women to the forefront of this religion yet again, and in particular, the chapter recognizes the important role played by African women theologians and intellectuals in contemporary times. Nonetheless, Itohan Mercy Idumwonyi and Osamamen Oba Eduviere make the observation in their chapter on African Traditional Religions (ATR) that ATR, like the Abrahamic religions of Islam and Christianity, ascribes its male members cultural and religious power because of its predominant image of a male supreme being, never mind the existence of goddesses in the pantheons. Indeed, women perform religious duties as diviners, herbal doctors, priestesses, mystics, and spirit possession, but the masculinization prevalent in ATR impacts gender relations, and symbols, myths, and culture have tended to repress women’s status within ATR. In their chapter on African women’s spiritualities, Oluwatoyin Vincent Adepoju analyze the positive values in the intersection of ancient conceptions of spirituality and female biology, and examine the philosophical and spiritual significance of the African cosmologies in the religious practice of five women, namely Susanne Wenger, Ayele Kumari, Bello Olarinmoye, Tiara Kristine, and Nyornuwofia Agorsor. Exploring religious actors’ relevance to the practical matter of violence against women and girls, Damaris S. Parsitau and Ruth A. Aura define the contradictions inherent therein. The fact is that while well positioned to make a difference towards the mitigation of GBV given their respected positions in society, religious actors and faith communities tend to engage in, perpetuate, and tolerate gendered violence in their sermons, teachings, and practices, given the heavily patriarchal and masculinized spaces that these actors represent. There is a theme that has been both central and contentious throughout the development of African women’s studies. It is that of women’s status in families and society, especially as mothers and wives. Indeed, just as motherhood experience has become complicated by intersecting influences of race, gender, class, politics, economy, and geographical mobility, motherhood practice and expectations have become complex, discursive, and paradoxical, says Lucille Nonzwakazi Maqubela’s chapter. As “traditional” and “modern” values clash, so do normative expectations and actual motherhood practices clash, and family and workplace responsibilities conflict. They reveal African women’s increasingly difficult ability to fulfill the persist traditional, normative, and cultural expectations and beliefs about motherhood. African women’s voice, visibility, and value in African marriages are assessed by Augusta Olaore and Prince Agwu in relation to the themes of bride price, the communal nature of weddings, and responses to marital fidelity. The voicelessness and invisibility of women in traditional society are seen in their common exemption from the betrothal and the gatherings that set the bride price and the wedding dates. The gendered response to infidelity is such that it excuses, and even permits, men to have multiple sexual partners besides their wife, but at the same time imposes severe and extreme punishments on women for marital infidelity, a perpetual homage to

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patriarchy and its privileges. When a woman’s marriage partner dies, and she becomes a widow, the experiences of marriage and patriarchal society are often exacerbated as widows in many African societies are victimized and oppressed in various cultural and religious practices. Abidemi Fasanmi and Sandra Ayivor examine African women’s widowhood from intersectionality, vulnerability, and “human part” perspectives to analyze the complexities of widowhood and possible solutions to these. In African society today, women and other minoritized groups are marginalized and victimized for various reasons and in various ways. Tiffany Kagure Mugo seeks to rehumanize queer women and gender nonconforming persons by illuminating how they use online and offline spaces to live, love, have sex, and exist. In these ways, they control the narratives around their existences, insert their stories into the public realm, build a bigger picture of what being LGBTQI+ means, and redefine even what it means to be African. On disabilities, Zahara Nampewo exposes the violations of the human rights of disabled persons in Africa and the disabling context of African society itself. Up to 40% of the African population are estimated to have various forms of disabilities. Yet, they are stigmatized – especially when they are women. This stigma, driven by negative social perceptions of disability, is often complicated by women’s other identity markers such as gender, poverty, level of education, culture, and class. Stigma usually leads to discrimination. Discrimination leads to marginalization, which often leads to untold suffering, indignities, inhumanities, injury, sickness, and even death. Fundamental human rights of life, health, and education are tackled next by the chapters in this part. The HIV/AIDS pandemic was one of the defining moments on the continent. This continues to have a devastating impact on women, especially as 2018 figures show that African women constitute 80% of all women living with HIV globally, Krista Johnson’s chapter informs. Of this, young women aged 15–24 years are twice as likely to become infected with HIV as their male counterparts, and among adolescents aged 15–19, the proportion grows alarmingly to girls as threefourths of all new infections (UNAIDS 2018). Johnson explains this high prevalence with reference to historical, traditional, cultural, contextual, behavioral, and structural vulnerabilities that constitute risk factors for women. Biomedical, structural, and other innovative interventions, particularly DREAMS, the US government program launched in 2015 to fight HIV in African countries, are assessed for their effectiveness while important knowledge lacunas and areas for further research and investigation are highlighted. Extending the focus on girls especially, Deevia Bhana’s chapter complicates and troubles the conception of African girls as passive, helpless, and victims in matters of sexuality. Describing how girls’ sexuality lies between agency and vulnerability, Bhana provides a critical analysis of how girls navigate the “treacherous conditions” of structural inequalities, violence, disease, gender inequalities, and cultural norms to reveal an ambiguity and fluidity of girls’ sexuality in Africa. Yet other significant threats to young women and girls’ health is alcohol and substance abuse. In their study of seven African countries across the regions of sub-Saharan Africa, Cecilia S. Obeng and Barnabas Obeng-Gyasi explain

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variations of the prevalence of drug and alcohol abuse by factors such as parental drug use, relegation to the margins of society, poverty, and deprivation, sociocultural isolation, and environmental stressors. The importance of this set of problems lies in their association with health and social consequences such as domestic violence, HIV infection, stress disorders, mental health issues, and pregnancy. African women and girls’ health are linked with education and context in the next four chapters. As Florence Kyoheirwe Muhanguzi assesses change and statis in women and girls’ access to education from the primary to secondary and tertiary levels, they observe that not only are there still more boys than girls at the primary level, persistence and transition to secondary and tertiary education remain difficult for girls in many African countries. Ultimately, while the benefits of education remain visible and acknowledged, complex gender dynamics continue to negatively impact women and girls’ access to education, and unfortunately, Muhanguzi notes, the converse role of education in transforming gender relations on the continent can be questioned. The colonial legacies of African universities as male-dominated spaces epitomizing structure, bureaucracy, and patriarchy have persisted. Nana Yaw Boampong Sapong and Priscilla Owusu Amoako observe that these construct women as the “other” in these citadels, with change only beginning rather slowly in recent decades. Education is the single most effective weapon against sexually transmitted diseases and HIV/AIDS, and Taiwo M. Williams emphasizes not just the expansive benefits of education in itself for women, but in particular its impact on their health and that of their families and communities, and the implications of this for development. The important sociocultural contributions of women to pastoral societies, as well as the cultural and health constraints mitigating this, are the subject of the chapter by Blessing Nonye Onyema. This chapter asserts that the patriarchal domination of men in pastoral societies is reproduced by the academic literature, which either neglect recognition of or portrays women in those societies as passive subjects. Three summative chapters close this part, drawing together most of the major themes covered concerning African cultures and societies, and critically reexamining their significations. Olaocha Nwadiuto Nwabara brings the knowledge and cultures of the African woman into conversation with the structures of global African lives, identities, cultures, societies, economies, and politics, placing these within the context of changing times and contexts. Nwabara’s chapter on gender, migration, and African cultures examines how cultural trends and experiences of African women within the continent and in the African diaspora interconnect and contribute to the repository of global African women’s knowledges in the face of the continued oppression of globalization, neocolonialism, racism, patriarchy, and sexism, among others. Ezinwanyi E. Adam employs three contemporary novels, Ayobami Adebayo’s Stay with Me, Lola Shoneyin’s The Secret Lives of Baba Shegi’s Wives, and Jennifer Nansubuga Makumbi’s Kintu, by African women writers about women’s lives to (re-)present the sociological grounding for their experiences. Analysis of these novels vividly portrays the devastating consequences of cultural norms and expectations in marriage, sexuality, and motherhood on women in Africa. Closing this part is the essay by Sylvia Bawa which engages the dialectical and

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contested conceptualizations of, and fundamental tension between, culture, rights, women, and Africa in the discourse and praxis. Bawa employs a postcolonial African feminist theoretical and methodological framework to show how it is that reference to culture “irredeemably reduces women’s rights issues to a realm of colonial discursive framing that makes it difficult to imagine a transformative approach to women’s issues.” The chapter is trenchant, parsing the debate and provoking further reflection on the conversation between rights and cultures from an intersectional approach that embeds women’s empowerment and women’s rights issues within historical and international political economy structures and processes.

African Women’s Creativity, Arts, and Performance This part celebrates the diversity, sophistication, and multiplex creativities of African women across the continent and in the African diaspora, engaging various mediums and instrumentalities of communication as they transmit African history and indigenous knowledge, express lived experiences and philosophies, resist repression and discrimination, and envision egalitarian society. The first two chapters pave the way in providing historical context and case studies and theoretical ballast to a decolonial and revolutionary approach to the inclusion and appreciation of African women’s multiplex roles in developing African arts. Monica Blackmun Visona opens the part by laying out the history of art in Africa with reference to examples of female artists, inspirations to artists, patrons of the arts and entrepreneurs, and their contributions to current artistic practices. Helen of Alexandria, Idia of Benin, a Mende mask, and Chief Afi Ekong are examined in terms of identity themes, African representations of women in art, female patronage of the arts, and modeling for curators. From the literature reviewed and the treatment of art and gender in these historical works and by these figures, Visona concludes that these dynamics have set the foundation for twenty-first-century artists. Adérónké Adésolá Adésànyà’s two chapters challenge the corpus of work on African women’s arts and sets about decolonizing the study in specific ways. The first chapter on African women in African arts focuses on New African Diaspora Women Artists (NADWA) as activists, cultural brokers, and boundary breakers. The six women artists whose works are sampled include Sokari Douglas-Camp, Laila Essaydi, Wangechi Mutu, Madeline Odundo, Njideka Akunyili-Crosby, and Lina Iris Viktor. As Diaspora women, these artists’ works straddle the local and the global, representing transnational themes and representing local/national themes to a global audience increasingly aware of them and patronizing their art. In this way, their works dialogue between the African motherland and the diasporic or global spaces in which they live, resisting orthodoxies that misshape the homeland, rejecting hegemonies of the global contexts in which they live, and representing African identities in both new and old ways, thereby subverting the colonial archives of African art in important and transformative ways. The second essay by Adésànyà then turns to beam a lens on African women artists on the continent, from various parts, who make art for change as change agents influencers and institution builders,

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thereby going beyond a focus on the artistic works alone to broader issues of who participates in shaping agendas and influencing the future within the African art world. The women surveyed were Inji Efflatoun (Egypt), Amina Menia (Algeria), Clara Etso Ugodaga-Ngu, Afi Ekong, Nike Okundaye Davies, Omolara Ige-Jacks, and Peju Alatishe (Nigeria), Jane Alexander, and Muholi Zanele (South Africa). Bringing these women artists’ works to attention serves not only to insert them more visibly into African art studies, an endeavor that remains urgent but also to foreground their contributions to local and global conversations on other issues, including politics, economy, and identities. Moving to the literary world, the chapters that follow assess African women’s unique place in African literature studies. Whereas African women writers have been writing for just as long as their male counterparts, the male-dominated field of study in the mid-1900s focused almost exclusively on the works of male writers. This situation undoubtedly perpetuated male perspectives of the world and consequently hampered a full understanding of the African worldview as women’s worlds, views, experiences, and lives were largely excluded or misrepresented. In the chapter on African Women Writers, Delphine Fongang identifies three “waves” of African women’s writing, representing three succeeding periods from the early twentieth century into the present in which they made their mark in ways specific to their time and contexts. From the first novels by Flora Nwapa (Efuru) and Grace Ogot (The Promised Land) in 1966 till the present, African women writers’ rich and significant contributions are that they persistently feature female characters, female protagonists, and feminist themes; they spotlight the entrenched gender-specific ideologies of the African landscape which limit women’s potentials, agency, and empowerment; and in so doing, they vigorously make a change in the social and political worlds possible and imaginable. Spotlighting North African women writers, Gibson Ncube notices the even deeper marginalization of North African women’s writings within the African literary canon – not least due to what the chapter refers to as the “region’s own conflicted relationship with its ‘Africanness.’” Ncube’s chapter agrees with the preceding one on the powerful role that women’s writing plays in using literature to underscore, rethink and reinvent women’s status, roles, and societal gender relations, this time in the particular context of the Maghreb. Focusing on the particular way in which women’s writings employ sexuality in challenging patriarchy, texts by Assia Djebar, Yamina Mechakra, and Nina Bouraoui are dissected to show the objectification and commodification of North African women, as well as the agency that they possess, especially in redefining “public” spaces. Continuing on the theme, but this time concerning African oral literature, Mobolanle Ebunoluwa Sotunsa underscores the ambiguities, contradictions, and dialectical portrayal of women in this genre, as well as how they redefine themselves in social and cultural spaces. Most importantly, the chapter underlines African women’s roles in the creation, continuity, and preservation of African oral literature in both historical and contemporary times. Women’s creativity expressed in different kinds of performances are the subject of the following three chapters, which focus on theater, film, and music. Theater is one of the oldest art forms globally, rooted in a people’s social fabric and specific

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experiences, indeed a “simulacrum of culture,” asserts Vicensia Shule. Theater for development – also known in the literature as social theater, popular theater, participatory theater, forum theater, theater for integrated rural development, and people’s theater – thrived in Africa in the immediate postcolonial period as the postindependence regimes performed dismally in delivering on the promises of nationalism. Drawing on cases from Cameroon to Malawi, Tanzania, Kenya, and other countries on the continent, Shule paints a portrait of this art form as how African women, as theater characters, audience members and producers, continued their activism for gendered social change, gained and transmitted knowledge, and steered the struggle for equal and just societies. In the chapter on Nollywood and Women, Ezinwanyi E. Adam articulates the position, roles, and impact of women in Africa’s largest national film industry, Nigeria’s Nollywood. While women have always been visible on this platform, the chapter calls into question the minimization of their contributions as film writers, producers, actors, and directors, both to the sustainability, global recognition, and development of the industry, and the reconstruction of negative stereotypes about African women. Women such as Kemi Adetiba, Funke Akindele, Emem Isong, Stephanie Linus-Okereke, Genevieve Nnaji, and Tope Oshin Ogun have actively contributed to these achievements of Nollywood, Adam observes, and have also been exported to make similar contributions to film in other African countries and beyond. Msia Kibona Clark delves into the contents, contexts, and transnational representations in the hip-hop of African women immigrants to Europe and Australia. Their music and message differ significantly from those of male African immigrant hip-hop artists in the Diaspora and from that of women hip-hop artists on the continent. Clark analyzes this peculiarity through themes of gender, identity, migration, spirituality, sexuality, and race, showing how their transnational location provokes these themes that contrast their oeuvre with those of continental artists. At the same time, they draw on their dual or multiple cultural and linguistic repertoires from Africa and the West to communicate and to ground themselves. Discourse, media, and communication are the intertwined closing themes of this part of the Handbook, enabling a survey of African sportswomen’s media discourses, women and the Internet, social media, and mass media generally. Jimoh Shehu’s chapter acknowledges the large body of literature on African women in sports, centered on empirical research and surveys, program evaluations, and critical analyses of gendered sport policies. However, little or no research has been done to explore the meanings embedded in African sportswomen’s own media narratives about their experiences, from their unique standpoints, portraying the diversity of their resources, discourses, identities, and cultural practices. Adopting this methodology, coupled with a poststructuralist and postcolonial approach, Shehu uncovers three dominant frames and metaphors that African women athletes in particular employ in constructing their experiences during media interviews. These are: animation (concepts that provide inspiration), grace and disgrace (reactions to doping violations), and sex, gender, and sexuality (the tension between heteronormative constructions of these and of their athletic requirements). This chapter details African sportswomen’s issues, catalogues African women athletes’ successes and

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failures, and the emotionally charged gendered performativities they must adopt or resist. The textual and metaphorical analysis in this chapter not only offer insights into these sportswomen’s thoughts, lives, and development but also illuminate how they engage with hierarchy, prescriptive sexual norms, patriarchal authority, commodification, exclusionary social relations, and the separate gender spheres that define the local and global sport systems. North African women’s Internet discourses are addressed in the subsequent chapter by Touria Khannous within the relative global interconnectivity available to them. Whereas traditional authority structures were able to circumscribe North African women’s freedoms, movements, and options, the Internet has enabled grassroots participation of women in the social movements of their choice, whether Islamist or secular, allowing them to openly critique authoritarian and patriarchal systems in their countries through Facebook, Twitter, and blogging. Onyinye Nwaolikpe critiques the negative and cultural representation of women in both traditional and social media and outlines the multiple ways in which social media has become the preferred means for women to discuss their issues and teach, network, and facilitate dialogue about how to resolve these issues. In closing the part, section editor Sharon Adetutu Omotoso tallies up these discourses with a summation of African women’s visibility, portrayal, and influence in mass media and their positions as media consumers, media producers, and for media development.

Conclusion This introductory chapter has comprehensively covered the focal contestations, tensions, and contradictions that provoked and justified this project. It responds to questions of intent, objectives, significance, contributions, and evaluation of this text. By outlining the various parts and chapters within it, this chapter addresses the questions, issues, debates, and purposes set out at the beginning. In the concluding chapter, we address the debates that continue and the paths towards continued (re) constitution and continued advancement of the field.

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Tripp, A. M. (2000). Women and politics in Uganda. Oxford/Kampala: Fountain Publishers/James Currey. Tripp, A. M. (2015). Women and power in postconflict Africa. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Tripp, A. M., & Kwesiga, J. C. (2002). The women’s movement in Uganda: History, challenges, and prospects. Kampala: Fountain Publishers. UN Women. (2020). Violence against women and girls: The shadow pandemic, Statement by Phumzile Mlambo-Ngcuka, Executive Director of UN Women, 09 April 2020. https://www. unwomen.org/en/news/stories/2020/4/statement-ed-phumzile-violence-against-women-duringpandemic. Accessed 06 Aug 2020. UNAIDS. (2018). Women and girls and HIV. https://www.unaids.org/sites/default/files/media_ asset/women_girls_hiv_en.pdf. Accessed 11 Mar 2021. W. E. H. (1939). Review of Sylvia Leith-Ross, African Women. Journal of the Royal African Society, 38(151), 300–302. Walter, L., Desai, M., & Tripp, A. M. (2003). The greenwood encyclopedia of women’s issues worldwide: Vol. 6, sub-Saharan Africa. Westport: Greenwood Press. Watson, L. (2013). “True fictions”: Subjectivity and intertextuality in the writings of Sylvia LeithRoss. The Journal of Commonwealth Literature, 48(3), 331–347. Wits University Press. (2009). Women writing Africa: The Northern Region. https://witspress.co. za/catalogue/women-writing-africa-4/. World Health Organization. (2012). Understanding and addressing violence against women: Intimate partner violence. Geneva: World Health Organization. Yacob-Haliso, O., & Falola, T. (2017). Introduction: Gendering knowledge in Africa and the African diaspora. In T. Falola & O. Yacob-Haliso (Eds.), Gendering knowledge in Africa and the African Diaspora: Contesting history and power (pp. 1–15). London: Routledge. Yacob-Haliso, O., Nwogwugwu, N., & Ntiwunka, G. (2021). Introduction: Global Africa, postcoloniality and indigenous knowledges. In O. Yacob-Haliso, N. Nwogwugwu, & G. Ntiwunka (Eds.), African indigenous knowledges in a postcolonial world. London: Routledge. Zeleza, P. (2005). Gender biases in African historiography. In O. Oyewumi (Ed.), African gender studies: A reader (pp. 207–232). New York: Palgrave Macmillan.

Section II Research and Knowledge Production on Women in Africa

All chapters and the overall Handbook framework foregrounded a decolonial, feminist, and Africa-centric approach to the writing of African women’s lives and experiences. Nonetheless, two particular parts were purposely designed to interrogate the empirical and scholarly problems in researching women from this perspective and to show how this is done. Thus, while the section on “Research and Knowledge Production on Women in Africa,” which leads the first volume of this Handbook, interrogated epistemological, conceptual, philosophical, pedagogic, and political issues in research on African women, the section on “(Re)Writing African Women’s Histories,” which leads the second volume of the Handbook, demonstrated how this could be practically achieved by tackling the extant and established histories and knowledges, and rewriting these from a feminist, Africa-centric and decolonial standpoint. This vanguard section of the Handbook on “Research and Knowledge Production on Women in Africa” provides a masterful analysis of theoretical issues in African women’s research, teaching, and epistemologies. This meta-theoretical section engages many of the epistemological debates raised in other sections and chapters of the Handbook that problematize the modes of knowledge production about African women and the implications for African women’s studies. The section is also prescriptive in sections, charting future directions for research, teaching, and knowledge about African women on the continent and in the Diaspora. One of the most persistent and yet unresolved disputations of African Women’s Studies is the concept of feminism. There has been no consensus on labels, with the politics of naming and ideology remaining rife. We, the editors of the Handbook, decided early on that it was impossible to speak of feminism in the singular in the African context given the variety of ideas that the concept speaks to, especially when considered from diverse perspectives rooted in historical experience and feminist praxis. Simisola Dosekun’s chapter takes us on a critical exploration of diverse theories and models that have relation to the conception, engaging a close reading of the major texts, scholars, and ideas that have constituted the debate, and the contradictions to be found in any attempts at resolution of the question.

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The contents and contestations in the curriculum and classroom in African Women’s Studies are the focus of Toyin Falola and Grace Idahosa. These authors argue that African Women’s Studies has been subject to the distortions of the colonial gaze and the colonial library and remains burdened by the politics of inequity and discrimination in global knowledge production that marginalizes African women’s contributions to scholarship about themselves and about other aspects of society. As Falola provides a detailed and critical historiography of the development of African Women’s Studies and its interrelation with transnational feminist activism and Diaspora and Black women’s studies, Idahosa enunciates the critical ingredients of what a decolonized women and gender studies curriculum in Africa would look like. The positioning of the field as a tool for decolonizing African Studies is foregrounded in both chapters as well as its potentials in the march towards Africa’s emancipation and transformation. The negotiation and transformation of African indigenous knowledge systems by the colonial and postcolonial conditions of African and African diaspora societies are addressed by the next three chapters of the Handbook. Gloria Emeagwali conceives African Indigenous Knowledges (AIK) as an epistemological tool for understanding, articulating and analyzing the African past and present. Chika Ezeanya Esiobu establishes the importance of African women to the transmission and conservation of AIK, especially in an age of rapid urbanization and rural–urban migration. Esiobu carefully lays out the critical role of women in the domains of indigenous technologies, indigenous medicine, indigenous agricultural systems, indigenous pedagogies and early childhood education, and the conservation of biodiversity. Jamaine M. Abidogun interrogates the gendered knowledge construction and identity formation in three African contexts resulting from the interaction between Western (Anglophone) and African indigenous education systems. Important theoretical considerations are next advanced. Nana Akua Anyidoho provides a theoretical review of the women, gender, and development discourse and its permutations over time and evaluates how gender ideologies and myths, the gendered division of labor, and unequal power relationships impact African development. In their chapter on feminist legal theory, human rights, and culture in Africa, L. Amede Obiora employs feminist legal theory (FLT) in an analysis of how the persistent tension between human rights-based and culture-based arguments in international law and national legal systems have severely constrained the expansion of African women’s rights, and how legal scholars question the legitimacy, coherence, and cultural validity of human rights. Extending the discussion, Edith Phaswana, in their chapter on the intersections of race, class, and gender in contemporary South Africa marshals longitudinal data to interrogate and ultimately laments the nation’s stalled promise. Drawing on decolonial feminism and intersectionality theory, Phaswana warns against changes and continuities in South Africa that threaten to perpetuate the ignominious legacies of apartheid for Black, poor, and female South Africans even more than 25 years after the transition to democracy. In closing this important section of the Handbook, Hibist Kassa draws together insights from the work of African feminists, which engage key ontological, epistemological, and methodological debates in African Women’s Studies and advances historicization, contextualization, and decolonization as necessary processes of ethical reconstruction in knowledge production about Africa.

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Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Historical Foundations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Politics of Self-Naming . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The “African” in African Feminisms . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Agendas, Issues, and Strategies . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Gaps and New Directions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

What does feminism mean and comprise in Africa? Is there a distinctly African variant, and if yes, what makes it so? These questions have been debated vigorously in the last 40 years by African women scholars who variously seek to defend and advance the broad project of feminism in Africa, if not always by this name. The chapter offers a critical review of the different theories and models of “African feminisms” that have been put forward. While there is a consensus that African feminisms must be attuned and responsive to the conditions of African women’s lives, a central point of contention concerns the nature and status therein of “culture” and “tradition” and what some deem essential and irreducible African difference. The chapter argues against even weakly essentialist theoretical accounts of African feminisms, above all because these presume an authentic African female subject of concern and thus exclude others who do not

S. Dosekun (*) Department of Media and Communications, London School of Economics and Political Science, London, UK e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_58

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fit the mold. A view of Africa as the contextual rather than essential ground of African feminisms allows instead for the emergence of a feminist politics for all African women in their immense diversity. Keywords

Feminism(s) · Feminist theory · Essentialism · Cultural imperialism · Antiimperialism · Politics of authenticity

Introduction “All over Africa, African feminists are theorizing our feminisms and we would do well to listen to them” (Ogundipe-Leslie 1994, p. 228). The dominant association of feminism with the West, and the recurring complicities of Western feminisms with Western statecraft and cultural imperialism, makes it imperative for African women to stake and differentiate their theoretical and other positions and therein also resist being spoken for by not only Western women but African men too. But while the geopolitical economies of African feminist knowledge production continue to demand this kind of “speaking back,” in the literature as a whole this is not the ultimate impetus or purpose. The central concern is to define a feminist politics and praxis for African women, one that speaks to their lives and challenges. Hence Obioma Nnaemeka writes that “to meaningfully explain the phenomenon called African feminism, it is not to Western feminism but rather to the African environment that one must refer. African feminism is not reactive; it is proactive. It has a life of its own that is rooted in the African environment” (1998, p. 9). This chapter offers a critical review and discussion of African women’s scholarly theories and models of African feminisms, from the tendency in this literature to historicize as a means to legitimate any such gender politics in the African context to debates over what it should be called and the range of issues that are or should be of concern. A number of scholars, among them the first to engage in this intellectual work in the 1980s, take the view that African feminisms must be steeped in and distinguished by what they deem a fundamental African difference or exceptionalism, as manifest in “culture” (e.g., Amadiume 1987). The chapter surfaces the often-problematic implications of these kinds of theoretical positions and shows how more recent and arguably more pragmatic contributions to the debate have sought to move beyond them, conceptualizing and broaching “Africa” as conjunctural and contextual rather than essential. The chapter suggests, however, that there is still need for robust anti-essentialist theorizing of African feminisms and their subjects, African women, in all their diversity.

Historical Foundations A foundational concern and strategy in the literature on African feminisms is to assert that the fact of women enjoying, expecting, and/or struggling for rights, dignities, and opportunities is “indigenous” to Africa, and “tradition,” not imported, externally

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imposed, or newly conceived (e.g., Steady 1989; Ogundipe-Leslie 1994; Kolawole 1997; Amadiume 2000; Oyewumi 2003). More to the point is that “African women did not learn about self-assertion from the West” (Kolawole 1997, p. 10, emphasis added). There are differing views about whether and to what degree precolonial African societies were “patriarchal” versus characterized by “gender complementarity” (e.g., see Bakare-Yusuf 2003 for a brief overview). But widely agreed is that African women tended to have greater spheres of autonomy and authority than their Western counterparts and that they actively resisted the infringement or curtailment of their freedoms and domains, including by colonial administrations. Among women’s strategies and resources for resistance were equally traditional and often distinctly female practices and symbols: “witchcraft”; stripping naked to shame their oppressors; “genital cursing” and verbal obscenities, insults, and taunts; striking from their vital socioeconomic roles as market traders; and so on (e.g., see Amadiume 1987). In view of these histories and traditions, as well as the example of “the great matriarchs” (Amadiume 2001, p. 55), politically and/or culturally powerful female figures such as queens and priestesses, a certain rhetorical contention emerges in the literature that women in Africa were “feminist before feminism,” that is, engaged in agentic, self-determined, and typically collective advancement of their particular interests well before the advent of a modern, self-named, and putatively overarching women’s movement (e.g., Oyewumi 2003). This line of contention, and the frequent recourse to history upon which it is based, serves multiple important purposes. One is to claim and defend the cultural and moral belonging and propriety of present-day feminisms in Africa by tracing their origins to precolonial and thus non-Eurocentric times and mores. For instance, in a short piece introducing the explicitly feminist political organization “Women in Nigeria,” founded in 1982, Altine Mohammed and Bene Madunagu cite “the long history of women’s resistance, activism and associations in Nigeria,” and what they call “indigenous ‘feminisms,’” to contend and conclude: “Therefore, ‘feminism’ or the fight for women’s rights and interests [in Nigeria] is not the result of ‘contamination’ by the west or a simple imitation as divisive opponents like to charge” (1986, p. 103). Mohammed and Madunagu’s (1986) particular assertion is directed explicitly to those who oppose anything akin to feminism in Africa on the grounds that it is “unAfrican” or in other words antithetical to “true” or “authentic” African values and identities (see Dosekun 2007 for an elaboration and critique of such views). But in this, as in the literature as a whole, the move to root African feminisms in African traditions is itself also thoroughly anti-imperialist. It is a move to reject any presumption or perceived need by Western feminists to bring feminism to Africa, which is to say “their feminism”; to reject, then, Western universalist models and teleologies; to assert African women’s capacity and self-reflexivity to define and understand their own conditions, needs, and means; and to clear and begin to map the grounds for this self-definition. There is a consensus in the literature that African feminisms must be attuned to the conditions of African women’s lives, responsive to and precisely concerned to lighten the many and multifaceted loads that they bear. But if the principle is agreed, it is in the detail of what it comprises, and how and why so, that significant points of debates and divergence begin to emerge. One of the first debates is the name or language with which to even proceed.

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The Politics of Self-Naming Noting that the mere word “feminism” is highly contentious to many Africans, associated with Western imperialism and racism or at least race-blindness, as well as “man hating” and “lesbianism,” a number of scholars propose that it is easier and more efficient for African women to simply bypass it, to “avoid the distractions attendant with the name” (Ogunyemi 1996, p. 116). Doing so would also communicate clearly from the outset that African feminisms differ from others in their particular concerns, critiques, and style; that African women define their agendas quite literally on their own terms (e.g., Ogundipe-Leslie 1994: Ogunyemi 1996; Hudson-Weems 1995; Kolawole 2002). “The most acceptable alternative [name to feminism] appears to be womanism,” according to Mary Modupe Kolawole (2002, p. 95). The term “womanism” was coined separately but almost simultaneously, in the mid-1980s, by Chikwenye Okonjo Ogunyemi, a Nigerian literary scholar, and Alice Walker, an African-American writer (Ogunyemi 1985, p. 72). For both, womanism is a black nationalist standpoint theory; it starts from and seeks to act upon the necessarily intersectional and vernacular ways of seeing, knowing, and imagining that emanate from black women’s lived experiences. Ogunyemi initially theorized womanism for and in terms of an imagined global black community, writing that the final aim of the ideology was “the unity of blacks everywhere under the enlightened control of men and women” (1985, p. 71). However, she later moved to distinguish between African and African-American womanism, taking the view that, in fact, not unlike (white) feminism, African-American womanism overlooks the “particularities” of life in Africa (1996, p. 114). Ogunyemi (1996) does not make this distinction as a critique of African-American womanism per se, more in recognition of difference within blackness. By contrast, Clenora Hudson-Weems (1995) is stridently dismissive of African-American or what she calls “black womanism” and at the same time committed to the ideological and symbolic unity of continental and diasporic Africans. Because Alice Walker (1983) famously characterized womanism as a shade of feminism, Hudson-Weems deems it aligned with a white ideology. For the semantics of their self-naming, she deems “black feminism” and “African feminism” also so aligned. In place of these names, HudsonWeems declares “Africana womanism” to be the “natural” one for an ideology for all women of African descent, where Africana designates an ancestral racial and ethnic community, a community that she presumes also natural or given (1995, p. 22). Besides womanism and its variants, other proposed names for African feminisms include “motherism” (Acholonu 1995), “femalism” (Opara 2005), and “Stiwanism” (Ogundipe-Leslie 1994). The first two of these names directly reflect the substance of the distinct ideological models to which they refer, which, as discussed briefly in the next section of the chapter, center on motherhood and the female body, respectively. Stiwanism derives from the acronym STIWA, which Ogundipe-Leslie coins, standing for “social transformation including women in Africa” (1994, p. 230). Communicated in and by the name is that the concern is squarely the continent of Africa and those who continue to reside there, not the diaspora. Ogundipe-Leslie (1994) further explains that, as opposed to the separatist

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associations of the name feminism, in the name Stiwanism, it is indicated that the ideological aim is neither to replace nor fight with men but to incorporate women, to bring them in as co-participants in Africa’s development. This is a goal to which no one could reasonably object, she reckons. Thus she proffers the new name as highly strategic for African feminist purposes, although arguably it is stylistically clunky or unwieldy. And then there are those who insist on feminism. Abena Busia argues that for African women to abandon the name is to cede ground, to “los[e] a power struggle” from the outset, and unnecessarily so (cited in Kolawole 1997, p. 39). Cheryl Johnson-Odim (1991) argues, similarly, that it is a “retreat” from an ongoing global conversation about what feminism is or should be and how it can truly address the concerns of all women. Retreating risks siloing African women and the issues and challenges that they face and therein risks reinscribing commonplace notions of incommensurable African difference. In Johnson-Odim’s words, it risks “losing sight of the fair amount of universality [that exists] in women’s oppression” (1991, p. 316). Or, if the notion of gendered universality is too strong, contentious, or even dangerous for African women to invoke in this context, we could say that the risk is of losing sight of the many grounds and opportunities for dialogue, alliance, and solidarity-building with other women elsewhere, self-named feminists especially. All the above risks the continued production of feminist agendas that do not speak to African women but are nonetheless applied to them. Joe Oloka-Onyango and Sylvia Tamale (1995) provide a concrete illustration of this last point in their discussion of the urgent need for African feminists to participate in international legal feminist efforts to theorize and codify women’s rights as human rights, or else see laws and principles drafted on their behalf. Explaining that she is convinced of neither the need for nor efficacy of alternative names for African feminisms such as Stiwanism, Amina Mama quite correctly points out that “changing the terminology doesn’t solve the problem of [white] global domination. . . [of] northern-based white women’s relative power to define” (cited in Salo 2001, p. 61). She and others argue that rather than renounce the name feminism, the greater and more strategic imperative for African women is to (re)define it for themselves. In Mama’s words: “I choose to stick with the original term [and] insist that my own reality inform my application of it” (cited in Salo 2001, p. 61). Elsewhere, she is quoted as saying that the challenge for African women is to “retain the concept of feminism and make it our own by filling the name with meaning” (Mama, cited in Essof 2001, p. 125). The discursive struggle and stakes are not only with white or Western feminisms. Desiree Lewis argues that African women denouncing the name (and praxis of) feminism as Eurocentric “placates the unease of patriarchal nationalism” (2009, p. 211). Arguably we hear something of what Lewis is getting at when, as part of her case for Stiwanism, Ogundipe-Leslie notes that “the word ‘feminism’ itself seems to be a red rag to the bull of African men” (1994, p. 229), the suggestion being that African women therefore should not taunt, inflame, their men with it. OgundipeLeslie further explains some Africans’ discomfort with the word feminism thus: some “find the focus on women in themselves somehow threatening. . .. Some who are genuinely concerned with ameliorating women’s lives sometimes feel

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embarrassed to be described as ‘feminist’” (1994, p. 229). While it may be highly strategic and pragmatic to give up the name under such circumstances, to do so is nonetheless to accede and lend force to them. It is to “affirm” or “confirm” that feminism and a concerted focus on women’s issues are offensive and so on. It is also to reproduce an uneven gendered burden on women to assure others’ comfort, even, in this case, in the context of attempting to resist the discomforts that others visit upon them! Most importantly, as Lewis (2009, p. 211) further argues, calls for women’s activisms in Africa to be called anything but feminism because the name is too discomfiting de-radicalize and depoliticize these activisms. Arguably this is all the more so when the call comes from within. Lewis (2009) does not make the above points in relation to African women’s scholarly debates over the names and discursive terms with which they should be theorizing and working, although they are clearly highly salient here. Her concern is the discursive and practical threats posed to feminism in Africa by the “gender industry,” that is, the development-oriented mainstreaming, institutionalization, and even commodification of “gender,” “women’s rights,” “women’s empowerment,” and so on. The fact and growing ascendancy of this industry, widely understood as neoliberal, and the fact of its past and latent potential co-optation by anti-people agendas render all the more crucial the semantic and ideological distinction of feminism. Mama (1995) differentiates feminism from what she calls “femocracy” or “feminine autocracy” in the African context, for instance. The former refers to “the popular struggle of African women for their liberation from the various forms of oppression they endure,” while the latter refers to the activities of politically elite women in the 1980s and 1990s, such as first ladies, who capitalized upon growing international concern with women’s status to further their particular interests and to legitimate the authoritarian regimes of which they were part (Mama 1995, p. 41). Theorizing from the ground up, well cognizant of the many factors that militate against women’s substantive empowerment in Africa, the African Feminist Forum (AFF), an umbrella organization founded in 2006, asserts in no uncertain terms the need for African women to name and proclaim themselves feminist. In what Josephine Ahikire (2014, p. 7) describes as an “audacious positioning of African feminism as an ideological entity in the African body politic,” the AFF charter declares: We recognize that the work of fighting for women’s rights is deeply political, and the process of naming is political too. Choosing to name ourselves Feminist places us in a clear ideological position. By naming ourselves as Feminists we politicise the struggle for women’s rights, we question the legitimacy of the structures that keep women subjugated, and we develop tools for transformatory analysis and action. We have multiple and varied identities as African Feminists. We are African women – we live here in Africa and even when we live elsewhere, our focus is on the lives of African women on the continent. Our feminist identity is not qualified with ‘Ifs,’ ‘Buts,’ or ‘Howevers’. We are Feminists. Full stop (2006, p. 4)

It would seem that this is also the current view in African women’s scholarly writing on the matter and that the debate over whether or not we need alternative, Africa-specific names is for the most part settled: in the literature “feminism” is the nomenclature that predominates.

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The “African” in African Feminisms A handful of African women scholars propose to model African feminisms on values, traditions, philosophies, and/or cosmologies which they claim are African inherently. It follows, in their accounts, that these models are inherently and markedly distinct from those of the Western world. For example, rejecting Western feminism as a “radical anti-nature, anti-mother, anti-wife and antinurture ideology” (1995, p. 8), and “black feminism” (i.e., in the diaspora) as “synonymous with lesbianism,” Catherine Acholonu proposes an alternative for African women centered on what she calls Africa’s “matriarchal metaphysics” and the supreme cultural value that Africans place on nature and nurture (1995, p. 108). She terms this humanist and environmentalist ideology “motherism.” Arguing in similar vein that nature and culture are not opposed in African philosophy as they are in the West, and that motherhood exemplifies this, being at once a biologically immanent state for women and a transcendental “choice” on their part, Chioma Opara (2005) proposes “femalism” as an African feminism that locates and celebrates African women’s power in their reproductive and nurturing capacities, indeed biological organs. Motherhood is but one aspect and source of what Deidre Bádéjo (1998) affirms as the intrinsic dignity, strength, and beauty of the African woman. In Bádéjo’s excavation of the “mythicoreligious foundations” of African life, such as relayed in oral tradition, “womanhood is power,” and this power is “feminine, mysterious, and beautiful, and it exists as a complementary expression of the African man’s power” (1998, p. 110). Hence she proposes that African feminism: embraces femininity, beauty, power, serenity, inner harmony, and a complex matrix of power. It is always poised and centered in womanness. It demonstrates that power and femininity are intertwined rather than antithetical. African femininity complements African masculinity, and defends both with the ferocity of the lioness while simultaneously seeking male defense of both as critical, demonstrable, and mutually obligatory. (Bádéjo 1998, p. 94)

Other scholars also seeking to ground and fashion African feminisms in the “cultural and philosophical specificity of [their] provenance” (Nnaemeka 1998, p 9.) concern themselves not with the poetic, mythical, or metaphysical but with what they see as practice or lived tradition. If, for instance, Ogunyemi’s African womanism is a “mothercentered ideology,” it is not on idealist or romanticized grounds. Rather it is for materialist and subsequently quite strategic cultural and psychosocial reasons: because of the continued “African obsession to have children” (1996, p. 133); because of the individual and collective esteem and clout that this affords women as mothers; and because, unlike in the West, motherhood is considered a communal affair. If, conversely, lesbianism is not on the agenda, it is due to the “silence and intolerance” with which it is ordinarily greeted on the continent (Ogunyemi 1996, p. 133). Kolawole goes further to claim that to most Africans, lesbian sexuality is actually “a non-existent issue,” being “completely strange to their worldview” and “not even an option to millions of African women” (1997, p. 15).

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Positing the African worldview as family- and community-centered, Kolawole (1997, 2002) theorizes African womanism as an inclusive versus individualist, separatist, polarizing, or radical ideology. In particular, African womanism is not anti-men but understands, respects, and values the traditional complementarity and cooperation of the sexes. These are positions widely echoed in the literature (e.g., Steady 1989; Ogundipe-Leslie 1994; Hudson-Weems 1995; Ogunyemi 1996; Nnaemeka 2004). It follows for Kolawole (1997) that the ethos and style of African womanism are dialogical, encapsulated by a spirit of “umoja,” meaning togetherness in Swahili. On the matter of womanist style, Ogunyemi contends that African women do not share the cultural predilection of Western feminists for “feisty” disruption: for “the headlines, the exposé, personal and public,” for “confrontationally ‘telling all’” (1996, p. 12). In place of confrontation, Nnaemeka (2004) concurs, what we find on the ground is a feminism of negotiation, compromise, accommodation, and so on, a feminism of no egos – “nego-feminism.” Nnaemeka (2004) attributes this to the fact that conciliatory dispositions and strategies are highly valued and encouraged in an array of African cultures, as evidence of which she cites a number of proverbs from across the continent. Akachi Ezeigbo (2012, cited in Nkealah 2016) also invokes proverbs in her proposal of “snail-sense feminism.” Naomi Nkealah (2016) explains Ezeigbo’s central contention thus: that the African feminist would do well to heed the “common sense” of the indigenous snail. Just as this creature “traverses harsh terrain with caution, flexibility [and] foresight,” so should the African feminist be or become a woman who “negotiates her way around patriarchy, tolerates sexist men, collaborates with non-sexist ones, avoids confrontation with patriarchs, and applies diplomacy in her dealings with society at large” (Nkealah 2016, p. 68). The foregoing kinds of claims about the culturally prescribed conciliatoriness of African feminisms are at direct odds with the precolonial histories of African women’s “feistiness” that, as earlier noted, are mobilized and celebrated repeatedly in the literature, sometimes in the very same piece of work. An example is Ifi Amadiume’s contrasting assertion: that the traditional culture of Igbo women is one of feminist militancy (1987, p. 10). Conciliatory, militant feminism is not! Also at odds with some of the positions briefly outlined above is a growing body of scholarship that counters certain popular notions in Africa that same-sex sexuality is an exogenous phenomenon (e.g., see Tamale 2011; Matebeni et al. 2018). The basic point to be made here is that views and experiences diverge as to what constitutes and/or follows from “African culture,” “the African worldview,” and so on, as does the evidence for them. Evidence and method are obvious weaknesses in those theories and models of African feminisms that insist upon some kind or degree of African autochthony and authenticity. Where the theories and models offer more than sheer assertion of what this putative state of Africanness comprises and means, where they offer more than sheer essentialism in short, the evidence that they mobilize is necessarily highly partial, selective, and flattened, stripped of the vast internal diversity, the inevitable change, and, perhaps most importantly, the inevitable contestation, in how Africans actually live in the present or lived in the past, to say nothing of what they might want or desire. By definition what the models

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also offer is a reading of said evidence that is therefore contestable as well. Thus in the very process of positing a reified Africanness at the heart of African feminisms, the fictiveness and unfixability of any such thing are revealed. Also revealed is how deeply problematic it is to theorize and imagine “Africa” in this way for feminist purposes. That notions of African authenticity are invoked commonly against African feminisms was noted earlier in the chapter (i.e., feminism as “unAfrican”). The logics and effects of claiming authenticity are no less exclusionary, straitjacketing, and even symbolically violent when mobilized in defense, such as in the suggestions cited above that lesbians and lesbian issues are “not properly African” and therefore not of proper concern to African feminisms. We can see the problems of essentializing clearly, too, in Opara’s (2005) positing of motherhood as a free, most laudable, and “most African choice” for African women. These claims are exclusionary if not also injurious to those women who cannot identify with them: those who have chosen not to pursue motherhood, those who desire but find themselves unable to become mothers for whatever reason, and those who are mothers but feel that they had little or no say in the matter. In the name of a fetishized Africanness, the theory of femalism reinscribes rather than resists what it claims is an African worldview in which childless women are failed subjects. Gwendolyn Mikell does likewise in her rather harshly worded remark that, culturally-speaking, “no self-respecting African woman fails to bear children” (1997, p. 9), a claim she makes as part of her larger contention that African feminisms are and should be “distinctly heterosexual [and] pro-natal” (1997, p. 4). It is a well-established critical insight that “culture” easily can serve as or morph into a vehicle and alibi for conservatism and more. The problem with setting out culturalist grounds for African feminisms is not limited to conservatism though. Having deemed feminism “indigenous,” “native,” and “organically legitimate” (2000, p. 64) in Africa, Amadiume ascribes a fairly radical content and ethos to it, from the militancy already mentioned to a strident anti-elitism that seeks to redress class inequalities and oppressions between African women. She seeks to center women in rural poverty in African feminisms and to guard against the elision of their experiences, voices, and concerns by urban women with higher levels of economic, social, and cultural capital. There are compelling material-political grounds to do so, but Amadiume’s starting premise concerns which women are or are not “authentically African.” She dismisses urban elite women as effectively colonized interlopers, “daughters of imperialism” (2000), in contradistinction to whom rural women are “daughters of the goddess” (2000) and “guardians of the matriarchal past (therefore, the very seat of African women’s heritage)” (2001, p. 58). Zulu Sofola (1998) invokes a similar logic to brand the urban African woman “dewomanized” in the sense of alienated from her putatively traditional, essential womanly power. These kinds of claims romanticize and hypostatize both rural and traditional Africa and erroneously presume their hermetic separation from the wider world. They also beg the question that Nkealah asks of the similar fetishizing of the rural woman in Acholonu’s (1995) theory of motherism: “does this mean that the urban woman has no contribution to make?” (2016, p. 64). We might add: does it mean that the problems the urban woman faces in or for her urbanity are not of

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import? What about the fact that the vast majority of urban women in Africa also live in poverty? And what about the issues that unite African women across class, space, and other internal difference? How can it all not be of concern to African feminisms? Rejecting any manner or degree of essentializing, Lewis suggests briefly that African feminisms and feminists are African in and for their “focus on a continental identity shaped by particular relations of subordination in the world economy and global social and cultural practices” (2001, p. 5). In other words, “Africa” is simply the object and terrain of African feminisms and understood as a produced not given entity, moreover. Carole Boyce-Davies offers a similar view, suggesting that the specificity of African feminisms lies in their “specific needs and goals arising out of the concrete realities of women’s lives in African societies” (1986, cited in GuySheftall, 2003, p. 32). “Culture,” “tradition,” “worldview,” and so on enter necessarily into this, but not as fixed, essential, or determining, or, therefore, immune to questioning, resistance, or change. Boyce-Davies (1986) offers a helpful and highly pragmatic case in point, which is that African feminisms can respect the fact that motherhood is venerated in many African cultures and societies without making this their very basis or failing to ask after the politics in play. Overall, what we could call the strongly essentialist theories and models of African feminisms in the literature, those that claim and advocate a deep and decisive state of ontological and even moral African difference (e.g., Acholonu, Amadiume, Bádéjo, Hudson-Weems), are in the minority. More common is that the African in African feminisms simply designates their contexts and concerns, always and rightly including culture. But even here it could be said, as a note of caution, that weak and seemingly convenient cultural essentialisms are often still potentially in play, or at least at the ready. Ogundipe-Leslie (1994), for example, recognizes and resists that reified notions of culture are often used to discredit African feminisms and discipline African women, and she emphasizes that culture is and should be subject to agentic intervention and change. Yet she takes recourse to a relative culturalism herself when it seems to suit. Responding to a popular fear in Africa that feminism is a vehicle for lesbianism, she writes in defense, to reassure, that in actual fact, sexuality is not on the list of African feminist concerns because the cultural context is one in which such a matter “tends to be private and considered private” (1994, p. 219, original emphases). The accuracy of the claim is disputable (e.g., see Tamale 2006). But even if it were the case that talking sex is “not African culture,” we might then need to ask if and why African feminist responses should be to accede, to stay silent.

Agendas, Issues, and Strategies The “bread and butter” issues on African feminist agendas, to borrow from Mikell’s phrasing (1997, p. 4), are generally agreed in the literature. They include, in no particular order, poverty, gender-based, state and political violence, militarism and authoritarianism, imperialism and racism, religious fundamentalisms, child marriage, health and healthcare, and women’s reduced or denied access to education, property, inheritance rights, and participation in political and civic life. Ogundipe-

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Leslie (1994) categorizes the issues into six broad causative domains, namely, external oppression, such as from neocolonial economic institutions like the World Bank; “traditional” oppressions such as feudalism; African women’s “own backwardness”; African men; racism; and “the [African] woman herself because she has internalized all these oppressions” (1994, p. 228). Thus, importantly, in addition to structural and “macro” considerations, she identifies the psychosocial as also key, as do others after her (e.g., Bakare-Yusuf 2003; McFadden 2003, 2018). Already noted is that she leaves sexuality out of consideration. Writing in 2003, Patricia McFadden accuses African feminists of tending to silence or avoid women’s sexuality due to a deeply ingrained, patriarchal fear of it. She advances a standpoint theoretical account of women’s erotic power and self-love as a radical feminist resource, while Mama argues that at the very core of feminism, and thus unavoidable politically and analytically, are “struggles over gender-based violence, trafficking in women, sex work, sexual orientation and sexual pleasure” (2005, pp. 1–2). Mama’s case is not merely for more African feminist attention to sexuality; as she and others note, sexuality is in fact much broached indirectly and/or instrumentally, in terms of the HIV/AIDS pandemic, reproductive health concerns, and sexual violence especially. Instead what Mama (2005) advocates is a radical reconceptualization of the very object(s) of concern, for feminist attention to sexuality as sexual politics. This shift has been underway in the literature from about the time of her writing in 2005. Signe Arnfred attributes this to the “pioneering endeavor” (2009, p. 152) of the African feminist scholarly journals, Feminist Africa (which Mama edits) and Agenda, both of which have had multiple dedicated issues on sexuality. The rise of the field of queer studies on the continent and beyond has been utterly indispensable too. Thus in the last 15 plus years, there has been a surge of research, theory, and activism concerning queer African subjectivities and communities, spaces, rights, and oppressions (e.g., see Matebeni et al. 2018). There has also been attention to erotic pleasure broadly construed (e.g., Tamale 2006; Mustafa 2006) and to the sexualization of women’s bodies (e.g., see Bakare-Yusuf 2011). Knowledge production, quite evidently, is another crucial issue for African feminisms and strategy. Yaba Blay (2008) stresses the imperative for action-oriented research, while others note the need for theory, reflection, reading, writing, and creative practice too, that these are not luxuries rendered unimportant or unaffordable by the pressing material exigencies of life in Africa (e.g., Gqola 2001; Lewis 2009). There are cautions, however, that African feminist theory must have an ultimate social utility and not devolve into “navel-gazing” and “intellectual gymnastics” for their own sake – as in the West, is the suggestion (Nnaemeka 2004, p. 365). Many argue that simple binaries of “theory versus praxis” and “academic or activist” do not hold in the African context, in any case. Self-named “scholaractivists” like Charmaine Pereira (2009) know and write this intimately, from direct experience of institutional conditions in the academy that are at best challenging for feminist thinking and imagining (among many other things). Pumla Gqola (2001) makes the broader point that, not least for being excluded historically from the academy, African women theorize from the everyday and thereby redefine the spaces and modes of knowledge production altogether.

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In view of all the above, African feminist scholar-activists have theorized and pursued a two-pronged intellectual strategy: entering and claiming space within the academy, with a view to transforming it from within, and organizing around it, building autonomous intellectual and research networks, including across national borders (e.g., see Pereira 2009). The profound challenges of the former task have been discussed in the literature, from institutional inertia to the depoliticization or siloing of feminist scholarship to sexual harassment (e.g., see Feminist Africa issues 8 and 9). Similar dynamics have been considered and experienced in relation to the institution of the state. Historically, the state has been the primary locus of African feminist activism, on issues ranging from women’s political participation to the legal frameworks and protections that they need to exercise their full citizenship. This focus is attributed, among others, to the fact that many national women’s movements emerged out of broader anti-colonial or liberation struggles and the political parties these birthed. South Africa provides an exemplary case, where many women involved in the struggle transitioned, with the African National Congress, into political office. Studying the South African trajectory post-apartheid, Shireen Hassim (2003) shows how the inclusion of women in the state machinery does not amount to redistribution or justice for women on the ground, the poor and rural especially. Elsewhere she (2005) proposes a typological distinction between “inclusion” and “transformation” as competing strategic feminist approaches to the state in Africa. Responding directly to Hassim, Elaine Salo (2005) suggests that this dual typology is helpful but incomplete because African feminist activisms and movementbuilding increasingly look beyond the state to both regional and international sites and solidarities. Related is that the issues of concern, environmental degradation, say, or poverty, often are not and cannot be delimited to the national realm, where it also cannot be presumed that women constitute a natural or unified constituency. Referring to the South African case, Salo writes: As class and urban-rural divides widen in post-apartheid South Africa, increasingly cutting across traditional categories of race, what rurally-based impoverished black women might identify as key issues for social transformation, may very well have more in common with concerns of indigenous Native-American women on a US reservation than those of their black, middle-class, urban-based South African sisters. Consequently, a broad united national women’s movement that cuts across South African women’s diverse identities would have to be worked for, rather than assumed. . .. (2005, p. 4, emphasis added)

These crucial points apply equally if not all the more to pan-African feminist unities and solidarities; these cannot be assumed or naturalized, rather they must be fostered, achieved, and sustained. Salo’s point is likewise salient for African feminist alliances with and inclusions within more global formations. Here Oyeronke Oyewumi (2003), Nnaemeka (1998), and others caution against facile and celebratory assumptions of a global feminist sisterhood. The mere language of sisterhood, Oyewumi (2003) suggests, assumes a universal female victimization and is perhaps more accurately rendered as “sisterarchy” (Nzegwu 1990), a pointed term about unequal relations between women globally which speaks again to the utter necessity for African women to demarcate and assert where they stand.

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Gaps and New Directions In 2003, Bibi Bakare-Yusuf wrote that African feminisms need a non-essentialist and non-culturalist theoretical account of African women that is “grounded in the complex realities of [these women’s] everyday experiences” (2003, p. 1). BakareYusuf (2003) outlines a phenomenological account herself, but almost 20 years later, her call has not been fully answered, and the urgent need for this very much foundational theoretical work remains. The chapter has touched upon different problems for African feminisms with insisting on authenticity, indigeneity, tradition, and so on, above all that exclusions of different kinds of African women, and realms of experience and concern, follow inherently. Shirin Edwin (2016) identifies a potential exclusion not discussed in the chapter thus far: Islam. She notes rightly that in some of the early and core scholarship on African feminisms (e.g., by Ogundipe-Leslie 1994; Sofola 1998), Islam is othered as a foreign imposition, “unAfrican” again, and as a source of disempowerment for African women. Arguing that at the same time sub-Saharan African Muslim women tend to be overlooked in Islamic feminist thinking, of which the more predominant focus is the Middle East and Arab world, Edwin (2016) proposes the need for an “African-Islamic” feminist theory that attends to the specificities of such women’s lives and faith, including the Africanness of both. There is some scholarship in the vein, if not by the particular hyphenated name that Edwin proposes, which she seems to overlook (e.g., Hoel and Shaikh 2013; Baderoon 2015). Nonetheless, Edwin’s (2016) critique is helpful in introducing the question of religion. It could be said that other than in its fundamentalist guises, religion is generally overlooked in the literature on African feminisms, faith all the more so. These are issues in need of attention, therefore. How do African feminisms intersect with religion? If and where African feminists subscribe to a particular faith, how do they reconcile this with their politics? Theo Sowa (in Sowa et al. 2017, p. 199) suggests that an inability to address this last issue has cost the women’s movement members. Edwin’s (2016) distinction between both the lived positionalities and the consequent theorizing of Muslim African women in subSaharan versus North Africa also points to another set of important issues insufficiently addressed in the literature, concerning “Africa” as both geopolitical and racialized space and place. Most often in the literature, it is the continent that is meant by “Africa,” and more precisely south of the Sahara. North Africa and the diaspora tend to be excluded or omitted, then – both the diaspora constituted historically by the transatlantic slave trade, and the more recent formations comprising African migrants pushed or pulled to leave “home” for various reasons. These places and peoples must be brought more into African feminist considerations. Among other things, this would demand greater reckoning with race and processes of racialization and racism in Africa, not just of it, another marked omission in the literature beyond South Africa. This omission may be attributable to the fact that it is ethnicity rather than race that tends to have immediate salience in everyday life and consciousness on the continent, from the distribution of resources and political power to violence and conflict. But

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what then accounts for the conspicuous absence of ethnicity and ethnic politics in the theorizing of African feminisms? This too must be addressed. In a recent contribution, McFadden (2018) suggests another direction in which African identity and its politics need theorizing for African feminist purposes, which is away from the collective toward the individual. She recounts from personal experience, and pain, of having had to “self-rescue” from what she had come to experience as the “dangerous, reactionary essentialisms” of the women’s movement, as well as the creeping incursion of neoliberal logics and values (2018, p. 421). McFadden’s (2018) questions of what it means to live an African feminist life at the present conjuncture are crucial; they are questions about feminist subjectivity, selflove, and self-care, indeed survival in Africa. How, for example, do or should African feminisms and feminists balance or reconcile commitments to the collective and communal with individuality and even individualism? What responsibilities do African feminists have toward ecological balance and sustainability? What does it even mean, at the individual and interiorized level, to be an African feminist? What kinds of conditions invite and sustain this self-positioning, or alternatively discourage it, which are also questions about the survival and renewal of African feminist movements, including intergenerationally, and questions about the various forms of exclusion, prejudice, and violence, intended or not, within them. The conditions of and for African feminisms, and of and for African women more importantly, are ever-shifting and complexifying. The scholarly literature endeavors to keep up, and must. In addition to what has been outlined above, variously new, reconfigured, or simply still under-researched conditions, areas, and identities to which the literature must pay attention include but are not limited to queer life in Africa, including pleasures, a particular and deeply political omission that Zethu Matebeni and Thabo Msibi (2015) underscore; popular, media, and consumer cultures, including, most recently “postfeminism” (e.g., Dosekun 2020); digital technologies, including the opportunities and challenges these pose for feminist activism; sex work, trafficking, and pornography; environmental degradation and extractive industries; deepening economic inequality; land ownership and (re)distribution and neo-imperialist land-grabbing, including from new directions; and regional and transnational feminist organizing.

Conclusion This chapter has reviewed African women’s theorizing of African feminisms, tracing the diversity of perspectives in the literature having to do with the issues to be addressed and their relative priority, the implications of feminist politics, and also self-naming for African women’s cultural and familial identities, including their relationships with men, and the points of connection and disconnection or disagreement with Western feminisms, among others. What the diversity of theoretical perspectives shows is not only that there is no such thing as “African feminism” in the singular, as a monolith. It shows that, even in the plural, African feminisms are produced not a priori; African feminisms are constructs, contestations, and thus cases to be made. The chapter has made a

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case for anti-essentialist foundations in the theorizing, imagining, and “doing” of African feminisms, or, in other words, a refusal to fetishize, romanticize, or presume to pin down or dictate what Africanness and thus African womanhood comprise and look like, at the same time as anti-African racism and imperialism are equally refused. The case is for an uncompromising politics for the substantive empowerment of African women – all African women – “no ifs, no buts.”

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Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Defining Women’s Studies . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Struggle and the Context of Women Studies in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Decolonizing Theories and Frameworks in African Women Studies and Research . . . . . . . . . . . . Themes of Women’s Studies in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Benefits of Women’s Studies to Africa’s Development . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

The study of women in the academy, and of African women in the African and global academy, is the result of developments in feminist activism in the Global North and South, in everyday spaces and in academic and policy circles. This chapter explores in detail the historical development of the field, the questions of identity within the discipline, what themes occupy the study, the import of women’s studies for African development, and the future directions of the study. Keywords

Women’s Studies · Africa · African Women’s Studies · Feminism · Gender studies · Pedagogy

T. Falola (*) Department of History, University of Texas at Austin, Austin, TX, USA e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_65

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Introduction Academics and pedagogy are constantly evolving to accommodate the realities of the present age. Societal changes have spurred the global women’s movement, and, as part of the movement’s expansive strategy, the women’s movement and feminist activism carved out a niche beginning in the 1960s and 1970s to include Women’s Studies in academia as its own discipline (Stake 2006). Oyewumi states explicitly that Women’s Studies around the world emanated from feminist movements in Western Europe and North America, then spread globally (Oyewumi 2005). The study of humanity and society has been divided into various disciplines for ease of study, but sadly the content of this knowledge and its acquisition is constructed from a male perspective that mutes the experiences and voices of women (Hunter College Women’s Studies Collective 2005). As part of the objectives of the women’s movement, feminist scholars began to advocate for the institutionalization of Women’s Studies to provide a perspective to women’s realities and an outlet for the study of women. As noted by Jackson, Women’s Studies emergence as part of the academia has its roots in the second-wave feminism, with Tobias identifying American scholar Florence Howe as an early proponent of women’s studies who viewed it as a teaching movement that identifies and tries to eliminate the trivialization and omission of women’s discourses in academia (Tobias 1978). Integral to its framework and objectives is the need to decentralize the exclusive male-centered epistemologies prevalent in the academia and allow room for different perspectives from women to emerge (Jackson 2016). Several feminist publications such as The Feminine Mystique by Betty Friedan, Kate Millet’s Sexual Politics, Alice Rossi’s An Immodest Proposal, and Naomi Weisstein’s Psychology Reconstructs the Female revealed and challenged assumptions and biases about women’s status in society (Tobias 1978). These works served as the base materials and resources for the inauguration and institutionalization of Women’s Studies as a subject and program in higher education and also tried to fill the absence of information about women and their experiences in the curricula of the time (ibid.). The dearth of a female presence or focus in the curricula of the time reflected the broader alienation of women throughout society. Pellow captures the state of the academia at the time regarding studies concerning women: For years, indeed until the recent emergence of feminism, the worlds of women were relatively unexplored. Social scientists solicited neither women’s thoughts nor their opinions. They highlighted child-bearing and rearing as women’s productive activities. Any roles other than the domestic were often misconstrued, if not entirely ignored. Women were written off to a mundane existence in the home. (Pellow 1977)

What presence there was of women in fiction and mainstream academic literature at the time was mostly stereotypical; it was either within domestic roles and homesteads or as prostitutes and expensive, dependent wives (ibid.). The few women academics at the time perceived the political dimension of this erasure and, alongside activist students, felt the need to revamp the curricula to accommodate women’s voices (ibid.).

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Broader political activism combatting discrimination against women and their alienation from the job market and other areas of society increased the consciousness of women, including female students and faculty who began to develop and conceptualize approaches to include women’s experiences and knowledge. In a personal account by Ampofo and Arnfred, they “struggled long and hard against university cultures and authorities in order to redesign disciplines so they would take women’s perspectives into account, and in order for universities to give space and resources to special centers for Women’s Studies” (Ampofo and Arnfred 2009). The University of Seattle was the first college to offer a course in Women’s Studies in the year 1965 (Stromquist 2001), while San Diego State College in California pioneered a Women’s Studies program in 1970 and set the pace for other colleges and universities in America (ibid.). Tobias notes that courses in Women’s Studies began to be taught in US schools and colleges beginning from 1969 (Tobias 1978), while Stromquist charts how in parts of Europe feminist movements began to engender Women’s Studies courses in the 1980s and in the 1990s (Stromquist 2001). Jackson specifies that Women’s Studies programs at the postgraduate level in the UK first emerged in the early 1980s at the Universities of Kent, Bradford, and York and soon began to proliferate as they got integrated into polytechnics and universities across the UK (Jackson 2016). In Africa, women studies as an area of academic research and study emerged in the 1980s and have since permeated into several areas and disciplines of scholarship (Pereira 2004, pp. 1–26). Ampofo et al. attribute this emergence and its growth to factors such as the influence of the women’s movement in the Global North and the impact on the continent of feminist movements to various sectors of the society, as well as economic and political conditions and “the crisis in African education and the emergence of state feminism” (Ampofo et al. 2004). Conversely, Mbilinyi attributes this emergence to the economic crisis in parts of Africa at the time inspiring the inclusion of women’s discourses aimed at bolstering the economy. There were increasing cases of infant and childhood mortality and growing fears of the implications of the decline in family income and increasing poverty. Given the central role of women in food production, particularly as peasant farmers and traders but also as caregivers and providers of family nutrition, there came to be the need to explore women’s interactions with society as an exclusive area of study (Mbilinyi 1984). Simultaneously, the reality of male predominance in academic ideologies and sexual harassment and violence in homes and workplaces inspired the creation of a network of women researchers, academics, and activists who shared the aim to examine the prevalence of these societal issues and devise strategies toward eliminating women subordination and encouraging assertiveness. This network shared study resources and materials and engaged in research that combated discriminatory practices and stereotypical portrayals of women. However, the developments depicted by Ampofo et al. and Mbilinyi’s did not translate into thriving Women’s Studies programs in Africa, nor did they mean that the existing programs are run without obstacles and challenges. This study aims to document the continued exigency of the study and teaching of women studies in

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Africa. It will consider and compare the definition of Women’s Studies from African and global perspectives, while examining African women’s struggle for inclusion in Women’s Studies. While exploring existent and operative frameworks in Women’s Studies, the essay will interrogate the limitations of Western theories and frameworks on the study of women in Africa and stress the need for the decolonization of Women’s Studies in Africa.

Defining Women’s Studies Women’s Studies has undergone several evolutionary processes, including the stages of development in the process of naming. Aside from being commonly referred to as “Women’s Studies,” it is often interchangeably called “Feminist Studies,” “Gender Studies,” “Female Studies,” and even “Feminology.” This process of renaming has been shaped by the study’s search for legitimacy, with contentions about whether one label or another expresses more political implications than the others. One reason for the renaming efforts can be attributed to the exclusionary implications of the name “Women’s Studies”; “Women’s Studies” implies a sole emphasis on the study of women – particularly cis women – perhaps accounting for the contemporary preference for “Gender Studies.” Aside from the connotations of exclusion, Jackson suggests that the adoption of “Gender Studies” in place of “Women’s Studies” denotes a pacifist approach to the “threat” of the term “Women’s Studies.” He views it as a strategy to appear less combative and more respectable, with the term “gender” allowing for a safe zone for women’s discourses. Coyner considers this shift a “watered-down compromise” (Coyner 1991). In contemporary times, “Gender Studies” has been more inclusive of gender conforming and nonconforming discourses in academia (Jackson 2016). Pereira distinguishes between “Women’s Studies” and “Gender Studies,” describing “Women’s Studies” as solely concerned and preoccupied with knowledge production that emanate specifically from women’s lives and experiences. Although both fields are concerned with the experiences and status of women in the society, “Gender Studies” tends to be more inclusive of men and focused on the social constructions of gender and power relations of existing gender identities. It tends to explore gender differences and takes a neutral and inclusive stance exploring the relationships between different genders (Pereira 2004). Cognizant of this distinction, for the purpose of this work, references will be made to either term and will also be used interchangeably to refer to the same subject matter. Whelehan and Pilcher focus on the historical link between Women Studies to Gender Studies (Pilcher and Whelehan 2004). They describe Gender Studies as having been triggered by second-wave feminists to draw attention to the exclusion of the identities, interests, and experiences of women in scholarship, which is essentially the same genesis and aim of Women’s Studies, and so they have employed the use of “gender” as a viable substitute title for the study of women. Even Pereira, while trying to extract a distinction between both concepts, admits that “differentiating one from the other is not always a straight forward matter” (Pereira 2004, p. 2).

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Women’s Studies, as defined by this study, is not just concerned with women, but its subject matter is weaved around the experiences of women in relation to their interaction with the rest of the society. It is the study of women, their experiences, complexities, differences, position in society, and the interplay of different factors in their oppression and alienation. College offers a similar perspective of women and gender studies: . . ..as the study of women that places power at the center of the process. It examines the world and the human beings in it with questions, analyses and theories built directly on women’s experiences. Because not all women’s lived experiences are the same, Women’s Studies is all about differences –in race, ethnicity, nationality, sexual identity, generation, class, religion, physical ability, and other identity markers. (Hunter College, Women’s Realities, Women’s Choices 2005)

The earlier definition provided by Tobias’ situates the study of women within the provisions of already existing areas of study such as literature, art, and economics, by identifying and examining the place of difference and diversity of women’s experiences within them. College, although not in clear terms, demonstrates similar opinions as Tobias, given that she also explores the experiences of women relative to the existing differences in the lives of women across the globe. From both scholars, it can therefore be inferred that Women’s Studies is not merely an academic aspect of the women’s movement but also serves as political advocacy for inclusivity of women in discourses pertaining to the various spheres of human endeavor; it serves as a political strategy toward the elimination of the prevalent male-centered academia. Offering another perspective, Coyner views Women’s Studies not as an identity derived from a discipline, such as psychologists in psychology or philosophers in philosophy, but rather as “something in a college, university, or school [that] exists only within an educational institution” (Coyner 1991). She further states that people who work within the job provisions of Women’s Studies programs find identities from other parts of the academic community, such as referring to themselves as feminist historians or feminist social workers (ibid.). However, as a subject matter, she defines Women’s Studies from the following perspective: . . ..as an attempt at bringing feminism into the academy and applying teaching and scholarship to the goals of the women’s movement. . .. Women’s Studies is about women, encouraging teaching and scholarship about women’s creative work, women’s experience, women’s viewpoints, history, and culture. Yet not everything about women is Women’s Studies. (ibid., p. 353)

Essentially, Women’s Studies examines and explores the relative experiences of women in the society while also advocating for inclusivity and a space for allies. Tobias defines it as: the intellectual examination of the absence of women from history; a fresh look in a non-Freudian way at the social psychology of women; the study of women in literature and the images of women in the Arts; the economic and legal history of the family; and speculation about ‘androgyny’, a state of society and a state of mind where sex-differences might be socially, economically and politically overcome. (Tobias 1978, p. 85)

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To effectively define Women’s Studies, it is important to reflect the earlier debates on the term and discipline. Crouch considers some of these debates unresolved, including the question of whether Women’s Studies is a separate field in and of itself or an interdisciplinary program nested within and across other fields. She states that for about 40 years, since the conception of the idea of Women’s Studies, “it has been referred to as “multidisciplinary, intradisciplinary, nondisciplinary, antidisciplinary, neo-disciplinary, transdisciplinary, cross-disciplinary, critical interdisciplinary, intersectional, intertextual, and pluri-disciplinary” (Crouch 2012). In favor of treating Women’s Studies as an independent discipline are scholars who envisage the benefits of funding and other resources it can garner separate from other departments, as well as academic legitimacy rather than the secondary treatment it is bound to receive if annexed to another discipline. In the latter situation, the faculty members will have their loyalties and time tied to the mother discipline and find their department will negotiate funding to be invested in the principal discipline and the Women’s Studies program receiving the scraps. Arguments in favor of an interdisciplinary status claim that there is a possible threat to the efficiency of feminist and women’s scholarship and conducting disciplinary collaborations when scholars are preoccupied with the attendant administrative concerns and departmental hierarchies with the creation of an independent department (ibid.). Dickinson tries to find a middle ground in these debates by suggesting that the interdisciplinary approach will most likely create a multidisciplinary training and learning for students, but it might also reduce the employment of full-time core and joint position teachers in Women’s Studies (Dickinson 2005). In the past, the definition of woman and their experiences were homogenized and centered on the experiences of women in the Global North, but the field of Women’s Studies across the globe are beginning to take into consideration differences of race, class, sexuality, disability/ability, nationality, and ethnicity, drawing in more diverse perspectives to the study of women around the globe, and have embraced a trend of scholarship that tends to cater for the global and transnational demands of women. As the scope of inquiry has broadened to include more voices, it has opened up new unique fields of contention focused on the lives of women outside the traditional norm considered in Women’s Studies. African Women’s Studies invites its own debate about how women are accommodated within it. Does it accommodate just African women within the continent or African women in diaspora? Women’s Studies in Africa can not only explore discourses emanating solely from the continent; Black and transnational feminism constitute subject areas aside from mainstream feminism. They explore studies beyond African boundaries taking into consideration the diversity of women and gender across the globe. Ampofo et al. opine that women and gender scholarship in Africa provides insightful angles to the study and teaching of Black and transnational feminism, developing scholarly research and exchange of knowledge between scholars and activists across the globe (Ampofo et al. 2008). This still does not negate the claims that scholars in the Global North tend to objectify African women while marginalizing African feminist scholarship and Women’s Studies (ibid.).

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In spite of those challenges, it is safe to say that Women’s Studies in Africa as a program and area of scholarship continues to forge and encourage new perspectives on feminist studies across the globe. There is a collaboration of knowledge from Africa and the African diaspora exploring the experiences of women where they live, as well as research on the ability of women to transform their immediate environment and their economies in Africa and among the diaspora. Contemporary feminist and women’s scholars are actively working to bridge the gap between feminist scholarship in the continent and in the diaspora in order to provide new dimensions across the globe.

Struggle and the Context of Women Studies in Africa African women struggle for physical and ideological inclusion in the global academia, but this general alienation of women from scholarship and education is beginning to diminish as the journey toward a new status of women in education progresses and, more importantly, with the introduction and sustenance of Women’s Studies as a field of study in Africa. Literature proffers a consensus that women across the globe and in Africa made a late entry into academics and education in comparison to the men. Tamale and Oloka-Onyango demonstrate that colonial policies were put in place to ensure the exclusion of women from education in the continent (Tamale and Oloka-Onyango 1997). Through the male-centered politics and the policies that were enacted at the time, male education was granted more priority to that of the women, and disproportionate opportunities were offered to males and females in that era. Instead, emphasis for women was placed on domestic roles and on vocations and skills aimed at preparing them for wifehood and motherhood. Akubuilo and Omeje claim that colonialism and Christianity came bundled with an image of women’s position in the household as homemakers that was disempowering for women and can account for the unbalanced presence of men and women in schools and the academia at the time (Akubuilo and Omeje 2012). Mama opines that the universities are still predominantly patriarchal in their activities and epistemologies, while women’s intellectual contributions are relegated to the background. The influence of patriarchy and poverty has sustained this situation for a long time, unchallenged until the commencement of women activism and movements across the continent. Following a global women’s uprising, the 1980s and 1990s ushered in exponential growth of the women’s movement and activism within the continent. Earlier, women’s movements had been attached to nationalist and anticolonial movements; they were primarily women’s organizations with little or no interest in political affairs, but rather focused on eliminating discriminatory gender practices in households. Aili Mari Tripp describes that they were more concerned with issues like child care, agriculture, basic literacy, handicrafts, and other domestic affairs. She traces the transition and advancement from these local women’s organizations ultimately into large-scale political movements that pushed for the growth and expansion of women

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in education (Tripp 2003). This increase of female attendance in schools gave opportunities for more educated and capable leaders of these women organizations, which spearheaded women’s activism across the continent. With the growing presence of women in education across the globe and the eventual emergence of feminist movements, the consciousness of the near total absence of women’s discourses and perspectives in academia has deepened. Women’s Studies in Africa gained its footing in the 1970s and 1980s, sustained through the establishment of various associations for the purpose of engendering feminist academic research and development that emerged from the intellectual feminist tradition emanating from the various women’s movements at the time. These new independent women’s research and advocacy centers, created with the aim of promoting feminist operations in Africa through activism and scholarship, included Women in Nigeria (WIN) and the Association of African Women for Research and Development (AAWORD), spearheaded by women in Dar es Salaam in 1977. The Council for the Development of Social Science Research in Africa (CODESRIA) and the University of Cape Town’s African Gender Institute (AGI) were also established for the sole purpose of stimulating and engaging teaching and research activities on women’s activism in Africa (Ampofo et al. 2008). Awumbila argues that AAWORD particularly set into motion the steps that led to the institutionalization of Women’s Studies in Africa. The principal aim of the group was to facilitate and equip feminist scholarship and activism within the continent, adopting an approach that focused on revising and challenging Eurocentric ideologies and paradigms within the study and activism of Women’s Studies in Africa (Awumbila 2007). Alongside the creation of feminist organizations and conferences, other network and documentation centers provided women with the necessary platform and connections to explore their interests and the institutionalization of Women and Gender Studies in Africa. These centers pursued activism through research and knowledge analysis and soon began to organize short lectures and courses on women- and gender-related issues, allowing Women’s and Gender Studies in Africa to emerge from women’s groups outside the academia (ibid.). Ampofo and Arnfred document from their personal account how, aside from the creation of organizations and associations with the sole purpose of facilitating women-centered research, female faculty and students in the various tertiary institutions across the continent engaged in visible struggles for the institutionalization and legitimization of Women’s Studies in Africa. They describe the women’s efforts: We also struggled long and hard against university cultures and authorities in order to redesign disciplines so they would take women’s perspectives into account, and in order for universities to give space and resources to special centres for Women’s Studies. An aspect of this struggle was the push for taking women into consideration in the context of Development Studies – a field of study which had emerged to support the development aid paradigm that had taken over where colonialism had left off in Africa. (Arnfred and Ampofo 2010)

With the recognition of a male-centered academia and an acknowledgment of the silence regarding women experiences and realities, agitations began for the inclusion of women perspectives and ideologies in various disciplines and the creation of

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Women’s Studies programs. In response, several debates on the relevance of the program to the development of Africa sprung up. Scholarship on Women’s Studies was trivialized and considered unscientific and irrelevant, and interest and funding were only given to women in development (WID) programs, particularly with the aim of including women in economic activities to ameliorate poverty in the society. Most of these activities succeeded only in exploiting and creating more female peasants, while female researchers continued to be burdened with the male supremacist attitudes and actions in academic settings. The program association and emergence from feminist intellectualism led to a pushback, especially from those male scholars who preferred to adopt gender as a title in place of women’s or feminist studies. Even with this opposition, Awumbila charts how by the mid-1990s many universities within the continent had set up departments for women and gender studies (Awumbila 2007), which served as centers for extended African feminist activism. She notes that societal changes combined with political concerns to contribute to the establishment of some women’s programs in parts of Africa. Referencing the Kenyatta University, she describes how the Center for Gender Studies was established to address the absence of knowledge and strategies to tackle victimization and criminal activities committed to women such as rape and sexual harassment within the campus. Other issues such as the need for gender mainstreaming and the generation of gender-based knowledge led to the establishment of a myriad of other women’s programs within universities across the continent (ibid.). These universities set up women’s programs in coordination with other universities in different countries across the continent, facilitating initiatives and strategies for tackling tangible women-related issues and the dearth of discourse and research focused on women around the globe. Awumbila delineates the network of institutions involved in the early women initiatives and strategies: Critical initiatives were established in the early 1990s at the University of Ghana’s Development and Women’s Studies Unit (DAWS), at Ibadan University in Nigeria, through the Gender Unit at Eduardo Mondlane University in Mozambique, Women’s Research and Documentation Project at Dar es Salaam, at the University of the Western Cape in South Africa, and the Women and Gender Studies Department in Makerere University in Uganda. In some Universities, this equity strategy was pursued by scholars within particular departments, e.g. Women and Law in Southern Africa (WLSA) originated from the Law Faculty in the University of Zimbabwe. (ibid., p. 48)

Although Women’s Studies programs were established with the help of activists’ concerns, the problem of academic freedom and the disconnect between theory and praxis on gender continues to constitute a challenge. Another major challenge to the discipline and study of women and gender in Africa is chronic underfunding for gender-related researches (Tamale and Oloka-Onyango 1997), the result of hostility premised on social resistance to the assertiveness of women toward eliminating female subordination in theory and practice within and outside academia. Tamale and Oloka-Onyango make reference to problems related to university management and promotion, including negligence in affirmative action in hiring and

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the absence or alienation of women in the overall administration of universities (ibid.). This is particularly detrimental to the health of Women’s Studies in Africa, given that female and feminist leadership in these tertiary institutions would make a meaningful statement on the importance of women, would curb some of the internal resistance these programs receive in these institutions, and would ensure that the issue of funding will be adequately addressed. Given the power imbalance between men and women in academia in both theory and praxis, enabled by unfounded sociocultural biases against women, the question now is whether women are truly free actors in Women’s Studies in higher learning institutions. Despite these challenges, women continue to exert themselves toward selfexpression and legitimization of policies on gender equity using scholarship and research. Mama in 1996 conducted what will be considered the first comprehensive African review and scholarship on gender and Women’s Studies in Africa. It took into consideration a wide range of subjects on women, state, cultural studies, politics, and the economy and set the tone for a wealth of scholarship on Women’s Studies in the continent. These succeeding scholarly writings expanded the bounds of Women’s Studies by exploring theoretical models and methodologies, while also examining women’s experiences within indigenous dialogues (Pereira 2004).

Decolonizing Theories and Frameworks in African Women Studies and Research Formal education as we know it in Africa is a product of colonialism, and therefore, knowledge production in Africa from the very inception of formal education has been Westernized. Theorization, methodologies, approaches, and curricula of learning in Africa are embedded with Western thought processes and serve as a tool to reinforce Western dominance while subordinating Black knowledge and images. Idahosa posits that education in the era of colonialism was primarily an attempt at the westernization of Africa, a process that continued into the postcolonial era. Consequently, education in Africa has continued to reinforce and expand existent prejudices of African inferiority, embodied in this bigoted depiction of Africa: Africans have remained for thousands of years at virtually the same level of culture. They seem almost alone among the major races of the world to have halted in the stone-age, too comfortable to go any further. (Stacey 1960)

Mama likens the position of Africa relative to the rest of the world to the great mythologies of humanity, where Africa occupies “a dark and antithetical land of fables and fantasies” (Mama 2004a). Africa’s prevalent underdevelopment gives momentum to these theories, and so they continue to gain ground even well into the era of industrialization and technologization. This propaganda championing Africa’s stagnation and inferiority to the rest of the world has been ongoing since Africa’s contact with the Global North and can also be perceived in the Western hegemony of

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knowledge systems in Africa. As noted by Kisiang’ani, hegemonic Western frameworks and ideologies continue to influence African scholarship and not the other way around despite its expanded global visibility (Kisiang’ani 2004). Western education inspired and fostered images of African women as helplessly oppressed and without agency, hence the stereotypical presentation of them as being limited to sexual and domestic labor and placed in disempowering positions as sex peddlers and dependents. This image was strengthened and domesticated by Africans, given that Africans have been directly socialized by Western ideologies propagated in home-based institutions. Despite these challenges, recent scholarship on women and gender in Africa is increasingly decolonizing knowledge production in the continent. Having emanated from feminist activism and studies from the Global North, it is not surprising that the operative and predominant theories and frameworks adopted in Women’s Studies and research in Africa (regional and diaspora) emerge from methodologies and frameworks adopted by white feminist and women’s scholarship from the Global North. Idahosa recognizes this predominance, arguing that: The current patterns of inequalities in the production of knowledge which legitimizes knowledge produced in the global north, the politics of citation which makes reference to Western authors and research conducted by these authors on Africa, and the misrepresentation of African women and men point to the continued effects of Western hegemony on Gender Studies which fails to take into account knowledge outside its context. . ... modernity and the production of knowledge about social reality and the history of women in Africa were based on Eurocentric views and belief systems. As a result, Eurocentric knowledges came to dominate the ‘interests, concerns, predilections, neuroses, prejudices, social institutions and social categories’ of history, social reality, and processes. (▶ Chap. 4, „Decolonizing the Curriculum on African Women and Gender Studies”)

The problem of these methodologies is its generalization, a one-size-fits-all approach in the analysis and theorization of female experiences around the world. Following the emergence of gender scholarship in the continent and among women of color in the diaspora, organizations such as the Association of African Women for Research and Development (AAWORD) and the Development Alternatives with Women for a New Era (DAWN) have emerged and contributed immensely toward challenging the hegemony of Eurocentric theorizations and frameworks in the study of women around the world (Yacob-Haliso and Falola 2017). For instance, the treatment of veiling as a mechanism for women’s subjugation by feminist scholars in the Global North is critically examined by Mohanty for its application to women in parts of Asia as an exploration of baseless generalizations and hasty conclusions drawn by Western methodologies and frameworks developed through exploration of women experiences (Mohanty 2003). Western frameworks lack the adequacy and depth to capture and analyze the universal experiences and realities of all women across the globe, including Africa. Also, as noted by Baca Zinn et al., it also prevents a complete understanding of gender and society, making the frameworks it produces incomplete and inadequate (Zinn et al. 1986). She explores the misrepresentation of concepts like “reproduction, sexual

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division of labor, the family, marriage, household, and patriarchy” in Western examinations of women’s subordination and how these concepts are often expelled from their local and historical contexts, therefore making obvious misrepresentations and misapplications in scholarship and research (Mohanty 2003, p. 33). The continued preeminence of Western theories and frameworks translates to a persistent colonial and Western representation of African women and societies, while also serving as an exclusion or alienation of African epistemologies and indigenous knowledge production. Consequently, a knowledge hierarchy is sustained with African knowledge and methodologies at the bottom, while Eurocentric views and methods continue to be placed on top, resulting in the misrepresentation of African women’s realities and stalling development of women’s liberation in Africa and society in general. The gendered practices of women in parts of Africa cannot be fully understood nor their significance appreciated when the researcher’s approach to African Women’s Studies continues to be unrepentant in its bias toward the Western and colonial knowledge base. Focusing on the sexual division of labor, Mohanty examines how it is often misconstrued in feminist analysis and studies as a form or proof of existent of women oppression in parts of the Global South (ibid.). She opines that this is often not the case, while comparing the assumption that the growing number of female breadwinners or single lesbian mothers in middle-class Chicana and Black households is proof of progress due to Western feminist movements. She notes that most of these groups fall within the strata of women who are constrained economically and face limited life choices. Her analogy connotes that presumptions of the universality of the Western context are often misapplied to the Global South, creating culture-blind research of women in different contexts. Baca Zinn et al. describe how in recent times the exclusionary practices inherent in Western feminist theories and the framework of Women’s Studies have been criticized and interrogated, particularly by scholarship of people of color, resulting in heterogeneity in scholarly discourse on the best approach to the study of women across the globe (Zinn et al. 1986). The evolution of Women’s Studies in Africa is not drawn from an entirely different set of experiences from that of the Global North; both emanate from the common need to decentralize male perspectives, and they both emerged from larger women’s movements and activism, while also sharing similar challenges of being perceived as nonscientific and therefore irrelevant to scholars. Still, African Women’s Studies has developed in ways that are totally unique to its environment. Women’s movements and activism in Africa, beginning as far back as the 1950s and 1960s, were linked to the nationalist and anti-colonial movements of the time, something that is likely alien to women in the Global North.

Themes of Women’s Studies in Africa Given its emergence from anti-colonial mobilization, it is no wonder aspects of African Women’s Studies advocate for the decentralization of hegemonic Western frameworks in favor of indigenous and postcolonial approaches, methodologies, and

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concepts for the study of women in Africa in order to reflect their African realities. Tamale and Oloka-Onyango state: We likewise need to be cautious about uncritically projecting the concept of gender which has mainly developed in Western feminist theory onto African culture and politics. This is because the nuances of gender relations manifest variable factors in different societies, informing gender discourse in distinct contexts. In particular, the dialectic relationship between gender, class, colonialism and decolonization is pertinent for an analysis of gender in the African context. (Tamale and Oloka-Onyango 1997)

As the conception of gender applies to both personal and political domains, Women’s Studies in the continent tends to focus on political, cultural, and historical analysis. This approach can also be attributed to colonialism. Peculiar to African Women’s Studies is a consciousness of several sociocultural amalgams emanating from Africa’s experience with colonialism, with the roots of African women’s movements emerging within struggles for freedom and democracy and other political and economic reforms (Ampofo et al. 2004). Women’s education in Africa is clearly not independent of the influences of colonialism and tends to reflect the tensions of colonial and global forces, which informs the trajectory and nature of Women’s Studies in Africa. Asides from an emphasis on decolonizing women’s methodologies and knowledge production, Women’s Studies in Africa often examines the impact of colonialism, capitalism, neocolonialism, globalization, and neoliberalism through the reflections of women in these various contexts. African Women’s Studies must accommodate the realities of development and life within a developing continent. It must reflect the activities of women in developmental concepts such as “women in development” (WID), “women and development” (WAD), and “gender and development” (GAD). Women’s Studies within the continent takes into consideration the conditions of women in the face of poverty, the growing rate of unemployment, corruption, political incompetence, and imperialism. It also reflects the struggle of women for justice in a continent undergoing internal struggles for development and the attendant political and social transformations. Women’s Studies also carries the burden to serve as the intellectual reinforcement for political activism dedicated to gender relations in the continent. The demands of development are also seen in how the study of women is taught in various institutions across the continent, as the associated sociopolitical and cultural factors have to be taken into consideration. The curriculum and subject matter in Women’s Study programs must also grapple with issues of sexuality, health, and culture and how they relate to the experience of women in Africa. Owing to the multidisciplinary nature of Women’s Studies within the continent, it must reflect the centrality of health-related matters – particularly women’s reproductive health – in research of the biological and social sciences. Gendered traditions in marriage, ranging from seclusion, polygyny, wife inheritance, early marriage, and female genital mutilation, are considered significant factors influencing the frequency of maternal mortality and fertility (ibid.). Ampofo et al. submit that the establishment of the African Journal of Reproductive Health in 1993 contributed immensely to understanding and identifying varied aspects of women’s

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reproductive health and its fundamental role in the lives of African women (ibid.). There are problematic elements of the treatment of reproductive health; teenage pregnancies are subsumed under the umbrella of reproductive health, including consideration of other social and economic factors such as poverty, prostitution, and ignorance or outright negligence with the use of safe birth control measures among teenagers, but much of the research treats women involved as unfortunate victims of sociocultural and economic factors while advocating for the elimination of gendered perspectives. Most of these discourses and the attention paid toward teenage pregnancies tend to be centralized on the female teens while neglecting the role of the men in the situation (ibid.). Current discourses on women health are being extricated from the limiting conflation of health and gender as consuming all other aspects of female health, attempting to show that women’s health issues go beyond the survival of reproduction (McFadden 2003). There has also been a growing body of literature examining the relationship of women, gender, and HIV/AIDS in Africa, particularly sub-Saharan Africa. Studies within women’s programs in the continent identify the deplorable economic condition of women and the dominance of male sexual power t as key factors responsible for the spread and expansion of the HIV epidemic in sub-Saharan Africa. The latter factor reflects the effects of the construction of gender roles, particularly how depictions of masculinity and male pride are associated with multiple sexual partners, polygyny, and extramarital affairs and the related negligence toward healthcare with these types of sexual behavior. As women are often victims of reckless displays of masculinity, this raises women’s vulnerability toward HIV (Muller 2005). Depictions of women’s sexual roles also increase their risk as they are often expected to have no rights over their own bodies or the agency to refuse sexual relations from an unfaithful partner. Akosua details that: . . .some women consider it hopeless to expect fidelity from their partners and feel unable to refuse to have sex with nonmonogamous partners. The general consensus is that many women lack control over their sexuality, are unable to refuse sex to nonmonogamous partners, are unable to insist on or negotiate condom use, and it is male dominance in sexual matters that increases women’s vulnerability. (Ampofo et al. 2004, p. 11)

Citing UN reports, Muller states that women, young adults, and children – in particular girls – are the most vulnerable to HIV/AIDS and stresses that the elimination of gender inequality and the empowerment of women are the most likely and practical measures to ameliorate women’s vulnerability to the epidemic (ibid.). Women’s reproductive rights have also become a central subject matter for Women’s Studies globally and within the continent. The demand for sexual and reproductive rights constitutes an essential part of the feminist activism from which Women’s Studies emanated. Discourses on reproductive rights in Africa are considered controversial though and prompt contentious debates. Ilumoka suggests that careful attention and scrutiny should be given to this contentious discourse by African women to draw out indigenous agendas to tackle this issue and present solutions that better fit the environment and its realities (Adetoun 2003). Akosua, in response to the controversy associated with reproductive rights in the continent,

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identifies control of reproduction as a weapon for Black population control employed during colonialism and apartheid and views discourse on abortion as double-edged given how it challenges the dictates of patriarchy but also becomes a tool for control over women’s bodies, especially in situations where abortions are prompted by men (Ampofo et al. 2004). Women’s Studies in Africa also takes on discourses regarding women in education and its impact on the status of women in Africa. Aiming to decolonize the methodologies and epistemologies of the West in Africa, these scholars examine the impact of westernized education on women and society in the continent and create room for critical analysis and questioning of the basic concept of education and its various effects on society. While exploring education in parts of Zimbabwe, Gaidzanwa contrasts precolonial women’s education, which she views as preparing women for leadership and intellectual positions including spiritual leaders and political matriarchs, and colonial education that she considers to have been primarily programmed to keep African women in subservient positions as housewives, peasant farmers, or traders (Gaidzanwa 1997). Conversely, other scholars such as Adomako and Mbilinyi recognize that the creation of critically minded and independent theorization and frameworks has developed through formal education. They refer to several women’s groups such as AAWORD which have served as the backbones to gender and women’s scholarship in Africa as being the products of the intellectual engagements offered by formal education even if that was an unintended outcome of women’s education in the continent. Disregarding the origin and consequences of formal education in Africa, scholarship on women in the continent recognizes a pervasive gender disparity in attendance and enrolment in tertiary institutions across the continent. This gender equity in education in Africa constitutes a major component of postcolonial discourses on education in the continent. Ampofo et al. argue that effective strategies have not been employed to address the existing gender disparities in education in the continent, particularly in higher institutions (Ampofo et al. 2004). Instead, they state that government interventions to redress the issue of gender disparity have been rhetorical at best and have proven unable to reduce the effect it has on the position and status of women in the society. This perceived disparity does not exist in all tiers of education within the continent. Bloch and Vavrus argue that since the 1960s, female enrolment in primary schools has seemed to enjoy a level of parity with male students in various countries within the continent. They even opine that in some other countries, including Botswana and Namibia, female enrolment in primary schools seems to surpass that of the male enrolment (Bloch and Vavrus 1998) according to the 1995 United Nations report on human development (United Nations Development Programme 1995). This parity or improvement in female enrolment in primary schools does not translate to universal gender parity in education in the continent. Research on other parts of the continent reveals that women do not enjoy enrolment and attendance parity in primary, secondary, and tertiary education, rather there is a gaping imbalance between male and female enrolment in higher institutions (Bloch and Vavrus 1998).

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This disparity is attributed to several socioeconomic and cultural factors that encourage gender inequality in education (Ampofo et al. 2004). Early marriage practices and the attendant early child-breeding and motherhood continue to deter gender balance in education within the continent. Oppressive events such as sexual assault or rape and unplanned teenage pregnancies are usually accompanied with shaming practices that push the victims out of school and exempts male perpetrators, while disparities in health risks including HIV also contribute to the continent’s gender inequality in education. Additionally, domestic and agricultural labor expectations further serve as deterrents to female education in the continent. In Women’s Studies programs in Africa, the curriculum examines how assumptions of female subservience and inferiority have pushed women and girls into the confines of domesticity and discouraged investment in female education. These same factors can also account for the gender disparities in performance and access rates in certain disciplines of education including science, technology, and mathematics. These STEM disparities have been the focus of postcolonial gender discourses in Africa, and reference is often made to the dearth of female role models in STEM professions. For instance, engineering continues to feature a gaping gender imbalance both in Africa and globally, where women only constitute 15% of the worldwide engineering workforce (International Federation of University Women’s 2015 Policy Update 2015). Dube notes that these fields traditionally feature disproportionate male representation, but this situation has yet to be effectively addressed in the structuring of curricula, and so it is not surprising that most women tend to assume that such careers are unsuitable for them (Dube 2015). This belief has been further strengthened by residual colonial and missionary ideologies of female subordination that are expressed through religious doctrines, social conditioning, and remaining colonial political policies. Ampofo et al. explore contemporary factors contributing toward gender disparity and inequity in education, focusing on the intersecting factors that unequally affect women based on their class, race, ethnicity, nationality, culture, sexuality, and ability/disability. Examining these intersections shifts the discourse toward an understanding of the concept of gender as a social process and structure that interacts with other structures which become determinants in women’s access to education and invariably power (Yacob-Haliso and Falola 2017). In countries like South Africa, this emphasis on the politics of race, sexuality, class, culture, and location of women and their access to education and privilege constitutes the bulk of their feminist and women’s research, including expanding consideration of Africans in the diaspora (Mama 2004b). Research of women and education cannot be explored independently from factors like race and nationality. Racialized and nationalized privileges and access condition African women’s discrimination, and oppression or subordination holds different meanings to different nationalities and societies. The concept of sexuality in its varying aspects and forms also attract attention in African Women’s Studies. The centrality and topicality of sexuality and gender at the global front has launched consideration of women’s sexuality in African Women’s Studies, breaking what Akosua identifies as a previous silence on issues of sexuality

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as they pertains to women in Africa. Sexuality constitutes a central element of a person’s development and their construction of identity. Sexuality finds expression in people’s thoughts, attitudes, behaviors, relationships, fantasies, and desires. The aspect of female sexuality drawing the most global scholarly interest is sexual repressive activities aimed at silencing women. According to McFadden, sexuality and the idea of sexual pleasure and eroticism instigate a certain kind of fear and alarm among women in Africa (McFadden 2003). Hollibaugh succinctly identifies this dynamic in relation to North American women: Women in this culture live with sexual fear like an extra skin. Each of us wears it differently depending on our race, class, sexual preference and community, but from birth we have all been taught our lessons well. Sexuality is dangerous. It is frightening, unexplored, and threatening. . . Many of us become feminists because of our feelings about sex. (Hollibaugh 1996)

The dynamic is very relevant to women in Africa, as sexual anxiety is the norm for African women and their sexuality. The notion of female sexual pleasure, liberty, or choice raises eyebrows and conjures up images of filth and irresponsibility in Africa. This reaction is not restricted to rural or uneducated women, but rather can be commonly found amidst women of all classes and levels within the continent – even among feminist activists in and outside the academia. The internalization of sexist constructions of female sexual pleasure as “irresponsible” and lascivious continues to serve as a repressive mechanism to restrain female sexual expression and liberty. Even with the topicality of sexuality in feminist and gender discourses around the globe, notions of sexual pleasure, desire, and eroticism continue to elicit expressions of disgust and even outrage in most women in Africa, including activists, justifying Ampofo et al.’s observation of a silence in that area within women’s discourses in Africa. If women activists and feminist continue to frown on feminine sexuality as a subject, they will be unable to explore and generate literatures that interrogate its place in Africa and continue to constitute a silence on a very crucial aspect of female expression and being. Some recent publications, such as McFadden’s “Sexual Pleasure as Feminist Choice” (2003), have begun to break this silence and examine the political implications of eroticism and sexual pleasure among African women. She identifies an ongoing systemic repression of women’s sexual expression and inclination, and this in favor of conservatively interpreted sexuality and reproduction from a heteronormative perspective backs women into a tight, unexpressive corner. They serve to eliminate choice and pleasure in female sexuality and encourage male sexual dominance that puts women in constant threat of sexual abuse and infections while eliminating female agency and propagating poverty and vulnerability. McFadden contends that women’s political instincts and consciousness regarding sexuality are also regularly muffled by patriarchal sexual discourses, sapping their feminist energies and agency (ibid.). This patriarchal influence restructures discourses of sexuality by reinforcing heterosexist expectations and male-favoring notions of sexual behavior, strengthened by cultural taboos, and is especially targeted at incidences of female assertion and independence in order to constrain discourses

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on women sexuality to limit them to traditional opinions of reproduction, women’s roles as mothers and wives, and leave out sexual rights, freedom, and choice. Using personal anecdotes, McFadden illustrates this dynamic and examines the interplay of power and sexuality in Africa, particularly related to non-normative sexual inclinations. Activism for lesbian sexual rights is often treated as a threat by authorities in the continent, including the deportation she faced on the basis of her activism for female sexual rights for both homosexuals and heterosexuals in Zimbabwe. From the silence from women’s rights movements in the continent regarding her experience, McFadden draws a conclusion about the prevalence of patriarchal nationalism in the country and the consensus on the foreignness of non-normative sexualities in the country (McFadden 2003). New challenger discourses have begun to consider female sexuality beyond focusing on reproduction and heterosexual conjugal relationships, motherhood, and family management and planning, challenging the silence on questions of sexual orientation, abortions, and pleasure that have been governed by the permissions of culture and guarded and stifled in academic discourses of African women’s sexuality. Chacha puts it most succinctly when she describes the concept as: as a system that radically disrupts the male domination and allows women to traverse gender barriers in order to gap up or rectify reproductive, social and economic problems— by examining it within the framework of colonial judicial systems against African customary law. (Chacha 2002)

This burgeoning aspect of Women’s Studies in Africa can be seen in the focus on homosexual or same-sex relations and their expression in Africa. While many scholars such as Mwikya (2004) examine how homosexuality is treated as taboo and alien to African customs, other scholars like Hoad have tried to establish the naturalness of homosexuality in the African society using anthropological evidence (Hoad 2007). Feminism and Women’s Studies inclusiveness of the subject is striking, given the marginal position of homosexuals and queer people in the society. One focus of these studies is to explore differences in the cultural treatment of homosexual relations and the practice of woman-to-woman marriages in Africa tied to the presence and absence of sexual relations; consideration of homosexual relations focuses on the presence of a sexual attraction and activity, while woman-to-woman marriages are tied to specific reproductive and socioeconomic cultural purposes. Contemporary discourses of same-sex relations also examine the interaction of sociocultural, religious, and political factors in the expression of nonnormative sexual inclination in the continent. Given the widespread criminalization of gay and lesbian practices in the continent, discourses of sexuality in Women’s Studies in Africa interrogate the absurd justifications of these draconian laws, unfounded anthropological or cultural data that is usually invoked to establish a supposed “unAfricanness” of homosexual or lesbian relations in Africa, and the role of fundamentalist religious injunctions. Women’s Studies scholars seek to expose the implications of these draconian laws and the social rejection on the humanity and the sexual rights of women and men in the society, therefore helping fuel the movement against them.

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Benefits of Women’s Studies to Africa’s Development The teaching and learning of Women’s Studies stands to be of immense benefit to a developing society like those of Africa. Its relevance to the promotion of equality and egalitarianism for various identities and people in the society cannot be overemphasized. Women’s Studies is not restricted to the study of women and their experiences but also depicts the power relations between men and women and their underlying motivating factors, and the concept of sexuality for women and persons of nonnormative sexual inclinations demonstrates the inclusivity of feminist theorization. Women’s Studies tries to draw women and nonconforming identities from the margins of society, as it strives for an equal valuing of sexual identities, gender and other complexities of identity, and cultural diversity. Its goal of social transformation is implemented by empowering its adherents and graduates to seek to change their societies. Graduates of Women’s Studies reveal new modes of thought and social analysis engendered by what they learn (Stromquist 2001). It has given them the ability to question the world around them through multidimensional approaches to their exploration of society and its diversity so that they can work toward eliminating hegemonic racial practices within and outside academia, as well as promoting egalitarianism with respect to gender and sexual identities. Dickinson’s argues that “[f]eminist activism has challenged gendered power relationships produced by our global society’s unequal material and cultural relationships and by patriarchal and other hierarchical ideologies,” in part by giving birth to Women’s Studies as a discipline (Dickinson 2005, p. 114). He suggests that Women’s Studies has the capacity to prepare emerging development activists to promote equal value and sustainable relationships while also strive to eliminate expressions of the existent racism, patriarchy, and imperialism (ibid.). Women’s Studies, although an academic field of study, cannot be divorced from its political aspect. Women’s Studies is undertaking an ongoing decolonization in an attempt to contest dominant Western ideologies and methodologies and eliminate gendered and regionalized hierarchies in the academy, as well as promote overall social transformation. This form of academic activism is beneficial for the growth of African-based scholarship, which has implications on the development and research of African women on a global basis. It eliminates restricted forms of knowledge production, contesting the hegemony of Western-based theories and methodologies that are ineffective in addressing the unique needs of the diverse population of women across the globe. It lends to the global voice the experiences and activism of women of color around the world by providing African-based knowledge systems that address the specific needs of the African society. This translates to increased efficiency in the management of women’s health, sexual, educational, political, and economic needs around the globe.

Conclusion Women’s and Gender Studies in Africa are aimed at strengthening African women’s research and offering women’s voices from the south to the global society to describe their diverse experiences as opposed to the homogenizing notions propagated by

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hegemonic Western ideologies. Attention must also be paid to internal limitations; for Women’s Studies in Africa to thrive, there is the need to address limitations of the themes and content of standard women’s scholarship through the use of a more systematic and effective indigenous analysis of gender politics at various levels in the society. Women’s Studies should also pay attention to the need to factor in the pervasive globalization of the present age and avoid defining and examining through the lens of one geographical location. The effect of transnationalism and migration on gender should be given more emphasis and attention by integrating the perspectives of scholars from the African diaspora. The link between Women’s Studies scholarship and activism should be nurtured and strengthened as this will bolster its impact on academia and society in general. Scholarship in Africa should continue to promote and encourage gender equality and social transformation in cognizance of the social contexts and complexities of men and women’s lives. The discipline can only thrive in Africa if female scholars try to fully embrace the African theories and praxis that encourage female assertion and egalitarianism in the society. This chapter has explored the development of Women’s Studies from a global perspective, sampled and examined the various existing definitions of Women’s Studies while taking into consideration issues of women’s connection to the continent and diaspora, examined the limitations of Western theories and frameworks and the importance of process of decolonization, and considered the dominant themes of Women’s Studies in Africa, while providing suggestions to the growth and thrive of Women’s Studies in Africa. Women’s Studies has the potential to be a transformative element in Africa and the world, enriching and empowering people of any gender or identity.

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Decolonizing the Curriculum on African Women and Gender Studies Grace Ese-osa Idahosa

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 88 Decolonization, Knowledge Production, and the Curriculum . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 90 Gender Studies as a Decolonizing Project: Realizing Epistemic and Cognitive Justice . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 94 Teaching a Decolonized Curriculum on African Women and Gender Studies . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 96 Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 101 References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 102

Abstract

The current patterns of inequalities in the production of knowledge which legitimizes knowledge produced in the global north, the politics of citation which makes reference to Western authors and research conducted by these authors on Africa, and the misrepresentation of African women and men point to the continued effects of Western hegemony on gender studies which fails to take into account knowledge outside its context. It also points to the reach of the colonial library and the extent to which research in the global north continue to be unaffected by research from Africa and indeed the global south. This suggests an urgent need for an approach to gender studies research that reflects the complexities of African gender research and the necessity for a decolonized gender studies curriculum both within and outside Africa. This chapter draws on extant literature on gender research in Africa and research on curriculum decolonization to understand what it means to decolonize the curriculum on African women and gender studies. It addresses questions of hegemonic knowledge production, representation, power and normalization within gender studies research, and curriculum while recognizing the nuances of identity, positionality, culture, and G. E.-o. Idahosa (*) Centre for Social Change, University of Johannesburg, Johannesburg, South Africa © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_66

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ethnicity in the quest to decolonize the discipline. It then advocates a historical, intersectional, and contextually diverse approach to teaching and research that enables gender and women studies to be a site for the realization of epistemic and cognitive justice in Africa. In so doing, it addresses a gap in the literature on the role played by gender studies in the decolonization process and the process of decolonizing the gender studies curriculum. Keywords

Decolonisation · Curriculum · Gender studies · African women · Knowledge production

Introduction The current patterns of inequalities in the production of knowledge which legitimizes knowledge produced in the global north, the politics of citation which makes reference to Western authors and research conducted by these authors on Africa, and the misrepresentation of African women and men point to the continued effects of Western hegemony on gender studies which fails to take into account knowledge outside its context. It also points to the reach of the colonial library (Matthews 2018; Mbembe 2016; Ndlovu-gatsheni 2016) and the extent to which research in the global north continue to be unaffected by that from Africa and indeed the global south. This suggests an urgent need for an approach to gender studies research that reflects the complexities of gender research and the necessity for a decolonized gender studies curriculum both within and outside Africa. As Steady (2004) points out, what is needed is an African feminist approach that recognizes the historical and contextual nature of knowledge production in its analysis of gender as this has the potential to be transformative. Extant literature by African feminists has discussed the impact of the slave trade, colonialism, neocolonialism, capitalism, globalization, and neoliberalism on Africa and on the representation of women within these contexts (Ayesha 1997; Mama 1996, 2003; Oyewumi 2004; Steady 2004). These studies have highlighted the many ways in which modernity and the production of knowledge about social reality and the history of women in Africa were based on Eurocentric views and belief systems. As a result, Eurocentric knowledges came to dominate the “interests, concerns, predilections, neuroses, prejudices, social institutions and social categories” of history, social reality, and processes (Oyewumi 2004, p. 1). Thus, the West and Europe became the producers and the legitimate sources of knowledge and Europeans the knowers with white and male privilege enshrined in the European ethos (Oyewumi 2004), while knowledge in Africa was delegitimized and African women and men were positioned as the deviant and inferior other. These different and inferior positionings have endured from slavery to colonialism, such that in the postcolonial African state, legacies of exclusion, oppression, and marginalization continue to be felt. These legacies are particularly evident within the educational

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sphere with the calls to decolonize the university and the curriculum being evidence of this. In South Africa, these calls for the urgent decolonization of higher education institutions resulted in nationwide protests in 2015 and 2016. They highlighted the need for a reconsideration of those imposed concepts, theories, methodologies, and paradigms that have distorted African knowledge, cultures, and the study of gender and other disciplines (Matthews 2018; Ndlovu-Gatsheni 2016; Steady 2004). This process of reconsideration implies the need for a decolonized curriculum in the way in which gender studies and other disciplines are taught, learned, researched, and experienced. Research on gender studies in Africa notes that the teaching and study of African women and gender within the African context must be approached with caution and methodological ethics. Oyewumi (2004, p. 3) notes that in the choice to research on African women and gender studies, these questions are pertinent: “why gender? To what extent does gender analysis reveal or occlude other forms of oppression? Which women’s situations does feminist scholarship theorise well? Which particular groups of women are well theorised? To what extent does such gender foregrounding facilitate women’s wishes and their desire to understand themselves more clearly?” (see also Chilisa and Ntseane 2010; Lazreg 2005; Steady 2004). These questions are central to providing a decolonized curriculum and the respectful representation of African women and gender in Africa in the way we teach and research it. Drawing from studies on decolonization and the role of the curriculum within such process, the process of decolonizing the curriculum on gender studies is understood here as asking, under what terms is the curriculum taught or enacted? It is a continuing process of charting a course for the centering of gender studies in Africa and highlighting the intersections of history, culture, ethnicity, language, and tradition in our understanding of gender studies in Africa (Le Grange 2016; Mbembe 2016; Ndlovu-Gatsheni 2016). While there has been some research on gender studies in Africa, few studies have critically focused on the curriculum (see Kisiang’ani 2004; Steady 2004; Chilsia and Ntesane 2010). This chapter is focused on decolonizing the curriculum on gender studies in Africa. It addresses a gap in the literature on the role played by gender studies in the decolonization process and the process of decolonizing the gender studies curriculum. If, as argued by Kisiang’ani (2004), gender studies can perform the role of reconstituting the African identity, then the way it is taught and learnt needs to be decolonized. Thus, a decolonized curriculum on gender studies or any other discipline must necessarily include the critique of knowledge produced by the West and Africa and recognize how they produce and are produced by each other. This curriculum must, however, go beyond the critique and recognition to mapping a way out of such “production” for Africa. This chapter draws on two strands of literature – research on women and gender studies in Africa and literature on decolonizing the curriculum – to understand what it means to decolonize the curriculum on African women and gender studies. This is done in three sections: the first section discusses the calls to decolonize the curriculum within African universities. The meaning of decolonization is first reviewed and then linked to current dialogue on how to decolonize the curriculum. This is

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connected to the second section which discusses possibilities of teaching gender studies as a decolonizing project. Finally, the last section provides insight into how the curriculum on gender studies and African women may be decolonized. It is argued that a possible starting point for a decolonized curriculum on African women and gender studies would be an understanding that the social position of African women and men is influenced by historical, contextual, structural, and cultural factors and how these factors influence/determine whether an individual experiences comfort, privilege, exclusion, and alienation within a particular context.

Decolonization, Knowledge Production, and the Curriculum While the call to decolonize, not just higher education but the African society as a whole, has seen a renewed fervor in recent years, decolonization dates back to anticolonial and liberation movements such as the African Renaissance, Pan-Africanism, and Black Consciousness movements which called for independence from colonization and its vestiges (Ajayi et al. 1996). The development of the concept, however, saw a shift from liberation to decolonizing the mind, body, and sociopolitical institutions (Ajayi et al. 1996). It emphasized the continued effect of colonialism’s power and domination even after the end of colonial administration (Kisiang’ani 2004; Mamdani 1998; Mbembe 2016; Ndlovu-Gatsheni 2016). It also highlighted the problematics of Western and colonial representation, the erasure of African culture and knowledge, the one-sided positioning of Africa as a sick continent in need of saving, and the continued oppression in postcolonial Africa. Decolonization was thus identified as a necessary response to the legacies of colonialism and effects of neocolonialism which emphasized stereotypes about Africa and resulted in the vilification and destruction of indigenous culture, knowledge, and the African identity. As part of this shift, decolonizing education was identified as central to the decolonization process because education was used as a tool to reinforce white dominance and the master/slave narrative (Ajayi et al. 1996). In the call to decolonize the university, two schools of thought exist. On the one hand, decolonizing the curriculum is seen as tied to the decolonization of the university whose structures, cultures, and practices still embody colonial legacies of exclusion and oppression (Council on Higher Education 2015). On the other hand, it is argued that the decolonization project should be focused on the curriculum itself – that is, the teaching and learning process should be aligned with the African context and experience (Council on Higher Education 2015). A central argument within these schools is the fact that the primary purpose of education under colonial rule was the assimilation and absorption of Africa into Western culture, and education in the postcolonial era focused on espousing Western-European identity and teaching Eurocentric ideas with little or no attention being paid to the African context (Kisiang’ani 2004; Mbembe 2016; Ajayi et al. 1996). Thus, any decolonization project must necessarily entail changing the curriculum.

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The notion of curriculum used here sees the curriculum as involving the activities, both inside and outside the classroom, which enables student learning. It is that which is implied by the structure, cultures, practices, and context of schools which influences daily and established routines (Kelly 2009; Wilson 1990). The curriculum thus includes all activities that determine, enables, and impacts the learning environment and the student’s ability to learn. If contexts, university structure, cultures, and practice influence the curriculum, any decolonization project must ask what is taught, how is it taught, why is it taught, who teaches it, who is privileged or undermined by such teaching, and what are the learning experiences of the students. It requires acknowledging that knowledge and the curriculum are contextually dependent and co-constructed (Council on Higher Education 2015; Nnaemeka 2005). This necessitates a deliberate approach to teaching and learning which inducts students into a mode of learning that is critical of Eurocentric representation and at the same time acknowledging and subjecting African realities to the same critique. It questions the universality, neutrality, and objectivity of Western canons and impositions and the idea that knowledge can be rational and devoid of social and contextual entanglements. The decolonization of the African women and gender studies curriculum project must, thus, include a desire to include excluded voices, ensure diversity and equal representation in the prescription of texts, teach contested knowledges, and emphasize the role of colonial legacies and contextual African realities in our understanding of African women and gender (Chilisa and Ntseane 2010; Lazreg 2005; Matthews 2018; Nnaemeka 2005). The decolonization of the curriculum has been conceptualized in different ways. It is understood as a process of re-centering indigenous knowledge, Africanizing the curriculum and a project that acknowledges the contextual complexities of postcolonial Africa and its implications for decolonization (Ajayi et al. 1996; AssieLumumba 2001; Mamdani 1998; Maringe and Ojo 2017; Mbembe 2016; Tade Akin Aina and Aina 2010). Decolonization as centering indigenous knowledge argues for the inclusion of local and indigenous ways of being into the knowledge production process as this destabilizes the power of Western canons. It involves redefining what the center is. As Ngugi wa Thiong’o (1981) argues, Europe cannot remain at the center of the universe at African universities; Africa must be the center. The Africanization argument highlights the recognition and inclusion of non-Western knowledge systems and affirming and validating African perspectives (AssieLumumba 2007; Lebakeng et al. 2006; Ogude et al. 2005). The postcolonial African university which sought to transform itself adopted ideas and ideals served to reproduce and privilege Western notions of excellence and best, thereby marginalizing African perspectives and ways of knowing. For example, words like “first-class African university,” “premier African scholarship,” and “world-class African university” serve to reproduce a universalized notion of education which is inherently Western (Lebakeng et al. 2006, p. 71). Thus, in many African societies, the curriculum remained Eurocentric and untransformed, reinforcing white and Western dominance and privilege.

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The contextualized approach tends toward simultaneously recognizing the effect of colonialism and also identifying the problems with our current practices in Africa rather than completely rejecting the past (Ndlovu-gatsheni 2016). Mbembe (2016, p. 36) argues that decolonization is not about shutting out European or other traditions; it has two sides: the first being the critique of “epistemic coloniality,” that is, the Eurocentric educational model which emphasizes Western and European values, ideologies, and knowledges, and the second, imagining what the alternative would look like. Leibowitz (2017) similarly argued that the idea of decolonization, rather than connoting a withdrawal from all things colonial, should involve a recentering of African knowledges and ways of being. The process of decolonizing the curriculum is thus a quest for attaining social, cognitive, and epistemic justice by acknowledging, critiquing, and unlearning Eurocentric imposition. Hence in this view, rather than understanding decolonization as a fixed process with an end, it is to be understood as an ongoing process of, as Mbembe (2016, p. 34) puts it, “emerging out of a state of either blindness or dizziness.” It is to see ourselves in relation to ourselves and to other selves with whom we share the universe. Thus, while the argument for indigenization and Africanization is relevant to the process of decolonization, it is much more nuanced than that, and taking such a position may foreclose the possibility of transcending the determining nature of self-interest and attaining change. Decolonizing the curriculum, then, involves acknowledging the effect of colonialization and coloniality on the African context, recognizing our positionality within that context and mapping a trajectory for our development vis-à-vis such acknowledgment and recognition. This type of acknowledgment would, for instance, enable a realization of the fact that the prescription of Eurocentric texts that highlight Africanness may be reproducing the notion that Africa has no intelligentsia worth reading or is not a producer of knowledge as Mamdani (1998) argues. Such an understanding, acknowledgment, and recognition enable the individual/academic/student to become conscious of the problematics as well as the possibilities for change (Idahosa and Vincent 2018). Seen this way, our understanding of decolonization shifts from replacing Western conceptions and ideas to recognizing the trauma of the colonial experience, its impact on the current state of social relations in postcolonial Africa, and the implications for decolonization. That is, in our attempts to decolonize the curriculum, the focus should be on re-examining the curriculum rather than just rejecting it. Decolonizing the curriculum on African women and gender studies thus involves an approach to gender studies that takes into account the perspectives of both the colonizer and the colonized and to recognize how their histories are interwoven, produced, and reproduced by each other. In the debate on how to decolonize the curriculum, issues of identity are raised: particularly who can speak for, teach, or research on Africa. The argument is focused on the extent to which an individual’s positionality and identity (race, gender, and geography) determine that their pedagogy will be decolonized (Lazreg 2005; Matthews 2018; Nnaemeka 2005). While the problem of rationality and knowledge production being attributed to the West means that any attempt to decolonize must necessarily see a shift to recognizing Africans both as rational beings and knowledge producers, represented as

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students, academics, and authors of texts (see Matthews 2018), a key question to ask is the extent to which an individual’s identity matters when thinking about decolonizing the curriculum. While, on one extreme, some argue that Africa can only be adequately understood by Africans – hence knowledge created elsewhere is inappropriate – those on the other extreme say that identity is irrelevant (Matthews 2018). Both these two views are problematic: the first gives too much power to structural factors as a determinant of individual action and leaves no room for agency, and the second assumes that the production of knowledge is neutral and is blind to the discussion about the socially constructed nature of knowledge (Matthews 2018). But to what extent is knowledge from Africa African knowledge? Given the history of colonialism, especially the impact on colonial education, can we say knowledge from Africa is devoid of Eurocentric influences? Is it possible to begin from a different place/space? Can we respond without first undoing the notion of Africa as the deviant other? Why is it necessary that this whole other space needs to be created – is the African identity/ Africanist knowledge not to be constructed out of what is already there? If, as Spivak (1993) notes, our choices are always interested – that is, our choices are influenced by our interests, social positions, and context – then the implication of this is that our identities do play a role in the production of knowledge, but to what extent? Does an identity embedded in Eurocentric knowledge not run the risk of reproducing it? Can we remove ourselves from the postcolonial context into which we have been socialized? A way out of this would be to acknowledge the role played by identity and context in the production of knowledge. In this view, implied in a decolonized curriculum is a commitment to questioning and considering the role of an individual’s position and values in the production of knowledge, as well as a recognition of marginalized voices. The implication of this is that anyone can produce decolonized knowledge and each form of knowledge should be subjected to the same level of inquiry and critique (Matthews 2018). This means that the process of decolonizing the curriculum is more than replacing Western canons with African canons or white with black. It is instead subjecting African knowledge to the same critique as we do Eurocentric knowledge. Practically, this would mean relooking at existing disciplines rather than rejecting them and recognizing the contestations within them (Matthews 2018). This implies consciously centering Africans as legitimate purveyors of knowledge as well as recognizing the contributions/contradictions of Western representation and the possibility of appropriating aspects of it in ways that ultimately undermine Western and European designation of Africa as deviant. What these arguments allude to is the difficulty with defining what it means to decolonize the curriculum: while a part of it implies the inclusion of black scholars, it cannot just be about integration or replacing Eurocentric texts with African texts or excluding/including individuals based on their identity. If this is the case, then what does it mean to decolonize the curriculum, particularly concerning African women and gender studies? and what role does the gender studies discipline play in the decolonization process? Below, teaching gender studies as a decolonizing project and how the lost African identity can be regained through gender studies is discussed. This is followed by a discussion on what it means to decolonize the curriculum on gender studies.

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Gender Studies as a Decolonizing Project: Realizing Epistemic and Cognitive Justice Gender studies have been recognized as a way of achieving the decolonization project as it enables the radical rethinking of Western knowledge and representations. Scholars (see, for instance, Kisiang’ani 2004; Mama 2003; Steady 2004) argue that, given the destruction of African knowledges, cultures, and identity by Western representations of Africa, gender studies can be a means through which the African identity is rebuilt and recreated. Because notions of gender vary depending on the society, it carries the “ideologies of the socio-cultural context in which it is constructed” (Steady 2004, p. 5) and holds the potential of illuminating the African identity. Aina (2010, p. 53), for instance, highlights the potential of gender to “address equity and access in Africa from a base that both includes and transcends other contested identities.” Similarly, Kisiang’ani (2004) argued that gender studies have the potential to dismantle imposed Western knowledges and representations, and through gender studies, an African identity that is different from that portrayed by the West can be reconstructed. A decolonized gender studies curriculum within the current African university context would, thus, address the underdevelopment issues within Africa, highlight the achievement of Africa, and provide a trajectory for development (Kisiang’ani 2004; Steady 2004). As a part of the decolonizing project, gender studies would also emphasize the importance of a gender-centered curriculum – breaking the cycle of globalization and neoliberal policies – and highlight the need to fund both gender research in Africa and gender units within African universities. The issue of funding is central to the decolonizing project of gender. Byrne (2017), for instance, notes that in South Africa, neoliberal policies resulted in the university focus on subjects and disciplines that are profitable, meaning that women and gender studies are often the worst hit by these policies. The funding received by gender units, while suitable for daily management, do not allow these units to flourish. This invariably leads to funding being cut because they are not productive (Byrne 2017; Mama 2003). The effect of this is that women and gender studies within African universities remain on the fringe of academia “despite their potential to destabilise heteropatriarchal hegemonies” (Byrne 2017, p. 113). The current funding schemes determine what is researched, while neoliberal policies affect the ability of universities to fund gender studies unit (Byrne 2017). For example, Steady (2004, p. 51) noted that donor-funded gender research is usually concerned with issues like “fertility regulation or female circumcision rather than (focusing on) global economic forces and liberalization policies that increase malnutrition and poverty” or “the illegal trafficking of girls from Africa to Europe.” This implies focusing on power dynamics between the center and the periphery, that is, the role of the West and Europe in shaping research, teaching, and knowledge production in Africa. Seen this way, globalization, urbanization, market liberalization, and social change become understood as “a distortion of African indigenous development through economic domination” and not as “an inevitable process of modernization” (Steady 2004, p. 53).

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Gender studies is thus seen as a site to counter hegemonic, universalized, and normalized knowledge, not only about feminine and masculine representation in Africa but also about religious habits (Kisiang’ani 2004; Lazreg 2005; Steady 2004). An African approach to gender studies, thus, enables the questioning of prevailing ideologies and theoretical and methodological approaches to gender research and teaching because Eurocentrism has influenced them. Oyewumi (2004), for instance, highlights the white, American, and middle-class and “heterosexual” (own emphasis) nature of Western feminism; hence, scholars within and outside the USA have called for a recognition of race, class, imperialism, and colonization in the analysis of gender. Oyewumi’s (2004) work questioned the organizing concepts of gender research, revealing how they are rooted in a Western notion of the nuclear family which promotes the normalization and universalization of gender as a social construct, thereby closing off possibilities for other identities. Lazreg (2005) similarly questioned the tendency to reduce women to their religion, nation, ethnicity, and race and argues for a move beyond the religion paradigm in the representation of Algerian women. Also, in exploring the tension between Western gender theory and research within the Tswana culture, Chilisa and Ntseane (2010, p. 617) note how “African feminist approaches can enable the construction of context-specific knowledges on African women.” Teaching gender studies as a decolonizing project would ensure the questioning and radical rethinking of gender identities and normalized conceptions of women and gender in Africa. This type of scholarship has to move beyond the problem of Western imposition and representation to extending and revealing how the complexities of the African context further our knowledge of women and gender studies. This way, there is a simultaneous contribution to knowledge production and ensuring the erasure of Western imposition and promoting the visibility of African and women scholarship. Additionally, gender studies has enabled the respectful representation of African women and men in the process of knowledge production correcting previous literary works, as well as the discourse of gender, where African women and men have been misrepresented and given false identities (Kisiang’ani 2004). Kisiang’ani (2004) argues that this perception was born, not just out of racism, but also a gross ignorance of the African situation/context. Citing Marguerite Steen’s (1941) reference to Africa as a woman to be conquered, he argued that such an assertion reinforces the perception of Africa as lacking a penis – thus justifying its inferiority – and entrenches the idea that the lack of the male organ implies inferiority. This invariably affects the daily practices and interaction among men and women within Africa. Given this misrecognition and misrepresentation, teaching gender studies in Africa would enable a serious interrogation of such representation while acknowledging and creating spaces for marginalized knowledges. For instance, while Oyewumi (2004) acknowledges the role played by Western feminism in centralizing gender as an analytic category beyond the academy, she argues that the identity, interests, and concerns of the purveyors of Western feminism must be questioned. Therefore, binary forms of gender, sex, and sexuality need to be questioned and rethought in the light of African realities and experiences (Kisiang’ani 2004; Oyewumi 2004). Also, the normalization and entrenchment of heteronormativity

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and heterosexuality, which vilifies other forms of sexuality or desire, also need to be questioned. Kisiang’ani (2004) noted how Africa was portrayed as a continent with no men and as such European men and women could conquer African men and women. He argues that such stereotypes invariably affected the way both Europeans and Africans themselves came to perceive the African woman, and this ensured the marginalization of women in Africa. Thus, central to teaching gender studies as a decolonizing project is to replace prescribed texts that are Eurocentric in the study of gender with those locally produced, which destabilizes inaccurate conceptions and are of relevance to the African context. The use of contextually relevant examples may be one way to do this. Nnaemeka (2005) however warns that in including the work of African female writers in the prescribed texts/syllabus, we must be careful not to merely interchange or supplement these texts with others as such inclusion often amounts to token gestures without regard for the text’s relationship or contribution to the syllabus. Thus, our inclusion of texts must ensure that they relate to the course objectives and outcomes. Teaching gender studies as a decolonizing project would, therefore, emphasize the need to question and examine the “continued gendered discrimination with the aim of determining where the cultural, historical, gendered and racial markers uphold, distort and undermine the real and authentic” (Steady 2004, p. 54). Because of the decolonizing potential of gender studies to make visible racist, colonial and patriarchal myths that sustain globalization forces, and privileges white men, it needs to be made an essential aspect of the curriculum within universities. This can be done by encouraging students to take gender studies courses. If, as Ndlovu-Gatsheni (2016, p. 15) notes, decolonization “speaks to cognitive injustices,” then teaching gender studies as a decolonizing project enables the attainment of epistemic and cognitive justice as it emphasizes the legitimacy and validity of the African identity while simultaneously questioning the entrenched and normalized understandings of African women, gender, and social reality. The next section discusses how to decolonize the African woman and gender studies curriculum.

Teaching a Decolonized Curriculum on African Women and Gender Studies Debates about decolonization and decolonizing the curriculum refer to the need to include excluded and marginalized voices and to legitimize them as knowledge producers both in the curriculum (in the form of prescribed texts) and as academics. In teaching about marginalized cultures, some essential questions to ask are: What contextual and individual factors influence the choice of what texts are to be included or excluded? What role does context, positionality, and identity play in both the teaching of gender studies and the interrogation of prescribed texts? Given that it is through the curriculum that hegemonic ideologies are reproduced and normalized, it is reasonable and practical to expect that it is through teaching gender studies in ways that consider those questions that academics, and the university, can contribute

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to attaining epistemic and cognitive justice. As shown in the previous section, gender studies can help to destabilize gendered norms, hence centering marginalized cultures and the African identity. Thus, it can be a field to attain epistemic and cognitive justice. While the previous section describes how African-centered gender studies can be used as a decolonizing project, this section provides some ideas of a decolonized curriculum on African women and gender studies. A decolonized gender studies curriculum must acknowledge the realities of postcolonial Africa. That is, it must examine the effect of colonialism, neocolonialism, globalization, and the market economy on the African woman and man. This type of curriculum would highlight the continued focus on the role of the Eurocentric nature of knowledges, concepts, and methodologies on gender studies within African universities that attempt to make gender studies in Africa to be like that of the West. Thus, as Steady (2004, p. 45) notes, “acculturation studies” have been replaced by “women in development” or “gender in development” studies which seek to “integrate African women in development” by making them more like Western women. It is within the context of understanding the continued oppression of Africans in the postcolonial era that the “gender trajectory in Africa can yield results” (Steady 2004, p. 45). A decolonized gender curriculum must, hence, entail a critique of neoliberal policies and globalization priorities that reinforce the recolonization of research on African women and gender studies. Steady (2004) notes how corporate globalization reinforced gender hierarchies and subordination and ensured the reproduction of patriarchal ideologies and structural racism within institutions. This is evident in the differential access to power and resources, the division of labor, and unequal distribution of land, property, and assets (Steady 2004). A decolonized gender curriculum also reveals the ways in which African realities undermine and contradict Western representations of gender and the African identity. There are numerous examples of African writers that have destabilized Western feminist constructions. For instance, Oyewumi’s (2004, p. 5) analysis of gender in the Yoruba culture revealed a conception of women and motherhood not rooted in the sexual relationship to man or “subsumed under wifehood.” She notes that in Yoruba culture, the organizing principle was age and not gender. This has however been criticized for generalizing the Yoruba culture and an oversimplification of the absence of gender markers in Yoruba language meaning the lack of gender hierarchies (Bakare-Yusuf 2004). Similarly, the work of Ifi Amadiume (1987) titled Male daughters, female husbands, on women in the Igbo culture, highlights the racism and ethnocentrism of Western representation of the Igbo society (Steady 2004). Other examples are the equal positions occupied by female ancestors in some African cultures (Assie-Lumumba 2001; Steady 2004). Also, the work of Gaidzanwa (1997) highlights how colonial education in Zimbabwe emphasized the role of women as wives and subsistence farmers, while in the precolonial era women participated in leadership positions and matriarchal and secret societies (see also Amadiume 2005; Assie-Lumumba 2001). As Imam (1997) notes, gendered identities are fluid and dynamic and determined by time and place (Adomako Ampofo et al. 2008). The importance of these contributions is that they contradict

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imposed gendered norms and universalized representations of women and offer alternative interpretations to understanding women and gender in Africa, especially as the application of Western concepts in the analysis of African women often produces inaccurate conclusions (Oyewumi 2004). Thus, the gender studies curriculum needs to be structured in such a way that students can learn about gender in Africa as well as the place of Western feminism within it and learn about useful concepts in the analysis of gender and African women. In this regard, scholars have questioned the manner in which Western feminism positioned the experiences of African women in ways that deny their agency, while they still remain blind to similar problems within Western societies, for example, scholars’ critique of sati, dowry, and forced marriage murders in India while ignoring homicides in the USA and the critique of female circumcisions without acknowledging vaginal and breast reconstruction in the West (Steady 2004). Similarly, Nnaemeka (2005, p. 62) notes the way in which polygyny has been vilified by the West as a symbol of women oppression in Africa while failing to take into account its Western roots, where “husband sharing was perfected and elevated to an art form” and described as “serial monogamy” and having “mistresses.” Furthermore, the vilification of polygyny failed to consider some of its advantages like “sharing child care, emotional and economic support, sisterhood, companionship” (Nnaemeka 2005, p. 62). Arranged marriages are another example of Western constructs and practice which have been ridiculed in African contexts, while the practices of “dating services” (Nnaemeka 2005), mail order brides, and TV shows like “married at first sight” bear similar patterns. However, it must be noted that while highlighting these contradictions in Western representation is important, such critiques must be balanced by a re-examination of African patriarchal systems and their meaning and implications then and today as a project going forward. On a theoretical level, these studies have shifted the focus of gender to emphasize its intersection with race and class and to include the role of ethnicity, colonialism, religion, and spirituality in understanding gender in Africa. These bodies of work have put African feminism on the map by criticizing essentialist and universalist representation of women and ensured the destabilization of Western and European representation of African women as oppressed and powerless. While this has created the possibility of establishing a decolonized curriculum of the study of gender and women in Africa, it has not necessarily filtered into the gender studies curricula in African universities. A decolonized gender studies curriculum thus needs to integrate these studies and authors into the curriculum. Authors such as Ifi Amaduime, Tsitsi Dangarembga, Sekai Nzenza, Edna Bay, and Kwesi Yankha have written about women and men in ways that defy Western gendered norms and the role of women in the society and the notion of marriage as a male/female enterprise (Oyewumi 2004). Texts such as these, which are not included in the curriculum, ensure the reproduction of Western ideals and preclude an understanding and a coherent analysis of the African experiences. While Western categories may be useful in understanding social reality, if we are to address the problems of Africa and understand gender from African experiences, we must first acknowledge the contextual difference and its implication for our analysis, and this cannot occur outside an examination of these texts.

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A decolonized curriculum on African women and gender studies also takes into consideration the diverse and intersectional experiences of women and men in the African context. As Byrne (2017, p. 114) notes, this means “taking into account the multidimensionality of oppression at work for the researchers, teachers and students of women and gender studies, who often experience different kind of oppression in their own contexts” (see also Barnes 2005). It also means the inclusion of marginalized groups and communities in the knowledge production process. A decolonized gender studies curriculum understands that the social positions of African women and men are influenced by historical, contextual, and structural factors like race, ethnicity, sexuality, class, and religions and are sensitive to the ways in which they privilege or marginalize women who occupy those positions. Practically, it addresses and critiques both Western- and African-produced knowledges and respectfully incorporates the lived realities of African women into the curriculum. This type of curricula recognizes the nuances in identity, culture, ethnicity, and what it means to be an African woman given the current contextual realities of globalization and neocolonialism. Such recognition would enable an awareness of the struggles and problematics of teaching, researching, and writing within the African context. For the African female researcher, such recognition would sensitize her not to take her “insider” positionality for granted both in the research and writing process. This type of curricula would also question “other” and marginalized spaces within the African historical and current context. Mama (1996), for instance, highlights the silencing of female sexuality within African women and gender studies (see also Ampofo et al. 2004). While some scholars (see Tamale 2011, 2014; Gune and Manuel 2007; Milani 2014; Msibi 2011; Teunis 2001) have begun to research on sexualities and its intersections with culture, race, religion, and class in Africa, this is still on the fringe of gender studies. Mama (1996) attributes this silence to the colonial gaze and projection of hypersexuality on Africans. For Milani (2014), such stereotyping is further entrenched and reproduced by media representations, popular culture, and academia, such that those who are not gender conforming are positioned as un-African, leading to invisibility and marginalization. His research also shows the way in which race and class have been excluded from queer debates and discourse of sexuality in South Africa, political equality notwithstanding. Thus, a decolonized gender studies curriculum must incorporate issues that are silenced within African feminisms and gender studies and ask why these silences occur. Methodologically, this would mean that appropriate ethical standards are applied in the acknowledgment of produced knowledge. This implies a shift from Western modes of addressing problems which focus on theory and policy initiatives to more practical approaches (Steady 2004). This means the acknowledgment and legitimation of methodologies which recognizes oral traditions as important in the production of African knowledges (Chilisa and Ntseane 2010; Ndlovu-gatsheni 2016). Steady (2004) highlights methodological issues as a fundamental challenge to the investigation of gender in Africa. This reemphasizes the need to question the methodologies and theoretical and research tools used to investigate African women and gendered identities. Also, the approaches used to apply these theories and methods cross-culturally, without regard for individual and contextual

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difference, must be questioned (Steady 2004). On a practical level, this means not accepting the representation of marginalized groups without reflecting on the positionality and identity of the knowledge producer and that of the research subjects. Hence, a decolonized gender studies curriculum would include developing alternative methodologies and approaches to the study of gender in Africa which focus on providing solutions to our lived realities. A decolonized curriculum must, inter alia, strive to interrogate the following questions posed by Chioma Steady (2004, p. 54): – How does an academic context, shaped by the injustices of transatlantic slavery, colonialism, and imperialism and justified by racist and sexist stereotypes and myths about Africa and Africans, affect gender research in Africa? – How relevant is the Eurocentric search for universal women’s oppression, when other forms of oppression based on race, nationalism, ethnicity, class, and so forth, and committed by the global economy, threaten the very existence of most Africans? – How do the pressures of globalization and the market economy impact on social institutions such as marriage, the family, male/female relations, and positive and negative cultural practices? – How has the donor community influenced the research agenda of Africa and distorted African realities based on preconceived assumptions and biases? – How do we deepen our understanding of the importance of matrifocal traditions of Africa of which Diop wrote, and the dynamic interplay between these traditions and patriarchal systems, especially the modernization of patriarchal domination through globalization? – How is the link between women’s roles in production and reproduction significant in understanding the continuities between the public and the private spheres, in the context of a rapidly changing political economy and a sociocultural crisis of major proportions? – How are gender relations in the domestic sphere supporting or impeding women’s decision-making and control over their lives? – To what extent are African women’s bodies becoming commercialized, and a potential target for trafficking and violence, in the age of globalization? – How is the HIV/AIDS epidemic affecting notions of sexuality, fertility, gender relations, well-being, and collective survival in Africa?

African feminist studies and studies on women in Africa have contributed to shifting our understanding of gender both as an organizing concept and a category of analysis and have broadened global feminist scholarship. They have also deepened our knowledge about African women and the African society as a whole, emphasizing the agency of African women, active in the resistance to oppression and colonial impositions. These studies on African women and gender in Africa have also led to the questioning of not only the colonial experiences, neocolonialism, and globalization but also the impact of Western feminist constructs on current conceptions of gender and sexualities in Africa. Kisiang’ani (2004), for instance, argues that the modernist project of the entrenchment of women inferiority has been repositioned by Western feminism as the protection of white men and women as saviors of black/African women. Ndlovu-Gatsheni (2016) notes that in the movement toward decolonizing the university, the main problem is the academics who are produced by Westernized universities. Hence, the curriculum and the practices reproduce Eurocentric discourses, knowledges, and curricula. He argues that the problem is the “mentality

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and consciousness.” Because they are steeped in Western knowledges and ways of being, they have blind spots which make it difficult to see the need for change or ways of implementing a different curriculum. A decolonized “mentality and consciousness” would mean the “centring of Africa as a legitimate epistemic site from which to see and experience the world” (Ndlovu-gatsheni 2016, p. 21). This renewed consciousness would filter into the curriculum of the university the way we teach, the way we interact with students, and what is taught. This would mean, for example, that as lecturers/teachers, our choices about teaching and learning practices, curriculum practices, and assessment practices, for instance, would take into consideration the role played by legacies of colonialism and apartheid in ensuring the educational disadvantage of some of our students. It would mean providing a scaffold for those who may not have the necessary capacities or resources to thrive within the university or meet the demands of the university – and not making the argument that such actions reduce standards or excellence. The persistent critique of ourselves vis-à-vis our context and the other within such context provides the conditions for implementing a decolonized curriculum within and outside the discipline of gender.

Conclusion This chapter examined an approach to women and gender studies, both as a decolonizing project and as a discipline that needs to be decolonized. It began by defining decolonization and what it means to decolonize the curriculum and emphasized the need to critique powerful and oppressive knowledges and to include marginalized voices, knowledges, and cultures in the curriculum. It then discussed gender studies as a decolonizing project, followed by an examination of what a decolonized curriculum on gender studies may look like. Some of the main points raised in this chapter include the need for a curriculum that responds to identity, positionality, and representation from a position of radical critique. That is, in our quest to decolonize the curriculum and shift the way in which African women and men have been represented, we must be careful not to use an approach that discards Western knowledges – rather we should take an approach that is conscious of the legacies of colonialism and its effects on Africa, as well as ways in which knowledge produced for, and by, the West have contributed to understanding social reality. This approach would filter into issues of identity and positionality such that while the focus on the inclusion of African women, men, and voices into the curriculum and university is important, the focus would also be on how these individual’s contributions enable the advancement and development of the African society. A decolonized curriculum on African women and gender studies would, thus, constitute a radical rethinking of colonialism, neocolonialism, capitalism, and globalization and its effect on the African society. It would become a site to counter hegemonic, universalized, and normalized knowledges and representation. Thus, teaching a decolonized curriculum would acknowledge indigenous systems and respectfully represent African women in the teaching, research, and writing process. It would acknowledge their contextually diverse experiences and the

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intersectionality of race, class, ethnicity, and sexuality in the understanding of gender in Africa. Finally, it would reveal the ways in which African realities contradict Western and European representations while contributing to global knowledge production. Given the role played by gender studies in the decolonization process, there is an urgent need for more research and analysis that focuses on Africa women and men and links it to the curriculum and decolonization process. Only through this kind of research can we begin to understand the decolonizing potential of gender studies and how to decolonize it. Gender studies centers like the Women and Gender Studies department at the University of Western Cape and the African Gender Institute at the University of Cape Town are doing remarkable work on gender in Africa. Also, studies that highlight practical examples of a decolonized gender studies curriculum need to be conducted as they may emphasize the need and provide the basis for formulating and implementing strategies aimed at funding and supporting the development of such units and departments within African institutions. The chapter revealed how a gender studies discipline centered on the African experience may provide the platform for examining, questioning, and critiquing Eurocentric representations of African men and women while simultaneously responding to the historical and current problems with the African context. Thus, a decolonized curriculum on African women and gender studies must strive to understand how knowledge produced in the West and Africa are co-produced by each other. This way, the process of critiquing Western representation will also involve a radical critique of Africa and its problematics (including those brought on by the West and by our own doings). To do this, the curriculum must begin from an understanding of the nuances of women’s social position in relation to the historical and contextual factors that breeds privilege and exclusion in the lives of both women and men, in the production of knowledge and in the teaching and learning process.

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Women and Indigenous Knowledge in Africa Chika Ezeanya Esiobu

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conceptual Clarification . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Indigenous Knowledge . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Women and Indigenous Knowledge . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Rural Women Economic Empowerment and Indigenous Knowledge . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Indigenous Technology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Indigenous Knowledge of Medicine . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Women, Indigenous Knowledge, and Agriculture . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Women, Indigenous Knowledge, and Early Childhood Education . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Women, Indigenous Knowledge, and Biodiversity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

Although women have historically been engaged in indigenous knowledge practices across Africa, the rural-urban migration has caused a systemic shift, tilting the wider utilization of indigenous knowledge in favor of more women. In certain instances, indigenous knowledge fields previously the exclusive preserve of the male folk are now being renegotiated to accommodate women. However, the increasing engagement of women with indigenous knowledge has not been recognized by many governments in making policies that aim to economically empower women in rural areas. As a result, the alienation of indigenous knowledge in rural women development discourses across Africa has seriously checked further development of the capabilities within that sector. This is because when groups are neither in control of the knowledge and processes of technological advancement related to their own progress, marginalization is effected or made C. E. Esiobu (*) University of Rwanda, Kigali, Kigali, Rwanda e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_68

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worse, and the groups lose even the motivation and capacity to build relevant and appropriate technology. Keywords

Indigenous knowledge · Africa · Women · Local knowledge · Economic advancement · Rural development

Introduction As more and more men across sub-Saharan Africa migrate to cities and urban centers in search of paid employment, women are left in rural areas to take care of the family and engage in farming and other local endeavors. The result is that many women are becoming custodians of indigenous knowledge and are applying same in their daily living and livelihood practices. Although women have historically been engaged in indigenous knowledge practices across Africa, the rural-urban migration has caused a systemic shift, tilting the wider utilization of indigenous knowledge in favor of more women. In certain instances, indigenous knowledge fields previously the exclusive preserve of the male folk are now being renegotiated to accommodate women. Indeed, “if indigenous knowledge systems are to continue to contribute to the quest for sustainable development, their capacity to focus on diversity and locality as well as innovate on the basis of gendered-knowledge-generating processes must be recognized and respected” (Fernandez and Tick 1994, 7). However, the increasing engagement of women with indigenous knowledge has not been recognized by many governments in making policies that aim to economically empower women in rural areas. Within government and policy making and influencing circles, there are professed realizations and open acknowledgements of the need for rural women to be encouraged to participate in decision-making regarding their economic empowerment options. In reality, however, what obtains is a situation where little of the indigenous knowledge inputs of rural women make it to policy documents. Several reasons can be adduced for these including the absence of real commitment to search out authentic knowledge of rural women on the part of government and development partners and a tendency for rural women to disregard their indigenous knowledge as a valid route to advancement and opt instead for such markers of economic empowerment as are accessible and available to their counterparts in the cities. The latter reason can also be traced back to the low level of interest on the part of policy makers to lend support to or validate rural women’s indigenous knowledge and practices. The apathy on the side of the government has influenced other players whose roles are critical in the economic empowerment of rural women across sub-Saharan Africa, such as NGOs, development partners, and international institutions. As a result, the alienation of indigenous knowledge in rural development discourses across Africa has seriously checked further development of the capabilities within that sector. This is because when groups are neither in control of the knowledge and

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processes of technological advancement related to their own advancement, marginalization is effected or made worse, and the groups lose even the motivation and capacity to build relevant and appropriate technology. This study seeks to examine the role of women in ensuring the continued existence, sustainability, and advancement of indigenous knowledge across Africa, south of the Sahara. The chapter will provide an overview of the indigenous knowledges of rural women across Africa and the possibility it holds for the advancement of the continent’s female folk. Simply framed, the questions this research seeks answers to include to what extent are women involved in the continued preservation and evolution of indigenous knowledge systems across Africa? Does indigenous knowledge hold much possibility for the advancement of African women? Is the role of women as custodians of indigenous knowledge factored into economic empowerment policies and programs by stakeholders? This chapter intends to respond to the stated questions by examining some salient sectors where women’s indigenous knowledge is actively held, especially across rural Africa. The indigenous knowledge sectors addressed in this chapter, in no particular order of importance, are indigenous technology, indigenous knowledge of medicine, indigenous agricultural knowledge, indigenous knowledge of pedagogy and early childhood education, and indigenous environmental knowledge, with emphasis on the conservation of biodiversity. Chronologically, the chapter begins with a clarification of key concepts followed by a look at the relationship between indigenous knowledge and women in Africa. Afterward, different sectors are emphasized, beginning with indigenous technology and followed by indigenous knowledge of medicine, indigenous agricultural knowledge, indigenous knowledge of pedagogy and early childhood education, and indigenous environmental knowledge, with emphasis on the conservation of biodiversity. The chapter then concludes.

Conceptual Clarification Indigenous Knowledge Indigenous knowledge is that variant of knowledge that is generated specifically from a locale, often as a result of generations of the inhabitant’s interaction with the environment in trying to address everyday challenges and secure a better life. Coombs and Ahmed (1974) consider indigenous knowledge system to be a process that lasts a life time, by which individuals within a community are able to acquire and store up “knowledge, skills, attitudes, and insights from daily experiences and exposure to the environment at home, at work, at play, from the examples and attitudes of family and friends” (Coombs and Ahmed 1974, 8).Greiner asserts that indigenous knowledge is “the unique, traditional, local knowledge existing within and developed around specific conditions of women and men indigenous to a particular geographic area (Greiner 1998, 1).”

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As opposed to the highly stratified nature and global aspirations of Western knowledge system, indigenous knowledge is spread out and organic and can be environmentally sensitive. Broadly speaking, indigenous knowledge does not often lend itself to “neat compartmentalization” and can be “unorganized, unsystematic and even unintentional at times” (Coombs and Ahmed 1974, 9). Indigenous knowledge “recognizes the multiple and collective origins of knowledge and affirms that the interpretation or analysis of social reality is subject to different and sometimes oppositional perspectives” (Dei 1996, 1). Indigenous knowledge is region-specific, while modern or scientific knowledge is assumed to be universal in nature; it is localized knowledge that can also be adapted to other cultures where similarities exist. Indigenous knowledge contrasts with the international knowledge system, in that, in the latter, knowledge is often produced through a “highly stratified network of universities and research institutes with a global reach” (Warren et al. 1995). Indigenous knowledge is based on communal understanding and is embedded and conditioned by the culture of the locality in question. To place the label of indigenousness on any knowledge system means that consciousness for such knowledge must have roots in local conditions as a result of long-term associations and occupancy. Indigenousness are age-old norms and social values, in addition to mental constructs which determines, directs, and provides strategies that guide community members in their understanding of life, wellbeing, and progress. In a place like Africa, indigenous knowledge is different from conventional knowledge, in as much as the latter was historically introduced into the continent as a result of the activity or missionaries, colonialism, and imperialism. As a result, indigenousness knowledge system is a space of power contention in Africa, with the so-called global or conventional knowledge system constantly seeking to wrestle with and overthrow indigenous knowledge production, interrogation, validation, utilization, and dissemination (Dei 1996, 1).

Women and Indigenous Knowledge In many sectors across traditional African societies, women are major custodians of indigenous knowledge. The United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) recognizes the strategic importance of women as custodians of indigenous knowledge, by emphasizing the distinctive role played by women in “transmission, preservation, and elaboration of local knowledge related to sustainable development, disaster risk reduction, biodiversity and climate change” (UNESCO 2019). In the same vein, the World Bank notes that “the gendered nature of indigenous knowledge is often overlooked, marginalized or neglected” and that “an understanding of the role of gender and the way it impacts the intrinsic value of local knowledge systems is critical to the understanding, interpretation and dissemination of indigenous knowledge.” Essentially stated, gender differentiation and specialization impacts the way “in which indigenous knowledge is disseminated, documented and passed on to future generations” (World Bank 2003). Indigenous knowledge systems are predisposed to being subjected to gender discrimination

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since according to their nature they can only be utilized by those individuals within a community who have been allotted certain functions and responsibilities. These individuals hold the key and jealously guard the process of induction into the club of knowledge holders, thereby excluding certain aspects of the population from even experimenting or building innovation around such knowledge. Gender remains the primary platform for social differentiation within the economically dynamic segment Africa’s population. The result is that indigenous knowledge is held by different sexes, which in turn lead to hierarchies of access. Restrictions around the use and control of indigenous knowledge by different sexes also result in divergent acuities and priorities as far as the building of innovation and utilization of technology by women and men is concerned (Appleton 1993).There are usually many ways of exploring gender differences in knowledge systems; some scholars note four ways, which include that men and women may have “a different knowledge of similar things, a different knowledge of different things, different ways of organizing knowledge, and different ways of preserving and transferring knowledge” (Norem et al. 1989). Across Africa, women are known, for instance, to play key roles in the “production, processing, and marketing of food.” In the field of preserving biodiversity, women hold certain important knowledge of how humans ought to efficiently interact with different plants and animals in order to ensure sustainability. Among the Tonkerere village inhabitants in South West Nigeria, 86% of women engage in traditional pharmaceutical practice, through the practice of identifying medicinal herbs and being able to process same and use it in the treatment of diverse ailments (Adebobola 2004). In Burkina Faso, women utilize traditional knowledge in the collection and processing for food and medicine, different parts of the highly medicinal and nutritious Baobab tree (Adansonia digitata), red sorrel leaves (Hibiscus sabdarifa), kapok leaves (Ceiba pentandra), and tiger nut tubers (Cyperus esculentus L) (Wole and Ayanbode 2009).Women in rural Mali are known to apply indigenous knowledge of oil extraction in the production of Jatropha curcas oil for use as raw material and for fuel (Henning 2002). The leaves, bark, roods, and seeds of the plant are used by the women medicinally, hygienically, for agriculture and for sustainable land use and management (Adebobola 2004). Traditionally, Fulani and Hausa rural women are well versed in traditional spirituality, and, as a result, spiritual knowledge is connected to a humble disposition, restoration of health and physical strength, and in adding of value to life (Dei 2002). Along the same lines of gender disposition, it is women who are experts at handling certain – low economic value – livestock in several African communities, while men retain expertise over certain other, high economic value, livestock. Sometimes, within the same livestock management, men retain certain roles, while women retain other roles. In the case of cattle management, for instance, in traditional Rwandan and many other African societies, only men are allowed to herd cows out in search of pasture and to milk cows. However, the processing of cow milk into sour milk (Ikivuguto) is the exclusive preserve of the female folk. In health, for instance, certain areas of indigenous medical practice are usually the exclusive preserve of men, while others could be for women. Midwifery is an aspect of African

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traditional medicine that is usually the exclusive preserve of women in many African communities, while psychiatry or traditional bonesettings are often areas exclusive or predominated by the male folk.

Rural Women Economic Empowerment and Indigenous Knowledge Addressing the Clinton Global Initiative, former president of the United States, Bill Clinton, noted that “Women perform 66% of the world’s work, and produce 50% of the food, yet earn only 10% of the income and own 1% of the property. Whether the issue is improving education in the developing world, or fighting global climate change, or addressing nearly any other challenge we face, empowering women is a critical part of the equation.” Fairness and equity are at the root of economic empowerment, and the capacity of citizens to participate in, contribute to, and generate benefits from established structures should be strengthened in ways that will improve their living condition and offer expanded livelihood options. In many societies, women are often at the receiving end of discrimination and are usually excluded from vital livelihood options. More recently, this has resulted in women being at the center of conversations on economic empowerment of nations. Several studies have sought to define what women economic empowerment really implies, but what is currently obtainable is a widespread disparity in definitions and understandings. For the purposes of this study, empowerment implies a situation where a woman is armed with the economic means to reach her personal and family goals and to influence decisions within her community. A report by The International Centre for Research on Women (ICRW) notes that “a woman is economically empowered when she has both the ability to succeed and advance economically and the power to make and act on economic decisions” (Golla et al. 2011). When women gain increased control over resources such as “income, knowledge, information, technology, skill, and training,” their self-esteem improves, and they are positioned to actualize their dreams and participate actively in children training and in community development. Rural women face multiple discriminations as they are more affected by traditions and cultural requirements that are not beneficial to their economic growth, much more than their urban dwelling counterparts. These women are often landless laborers and smallholder agricultural producers and lack access to opportunities and benefits that often accrue to their urban counterparts. Rural women are therefore often beset by poverty, lack of education, and little access to the seat of power and policy makers. OECD notes that compared to men, rural women: • Manage much smaller farmlands • Own few livestock and usually of an inferior variety to men, such as goats and chicken, and therefore earn a lot less from their livestock • Engage more in household beneficial labor such as cooking and fetching water and firewood, therefore leaving them with little time to attend to other economic beneficial endeavors

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• Due to their poor economic status, are less likely to purchase farm inputs for increased productivity and outputs • “Have weaker property rights and tenure security and reduced incentives to invest in their land” • Are not well-represented at the central level • If employed usually work “part-time, seasonal, and low-paying jobs” and are usually less remunerated than their male counterparts (OECD 2011) Rural women are mostly custodians of indigenous knowledge, and conversations regarding their economic empowerment cannot hold without centrally locating indigenous knowledge within that discourse. Women are the major producers of food that is consumed locally and make up majority of farmers and farm laborers across Africa. In addition, women are more responsible for food security at the household level in many rural communities. Africa’s overall agricultural output could grow by up to 20% if there is equality of access to agricultural input between women and men in the rural areas. A World Bank study conducted in four African countries established that giving rural women farmers as much quantity and quality of agricultural inputs and training as their male counterparts holds the potential to increase national agricultural output and incomes by a minimum of 10% (World Bank 2017). For the Food and Agriculture Organization, global hunger can be reduced by as much as 12–17% and total agricultural output by 20–30% by giving women equal access to agricultural input and training (FAO 2011). The Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation’s commissioned study also notes that enhanced access to global food companies can be gained by small holder farmers when women’s participation is improved in agricultural activities, processing, and agribusiness (Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation 2010). Most rural women rely on indigenous technology in their economic empowerment activities; therefore, searching for ways to improve the economic situation of rural women has to equally investigate the place of indigenous technology.

Indigenous Technology There is some agreement among scholars that technology is a strong basis for growth in any economy (Appleton 1993a, b; Ezeanya-Esiobu 2017). Nobel Laureate, Robert Solow, established that 85% of growth recorded in the United States between 1870 and 1950 occurred as a result of technological advancement. In the United Kingdom, a study linked 63% of growth recorded between 2000 and 2008 to technological innovation. Many economists are in general agreement that technology is second only to resource availability as far as economic growth is concerned. Indigenous technology springs from indigenous knowledge which is a concept that explores the unique and shared knowledge of a population of people or community, which informs their collective worldview. Indigenous technology is the technical aspect of indigenous knowledge, which often comprises of the processes, techniques, systems, and established methods

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through which communities generate desired results across sectors. Indigenous technology can even include such technology borrowed from other cultures over generations, which the borrowing community has imbibed to such an extent that all requirements for production can be sourced locally, with the know-how being widely available. Indigenous technology distinguishes from imported technology where the know-how and materials are usually dependent on external factors and knowledge is transmitted by a privileged few. Imported technology is usually gained by being able to attend some form of classroom teaching, extension program, or workshop and needs constant updating of information and regular supply of materials from external factors in order for production to be sustained. What can be acceptably termed indigenous technology in any rural community requires more than a cursory search; this is because as noted by Bell (1979, 45), “to be indigenous, technical knowledge must be not merely present within the given socio-economic and spatial boundaries, but also an active component of the culture of the social group concerned, being stored, communicated, and used by its members to serve some purpose in relation to productive activity within society (Bell 1979).” Further, indigenous technology is not and should not be static. The idea behind indigenous technology is that of a system that evolves, accumulates new knowledge, discards of old and at some point unusable knowledge, and grows in usefulness. The underlying principle is that end users are acculturated to that technology and are able to sustainably utilize and expand it without undue reliance on external actors. For technology to take root and be strategically positioned to trigger innovation and growth within a community, it has to be founded on the realities and lived experiences of such community. When indigenous technology is marginalized in favor of imported technology, what results is a stunting of growth of the entire system of technological production within a community. Some governments with a realization of the role of technology in rural development have oftentimes taken an outside-in approach, which is a situation where technology is imported and introduced into rural areas to jump-start development. However, as stated in the famed Dag Hammarskjold Report on Development and International Cooperation, “the capacity of technology to transform the nature, orientation and purpose of development is such that the question of who controls technology is central to who controls development” (Dag Hammarskjold Foundation 1975/2006). Governments and development partners especially in sub-Saharan Africa are not widely known to have explored indigenous technology in the crafting of policies, programs, and projects aimed at rural development. This absence of indigenous technology as foundational in rural development is matched by a high drive to import external technology from the developed and more developed countries of the world. This attempt by some governments in sub-Saharan Africa to structure society according to some predetermined, western knowledge is founded on high modernism. Applied to rural development, high modernism is anchored on a belief by policy makers and stakeholders that the fastest and most reliable route to economic empowerment is through expansion of production in industry and agriculture based on western principles and ideas. One of the founding pillars of high

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modernism is the conviction that rather than locally generated, indigenous, practical, or authentic knowledge, only imported scientific knowledge is the acceptable route to reaching developmental goals. The high modernist viewpoint is the focal point of western society, and all its efforts are targeted toward “civilizing” other societies and bringing them up to the “tried,” “tested,” and “proven” Euro-centered scientific culture. High modernism repudiates indigenous knowledge systems based on an assumption that scientific knowledge is more upscale and capable of improving the human condition, over and above common and long-held understanding by locals. At the base, however, is a desire to maximize production through the reshaping of society along ultra-capitalist lines, assigning business principles to human life, and making no effort to develop the human being by understanding and exploring his own ideas, knowledge, and beliefs (Scott 1998). This is because scientific knowledge can prove to be much abstracted from local reality and unable to fully capture the understanding of local circumstances. Importantly also, is that human-centered development which fosters innovation and growth must allow for the freedom to acknowledge and explore an individual’s own knowledge base, practices, systems, and beliefs and must not be presented as abstract, universal, and independent of the learner’s surroundings and existing realities. High modernism leads to the introduction of inappropriate technology within rural communities which is often unsustainable. Appropriate technology is a term used to qualify technology that is accessible and affordable, easy to use and maintain, effective, and meets the real need of end users (Scott 1998). Appropriate technology often springs from local innovation, which is a strong driver of economic growth. Appropriate technology is endogenous, that is, it is nurtured from within the community and is therefore easily accessible and affordable to locals. High modernism scorns at sustainable growth generated from indigenous technology and favors the imposition of foreign ideas, structures, and processes on local communities. What is not realized by the high modernists is that grassroots advancement is unsustainable when it relies on continued external input (Scott 1998). Indeed, rural development can be greatly hampered by an externally imposed development agenda. As a result of the high modernist emphasis on Africa’s rural development policies, the role of rural African women as users of indigenous technology for improved livelihood and economic empowerment has remained consistently marginalized by policy makers and researchers.

Indigenous Knowledge of Medicine The World Health Organization defines traditional medical knowledge as “the knowledge, skills and practices based on the theories, beliefs and experiences indigenous to different cultures, used in the maintenance of health and in the prevention, diagnosis, improvement or treatment of physical and mental illness.” In rendering a further conceptual clarification, WHO notes that “traditional medicine is often termed alternative or complementary medicine in many countries.”

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In Africa, “herbal treatments are the most popular form of traditional medicine and 70–80% of the Region has used a form [of it] as primary health care (WHO 2019). ”Prior to the advent of modern medical practice across Africa, indigenous knowledge of medicine was utilized by communities in the treatment of diseases. Oftentimes, minor ailments were handled by sufferers and family members since knowledge of the healing properties of several herbs was widely available in the public domain. However, for more serious cases, referral would often be made to traditional medical practitioners who can also be specialists in different aspects of medicine or pharmacology. For example, traditional bonesetters took care of bone injuries, and psychiatrists took care of mental health cases, while traditional midwives or birth attendants, usually women, handled childbirth. In recent times, many communities across Africa and around the world still depend on traditional medical practitioners for their health needs. The World Health Organization’s report, “WHO Traditional Medicine Strategy 2014-2023,” recognizes that “traditional medicine and its practitioners continue to play an important role in the health of the population.” Accordingly, the global body urges member states to take steps to “protect and preserve traditional medicine knowledge and national flora and other natural resources” and to “develop and implement national policies and regulations on traditional/complementary/alternative medicine to ensure the proper use of traditional medicine and to ensure its utilization to increase primary health care coverage” (WHO 2019). Although there are similarities across Africa, there is no homogeneity in traditional medical practice from culture to culture and region to region (Sofowora 1996). In many communities across Africa, women resort to traditional medicine as a source of primary healthcare for themselves and family members. Studies indicate that the prevalence of traditional medicine use among pregnant African women can be as high as 80%, with the most common traditional medicine used being “herbal medicine for reasons related to treatment of pregnancy related symptoms.” Women who frequently used traditional medicine “were pregnant women with no formal education, low income, and living far from public health facilities; a lack of access to the mainstream maternity care was the major determining factor for use of traditional medicine” (Shewamene et al. 2017). Additionally, there are mostly women traditional birth attendants across Africa. These are “usually older women who have perfected the skill of midwifery over the years through experiencing, witnessing and assisting in many births throughout their adult lives. The skill is transferred from one generation to the other, and as a result, any older woman can become a birth attendant (Mokgobi 2014).” In West Africa, women of the Isoko ethnic group in Southern Nigeria use traditional medicine in family health, especially as herbal remedies. The leaves, barks, and roots from numerous local trees such as pawpaw, guava, and mango are used in the preparation of pharmaceutical mixtures and purgatives that seek to prevent or treat diverse health challenges such as fever, stomach ache, body pains, and measles. There are also potent local plants and seeds that are known to effectively take care of other more serious ailments. At the birth of a newborn male child, it is women who hold the expertise, as far as the circumcision of that child is concerned. This knowledge is in addition to a vast array of pediatric herbal

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interventions that are topically applied or ingested in liquid form, to treat health conditions in newborns and toddler child (Ugboma 2014). Outside of the practice of traditional medicine that is restricted to a family and close friends’ circle, women across many African communities also take on the role of expert traditional healers, whose knowledge is sought after, from within and outside of their immediate community. Among the Tuareg people found in West Africa, women use herbal medicine to diagnose and treat several diseases. These women are mostly patronized by their fellow women, although they do receive male clientele occasionally. To qualify to practice as a traditional medicine woman, one must be a mother and preferably of, “older, post-childbearing status.” Older women inherit the knowledge of medicine from their mothers and grandmothers and do also try to pass down the same knowledge to their daughters and granddaughters (Rasmussen 1998). These women usually serve as apprentices while learning from their older forebears, usually waiting until the mothers are elderly and unable to continue practice or pass on, before practicing full-time (Rasmussen 1998, 147). According to a Tuareg woman, “medicine is like “living milk herds [akhhuderan]; it is transmitted to, belongs to, and is practiced and managed by women, like property.” This saying refers to the traditional practice of the Tuaregs, whereby women “enjoy high social prestige and economic independence; they inherit and own livestock and the nuptial tent, go about unveiled, visit freely and can initiate divorce” (Rasmussen 1998, 148). There is a close relationship in several instances between religion and female traditional medical practitioners in many African societies. In Southern Africa, diviner-mediums, popularly known as sangomas, are predominantly female. An analysis of Zulu sangomas deduced that “the special and very close contact with the spirits is reserved for women only,” and should “a man become possessed he becomes a transvestite” (Sibisi 1975: 50). Sangomas study under an older and more experienced diviner-medium, who in Swaziland, for instance, usually gathers all apprentices together and instructs them in empirical use of herbal medicine over a period of time. In many Islamic societies across Africa, “the role of herbal medicine women within Islam and their relation to marabouts, who are also respected healers, suggest an ambivalent relationship between [female] herbal healers and Islam” (149). “Like marabouts, a medicine woman spit on the medicines in her hand when she administers them in order for her blessing power to be transmitted. Also like marabouts, in order to cure adequately the healer must begin when she has no sin. . .. Although female herbalists distinguish their role from Islamic scholars with the saying that, “herbalists cure with medicines, whereas marabouts cure with writing,” however, many characterize their practices and that of marabouts as the sort of relationships that exist between a “husband and wife” (Rasmussen 1998, 150).

Women, Indigenous Knowledge, and Agriculture Indigenous foods have always been a less expensive, nutritious resort for many rural dwellers, and the diversity they offer ensures conservation of the species. Across Africa, many women smallholder farmers use indigenous techniques to ensure high

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crop yields, sustainable land management for preservation of crop land, and minimal processing, which ensures preservation of nutrients. In the Global North, there is an increasing drive toward organic farming and a reduced emphasis on food processing; this has led to an increased interest in the role of women as custodians of traditional farming techniques, food processing, and preservation methods. Not one community in rural Africa is void of the practice of indigenous farming and food processing, in some capacity. In a study conducted in the Limpopo province of South Africa, an overwhelming number of female subsistence farmers noted that they used indigenous knowledge for rainfall forecasting, knowledge of soil types, soil fertilization, mulching, seed selection, multiple cropping, maintenance of crops, storage of seeds and crops, and in fallowing (Rankoana 2017). Isoko women of Nigeria are skilled in the processing of cassava starch, dried cassava flour, fish, and corn. The women also preserve and dry delicate spices and are well versed in the manufacture of fish trap using parts of the palm tree (Ugboma 2014). A study conducted in Ganyesa Village, South Africa, “revealed that local people, especially women, have over the years developed local food security strategies for climate change adaptation. These included knowledge of behaviours of living organisms, wind directions, position of stars as early warning indicators of changing weather conditions, selection of appropriate seeds and animal species, mixed cropping, and water harvesting technologies and food preservation techniques such as fermentation and sun drying for food security (Tlhompho 2014, 1).” A study that explored the role of rural women in the production of indigenous vegetables in Rwanda established that many rural women are involved in the cultivation of indigenous vegetables. This is despite the fact that consumers have a preference for modern exotic vegetables in the country. Many rural women are unable to fund the cultivation of exotic vegetables since it demands much input of fertilizer and pesticides, comes with a shorter shelf life, and is restrictive in terms of variety and access to seeds for planting. On the contrary, seeds of indigenous vegetables are exchanged freely in communities, are easy to preserve for the next planting season, and hold higher nutritional and economic importance for rural women and their families (Ezeanya-Esiobu et al. 2018). Despite the importance of indigenous knowledge-based agriculture across Africa, “these knowledge systems tend to be marginalized in the search for sustainable solutions for food security and climate change (Tlhompho 2014).” Policy makers and those involved in rural development need to invest more effort in searching out indigenous knowledge-based agricultural practices across communities in Africa. There is also need to organize women indigenous knowledge-based agricultural producers for the sake of knowledge exchange, trainings, and documentation to inform policy and for incorporation into educational curriculum.

Women, Indigenous Knowledge, and Early Childhood Education The number one goal of the leading multilateral early education agreement in Africa, the Dakar Framework for Action, is an emphasis on “expanding and improving comprehensive early childhood care and education, especially for the most

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vulnerable and disadvantaged children” (UNESCO, 2000, p. 8). According to the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO), early childhood is defined as being from the time of birth to age 8. This is generally divided into two groups: 0–3 and 3–6/8. Early childhood care and education (ECCE) “should be holistic and relevant, involving the development of the whole body. This concept encompasses everything from a child’s health, nutrition, and hygiene to cognitive skills and social, emotional development.” In order to ensure that the structures necessary to ensure successful and effective ECCE are in place, the African Regional Framework of Action calls for “community involvement in school decision-making and administration; employment of teachers in their own community of origin; curriculum reform toward locally relevant subjects; use of mother tongue as the language of instruction; the use of schools as community learning centers (UNESCO 2000).” Locally relevant subjects refer to the need for indigenous knowledge in early childhood education. Across Africa, it is women who usually nurse children from birth until late childhood and into their teenage age. Women speak their languages to children in many cases, and that is why mother tongue is considered essential in early childhood education. Indeed, using mother tongue in ECCE has been established to increase literacy rates (Leautier 2004). Pedagogy of ECCE it is also argued, should not differ from the teaching structures used at home. These include the wide use of traditional stories as an important tool for learnings (Schafer et al. 2004). Schafer (2004) “summarized findings from Uganda and Lesotho that emphasized the use of local stories as important to cognitive skills development and continuation of indigenous knowledge.” Sagnia (2004) “also promotes the use of songs, dances, and locally produced toys in ECCE programs in the Gambia.” Essentially, “local ideas of parenting and children’s roles can and should also influence early education practices” (Pence 2004). As more and more families across Africa become urbanized and with it the increase in loss of indigenous knowledge, there is more need to preserve indigenous pedagogy and practices of African women and for a planned integration of same in the formal education system across the region. The UN’s Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples makes it clear that indigenous knowledge of communities should be incorporated in teaching in order to make for a culturally responsive education (CRE), since “human beings learn by connecting and integrating new knowledge into what students have previously learned outside of school” (Singh and Reyhner 2013, 38–39).When women’s knowledge are incorporated in ECCE, there are numerous benefits accruable, which follow children beyond preschool, kindergarten, and primary schooling to becoming empathic, civil, law-abiding, and human-centered lifelong learners.

Women, Indigenous Knowledge, and Biodiversity The world’s biodiversity is endangered. Globally, policy makers and citizens are becoming more concerned with the loss of biodiversity, as a result of the vulnerability it exposes the planet to. The unprecedented level of biodiversity destruction

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today is traceable to the unchecked, oftentimes capitalist greed-induced large-scale monoculture-based production in agriculture. Commercialization, genetic modification, and the emphasis on high-yield species have led to the disappearance of several varieties of plants and animals. Monocultures of high-yield varieties have been established as being behind the rising incidence of nutritional deficiency and imbalance, since in many instances, nutritious plants such as seeds are sacrificed to increase the production of commodity crops. The diminishing of biological species has created a vacuum in the proper functioning of the global eco system. Crop diversity remains essential for protecting plants and animals from pests and diseases because varied populations of crops are essential in ensuring pest-predator balance; in addition, the existence of diversity in plants ensure the natural availability of ecologically safe pest control. For example, the neem tree has been known to provide a natural form of pesticide to many small holder farmers across rural India. The shift away from, “local varieties and local indigenous crop improvement strategies” also end up stripping women of previously held indigenous knowledge of seeds and genetic resources. Without consulting women who have been seed custodians since ancient times, global capitalist interests interact with bottles in the laboratory to produce crops, thereby, side stepping women’s “knowledge and skills which should be the basis of improvement strategies (Shiva 1992a, 210).” Vandana Shiva contends that the force and process behind the annihilation of biodiversity is the same force that supports the marginalization of women; “diversity is the price paid in the patriarchal model of progress which pushes inexorably towards monocultures, uniformity and homogeneity” (Shiva 2015, 384). Women’s indigenous knowledge is central to biodiversity conservation since they multitask and are knowledgeable in the multiple or multifaceted use of one plant as both food, pesticides and for preservation and processing. In Africa, more women than men are smallholder farmers across Africa. These women small holder farmers are skilled and knowledgeable in the use of indigenous knowledge for farming and food production. Essentially, these small holder farmers depend on easily accessible and cost-saving local seed varieties, therefore, “biodiversity is also essential to maintain the sustainability of self-provisioning farm units in which the producers are also the consumers” (Shiva 2015, 386). However, the increasing introduction of monoculture high-yield varieties across rural Africa means that farmers are now being turned into mere “consumers of purchase seed, creating dependency, increasing costs of production, and decreasing food entitlements at the local level” (Shiva 2015). Across Africa the emphasis on Green Revolution has been on increasing yields of particular plant and animal species to the exclusion and extinction of other supposedly less high-yielding species. However, the excluded species do have their important place in the ecosystem, and their absence renders the ecosystem vulnerable. Women understand this, and the “destruction of biological diversity undermines women’s diverse contribution to agriculture by eroding biological sources of food, fodder, fertilizer, fuel and fibre” (Shiva 1992, 210). “Women have been the selectors and custodians of seed. When they conserve see, they conserve diversity and when

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they conserve diversity, they conserve balance and harmony.” Conservation of biodiversity across Africa demands the inclusion of the voices of rural women who are custodians of indigenous knowledge of plants, animals, geography, and the rural terrain.

Conclusion As the challenges that plague humanity continue to grow despite advances in western scientific knowledge, there is need to enlarge the lens and understand previously ignored knowledge systems. Indigenous knowledge has thrived, built, and sustained communities across Africa for centuries. This chapter sets out to offer a broad overview of the place of indigenous knowledge among Africa’s womenfolk. Urbanization has made it such that much of what is Africa’s indigenous knowledge is now held and utilized in rural communities across the region. It focused on the role of women and impact of indigenous knowledge on rural livelihood and economic empowerment of rural women in Africa. It further addressed indigenous technology, indigenous knowledge of medicine, indigenous agricultural knowledge, indigenous knowledge of pedagogy and early childhood education, and indigenous environmental knowledge, with emphasis on the conservation of biodiversity. While westernization has led to a huge loss in the indigenous knowledge system bank of the continent, much of what is left is in the hands of the womenfolk. Women across Africa continue to rely on indigenous knowledge for their livelihood, and if explored, that knowledge system holds great potentials for the empowerment of women and the advancement of Africa.

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Shiva, V. (2015). Women’s indigenous knowledge and biodiversity conservation. In L. P. Pojman, P. Pojman, & K. McShane (Eds.), Environmental ethics: Readings in theory and application (pp. 383–388). Boston: Cengage Learning. Shiva, V. (1992a). Women’s indigenous knowledge and biodiversity conservation. India International Centre Quarterly, 19(1/2), 205–214. (Indigenous vision: Peoples of India attitudes to the environment (Spring-Summer)). Shiva, V. (1992b). Women’s indigenous knowledge and biodiversity conservation. India International Centre Quarterly, 19(1/2), 205–214. (Indigenous vision: Peoples of India attitudes to the environment). Singh, N. K., & Reyhner, J. (2013). Indigenous knowledge and pedagogy for indigenous children. In J. Reyhner, J. Martin, L. Lockard, & W. S. Gilbert (Eds.), Honoring our children: Culturally appropriate approaches for teaching indigenous students (pp. 37–52). Flagstaff, AZ: Northern Arizona University. Sofowora, A. (1996). Research on medicinal plants and traditional medicine in Africa. The Journal of Alternative and Complementary Medicine, 2(3), 365–372. Tlhompho, G. (2014). African indigenous food security strategies and climate change adaptation in South Africa. Journal of Human Ecology, 48(1), 83–96. https://doi.org/10.1080/ 09709274.2014.11906777. Ugboma, Margaret U. (2014). Availability and use of indigenous knowledge amongst rural women in Nigeria Library Philosophy and Practice (e-journal) 1167 http://digitalcommons.unl.edu \libphilprac/1167, pp. 1–9. UNESCO. (2000). Dakar framework for action. Dakar: World Education Conference: UNESCO. UNESCO. Gender and science: gender and local knowledge. A UNESCO website. December 4, 2019. http://www.unesco.org/new/en/natural-sciences/priority-areas/gender-and-science/crosscutting-issues/women-and-local-knowledge/. Warren, D., Slikkerveer, L., & Brokensha, D. (1995). The cultural dimensions of development: Indigenous knowledge systems. London: Intermediate Technology Publications. WHO. Traditional medicine: Overview. World Health Organization. November 25, 2019. https:// www.afro.who.int/health-topics/traditional-medicine Accessed 25 Nov 2019. Wole, O. M., & Ayanbode, F. (2009). Use of indigenous knowledge by women in a rural community. Indian Journal of Traditional Knowledge, 8(2), 287–295. World Bank (2017). Help women farmers “get to equal”. World Bank. April 18, 2017. https://www. worldbank.org/en/topic/agriculture/brief/women-farmers-getting-to-equal Accessed 4 Dec 2019. World Bank. (2003). Women & indigenous knowledge: A south-south perspective. IK Notes, 63, 1–4.

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African Indigenous Knowledge Systems and the Empowerment of African Women Gloria Emeagwali

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conceptualizing Empowerment . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Theoretical and Empirical Underpinnings of IKS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Genesis and Purpose of AIKS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Beyond Male-Centric Science . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

The focus of this chapter is on some of the conceptual issues and variables associated with the empowerment process with particular reference to the women of Africa. The chapter also pays attention to the conceptual underpinnings of African Indigenous Knowledge Systems (AIKS) or African Indigenous Knowledges (AIK) as an epistemological framework for understanding, analyzing, articulating, and discussing the past and present. The intersections between AIKS and female empowerment in the African context constitute a major area of discourse throughout the chapter, and we discuss their interconnections with development strategy. We consider that male-centric science is often complicit with Western corporations and in several occasions has proven to be obstacles to genuine understanding and meaningful research for the promotion of gender equity. The chapter concludes with reflections on the variables that are of greatest significance for policy making and the implementation of gender equity.

G. Emeagwali (*) History and African Studies, Central Connecticut State University, New Britain, CT, USA e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_146

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Keywords

Epistemology · Knowledge production · Colonialism · Gender equity · Empowerment · Biodiversity · Intellectual property rights · Indigeneity · Coalition building

Introduction The first part of this chapter focuses on the concept of empowerment and its meaning. It then points to the intersection between empowerment and development and the various strategies and variables that we usually identify with the two processes. We also refer to distinctions made between women in development (WID) and gender and development (GAD) in the literature and their applicability in this instance. The second part of the discussion reflects on the genesis, purpose, and epistemological and pragmatic underpinnings of African Indigenous Knowledge Systems (AIKS), as these relate to development, in particular, and empowerment, in general. The intersection of processes of empowerment and Indigenous Knowledge is of prime importance in this discourse. We reflect on some of the specific areas where AIKS practitioners may be of considerable significance for women, not only inspirationally but also in terms of social, economic, and educational value and impact. We recognize that the building of self-esteem, agency, worthiness of respect, skills, and economic leverage – indicators of empowerment – is as important for nation building as it is to gender equity and explore areas where these occur in indigenous knowledge activities and processes. How would the decolonization of the knowledge industry empower women? How can AIKS contribute to the movement for gender equity, and with what forms of political mobilization? To what extent can AIKS consolidate inclusionary forces and delegitimize exclusionary ones? AIKS does not imply a blanket endorsement of all things indigenous. Local institutional and ideological barriers and structures that oppress women must necessarily be broken down and eradicated, where they exist, but areas of positivity must be highlighted and enhanced. Women are not homogeneous and can be disaggregated along class lines, occupations, locality, ideology, gender sensitivity, and so on. Similarly, AIKS is a vast conglomerate of various disciplines, epistemologies, skill sets, and occupations. Our concern is primarily with empowerment in the areas of intersection of these enormous entities and where AIKS has positive implications for African society, in general, and the empowerment of African women in particular.

Conceptualizing Empowerment Over the last two decades, there have been various scholarly interrogations of the empowerment concept, from scholars such as Jo Rowlands (1997), Parpart et al. (2002), Patricia Collins (2009), Shireen Hassim (2006), and others. Rowlands

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distinguished between personal, relationship, and collective empowerment, concluding that empowerment involves complex interactions, in a dynamic context, whereby core values such as self-confidence, self-esteem, dignity, and a sense of agency, at the personal and collective levels, undergo major changes. The implications for gender, class, and race are significant. Challenges are made to “genderconditioning” strategies and power relations as a whole. Relationships are also affected – including the ability to negotiate, communicate, and identify and defend rights. For Rowlands (1997), methodology and organizational strategy are major determining factors in the process of empowerment, while for Parpart et al. “institutional, material and discursive” contexts matter the most, with the recognition that empowerment is “both a process and an outcome” (Parpart et al. 2002: 4), and that revolution and transformation were credible possibilities – a view that resonates with Collins, who sees connections between social justice and strategies of resistance and empowerment (Collins 2009: 247). The empowerment process is not disconnected from “intersectionality” and the interaction of social class, gender, and sexuality. Collins argues that to understand the empowerment process, one needs to examine how the various forms of oppression are organized, the influence of these on the consciousness of individuals, and responses to oppression. “The global matrix of oppressors” (Collins 246) and processes of disempowerment in a transnational context also merit deep analysis, according to Collins – given the fact that oppressors work together in producing injustices (Collins 21). Collins also sees powerful linkages between empowerment and epistemology. In her view, empowerment is “a means for activating epistemologies that criticize prevailing knowledge.” It enables us “to define our own realities” (Collins 292), create paradigmatic shifts, and is an important knowledge device (Collins 227). Empowerment is an important issue for advocates of Indigenous Knowledge such as Shiva (2016), Emeagwali and Dei (2014), Emeagwali and Shizha (2016), and Langdon (2009) and for the philosophy of African Indigenous Knowledge, in particular. In her analysis of parliamentary democracy and women in politics, Shireen Hassim considers empowerment in terms of enfranchisement, inclusion, and representation in the electoral system (2006: 177). In her view, poverty reduction, the enhancement of negotiation capabilities, and the transformation of power relations are important variables and outcomes in the assessment of success. Parpart, Rowlands, and other scholars have contributed significantly to our understanding of the link between development and empowerment. They make a distinction between women in development (WID), from the standpoint of representation, and women’s role in production. They transcend somewhat superficial perceptions about what development implies, in some cases, and pay attention to gender and development, where power relations and the structural, class, ideological, and institutional issues affecting women are more clearly factored in. Refer to Rowlands (1997) and Parpart et al. (2002). How do African Indigenous Knowledges factor into, interact with, or intersect with WID and GAD, and what are the connections between development, empowerment, and AIKS? To what extent can IKS empower women, and with what epistemological, institutional, organizational and socioeconomic tools? We shall confront some of these questions in the course of analysis, but let us now define

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AIKS, identify some of its theoretical underpinnings, and discuss its relationship to development in its various formulations. We would then focus on other issues related to the empowerment of women through AIKS.

Theoretical and Empirical Underpinnings of IKS African Indigenous Knowledge Systems and Indigenous Knowledges, in general, constitute a conglomerate of various disciplines and intersecting epistemologies and value systems, by societies and communities that have developed paradigms and ways of existence in ancestral homelands. The accumulated knowledges have emerged out of trial and error experimentation as well as tested empirical practices and paradigms related to medical, cultural, ecological, environmental, geographical, economic, social, and other traditions of existence. African Indigenous Knowledge Systems have substantial ramifications for education, the classroom, development strategies, social movements, employment generation, sustained endogenous growth, and gender and development.

The Genesis and Purpose of AIKS Historically, Africans may go as far back as approximately 3.4 million years ago, for the first evidence of stone tool creation in the regions of Kenya and Ethiopia – based on the 3.3-million-year-old stone tools excavated by Sandra Harmond in Turkana County, Kenya, in 2015, and Zeresenay Alemseged’s discovery the year before, of a butchery involving stone tools, in the Lower Awash Valley of Ethiopia (McPherron et al. 2011). These date back to 3.4 million years (Balter 2015). About 100,000 years ago, in Blombos, at a site located about 300 km from present-day Cape Town, in South Africa, endogenous creativity emerged in experimental ornamentation, perforated shell jewelry, and mechanisms for storage of pigment in what has been identified as the world’s earliest evidence of chemistry (Henshilwood et al. 2011). Endogenous knowledge has manifested itself in health care, textiles, ceramics, agronomy, food processing, architecture, and a wide range of philosophies, theologies, value systems, and technologies, cross-regionally. We shall reflect briefly on the first two areas mentioned with a view to stimulating interest in the other areas of AIK. Proverbs and maxims have been useful repositories of various aspects of indigenous medical practice whether in terms of intervention, fees, code of conduct for practitioners, preventive mechanisms, or the symptoms of various diseases (Ojoade 1992). Popular oral narratives, written documentation in various formats, and archaeological findings have yielded valuable information about indigenous medical practice and other areas of Indigenous Knowledge. Interventions varied and included incantations and other psychological techniques judged to have therapeutic benefits, areas that should not be ignored in discourse, as pointed out by Oyedipe (1993). At the core of indigenous medical practice in the African context,

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however, has been the use of plant-based medicine; practitioners have differentiated between the leaves, flowers, stem, roots, and bark of trees, all invariably used in the form of essential oils, elixirs, suppositories, balms, and pills, with various degrees of efficacy. Phytochemical research has shown that many of the plants favored by Indigenous medical practitioners indeed have strong antibacterial potency, in addition to antiparasitic, antihypertensive, antitumor, and antiobesity agency. The high esteem of products such as baobab (Adansonia digitata), moringa (Moringa oleifera), amaranth (Amarantius tricolor), and Cowpeas (Vigna unguiculata), for example, is backed by phytochemical reports of high vitamin, calcium, magnesium, and zinc content and positive immune-boosting properties (Emeagwali 2018). In 1921, in Bida, Central Nigeria, there were as many as 1700 tailors involved in the making of garments produced from local cloth. The tradition of cloth making was strong throughout the Nigerian region, in areas such as Sokoto, Kano, and Borno as well as Okene, Abuja, and Ilorin. It is only in the present Plateau State, in the Middle Belt region of Central Nigeria, that leather garments seemed to be more dominant than fabric, and this was probably due to the very low temperatures that prevailed for parts of the year. Ginning, spinning, weaving, and dyeing were done in the context of indigenous techniques that included various types of manual looms for interlacing and weaving thread and the local identification of vegetable dyes for usage, inclusive of Cochlospermum tinctorium, Curcuma longa, Indigofera tinctoria, and a host of plant products identified as effective natural dyes. Some of the above issues have been discussed extensively in Emeagwali (1992, 1993), Kapoor and Shizha (2010), Chilisa (2012), Emeagwali and Dei (2014), Dei and Adjei (2014), Shizha and Abdi (2014), Emeagwali and Shizha (2016), and Dei and Jaimungal (2019). Research into textile technology since the 1990s has shifted to analyses of the impact of cheap Chinese cloth exports on indigenous African textiles. Some analysts predict a total collapse of indigenous cloth industries making it more urgent that we understand the underlying principles in indigenous cloth production to prevent their demise and foster their revival if necessary. Documenting indigenous astronomical knowledges in South Africa was one of Peter Alcock’s gift to posterity (Alcock 2016). On the whole, we need much more work in the area of astronomy, granted that some valuable research has been done on Dogon astronomy in the Malian case and by Kremer et al. in the area of cultural astronomy. However, the study of Indigenous Knowledges has been enriched by monumental works such as Bagele Chilisa’s text Indigenous Research Methodologies (2012) and the infusion of a new wave of research on Indigenous Knowledges in Canada, and to some extent Australia, with some emphasis on Native American Knowledge Systems. The cross-pollination of ideas and concepts has begun, and AIK will be all the richer for it. The various colonizing campaigns and activities of marauders and settler colonists would bring about the violent subjugation and domination of not only the peoples they came into contact with but also their indigenous philosophies, epistemologies, and intellectual systems, much of which was delegitimized and discredited through legislation, and systematic campaigns of indoctrination and intimidation. This episode in the history of Africa created the basis for diverse anticolonial

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liberation movements and freedom struggles that blossomed into three waves of independence: in the 1950s and 1960s in the former British, French, and Italian colonies; in the 1970s, in the former Portuguese colonies of Southern Africa and the West African region of Guinea Bissau; and in 1980, Zimbabwe (Shillington 2018). In the 1990s the British, Dutch, and German colonies of Southern Africa regained their independence, inclusive of South Africa and Namibia (Shillington 2018). We should point out that the newly independent nation states inherited inappropriate land policies, particularly so, in former settler colonies such as Kenya, Zimbabwe, South Africa, and Namibia (Maloba 1993). Women were invariably affected by these lopsided systems of land ownership that conferred privilege on White minorities, given their prominent traditional roles in farming and food processing in these economies. In the case of South Africa, in 1913, in the Natives Land Act, the proto-apartheid segregationist regime mandated that no more than 7% of the land should be owned by Africans. The minority White population enjoyed the lion’s share and acquired “legal” titles to much of the arable land. Even though this was raised to 11.7% by 1939, Africans found themselves comparatively landless and disinherited from their ancestral terrain dating back to the Louis Botha South African administration of 1910 and subsequent regimes (Walker 2008; Thompson 2014; Saul and Bond 2014). The process of land reform remains an urgent development issue for the women of South Africa, in particular, and it is not surprising that land rights and land expropriation became hot electoral issues in the 2019 elections, highlighted in the campaign by parties such as the Economic Freedom Fighters (EFF) and the African National Congress itself, at a time when the unemployment rate hovered around 27%. In the case of Kenya, the unequal distribution of land was a direct consequence of British colonial policy. The Crown Lands Ordinance of 1915 led to a transfer of land to the White population. The Kenyan highlands were declared “Crown Land,” and about 1 million acres of land were sold at dirt price, to Lord Delamere, Lord Frances Scott, the East African Estates Ltd., and the East African Syndicate. Colonial taxation policies buttressed this policy of dispossession and was aimed at forcing Africans to leave the so-called reserves and seek land on settler-controlled farms. A labor registration system was also put into action, in the Kenyan case, and here, too, we have the foundations set in place for unequal development and disparities, along gender and racial lines, in the postcolonial era (Maxon 2009). The issue of land rights and land reclamation has not been prominent on the electoral agenda but it remains an area of concern for gender and racial equality in postcolonial Kenya. The reparations given to “Mau Mau” torture victims, in 2013, for colonial era abuse, is a move in the right direction, but injustices concerning colonial land expropriation must also be addressed (Oette 2013). The decolonization of existing curriculum remains an unfinished project, despite political independence. There is considerable need to revisit some of the guiding principles, goals, and objectives of inherited neocolonial curricula to renegotiate content of the courses taught. Pedagogical and instructional strategies should include inquiry-based teaching and contextual-based learning aimed at developing critical thinking. The involvement of local practitioners, many of whom should be female,

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and the use of local apprenticeship and internship methods, and study tours at the local and regional levels, could trigger more student-centered and environmentally conscious approaches. Courses may include a focus on innovative and holistic models of analysis inclusive of the various struggles for freedom from colonialism, poverty, discrimination, and sexism, in the present and past. The growing movement toward Indigenous Knowledge research should help in this project. IKS may also be of value, therapeutically, in the context of restorative psychological healing for formerly subjugated peoples, as they confront the “global matrix of oppressors” past and present, to which Collins alludes. There is also an important economic development factor. According to George Sefa Dei, true development must be about the use of local resources and creativity, local needs and desires, and a shift from “the technologizing” of development to the “socialization of development”(Dei). This implies a shift as well from toxic programs of maldevelopment such as the IMF-World Bank programs that wreaked economic havoc in the 1980s and 1990s. The use of IKS in development strategy implies consultation and dialogue with the people for whom development policies and programs are ostensibly designed to assist. True development strategy must necessarily decenter, challenge, and renegotiate the Eurocentric neocolonial agenda and bring indigenous epistemology and values into the driver’s seat. Current projections suggest that, at the present rate of demographic growth, by 2050, there would be about 2.5 billion continental Africans and by the end of the century 4.4 billion (Groth and May 2017: 26). Half of these would be women. Colonial regimes demoted and undermined the roles of such women and their customary entitlements and civilities. We may recall that before the colonial occupation of various parts of the continent, African women dominated the food processing sector in vegetable oils and grain. They brewed beer from cereal and made the pots to contain them. They were at the center of ceramics manufacture in some regions, including Abuja and Eastern Nigeria, in the case of West Africa. There are parallel situations in East Africa. Innovations took place in the design and range of pots used, and women were inventors and innovators in the textile sector as well. They were central in the dyeing process and provided a range of colors to the consumer (Emeagwali 2018). Indigenous Knowledges informed the ceramics, textile, and agroprocessing sectors, and women played a major role in this phenomenon. There were interregional and intraregional variations, but it was clear that women contributed to the buildup of the accumulated body of endogenous practices, techniques, and intellectual resources associated with IKS. This trend was substantially curbed during colonial rule. A new male-centric philosophy for credit and extension services emerged, and some of the economic roles and technical innovations that nurtured and accompanied successful female entrepreneurship were undermined by patriarchal administrators (Fallon 2008). The male-dominated colonial administrators had not come to terms with the dynamics of female power and rights in their European countries of origin, and this affected their perceptions of women in Africa. Despite their active role in several anticolonial liberation movements, the marginalization of women continued into the postcolonial era. The ongoing restoration of some political power in the context of parliamentary democracy is a positive

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development (Fallon 2008), but some scholars consider this to be an inadequate measure for fundamental and permanent transformation. There is much more to be done including the restoration of the positive aspects of AIK such as organic farming and plant-based medicine, where relevant, and the avoidance of the toxic side effects of mainstream pharmaceuticals. Women must reintroduce the use of natural repellents in their farming activities and avoid the use of carcinogens. For example, the use of lemongrass, neem, and other plant-based repellents should be prioritized. Countering GMOs and fighting against the contamination of seeds and agricultural systems must be on the empowerment agenda for the sustenance of biodiversity and for women to take fair control of their seeds. IKS research may lead to the revival of older and safer methods of milk production and the avoidance of carcinogens such as recombinant bovine somatotropin, a bovine growth hormone, also known as rBST, used to artificially increase milk production in cows in the dairy industries of the United States. This genetically engineered chemical has proven to be detrimental not only to the injected cows, themselves, but also to humans. Cows have been known to develop infections and serious cases of mastitis, while breast, prostate, and colon cancers in humans have been linked to rBST (De Vliegher et al. 2012, 2012b). Attempts to contaminate milk by these controversial chemical agents and growth hormones should be rejected. The move toward organic agricultural products, untarnished by toxic chemicals, should also apply to dairy products. The revitalization of long-established successful methods should be considered. Health and well-being should be placed above unbridled profitability and economic gain.

Beyond Male-Centric Science Feminist philosophers and historians of science have pointed out that a male-centric bias has dominated research. The contributions of women have been overlooked in the historical accounts, and the definition of technology itself skewed in the direction of activities that were traditionally associated with males. The contribution of women to the food supply and their role in household and reproductive technology and inventions have been duly ignored. Science itself, as commonly defined, despite its claim to universality and neutrality, turns out to be largely a localized patriarchal project of Euro-American males with narrow exclusivist dimensions. The challenge for African researchers of Indigenous Knowledges is the development of epistemological tools to understand the multiple contributions of women in indigenous knowledge production in the continent and to forge a more inclusive, organic, interactive, and people-centered model of science, technology, and knowledges. AIKS researchers must be vigilant against male-centric paradigms posing as being universal, and must make sure that the gender factor permeates analysis, in addition to variables such as class and ethnicity. The empowerment of African women through a recognition of their underreported and unreported contributions to “organic systems of knowledge” is an important challenge for IKS scholars.

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In Earth Democracy: Justice, Sustainability and Peace, Vandana Shiva has rightly argued that the global onslaught of GMO companies such as Monsanto and Cargill have direct impact on the food chain (Shiva 2016). This means that well-established products become threatened by species extinction and seed contamination, she argues. The onslaught of these genetically engineered agricultural companies could even lead to the collapse of some rural economies. Shiva points out that their activities have direct effects on women as food producers, agriculturalists, and household workers. The same applies to water and water management activities. The companies may be different, in that we are dealing here with Suez, Vivendi, Veolia, ITT, Thames, General Electric, and other water corporations. As pointed out by Shiva, the motive of the GMOs and water companies is identical, namely, maximizing profit through patriarchal and “masculinist” aggressive forms of development and the obliteration of longestablished, indigenous access to seeds, water, and natural resources. The corporatization of water and agriculture is a threat to women in Africa and elsewhere and is a sure way to disempower small-scale agricultural units. Shiva’s illuminating analysis of the activities of these companies in India is of considerable relevance (Shiva 2015, 2016). Research into Indigenous Knowledges must assist in evaluating traditional agricultural systems and the gains and losses that may follow when corporate agribusiness lands at their doorstep. Collaborative action, coalition building, and community activism guided by an appropriate epistemological framework are crucial. Critical awareness must be at the center of the resistance against these uninvited, globalized perils, some of whom are also active in biopiracy. The attempt at patenting the neem tree to prevent local use, and facilitate genetic modification, is a case in point (Shiva 2016: 130). This tree, Azadirachta indica, locally known as Dogonyaro in the Nigerian case, according to some sources, is at the center of local struggles against malaria and has been identified as having antifungal, antibacterial, and antiviral properties. It has been intensively used by Africans for intervention against a wide spectrum of ailments including diabetes, hypertension, psoriasis, and a wide range of skin diseases. It is also associated with the treatment of erectile dysfunction in some accounts and has been identified as having contraceptive properties. Its leaves, seeds, bark, and fruits have been at the center of indigenous plant-based therapeutic and medicinal systems in Africa, for generations. In Staying Alive: Women, Ecology and Development, Vandana Shiva points out that when, in 2005, the European Patent Office revoked patent number 436257 – originally granted to the US Department of Agriculture and W. R. Grace and Company, a decade earlier – they reversed an attempt to patent the neem plant and appropriate, through biopiracy, traditional, intellectual property rights and knowledge with respect to a resource commonly utilized in India for centuries (Shiva 2016: 130). Their success would have curtailed African usage of the plant, as well, and would have led to genetic modifications and monopoly control of this ancient botanical treasure. Thanks to Indian and European activism, this case of biopiracy was legally subverted.

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Patents aimed at the appropriation of Indigenous Knowledge constitute a major threat to millions of women farmers and traditional practitioners in Africa and could be a major avenue to disempowerment, in the long-term, if ignored. Based on our discussion in the first part of this address, empowerment entails the development of self-esteem, agency, dignity, worthiness of respect, as well as poverty reduction, skills enhancement, and economic leverage. It also involves the consolidation of collective bargaining and negotiation techniques and anticipates enfranchisement and political representation. Empowerment must also involve serious engagement in discussion and intellectual activism and implies the readiness and willingness to take part in group and communal social action where necessary. To achieve these noble goals and objectives requires the deployment of anticolonial restorative and activist epistemologies, with which those goals are intricately bound. Research into Indigenous Knowledges opens up such possibilities. Table 1 Indigenous Knowledge Systems (IKS) and Empowerment Goals and indicators of female empowerment Self-esteem, capacity to act independently, dignity, worthiness of respect; development of collective bargaining and negotiation skills, enfranchisement, political representation; poverty reduction capabilities, skills enhancement, and economic leverage

Features of IKS Antiracist, antichauvinistic, anticolonial decentering of hegemonic epistemic systems; methodological pluralism and multipolarity as epistemological goals and mechanisms for understanding reality; therapeutic and restorative research aimed at the positive; collective consultation; ways of knowing inherited from ancestral communities; collaborative activism; coalition building; ability to understand and link with social movements

© Gloria Emeagwali 2018

We should note that scholars of African Indigenous Knowledge Systems also endorse methodological pluralism and challenge the notion of unipolarity and epistemological monism. They challenge the view that there is only one way of knowing about the universe. With the recognition of the multipolar dimensions of knowledge comes openness, flexibility, humility, and a willingness to learn from others and engage in cross-cultural and cross-regional research – across gender lines. A great percentage of the knowledges about the world, and in the world, has been silenced, wiped away, and excluded by white male ideologues, in some cases, in the context of “epistemicide” (Paraskeva 2016). The indigenous naming processes for topography, botanical resources, and flora and fauna were undermined and ignored in numerous cases, with no regard for the insights and erudition that led to their creation. The empowerment process should lead to a systematic reevaluation of botanical nomenclature and place names where feasible, especially with respect to the peoples that regained their independence within the last half century. The exclusion of female researchers and community leaders in this important process is unacceptable.

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Conclusion In this chapter several issues related to the empowerment of women have been discussed and so, too, some of the conceptual issues related to Indigenous Knowledges. The discourse reflected on some of the variables associated with empowerment from the perspective of various schools of thought and concluded that many of the goals of AIKS converge with them. Methodological pluralism, collaborative activism, openness, antichauvinism, and self-esteem seemed to be among the key variables and prerequisites for success.

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Women, Gender, and Knowledge Production in Anglophone Africa and Its Diaspora Jamaine M. Abidogun

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Anglophone West Africa and its Diaspora Gendered Knowledge . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Historical and Theoretical Framework: Pan-African Theory and the Ethno-Nations . . . . . . . . . Critical Theory and Imposed Education . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Historical Encounters and Continuities in British-Anglophone Africa and Diaspora Relations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Not-So-Indirect Rule: African-Anglo Gendered Encounters . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Modeling Gender-Balanced Syncretic Education . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion and Further Research . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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This chapter describes and analyzes how the imposition of Western Anglophone education was negotiated both on the continent and in its Diaspora. While this chapter deals only with Anglophone education, it may be argued that negotiated education was experienced wherever Africa was colonized. One major result of colonization was the imposition of a Western gendered perspective that ultimately challenged and often transformed African ethno-national gender identities via Western education’s structures and curriculum that contradicted or dismissed altogether Indigenous gendered knowledge and associated gender roles within these ethno-nations. Ethno-nation or ethno-national is identified as African civilizations’ unique societal attributes as documented through their cultural, economic, educational, government/political, language, and religious institutions. This chapter highlights primarily three African ethno-nations’ interactions with Western Anglophone education and the range of impacts on Africa and its J. M. Abidogun (*) History Department, Missouri State University, Springfield, MO, USA e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_67

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Diaspora’s female identity formation. These ethno-nations, Akan, primarily located in Ghana, and Igbo and Yoruba, primarily located in Nigeria, all have significant populations located in the Diaspora nation-state of Jamaica. Ethnographic studies from 1991 through 2015 are presented to discuss the complexity of the historical and ongoing gendered negotiation process in Western Anglophone education models. The results are a push-pull effect as each ethno-nation during the colonial and later neocolonial contexts experienced incidents of gendered resistance, adaptation, and transformation in response to the everincreasing participation in Western Anglophone education models and its accompanying curricula. Keywords

African gender education · African feminist studies · African gender studies · African education · Anglophone African education · Akan gender education · Akan education · Igbo gender education · Igbo education · Yoruba gender education · Yoruba education · Gender identity formation · Pan-African education · Critical theory · Transformative learning theory

Introduction Anglophone Africa and its Diaspora comprises much of Africa and the Atlantic. It maintains Anglophone cultural influence through the common language of English as well as common knowledge and practices found in nation-state institutions, including formal education. This chapter reflects on two decades of ethnographic and secondary research on the impact of Western education within Anglophone Africa and its Diaspora. It focuses on three specific nation-states with deep connections: Ghana and Nigeria in Africa and Jamaica in its Diaspora. While this chapter details studies that include multiple African civilizations or ethno-nations, its discussion primarily focuses on the Akan, Igbo, and Yoruba as these three ethnonations also have significant populations in Jamaica. The research that informs this chapter documents and interrogates interactions between African Indigenous ethnonational education systems and Western Anglophone education systems and their resulting impact on gendered knowledge construction and identity formation. Women’s Indigenous knowledge production as the focal point of these education interactions demonstrates a trend toward Westernized or Anglophone gendered identity for females and males that often renders African female knowledge production invisible, risking its disappearance from African societies. In order to understand the ongoing negotiations among these education systems, one must first understand the equity of African civilizations and European civilizations. Therefore, this chapter utilizes “ethno-national” or “ethno-nation” to identify each African civilization’s unique societal attributes as documented through their cultural, economic, educational, government/political, language, and religious institutions. The use of this terminology in this chapter recognizes African civilizations

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as independent societies that historically and currently interact with European or Western civilizations (see Abidogun 2003, 2007a, 2007b, 2012). These terms and their use align with the general tenets of Pan-African and liberation or critical pedagogy theories. Essential to these theories, as in this case, is to challenge the academic status quo that too often accepts African civilizations as subject to first the colonial state and later the neocolonial nation-state rather than as equitable agents within both eras (see Abidogun 2013a; Creary 2012; Dei 2010, 2011; Giroux 2001, 2006; Kapoor 2009; Rodney 1990). The research theoretical framework’s relevance and application to this work are discussed in more detail later in this chapter. Female identity change is identified through comparison and contrast of ethnonational and Anglophone gender roles (see Arnfred and Ampofo 2010; Byfield et al. 2009; Collins 2009; Hooks 2010, and Ogundipe 2007). Ethno-national roles are often in conflict with the national formal education system as these national systems are historically imposed Western institutions. As such, the national systems inherently present Westernized education norms communicated by and to faculty, students, and community members through formal and informal curricula. The displacement of Indigenous education systems through the imposition of a Western education model ultimately contributes to the loss of Indigenous knowledge. This includes the loss of Indigenous foundations of female identity through the loss of traditional femalecentered knowledge production and their social structures, i.e., women’s councils, market associations, and female leadership roles. Through participation in Western education, traditional female constructs are often replaced with Anglophone JudeoChristian-based gendered knowledge and structures which historically and to a large extent currently maintain male-dominated hierarchies (i.e., political, social, economic, and religious). The exception is in Muslim-dominated regions, where British colonial care was taken to separate academic content from religious content in order to maintain their Indirect Rule policies. In both traditional and Islamic Africa, the hypocrisy of the imposed Western education model was its universal claim to “broaden one’s horizon,” while it systematically marginalizes Indigenous education institutions, women’s knowledge, and their related knowledge-producing social structures. The imposition of Western philosophy that places the individual at the center and the group as secondary further compounded this shift away from maintenance of ethno-national female knowledge production. This served to marginalize women in these colonial and neocolonial settings as African philosophies that reflected group interdependencies and progress over individual gain were contested and new roles and norms based on individualism were developed within the larger society. One example of this philosophical change was the British colonial large-scale establishment of individual male heads or “chiefs” who no longer answered directly to female and male councils and priestesses and priests. It might be argued that Western philosophy with a male bias was imposed first as part and parcel of British administration and then Western education followed as an imposed educational culture. These two major Western constructs continued in the neocolonial context as institutionalized realities that reinforced new forms of male domination rationalized and justified by an individualistic philosophy. This led to gendered changes that often created or increased gender inequality within ethno-nations.

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Anglophone West Africa and its Diaspora Gendered Knowledge The ethnographies, conducted from 1991 through 2015, summarized here include a range of ethno-nations in Ghana, Nigeria, and Jamaica. In Ghana, based on a study from 1997 through 1998, participants (90 students and 12 administrators and faculty) were primarily Akan (Akwapem, Akyem, Asante, Fanti, Kwahu, and Nzema), Ga (Ada, Ga-Dangme, Shai), and Ewe with additional participants representing less than 1% of other Ghanaian ethno-nations (Abidogun 2000, 2003, 2007a, 2011). The ethnographic studies for this chapter in Nigeria include Yoruba, based on studies in 1991 and 2003, with participants (90 students total: 30 and 60, respectively) primarily located in the Ibadan area, and Igbo, based on studies in 2004–2005 and 2013–2014, with participants (120 students total: 60 students and 15 administrators and faculty and 60 students and 22 administrators and faculty, respectively) primarily from Nsukka in Enugu state and a smaller portion from Anambra state with less 2% participants from other ethno-nations in the Nigerian studies (Abidogun 2006, 2007b, 2011, 2018). In Jamaica, based on studies in 2011, 2012, 2013, and 2015, ethnographic studies include all participants (30 students and 6 administrators and faculty in 2011 and 10–20 community and student family members for each consecutive study in 2012, 2013, and 2015) identified as Jamaican with many providing oral histories and name linages that reflect ancestral roots from Akan, Yoruba, or Igbo groups (Abidogun 2011, 2012, 2013a). Studies with students were arranged to ensure that an equal number of female and male students participated in interviews and focus groups. Full classroom observations were also conducted to compare student responses with observed teaching and learning contexts. These classroom observations increased the total number of students observed more than two times the number interviewed for each study. All participants, that including classroom observations totaled more than 660 students, shared a common collective history of British colonialism and participation in formal education systems established by the British colonial administrations that were later adopted by the postcolonial or neocolonial national governments. These national systems remain Western-dominant in structure and curriculum content. Discussions and observations based on more than two decades of ethnographic work from 1991 through 2015 traced gendered representation of knowledge within these ethno-nations and within the formal education systems. Through observation, interviews, and focus groups, the data consistently demonstrated disconnections, transformations, and conflicts for participants between Indigenous and Western gendered knowledge production and representation. The individual histories of each ethno-nation’s interactions with Britain inform Indigenous and Western gendered knowledge production from the pre-colonial period through to the current neocolonial nation-state era. A push-pull pattern of disconnections, transformations, and conflicts emerged through analysis of ethnographic observations, interactions, and interviews. This pattern as identified through field data was evaluated against archival and secondary research to identify ethno-national-specific and Westernbased gendered knowledge production and identity formation. Through tracking of

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participant experiences and perceptions and development of their historical and societal contexts, this push-pull pattern appeared across Anglophone Africa Diaspora ethno-nations (Abidogun 2000, 2003, 2011). The resulting model of educational-cultural transformation is presented in the Conclusion.

Historical and Theoretical Framework: Pan-African Theory and the Ethno-Nations Pan-African theory provides an effective lens to frame and examine the history of gendered knowledge and related gender role changes found in the colonial and neocolonial Anglophone Africa Diaspora. Pan-African theory positions the historical experience through African eyes from African political, social, and cultural perspectives (Nkrumah 1964; Geiss 1974; Adi and Sherwood 2003). It appropriately supports assessment and evaluation based on African ethno-national cultural norms and Indigenous knowledge and philosophies regarding the impact of the British presence in West Africa and Jamaica as part of the West African Diaspora. PanAfrican theory developed in the 1800s and evolved over time through critical analysis to represent an Afrocentric process that actively deconstructs the impacts of colonial and neocolonial experience in Africa and the Diaspora (Du Bois 1903; Fanon 1952, 2005). It provides an African counterpoint to Western or European historiographies of Africa that challenge often reductionist and “tribalized” narratives and perspectives. Foremost, it liberates African history and education systems from a subjugated role in colonial and modern history. Second, it reclaims the entirety of Africana cultures, from the beginning of humankind to the present. One important way Pan-African theory informs Africana studies is through research that offers Afrocentric critiques on the presence of Eurocentric structures and influences that maintained Western knowledge as privileged knowledge within the Africa Diaspora (Rodney 1974, 1990; Bourdieu 1990; wa Thiong’o 1993; Dei 2010). Pan-African theory establishes an authentic foundation from which to examine and assess Anglophone influence on West African and Jamaican histories, education, and their resulting cultural transformations. An important premise of Pan-African theory is its acknowledgment of the inherent disparate power hierarchies in the colonial and later nation-state contexts. These disparities in power resulted in a continuous contest for control between neocolonial elites and African ethno-nations. The early Pan-Africanists took on the serious task of researching and reclaiming the continent’s and its vast Diaspora’s history and knowledge as one way to counter these powerful disparities that effectively maintained Western leaders and neocolonial elites in positions of authority. Pan-African theory initially focused on African ethno-nations’ historical, political, and economic reclamation. Over time it also became the voice of Afrocentric cultural retention as it interrogated and deconstructed Western institutions, including education, that were embedded in the colonial and neocolonial cultural landscape.

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Critical Theory and Imposed Education Pan-African theory with its call to reclaim authentic African history, culture, and identity compliments critical theory or critical praxis in its critique of education. Critical theory takes a leap beyond John Dewey’s practical progressive education theory (1981, 1997) that sought to shape effective citizens to an education model that “look[s] critically at impingements of ideology and economics on human growth and development. . . [and] seeks vigorously to point out inequities of educational access, opportunity, and quality, experienced on the bases of race, gender, socioeconomic class, and other differences” (Schubert 1987, 314). Critical theorists, like Henry Giroux (2001, 2006) and bell hooks (2010), make direct links to liberation theory, popularized by Paulo Freire (1993, 2004), in their works on the identification of the “other” and education’s impact on political and social equity. Freire explained the need for the colonized or neocolonized: “to surmount the situation of oppression, people must first critically recognize its causes, so that through transforming action they can create a new situation, one which makes possible the pursuit of a fuller humanity” (1993, 29). Liberation theory informed critical theory by providing a paradigm to understand colonized or neocolonized participants’ experiences in Western education. Pan-African theory fills in the historical and political sociocultural contexts, while critical theory applies action-inquiry research to assess the impact of historically imposed education systems. In this chapter, critical theory articulates the too-often-hidden clashes between African ethno-national education culture and Western education culture. Critical theory places faculty, students’, and community participants’ perspectives at the center of educational analysis to identify these hidden yet powerful interactions within the education setting and to evaluate their impact on the wider society. Although critical pedagogy theory developed relatively late during the 1970s, Kwame Nkrumah, the first President of Ghana and a founding leader in the PanAfrican Movement, examined the need for cultural education parity through his work on West African and British education systems at the University of Pennsylvania during the 1940s. Nkrumah described this inequitable clash of cultures as follows: The problem now is how to educate and then initiate the African into modern life without uprooting him from his home and tribal life. Thus the present-day educational problem in Africa is that of educational acculturation. This calls for correlation between African culture [s] and that of the Western world. (1943, 38)

One way that critical theory addresses this problem, a problem as evident today as it was during the colonial era, is through the use of transformational learning to speak directly to this need for cultural correlation. Educational scholars such as Abdi and Cleghorn (2005), Coe (2005), Dei (2010), and Wane (2011) use these combined theoretical and methodological influences to describe a completer and more complex picture of African education. Wane describes this process and its goal as “. . .engaging in critical transformative dialogues with these [pre-colonial, colonial

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and neo-colonial] histories, we would be encouraged to seek responses, or rework our ways of knowing, spiritualities and cultures that could contribute to the disrupting politics that perpetuate the divide between the ‘we’ and ‘them’; the ‘self’ and the ‘other’. . ..we have a common goal, to unlearn and learn from each other and our communities of learners” (2011, 2). Wane, as with Nkrumah, establishes the goal of claiming one’s culture as part of Freire’s liberation call to the oppressed to recognize and fight for a fuller humanity. The struggle between African and Western societal constructs has located much of its conflict within the cultural context. For example, in the area of formal education, almost no attention is paid to applying appropriate modifications that fully acknowledges, incorporates, and maintains Indigenous gendered knowledge or associated cultural norms or values because Anglophone Africa’s current Western-based education systems are based on two false assumptions. The first is that all academic knowledge is objective and void of cultural, gendered, and political influences. The second is that the knowledge being delivered in these schools will ultimately raise all students to a higher understanding that will allow them to compete globally or at least within the Western world. The second assumption appears to contradict the first as it implies that the Western world values some knowledge above other knowledge, therefore making that valued knowledge part of their societal or cultural worldview (wa Thiong’o 1993, 51). This difference in what knowledge is valued is significant as it served as a cultural marker for generations of African colonial and neocolonial elite that ultimately presented a Westernized and gendered production of knowledge and education as male dominated. Bourdieu refers to this use of knowledge that is tied to access and mobility within a society as a component of cultural capital (Bourdieu 1990, 1996). Anglophone African formal education changed little in terms of formal policy or process to provide for Indigenous education or gendered equity within the formal educational setting. Indigenous knowledge especially female-produced knowledge consistently lacked cultural capital within the colonial context as it continues to lack it in neocolonial contexts. When inclusion efforts or accommodations are instituted, it is often due to individual or local community initiatives located outside the school by those who wa Thiong’o labels as “the African peasantry and working class” (1993, 45) to maintain local practice and cultural autonomy. He argues that their efforts represent the patriotic national tradition that continues to struggle to maintain an African ethos and identity largely outside the official institutions of the African nation-state. Formal Western education due to its historical origin and continued transfer of Western-based knowledge is suspect in wa Thiong’o’s words, as a conduit for “Imperialistsanctioned African culture” (wa Thiong’o 1993, 44). Critical theory and transformative learning theory support wa Thiong’o’s observations as they critique the imposition of formal education culture and describe the resulting cultural contest found within its school walls. Hooks positioned this struggle within the culture and pedagogy of colonial domination which by extension may be applied to neocolonial domination, as she explained:

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Cultural critics who are committed to a radical cultural politics . . .must offer theoretical paradigms in a manner that connects them to contextualized political strategies. Critical pedagogy (expressed in writing, teaching, and habits of being) is fundamentally linked to a concern with creating strategies that will enable colonized [neo-colonized] folks to decolonize their minds and actions, thereby promoting the insurrection of subjugated knowledge. (1990, 8)

Critical and transformative learning theories place neocolonial discourse within the education site through the expression of Indigenous learners’ experiences in and with formal Western education. These pedagogical theories applied within a PanAfrican framework are an effective lens through which to interpret African gendered knowledge production. Perceptions of gender and their resulting reconstitutions are examined through this lens that focuses on each ethno-nation’s and Western education’s cultural contexts.

Historical Encounters and Continuities in British-Anglophone Africa and Diaspora Relations Each ethno-nation’s history is unique in its encounter and reaction to the British invasion of their people. These historical interactions set the tone for how cultural exchanges were negotiated and the patterns of disconnections, transformations, and conflicts that emerged due to these exchanges. In order to understand cultural gendered change, the historical record is vital as it establishes the collective history of the people. The two major periods that shaped African-British relations were the Transatlantic Slave Trade and Colonialism. Prior to imposition of Western education was the Transatlantic Slave Trade that was the catalyst for Africans’ forced migration under European control. It produced a twofold impact on culture and social institutions. First on the continent, it forced internal cultural changes across ethno-nations to negotiate and survive the realities of the Transatlantic Slave Trade. This resulted in some ethno-nations adjusting their cultural norms regarding slavery to participate in the Transatlantic Slave Trade which served to protect their sovereignty and their people. Other ethno-nations adjusted their cultural norms in order to better protect their sovereignty and the safety of their people from slave raids. In both cases, women’s knowledge production was transformed as the slave trade threatened the integrity of these societies. This impact is also found in the Anglophone Africa Diaspora as enslaved West African people, forced immigrants, reconstructed their cultures that included knowledge preservation and distribution under the British on new soil. Both factors, internal changes for security and economic reasons and enslaved peoples’ forced displacement, made lasting impacts on gendered knowledge roles and its production. Within the Anglophone Africa Diaspora, the forced displacement of millions of African people was the primary reason for early West African “settlement” in the Americas. This forced displacement during early British and West African contacts through to the beginnings of the colonial period was a major disruptive and

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transformative factor in ethno-nations’ cultural experiences, as the British enslavement and forced migration of Africans necessarily resulted in Diasporic Africans’ increased dependency on British institutions. In Jamaica from as early as the mid1600s, Africans negotiated these newly imposed Anglophile gendered constructs as they struggled to reconstruct their societies and cultures in Jamaica and elsewhere in the Anglophone Diaspora (Leo-Rhymie et al. 1997; Byfield et al. 2009). A significant number of West African displaced people found their way as involuntary immigrants on what became Jamaican soil. In Jamaica the Afrocentric or ethnonational cultural survivals are evident from a growing body of historical documentation of day-to-day lived experiences ranging from language usage to Indigenous medicine and syncretic religious practices (Kerr-Ritchie 2007; Levy and Chevannes 2009; Konadu 2010). In early Jamaican society, Afro-Jamaican women’s encounters with the British focused largely on maintaining some level of economic autonomy in their enslaved state. Familial and religious autonomy was often just as important with Afro-Jamaican women making conscious decisions to break from familial patterns and plantation childrearing behaviors, with some Afro-Jamaican women taking leadership roles as obeahs which roughly equated to priestess roles as translated from the African continent. The colonial period of West African and British interaction solidified a common order of events in the broader education histories of Anglophone Africa and its Diaspora as presented in this essentialized chronological time line where each system’s beginning overlaps with and continues in parallel with the existing systems: • • • • • •

Traditional or Indigenous education systems Islamic education systems British trade schools European Christian missions British colonial education system Neocolonial or postcolonial education system

Indigenous education systems are the oldest as they date back to the origins of the ethno-nations. In Ghana and Nigeria, Islam was introduced through local rulers roughly between the tenth and eleventh centuries CE and made inroads as the people’s religion during the late fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries CE. Islam supported trade and political alliances whether it was across the Sahel or along the East Coast. By the sixteenth century CE, West African Islam or Muslim education for ruling and business sectors of ethno-nations provided a regional bond without significant rejection of ethno-national identities. Trade schools and European mission schools in West Africa often worked as business partners and were clearly established by the nineteenth century CE in Anglophone colonies. Kwame Nkrumah noted that while the West’s earliest attempt to establish a mission school in West Africa was in 1481 by the Portuguese, the first successful mission school in Ghana (then Gold Coast) was established by the Swissand German-based Basel Missionary Society in 1828 outside Accra. In Nigeria by 1846, the United Presbyterian Synod of Scotland established a school off the Gulf of

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Benin at the Old Calabar River (present day Calabar, Nigeria) (Nkrumah 1943, 33–34). These Euro-Christian missions effectively established Western education structures that eventually developed into the current national education systems. Mission schools provided the bulk of Western education as late as the 1950s. Edward Berman documented the transition during the 1960s of Ghana’s and Nigeria’s mission schools to government ownership: In 1942, 97% of Nigeria’s student population was enrolled in missionary schools; today [early 1970’s] missionary education has been banned in the East Central State of Nigeria-the heartland of the highly Christianized Ibos-and is steadily declining with the strengthening of the Local Education Authorities in other areas of Nigeria (Coleman 1955, 113). As recently as 1950, missionary schools accounted for 97% of the total enrollment in Ghanaian schools; twelve years later the government assumed the responsibility for the payment of salaries of all teachers, irrespective of the type of school in which they taught. (Anim 1966, 189; Berman 1974, 527)

Berman cites these numbers to demonstrate that by the end of the 1960s, local education authorities (LEAs) in Nigeria and the newly formed Ghana Ministry of Education, respectively, had taken control of education. He claimed these changes were evidence of the de-commissioning of missionary education but failed to note that in neither case did the new owners end the teaching of Christian or moral education that implicitly and explicitly advocated an imposed male-dominated Western education system that continued largely unchanged within the new nationalized curriculums. This collective history acted to shape participants’ perceptions, as such their histories and cultures to varying degrees became skewed to reflect acceptance and adaptation to Western, male-dominated knowledge production and distribution with each successive generation. As a result, their collective history is a determinant in how cultural disconnections, transformations, and conflicts develop. For example, the extent of military invasion versus diplomacy experienced between each African ethno-nation and the British often dictated the levels of cooperation and types of cultural exchange that occurred. Therefore, each ethno-nation’s initial encounter(s) with the British provides important insight that informs cultural change. These encounters varied in their degree of exposure and exchange and the levels of resistance to British incursions. These encounters record how the general populace came to encounter the British and how quickly and to what extent the British system was imposed on these ethno-nations. Understanding their initial contact with Anglophone culture helps illuminate the society’s collective perception regarding Anglophone education. Historical events that included interaction with other ethno-nations and other Europeans, as well as later the development of the neocolonial nation-state with its accompanying Western institutions, served to increase the complexity and extent of educational exchange with varying results. At the same time, imposed Anglo-Western male-dominated hierarchies and Western individualistic philosophy permeated cultural exchanges between AfroJamaicans and British colonials as it continued to influence and transform gendered identities and their associated knowledge spheres within Afro-Jamaican societies.

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From Jamaica’s founding as a British colony through 1777, there was a slow yet steady increase of Europeans and a more rapid increase of Africans to the island. Their experiences resulted in cultural contestations and transformations that were similar to those experienced in British colonial Africa. This abbreviated time line reflects Jamaica’s African and British roots with most Spaniards leaving the area by the time of its founding: • • • •

1655–1777 – Founding of Anglo-Jamaica 1770–1834 – Classical slavery plantation system, Anglo-Jamaica 1834–1962 – Post slavery, British Colony 1962–Present – Independent Jamaica

British forced migration of West Africans did not end with the cessation of British participation in the Transatlantic Slave Trade in 1807 or the British Slavery Abolition Act of 1833 which phased out slavery by 1840 in British colonies and territories. The British sponsored forced migrant labor from Sierra Leone to Jamaica during the 1840s and 1850s to prop up their labor supply to sugar plantations. Throughout British occupation of Jamaica from 1655 through to Jamaican independence in 1962, West Africans and their descendants negotiated the realities of British-dominated societal institutions to reclaim and reconstruct their histories and their cultures. This process culminated in an Afro-Caribbean or Afro-Jamaican identity, an identity that reflects West African ethno-national and Anglophone cultural traits in a range of negotiated forms as representative of the broader Anglophone West Africa Diaspora. As in West African colonial and neocolonial contexts, British institutions, including formal education, developed along a similar pattern in the Atlantic Anglophone Africa Diaspora. Early West African and British interactions played out within the colonial context with comparatively uniform results. That is, once British control was achieved, although the specific dates of that achievement range and total control is arguably never achieved, Anglophone institutions were gradually imposed across the colonial landscape triggering further cultural change. In these dispersed histories, it is possible, largely due to Anglophone continuities in colonial management, i.e., centralized colonial policy and the development of Indirect Rule, to identify ethnonations’ cultural core attributes and their survivals. These survivals are apparent in Jamaica and the rest of the Diaspora. By 1925 Britain codified much of its colonial education policy under the Advisory Committee on Native Education in the British Tropical African Dependencies (Advisory Committee). The Advisory Committee reviewed earlier regional reports that included specific regional education policies, i.e., Africa, the Caribbean, and India. It also looked at reports by the Phelps Stokes Fund, a US-based agency, regarding the state of education in colonial Africa. The Advisory Committee’s official report back to the Colonial Office resulted in part in the following official policy: 1. The British government reserved the right to direct educational policy and to supervise all educational institutions.

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2. Voluntary missionary efforts in the field of education were to be welcomed and encouraged with a program of grants-in-aid. 3. Technical and vocational training should be carried out with the help of government departments. 4. Education should be adapted to local conditions in such a manner as would enable it to conserve all sound elements in local tradition and social organization while functioning as an instrument of progress and evolution. 5. Religious training and moral instruction should be regarded as fundamental to the development of a sound education (Great Britain Colonial Office 1925, 2 as cited in Urch 1971, 259–60). British continuities in colonial oversight that favored a hands-off approach to local structures and customs ultimately made it easier to document ethno-national interactions with colonial and neocolonial institutions and the resulting cultural changes as they evolved over time. The British formal education system created a microcosm to capture incidents of gendered cultural exchanges and resulting patterns of disconnections, transformation, and conflict.

Not-So-Indirect Rule: African-Anglo Gendered Encounters From the beginning of colonial contact, African and British representatives encountered gender-based conflicts. The British male-dominated missionary and colonial leaders were often ignorant of and later purposefully marginalized African female leadership roles held in many ethno-national societies. The reality of these roles could not be wished away or immediately and/or completely suppressed by the British. Historical accounts document exchanges between African females and British colonials as the British first sought economic spoils and later as they engaged in political and military invasions of African ethno-nations. In Jamaica’s historical context, Afro-Jamaican women’s roles directly engaged British authority that created cultural contests and helped to identify Afrocentric gendered knowledge. For the Akan and Yoruba, female leadership roles were bound to engage British attention. These two ethno-nations stood toe-to-toe with British forces over a period of years and effectively delayed colonial takeover of their people and land. Examples of gendered encounters included the Ashanti market women, who participated in pre-colonial Ashanti state trade as batafoc, “public traders,” and would transition from this trade to appear as key traders in cocoa under British colonialism (Allman and Tashjian 2000, 13–14). In addition, as with many British colonial holdings, through Indirect Rule, many facets of Ashanti political structures remained in spite of the British colonial control and efforts to suppress them. In the Ashanti instance, one alteration was the marginalization of women’s political roles, in particular that of Asantehemaa, “queen mother,” who was more often than not the mother of the Asantehene, king. The British did recognize this role as important as indicated when they arrested and exiled the Asantehene and the Asantehemaa in 1896 as part of their final steps toward occupying this ethno-nation. This act would not preclude state or

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district level Asantehemaa from demanding effective representation for women under colonial rule in the years to come. The Yoruba, like the Akan, had female political and spiritual leaders. The Ga and Ewe also had female heads, who were perhaps not as powerful as the Asantehemaa, but they also played critical economic, political, and spiritual roles within their ethno-nations. Among the Yoruba, a common female political and spiritual role is the Iyalode, who serves as the “king of women” of many Yoruba towns. The Iyalode position includes appointment as a full voting member on the king’s council and overseeing the local markets. She is appointed based on merits, which often involve economic and political power and skills. Her marital status is not a consideration; however, good relations with the royal family and other key political members may be to her advantage, as it would for most political appointments. Women in this role and similar ones were recognized by the British as significant political and economic players. So much so, that on August 15, 1893, the Iyalode Lanlatu appeared as the first signature listed as a “participate and witness to” the August 15th British Treaty with Ibadan (Lagos Colonial Office et al. 1894, 984–986). This role and similar Yoruba female roles carry long histories of international interaction that wielded major political and economic influence within the Yoruba ethno-nation. Igbo women, while less centralized than the Yoruba or Akan, also had female economic, political, and spiritual leaders, who represented women’s interests throughout the Igbo ethno-nation. The Ogu Umunwaanyi, Women’s War of 1929, is a stark example of Igbo market women’s political and economic agency within early British encounters (Bastian 2002). In early Jamaican society, Afro-Jamaican women’s encounters with the British focused largely on maintaining some level of economic autonomy in their enslaved state. To offset the economic strife of enslavement, they worked provisional farms (assigned slave plots) with their families, and the women used their market skills to turn this produce into cash. This became such a widespread practice that by 1711 legal restrictions were placed on enslaved marketers “to punish those convicted by magistrates of ‘hawking about and selling goods’ other than foodstuffs.” By 1735 these enslaved market women were so pervasive in Jamaican society that a law was established that indicated they “must have a ticket from their owner or employer” (Beckles and Shepherd 2004, 155–156). Market skills, along with religious and medicinal roles, demonstrated the survival of African ethno-national female roles within Jamaican society. Slavery itself was the primary challenge for Jamaicans to create an autonomous Afrocentric society. Afro-Jamaican women fought for emancipation side by side with men and in some instances, like Nanny of the Maroons, as their leader in the battle to end slavery (Beckles and Shepherd 2004, 201). Postemancipation allowed for more visible African gendered survivals that continued to underscore Afro-Jamaican female encounters within British societal institutions. The most significant, consistent finding across the research for this chapter was the dominant presence of male representation as knowledge producers within the national Western-based education systems with marginal recognition of women’s roles or as secondary roles to male knowledge production. This was documented through student and teacher interviews, teacher journals, and review of textbook and

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curriculum content analysis (Abidogun 2000, 2007a, 2007b, 2011, 2018). In terms of female gendered knowledge, one primary finding through this documentation was that in each of these nations across ethno-national identities, women carried medicinal and healing knowledge as the primary caretakers of family health. While in most societies this role was an integrated one within the family, transferred from mother to daughter, many women became specialized herbalists or healers, as with Igbo midwifes and bone doctors or Jamaican obeahs. This medicinal knowledge, while disrupted and even lost in many Western educated communities, continues to be developed and practiced from generation to generation, parallel to Western education experiences (Abidogun 2018). British interaction with each ethno-nation is historically tracked with the establishment and expansion of Western education as a key feature. Making connections across historical perspectives allows for a more complete assessment and evaluation of ethno-nations’ cultural identities. The interactions of each ethno-nation, British missionaries, British colonial authorities, and postcolonial nation-state contexts created a layered canvas of cultural interactions within Western education that ultimately shaped an Anglophone African gendered identity.

Modeling Gender-Balanced Syncretic Education While a full account of African women’s roles within pre-colonial, colonial, and neocolonial history is not possible here, the short summary above provides a sample of the rich history of female knowledge production as vibrant economic, political contributors. A baseline of ethno-national gendered society is established through the review of ethno-nation gender role examples and early historical encounters with British colonials and missionaries. These early encounters slowly give way to a uniquely Anglophone colonial experience that created ongoing gendered cultural contests. Western education acted and continues to act as an arena where these cultural contests are played out across African ethno-nations. In this educational arena, gender roles and associated cultural changes are identified, contested, and negotiated through formal curricula, formal and informal procedures and practices, and, most importantly, participant engagement. The following ethnographic examples reflect a consistent change via Western education in gendered knowledge and related gendered roles and ethno-national cultural norms. The first studies conducted in Ibadan, Nigeria, consisted in a longitudinal study that combined 1991 and 2003 field studies with primarily researched participants’ (Yoruba students) identification and interpretation of Afrocentric curricula. English as the official language of instruction reinforced the marginal role of indigenous language in the curriculum. This is significant in that language inherently transmits cultural norms. Gendered cultural norms are often conveyed and reinforced through language constructions. For example, gendered pronouns and possessives found in English are not found in the African Bantu languages included in these or the other studies described below. The use of a possessive pronoun or word, such as “his” or “hers,” coupled with gendered

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terms, such as “wife” or “husband,” can and do create gendered hierarchies. The use of possessives along with gendered English titles, such as Miss, Mrs., Master (Mr.), serve to reinforce concepts of Western gendered hierarchies. This differs from Bantu languages’ use of common descriptors without a possessive, such as mother, sister, father, brother, uncle, or aunt. Possession or a relationship is still implied in these titles but not stated through possessive pronouns as all pronouns in Bantu languages are gender neutral (Orie 2002). This language difference is important as gender hierarchies’ organization and roles across West African ethno-national groups are normally secondary to age and complicated by title, wealth, and individual status within a lineage. A title example is oba, a Yoruba “ruler” not king or queen, but the British translated it to “king,” making it a male role. While female obas reside over Yoruba communities, due to English language imposition, females in this role are incorrectly referred to as “regents” by Western-educated observers who are not fully exposed to Yoruba Indigenous education. Such language differences contribute to changes in gendered knowledge that result in a more Anglophone gendered identity. The second ethnographic study was conducted in Madina, Ghana, during 1997 to 1998 at Madina #3 Junior Secondary School (Abidogun 2000, 2003, 2007b, 2011). The research purpose was to track the interaction of cultural content within the education setting. Gender was identified as one of the key cultural attributes. Participants included faculty, students, students’ parents and guardians, and community members. In this study, a clear push-pull effect was demonstrated in content as Akan and Western gendered norms of matriarchy versus patriarchy and related inheritances practices were presented in the curriculum. For example, Akan matrilineal inheritance practice was taught in JSS social studies which demonstrated Anglophone education adaptation to Akan culture and Akan resistance to Anglophone culture. At the same time, the social studies content included Ghanaian political efforts to transition to a nationalized Westernized patrilineal inheritance policy. This resulted in a marginalized presentation of Akan female roles as counter to national Westernized/Anglophone norms. Ethnographic studies were conducted in Eastern Nigeria in Nsukka Local Government Area in 2004–2005 and again in 2013–2014. Its scope was comparable to the Ghanaian study above and was conducted at two senior secondary schools in Nsukka, Nigeria, during the 2004–2005 academic year (Abidogun 2007b, 2011, 2018). This ethnographic series included private parochial (religious affiliated) and public government schools, Igbo traditional leaders and Indigenous healers, faculty, students, and community members. The effects of neocolonial constructs on indigenous learners’ cultural perspectives within the Northern Igbo context were documented. For example, many participants attributed much of the loss of or limited access to Indigenous gendered knowledge to their participation in secondary school. Students and faculty recollected female-controlled knowledge production and practices, especially as it related to agricultural knowledge, i.e., traditional crop protection and preservation, and medicinal knowledge, i.e., women’s herbal knowledge for home care and midwife practices (Abidogun 2007b, 2018). They often indicated a sense of loss at not being able to learn and maintain such gendered knowledge.

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Finally, in Jamaica a series of ethnographic and oral history studies were conducted in Bluefields, Westmoreland Parish; Devon, Manchester Parish; and primary archival research at Jamaica National Archives, Spanish Town, in 2011, 2012, 2013, and 2015 (Abidogun 2012, 2013a). Through oral histories and comparison of plantation records from the archives, there was historical evidence that the majority of Jamaicans interviewed were descendants of Akan, Yoruba, or Igbo lineages. The ethnographies documented Afrocentric educational practices and gendered knowledge production that aligned with the ethnographic information from Ghana and Nigeria. In education settings, African-Jamaicans managed to synthesize much of their cultural or societal survivals into early education establishments that were later incorporated into the independent national system. This synthesis process represented many common West African education practices that thrived in Jamaica in spite of their disjointed and often brutal arrival to the island (Levy and Chevannes 2009; Diptee 2007). For example, “basic” schools, early childhood community schools, were the result of families pooling resources to provide day care and early childhood training that reflected West African communal age grade training. As children matured, they often moved from the basic schools to apprenticeships to learn a trade. West African apprenticeship practices were reflected in gendered knowledge divisions as males apprenticed to male elders in trades like masonry, carpentry, wood carving, and drum-making, while females apprenticed to female elders in basic school teaching, midwifery, seamstress, or food production and sales. Males and females learned farming from their parents, and many specialized as herbalists, healers, or religious leaders under male or female practitioners, respectively. Through consideration of these Anglophone African Diaspora sample cases of West African ethno-nations and Afro-Jamaica society, a push-pull model of gendered transformational is demonstrated that serves to marginalize African female knowledge production. This model when fully considered identifies gender as one of the five fundamental sociological attributes (gender, language, religion, ethnolinguistic, and nationality) that are fully integrated into African Indigenous and Western education content and methodologies. As such these education systems compete to impact identity formation (Fig. 1). A push-pull pattern of disconnections, transformations, and conflicts emerged through analysis of ethnographic observations, interactions, and interviews. This chapter highlights a pattern evaluated against ethnographic, archival, and secondary research to identify and connect historical cause-and-effect events that describe more completely pre-colonial social and cultural constructs, especially those related to gendered knowledge production and identity formation. The ending of specific ethno-national gendered knowledge was increasingly evident as the imposition of Western practices increased across ethno-national societies. In some cases, the parallel existence of ethno-national and Western-specific practices within the same education context did emerge. These parallels were identified in Western-based schools, where some persons continued within the ethno-national gendered norms and practices, while others fully adopted Western, primarily Judeo-Christian gendered norms and practices. Transformations were identified in accommodations and/

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Fig. 1 Model of cultural and educational transformation (Abidogun 2000)

or adaptations of gendered knowledge that integrated or synthesized aspects of ethno-national and Western norms and practices. Conflicts involved demonstrated resistance to change from ethno-nationals or from Western education governance and administration. Through tracking of participant experiences and perceptions and development of their historical and societal contexts, this push-pull pattern appeared across Anglophone Africa and its Diaspora ethno-nations to define what gendered knowledge would be preserved and what may be synthesized, marginalized, or lost through the development of national Westernized education systems. What is at stake is the knowledge lost but also the equitable role of women as knowledge producers in the larger society. Efforts to retain, support, and develop Indigenous gendered knowledge should be integrated as part of a syncretic national education system.

Conclusion and Further Research It is vital, based on the above studies, for each African nation and its ethno-national societies to identify gendered Indigenous knowledge production as part of their national education policy. Further, in order to preserve and develop African Indigenous knowledge, each national education system must prescribe a collection system with the purpose to infuse African Indigenous knowledge across the curriculum through a revised syncretic education system (see Abidogun 2018 for Syncretic

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education model), one that recognizes and reclaims women’s roles in the production and distribution of knowledge as each ethno-nation is addressed in the historical and cultural identification of educational encounters and the resulting transformations in gender identities. The pre-colonial context establishes the cultural foundation with later participation in a nation-state considered as a component of Western influence. Using such a framework results in fully developed African education systems that more effectively synchronize gendered indigenous knowledge to produce a PanAfrican education that equally embraces women and men across the society. The participating ethno-national histories with emphasis on gender roles in knowledge production and apparent changes due to British missionary presence and colonial occupation frame the second area of consideration, which is the development of British Western education within each ethno-nation. The participants’ experiences and interpretations of cultural exchanges within these Anglophone education systems as described and elaborated on produced historical connections to identify change over time within each case study. Through in-depth analysis of gendered knowledge in Indigenous education and national education systems, changes demonstrated varied levels of cultural resistance, acceptance, or transformation. The result of these exchanges is a reconfigured Anglophone African gender identity. One varies in specific norms, mores, and practices with each ethnonation, but one is also marked by continuities common across Anglophone education structures, content, and practices. These case studies assist in the goal of identifying Anglophone Africa Diaspora gendered cultural continuities and differences. As discussed, they highlight PanAfrican gendered knowledge within Anglophone Africa Diaspora formal education systems. Future questions that need to be addressed to develop a fully syncretic, gender-balanced Pan-African curriculum include: What are the challenges for each nation state’s curriculum? How do African societies reconstruct formal education to be Afrocentric and gender balanced while providing education that is globally competitive? More specifically, how do African ethno-nations and their Diaspora descendants identify and retain African gender roles that create and maintain equity within their formal education systems?

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Women, Gender, and Development in Africa Nana Akua Anyidoho

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Why Gender Matters in/for Development . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Evolution of Discourse and Practice on Gender and Development . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Women’s Organizing Around Gender and Development . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

Gender denotes the social prescriptions associated with biological sex in regard to roles, behavior, appearance, cognition, emotions, and so on. Social relations of gender or gender relations encompass all relationships in which gender subjectivities play a role, including those among people, and between people and the institutions, systems, and processes of development. The chapter describes three features of gender relations that are generally consistent across societies – gender ideologies and myths; gendered division of labor; and unequal power relationships – and discusses their implications for development. The chapter further explains the centrality of gender to the development enterprise and discusses various approaches to integrating gender analysis in development processes. Keywords

Gender · Gender equality · Women’s empowerment · Development · Africa

N. A. Anyidoho (*) University of Ghana, Accra, Ghana e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_63

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Introduction Gender is a social construct that is related to, but not bound by, biological sex. Gender denotes the social prescriptions associated with biological sex, covering all aspects of lived experienced, including one’s roles, behavior, appearance, cognition, and emotion. When a child is born, the observed biological sex of the newborn is used as a reference point for socialization of the child into a particular gender. That is to say, socially acceptable ways of being and thinking as a girl or boy, a woman or man, are conveyed to the child through explicit instructions or less directly through conditioning and modeling. Within any society, there are individual variations in the extent to which these normative ways of being are internalized and are supported by biological predispositions and abilities. In this sense, gendered characteristics and identities are the interaction of biology, socialization, and self-regulation (Wood and Eagly 2012) that can result in a person having gendered subjectivities that either conform to or are in conflict with gendered expectations in their social context. Individuals interact with the world around them as gendered individuals and thus social relations of gender or gender relations encompass all relationships in which gender subjectivities play a role. While the term “gender relations” most commonly calls to mind relationships between men and women, it subsumes other forms of interaction among women, among men, and between people and institutions, systems, and processes. While gender is a social construct, there are a few commonalities in the conceptions and manifestations of gender in different contexts. I highlight three dimensions of gender relations that are fairly consistent across human societies: gender ideologies and myths, gendered division of labor, and unequal power relationships. Gender ideologies are beliefs about the characteristics and capabilities of women and men that are often believed to be natural, self-evident, and unchanging. Some gender ideologies are exaggerations of biological differences; for instance, the fact that men tend to be physically stronger than women is extrapolated to the belief that women are physically and psychologically weaker than men. Other gender ideologies have unproven bases, such as the belief that men are better suited to leadership than women. These ideologies become normalized and are reflected in social structures. For instance, the myth that women are naturally maternal – in effect, that the qualities that make a “good” mother are innate rather than learned – becomes the basis for the cultural expectation that women should be primarily or even exclusively responsible for care work. It must be pointed out that some females, as a result of socialization, may subscribe to and perpetuate gendered ideologies to the detriment of themselves and other women, which behaviors are then used to support another common myth: “Women are their own worst enemies.” The second observable feature of gender relations in many cultures is a division of labor that derives from gender ideologies and reinforces power inequalities between men and women. Generally, the gendered division of labor across societies is based on a dichotomy between “reproductive” and “productive” roles and between the “private” and “public” spheres. Reproduction goes beyond biological ability to encompass the social reproduction of society through “the daily regeneration of the

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wage labor force” (Chant 1989, p. 10). Thus, women’s ability to bear children is extrapolated into primary responsibility for both biological and social reproductive functions (Wood and Eagly 2012). Even when women have other achievements or aspirations, these are often subordinated to reproductive tasks (ibid.) so that women’s most salient roles or identities are as mothers, wives, daughters, and homemakers. Indeed, women’s paid activities in developing countries are often extensions or variations of care work (Kabeer et al. 2013). By contrast, men dominate income-generating activities in the “public sphere,” accruing higher social and material benefits in their “productive” roles as breadwinners, employers, and employees (Chant 1989). That women’s roles have lower social and economic value is evident in the fact that most of women’s reproductive labor is unpaid work that is unaccounted for in the gross domestic product, a conventional measure of national wealth (Marçal 2016; Waring 1988). Gendered divisions of labor are further evidenced in the segregation and segmentation of the labor market. Gender segregation is illustrated by the congregation of males and females in different spaces in the economy, with women overrepresented in occupations that have an element of care work, such as food production, teaching, nursing, and customer service. Women are also disproportionately represented in the informal economy (Heintz and Valodia 2008; International Labour Organization (ILO) 2018) which has lower barriers to entry than the formal economy and is more accommodating of women’s domestic responsibilities but which, at the same time, is less secure and rewarding (Chen et al. 2005). Gender segmentation in the labor market is the differential positions of men and women within the same industries. For instance, in the medical field, a greater proportion of women relative to men enter the occupation of nursing while medical doctors are predominantly male. Moreover, even when men and women perform the same work, women are often paid less than men. In the informal economies of African countries, where women tend to congregate, women earn less and are more likely than men to be employees or unpaid contributing family workers as opposed to employers (Chen 2016). Even in West Africa, where women are most identified with retail in the informal sector (with records of female traders going as far back as the mid-1800s), there is gender segmentation with, for instance, women selling consumer items such as kitchen items, toys, textiles, and clothing, and men selling more expensive items such as electronics and auto parts (Darkwah 2007). The features of gendered relations so far discussed result in demonstrable power imbalances between men and women with regard to access to resources and opportunities. This inequality of power underlies patriarchy, a social system organized around male control, authority, and privilege which is institutionalized into political, legal, and economic systems and processes. Patriarchy is built on the assumed differences between males and females and projects men as being more worthy or capable of holding power. Patriarchy thus implies the subordination of females and also younger males. The foregoing is an introduction to gender and related concepts as they manifest in contemporary human society. However, these generalizations must be balanced by the recognition that conceptual understandings and lived experiences of gender do

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vary across sociocultural and historical contexts. This is especially important given the tendency for Western theoretical and methodological frames – borne of feminist concerns, struggles, and research in specific contexts – to be unhelpfully universalized. In her seminal book, The Invention of Women: Making an African Sense of Western Gender Discourses, Oyewumi (1997) queries the assumption of female subordination as a universal feature of gender relations, pointing to the inherent contradiction of Western feminist theory which has accepted gender as a social construction and therefore mutable and yet assumes that the construction of gender will be similar across social milieus. Making specific reference to African social and historical contexts, she goes further to question the privileging of gender as the starting point of analysis of inequalities, oppressions, and other forms of social injustice. While Oyewumi’s work has been critiqued for essentializing and romanticizing gender relations in pre-colonial Africa (Apusigah 2006; Bakare-Yusuf 2004), her work is useful for urging a historical perspective of gender in order to understand how time, and specifically the period of colonial rule, has reconfigured gender relations. A strand of the literature argues that gender relations in precolonial African societies were flexible, allowing women and men to inhabit similar roles (Amadiume 1987), while another suggests that women and men did have differentiated roles but that these were equal and complementary (Aidoo 1985; Sudarkasa 1986). Evidently, there is a need for a better conceptualization of gender in order to inform an approach to development that is context-specific. Specifically, gender equality and women’s empowerment must be anchored in “space, history, politics and location” (Cornwall and Anyidoho 2010, p. 146; see also Kabeer et al. 2008). In the remainder of the chapter, an argument is made for the centrality of gender to the development enterprise, and various approaches to integrating gender analysis in development processes are presented. The chapter further describes the ways in which women themselves have acted to advance gender equality and concludes with a discussion of what is required to attain gender equality as a key development goal.

Why Gender Matters in/for Development Kwesi Prah (2001) has aptly identified development as an “obsession” of African countries, defining it as “the improvement and upliftment of the quality of life of people, that they are able. . .to attain their potential, build and acquire self-confidence, and manage to live lives of reasonable accomplishment and dignity” (p. 91). This human desire for individual and social progress is then institutionalized in development policies, projects, and plans. This chapter focuses on gender inequality as a development imperative inscribed into both the Millennium (2000–2015) and Sustainable Development Goals (2015–2030), which can be considered a global consensus on the goals and strategies of development. Amartya Sen’s (1999) useful definition of development as “a process of expanding real freedoms that people enjoy” (p. 3) makes it easy to recognize gender inequalities as sources of “unfreedom” and, therefore, obstacles to development. Unfreedoms exist in social structures such as the family, in

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economic structures including the labor market, and in institutions of traditional and modern governance. Broadly speaking, the project of development is an attempt to change people’s lives at the individual and collective level. Given that all aspects of life are gendered – including family roles, work and livelihoods, sexuality and so on – development must necessarily involve a change in social relations of gender. Secondly, gender matters in development because every development intervention – every policy, program, or project – is gendered in nature (in regard to its assumptions, goals, and implementation processes) and in its impact (in the differential ways it affects men and women). The foregoing makes critical the task of placing gender in context. Specifically, more understanding is needed of the ways in which gender is conceived of and deployed (Razavi and Miller 1995), especially in development interventions in Africa. Critiques of the global development project contend that African womanhood has been pathologized in service of development practice (Lewis 2005; Oyewumi 1997). As Everjoice Win (2004) argues in her article, “Not very poor, powerless or pregnant: the African woman forgotten by development,” the stereotypical construction of the “beneficiary” of development as a poor, rural woman, burdened by motherhood and domestic chores, does not allow for the range and complexity of African women’s realities. It also does not allow for a recognition of the many dimensions on which a woman may simultaneously be empowered and disempowered, including income, class, ethnicity, nationality, location, and sexuality, among other subjectivities. These critiques serve as a caution about the ways in which gender is employed in development: while gender and related concepts (gender equality, gender equity, and gender mainstreaming) are ubiquitous in development discourse, they are also subject to misunderstanding and misuse. There are other important reasons for the disconnect between research on gender and the ways in which gender is deployed in development discourse and practice. The two disciplines that have been most prolific and influential in research on Africa are anthropology and history, and these have lent their biases and inaccuracies to development discourse (Lewis 2005). The first written histories and anthropological studies on Africa were produced by Europeans – government officials, missionaries, adventurers – who invented, reinterpreted, or reinforced social relations of gender, influenced both by their own gender ideologies and by their colonizing or “civilizing” agendas (Beoku-Betts 1976; Sudarkasa 1986). Histories written after this period have not done much better in their representation of women; the most influential historical research on Africa – authored by both African and non-African males – make scant mention of women (Zeleza 2005). Anthropology as a discipline has also tended to create static representations that do not adequately recognize tensions, ruptures, and inconsistencies within African societies (Lewis 2005). Colonial policies reflected and perpetuated these distortions of gender relations by designing interventions in education, formal employment, and commercial agriculture, for instance, around the idea of men, and not women, as economic agents and breadwinners. Other policies sought to restrict women’s physical, social, and economic mobility (see Akyeampong and Agyei-Mensah 2006; Allman 1996; Kinyanjui 2014). There were even attempts to proscribe women’s sexualities through laws

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and policies around women’s fertility, marriage, and dress, actions that can be read as attempts at social and economic control (Nyanzi 2011; see also Allman 1996). Secondly, a “hegemony of developmentalism” may lead policymakers and development practitioners “to sever scholarship from the agendas and priorities facing African women and to delimit issues of development narrowly to economic and donor-related concerns” (Lewis 2005, p. 387). The developmentalism that Lewis (2005) describes would readily recognize fertility, AIDS, and child malnutrition as “gender issues” but not trade policy, sexuality, or “the everyday, the ordinary and the seemingly insignificant” details of women’s lives (p. 381). Feminist research has done much to (re)present women’s whole lives. However, an neo-liberal economic paradigm of development works hand in hand with other ideologies to hinder the uptake of research in ways that could be transformative of women’s lives. Finally, the disconnect between development policy and research persists because the development industry values policymaking and policy activism over intellectual activism (Tsikata 1997; also Lewis 2005).

The Evolution of Discourse and Practice on Gender and Development The effort to integrate gender into development discourse in African countries has had an uneven history. The first clear articulation of such a model was Ester Boserup’s Women’s Role in Economic Development which became the basis for the Women in Development (WID) approach that came to prominence in the 1970s. Reception to Boserup’s seminal work, and the further research and advocacy it inspired, must be understood in the context of the women’s movements in Western Europe and North America, the fulcrums of which were the right to work, to fair remuneration for work, and to reproductive rights. Boserup took as a starting point the modernization paradigm which theorized a normative transformation of development societies from agrarian to industrialized economies. She was, therefore, concerned about the disenfranchisement of women from “productive” work outside the home and, by extension, from the process of development. Boserup made the argument that women had unacknowledged and untapped productive potential and that their purposeful integration into development programming would benefit the process of development. At the 1975 world conference on women in Mexico, the UN declared 1976–1985 the Decade for Women and called on governments to promote the integration of women in national development processes. The conference also recommended that governments establish “national machineries” (i.e., women’s divisions within governments) that would spearhead the process of bringing women into development. The women’s national machineries operationalized the WID approach, making popular the income-generating or “economic empowerment” programs that became synonymous with the approach. These interventions premised women’s disadvantages on cultural customs and expectations that socialized women into subordinate social roles and economic activities. Thus, status and power differentials between

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men and women were assumed to be a reflection of their positions in the relations of production (Moore 1988). By their incorporation into the “productive” sphere through access to resources such as financial and physical capital, women would at once make contributions to development and improve their social status in relation to men (Tinker 1990). In particular, the household, where gender relations operate at micro level, was a target for women’s empowerment projects. The WID approach aimed to modify societal structures of gender inequality, one empowered woman and one transformed household at a time. The WID paradigm made a significant contribution to development discourse by making obvious the connection between women’s status and women’s work or livelihoods (Rai 2011). This is important as women’s work continues to be undervalued and underestimated, particularly in subsistence production, and in informal, domestic, and volunteer work (Benería 2011). There has been some recognition of the importance of these forms of work and attempts to measure and integrate them into development planning, though with varying levels of commitment and success (ibid.) Women’s informal work, in particular, merits increased attention because of its centrality to the economies of African countries. The International Labour Organization (ILO) estimates that 86% of employment in Africa is informal, with a greater proportion of women (90%) in this form of work relative to men (82%) (ILO 2018). The fact of women’s over-representation in the informal economy, where they experience the most vulnerable and least remunerative work, has implications for important development questions such as poverty, social protection and gender inequality (Chen 2008, 2016; Tsikata 2008). Since Keith Hart (1973) brought attention to the existence and nature of the informal economy in the 1970s, a debate has been generated as to whether it will persist and how it should be approached in development policy. The answer to the first question seems clear: informalization has continued to expand as employment in the formal sector contracts and the conditions of formal jobs become less defined and secure. Economic liberalization has contributed to this trend (Heintz and Pollin 2003); the structural adjustment programs (SAPs) that many developing countries underwent from the 1980s under the direction of the World Bank and International Monetary Fund (IMF) resulted in increasing informalization (through a contraction of employment in the formal sector, expansion of the informal sector, and deterioration of work conditions in both) that had a negative impact on women’s ability to obtain secure and well-remunerative livelihoods (Mkandawire and Soludo 1998; Structural Adjustment Participatory Review International Network [SAPRIN] 2002; Tsikata 2008). Subsequently, policymaking informed by an ideology of economic liberalization has kept African economies on the same trajectory as structural adjustment and has all but guaranteed that the informal economy will not only persist but grow (Chen 2016; Tsikata 2008). There is, therefore, a need for interventions that support the informal economy as a matter of women’s economic rights. Despite its contributions to thinking on the place of women in development, the WID approach, together with its derivative programs and projects, has been subject to criticism for its underlying assumptions about gender and women’s lives. First, the

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WID approach assumes that women had not been contributing to development (Sen and Grown 1987). The discounting of much of women’s work may be due to a privileging of “productive” endeavors relative to women’s “reproductive” work and of wage employment over informal work. The consequent stress on cash income simplistically equates money with economic empowerment and assumes that economic empowerment will translate into other forms of power. The paradigm does not acknowledge the culturally specific ways in which status is derived, and leaves unexplored the range of social roles and systems in which women are involved, including relations of cooperation and exchange with men and other household members (Razavi and Miller 1995). Moreover, the theory of change behind the WID approach ignores the deep and entrenched structures that undergird gender inequality such that individual economic power does not automatically translate into social transformation. Moreover, the WID approach emphasizes only one dimension of empowerment – individual economic power – to the neglect of other forms of power, including an internal sense of self-efficacy as well as the power of the collective (see Rowlands 1995). Also concerning is the instrumental use of gender equality. This is illustrated by the World Bank’s proclamation of “gender equality as smart economics,” which essentially presents gender equality not as important in and of itself but as a means to the end of “development.” Finally, the notion of “bringing women into development” presumes their “empowerment” by outside agents such as development workers or male authority figures. Efforts at redistribution of power that are initiated and controlled by outside agents cannot lead to empowerment of women as it does not essentially change power relations. The second half of the 1970s saw the advent of the Women and Development (WAD) paradigm as a counter to the WID approach. Proponents of the WAD paradigm contended that WID over-privileged gender as the basis for the social and economic constraints that women experienced. Drawing inspiration from dependency theory, they pointed to other structures – colonialism, neo-colonialism, and unequal global relationships – as sources of oppression of both women and men in the South (Johnson-Odim 1991; Steady 1981). The following quote captures the central argument of WAD: [I]t is not just a question of internal redistribution of resources, but of their generation and control; not just equal opportunity between men and women, but the creation of opportunity itself; not only the position of women in society, but the position of the societies in which Third World women find themselves (Johnson-Odim 1991, p. 320).

From the perspective of WAD, the problem was not that women in the South had been excluded from development, as proposed by the WID approach; the problem was that women had always been part of the development processes through their labor but that the benefit of their participation had accrued to women and men in the global North (Rathgeber 1989). While in some parts of the world, women’s participation in formal work outside the home might signal progress and liberation, women in many parts of Africa had always worked outside the home. Thus, the right to work was not as important a cause as the right to decent work and to the

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fair rewards of work. Despite this important critique of WID, the prescription proffered by WAD proponents – to increase women’s share in resources including land, employment and income – was similar to that offered by the WID approach and therefore fell short of addressing the global inequalities it brought to the fore. Again, while the WAD approach brought needed attention to geopolitics, it neglected the role of gender relations as a source of oppression: since dependency theory argues that both men and women are oppressed within international structures, it provides little justification for focusing on women’s oppression in particular (Rathgeber 1989). The 1980s saw a further evolution of the integration of gender into development with the Gender and Development (GAD) approach which developed “gender” as an analytical concept in development. Drawing on socialist feminism, the approach rightly recognized “the social construction of production and reproduction as the basis for women’s oppression” (Rathgeber 1989, p. 11); it acknowledged that gender relations were at the heart of the oppression of women and recommended that social relations of gender should be recognized and “mainstreamed” into development interventions. The intent of gender mainstreaming is to “imbue all systems, structures and institutionalized cultures with awareness of gender-based biases and injustices, and to remove them” (Woodford-Berger 2004, p. 65). In other words, rather than only creating interventions targeted at women, gender mainstreaming is “intended to improve the effectiveness of mainline policies by making visible the gendered nature of assumptions, processes and outcomes” (Walby 2005, p. 321). Gender mainstreaming as a key policy intervention for gender equality was adopted at the Fourth World Conference on Women in Beijing in 1995, which was significant for African women because of the broader representation of civil society organizations and also the sense by women and groups in the global South that their voices and concerns were being recognized in ways not evident at previous conferences (Manuh and Anyidoho 2015). However, feminists have critiqued gender mainstreaming as a strategy for attaining gender equality, arguing that gender mainstreaming has become synonymous with a technocratic set of tools within the processes and institutions of development that does not translate into actual transformation of social institutions (Molyneux 2004; Woodford-Berger 2004).

Women’s Organizing Around Gender and Development The preceding overview of interventions to address gender inequality foregrounds global governance and development organizations, notably the United Nations. However, it is important to also highlight the ways in which practitioners and activists working at national levels have influenced the progression of discourse and practice around women, gender, and development and to recognize the crosscurrents of ideas that flow between the local and global. Women’s organizing in Africa – its histories, challenges, successes, and failures – has been chronicled and analyzed by researchers (e.g., Fallon 2008; Hassim 2006;

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Steady 2006; Tripp et al. 2009; Tsikata 2009) who show that the goals of women’s organizing are contextual, as are the causes adopted and the strategies used. There are also variations in the extent to which such local struggles are explicitly linked to global feminist movements. Women in the global South, in particular, face the dilemma of having their struggles delegitimized by their association with “mainstream” (i.e., Western-based) feminist activism. As Dzodzi Tsikata explains, Gender activists are accepted as long as they focus on programs such as credit for women, income-generation projects and girls’ education, and couch their struggles in terms of welfare or national development. Once they broach questions of power relations or injustices, they are accused of being elitist and influenced by foreign ideas that are alien to African culture (In Conversation 2005, p. 130).

Some activists in Africa who, to all intents and purposes, are engaged in promoting gender equality choose not to couch their work in these terms to avoid the challenge Tsikata describes (Anyidoho 2018). There are others who do “gender work” but do not perceive gender inequality as systemic but instead as a question of individual access and agency, and consequently employ the WID approach whether implicitly or explicitly (ibid.). They might be described as having a focus on women’s “practical” rather than “strategic” needs – the former referring to immediate, usually material, needs while “strategic” needs refer to the structural problems of which practical needs are only a symptom. While feminists researchers tend to regard strategic needs as a more important focus than practical needs, others critique this dichotomy and the implied diminishing of “practical” needs as less feminist, more localized and therefore less important, arguing that this does not take account of context, and of “how power operates at multiple levels” (Flew et al. 1999, p. 402). Yet a third group of women’s rights advocates and development practitioners explicitly locate themselves within a global feminist movement while also situating their struggles within the peculiar histories of the continent. The African Feminist Forum articulates such a position in affirming their right to “theorize. . .strategize. . .and speak” for themselves as “African feminists” (African Feminist Forum n.d.). Despite their important role in promoting development, civil society movements that advance women’s rights are marginalized in the policy process. Indeed, women in general tend to be absent from policymaking (Tsikata and Kerr 2000a). However, there are instances of women’s movements working with the state to advocate specific legislations or policies with regard to poverty reduction, paid and unpaid work, reproductive rights, and political representation. In particular, legislation against gender-based violence has exercised activists (see Adomako Ampofo 2008; Htun and Weldon 2012; Medie 2015; Tripp et al. 2009). However, there are limits to this partnership between civil society and the state. Importantly, such alliances are not as effective in the implementation stage as in the formulation stage of legislation and policies (Anyidoho et al. 2020). If the goal of gender equality is to be realized, more purposeful collaboration is needed between a range of activists, including individuals inside the state who self-identify as feminist technocrats or “femocrats” (see Eyben and Turquet 2013). Better partnerships also need to develop between academics and activists. As Tsikata and Kerr (2000b) point out,

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without the backing of reliable research evidence, “women’s demands for policy change are easy to dismiss. . .[but] without effective advocacy, gender equality in policymaking processes and outcomes will never to be achieved” (p. 2). Indeed, a report based on the Gender and Economic Reforms program, for which Tsikata and Kerr (2000a) served as editors, showcase exactly this complement of rigorous research and advocacy, with (mainly) African female academics producing research that was used as the basis for advocacy for the participation of women in designing and implementing interventions that served their interests. The synthesis of research, activism, practice, and policymaking is demonstrated in approach of other regional, Southern-based, and global organizations, notably the Association of African Women in Research and Development (AAWORD), Association for Women’s Rights in Development (AWID), Development Alternatives with Women for a new Era (DAWN), and Women in Informal Employment: Globalizing and Organizing (WIEGO).

Conclusion The history of gender and development as outlined in this chapter reveals a technocratic bent both in the articulation of the problem and in the actors involved in the search for solutions. While the integration of gender into development praxis can be partly attributed to feminist critiques of mainstream development, there is a tendency for these once radical feminist ideas to be de-politicized once assimilated into conventional development institutions and processes (Batliwala 2007; Cornwall and Brock 2005). Women’s empowerment is one such coopted idea. It is preferred in development discourse to the “harder” concept of gender equality because, as Cornwall and Anyidoho (2010) argue, empowerment has been deracinated from the feminist goal of challenging and changing gendered dynamics of power. What we currently see in development is “empowerment with the power taken out,” one in which “a gender agenda that began with demands for radical and collective transformation of economic, political and societal relations. . .has ended up with the idea that. . .‘raising chicks can change patriarchy’” (p. 145). A second important conclusion is that the paradigms discussed in this chapter, including gender mainstreaming, have not mounted a significant challenge to the predominant neoliberal economic model of development (Tsikata and Kerr 2000b). This makes even more urgent the caution that gender equality and women’s rights should not be merely a means to the end of development, but an end in themselves. There is danger in allowing an instrumentalist view to coopt gender research into “pragmatic,” “hands-on” donor-driven and state-initiated agendas that cannot be put to the service of gender equality in its broadest, most liberating sense (Lewis 2005). Development is a “disputed and politicized question in the face of the visions of ‘the good society’, and of women’s place within it” (Molyneux and Razavi 2006, p. 3). Thus, gender equality as a goal of development will necessarily be gradual because of the pervasive, political, and personal nature of these inequalities. Gender equality as a development goal requires the effective partnership and sustained effort of differently located actors.

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Feminist Legal Theory, Human Rights, and Culture in Africa L. Amede Obiora

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Historical Overview . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Select Contemporary Currents . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Problematic: Learning Curve . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Shifting Human Rights . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Africa at a Crossroads . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Emergent Trend: Let Africa Lead . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Future Direction: What Is Right with Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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This chapter asserts the centrality of a paradigmatic shift in understandings about culture to invigorate the analysis of feminist legal theory for the purposes of African Women’s Studies. Drawing on cumulative lessons learned from evolving knowledge and experience vis-à-vis gender reform through law in Africa, the article elucidates pragmatic considerations for privileging culture as a conducive technology to advance the global governance agenda to safeguard women’s rights. A meaningful discussion of feminist legal theory within the context of Africa will not be complete without a critical assessment of the international human rights regime which irrigated possibilities for gender reform, especially for many African countries struggling with grave governance challenges and seemingly bereft of the necessary infrastructure to undergird the rule of law. Accordingly, a focal point of this chapter features the Maputo Protocol which is Africa’s distinctive contribution to enhance the gender responsiveness L. A. Obiora (*) University of Arizona, Tucson, AZ, USA e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_131

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of the human rights ecosystem. Exploring the fundamentals for an organic way to help rationalize the efficiency and creativity of ongoing legal efforts to amplify women’s welfare and agency, the article posits the indispensability of identifying and tapping into what is right with Africa as a research frontier that demands uncompromising attention for feminist legal theory in particular and women’s studies in general. In keeping with the categorization of the Palgrave Handbook of African Women’s Studies as a major reference work, this chapter begins with a comprehensive overview of the subject of feminist legal theory to lay the groundwork for delving into novel argumentation about a decisive next step forward for scholarship and teaching. Hence, historicizing the emergence of feminist scholarship in the legal academy, the article addresses salient theoretical perspectives and delineates important doctrines, discourses, institutions, and practices that provided the impetus for feminist theory in the field of law. Foregrounding the limits of gender as an analytic category, the article underscores major debates that have contoured and broadened the frame of feminist legal inquiry. Building on these precursors, the piece canvasses pivotal lessons of measurable efforts targeted at the efficacious elimination of gender discrimination through law as a springboard to proffer a profile becoming of the future of African Women’s Studies. Keywords

Women and law · Gender and law · Feminist epistemology · Human rights · Reform · Culture

Introduction Feminist legal theory (hereinafter designated “FLT”) is a contemporary discipline which critiques law as constitutive and causal of discrimination against women. A legacy of the renaissance of feminist activism that has been fledgling since the 1960s, FLT can be characterized as the manifestation in legal academia of a current of initiatives to explain and redress how the structure, substance, and process of law codify inequalities, inequities, and inefficiencies that impinge on the everyday realities of women (Rhode 1991). Informed by an array of intellectual traditions, this field of law primarily draws on the expansion of liberal ideals shaped by the enlightenment principles of universal rights, individual freedoms, and equality (Molyneux and Razavi 2002; Rawls 1999; Wollstonecraft 1792). As a resistance narrative, FLT has proved both constructive in normalizing gender discourses within the domain of law and instrumental in fostering substantive platforms to enforce women’s right in particular and to institutionalize egalitarian justice in general. Engaging law as both a mirror and an engine of change, feminist theory and practice historicize legal consciousness to show that the growing attentiveness to gender inclusion is not merely a patriarchal act of benevolence

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(Campbell et al. 1981) but a fiercely contested gain. In this vein, exacting analyses foreground the intrinsic value of women’s rights for human dignity, the instrumental role of these rights in enhancing women’s well-being in particular and the public good in general, as well as the constructive dividend of women’s rights in democratizing conceptualizations of egalitarian justice as a core international value and social commitment (Obiora 2015; Kabeer 2016).

Historical Overview Feminist legal theory ranks with a sequence of seminal critical discourses which emerged to analyze law, not just as some insular metaphysical entity or accumulated wisdom susceptible to formulaic articulations but as a contingent social artifact characterized by significant indeterminacies (Baer 1999). As a body of knowledge, FLT finds dynamic expression in corollary practices which have evolved to formulate, test, and hone strategies useful both for challenging anachronistic underpinnings that entrench law as a patriarchal tool which reproduces gender hierarchies in particular and perpetuates broader social stratification in the status quo (Fineman 2018). Elucidating gender representations as discourses of hegemonic power, spirited feminist legal criticisms expose the ambiguities, contradictions, discrepancies, and politics through which presumptively coherent legal principles and propositions ratify gender discrimination, dominance, and subordination (James and Palmer 2002; MacKinnon 2007). Consciousness of the law as a conservative social construct compelled examinations beyond formal analytical and doctrinal conventions to illuminate the nuances of objective historical, political, and sociocultural contexts which influence the functions, effects, and outcomes of law. The professionalization of legal education promoted the distillation of authoritative doctrines in ways that presented law as if it was part of the natural order. Piercing the veil of orthodoxy which enshrouds the legal milieu to probe the intricate interplay between law and ostensible externalities, feminist jurisprudence correlates pivotal presuppositions about law as an institution integral to and reflective of the commitments of the society to other mechanisms for order such as morality, custom, or power. The stratification and pluralism of the legal system vestigial of colonialism exacerbated the vulnerabilities and subordination of African women in the eyes of the law (Chanock 1982; Obiora 1993). For instance, in jurisdictions where the British common law was applicable, ideological axioms, normative precepts, and judicial precedents converged to encode patriarchal imperatives as authoritative. Notorious historical antecedents of the inscription and legitimation of gender differentiation in the legal system include the promulgation of protectionist legislations which further restricted women’s labor market participation. The sexual objectification of women and stereotypic misconceptions about their diminished capacity immunized against attack male preference which underpinned salient rules governing bonds of civic obligations and privileges, circumscribing the norms of inheritance, for instance. Inconsistent with Henry Maine’s famous thesis that law and

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society developed from status to contract, the incidents of the marital contract imposed disabilities which enacted women’s civil death, as matrimonial status eclipsed the potential virtue of contractual autonomy (Pateman and Mills 2007). In matrimonial causes, the fiction of spousal unity subsumed wives’ legal identities into their husbands’ and made husbands guardians of the person and property of wives. Under the common law doctrine of coverture, a wife could not sue or be sued without the interposition of a proxy, qualify as a witness, consummate contracts, make testamentary dispositions, retain her own earnings, control her own property, or even protect her own corporal integrity against her husband’s chastisement or rape (Bartlett et al. 2017). This doctrine was bolstered by the separate spheres ideology and self-perpetuating privacy norms which shielded domestic relations from public scrutiny. The cloak of privacy crystallized gender vulnerabilities and buttressed the institutionalization of male supremacy. The evolution of the Married Women’s Property Acts as precedent and authority under the common law tradition sought to circumvent severe civil disabilities that impinged on the legal status of women and to ascribe them legal personhood. This milestone and the achievement of other formal entitlements did little to transform society or empower women. Specious venerations of an ideal womanhood predisposed to a sacrificial ethic of care sustained lame rationalizations ranging from divine ordination to biological determinism, culture, and legislation in attempt to cordon off public life as a male prerogative. The participation of women in the public sphere did not stem patriarchal bias which was rife in the formal labor market where women were disproportionately ghettoized into exploitative low-paying jobs, seemingly protective legislation impeded their occupational mobility, and gender role expectations disproportionately saddled them with work in the care economy. At the same time, the demands of women’s care work confined many to the so-called informal sector of the economy where skewed macroeconomic metrics failed to stimulate pertinent conditions for the adequate enumeration and remuneration of women’s labor (Waring 1990). A wealth of research data identified how pretexts of differential sex roles and sensibilities curtailed the scope of women’s participation in the professions. In the legal profession, long after the elimination of sex as an admission criterion, considerable incongruity persisted between dominant professional traditions that institutionalized patriarchal preferences and progressive efforts to internalize feminist ideals in the legal system. Women lawyers whose competing orientations and obligations remained occluded within the ethics of the male bastion were forced to negotiate subjective identities in inhospitable settings (Dawuni 2019; Schultz et al 2020; Obiora 1996). The collision between ideas about gender and conventional dictates about legal professionalism fueled incisive observations which decried legal education as a crucible for the incubation and inculcation of problematic gender politics and dynamics. Further feminist research, writing, and teaching substantiate the prevalence of institutional hostilities and deficits in the curricular, pedagogy, and recruitment (Muhs et al. 2012). Increasingly transnational and interdisciplinary feminist perspectives model how to improve the principles of law and justice internationally, nationally, and locally

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(Rubenstein and Young 2018). Formative anti-discrimination strategies pragmatically harnessed dominant sentiments enshrined in the Aristotelian axiom of “sameness of treatment for similarly situated persons” to demand equal legal protection for women. The paradox and trade-offs that ensued from deferring to abstract universals and assimilationist gender neutrality which naturalized the male norm as the yardstick for comparing women necessitated substantive sensitivity to interpersonal differences (Bartlett 2012). With time, equality came to be reconceptualized as an anti-subordination principle which attacked discrimination, not just because it entailed the unfair treatment of individuals but for its role in perpetuating a gender hierarchy favorable to men (MacKinnon 2006; MacKinnon and Siegel 2004).

Select Contemporary Currents Instructive feminist insights have paradigmatically redefined gender-based violence as a microcosm of the complexities of patriarchal oppression and as a lens to comprehend the fundamentals for meaningful gender reform (Akhami et al. 2019). These penetrating critiques show a strong correlation between women’s precarity, descent into poverty, and vulnerability to myriad forms of violence, including sexual predation (Obiora 2005; Walter 2001; Henn 2019). Close examinations have informed legal debates about other subjects such as development, poverty, migration, conflict, peace, property, prostitution and pornography, sexual harassment, rape, bodily integrity and aesthetic standards, indigeneity, marriage, divorce, custody, child support, and reproductive freedom (Weitzman and MacLean 1992; Indra 2008; Dempsey 2009; Williams 2010; Fineman 2011; Hendricks 2015; Harcourt 2016; Dickenson 2017; Cooper 2019; Karim and Beardsley 2019; Hirshman 2019; Bindel 2019; Gartner and McCarthy 2019; Grey 2019; Engel 2020). Estimations of “missing women” which shed light on the survival disadvantage of women in many parts of the world reveal the insidiousness of patriarchal violence (Sen 1990). Investigating why overall mortality rates are more for females than for males in Southeast Asia, Sen calculated what the expected number of females would be without female disadvantage in survival, given the actual life expectancy and the actual fertility rates in these respective countries. Sen takes as the basis of comparison the female-male ratio in sub-Saharan Africa, where there is little female disadvantage in terms of relative mortality rates but where life expectancy is no higher and fertility is no lower. Explanatory variables for gender predicaments underline the exceptional onus on rural, indigenous, and minority women. Further feminist explorations clarified the nexus between the feminization of poverty and gender asymmetry in the family, politics, and business. Innovative feminist reasoning captures the rich texture and complexities of culture, broadly construed to encompass religion. Representative of this genre of studies are a wave of interventions tackling the mystique of Islam in a refreshing attempt to stem xenophobia by humanizing the religious “other” (Moghadam 2005; Tucker 2008; Quraishi 2011; Badran 2011). Thus, counterintuitive to popular understandings, Islamization, gender segregation, and cultural

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artifacts like the hijab or the veil, for example, have been shown to stimulate the indigenization of feminist resistance to patriarchal privilege and herald heartening reinterpretations of sacred canons to reconcile gender equity (Mirza 2006; Mir-Hosseini 2006; Mahmood 2005; Göle 2013). Some of the critiques juxtapose the susceptibility of culture to distortion and manipulation by vested interests against its potential to buttress women’s empowerment (Obiora 1997b, 2019; Deveaux 2000, 2007). Dominant presumptions against culture as a handicap for gender equality typically neglect how particular relations produce particular results which were far more complex than what is allowed by mono-causal explanations. Poor governance, imperialism, global capital penetrations, and similar forces which contribute to the inscription and perpetuation of gender asymmetry are not always sufficiently implicated by assailants of so-called culture (Obiora 2004; United Nations 2015a). Cognizance that gaps in implementing women’s rights are not only attributable to cultural inertia, but may signify a confluence of factors, including the paucity of resources at the disposal of nation states constrained by the global political economy augment the logic and inspiration for cooperative compacts like the Millennium Development Goals and the Sustainable Development Goals (United Nations 2015b; United Nations 2019). As a personification of women’s tireless, resourceful, and creative deployment of legal strategies to counter the retreat of state parties from hard-won concessions achieved through feminist struggles, feminist legal theory valorizes vivid indictments of sovereign states for exploitations that hold the international agenda for egalitarian justice hostage to the vicissitudes of politics. Particularly revealing are candid assessments of the problems and possibilities of state feminism which highlight concerns that institutionalizing such machinery risks normalizing political lethargy, symbolic gestures, highly selective implementation, or sterile politicizations of state accountability for all forms of gender discrimination. By the same token, intriguing critics echoing feminist explications that the “personal is political” corroborate that heightening state intrusion in the so-called intimate realm of domesticity has not been cost-free, especially in light of atavistic masculinist maneuvers to control feminist agendas and re-substantiate patriarchy. More generally emphasizing the political economy of gender subordination, feminist commentators call urgent attention to how the presumptive rhetoric of the male breadwinner and female dependency continue to trivialize women’s productive input in the economy and hamper their access to productive resources in ways that have grave implications for their decisional participation within and outside the family (Obiora 2010). Similarly, the disparate gender impact of marriage dissolution illustrates the enduring encumbrances that accumulate from the under-remuneration of domestic chores in the care economy women control. Notwithstanding the inequities of these deficits, women’s discounted socioeconomic productivity remains not only central in stimulating dynamic growth in the national economy but crucial in providing the impetus for women to spell relief and bring succor to their dependents across generations in particular and to vie for the equilibrium of local communities within which their lives are nested.

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Meticulous analyses caution that celebrating women’s agency to mold their destiny and influence the lives of others cannot be allowed to overshadow significant drawbacks relating to the embeddedness of women’s agency in specific configurations and dynamics of power. Pertinent studies stress how women’s facility with crisis management assumes added proportion in the wake of neoconservative downsizing and privatization of key state enterprises popularized by austere structural adjustment measures (Stewart 2011). As the individualization of public responsibility intensified as a welfare strategy, extolling women’s efforts to revivify local traditions of self-reliance has not been unproblematic. The logic of heroic livelihood strategies compelled by material dislocations compounded by the retrenchment of social opportunities, goods, and services has been prone to co-optation by reactionary elements eager to abdicate state responsibility. In a striking reversal of feminist gains, reprivatizing social responsibilities exacerbates the burdens on women to shoulder a double shift to balance their care and occupational responsibilities as they are forced to redouble their efforts in the care economy to cope with social service cutbacks at the price of undermining their competitiveness in malebiased workplaces. An important catalyst for strengthening the integrity of feminist pursuit of a transformative egalitarian agenda derived from a range of normative standpoints and methods cultivated as a vigorous response to internal contradictions within feminist legal thought itself. Profound inquiries excoriated the paradox of exclusions that inhere in conceptualizations of gender as if it is an essential social category unaffected by the contingencies of time and place. A rich tapestry of crosscutting scholarship drew on the multiplexes of women’s experiences to delineate how much the strategic focus on gender impairs the bandwidth of feminist engagements to interrogate what it means to pursue equality in societies stratified by race, ethnicity, class, culture, religion, history, heteronormativity, and the like (Mohanty 1984; Scott 1986; Robertson 1986; Crenshaw 1989; Harris 1990; Williams 1992; Alexander & Mohanty 2001; Lorber 2011; Mayeri 2014; Decker & Baderoon 2018). These studies challenged the coherence and broad applicability of gender discourses that ignore the relevance of women’s overlapping identities for sexual difference. Illuminating how gender is mediated by hierarchies of power, elegant anti-essentialist critiques unmasked the imperialistic leanings of feminist orthodoxy to provoke difficult dialogue about feminist complicity in patriarchal technologies of power (Lugones 2010; Nash 2019). Hyperbolic media and mainstream cultural trends coalesce at the present epistemic moment to hail the diminution or redundancy of feminist theory (Abrams 2011). Conversely, naïve assertions about the demise of sexism sustain the seeming indifference of a disproportionate number of the younger generation who have grown up in a world with relatively attenuated gender barriers (Oren and Press 2019). It is plausible that perceptions of waning visibility and force are a touchstone of the successful integration or normalization of the paradigm shift signified by feminism. This proposition is buttressed by the considerable representation of the younger demographic cohort championing the mobilization for #MeToo movement

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(Kantor and Twohey 2019). Nevertheless, the recurrence of these sentiments and anxieties suggests the need to routinize proactive internal audits to consistently monitor the pulse of the discipline. This is with a view to refresh the analytic and practical purchase of feminist legal theory as well as to determine how best to ameliorate and attain focal objectives and aspirations.

Problematic: Learning Curve The organic evolution of feminist campaigns for egalitarian justice has been heightened by a confluence of factors, including the democratization of power in the information age heralded by the internet and social media revolution which have facilitated crucial networks across borders. Notwithstanding the forceful appeal of the global norm for gender equity and parity, shortfalls in the compliance scorecard of state sovereigns bolster grounds to question how well the norm has travelled across radically different histories, cultures, and structures. Without complementary ingredients to enrich women’s life options and harness their potentials as autonomous agents of change, modifying the contents and processes of law, critical as that is, has not sufficed to empower women. Amid the prevailing enthusiasm about the indispensability of the law for gender empowerment, it is easy to lose sight of the fact that abstract formal rights are seldom a panacea. Laudable as they are, gender reform initiatives have come to epitomize the proposition that meaningful socio-legal reform must be responsive to the material and ideological contexts in which the law operate. Fascinating accounts of some vital risks associated with mobilizing law to open up spaces for the substantive enfranchisement of women have identified considerable discrepancies in women’s capacity to take advantage of formal legal rules and procedures. On an intuitive level, it is commonly known that law is not a proactive but a quintessentially reactive, phenomenon; laws, once enacted, do not grow limbs with which to run after and apprehend transgressors. It takes the initiative of relevant complainants to trigger the legal process into motion. The profile of the cultural and structural variables mediating the material circumstances of an average legal aid client offers some clues on how important legal intervention strategies could be invigorated for greater effectiveness. In scenarios where many women are relatively too impoverished to flirt with the luxury of formal legal recourse and enforcement sanctions, the most viable avenue for gender empowerment may well lie outside the legal sector, unless the operative conceptualization of law is more inclusive than the orthodox rendition (Obiora 2004).

Shifting Human Rights At first glance, the prerequisites for tempering the vulnerability of women appear extralegal. Upon further examination, however, they reflect a coherent definition of law that restates human rights rules and standards. Embraced in its totality, the

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international human rights agenda offers a watershed for comprehensive policy commitment and for the strategic sequencing of complementary measures which address the manifold dimensions of gender-based discrimination. The expedience of “firing on all cylinders” to tackle the causal correlations between the complex layers of women’s experiences becomes all the more compelling given the affinity of governing authorities for nominal allegiance or perfunctory deference to reform, instead of enforcing systematic blueprints to operationalize justiciable gender reform obligations. The history of the quest for the recognition of women’s rights as human rights speaks volumes about the resilience of patriarchal structures in particular (Charlesworth et al 2018; Armstrong 2019). More generally, the ambivalence that attended struggles to achieve unambiguous commitment for the substantive implementation of women rights as human rights is reminiscent of some of the ebbs and flows that marked the trajectory for the ascendance of the overarching international human rights system itself. The formative culture that facilitated the evolution of the system necessitated engineering compromise solutions that deferred to the right to self-determination as a cornerstone. The narrow construction of this right as the prerogative of Westphelian state sovereigns traditionally conceded certain matters to the domain of domestic jurisdiction controlled by states and ordinarily subject to noninterference. Principled opposition to intervention in territorial intrastate-society relations meant that gender relations which were matters of personal status clearly regulated by societal norms of culture remained squarely relegated to the purview of state control. Because human rights rest on a view of the individual person as separate and endowed with inalienable rights vis-à-vis the state and society, respect for the integrity and basic rights of individuals has rendered less insular the workings of socio-legal phenomena within national boundaries. Human rights norms have broadened the parameters of international law to encompass specific dimensions of domestic affairs within states, including gender relations. Despite this enlargement, the distinction between the public and private spheres often continued to make state action a sine qua non for findings of violation. As such, infringements attributable to the realm of culture or perceived as emanating from sources other than the state were originally excluded from the scope of conventional human rights protection. Due to the cultural embeddedness of gender relations, it proved difficult at the onset to effectively deploy human rights doctrines to tackle pervasive gender discrimination. Today women’s concerns are no longer left to the discretion or convenience of the sovereign state (Okin 1991, 1995; Giddens 1994; Obiora 1997; Ackerly 2008; Waldron and Williams 2008; Satz and Reich 2009). The international legal regime unequivocally requires state parties to safeguard the rights of women, without regard to conflicting sociocultural considerations. For this reason, a government may be liable for gender-based cultural practices which facially appear devoid of state action. The United Nations Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW) is the most comprehensive instrument which aims to promote and protect the rights and interests of women (United Nations

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1980). The imperatives codified by this treaty agreement have been consolidated in subsequent documents and conferences (United Nations 1993, 1994). Skeptics echoed reservations about the viability of the United Nations as a political space to canvass support for gender equity and empowerment. However, a series of World Conferences organized under the auspices of the United Nations metamorphosed into a watershed that simultaneously helped build the confidence of naysayers about the capacity of the United Nations and stimulated the emergence of a formidable network of women’s movement across boundaries. Much to the credit of these conferences, the global theater for gender governance is characterized by vibrant bottom-up initiatives and a vocal transnational civil society that, discretely and in unison, engage the state in negotiations to bolster enabling structural, institutional, procedural, and cultural shifts favorable for gender reform. The groundswell of sentiments catalyzed by these phenomenal efforts have been critical in raising international awareness, generating constructive dialogue, shifting consciousness, mobilizing strategic support, mapping out concrete techniques, and harnessing resources to improve gender responsiveness and accountability across the board. The first World Conference in Mexico City coincided with the 1975 International Women’s Year. The Mexico City Conference exposed the naivety of approaching women as a monolith, revealing a heterogeneity of values among women that presented serious fault line dividing the priorities of women along ideological and geopolitical lines. On the heels of the event, the United Nations prioritized the themes of equality, development, and peace in proclaiming 1976–1985 the Decade for Women. Ensuing lessons captured the urgency of tackling the predicaments of gender through strategic diagnosis, deliberation, standard setting, progress review, and benchmark evaluation. Building on the tripartite goals delineated for the Decade, the second Conference on Women held in Copenhagen in 1980 elucidated considerable disparities between the rights guaranteed to women and their capacity to exercise them. The decadal campaign culminated in 1985 in the third Conference on Women held in the Nairobi World Conference to Review and Appraise the Achievements of the United Nations Decade for Women: Equality, Development and Peace. With a core mandate of exploring fresh avenues to mitigate obstacles militating against the objectives of the Decade, the meeting provided a platform for the articulation of the Nairobi Forward-Looking Strategies for the Advancement of Women. Three basic categories – namely, constitutional and legal measures, equality in social participation, and equality in political participation and decision-making – were established to measure the progress achieved. The strategies condemned violence against women as a major obstacle to the achievement of peace and the other objectives of the Decade. The United Nations world conferences were constructive for the definition of women’s rights as human rights and instrumental in instigating international consensus to attain this milestone (Andrews 2012; Meillon 2001; Agosin 2001). In 1993, the Vienna Declaration and Programme of Action set the stage to redress the mainstream marginalization of gender concerns in the international legal order by

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formally recognizing women’s rights as human rights that must be respected and observed as an inalienable, integral, and indivisible part of universal human rights. Further, the Declaration recommended the appointment of a special rapporteur on violence against women and the drafting of a declaration for the elimination of violence against women. The Fourth World Conference on Women hosted in Beijing in 1995 built on the momentum to heighten global sensitivity to and action against the scourge of violence against women. The Declaration and Platform for Action adopted at the Conference elucidated violence against women as an epitome of the violation, impairment, or nullification of women’s enjoyment of human rights and fundamental freedoms, stressing that the long-standing failure to protect and promote those rights and freedoms in the case of violence against women is a matter of concern that should be addressed by all states. The epoch of enhanced sensitivity to gender concerns heralded the emphasis on gender inclusion in both the Millennium Development Goals and the Sustainable Development Goals which were blueprints established to track development progress. In 2000, the international community adopted the Millennium Development Goals which sought to shift the global development agenda from inputs to outcomes. This compact tasked decision makers, international development partners, and civil society with implementing strategies to help spur better conditions to combat perennial development challenges, including key ramifications of gender disparities and promoting gender equality as one of eight core goals. Inadequate progress in reaching the established goals by the 2015 deadline influenced the adoption of the Sustainable Development Goals which equally targets measurably advancing gender equality through specific benchmarks by 2030. Although the intervening years have witnessed steady strides of progress in the formal embrace of relevant international human rights instruments favorable for gender reform, the gains are often offset by backlash and reversal (World Economic Forum 2018; Kuovo and Persons 2011; Cornwall and Molyneux 2008). Lessons from several decades of gender-based human rights activism and advocacy demonstrate the importance of resources mobilization and the fallacy of externalizing the agency for reform (MacLaren 2019; Klugman and Twigg 2015; de Silva et al 2014; Hallward-Driemeier 2013; Samuel and Sita 2011). To buttress enforcement mechanisms, the United Nations General Assembly adopted the Optional Protocol to CEDAW in 1996, and it entered into force in 2000. The Protocol provides a communication procedure which grants individuals and groups the right to complain or petition against violations. The corollary inquiry procedure allows the CEDAW Committee to investigate claims of grave and systematic violations of women’s rights. Decisions issued by the Committee are non-binding but carry political weight that can be useful for lobbying and advocacy. Fifty-two out of 54 recognized African countries have ratified the CEDAW, although only a subset of 23 of these countries have ratified the companion Optional Protocol and many countries have not as much as signed this Protocol. The two African countries that have not ratified CEDAW are Somalia and Sudan. However, ten African countries have ratified the Convention with reservations some of which are far-reaching.

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A cursory comparison of Africa’s ratification history with experiences in socalled advanced economies and mature democracies that boast sophisticated rule of law measures captures the premium placed on the human rights regime in Africa. In the United States, for example, the Equal Rights Amendment which was first proposed as far back as 1923 has yet to pass, and the CEDAW which the United States signed several decades ago in 1980 has stalled in Congress, incessantly awaiting ratification. Apologists for American exceptionalism are quick to extol the wisdom and expediency of “compliance without ratification” as opposed to “ratification without compliance.” However, such rationalizations neglect the strong empirical correlation between ratification and result. The relationship between ratification and result is not just an index of overt political will but a testament of the inscription of popular sovereignty for public policy accountability. To the extent that the traction for the purported “compliance without ratification” in the United States largely tends to be a function of social justice advocacy and activism, it stands to reason that civil society entities would be even more energized to overcome resistance, cultivate auspicious conditions for reform, and help kindle systematic discipline for compliance, if armed with ratification, instead of agitating for change in an atmosphere ambivalent or hostile to ratification. The downside of Africa’s strong history and culture of ratification is that there are still serious shortfalls in the enforcement records of state parties. Some governments tend to be quicker to approve progressive platforms for gender reform than to authenticate their consent with concrete actions to transform gender realities on the ground. Typically, sovereign African states imbued with responsibility for implementing, monitoring, and evaluating pertinent human rights obligations relegate the responsibility to national gender machineries which are notoriously constrained and marginalized by the mainstream body politic. Although several ratifying states take significant steps to domesticate their human rights obligations by introducing an array of laws to enable national implementation, some of these legislations risk denunciation as subtexts for regressive agendas. Many African countries rank high among state parties to the CEDAW that have adopted specific constitutional provisions enshrining the principle of equal protection without discrimination on the basis of sex. However, objective evidence verify that without adequate enforcement mechanisms, guaranteeing gender equality as a principle incorporated into the supreme law of the land is not a sufficient condition to effect substantive change. The lackluster impact of gender reform frameworks even when they are embedded in the supremacy of the constitution points up the nexus of the political economy for meaningful transformation (Irving 2008). The bottom line remains that legal mechanisms are not a miracle cure. In the memorable words of an illustrious socio-legal jurist, Oliver Wendell Holmes, law is not a brooding omnipresence in the sky (Holmes 1897). As already indicated, the precepts and mechanisms of law are influenced by objective conditions in the context where they operate. The interplay between law and society is even more complicated where pronouncements of commitment to the rule of law are not matched by robust institutions. Such structural limitations impact the legal culture in ways that hamstring formal legal processes to the advantage of cultural, social,

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economic, and political determinants of the effectiveness of law as an apparatus of governance. Given the prevalence of legal pluralism in Africa, these circumstances offer a fascinating window for the keen understanding of the dynamics that underpin the outcomes and impacts of the global prohibition of gender discrimination.

Africa at a Crossroads Reframing the terms of legal discourse to secure women’s rights as human rights animated the transformative potential of feminist agency and inspired constructive dialogues which grounded local actors to tackle problems ordinarily relegated to the seemingly inscrutable realm of culture and religion. As noted earlier, the United Nations Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women which consolidated the international consensus to endorse women’s rights as inalienable human rights was ratified with extensive reservations, understandings, and declarations. The bulk of exceptions to the Convention revolve around the concept of culture. Such appropriations of culture in turn trigger further feminist inhibitions about culture (Tamale 2008, 2006). Historical circumstances exacerbated by Africa’s colonial subjugation heightened the appeal of the right to self-determination which vested interests typically wielded as a shield to attribute harmful and discriminatory practices to culture. Consistently, a broad range of entrenched elites have sought to co-opt problematic constructs of culture to stave off international scrutiny or to justify prohibited practices. This strategy which has compounded the challenges of the international human rights regime has posed significant problems for women’s rights and for efforts to circumscribe patriarchal imperatives. Recurrent critiques of the international human rights regime succinctly recapitulated by scholars question the legitimacy, coherence, and cultural validity of human rights (Sen 2000). The cultural exception to human rights at once evokes the imperative for sensitivity to difference and mirrors the polemics of debates between relativism and universalism. The cultural critics primarily object to human rights as Eurocentric (Pannikar 1982). The legitimacy argument derives from positivistic disputations of the authenticity of human rights akin to Jeremy Bentham’s unequivocal dismissal of natural or moral rights anterior to legal recognition as anarchical fallacies or “nonsense upon stilts” (Bentham 2013). The coherence debate implicates classic disagreements between exponents of positive rights who prioritize distributive justice and detractors who push back in favor of so-called negative rights which pare down the obligation of the state to noninterference or to ensuring the absence of restraints as idealized by the laissez-faire market economy. The coherence critique also echoes Wesley Hohfeld’s seminal classification of legal concepts which correlate rights with duties to question the rationale for the existence of human rights in the absence of corresponding duties (Hohfeld 1913; Campbell and Thomas 2016). The foundation of the regional human rights system in Africa is the African Charter on Human and People’s Rights, and the companion oversight and enforcement organs are the African Commission on Human and Peoples’ Rights and the African Court on Human and Peoples’ Rights. The Charter which blends civil,

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political, social, economic, and cultural rights as reciprocal prohibits derogation from its stipulations even during a state of emergency. A unique feature of the African Charter is the espousal of individuals as bearers of duties. This distinction which fulfills the Hohfeldian requirement for the simultaneity of corollary rights and duty has not escaped attack by analysts who warn about the risk of manipulating such articulation of burdens to hollow out sovereign state commitments, abdicate cardinal legal obligations, and/or shunt responsibility to individuals. Yet, championing individuals as duty-bearers enlarges the pathway for compliance and implementation within the human rights ecosystem, not just because of the constraints on the rule of law and the limits of formal sanctions in specific African settings but because of the regulation of the dynamics of gender relations predominantly within the framework of customary and religious values, norms, and traditions. Contingent on the particularities of colonial history, the apparatus of governance in respective jurisdictions usually integrates a pluralistic legal system comprised of a mosaic of civil or common, statutory, and customary laws (Ndulo 2011; Banda 2005). Much of personal status matters which determine gender relations are governed by customary law which encompasses different cultural rules and processes as well as religious ideologies. Rigorous studies have analyzed how colonial legal practices facilitated the “invention of tradition” that privileged as indigenous ostensible practices complicated women’s lives and normalized gender bias (Ranger 1983). Problems of methodology, interpretation, and shifts in forms and meanings of customary law were compounded by the male bias which underpinned the criteria and procedures for “establishing” customary law. Men’s idealization of a past when women were subject to unquestioned male control exploited gender categories, precipitating rules which normalized practices that renegotiated gender dynamics (Hafkin 1976; Bay 1982; Comaroff and Roberts 1977, 1981; Coquery-Vidrovitch 1997; Berger & White 1999, 2016; Hodgson 2001; Geiger 2002; Cornwall 2005). This was particularly evident with regard to productive resources where men’s access and control were considerably enhanced to the detriment of women’s claims. The monopolization of the so-called public sphere by men is captured in the apt summation of Ester Boserup that men even took over the plow where women used to hoe (Boserup 1970). Catalyzed by socioeconomic changes and the acquiescence of the state (Berry 1993), men’s supervisory roles over land were transformed into ownership rights, while women’s usufructuary rights became increasingly threatened and vulnerable (Obiora 1995). The development of new forms of property, the possibilities of individual acquisition, the inculcation of individualistic values, and evolving patterns of consumption, for example, redefined socioeconomic life, corroding kinship bonds, exacerbating social tensions. This led scholars such as Martin Chanock to conclude that the “rightlessness” of women resulting from the colonial land regime is a part of the overall story of interweaving individualization, protective and communal ideologies, the development ethos, and facts created by early colonial land grab (Chanock 1991). The effectiveness of the individual and collective resistance that some African women mounted against variegated forms of exploitation and insidious exclusionary policies of the colonial administration to address infractions of rights, enforce norms

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of justice, and counter underlying efforts to codify hierarchical gender systems poignantly illustrated the scope of their power and authority in the indigenous regime. Like their forebears, the struggle continues for contemporary African women to improve their welfare and agency benchmarked against key global indicators (Wael 2019; World Economic Forum 2018; Tripp et al 2009).

Emergent Trend: Let Africa Lead As a lens through which to comprehend Africa’s robust footprint in the human rights arena, this chapter zeros in on the Protocol to the African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights on Women’s Rights in Africa, otherwise known as the Maputo Protocol (United Nations 2016; United Nations Economic Commission for Africa). The protocol which is widely celebrated as the most progressive international treaty on women’s rights corroborates Africa’s capacity to self-determine, innovate, and lead (Obiora and Whalen 2015). A comprehensive response to promote and protect the justiciability of the human rights of women in Africa, the protocol is hailed as a corrective to the dearth of necessary gender provisions in the African Charter. Indeed, the foundation for the elaboration of the protocol emanates from Article 66 of the African Charter which mandates the establishment of special protocols and agreements to supplement the provisions of the Charter. The protocol came into force in 2005 as a legally binding agreement, and it has been ratified by 40 states. Fifteen signatories have not completed the ratification formalities to become parties to the agreement (Ayeni 2016). If the incidence and nature of reservations is an authentic benchmark of propitious human rights bias, the protocol earns high marks for the sparsity of reservations to it. Only two countries, South Africa and Gambia, originally entered reservations qualifying their ratification of the Maputo Protocol. Gambia subsequently rescinded its reservation and much of South Africa’s reservations aim to preclude the risk of compromising progressive national laws that were perceived as superior affirmations of the protocol’s ideals. The sparsity of reservations to the Protocol stands in stark contrast to the copious qualifications of the CEDAW which is presumably the human rights instrument with the highest number of reservations. Notwithstanding Article 28(2) of the CEDAW which prohibits reservations incompatible with the object and purpose of the Convention, it is impaired by the exceptionally high number of reservations that were in fact opposed by several state parties as threats to the integrity of the human rights regime in general (United Nations 2006). The bulk of these reservations revolve around the concept of culture. A telling example of this is the reservation entered by Egypt to Article 16 concerning the equality of men and women in all matters relating to marriage and family relations. This reservation is purportedly predicated on respect for the sacrosanct nature of the firm religious beliefs which govern marital relations in Egypt and which may not be called into question. The Maputo Protocol complements efforts to domesticate a range of international agreements in Africa. While the extensive preamble recites and affirms preceding

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conventions for the protection and promotion of women’s human rights, the protocol equally exceeds these antecedents in recognizing rights that they did not take into account. In this vein the protocol is the first human rights treaty to explicitly address the HIV/AIDS epidemic, prohibit female genital mutilation, and authorize medical abortion in circumstances involving sexual assault or where pregnancy jeopardizes the life or health of the mother. The novelty of the protocol also finds expression in provisions pertaining to other issues, including polygamy, harmful practices, women’s economic empowerment, and political participation. Like CEDAW which outlines social and cultural patterns as strong factors shaping gender roles, Article 2 of the Maputo Protocol categorically enjoins state parties to enact appropriate legislative, institutional, and other measures to prohibit and curb all forms of discrimination, particularly harmful cultural and traditional practices which endanger women’s health and well-being. Article 5 of the Protocol obligates states parties to condemn and eliminate harmful practices which negatively affect the human rights of women and which are contrary to recognized international standards. While conferring on women the right to live in a positive cultural context, Article 17 of the Protocol further underscores their right to participate at all levels in the determination of cultural policies. For all its strengths, the protocol falls short by primarily prioritizing the formulation of conventional approaches to reform. Of particular moment are the disproportionate focus on women’s welfare in lieu of agency and the narrow focus on formal policy and legislative measures. Furthermore, despite its distinctiveness, the protocol parallels similar instruments by mainly approaching culture as a liability, instead of an asset, for gender purposes. However, its explicit acknowledgment of the right of women to participate in the determination of pertinent cultural policies opens up a promising window to nurture a culture of human rights respectful of the intrinsic, instrumental, and constructive values of culture. In material respects, this stipulation dovetails with the principle of self-determination and restates the right to culture as an individual entitlement in ways apt to help rationalize understandings about culture and foreground its potential as a resource to vindicate women’s agency as a prerequisite for substantive gender reform. This is all the more consequential because the right to culture is an autonomous entitlement safeguarded by the international human rights agenda. On this note, the Protocol offers a frame of reference to interrogate the limits of feminist critiques of culture and to constructively think through and negotiate how the competing complexities, ambiguities, tensions, and contradictions that animate the pull and push of culture can be harnessed as a lever to strengthen individual and collective local capacity to domesticate and implement national, regional, and international gender obligations. A hallmark of the protocol is the platform that it has provided for the unparalleled mobilization of women across the African continent for continuous consultations, debates, advocacy, monitoring, and evaluation. Much of the credit for the celebration of the protocol as an innovation in the human rights arena inures to entrepreneurial gender networks which foster awareness and sensitization, enrich relevant knowledge, stoke confidence, and build capacity among critical stakeholders to actively engage salient issues. The astute interventions of these networks at once increase opportunities

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to enliven constructive dialogue and dissent about homegrown solutions, mobilize resources, and coordinate strategic collaborations to formulate, focus, drive, and sustain cohesive efforts to help maintain the momentum of progress. The circumstances that launched the trajectory for the incremental success of gender forums, coalitions, and networks to pipeline the advocacy and activism that catalyzed the hospitable environment for the protocol are revealing about the necessary conditions to consistently cultivate a culture of respect for women’s rights. Just as the interventions of non-state actors turned the tide against equivocating political elites by galvanizing the groundswell of sentiments and support that ultimately culminated in the promulgation of the historic agreement, key takeaways from the steep learning curve of the journey thus far suggest a significant latitude among local communities to ameliorate human rights strategies, outcomes, and impacts in ways that have broader applicability. In material respects, the protocol is a candid snapshot of the ambiguities of progress that define Africa’s struggles at this historic moment. Notwithstanding the celebration of the Maputo Protocol as the most progressive treaty for promoting and protecting the rights of women, a recurrent criticism pertains to its actual performance in terms of outcomes and impacts. Perceptive commentaries highlight drawbacks such as poor state reporting and the absence of test cases, regardless of growing reference to the protocol as persuasive precedent. Like many other human rights agreements, there is a sizeable disparity between the potentials and the realities of protocol. Persistent concerns revolve around how best to implement qualitative programs to domesticate established principles and enhance compliance with relevant provisions. Yet, the existence of the protocol is an objective indication of the bandwidth of women to effectively engage the democratic process to influence statist processes and institutions. Ample empirical evidence suggest that women have gone to a great length to campaign for the adoption of the instrument precisely to create entitlements that would augment the arsenal with which to combat gender discrimination and to undergird an infrastructure to rally stakeholders across the spectrum of the society to temper the discrepancies of statecraft. The initiative, enterprise, skill sets, and competencies it required to incubate the flagship achievement signified by the protocol parallel those necessary to reconcile compliance with commitment and to align behavior with normative standards. Insofar as core experiences with the protocol bear out the instructive insights that plans exemplified by its constitutive pronouncements are nothing without planning and that a failure to plan approximates a plan to fail, the value of a plan to systematically realize the promise of the protocol cannot be overemphasized. What conditions anchor the next phase of the struggles against gender discrimination are as momentous for the specificities of women’s situated life worlds as they are definitive for propagating a profile of African Women’s Studies becoming of the twenty-first century. Purposefully retooling feminist legal theory for the revitalization of African Women’s Studies calls for disciplined theoretical and methodological frameworks to deepen understandings about what is right with Africa. Orchestrating a narrative of hope about Africa is a tall order especially given the difficulties associated with dislodging highly entrenched pessimistic discourses that have gained much resonance through constant reiteration.

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Future Direction: What Is Right with Africa In thinking through the future of African Women’s Studies, the advantage of hindsight recommends the imperative to figure out how to normatively showcase Africa as a fertile ground for learning and innovation (Kuhn 1962; Mudimbe 1988; Bates et al. 1993; Hountondji 1995, 2009; Vansina 2004). Consistent with the longstanding quests of discerning scholars to decolonize African studies, the impactful relevance of African Women’s Studies in the contemporary knowledge economy remains contingent on radically revamping rampant archaic and racist framings of Africa without romanticizing either the objective realities or the possibilities that inhere therein. Arguably, conceptualizations of African Women’s Studies tend to err in perpetuating the perils of the status quo by predominantly overtly or covertly elucidating what is wrong with Africa. A diametrically opposed emphasis lies at the heart of the present segment of this study which seeks to draw on the preceding passages about the Maputo Protocol to postulate new directions for cutting edge research and pedagogy. While the protocol is far from a perfect pedigree for compliance and implementation, a mediated valuation and evaluation of its deficits still capture Africa’s promise as a fertile ground for learning and innovation. Part of the enthusiasm for the Maputo Protocol – warts and all – derives from its embodiment of what is right with Africa. Emblematic of the dividend of Africa’s self-determination, the protocol instantiates African agency for gender governance reform that can be mined as a cornerstone to provide fresh thinking to tool up, map out, execute, and calibrate an actionable plan to systematically leverage the resources necessary to routinize measurable transformation vis-à-vis women’s human rights across Africa. 2018 marked the 70th anniversary of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. Cumulative knowledge from all these decades of triumphs and travails underlines the burdens of resource constraints and the benefits of the reciprocity of rights. These lessons reinforce the compelling case to let Africa lead its own self-determination beyond rhetoric and sterile politicization. Substantiating the vision of Africa at the helm of pursuits for its self-renewal entails eking out sparse financial inputs by capitalizing on often latent indigenous resources and sociocultural assets to bridge the gap between the theory and practice of promoting and protecting the human rights of women. Discussions about how to effectively improve the scorecard on the implementation of women’s human rights typically exaggerate the significance of state parties with scant attention to the opportunities that inhere in the society to advance reform. In fact, in the context of Africa, a legacy of racist ideologies and vestiges of colonial mentality consolidate a tendency to appraise the society in the negative. There are serious ramifications of this orientation for the global governance reform agenda for gender transformation. One of the reasons for this significance implicates the very nature of gender relations in specific African settings where it is regulated by personal status laws defined by customs and traditions. The specificities of Africa’s realities represent a vivid prism through which to comprehend the nuances and complexities of the conceptual history that shaped feminist presumptions against culture as well as the analytic prospects of culture to

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catalyze the impulse for cultivating enabling conditions to improve the effectiveness of the record of compliance and implementation on women’s rights as human rights. Leading studies have tracked the variables that contributed to the prevalence of the syndromes that legitimate feminist indictments of culture. Despite the enormous interdisciplinary knowledge that have accrued through the years about false adaptations that default to culture to rationalize highly complicated social dynamics, axiomatic feminist wisdom and dominant narratives about culture continue to be primarily influenced by contested patriarchal biases. Although the simplistic approach perpetuates dysfunctional understandings about the potentialities of culture, it does not attenuate the capacity of culture to mediate state-society interactions in creative and productive ways for progressive change. In the African milieu, culture continuously facilitates social progress that it should not have the capacity to process according to simplistic accounts. This pattern buttresses the grounds for the contention that culture can be husbanded as a useful vehicle to help counter inertia in the legal system and solve the problems of gender in the society. A paramount challenge to adapting and deploying culture to engineer lasting solutions to support gender transformation sensitive to the values of indigenous ecology, intelligence, and knowledge systems is to better understand the relationship between gender and culture. Although a cursory review of history paints a vivid portrait of culture as a double-edged sword from the standpoint of the micro and macro politics of gender, feminist critics are yet to systematically build on this manifestation of culture as a paradox to better understand and measure how it can effectively interface with gender reform objectives in particular and social transformation in general. Even leaving aside historical explanations of the uses and abuses of culture for the purposes of normalizing patriarchal hegemony, the very nature of culture as an organic entity presents promising vistas of opportunity to adapt and deploy the dynamic technology of culture to internalize the agency to leapfrog cogent global gender governance agenda obligations emanating from international treaty and customary laws. The strategic reclamation of culture as a creative and productive resource for effective gender reform offers a pathway to embed a meaningful alternative to the lethargy and inertia that hamstring efforts to implement noble human rights objectives. The appeal of this strategy is amplified by debates about the overlap and blurring of lines between sociocultural and legal norms and the force of sociocultural sanctions particularly in the absence of effective state instrumentality with coercive sanctions to back up sovereign dictates.

Conclusion The past decade has seen considerable strides in the promotion and protection of women’s rights as theorists and practitioners across sectoral, local, state, national, and transnational borders actively tackle questions relating to the effectiveness of the legal architecture for reform. Analogous to the path of the law, it has been standard fare for feminist critics to be reactive in pushing back against egregious acts of discrimination, and the foregoing corroborate a record, albeit modest, of success

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in the struggle for gender reform. Predicated on international agreements such as the CEDAW and Maputo Protocol, various initiatives have evolved to safeguard the normativity of women’s rights as human rights. But working out what the heightening emergence of gender rights as a global entitlement shored up by a rich repertoire of legal norms and processes means for the lives of women has been an intriguing learning experience, and some hurdles have been more readily amenable to remediation than others. Inventories of key challenges routinely earmark a range of structural, cultural, and systemic considerations, including lackluster political will, paucity of resources, and the intensifying undertow of religious fundamentalism, all of which stress the need to innovate with alternative implementation models and concepts. The overarching proposition espoused in this chapter is that Africa’s vibrant cultural heritage holds promise as a supplement to offset the burdens of its storied resource constraints. A vital point of departure for this undertaking is the understanding that it is misguided for feminist discourses to countenance theories or enact methodologies that perpetuate problematic assumptions about African realities by solely reifying indigenous culture as a technology of hegemonic power for misogynistic oppression. In this light, the dearth of implementation could be explained as a ramification of interpretations that connote Africa as the savage other. Presumptions against culture rife in feminist debates exemplify this perspective, particularly insofar as they contribute to entomb possibilities of reimagining culture as an empowering resource or exit option from gender oppression. In the final analysis, this essay asserts the importance of transcending the hindrances of wholesale aversion to culture as the site of gender oppression to imagine counter-interpretations that animate the inherent possibilities which coalesce in the complex contingencies and contradictions characteristic of culture as a pathway to enable conditions auspicious for sustainable gender transformation. An advantage of such reclamation is that it shifts the conventional focus on African women’s well-being into balance with an emphasis on their agency, taking seriously the dexterity with which women vie for equilibrium which is often caricatured by popular depictions of them as beasts of burden.

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Women, Gender, and Race in Post-Apartheid South Africa

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Edith Dinong Phaswana

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Persisting Legacy of Race and Gender Divide in South Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Women’s Economic and Social Participation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Women in Leadership and Key Decision-Making Positions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Some of the Challenges Facing South African Women Today . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

This chapter examines the progress South Africa has made in terms of advancing women’s lives particularly as it relates to race and gender inequalities in the first 25 years of democracy. It specifically focuses on some of the critical areas earmarked for redress by the current democratic dispensation, in particular the social, economic, and political transformation of women’s lives, using the lenses of intersectionality and decolonial feminism. The analysis will shed light on the widening inequalities and disparities that threaten to undermine efforts to transform society in general. The chapter argues that South Africa remains deeply divided in terms of race, gender, and space. With regard to women’s advancement, there are changes and continuities which, if left unchecked and unmonitored, threaten to further perpetuate the legacy of apartheid in South Africa. Keywords

South Africa · Post-Apartheid · Women · Gender · Race E. D. Phaswana (*) Thabo Mbeki African School of Public and International Affairs at Unisa, University of South Africa, Pretoria, South Africa e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_141

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Introduction Since 1994 South Africa has made significant strides in improving the social, economic, and political lives of the majority of its citizens. Prior to 1994, the apartheid social system consisted of repressive laws that restricted both white and black people from interacting with one another. The demise of apartheid paved way for the transformation of these structural defects. This was enabled by the commitment shown by government in terms of legislation, policies, and institutions established specifically to promote racial and gender equity among its citizens. There has been some progress in reducing the inequalities that existed during apartheid, although the effects of apartheid racial segregation still linger in South African society today. The Rural Development Programme (RDP) is a policy framework that is highly regarded as the founding document for redress and transformation in post-apartheid South Africa (RDP 1993). It was this document that set the tone for the promotion of equal opportunities between the different races of South Africa. A new democratic, nonracial, and nonsexist society was imagined out of this policy framework. This was solidified in the 1993 Constitution, which is anchored on the three principles of the right to equality, equal protection, and nondiscrimination. During the transitional period, new institutions were set up to strengthen South Africa’s constitutional democracy. Among some of the institutions founded were the Commission for Gender Equality (CGE) which is a Chap. 9 institution as stipulated in Section 187 of the Constitution. Chapter 9 institutions were established to watch over the other organs of government, ensuring that their workings are made transparent and accountable to citizens, and that the government embodies democratic and constitutional values. Consequently, CGE was set up to monitor and evaluate policies and practices in the public and private sectors to ensure the promotion and protection of gender equality. The main purpose of the CGE is to eradicate all forms of gender oppression and inequality and to promote respect for gender equality. The commission engages in various activities such as policy development, legislative monitoring, and litigation to deliver on its mandate. Apart from these institutional mechanisms, the country signed several international treaties and conventions, and regional charters and protocols designed to eradicate all forms of discrimination in society including racial and gender discrimination. The Convention for the Elimination of Discrimination against Women (CEDAW), Beijing Platform for Action (1995), the UN Millennium Development Goals (2000), the UN Sustainable Development Goals (2015), the Optional Protocol to the African Charter on Human and People‘s Rights on the Rights of Women in Africa (2004), The AU Solemn Declaration on Gender Equality in Africa (2004), and the Southern African Development Community Protocol on Gender and Development (2008) are just a few of the many international and regional treaties that South Africa ratified since 1994. Laws were also enacted nationally for the advancement of women and these include the Commission for Gender Equality Act 39 of 1996 and the Equality Act no. 4 of 2000. Through all of these initiatives, the government demonstrated its commitment to gender equality and empowerment of

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women. This was remarkable for a nation that used to be the scorn of the world in terms of racist and sexist laws and policies in the second half of the twentieth century. In 2007, the Office on the Status of Women was established in the Office of the Presidency to develop a gender policy. Over time this office has morphed into different names – it was first called the Ministry of Women, Youth, Children and People with Disabilities in 2014. It was then renamed as Ministry of Women in the Presidency in the second Cabinet of Jacob Zuma. By 2019, the Ramaphosa administration reinstated it as the Ministry of Women, Youth and People with Disabilities. This office was the first of its kind in South Africa, to advance socioeconomic development of women and other vulnerable groups and specifically to promote gender equality. As to whether these initiatives have been able to effect change in the lives of South African women remains a subject of intense debate. All of these initiatives demonstrate that there has been political will to support gender equality and empowerment of women. While these initiatives ensure that women’s political rights are extended, without the necessary resources allocated to assist them to claim those rights, all these initiatives remain ambitious. This chapter examines the progress South Africa has made in terms of advancing women’s lives particularly as it relates to race and gender inequalities in the first 25 years of democracy. It specifically focuses on some of the critical areas which were earmarked for redress by the new dispensation, in particular the social, economic, and political transformation of women’s lives. Feminist studies provide us with useful frameworks to understand the various forms of oppression that women face on a daily basis. Kimberley Crenshaw (1989) introduced the concept of “intersectionality” in relation to feminism to help us understand the complex nature of systems of discrimination and oppression. In her 1989 ground-breaking work, she elucidates how the complexities of the black experience needed to be understood within the context of the intersection of race and sex in systems of discrimination (Crenshaw 1989). In addition, bell hooks (1984) discusses how the various forms of oppression are interrelated and connected to each other through interlocking webs of oppression. She argues that multiple forms of oppression might be present and active at the same time in a person’s life. When combined, they compound experiences of oppression for an individual. Looking at society from this angle helps us to understand all potential barriers to an individual’s well-being. As shall be seen below, South Africa is a perfect example to demonstrate these intersections of race and sex on women of color. The roots of intersectionality lie in black feminism as it was through observation of how anti-racist and anti-sexist movements overlooked the unique challenges of black women. Women of color are often invisibilized, discriminated, and marginalized by virtue of being women and people of color (Biana 2020). Perhaps, it is Biana who recently weaved in the experience of Third World Women into the debate on intersectionality. She notes “third world oppression is an interlocking web of various oppressions structurally engineered with the phylogeny of national oppression” (Biana 2020, p. 20). In her view, oppressive systems in Third World countries are reinforced by deficits in nationwide development. It is for this reason that this theory

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is considered relevant to explain the situation of women in post-apartheid South Africa. The focus on race in South Africa in the past neglected other forms of oppression, and as a result, women find themselves disadvantaged even in the post-apartheid era. Intersectionality has been variously applied in African context (Meer and Muller 2017). Historically, the women’s struggle in South Africa has always had an intersectional lens in its conception. However, since women were not part of the decision making of many structures, their demands were often overlooked, if not dismissed. The fight against apartheid was encompassing as it sought not to neglect the other members of society. Zanele Mbeki (2019) explains how under apartheid black women in South Africa defined their situation as “triple oppression” based on their race, class, and gender, which she eloquently describes as the “intersectionality of apartheid oppression” for black women. (Zanele Mbeki (gender activist and then First Lady of South Africa) writes this in a foreword to the booklet marking the inaugural graduation ceremony of the first cohort of the Fellowship Programme on Feminist Leadership in South Africa in 2019. The fellowship is offered by the Zanele Mbeki Development Trust.) She further elucidates how this struggle managed to embrace the plight of all those suffering exclusion because of societal prejudices in South Africa. Overtime the feminist movement in South Africa, as we understand it today, grew in strength to incorporate those sections of society that experience domination and exploitation. These included those who experience exclusion because of their disabilities, faith, national origin, and sexual orientation etc. As Mbeki puts it, “Women embraced these sections of society because we have known the pain of oppressive exclusion at the bottom of the pyramid.” In her view, feminism is the highest form of revolution for transformation toward a new and fair ecosystem. Mbeki (2019) notes that feminism as theory and praxis seeks to embrace all humanity by promoting equality and respect of all creation. It seeks to eradicate all forms of dominance in society. Today South Africa boosts a Ministry in the Presidency for Women, Youth and Persons with disabilities that aligns with the notion of intersectionality and inclusivity – an ideal she describes as logical as it will bring with it the emancipation of all other excluded people. Decolonial feminism also offers a useful lens to understand the race and gender intersections taking place in South Africa. Sylvia Tamale’s (2020) recent book entitled Decolonisation and Afro-Feminism is also relevant here. Tamale cautions about the weaknesses of decolonial scholarship in Africa with its masculine bias which tend to ignore gender theorization. It is not surprising that many laws and policies in Africa continue to discriminate against women. Even contemporary analyses of the state of women deliberately overlook the past. Scholars warns against the trap of modernity-coloniality by focusing on race only, however, as if gender and race were not invented at the same time (Oyerumi 1997; Lugones 2010; Tamale 2020). For Tamale, the two are integral to these inequities. In the South African context, colonialism and its associated apartheid were instrumental in the construction of the white man as the superior being whereas the white woman was constructed as lesser being – lower than white men in status but at the same time far better than indigenous people, whether male or female. It is for this reason that up

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to this day white females live far better off than black males and females. Colonialism somehow reinvented what it means to be a “man” and a “woman” in these contexts and also defined how these two should relate to one another. Through this process of colonization, colonized women were therefore diminished or erased from the social and public life (Tamale 2020). It is against this background that the situation of the majority of black and colored women in South Africa remains precarious up to this day. This chapter will highlight the situation of women at the fall of apartheid and currently to show progress thus far. This analysis sheds some light on the widening inequalities and disparities that threaten to undermine efforts to transform society in general. I will then proceed to present some of the challenges women face in South Africa today. I argue that with regard to women’s advancement, there are changes and continuities, which, if left unchecked and unmonitored, threaten to further perpetuate the legacy of apartheid in South Africa. While the role of gender and race in explaining poverty is less emphasized in favor of skills, the skewed gender and racial character of poverty and inequality draws us to an appreciation of the uniqueness of feminist analyses. The chapter uses data from various sources including government documents, Census data, General Household surveys (GHS), and scholarly articles to explain how gender and race intersect to create inequalities among women in South Africa. It is worth noting upfront that the analysis made here is limited, as most available data do not differentiate women according to nationalities, class, (dis)ability, ethnicity, and other important variables. However, the discussion will show how race and gender is played out to disadvantage certain women in the sociopolitical landscape of post-apartheid South Africa. Specifically, data sets of the 1996 Census and the OHS 1996 are used as the baseline to understand where South Africa was at the dawn of its democracy. This is done to track whether the post-apartheid government has been able to deliver on its promise of transformation over the past quarter of a century. The latest available Census data of 20ll and the most recent GHS conducted in 2017 will help to track this progress while bearing in mind that these data sets are not entirely comparable owing to the types of question asked and the different measures used at different point in time. However, the data sets are useful for our own understanding of the nuances that explain different experiences in women’s lives.

The Persisting Legacy of Race and Gender Divide in South Africa Although South Africa has made tremendous progress in terms of advancing women’s empowerment and gender transformation, vast inequalities remain along racial and gender lines (Orkin 1997; Gumede 2016; STATSA 2019c). At the dawn of democracy, the then General Statistician noted: Despite these recent advances in democracy, socio-economic deprivation and profound contrasts in life circumstances along racial, urban-rural and gender divides, persist. Although

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South Africa is a middle-level income country, comparable with Brazil, Chile, Malaysia, Poland, Thailand and Venezuela (World Bank 2018; SALDRU 1995), it is characterised by gross inequalities, partially the legacy of apartheid policies. (Orkin 1997, p. xx)

The majority of South Africa’s population has always been black and female. The first Census in the post-apartheid era was conducted in 1996 and it has been hailed as the most accurate because it treated all residents equally (STATSA 1998). At the time, there were 40.5 m people living in South Africa of which 48.1% of them were male and 51.9% were female. According to Census data, between 1996 and 2011 the population of South Africa increased by 10.4% from 40.5 to 51.7 m. Several factors have been cited as contributing to population growth in South Africa including immigration which accounted for 17% of growth (Bisseker 2018). By 2011, of the 51.7 million people living in South Africa, majority were blacks at 79.2% and females at 51.3% (STATSA 2012). South Africa’s population is currently estimated at 58.7 million people (STATSA 2019b). In 2018, the population distribution for women was 81.8% black, 8.8% colored, 2.4% Indian, and 7.8% white (STATSA 2020b). Of these women, approximately 7.1% were classified as disabled (STATSA 2020b). In terms of location, a higher concentration of black women lived in non-urban areas in 1994. According to the October Household Survey (1995), out of the 11 million women living in nonurban areas in South Africa, 10.5 m were black, 278,000 were Coloreds, 23,000 Indians, and 198,000 were whites. By 2018, approximately 63.9% of women lived in urban areas compared to 36.1% who lived in rural areas (STATSA 2020a). Most women (53.3) over 60 years are heads of households and the majority (59.3%) are based in the rural areas. Black and colored women are more likely to live in intergenerational households than their white counterpart (STATSA 2020a). The legacy of apartheid and entrenched patriarchy remain in the lives of many South Africans. This is concerning considering that the new democratic dispensation was meant to deal specifically with these social ills. Research further shows that the levels of poverty and inequality in South Africa continue to bear a persistent racial character (Gumede 2016; World Bank 2018; STATSA 2019c). South Africa is consistently becoming the most unequal society in the world with a Gini Coefficient of 0.65 (STATSA 2019c). Using the Palma ratio as a measure of inequality, South Africa has a ratio of 7.9 (World Bank 2018). In 2006, the richest 10% spent 8.6 times more than the bottom 40%; however, this changed to 7.9 times more in 2015 (ibid). When looking at the data the drop was due to loss of expenditure share by the Top 10% to the Middle 50%. In 2015, households headed by blacks, Indians, and coloreds remain the most unequal with a Palma ratio of 2.8, 2.4, and 4.6, respectively, whereas those headed by whites recorded 1.9 (World Bank 2018). According to STATSA (2020a) more women (11.6%) are vulnerable to hunger than men (8.3) and rural women are the most affected by hunger at 12.9%. Over the past 25 years, South Africa has experienced tremendous progress in terms of femaleheaded household’s access to basic services such as water, sanitation, and electricity.

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For example, an increase of 10.3% has been observed between 2002 and 2017 rising from 60% to 70.3%, respectively (STATSA 2019c. Studies show that poverty remain consistently low among black South Africans, the less educated, the unemployed, and female-headed household living in non-urban areas (STATSA 2019c; World Bank 2018). Historically, the struggle for gender equality in South Africa has always been overshadowed by the struggle for national liberation, specifically when it relates to black women. Black women were oppressed as a group because of their race and at the same time subjected to gender inequalities experienced by all women in South Africa. Up to this day, women are among some of the most vulnerable groups highly affected by poverty, inequalities, and unemployment (see NPC 2011; STATSA 2019a, c). This situation has not changed much 25 years later particularly as it relates to disparities in gender, space, and race. As can be seen, the face of poverty in South Africa remains black, female, and rural, constituting the majority of the population. For instance, in both rural and urban areas, female headed households (12.7%) are more likely to report hunger than male headed households (8.7%) (STATSA 2019b). Majority of these are poor black women living in rural provinces such as Kwazulu Natal, Eastern Cape, and Limpopo. These provinces were constituted from the apartheid special reserves for blacks known as Bantustans. It is for this reason that these provinces remain the poorest in the country up to this day. Historically, black women were left in these Bantustans to nurture families and reproduce future pool of cheap laborers for the apartheid regime as Healy-Clancy (2017, p. 3) puts it: Under apartheid, African men would travel to work for whites in towns and on mines, but their homes would be in rural ethnic “reserves,” known as “homelands” or “Bantustans.” This vision depended on the labours of African women: while their men migrated to work in cities, women were to maintain their families in the increasingly overcrowded and desolate countryside, reproducing the workforce cheaply while instilling a sense of ethnic difference in their children. “Coloured” and Indian women were similarly charged with social reproduction on a shoestring, in segregated rural and urban areas. (Colored is the accepted term for mixed race people in South Africa.) White women uniquely had the franchise and freedom of movement, but they were also constrained by sexually repressive laws.

Healey-Clancy further comment on how apartheid officials conceived black women as ethnicized and racialized subjects whose role was to produce and nurture labor reserves that will fit the needs of the white rulers. However, black women often undermined the gendered apartheid project by moving into the prohibited urban centers without permits. A closer examination of black Feminists writings in South Africa demonstrates the racial disparities in women’s experiences. In a book entitled Black Academic Voices: The South African Experience, Khunou et al. (2019) provide a scathing critique of black female academics experiences of belonging and exclusion within the higher education landscape in South Africa. This publication gives an overview of women’s subjective experiences in the academy. Although written in autobiographical form, the essays in this publication do provide a picture of the racial and

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gender disparities that continue to haunt South Africa within the higher education sector. The book echoes some of the experiences shared by Luhabe (2002) and Mabokela and Magubane (2004). Both these books provided a window into the experiences of the first generation of black women executives in corporate South Africa and in the academy after 1994. All these publications confirm that much has not changed with regard to racial disparities among women in the workplace. A recent report by the Department of Women, Youth and People with Disabilities (2019) also confirms that class and race inequalities pertaining to women’s subjective experiences continue to be a challenge in South Africa. Understanding these racial, gendered, and spatial divides is essential to understanding the development challenges women in South Africa face today.

Women’s Economic and Social Participation Since 1994 empowering blacks economically has been the intention of the postapartheid government. Several policies and initiatives such as Black Economic Empowerment and Affirmative Action have been introduced to facilitate this process. Nonetheless, women’s economic participation has not been entirely successful. The majority of black women form part of the working class in South Africa due to structural injustices that relegated their race group to poorly paid jobs across all sectors. In the past, apartheid labor laws made it difficult for black women to be absorbed in skilled and professional jobs. As a result, most black women were economically disadvantaged from the onset. Race remains a key marker of an individual’s human development. The South African labor market is a case in point. In general, white people in South Africa are more likely to find work and earn better than their black counterparts. In terms of earning distributions, black Africans earn the lowest wages when they are employed. This situation intensifies when gender is taken into account an average white person earns three times more than a black South African while in general women earn 30% less than men (Webster 2019). Between 2011 and 2015, a white person earned R24646 ($1500) per month on average, more than three times the R6899 ($405) average monthly wage of their black counterparts (STATSA 2019c). Rural workers earn less than half of what urban workers do (ibid). Employed males have mean real earnings of R10 886 ($733,48) per month, as compared to employed females with mean real earnings of R7 658 ($51,54). In South Africa, males are more likely to be employed, and have relatively better-paying jobs compared to females (STATSA 2019c). This applies across all educational levels. It is even more interesting that males with no education or primary education earn almost double what females with similar educational attainment earn. These disparities in income are concerning especially when the gap continues to widen 25 years later. Even more disturbing is the fact that women’s educational attainments are unable to reduce these inequalities. Monetary measures cannot be the only indicator of inequality, although for black South Africans asset ownership is not a suitable indicator because many lack assets. Among other factors, women’s participation in

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the formal economy is hampered by the low education and skills as well as the escalating high levels of unemployment. While access to education for girls has improved, it has not translated into employability, higher earnings, and upward mobility for women in the corporate and public sectors (CGE 2015). Over the years, South Africa has also not been able to reduce the wage gap that exists between men and women, especially in the private sector. About 49.6% of women earned less than R1500 ($100) (Dollar/Rand exchange on 01 February 2021) in 1995. It is not surprising that when it comes to gender parity in income earnings it is mostly black women who were found to earn less than R1500 per month even though they form the bulk of the workforce (STATSA 2018). This is because most women (60.9%) than men (39. 1%) are employed in the service sectors where the pay is low (DWYPD 2019a). Between 2001 and 2017, there was a significant drop in the number of women earning salaries, from 47% to 44.4%, whereas the number of men increased from 53% to 55.6% within the same period (QLFS 2017). Women’s participation in the labor force also continues to favor urban dwellers and white women. A total of 53.3% of white women participate in labor force and of these 59.7.7% live in urban areas (STATSA 2020a). White women constitute the majority (58.8%) of women participating in the labor force, followed by coloreds (56.3%), blacks (52, 7%), and Indians (44.7%) (STATSA 2020a). When it comes to formal sector employment, white and Indian women are more likely to be employers and business owners than black and colored women owing to the racial hierarchy instituted by apartheid social stratification. About 6.4% white women are employers as compared to 3.7% Indian, 1.6% black, and 1.0% colored. In South Africa, Indians, though smaller demographically, are usually traders hence they are more likely to be employers. When factoring age, young women (15– 34 years) irrespective of the racial group are unlikely to be employers at 1.1% share against 3.8% young male employers (STATSA 2019a). Within racialized spaces, patriarchal privileges continue to protect younger men while disadvantaging younger women. The informal sector for women is dominated by Blacks at 17.9% compared to whites at 8.7% (STATSA 2020a). In comparison to white (0.8%) and Indian (0.3%) women, black and colored women also form a significant percentage of domestic workers estimated at 16% and 9.8%, respectively (STATSA 2020a). In comparison to other African countries, the informal and agricultural sectors in South Africa employ more men than women. A total percentage of 20.7 and 6.7 of men are employed in the informal and agricultural sectors respectively as compared to 15.6% and 3.8% women (STATSA 2020a). This could be explained in terms of the black reserves explained earlier where apartheid architecture ensured that women remained in the Bantu reserves nurturing future laborers while men were allowed to find jobs outside their homes. The noticeable decline in agricultural labor participation in general is attributed to government’s shift away from supporting the poor and more vulnerable farmers, especially female farmers, toward an overwhelming focus on the better-resourced and more commercially oriented farmers (DWYPD 2019a). Unemployment in general has reached crisis proportion in South Africa, reported at 30.8% in the last quarter of 2020, the highest since the 2008 financial meltdown (QLFS 2020). While unemployment rate in general is high, it remains gendered and

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racially hierarchized. When disaggregating women’s unemployment rate by population groups, it reflects the persistent racial hierarchy pattern. In 1995, the unemployment rate for black women was 46.9% followed by coloreds at 27.8%, Indians at 19.9%, and whites at 7.9% (Orkin 1997). By the fourth quarter of 2020, this pattern has not changed in terms of hierarchies even though the unemployment rate decreased for all women. For black and colored women, it is estimated at 34.6% and 23.5%, respectively, while Indian and white women constituted 18.4% and 8.6% separately (QLFS 2020). In general, female unemployment rate declined between 1995 and 2018 from 38% to 29.8% (Orkin 1997; STATSA 2020a). However, the recent Quarterly Labour Force Survey (2020) estimate women’s unemployment rate at 32.3% and this remain higher than the national average (30.8%) and that of men (29.6%) in the fourth quarter of 2020. In addition, about 39.2% of female headed households in South Africa are without an employed member as compared to 19.5% of male headed households (STATSA 2020a). Unemployment continues to rise due to the outbreak of the COVID-19 pandemic and its associated lockdown regulations as several industries are closing down. South Africa presents the largest number of positively confirmed corona cases in Africa with confirmed cases of 1.3 million by 31 January 2021 (see https:// sacoronavirus.co.za/). The outbreak of the pandemic will deepen the inequalities and unemployment levels in South Africa with female-headed households and people living in nonurban areas highly affected (UNDP 2020). As noted earlier, the high unemployment rate for women is attributed to the lack of skills and this makes it difficult for them to be absorbed in jobs, it is therefore not surprising that when it comes to educational outcomes women remain at the bottom. According to STATSA (2020a), female literacy (86%) in general is slightly lower than the national average (87.0%) and that of male (88%). However, when race is factored black women are the least literate at 83.9% as compared to 98.9% white women. Women in the age group 20–39 years are the most literate at 96.5% as opposed to women over 60 years at 56.7% (ibid). The post-apartheid government has significantly improved access to education for women in general. When it comes to the higher education participation, Indian (18.0%) and white women (29.4%) are more likely to graduate than black (5.9%) and colored women (5.3%). A higher percentage of black and colored women are still without matric at 59.8%and 63.2%, respectively. This explains why these groups of women remain the largest numbers of the unemployed, and, if they do, are largely concentrated in the informal and domestic sector (STATSA 2020a). With regard to health, women’s access also depends on their social status. The more affluent women receive better health irrespective of their race. However, access to quality health care is still a problem for women using the public health system. These women are subjected to long queues with substandard healthcare facilities or poor infrastructure in general. This situation deepens the health inequalities between men and women even within the same population group. Currently black (89.1%) and colored (82.4%) women are the highest number of people with no medical insurance (STATSA 2020a). The government has not yet shared disaggregated data on Covid19 infections; however, with the majority of black and colored women

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lacking adequate access to health care it is clear that this pandemic will have devastating effects on these group of women. It is worth noting here that when it comes to axis of privilege and/or benefits, the racial hierarchy of apartheid continues to favor white women more than all other race groups of women. This confirms that the interlocking web of oppressions affect women of color more than any other race group.

Women in Leadership and Key Decision-Making Positions Over the past 25 years South Africa has seen a notable increase in terms of women representation in leadership positions and decision-making structures. When the ANC-led government took over in 1994, President Mandela appointed only three women out of a team of 27 cabinet ministers. However, by the end of 2019, a total of 14 women ministers as opposed to 14 men serve in the Ramaphosa cabinet making 50/50 gender representation in the cabinet (DWYPD 2019b). This has also extended to parliamentary representation where approximately 41.7% of women serve in the national parliament (ibid). Between 1995 and 2016 overall women representation in local government increased significantly from 19% to 41% (DWYPD 2019b). With regard to Executive Mayors and mayoral positions at the local government, between 2010 and 2017 there has been notable increase from 32.7% to 41.6% (ibid). This increase in women representation in local government is impressive especially when one compares South Africa with other countries within the SADC region. South Africa ranks third out of 12 countries of SADC in terms of women leadership, just after Lesotho and Namibia. This is remarkable considering where South Africa is coming from in terms of various forms of oppression and being the new arrival in democratic dispensation. Within the South African context, the data needs to be disaggregated to unpack which woman in terms of race and class is represented in these leadership positions. The gap between women and men at senior management level within the public service has been narrowing from 5% in 1994 to 41.3% representation in 2018 (DWYPD 2019b). The post-apartheid government has been instrumental in implementing the 50/50 demand by South African women. For the previous four government administrations (1999–2018), representation of women at top management in the public service has been somehow consistent, with women representation below 30% while men were consistently above 70% (DWYPD 2019b). This picture is disturbing when one considers that decisions in the public service are taken by top administrators. The DWYPD (2019b) synthesis report shows that unlike in the public sector, there has not been significant progress in the private sector with women leadership as they are poorly represented on company boards and in senior management positions. In 2019, the private sector was found to be more wanting in terms of achieving gender parity as only 20% and 28% women were nonexecutive directors and chairpersons respectively at Johannesburg Stock Exchange listed companies (DWYPD 2019b). The private sector is always lagging behind in terms of racial and gender transformation in South Africa.

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This has resulted in South African’s the coining of the twin concepts of “white Monopoly Capital” and “Radical Economic Transformation.” These concepts became popular in South Africa’s political discourse under the fourth administration of Jacob Zuma. Despite the lack of consensus on the meaning of these concepts, some public commentators have attempted to offer clarity on what they entail. White monopoly capital is thought to explain the persisting economic dominance of whites in post-apartheid South Africa (Khadija 2017; Nathi 2017) whereas radical economic transformation is thought to be about “nationalising the commanding heights of the economy”; “insisting on urgency in the face of slowing growth of the economy”; or “uncompensated expropriation of land” (Bernstein 2017, p. 3). Both public and journalistic discourses speculate that progress in terms of transformation of the economy is delayed by the existence of white monopoly capital. As a result, government should embark on a program of radical economic transformation to fast track inclusive growth. When it comes to the judiciary, South Africa has not been able to appoint a female chief justice over the past 25 years. However, there has been a significant increase since 1994 from a single woman judge to 35.5% women judges in 2018 (DWYPD 2019b). Percentages of women magistrates and women presidents of the courts have also increased. There is still much that needs to be done to accelerate women’s participation in key decision-making structures to effect the changes needed to achieve gender parity and transformation.

Some of the Challenges Facing South African Women Today Despite all this progress, South Africa remains with many challenges. For instance, sexual and gender-based violence (SGBV) is one of the biggest challenges facing South Africa today. The scourge of violence against women is threatening social relations at the familial, workplace, and societal level. Recent reports have also highlighted worrying numbers of reported cases of sexual offenses. Sexual offenses were found to be the most common form of SGBVaffecting women. With regard to sexual offenses, between 2012 and 2015 an increasing number of cases of sexual offenses against women were reported by the South African Police Services (SAPS). The problem with the sexual offenses statistics taken by SAPS is that they hardly provide details about the nature of the sexual offenses committed, and do not indicate who the victims and perpetrators are. Despite lack of details, the numbers show a consistent trend that sexual offenses are common in South Africa. The past year has witnessed a heightened trend of sexual offenses. The latest crime statistics by SAPS (2020) show that between 2019 and 2020, an increase of 1.7% cases of sexual offenses were reported to the South African Police Services. In the same period, the number of rape cases increased by 1.7% whereas sexual assault rose by 4.2% (SAPS 2020). The majority of these cases during this period affected women as a follows: 1) a total of 401 women were raped, 2) a total of 98 sexually were assaulted, and 3) a total of 79 were murdered (SAPS 2020). Even the social distancing and the lockdown restrictions in place could not protect women from the scourge of violence in South Africa.

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Research has also shown that the majority of South African women have been affected by crime at some point in their lives. About 44% of women were affected by crime between 2014 and 2018 (STATSA 2020b). Research further shows that white women (5.5%) were likely to experience property crimes more than any other population group of women (STATSA 2020a). This figure is even above the national average of 4.4%. On the other hand, colored women (2.7%) were more likely to experience assault more than any other population group (ibid). Both black and white women experience assault at 1.1% individually (STATSA 2020a). This has resulted in a situation where majority of women live in fear. The report entitled vulnerable groups indicator released in 2019 indicates that about 21.4% women reported that they feel unsafe to walk in their neighborhood, with the youngest generation of women (16–34 years) being the most fearful (STATSA 2019a). SA women reported that open spaces and parks are the places they fear the most, and they are also scared to take walks during the night. Domestic violence has also been identified as one of the challenges hampering women’s development especially within the low-income groups of South Africa’s black townships. While domestic violence was found to cut across all socioeconomic classes, it was found to be more frequent and severe in low-income groups. Pronyk et al. (2006) have argued that violence against women has become a class issue in South Africa and is largely associated with poor blacks living in rural and semi-urban areas. In their study, Mazibuko and Umejesi (2015) found that deep-seated sociocultural issues offer better explanation than class. While these authors concur that economic vulnerability makes women stay in unhealthy relationships, other studies found that women’s economic status fail to protect them from violence in cases where the partner is unemployed (Jewkes et al. 2003). All these point to the fact that domestic violence is a complex issue that needs a multipronged approach to deal with. South Africa rank as one of the country with the highest female interpersonal death rate making it fourth out of 183 countries in the world. Research on femicide between 1999 and 2009 suggest a decline in femicide rate from one woman killed every 6 h to one woman killed every 8 h (Mazibuko and Umejesi 2015 citing Mathews et al. 2004 and Abrahams et al. 2012). Some of the awareness campaigns instituted during the first decade of democracy might have contributed to this decline. It is worth to noting that data on femicide is not accurate as in most cases the motive for the murder is not known. For this reason, the definition used by Statistics South Africa is used here which entails the “intentional killing of any women or girls.” Some studies use the interpersonal violence death rate of population to determine the rate of femicide (in Wilkinson 2019). By 2016, the murder rate for adult women was estimated at 12.5 per 100,000 adult female population and this is calculated as being 4.8 times higher than the global average rate of 2.6 (ibid). In 2018/19, a total of 2771 women were murdered in South Africa, down from 2930 in 2017/18 (SAPS 2020). As a result, a woman is murdered every 3 h in South Africa (ibid). The quality of life of women in this democratic dispensation is concerning. It is worth noting that the majority of black and colored women experience gender-based violence more than other race groups. Scholars from elsewhere on the continent have observed that within African families, power is unevenly

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distributed among the different genders. For instance, Okere in Ross (2010) points out that in some African families, polygamy is accepted, promiscuity among men is tolerated, and the extended family often has power over the married. These phenomena often contribute to how women are treated within these contexts. The lack of respect for women folk and their feelings by men seem to exacerbate the scourge of violence. This is also reflected within the journalistic and social media landscape in South Africa and therefore warrants scholarly attention. The phenomenon of culture of violence pervading South Africa has been the subject of both public and scholarly debates. There are always misconceptions attached to domestic violence that it only happens to women because they ask for it, and that it happens only to poor women (Mazibuko and Umeji 2015). The deaths of high-profile business woman Dr. Thandi Ndlovu (Dr. Thandi Ndlovu was an influential high profile businesswoman in South Africa who died in a car crash in 2019. It was at her funeral that her family revealed that she suffered abuse in her marriage) in 2019 and Top model Reeva Steenkamp (Reeva Steenkamp was a top model in South Africa. She was murdered by her famous Paralympic boyfriend Oscar Pretorius on Valentine’s Day in 2013. Oscar is currently serving time in prison for her murder) in 2013 have brought new attention into the subject and demonstrate that domestic violence can happen to anyone regardless of class. This, in a way, discounts the misconception that one’s socioeconomic status determines whether they will experience violence or not. South Africa has also been dubbed “the rape capital of the world.” Rape as a proportion of all reported sexual offenses has been declining from 48,158 of reported cases in 2010/11 to 42,289 in 2019/20 (SAPS 2020). A number of scholars warn that police rape statistics should not be seen as accurate measure to explain the extent of the crime in the country (see Vetten 2014; Wilkinson 2019). Some of the reasons cited are non-reporting of cases by majority of women or fear of further victimization by the criminal and justice system (Vetten 2014). Currently, there is no recent nationally representative estimate of the number of women who are raped annually. However, rape is considered a national crisis in South Africa. Recently, young women at institutions of higher learning highlighted the severity of rape and other forms of sexual violence and harassment by both male students and lecturers during the #Feesmustfall protests (Wa Azania 2020). In a book entitled Rape: A South African Nightmare, one of South Africa’s prolific writers and feminist scholar, Pumla Gqola (2015, p. 21) notes: Rape is not a South African invention. . .It is sexualised violence, a global phenomenon that exists across vast periods in human history. Rape has survived as long as it has because it works to keep patriarchy intact. It communicates clearly who matters and who is disposable. . .. . .Rape is the communication of patriarchal power, always gendered and enacted against the feminine. . .Rape has also been central to the spread of white supremacy, and to the way race and racism have organised the world over the last four hundred years.

Within the context of South Africa, Gqola’s observations make sense as black women are likely to experience violent forms of rape and murder, clearly suggesting that they do not matter. Black women who identify Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Queer, Intersex, Asexual plus all other sexualities, sexes, and genders not

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included (LGBTQI+) are more likely to experience the worst form of violence in their communities. The LGBTIQ+ sector is subjected to inhuman and violent crimes as a result of their sexual orientation (DWYPD 2020). The LGBTQIA+ persons in South Africa are likely to experiences multiple forms of discrimination in their lifetime (Müller and Meer 2018). The myth that feminism is “unfrican” also translates into homosexuality portrayed as “unafrican.” Consequently, these misconceptions compound the stigmatization and discrimination of women who identify as LGBTQIA+ (DWYPD 2020). This further manifests in the denial of access to services and resources in the system. As a result, LGBTQIA+ women and women living with disabilities seem to be more vulnerable in a “gender insensitive” country like South Africa. It is not surprising that even the phenomenon of “corrective rape” originates in South Africa. Corrective rape originally referred to rape perpetrated by straight men against lesbians in order to “correct” or “cure” their homosexuality (Doan-Minh 2019). However, recently the term has been extended to include any member of a group that does not conform to gender or sexual orientation norms. Gender-based violence emanates from apartheid South Africa’s social systems which used violent forms of rule to maintain power. The 2018 Global Peace Index also found South Africa to be one of the most violent places in the world, ranked 38 out of 163 because the country has one of the highest murder rates found globally outside of a war zone. The scourge of violence against women has been made priority by the new administration of Cyril Ramaphosa which came into power in 2019. The social media campaign known as #Totalshutdown has been instrumental in heightening the fight against GBV and bringing it to the attention of the President. This campaign led to a Presidential Summit to end GBV being held on 1–2 November 2018. Following this, an Interim Gender-Based Violence and Femicide Steering Committee was set up to develop the National Strategic Plan on Gender-based Violence and Femicide (GBVF). This plan centers around six pillars, namely (a) Accountability, Coordination and Leadership, (b) Prevention and Rebuilding the Social Cohesion, (c) Justice, Safety and Protection, (d) Response, Care, Support and Healing, (e) Economic Power, and (f) Research and Information Management. Some laws were amended specifically sections 35 and 38 of the Judicial Matters Amendment Act (Act no 8 of 2017) which provide for special courts that deal exclusively with bail applications, plea proceedings, trials, or sentencing in criminal matters that entail sexual offenses. It is hoped that this new legislation will bring relief and justice to survivors of genderbased violence.

Conclusion According to DWYPD (2019b) women’s equality and socioeconomic independence are important for domestic development and growth and constitutes a vital part of sustained development and democracy. This is because gender inequality has a tendency to amplify all other disadvantages and at the same time heighten vulnerabilities. This aligns with intersectionality which advocates for total eradication of all

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forms of discrimination to achieve development. Certainly, South Africa has made tremendous progress in terms of advancing gender empowerment and transformation as it pertains to legislation, policies, and institutions. At the highest level of government institutions were created to ensure that gender equality principles are inserted in legislations. To date, there are changes and continuities with regard to women’s life experiences which threaten to undermine all these transformation efforts. The changes can be observed with the advancement of women into key decision-making and leadership positions especially political/electoral representations. Today, more women participate in the national assembly and as cabinet ministers. Unfortunately, this progress has not translated into significant improvement at the top management level in the private and public sector where the gap between men and women is still wide. With regard to some of the continuities, South African population remain divided in terms of race, gender, and space. The levels of inequalities are deepening, threatening the already fractured society. Women’s experiences remain differentiated with black and colored women vulnerable to intergenerational poverty. This is the result of the historical legacy of apartheid which put them at the bottom of the hierarchy. Women experience inequalities, poverty gendered barriers to opportunities, poor access to services, and worrying forms of violence. As demonstrated earlier, the social relations between men and women are also threatened by the high incidences of violence against women and these affect women differently depending on their localities and population groups. The phenomenon of violence is a thorn in South Africa’s social fabric and will certainly draw the country back in terms of the achievements made. It is clear that laws passed without necessary resources and support including targeted training for those implementing them are likely to yield no tangible outcomes for the beneficiaries. From the analysis here, it is clear that whites are better off than any other population group. Within the same population group, males are better off in terms of access to basic service, literacy, earning, and opportunities. Ultimately, it is the mostly black and colored women who are worse off. The situation has even more rippling effects if they are lesbian, disabled, and located in rural areas. These multiplicities of oppressions affecting women coupled with how different women are positioned in relation to power structures slow down overall transformation agenda and growth in the country. South Africa is a perfect example of how gender legislation and policies are not panacea to improving the life circumstances of women. Poverty, inequality, unemployment, and violence continue to affect millions especially black women living in nonurban areas. The DWYPD (2020, p. 11) report notes: Women’s equality and socio-economic independence are important for domestic development and growth and constitutes a vital part of sustained development and democracy. Economic empowerment of women is just not about their spending power – it is about more equitable ownership, control and management of the economy, in order to reduce income inequality and expand access to opportunities, employment, entrepreneurship, access to credit, training and skills development. It remains significant in addressing women’s poverty, in particular the high levels of poverty experienced by African women. There is a significant disparity in poverty levels between population groups and sex of individuals. (p. 11)

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It is also apparent that when it comes to better opportunities and better living circumstances, apartheid legacy still lingers for majority of blacks and coloreds. The architectures of apartheid’s oppression were designed in such a way that it would still take many decades to achieve equality of race and gender. Race and gender inequities are still apparent and are compounded by the spatial divide in South Africa. Even the black-led government offers no hope for majority of Africans as the limited resources that need to redress these imbalances end up in the pockets of corrupt leaders and their families.

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Researching Women and Gender in Africa: Present Realities, Future Directions

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Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Contesting Neoliberal Globalization in the Postcolonial Era . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Historicization and Contextualization: A Necessary Precondition . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Decolonization as a Process of Ethical Reconstruction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion: Future Directions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

The chapter grapples with the hydra-headed challenges facing research with women and on gender in Africa. By engaging with the work of African feminists, the chapter explores the key debates that have over the last three decades shaped the landscape of research on women and gender in Africa. These debates not only examine ontological and epistemological concerns but also methodological problems that African feminists and other researchers have had to confront. Firstly, the chapter situates debates around contestations of neoliberal globalization marked by corporate domination that has had a striking impact on women and gender in Africa. This sets the stage to deliberate on how historicization and contextualization are necessary to overcome distortions in concepts and assumptions underlying knowledge production in Africa. A key aspect of this also includes a critical reflection on methodology which makes the case for decolonization as a process of ethical reconstruction. Finally, the chapter identifies key areas for further research.

H. Kassa (*) Centre for African Studies, University of Cape Town, Cape Town, South Africa © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_70

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Keywords

African feminism · Epistemology · Methodology · Gender · Imperialism · Heteropatriarchy

Introduction The main argument in this chapter is that it is necessary to embed research with women and on gender in Africa in the contestation of hegemonies. African feminists and intellectuals in particular have grappled with the categories and assumptions underlying knowledge production with the aim of reorienting the language, discourses, and frameworks toward transformation (Mama 1997; McFadden 2005; Taylor 2000). This has entailed debate especially as it relates to culture. Inevitably the challenge remains to figure out how to advance a transformative project by researching with women and heterogenous communities on gender in Africa. These initiatives seeking to reclaim, rethink, reconceptualize, and reimagine knowledge construction not only in terms of epistemologies, ontologies, and pedagogies but also specifically the methodologies deployed in the research process itself. Reflections from the African Gender Institute provide critical insights into the challenges with this (Mama 2011). Nonetheless, this kind of critical engagement is not limited to the university space. Organizations embedded in social movements also integrate these interventions to build their campaigns and organizations. For instance, feminist organizations such as Women in Mining (WoMin) and Just Associates integrate participatory action methods in their research work. Knowledge production must be critically assessed with the aim of a radical conceptualization of knowledge co-construction. This draws attention to critical reflections on the power relations which shape the very processes of knowledge production, where the researcher is inevitably bedevilled by their own limitations, positionality, and internal contradictions. African feminists have grappled with these challenges in diverse and deliberate ways. The African identity is here understood as globalized and heterogenous but one that has to confront and constantly grapple with relations of power embedded in a history of colonial and imperialist violence, uneven integration in a global economy in spite of which dynamic forms of social organization and political contestation seek to achieve egalitarian outcomes. African women, whose labor and constructions of gender have been instrumentalized as an integral part of capitalist imperialist heteropatriarchal racial domination, are at the core of this contestation. To briefly elaborate on this, I draw on David Harvey (2005, p. 26) in The New Imperialism, who interprets capitalist imperialism as a dialectical process of domination in which economic and political domination results from a concentration of power. He defines this as a “. . .fusion of the politics of state and empire.” I also integrate an understanding of how heterosexual patriarchy and racialized oppression create an architecture of domination. This reproduces power ascribed to a configuration of cisgender, manhood, whiteness, ability, ethnicity, and nationality

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that altogether ascribe entitlements. On this basis, these exclusions reproduce inequalities by depriving marginalized groups of entitlements (McFadden 2011) and imposition of “states of exception” (Idahosa and Vincent 2014, pp. 99–102). Ideological justification for domination was integral to mainstream anthropology, economics, political science, historiography, and sociology. This sets up social sciences on a foundation of flawed assumptions and distortions which serve to reproduce inequalities which constantly need to be critically re-engaged to expose the implications of adopting flawed conceptual assumptions. Intellectuals seeking to make visible grounded African perspectives must inevitably grapple with these challenges. The construction of binaries, which is an ideological companion to colonization, does not only delineate the domain of the colonized but also shapes the domain of the colonizer. The “other” exists in relation to those who delineate the terms of the “others’” existence. It is an absurdity to find meaning or self-definition on terms defined in erasure and silencing resulting from epistemicide. To overcome this, there is a need to engage with what Boaventura de Sousa Santos (2018) frames as the “sociology of absences.” These gaps in knowledge prevent us from understanding the whole. The mutually constitutive processes that have defined and distorted the understanding of the other cannot be a premise for knowledge that grapples with their realities. Hence arises the need for any inquiry into what is distinctive in heterogenous Africa (and the global South) is to grapple with what the constitution of “the other” means for the whole. Gender is constructed alongside race, sexuality, ethnicity, caste, and disability which themselves are embedded in ways of knowing that are intrinsic to the construction of power, imperialism, and colonization. The postcolonial period in contemporary Africa shapes the challenges confronting African peoples and thereby also the context within which they are to be understood (McFadden 2005, 2011). This intersectional approach led by radical black feminists grappled with the complexity of individual experiences and connected this to broader social, political, and economic processes. It is these advances put forward by radical feminists in Africa and the global South that drew focus on the need for interlinkage analysis. It is against this tide that researching women and gender in Africa ought to be situated as a contested terrain in polluted waters which seek to restore where possible but ultimately reclaim and repurpose to meet egalitarian aims of social, political, and economic transformation. A central factor shaping the global context is the continued rise of corporate domination of not only multilateral processes but also the national and transnational connections that deepen the integration of Africa in the global economy. Corporatedominated globalization has intensified in a manner that is eroding electoral democracies with the turn to authoritarianism, alongside a right-wing populist upsurge. Rising fundamentalisms in the era of ecological crises have created a context of urgencies. The imperative for transformation has never been greater. The terms of Africa’s integration in the global system compel us to frame research on women and gender in Africa to grapple with understanding the implications of these processes. The importance of understanding how women deploy agency in economic, political, cultural, and religious realms cannot be overemphasized.

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The chapter begins by exploring the nature of the postcolonial setting in which corporate-led globalization has intensified colonial, imperialist, and heteropatriarchal domination. Lines of exclusion are redrawn and contested in the postcolonial period. Building on this, the next section explores the significance of historicization and contextualization in the research process. This emphasizes how critical engaged scholarship is an essential precondition to make African women’s agency, epistemologies, and ontologies visible. The next section grapples with decolonization as a process of reframing or reconstructing ethics guiding the research process. Finally, the chapter concludes with reflects on future directions in a context of deepening inequalities.

Contesting Neoliberal Globalization in the Postcolonial Era A grounded gendered analysis of African contexts provides a prism into a deep critique of the imperialist heteropatriarchal capitalist order by deploying an intersectional approach that simultaneously makes the link between macro level processes and micro phenomena. For instance, the impacts of epistemicide and femicide show parallels between the burning of libraries, women’s bodies, and slavery (Federici 2004; Grosfoguel 2013, pp. 85–18). In another vein, the manner that value is extracted from unpaid care work and has been woven into social and economic policy is also relevant as highlighted by Taha and Salem (2019) in their analysis of Nassers’ state-led development planning. The impacts of slavery and colonialism echo into the present in reconfigured form shaping the postcolonial condition. To grapple with this, it is necessary to reflect on the impact on the terms of integration in the globalized imperialist heteropatriarchal capitalist order. The initial debate focused on advancing a critique of gender neutral forms of knowledge and expanding into areas such as the macroeconomic framework. African women organized in the Association of African Women for Research and Development (AAWORD) in 1982 and two years later Development Alternatives with Women in a New Era (DAWN), a global South network of feminist activist scholars. The global South is not homogeneous, neither is Africa, whose location within the global system can be understood as not merely a geographical location but a terrain of contestation of the capitalist imperialist heteropatriarchal racial order. African feminists, alongside other global South feminists, grappled with how this had shaped the experiences of African women and rooted their analysis in simultaneously macro and micro processes that explicitly linked women’s experiences and knowledge to global crises that were underway. With a focus on debt, food, and fuel crises, they were able to show the unfair workings of a global economic system that was deepening poverty and inequalities and made demands on states by deploying the language of human rights (Mbilinyi 1997; Steady 2005). This illustrates the focus on ensuring epistemic justice that ensures social and economic transformation. Researching women and framing of gender in Africa needs to be understood against this broader history. The unevenness of capitalist development has also set the context within which Africans are positioned

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differently in the global system which is also shaped by the postcolonial setting within which women’s relationship with the state and economic life is structured. Addressing such questions was also key in the late 1990s, after gains were made in global processes in the halls of the United Nations. Critical self-reflection remained a core aspect of how feminists engaged with these spaces. In the Marketisation of Governance, Viviene Taylor (2000, pp. 3–10) provides insights into how feminists from various regions in the global South deliberated on these processes raising concerns about the impacts of neoliberal economic policies which were eroding the legitimacy of states. “The need for democratic renewal and social transformation was a common concern in the process. Feminists asserted the importance of developing a participatory democracy that would promote the possibility for full social citizenship and integration for the excluded” (Taylor 2000, p. 6). Drawing on the above, citizenship is a key theme. A vision of inclusivity, and radical understandings of it, has potential to rupture exclusions and potentially transform the nature of the state. Patricia McFadden (2011, pp. 265–267) draws attention to how Southern Africa, Africa, and the global South are “becoming postcolonial” where the lines of citizenship were being drawn over access to natural resources and accumulation via the state. While the heteropatriarchal order reasserts itself after independence, women entered citizenship on terms which were defined by “whiteness, maleness, and ownership of property.” Instead, McFadden (2011, pp. 268–272) advocates for a “feminist contemporality” that will rupture inequalities which have been institutionalized for four centuries in Southern Africa. She centers “the deep-seated links that operate at the intersection of private property/class, racial privilege/the definition and practice of citizenship. . ..” Transforming the state will require a “repositioning” and radical courage that will make women visible in different ways while also preserving autonomy. Filomina Chioma Steady (2005, p. 313) reflecting on researching gender emphasizes that: “Economic domination through corporate globalisation is the primary global strategy for economic growth. The resulting development paradigm is recolonization through the reproduction of hegemonic tendencies that facilitate the movement of trans-national capital” (emphasis added). She encapsulates the central dynamic shaping not only Africa’s position in relation to the world in economic terms but the implications this has for knowledge production and forms of critique that are grounded and aim to unravel centuries of domination. A decade and a half ago, her warning was not the imminent threat of recolonization but that this process was already well underway, and therefore in our current moment, we can conclude it is intensifying, viciously deepening inequalities in even more aggressive ways. In a global context of crises in the height of neoliberal market reforms, Fatou Sow (1997, p. 31) draws attention to how critique of structural adjustment, in the aftermath of economic, energy, debt, and food crises, presented a challenge to the social sciences to be a vehicle for interventions that can be relevant to that moment. The immediate task was to challenge flawed assumptions steeped not only in colonial, capitalist, and imperialist framings but patriarchal oppression which had seeped into progressive frameworks. Apart from a focus on ethnicity and religion, culture also had to be critically engaged by grappling with how colonialism had

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effectively distorted African indigenous ontologies and epistemologies contained in culture. Linking changing material conditions with cultural constructs opened new lines of investigation (Mama 1997, p. 61). Western binaries which were narrow, ahistorical, and drawing on an essentialist view of African women conveyed a homogenous, subordinated, and stagnant interpretation of the status of women in African societies. This binary imposed a presumption of subordination of African women in relation to men which complimented the underdevelopment of the continent which is a product of its location in the periphery within global accumulation processes (Mama 1997, p. 61). This also feeds into the concentration of wealth globally and deepening inequalities within the global South. The centrality of gender in the above processes is emphasized by Steady (2005, p. 314) who explains that gender is “an organising principle of accumulation” for which its conceptualization has been instrumentalized in different phases of capitalist development. In the colonial period, reconfiguring gender relations to enable dispossession and creation of a cheap wage labor system alongside so-called pre-capitalist forms of production was a running tension. Maintaining stability of the rural economy fell onto the backs of women. So, for instance, policing of women’s rural-urban migration was therefore a point of convergence of interests between chieftaincy and colonial administrators which was key to curbing rural-urban migration (McFadden 2011, pp. 4–5). Escaping patriarchal domination in their villages, the urban space opened possibilities for negotiating their lives on different terms. In the present era of corporate-dominated globalization, this instrumentalization of women’s bodies and agency is deployed in framing of gender equality projects from macroeconomic policies to corporate-driven initiatives. The manner gender is conceptualized is therefore an ideological contestation where the stakes are high. The implications of processes of recolonization, the terms of which are probably being negotiated, are that the flag independence won in Africa in the first instance marginalized and or co-opted African women and organizations and turned the state into an instrument of containment as part of the compromise with imperialism (McFadden 2011) is itself under threat. The early nationalist experiments with industrialization met its limits within the domestic economies, with the later degeneration of newly independent states into neoliberal authoritarian forms of governmentality. The fragility of states founded on economies which are not rationally integrated within the region, and being so externally dependent, are vulnerable to shocks during global crises. The threats of deepening political instabilities in Africa remain, with real risks of state collapse in some cases. The fate of Somalia and Democratic Republic of Congo may just have been the opening acts in the tragic decline of flag independence. Africans are undoubtedly on the backfoot and are compelled to simultaneously create a basis to meaningfully engage the state and think beyond it (McFadden 2011). The rise of China and the aftermath of the 2007/2008 global economic and financial crises marked a shift from unipolar to multipolar world. It appears as though after decades of economic liberalization Africa is largely left as an open playing ground in a more volatile global economy. Even though this process can

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open up new possibilities, the manner that African states intervene to mediate these processes has become even more crucial (Graham and Kassa 2014). This not only raises concerns around the manner that the capitalist imperialist heteropatriarchal racial order, is militarized but also how this has taken an ecocidal turn, eroding the basis for social reproduction which has direct bearing on livelihoods in African economies. The counter-hegemonic spaces of contestation therefore represent important conceptual hibernation pods within which new lines of theoretical and empirical research can reconstruct knowledge from the viewpoint of oppressed groups long silenced. Transnational mobilization and thinking are a critical part of this process (Nyambura 2016). This is in a period of rapid transformations with the ever-expanding informal sector intersecting with increased precariousness in the shrinking formal sector. Full employment is no more on the horizon. Trade unions in Africa are compelled to go beyond social partnership approaches which lock them in institutional forms of engagements, to grapple with what it would mean to organize with the informal sector. Organizing with the informal sector also means organizing with women in ways that not only require trade unions to think beyond their traditional membership base but also rethinking the meaning of work, protection for migrant labor, and linkages between production and reproduction, integrating a vision of gender equity, and ultimately engaging with the state for demands to prioritize a social wage and social infrastructure as part of their articulation of an alternative. There are seeds of hope in the midst of crises. In the midst of the above, there is a need to pay closer attention to the spaces of everyday struggle for survival where diversification of livelihood strategies, including criminalization of livelihoods, such as artisanal and small-scale mining (Kassa 2018). For instance, Bryceson and Geenen (2016) interpret artisanal mining in rural economies as egalitarian and representing a decisive break from patriarchal controls tied to agricultural production. To a greater extent, shifting from production in which elders (who tend to be male) play a decisive role does represent a significant change. Nonetheless, concluding as Bryceson and Geenen (2016) have that these are forming egalitarian spaces results from assuming that artisanal mining operations are solely restricted to digging, while women who undertake processing and auxiliary services are treated as marginal. This also speaks to a separation of production from reproduction. Instead, what is being faced is the expansion of artisanal mining in a manner that has reconfigured patriarchal relations. There is also a disturbing trend of displacement of agriculture as the primary source of livelihood in certain areas as a result of structural adjustment, landgrabbing for plantation agriculture, large-scale mining, and liberalisation of African economies. These hydra-headed challenges have been eroding the basis of agrarian livelihoods. The process is inherently contradictory. Lahiri-Dutt (2012) not only draws attention to the need to go beyond projecting women as victims, and key actors in production, protest, or reproduction, but to focus on “what mining means to communities.” This draws attention to how even in settings where new terrains for livelihoods open up in rural contexts, women can still be excluded through the assertion of patriarchal capitalist frameworks. Centering the meaning they attach to

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their own livelihoods opens up the research process to their worldview and can help us understand better how they exert agency. This is what Archie Mafeje (2003) refers to the liberating potential of ‘accumulation from below’. Moreover, accumulation of assets and meaning attached to this and its gendered implications is highlighted by Lahiri-Dutt (2018: 342) as an area for future research on artisanal mining. To achieve this, the challenge remains to see through what Spivak (1988, p. 102) explains as “Between patriarchy and imperialism, subject-constitution and objectformation, the figure of the woman disappears, not into a pristine nothingness, but into a violent shuttling which is the displaced figuration of the ‘third-world woman’ caught between tradition and modernisation” (emphasis added). The next section engages with how African feminists have grappled with how to undo the distortions injected in social sciences.

Historicization and Contextualization: A Necessary Precondition In Engendering African Social Sciences published in 1997, African scholars make a major intervenion to explictly name and challenge existing distortions from a predominantly feminist lens. The aim was not only to create space for gendered forms of knowledge production, but also as a radical process of rupture engaging critically with the very assumptions and concepts which have constructed gender analysis. Oyèrónkẹ Oyěwùmí in The Invention of Women: Making an African Sense of Western Gender Discourses (1997) opened up new terrains of engagement, by centering categories from Yorùbá that ruptured Western conceptions of womanhood and gender. She challenged the prevailing assumption that women were always in a position of being subordinated by men. She complicated the picture by drawing attention to elders, men and women, who could wield power and own property. To add to this, there was no terminology for either sex since the ontology was nongendered. Seniority was based on chronology of age and kinship and was egalitarian in nature. The sex binaries were proven once again to have been colonial constructs. Building on this in What Gender Is Motherhood? Changing Yorùbá Ideals of Power, Procreation, and Identity in the Age of Modernity (2016), she centers on the Ifa knowledge system. The distinction between the Western conception of motherhood in the nuclear family and that in Ifa is clear. Male dominance is not centered. Instead, the relation between mother and child is the ‘nucleaus’ of family relation, placing Ìyá (as mother) as an elder. A ‘matricentric ethos is very much tied up with the senioritybased system’ (Oyěwùmí 2016, p. 71). Another significant study by Ifi Amadiume (2015), Male Daughters, Female Husbands: Gender and Sex in African Society, focuses on the Igbo conceptualization of sex and gender as being not necessarily conjoined, with women able to hold roles usually held by men and therefore being identified as men. Amadiume also shows how colonial domination and the Christian Church disrupted women’s agency in economic, political, and religious affairs by attempting to impose controls on women. Amadiume draws on this to give perspective on the 1929 Women’s War

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against the British colonial administration which was triggered by the imposition of taxes on women traders. Significantly, Amadiume highlights the importance of African women’s economic activities as a source of power. Nontsasa Nako (2019) in a critical analysis of the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission archives makes a case for thinking through the historical and immediate context to effectively engage the archive. Ignoring diverse realities and presumptions of black women as a homogenous group has distorted analysis of the testimonies. Nako draws attention to the “liveness” of testimonies and the element of difference to challenge assumptions. In her close reading of a witness testimony, she challenges the prevailing view that black women were silenced but also acknowledges what was said and done. Most importantly, she draws a focus on not only what the witness said, but also what the witness had done. Highlighting the limitations of the archive, Nako (2019, p. 218) draws attention to the researcher’s own limitations in interpreting the transcripts to make visible the agency of the witness. Ann Whitehead (1999, pp. 49–51) critiques the construction of African men as “lazy” by showing how time-use studies are interpreted which can distort the conclusions. She explains that interpretations of what constitutes work and categories and tools that are deployed to measure it can have the effect of distorting analysis. She explains “. . .how different kinds of work are understood, to the relationships between them, and the context and location in which they are done.” She cites the case of the Lamba people in Zambia, whose resistance to forced labor, and preference to “less alienated labour,” was interpreted as being stupid and lazy. This was not the preserve of Europeans either. Skilled mineworkers and townsfolk also held similar views of the Lamba whose entire way of being was held in derision, even though the Africans from other ethnicities had themselves only recently transitioned from rural homesteads onto the mines. The ideology of modernization as a tool to delegitimize and distort the understanding of livelihoods and ways of being is striking. This also seeps into interpretations of time-use. Whitehead (1999, pp. 56–58) cites how a 1988 study on time-use in Mabumba includes housework as productive work, but it does not integrate other forms of non-farm work such as employment and microbusinesses. She highlights that this also misses a crucial link between capital injections from non-farm work to farming activities. These omissions conveyed a wide time-use gap between women and men, with the latter appearing either as dependents or lazy. The study was so influential a decade later it was cited in a World Bank Status Report on Poverty. Reflecting on how men in North America, Europe, or Australia were not subject to similar treatment, Whitehead (1999, p. 58) poses a provocative question: “Why should African men be treated differently with regard to their avoidance of domestic tasks?” Sylvia Tamale (2011, pp. 12–13; 18–19), reflecting on African sexualities, emphasizes that diversity in gender and sexualities goes beyond sexual orientation to the manner by which ethnicity, religion, class, disability, and race generate multiple configurations of sexualities. Historical caricatures of the black woman’s hypersexuality relate strongly to the high morals attributed to the Victorian woman.

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This correlates with the black women being constructed as “unrapable,” while the white woman was to be protected from black men’s voracious sexual desires. The other is always constructed in relation to the dominant group (Gqola 2015; Tamale 2011). But this nuanced understanding of diversity rarely infuses into research and ultimately theory on gender and sexuality in Africa. The problems with this coalesced in a striking manner around the issues of female genital circumcision and rape. Imperial feminism, a strand of feminism that is compatible with the interests of dominant political and economic powers on a global scale, and has justified military conquest in the name of rescuing women of color. Those events unfolded with tragic consequences in Afghanistan, which in real terms deteriorated the status of women. Similarly, interventions aiming to stimulate social transformation in relation to LGBTIQ rights in Uganda, escalated right-wing retaliation spurred by Christian fundamentalists, with lethal consequences. Even though the negative aspects of female genital circumcision were of concern, there was little nuance informing Western interventions. African women’s agency was completely ignored, and the diverse meanings and forms attached to the practice were never integrated in analysis. Pathologized as the product of primitive societies, it was conceptualized purely as female genital mutilation. This is not to ignore negative impacts of practices associated with this (Tamale 2011, pp. 19–20), horrendous and lethal as they can be, but to open up space to think through what cultural meanings are ascribed to the practices and various forms of circumcision. At the heart of this is to situate the practices not narrowly within a backward, rigid, and frozen notion of culture but also its instrumentalization within a patriarchal and capitalistic order that sought to control women’s bodies and sexualities as part of a broader process of class formation. Taking the longue durée of history into view, as a practice, female circumcision was intended to regulate women and girls’ expression of sexuality and, thereby sexual reproduction, to identify fathers. This was an intervention seeking to create a stable labor pool for wealth accumulation (El Saadawi 2010, p. 140). This situates the practice in a problematic chapter of the rise of civilizations, and not of the preserve of the peoples falsely constructed as uncivilized. Nawal el Saadawi (2010, p. 140) in her analysis of gender, race, and class stratification configured these oppressions as necessary for the reproduction of the capitalist patriarchal system. These oppressions were preceded by capitalism but are amplified by it and take a particularly vicious form under the banner of imperialism. This has implications in the contemporary postcolonial period marked by intensified imperialist warfare and traces how Arab, Islamic and African religion, cultures, and identities are pathologized to serve colonial and imperialist interests. She explains the nature of this pathoaligization. “For these thinkers, there is no link between sexual and class oppression; there is no link between global politics, national politics, and family politics; and there is no link between the material and spiritual or between the body, the mind, and the spirit” (Saadawi 2010, p. 140). Tamale (2011, pp. 17–19) emphasizes further how the dominance of Western language has the effect of distorting understanding of multiple meanings in local African languages that are ultimately “lost in translation.” While these

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exclusions and distortions persist, the terms of inclusion are also deeply problematic. Pharmaceutical corporations have been exploiting indigenous knowledge of medicine to deal with sexual health in “ethnopharmacology and ethnomedicine” to generate profits from the knowledge commons pool that has been constructed over generations while excluding those very communities. This draws attention to the manner that corporate capital continues to commodify the knowledge commons. Depending on the interests defining the lines of inclusion, inequalities can be reproduced and deepened. This draws attention to the radical potential and risks contained within decolonization. We should therefore not only be focused on the source and form of knowledges we engage with but also the power relations embedded in the methodological approaches that can center or displace the interests of communities. The manner that African feminists and other progressive Southern scholars have grappled with ethical conundrums speaks to these tensions.

Decolonization as a Process of Ethical Reconstruction Gune and Manuel (2011, pp. 38–39) in conducting graduate studies on sexuality in Mozambique, both recognized how by submitting to University of Cape Town ethics process, they were faced with a challenge. Submitting to the ethics process in a university which did not include the perspectives of the communities they study ensured a disconnect. They were at risk of violating the ethics of their participants whose values could contradict that of the university. Universities in Africa as we find them today are products of the colonial imperialist heteropatriarchal capitalist projects of conquest. These concerns are well-founded. Decolonization has witnessed a revival in popular and academic enquiry and debate, refocusing attention on reclaiming indigenous knowledge systems, raising in the first instance the critique of universities in Africa that reproduce inequalities in terms of race, gender, and class in the process of knowledge production. This draws attention to critical reflections on the notion of knowledge production itself and to build toward more grounded epistemologies and pedagogies. Continuities in these debates affirm intersectional analysis of radical black feminists. Given the limitations of centering research within universities, as we find them now, research projects based in these very institutions can only be understood as part of an ongoing process of critical engagement, dialogue, and self-reflection. These debates do not occur in a vacuum but are shaped within present conditions of multiple crises which have to be analyzed as interlinked processes that shape the conditions within which women and gender are situated. Amina Mama (2011, pp. 15–17) in reflecting on the African Gender Institute which was set up following the end of apartheid in South Africa draws attention to wide-ranging experiences from building a Pan-African radical feminist project in the midst of constraints in universities in Africa. Her focus on methodology illustrates the concern for power relations in the research process itself. The challenge of ensuring that methods and practices were in tandem with the goals social transformation question every aspect of the research process. For example, the decisions on

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the balance between qualitative and quantitative methods, are not mundane intellectual exercises. These choices reveal political problems. Mama (2011) elaborates how quantitative methods are regarded as being more appealing to policy makers, while qualitative methods enable more in-depth dialogue with communities to address more conceptual concerns and are potentially transformative by opening up dialogue with communities who can elaborate their own ontologies and epistemologies. Feminist organizations, such as Just Associates embedded in social movements and deploying feminist praxis, have integrated participatory action research in their work with African women activists. For example, in a decade long engagement with leaders of women living with HIV, Just Associates led a research project which filled a gap of gender analysis on HIV/AIDS in Malawi. The analysis generated an expanded understanding of the discrimination facing women living with HIV. By linking access to land, fertilizer, and credit, to home-based care programs exploiting women who were providing unpaid care work, drew attention to the structural factors shaping women’s experiences of discrimination (Essop and Khan 2015). In conventional research, what may appear as “going off topic” and “losing focus of the research” are actually processes which explore a range of important interlinked worldviews that speak the pluriverse (Santos 2018; Grosfoguel 2013) into existence. Mama (2011, p. 17) adds: “Connections to the communities also engender responsibilities that surface questions of reciprocity and social obligation that also vary from one location to another, requiring a degree of sensitivity and tact that may elude the casual investigator.” The value attached to this is to whatever extent possible subdue the extractivist nature of the research process. Given asymmetries that cannot be erased and differential benefits to be accrued after the projects are concluded, the difficulties with overcoming this cannot be dismissed. Dzodzi Tsikata (2010, p. 6), in a global study on Gender, Land Tenure and Globalisation, highlights the limitations of presuming deploying feminist methodology, when the research process did not integrate action research or is not framed in dialogue with research subjects. The project design was entirely developed by research associates in an inter-regional process. As complex as this endeavor was, grappling with specificities of regions and national case studies left limited space to claim feminist approaches in all cases. Instead, it was possible to pay close attention to gender inequality as the focus of the publication. Feminist researchers are limited not just by the tools, and how they use them, but also the scope of work, prefigured content, and institutional context within which they operate. Acknowledging the constraints within which they have to work, whatever their source, is also a critical aspect of this process. Edward Webster (forthcoming) reflects on “critically engaged sociology” (as outlined by Michael Burawoy) as professional, policy, critical, and public sociology. The latter, as conceptualized by Burawoy, is a way by which sociologists consciously inform popular debates and discourses by engaging audiences outside of academia. This has been criticized by Lozano (2018) as being an elitist framing of what can be a potentially radical intervention conceived as a dialogue with social movements. Webster grapples with the challenges emerging from situating research

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in social movements in a manner that ensures the researcher “thinks with” social movements (Lozano 2018, p. 102 cited in Webster Forthcoming). On one hand, the aim is to avoid an extractivist relation and, as well intentioned as it may be, to embed research in organizations and communities which are studied. However, this can raise unexpected challenges. One key concern is the implication of the erosion of the researchers’ autonomy and “commitment to scholarship.” By drawing on two cases of research with the National Union of Mineworkers in the 1980s, Webster shows how in one instance an embedded research project on safety of mineworkers emerges from a process of engagement with miners. At the end of the project, a pamphlet was produced and translated into isiXhosa and Sesotho. Mothibeli, a mineworker who was a co-investigator in the research project also co-authored a journal article emerging from the project (Leger and Mothibeli 1989 cited in Webster Forthcoming). This contrasted with another project on HIV/ AIDS, which was initiated by an international nongovernmental organization, Oxfam Canada. This was before HIV/AIDS had become a global pandemic and was either unknown or deeply stigmatized as the disease of sexual deviants. Unlike the previous project that was taken up by the headquarters of NUM, this project engaged directly with a union branch in the Free State. NUM vociferously rejected the publication of the research results calling the investigation into the sexual lives of mineworkers racist (Jockelson, Mothibeli, and Leger 1991 cited in Webster Forthcoming). Even though the study concluded that the migrant labor system had created conditions that encouraged unprotected sex with multiple partners, the results were still regarded as offensive. It could only be published abroad. The apartheid regime had been actively positioning HIV/AIDS as a disease of the black population. Set against the context of the longer history of the hypersexualization of black women and voracious and violent black men, NUMs’ resistance to the dissemination of the findings is understandable. This draws into focus the enormous task of situating progressive research projects in universities which remain hierarchical institutions which are racialized, gendered, and classed in ways that are challenging to bridge asymmetries even when engaging closely with labor and social movements. Proximity does not overcome these inequalities, but instead processes that are embedded in dialogue open up the research process to integrate the hitherto unknown or unacknowledged. A key part of decolonizing knowledge is to also alter the extractive nature of knowledge production, to turn the process into one of knowledge construction in dialogue with communities (Freire 1970). Action research in this regard sets up a process of shaping priorities of research on the basis of the engagements with communities and intended subjects of study. This blurs the line between the researcher and the researched. It also entails grappling with power relations that shape the research process and dialogue itself. The positionality of the researcher (and the researched) is an important element to be interrogated, and not naturalized. As a process, it opens up the opportunity to formulate grounded forms of research that can question assumptions and open up entire epistemological and ontological frameworks that hitherto have been excluded.

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However, there remain methodological and ethical quandaries facing research on sensitive subjects such as sexuality, gender-based violence, and criminalized precarious livelihoods. In the first instance, opening up to action research can throw off key areas to be investigated by researchers mainly due to community priorities being completely at variance with research topics. An investigation into rape can be derailed, not because it is not seen as important by communities, but a pressing challenge with land dispossession or access to services may be afoot at the time of research. An intellectual framing that traces structural violence as being linked to the gender-based violence opens up a different angle than a narrow approach that is often adopted in mainstream approaches. The challenge appears to be being flexible, creative, and open to learn different ways of thinking (Santos 2018). But there is considerable risk in this process. To what extent are the institutions and funders that researchers work with open to such flexibility? This poses a challenge for researchers to hold at bay patriarchal ideologies, critiquing and thinking through methodologies to grapple with multiple contradictions while still revealing the potential for social and economic transformation. In October 2019, the Wits Centre for Diversity Studies held a conference on Disabling Normativities. The integration of performance, arts, and film in their event marked an important signifier of what a decolonization process can look like for academy. This approach to reimagine intellectual exchange was also adopted by the Ghana Studies Association at the Triennial Conference in July 2019. The extent to which this form of engagement can shape the deliberations that substantively inform discourses will be important. The “talking drums” of West Africa were tools of communication. Contexts have altered, but what is the meaning to be made today? It is the task of intellectuals to bridge these gaps but in a manner that also grapples with commonalities and contradictions within the dynamic and transnational nature of global Africa. I argue that the past cannot be restored and the past was far from ideal in terms of harboring oppressions of its own. Perhaps our challenge is really to reclaim and repurpose knowledges from diverse epistemologies and ontologies to intervene in conditions as we find them.

Conclusion: Future Directions Corporate-dominated neoliberal globalization has ravaged African economies deepening a crisis of democracy. The lines of exclusion which were contested in the postcolonial period have deepened with inequalities widening on a global scale. Grappling with the historical and contextual specificities of these processes is not a mere intellectual exercise. They are a necessary precondition to essentially flip the script on what the dominant racialized, gendered, and classed narratives interpret as African realities. Injecting an understanding of heterogenous forms of epistemologies, pedagogies, and ontologies is not enough. We also need to grapple with internal contradictions keeping in mind the importance of

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transformation, in the view of McFadden’s feminist contemporality. The pursuit of creating an egalitarian outcome to reverse epistemicide can be embedded in the research process itself. To reimagine social sciences and create space for excluded forms of knowledge that have not had the place of privilege in the centers of knowledge production is an incredible undertaking for any generation. No wonder debates on decolonization are revived repeatedly, constantly striking the popular imagination as a way of turning what has been at the very least alienating Western knowledge frameworks into ones that can make visible and meaningful the domain of the excluded. The latter cannot be presumed to be homogenous or defined by their limitations but instead open ways of seeing and being that enable a genuine exploration from the universe onto the pluriverse (Grosfoguel 2013). To this end, engaging with oral histories, art, poetry, indigenous cultural and religious practices as archives of knowledge, and counter narratives in relation to colonizers and imperialists should also be contextualized and historicized to reveal internal contradictions. Complexity and nuance must be embraced with an ever-present suspicion for attempts to romanticize. Understanding of women, gender, and culture in Africa requires rupturing the binary frameworks which have justified the erosion of the agency of women. Even though culture has been deployed to reinforce imperialist heteropatriarchal capitalism, this is in part a product of distortions by colonialist and imperialist frameworks. It remains a site of contestation and expression of agency. It is important to keep in mind how corporate domination over national governments and multilateral policy making are shaping the conditions within which the everyday struggle to secure livelihoods is situated. New forms of super exploitation have emerged with an expansion of precarious work and the informal sector, where African women have been historically concentrated. Unpaid and paid care work alongside time-use studies ought to be integrated in this broader picture. Intra-household division of labor and its connection with social and economic reproduction in this era of widespread informalization and precariousness are also important areas for further research. Critically, thinking creatively about developing collaborative research projects with women’s organizations, feminist and progessive collectives, and trade unions grappling with this changing world of work is an important arena of engagement. These forms of deliberations will not gain traction without an understanding of the existing transnational networks for trade and sites of production in which African women continue in everyday practices to create spaces for survival and well-being of the excluded. Non-farm livelihood strategies (such as artisanal and small-scale mining) being integrated alongside farming are important areas for investigation. The combination of economic, ecological, political, and care crises are also shaping migration patterns within and beyond the continent. These are the key concerns that should map the domains for intellectual inquiry for a grounded approach to researching gender with women in Africa. However we approach these issues, we remain challenged to be engaged in a process to transform the very tools of analyses deployed to investigate these conditions.

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Postscript: Teaching Women’s Studies in Africa – Sample Syllabi

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Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Methodology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Contents . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sample Syllabus I Religion, Gender and Sexuality in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sample Syllabus II: Black Women and Popular Culture . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sample Syllabus III: Women in African History . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sample Syllabus IV: Gender and Development . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sample Syllabus V: Women and Gender in the Middle East and North Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sample Syllabus VI: Main Currents in Gender Discourse . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sample Syllabus VII: Culture and African Women’s Health . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sample Syllabus VIII: Sexuality: Concepts and Perspectives . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sample Syllabus IX: Women and Gender Studies in African Literature . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sample Syllabus X: Gender Dynamics in African History . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sample Syllabus XI: Women Writers in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sample Syllabus XII: Nigerian Feminist Writers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sample Syllabus XIII: Women in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Chapter Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Cross-References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

This chapter caps the Handbook part on “Research and Knowledge Production on Women in Africa.” In surveying the epistemological, methodological, and pedagogic issues addressed in this part, certain gaps, silences, distortions, and misconceptions were flagged by the authors in this part. One way to contribute to the redress of these trends observable in the research, study and teaching of African women at institutions and classrooms across the globe is to provide templates for O. Yacob-Haliso (*) Department of Political Science and Public Administration, Babcock University, IIishan-Remo, Ogun State, Nigeria e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_166

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an emancipation and decolonization of the curriculum and corpus. This is the primary objective of this chapter. Keywords

Women · Gender · Sexuality · Religion · Black women · Popular culture · African History · Gender and Development · Middle East and North Africa · Gender Discourses · Health · African Literature · Women Writers · Feminist Writers

Introduction As the global ferment for change and transformation in African Studies intensifies, there is no better moment to consider the practical implementation of decolonizing measures that have potential to transform African Women’s Studies. Of course, this larger goal must be situated within the necessity for broader institutional reforms in universities, which are quite often bastions of patriarchal systems and orthodoxies, as well as within individual disciplines. In this postscript to the Palgrave Handbook of African Women’s Studies, we take the position that decolonizing the curriculum is one important step towards achieving these goals. Thus, this part of the Handbook is intended to contribute to efforts to originate, rethink, re-design, amplify, and transform women’s studies, either within established women’s and gender studies programs, within African Studies programs, or merely in the study of other humanities and social science subjects and disciplines. The contributors to this part volunteered their course syllabus for this purpose and have given permission for its use here. It is hoped that scholars of African women’s studies in whatever context may find a bright idea or more here to influence their teaching of the issues that affect African women’s lives.

Methodology These syllabi cover different topics within the broad remit of the Handbook and do not follow a uniform format as they came from colleagues in different academic institutions. They have diverse strengths in contributing to the objectives of this chapter: while some exemplify the inclusion of revolutionary topics on African women, others contribute their re-definition of the scope and subjects of their disciplines, while still others draw attention to useful texts in a rich and sometimes overlooked archive of extant studies about African women, ancient and modern. All the syllabi have been edited for length and pruned for cogency. In most cases, I have edited out aspects of the syllabus pertaining to grading/evaluation as well as many details of course administration in order to focus on the substantive contents of the syllabus that contribute to the scope and teaching of African women’s studies. Thus, the main elements of these syllabi that were retained were the course description, justification (where available), course objectives, learning outcomes, texts/readings,

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course schedule and topics, as well as topics for student work, where these are integrated as part of the course schedule. Overall, the reader gets a full sense of the epistemological and pedagogical approaches adopted by the course instructor, as well as how that is carefully and systematically unfolded throughout the term.

Contents The syllabi in this postscript cover core concerns in African Women’s Studies pertaining to how gender in Africa interacts with religion, sexualities, blackness, popular culture, the understanding of African History, development, Islamic contexts, discourse, women’s health, African Literary Studies, and feminist writing. The syllabi are listed below in the order they appear in this postscript. No ordering criteria were employed given the equal importance attached to all the topics represented. (I) Religion, Gender and Sexuality in Africa by Damaris Seleina Parsitau (II) Black Women and Popular Culture by Msia Kibona Clark (III) Women in African History by Nemata Blyden (IV) Gender and Development, by Olivia A. T. Frimpong Kwapong (V) Women and Gender in the Middle East and North Africa by Zahia Smail Salhi (VI) Main Currents in Gender Discourse, by Mobolanle E. Sotunsa (VII) Culture and African Women’s Health, by Cecilia Obeng (VIII) Sexuality: Concepts and Perspectives by Florence Kyoheirwe Muhanguzi (w. Ebila Florence & Victoria Namuggala) (IX) Women and Gender Studies in African Literature by Ezinwanyi E. Adam (X) Gender Dynamics in African History, by Chris Saidi (XI) Women Writers in Africa by Mobolanle E. Sotunsa (XII) Nigerian Feminist Writers by Mobolanle E. Sotunsa (XIII) Women in Africa by Jamaine Abidogun

Sample Syllabus I Religion, Gender and Sexuality in Africa Course Title: Religion, Gender, and Sexuality in Africa Instructor: Dr Damaris Seleina Parsitau, Institute of Women, Gender and Development Studies, Egerton University, Nakuru, Kenya

Course Description Students explore contemporary debates about the dynamics of religion, particularly Christianity, and its intersection with gender and sexuality broadly conceptualized in Sub-Saharan Africa. It explores the many ways in which religion has shaped and continues to shape the intricate notions of gender and sexuality, women and bodies,

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sexual citizenship, as well as current and relevant analytical and theoretical insights in the study of religion, gender, and sexuality in Sub-Saharan Africa.

Course Aims and Objectives Through this course, students (1) are introduced to contemporary academic and public debates about dynamics of religion (particularly Christianity), gender, and sexuality in Sub-Saharan Africa; (2) gain background knowledge that helps to understand these debates in their historical, socio-cultural, and political contexts; and (3) become familiar with relevant analytical and theoretical insights that enable them to critically analyze and reflect upon these debates, including primary material.

Knowledge Outcomes After completing this course, students (1) can identify the key issues and debates related to religion, gender, and sexuality in contemporary African societies; (2) understand these issues in their historical, socio-cultural, and political contexts and as part of broader religious and social dynamics; and (3) can employ and evaluate relevant analytical and theoretical frames to approach issues of religion, gender, and sexuality in Africa.

Course Texts Amadiume, I., Male Daughters, Female Husbands: Gender and Sex in an African Society Boyd, Lydia, Preaching Prevention: Born-Again Christianity and the Moral Politics of AIDS in Uganda Browning, Melissa, Risky Marriage: HIV and Intimate Relationships in Tanzania Chitando, Ezra, and Adriaan van Klinken, eds., Christianity and Controversies over Homosexuality in Contemporary Africa Soothill, Jane E., Gender, Social Change and Spiritual Power: Charismatic Christianity in Ghana Van Klinken, Adriaan, Transforming Masculinities in African Christianity: Gender Controversies in Times of AIDS Tamale, Sylvia, African Sexualities: A Reader

Topics Week 1 Week 2

Introduction of the Syllabus and Course Approach Studying Sexuality and Gender in Africa Tamale, Sylvia. Researching and Theorising Sexualities in Africa, 11–36 (continued)

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Week 4

Week 5 Week 6

Week 7

Week 8

Week 9

Week 10 Week 11

Week 12 Week 13 Week 14

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God, Gender, Colonialism and Missionary Christianity Amadiume, I., Male Daughters, Female Husbands: Gender and Sex in an African Society Reclaiming God: African Feminist Theologies Oduyoye, Mercy. 2003. Daughters of Anowa: African Women and Patriarchy, pp. 131–153. God, Sex and Love in Times of AIDS Browning, Melissa, Risky Marriage: HIV and Intimate Relationships in Tanzania Christianity and Reproductive Sexuality Asamoah-Gyadu, Kwabena, “‘Broken Calabashes and Covenants of Fruitfulness’: Cursing Barrenness in Contemporary African Christianity,” in the Journal of Religion in Africa 37/4, 437–460 Short paper due by 5 pm. Pentecostalism and the Politics of Masculinity Van Klinken, Adriaan, Transforming Masculinities in African Christianity: Gender Controversies in Times of AIDS Christianity and the Crisis over Homosexuality Chitando, Ezra, and Adriaan van Klinken, Christianity and Controversies over Homosexuality in Contemporary Africa Obadare, Ebenezer, “Sex, citizenship and the State in Nigeria: Islam, Christianity and Emergent Struggles Over Intimacy,” in Review of African Political Economy 42(143), 62–76. Religion, Gender, Women Bodies and Sexual Citizenship in Africa Parsitau, Damaris & Van Klinken, Adriaan, “Pentecostal Intimacies: Women and Intimate Citizenship in the Ministry of Repentance and Holiness in Kenya.” AWAY- TBA Religion, Gender and Power Soothill, Jane E., Gender, Social Change and Spiritual Power: Charismatic Christianity in Ghana Thanksgiving Recess, no class Religion, Gender and Sexuality in Africa Some observations and concluding remarks

Assignments Essay questions from which students can select one question: 1. Does religion contribute to or hinder gender equality in Africa? Demonstrate the complexity of this question focusing on African Pentecostal and African Instituted Churches (AICs) 2. Pentecostals’ Masculinity Politics in Africa reinforces patriarchy! Critically discuss this statement citing relevant examples in Africa 3. Discuss how the HIV pandemic has broken taboos on sex and led to a greater moralization of sex in African religious and public spheres

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4. Pentecostal Christianity objectifies women’s bodies and has led to greater patriarchal surveillance of women’s intimate lives! Discuss this using relevant examples from African Pentecostal and Charismatic churches 5. Discuss the role of African church leaders in the crisis over homosexuality in the Worldwide Anglican Communion and explain the dynamics in contemporary Christianity 6. Discuss the role of religion in the politicization of homosexuality in contemporary African societies. Focus your essay on one or more of the following topics: religion and politics, religion and human rights 7. How do Pentecostal women in Africa participate in their own oppression? Discuss these complexities using examples from prophetic movements in contemporary African societies

Additional Resources and Suggested Reading List Use the bibliography contained in this course document to assist in your reading for this course and, particularly, for your assessment preparation. It is not a comprehensive list and certainly not a substitute for your own independent research among the library holdings and online journals. You will find the following books to be particularly useful:

Gender and Sexuality in Africa: General Arnfred, S. 2004. Re-Thinking Sexualities in Africa. Edited by S Arnfred Nyeck, S.N., and Marc Epprecht. 2013. Sexual Diversity in Africa: Politics, Theory, Citizenship Murray, Stephen O. and Will Roscoe, eds. 1998. Boy-Wives and Female Husbands: Studies in African Homosexualities

African Feminist Theologies Oduyoye, Mercy Amba. 1995. Daughters of Anowa: African Women and Patriarchy. Phiri, Isabel A, and Sarojini Nadar. 2005. On Being Church: African Women’s Voices and Visions

Gender and Power in African Christianity Crumbley, Deidre Helen. 2008. Spirit, Structure, and Flesh: Gender and Power in Yoruba African Instituted Churches

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Sackey, B M. 2006. New Directions in Gender And Religion: The Changing Status of Women in African Independent Churches

Pentecostalism and Masculinities in Africa Chitando, Ezra. 2007. “A New Man for a New Era? Zimbabwean Pentecostalism, Masculinities and the HIV Epidemic.” Missionalia 35 (3): 112–27

Religion, Sexuality, and HIV/AIDS Becker, F, and W Geissler, eds. 2009. Aids and Religious Practice in Africa Browning, Melissa. 2013. Risky Marriage: HIV and Intimate Relationships in Tanzania Dube, Musa W. 2008. The HIV & AIDS Bible: Selected Essays Simpson, A. 2009. Boys to Men in the Shadow of AIDS. Masculinities and HIV Risk in Zambia Trinitapoli, Jenny Ann, and Alexander Weinreb. 2012. Religion and AIDS in Africa

Religion and the Politics of LGBTQ in Africa Boyd, Lydia. 2013. “The Problem with Freedom: Homosexuality and Human Rights in Uganda.” Anthropological Quarterly 86 (3): 697–724 Burchardt, Marian. 2013. “Equals before the Law? Public Religion and Queer Activism in the Age of Judicial Politics in South Africa.” Journal of Religion in Africa 43 (3): 237–60 Epprecht, Marc. 2013. Sexuality and Social Justice in Africa: Rethinking Homophobia and Forging Resistance Van Klinken, Adriaan. 2013. “Gay Rights, the Devil and the End Times: Public Religion and the Enchantment of the Homosexuality Debate in Zambia.” Religion 43 (4): 519–40 Van Klinken, Adriaan, and Ezra Chitando, eds. 2016. Public Religion and the Politics of Homosexuality in Africa Van Klinken, Adriaan. 2015. “Queer Love in a ‘Christian Nation’: Zambian Gay Men Negotiating Sexual and Religious Identities,” Journal of the American Academy of Religion 83:4, 947–964 Ward, Kevin. 2013. “Religious Institutions and Actors and Religious Attitudes to Homosexual Rights: South Africa and Uganda,” Human Rights, Sexual Orientation and Gender Identity in The Commonwealth: Struggles for Decriminalisation and Change, eds. Corinne Lennox and Matthew Waites, 409–27

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Sample Syllabus II: Black Women and Popular Culture Course Title: Black Women and Popular Culture Instructor: Dr Msia Kibona Clark, Department of African Studies, Howard University, Washington DC, USA

Course Description This course is an examination of the representations of Black (African and African American) women that have dominated popular culture. The course looks at the history of those representations, especially in systems of colonialism and enslavement. These representations have fed tropes about Black women, tropes that have reinforced patriarchal structures, silence around violence against Black women, and domestic policies that negatively impact Black women’s lives. The course also looks at how Black women are creating content to challenge those familiar tropes. The course considers how women create their own representations, which create spaces within patriarchal environments for women to exercise their agency and create counter narratives.

Course Goals The goal of the course is for students to critically engage with representations of Black women and identify skewed representations of Black women. Students should be able to understand how skewed representations of Black women have shaped our ideas about Black women and Black womanhood, as well as the reallife implications for Black women. Students should also understand the social, political, and economic power of cultural representations in both shaping skewed views of Black women and in allowing Black women to present their own counter narratives.

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Schedule Thursday, August 27: Representation in colonial Africa & post-emancipation America Sylvia Tamale. “Ch. 1. Researching and theorizing sexualities in Africa” in African Sexualities: A Reader Tuesday, September 1: Representation in colonial Africa & post-emancipation America Melissa Harris Perry (@MHarrisPerry). “Introduction” in Sister Citizen: Shame, Stereotypes, and Black Women in America Thursday, September 3: Myths & Stereotypes of Black women Melissa Harris Perry (@MHarrisPerry). “Ch. 1: Crooked Room” in Sister Citizen: Shame, Stereotypes, and Black Women in America Tuesday, September 8: Myths & Stereotypes of Black women Melissa Harris Perry (@MHarrisPerry). “Ch. 1: Crooked Room” in Sister Citizen: Shame, Stereotypes, and Black Women in America Thursday, September 10: Myths & Stereotypes of Black women Melissa Harris Perry (@MHarrisPerry). “Ch. 2: Myth” in Sister Citizen: Shame, Stereotypes, and Black Women in America (read pages 51–78, up to section “Responding to Mammy”) Tuesday, September 15: Myths & Stereotypes of Black women Melissa Harris Perry (@MHarrisPerry). “Ch. 2: Myth” in Sister Citizen: Shame, Stereotypes, and Black Women in America (read pages 78 to 95, the rest of the chapter) Thursday, September 17: The Social Impacts of & Resistance to Stereotypes Melissa Harris Perry (@MHarrisPerry). “Ch. 3: Shame” in Sister Citizen: Shame, Stereotypes, and Black Women in America (read section “Racial strategies for resisting shame”, pages 120–133) Tuesday, September 22: The Social Impacts of & Resistance to Stereotypes Melissa Harris Perry (@MHarrisPerry). “Ch. 5: Strength”: in Sister Citizen: Shame, Stereotypes, and Black Women in America (pages 183–200, up to section “The Consequences of Self-Reliance”) Thursday, September 24: The Social Impacts of & Resistance to Stereotypes Melissa Harris Perry (@MHarrisPerry). “Ch. 5: Strength”: in Sister Citizen: Shame, Stereotypes, and Black Women in America (pages 200–218, the rest of the chapter) Tuesday, September 29: Representations of Black women in TV & Film Bibi Bakare-Yusuf. (@BibiBakareyusuf). “Ch. 8: Nudity and morality: legislating women’s bodies and dress in Nigeria” in African Sexualities: A Reader Thursday, October 1: Representations of Black women in TV & Film

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Christopher K. Jackson. “Ch. 3: Visible but Devalued through the Black Male Gaze” in Black Women in Popular Culture Tuesday, October 6: Representations of Black women in TV & Film Joshua Wright. “Ch. 1: Scandalous: Olivia Pope and Black women in primetime history” in Black Women in Popular Culture Thursday, October 8: Due - Exam 1 Tuesday, October 13: Black Women Athletes James McKay. “Pornographic Eroticism and Sexual Grotesquerie in Representations of African American Sportswomen Jay Connor (@NotJayConnor). “WNBA Players Channel John Lewis, Openly Campaign Against Atlanta Dream Co-Owner: ‘We Don’t Give AF What You Express’” (Op-Ed) Thursday, October 15: Representations of Black women in advertising and digital media Fouzia Tua Alhassan (@fouzia_tua) & Safla Musah. “Dismantling Manels: The Ghanaian Feminist Agenda” Tuesday, October 20: Representations of Black women in advertising and digital media Simone Puff. “Ch. 11: Writing (about) the Black Female Body: An Exploration of Skin Color Politics in Advertising within Ebony and Essence” in Black Women in Popular Culture Thursday, October 22: Representations of Black women in music Elizabeth Y. Whittington and Mackenzie Jordan. “Ch. 8: “Bey Feminism” vs. “Black Feminism” in Black Women in Popular Culture Tuesday, October 27: Representations of Black women in music Natasha R. Howard. “Ch. 7: I Am Not My Sister’s Keeper” in Black Women in Popular Culture Thursday, October 29: Representations of Black women in music Msia Kibona Clark (@Kibona). “Feminisms in African Hip Hop” Tuesday, November 3: Representations of Black women in music Niela Orr (@nielaorr). “How Cardi B And Megan Thee Stallion’s “WAP” Flipped The Script” Thursday, November 5: Representations of queer Black women in popular culture Desiree Lewis. “Ch. 19: Representing African sexualities” in African Sexualities: A Reader Tuesday, November 10: Representations of queer Black women in popular culture Pumla Dineo Gqola (@feminist_rogue). “Ch. 64: Through Zanele Muholi’s eyes: re/ imagining ways of seeing Black lesbians” in African Sexualities: A Reader Thursday, November 12: Representations of queer Black women in popular culture Marquita R. Smith (@MarquitaRS). ““Or a Real, Real Bad Lesbian”: Nicki Minaj and the Acknowledgement of Queer Desire in Hip-Hop Culture”

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Sample Syllabus III: Women in African History Course Title: Women in African History Instructor: Dr Nemata Blyden, George Washington University, Washington, DC., USA “The aim of education is to teach us how to think, not what to think” (Chinese Fortune cookie from a Charlottesville restaurant)

Course Outline and Format How do we understand African women? What are some of the images and stereotypes that pop into our heads when we think of women in Africa? This course explores themes and issues in the lives of women in Africa. These include women in early African history, culture, and the role of gender in Africa, encounter with Islam and the West, women’s search for autonomy, etc. Emphasis is placed, as much as is possible, on the perspectives of women, how they view their history, and their ongoing struggle for self-determination. The course includes readings from secondary texts, but devotes time to a body of primary sources and films illustrating the theme of the class. The class is structured through lectures and class discussions. Informed, engaged, and active participation is required of all students. It is therefore crucial that you keep up with your assignments, attend class regularly, and complete all assignments on time.

Learning Goals This course not only raises the question of what we know about the history of Women in Africa, but also how we know it. It is designed to: 1. Expose students to major themes, interpretations, and chronologies in the history of women. 2. Expose students to methodologies, terminology, and interpretations pertinent to the discipline of history. 3. Expose students to the historiography of African women. You will be given the opportunity to learn about significant debates in the study of Women in Africa. You will also learn about the discipline of history, acquire a body of knowledge in the field, and understand the methodology used by historians. Objectives and expected outcomes: At the end of the course, a student should be able to acquire certain kinds of knowledge and skills: Foundational knowledge:

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1. Identify and explain key topics related to Women in African History 2. Demonstrate knowledge of the lived experiences of African women in the period under study 3. Identify historically specific social, political, and economic structures and agencies, as well as dominant ideas, relevant to the shifting politics of women in Africa Critical reading and writing skills 1. 2. 3. 4.

Organize historical evidence and ask and answer critical questions about the past Develop historical reading, writing, and research skills Evaluate and critically appraise primary and secondary sources Construct persuasive arguments by participating and contributing to group discussion and writing communities Historical thinking skills

1. Demonstrate a critical understanding of the relationship between past events and contemporary politics of African women 2. Analyze the various ways the historical past continues to shape the lives of women in contemporary African societies 3. Apply historical methods to the study of women The skill of being a good citizen in an increasingly diverse world 1. Develop strategies, skills, and knowledge allowing you to continue your learning after you leave this course 2. Think critically about what new ideas, interests, and values you have developed over the course of the semester Common problems students typically encounter in history courses • Interpreting primary sources • Misunderstanding the place/role of facts in the historical discipline • Keeping an emotional and moral distance from the material, or inability to “stay in the century” • Identifying/empathizing with/understanding people in another place and time • Evaluating and constructing an argument • Connecting specific details to a larger context We will attempt to approach these problems in various ways. By: • Reading, analyzing, discussing, and writing about primary and secondary sources • Attempting to understand that the cultures and histories of the populations we are studying are often different from our own, but that there are some commonalities and parallels that can be drawn

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• Trying to “stay in our century” • Writing analytical and critical papers • Putting a larger context to a smaller story What are your goals for the course? What do you hope to learn? Students share Texts: Supplementary readings will be posted on Blackboard (Electronic Reserves) Nwando Achebe, The Female King of Colonial Nigeria: Ahebi Ugbabe (Ebook through Gelman) Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, We should all be feminists Jean Allman, Susan Geiger and Nakanyike Musisi, Women in African colonial histories (Ebook through Gelman) Buchi Emecheta, Joys of Motherhood Trevor Getz, Abina and the Important Men (2nd edition) Catherine Higgs, Barbara Moss & Earline Rae Ferguson, Stepping Forward: Black women in Africa and the Americas (Ebook through Gelman) Patricia Romero, Life Histories of African Women Patrick Rael, Reading, Writing, and Researching for History: A Guide for College Students (blackboard)

Syllabus January 13: Introductions and introduction to course/Studying history General discussion. Come ready to share your thoughts/opinions on the reading. Think about your views and ideas about history, especially African history Binyavanga Wainaina, How to write about Africa in Granta 92 (www. granta.com). Lucy Jarosz, Constructing the Dark Continent: Metaphor as Geographic Representation in Geografiska Annaler, Vol. 74 no 2, 1992 (blackboard) Peter N. Stearns, Why Study History, http://www.historians.org/pubs/free/ WhyStudyHistory.htm “Why is the study of Africa critical to the student of the 21st century?” http:// aasp-us.org/why-study-africa/ Using historical sources (blackboard) January 15: Exploring African women’s history

General discussion

Sandra Greene, A perspective from African women’s history in Journal of Women’s History, Autumn 1997 v 9 n3 p 95 (blackboard) Iris Berger African Women’s History: themes and perspectives in Journal of colonialism and colonial history 4:1 2003 ((blackboard) Patrick Rael, Reading, Writing, and Researching for History, Ch. 3 (this should help you prepare your journals)

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Come ready to share your thoughts/opinions on the reading). Think about your views and ideas about history and African women’s history Martin Luther King birthday: No class Paper 1 Due

January 22: Kinship and Family

Niara Sudarkasa, “The Status of Women” in indigenous African Societies, in Feminist Studies, Vol. 12, # 1 (Spring 1986), pp. 91–103 (blackboard); Beth Greene, The institution of Woman-marriage in Africa: A cross-cultural analysis in Ethnology, Vol. 37, # 4 (Autumn 1998) blackboard Nwando Achebe, The Female King of Colonial Nigeria: Ahebi Ugbabe, Acknowledgements and Nkwado: The Preparation (blog 1) January 27: Women and Slavery Robert Harms, Slave Systems in Africa in History in Africa, Vol. 5 blackboard Claire Robertson and Martin Klein, Women’s importance in African slave systems in Robertson and Klein, Women and Slavery in Africa, pp. 39–48 blackboard Achebe, The Female King, One, Oge Nwatakili (blog 2) January 29: Inventing Gender

Quiz 1

General discussion

Oyeronke Oyewumi, Inventing Gender: Questioning Gender in Pre-colonial Yoruba in Problems in African History: The Pre-colonial Centuries blackboard Adeleke Adeeko, Nothing is that lacks a history in African Gender Studies blackboard February 3: Assessing oral history *Patricia Romero, Introduction and MAMA KHADIJA: A Life History as example of Family History in Patricia Romero, Life Histories of African Women Margaret Strobel, Doing Oral History as an Outsider in Frontiers: A Journal of Women Studies, Vol. 2, No. 2, Women’s Oral History (Summer, 1977), pp. 68–72 blackboard Achebe, The Female King, Nkowa, The Introduction (blog 3) February 5: Life histories of Muslim women

No class (partner work)

Beverly Mack, MA’DAKI: A Royal Hausa Woman in Patricia Romero, Life Histories of African Women Enid Schildkrout, HAJIYA HUSAINA: Notes on the Life History of a Hausa Woman in Patricia Romero, Life Histories of African Women February 10: Women and colonialism Amy Kaler, Visions of Domesticity in the African Women’s Homecraft Movement in Rhodesia blackboard Achebe, The Female King, Two Mgbapu Ahebi (blog 4) February 12: Women and colonialism

Country topics due

Jean Allman, Susan Geiger and Nakanyike Musisi, Women in African colonial histories, Introduction

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Heide Gengenback, “`What my heart wanted’: Gendered stories of early colonial encounters in Southern Mozambique” in Women in African colonial histories February 17: President’s day

No class

February 19: Gender and colonialism

No class (partner work)

Sean Hawkins, “`The Woman in question’: Marriage and Identity in the Colonial Courts of Northern Ghana, 1907–1954 in Women in African colonial histories Lynette Jackson, “‘When in the White Man’s Town’: Zimbabwean Women Remember Chibeura” in Women in African colonial histories Achebe, The Female King, Three, Performing masculinities (blog 5) February 24: Women, colonialism and the law

Quiz 2

General discussion

Trevor Getz, Abina and the Important men Victoria Tashjian and Jean Allman, “Marrying and Marriage on a Shifting Terrain: Reconfigurations of Power and Authority in Early Colonial Asante” in Women in African colonial histories February 26: Women and Christianity Wendy Urban-Mead, Dynastic Daughters: Three Royal women and E.L. Price of the London Missionary Society in Women in African colonial histories Nakanyike Musisi “The Politics of Perception or Perception as Politics? Colonial and Missionary Representations of Baganda Women, 1900–1945” in Women in African colonial histories March 2: Nineteenth century image and substance

General discussion

Nemata Blyden, “The search for Anna Erskine: African American Women in Nineteenth-Century Liberia” in Catherine Higgs, Barbara Moss & Earline Rae Ferguson, Stepping Forward: Black women in Africa and the Americas Christopher J. Lee, ‘Gender without Groups: Confession, Resistance and Selfhood in the Colonial Archive’ in Gender & History, Vol.24 No.3 November 2012, pp. 701–717. Film: Sara Baartman March 4: Powerful Women Ivor Wilks, SHE WHO BLAZED A TRAIL: Akyaawa Yikwan of Asante in Patricia Romero, Life Histories of African Women Holly Hanson, “Queen Mothers and Good Government in Buganda: The loss of Women’s Political Power in Nineteenth-Century East Africa in Jean Allman, Susan Geiger and Nakanyike Musisi, Women in African colonial histories Achebe, The Female King, Four, Inside King Ahebi’s Palace (blog 6) March 9: Colonial Education Gertrude Mianda, “Colonialism, Education and Gender Relations in the Belgian Congo: The Evolue Case” in Women in African colonial histories

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*Christine Obbo, BITU: Facilitator of Women’s Educational Opportunities in Patricia Romero, Life Histories of African Women March 11: The Female King

General discussion

Achebe, The Female King, Five, Mastering Masculinities Conclusion, Appendix and Notes (blog 7). Nwando Achebe, Twenty-five years of African Women writing African women’s and gendered worlds (blackboard) March 16–21 March 23: Women respond to oppression/anticolonial resistance

Spring break Quiz 3

Misty Bastian, “Vultures of the Marketplace:” Southeastern Nigerian Women and Discourses of the Ogu Umunwaanyi (Women’s War) of 1929 in Women in African colonial histories Elizabeth Schmidt, “`Emancipate your Husbands!’ Women and Nationalism in Guinea, 1953–1958” in Women in African colonial histories March 25: Women respond to oppression/nationalism Barbara A. Moss, “Mai Chaza and the Politics of Motherhood in Colonial Zimbabwe” in Stepping Forward Cora Presley, Gender and Political struggle in Kenya, 1948–1998 in Stepping Forward March 30: Sylvia Ojukutu-Macauley, “British Colonial Policy toward Education and the Roots of Gender Inequality in Sierra Leone, 1896–1961” in Stepping Forward Begin Buchi Emecheta, Joys of Motherhood Presentations April 1: Catherine Higgs, “Helping Ourselves: Black women and grassroots activism in segregated South Africa” in Stepping Forward Continue Buchi Emecheta, Joys of Motherhood Presentations April 6: Women in rural and urban economies/ Self-help

Country paper due

John McCall, Portrait of a Brave Woman in American Anthropologist, Vol. 98, #1 (March 1996) blackboard Film: God Gave her a Mercedes Benz April 8: Women’s stories Buchi Emecheta, Joys of Motherhood April 13: Women tell their life stories Harold Scheub, And So I grew up: The autobiography of Nongenile Masithathu Zenani in Patricia Romero, Life Histories of African Women Anne Cassiers, MERCHA: An Ethiopian Woman Speaks of her life in Patricia Romero, Life Histories of African Women

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April 15: Discourses on African Women Today – War and Health Hay and Stichter, Ch. 13. And Research on Women’s Health in Africa blackboard Mats Utas, Victimcy, Girlfriending, Soldiering: Tactic Agency in a young woman’s social navigation of the Liberian war blackboard April 20: Discourses on African Women Today – Circumcision

QUIZ 4

General discussion

Natasha Gordon, “Tonguing the Body”: Placing Female Circumcision within African Feminist Discourse in Issue: A Journal of Opinion, Vol. 25, No 2 (1997) blackboard “Should Female Genital Cutting be accepted as cultural practice?” in Taking Sides: Clashing views on controversial African issues blackboard Fuambai Ahmadu, Aint I a woman too blackboard April 22: Discourses on African Women Today-Feminism (Come with your definition of feminism)

General discussion

Susan Arndt, African Gender Trouble and Womanism: an interview with Chikwenye Ogunyemi and Wanjira Muthoni in Signs, Vol. 25, No. 3 blackboard Elaine Salo and Amina Mama, “Talking about Feminism in Africa.” Agenda: Empowering Women for Gender Equity No. 50, African Feminisms One (2001), pp. 58–63 blackboard Edwin Shirin, We Belong Here Too: Accommodating African Muslim Feminism in African Feminist Theory blackboard Nkiru Nzegwu, “Sisterhood,” and Oyewumi, “Feminism, sisterhood, and other foreign relations and White woman’s burden: African women in western feminist discourse,” in Oyèrónké Oyěwùmí, (ed) African women and feminism: reflecting on the politics of sisterhood blackboard April 27: Discourses on African women-politics and representation Chimamanda Adichie, We should all be feminists Teresa Barnes, Owning what we know Ch. 17 in Stepping Forward: Tripp, Women in Movement April 29: Representing contemporary African women

General discussion

Jennifer Lynn Stoever, “‘Haute Culture’ for Mail Order Missionaries: Representing the Third World Woman in the American Fashion Magazine” in Social Identities, Vol. 12, No. 5, September 2006, pp. 595–613 blackboard *Alex Whiting, Five things you didn’t know about women’s status in ‘traditional’ Africa (http://www.trust.org/trustlaw/news/five-things-you-didnt-know-aboutwomens-status-in-traditional-africa) and Dan Moshenberg commentary Things you don’t know about African women), Bras for Mozambique Desiree Kennedy, Decolonizing Culture Ch. 18 in Stepping Forward

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Sample Syllabus IV: Gender and Development Course Title: Gender and Development Instructor: Prof. Olivia A.T. Frimpong Kwapong (PhD.), Department of Distance Education, College of Education, University of Ghana, Legon (Taught in the Department of Adult Education and Human Resource Studies)

Course Description This course will expose you to the evolution of the concept of gender and practical issues related to the concept. Specifically, we shall focus on gender and development theories and concepts, approaches for promoting gender and development, issues affecting women, and how males could support the gender agenda. You will apply your studies in adult education and human resource to the solution of gender issues.

Course Objectives and Student Learning Outcomes By the end of the course you should be able to: • Show an understanding of the concept of gender and development • Employ a variety of perspectives and theories towards understanding moral and legal reasoning for the promotion of gender and development • Assess the various approaches for promoting gender and development • Review the state of gender and development in your community • Discuss the situation of women from gender perspective • Show the role that men can play to promote the gender agenda • Give your perspectives on promoting the gender agenda as an adult educator • Confidently use new technologies to enhance your personal development, professional work and communication and social networking.

Lecture Material and Course Organization There will be reading assignments from online resources to be supplemented with readings from your own research. Building upon concepts, the selected readings will provide a context for evaluating knowledge, skills, and attitudes that are required by a competent practitioner of gender and development. You are required to complete the reading assignments and be prepared to discuss and write about the contents of the readings from your own perspectives. The course is organized into WEEKS along the following lines: (1) Overview; (2) Goals and Objectives; and (3) Activities and Assignments.

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Assignments and Assessment There will be a total of five (5) assignments in this course, made up of the following: • • • • •

Two (2) Forums One (1) Newspaper, Radio & Social Media review assignment Three (3) Reading Response Papers One (1) Term Paper Project; and Final Examination.

Reference Material 12 Basic Ways to Integrate Media Literacy and Critical Thinking into Any Curriculum (3rd Ed.) by Cyndy Scheibe and Faith Rogow. Project Look Sharp, Ithaca College: Ithaca, NY, USA, http://www.projectlooksharp.org/12BasicWays.pdf. Newspaper, Radio, and Social Media Review Project: In this era of information and communication technology, information gets dated very rapidly, especially academic published resources. As a way for you to keep up to date with gender and development issues and also critically analyze current issues on gender and development, you will be required to review daily information on gender and development in newspapers, radio, and other social media. For this project, you will keep and electronic record or a log book on your daily findings on the subject matter. You will finally share your log by uploading it on the learning platform on Monday April 17, 2017, for grading. Where possible you will be required to take snapshots of the various articles and upload them. Your ability to have a combination of information from both printed and electronic media will attract more points.

Detailed Class Schedule Weeks 1 and 2: Introduction to ADLT 329 Overview Introductions and orientation to the course syllabus, course website on the Sakai Learning Management System (LMS), and the available tools for the course. Goals and Objectives • To be introduced to the subject matter of this course – Gender and Development, how the course is organized and the assessment procedures with its timelines • To familiarize with the tools in the Sakai LMS that will be used in the course • To do self-introductions and discuss the expectations for the course in the Chat Room

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Activities and Assignments Complete the following tasks: • Log onto the UG Sakai LMS course site • Visit the Chat Room and introduce yourself while discussing expectations for the course • Log onto the Sakai Project Homepage to learn about the LMS as the learning environment of choice for 350+ colleges and universities around the world: http:// www.sakaiproject.org/. • Explore the online tools available in Sakai.

Week 3: Review of the UG Library System Overview The University of Ghana Library System is dynamic and continues to adapt to changing technologies and patron information needs. You will be required to visit the library and update yourself about and utilize the excellent facilities and products available including print and electronic reference materials, text books, journal databases. Others services are study carrels, library instruction, the 24 h reading room, Research Commons (RC), Knowledge Commons (KC), printing and binding services, photocopying, and a networked environment with computers.

Goals and Objectives • To update your knowledge on the excellent facilities and products of the University’s Library System that is vital part of academic life on campus • To be able to utilize the library’s collection which consists of both electronic and print resources, online databases, and journals that provide essential background reading for teaching, learning and research • To review your access to Balme Library’s Electronic and any new Resources that are available

Activities and Assignments This week, complete the following tasks: 1. 2. 3. 4.

Visit Balme Library’s Homepage and check out new information http://balme.ug.edu.gh/ Walk into the library to know “what’s up” Practice your skills in assessing the library’s e-resources for your research and projects. 5. Utilize DROPBOX to store and share with your colleagues the e-resources you have searched for

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Week 4: Review of the Concept of Adult Education Overview Through the review of reading materials, you will explore theoretical frameworks and models for the understanding the credibility of gender and development as a field of study and practice on the heels of adult education, continuous learning, and unprecedented technological innovations. In this session, you will therefore review to refresh your memory of how university-based adult education has evolved over the years in Ghana and explore its connection to gender and development. Goals and Objectives • To review your understanding of Adult Education as a discipline • To review the evolution of university-based adult education in Ghana and the implications for gender and development • To anticipate the possible connection between discipline of Adult Education and gender and development Activities and Assignments Complete the following tasks: 1. Read, “Changing Trends in Adult and Continuing Education: The Ghanaian Experience,” by Yaw Oheneba-Sakyi, Olivia Adwoa Tiwaah Frimpong Kwapong, Samuel Kofi Badu-Nyarko, Michael Ayittey Tagoe. In Changing Perspectives on the Social Sciences in Ghana, Agyei-Mensah, et al. (eds.), Dordrecht: Springer, Science and Business Media, 2014, pp. 313–333. (Course Material Available in Resources Folder) 2. Write a one-page review on the reading, present in class for discussion and submit online

Weeks 5 and 6: Review Concepts in Gender and Development Overview Through review of reading materials, you will explore the value of critical thinking at all levels of meaningful learning experience in gender and development. Building upon individuals’ prior learning experience, the session seeks to improve your academic performance by continuously enhancing the acquisition of new knowledge and creative problem-solving skills in the area of gender and development. Additionally, you will be exploring the relevance of your know of gender and development through adult education for social transformation. Goals and Objectives • To examine the value of critical thinking at all levels of the human learning experience in the light of gender and development • To explore the basic concepts of gender and development

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• To present your personal response to express your understanding of gender and development

Activities and Assignments Complete the following tasks: 1. Read the Following Materials: • “Critical thinking: What it is and why it counts” by Peter A. Facione. Originally published by Insight Assessment, 1992. See weblink below: http://www. insightassessment.com/pdf_files/what&why2004.pdf. • Kwapong, OATF. (2009). Male support for gender equality. Accra: Ghana Universities Press, pps. 187. Chapters One and Two Pages 1–35 2. Write a one-page review on the readings, present in class for discussion and submit online 3. Complete Forum I Assignment - Forum 1: Males vrs. Females • Women and men are equal. Debate.

Weeks 7 and 8: Approaches to Gender and Development Overview Several approaches have been adopted for gender and development for decades. It will be worth introducing you to the various approaches such as women in development, women and development, and the gender and development approach itself. In this process, you will be encouraged to come out with your own approach for promoting gender and development in your community. The big question is to find an answer to why the focus is on women when gender is about men and women.

Goals and Objectives • To explore the women in development, gender, and development and empowerment approaches • To assess the focus on women instead of men • To design an approach for gender and development

Activities and Assignments In this session, complete the following tasks: 1. Review the following material: • Kwapong, OATF. (2009). Male support for gender equality. Accra: Ghana Universities Press, pps. 187. Chapter Three Pages 34–60 2. Write a one-page review on the reading, present in class for discussion and submit online

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Weeks 9–11: Issues in Gender and Development Overview Issues about education, health, politics, religion, culture, and the economy affect men and women differently. Under this session, you will work in groups to research and make group presentation on how men and women are affected differently by challenges in society. By critically assessing the situation of men and women, you will be exploring ways of addressing the issues from the perspective of Adult Education. Goals and Objectives • To analyze the situation of men and women on education, health, politics, religion, culture, and the economy. • Explore ways by which the issues have been addressed • To assess how males can promote women’s empowerment • To find solutions to the issues from the perspective of an adult educator Activities and Assignments In this session, complete the following tasks: 1. Work in groups to make presentations on any of the following subthemes: culture, education, economy, health, politics, religion 2. Review the following material to support your group presentations and submit report online: Kwapong, OATF. (2009). Male support for gender equality. Accra: Ghana Universities Press, pps. 187. Chapters four to 11, pages 49–170. 3. Complete Forum 2 Assignment - Forum 2: Male support 4. From your study of the situation of women, how will males contribute to the empowerment of women?

Weeks 12: Video Message Analysis in Gender and Development Overview Through the Video Message Analysis, you will be applying concepts learned in the course to develop the habits of inquiry and skills of expression needed to be critical thinkers, effective communicators, and active citizens in the gender agenda. Goals and Objectives • To exhibit critical thinking and effective writing and oral skills by applying readings to issues of concern related to promotion of the gender agenda • To identify programs aimed at equalizing educational and economic opportunities for vulnerable social groups • To demonstrate your ability to work with others to find, evaluate, and use information (including videos and on-line resources) to communicate in a manner that is clear, organized, and appropriate for the understanding of issues in gender

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• To apply appropriate evaluative criteria to assess your own writing skills and those of others Activities and Assignments This session, complete the following tasks: 1. Review the Following: 12 Basic Ways to Integrate Media Literacy and Critical Thinking into Any Curriculum (3rd Ed.) by Cyndy Scheibe and Faith Rogow. Project Look Sharp, Ithaca College: Ithaca, NY, USA. 2. Go to LESSONS and embed your selected video on this page by pulling down the “Add Content” menu above and using one of these commands: Add Content Link – upload a document or add a URL for a web site Embed Content on Page - add an item that will show on the page, e.g. a Flash presentation or video. 3. The Embed Video (to be submitted in LESSONS) and the Written Report on Video Message Analysis (to be submitted as a MS Word document to ASSIGNMENTS). 4. Share lessons in class

Week 13: Revision for Final Examination Overview To review and evaluate the learning outcomes of this course, integrating the knowledge that you have received from all reading assignments, lectures, videos, discussion, and writing materials. Goals and Objectives • To demonstrate your ability to present and evaluate arguments • To exhibit a higher-level of understanding concepts, theories, history, current trends, and issues in gender and development and the role of the adult educator in the process • To show, in an analytical manner, how the knowledge and skills that you have received from the assignments and various activities such as the reading, lectures, discussion forum, and videos all fit together Examination Guide 1. Your understanding of gender and development 2. Situation of women in relation to education, politics, culture, religion, economy, health, etc.

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3. Review of the state of gender or issues of gender in both the electronic and print media 4. Use of adult education to promote gender and development 5. Male support for gender equality 6. Goal 3 of the MDGs is to “Promote Gender Equality and Empower Women.” Considering the current state of women and men, what is your critical thought on the state of implementation of this goal in the country? *The template for this course syllabus was adapted from Prof. Yaw Oheneba-Sakyi, Former Dean, SCDE Additional Resources • Gender and Development: Concepts and Definitions Prepared for the Department for International Development (DFID) for its gender mainstreaming intranet resource by Hazel Reeves and Sally Baden February 2000 BRIDGE (development – gender) • http://www.bridge.ids.ac.uk/sites/bridge.ids.ac.uk/files/reports/re55.pdf. • http://journals.sagepub.com/doi/pdf/10.1080/016502500750037946. • Gender equality and women’s empowerment: A critical analysis of the third millennium development goal 1 Naila Kabeer • http://www.tandfonline.com/doi/pdf/10.1080/13552070512331332273? needAccess¼true.

Sample Syllabus V: Women and Gender in the Middle East and North Africa Course Title: Women and Gender in the Middle East and North Africa Instructor: Professor Zahia Smail Salhi, School of Arts, Languages and Cultures, University of Manchester, UK Week Week 1 Week 2 Week 3 Week 4 Week 5 Week 6 Week 7 Week 8 Week 9 Week 10 Week 11

Topic Introduction to the module and assessment What is Feminism? Representations of MENA Women: Passive victims or active agents? Women’s Movements and the Rise of Feminism Reconstructing Gender Family Laws as Feminist Platforms READING WEEK Middle Eastern Women and Patriarchy Islamic Feminism Veiling, Unveiling and Re-veiling Gender and Violence in MENA Women & Revolutions: the Prospects of Change in MENA Societies

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Sample Syllabus VI: Main Currents in Gender Discourse Course Title: Main Currents in Gender Discourse Instructor: Professor Mobolanle E. Sotunsa, Department of Languages and Literary Studies, Babcock University, Nigeria Course description: This course examines the major concepts in gender discourse. It explains theories of feminism(s), masculinities, and queer theories. The course will also apply each gender theory to the analysis of literary texts. Statements and writings by African, European, and American gender (feminist and masculinist) theorists will be examined. Course objectives: At the end of this course, students will be able to: 1. Understand key concepts and matters arising in gender discourse. 2. Successfully carry out literary analysis of literary texts using the key concepts in gender discourse. Required Texts: Woolf, Virginia: Granite and Rainbow: Essays of Virginia Woolf. New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1958. Wollstonecraft, Mary. A Vindication of the Rights of Women. Hammondsworth: Pentium. 1978. Mills, John Stuart. The Subjection of Women. London: Virage Press Ltd., 1977. Kolawole, Mary E.M. Womanism and African Consciousness. New Jersey: African World Press, 1997. Walker, Alice. In Our Mother’s Garden: Womanist Prose. New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1984. Brod, Harry, and Kaufmann Michael, editors. Theorizing Masculinities. Sage, 1994. Butler, Judith: Gender Trouble. Routledge, 2002. Floyd, Kelvin: The Reification of Desire: Toward a Queer Marxism. U of Minnesota Press, 2009. Creative Texts: • • • •

Alice Walker: The Color Purple Pearl Cleage: Flying West Jude Dibia: Walking Shadows Buchi Emecheta: Joys of Motherhood Schedule

Weeks 1

Topic Introduction

Learning outcome Be conversant with the course outline, expectations aims, and objectives

Assignments and takehome activities Read up key gender concepts (continued)

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Weeks 2

3

Topic Key terms in gender discourse such as: Ggynocentricism, androcentricism, patriarchy, sex, gender, gender equity and gender equality Feminism(s) and feminist major statements

Learning outcome Understand the terms in gender discourse

Be conversant with Feminism(s) and feminist major statements

4

Womanism

Understand the focus of womanism

5

African variants of feminism

Identify strands of African feminism

6

Masculinities: Hegemonic Masculinities, Hyper masculinity

Identify the variants of masculinities

7

Masculinities: Complicit Normative Marginalized

Identify the variants of masculinities

8

Mid-semester Exams

9

Queer Theories: Homosexuality (Gayism and Lesbianism; transgender and bisexuality) Text Analysis Buchi Emecheta’s Joys of Motherhood

Conduct mid-semester exam on the topics treated so far Understand the variants of Queer theories

10

11

Text Analysis Alice Walker’s The Color Purple

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Text Analysis Pearl Cleage’s Flying West

Understand the thematic focus of the text from different perspectives, Feminism(s), Masculinities, and Queer theories Understand the thematic focus of the text from different perspectives, feminism(s), masculinities, and queer theories Understand the thematic focus of the text from different perspectives,

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Assignments and takehome activities Read selected major statements Virginia Woolf Mary Wollstonecraft John Stuart

Alice Walker’s In Our Mother’s Garden: Womanist Prose against the next class Read about Mary Kolawole Molara Ogundipe Leslie Catherine Acholonu Read B. Kaufmann Theorizing Masculinities Read up these texts: Judith Butler: Gender Trouble Kelvin Floyd: The Reification of Desire Read up these texts: Judith Butler: Gender Trouble Kelvin Floyd: The Reification of Desire

Group one presentation on gendered analysis of Joys of Motherhood

Group two presentations on gendered analysis of The Color Purple Group three presentation on (continued)

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Topic

Learning outcome

13

Text Analysis Jude Dibia’s Walking Shadows

feminism(s), masculinities, and queer theories Understand the thematic focus of the text from different perspectives, feminism(s), masculinities, and queer theories

14 15

Revision Final examination

Assignments and takehome activities gendered analysis of Flying West Group four presentation on gendered analysis of Walking Shadows

Sample Syllabus VII: Culture and African Women’s Health Course Title: Culture and African Women’s Health Instructor: Dr Cecilia Obeng, School of Public Health, Indiana University, Bloomington, Indiana, USA

Course Rationale The twenty-first century with its sophisticated technology has made it possible for improvement in diagnoses of diseases and sometimes coming up with a cure at an early stage. Scientific scholarship on women’s health indicates that the world has seen an improvement in life expectancy in many countries with women’s life expectancy reaching more than eighty years in many countries. Although African women have seen improvements in their health in this century, life expectancy for a female born in Africa is hovering around 60 years. We have learned that a healthy lifestyle in all the dimensions of health (physical, spiritual, environmental, intellectual, social, vocational, and emotional health) is needed in order to lead a better quality of life. There is an indication that a good healthy lifestyle is likely to increase the number of years of one’s existence in this world. The purpose of this course is therefore to introduce some scientific findings about major hindrances that deteriorate the health of women in the African Region and find ways that African women believe would improve their health and increase their longevity.

Course Description This course combines lectures and research to explore how culture influences alcohol and drug abuse, sexually transmitted diseases, maternal mortality, newborn care, access to healthcare, women’s role in curing communicable and noncommunicable diseases, water and basic sanitation needs, nutrition and food, women’s health communication strategies, poverty, and gender inequality. The

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steps that African women take to prepare for changes in their health status in the global world will be examined. Specifically, the course will provide students with skills and knowledge of Culture and Health issues about Africa women’s health through classroom lectures and applied learning through research projects. Students will get direct experience in doing research that promotes African women’s health. Evidenced-based information that substantiates the fact about African women’s health will be used in this course. Justification for the course: This course is needed to tackle the special circumstances and nature of African women’s health, the demands on their health, and the progress been made in the improvement of their health in the twenty-first century. Course topics will focus on how culture influences: 1. 2. 3. 4.

Alcohol and drug abuse, and sexually transmitted Diseases Maternal mortality and newborn care Gender inequalities and access to healthcare Women’s role in curing of communicable and noncommunicable diseases prevention 5. Women’s role in water and basic sanitation needs 6. Nutrition and food 7. Language and health-health communication strategies of women

Course Prerequisite: None. This is an undergraduate level course and any undergraduate student interested in African women’s health can take it.

Course Learning Objectives By the end of this course, students will be able to: 1. Describe, analyze, and discuss the status of Culture and African Women’s Health 2. Gain a better understanding of cultural patterns that influence the health of African women 3. Identify, conceptualize, and examine research questions in the field of African Women’s Health, on such topics as: • Alcohol and Drug Abuse • Sexually transmitted diseases • Maternal morbidity and mortality and newborn care. • Gender inequalities and access to healthcare • Women’s role in curing/managing of communicable and noncommunicable diseases • Women’s role in diseases prevention • Women’s role in water and basic sanitation needs • Nutrition and food • Women’s language and health communication strategies • And identify an approach to address them

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4. Identify creative opportunities for research, among African women to strengthening and translation of knowledge into practical tools 5. Students familiarizing themselves with organizations working to improve Public Health issues concerning African women’s health 6. Communicate effectively about health issues on Africa women by written and spoken means with public health stakeholders in a variety of settings

Teaching and Learning Methods Students will learn about African women’s health via the Traditional Method of Teaching (lectures), peer presentations, group discussions, video watching and its analyses, and guest presentations.

Required Reading Izugbara, C. O., Covan, E. K., & Fugate-Whitlock, E. (2017). Women’s Health in Africa: Issues, Challenges and Opportunities. London, England: Routledge.

Course Outline: Class Schedule and Readings Weeks 1

Class topics Alcohol and Drug Abuse, and Sexually transmitted Diseases

2

Alcohol and Drug Abuse, And Sexually transmitted Diseases

Readings and assignments due Readings: Wechsberg, W., Peasant, C., Kline, T., Zule, W., Ndirangu, J., Browne, F., Gabel, C. and van der Horst, C. (2017). HIV Prevention Among Women Who Use Substances And Report Sex Work: Risk Groups Identified Among South African Women. AIDS and Behavior, 21 (S2), pp. 155–166. Dhana, A., Luchters, S., Moore, L., Lafort, Y., Roy, A., Scorgie, F., & Chersich, M. (2014). Systematic review of facility-based sexual and reproductive health services for female sex workers in Africa. Globalization and Health, 10(1), 46. https://doi.org/10.1186/1744-860310-46. Readings: Myers, B., Carney, T., Browne, F. A., & Wechsberg, W. M. (2019). A trauma-informed substance use and sexual risk reduction intervention for young South African women: a mixed-methods feasibility study. BMJ Open, 9(2), bmjopen-2018-024776. https:// doi.org/10.1136/bmjopen-2018-024776 (continued)

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Weeks

Class topics

3

Maternal Morbidity and Mortality and Newborn Care

4

Maternal Morbidity and Mortality and Newborn Care

5

Gender Inequalities and Access to Healthcare

6

Gender Inequalities and Access to Healthcare

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Readings and assignments due Manu et al. (2015). ‘Parent–child communication about sexual and reproductive health: evidence from the Brong Ahafo region, Ghana. Reproductive Health, 12: 16 Readings: Warr, A. J., Pintye, J., Kinuthia, J., Drake, A. L., Unger, J. A., McClelland, R. S., . . . JohnStewart, G. (2018). Sexually transmitted infections during pregnancy and subsequent risk of stillbirth and infant mortality in Kenya: a prospective study. Sexually Transmitted Infections, sextrans-2018-053597. https://doi. org/10.1136/sextrans-2018-053597 Readings: Yaya, S., Bishwajit, G., Okonofua, F., & Uthman, O. A. (2018). Under five mortality patterns and associated maternal risk factors in sub-Saharan Africa: A multi-country analysis. PLOS ONE, 13(10), e0205977. https://doi.org/10.1371/ journal.pone.0205977 Singh K, Brodish P, Speizer I, Barker P, AmengaEtego I, Dasoberi I, Kanyoke E, Boadu E, Yabang E, Sodzi-Tettey S (2016) Can a Quality Improvement Project Impact Maternal and Child Health Outcomes at Scale in Ghana? Health Policy Research and Systems, 14. Readings: Antai, D., Namasivayam, Osuorah, & Syed. (2012). The role of gender inequities in women’s access to reproductive health care: a populationlevel study of Namibia, Kenya, Nepal, and India. International Journal of Women’s Health, 351. https://doi.org/10.2147/ijwh.s32569 MacPherson, E. E., Richards, E., Namakhoma, I., & Theobald, S. (2014). Gender equity and sexual and reproductive health in Eastern and Southern Africa: a critical overview of the literature. Global Health Action, 7(1), 23717. https://doi. org/10.3402/gha.v7.23717. Readings: Woldemicael, G. (2010). Do Women With Higher Autonomy Seek More Maternal Health Care? Evidence From Eritrea and Ethiopia. Health Care for Women International, 31(7), 599–620. https://doi.org/10.1080/ 07399331003599555 Singh, K., Bloom, S., & Brodish, P. (2013). Gender Equality as a Means to Improve Maternal and Child Health in Africa. Health Care for Women International, 36(1), 57–69. https://doi. (continued)

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Class topics

7

Communicable and Noncommunicable Diseases Prevention

8

Communicable and Noncommunicable Diseases Prevention

9

Women’s role in Water and Basic Sanitation needs

10

Women’s role in Water and Basic Sanitation needs

11

Nutrition and Food

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Readings and assignments due org/10.1080/07399332.2013.824971 Singh K, Bloom S, Haney E, Olorunsaiye C, Brodish P (2012) Gender equality and childbirth in a health facility: Nigeria and MDG5. Afr. J. Reprod. Health, 16. Asseffa, N. A., Bukola, F., & Ayodele, A. (2016). Determinants of use of health facility for childbirth in rural Hadiya zone, Southern Ethiopia. BMC Pregnancy and Childbirth, 16(1). https://doi.org/10.1186/s12884-016-1151-1. Readings: BeLue, R. (2017). The role of family in non-communicable disease prevention in Sub-Saharan Africa. Global Health Promotion, 24(3), 71–74. https://doi.org/10.1177/ 1757975915614190 Berry, K. M., Parker, W., Mchiza, Z. J., Sewpaul, R., Labadarios, D., Rosen, S., & Stokes, A. (2017). Quantifying unmet need for hypertension care in South Africa through a care cascade: evidence from the SANHANES, 2011– 2012. BMJ Global Health, 2(3), e000348. https:// doi.org/10.1136/bmjgh-2017-000348 Term Paper Assignment Due Readings: Schwartz, D. A., Anoko, J. N., & Abramowitz, S. A. (2018). Pregnant in the Time of Ebola: Women and Their Children in the 2013–2015 West African Epidemic. Basingstoke, England: Springer. Readings: World Bank. (2010). Mainstreaming gender in water and sanitation. (Water and sanitation program working paper). Washington, DC: World Bank. Readings: World Health Organization, & UNICEF. (2014). Progress on sanitation and drinking-water (Update 2014). Geneva: World Health Organization Readings: Gittinger, J. P. (1990). Household Food Security and the Role of Women. Readings: Ibnouf, F. O. (2009) The Role of Women in Providing and Improving Household Food Security in Sudan: Implications for Reducing Hunger and Malnutrition. Journal of International Women’s Studies 10 (continued)

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Class topics Nutrition and Food

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Language and Health- Health Communication Strategies of Women

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Readings and assignments due Reading: Anim-Somuah, H., Henson, S., Humphrey, J. and Robinson, E. (2013) ‘'Strengthening Agri-Food Value Chains for Nutrition: Mapping Value Chains for Nutrient-Dense Foods in Ghana,’ IDS Evidence Report 2, Brighton: IDS Ragasa, C., Aberman, N., & Alvarez Mingote, C. (2019). Does providing agricultural and nutrition information to both men and women improve household food security? Evidence from Malawi. Global Food Security, 20, 45–59. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.gfs.2018.12.007. Readings: Binder,P; Borné, Y.; Johnsdotter,S; & Essén, R (2012) Shared Language Is Essential: Communication in a Multiethnic Obstetric Care Setting. Journal of Health Communication Vol. 17, Iss. 10. Review Final Paper Assignment Due

Other Resources Dunkle, K. L., Jewkes, R. K., Brown, H. C., Gray, G. E., McIntryre, J. A., & Harlow, S. D. (2004). Transactional sex among women in Soweto, South Africa: Prevalence, risk factors and association with HIV infection. Social Science & Medicine, 59, 1581–1592. Visi, J. G., van Eijk, A. M., ter Kuile, F. O., Kolczak, M. S., Otieno, J. A., Misore, A. O. (2000). Risk factors for HIV infection among asymptomatic pregnant women attending an antenatal clinic in western Kenya. International Journal of STD & AIDS, 11, 393–401.CrossRefGoogle Scholar. World Health Organization & UNICEF. (2014). Progress on sanitation and drinking-water (Update 2014). Geneva: World Health Organization. Zerai, A. (2014). Hypermasculinity, state violence, and family well-being in Zimbabwe: an Africana feminist analysis of maternal and child health.

Sample Syllabus VIII: Sexuality: Concepts and Perspectives Course Title: Sexuality: Concepts and Perspectives Instructor (s): Florence Kyoheirwe Muhanguzi (w. Dr. Ebila Florence/Dr. Victoria Namuggala), School of Women and Gender Studies, Makerere University, Uganda

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Course Overview The course on “Sexuality: concepts and perspectives” explores the main concepts of sexuality and the broad historical and theoretical construction of gender and sexuality with particular focus on African sexualities. The course further covers issues relating to the politics of sexual difference and/or sexuality and gender systems, body politics (women and men’s bodies), and sexual violence (abuse and harassment). It explores reproductive wellbeing and health care, adolescent sexuality, sexual and reproductive health rights and technologies. The course further tackles the symbolic and material notions of sexuality in development and sexuality as a development issue.

Course Objectives • To introduce concepts of gender and sexuality • To discuss the historical and theoretical construction of sexuality • To examine the different forms of sexual representations in society from an African perspective • To study the linkage between sexuality, human rights and development

Learning Outcomes By the end the course, students should be able to: • • • •

Identify some of the key concepts used in gender and sexuality Discuss the theoretical and historical construction sexuality Explain the different forms of sexual representations in society Articulate the linkage between sexuality, human rights and development

Course Contents Week 1: Sexuality: Key Concepts • Sex and sexuality • Dimensions of sexuality (sensuality, intimacy, sexual health and reproduction, sexual socialization; sexualization) • Gender and sexual identity – Sexual orientation/sexual diversity – heterosexuality, homosexuality, bisexuality, transsexual (MTF, FTM), bisexuality, inter-sexuality, transvestites – Homophobia • Sexual dysfunction • Sexual desire and pleasure

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Readings 1. Weeks, J. 1985. Sexuality and its Discontents: Meanings, Myths and Modern Sexualities, Routledge, London. 2. Richrdson Diane (ed). (1996). Theorizing heterosexuality: Telling it Straight Open University Press, Buckingham. Week 2: Historical context of sexuality • The birth of modern conceptions of sexuality – The legacy of sexology: the biomedical tradition • Feminism and the limits of sexology Readings To be assigned Week 3 and 4: Theories and perspectives of gender and sexuality • Essentialist theory • Social constructionist debates: Jeffreys Weeks, Adriene Rich, Rubin Gyle, and others • Psychoanalysis theory by Freud Sigmund; Lacanian Psychoanalysis and Feminist appropriations • Postmodernism – Foucault theory of sexuality • Critical theory – Feminism, queer theory Readings 1. Foucault, M. 1979. History of Sexuality – Vol. 1 Allen Lane, London. 2. Weeks, J. 1985. Sexuality and its Discontents: Meanings, Myths and Modern Sexualities, Routledge, London. 3. Beasley Chris (2005) Gender and Sexuality: Critical Theories, Critical Thinkers. Sage Publications: London. 4. Jackson Stevi (1996) heterosexuality and Feminist Theory in Richrdson Diane (ed). Theorizing heterosexuality: Telling it Straight Open University Press, Buckingham. Week 5: The politics of sexual difference • • • • •

Sexual diversity and liberationist debates Sexual difference and modern identity politics Multiple differences: include sexual minority/race/ethnicity/imperialism theorizing Relational power: social constructionism Fluidity/instability: postmodernism sexuality studies (queer theory)

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Readings 1. Beasley Chris (2005) Gender and Sexuality: Critical Theories, Critical Thinkers. Sage Publications: London. 2. Rubin, Gayle (1984), Thinking Sex: Notes for a radical theory of the politics of sexuality, in Pleasure and Danger: Exploring female sexuality, Edited by Carole Vance. Week 6: Sexuality and social institutions • • • •

Sexuality and marriage Sexuality, culture, and religion Sexuality and the state Sexuality and other institutions including schools, workplace, media Readings

1. Arnfred, Signe (ed) 2004. Re-thinking Sexualities in Africa. Nordiska Africainstitutet. 2. Tamale Sylvia (2011) African Sexualities: A reader. Pambazuka Press: Cape Town 3. Muhanguzi F.K (2014) “Sex is Sweet”: Low income Women in Uganda Talk About Sexual Desire and Pleasure. In Kyomuhendo GB; Siri G; Muhanguzi FK and Ahikire J (eds) Gender, Poverty and Social Transformation: Reflections on Fractures and Continuities in Contemporary Uganda, Kampala: Fountain Publishers. Week 7: Sexuality and body politics • The politics of body image and sexuality • Cosmetic surgery • Pornography Readings Aihwa Ong, Michael G. Peletz (eds) Bewitching women, pious men: Gender and Body politics in Southeast Asia. Weitz Rose 2003 (ed). The Politics of Women’s Bodies: Sexuality, Appearance, and Behavior 2nd Edition Oxford University Press, New York. Weitz Rose and Samantha Kwan 2014. The Politics of Women’s Bodies: Sexuality, Appearance, and Behavior 4th Edition Oxford University Press, New York. Week 8 and 9: Childhood and adolescent Sexuality • Children and adolescent sexual development • Adolescent sexual and reproductive health and rights

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• Life skills (values, communication, assertiveness, negotiation, looking for help) • Education and health system responses to children and adolescent sexual concerns Key Readings 1. Jejeebhoy, J.S., Shah Iqbal, Thapa Shyama, 2005. Sex without Consent: Young people in developing countries. Zed Books, London/New York. 2. Bailey, N., G.B. Gayle lethaby and C. Wilson 2002. The Baby Brigade: Teenage Mothers and Sexuality. Journal of the Association for Research on Mothering, Vol. 4 No. 1. pp. 101–110. Weeks 10 and 11: Sexuality and human rights • • • •

What are sexual and reproductive rights? Policy and Legal frameworks for promoting sexual and reproductive health rights Commercial sex work/prostitution Sexual violence-FGM, rape, defilement, sexual Harassment, trafficking Key Readings

1. Cornwall, A., Correa, S. And S. Jolly. 2008. Development with a Body: Sexuality, Human Rights and Development. Zed books, London/New York. 2. Cornwall, A., and Welbourn A. (eds) Realising Rights: Transforming Approaches to sexual and reproductive well being. Zed Books. London/New York. 3. Jejeebhoy, J.S., Shah Iqbal, Thapa Shyama, 2005. Sex without Consent: Young people in developing countries. Zed Books, London/New York 4. Agustin Laura M. 1998. Sex at the Margins: Migration, Labor markets and the rescue industry. Zed Books, London/New York. Week 12: Sexuality and ageing • Gender, circles of sexuality and ageing Week 13: Sexuality, social change, and development • • • •

Sexuality as development issue/politics of sexuality and development Poverty and sexuality Deconstruction of traditional notions of gender and sexuality Reproductive technologies Reading

1. Arnfred, S. (ed) 2004. Re-thinking Sexualities in Africa. Nordiska Africainstitutet.

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2. Cornwall, A., Correa, S. and S. Jolly. (2008). Development with a Body: Sexuality, Human Rights and Development. Zed books, London/New York. Week 14 - WRAP UP Supplementary Readings 1. Nannerl O. Keohane, Michelle Z Rosaldo and Barbara C. Gelpi (1981), Feminist Theory. A critique of Ideology, The university of Chicago Press pp147–176. 2. Rose Marie Yong (1989), Feminist Thought. A comprehensive Introduction, Unwin Hyman Ltd. 3. Ruth Hubbard, (1997), The Politics of Women’s Biology, Rutgers university Press, New Brunswick. 4. Fausto-Sterling, Anne (1993), Myths of Gender: Biological Theories about Women and Men, New York: Basic Books. 5. Colapinto, John (2001), As Nature made Him: The Boy who was raised as a Girl, New York: Harper Perennial. 6. Frank, Katherine, (1998), The production of Identity and the Negotiation of Intimacy in a ‘gentleman’s club’ Sexuality 1(2) pp 175–201. 7. Mead, Margaret (1928), Coming of Age in Samoa Popenoe, Rebecca 2003, Feeding desire; Fatness, beauty and Sexuality among Saharan people, London; Routledge. 8. Orther Sherry (1974), Is Female to Male as Nature is to Culture? In Women, Culture and Society, Edited by Michelle Zimbalist, Rosaldo and Louise Lamphere Stanford. Stanford University Press, pp 67–88. 9. Moore, D.S & Travis, CB (2000), Biological Models and Sexual Politics, In C.B. Travis & J.W White (Eds) Sexuality society and Feminism (pp 35–56) Washington, DC: American Psychological Association. Resourceful Websites www.isis.aust.com www.siyanda.com

Sample Syllabus IX: Women and Gender Studies in African Literature Course Title: Women and Gender Studies in African Literature Instructor: Dr Ezinwanyi E. Adam, Department of Languages and Literary Studies, Babcock University, Nigeria

Course Description This course is a critical assessment of women’s historical and contemporary roles in African family, politics, economy, and society from the perspective of literary

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writers/studies. It introduces feminist theories, with emphasis on the role of gender. Topics cover the variant portrayals of the conditions of women’s lives – social, economic, political, and religious aspects and relationships of African women and their impact in Africa. The course explores critical questions about the meaning of gender in society. The primary focus is to familiarize students with salient issues, questions, and debates in Women’s and Gender Studies research, both historical and contemporary, as represented in variant works of African authors, with particular attention to literary works. This is because African literary writers reflect social realities of their enabling societies in their creative works. Therefore, the course provides students with an introduction to women’s studies and feminist theories and many of the critical questions and concepts feminist critics have formed as tools for thinking about gendered experience. We will examine selected themes related to the experience, performance, and social conditions of African women’s lives such as work, health, law, culture, education, violence, family, social policy, resistance, and organizing for change as lucidly represented in African literary works.

Course Objectives Upon successful completion of this course, students should be able to: 1. Understand and connect with the major issues in the field of women’s and gender studies in Africa. 2. Apply different methods of analyzing gender in society, drawing upon both primary (literary) and secondary (nonliterary) sources 3. Define and apply key concepts and theories central to this field such as feminism, gender, patriarchy, and masculinity, to life experiences 4. Acknowledge inequalities generated through systems of oppression, culture, and privilege in Africa 5. List the major feminist theoretical perspective used in contemporary African setting 6. Communicate effectively about gender issues in both writing and speech, drawing upon women’s and gender studies research and addressing a public audience

Course Materials Required Textbooks • Mandell, N. (2010), Feminist Issues: Race, Class and Sexuality (5th edition). Pearson Canada. • Sotunsa, M. (2008). Feminism and Gender Discourse: the African Experience. Sagamu: Asaba Publications.

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Creative Works (Arranged as will be presented by individuals and/or groups) • NoViolet Bulawayo’s We Need New Names; Leila Aboulela’s The Translator; Chinua Achebe’s Things fall Apart; Sembene Ousmane’s Xala; • Marquerite Abouet’s The Aya Series; Chimamanda Adichie’s Half of a Yellow Sun and Americanah; Ngugi wa Thiong’O’s Wizard of the Crow; • Ama Ata Aidoo’s Changes and Our Sister Killjoy. Sefi Atta’s Everything Good will Come; H. J. Golokai’s The Lazarus Effects; • Mariama Ba0 s So Long a Letter; Doreen Baingana’s Tropical Fish; Ellen BandaAaku’s The Shining Girls; Mukoma wa Ngugi’s Nairobi Heat; • Margaret Busby’s Daughter of Africa; Tsitsi Dangarembga’s Nervous Condition; Nawal El Saadawi’s Woman at Point Zero; • Buchi Emecheta’s The Joys of Motherhood; Aminatta Forna’s The Memory of Love; Nadine Gordimer’s July’s People; • Bessie Head’s A Question of Power; Sarah Ladipo-Manyika’s In Dependence; Laila Lalami’s Secret Son; • Lesley Lokko’s Sundowners; Nadifa Mohamed’s Black Mamba Boy; Juliana Makuchi’s Your Madness, Not Mine; • Lilia Momplé’s Neighbours: The Story of a Murder; Rebeka Njau’s Ripples in the Pool; Flora Nwapa’s Efuru; • Adaobi Tricia Nwaubani’s I do not come to you by Chance; Grace Ogot’s The Promised Land; Chioma Okereke’s Bitter Leaf; • Karen King-Aribisala’s Our Wife and Other Stories and The Hangman’s Game; Nnedi Okorafor’s Zahrah the Windseeker; • Yvonne Adhiambor Owuor’s Dust; Lola Shoneyin’s The Secret Lives of Baba Segi’s Wives; Ahdaf Souief’s The Map of Love; • Alifat Rifaat’s Distant View of a Minaret and Other Stories; Véronique Tadjo’s As the Crow Flies and The Blind Kingdom; • Warsan Shire’s Teaching my Mother How to Give Birth; Aminata Sow Fall’s The Beggars’ Strike; Zukiswa Wanner’s Men of the South; • Bryony Rheam’s This September Sun; Zoe Wicomb’s Playing in the Light; The One that got Away and You can’t get Lost in Cape Town. These texts are works of art, which are beautifully crafted and embellished with artistic and aesthetic qualities that are enduring. They are purposively chosen because of their vivid representations, through given characters, settings and events, the dynamics of issues, images, and challenges that characterized the existence of both male and female genders, particularly the latter, at home (Africa) and outside home (the Diaspora). Some of the issues captured lucidly and aptly in the selected works include gender inequality and equity, health, girl-child abuse and education, inter- and intragender conflicts, domestic violence, gender stereotypes, poverty, corruption and underdevelopment, polygamy, sexualities, war and rape, patriarchy, female subjugation, and all forms of discrimination, among others. These issues cannot be overemphasized, as they remain central to gender and women’s discourses across disciplines.

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Sample Syllabus X: Gender Dynamics in African History Course Title: Gender Dynamics in African History Instructor: Dr Chris Saidi, Kutztown University of Pennsylvania, Kutztown, PA, USA African women are often portrayed in the media as victims – victims of war, victims of starvation, victims of African men, and victims of traditional African culture. The effect of all this creates images of backward, helpless women in need of our sympathy and help. Yet historically and today in Africa, where there are no wars or crises, women have had and still have more power within their own societies than do most women in the Western world. The Rwandan parliament has more women than men. The new Kenyan constitution requires that 1/3 of any elected body be “from the other gender.” Women were not oppressed as women in many African societies prior to colonialism. Seniority not gender determined status, which meant that older women had social status and control over younger women and younger men. Women were leaders and had important status, especially as mothers. We will learn about the role women have played in African history. African women, as historical players, will be studied from the periods of early human history in Africa to postcolonial Africa. This course will examine the role women have played in the longue durée of African History. African women, as historical players, will be studied from the periods of early human history in Africa to postcolonial Africa. This course will challenge students to understand that gender has been historically conceptualized differently in Africa than it has in the West. African women have been made voiceless in most of the modern world, but being voiceless does not mean that they are without a voice. Their voice will be central to this class. An integral part of the educational process is discussion and debate. We all learn more in an environment where there is open and honest contention and discussion between varying and sometimes opposing ideas. Key Text: Oyeronke Oyewumi (2005). African gender studies: A reader. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Other texts made available to students. Schedule Week 1: Introduction to Africa A. Is there a universal concept of gender? Readings: • • • • • • • •

African Gender Studies The Myth of Patriarchy Oyewumi Chapter 1 of Invention of Women I Am Not Just an African Woman African Gender Handout Modern African and East African Timeline Map of Africa Under the Bui Bui

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Film: • YouTube – George Carlin on Patriarchy • Always Ad • Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, We Should All Be Feminists Goal: Understanding the differences between African concepts of gender status and those of most Western societies. Week 2: Eve as African woman A. African Origins Readings: • • • •

African Origins-Mitochondrial DNA Trek Out of Africa What is the Bonobo? Bonobo and Societies Discussion Group 1: Grandmother Hypothesis; Hadza Films:

• You Tube-African Origins • Bonobo Wild life Mating • Grandmother Hypothesis Goal: Understand the concepts behind the Mitochondrial Eve and the Grandmother Hypothesis and early human social institutions that started in Africa. Week 3: -Methodology and Historiography A. Methodology Readings: • Gender in Archaeology • Linguistics and Gender • Women – Masks and Initiation Arts in Zambia B. Oral Traditions and Gender Equilibrium, Seniority, and Motherhood institutions in early African history Readings: • African Gender Studies, pp. 208–232 • Oral Traditions; Origins Myths; African Origins Myths Discussion Group 2: Linguistics and Gender; Oral Traditions; Origins Myths; African Origins Myths.

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Goal: Understanding how to apply new methods to answering historical questions and the historical uses of such research tools as historical linguistics, archaeology, comparative ethnography, oral tradition, and oral histories. Understanding the roles gender equilibrium and seniority played in early African history. Week 4: African Women in Technology A. The role of African women in technological innovation; transitions from gathering to agriculture • Readings: Bantu Africa– Chapter 4 B. Importance of pottery production; iron production and the motherhood metaphor Readings: • Nakabumba-Potters • Herbert and Potters • Nok Discussion Group 3: Bantu Africa, Chapter 4 Films: • Africa 2 • Pottery in Africa • Traditional Iron Production Goal: Understanding the historical division of labor between male and female labor and how it changed over long historical periods. Understanding the technological advances innovated by African women such as agriculture and ceramic production. Week 5: Women in Early African States A. Egypt Readings: • • • •

Egyptian Goddess Nut Egyptian Women and Childbirth Egyptian Women-Legal Status and Work Queen of Kush Film: Women in Egypt B: Nubia, Axum-Solomonic Dynasties Readings:

• Women in Africa pp. 9–18; pp. 63–64 • Kahina the Berber • Queen of Ethiopia

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Discussion Group 4 • Kahina the Berber • Queen of Ethiopia Films: • Africa 1 • Queen of Sheba • Woman’s Place Goal: Understanding the role of African women in the ancient world and how African/ Egyptian women were the freest in the ancient world. Week 6: Women in the Bantu Expansion Readings: • • • •

Chapter 2 Bantu Africa Matrilineal Belt article Nyau Masked Dancers Mother-in-law power Films:

• Tumbuka and Nyau Dances Discussion Group 1: Chapter 2 Bantu Africa Goal: Understanding precolonial gender dynamics over the Longue Durée in Bantuspeaking Africa. And analyzing the key role matrilineality played in Bantu history. Week 7: The Rise of Islam in Africa and Gender A. Women in Islamic West Africa Readings: • • • •

Ibn Battuta in Africa Women in Africa pp. 50–62 Daughters of Uthman Don Fodio Queen Amina B. Women in Islamic East Africa Readings:

• Women in Africa pp. 18–24 • Swahili Women • Somali Women Discussion Group 2

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• Swahili women • Somali women Film: Africa 3–Caravans of Gold Goal: Explain the effects of Islam on the status of women and how African women used Islamic law for their advantage. Explain the roles of both elite and common women in the centralized states of precolonial Africa. Week 8: Women and the Atlantic Slave Trade, Kingdom of the Kongo, Eastern Africa Readings: • • • • • • •

Main Text: pp. 70–80 Royal Women in Buganda Women in Africa, pp. 70–80 Women Slavers Queen Nzinga Elite Women in the Kongo, Gender and the Slave Trade Discussion: Group 3

• Queen Nzinga • Elite Women in the Kongo Film: Goree Goal: Explain effects of the Atlantic slave trade on the status of women in Africa and the role of matrilineality in the Kingdom of the Kongo. Week 9: Women and Colonialism; Christianity and a New Concept of “Womanhood,” Western education; Native Courts Readings: • • • • •

Women in Africa, pp. 80–96 Oyewumi, Chapter 4 Women in Africa, pp. 96–110 Women in Africa pp. 31–50 Domesticity in South Africa Discussion: Group 4

• “Orientalism” and colonialism in Algeria • Politics of racism • Domesticity in South Africa Goal: Explain the effects of colonialism on the status of women in Africa. Week 10: Women and the Struggle Against Colonialism

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Readings: • • • • • • •

Women’s Struggle Against Colonialism Women in African History, pp. 110–114 Women and Mau Mau African Women Leaders’ Photos Aba Women’s War Tanu Women Lumpa Church Discussion Group 1

• Lumpa Church • Aba Women’s War Film: You have Struck a Rock Goal: Explain the effects of colonialism on the status of women in East and Southern Africa and the role of women in the anti-colonial movement. Week 11: African Concepts of Sexuality Readings: • • • • • •

Celebrating Female Sexuality Female Circumcision Fact Sheet Re-thinking Female Circumcision Alice Walker and Female Circumcision Beware the Designer Vagina Why Are Women Going Under the Knife? Discussion Group 2

• Celebrating Female Sexuality • Re-thinking Female Circumcision Film: Story of Saartjie Baartman Goal: Understanding the historical transformations of sexuality in African societies, which will include both traditions that celebrate female sexuality and those that inhibit female sexuality such as female circumcision. Week 12: Gender in African Diaspora Discussion Group 3 Goal: To understand African women’s perspectives on development Week 13: Gender in Independent Africa and Development

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Readings: • • • •

Text: pp. 297–337; pp. 387–416 Women in Africa: pp. 50–62, 114–129 Ties that Unbind I Will Not Give Up Singing Discussion Group 4

• Ties that Unbind • Skin Bleaching Films: Wangari Maathai: For Our Land Goal: To understand the contradictions facing Modern African women. Week 14: African Women in the Diaspora and New Research on Gender in Africa. Reading: • Changing sex roles among the Garifuna • What’s Love Got to Do With It: Concubinage and Enslaved Women in the American South • Cuba and Women End

Sample Syllabus XI: Women Writers in Africa Course Title: Women Writers in Africa. Instructor: Prof Mobolanle E. Sotunsa, Department of Languages and Literary Studies, Babcock University, Nigeria. Course description: This is the study of women writers in Africa. The course provides a formal context of the study of women writers in terms of their ideological positions, techniques, themes, and styles. The course will look at the works of female African writers such as Buchi Emecheta, Ama Ata Aidoo, Tsitsi Dangarambga, Efua Sutherland, Nawal El Saadawi, and Bessie Head. Writers in the three literary genres, Prose (Fiction), Drama, and Poetry will be featured in the course. Course content: The major concepts that will be discussed in the course include gender, feminism, womanism, African women. Course objectives: At the end of this course, students will be able to:

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Identify women writers in Africa and classify them into various ideological positions. Undertake literary analysis of texts of major women writers in Africa Recognize the major thematic concerns of African women writers Understand the place and responsibilities of women in the African society within a Christian perspective

Required Texts Adebayo, Joseph A. Feminism, Black Women’s Creative Writing: Theory, Practise, Criticism. Ibadan: AMD Publishers, 1996. Chukukere, Gloria. Gender Voices and Choices: Redefining Women in Contemporary African Fiction. Enugu: New Dimension Publishing Co. Ltd., 1995. James, Adeola. In their Own Voices: African Women Writers Talk. London, Portsmouth: James Currey and Heinemann, 1998. Sotunsa, Mobolanle (2008) Feminism and Gender Discourse: The African Experience. Asaba Publications. Akorede, Y Asiyanbola A (ed) (2010). The Feminist- Womanist Dialectics, Sonouu D0 Afrique Porto Novo Replublic of Benin for Lytte Books Bedford and Essex, U.K. Sotunsa, Mobolanle and Yacob-Haliso Olajumoke (eds) (2012) Women in Africa: Contexts, Rights and Hegemonies. Ilishan-Remo: Babcock University Gender and African Studies Group.

Creative Texts • • • • • • • •

Buchi Emecueta: Joy of Motherhood. Mariama Ba: So Long a Letter. Ama Ata Aidoo: Changes. Tsitsi Dangarambga: Nervous Conditions. Efua Sutherland: Edufa. Nawal El Saadawi: Woman at Point Zero. Bessie Head: A Question of Power. Lada Osman: The Kitchen Dweller’s Testimony.

Schedule Weeks 1

Topic Introduction

Learning objective/outcome Introduce the course Discuss the course aims and objectives

Assignments and after-class activities

(continued)

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Topic Meaning and history of feminism

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The evolution of womanism and its distinguishing characteristics

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Ideological positions of African female writers in gender discourse Gender politics in African literature

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Discussion of text: Buchi Emecheta’s Joy of Motherhood

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Discussion of text: Mariama Ba: So Long a Letter

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Discussion of text: Ama Ata Aidoo’s Changes

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Poetry: Lada Osman The Kitchen Dweller’s Testimony Mid-semester exam

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Discussion of texts: Efua Sutherland’s Edofa

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Discussion of text: Tsitsi Dangarambga’s Nervous Conditions

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Discussion of text: Nawal El Saadawl’s Woman at Point Zero

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Discussion of text: Bessie Head’s A Question of Power

Learning objective/outcome Understand the concepts of feminism Be acquainted with the Historical Background of feminism Understand the evolution and developments of womanism Identify the distinguishing characteristics of womanism Recognize the ideological positions of African female writers Be conversant with the various debates about the roles and relations of men and woman Understand the thematic focus of the text Analyze style and techniques of the text Understand the thematic focus of the text Analyze style and techniques of the text Understand the thematic focus of the text Analyze style and techniques of the text Understand the thematic focus of the poems Conduct mid-semester exam on topic treated so far Understand the thematic focus Analyze style and techniques of the text Understand the thematic focus Analyze style and techniques of the text Understand the thematic focus Analyze style and techniques of the text Understand the thematic focus Analyze style and techniques of the text

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Assignments and after-class activities Assignments on listing women writers due

Group one presentation on Joy of Motherhood Group two presentation on So Long a Letter Group three presentation on Changes Group four presentation on The Kitchen Dweller’s Testimony Group five presentation on Edofa Group six presentation on Nervous Conditions Group seven presentation on Woman at Point Zero Group eight presentation on A Question of Power (continued)

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Topic Common themes in African women writing and common challenges of African women as portrayed in literature Revision Examinations

Learning objective/outcome Identify the thematic focus and challenges of African women writers

Assignments and after-class activities

Sample Syllabus XII: Nigerian Feminist Writers Course Title: Nigerian Feminist Writers Instructor: Prof. Mobolanle E. Sotunsa, Department of Languages and Literary Studies, Babcock University, Nigeria Course description: This course provides a formal context for the study of Nigerian feminist writers in terms of their characteristics themes, styles, and social-political relevance. Starting with the pioneer female writers, such as Flora Nwapa, Buchi Emecheta, and others, the course dovetails to include the more recent new voices such as Chimamanda Adiche and Akachi Ezeigbo. Writers in the three genres, Fiction, Drama, and Poetry will be featured in the course. Course objectives: At the end of the course, students will be able to: 1. Identify feminist writers in Nigeria and classify them into various ideological positions 2. Undertake literary analysis of texts of major feminist writers in Nigeria 3. Recognize the major thematic concerns of Nigerian feminist writers 4. Critique the place and responsibilities of women in African society within the socio cultural context

Required Texts Acholonu, C.O. Motherism: The Afro-Centric Alternative to Feminism. Owerri: Afa Publications, 1995. Adebayo, Joseph A. Feminism, Black Women’s Creative Writing: Theory, Practise, Criticism. Ibadan: AMD Publishers, 1996. James, Adeola. In their Own Voices: African Women Writers Talk. London, Portsmouth: James Currey and Heinemann, 1998. Humm, Maggie (ed.) Feminisms: A Reader. New York: Harvester Wheatsheaf, 1992. Sotunsa, Mobolanle (2008) Feminism and Gender Discourse: The African Experience. Asaba Publications.

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Creative Texts • • • • • • • • •

Flora Nwapa: Efuru Buchi Emecheta: Joy of Motherhood Zaynab Alkali: The Still Born Ifeoma Okoye: Behind the Cloud Akachi Ezeigbo: The Last of the Strong Ones Sefi Atta: Everything Good will Come. Chimamanda Adichie: A Thing around your Neck Tess Onwueme: Reign of Wazobia Toyin Adewale: Naked Testimonies

Schedule Week 1

Topic Introduction

2

Feminism and Gender discourse in Nigeria

3

Nigerian Feminists writers: Historical Developments and ideological positions

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Text Analysis: Flora Nwapa’s Efuru

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Buchi Emecheta’s Joys of Motherhood

Learning objective/ outcome Introduce the course Discuss the course aims, and objectives Understand the concept of feminism Identify strands of feminism Be acquainted with foremost Nigerian feminist writers Categorize the writers into generations Recognize the ideological positions of feminist writers Analyze the text from a feminist. Perspective Understand the thematic focus and categorize ideological positions Analyze style and techniques of the text. Identify feminism challenges explored in the text Analyze the text from a feminist. Perspective Understand the thematic focus and categorize ideological positions

Assignments and after-class activities Read about feminism

Write names of 20 Nigerian feminist writers with details of their landmark works Read Efuru against next class

Read Joys of motherhood against the next class Group one assignment dues

Read The Still Born

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Topic

6

Zaynab Alkali: The Still Born

7

Ifeoma Okoye’s Behind the Cloud

8

Mid- Semester Exams

9

Akachi Ezeigbo’s The Last of the Strong Ones

10

Sefi Atta’s Everything good will come

Learning objective/ outcome Analyze style and techniques of the text Identify feminism challenges explored in the text Analyze the text from a feminist. Perspective Understand the thematic focus and categorize ideological positions Analyze style and techniques of the text Identify feminism challenges explored in the text Analyze the text from a feminist. Perspective Understand the thematic focus and categorize ideological positions Analyze style and techniques of the text Identify feminism challenges explored in the text Conduct a mid-semester exam on topics treated so far Analyze the text from a feminist perspective Understand the thematic focus and categorize ideological positions Analyze style and techniques of the text Identify feminism challenges explored in the text Analyze the text from a feminist. Perspective Understand the thematic focus and categorize ideological positions Analyze style and techniques of the text Identify feminism

Assignments and after-class activities

Read Behind the cloud

Prepare for mid-semester

Read The Last of the strong ones Read Everything Good will come

Read the thing around your neck

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Topic

11

Chimamanda Adichie’s The Thing Around your Neck

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Tess Onwueme’s Reign of Wazobia

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Toyin Adewale’s Naked Testimonies

14

Revision

15

Final Examination

Learning objective/ outcome challenges explored in the text Analyze the text from a feminist. Perspective Understand the thematic focus and categorize ideological positions Analyze style and techniques of the text Identify feminism challenges explored in the text Analyze the text from a feminist. Perspective Understand the thematic focus and categorize ideological positions Analyze style and techniques of the text Identify feminism challenges explored in the text Analyze the text from a feminist. Perspective Understand the thematic focus and categorize ideological positions Analyze style and techniques of the text Identify feminism challenges explored in the text Revision

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Assignments and after-class activities

Read The Reign of Wazobia

Read poems in Naked Testimonies

Compare ideological position of the writers

Sample Syllabus XIII: Women in Africa Course Title: Women in Africa Instructor: Emeritus Professor Jamaine Abidogun, Missouri State University, USA This course will introduce students to African women’s histories and contemporary issues. The readings cover the broad geographical areas of North, West, East,

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Central, and Southern Africa. The course frames and contextualizes women’s precolonial, colonial, and post- or neo-colonial histories through Afrocentric or Black feminist and gender theories. These histories deal with a range of topics or issues in economics, education, family, politics, and religion.

Course Objectives 1. To provide introductory knowledge of African women’s precolonial through post- or neo-colonial histories and resulting contemporary issues through readings, writings, and discussions 2. To provide introductory knowledge of feminist and gender theories within African history through critique of historical readings based on gender theories 3. To increase students’ understanding of Africa’s diverse societies through readings and films on African women’s histories using regional examples 4. To provide practice and development of students’ critical thinking skills and application of gender studies methods and constructs through book reviews, discussions, and research 5. To support and develop students’ research and writing skills as applied to African women’s histories through discussions, article analysis, and written assignments

Required Texts Adichie, Chimamanda Ngozi. (2003). Purple hibiscus. Reprint edition. Chapel Hill: Algonquin. Adichie, Chimamanda Ngozi. (2015). We Should All Be Feminists. New York, NY: Anchor Books. Chernoff, John M. (2003). Hustling is not stealing: Stories of an African bar girl. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Hill Collins, Patricia. Black Feminist Thought: Knowledge, Consciousness, and the Politics of Empowerment.3rd Ed. New York: Routledge, 2009. HST 323 Selected Readings. Available at Bookstore.

Course Schedule You are expected to complete the following readings prior to completing Module activities for that week. Week Week 1

Readings/Assignments Introduction: Gendering African History Introduction to Course Topics; African Historiography Adichie, Chimamanda Ngozi – Video – A Single Story Hill Collins. Black Feminist Thought, Chapters 1 and 2

Due Date Jan 11

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Week 2

Readings/Assignments Zeleza, Tiyambe. “Gender Biases in African Historiography.” In Engendering African Social Science, edited by A.M. Iman, A. Mama, and F. Sow. Dakar, Senegal: CODESRIA, 1997: 81–115. Manning, Patrick. “Gender in the African Diaspora: Electronic Research Materials.” In Dialogues of Dispersal: Gender, Sexuality and African Diasporas, edited by S. Gunning, T.W. Hunter, and M. Mitchell. Oxford, UK: Blackwell Publishing Ltd., 2004: 179–191. Adichie, Chimamanda. We Should All be Feminists. (All) Part 1: Women in Regional History 3 Berger, Iris. “Women in East and Southern Africa.” In Women in Sub-Saharan Africa, I. Berger and E.F. White. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1999: 5–31. White, E.F. “Women in West and West-Central Africa.” In Women in Sub-Saharan Africa, I. Berger and E.F. White. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1999: 63–96. Part 2: “Queen Mothers and Others” 4 Anon. “The Story of Ngangezwe and Mnyamana” Anon. “The War in Zululand” Kazahendike, K. “Two Lions Who Changed Themselves into People and Married Two Herero Girls.” In Women Writing Africa: The Southern Region, edited by M.J. Daymond, D. Driver, S. Meintjes, L. Molema, C. Musengezi, M. Orford, and N. Rasebatsa. NY: The Feminist Press, 2003: 115–124. Niane, D.T. Sundiata: An Epic of Old Mali. Rev. Ed. Essex, UK: Pearson Education Ltd., 2006:1–47. Anon. “Two Songs for Sunjata.” In Women Writing Africa: West Africa and the Sahel, edited by E. Sutherland-Addy and A. Diaw. NY: The Feminist Press, 2005: 119–121. 5 Quiz #1 Bay, Edna G. “Belief, Legitimacy and the Kpojito: An Institutional Historyof the ‘Queen Mother’ in Precolonial Dahomey.” The Journal of African History 36:1 (1995): 1–27. Olajubu, Oyeronke. “Seeing through a Woman’s Eye: Yoruba Religious Tradition and Gender Relations.” Journal of Feminist Studies in Religion 20: 1 (Spring 2004): 41–60. Part 3: Early Encounters 6 Steegstra, Marijke, “‘A Mighty Obstacle to the Gospel’: Basel Missionaries, Krobo Women, and Conflicting Ideas of Gender and Sexuality,” Journal of Religion in Africa 32:2 (May 2002): 200–230. Thornton, John K. “Elite Women in the Kingdom of Kongo: Historical Perspectives on Women’s Political Power” The Journal of African History 47:3 (2006): 437–460. Part 4: Women and the Colonial Experience 7 First Book Review Due Allman, Jean and Victoria Tashjian. “The World to Which They Were Born: Women’s Life Stories and the Problem of Colonial Chronologies.” In ‘I Will Not Eat Stone’: A Women’s History of Colonial Asante. Portsmouth, NJ: Heinemann, 2000: 1–44.

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Due Date Jan 19

Jan 25

Feb 1

Feb 8

Feb 16

Feb 22

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Readings/Assignments Gengenbach, Heidi. “‘What My Heart Wanted’: Gendered Stories of Early Colonial Encounters in Southern Mozambique.” In Women in African Colonial Histories, edited by J. Allman, S. Geiger, and N. Musisi. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2002: 19–47. 8 Bastian, Mary L. “‘Vultures of the Marketplace’: Southeastern Nigerian Women and Discourses of the Ogu Umunwaanyi (Woman’s War) of 1929.” In Women in African Colonial Histories, edited by J. Allman, S. Geiger, and N. Musisi. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2002: 260–281. Lawrence, Benjamin N. “La Revolte des Femmes: Economic Upheaval and the Gender of Political Authority in Lome, Togo, 1931–33.” African Studies Review 46:1 (2003): 43–67. Thomas, Lynn M. “Imperial Concerns and ‘Women’s affairs’: State Efforts to Regulate Clitoridectomy and Eradicate Abortion in Meru, Kenya, c. 1910– 1950,” The Journal of African History 39:1 (1998):121–145. Part 5: Women, Religion, and Society 9 Midterm Exam Higgs, Catherine. “Zenzele: African Women’s Self-Help Organizations in South Africa 1927–1998.” African Studies Review 47:3 (2004): 119–141. Whitsitt, Novian. “Islamic-Hausa Feminism Meets Northern Nigerian Romance: The Cautious Rebellion of Bilkisu Funtuwa.” African Studies Review 46:1 (2003): 137–153 10 Mianda, Gertrude. “Colonialism, Education, and Gender Relations in the Belgian Congo: the Evolue Case.” In Women in African Colonial Histories, edited by J. Allman, S. Geiger, and N. Musisi. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2002: 144–163. Abidogun, Jamaine. “Western Education’s Impact on Northern Igbo Gender Roles in Nsukka, Nigeria.” Africa Today 54:1 (Fall 2007): 29–51. Part 6: Political-Economies and Agency 11 Lyon, Tanya. “Guerrilla Girls and Women in the Zimbabwean National Liberation Struggle.” In Women in African Colonial Histories, edited by J. Allman, S. Geiger, and N. Musisi. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2002: 305–326. Diduk, Susan. “The Civility of Incivility: Grassroots Political Activism, Female Farmers, and the Cameroon State.” African Studies Review 47:2 (2004): 27–54. Hill-Collins. “U.S. Black Feminism in Transnational Context”, Chapter 10 12 Wojcicki, Janet M. “The Movement to Decriminalize Sex Work in Gauteng Province, South Africa, 1994–2002.” African Studies Review 46: 3 (2003): 83–109 Holtzman, Jon. “The Food of Elders, the ‘Ration’ of Women: Brewing, Gender, and Domestic Processes among the Samburu of Northern Kenya.” American Anthropologist, New Series 103:4 (Dec. 2001): 1041–1058. Part 7: Women and the State 13 Quiz #2 One hour limit.

Due Date

Feb 29

Mar 21

Mar 28

Apr 4

Apr 11 (continued)

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Week

Readings/Assignments MOVIE: N!ai, The Story of a!Kung Woman https://www.therai.org.uk/film/ contact Sylvain, Renee. “‘Land, Water, and Truth’: San Identity and Global Provide Indigenism.” American Anthropologist, New Series, 104: 4 (Dec., 2002):1074–1085. Hill-Collins. Chp. 10 “U.S. Black Feminism in Transnational Context”, Black Feminist Thought, 3rd Ed. New York: Routledge, 2009. 14 Second Book Review Due Load no later than Apr 18, Midnight Central Time. Cooper, Allen D. “State Sponsorship of Women’s Rights and Implications for Patriarchism in Namibia.” The Journal of Modern African Studies 35: 3 (1997): 469–483. Njambi, Wairimu Ngaruiya & William O’Brien, “‘Woman-Woman Marriage’: Notes on Gikuyu Women.” NWSA Journal 12:1 (Spring 2000): 1–23. 15 MOVIE: Sisters in Law Trailers: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v¼ejNuLtB7I1A http://www.pbs. org/independentlens/sistersinlaw/film.html Jennifer Maher and Marissa Moorman, “Review: A Black Camera Movie Review: Sisters in Law.” Black Camera, 22: 2/23: 1 (Spring 2008): 120–122. Fonchingong, Charles C. “Expanding horizons: Women’s voices in community-driven development in the Cameroon grasslands.” GeoJournal 65:3 (2006):137–149. 16 Outwater, Anne, Naeema Abrahams, & Jacquelyn C. Campbell. “Women in South Africa: Intentional Violence and HIV/AIDS: Intersections and Prevention.” Journal of Black Studies 35:4 (Mar 2005): 135–154. Connect to Week 12 Wojcicki (2003) article. Morrison, Anthea. “From Africa to ‘The Islands’: New World Voyages in the Fiction of Maryse Conde and Paule Marshall.” In Gendering the African Diaspora: Women, Culture, and Historical Change in the Caribbean and Nigerian Hinterland, edited by Judith A. Byfield, LaRay Denzer, and Anthea Morrison. Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 2010: 38–54. Final Exam

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Apr 18

Apr 25

May 2

Chapter Conclusion In the above survey, key subjects and broad themes in the teaching of African women’s studies in various countries across at least three continents are carefully elucidated and unfolded. In sharing these with the world, the contributors to this chapter and Handbook editors hope to influence pedagogy and instruction, as well as learning, perceptions, and the construction of knowledge about African women, wherever the subject is taught.

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Cross-References ▶ A History of African Women from 800 CE to 1900: Bold Grandmas, Powerful Queens, Audacious Entrepreneurs ▶ A History of African Women from Origins to 800 CE: Bold Grandmas, Powerful Queens, Audacious Entrepreneurs ▶ African Women and African Oral Literatures ▶ African Women and the Atlantic Slave Trade ▶ African Women Hip-Hop Artists Representing Transnational Identities: Y3 Fr3 Me Rebel ▶ African Women, Culture, and Society in Contemporary African Novels ▶ Decolonizing the Curriculum on African Women and Gender Studies ▶ Gender, Authority, and Identity in African History: Heterarchy, Cosmic Families and Lifestages ▶ Teaching Women’s Studies in Africa ▶ The Role of Religion and Faith Actors in Violence Against Women and Girls in Africa: Challenges, Tensions, and Promise ▶ Women, Activism, and the State in North Africa ▶ Writing Nigerian Women in the Economy, Education, and Literature ▶ Writing Nigerian Women’s Political History

Section III African Women and Politics

The multifaceted realm of politics has historically been the ultimate platform and common graveyard for African women’s aspirations, protection, and leadership. A feminist approach to politics advocates collapsing the artificial public/private binary to enable the interrogation of the politics of the personal, and the personal in the political. While this is achieved in more than one section of this Handbook, in this section on African Women and Politics, women’s personal and public experiences with formal and informal political processes, policies, and institutions are dynamically explored and analyzed. Ramola Ramtohul provides an overview of key statistics, themes, and trends in women’s political presence in national institutions, their political activism, and the constant restraining power of patriarchy and patronage. As political parties are the primary vehicle for selecting and electing political leadership in most countries of the world, Antonia Taiye Okoosi-Simbine and Ndifon Neji Obi situate political participation of African women within the structural and patriarchal constraints that political parties present, making them both platforms and obstacles to women’s involvement in politics in Africa. Separate but similar logics propel women’s representation in other key institutions of government – the legislature, executive, judiciary, local government, and the military. In all instances, though to varying degrees, African women’s numeric participation or descriptive representation is abysmally low in the political institutions mentioned. Gretchen Bauer marshals empirical data and theoretical literature to explain the progress in African women’s descriptive and substantive representation in African parliaments relative to other world regions and the promise that this holds for more democratic political systems and spaces in the future, if the gains are sustained. Research on women in the judiciary and African women judges is only beginning to take off with recent scholarly interventions. The chapter by J. Jarpa Dawuni hereby deploys a new “matri-legal feminism” framework to situate African women judges historically and contextually. In identifying which women are on the judicial bench, how they got there, assessing their substantive representation of women’s interests, and the challenges they face at the intersections of gender,

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class, and professional hierarchies, Dawuni’s chapter succeeds in gendering knowledge on the subject to mitigate its predominantly androcentric focus toward transforming legal research on African women. Oluyemi O. Fayomi and associates found that addressing relevant political, socioeconomic, and gender dynamics affecting women’s entry into executive political positions would also improve Africa’s performance on this metric. In most African countries, women in local government administration are scarce, and when found there, occupy the lowest positions, inform Nana Akua Amponsah and Janet Serwah Boateng. But perhaps the state sector that is most closed to gender equality is the security and defence services sector. Here, women are not only very poorly represented by discriminatory recruitment, promotion, retention, and leadership appointment processes, but also, as Omotola Adeyoju Ilesanmi explains, security sector reform is persistently resistant to gender mainstreaming, gender equality, and gender transformation initiatives due to entrenched masculinist traditions and cultures that define these institutions to the exclusion of the feminine gender in all its forms. In remedying the above discriminations against women, scholars and activists advocate implementing “gender equality policies” to encourage the participation of women, elevate them to leadership, and broaden their substantive impact positively. This has led to the extensive adoption of these policies across the continent, but Kara Ellerby found that these policies have not enjoyed commensurate success. Ellerby’s chapter argues that this is mainly due to significantly lower implementation and the persistence of informal practices and politics that scuttle the objectives of these policies. Most gender equality policies end up merely adding women to stir, leaving gendered political institutions in place and thereby sabotaging social transformation for women. Adebusola Okedele’s chapter on quotas and affirmative action policies reinforces this argument by analyzing resistance to the adoption of quotas in many African countries and the lacking evidence that increased descriptive representation in other places durably transforms social and gender inequities. The rights of other minoritized groups, along with women’s rights to equal political participation and representation, in this case, LGBTQI+ rights in Africa, are contested and resisted in almost every African country. Zethu Matebeni posits that homophobia in Africa was introduced by colonialism, the trans-Saharan slave trade, and the incursion of Islam and Christianity into the continent, affecting not only sexual and gender identities but also the very notion of human rights itself. Expanding the discussion to North Africa, Zahia Smail Salhi traces how women’s activism in that region was strategically conducted around the adoption of family codes as a gateway to accessing the fullness of their citizenship rights in contexts that were restrictive to various extents. For African islands that host up to 30 million people cumulatively, there are varying trends in women’s representation, opportunities, socioeconomic dynamics, and enjoyment of their rights and dignity. While citing limited progress in African island nations such as Cabo Verde and Seychelles, Aleida Borges shows that despite the relative stability and prosperity that some islands have experienced, women, for the most part, have not been able to achieve full rights and representation.

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In a summative closing chapter, Aili Tripp collates and analyzes enormous comparative data and synthesizes the various explanations advanced in the literature to derive and posit new trends in African women’s representation in politics. Placing these within an international context of decline in major conflicts, political liberalization, the influence of women’s movements, and external norms that reward women’s numeric inclusion, Tripp asserts that extant explanations are inadequate as regional and subregional variations need to be accounted for in Africa.

Women, Gender, and Politics in Africa

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Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Trends in Women’s Political Presence in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Women’s Movement Activism on the Continent . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . National Machineries for Women and Femocracy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Affirmative Action and Quotas for Women . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Patriarchy and Patronage . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

Women in Africa have had a long and rich history of political activism in different forms, from precolonial to colonial and postcolonial times. African women have been involved in social movements, including the national liberation movements and women’s movements and in political parties. They have also had to face resistance from patriarchal culture and structures. Military and single-party regimes brought additional challenges to women’s rights and political empowerment in some African states. In more recent times, Africa has been leading the world on women’s representation in parliament. African women have also been at the forefront at global conferences on women and they have advocated for the protection of women’s rights through the ratification of international and regional treaties and instruments. This chapter provides a broad overview of women’s mobilization, political participation and parliamentary presence on the continent, examining the key themes and issues. Keywords

Gender · Politics · Parliament · Women’s movements · Patriarchy R. Ramtohul (*) Department of Social Studies, University of Mauritius, Reduit, Mauritius e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_132

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Introduction Africa, as a continent, is vast, encompassing a wide variety of cultures, languages, traditions, economies, political systems, and ecology, all of which carry a gender dimension and may result in varied experiences for African women. Yet, African societies have generally been and are still patriarchal in current times, and patriarchy therefore affects most women on the continent in different ways. The ingrained patriarchal culture impacts significantly on gendered power relations in African states and societies. The specific historical and socioeconomic trajectories of African nations have also influenced gendered relations on the continent, more pertinently women’s political presence in a number of African parliaments. Women in Africa have been actively mobilized around a wide range of issues affecting their rights as women prior to and also, more significantly, since independence. These include access to basic resources or practical needs of land, housing, health, and clean water but also strategic needs such as education and political representation. However, at the time when colonialism on the continent was giving way to independence for many African states, it was the cultural production and political agitation of African men that were assimilated into the nationalist discourse, whereas the culture and politics of women were often considered to be marginally engaged with nationalism and holding little interest and connection to politics overall (Andrade 2007, p. 85). African women have been at the forefront at the United Nations World Conferences on Women in Nairobi (1985) and Beijing (1995). These global conferences and the action plans and strategies that followed brought an international focus to women’s rights issues and therefore increased pressure on African governments to respond to the demands of domestic women’s organizations, especially in the areas of women’s rights, empowerment, and entitlements. Moreover, at the 1985 UN World Conference on Women in Nairobi, African women were able to influence official discussions to give greater consideration on issues of national liberation and apartheid, which had not received much focus but were important to women on the continent (Tripp et al. 2009). African women also played a prominent role at the 1995 UN World Conference on Women in Beijing, where they raised concerns about the girl child. This ultimately became one of the critical concerns of the Beijing Platform for Action (Tripp et al. 2009). In July 2003, the fight for women’s rights in Africa was spearheaded further when, at the 2nd Ordinary Session of the Assembly of the African Union in Maputo, Mozambique, African Heads of State adopted the “The Protocol to The African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights on the Rights of Women in Africa,” known as the “Maputo Protocol,” reflecting the lived realities of African women and girls. Article 2(1) of the Maputo Protocol calls on States Parties to take affirmative actions through the adoption of laws and policies to combat all forms of discrimination against women and girls whereas Article 9 stipulates that States Parties shall take specific positive action to promote participative governance and the equal participation of women in the political life of their countries through affirmative action, enabling national legislation and other measures. While most countries have ratified the Maputo Protocol without reservations, a few, such as Cameroon, Kenya,

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Namibia, Rwanda, South Africa, Uganda, and Mauritius, have done so with reservations regarding some of the articles of the Protocol (MEWC 2018). In 2010, the African Union (AU) launched the African Women’s Decade 2010–2020 with the theme “grassroots approach to gender equality and women’s empowerment.” The African Women’s Decade aims to advance gender equality by accelerating implementation of Dakar, Beijing and AU Assembly Decisions on Gender Equality and Women’s Empowerment (GEWE), through dual topdown and bottom-up approaches inclusive of grassroots participation (MEWC 2018). In fact, since the launch of the African Women’s Decade, most African states have adopted various legal frameworks, policies, and/or strategies and national actions plans geared toward ending the discrimination and exclusion of women in the social, political, and economic sphere and have enshrined the principle of equality for men and women in their Constitutions, through the prohibition of discrimination on the basis of sex and the protection of the fundamental rights of all (MEWC 2018). Commendable progress has been made on women’s political participation, presence, and representation in African parliaments. African women have also been actively involved in social movements, including national liberation movements as well as women’s movements. However, some of the progress is being undone by patriarchal systems and bureaucratic agencies, calling for a new level of activism from African women. This chapter will provide an overview of the broad trends in women’s mobilization for gender equality in African societies, political participation, and impacts of women’s political presence in postcolonial and post conflict Africa. It is not exhaustive in terms of detail, but rather aims to provide an overview of the key themes, issues, and debates in the scholarly literature on the overarching area of women, gender, and politics in Africa. The chapter is divided into six sections, which apart from the introduction and conclusion, deal with specific themes.

Trends in Women’s Political Presence in Africa The decline in and/or end of conflict in many African countries toward the end of the twentieth century and into the twenty-first century was conducive to significant positive changes on women’s rights and entitlements, as highlighted by Aili Tripp (2015) in her comprehensive study on Women and Power in Postconflict Africa. Tripp (2015, p. 3, 30) notes that post-conflict African countries made more constitutional and legislative changes related to women’s rights than other African nations that did not experience such conflict, including key woman-friendly constitutional clauses as well as new legislation on land rights and gender-based violence. As such, post-conflict African countries have been the trailblazers with regard to women’s political representation and have more women in executive leadership positions. Rwanda, for example, is the first African country to exceed the 50% representation of women in parliament, and is currently highest in the world. Liberia also had the

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first elected woman president in Africa, and Uganda had a woman vice president for 10 years (Tripp 2015). At present, Africa leads the world in the arena of women’s political representation with Rwanda ranking first initially with 61.3% women in the lower house of parliament and 38.5% in the upper house (IPU 2018). Following elections in September 2018, women’s representation in the Rwandan lower house of parliament rose to 67.5%, which is a higher world record (The New Times 2018; IPU 2018). Namibia is sixth in the world with 46.2% women in the lower house and 23.8% in the upper house. South Africa, Senegal, and Mozambique follow, ranking 10th, 12th, and 15th, respectively (IPU 2018). What is also interesting is that Southern Africa’s two stable and highly successful democracies, both politically and economically, lie at the bottom end in terms of women’s representation in parliament. Indeed, Mauritius ranks 152nd in the world with 11.8% women in parliament and Botswana ranks 165th with 9.5% women parliamentarians (IPU 2018). In the case of Botswana, the lack of a political transition or political opportunity structure that might have provided for the adoption of an electoral gender quota as well as other barriers to women’s participation in politics such as a lack of resources, poor presentation of women candidates in the media, insufficient effort on the part of political parties, and, most importantly, the waning influence of a national women’s movement primarily explain the sustained low figures on women’s parliamentary representation (Bauer 2010). Similarly for Mauritius, the use of a first-past-the-post electoral system with ethnic quotas (known as the Best Loser System), a low level of women’s activism within political parties, dispersed and weak women’s movements, coalition politics and barriers to women’s political participation such as the patriarchal culture, lack of skills and resources, have systematically side-lined aspiring women politicians (Yoon and Bunwaree 2006; Ramtohul 2009). Despite the rise in the number of women in African parliaments, Mama (2013, p. 147) nonetheless cautions that “gender equality is more problematic the higher one goes up the political ladder.” In effect, it was only in the twenty-first century that one began to see democratically elected African women heads of state with Ellen Johnson Sirleaf being the first African woman head of state elected President of Liberia in 2006. Saara Kuugongelwa-Amadhila is the Prime Minister of Namibia since 2015 and is the first woman prime minister of the country. Ameenah GuribFakim was appointed President of the Republic of Mauritius in 2015. She was the first woman President of Mauritius, but had to step down in March 2018 following a corruption scandal in which she was implicated. Sahle-Work Zewde was nominated President of Ethiopia in October 2018 and is currently Africa’s only woman head of state. Moreover, Ethiopia, Rwanda, and South Africa recently joined the small group of countries with ministerial gender parity. Seychelles has had a gender balanced cabinet since April 2018. Ethiopia’s Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed appointed ten women ministers in a cabinet reshuffle in October 2018, comprising half of all cabinet posts. A few days later, Rwanda’s President Paul Kagame announced that Rwanda’s new cabinet would also be gender-balanced (Campbell 2018). In September 2018, Mali’s president announced a new cabinet that would be 30% female, including in key positions such as the minister of foreign affairs (Campbell 2018).

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More recently, following the elections in South Africa held in May 2019, the new cabinet constituted by President Cyril Ramaphosa is made up of 50% women ministers. Women’s presence in ministerial positions is a necessary element towards achieving long-lasting equality and stability. The trends are thus toward a more visible presence of women in African parliaments and political terrain. Despite a timid start, women are slowly but surely forging their way into many African parliaments. The next section examines women’s political mobilization in African contexts.

Women’s Movement Activism on the Continent African women have historically had access to public space and separate and powerful women’s organizations have been operating in West, Central and Eastern Africa, although they did not have the same status as men’s organizations. They were nonetheless integral to the social structure, and West African women in particular were known traders who had significant influence over the local economy (Andrade 2007, p. 92). African women have in fact historically operated in the public sphere as rulers and political officials even in patriarchal societies (Steady 2006). However, colonialism is believed to have deepened, reinforced, and in some cases, created public-private dichotomies on the continent that effectively excluded African women from the public domain, relegating them to the private sphere, following Western-inspired feminine domesticity (Geisler 2004). Colonial regimes often discriminated against women in the provision of education and employment and also by laws pertaining to family life. African women thus mobilized for women’s rights issues under colonial rule and such feminist activism intensified after independence (Tripp and Badri 2017; Tripp 2015; Mama 2013). African women played a prominent role in anticolonial activism, especially where the struggle for independence involved mobilization in nationalist movements and parties. Among the early documented anticolonial rebellions are the 1929 Igbo Women’s War in Nigeria, the Tax Riots undertaken by the Pare women in Tanzania in 1946 and the Anlu uprising by the Kom women in the former British Cameroons in 1959 (Andrade 2007, p. 92). According to Manuh (1993a, p. 187), the vulnerability of women in social relations, their higher illiteracy levels and relative lack of resources and power all combined to render them relatively easy targets for mobilizing regimes or movements. Under such circumstances, women had more to gain from independence, where national liberation movements promised to create better conditions of life for the population in the form of more schools and hospitals, better drinking water, and greater access to basic amenities (Manuh 1993b; Schmidt 2005). Here, a shared sense of oppression with the rest of the native population that had been denied their rights, motivated many women to organize. The possibilities for some women to exercise positions of leadership was also attractive, to counter their traditional lack of access to positions of authority and decision-making (Manuh 1993a).

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Women were mobilized on the basis of particular constructions of gender identity and interests, often as mothers of the nation where appeals were made to their nurturing and reproductive roles. For example, in South Africa, the African National Congress (ANC) made a general appeal to women in terms of their common potential experience of motherhood (Gaitskell/Unterhalter, 1989 – cited in Becker 1995; Fester 2005). In Guinea, the “Rassemblement Démocratique Africain” (RDA) made explicit appeals to women, underscoring women’s primary roles as mothers and sustainers of their families (Schmidt 2005). Furthermore, victimization provided an impetus to women’s activism in national liberation struggles as colonial oppression affected women differently than men (Mba 1982; Lazreg 1994). Hence, national liberation struggles facilitated and legitimized women’s political involvement despite the fact that these struggles were primarily led by mass mobilization rather than concerns about gender equality. The constraints and urgent skill requirements during such periods of transition brought down some of the patriarchal barriers which have customarily barred women from political life and also upset gender relations. When national liberation movements publicly recognized women as crucial players in the nationalist struggle and invited them to be actively involved in the movements, they provided women with an opportunity to engage in new activities and to establish alternative identities. This was an attractive proposition for many women, and Schmidt (2005, p. 2) notes that women appreciated and enjoyed their prominent roles and enhanced status. Women were able to operate as political actors in the public arena, which has traditionally been a masculine sphere. On the micro level, this allowed women to challenge gender norms and customary practices which were oppressive to women. In Guinea, for example, women’s involvement in the national liberation struggle enabled them to address mixed audiences, attend late night meetings, travel alone, and leave their husbands and children for prolonged periods (Schmidt 2005). In Tanzania, women were able to defy the authority of their husbands as they had the support of the national liberation movement (Geiger 1997). The ability of national liberation movements to form a broad-based ethnic, class, and gender alliance was a key factor that led to their success, for example in Guinea, Uganda, and South Africa (Schmidt 2005; Tripp 2000; Hassim 2006). Women activists were highly motivated and effective during the national liberation struggles that took place in many parts of Africa, although women largely mobilized in support of male-dominated political groups or parties (Mama 2013, p. 151). Women activists linked ethnic, class, and gender oppression to universalize their demand for gender equality within the vision of national liberation. Women also drew on their extensive social resources to advance the cause of independence, often utilizing their informal networks and associations. In Nigeria and Guinea for example, women utilized their traditional commodity associations to form pressure groups, whereas in Tanzania, women’s dance associations provided the space for women’s political activism (Mba 1982; Schmidt 2005; Geiger 1997). Women’s participation in nationalist movements until the 1980s, with some exceptions, took place largely on terms that were set by men, although it has also been recognized that women were often a major driving force and took initiatives

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(Geisler 2004, p. 23). Many liberation movement leaders nonetheless claimed that women’s liberation was equally as important as liberation from the colonial regime, for example, in the cases of Amilcar Cabral, leader of the African Party for the Independence of Guinea-Bissau and Cape Verde and Zimbabwe led by Robert Mugabe (Bauer et al. 2017). Women’s specific interests were, however, for most, subsumed and subordinated under nationalist agendas. Following independence, little space was made for women in African parliaments and leadership positions. Most African political parties that ended up as governing parties were previously part of national liberation movements or oppositional parties. With the change, the parameters of women’s involvement shifted profoundly as the new governing African parties relegated women’s political participation to ancillary organs, while men participated in executive committee meetings (Selolwane 2006, p. 4). Women were at times reduced to providing entertainment and cooking for visiting party and government dignitaries, although they managed to pass legislation to advance women’s rights in some cases but this was as long as it did not contradict the party or those in power (Tripp 2017). Moreover, most of the dominant political parties in postcolonial Africa co-opted existing women’s organizations or created dependent ones, thereby curtailing any form of autonomy that women’s organizations may have had (Geisler 2004). These organizations were often patronage-based associations that had a developmental or welfare focus and were used by politicians to increase votes and support for the ruling party (Tripp 2017). Examples of such organizations include: the 31st December Women’s Movement in Ghana, Umoja wa Wanawake wa Tanzania, Maendeleo ya Wanawake (Kenya), the Women’s League (Zambia), and the Better Life for Women Movement in Nigeria (Tripp 2017, p. 18). When women’s concerns were finally addressed, this was done from within a male discourse on women’s domesticity, as in South Africa, Zambia, and Tanganyika where women were said to have acted in defense of motherhood (Geisler 2004, p. 23). Here, women’s protective and nurturing roles as mothers were the justification for their political involvement. In Zimbabwe where women had fought alongside men as combatants in the liberation struggle, independence only ushered very few women in government. There were, instead, a greater number of women on the streets and at the airport singing and dancing for male leaders and their guests (Hove 1994, pp. 33–37). Members of the women’s wing of the Zimbabwe African National Union-Patriotic Front (ZANU-PF) were reduced to mere observers at rallies and other meetings, and were not considered as equal decision makers at the highest level (Bauer et al. 2017, p. 5). Furthermore, in Algeria, where thousands of women had joined the liberation movement and fought for independence in the trenches alongside men, women found their aspirations cut short after independence (Tripp 2017, p. 18). Single-party regimes on the continent often sought to depoliticize women and limit their autonomy and mobilization to party-related mass organizations and women’s wings of ruling parties. Women’s wings or leagues were established by political parties as the legitimate political space for women. As such, women’s political contributions to nationalist struggles culminated in the women’s wings, where women’s specific concerns were marginalized and depoliticized (Geisler 2004, pp. 23–24). Furthermore,

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with the dissolution of oppositional politics in many African nations, women’s wings of political parties turned into ancillary organs that provided women the space to organize support for male politicians. This was mainly done through fundraising, canvassing for women’s votes, as well as providing entertainment for male dignitaries during party congresses and gatherings (Selolwane 2006, p. 4). In Mozambique for instance, the party’s women’s wing was expected to be the national machinery, national women’s movement and development agency under the direction of FRELIMO until it was cut off from party funds (Geisler 2004, p. 89). In Botswana, the women’s league culture has been described as “serving the aspirations of husbands and parties” (Geisler 2004, p. 99). The women’s wings of many African political parties were often led by spouses of male politicians and the interests of these men. The latter are not able to effect real change in women’s lives and consequently, professional women in particular tended to opt out of women’s wings of political parties and set up civic organizations of their own (Bauer et al. 2017). Therefore, the co-option of women’s organizations by nationalist movements and later, by ruling parties, undermined expectations that associating with political parties would be conducive to better policy outcomes for women (Tsikata 1989). However, in Zambia, Zimbabwe, and Botswana, although the women’s wings of ruling parties aspired to become mass movements, their members were unable to co-opt autonomous women’s organizations and consequently, the women’s wings of political parties had to coexist with autonomous women’s groups (Geisler 2004, p. 112). Women’s movement activism across the continent increased during the 1990s in the formal political sphere and also beyond (Mama 2013). The creation of new political spaces and systems following the end of dictatorial rule in many African nations opened up the space for women activists to lobby more forcefully for political space for women. According to Tripp et al. (2009, p. xiv), autonomous women’s movements were one of the key determinants of the new gender-based policies adopted after 1990 in much of Africa. Women’s movements mobilized during these transitions to lobby for change and women claimed the opportunity spaces that democratic movements and governments offered during the 1990s. Changes in international gender norms together with pressure from United Nations agencies and donors also catalyzed change (Tripp 2015; Mama 2013; Geisler 2004). Many African countries adopted new constitutions since 1990, which brought a new era of multiparty and democratic politics. Since 1995, 44 sub-Saharan African constitutions have been rewritten or are in the process of being rewritten (Tripp and Badri 2017). In South Africa, for example, women’s initiatives in political activism were instrumental in determining the extent to which the male leadership of the African National Congress (ANC) would open up the political space especially in core decision-making structures, to women (Selolwane 2006). The ANC Women’s League played a key role in setting up the Women’s National Coalition which was to play a critical role in mobilizing women across the South African political arena. Moreover, South African political parties drew substantially on the support of women’s organizations and the leadership of the women’s league to place women in key positions in the party structures as well as in government.

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Women’s movements have therefore played a critical role in the promotion and safeguarding of women’s rights and entitlements on the continent, including pushing for legislative and constitutional changes and facilitating gender mainstreaming in state bureaucracies.

National Machineries for Women and Femocracy National machineries are, at times, considered as a mechanism to promote gender equality and some women’s movements on the continent have supported the establishment of national machineries. The United Nations (UN) uses the term “national policy machinery for the advancement of women” to refer to agencies devoted to women’s issues. The machinery for women has also been termed “state feminism” (McBride Stetson and Mazur 1995) and is the officially established space made for women in government which usually takes the form of a national women’s agency, a women’s commission, or a ministry for women. It is a state-run institution dedicated to women’s policy issues which can either complement the progressive work of women’s organizations, or undermine it. Following the International Women’s Decade (1975–1985), the UN intensified its attention to the establishment of women’s policy machineries, considering the latter as a means of implementing its resolutions on equality and opportunity for women at the national and local levels. The Nairobi Forward-Looking Strategies for the Advancement of Women, which is outcome document of the Nairobi World Conference on Women (1985), set out a worldwide agenda for women. Central to the implementation of this agenda was the establishment of a national policy machinery for women by each member state (McBride Stetson and Mazur 1995). By the end of the 1980s, most African countries had an official national machinery for women, with different structural forms and receiving different levels of official support and political will (Mama 2000). These national machineries had a mandate to promote the full integration of women into development and to eliminate discrimination on grounds of sex (Mama 1995). The importance of national machineries was reaffirmed at the fourth United Nations Conference on Women held in Beijing in 1995. One of the 12 critical areas identified at this conference was the need for institutional mechanisms to address the women’s concerns and needs. However, national machineries have been found to be largely ineffectual in Africa (Adams 2007; Tsikata 2000, 2001). In fact, as highlighted by Bauer et al. (2017, p. 2), the new gender machineries were created for self-serving purposes in much of Africa as many of the states that created these institutions were either military regimes or one-party state regimes and therefore had no legitimacy. These states acceded to the wishes of the international community primarily to boost their status at the international level rather than out of a genuine concern for gender equality (Bauer et al. 2017). According to Mama (2000, p. 9), the relationship between the national machinery for women and the state, which is a major factor governing its effectiveness, has been one that mirrored the low status attributed to women in society. As such, in countries where women’s equality has been a matter of lip

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service, the national machinery for women has been inadequately resourced to enable it to pursue its mandate. In some countries such as Uganda, other smaller or “low status” policy sections have been bundled up with Ministries for Women, thereby diluting the energies that could have been expended on women’s issues. Ministries for women are, most of the time, headed by a woman minister who is not accorded the same respect as other ministers, but is patronized and regarded with contempt or amusement by colleagues (Mama 2000, p. 10). However, it is important for the Minister to be supportive, gender–sensitive, and sympathetic to gender issues for any progress to be made (Dambe 2000, p. 23). The realization of such endeavors will largely depend on whether the Minister has the support of colleagues in parliament especially the women, her department, and women’s organizations, and is thus, able to take up women’s concerns to parliament and cabinet. It has also been observed that the staff of the Ministry for Women who are mainly professional civil servants are generally not required to be gender conscious, and as such, their commitment to gender equality, challenging the status quo or changing gender relations, tends to be minimal. Many are wary of being branded feminists because of the nature of their work (Mama 2000). Moreover, the African national machineries were largely underfunded, which has constrained their capacity to undertake any transformative change and resulted in ineffectiveness (Mama 1995). In Southern Africa, national machineries were often headed by political appointees who were loyal to the ruling party and/or its women’s wing despite being staffed by civil servants. This state of affairs created some space for professional women to engage themselves in the task of influencing government from outside the realm of party politics (Geisler 2004). An institutionalized women’s policy machinery can potentially function as an access point to government cooperation with women’s movements who traditionally act outside the state (McBride Stetson and Mazur 1995; Weldon 2002). While this is a possibility, in reality, cooperation between government and women’s movements has generally not been very amicable and productive in much of Africa. Indeed, the national machinery for women can turn into a mechanism of co-optation for women thereby diluting feminist activism, especially where women’s groups are weakly organized. In fact, few national machineries on the continent have been engaged in productive dialogue with women’s organizations and movements outside government, and the relationship has seldom been one of constructive engagement (Mama 2000, p. 20). The national machinery and women’s organizations often compete for scarce resources, and because of their status as an officially mandated government organization, the national machineries in some countries have adopted a domineering stance toward nongovernmental women’s organizations (Mama 2000). In Zimbabwe and Tanzania, for instance, governments have tried to control NGOs. This situation led to antagonistic relations between national machineries and women’s organizations (Meena 2000). In other places such as Botswana, Uganda, and Tanzania, nongovernmental women’s organizations have been more successful than the national machinery in terms of resources and influence (Meena 2000; Dambe 2000; Wangusa 2000). In Botswana, the nongovernmental women’s organization Emang Basadi mobilized women to develop a national women’s agenda, thereby pressuring

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government to adopt and implement changes on a number of gender related issues. Nongovernmental women’s organizations nevertheless do not possess the same mandate and legitimacy as the national machinery. Furthermore, in a number of African states, individual women took advantage of the internationally favorable climate and their positions as wives of Heads of State to take positions of power, and took it on themselves to represent and lead women as well as to spearhead national machineries (Mama 1995; Bauer et al. 2017). First ladies have led national machineries in Ghana, Nigeria, and Cameroon, for example. This tendency came to be known as the “First Lady phenomenon,” and here, Mama (1995, p. 40) questions the democratic character of this form of gender politics, and its likely impact on ordinary African women. She notes that the wives of the Kenyan and Somali Heads of State wielded a great deal of public influence and amassed vast fortunes for themselves (Mama 1995, p. 40). The office of the First Lady bestowed on to a group of women whose credentials for the job were simply their position as wives of men in authority, the responsibilities of planning, and implementing public programs (Okeke-Ihejirika and Fanceschet 2002, p. 458). However, there was little or no accountability for the funding ear-marked for women. In Nigeria, Mrs. Maryam Babangida, former first lady, took charge of the official structures set up for women and decisions made were often not democratic. Some first ladies created their own women’s organizations or NGOs, which then went into competition with the national gender machineries on representing women. This often led to tensions between first lady-led NGOs and national gender machineries (Bauer et al. 2017). In Ghana for instance, first lady Nana Konadu Rawlings led the official delegation to the 1995 United Nations Conference on Women in Beijing in her capacity as the chair of the largest NGO in the country (Ibrahim 1997; Tsikata 1997). Indeed, state feminism on the continent was often articulated through “First Ladyism” and stateled national women’s associations, sought to co-opt women’s struggles for political gain (Bauer et al. 2017). Described as “femocracy” in the Nigerian case, Amina Mama (1995, p. 57) argues that it did not lead to any sustainable change in women’s political status in the country nor to any significant improvement in ordinary women’s livelihoods. Indeed, femocracies have generally been critiqued for their lack of interest in transformatory gender politics on the continent (Bauer et al. 2017). In Nigeria, many renowned female scholars were made temporary consultants to first ladies, and because the claims to power of first ladies are tied to their relationship with men in power, their actions reinforce the very basis of Nigerian women’s subordinate status (Okeke-Ihejirika and Fanceschet 2002, p. 458).

Affirmative Action and Quotas for Women Ghana, under the leadership of Nkrumah, introduced the first quota system for women’s representation in parliament in June 1960. This led to 10 women being elected as members of parliament unopposed (Mama 2013, p. 151). Affirmative action or the adoption of gender quotas has been recognized as a prerequisite for facilitating women’s entry into national and local government. In Uganda, Yoweri

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Kaguta Museveni’s government has been applauded internationally for the significant increase in the number of women in parliament and local government. Tripp and Badri (2017) note that the major changes in African women’s parliamentary representation between 1990 and 2010 are mainly linked to the adoption of gender quotas. In Rwanda, a constitutional gender quota including reserved seats combined with voluntary party quotas for women led to a majority female lower house of parliament, which is the only such parliament in the world (Bauer and Burnet 2013). In Namibia, electoral gains for women have been achieved through a combination of factors, namely the use of a closed list proportional representation electoral system and voluntary quotas at the level of political parties, sustained pressure from the women’s movement which was influenced by the global women’s movement, and the active participation of women in the struggle for independence that was only attained in 1990 (Bauer 2004, p. 480). The increased implementation of electoral quotas across Africa, according to Bauer (2008, p. 349), reflects a renewed interest in formal politics and political institutions among African women’s movements at a time when democratic transitions have provided the political opening for such activity. In much of Africa, it was the product of opportunities created by political transitions, lobbies of women’s organizations as well as international and regional pressure. Women activists on the continent played a prominent role in advancing the debate on women’s political leadership, especially for the adoption of a quota system. The Platform for Action following the United Nations World Conference on Women in Beijing (1995) strongly recommended that member states adopt measures to increase women’s leadership at all levels. This was when many African countries adopted legislative quotas. The extent to which the increased presence of women in African parliaments has made significant impacts is largely contextual (Mama 2013). In South Africa and Uganda, there has been notable progress with regard to policies in favor of gender equality and women’s rights. In Rwanda, gender quotas have had numerous symbolic effects, such as leading to a shift in ordinary Rwandans’ perceptions of women as political leaders such that women who serve as local government officials, mayors, members of parliament, and ministers are respected in the same way as male government officials, which was not the case in the past (Burnet 2011). Moreover, women’s social and political agency has grown stronger such that women speak out in more often in public meetings, and their views can no longer be dismissed because of gender (Burnet 2011). Women and girls in Rwanda also have greater access to education since the adoption of gender quotas (Burnet 2011). In Namibia, women members of parliament pushed for the adoption of the 1996 Married Persons Equality Act that renders women and men equal before the law in marriage, the 2000 Combating of Rape Act that prescribes minimum sentences for rape and places greater emphasis on the rights of rape victims and the 2002 Communal Land Reform Bill that protects women who choose to remain on their land in the event of their husband’s death. Furthermore, in South Africa women members of parliament have facilitated and led to legislative reform in favor of women such as the 1996 Choice on the Termination of Pregnancy Act, the 1996

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Films and Publications Act that provides protections against the degradation of women and children and the 1998 Domestic Violence Act that increases the legal and institutional protection for victims of domestic violence (Bauer and Britton 2006). Some scholars nonetheless note that many African countries that have higher numbers of women in parliament are single party dominant regimes in which women’s increased presence has been embraced by dominant parties in order to increase their own support (Goetz and Hassim 2003). Hassim (2010) further argues that women’s increased participation in parliaments in Africa may in fact be undermining democracy in those countries. Reserved seat quotas, for instance, appear to be far more problematic that party-based quotas mainly because of the way women are elected into the reserved seats especially when the political system that utilizes the reserved seats is not clearly democratic (Bauer 2008). In Uganda, for example, women members of parliament lost their freedom and became hostages to the quota system as they failed to embrace the women’s seats in parliament as a political right but instead, considered these seats as a privilege bestowed by a caring president (Matembe 2006). Under such circumstances, women activists and politicians were reluctant to interrogate or challenge the increasingly undemocratic president and his government (Matembe 2006). Similarly, in Rwanda, an increasingly authoritarian political atmosphere is further restricting the ability of women legislators to influence policy and introduce new measures (Longman 2006). In South Africa, despite the increased space made for women in politics and parliament, the underlying ethos of the governing party, the African National Congress (ANC) has been party loyalty, rather than loyalty to constituencies such as women (Hassim 2006, p. 101). Despite the proliferation of quotas for women on the continent and the rise in women’s presence in African parliaments, key factors continue to circumvent and limit women politicians’ effectiveness and accountability toward the woman population. Examples of such factors include political culture, democracy within political parties, manifest in the rule of law, persistence of a misogynistic political culture, male backlash as well as the subversion of the quota system by men through the appointment of women who will advance the political agendas of men (Mama 2013). Quota systems indeed open up political spaces for women but as Mama (2013, p. 159) notes, they fall short of advancing the deeper changes that would make equal participation in political arenas possible. Women members of parliament have experienced difficulties of working in a male-dominated environment, and the rift between women parliamentarians and women’s organizations has also increased (Hassim 2003).

Patriarchy and Patronage The strong patriarchal system entrenched across the continent remains the primary obstacle that hinders African women’s political emancipation, especially the transformation of gender power relations. Patriarchy operates at all levels of society,

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conferring privilege and prestige on men at the expense of women. Indeed, patriarchal values tend to sustain oppression through legitimization obtained via religious dogma, traditional values, and even secular value systems which often legitimize male domination and gender injustice (Tripp and Badri 2017). Economic disparities further disadvantage women as they often have less access to resources necessary for political campaigns and a political career. Where women are present in the African political arena, their capacity to pursue gender agendas has remained severely constrained, largely reflecting the inherent biases of patriarchal political systems that have historically excluded women (Mama 2004, p. 5). Political structures and processes continue to favor men to the detriment of women. Political parties also tend to be reluctant or even resistant to promote women candidates or to champion a feminist policy platform. In Uganda and South Africa, political parties have remained male dominated at all levels, and only reluctantly adopted gender equity concerns following protracted struggles of women from within and by women’s organizations outside the parties (Goetz and Hassim 2003, p. 3). Male politicians across the continent still resist women’s political participation and once they manage to gain entry into the political space, women face a number of challenges with regard to sustaining their political careers. In fact, stereotypes of women’s incapacities or weaknesses as leaders in the political domain persist despite women’s increased presence in politics, and where women do succeed, they are often the targets of ridicule (Hassim 2003, p. 96). As such, pursuing a feminist agenda is even more complicated as the political structures and systems have remained inherently antagonistic to substantial gender equality (Mama 2004, p. 5). Here, it becomes important for women politicians to be able to mobilize support in their parties and in civil society in order to successfully pursue transformative policy agendas in the area of gender equality.

Conclusion As we move toward the end of the African decade, scheduled for 2020, it is important to take stock of the achievements made in the area of women, gender, and politics in Africa. While significant inroads have been made in the area of gendered political representation, the battle is not yet over. What remains highly significant is that women politicians and political activists are able to pursue a transformative feminist agenda without patriarchal hindrance. This is necessary to bring about longstanding and lasting changes in the areas of women’s rights and entitlements on the continent, which are still being jeopardized by patriarchal culture, customs, and tradition. Yet, one should not discount the progress that has been made, especially the newly acquired or made space in parliament for women in many African states. This sets the example for those states that lag behind and also is motivation for more women to embrace a political career. Women’s movements need to continue pushing forward the women’s agenda, working together with women politicians towards transformative change. Culture and tradition tend to be slow and

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rather resistant to change, but Africa has set the example and holds world record in the area of women’s political representation – an accomplishment which warrants merit and recognition.

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Tripp, A. M., Casimiro, I., Kwesiga, J., & Mungwa, A. (2009). African Women’s movements: Changing political landscapes. New York: Cambridge University Press. Tsikata, D. (1989). Women’s political Organisations, 1951–1987. In E. Hansen & K. A. Ninsin (Eds.), The state, development and politics in Ghana. Dakar: CODESRIA. Tsikata, D. (1997). Gender equality and the state in Ghana. In A. Imam, F. Sow, & A. Mama (Eds.), Engendering African social sciences. Dakar: CODESRIA. Tsikata, D. (2000). Lip-service and peanuts: The state and national machinery for women in Africa. Accra: Third World Network-Africa. Tsikata, D. (2001). National machineries for the advancement of women in Africa: Are they transforming gender relations? Social Watch, 73–74. http://www.socialwatch.org/sites/default/ files/pdf/en/nationalmachineries2001_eng.pdf. Wangusa, H. (2000). The national machinery for women in Uganda (National machinery series no. 6). Accra: Third World Network-Africa. Weldon, S. L. (2002). Beyond bodies: Institutional sources of representation for women in democratic policymaking. The Journal of Politics, 64, 1153–1174. Yoon, M. Y., & Bunwaree, S. (2006). Women’s legislative representation in Mauritius: “A grave democratic deficit”. Journal of Contemporary African Studies, 24(2), 229–247.

Women in Political Parties in Africa

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Antonia Taiye Okoosi-Simbine and Ndifon Neji Obi

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Is Women Participation in Party Politics in Africa: A Recent Development? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . International Instruments Supportive of Women’s Participation in Politics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Women’s Participation in Party Politics in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Women as Party and Parliamentary Executives in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Percentage of Women in Parliament Across Regions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Are There Lessons to Be Learnt from Africa on Women’s Participation in Political Parties and Politics? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . What Factors Limit Women’s Participation in Partisan Politics? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Strategies for Promoting Women Participation in Political Parties/Politics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Cross-References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

This chapter examines women in political parties in Africa. It provides a conceptual background to explore the historicity, constraints, and participation of women in politics in Africa and sketches the growing visibility of Africa as the beacon of women participation in politics in the world. The chapter argues that women are critical, invincible, and integral actors in the sustenance of democracy. It identifies the structure of the political system, the patriarchal nature of society, inadequate access to education and means of production, inadequate social capital, and the “Hobbesian” political environment (thuggery, gang wars, kidnappings, and political assassinations) as some of the factors militating against the full expression A. T. Okoosi-Simbine (*) Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC), Abuja, Nigeria N. N. Obi Department of Political Science, University of Calabar, Calabar, Nigeria e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_72

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and visibility of women in partisan politics. The thesis proposed by this chapter is that although, women are weighed down by political, social, cultural, and religious factors; the gendered glass ceiling of male dominated political space can be smashed through relevant policy framework and commensurate political will to implement policies. Keywords

Africa · African Charter · Election · Electoral quotas · Gender · Participation · Partisan politics · Politics · Political party · United Nations Charter · Women

Introduction The conversation about women in politics has gained traction in the last three decades particularly with post-conflict Rwanda distorting the patriarchal political ecology of Africa, and indeed, the world with 61% of women in its Chambers of Deputies. There is a burgeoning consensus around the evidence that higher numbers of women in politics and specifically, the parliament contribute to stronger attention to women’s issues. Women’s political participation is therefore, fundamental to gender equality and genuine democracy. It facilitates women’s direct engagement in public decision-making and is a means of ensuring better accountability to women. Political parties generally, provide the platform through which women, like their male counterparts, can be mobilized for political participation. Since the third wave of democratization in 1974 (Huntington 1991), different genres of multiparty political system have emerged. Today, more than ever before, people essentially elect their leaders through a system of multiparty elections contested by both men and women. Political parties are therefore “indispensable voluntary and informal associations of society, where people share commonly understood values, customs and attitudes to their role in politics. They are products of and operate within economic structures, and in a context of interests that are affected by and respond to the accumulation and distribution of goodwill and resources, including the wealth of society” (Leiserson 1955). Weiner (1967, pp. 1–2) notes that “in competitive political systems, parties are organized by politicians to win elections; in authoritarian systems, parties are organized to affect the attitudes and behaviour of the population. In both instances, an organizational structure must be forged, money must be raised, cadres recruited, officers elected or selected, and procedures for internal governing established and agreed upon.” The existence of political parties is however, no guarantee for women participation in politics as the system is inadvertently structured to favor men than women. Across Africa, there are indications of structural roadblocks that seem to challenge women participation in party politics. To this end, Dahlerup (2018) cited in Bauer (2019, p. 13) asks whether “democracy has failed women in not bringing them into political office in proportion to their presence in the overall population.” One of the many hurdles for women in the “old democracies,” according to

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Dahlerup, may be that women are seen as “intruders” in male dominated spaces. A point is further made when consideration is given to the French philosopher Simone de Beauvoir who according to her “Anatomy as Destiny” (Puechguirbal 2005) viewpoint, defined women according to “what they are, not what they do.” Women are constructed as passive elements subordinated to a male power always apprehended within a more active dynamics. As a result, women are very often associated with maternal capacity only, thus keeping them secluded from outside political activities (Obi 2017) even though the “biological fate” of women is considered a major asset for strengthening democracy. Bauer (2019) makes the point that the assumption that women would access key political positions as countries become more democratic has failed, and this, according to Tripp (2005, p. 49), is because “women’s ability to participate effectively in the key institutions of governance is constrained or facilitated by the broader political framework in which they find themselves.” It is appropriate to ask at this point if women participation in party politics in Africa is a product of the weakness of women or the weakness and seeming invisibility of women in politics is itself a product of party politics. In other words, women cannot effectively participate in politics because they are weak, and they are weak because political parties have inherent elements/processes that are not conducive to the effective participation of women in party politics. This converse relationship highlights the following from the literature: • Essentialist perspectives suggest that there are innate biological attributes of women (maternal capacity) that seem to support and sustain the narrative of women indisposition to effectively and actively participate in party politics even though this position has been overwhelmingly challenged by feminists. • Feminist perspectives rather assert that there are structural roadblocks in the polity that essentially makes effective women participation in politics difficult. • The society is essentially patriarchal in nature which clearly creates and sustains conditions conducive to male dominance in party politics. • Despite these hurdles to effective participation in party politics, women in the words of Tamale (2000) are “smashing the gendered ‘glass ceiling’ in a bid to overcome cultural and structural barriers that impede their political careers.” Across Africa therefore, women have demonstrated strength and are significantly seen occupying key elective executive and parliamentary positions despite obvious challenges. Within this context, this chapter examines women in political parties in Africa by providing a conceptual background to explore the barriers faced by women in effective participation in politics and sketches their growing involvement and visibility in party politics. The chapter is therefore, organized around ten subtitles. The introduction is followed by topics which include an x-ray of the history of women participation in politics in Africa, identification of international and regional instruments supportive of women participation in politics, snapshots of women participation in party politics in Africa, review of women as party and parliamentary executives in Africa, examination of the percentage of women in parliament across

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regions, highlight of lessons that can be drawn from Africa on women participation in political parties/politics, review of the factors that limit women participation in politics, and strategies for promoting women participation in political parties and politics. The chapter rounds up with a statement of conclusion and references.

Is Women Participation in Party Politics in Africa: A Recent Development? Research on women and politics in Africa (Tripp 2017) indicate that women participation in politics is indeed, not a recent development. A few examples of the historicity of women participation in politics in Africa can be cited. On the auspices of Sierra Leone People’s Party (SLPP), as early as 1938, Constance Cummings-John, at the age of 20, became the first female and the youngest politician to win an election in African colonies in a modern legislative structure. She served for 28 years from 1938 to 1942 and from 1952 to 1966 as Municipal Councilor of Freetown and later won a seat in the House of Representatives in the pre-independence 1957 elections, and in 1966 she was elected mayor of Freetown. She became the first African mayor of a major African city (Falola and Amponsah 2012; Adi and Sherwood 2003). On the platform of the Tanganyika African National Union (TANU), Mkamangi Elifuraha Marealle became the first African member of the Legislative Council (LEGCO) in 1955, while Ndigwako Bertha Akim King’ori was the first nominated woman to the Legislative Council in 1957. Leading up to independence in 1961, Tanganyika had the largest percentage of women in any African parliament in 1960 with 10% (6) of the seats held by women (Tripp 2017; Yoon 2008). Ghana came a close second at the time with 10 women (8.7%) filling specially elected seats in a parliament of 114 members. On the political platform of the Convention People’s Party (CPP), Dove Danquah became the first woman elected to parliament in Ghana in 1954. Beyond women presenting themselves for elective positions on the auspices of different political parties across Africa, the consciousness, mobilization, and advocacy of women organizations paid off when some African women were recognized and appointed into Legislative Councils (LEGCO) in Ugandan. Through the efforts of the African Women’s League in Uganda, for instance, Pumla Kisosonkole (of South African origin but married to a Ugandan) and Sarah Nyendwoha (Ntiro) were, in 1956 and 1958, respectively, appointed into parliament (Tripp 2000). They joined Barbara Saben and Alice Boase (of British origin) the first two women representatives in Uganda who were elected in 1954 as members of LEGCO out of a total of 60 members. Senedu Gebru became the first women to be elected into parliament in Ethiopia in 1957 (Tripp 2017; Sheldon 2016; New York Times 1957). In Nigeria, under the auspices of the Action Group (AG), Wuraola Adepeju Esan won a seat on the Ibadan Urban City Council in 1958 and in 1960 and became the first female senator representing Ibadan West in the Nigerian National Assembly (Tripp 2017; Sheldon 2016; Dunbar 1993). Through advocacy by the Kenya African Women’s League, a

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similar feat was achieved in Kenya when Priscilla Ingasiani Abwao was appointed as the first African woman into the Legislative Council in 1961. In Zambia, Princess Wina Nakatindi was elected as the first female Member of Parliament in 1964. In Sudan, on the platform of the Sudanese Communist Party (SCP), Fatima Ahmed Ibrahim became the first woman to be elected into parliament in 1965 and later became a leader of the SCP and founder of the Sudanese Women’s Union (Tripp 2017; Sudan Tribune 2007). It is evident from the foregoing that women’s active participation in party politics preceded independence in most Africa states.

International Instruments Supportive of Women’s Participation in Politics Over the years, the issues regarding women political rights and equal participation in electoral politics have become prominent in world politics and received varied treatment by the United Nations and its specialized agencies. The principle of equality of men and women was recognized in the United Nations Charter (1945) and later in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (1948) (NEC 2017). More recently, the right to the full participation of women in politics is also supported by international political commitment in the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs). Goals 5 and 10 of the SDGs are specifically directed at addressing gender equality and reduction of inequalities. Other international binding and nonbinding legal instruments include: International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights (1966) (Articles 2, 13, 14); International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (1966) (Article 2); Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW – 1979) (Article 10); Beijing Declaration and Platform for Action, Fourth World Conference on Women (1995) (Article 142b); Security Council Resolution 1325 (2000); and the African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights, African Union Protocol on the Rights of Women (2003) (Obi 2017). These instruments provide impetus for women participation in politics generally, and particularly in Africa.

Women’s Participation in Party Politics in Africa While it is easy to see a deluge of literature on women participation in politics in Africa, it is not as easy to specifically establish the level of women’s participation in political parties. Under this subtheme, the study would attempt to examine women’s participation in political parties in some countries in Africa. Across Africa, women participate in political parties at different levels. In Liberia specifically, although party politics like in several other countries is male dominated due to politico-economic and sociocultural factors, findings from a research on women’s participation as candidates in elections from 2005 to 2015 conducted by the National Electoral Commission (NEC) of Liberia in

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2017 indicate that women have consistently participated in partisan politics. This is highlighted in the table below. The first observable deduction from Table 1 is the evidence that women participate in partisan politics despite obvious challenges. The NEC research further demonstrates that from 2005 to 2015 (2 general elections, 14 by-elections, and 1 special senatorial election) the highest number of women (16.9) who participated in party politics as candidates ran on the Unity Party platform that produced Ellen Johnson Sirleaf as the first elected female president of Liberia. Other salient Table 1 Female candidates’ representation by political party in Liberia (2005–2015) Party All Liberian Coalition Party Alliance for Peace and Democracy Alternative National Congress Congress for Democratic Change Citizens Unification Party Coalition for Transformation of Liberia Free Alliance Party of Liberia Free Democratic Party Grassroots Democratic Party of Liberia Labor Party of Liberia Liberia Destiny Party Liberia Empowerment Party Liberia National Union Liberia Reformation Party Liberia Transformation Party Liberty Party Movement for Progressive Change National Democratic Coalition National Patriotic Party National Reformation Party National Union for Democratic Progress National Democratic Party of Liberia Original Congress Party of Liberia People’s Unification Party Progressive Democratic Party Progressive People’s Party Reformed United Liberia Party Union of Liberian Democrats United Democratic Alliance Unity Party Victory for Change Independent Total Source: NEC (2017)

Number of candidates 3 7 1 28 2 9 7 2 4 2 3 2 1 6 6 31 8 6 11 1 4 11 4 1 3 1 3 3 1 43 3 36 253

Percentage 1.2 2.8 0.4 11.1 0.8 3.6 2.8 0.8 1.6 0.8 1.2 0.8 0.4 2.4 2.4 12.3 3.2 2.4 4.3 0.4 1.6 4.3 1.6 0.4 1.2 0.4 1.2 1.2 0.4 16.9 1.2 14.2 100

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deductions could be further made from the NEC research. The research indicated that 80.2% of the female candidates were working class elites, while 19.8% were nonworking class elites. The age bracket of 47–51 years constituted the highest number of women participants in politics with candidates from 2005 to 2015 representing 23.7%. The research also shows that 85.5% of the women candidates contested the general elections, 7.9% the special senatorial election, and 5.5% in byelections out of which 2.0% contested as President, 1.6% as Vice President, 24.1% as Senators, and 72.3% as Representatives. Overall, the NEC (2017) research uncovered that an aggregate of 45.8% of female candidates contested 2005 general elections, while 42.7% contested 2011 general elections. In 2014, NEC (2017) further noted that 7.9% of the 139 candidates who contested the 20th December election to fill the 15 vacant seats in the Senate were women, while 1.2% of the 10 candidates who contested by-elections into the Upper House of the National Legislature in 2009 in Montserrado County and in 2015 in Lofa County were women (FrontPage Africa 2015; BBC News 2014; The Informer 2009). The total number of males who contested was 2,341, while females who contested were 576 in total. A total of 30 female candidates won election into different positions representing 11.9%. In Ghana, there is evidence of women participation in nation building during the period leading to the independence of Ghana especially through the Convention People’s Party (CPP) (Tsikata 1989). With the return to democratic rule after years of military rule, 53 women contested for parliamentary positions on the platforms of National Democratic Congress (NDC) Party and the New Patriotic Party (NPP) in 1996. An aggregate of 18 women won seats into parliament out of the 53 who contested representing about 32%. Thirteen won on the platform of NDC and five on the auspices of NPP (Allah-Mensah 2005). Women participation in partisan politics in Ghana further received expression during the 2000 election. Record has it that the NDC was the party that fielded the highest number of female candidates (approximately 23.2% of total – 95) at the close of nominations on September 13, 2000, followed by the National Reform Party (NRP) with 21%; the New Patriotic Party (NPP), 17.9%; and the Convention People’s Party (CPP), 16.8%. The United Ghana Movement (UGM) fielded the lowest number of female candidates, which is 4.2% (Allah-Mensah 2001). It would be noted that between 1996 and 2000, there was a significant increase in women’s participation in partisan politics, as the number of women who contested elections into various positions on the auspices of the CPP, NDC, NPP, and NRP increased from 53 women in 1996 to 1995 and in 2000 representing 56% increase. In 2012, 23 out of the 64 women who participated in the New Patriotic Party (NPP) primaries contested the parliamentary election in 2012 (Public Agenda 2011). In the 7th Parliament of the 4th Republic of Ghana, 2017, the number of women who contested and won election between 2012 and 2016 increased from 29 in the 6th Parliament to 37 in the 7th Parliament. Of the 37 women that were elected, 24 were on the ticket of NPP and 13 on the ticket of NDC (Ghana General Elections 2016). In all, 1,158 parliamentary candidates contested the 275 parliamentary seats, and only 137 of the aspirants were women (General News 2016).

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In Nigeria, records of women participation in partisan politics to the extent of vying for the office of the president of the Federal Republic of Nigeria exist. One name that resonates around this sort of discussion is Sarah Jubril. In 2003, she contested for the presidency on the ticket of Progressive Action Congress (PAC) and again contested the party primaries for presidential election on the ticket of the People’s Democratic Party (PDP) in 2007. In addition to the above, only 6 among the 91 political parties fielded female presidential candidates during the 2019 general elections. They include Allied Congress Party of Nigeria (ACPN), Alliance for a United Nigeria (AUN), MAJA, National Action Council (NAC), NIP, and Nigeria People’s Congress (NPC) (Simbine 2019). “For National Assembly elections, a total of 1,848 candidates (1,615 male and 233 female) vied for 109 Senatorial seats while 4,635 candidates (4,066 male and 569 female) competed for the 360 seats in the House of Representatives” (Ugwu 2018). As for state elections, a total of 1,068 candidates, 980 male and 88 female, contested for 29 governorship positions with 805 male and 263 female deputy governorship candidates (Ugwu 2018). 2018 data shows that women’s rate of participation in formal decision-making remains one of the lowest on the continent and across the world with women occupying an abysmal 5.6% (86 out of 1,534) of all elective positions at both the national and subnational levels (Nwankwor and Nkereuwem 2019). As gender issues and women’s political and economic empowerment take center stage on the global arena, Nigeria appears intent on maintaining its position at the bottom of the ladder of women’s political empowerment. The table below highlights the number of women who contested election versus those who got elected over three election circles from 2007 to 2015 (Table 2). Simbine (2019) informs that no woman won election into the positions of president, vice president, and governor in 2019 as in other years, that women won only 4 of the 29 slots as deputy governors (representing 3.8%), 5 of the 109 senatorial slots (representing 4.59%), and 11 of the 360 House of Representatives slots (representing 3.1%).The point should, however, be made here that beyond women participation in politics at the national level, there are indications of their participation at other levels such as the local government council. The Table 3 below shows the number and percentage of women who participated in elective politics at the local government level from 2007 to 2015 in Nigeria. It should be noted that Nigeria has 774 Local Government Area (LGA) councils divided within the 36 states and the Federal Capital Territory (FCT), but it is not in all the states/LGAs that elections are held regularly or at the same time. Moreover, the tenure of LGA officials is not the same for other state or national level elective offices. Therefore, the NBS (2015) and Quadri (2019) figures regarding total aspirants in the table below are only for locations where such elections held and in the specified years (2007, 2011, and 2015) Following the 2015 local government election, 9.8% councilors were female and 4.4% chairpersons were also female, down from 12.5–3.9% in 2011 to 10.2–9.9% in 2007, respectively. All of these statistics imply not just low but reduced female political participation, disempowerment and by extension, lack of ability to bargain, negotiate, and contribute effectively to national development at critical moments.

9 (109) 26 (360)

59 (799) 150 (2,342)

90 (890) 220 (2,408)

Female candidates (2011) 1 (20) 3 (20) 13 (353) 58 (347)

Sources: Nigeria National Elections (2015) and Simbine (2019)

Elected offices President Vice President Governor Deputy Governor Senate House of Representatives

Women elected (2007) 0 0 0 6 (36)

Female candidates (2007) 1 (25) 5 (25) 14 (474) 21 (474) 7 (109) 26 (360)

Women elected (2011) 0 0 0 (36) 1 (36)

Table 2 Number of elected women from 2007–2011 to 2011–2015 and 2015–2019 in Nigeria

128 (746) 270 (1,772)

Female candidates (2015) 1 (14) 4 (14) 23 (380) 64 (380)

8 (109) 17 (360)

Women elected (2015) 0 0 0 4 (29)

5 (109) 11 (360)

Women elected (2019) 0 0 0 4 (29)

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Table 3 Percentage of elected female councilors/chairpersons from 2007 to 2015 in Nigeria Total aspirants (male and Years female) Councilors 2007 6,493 2011 5,913 2015 7,568 Chairpersons 2007 566 2011 768 2015 774

Total female aspirants

Percentage of total female elected (%)

665 738 740

10.2 12.5 9.8

56 30 34

9.9 3.9 4.4

Sources: Statistical Report (2015), Country Profile (2017–2018), and Quadri (2019)

Clearly, there is no equity in gender representation in politics and the democratic process. This point is aptly captured in Simbine (2019) where it was suggested that “if we still cannot find women in political offices, it means that their participation is still largely in the areas of voting during election, dancing for entertainment at political rallies and provision of foods and drinks, as in the past.” Located in Central/Eastern Africa, Rwanda is credited as being the country with the highest proportion of women in Parliament than any other country in the world. The Rwanda model holds very instructive lessons for countries desirous of “smashing the gendered glass ceiling” of male dominance in politics. Record shows that 537 aspirants contested the September 3, 2018, Parliamentary election with 61% of them being women (Kagire 2018). Political parties submitted 136 female candidates while 179 submitted their bids to contest for the 24 seats available in parliament for women. For the Rwanda Patriotic Front (RPF), 58% of the names it submitted were women, while 41% of the Parti Liberal (PL) candidates were women. Fortyseven percent of Green Party candidates were female, while Parti Sociale Imberakuri (PS Imberakuri) had 37% female candidates. The Social Democratic Party (PSD) submitted the lowest number of women on its list, representing 31% (Kagire 2018). Although, Rwanda is a one-party dominant state with the Rwandan Patriotic Front as the party in power, efforts by opposition parties and gender-friendly policies have created conditions conducive to the active participation of women in partisan politics. According to the Inter-Parliamentary Union (2018), as in November 2018, there were 29 countries globally in which women constituted less than 10% of its parliamentarians including 4 parliaments without women representation. The Union also revealed that, as in November 2018, only 24% of all national parliamentarians were women, a slow increase from 11.3% in 1995. The centrality of the African continent in setting the template for women participation in politics is further enhanced when consideration is given to the evidence that Africa makes up three of the top ten countries with the highest numbers of female parliamentarians in the world. At the top of this global ranking is Rwanda with 61.3%. Others include Namibia with 46.2% and South Africa with 42.7%, while Senegal with 41.8%, Mozambique with 39.6%, and Ethiopia with 38.8% make the top 20 global ranking

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(Thornton 2019; IPU 2019). To further cement the primacy of the African continent in providing leadership in female participation in politics, the point is reinforced by the additional evidence that African countries like Burundi, 36.4%, Tunisia, 35.9%, Uganda, 34.9%, Zimbabwe, 31.9%, South Sudan, 28.5%, Sudan, 27.7%, Djibouti, 26.2%, and Algeria, 25.8% all exceeded the global average of 24.5% women representation in parliaments (IPU 2019a, b). While this feat makes Africa the centerpiece of women participation in politics, a survey on women’s participation in politics in 34 African countries by Afrobarometer (a research group that measures public perceptions of socio-economic and political issues in Africa) declares that while countries such as Rwanda and South Africa may have numerically significant women’s parliamentary representation, some of the world’s worst performers are also on the continent. The survey noted, for example, that women have only 6.2% representation in Swaziland, 6.7% in Nigeria, and 8.4% in Benin (Ighobor 2015).

Women as Party and Parliamentary Executives in Africa Beyond African women participating in politics as candidates for elective positions, there is a deluge of evidence that suggests that they also participate as party and parliamentary executives. A few examples can be cited in this regard. During the 1990s in Morocco, for instance, Nadia Yassine served as the spokesperson of the Movement for Justice and Charity, Nezha Skalli served as Chairperson of the Parliamentary Group of the Socialist Alliance Group in 2003, and Zhour Chkaf as Secretary General of the Social Democratic Party (PSD) in 2007 (Worldwide Guide to Women in Leadership 2007). Around 1935–1941 in Ethiopia, Woizero Schewareged Gedlie served as leader of the opposition; in 1986, Yeharerwerk Gashaw served as Leader of the Ethiopian Unity People’s Voice Congress Political Party and in 2008, Bertukan Mideksa served as Chairperson of Kinijit/Unity for Democracy and Justice Party (UDJ) (Worldwide Guide to Women in Leadership 2010). From 1999 to 2004, in Namibia, Nora Schimming-Chase served as National President of Congress of Democrats (CoD), Deputy Chief Whip in the National Assembly in 2000, and Deputy Party Leader in 2004, while Carola Engelbrecht served as Secretary General of the Republican Party (RP) in 2003 (Worldwide Guide to Women in Leadership 2005). In Nigeria from 1999 to 2000, Florence Ita-Giwa served as Deputy Senate Leader on the auspices of All People’s Party (APP); around 2000, Sarah Nnadwa Jibril served as Deputy National Chairperson of Progressive Liberation Party, Grace Bent served as Deputy National Chairperson of Progressive Liberation Party around 2002, and Patricia Olubunmi Foluke Etteh served as Deputy Chief Whip of the People’s Democratic Party (PDP) in the House of Representatives around 2002 and as Speaker, House of Representatives from June to October 2007 (Worldwide Guide to Women in Leadership, 2008). In South Africa, Helen Suzman served as Parliamentary leader of the Progressive Party from 1970 to 1989; Albertina Sisulu served as President of United Democratic Front from 1988 to 1992; Patricia de Lille as

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Chief Whip of Pan Africanist Congress (PAC) from 1994 to 1999 and 2003 as leader of the Independent Democrats; Baleka Mbete as Chairperson of the (ANC) Parliamentary caucus (1995–1996); Thenjiwe Mtintso as Deputy Secretary General of African National Congress, ANC (1998–2007); and Zanele kaMagwaza-Msibi as Chairperson of Inkatha Freedom Party (IFP) (2006–2011) and president of the National Freedom Party (NFP) in 2011 (Worldwide Guide to Women in Leadership 2014). In Uganda, Cecilia Atim Ogwal served as Leader of Uganda People’s Congress around 1996, Stella Nambuya as Leader of the Republican Women and Youth Party in 2004, Miria Kalule Obote in 2005 served as President of the Uganda People’s Congress (UPC), Alice Alaso Asianut as Secretary General of the Forum for Democratic Change (FDC) in 2005, and Reiner Kaffire as Deputy President of the Democratic Party in 2005 (Worldwide Guide to Women in Leadership 2006a). In Zambia, Dr. Chamba Gwendoline G. Konie served as the founding chairperson of the Social Democratic Party in 2000, and Edith Zewelani Nawakwi as Secretary General of the Forum for Democracy and Development, (FDD) in 2001 and in 2001–2005 as Vice President and in 2005 as president. In 2001 Dr. Inonge Mbikusita-Lewanika served as President of Agenda for Zambia (Worldwide Guide to Women in Leadership 2006b). In Zimbabwe, Isabel Shanangurai Madangure served as Leader of Zimbabwe People’s Democratic Party around 1991, Margaret Dongo as Chairperson of the Movement for Independent Candidates MP around 1999, Co-Leader of Union Democrats, and Joyce Wachunu Mujuru as Vice-President of ZANU-P from 2004 to 2014 and Party Leader of Zimbabwe People First (ZPF) in 2016 (Worldwide Guide to Women in Leadership 2006c). It could be gleaned from the above account that party politics and indeed, management of political parties is not the exclusive preserve of men as African women have demonstrated capacity and consistency in party and parliamentary leadership. Sourcing data for Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC) Election and Party Monitoring and Legal Departments, Simbine (2019) observed that of the 91 political parties that participated in the 2019 General Election (GE) in Nigeria, 20 or 22% had women in Senior Party Executive positions which include Chairman, National Secretary, and Deputy National Secretary.

Percentage of Women in Parliament Across Regions The most outstanding gauge for measuring women in political parties is perhaps, the legislature. This is because the legislature provides the largest opportunity for women mobilization and participation in elective politics unlike executive positions like president and governor that are represented by one person. Moreover, legislative positions (along with an enabling environment such as support of male legislators, relationships between female legislators and key actors in civil society, and aid community) give women greater policy influencing opportunity to legislate social and other pro-women policies that tend to positively affect their fellow women more. This position, however, incorporates the understanding that there are women who

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actively participate in political party politics at different levels other than elective positions. The visibility of such women is however, difficult to measure. Using the legislature, it is therefore, instructive in the context to examine the percentage of women in parliaments across regions with the intent of extrapolation. According to the Inter-Parliamentary Union (2018), wide variations remain in the average percentages of women parliamentarians in each region. As of November 2018, the percentage of women representation in parliament in single, lower, and upper houses combined across regions was identified to include: Nordic countries, 42.3%; Americas, 30%; Europe including Nordic countries, 27.7%; Europe excluding Nordic countries, 26.6%; sub-Saharan Africa, 23.6%; Asia, 19.4%; Arab States, 17.8%; and the Pacific, 17%. Existing record, however, shows that only three countries have 50% or more women in parliament in single or lower houses: Rwanda as stated earlier tops the list with 61.3%, Cuba with 53.2% and Bolivia with 53.1% and a significant number of countries have attained 30% women representation in parliament. These statistics, however, demonstrate that women even in the most advanced democracies of the world and indeed, on every continent are weighed down by exactly similar challenges as African women. On certain indicators, however, Africa has proven to be ahead of other continents. For instance, while Liberia has produced an elected female president, despite its longer democratic history, the United States has not. While Africa currently has 16 female speakers of national parliaments, the United States has only one, Pelosi, in its entire history. Asia, with three times the population of Africa has only eight currently, and one only in the MENA region. Only Europe (Western Europe) has consistently been an exception of sorts. According to UN Women (2018), as of November 2018, “49 single or lower houses were composed of 30% or more women, including 21 countries in Europe, 13 in Sub-Saharan Africa, and 11 in Latin America and the Caribbean, 2 in the Pacific and 1 each in Asia and Arab States.” The reason for the 30% women representation across the regions is noted by the UN Women to include, legislative candidate quotas or reserved seats, and opening space for women’s political participation in national parliaments.

Are There Lessons to Be Learnt from Africa on Women’s Participation in Political Parties and Politics? Africa has come to be associated with setting the standard for creating conditions conducive to the growth and active participation of women in partisan politics. Literature on women and politics highlight the spectacular rise, visibility, and impact of women participation in politics in Rwanda to the extent that the country is now adjudged the world leader in women participation in politics. Across Africa, Rwanda, Namibia, South Africa, and Senegal feature rates of 61.3%, 46.2%, 42.7%, and 41.8% of women representation in parliament, respectively. This certainly holds useful lessons for other countries in Africa in particular, and the world in general. Electoral gender quotas is often implicated in explaining the feat achieved in

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Rwanda but it should be noted that the lesson to be learnt from the sustained visibility of women on the political space in Rwanda and indeed, other African countries is better explained by the political will of leadership not only of proposing electoral gender quotas but creating the right framework that enables its implementation. Generally, research on women in politics in Africa has generated a deluge of literature and contributed to the general discourse on the subject matter. Findings from such Africa-entered researches have advanced explanation of issues concerning increasing rate of female participation in partisan politics. Much of the literature on women and politics in Africa was generated after 1990 around issues of representation, quotas, and institutions, adoption of women’s-rights policies, democratization, and women’s movements. Although, women are traditionally encumbered with and weighed down by a number of factors including inadequate access to means of production, inadequate access to quality education, inadequate social capital, and the cultural assumption that women should legitimately be confined to the domestic sphere, the increasing level of woman participation in politics in Africa demonstrates that these strictures can actually be surmounted not just through relevant policy framework but also through a commensurate political will to implement such policies. Africa, therefore, offers a relevant template for the sustained actualization of women participation in politics. Although, Africa has recorded amiable heights in this direction, the sustained visibility of women in politics in Africa is, however, constrained by a lot of factors.

What Factors Limit Women’s Participation in Partisan Politics? Women’s exclusion from partisan politics and politics in general is a product of wide-ranging structural, historical, functional, and cultural factors across different sociocultural contexts. It is argued that the capitalist system essentially creates development that rather than release women from oppressive social, economic, and political institutions, merely defines “new conditions of constraints” (Leacock 1977, p. 320). The gendered nature of international capitalism therefore, simply creates conditions conducive to the creation and sustenance of gender disparities. The nature of politics in general and democracy in particular is historically constructed to serve men better than women as depicted in the public-private dichotomy assumption where men are considered to be visible and active in the public sphere and women restrained to private (domestic) life as though men are not part of the domestic life. The public-private dichotomy perspectives cohere with the thoughts of notable political thinkers and philosophers such as Aristotle, Plato, Thomas Hobbes, Rousseau, Hegel, and John Lock, who considered women fit only for domestic roles because of their maternal capacity as mothers and wives (Phillips 1998; Shirin 2000). Another factor that limits women’s participation in partisan elective politics and politics in general is patriarchy. The world as is seen today is constructed to entrench and sustain male dominance over and above female. It transforms males and females

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into men and women and construct the hierarchy of gender relations where men are privileged (Eisenstein 1984). The gender role ideology is used as an ideological tool by patriarchy to place women within the private arena of home as mothers and wives and men in the public sphere (Bari 2005). The patriarchal nature of society logically shapes and defines women participation in politics. Although, the gender role/ patriarchal ideology is in a state of constant flux, women continue to be known for their maternal capacity in line with what the French philosopher Simone de Beauvoir describes as “Anatomy as Destiny” meaning that women are considered for “what they are, not what they do” thus relegating women to the private domestic life of child bearing and away from the public life of politics. For the gendered glass ceiling to be smashed, women would therefore have to renegotiate entry into public life through advocacy. Overall, patriarchy has inadvertently structured the broader perspective of political processes. An obvious factor that limits women participation in this regard is the anatomy and physiology of political parties. Although, some parties have clauses in their constitution that seem to allocate certain percentages of representation to women, in most instances such allotted quotas are hardly filled by women due to internal party politics. Party meetings are in some instances held at such times when women are supposed to be attending to some domestic chores. This obvious insensitivity in political party operations and activities serves as a structural roadblock against women’s full and active participation in party politics. This is often done as a stratagem to reinforce the claim that conflict exists between women supposed public life as party members and their private (domestic) life as caregivers, and even, when they fully participate in politics; they are, however, still seen from the perspective of mothers and wives rather than politicians. This disenabling context limits women participation in partisan politics. Sociocultural factors are generally implicated in further strengthening the potpourri of issues that place a lid on women participation in party politics. In several cultural settings across regions, cultural norms make women subordinate to men and the female sex is generally valued less than the male sex because of their socially ascribed roles in the reproductive sphere. The gender status quo is maintained through low resource allocation to women’s human development by the state, society, and the family. This is reflected in the social indicators which reflect varying degrees of gender disparities in education, health, employment, ownership of productive resources, and politics in all countries (Bari 2005). This limitation is further deepened when consideration is given to the evidence that women’s primary roles as wives and mothers as well as their official and domestic responsibilities leave them with very little time for active participation in party activities. This is in addition to the fact that politics has become a very expensive enterprise where money is a key determinant of electoral victory. The structure of the society makes it rather difficult for women to have access to and ownership of productive resources, thus, limiting their capacity to effectively participate in partisan politics. This is coupled with the Hobbesian nature of politics where thuggery, gang wars, assassinations, kidnappings, and ritual killings tend to structure political interaction between political actors. Generally, the level of women’s participation in partisan politics is contingent on a lot of factors including commitment to the attainment of equality of rights

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and opportunities between men and women in all sectors of the polity, the structure and nature of the electoral process and system, the role of religion as well as the level of commitment to the rule of law. Where these factors are lacking, women visibility and impact in the political process is further threatened. To enhance the active participation of women in the political process, political parties must, therefore, be unbiased gatekeepers granting access to all, irrespective of gender.

Strategies for Promoting Women Participation in Political Parties/ Politics It is obvious by now that the main factor limiting women’s participation in politics is located within the patriarchal nature of the polity which is now almost accepted as a cultural norm. To create conditions conducive to the active participation of women in political parties and politics in general, two broad strategies immediately leap to mind – electoral gender quotas and the symbolic representation of women’s interests. Electoral gender quotas simply imply that a certain percentage of seats are set aside to be filled by women in the electoral process. Electoral gender quotas offer the most explanatory power for women’s increased visibility and participation in the electoral process (Tripp and Kang 2008). Bauer (2019) has identified the quotas system to include: reserved seats, legislated candidate quotas, and voluntary party quotas. Reserved seats according to Bauer are often used with Single Member District (SMD) electoral systems and typically rely upon elections in which only women are candidates; they usually involve adding seats to a parliamentary chamber. Voluntary quotas are those voluntarily adopted by political parties, while legislated quotas are required by law – typically in constitutions or electoral laws (Bauer 2019). Bauer makes the point when it was declared that in proportional representation (PR) electoral systems; gender quotas are easily adopted by adding women’s names to party lists – and most effective when there are a placement mandate (every second or third person on the list a woman) and sanctions for those parties that do not comply (Bauer 2019). Women’s active participation in political parties in particular and politics in general can be strengthened if national constitutions guarantee legislated quotas that make it mandatory for political parties to allot a specific percentage of elective and appointive positions (both at the party level and generally) to women. This can be done alongside the deployment of reserved seats for women. Bauer (2019) aptly notes that reserved seats serve as a training ground for women who will one day run for directly elected seats; in the process, they will also help to familiarize voters with women in electoral politics. The second strategy of strengthening women participation in politics is located in what Bauer (2019) refers to as “symbolic representation of women’s interests” and which may be understood as “altering gendered ideas about the roles of women and men in politics, raising awareness of what women can achieve, legitimizing women as political actors, and encouraging women to become

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more involved in politics themselves as voters, activists, candidates, and leaders” (Franceschet et al. 2012). With this effectively done, the misconception about the domestic domain being the legitimate arena for women while the public space is for men would have been addressed.

Conclusion This chapter provided a conceptual background to explore the historicity, constraints, and participation of women in politics in Africa and sketched the growing visibility of Africa as the beacon of women participation in politics in the world. Women in Africa, like in other continents of the world face similar cultural, structural, and systemic roadblocks to their effective participation in politics. Although, these challenges are similar, Africa has, however, demonstrated resilience and capacity to break the gendered glass ceiling by producing three of the top ten countries with the highest numbers of female parliamentarians in the world. On the other hand, however, Africa is also the continent with countries with the least numbers of women in parliament. In addressing the exclusion of women from politics, the gender quota was introduced. Although, it is not without criticism, gender quotas are instituted within the context of gender disparities, which are structural and systemic. For Africa and indeed the world to attain a sustained level of women participation in politics, the gender quotas would have to be linked with social and economic redistributive justice in the society because without addressing the cultural, structural, and systemic constraints to women’s political exclusion, their inclusion through gender quotas would hardly lead to their sustained visibility on the political space.

Cross-References ▶ Women in African Parliaments: Progress and Prospects

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Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . How Have More Women Accessed Parliaments and Who Are They? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . What Are Electoral Gender Quotas? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Descriptive Representation: Who Are the Women MPs? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . What Has Been the Impact of More Women in Parliament? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Substantive Representation of Women’s Interests . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Symbolic Representation of Women’s Interests . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Future Prospects: Achieving Gender Parity in Parliaments? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion: What About Democracy and Women’s Representation? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

Across Africa many countries are world leaders in terms of women’s representation in parliament with more than a dozen countries having 30% women or well more in their national legislatures. As in most parts of the world, women’s enhanced access to parliament over the last three decades in Africa may be attributed largely to the adoption of electoral gender quotas by governments and political parties, typically following a constitutional review process (often in the wake of conflict) and significant women’s movement mobilization. Increasingly, African countries are adopting stronger legislated quotas, even for gender parity. African women members of parliament have been found to be just as qualified as their male counterparts, if not more so, and a number of substantive and symbolic representation effects of more women in parliament have been identified. These include the adoption of laws that address women’s interests in the areas of gender-based violence, land rights, and family law and women’s

G. Bauer (*) Political Science and International Relations, University of Delaware, Newark, DE, USA e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_122

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enhanced engagement in politics (e.g., voting). While more women in parliament have not always led to more democratic polities, it is anticipated that experienced women legislators may contribute to more democratic dispensations in the future. Keywords

Parliament · Electoral gender quotas · Women’s political leadership · Substantive representation · Symbolic representation

Introduction As a new century dawned two decades ago, Ugandan scholar, human rights activist, and later law dean Sylvia Tamale wrote optimistically about “African women claiming their space in parliament”: “At the close of the millennium, there is a wave of invigorating air sweeping across the African continent. The refreshing breeze can be felt in the form of women smashing the gendered ‘glass ceiling’ in a bid to overcome the cultural and structural barriers that impede their political careers” (2000, 8). How has that optimism held up in the intervening two decades? In terms of women in African parliaments, the answer seems to be “fairly well.” In late 2018, 15 African countries (of 48 worldwide) had 30% women or well more in their parliaments, with the small country of Rwanda leading the world (as it has since late 2003) with 61% women in its Chamber of Deputies. In 2008, 6 African countries were among the only 20 countries worldwide with more than 30% women in their parliaments, with Rwanda still leading the list with 49% women. In 1998, by contrast, only 5 northern European countries had more than 30% women in a single or lower house of parliament, with a handful of African countries among the 20 or so countries in the 20–30% women range – still a respectable number (http://archive. ipu.org/wmn-e/classif.htm). Over the last two decades then, women in Africa and around the world have made remarkable progress in gaining access to parliaments – though many hurdles remain. Indeed, several African countries have been at the very forefront of the global expansion in women’s representation in national legislatures. This chapter examines this noteworthy growth in women’s presence in parliaments across Africa, beginning with a discussion of what has contributed to these increases over the last few decades, as well as what accounts for those African countries that lag much farther behind. The chapter elaborates on women’s descriptive representation in parliaments in Africa. Next, the chapter investigates the impact of women’s greater presence in parliaments, with a focus on the substantive and symbolic representation of women’s interests. Finally, the chapter considers future prospects for increasing women’s representation in parliaments across the continent as well as the relationship between women’s representation and democracy in Africa. A number of arguments are advanced for increasing women’s representation in national legislatures (if not for achieving gender parity – a 50/50 representation of women and men). These include that it is unfair or unjust for men to monopolize political power; that without increasing women’s representation, women’s interests,

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needs, and concerns will not be adequately addressed; and that legislative bodies (and polities) that are more inclusive and more representative are also more democratic (Phillips 1998). There is also a “role model” argument, in the sense that there is a powerful impact on future elections of bringing the first women into elected office. These ideas resonate among African women activists and women politicians, especially the notion that women’s representation should be increased in order to ensure attention to women’s interests. Here it is important to acknowledge that in Africa and elsewhere, the concept of “women’s interests” is a contested one and that they, like women, are not monolithic (Tamale 1999, 74–75). That said, in an African context in which many (though not all) socioeconomic indicators for women are inferior to those of men and critical issues such as gender-based violence, family law, and women’s access to land are likely to be decided in national legislatures, it is suggested that women legislators may well be motivated to represent the interests, needs, and concerns of other women. Alternatively, achieving women’s interests may be framed as a broader demand for gender equality. The idea of the need to gain a “critical mass” (typically considered to be around 30%) of women in national legislatures in order to accomplish the goals outlined by Phillips (1998) has animated debates and advocacy around women’s greater presence in parliaments across the globe (Childs and Krook 2008). More recently advocates have pushed for gender parity in national legislatures, rather than only 20 or 30% women.

How Have More Women Accessed Parliaments and Who Are They? The simple answer to the question of how women have accessed parliaments in Africa over the last two decades – in greater numbers and at a faster pace – is the use of electoral gender quotas, although it has not always been that simple. For decades before the widespread use of electoral gender quotas, scholars of women’s legislative representation queried the extent to which a variety of factors influenced women’s access to elected office – a country’s level of development; women’s education, workforce participation, and political rights; and the roles of religion, political parties, and electoral systems, among others. Some studies (Lindberg 2004; Stockemer 2011; Yoon 2001, 2004) examined these same factors with respect to African countries in particular. That said, Tripp and Kang (2008) argue persuasively that the introduction of quotas offers the most explanatory power for women’s increased legislative representation today, together with the use of certain electoral systems. Further, they note, those countries with a low status and poor socioeconomic indicators for women but using some type of electoral gender quota may have a greater representation of women than countries with a higher status for women and better socioeconomic indicators. This is now plainly evident in parts of Africa. Indeed, consistent with trends around the world, those African countries at the top of the worldwide rankings (mentioned above) all use some type of electoral gender quota in electing more women to parliament. This trend has been identified by Dahlerup and Friedenvall (2005, 26) as:

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taking the ‘fast track’ to parliament – using an electoral gender quota to increase women’s representation significantly, often in the course of a single election – in contrast to the much slower ‘incremental approach’ that waits for political and socioeconomic developments to take place over time.

But why have so many African countries and political parties adopted electoral gender quotas? The adoption of electoral gender quotas in Africa has occurred in two waves which correspond with the latter two of three global waves of quota adoption (Bauer 2016a; Norris and Dahlerup 2015). The first wave of African countries to adopt some type of electoral gender quota in the 1990s and early 2000s were post-transition or more likely post-conflict countries in East and Southern Africa such as Rwanda, South Africa, Namibia, Mozambique, Angola, Tanzania, Uganda, and Burundi. In these countries a similar set of factors was largely at play including the political opportunity structure offered by a political transition (often post-conflict), entailing the adoption of new constitutions and electoral laws, mobilized national women’s movements with support from an international women’ s movement and influenced by international norms, cadres of capable women many of whom had participated in conflicts or benefited from overseas training during exile, diffusion effects from one country/movement to another, and a liberation movement or dominant party with a stated commitment to women’ s emancipation (Ballington 2004; Bauer 2004; Bauer and Britton 2006; Hughes and Tripp 2015; Kang and Tripp 2018; Tamale 1999; Tripp et al. 2009; Tripp 2015; Waylen 2007). More recently, a second wave of African countries is following suit. Zimbabwe, Lesotho, Kenya, Somalia, and Sudan and South Sudan have recently adopted electoral gender quotas, and, for the first time, a number of West and North African countries such as Senegal, Cameroon, Cape Verde, Morocco, Tunisia, and Benin have adopted or are considering the adoption of some kind of electoral gender quota. In these countries too mobilized national women’ s movements have called for the adoption of new electoral laws and gender quotas, often working in collaboration with regional, continental, or international organizations and usually as part of a constitutional review process or, in the case of some North African countries, in the wake of the uprisings of the 2011 “Arab Spring” (Bauer 2016a; Darhour and Dahlerup 2013; Ennaji 2016; Moghadam 2014). As such, African cases conform closely to international trends described by Norris and Dahlerup (2015) in their work on three waves of quota adoption across the world. The first global wave took place from the 1950s to the 1980s but was confined to eastern and western European countries. In Norris and Dahlerup’s (2015) study of electoral gender quota adoption in 80 countries from the early 1990s onward, they identify a second wave of global electoral gender quota adoption beginning in 1991 with the Argentinian Ley de Cupo Feminino which required that 30% of candidates on all political party lists be women and a more recent third wave of global electoral gender quota adoption during which earlier quota laws are being amended and usually strengthened (16). These same trends in the second and third global waves, with some variation, can be identified in Africa’s two waves. Also over the last few decades, many international conventions and protocols have addressed the need for women’s greater participation in politics and decisionmaking; some are specific to Africa and others not, with many making

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recommendations for specific percentages of women in elected office by a certain year. International IDEA (2014, 17) refers to these conventions and protocols as providing the “normative framework for the use of quotas.” And across Africa, women’s organizations have been adept at referencing these documents as they have sought to hold governments accountable and to put in place specific measures such as electoral gender quotas to meet their goals.

What Are Electoral Gender Quotas? Looking at the more than one dozen African countries with more than 30% women in their parliaments in early 2018, every one of them uses some type of electoral gender quota, and they are more likely to use the “woman-friendly” proportional representation (PR) electoral system than a plurality-majority single-member district (SMD) system. Similarly, those African countries at the very bottom of the world rankings (Ghana and Nigeria, among others) by and large do not use an electoral gender quota and are more likely to use an SMD electoral system. In general, there are three main types of electoral gender quotas: reserved seats, legislated candidate quotas, and voluntary party quotas, with some quota designs working better with some electoral systems and in some political contexts than others and with some quota designs serving some interests, for example, political parties, better than others (Arendt 2018; Laserud and Taphorn 2007; Matland 2006; Rosen 2017). Reserved seats are often used with SMD electoral systems and typically rely upon elections in which only women are candidates; they usually involve adding seats to a parliamentary chamber. Voluntary quotas have been adopted voluntarily by political parties, while legislated quotas are required by law – typically in constitutions or electoral laws. In PR electoral systems, gender quotas are easily adopted by adding women’s names to party lists – and most effective when there are a placement mandate (every second or third person on the list a woman) and sanctions for those parties that do not comply. During Africa’s second wave of quota adoption, the trend has been toward stronger, legislated quotas, with countries like Tunisia, Senegal, and Zimbabwe even adopting gender parity laws for their parliaments; in Morocco and Tunisia, youth quotas have even been adopted alongside gender quotas (Bauer 2016a; Belschner 2018). In the main, electoral gender quotas for parliament have been adopted in response to the many barriers that face women standing for parliament (and other political office), in particular in those contexts in which women run as individuals in SMD electoral systems though also when they are on party lists in PR electoral systems. For Africa, the obstacles facing women aspirants and candidates for political office have been documented. For example, in Uganda in the mid-1990s where women entered electoral contests, “femininity and gender identity assumed center stage.” Women had to endure constant slurs about their marital status and sexuality: “A married woman was penalised for neglecting her husband and family. A woman who was ‘unattached’ was put to task to prove that she was not a malaya (prostitute)” (Tamale 1999, 93). In Cameroon around the same time, it was assumed that there were no capable women and that men did not want women “commanding” them anyway (Abdela 2000,

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18–19). In Zambia discrimination against women candidates took the form of “dirty tricks” to keep them out of politics (Longwe 2000, 27). In Nigeria, women candidates in party primaries and general elections are undermined in a number of creative ways: affirmative action efforts are subverted, women aspirants are labeled as culturally deviant, the moral standing of female aspirants is interrogated, an indigeneity ploy – questioning from which constituencies women could stand (their natal home versus their marital home) – is deployed, and violence against women aspirants and candidates is not uncommon (Ibrahim 2004; Safir and Alam 2015). In Botswana in the runup to the 2009 parliamentary election, a number of factors worked against women aspirants and candidates: the high cost of registration fees and campaigns, the perceived lack of women’s qualifications and skills, lack of media coverage of women candidates, repeated assertions that “women can’t lead,” political traditions surrounding the community gathering known as the “kgotla” that excluded women, the repeated emphasis on blaming women for their electoral defeats, and more (Bauer 2010). In Kenya, women candidates in the 2012 elections reported being subject to harassment, intimidation, violence, and other underhanded tactics (Nyabola 2016), and in Ghana the “cost of politics” – with male candidates easily outspending female candidates – is one of the largest challenges facing women seeking political office (Westminster Foundation for Democracy 2018).

Descriptive Representation: Who Are the Women MPs? Descriptive representation is usefully expanded to refer to the basic attributes of those MPs elected, in addition to how many are elected (Franceschet et al. 2012) – and there is a body of research that has sought to assess who are the women who become MPs across Africa. Perhaps not surprisingly, female MPs, like their male counterparts, tend to be more educated and more affluent and are more likely to be in one of a few high status professions in education, finance, law, or medicine than the rest of the female (or male) population. While no studies to date have aggregated African women MPs’ overall characteristics, a few provide us with some portraits of African women members of parliament (MPs), revealing a range of attributes (Bauer 2012). In profiles of five of the first post-conflict women MPs in Uganda, Tamale (1999) presents a mix of directly elected and “district women” [elected on a gender quota] from both the ruling National Resistance Movement and the opposition. All were seasoned politicians, and all were educated professionals, though their origins may well have been from peasant families in the rural areas. In her analysis of women MPs in the first and second National Assemblies elected after the transition to black majority rule in South Africa, Britton (2005) notes the way in which the characteristics of women MPs changed markedly from the first to the second parliament. On the one hand, Britton found a striking professionalization of women MPs from the first National Assembly to the second; on the other hand, she found that the second “generation” of women MPs was noticeably less representative of South African women overall (in terms of their socioeconomic characteristics) than the first. Bauer and Britton (2006) include interview excerpts from four women MPs in their edited volume; the women MPs

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ranged from a long-time human rights activist elected on the ruling party list in Rwanda, to a finance minister who left for education and later military training in exile at the age of 12 from Namibia, to an academic researcher turned opposition party MP in South Africa. Some scholars have sought to interrogate differences between women MPs who may have been directly elected and those elected on a gender quota, responding to stated concerns, for example, that “quota women” are likely to be less qualified than directly elected women MPs or than men MPs. In the only African study that explicitly addresses this question, using Uganda as her case study, O’Brien (2012) evaluated the assumptions that women elected in reserved or “district” seats differ markedly from directly elected MPs. She found that on the vast majority of indicators, “district” women do not differ significantly from other MPs, and on some measures they are even better prepared for office than the others. Similarly, Muriaas and Wang (2012) found that among the special interest groups in the Ugandan parliament, district (or quota) women MPs and MPs representative of the disabled (also on a quota) performed the best, on average, of all MPs. In a study of women in the Rwandan parliament, Schwartz (2004) found that while everyone in the Chamber of Deputies was well aware of who the “quota women” were and that they were perceived as “grassroots politicians,” the main factor distinguishing between members, for example, on the extent to which they represented women’s interests, was not whether or not they were quota women but whether they were women or men. In a study of all women shortlists in the United Kingdom, Nugent and Krook (2016, 115) examine nine common criticisms of the quota “related to candidate recruitment and selection, party and voter support and the effectiveness of ‘quota women’ as politicians.” In short, they find that “quotas do not pose a threat to ‘merit’ at any stage of the political process.” In general, that seems to have been the finding of the few African studies focused on candidate qualifications as well. In her study of women MPs in Uganda, Tamale (1999, 150–151) further observed that while the “first [post-independence] generation of female MPs” hailed largely from “political families,” this has not been the case for contemporary women MPs in Uganda. In general, unlike in Asia and Latin America, family ties have not characterized women’s access to political office in Africa; moreover, it is important to stress that quotas may serve a critical role in diversifying and broadening access to elected office away from those from political or elite families. Electoral quotas are also being adopted in an attempt to bring more youth into legislatures, as has been done in Morocco and Tunisia at the national level and in Tunisia at the municipal level in the “post-revolution” period (Belschner 2018).

What Has Been the Impact of More Women in Parliament? Women in politics scholars have generally sought to assess the impact of more women in national legislatures through the concepts of substantive representation and symbolic representation. But there have also been other impacts of more women in African parliaments that are not substantive or symbolic representation impacts

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but are still worthy of mention. So, for example, many quota advocates and practitioners contend that reserved or special seats serve as a training ground for women who will one day run for directly elected seats; in the process, they will also help to familiarize voters with women in electoral politics. In Tanzania, where there has even been discussion of limiting the number of terms a woman MP may occupy a reserved or special seat, those seats are reportedly serving as “stepping stones” to constituency-based seats (Makinda 2011; Meena 2004; Yoon 2008, 2013). Improvements to “parliamentary cultures” have also been documented in a few African countries, as a result of more women members. Devlin and Elgie (2008, 251) attribute striking changes in the social climate of parliament – greater confidence and greater solidarity among women MPs and a better working relationship between women and men MPs – to women’s increased presence in the Chamber of Deputies in Rwanda. For Tanzania Yoon (2011) also identified several positive impacts on parliamentary culture from women’s increased legislative representation including the establishment of a women’s caucus that provides parliamentary skills training for women MPs, a significant increase in women MPs’ contributions to parliamentary debates, a better articulation of women’s interests in parliament, and a more interactive parliamentary environment (between women and men) than in the years before women’s larger numbers in the Bunge. Britton (2005) also documented favorable changes to parliamentary culture in South Africa’s National Assembly following the first significant infusion of women members into parliament in 1994. In Rwanda, Tanzania, and Burundi, increases in women’s representation in parliaments have coincided with increases in cabinet appointments for women – and even in more prominent cabinet appointments for women (Devlin and Elgie 2008; Guariso et al. 2017; Yoon 2011) – not unlike Stockemer’s (2017) recent finding of a “solid link” between the proportion of women in legislatures and cabinets globally (using data from 194 countries over a 50-year period), albeit with some differences in the nature of the link between parliamentary and presidential systems. In other instances in Africa, larger numbers of women have been appointed to cabinets in countries with smaller numbers of women in the national legislature (Adams et al. 2016); indeed, appointing women to political office can be much more readily accomplished than electing them, though an increase in women’s cabinet appointments has historically been uneven in contrast to a more steady rise in women’s presence in parliaments (Scherpereel et al. 2018).

Substantive Representation of Women’s Interests By now, there is a considerable literature that examines the impact of more women MPs in a number of countries that have had higher representations of women for longer periods of time in Africa, for example, Rwanda, Tanzania, South Africa, and Uganda, among others. The substantive representation of women’s interests by women MPs may be considered as advancing women’s interests through the policy making process, whether publicly or behind the scenes; this may be measured, for example, in terms of promoting or accomplishing certain policy agendas or

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legislative items (Franceschet et al. 2012). Around the world, such substantive representation impacts have been identified, for example, Clayton and Zetterberg’s (2018, 916) recent finding that quota policies – bringing more women into parliament – “influence government priorities in historically feminized policy areas,” such as health policy. In terms of promoting a policy agenda, in Rwanda, where women have been nearly half or more of members of the Chamber of Deputies since 2003, Devlin and Elgie gained a sense that gender issues are now firmly on the political agenda. Indeed, women MPs suggested to Devlin and Elgie (2008) that a gender agenda is now “guaranteed” by the presence of more women. Also for Rwanda, Burnet (2008, 376–377) found that as early as the late 1990s, the Forum of Rwandan Women Parliamentarians (FFRP) was working closely with women’s organizations and government ministries to enact an “Inheritance Law” that enabled women to inherit property and own property in their own names, enter into legal contracts, and seek paid employment. Powley (2006) argues that women MPs from the Chamber of Deputies elected in 2003 (the first post-genocide election), despite a host of constraints, were acting as strong advocates for children – in particular by initiating prochild legislation, challenging key government ministers, and prioritizing the needs of children in the national budget. Powley and Pearson (2007) and Pearson and Powley (2008) describe the role of women MPs and their parliamentary caucus, the FFRP, in initiating and helping to pass the Gender Based Violence (GBV) Bill – as of 2008 the only successful bill to be initiated by members of parliament (rather than the executive). Efforts to pass it relied upon a cooperative rather than adversarial strategy, and in the process women MPs succeeded in creating an anti-violence movement in the country. Some of the earliest studies focused on Uganda. Tamale (1999, 194) and Tripp (2001) both underlined the tangible results produced by women members of the Constituent Assembly in securing “strong pro-woman provisions in the 1995 constitution.” At the same time, Tamale warned about the continuing challenges facing women legislators who sought to fulfill a mandate they saw as “making a case for women.” In the 2000s, Goetz (2002), Ahikire (2004), Hanssen (2005), and Tripp (2006) raised concerns about the way in which women MPs were elected into district (quota) seats in Uganda and the many limitations posed by the country’s no-party political system. Following much criticism, the mechanism for electing women into district seats was revised so that they would also be elected by universal franchise, and a transition to a multiparty political system was effected – both in 2006. Since the changes of 2006, quite a few laws important to women were passed; in 2009 alone a Domestic Violence Bill, an Anti-Female Genital Mutilation Bill, and a Marriage and Divorce Bill, all with pro-women provisions, were advanced through parliament (Tripp 2010, 106–107). Waylen (2007, 2008) has argued that South African women made significant substantive representation gains following the 1994 transition to black majority rule. Gains included the adoption of the new constitution with gender equality provisions, creation of state women’s machineries in the form envisaged by women, significant representation of women in the legislature and executive, and policy outcomes such as progressive laws on domestic violence and reproductive rights. In a study of the

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KwaZulu-Natal provincial parliament, Francis (2009) found that a majority of the women Members of the Provincial Parliament claimed to want to represent women’s interests and felt they were effective in doing so, despite a myriad of challenges. Similar to Uganda until the changes of 2006, in Tanzania there have been concerns about the way in which women are selected into special seats in parliament, with Shayo (2005) suggesting that only the ruling party had a clear system for nominating women to those positions. In an early assessment of the impact of more women in parliament in Tanzania, Meena (2004, 83) found that women MPs in the early 2000s advocated laws that addressed women’s concerns in several areas, including maternity leave, access to university education, sexual and gender-based violence, and land reform. Yoon (2011) notes that these advances have been made despite ongoing challenges to women MPs including the weakness of the legislature, the limiting power of party discipline, a lack of skills on the part of women MPs, and an overall lack of resources available to Tanzanian MPs. Makinda (2011, 33–34), herself a Tanzanian MP, concurs with Meena and Yoon, noting that women MPs in Tanzania have had a “big impact” on the issues discussed in parliament, have successfully pushed laws that have addressed women’s needs in several areas, and have monitored the national budget with women’s concerns in mind. Finally, in Ethiopia Tadesse Tsion and Woldeyesus (2013, 73) conclude that while women MPs still have a long way to go in terms of tangible results, they have at least made a start, in particular in promoting understanding of women’s issues: “Female MPs have taken important steps in raising awareness about women’s issues, demanding explanations when women’s issues are ignored, and mainstreaming gender in the development works of the executive branch. Their determination to raise such issues in different committees and in the full parliament is to be commended, but their invisibility to the public is a predicament.” The authors suggest that the women MPs need to work harder at building relationships with women constituents, women’s organizations, and the national gender machinery. Building relationships with women’s organizations and with women MPs “across the aisle” is very important indeed. A clear finding of the emerging women in African parliaments literature – also evident from decades of research on women in politics around the world – is that two factors help to enhance African women’s accomplishments in parliaments. These are women’s participation in cross-party women’s parliamentary caucuses and working with women activists and women’s organizations from civil society. Powley and Pearson (2007) and Burnet (2008) describe the pivotal role of the FFRP – and its collaboration with women’s organizations – in passing the GBV and Inheritance bills in Rwanda. Ahikire (2004) found in Uganda that the “synergy” among women’s organizations, the Ministry of Gender, and the women’s caucus in parliament around the drafting of the new constitution had “an impact unrivalled in the history of Ugandan politics and the women’s movement”; about a decade later, Muriaas and Wang (2012) found the role of the Uganda Women Parliamentary Association to be critical. In Kenya, Jobarteh (2016) found a surprising result, namely, that a cross-party parliamentary women’s caucus has been able to be successful at representing women’s interests substantively despite deep ethnic divisions in the country. Jobarteh suggests that this is because women’s issues are perceived as

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nonpolitical and noncontroversial and therefore women MPs are able to come together across ethnic divisions to cooperate on a common women’s agenda. More broadly, Geisler (2000, 2004, 2006) has argued that women’s movements have been critical to the success of women politicians in several southern African countries. Kang (2015) highlights the very significant role of women’s activists (in tandem with supporters inside government) in mobilizing for successful reform around women’s rights in Niger, and Ennaji (2016) finds that women’s nongovernmental organizations (both liberal and Islamic) play a similar role in Morocco.

Symbolic Representation of Women’s Interests Another important impact of more women MPs in parliaments across Africa may be in the realm of the symbolic representation of women’s interests. This may arguably be of more significance in African cases in that many symbolic representation effects take place far outside of national legislatures – which are weak in Africa (particularly in comparison with executives), thereby raising doubts about the value of women’s greater representation in them. The symbolic representation of women’s interests may be understood as altering gendered ideas about the roles of women and men in politics, raising awareness of what women can achieve, legitimating women as political actors, and encouraging women to become more involved in politics themselves as voters, activists, candidates, and leaders (Franceschet et al. 2012). For Uganda, Tamale (2001, 220) noted by the early 2000s that the presence of “such an unprecedented number of females in an institution that was traditionally dominated by men had introduced a gendered perspective to the legislative process. In addition, the increased visibility of women in leadership positions in politics was slowly changing the attitudes of Ugandan women and men towards women in politics.” She predicted that this could lead eventually to a more radical transformation of gender relations in Uganda. Tripp (2001, 122–123) made a similar observation for Uganda, reporting from 1993 survey results that “the biggest transformation that has come about in part as a result of the affirmative action politics is a new political culture regarding the acceptability of women as political leaders.” Tripp et al. (2006, 129) made this into a still broader generalization, noting that “One of the main benefits of introducing electoral quotas has been the way an influx of women has helped influence popular perceptions of the acceptability of women being active in politics.” In Rwanda, Burnet (2011) has suggested that through women’s increased presence in parliament, women may “have found respect.” Burnet (2011, 303) argues that women have reaped other benefits than legislative gains from women’s increased presence in parliaments, “including respect from family and community members, enhanced capacity to speak and be heard in public forums, greater autonomy in decision-making in the family, and increased access to education.” Coffé (2012) suggests that at least some women MPs in Rwanda interviewed for her study valued their function as role models more than their role in policy making – perhaps because the latter role is so constrained.

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Yoon (2011, 91) has noted for Tanzania that the increase in women’s representation in parliament and the “good performance of some female politicians” has “gradually changed the unfavourable cultural and social attitudes toward women in politics”; she quotes the executive director of the Tanzania Media Women’s Association, Ananilea Nkya: “Both men and women now know that women are capable of leading and being good politicians, and they are willing to vote for women.” In Botswana, where women have historically served only as regents and not as chiefs, women chiefs such as the paramount chief of the Balete Mosadi Seboko have revealed the way in which the presence of women ministers and women MPs has convinced women that they may also assert a right to be chief and convinced the people of Botswana that a woman may serve successfully as a chief (Bauer 2016b). Finally, Barnes and Burchard (2013), relying on Afrobarometer data from 20 countries across 4 waves of surveys (1999–2008), have argued that, as women’s descriptive representation increases in sub-Saharan Africa, the political engagement gender gap decreases – and not because men’s engagement falls, but because women’s rises. Moreover, the article finds that this impact takes effect once there are about 30% women in a parliament, recalling earlier debates about “critical mass.” In a recent study of the new gender quota in Kenya and the much older one in Uganda, Edgell (2018) raises the issue of “sustainable representation” – broadly defined as viable and substantial political representation secured for the long run. The research finds that in Uganda and Kenya, the number of women MPs rarely exceeds the minimum thresholds set by the gender quotas, suggesting that quotas may be acting as ceilings rather than floors. In their study of Morocco and Tunisia, Darhour and Dahlerup (2013, 132) use the same concept and raise the same concern about the way in which gender quotas “may or may not alter some of the barriers” preventing women’s equal participation and representation. Edgell (2018, 186) concludes her study that “to effectively promote sustainable representation, countries must balance the elected legitimacy of reserved seats against factors that encourage women to seek open (non-quota) seats. Otherwise, the thresholds set by the reserved seats will create a ceiling for women’s representation.”

Future Prospects: Achieving Gender Parity in Parliaments? Murray (2014) has argued eloquently that “the quality of representation is negatively affected” when a significant portion of the talent pool of potential MPs (women) is essentially excluded. Indeed Murray argues for a reframing of the quota debate as one in which the focus is not on the underrepresentation of women but the overrepresentation of men, advocating the use of ceiling quotas for men as way of curbing their overrepresentation. Across Africa a significant number of countries remain with very low percentages of women in their parliaments, including countries like Botswana, Ghana, Mauritius, and Nigeria (that often top other rankings of African countries) – mostly countries with SMD electoral systems and no electoral gender quotas (Bauer 2010; Darkwa 2015; Yoon and Bunwaree 2006). At the same time, other countries – part of Africa’s second wave of quota adoption – are adopting even stronger quotas,

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legislated not voluntary and for gender parity rather than only 20 or 30% women. Those countries that have adopted gender parity electoral laws or added constitutional provisions include Senegal in 2010, Tunisia in 2011, and Zimbabwe in 2013. In Senegal, the struggle for women’s greater representation in parliament was a longstanding one going back to the days of democratic political reforms in the mid-1970s. But from the 2000s, the struggle intensified, aided by a constitutional reform process, sympathetic politicians (political will), and heightened mobilization by Senegalese women’s organizations in collaboration with international organizations like UN Women (Telingator and Weeks 2019). In the first gender parity election, women only won 42% of seats, despite political party adherence to the Gender Parity Law – because women’s names were in the even, and not odd, positions on party lists. In Tunisia, this issue has been addressed by requiring “horizontal” as well as “vertical” parity in political party lists at the local and national level (Belschner 2018). In Zimbabwe too, women mobilized intensively for gender parity in parliament in the course of a constitutional reform process. In Zimbabwe, gender parity applies only to the Senate and is effected through party lists – with women at the top of lists – and is in place only for two elections: 2013 and 2018 (Bauer 2016a). It remains to be seen how many more African countries follow suit with quotas for gender parity rather than a much lesser “critical mass” of women MPs.

Conclusion: What About Democracy and Women’s Representation? In her recent book, Dahlerup (2018) asks whether democracy has failed women – in not bringing them into political office in proportion to their presence in the overall population. One of the many hurdles for women in the “old democracies,” according to Dahlerup, may be that women gained the right to vote and stand for election usually simultaneously more than a century ago, but nonetheless remained “intruders” in male spaces, namely, into institutions (parliaments) that were established usually long before women had the right to enter (29–30). Across Africa this is less likely to have been the trajectory; rather, women and men are more likely to have gained the right to vote and stand for office at the same time – usually around the time of independence. At the same time, not mobilizing separately for women’s right to vote (and right to stand for office) may have obscured legislatures as sites of struggle worthy of contestation for women. Indeed, parliaments have been male spaces in Africa as well, though perhaps not for as long. Another aspect of Dahlerup’s question is how democratic can a polity be when, given that only a small minority of its women are elected into its national legislature, a large portion of the population is excluded from decision-making? Whereas once upon a time it was assumed that as countries became more democratic, more women would access top political offices, that assumption has now been turned on its head at least for national legislatures, by the use of gender quotas including in Africa (see Fallon et al. 2012; Muriaas et al. 2013; Paxton et al. 2010; Stockemer 2011, among others). In Africa and other parts of the world, another question arises: what role are

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more women in parliaments playing/able to play in polities that are less than democratic? Some of the women in African parliaments literature has grappled with the potential limitations of less than democratic political systems on women’s successful participation in African legislatures. Tripp (2005, 49) concedes that “women’s ability to participate effectively in the key institutions of governance is constrained or facilitated by the broader political framework in which they find themselves.” Indeed, all of the countries with the highest percentages of women in parliament are dominant (though not “single”) party political systems, and some of those, such as Rwanda and Uganda, are increasingly authoritarian. Moghadam (2014, 38) argues that across North Africa, where uprisings in defiance of authoritarian regimes have been most recent, democratization and women’s gains have been uneven, with variation depending on the strength of national women’s movements and previous socioeconomic and cultural changes. Hassim (2010) has expressed a general concern about the way in which electoral gender quotas and the presence of women MPs elected on them has done very little to enhance the conditions of substantive democracy in at least a few African countries. Hogg (2009) has suggested that women’s unprecedented presence in Rwanda’s parliament may, in part, be a way of “building national unity by quieting dissent.” By contrast, Burnet (2008) has a more optimistic take; she argues that even gender initiatives handed down from above and implemented by authoritarian regimes can lead to transformation, and that women’s increased representation in even an authoritarian government can lead to their more meaningful participation in a genuine democracy – one day – as a result of such transformations. In their comparison of democratic Botswana and autocratic Rwanda, Bauer and Burnet (2013, 110) argue that perhaps deepening democracy cannot be a task that electoral gender quotas and the women elected on them are expected to accomplish on their own. Still, in making legislatures more representative and more inclusive, acting on a broader range of interests, and having impacts far beyond legislative chambers, women MPs across Africa are making a mark.

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Women in Judiciaries Across Africa

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Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Theorizing Women and Judiciaries in Across Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Mapping Patterns and Women’s Symbolic Representation in African Judiciaries . . . . . . . . . . . . History of Legal Education . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Legal Traditions and Perceptions of Prestige . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Court Structures and Gender Stratification . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Selection Methods . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Emerging Trends and Patterns: Women on the Bench . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Numbers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Leadership . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Professional Associations and Networking . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Substantive Representation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . International Benches . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Continuing Challenges and Prospects for the Future . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Selection Methods . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Promotions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Double Jeopardy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Leadership Challenges . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion and Future Research . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

This chapter follows an established tradition of African women scholars who are writing and rewriting history to produce grounded empirical analyses framed within the historical and current lived realities of the African woman. By focusing on women judges across Africa, this chapter contributes to our understanding of women in African judiciaries through an exploratory overview of where women J. J. Dawuni (*) College of Arts and Sciences, Department of Political Science, Howard University, Washington, DC, USA e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_75

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judges are, how they got there, what they do once they get there, and the challenges and triumphs they negotiate at the intersections of gender, class, and professional hierarchies, among others. The chapter builds on my earlier theoretical framework of matri-legal feminism as a lens through which we can understand the positionality and agency of women in judiciaries across Africa. Keywords

African women judges · African judiciaries · Women in law

Introduction Judiciaries across Africa are witnessing an increase in the number of women judges. Women have not only become judges but also heads of judiciaries (Dawuni and Kang 2015) and serving as judges in international courts and tribunals (Dawuni and Kuenyehia 2018). Despite the progress women have made in accessing judicial positions across Africa, feminist legal scholars, political scientists, and social scientists generally have done little to engage with this subject matter actively. The current state of women in African judiciaries remains an understudied phenomenon, and only now beginning to receive scholarly attention with the release of the first edited volume on women judges across Africa—Gender and the Judiciary in Africa: From Obscurity to Parity? (Bauer and Dawuni 2016), and the second book International Courts and the African Woman Judge: Unveiled Narratives (Dawuni and Kuenyehia 2018). In taking on this task of analyzing the current state of women in judiciaries across Africa, this chapter acknowledges the multiple variables that explain the differences in gender outcomes within different countries. These causal variables include, but are not limited to the unfavorable educational vestiges of colonialism on the continent, the different legal traditions, the hierarchy of judicial structures, different appointment, and selection models, and the presumed prestige of a judicial career. Together, these factors impact the cross-national variation in which countries have more women judges and the location of women within the judicial ladder. Cognizant of the current dearth of knowledge on the subject of women judges, this chapter approaches its task by painting broad strokes and attempting to piece together a puzzle that still needs a lot of empirical research and data to situate African women judges within the larger discourse on gender and judging. The chapter attempts to answer the broad question: What is the current state of knowledge on women judges across Africa? The goals of this chapter are twofold: First, it provides an exploratory overview of women in African judiciaries by attempting to provide data and analyses on where, when, and how women have accessed judicial positions within domestic judiciaries, and second, it sets a research agenda for scholars interested in women in African judiciaries. The chapter proceeds on a premise acknowledging the geographic magnitude of the continent of Africa, and the diversity in the colonial encounters, which produced the different legal

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traditions and the current forms of judicial practice and judicial selection methods. The chapter, therefore, attempts to weave a narrative taking into account the different political contexts of each country, the historical experiences, and the enduring postcolonial linkages that continue to inform the structure, function, and gender diversity within judiciaries. In attempting to avoid a singular narrative, the chapter draws from specific country data in the emerging scholarship on women judges to strengthen the arguments. There are five parts in this chapter. The first section situates women in African judiciaries within the existing scholarship on women and judging. The second section discusses the general characteristics of African judiciaries with a focus on identifying the location of women within these spaces. The third part focuses on the emerging trends across the continent and the contributions women judges are making to judiciaries and human rights. The fourth part discusses the continuing challenges women judges face in judiciaries. The fifth part summarizes the chapter and provides suggestions for further research.

Theorizing Women and Judiciaries in Across Africa How have women fared within domestic judiciaries across Africa? How have women negotiated the multiple and intersecting identities of gender, race, ethnicity, class, sociocultural norms, religion, and judicial cultures to become judges? The paucity of current cross-national data on women in judiciaries across Africa makes it difficult to provide quantitative analyses of women’s symbolic representation within African judiciaries. The availability of such data will be crucial to gender disaggregated analyses according to the different courts, to better understand the distribution of women within the hierarchy of courts. While a cursory observation indicates that women are joining judiciaries in large numbers, the question of location and positionality requires further review. For instance, a global comparative analysis of courts shows that the phenomenon of the gendered hierarchy is not limited to the African continent. Data from France shows that while women judges make up over 50% of the judiciary, the majority of the women judges remain concentrated in the lower courts (Cohen 2018). Much of the scholarship, academic framing, and theorizing on judicial diversity in both domestic and international courts come from the USA and Europe. Beginning with questions of why so few women judges, research on gender and judging has expanded to include issues on what difference women judges make, whether women judges decide cases differently, and the experiences of women judges compared to male judges (Malleson 2003; Rackley 2013; Kenney 2013). This focus on diversifying the gender composition of domestic judiciaries has given way to adopting intersectional approaches in examining the realities of minority women judges. Globally, studies indicate increased opportunities for women’s access to the bench, though most of these studies focus on the higher courts (Escobar-Lemmon et al. 2019; Valdini and Shortell 2018; Hoekstra 2010). How judges are selected and who does the selection and appointment, have an impact on

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the outcomes, as different countries employ different judicial selection methods depending broadly on the type of legal tradition in use. The common law tradition derives mainly from Great Britain, thus by extension, almost all former British colonies use the common law legal system with variations to suit their particular context. The civil law tradition derives mostly from France and across much of continental Europe, thereby feeding into the former French colonies across Africa, a variant of the civil law tradition can be found in former Portuguese colonies (Malleson and Russell 2006; Glenn 2010). The pluralistic nature of African legal systems—combining the inherited colonial legal system with preexisting customary laws, and in some cases, Sharia law––creates different models of legal systems across Africa (Griffiths 1986; Campbell and Swenson 2016). Judicial selection methods employed in each legal tradition, as well as a combination of other institutional and noninstitutional factors, determine women’s appointments to judiciaries (Schultz and Shaw 2013). The position of minority women judges in all of these jurisdictions continues to lag (Navarro 2010; Sen 2017). To address the problem of gender imbalance on the bench, different countries have implemented transformative mechanisms to make their judiciaries diverse and symbolically representative of women. UK and Canada have implemented changes to the Judicial Services Commissions (JSC) and judicial selection processes to make them transparent and equitable (Malleson and Russell 2006). JSCs have had different outcomes on the gender composition of benches. In Canada, the JSC is credited with an increase in the number of women appointed to the bench. But the same cannot be said of UK, where the number of women judges on High Courts remains low, and the appointment of the first woman (Brenda Hale) to the highest court (Supreme Court) did not happen until 2009. In a recent comparative study of diversity in the higher courts in Nigeria and Zambia, Dawuni and Masengu find that where JSCs follow the strict rules of appointment procedures, the chances of women’s appointment to higher courts increase (Dawuni and Masengu 2019). Irrespective of what theoretical framework informs these studies, the central argument for promoting gender diversity is invariably grounded in principles of democratic legitimacy, representativeness, and principles of equality. Advocating for gender equality and equal opportunities for women on the bench becomes a proxy for promoting judicial impartiality and equity on the bench (Baines 2019). Beyond advocating for gender diversity, it is equally important to examine intragroup differences between and among women judges, using an intersectional lens. Across Africa, discussions of balancing gender and racial diversity are limited mostly to South Africa due to the history of apartheid (a few other exceptions being Namibia and Lesotho where other African nationals serve as judges) (Albertyn and Bonthuys 2016). Generally, ethnicity has not featured as a formal factor in appointment processes, and one exception is Nigeria, where the call for ethnic diversity based on geographical representation (often referred to as “Federal Character”) is taken into account (Ibrahim 2016). The increasing diversity of populations could also mean that in due course, intersectional frames such as sexuality, religion, disability, and ethnonationalism could become critical factors in appointment processes in African judiciaries (Masengu 2016).

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Mapping Patterns and Women’s Symbolic Representation in African Judiciaries This section discusses women’s access to judiciaries, through a critical review of existing practices and framed within the context of the opportunities and constraints women face in accessing judicial leadership positions.

History of Legal Education In the principal legal traditions of the world, judges are normally required to possess a degree in law, though this requirement may vary according to jurisdiction and the type of court. For instance, in the civil law tradition, some judicial appointments to the Constitutional Court may include a political appointee chosen by the President, and such appointee need not necessarily be a lawyer. Across the continent of Africa, the delay in establishing institutions of higher education, and in particular law faculties, had an impact on the production of lawyers during the early postindependence era. The first African lawyers trained in the colonial metropoles of either France, Great Britain, or Portugal, thereby creating not only a class impact but also a gendered impact, determined by who could afford to travel to the metropole for higher education. Women were primarily excluded in the few instances where colonial administrators provided educational opportunities. In Rwanda, Kamatali (2016: 140) notes; In a nutshell, during colonialism, Rwandan women were excluded from participating in the public life of Rwanda by colonial laws that subjected their participation to their male guardians’ authorization. As, however, their male guardians were under the customary cultural influence and legal tradition that considered women’s role as mother and wife, even a woman who might dream of joining public life would have found herself limited by colonial law, and customary law and traditions.

Colonial policies of undermining existing social and educational structures further delayed the introduction of legal education across Africa, and it was after the end of colonial rule that law faculties were established by the newly independent governments. For instance, it was as late as 1958, a year after gaining independence from the British that Ghana established the first law faculty in all of British West Africa (Harvey 1966). Other countries across the continent soon followed with the establishment of law faculties. Colonial gender segregation in access to education, coupled with gendered customary beliefs and practices, invariably affected women’s access to education generally and specifically legal education, thereby delaying the feminization of the legal professions across African countries (Dawuni 2016a). Christopher Sapara Williams was the first Nigerian lawyer called to the British Bar in 1879. Yet, it was not until 1933 that Stella Thomas Marke became the first Nigerian woman called to the British Bar, subsequently becoming the first female magistrate in Nigeria in 1943. In Ghana, John Mensah Sarbah was the first lawyer called to the English Bar in 1887. It was not until 1946 that Essi Matilda Forster

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became the first Ghanaian woman called to the English Bar. In 1954, Annie Jiagge became the first woman magistrate in Ghana and later the first female high court judge in all of British West Africa (Dawuni 2012). In South Africa, the enduring history of apartheid well into the mid-1990s has had a lasting imprint on the legal profession and judicial diversity, with the prioritization of race over gender diversity in judicial appointment processes (Madonsela 1995). In Senegal, while there were no laws barring women from becoming lawyers, religious beliefs and the sociocultural construction of women’s roles as wives and mothers had an impact on how many women went past high school and consequently became lawyers (Scales-Trent 2010). The late entry of women into legal professions and judiciaries is seen in other countries such as Botswana, where the infiltration of apartheid’s racial segregation had a gendered impact. As Bauer and Ellet (2016) point out, the delay in indigenizing the legal profession in Botswana, and the appointment of white male judges from neighboring South Africa, partly explain the appointment of Unity Dow as the first woman High Court judge in as late as 1998.

Legal Traditions and Perceptions of Prestige Civil law countries generally tend to have more women on the bench (Schultz and Shaw 2013). Yet, the gender stratification shows a bell curve, with women populating the lower levels of the courts and men at the top hierarchy (Schultz and Shaw 2013). The gendered hierarchical structuring of judiciaries points to two interrelated factors. The first observation is the inherent power structures and gatekeepers within judiciaries that determine who gets appointed and to which position. The second factor is the lingering perception that where there are more women judges in a judiciary, it “whittles down” the perceived prestige of the judiciary (Masengu 2020). Therefore, one can conclude that the perception of a court’s prestige—can work toward keeping women out of the judiciary, especially in common law countries, where judges enjoy higher levels of prestige compared to civil law jurisdictions where judges are considered civil servants. Even in civil law countries, evidence from France shows that the “civil service” judiciary is still not open for women’s rise to the top of the judicial hierarchy. The colonial linkage to Britain, France, or Portugal largely determines the judicial systems of African countries today. Even in exceptions such as Ethiopia, which did not come under total occupation, the Italian occupation did leave behind an imprint of the continental civil law tradition in the country. The imported legal systems, when combined with existing “indigenous,” “native,” or religious laws, legal systems, and practices, produced a pluralistic legal system that sometimes led to conflicts as to which corpus of law to apply in a given case (Ndulo 2011). In the civil law countries in Africa where data exists, there is no substantial evidence to suggest that the prestige of judiciaries explains the number of women judges. In Benin, Kang notes that a woman has sat on the High court since 1965 (five years after Benin gained independence). In Benin, Kang’s critical, historical, and current

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overview of the judiciary led to the conclusion that “in sum, information about women in the rank and file of the judiciary is limited, but . . .women have long served as judges on the ordinary courts and sit on all three High Courts” (Kang 2016: 113). Rwanda is an example of a civil law country (which has adopted the common law system in recent years). The slow transformation of the Rwandan judiciary to be more inclusive of women is the result of a dominant patriarchal system, which was reinforced by colonial policies. Improvements in the gender diversity of the Rwandan judiciary owe partly to institutional diffusion, arising from the increased symbolic representation of women in legislatures, and increase in the number of women graduating from law schools, which have together provided a large pool of qualified women judicial applicants (Kamatali 2016). In a civil law country such as Senegal, a primary factor delaying the feminization of the legal profession is the combined effect of late educational opportunities for women and the role of religion in circumscribing the role of women in society (Scales-Trent 2010). Even though men make up more magistrates than women, women have successively occupied leadership positions as president of the courts. For example, Andrésia Vaz was President of the Supreme Court and subsequently appointed as a judge to the International Criminal Tribunal of Rwanda (ICTR) (United Nations 2001). With a majority of African countries operating under legal pluralism, it is practically impossible to discuss what happens in each country—such detailed analysis is beyond the current focus of this chapter. Suffice to mention here that in countries that use religious (sharia) law, such as Nigeria, Tanzania, and Egypt, research findings indicate that the Khadi or Sharia courts have their prescribed methods of selecting judges. In Nigeria, Ibrahim (2016) notes that the 1999 Federal Constitution of Nigeria (as amended), which specifies the appointment of Sharia court judges, does not make provision for the selection of women as judges. Nigeria’s case of not allowing women as Sharia judges points more to a religious interpretive factor of not allowing women, which may feed into the narrative of keeping women out in order to maintain the perceived prestige of the courts. In Egypt, the interpretation of religious and cultural norms is used to circumvent the appointment of women judges. Patriarchal customary practices have complicated the influence of religion in all legal matters, and this includes the right of women to be appointed as judges (Hamad 2016). In neighboring Tunisia, a Muslim state operating a civil law system, we see a different outcome. The 2014 Constitution secularized the state and successfully guaranteed equal rights to women, thereby opening up spaces for women to receive legal education, become lawyers, and opt for judicial careers. It is, therefore, no surprise that women have had better opportunities accessing judicial positions in Tunisia than in Egypt. As of 2014, women made up 49% of the Tunisian judiciary, prompting Kibli’s conclusion, “if Tunisia had kept its religion-based judicial system, women would have had neither the right, nor the opportunity to become judges” (Klibi 2016: 81).

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Court Structures and Gender Stratification Courts everywhere are hierarchically structured institutions; therefore, a brief discussion of the hierarchical structure of courts matters to our understanding of the gender composition of courts. Generally, the higher the ranking of the court, the more prestige it enjoys. Comparative data from existing studies indicate the different struggles for achieving gender parity at the higher courts, with varying degrees of success across courts. With Brenda Hale’s appointment in 2009 as the first woman to the Supreme Court (then Court of Appeal), Great Britain has lagged, compared to the pace at which women judges in Africa have made it to the top judicial positions such as the Supreme Court or Constitutional Court. In 1991, Joyce Bamford-Addo made history as the first woman to be appointed to the Supreme Court of Ghana (Dawuni 2016b). The list of Chief justices and presidents of constitutional courts across Africa continues to grow since the early 2000s (Dawuni and Kang 2015). There is no generalizable pattern on the spatial distribution of women in judicial structures across Africa. There is a broad spectrum, with some judiciaries exhibiting more women at the top, while others show more women at the bottom. Recent scholarship emerging on women in African judiciaries strongly suggests that as more women join judiciaries, the number of women at the top is poised to increase eventually (Bauer and Dawuni 2016). Some courts have made progress in increasing the number of women on higher courts, while others are lagging. By mid-2016, women made up only 18.8% of the judges on the nine-member Nigerian Supreme Court. Ghana, another common law country, had a different scenario—with women making up 38% of judges on the Supreme Court in 2016, shifting downwards to 23% in 2018, and inching up to 27% in December 2019 with the appointment of three more women judges to the 15-member bench. With the retirement of Chief Justice Sophia Akuffo, the number of women judges dropped to 4 out of 14 (28%) judges, and the subsequent appointment of three men and one woman in March 2020 brings to the total number to five out of 17 (29%). In civil law countries like Benin, Kang (2016) reported 28.6% representation of women in the constitutional court and 15.4% in the high court as of 2014. In Rwanda, the upward shift occurred from 1998, where women made up only 9.1% of the judiciary, as compared to 39% in 2014. Also, in Rwanda, women accounted for seven of the ten (41%) seats on the Supreme Court in 2014 (Kamatali 2016). Tanzania also recorded a higher number of women on the higher courts than in the lower courts (Yoon 2016). In 1998, Unity Dow set the pace, becoming the first woman appointed to the High Court in Botswana. Since then, Botswana has recorded a low number of women in the superior courts, with less than 17% women representation (Bauer and Ellet 2016). Selection methods play a critical role in explaining the hierarchical structure of judiciaries and where women judges are located. In South Africa, the split bar system with lawyers practicing as either advocates (licensed to appear in court) or solicitors (licensed to work as in-house counsel) has had a gendered impact. Since judges are often selected from the ranks of advocates, the paucity of women advocates has resulted in a hierarchical ranking, leading to a selection pattern that favored white

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male judges, followed by black male judges, white women, then black women judges (Masengu 2016). Though the transformation undertaken by the 1996 South African Constitution seeks to promote gender diversity in all public offices, the goal of having more women judges at the upper echelons of the judiciary remains an aspiration at the moment. Black women continue to be less represented within the judiciary, accounting for 32% of all judges, while Black men accounted for 63% in 2014 (Albertyn and Bonthuys 2016). Egypt presents a similarly disturbing trend, where, as of 2016, no woman sits on the Highest Courts, and where women account for less than 16% of judges in the country and usually concentrated in the lower magistracy (Hamad 2016). It was only as late as 2003 that Tahani Al-Gebali, the first woman judge, was appointed to the Supreme Constitutional Court, and no woman has been appointed since her retirement in 2012. Women continue to fight for their right to be appointed judges, as evidenced by the case of Omnia Gadalla and the #HerHonorSettingTheBar campaign, which is using legal action to demand women’s rights to serve as judges (Hassan 2018).

Selection Methods Judicial selection processes vary across countries and even within the different courts in a single country. Each selection method is mostly influenced by the inherited legal tradition, with varying degrees of modification based on domestic laws and policies. Studies on the role and outcome of actors involved in judicial selections remain inconclusive. For instance, Valdini and Shortell (2018) have noted that where the selectors or appointers are “open” and not “sheltered” from the electorate, the stakes are high for them to promote gender and other forms of diversity. Other studies have argued that where there are multiple appointers, there are higher chances of increasing diversity (Gill 2012). With the advent of the fourth wave of democratization across Africa, judicial appointment commissions in jurisdictions across Africa have been subjected to increased scrutiny in countries including, but not limited to, Nigeria, Kenya, Uganda, Zambia, and South Africa. However, evidence from these JSCs indicates gender imbalance in the composition of these commissions, prompting scholars to argue that JSCs are critical gatekeepers, therefore the gender and racial diversity in the appointing bodies themselves matters for the legitimacy of the process (Masengu 2016). Examining selection outcomes across Africa requires several considerations. Within the different legal traditions, various factors affect the varying degrees to which women survive the selection processes, and in this chapter, I discuss three of those. First is the type of legal tradition. In countries under the civil law tradition, women have made inroads partly due to the entry examinations where women tend to perform remarkably well (Cohen 2018). Common law countries generally tend to draw judges from the bar or from direct entry to the judiciary through the magistracy. Where men have longer experience at the bar, their chances of being appointed to the

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bench increase, relative to women who are comparatively late to the profession. Some common law countries such as Kenya, Zambia, and Tanzania employ JSCs, while others such as Ghana do not. South Africa and Botswana, which are mixed or hybrid systems, employing both civil and common law traditions, have transformed their judicial selection processes to use JSCs. Second is the role of appointment bodies. The role of JSCs, parliaments, the executive, the bar associations, and civil society can lead to different outcomes. Countries such as Kenya, Zambia, and South Africa have introduced judicial selection commissions (JSCs) in attempts to make judicial selection processes more open and transparent. The authority to appoint commissions affects the composition of JSCs, which serve as a crucial determinant of the selection outcomes. The absence of, or few numbers of women members on these commissions may have adverse effects on the judicial selection outcomes, and whether gender considerations will escape the deliberations of the appointers? In attempts to achieve transparency, the JSC’s public broadcasting of appointment hearings can be a doubleedged sword. In Kenya, the hope that the introduction of JSCs would lead to openness also led to horrible experiences of women applicants subjected to personal questions with no direct correlation to the judicial position (Kamau 2013). In South Africa, Masengu’s (2016) analysis shows varying degrees of women’s preparedness as judicial candidates. She concludes that the nomination of female candidates who may not be well prepared or adequately qualified has led to some shameful instances for some women judges—with the effect of further entrenching gender stereotypes. Third, is the role of gatekeepers—various actors and constituencies can act as positive or negative intermediaries to efforts at diversifying judicial appointments. Gatekeepers typically include the bar associations (or law societies), judicial service commissions (JSCs), legislative bodies, and the executive branch. Gatekeepers can constrain opportunities for achieving gender diversity if there is no gender balance in the composition of gatekeeping bodies. Furthermore, the priority of the executive branch could play a role in whether presidents choose to nominate women to score political points both at home and abroad, or if they genuinely believe in gender diversity. In some jurisdictions where the legislature is involved in the appointment process such as in Ghana where appointment to the higher courts requires parliamentary vetting, different political parties can pose different challenges to nominees. Political strategy and calculation of the executive and legislature in judicial appointments need further exploration within the African context.

Emerging Trends and Patterns: Women on the Bench The Numbers The feminization of legal education has had an impact on the number of women lawyers and judges in a growing number of African countries. The paucity of data on the exact graduation rates from all law schools across the continent presents a major challenge to presenting an accurate analysis of the increase. Anecdotal evidence,

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however, suggests that the number of women graduating from law schools could be inching past the 30% threshold in most countries. South Africa’s transformative constitution is credited with postapartheid changes and opportunities for women. The number of women judges increased from 1.2% in 1994 to 35% in 2016, while the number of black judges has grown exponentially from 1.8% to 64% during the same period (Masengu 2016). Nigeria presents an intriguing pattern, with Lagos state having the highest number of women judges, estimated to be over 60%. Religious restrictions on women serving as judges have prevented the appointment of women to the Federal Sharia Court of Appeal and some Sharia state courts (Ibrahim 2016). Countries such as Lesotho, Zambia, and Zimbabwe have made significant progress in achieving gender parity. While these developments are symbolically commendable, further research is needed regarding wider gendered institutional practices and their implications for promoting justice and the rule of law. For countries struggling to achieve a gender balance in the judiciary, a corollary consideration is a consideration of introducing gender quotas to balance existing gender inequities. Not all countries have quotas for legislative and executive branches, yet for those with a quota, research has shown that women have made incremental gains. The effect of constitutional quotas on increasing the number of women judges is still not uniform. Rwanda stands out as an example of a country where the stated 30% constitutional gender quota is having a ripple diffusion effect in increasing the number of women in other institutions of government. At its highest point, the Supreme Court had 50% women in 2012, falling slightly to 41% in 2014 (Kamatali 2016), and rising again to 50% in late 2019. In Kenya, despite the provision in the 2010 constitution for the two-third gender representation rule requiring that no one gender shall occupy more than two-thirds of public offices, women are still struggling to make it up the judicial ladder (Aura-Odhiambo 2018). The Kenyan situation presents a disturbing trend that needs close monitoring. Appointing women deputy chief justices has become a tokenistic move to show adherence to the constitutional two-third rule. The practice of having a woman deputy chief justice seems to have come to stay in Kenya. A similar situation of women rising only to the level of deputy chief justice exists in Uganda, thereby replacing the glass ceiling with a concrete ceiling—one that women will have to fight harder to break before a woman is appointed chief justice. In the same way, Senegal’s transformative provision of 30% women’s representation is yet to be felt by women judges who still make up less than 30% of the judiciary despite making up over 40% in parliamentary seats.

Leadership Historical archives strongly confirm the multiplicity of women’s precolonial leadership roles in society. Consequently, I argue that women’s precolonial gender equality norms and practices are significant determinants in explaining current forms of women’s political and leadership participation across Africa (Steady 2011). Since Dawuni and Kang’s 2015 study on women in judicial leadership, women continue to

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make gains as heads of judiciaries across Africa. In 2007, Georgina Wood made history as the first woman to be appointed Chief Justice in Ghana. Her success was soon to be followed by Nigeria’s appointment of Aloma Mariam Mukhtar in 2008. These appointments of women chief justices in common law countries and presidents of constitutional courts in civil law countries have had a regional ripple effect, with women being appointed chief justices in Sierra Leone, Rwanda, Zambia, and Niger, (Dawuni and Kang 2015), and more recently in Seychelles, The Gambia, Ethiopia, Sudan, and many more. In Nigeria, despite the fewer number of women judges in the northern regions, Zainab Bulkachuwa from Gombe State was appointed the first woman President of the Federal Court of Appeal in 2014. Notwithstanding the few women judges in the northern Nigerian states, women have remarkably risen to the position of chief judges at the state level (Ibrahim 2016). In Kenya, three women have occupied the position of Deputy Chief Justice since the enactment of the two-third constitutional gender rule in 2010. In 2017, South Africa appointed Mandisa Maya as the first woman President of the Supreme Court of Appeal. In 2018, Meaza Ashenafi was appointed the first woman President of the Federal Supreme Court of Ethiopia, followed by the appointment of Nemat Abdullah Khair in Sudan in 2019.

Professional Associations and Networking Women judges have formed cooperative associations to advance their rights and initiated judicial reforms that are gender-sensitive to women litigants. Most of these associations have developed as country chapters of the International Association of Women Judges (IAWJ) based in Washington, D.C., USA. Through the local chapters of the IAWJ, women judges in Tanzania continuously provide judicial training for their members (Yoon 2016). The local chapter in Ghana has focused on training women chiefs to address gender-based violence under the jurisprudence of equality program (Dawuni 2016). In the context of South Africa, the Department of Justice and Constitutional Development initiated specific training and networking programs to train women legal practitioners who aspire to join the bench (Masengu 2016).

Substantive Representation While the feminization of African judiciaries is a recent phenomenon compared to older democracies, more research is needed to assess the substantive representation of women judges. Without wading too deeply into the “difference” debate—which has built on Carol Gilligan’s (1982) work on women and the assumed ethic of care, many studies on gender and judging have sought to examine if, and what difference women bring to the bench (Malleson 2003). In the African context, future research should focus on assessing the substantive representation of women judges. For instance, some studies could engage in comparative assessments of how women and men judges handle gender-based cases, and

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what impact, if any, the feminization of judiciaries is having on transforming court decisions. Has the increase in the number of women judges affected the gender awareness of decisions that come out of courts? How do scholars begin to quantify women’s substantive representation in judiciaries? Based on the current state of knowledge, some significant trends stand out. The few studies highlighted in this chapter draw on data on women within the higher courts, and point to increasing patterns of upward mobility for women judges. Beyond the numbers, what do these trends mean for women’s empowerment, justice delivery, and institutional growth and change? Without repeating essentialist arguments on what difference women judges make, some significant substantive changes are attributable to the increase in the number of women judges. The first and most significant impact of women judges is the cultural shift in perceptions and acceptance that women can be judges. The combination of historical colonial gender segregation, patriarchal norms, and sociocultural gender norms are being challenged as more women acquire law degrees and take positions on the bench. Interviewees for this research have often reported that they were encouraged to attend law school and become judges because of the symbolic representation of other women judges and lawyers. Second, is the issue of whether women judge differently. Most women judges have often defended their role as unbiased arbiters of the law, thereby downplaying if they bring a different or gendered perspective to the law. Yet, other judges are vocal proponents of the need for feminist judges and feminist judging to level the playing field for women (Hunter 2008). In Kenya, the local chapter of IAWJ held public debates on how to leverage the law to protect women’s constitutional rights (Kamau 2013). In Rwanda, Kamatali’s (2016) analysis of rape and abortion cases did not find any conclusive evidence to suggest that women judges are changing the jurisprudence in these cases. Albertyn and Bonthuys (2016) find little evidence to support the proposition that women judges are making decisions that generally improve women’s rights in South Africa. Still, in South Africa, Cowan (2013) finds evidence to the contrary, in examining the decisions of three women judges on the constitutional court. Cowan observes that women judges do promote women’s rights through their decision-making and also in non-gender-based issues. She concludes that even in cases where the three women judges dissented, their voices were still felt in defining new jurisprudence. In Kenya, Aura-Odhiambo presents examples that demonstrate how women judges have contributed to jurisprudence through cases that advance gender equality, affirmative action policies under the United Nations Convention on the Elimination of all Forms of Discrimination against Women (CEDAW), and the right of women to the registration of the birth of a child out of wedlock (Aura-Odhiambo 2018). In Botswana, as in South Africa, Bauer and Ellet (2016) find that male judges working with women judges have made radical decisions that have expanded the customary rights of women. Further research is needed in this area. However, the burden should not be placed on women judges alone to advance women’s rights, but it should be the duty of all judges—including men. Women judges are contributing to increased gender awareness on the bench through collegial socialization of their male colleagues (Dawuni 2016).

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In Benin, women judges have worked toward advancing women’s rights through court cases dealing with women’s property rights, and equality in family law “by invoking sex equality clauses in the basic law (during the socialist authoritarian era), and in the constitution (in the democratic era)” (Kang 2016: 116). In Ghana, despite the enactment of the Domestic Violence Act of 2007 (Act 732), the lack of adequate protection for women victims of sexual and other forms of gender-based violence has prompted some judges to adopt innovative strategies to make their courtrooms welcoming for women victims. These strategies include allowing rape victims to testify in court without having to face the accused, to avoid a revictimization and traumatization of victims (Dawuni 2016). In other instances, some women judges interviewed, reported hearing a case early if the litigant is a pregnant or nursing mother. These are examples of intentional acts of women judges who take into account the gendered dimensions of cases that come to their courtrooms. Though there are no conclusive studies to confirm that women judges decide cases differently, the increasing feminization of judiciaries across Africa sends a strong symbolic message that the continent is living up to the African Union’s declaration to achieve 50/50 gender parity by 2030. Women are taking their place at the bench and making contributions to national development. In and out of the courtroom, women judges, like their male counterparts, have a judicial duty to apply the law in an impartial and unbiased manner, to make courtrooms accessible and welcoming to all litigants, and to transform noninclusive institutional cultures. Beyond the examples discussed above, further country case studies are needed to fully access what, and if any changes have taken place in the delivery of justice as more women become judges.

International Benches The increasing feminization of domestic judiciaries across Africa is having a spillover effect at the international level. Selection processes to international courts remain highly competitive, shrouded in political maneuverings that often inure to the benefit of powerful states and their candidates (Mackenzie et al. 2010). Notwithstanding the global power dynamics, women judges from Africa are commanding an increasing presence in international courts. At the regional level, as at the end of 2019, women hit the 55% mark representation on the African Court on Human and Peoples’ Rights (ACtHPR), the first time in the 12-year history of the court (Dawuni 2018). At the International Criminal Court (ICC), women judges from Africa have held a steady lead as a proportion of all women judges since the court came into force in 2003. In addition to the high numbers, African women have held leadership positions in the ICC as first and second vice presidents of the court (Dawuni and Kuenyehia 2018). Julia Sebutinde of Uganda made history when she was elected to the International Court of Justice in 2012, making her one of only four women judges, and the first African woman appointed in over 70 years of the court’s existence (Grossman 2016).

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Women from African countries have also served on specialized courts such as the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia (ICTY), the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda (ICTR), the Specialized Court for Sierra Leone (SCSL), and the Residual Mechanism for International Criminal Tribunals (MICTS). There are some courts where work still needs to be done to change the gender composition. For instance, at 17% representation of women since the court was established, the East African Court of Justice (EACJ) has had the lowest number of women on the bench since the court became operational in 2001 (Dawuni, 2018). The Economic Community of West African States Court of Justice (ECOWAS Court) started well at 29% women representation by mid-2013, but dropped to one woman out of seven judges (15%) by 2015 and has increased to two women out of five judges with the last election held in July 2018, inching up to 40% in 2019. The representation of women judges from African countries in international courts will likely continue to hold steady and increase as more women judges become aware of these courts and take advantage of opportunities to build their international skills and experience, thereby positioning them for international judicial appointments.

Continuing Challenges and Prospects for the Future Despite the overall progress in the symbolic and substantive representation of women in judiciaries across the continent, the question of whether such gender parity developments will translate into women’s empowerment remains to be fully explored (Kenney 2018). Women judges scattered across different jurisdictions continue to face challenges—some of which are general to the judiciary (for example the lack of resources, issues of judicial integrity, and judicial independence, among others), while some are gender-specific challenges. This section will focus on discussing the gender-specific challenges.

Selection Methods Studies on judicial selection outcomes remain inconclusive as to which selection methods produce the most women. In Egypt, though women are allowed to join the magistracy, women judges are still fighting for their right to be appointed judges and similarly in Mauritania, women continue to face challenges in entering the judiciary as judges. In South Africa, despite the progress in meeting the constitutionally mandated gender equality provision, the goal of achieving gender diversity has been sacrificed at the expense of achieving racial diversity (Albertyn and Bonthuys 2016). The aspiration that JSCs would lessen the clichéd “tap-on-the-shoulder” model of judicial appointments is still a dream as the composition of JSCs remains unfavorable to women nominees (Gill 2012). In Kenya, the hope that the introduction of JSCs would increase transparency is yet to be confirmed when examined against the backdrop of the appointment of women to higher courts (Aura-Odhiambo 2018). Consequently, continued vigilance by women’s rights advocates and women

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judges’ associations will prove vital in changing not only the composition of JSCs but also ensure that there is a gradual institutional shift toward gender sensitivity and unconscious bias in the selection processes.

Promotions Various judiciaries have specific policies for promoting judges within the judicial ranks. Evidence gathered through qualitative fieldwork and interviews conducted by the author indicate that for most judiciaries, there are no clear and consistent policies on how one gets promoted (Dawuni and Masengu 2019). The opaque nature of promotions affects women negatively, and some women interviewees indicated that generally, women do not want to “rock the boat” by asking for a promotion for fear of reprisals by the judicial leadership. In some jurisdictions where there are more women in the lower ranks of the judiciary, the debunked “pool” or “pipeline” argument that there are few women to consider for promotion is not tenable and cannot be presented by appointers as evidence for the fewer women promoted to the higher courts. In jurisdictions where presidents nominate judicial candidates for appointment, judges who are perceived to be in opposition to the executive can take a hit, irrespective of one’s gender. In Uganda, Solomy Balungi Bossa was denied promotion as Deputy Chief Justice (Kiyonga 2017). In Lesotho, Justina Kellello MafosoGuni had a similar experience, in her case, the entrenched patriarchal legal, institutional norms coupled with sociocultural definitions of citizenship led to increased opposition to her nomination/promotion to the High Court (Ellett 2018). Judicial promotions are often competitive and contested, and some candidates will always feel bypassed. The frequency with which women are denied promotions more than men requires further exploration.

Double Jeopardy Research has shown that in all professions, women face a double bind—women have to work to prove themselves as equal to their male counterparts, and even when they work twice as hard, and are more effective than their male counterparts, it is never enough. Women judges from African countries are not exempt from this global phenomenon of the double jeopardy of negotiating the boundaries between the private and the public divides. The phenomenon of the double jeopardy is not only limited to the challenges women face from their male colleagues, but also the skepticism from litigants who come to their courts. Former Zambian Supreme Court Judge, and international court judge, Florence Ndepele Mwachande Mumba notes “in the beginning, I faced some rebuffs from some accused persons who did not accept a woman as their defense counsel. So, I had to work hard to gain their confidence. After a year or so, everything went smoothly. I enjoyed my work in both civil and criminal cases” (Mumba 2018: 30). In Rwanda, where gender quota

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legislation appears to be having a ripple effect on the judiciary, sociocultural expectations linger. Kamatali’s cautious optimism is summarized thus; “. . .as much as the judiciary expects them [women] to perform at the same level as their male colleagues, many in Rwandan society expect them to remain traditional Rwandan wives and mothers. This puts a heavy burden on them that still needs to be alleviated”(2016: 151). Women continue to negotiate the many challenges both within and outside the judiciary, in the private and public spaces they inhabit as women, as professional women, and other intersecting identities and demands on their daily lives.

Leadership Challenges The recurring trend of women’s rise to leadership positions in African judiciaries comes as no surprise when one compares women’s historical leadership activities as chiefs, queens, and rule makers. Dawuni and Kang’s (2015) study of women’s rise as heads of judiciaries in both common and civil law countries has revolutionized the way we think of women’s leadership roles in judiciaries. Surprisingly, despite the colonial importation of the civil and common law traditions, the colonial countries of France and Great Britain are lagging in appointing women to top judicial positions. Selection methods, the type of legal tradition, the commitment of gatekeepers to gender equality, and the impact of regional diffusion are strong explanatory variables for women’s leadership outcomes we see in the African context (Dawuni and Kang 2015). Women’s judicial leadership in Africa is not tokenistic. Women have to contend with executive overreach, as was the case in The Gambia in 2016 when the then chief justice, Mabel Agyemang, had to flee for her life from President Yahya Jammeh, who had a reputation for interfering in the judiciary (Sanneh 2014). In Seychelles, Mathilda Twomey, the first woman judge in the country, was appointed as Chief Justice in 2015. Her first months in office were marred by false allegations of abuse of power lodged by Acting Chief Justice Judge Karunakaran, a male judge (later found to be a blatant sexist, and recommended for dismissal from the judiciary). Judge Karunakaran’s allegations led to the creation of a Tribunal of Inquiry of three commonwealth judges in April 2018. The findings of the Tribunal were finally released in October 2018, fully exonerating Chief Justice Twomey on all four allegations (Rickard 2018). In Kenya, Supreme Court judge and the first woman Deputy Chief Justice, Nancy Baraza’s misunderstanding with a security guard spiraled, leading to her forced resignation following the recommendation of a constitutional tribunal (AuraOdhiambo 2018). As Baraza reported in an interview, “my experience was bad. It was horrible. I was treated maliciously.” She goes on further to note that “had I been a man, I wouldn’t have been treated that way. If you use Nancy to set the standards, then stick to those standards.” (Chege 2017). In Kenya, successive women deputy chief justices have faced leadership battles. Kalpana Rawal the second woman appointed as deputy chief justice was ousted from office; first, for allegations of

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her family’s links to an offshore account, and second, the retroactive application of the age of retirement to her despite her taking office before the law was passed (Aura-Odhiambo 2018). The most recent case involving another female deputy chief justice in Kenya revolves around allegations of corruption leveled against Deputy Chief Justice Philomina Mwilu. From these few examples drawn from the number of women Chief Justices appointed across the continent, one can conclude that the leadership challenges women encounter point to the continuity of institutional cultures that turn a blind eye to what men do in the office, but point laser-sharp beams on women who occupy the same position. The result, it seems, is that women are subjected to much higher standards of accountability than men. This chapter is by no means advocating that women should receive lesser scrutiny than men. Instead, it argues for the application of the proverbial saying “what is good for the goose, is good for the gander,” that is, there should be equality of treatment and scrutiny for all genders occupying leadership positions.

Conclusion and Future Research The preceding analysis has sought to capture the current state of women in African judiciaries by engaging in comparative broad stroke analyses. Drawing on available data and empirical evidence, the chapter has identified places where women have made progress as judges, while highlighting continuing challenges. The picture is one of an uneven terrain across the vast continent, and many questions remain unanswered. Despite the pockets of development in some countries, women’s participation in judiciaries needs further research; for example, in the current state of knowledge, Lusophone African countries have not been examined. To ameliorate the challenges of current research on African women judges and to provide a contextually grounded epistemology for the future study of women judges, I developed matri-legal feminism as a theoretical framework for studying women in African judiciaries. Central to this conceptual framework is the need to take a holistic approach that examines the historical and precolonial antecedents of women as decision-makers and the role of matriarchy in grounding women’s roles in society (Dawuni 2019). Applying a matri-legal feminist approach is critical to exploring other areas of research, including gender-coded case analyses, to examine if there is a gendered judicial interpretation in the decisions of male and female judges. Another research project could examine, if there are discernible trends in the decisions of women judges who identify as women’s rights advocates or are openly sympathetic to women’s social plight? Other questions worth exploring include whether there is a backlash against the increase in the number of women judges? Have societal perceptions of women’s capability as judges changed, thereby gradually breaking down barriers of resistance to women’s decision-making roles? Further empirical work is needed to assess if any African countries employ quotas for judicial selection and the outcomes of such quota policies on the judicial culture and decision-making.

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Gender equality is not a given, and so is the case with women’s access to judicial positions. Continuous and collective advocacy is required to maintain these symbolic gains. Elite allies are essential for advancing the selection of women judges. Governments must avoid tokenistic appointments and lip service, as these only harm women’s reputation as meritorious candidates. Notwithstanding the continuing challenges in different jurisdictions, women in judiciaries across Africa are here to stay and make their mark.

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Women in Executive Political Leadership in Africa

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Oluyemi O. Fayomi, Odunayo P. Salau, Rosemary O. Popoola, and Olalekan W. Adigun

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Women’s Executive Political Leadership in West Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Nigeria . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Women’s Executive Political Leadership in East Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Uganda . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Recurrent Issues from Comparative Analysis of Women’s Experiences in Executive Political Leadership in Nigeria and Uganda . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

Women’s participation in politics is an important aspect of democratization and political transition, especially in Africa. While countries like Rwanda, Senegal, and Uganda rank high in global rankings on women representation in parliament, several other African countries like Nigeria rank disappointingly low. This is why women’s participation in African politics provides interesting inquiry in democratic studies. This chapter probes into the experiences, challenges, and prospects of women’s participation in executive political leadership in Africa. Since many

O. O. Fayomi (*) Admiralty University of Nigeria (ADUN), Ibusa, Nigeria Department of Political Science and International Relations, College of Leadership Development Studies, Covenant University, Ota, Ogun State, Nigeria e-mail: [email protected] O. P. Salau · R. O. Popoola Covenant University, Ota, Nigeria e-mail: [email protected]; [email protected] O. W. Adigun University of Nigeria, Nsukka (UNN), Nsukka, Nigeria © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_74

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studies have been devoted to women’s participation in business, legislatures, civil service, NGOs, and judiciary, there are few studies dedicated to probing women in executive political leadership largely because it is one of the areas in which women’s participation in Africa has been the weakest. This chapter identifies attitudinal issues, legal/political frameworks, economic empowerment, and affirmative action as key determinants of women’s participation in executive political leadership. The study was carried out using longitudinal qualitative research and comparative case studies of East and West Africa. It generated data from reports, feminist literature, and other online sources which were analyzed using themes. The chapter concludes on the need to have more legislation on quota for women in addition to attitudinal change and economic empowerment to enable women’s access to executive political leadership in Africa. Keywords

Women inclusion · African politics · Gender equality · Executive political leadership

Introduction The number of women getting elected or appointed into executive or cabinet positions has grown fivefold in the last four decades (Moodley et al. 2016) in Africa. These numbers, however, show several variations across the continent by time and regions with Eastern/Southern African countries showing the most improvement in this area. Western/ Northern African countries showed little improvement in women’s political participation in the last decade even though postconflict Liberia elected Ellen Johnson-Sirleaf as president in the previous decade. Apart from Johnson-Sirleaf who spent roughly 12 years (from 2006 to 2018) in executive political leadership, Africa has seen 16 other women including Elisabeth Domitien (Central African Republic prime minister, 1975–1976), Carmen Pereira (Guinea-Bissau Acting President 1984), Agathe Uwilingiyimana (Rwanda prime minister, 1993–1994), Sylvie Kinigi (Burundi Acting President 1993–1994), Mame Madior Boye (Senegal prime minister 2001–2002), Luísa Diogo (Mozambique prime minister 2006–2010), Ivy Matsepe-Casaburri (South Africa Acting president, 2008), Cécile Manorohanta (Madagascar Acting prime minister, 2009), Cissé Mariam Kaïdama Sidibé (Mali prime minister 2011–2012), Adiato Djaló Nandigna (Guinea-Bissau, Acting prime minister, 2012), Joyce Banda (Malawi president, 2012– 2014), Aminata Touré (Senegal prime minister, 2013–2014), Catherine Samba-Panza (Central African Republic Acting president, 2014–2016), Saara Kuugongelwa (Namibia prime minister, 2015 till date), Sahle-Work Zewde (Ethiopia president, 2018 till date), and Rose Christiane Raponda (Gabon prime minister, 2020 till date) rise to the top of executive political leadership since 1975. Gender parity in the executive political sector is a global challenge. African women are not an exception to it because they still face the proverbial glass ceiling as there is a paucity of women in executive political leadership. The full and equal participation of women in executive political leadership have been a prerequisite for democratic governance. The

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world over, participation of women in politics and administration has been of no significant value. This has been due to the menfolk’s attitude toward women based on religious placement of women as men’s companion and not as figureheads; women are therefore regarded as “weaker vessels.” Throughout world history, women have been underrepresented in executive politics and have less access to the political process. Women’s activities have been relegated to the background acting as supportive agents to men, fulfilling the adage, “that behind every successful man there is a woman.” This has greatly affected the participation of women in most developmental programs, politics, and administration in particular (Ahmed-Ghosh 2003; Behzan 2013). As women’s underrepresentation persists, many societies have accepted it as the norm. While some societies’ outright rejection of women’s participation remains highly problematic and also to women’s rights. This phenomenon enables continuing social, political, and economic inequality. This implies that women have a limited voice in the issues that impact their everyday lives and face additional discrimination on the basis of gender, religion, and race. In recent times, development has made it possible for women to participate in those activities which were exclusive reserve of the men. And considerable attention has been focused on making women more prominent in terms of contributing to the economy and development of their countries; hence their participation in politics has been viewed to be of a major purpose-nation building. A few countries in Africa and elsewhere have indeed gone further in envisioning how women might influence and be influenced by their planned socio-economic programs (Agbalajobi 2009; Mohammed and Zaid 2014). Such countries are Kenya, India, Bolivia, and Nigeria. Nigeria, in particular, did not take women’s emancipation and participation in politics seriously until 1985. The Commonwealth is making giant strides toward mainstreaming gender. In September 2015, 53 countries had achieved the 30% global target in lower and upper houses of parliament, while some countries including Nigeria still have below 30% threshold of women participation in politics (National Bureau of Statistics 2010; Kolawole et al. 2013). This chapter analyses women’s involvement in executive political leadership in Western and Eastern Africa with one case study from each subregion. Uganda and Nigeria for East Africa and West Africa, respectively, have been chosen for three main reasons: First, they are “typical cases” (Evera 1997) that fit our current study. Second, they provide rich sources of interesting data for analysis. Third, they provide good examples of varying women’s involvement in executive political leadership for interesting comparative analysis in the two subregions. According to the World Economic Forum (2018) data, Uganda and Nigeria ranked 32 and 139, respectively, in the global gender political empowerment index.

Women’s Executive Political Leadership in West Africa The need for women to be actively involved in active politics as part of peacebuilding and sustainability in postconflict societies seems to have gained global traction. It is through credible and transparent elections that women can really

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seize the opportunity opened for them in the democratic space. With many West African countries engulfed years of political turmoil fuelled by dictatorships, election rigging, and violence; unfavorable conditions occasioned by poverty, disease, and exclusion with several attending complications tend to undermine the electoral process. In countries so used to political violence, military dictatorships, and election malpractices, these could present formidable obstacles to women’s attempts to seize the new opportunities available to them via the electoral process. From the bitter, long, and brutal wars in Sierra Leone and Liberia to years of military dictatorships, to the costly peacebuilding process in many countries in the subregion and the sit-tight attitude of many political leaders as seen in Cote d’Ivoire and The Gambia in the past two decades, the subregion still offers rays of hope for the prospects of women political leadership of some sorts. Currently, Senegal ranks as one of the top ten in the world in terms of gender parity in political opportunities and empowerments. Liberia also elected the continent’s first female president in the middle of the first decade in the twenty-first century. In terms of democratic consolidations and peaceful political transitions, the subregion has also done slightly well with Nigeria (2015), Benin Republic (2016), Ghana (2016), and Gambia (2017) all achieved peaceful political transitions hitherto nearly unknown on the continent. In all these, what are the opportunities, prospects, and challenges of women in political leadership in West Africa? To attempt this question, we shall be focusing our case study of the subregion in Nigeria. We chose Nigeria for this for certain reasons: First, she is the largest democracy, not only in West Africa but in the entire continent. Second, Nigeria has undergone over two decades of uninterrupted democracy. Third, the country provides rich data of the challenges and opportunities for female political participation within the West African subregion.

Nigeria Nigeria is a country of over 180 million people (out of which 49.4% are women) and can be correctly described as Africa’s largest democracy. The country has a history of years of military dictatorships that ended two decades ago (Nwankwo et al. 2017). Many prodemocracy activists thought the end of military rule will usher the primary features of liberal democracy with improved women participation in politics especially at the executive political branch since the military is one institution historically dominated by men but it appeared the hopes have been dashed. Currently, Africa’s largest democracy is still not showing signs that it is divesting itself of its old features of patriarchy manifested in dictatorship and political dominations. Perhaps, the only democracy in Nigeria today is the coming of election cycles taking place every 4 years which are overwhelmingly dominated by men. Even at that, these elections are characterized by malpractices, irregularities, and rigging. While many may argue that women will continue to be denied access to executive political leadership because, like nearly all other African countries, Nigeria is a product of colonial rule, with no history of women in executive leadership, Nigerian history is filled with great women like Luwo Gbadiaya (Oni of Ife), Iyayun (Alaafin

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of Oyo), Orompoto (Alaafin of Oyo), Jomijomi (Alaafin of Oyo), Jepojepo (Alaafin of Oyo), Amina (Queen of Zauzau Emirate, modern-day Kaduna state), Daura (Queen of Daura Emirate), Kofono (Queen of Daura Emirate), Eye-moi (RegentMonarch Deji of Akure 1705–1735), Kanbasa (Queen of Bonny, Rivers state) to mention just a few who held important executive political positions in precolonial Nigeria in several parts of modern-day Nigeria (Kolawole et al. 2013). Even though the British colonial government introduced “elective principle” to allow Nigerians to vote for the first time in 1923, Nigerian women were denied franchise on every front. It was not until the 1950s that Nigerian women given franchise in the southern part of the country. Women had to wait till 1976 to vote for the first time in the Northern part of the country. It took several years of political activism and demonstrations, including the popular Aba Women riots of 1929, to get the two southern regional governments to appoint three Nigerian women – Olufunmilayo Ransome-Kuti (West), Margaret Ekpo (East), and Janet Mokelu (East) – into the Western Nigeria House of Chiefs and the Eastern Nigeria House of Chiefs (Kolawole et al. 2013). Nigeria got her independence in 1960 only with few women playing active roles in politics. Wuraola Esan became the first Nigerian woman to be elected into the federal legislature. Later in 1961, three female politicians: Margaret Ekpo, Janet N. Mokelu, and Ekpo A. Young were elected into the Eastern Nigeria House of Assembly. They were the only females in the House. Women in Northern Nigeria, including prominent female politicians like Gambo Sawaba, were still to wait till 1979 before they could vote in federal or regional elections. Women in the region voted for the first time during the 1976 local government elections, but could not be voted for. During the Second Republic (1979–1983), there was a little improvement in the number of women’s contesting for and winning legislative and local government council positions in addition to getting political appointments in cabinet positions – at federal, state, and local. At this time, a few Nigerian women were appointed to head important ministries. President Shehu Shagari appointed Janet Akinrinade as Minister for Internal Affairs and Adenike Ebun Oyagbola as Minister for National Planning. The only female Permanent Secretary at the time was at the Ministry of Establishment, Yetunde Emmanuel. At the state level, a few governors appointed a few women as commissioners. The return of the military again in 1983 had a little setback for women’s hopes of executive leadership in Nigeria. However, the head of the junta, Major-General Muhammadu Buhari directed at least one woman must be appointed into each of the 19 state executive councils. That was the first time quotas will be introduced on the basis of gender involvement in governance in Nigeria. All 19 states complied with the Head of State’s directive to include at least one woman in their executive councils. However, there were no female members in the Supreme Military Council – the country’s highest decision-making body at the time. The Ibrahim Badamosi Babangida regime went a step further by appointing women as deputy governors – Latifat Okunu and Pamela Sadauki – for Lagos and Kaduna states. There were, however, no female ministers either in the Supreme

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Military Council or the newly-introduced Armed Forces Ruling Council in the 1990s (Siollun 2013). After many years of prodemocracy activists’ vociferous agitations against military rule, the Babangida regime approved transition programs for a gradual return to civilian rule. The regime conducted local government elections which saw just one woman emerging in Western (and the whole of) Nigeria. Of the then 30 states, only two female deputy governors – Sinatu Ojikutu and Cecilia Ekpenyong – from Lagos and Cross Rivers state emerged. The sit-tight agenda of the military brass or “soldiers of fortune” in active connivance of some politicians led to the annulment of the June 12, 1993 presidential won by the Social Democratic Party (SDP) candidate Chief MKO Abiola, and the military hurriedly set up the Earnest Shonekan-led interim national government (Siollun 2013). Two women were appointed into the interim national government (ING) as cabinet ministers. The General Sani Abacha-led junta soon toppled the ING in November 1994. The Abacha regime worked with a handful of women as ministers, including Onikepo Akande and Judith Attah at different times. Abacha died in June 1998 and the Provisional Ruling Council (PRC) appointed the highest military ranking officer, General Abdulsalami Abubakar, to succeed him. In General Abdulsalami’s government, only two women – Onikepo Akande and Laraba Gambo Abdullahi – were appointed into the Federal Executive Council as Ministers for Commerce and Women Affairs, respectively (Kolawole et al. 2013). General Abdulsalami handed over power to elected civilian administration on May 29, 1999, to the relief of most Nigerians. Most of the issues we will be looking at critically are the attempts, roles, and involvement of women in executive political leadership at various levels in the Fourth Republic. We shall be doing this because the Fourth Republic has been the longest Nigeria has stayed without intrusion in democratic development. It, therefore, provides much room for analysis of women’s participation in executive political leadership at all levels. Having set this historical background, we shall delve into the issues. Since the return to civil rule in 1999, there have been six different election cycles which produced four different presidential administrations in Nigeria. No female has ever become the candidate of a major party for the post of president or vice president. Even though Nigeria is a signatory to the Beijing Declaration and Platform for Action and the National Gender Policy in which countries are to allow 30–35% of all available political positions to women, the country is still a far cry from achieving these targets – the worst being in the area of executive political leadership. In 1999, no woman took part in party gubernatorial primaries nor emerged as a candidate for the position. Of the 36 slots, only Kofoworola Akerele-Bucknor emerged as deputy governor of Lagos State during the election (Adu 2008: 27). In the 774 local government elections, only 9 women emerged as chairpersons with 143 out of the 8,700 emerging councilors (Anifowose 2004: 210). Worried by this dismal performance of women in elections, some gender groups including the Centre for Development and Population Activities (CEDPA), Gender and Development Action (GADA), and the International Human Rights Law Group

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organized a national summit for all women politicians in June 2002 in Abuja with the objective of, among other things, encouraging more women to take active participation in Nigerian politics more seriously (Akiyode-Afolabi and Arogundade 2003). One of the recommendations at the national summit was for political parties to waive preregistration levies for women aspirants for office for the 2003 and future general elections. All major political parties were persuaded to comply with this decision. Despite this, women’s participation in executive political leadership in the country still remains at a dismal level in spite of the affirmative actions. The 2007 general elections saw about 1200 women contesting for different positions partly based on the waivers of the high preregistration fees for women aspirers for political offices out of available 1532 positions. According to records from the Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC), 660 women got their party tickets (the majority of them are on the platforms of the newly registered political parties) out of which 93 of them were victorious at the polls including 6 who were deputy governors, including Pauline Tallen of Plateau state (UN Women 2019). However, no woman won any gubernatorial election (Asaju and Adagba 2013). The 2011 and 2015 elections, witnessed a significant drop in the number of successful candidates into the legislative and executive positions both at federal and state levels (Adefemi and Agunbiade 2019). The 2015 election presented one of the biggest opportunities for a woman to be elected into a major executive political office for the first time as the All People’s Congress (APC) gave its gubernatorial ticket to Senator Aisha Al-Hassan of Taraba state. But some domestic political complications coupled with patriarchy made her lose in the second ballot even though she was on a clear lead in the first round. Senator Al-Hassan approached the Election Petition Tribunal but the Supreme Court affirmed the victory of her People’s Democratic Party (PDP) rival, Darius Ishiaku. This would have been a major boost for the morale of women seeking election into major executive political offices but the Supreme Court judgment provided a temporary setback. The APC refused to renominate her for the position in 2019 due to intraparty rancor which saw her exit the party and the Buhari’s cabinet where she was serving as Minister for Women Affairs. The 2019 elections were the worst for women participation in active politics on all fronts in the past two decades (Onyeji 2019). The two main political parties – PDP and APC – fielded 17 female candidates in total for all elective positions. In the states, no woman was elected governor since the major parties with the financial muscles never fielded any female candidate for the position. A total of 275 women were nominated as running mates to governorship candidates out of which, only four – in Enugu, Kaduna, Ogun, and Rivers states – were elected showing a sharp decline from the six elected in 2015. The election turned out the lowest number of women vying for all elective offices. Even though records from INEC shows that 47% of registered voters in the 2019 election were women, only 8% were cleared to contest for electoral positions in the presidential election (Nwankwor and Nkereuwem 2019). Even the six women presidential candidates so cleared withdrew their candidacy in the last minutes though their names remained on the ballot papers. In 2018, a year described as the “year of the woman” which saw a record number of US women contest the midterm elections and returned, including the first two Native American women to be

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elected to Congress in the country’s history (van der Merwe 2018), data reveal that there were 86 women occupying formal decision-making positions (out of the available 1534 elective positions) signifying a gory 5.6% at both federal and subnational levels of governance in Nigeria (Nwankwor and Nkereuwem 2019).

Women’s Executive Political Leadership in East Africa A good number of East African countries have undergone some remarkable political transition following years of bitter conflicts. Countries like Burundi, Congo, Uganda, and Rwanda show significant evidence of women’s involvement in decision-making in these postconflict societies. East Africa provides a near stark contrast to West Africa in terms of women’s political participation. Rwanda, for instance, ranks as Number One in the world in the number of women in national parliaments, with 49% of representation compared to a world average of 15.1% (Mutume 2004) despite, or in fact, because of the country’s history of genocide and ethnic conflicts. It now appears that postconflict societies tend to have over 18% of women elected in national and subnational legislatures. In East African societies nearly synonymous with patriarchy, in Uganda, Mozambique, Burundi, Rwanda, and Angola, women hold more than 30% of elected positions (Kellow 2010: 8). With all these, what are the opportunities, prospects, and challenges of political empowerment and leadership for Eastern Africa women? This section navigates women’s political leadership in East Africa concerning Uganda. We chose Uganda for this for certain reasons: First, the country’s history of dictatorship – both military and civilian. Second, the country provides rich data of the challenges and opportunities for female political participation within the East African subregion. Third, despite the country’s history of (and current) dictatorship and sit-tight leaders, the country still ranks one of the highest in gender empowerment for political leadership.

Uganda Despite her history of bitter wars and dictatorship, Uganda’s unique experience bears testimony to female participation in politics in postconflict societies. Over the past three decades, after the National Resistance Movement was elected after protracted guerilla in the 1980s, Uganda adopted the no-party or movement system. The first major political decision of the NRM government after its military triumph was the suspension of party politics altogether (Goetz 2002). This is because Ugandan political parties at the time were engulfed in the politics of ethnicity and religion which could violently threaten the very existence of the state. At the time, no party found appeals outside their limited stronghold (largely due to ethnic or religious appeals). The movement system allows competition among individuals rather than through and between the conventional party structures for political power. In this, independent candidates offered themselves to the electorate and present their, not their

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party’s, programs. Even though elections were not about political parties, parties or movements still had a strong influence on who got elected, selected, and who do not. In that period, when contests were between individuals rather than parties both for election and political recruitments, the opportunity widened for women and other minority groups through affirmative action provisions within and among political groups. The no-party period provided Ugandan women with the needed opportunity to increase their representation in the legislature and local administrations to about 30% which is still being rereffered to as regards their involvement not only in political particpation but in government positions – both elective and appointments. With this manifest improvement, there are still some reality checks that need to be done. There are still obvious political manipulations and lack of empowerment based on gender. Further interrogations of the increase in women holding elective offices in (sub)national legislatures need to be done to get to this reality especially as the country transitioned from the movement system to multiparty democracy in 2006. Based on the visible increase in women’s involvement in (sub)national legislatures and local politics, Uganda’s 1995 constitution included bold affirmative action provision based on quotas and legislative constituency and local government council seats especially for women. The constitution provides for special constituencies or districts reserved specially for women at (sub)national levels. At the local government level, there are constituencies reserved also for women through formal quota systems. Women’s participation did not just improve in Uganda by chance. It was by a deliberate legal and political framework in Uganda (Ahikire 2007). After President Obote was deposed in the 1980s, neither Uganda People’s Congress (UPC) nor the Democratic Party (DP) showed serious commitment to advance women’s interests in politics. The UPC, on its part, promoted some vaguely packaged “Women in Development” projects mainly for attracting foreign grants or donations. None of the major parties saw the need to challenge the conservative ethnic and religious conventions and worldviews of the status of women’s involvement in politics. The parties had prominent women like Cecilia Ogwal and Mary Okwa Okol (in UPC) and the DP had persons like Maria Mutagamba and Juliet Rainer Kafire. President Museveni recognized that several women’s groups have gone underground due to intense pressure from the Ugandan authoritarian regime to co-opt them after the NRM’s victory. These women groups demanded that President Museveni give more females important decision-making positions soon after he took over based on their support for the NRM’s guerilla warfare between 1981 and 1986. Part of these women’s demands led to the establishment of the Women’s Ministry, and that every government department must have a women’s desk at all levels (national and local). Museveni agreed to all their condition in return for their support. In addition to this, he appointed some well-known NRM women fighters and supporters like: Gertrude Njuba (deputy minister of industry), Betty Bigombe (peace negotiator with the North), and Victoria Sekitoleko (minister of agriculture) to very key positions. He also appointed two female lawyers (Miria Matembe and Mary Maitum) to the constitutional commission (Goetz 2002). Even though he is a well-known dictator with the sit-tight mentality like others before him, one striking difference between President Museveni and his predecessors is

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in the increase in the numbers of women in representative politics and governance in Uganda. To his credit, Museveni has given some high-profile appointments of women to senior civil service positions have also significantly enhanced women’s presence in his administration since inception. Today, persons like Beti Kamya-Turwomwe, Betty Amongi-Ongom, and Amelia Anne Kyambadde, respectively, hold sensitive positions like the Minister for Kampala, Minister for Lands, and Minister for Trade. This is in addition to other legislative and party positions held by women like Rebecca Kadaga (Speaker of Parliament), Winnie Kizza (Leader of Opposition), Justine Lumumba Kasule (secretary general of the ruling NRM) (Kagabo 2017).

Recurrent Issues from Comparative Analysis of Women’s Experiences in Executive Political Leadership in Nigeria and Uganda Even though Nigeria and Uganda are separated by a great distance and the fact that women’s opportunities in them are separated by a wide gap in recent gender equality rankings, there seem to be some centripetal and centrifugal forces in both cases. Hence, this section discusses in details the following: 1. Economic Empowerment and Women’s Participation Politics without corresponding economic empowerment can be challenging for women’s attempts at political leadership. This is why economic power is crucial to any good discussion of gender equality in the political process. Denying women’s economic opportunities can be a huge roadblock to their political participation especially in postconflict societies like Uganda. A study conducted by International Alert (2012) in northern Uganda (in Gulu and Lira districts) concluded that women played major roles in postconflict societies and peacebuilding effort and key decision-making largely due to improved economic opportunities. In Nigeria, the growing increasing trend of household poverty means additional responsibilities for women. Without economic opportunities increasing, political participation becomes more difficult for women. As noted, frustratingly, by a female politician, Christina Eligwe-Ude, who contested for the APC Senatorial ticket in Orlu (Imo state) said she was sidelined because of her weak financial war chest in the contest. She described her experience as mentally “exhausting and depressing because it’s money politics” (Onyeji 2019). Though she will later leave the APC to contest under the Social Democratic Party (SDP), it never appeared things got any better because the election which was “initially declared inconclusive” only for her opponent in the PDP to be declared winner 9 days later (Onyeji 2019). 2. Legal/Political Frameworks and Women’s Participation In 2001, the United Nations recommends that member states develop some institutional changes to enable gender equality and encourage women’s political

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participation. The recommendations also include coming up with gender-friendly policies and programs aimed at promoting equality in education and access to information, including legal literacy, can strengthen women’s agency and their capacity to participate in the political arena (Kadaga 2013). The rise in numbers of female representation in the Ugandan parliament has been largely due to gender quotas and separate elections for women as enshrined in the constitution (Kadaga 2013). Most women who made it into the Ugandan parliament did so thanks to the quotas because each district is expected to elect at least a woman representative into the parliament. However, this number has not reflected that much in executive politics, at least at the national level. Article 32(2) of the Ugandan 1995 constitution prohibits all “Laws, cultures, customs, and traditions which are against the dignity, welfare, or interest of women . . . or which undermine their status. . ..” The constitution still went further to establish an enforcement mechanism, the Equal Opportunities Commission, in Article 32(4) to protect women’s interests and those of minority groups in politics. To seal and confirm the importance of the role of women in the constitution, the Ugandan constitution in Article 33(5) made an important political provision for women when it states “. . .women shall have the right to affirmative action for the purpose of redressing the imbalances created by history, tradition or custom.” Not just that, Article 180(2b) reserves “one-third of the membership of each local government council” for women candidates. The Nigerian constitution did not make specific provisions for women like her Ugandan counterpart. Other than making provisions for the “Fundamental Human Rights” for all citizens from sections 33 to 45, the constitution did nothing extra to protect or improve women’s participation in politics. While, like Uganda, the Nigerian constitution seeks to protect minority groups through the Federal Character principle. The principle in itself is not targeted at achieving gender balance other than the representation of ethnic minorities in government. There are also, no quotas for women in the constitution which makes things even a bit more complicated for women in Nigerian politics. In the Ugandan cabinet, there has been an increase in the number of women holding important cabinet positions in recent times. The Ugandan women hold at least 30% of cabinet positions since 2013. In the last 10 years alone, women have occupied and headed key ministries like the Ministry of Finance, Planning and Economic Development; Education; Health; Energy and Mineral Development; Trade, Industry and Cooperatives; and Water and Environment. An overwhelming number of women also occupy positions at junior ministries (Kadaga 2013). In Nigeria, there is no legal provision for gender representation in the constitution like that of Uganda. This may be a huge reason why it has been difficult implementing the Beijing Plan and other gender equality agreements. The only quota system that can be enforceable in the 1999 constitution is Federal Character. The Federal Character in itself can be antiwomen because of the issue of “State of Origin” especially for women married to men from other states. Since most, if not all political (elective or appointed) positions come from states or local government of origin, it proves to be a big challenge for Nigerian women seeking executive political

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positions. Even the 35% women representations promised by political parties suffer largely from nonimplemented because there are no legal frameworks backing it up. As a result, political parties easily trade it off for other political calculations. A cursory look at the Federal Executive Council (FEC) in 2019 shows that there are only five women, out of 43 members or 13%. These are Zainab Ahmed (Minister for Finance, Budget, and National Planning), Paulen Tallen (Minister for Women Affairs), Sharon Ikeazor (Minister of State for Environment), Maryam Katagum (Minister of State for Minister for Industries, Trades and Investments), Sadiya Umar Faruk (Minister for Humanitarian Affairs, Disaster Management, and Social Development), Gbemisola Saraki (Minister of State for Transportation). Of this figure, only two have senior cabinet portfolios. This is not to mention the already poor return of women in the national assembly and at governorship elections. 3. Women in Party Executive Portfolios Political parties are the basis of political participation in most African countries. So, the issue of active political participation cannot be completely discussed without recourse to the political parties. This is one area, however, where women in both countries do not seem to have the advantage. In both Uganda and Nigeria, there are noticeably very few women holding positions in party executive decision-making organs and structures at virtually all levels. The leadership of political parties in both countries is largely a masculine affair. To be fair, political parties in both countries reserve at least one position for women at all levels, it still proves not to be enough. The situation is still a little better for the women in political parties in Uganda than Nigeria. The NRM dedicates 30% of its positions to women while the opposition FDC has 40%. In Nigeria, the ruling APC has just one woman (the party woman leader – Salamatu Baiwa) as the only female member of the party’s 21-member APC National Executive Committee. However, even though Uganda seems to turn out better figures, the reality may prove to be otherwise. There are only five women in the National Executive Council, including its secretary-general, out of possibly 20. This may be because most women may not be able to effectively compete with men for such positions. The situation can therefore only change if there are more equitable quotas such as the ones the constitution provides for parliament and local councils because political parties are the first glass ceiling that women have to break through to get into political positions. 4. Affirmative Action Provisions and Women’s Participation in Politics In an International Alert (2012) study in East Africa, it was observed that countries with affirmative action provisions for women tend to stimulate more women’s participation in the political process against those countries that did not have such. It should, therefore, not be surprising that postconflict societies like Rwanda, Burundi, Uganda, and Congo are those that rank among the best in the world in terms of women’s participation in governance than many of their West African counterparts. Okedele (▶ Chap. 21, “Women, Quotas, and Affirmative Action Policies in Africa”), Fitsum (2017), and Abubakar and Ahmad (2014) argue that

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implementing the affirmative action provisions for women will boost and encourage their political participation in African countries. Okedele (▶ Chap. 21, “Women, Quotas, and Affirmative Action Policies in Africa”) argues that the lack of effective legal and enforcement mechanisms for affirmative action for women may be a factor in why most African countries have little regard for such especially in Nigeria. In Nigeria, the debate for the inclusion of affirmative actions in the constitution or at least have a legal framework for gender equality policies continues to generate debate. But the question remains whether it is just about sheer numbers (or numerical strength) or efficient women’s political representation. In short, is it just about the number of women in governance or the quality of representations? This question remains valid because, as we can see from Nigeria’s recent cabinet appointments that apart from the poor numbers (6 out of 43), the quality (2 out of 43) of appointments did far less in terms of representation. Even if there are legislations to things like these, the implementations may be subject to multiple interpretations. 5. Changing Attitudes Toward Women’s Participation in Decision-Making One of the biggest challenges African women face is the societal attitude toward gender politics. There are several stereotypes against women in politics, in general, that have been allowed to pass for too long. Women politicians, especially those holding executive positions, seem to be judged by different standards than their male counterparts. While she was contesting for Governor of Taraba State in Nigeria in 2015, Aisha Al-Hassan reportedly lost the second round of the ballot on the flimsy excuse that the male-dominated power brokers were not comfortable with the state having a female governor. During the 2019 Kogi Gubernatorial election in Nigeria, there were reports of thugs attacking a female SDP candidate, Natasha Akpoti, who was reportedly harassed by thugs on several occasions for daring to contest the election (Channels Television November 12, 2019). In reporting corruption issues, female officeholders are often given special negative reportage worse than their male counterparts (Boehm 2015). A good example is Diezani Allison-Maduekwe, the immediate past Nigerian Minister of Petroleum Resources who was accused of corruption. Even though she was not the only one so accused in the government, she and the wife of the president at the time, Patience Jonathan, were given more coverage for corruption than the overwhelming number of males who are still facing trials for the same (Aderinto 2017; Bako and Syed 2017). With this prevailing attitude, it is not likely male-dominated parliaments in Nigeria will make gender-friendly laws (Kelly 2019). The coverage of women politicians, especially in executive political leadership also reveals this pattern (van Acker 2003). As van Acker (2003: 132) noted that the media will treat women politicians in such unfair ways “so that women politicians are easy targets, especially if they do not have a corporate image.” This only means that women politicians may be judged differently from their male counterparts (Huston 2016). Many women in executive political leadership like diplomats, ministers, board chairpersons, or governors are commonly seen as “troublemakers,” and not “like other women” for some reasons in Africa. This explains why their public actions get undue suspicions and scrutiny or judged more harshly than male politicians. In a study carried out by the Overseas Development

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Institute in 2016, it was observed that the public perceptions of the capabilities of women in executive political leadership generally tend to be based on the mistakes of one or a few women (O’Neil and Domingo 2016: 22). O’Neil and Domingo (2016: 23) further notes that women in executive political leadership are often harassed, bullied, shouted down, looked down on, and disparaged by men (and sometimes fellow women). The experience of Natasha Akpoti, the SDP gubernatorial candidate in the 2019 election in Kogi state, comes to mind. As she said “On my way to participate in the INEC stakeholders’ meeting in Lokoja, I was attacked and harassed by APC thugs. There were a lot of . . . men. I saw some young men. . .obviously they were thugs. The first attack was a verbal assault. The man called me a prostitute. . .They started shouting and asking me what right did I have to contest. . . all the [officials] in the Hall saw what happened and they did nothing to stop . . .” (Channels Television, November 12, 2019) Based, on her testimony, it will take a woman with huge sense of self-confidence, courage, and mental strength to withstand the seemingly hostile sociopolitical environment in Africa to survive politically. When asked why his party did not give more platforms to women in the 2019 elections, Kola Ologbondiyan, PDP spokesman, said he does not think the election is the type women could “really do well” because of the “format of the election” (Onyeji 2019). This position may not be surprising because of the belief among most Nigerians that politics is riddled with large-scale “aggression, . . . rigging, abuse of processes, vote buying, violence. . .” (Ibid) and therefore, not for women. The dismissiveness with which men take the ambitions of female politicians shows that not so many men have changed their attitudes toward women’s participation in governance. Even in Uganda that can be considered “gender-friendly,” there are still instances of women politicians who are judged differently from their male counterparts (Mutume 2004). In an investigation carried out by the United Nations (UN) Africa Renewal in Uganda, female politicians are often the subjects of harassment (including sexual assaults) from men during electoral campaigns but these have largely gone unreported because “because we fear the consequences.” (https://www. un.org/africarenewal/news/uganda-violence-against-women-unabated-despite-lawsand-policies). Some women reportedly lost their positions because they refused to succumb to their male bosses. One reported: “I once had my breasts squeezed by a male colleague old enough to be my father. Another one hounded me during . . . trip abroad. He kept knocking at my door in the night. I had to lock myself in” (https://www.un.org/africarenewal/news/uganda-violence-against-womenunabated-despite-laws-and-policies). There have also been other cases of physical harassment, inappropriate touching bodies, especially by law enforcement agents of a female politician during a party rally in Uganda in 2015 where she was reportedly stripped naked for unknown reasons (Krook and Sanín 2019).

Conclusion Having taken cognizance of the politico-historical contexts of African societies as regards women’s participation in executive leadership, we found evidence that even in the precolonial period, women held executive political positions in African

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societies. The argument that women have always been just “homemakers” and not cut out for executive positions does not hold water. That more women are turning up for executive positions understandably is bound to raise some eyebrows in a clime where women are not supposed to be heard. Despite the challenges, women face regularly in political life, many African countries rank some of the highest (and lowest) in the gender equality index. To explain this variation, we did comparative analyses of the West and East African subregions using country case studies. We observed that the African coountries that ranked the highest all have quotas (affirmative action provisions) for women in their constitutions or other legal/political frameworks for such.

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The 1995 Constitution of the Republic of Uganda (as at 15th February 2006). Available Online https://www.wipo.int/edocs/lexdocs/laws/en/ug/ug002en.pdf The Constitution of the Federal Republic of Nigeria, 1999 (as amended). UN Women. (2019). It’s election season in Nigeria, but where are the women? Available Online https://www.unwomen.org/en/news/stories/2019/2/feature-women-in-politics-in-nigeria van Acker, E. (2003). Media representations of women politicians in Australia and New Zealand: High expectations, hostility or stardom. Policy and Society, 22(1), 116–136. https://doi.org/ 10.1016/S1449-4035(03)70016-2. van der Merwe, E. (2018, November 26). Nigeria’s Presidential elections: are six female candidates better than one? LSE Blog. Available Online https://blogs.lse.ac.uk/africaatlse/2018/11/26/ nigerias-presidential-elections-are-six-female-candidates-better-than-one/ World Economic Forum. (2018). The global gender gap report. Available Online http://www3. weforum.org/docs/WEF_GGGR_2018.pdf

Women in Local Government in Africa: Gender, Resistance, and Empowerment

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Nana Akua Amponsah and Janet Serwah Boateng

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sociopolitical Structures, Cultural Practices, and Gender Construction and Deconstruction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Resistance and Advocacy for Gender Equality . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Factors Enabling Women to Engage in Local Government . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

While this chapter recalls how society perceives women’s subordination in political positions because of gender power relations, it also presents the extent to which advocacy for gender equality attempts to deconstruct gender relations to empower women. The chapter offers an analysis of unique factors that make it possible for women to win elections into the local government administration. The discussion reveals defining opportunities for the advancement of the political status of African women and their progress toward full empowerment. It aims to provoke further debate in the broader African Studies on African women’s positions and prospects within local politics. Keywords

Gender · Sexuality · Women · African · Resistance · Government · Politics · Empowerment · Colonial · Parliament · Ghana N. A. Amponsah (*) University of North Carolina Wilmington, Wilmington, NC, USA e-mail: [email protected] J. S. Boateng School for Development Studies, University of Cape Coast, Cape Coast, Ghana e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_147

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Introduction From the North to the South of the African continent and in the politico-cultural places of precolonial Africa, women rose to fame as leaders of their kingdoms, warriors, resistance fighters, opinion leaders, and elders who made empire-builders of their sons (Africa Department 2015). Similarly, in colonial Africa, especially under British Colonial Administration, women had long struggles to acquire voting and property rights and duties of citizens. Although the franchise was initially limited to males with property (Okyere 1997), women did much in the struggle for self-governance to have their voices heard. These women had the strength to resist opposition and did more to keep their political activities going than just singing praises for their male folks (Binka 2003). For instance, Yaa Asantewaa, the queen mother of Ejisu in the Gold Coast (now Ghana) led the Asante warriors against the British army in 1900 when the Asantehene (Paramount King in Ashanti Region, Gold Coast) was abducted and exiled to Seychelles (Kessey 1997). Yaa Asantewaa’s symbolic leadership drums home the fact that with the right kind of socialization, women could step into what is believed to be men’s exclusive domain (Boateng 2006). Another example of women’s political activism is the Women’s War of 1929 where Igbo and other Southern Nigerian women protested against the British colonial authority in colonial Nigeria for what they believed to be an infringement on their political rights with the introduction of indirect rule and the imposition of taxation on women (Falola and Amponsah 2012). These acknowledged African women have made their contributions in their period through the struggles for self-governance and movements that were politically, socially, and culturally influenced by their patriotic nature. In modern governance systems, characterized by elections and appointments into governmental positions, the number of women in such positions is not encouraging. More importantly, the few elected, or appointed might have had to fight their way through the male-dominated political structures for their positions. Recent IPU data indicates that globally, women’s occupation of seats in national parliaments on average was 22.6% in 2015 with an increase to 23.3% in 2016 (U.N. 2017). In Africa, after years of steady growth of women in national politics with women such as Joyce Banda (former President of Malawi), Ellen Johnson Sirleaf (former President of Liberia), Ngozi Okonjo-Iweala (former Nigerian minister of finance), and Joice Mujuru (former vice president of Zimbabwe) taking top political positions in their countries, the gains are being lost in recent years. The IPU data shows African women only occupy 19.7% of ministerial positions (UN 2017). At the local government level, change has been slow and arduous. For instance, under Ghana’s local government system of administration, less than 10% of women occupy the district assembly positions as of 2018, although local government administration has been an essential component of the country’s administrative system before, during, and after independence (Ohemeng and Adusah-Karikari 2015). In South Africa, women are not only underrepresented, but those who are part of the local government administration occupy the lowest levels of the structure. According to Gwagwa (2011), White women are often employed as clerks, while

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Black women are employed as cleaners in South Africa. The author further argues that the position of women at the local level of government reflects the broader picture in the country where women still form a minority in politics. Indeed, the importance of local government to women cannot be overemphasized. Local government administration allows women to satisfy their practical normative gender requirement while at the same time, allowing them to transform gender roles and relations (Boateng 2009). Some researchers have argued that women’s specific gender roles may constrain them, but the roles also allow them to have a special relationship with local governments both as consumers of services (healthcare, housing, education, transportation, childcare, market, and commerce) and as initiators of change. Moser (1987) has argued that because women’s domestic work confines them mostly to the community, they become better actors in local government by knowing what the community needs and facilitating actions to achieve those needs. The story across Africa is the same, and the challenge and change are what need to be done to progress. This chapter is divided into six sections; the first section is the introduction; the second section presents sociopolitical structures and cultural practices as well as the social construction of gender. The section also discusses how these social structures are deconstructed. The third section debates on resistance and advocacy to equalize gender, while the fourth section presents the concept of empowerment. The fifth section discusses the factors that support women to engage in politics and local government, and the final part concludes the chapter.

Sociopolitical Structures, Cultural Practices, and Gender Construction and Deconstruction Scholars have identified sociopolitical structures and cultural practices such as customs and traditions, marriage, traditional political system, and the socialization processes as factors restricting women from participating in decision-making processes in Africa (Britwum 2009; Flores 2005; Mahamadu 2010). The unequal gender power relations in some African societies, which limit the number of females in decision-making positions at the local government levels are because of patriarchal structures and the constructed gender power relations. There are clear links between the sociocultural practices and gender construction where the connection relates to the historical legacy of patriarchal forces and agents such as family, marriage, religion, social norms, and values (Boateng 2017). In patriarchal societies where males including fathers, husbands, and brothers have precise control over women and family, women relied on men for survival as wives sought permission from husbands, and male partners or fathers before engaging in politics and any public activities (Adibi 2006; Akita 2010). Adibi (2007) further indicates that patriarchal societies have endured throughout history, and were surviving in the economic, political, and religious spheres, which sustained gender differences. Gender, as a socially constructed relationship between males and females, is created by shared values, including culture, norms, customs,

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and social ties (Flores 2005). Moreover, African sociocultural practices include their beliefs, art, religion, values, norms, ideas, laws, knowledge, and customs, which are socially shared among people in their communities and passed on through an ethnic group, clans, or families of the generations (Hofstede 1980; Umar 2011). Apart from a handful of groups such as the Akans of Ghana, the Bamenda of Cameroon, the Bijagos of Guinea-Bissau, the Kung San of Southern Africa, and the Ovambo of Namibia who is matrilineal, the vast majority of ethnicities in Africa, South of the Sahara are patriarchal. Hence, the cultural practices teach that in relationships such as marriages, the man is always the household head. Marriage status determines the lifetime achievement of both male and females (Selin 2013), as an unmarried matured woman or a divorcee could find it challenging to occupy an elected political position. The single or divorced marital status could be used against females seeking to be engaged in government; as during electioneering campaigns they are accused of not being able to manage a home, and hence cannot lead any group of people. Also, compared with a married man who could act more unilaterally, a married woman needed to make her husband, children, and other family members aware of her decision to engage in politics before embarking on the process (Boateng 2017). It is challenging for a woman to take a unilateral decision to engage in politics. However, such perceptions that predict the chances for females to aspire in politics are being criticized because of advocacy for gender equality. Besides, many women with single marital status have proven to be more efficient in their responsibilities in local governance positions, rendering marriage a dynamic societal responsibility which does not determine the opportunity of women in Ghana, Kenya, Nigeria, South Africa, and other African countries. Patriarchy is related to the concept of gender roles, or the set of social and behavioral norms that society considers socially appropriate for individuals of a particular sex (Singh 2016). From the perspectives of the Triple Roles Framework by Moser (1993), gender roles are viewed as productive, reproductive, and community functions. The female’s productive roles entail the production of goods and services for consumption and trade including working in civil and public services and private sector employment in banking, petty trading, fishing, farming, transportation, and food processing to earn income (Boateng 2009). Women contribute to family maintenance through the income they receive from paid jobs or subsistence production (Ofei-Aboagye 2001, 2004; Samorodov 1999). Reproduction is not only involving reproducing children but also maintaining the home including caring for the family and nurturing the sick and the aged (Adu-Okoree 2012; Dosu 2014; Kwapong 2008; Ramashala, 2001). Studies by scholars such as Baah-Ennumh, Owusu, and Kokor (2005), Prah (2003), and Mahamadu (2010) reported that these productive and reproductive responsibilities limited women from engaging in public spheres. Other studies by Prah (2003), March et al. (1999), and Muyayeta (2007) had indicated that the gender roles dictated the differences in the entitlements, access to resources, capabilities, and social expectations of men and women as well as boys and girls. However, a study by Boateng (2017) showed that many females performed their productive roles alongside the reproductive responsibilities or domestic activities and had considered the gender roles as part of their everyday activities, which

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did not have any limitation on their involvement in politics. All the same, the gender inequity in the allocation of reproductive tasks should be addressed through the strategic support of their interests. Such support could be the provision of strategic gender interest or needs, including maternal policies, reproductive rights, and letting women have control over their bodies and sexuality to empower them (Njogu and Orchardson-Mazrui 2013). In contemporary Africa, there is legislation, policies, and laws to address these strategic needs. For instance, National Governments improved the legislative environment through the enactment of statutes including the Domestic Violence Act, 2007 (Act No 732), to tackle gender inequality aggressively and to promote the welfare of women and girls in Ghana. The constructed gender trend seems to be changing, and gender is being deconstructed as most people believe that females and males can be made to perform the same household tasks, productive roles, and community responsibilities. Hence, many women are household heads in their families and marital homes (Amu 2005) as well as leaders in government in contemporary Africa.

Resistance and Advocacy for Gender Equality An attempt to challenge, change, or retain circumstances relating to societal relations, processes, and institutions is a form of resistance (Routledge 1997). Resistance aims at denying, challenging, and undermining power relations. Thus, resistance contains the possibility that power gets impaired by the act of the subordinator (Vinthagen and Lilja 2007). Regarding the phases of resistance, women are perceived as being subordinated under patriarchal systems and structures, and therefore, to get elected to local government, they employ subtle resistance. Resistance to male dominance comes with how women have room for exercising their influence within a constraining patriarchal system by negotiating a “patriarchal bargain” with men (Reeves and Baden 2000). According to Tsikata (2009), female politicians negotiate with husbands to manage the home with traditional gender roles and domestic chores while they go into politics and get elected to political positions as Assembly members or District Chief Executives in local governments. These negotiations in the domestic gender power relations are subtle forms of resistance against the socially constructed structures and systems that recognize women in private spheres. In contrast, men are identified in the public sphere. Such resistance, which is not as dramatic and visible as rebellions, riots, demonstrations, revolutions, civil war, or other such organized, collective, or confrontational articulations, is known as “everyday resistance” (Scott 1990). Accordingly, such “everyday resistance” is employed by subordinators with the mechanisms and cooperative strategies to use the same domineering structures and systems they oppose to overcome their negative influence. These collaborative strategies may include networking, friendship, relationships, interconnectedness, which are tenets of strong social capital. For instance, according to Ortega-Bustamante et al. (2000), women’s social networks are powerful resources for promoting resistance strategies,

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especially for those marginalized in contemporary society. These marginalized groups could resist the domineering structures because of them being empowered through education and exposure to socialization that encourages new social norms of gender equality. In the rural and remotest villages in Africa where patriarchal systems are entrenched because of beliefs in traditions and customs, many women do not have the voice to defy their husbands nor resist their male dominance. Even so, some African women subtly oppose the continued beliefs in norms and values that tend to discourage them, thereby deconstructing gender power relations. Thus, there is constant resistance because if these norms and traditions are to be observed, then females would not have been able to ask males to support them in the kitchen while they attend political rallies. In the act of resistance, Boateng (2017) found that prospective women politicians in Ghana who were married had defied the cultural convention that wives should be submissive to their husbands. There is a challenge to the status quo of the perceived male superiority as wives defy their husbands’ disapprovals to engage in the public sphere. The earlier research (see Boateng 2017, pg. 179) found that an elected woman named C10 revealed that her husband tried to talk her out from engaging in local politics, especially when she was doubling as a care provider for their two children and as Women’s Organizer for a political party. C10 indicated that when she did not heed her husband’s demand, he divorced her. C10 had resolved to be content with her resistance to the ex-spouse and acknowledged the support from other men who appreciated her involvement in local politics. C10’s challenge against the conventional cultural instruction reveals her “power over” the socially constructed gender power relations. Also, C10’s resistance seems more akin to a demonstration of women’s agency. She is empowered, underscoring her determination to participate in the political process despite the conjugal sanction. C10 stated that some young men within her electoral area knew how reliable she could be as a representative and therefore supported her, which confirms subtle resistance among men who support against gender discrimination in society. Thus, despite the endemic nature of the patriarchal systems in society, throughout history when women have not had equal rights, e.g., to study or to take nontraditional roles, they have often found sympathetic males with influence willing to assist them (Boateng 2017). Even so, the gesture from the male supporters communicates a shift from the persistent societal mindset for male preference in politics to female preference in leadership and politics, thereby disrupting the patriarchal system. The individual who was once disempowered could be empowered through interventions based on international advocacy and goals such as CEDAW, MDG3, and SDG 5 that had been proclaimed internationally, as stated elsewhere in this chapter. Resistance to social reconstruction to enhance gender equality appear in the form of cultural dynamism, education for all, advocacy for equity, anti-poverty interventions, and positive discriminatory directives, which cause social change. Social change and the constant call for gender equality have encouraged many females to enroll in education and economic activities to acquire the skills and capabilities needed to engage in local politics. These interventions have weakened patriarchal structures, resulting in the deconstruction of stereotypical gender roles and

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relationships in the traditional practices and empowering women politically and economically. Mugane (2007) reported that a political aspirant with economic empowerment could participate in democratic governance, thereby resisting the dominant male political atmosphere. Besides, Uganda, South Africa, and Rwanda provide successful cases of affirmative action observations (Tsikata 2009) where women have outshined their male counterparts in political competitions and decision-making positions. By 2018, women constituted about 68% of Rwandan seats in Parliament, leading the world in female representation. In Namibia, the local government level has a combination of a legislated quota, a voluntary party quota, and a proportional representation (PR) system resulting in encouraging 43.8% of women in local government. The response to affirmative strategies was partly because of advocacy for gender equality. In contemporary African countries such as Botswana and Zambia where there are no enforceable affirmative action laws or gender quotas to increase the number of females in the political systems (Isaksson et al. 2014), women who are determined to engage in politics had to resist obstacles to their political participation. In the midst of opposing gender discrimination in decision-making positions, there are forms of national and international advocacy. Advocacy for more female participation in local government and politics have featured strongly in African countries and governments have used various forms of affirmative action strategies to address gender imbalances in the government (Tsikata 2009). Once Ghana became a member of the United Nations in 1957 (UN 2010), a year after independence, it was bound to adhere to the International Bill of Human Rights (IBHR), which spelt out women’s rights protections. Coincidentally, there had been struggles for women’s rights by activists since the 1960s. Thus, affirmative action for women had been enshrined in various documents of the United Nations since the 1948 declaration (Tsikata 2009). The Gold Coast, through the leadership of Convention People’s Party (CPP), wanted self-government also to enjoy their human and political rights, which the colonial rule had denied Ghanaian women. Any electoral process such as voting was allowed upon a declaration of a property as stated earlier. Ghanaian women had their properties attached to their husbands’ while the franchise was limited to males with property (Okyere 1997). The women’s political participation became indirectly restricted under the British System of Administration. Kwame Nkrumah, therefore, inaugurated the Women’s Movement in 1960 as an organization under which all Ghanaian women were to be organized to help achieve government post-independent political, social, economic, and educational development (Donkor 2009; Frimpong 2018; Taylor 2019). The sociopolitical responsibilities of women prompted the government to institute the affirmative action strategy: The Representation of Peoples Amendment Bill of 1960 (Women’s Members Act). Ten (10) women representatives in Ghana’s First Parliament for ten regions in Ghana were Lucy Anim (Brong Ahafo), Sophia Doku and Mary Koranteng (Eastern Region), Grace Ayensu and Christiana Wilmot (Western Region), Regina Asamany (Volta Region), Comfort Asamoah (Ashanti Region), Ayanori Bukari, Susanna Al-Hassan, and Victoria Nyarko (Northern Region). The women among many others had played indispensable roles in the prelude to independence and immediately after the

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struggle for political freedom in Ghana (Donkor 2009). Frimpong (2018) has shown that most of the people were in support of the ten women representatives in the Legislature, though few people protested. Besides, the representative amendment law had received the Governor-General assent on 16 June 1960 (Donkor 2009). Although the local government had not been instituted then, the CPP’s inauguration of the Women’s Movement and the strengthening of women’s political positions in the national assembly invariably encompassed the local women chances to occupy a political position at the local level. Although the overthrow of the First Republican Constitution in 1966 led to the suspension of the People’s Representation Amendment Law in 1960, the continuous push through international advocacy and conferences in the 1970s and 1980s for gender equality in politics and decision-making position mandated member countries to adhere to those international laws. Hence, there were conscious efforts to promote women participation in certain professions (Tsikata 2009. It was under the PNDC regime in Ghana that the local government system was revamped in 1988. These reforms in previous local government systems resulted in the promulgation of the Local Government Law 1988, PNDC Law 207. Parliament amended the local government law 1988 (PNDC Law 207) in 1993, resulting in Act 462, 1993 (Ahwoi 2010). In furtherance, Article 17 of the 1992 Ghanaian constitution deals with equality and freedom from discrimination (Boateng 2017). The quotas for women in appointed membership positions had also been implemented since 1998 in Ghana, although the directives do not have the legal sustenance (Ofei-Aboagye 2004) at the local level. In local political participation, however, data from the Electoral Commission of Ghana suggested that women constituted 3.5% of candidates in local assembly elections in 1998, increasing to 6.8% in 2002 and 12.3% in 2006 (Tsikata, 2009). As the years progressed, the percentage of elected female members in the district assemblies (DAs) declined from 11% in 2008 to 7% in 2010. Thus, the 2010 district assembly (DA) election results showed that out of a total number of 17, 315 contestants, 1, 376 were females, but only 412 (7.95%) won the elections, compared with the 5681 (92.05%) won by their male counterparts. This trend continued into the September 1, 2015, district assembly elections, which recorded total contestants of 18, 938 with 1155 as female contestants as against 17,783 males, resulting in 5779 (95.35%) elected males as against 282 (4.65%) elected females (Paaga 2016). The percentage decrease of the elected females into the district assemblies could be attributed to the lack of enforceable affirmative action policy or quota systems. Also, the institutional relationships were deeply patriarchal and cut across all facets of life, including national and local level government structures (Beall 2004; Boateng, 2017) making it inflexible for society to witness more women in government. Despite the challenges facing women, the United Nations advocacy for gender equality among member countries in Africa makes an impact on their decisions (Zee 2012). Women’s issues became a priority when the UN focused on women’s advancement and their participation in governance and development in 1975 (Alvarez 2013; Moghadam 2003). The setting of the 1975 UN initiatives and target

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objectives marked the beginning of a change for the world to view all women as full and equal partners with men, and to have equal rights to resources. In the early days of the activism, the International Conferences were held every 5 years and then every 10 years, in Mexico City (1975), Copenhagen (1980), Nairobi (1985), and Beijing (1995) (Hobbs 2011; Horn 2013). Since the 1980s, there have been constant calls to address gender inequality and the need to achieve equal status between women and men in political representation in local and national governments (Boateng 2017; Boex and Simatupang 2015; Kaliniuk and Schozodaeva 2012; Urbinati 2006). Also, advocacy for gender equality necessitated the signing of treaties in the new millennia. In 2000, UN member countries signed the Millennium Development Goals (MDGs), of which goal 3 advocated for gender equality and women empowerment; a target to increase women’s representation in decision-making positions till 2015 when the scheduled period to achieve the eight goals passed (UNDP 2012, 2015). Subsequently, in 2015, Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) was signed and was to work till 2030. SDG 5 seeks explicitly gender equality in all facets of society. From all indications, the world bodies need mechanisms to compel member countries to comply with the treaties signed to ensure gender equality. In contrast, females in these countries continue to resist the endemic sociocultural beliefs against women political empowerment. Advocacy for equalization of gender in development and decision-making have been consistent with the arguments raised by gender theorists, and feminists. Feminism has become a buzzword as an ideological movement that demonstrates the importance of women and fights for equal rights in society (March et al. 1999; Vinthagen and Johansson 2013). The feminist’s primary goal is gender equality in the public sphere and its commitment to equal rights, choices, and opportunities for people of all genders (Walby 1990). This chapter emphasizes Afrocentric feminism. Feminism in Africa had been very pragmatic and contributed to ending colonialism. In the 1970s, when many countries had gained independence, the call for more women to be included in governance made African feminism more focused and reflexive, group-oriented, and focused on politics (Ebila 2011), because of the now imposed beliefs in the sociocultural values and norms (UNDP 2016). African feminists do not accept the perception that women cannot make it in politics or take part in decision-making processes (Ebila 2011). Feminism in African societies has been a force to reckon with, which offers the African zealousness to fight discrimination in the indigenous governance system, even before the advent of colonialism (Ajei 2001). Oyèrónké Oyĕwùmí explains the nature of precolonial Yorùbá society that has been replaced with Western thoughts and suggests that it was “a move away from the indigenous seniority-based ‘matripotent’ philosophy to a male-dominant, genderbased one” (Oyĕwùmí 2016, p. 7). She, therefore, criticizes Western feminism for assuming the existence of hierarchical gender power relations in Africa, where they reproduce the foreign scheme in Yorùbá society. According to Oyĕwùmí, the category of “woman” operative in Western thought and Western feminism inevitably designates a subordinate position that is only defined in negative terms to man (Oyĕwùmí 1997). Her analysis also seeks to “right the wrong” ideas that male dominance was not inherent in African societies, and Yoruba is no exception.

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In Igbo land in Nigeria, however, males were wielding traditional political authority before the British used the male warrant chiefs for their Indirect Rule System to function. It was until those male warrant chiefs became extremely oppressive and exploitative through taxation that the Women’s War of 1929 erupted (Evans 2009). Also, with the Akan traditional system, the chieftaincy institutions assign a lot of important traditional roles to the queen mother with few females becoming paramount chiefs, yet the ultimate power is vested in male Kings (Ajei 2001). That notwithstanding, Oyěwùmí’s philosophy is unveiling the knowledge about African gender power relations, with undefeated womanhood. From the discussion above, there were prominent female leaders in the traditional governance systems, but the advent of colonialism, Western education, and culture eroded their authorities, paving the way for male superiority to triumph. When many African countries attained independence, therefore, African women re-intensified their advocacy for females to be part of government and politics in Africa. To alert the world on gender inequality in decision-making positions, wives (i.e. First Ladies) of some Heads of State, and other renowned women advocates and feminists in Africa attended the First World Conference on the Status of Women in Mexico in 1975. Subsequent UN conferences, resolutions, conventions, and goals have been reinforced by some of these first ladies and gender advocates as they form organizations and lobby governments in their respective countries to implement UN Decisions and Treaties to reduce gender inequality. The advocates’ actions and lobbying aim to deconstruct sociopolitical and traditional structures and patriarchal systems that disadvantage women and aim to motivate women to aspire public spheres of life to enhance gender equality in decision-making (Tsikata 2009). The advocacy continues as feminists and advocates publish women’s manifesto to table before political parties and government to propagate the need for women at the grassroots levels to engage in central and local government systems and facilitate their entrance into decision-making positions (ABANTU for Development 2004). As stated earlier in this chapter, quotas for women in appointed membership positions had been implemented in 1998 in Ghana. Still, the directives do not have the legal sustenance (Ofei-Aboagye 2004) at the local level. The realization that power is never shared if it is not demanded led ABANTU for Development and the Friedrich-Ebert Stiftung to continue the progress of an Affirmative Action Strategy to address past injustices in the representation of women in Ghanaian politics. In 2004, ABANTU for Development launched the Women’s Manifesto, which provides a common set of demands to achieve gender equality and equity to allow women to articulate their concerns. The Women’s Manifesto also proposed that the Ghanaian Legislature became 30% female by 2008 and 50% female by 2012. However, by the year 2020, only 13% of members of Parliament are females since the Affirmative Action Bill was still before Ghana’s Parliament by the year 2020. The recount for equal representation of gender in Ghanaian politics from the 2000s to the year 2020 shows that these advocates had championed the drafting of the Affirmative Action Bill, which had been before the Ghanaian Parliament for more than two decades. African feminists advocate for gender equality in political decision-making positions, hence, operate within their communities and engage in collective

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women’s struggles, which also motivate others to take initiatives on behalf of their communities. There is a growing number of female gender advocates and political aspirants during district assembly elections in Ghana. Their promising activities tend to disrupt the domineering societal structures, which sometimes discourage their male counterparts as they show reluctance to contest the determined women aspirants (Boateng 2017). Thus, females are stepping out from their home management fields to the public sector milieu, and their influence as females within homes are extended to their community, thereby winning the electorate support. Based on the efforts exhibited by the hardworking females in politics, there is no massive argument as to the concept of gender in the selection of aspirants. Instead, the answers to the people’s concerns within their community had been who could deliver them development in their communities. An earlier study revealed that the electorate in electoral areas who were in favor of having a female assembly member voted for the only female aspirants. It defies belief that only men held the historical front stage in traditional Africa. At the same time, their wives, mothers, and daughters were relegated to domestic chores and merely took to their heels whenever danger loomed (Africa Department 2015). African women know what occurs as poverty continues, though their roles in Africa’s history has only been minimally described. The history of African women and the long tradition of women’s involvement in their homes as household heads have only recently been documented in textbooks. Those women who have shaped the past, generally do not have their valiant deeds recognized, even though these have been written to teach the new generation. If the spotlight is turned sufficiently on these women, they could become role models, not only for people of African descent but also for all people worldwide (Africa Department 2015). Aside from these feminists, other groups’ activities in societies are gradually altering social structures. As a result, women’s empowerment and support for gender equality have been the agenda of many societies. Before any local elections, education, seminars, and fora, workshops are organized to get more women politicians from the different political divides together for training and to discuss common problems that women share regardless of class or status. African societies underlying patriarchal structures have made some progress toward equalizing gender to enhance women’s political advancement and representation in politics. The scenarios portray the empowerment of women in Africa through the empowerment approach; thus, Gender and Development, which is one of the paths to achieve gender equality in development. Theorizing empowerment within the western philosophical discourse has always been the case, but empowerment had been long pronounced in the African indigenous societies. An African woman is empowered in traditional settings before the advent of colonialism. The woman born in African culture is nurtured to manage the family and develop society. As earlier shown in this chapter, culture represents the indigenous or traditional; the total sum of norms, beliefs, knowledge, values (moral, political, social, aesthetic) that accrue to a people from their interaction with the environment (Ajei 2001). An African woman is nurtured and cultured to play multiple significant roles, hence, needs to be counted in the public decision-making at the local level of governance.

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Scholars and development agencies continue to debate gender equality and women’s empowerment. Central to the empowerment process is human agency, which deals with how choice is put into effect and actively exercised to challenge power relations. Agency is one of the central pillars of empowerment, which relates to people’s ability to make strategic life choices in a situation where this ability was previously denied to them (Kabeer 2001; Mensah and Boateng 2012; Tursunova 2014). Thus, the agency is exercised through the mobilization of valued resources such as education, economic opportunities, and decision-making positions, which are the means of power distributed through the various institutions and relationships. The outcomes of agency and resources are “achievements. For instance, a woman’s ability to achieve political empowerment will occur because she uses her agency (voice, power, capacity to act) to access the available resources such as education, income, and decision-making processes. Achievement is the extent to which an individual’s potentials are realized or failed to be realized (Kabeer 2001). Thus, the outcome of the woman’s efforts to be politically empowered, which could be assessed with initial conditions (resources) and agency (process or voice) is an achievement. African women have the power to access the various resources to empower themselves based on the different advocacy to equalize gender in society. The “power” dimensions in empowerment are “power over,” “power to,” “ power with,” and “power within,” which are part of the development processes (Rowlands 1997). The “power over” is the ability to dominate; when one gets power, then automatically, someone has less power. For example, the marginalized who could challenge the status quo of male dominance in society has the “power over” the socially constructed gender power relations; hence, empower themselves. On “Power to” it is the ability to see possibilities for change; people’s ability to make and act out of their life choice, even in the face of other’s opposition. For instance, when violence distorted and disjointed the lives of many women in Kenya in the wake of the political crisis if empowerment was ever to have a meaning, the women’s empowerment (power to) would have enabled those affected to find ways by their choices to soothe that pain (Dupas and Robinson 2012). Empowering women to have a voice has been on the agenda of both national and international communities. It has also been witnessed by the conscious efforts of some African women to make their voices heard and for others to enjoy their human rights. One of these voices that echoes in the Kenyan Parliament to represent women, children, and the vulnerable is the voice from Honourable Millie Grace Akoth Odhiambo Mabona. As a lawyer, she has also facilitated the passage of bills, notably the Victim Protection Bill, 2013 and the In-Vitro Fertilization Bill, 2014 that have ensured the wellbeing of Kenyans. She has been representing her constituents at Suba North since 2013 (UN WOMEN 2019). In contrast to “power to” is “power over” that refers to the ability of some actors to override the agency of others through the exercise of authority or the use of violence and other forms of coercion. In the act of resistance, the women’s ability to override dominance shows their “power over” the constructed gender relations. “Power with” is the power that comes from individuals; working together

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collectively to achieve common goals (collective empowerment). An example of collective empowerment is likened to aspiring female politicians supporting each other to win a political position. The feelings of self-worth and self-esteem that come from within individuals are classified as “Power within” (i.e., Psychological empowerment) (Mensah and Boateng 2012; Rowlands 1997). Thus, self-motivation is the ability of a woman to exercise her agency through resources to achieve in society. According to Rowlands (1997), all these forms of power are linked and the recognition of the diversity of power beyond “power over” helps in the construction of policies and programs to assist the powerless, thereby deconstructing the gender power relations. For instance, the We Know Politics project is organized to empower some women in Africa to make them feel part of the governance situation. We Know Politics projects are organized by Women’s groups and NGOs in collaboration with the European Union, Department of International Development Fund (DFID) of UK, and an international women’s NGO named Womankind Worldwide. The aim is to increase public support for women’s participation in political activities in Africa. The “We know Politics” project encourages women to express their views on issues that affect their lives, and actively participate in politics (Selby 2011). Between 2014 and 2017, there was a 3-year project, which the “We Know Politics” targeted 20 districts out of the 216 districts in the 10 Regions of Ghana. The significance of the “We Know Politics” project on levels of women’s electoral victory, established the importance for women to go through education and skill training in the realm of political administration, which would increase the acceptability of women in those political roles. One goal of the “We know Politics” project in Africa included influencing governments and political parties to enact affirmative action strategies that would ensure levels of at least 40% of women’s representation in party positions and government. The underlying premise of such empowering programs was that if women were actively involved in local government administration, then they could be better than men at representing women’s interests and needs in policies (Nkansah 2009; Paxton and Hughes 2016). The following section presents factors that enable women to engage in local politics and government.

Factors Enabling Women to Engage in Local Government In a society marked by patriarchal structures and culture, women have relatively disadvantaged positions compared to men regarding economic power and access to political power. These women are often constrained due to a societal expectation about their reproductive role, such as procreation and devotion to marital responsibilities (Kasomo 2012). However, it is fascinating to note that some of these women can have access to political positions. This section of the chapter discusses the strategies African women adopt to navigate through the sociopolitical structures to engage in public space for political gains. It highlighted how most of the elected and appointed women had stepped out from their private homes and had used their social connection to engage the public space to perform their community responsibilities

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(Moser 1993, 2003). Even though women tend to be restricted in building and maintaining broader social ties in comparison with men, which tends to preserve the status quo of gender relations (Blomkvist 2003), women social capital is more enhanced based on their bonding with a family, community, and the society at large. Research indicates widespread interest in the application of the concept of social capital and suggests the theoretical importance of a broad range of social phenomena (Graddy and Wang 2007). A political achievement may depend on how the concept of social capital is played out as an existing resource at a community level in Africa where the approach represents a property (capital) of a relationship among the people in the community (Anderson and Herr 2007; Bwalya and Sukumar 2018). The theory underlies essential social goals described in concepts such as social support, social cohesion, and social resource integration, which manifest in groups’ understanding of their aim to win political positions (Bolibar 2016; Mayer 2003). The more recent approach to theorizing about “social capital” is that all social capital is valuable; in so far as democratic elections depend on popularity to win votes, then it is viable for aspiring politicians to consider how the theory might be informative of strategies to win office (Bwalya and Sukumar 2018; Myeong and Seo 2016). Walters (2002) agreed with Putnam that at the community level, social capital comprises the resources at hand to overcome the “dilemmas of collective action.” Hence, these ambitious African women when they identify their needs in the electoral areas, mobilize both human and material resources to enhance development. For instance, Mugane (2007) observes that women groups in Kenya meet and contribute money to support members who aspire to political positions at the local level, employing their collective empowerment. Mugane (2007) described how trust and active engagement were the mechanisms through which those women groups could subsequently influence political decisions through the election of their members into local government. Notable among their beliefs and actions were the efforts observed from influential women leaders such as Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti (1900–1978). Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti fought tirelessly to promote women’s access to education and political representation in Nigeria and West Africa. In 1944, she founded the Abeokuta Ladies’ Club (later, the Abeokuta Women’s Union), one of the most impressive women’s organizations of the twentieth century (with about 20,000 membership), which was committed to defending women’s political, social, and economic rights. During the colonial period, Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti led Nigerian women’s anticolonial struggles. Her unwavering commitment to cooperation, solidarity, and unity led her to play an active role in politics, notably in the pre-independence constitutional negotiations of 1946. She was a leading activist who fought to protect the political rights of women at the local and national levels. Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti also trained zealous women to negotiate with local authorities (UNESCO 2014). Equally, before women could become Members of the local government, they would have organized working tools such as spades, shovels, and wellington boots from the local authorities and worked with men and women during communal labor in their communal areas. Others could reach out to the electorate to inform them about government activities, policies, and programs. Politics is about numbers and,

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therefore, these women adopt strategies to attract votes. They socialize to the extent that they could attend ceremonies including funerals, outdooring, marriage, festivals, durbars, etc., to network and win mutual support. A study also observed that women relied on their employment circumstances as being food vendors and receptive toward people in the communities; they establish formal and informal networks that earned them their support. In some African countries such as Nigeria and Ghana, women constitute about 2/3 of informal street traders, popularly called hawkers and, therefore, are exposed to the electorate (Boateng 2017; Steel et al. 2014). With their public activities, these women could establish networks and built constituencies for their political career. Thus, women’s pro-activeness indicates how strong they were in developing their social capital for mutual benefits in their communities. Also, the approachable and interactive behaviors of the aspiring women were examples of the recognized conventional norms as far as building a high social capital was concerned. The female politicians might have benefitted from their networking, organizations, movements, and other relational supports, including assistance from male members in their electoral areas. Men had also been assisting women in building campaign teams and creating solidarity messages. The men had been rallying behind them as they advocated for female representation in the district assemblies (DAs). There was the support from other women electorate who also expected to have female representatives in the assemblies as they believed women could more liaise with authorities to develop their electoral communities. Thus, social capital provides social support, integration, and social cohesion (Bankston and Zhou 2002; Claridge 2004; Putnam 2000; Sahin 2010). Social capital includes “those tangible assets that count for most in the daily lives of people” (see Keeley 2007, p. 102). These intangible assets also include social intercourse, goodwill, fellowship, and sympathy among families and individuals within society (Tirmizi 2005; Keeley 2007), thus revealing the mutual reciprocity among community members that makes actions possible as they are based on collaborative processes. The result is the trust gained from these collective activities. African women have proven to be breakers of the glass ceiling and have made society benefit from their governance and development. As indicated earlier, governments have realized the significance of women in local governance. Hence, they have been instituting affirmative action strategies to include them (Appiah 2015). For instance, Rwanda, a recovering nation that has risen from the ashes of civil war, has become one of the fastest-growing economies in African with the massive contribution of the 68% female parliamentarians. A new constitution was passed in 2003, decreeing 30% of all parliamentary seats should be reserved for women (Amour-Levar 2018). The Rwandan government also guaranteed that women be given leadership roles in the community and critical institutions and pledged that girls’ education would be encouraged. President Paul Kagame also needed the Rwandan women, who were the majority survivors of the genocide to step up and fill the vacuum that was left by the death of many males during the genocide. There is no doubt that the women’s contributions to government contribute to the stable and remarkably corruption-free government, where women hold key leadership roles and whose policies are cited as a model for gender inclusiveness (Amour-Levar 2018).

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Conclusion Even though women are assumed to be equal citizens, claiming that national and international advocacy is intensifying the equalization of the gender, they are usually limited in the way they engage in the political process and governance. Over five decades since African countries gained independence, they still do not have a considerable number of women in local government. The chapter has presented the opportunity for constructive discussions on the active participation of African women in the socioeconomic and cultural development of Africa and its future. Some African countries have implemented both voluntary and mandatory quotas in their legal systems and party platforms. Yet, the political marginalization of women is reflected in the small numbers of female candidates who are elected or appointed to the local government structures. Women are, therefore, making efforts to intensify the advocacy for gender equality and empowering themselves in the local governments in Africa.

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Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Theoretical and Conceptual Exposition: Feminist Security Theory . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Legal and Policy Framework for Women in Security Sector . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Women and the Security Sector in Africa: Problems and Prospects . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Security Sector Reform and Female Participation in the Security Sector . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

Women’s active and equal participation in the security sector has been identified as crucial to achieving a more responsive, effective, and accountable security sector. In this vein, the United Nations Security Resolution 1325 calls for the full and equal participation of women in the security sector and expanded roles in peace building and peacekeeping. Such participation is necessary to equip the security sector with the requisite skills and capacities to adequately address and respond to the varied security needs of men, women, boys, and girls. However, in spite of the lofty goals of the resolution, women’s participation in the security sector in Africa remains at a dismal level. Women are largely absent as security sector actors, and from decision-making levels in the security and defense policy making institutions and agencies. Using the Feminist Security Framework, the chapter critiques the security sector in Africa as largely male dominated, by highlighting the small number of women in the security sector, as well as the several obstacles confronting them. Although several African countries are carrying out reforms within their security sector, the integration of gender into such reforms remains a key challenge. The chapter recommends that security sector institutions in Africa ensure a gender-sensitive environment and institutional O. A. Ilesanmi (*) Research and Studies Department, Nigerian Institute of International Affairs, Victoria Island, Lagos, Nigeria © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_76

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culture devoid of discrimination and harassment. These institutions must also ensure the removal of formal and informal barriers to recruitment and promotion of women and develop programs that facilitate recruitment, retention, and promotion of women and their inclusion in senior decision making positions. Keywords

Women · Security sector · Africa

Introduction The United Nations Security Council’s adoption of UNSCR 1325 in October 2000 brought international spotlight to the critical roles and contributions women make to conflict prevention, conflict resolution, and peace processes and the disproportionate impact of wars on women and girls. Essentially the resolution calls for the integration of gender perspectives in peace and security matters, the full and equal participation of women and men in the security sector, representation of women at all decisionmaking levels, and the expansion of women’s roles in peacebuilding including peacekeeping operations (S/RES/1325 (2000)). Women’s active and equal participation in the security sector has been identified as a requisite for achieving a more responsive, effective, and accountable security sector. Hence, gender equality and increased participation of women remain crucial to achieving a truly reformed security sector (UN Women 2018). Such participation will ensure the equal rights of women and men, while equipping security sector actors with the requisite skills to effectively address and respond to the differing security needs and challenges of the men and women alike. Globally, women’s participation in the security sector has remained at a dismal level with women remaining only at the fringes of security policy making and provisioning. In Africa, women are largely absent from the security sector both as security sector actors in security sector institutions and as decision makers in security and defense policymaking and are often victims of abuse by security sector actors. This is in spite of the several international, continental, regional, and national policy and legal framework that guarantee equal participation of women in security discourse and prohibit discrimination signed by several African countries. Very few women are employed as security actors into security sector institutions, and the few women within the institutions face several obstacles including limited access of women to senior management positions and operational posts, integrating gender into training and education for staff to mention a few (Quesada 2011). This chapter is an exposition of women’s participation in the security sector in Africa, its challenges and attendant issues.

Theoretical and Conceptual Exposition: Feminist Security Theory The term security is a contested concept that means different things to different people earlier scholars led by realist theorists linked the term security to the security of the state and military strength and capability of a nation (Gallilie 1956). Here the

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state is the main referent of security, with security seen as a synonym to power as characterized by the constant competition for power. Traditional definitions of security identify the term as a synonym for national security and the defense of the state through armed forces and the use of force to control a state’s citizen (Brooks 2009). Several criticisms have trailed the traditional and orthodox meaning of security as propagated by the realist school. Feminist scholars have argued that traditional concept of security is too narrow and male-oriented in nature. They maintain that women, men, girls, and boys have differing security needs, concerns, and interests that the tradition meaning of security fails to recognize and which have grave consequences on the provision of security for the citizens of a state in the event that such security needs are not addressed (Clarke 2008; Hendricks and Valasak 2010). Buzan (1991) in an attempt to widen the realist’s definition of security defines security as “the pursuit of freedom from threat and the ability of states and societies to maintain their independent identity and functional integrity against forces of change which they see as hostile.” In this regard, the limited nature of the traditional definition of security which hinges essentially on the security of states and national sovereignty has been expanded to include the security of the individuals within a state. This expanded meaning of security which can be regarded as a paradigm shift from earlier conceptions of security by the realists’ school in the International Relations discipline to what is termed as “human security.” Kotsopoulos (2006) asserts that human security affirms the protection of the individual as a ground for the international community to act on issues which otherwise would have remained in the jurisdiction of the state. The concept of human security places the individual and their social and economic concerns and interactions as the primary referent of the state (Thomas 2001). Indeed, the term human security made its debut in the 1994 Human Development Programme UNDP Report. While highlighting the limitations of earlier conceptualization of security, the report stated that “the concept of security for too long has been interpreted namely as security of territory from external aggression, or as protection of national interest in foreign policy, or as a global security from the threat. . .. Forgotten were the legitimate concerns of ordinary people who sought security in their daily lives” (HDR 1994). Alluding to the above definition, Axworthy (1997) maintains that human security prioritizes human needs above state needs, a situation that emerged in the post-Cold war era with the prevalence of intrastate conflicts. According to the Human Development Report, security refers to safety from chronic threats such as hunger, disease, repression, as well as protection from sudden and hurtful disruptions in the pattern of daily life whether in the home, jobs, or communities (HDR 1994). In a related manner, Bastick and Whitman (2013) describe security as a state in which one is safe from danger or the threat of it, and not the absence of armed conflict. The focus here is meeting everyday security needs such as physical security, access to healthcare, education, economic development to mention a few. However, several criticisms have trailed the concept of human security. Kotsopoulos (2006) describes the term as an ambitious but ill-defined concept that encompasses a wide range of threats to individuals which can be extremely difficult to address in practice. Feminist critique of human security has drawn attention to the concept’s bid of subsuming and merging the differences that exist between feminine

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and masculine security needs, concerns, and interests under the singular rubric of “human security.” In a similar vein, Hudson (2005) argues that it is critical to underscore the different ways in which men and women are affected by violence and conflict, and the multifaceted roles played by men and women in periods of peace and conflict so as to avoid the perpetuation of incomplete understanding of the term security. A situation that the concept of human security both implicitly and explicitly overlooks. The argument against mainstream human security is the homogenization of humans and the security threats and challenges they are confronted with little or no emphasis on the varying security needs of men and women in the society. Alluding to this Mckay (2004) argues that a key question about human security feminist scholars seeks to determine is “whose security is emphasized and how?” with the answer being “boys’ and men’s” security is prioritized over that that of girls and women due to discrimination against based on gender. In another vein, security sector has been identified as formal institutions providing security to the citizens through the legitimate authority to use force, or order the use of force, or the threat of force, to protect individuals, communities, and the state. The security sector is comprised of institutions and actors working in the delivery, management, and oversight of security services to individuals within a state. Broadly speaking, Bastick and Whitman (2013) compartmentalized the security sector into four main groups which include: state armed and security forces comprising of armed and defense forces, police, gendarmeries, paramilitary forces, presidential guards, intelligence and security services (both military and civilians), coast guards, border guards, custom authorities, reserve or local security units (civil defense forces, state militias). Second group is the state and management bodies comprising of executive branch, national security advisory bodies, parliament, ministries of defense, internal affairs, foreign affairs, financial management bodies, (finance ministries, budget officers, financial, audit and planning units), civilian review boards, public complaint commission, and some ombudspersons. The third category is the Independent Oversight bodies comprising of civil society organizations (CSOs) including media, think tank and professional associations, human rights commission. Fourth category includes justice and rule of law institutions comprising judiciary and justice ministries, prison and probation services, criminal investigation and prosecution services, customary and traditional (such as elders, chiefs, and traditional councils). In another vein, UN General Assembly 2008 broadly defines the security sector to include – defense, law enforcement, corrections, intelligence services and institutions responsible for border management, customs and civil emergencies, among other actors and institutions. The inroad of women and gender issues in international relations and politics have been spearheaded by feminist international relation scholars who have critiqued the international relations discipline as masculine based, and for its silence on women and their roles in the international sphere, while spotlighting men as sole actors. This is particularly salient in the international relations subdiscipline of international security studies, in which men have been portrayed as aggressors, providers of security, and protection for women, on the other hand, women’s only relevance are in their roles as victims, lacking any form of agency and consumers of

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security (Tickner 1992; Sjoberg 2010). Feminist scholars have interrogated gender and women’s role in international relations disciple through several theoretical lenses including liberal feminism (which called for the integration of women on an equal basis with men into the existing social system); radical feminism (based on a critique of gender inequality centered on the family and its role in socializing women into a male-dominated culture and patriarchal social order); and socialist feminism (based upon a critique of capitalism and its attendant economic and political inequality). Black Feminism have added race, class, and ethnicity to the mix and say that these factors are essential to understanding the oppression of women of color in the west and elsewhere. Gender oppression is not experienced equally by all. Postmodern feminists challenge the idea that all women share a similar identity, and argue that there is no essential core of womanhood and no essential explanation of oppression such as race, class, patriarchy (Giddens 2006).

Legal and Policy Framework for Women in Security Sector International and regional policy and legal instruments exist that call for gender equality, nondiscrimination on the basis of sex, and for increased representation of women in governance processes. Some of these include the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination against Women (CEDAW) (1979), Beijing Declaration and Platform for Action (1995). Continental legal and policy framework include African Charter on Human and People’s Right (1981), African Union Protocol to the Charter on Human and People’s on the Rights of Women in Africa (2003), African Union Solemn Declaration on Gender Equality (2004), African Union Gender Policy (2008) (Alaga 2009). The adoption of UNSCR 1325 on women, peace, and security in October 2000 by the UN Security Council drew global attention to the significant roles women play in conflict prevention and resolution, and the critical need to integrate a gender perspective to the security sector with the adoption of United Nations Security Council Resolution 1325 in 2000. This is with a view to addressing the different security needs of women, men, boys, and girls and to promote equal participation of men and women in security sector institutions. Till date UNSCR 1325 remains the key policy and legal framework adopted by the UN Security Council that recognizes the nexus between women and security policymaking, implementation, and decision making. As the flagship resolution on women’s role in peace and security, UNSCR 1325 is the policy framework that provides a platform for women’s engagement in entrenching peace in their communities. The resolution provides an overarching, comprehensive, and wide-reaching policy framework for addressing the complexities and gaps surrounding women, conflict, peace, and security (Mutisi et al. 2011). UNSCR 1325 opened a new vista on the need for increased inclusion of women and their full and equal participation peace and security discourse and mechanisms, which resulted from the international community especially the UN’s recognition of the unique and very significant contributions women make to achieving sustainable peace and security globally. Follow-up resolutions under the women peace and security framework

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further building on UNSCR 1325 include UNSCR 1820(2008), 1888(2009), 1889 (2009), 1960(2010), 2016(2013), 2122(2013), and 2242(2015). Together they make up the “Women, Peace and Security |Framework” and provide a legal and policy framework recognized internationally to promote gender equality in peace and security discourse, integrate gender perspectives, and ensure participation of women in decision-making, protection of women and girls from sexual violence, and their prevention from violence (Arostegui 2015). Accordingly, UNSCR 1325 is premised on five broad themes namely: a) The inclusion of women in leadership positions and at all levels of decision making processes related to security sector and the prevention, management, and resolution of conflicts b) Integration of gender perspectives into peacekeeping, peacebuilding activities c) The inclusion of more female professionals in peacekeeping and in the security sector d) The consideration of different needs of the women, men, girls, and boys in all post conflict processes e) The creation in consultation with women of reforms and mechanisms to prevent and prevent sexual violence (Ibrahim et al. 2015) To ensure the effective implementation of UNSCR 1325 and its follow resolutions, African countries and regional economic communities have developed National Action Plans NAPs and Regional Action Plans RAPs in accordance with the UN Secretary General directives. National Acton Plans spell out “the steps that a government is taking and the initiatives and activities that will be undertaken in the future to achieve the goals of the resolution within a given timeframe.” In this vein, African countries have achieved significant success in the development of NAPs as a strategic tool and mechanism for implementing UNSCR 1325 at the national level. Twenty-three of the fifty-four African states have developed NAPs as a framework for the implementation of the resolution. UNSCR 1325 has been widely employed by civil society groups and women groups in Africa as a strategic tool to advocate for increased and equal participation of women in peace and security initiatives and architecture including security sector institutions such as the military, police force, and other related institutions and bodies. However, several years after the adoption of the resolution and the development of NAPs by African countries, women are still largely under-represented in peace mechanisms and architecture on the continent. Security sector institutions in particular are grossly affected by this underrepresentation of women, where men constitute the largest majority of security sector actors.

Women and the Security Sector in Africa: Problems and Prospects African countries are bedeviled with security challenges which continues to stifle the state capability to effectively meet socio-economic and infrastructural requirements essential for the overall wellbeing of its citizens. Although not unique to Africa,

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armed conflicts, violence, terrorism, and general insecurity remain a common feature on the continent. Africans experience a wide range of security challenges ranging from terrorism, crimes, armed conflicts, poverty, lack of access to healthcare, lack of education, which undermine Africa’s economic growth and development. Security and peace as public goods must be effectively provided for individual members of a society. Several factors have been identified as cause of the high rate of insecurity and conflicts in Africa, and these include weak government institutions, governance deficits, colonial heritage among others (Achankeng 2013). The security sector represents the totality of institutions and actors saddled with the responsibility of providing security and to ensure the safety of the citizens in a given state. The security institutions in Africa are charged with the responsibility of meeting the wide ranging security needs of the populace and providing for the safety of individual within the country. However, the security sector in Africa which is comprised of the military, police force/gendarmes is characterized by several atrocities including widespread human rights abuses, and violations, oppression and the use of force against civilians (Legwalia n.d.). Indeed, Marc et al. (2015) maintain that security actors charged by the state to ensure the security and safety of the people perpetrate widespread abuses and violations of human rights including arbitrary arrest and detention, murders, sexual violence, torture against the civilian population. Indeed, a knowledge of the history and evolution of the security sector in Africa will to a significant extent help in understanding the nature of the security sector in Africa. Scholars have traced Africa’s security sector to the colonial era legacy in which the armies and regiments were ideologically attached to the colonizers and saddled with the responsibility of protecting the colonial territories instead of the people (Clarke 2008). Olonisakin (2011) argues further that the African state inherited its security sector from its colonial legacy with slight differences depending on the colonizing state. Accordingly, a key nature of the security establishment during the colonial era was the protection of the economic interest of the colonizing state, a feature that necessitated the subjugation of the colonial people. Consequently, the postcolonial political elites in Africa who inherited the postcolonial state continued in their stead with their authoritarian and oppressive government that upheld the security of the regime over the security of the state (Ball and Fayemi 2004). Alluding to this, Bryden and Chappius (2015) assert that Africa’s colonial legacy to its security sector has been one of resource extraction and heavy-handedness on the part of the state authority which was bequeathed to modern and postcolonial African security sector institutions. This is further worsened by a postindependence political governance system which is replete with regime protection, patronage, ineffective institutions, and absence of rule of law, in which the security sector served the interest of the state and the powers that be instead of the people. Apart from the politicization of the defense apparatus, other challenges facing the security and defense sector include a lack of military professionalism, high incidence of mutinies, human rights violations, obsolete missions and doctrines, diminishing capabilities, inadequate oversight, corruption, and a lack of transparency. Another legacy of the colonial era which has negatively impacted the security sector in the postindependence era is the reversal of the prominent role of women that

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existed in precolonial Africa. The emergence of the colonial state with its western liberal order constrained women to the margins and disrupted their hitherto prominent roles in political and socio-economic governance systems in majority of African countries. This reversal of roles and marginalization of women in political and governance processes continued into the postcolonial and postindependence era and clearly seen in the security sector. Security sector institutions clearly became a “no go area” for women as the profession particularly the military and police were majorly dominated by men and considered as “unsuitable” for the womenfolk. The colonial period in Africa also saw a reversal and disruption in the roles of women in political governance which existed in the precolonial period. An era in which history records one of gender parity and at times women’s authority over men (Achebe et al. 2018). Leadership and power were not alien to West Africa women in precolonial Africa, and women were actively engaged in political and socio-economic processes alongside the menfolk as their position was complementary, rather than subordinate, to that of men. Political power and authority was divided between West African men and women in what has been described as a dual-sex political system in which each sex managed and controlled their own affairs (Achebe et al. 2018). Accordingly, women occupied key leadership roles in their communities as community leaders and spiritual leaders. Examples include the Queen mother in Asanteland who were women co-rulers of Asanteland who derived their power from the matrilineal nature of social organization. Furthermore, African history also record that women were involved in combat several centuries ago. Some examples include in the first century C. E Arawelo, a Somali queen who hung rapists by their testicles and won wars with all female army; the Dahomey Amazons, all female elite warrior corps of the kingdom of Dahomey; Yaa Asantewa, the African queen mother of the Asante who led the wars of the Golden Stool rebellion against British colonialism; Queen Amina, the Nigerian warrior queen (Master List of Historical Women in Combat, n.d.). Female participation in political governance and decision making were however relegated to the margins in the postcolonial and postindependence era. The marginalization of women and domination by men thus became a key feature of the security sector institutions in postindependence African states. Globally, women are generally underrepresented in security sector institutions, Africa is however not an exception (Hendricks and Valasak 2010). Data on women in the security sector institution in most African countries are largely unavailable, and such information is usually not provided on the excuse of national security exigencies. Several years after the emergence of UNSCR 1325 calling for increased participation of women in peace and conflict initiatives including the security sector institutions, and with several African countries creating National Action Plans for the implementation of the resolutions, security sector institutions particularly the military and police are still majorly male dominated and considered unsuitable for women. In addition to the colonial legacy, some of the factors that account for the low participation of women in the security sector include the patriarchal nature of African societies. Patriarchy is a system of social stratification and differentiation on the basis of sex, which provides material advantages to males while simultaneously placing severe constraints on the roles and activities of females (Makama 2013). Patriarchy as a social

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system places men in a dominating position of authority, leadership, and superiority over women, in which men operate in public sphere of decision making and while women are confined to the private sphere of domestic responsibilities. Tradition and religion are factors that entrench male domination into the structure of social organization and institution at all levels of leadership. Patriarchy justifies the marginalization of women in education, economy, labor market, politics, business, family, domestic matters, and inheritance (Salaam 2003). Security sector institutions are therefore considered as being in the public sphere in which men operate. This stereotyping of women to a very large extent results in the stigmatization of women in such institutions which negatively impacts the recruitment and retention of women in security sector organizations. As a result of the cultural stereotyping of women, policy makers in security sector organizations in such countries limit the proportion of women recruited into the institutions compared to the men. Furthermore, women interested in joining such institutions are discouraged by family and friends, while those already recruited can sometimes face stigmatization. Closely related to this are cultural beliefs and gender stereotypes that label women as unsuitable for the security sector institutions for different reasons. This is particularly true for the military and police where the legitimate use of force or violence takes place. Gender stereotypes assume that women are innately peaceful, and as givers and nurtures of life, they should not be involved in violence or the taking of life. Cultural and gender stereotypes often tag women as too weak and feeble and lacking the physical strength required for such roles‚ and based on this are sometimes frowned upon when working in such security sector institution which are dominated by men (Whitworth 2005). For example, as of 2011, women represented an average of 9 percent of police forces globally (UN Women 2011). Critics of women in the security sector especially the military also argue that the very presence of women in the military diminishes the “espirit de corps” and social cohesion among the officers. Men on the other hand are considered as naturally aggressive and violent, characters that make them well suited for the security sector. Women therefore are seen as needing protection which the men are naturally endowed to provide security. As Carreiras and Kümmel (2008) observe: The military traditionalists primarily stress what they see as the perennial and genuine physical and psychological qualities of men such as aggressiveness, physical strength, action orientation, boldness, stamina, willingness to endure exposure to extreme physical danger and readiness to taking lives and withstand the bloody requirements of war. These are mirrored in the adherence to the myth of the genuinely peace-loving, passive, gentle and squeamish woman which denies these attributes to women and the female body and psyche. The military traditionalists then go on to say that women are the ones to be protected by men because of their family roles of child birth and child rearing.

In this vein Hendricks and Valasak (2010) posit that these gender roles which associate women with victimhood (security consumption) and men with threats to security and/or security provisioning limit women participation in the security sector. This stereotype to a large extent contributes to the low participation of women in the security sector institutions particularly military and police. The recruitment rate for

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women into these sectors is very low compared to the men, while the few ones that are recruited sometimes face stigmatization by the community. African countries have however put in place measures to increase the recruitment of more women into the security sector institutions with a view to ending the discrimination and ensuring women’s right full and equal participation in peace and security initiatives in line with the provisions of UNSCR 1325. Another challenge of women’s participation in the security sector is the gendered nature of security sector institutions and existence of discriminatory regulatory policies. Hendricks and Valasak (2010) argue that security sector institutions “are steeped in a sexist institutional culture that deeply influences the institutions’ doctrine and procedure, structures, personnel and operations.” Consequently, institutional environments which promote discriminatory attitudes, negative perceptions about women in security roles, and perpetuate stereotypes of female personnel, can deter women from joining and serving in the sector and affect their ability to fully contribute to the institutions in which they work (Bastick and Whitman 2013). In Nigeria the outdated Police Act of 1943 and other policy documents clearly encourages discrimination against women. The police act regulations 118–128 is replete with provisions that place police women at disadvantaged position to their male counterparts which can easily discourage women from getting recruited. For instance, only unmarried women are recruited into the force, and she can only get married after spending three years in the force. To get married, a female police officer must get permission, and the fiancé will be investigated (Egbuna 2019). (Furthermore, an unmarried female officer that gets pregnant is discharged from the Force (Nigeria Police Gender Policy 2010). In another vein, the few women that are employed in the security sector institutions are confronted with a wide range of challenges. And the few women who are employed in these institutions are confronted with wide-ranging challenges. Several reforms to integrate gender in the security sector in Africa and increase female participation in the sector which resulted from international policy frameworks such as UNSCR 1325 led to few number of women recruited especially into the police and military. Women recruited into security sector institutions face wide ranging challenging that limit their prospect for promotion such as formal and legal barriers in education, training, and professional opportunities. The gender based division of labor within such institutions results in female personnel occupying lower-ranking, administrative, and supporting roles, such as clerical, administrative, and health departments. These positions are regarded as feminine roles, while key strategic roles such as infantry and combat roles are left the men. This is a major hurdle in most militaries that hampers women’s progression to leadership positions which are only meant for officers with a combat experience. The existence of such legal and formal barriers hinders women’s promotion and progression to senior ranks in these institutions. The patriarchal nature of the African society further results in the situation whereby men dominate high ranking positions in the security sector organizations and women constituting the larger proportion of personnel in lower ranking positions. Indeed, scholars have argued that some of these reforms that bother on measures to increase the recruitment women into the security sector institutions especially the military and police have not achieved the needed institutional transformation as such increased measures have only perpetuated gender stereotypes within

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such institutions. Anderlini and Conaway (2004) have argued that in the initial Sierra Leonean postconflict police reform process where measures were put in place to ensure more female police officers and provision of gender training and establish institutional gender policies, it was discovered that the newly recruited female police officers were mostly saddled with the responsibility of cooking for their male colleagues. Other challenges faced by women in security sector include inadequate female friendly infrastructure such as female toilets, dormitories, and barracks; sexual harassment and bullying; and the lack of family friendly environment which distorts women’s care responsibilities at home. Security sector institutions demand long and irregular hours, frequent transfers away from home, and an inflexible working arrangement which negatively impacts women’s care giving responsibilities (Inclusive Security & DCAF 2017).

Security Sector Reform and Female Participation in the Security Sector Security sector reform in postconflict countries and developing countries is predicated on the need to professionalize the sector and make it more amenable to democratic and civilian control, transparency and accountability. According to the United Nations Secretary-General Report 2013, security sector reform is aimed at ensuring safety for the people through enhanced effectiveness and accountability of the security institutions operating under civillian controland within the ambit of the rule of law and human rights (UN 2013). Though widely contested in meaning and with several definitions in existence, security sector reform implies to a reform/correction of a dysfunctional security sector. In a similar vein, N’Diaye (2009) maintains that the concept presupposes a need for a systematic overhaul that affects the orientation, values, principles, and practice of the security sector. It generally refers to a comprehensive framework within which all or part of a state’s security sector undergoes a process of transformation in order to bring it more into line with principles such as democratic oversight, good governance and the rule of law (OECD DAC 2007). The integration of gender issues into SSR processes emerged in 2008 through the Report on security sector reform by the former Secretary-General Kofi Annan in which he averred that “...the integration of a gender perspective in security sector reform is inherent to an inclusive and socially responsive approach to security., . . .and is key to developing security sector institutions that are non-discriminatory, representative of the population and capable of effectively responding to the specific security needs of diverse groups” (UN Secretary-General Report 2008). The integration of gender issues in security sector reform processes and institutions have attracted widespread attention in recent times which has evolved from the recognition of the different ways men, women, boys, and girls are affected by conflict and wars, and the need for security sector institutions to effectively address and respond to these varying security needs and priorities of men and women. Consequently, socially constructed gender roles and stereotypes which portray women as the victims of insecurity and men as the aggressors and providers of security have

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determined women and men’s differential access to education, employment, political, and economic resources which all influence their security threats and their access to security and justice (Hendericks and Valasak 2010). A person’s gender (along with other characteristics, such as age, class, ethnicity/clan/tribe/caste, and sexual orientation) plays an important part in his or her own security needs. While a large proportion of the insecurity experienced by women include domestic violence, rape, and sexual violence, men’s experiences of insecurity are largely gun related deaths. Feminist researchers have argued that for the security to be inclusive, effective, and achieve positive outcome, gender has to be a critical factor in security and defense decision making and provisioning. The paradigm shifts in the conceptualization of security from state security to human security with the resulting focus on security of the individual have also necessitated a security sector that is focused on addressing individual security needs and concerns vis a vis the state. To this end, Arostegui (2015) avers that a security sector that is human security based recognizes the differing security needs and concerns of men, women, boy, and girls and seeks to address these needs at the same time ensuring the equal participation of men and women in security sector institutions. This essentially necessitates the reform of the security sector and the integration of gender perspectives in the security sector. Consequently, the integration of gender perspectives is essential because it is in line with the accepted human rights principle, as it engenders the equal participation of men and women in decision making processes which leads to better security outcomes, because integrating gender perspectives in the security sector increases operational effectiveness of such institutions (Arostegui 2015). In a similar vein, Alaga (2011) argues that notwithstanding the patriarchal nature of African societies, it is recognized that the integration of gender perspectives as a governance and human right principle in sectors including the security sector leads to several positive outcomes including enhancing operational effectiveness of security sector actors, through effectively addressing the varying security needs of the population, ensuring equal participation of women and men as security sector actors to mention only a few. In this vein, the integration of gender issues remains key to discourses and researches on security sector reforms in African countries. Wide range of researches and academic reports exists on the need and strategy of integrating gender in Africa’s security and justice sector. A sector that is largely dominated by men and women constrained to the margins of policy making and implementation on security discourses. Within the rubric of integration gender in security sector reform in Africa, civil society groups and women organizations have drawn attention to the need for the security needs and priorities of women as a group to be met by state security policies and institutions. Consequently, such issues as violence against women, human rights abuses by security sector personnel, and the impact of small-arms violence upon young men have been sought to be placed on national security agenda (Hendricks and Valasak 2010). Women account for about fifty percent of global population and possess critical skills essential to conflict management and therefore remain a major resource in achieving peace in our nations and indeed globally. To this end, the importance of the increased female participation in the security sector in Africa has

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been underscored in security discourses as essential to achieving sustainable and lasting peace. Traditionally, discourses that revolve around security, security sector institutions, actors, and policies have been dominated by men in Africa, and women left at the fringe of security development, management, and implementation. Consequently, the experiences, needs, interest of this large majority – women – have been under-representative in security sector policymaking and security sector institutions including the military particularly with regards to the development of national security sector policy and programming, international debates (Salahub 2011). However, integrating gender into security sector policy and provisioning has not achieved much in Africa, as women’s security needs and concerns remain at the margin of security policy and women are still very much underrepresented in security sector institutions. This is in spite of the wide ranging international, continental, regional, and indeed national policies calling for the integration of gender issues in peace and security processes and the full and equal participation of women in security mechanisms. Indeed Alaga (2009) bemoans the low level of achievement of women in security sector policymaking and implementations asserts that “an assessment of initiatives that have been aimed at integrating gender perspectives into security related policies and projects reveal that efforts in this area have been approached in a piecemeal manner; and centered around (a) policy review and/or development including the development of, for example, sexual harassment policies, institutional gender policies, enactment of rape law (as in Liberia), and/or the review of institutional policies to include gender-inclusive language; (b) gender training for security personnel; (c) the establishment of gender structures within security institutions such as specialized units, namely, the Women and Children Protection Unit; Family Violence, Child Protection and Sexual Offences Unit, Family Support Unit, and the Domestic Violence Victim Support Unit within the police forces in Liberia, South Africa, Sierra Leone and Ghana respectively to address issues of sexual and gender based violence; (d) drive to increase female enrolment within security institutions including through the application of quotas. Alluding to this, Edu-Afful (2013) states the Sierra Leonean police introduced a number of initiatives in its effort to implement the National Action Plan for Resolution 1325 and increase the number of female police officers and female officers in decision-making positions. These include, for instance, the Accelerated Promotion Scheme (APS) introduced in 2005, the decentralization of recruitment, and the lowering of entry requirements especially for female recruits. He further argues that the APS policy was unable to achieve its goal and generated bad blood and unhealthy competition between the male and female police officers, as the male officers refused to serve under the female officers.

Conclusion Women’s inadequate participation in the security sector in Africa has remained pervasive; this is in spite of the unique contributions women make to achieving security globally. This has disproportionately affected the way security sector

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institutions respond to and address the different needs of men and women in their societies. This remains a major challenge globally with Africa affected in particular. Although the security sector in Africa is carrying out reforms with a view to making institutions within the sector more transparent, accountable, and in line with democratic norms, the integration of gender issues into such security sector reform has also become rife. This is in line with the provisions of UNSCR 1325 and other international and regional legal framework that calls for the full and equal participation of women in peace and security mechanisms and the integration of gender perspectives in peace and security. However, in spite of these, security sector institutions are still dominated by men and the few women recruited are occupy lower ranking positions. To counter this, most African countries have resorted to initiatives that seek to increase the number of women in these institutions, but this has failed to holistically transform the sector and make it more effective in protecting the population equally. It is therefore pertinent that security sector institutions ensure a gender-sensitive environment and institutional culture devoid of discrimination and harassment. These institutions must also ensure the removal of formal and informal barriers to recruitment and promotion of women and develop programs that facilitate the recruitment, retention, and promotion of women and their inclusion in senior decision making positions.

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Gender Equality Policies and African Women: A Comparative Critique

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Kara Ellerby

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Scope of African Gender Equality Policies . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Understanding How Gender Equality Happens . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Development and Democracy? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Key(s) to Gender Equality: Institutions, Women, and Disruption . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Limits of Gender Equality Policy: Informal Barriers Matter . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Why Gender Equality Policy Will Not Create Gender Equality . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

Sub-Saharan African states have, by global standards, made greater advances in gender equality policy than anywhere else in the world. But despite such advances, African women are still lacking the material and political resources to really be equal. This chapter explores this paradox, examining the successes and challenges of African gender equality policy across the continent. By focusing on three policy areas of gender equality – women in government, women in the economy, and male violence against women – the scope of Africa’s commitment to addressing gender inequality is evident. I examine the three most common explanations for all of these gender equality policies, including institutional design, the role of women, and disruption or “flux” in regimes. I then argue that gender equality is often poorly implemented, in part because gender equality has come to mean “add women,” which leaves gendered institutions in place and only benefits some women. By examining how informal practices mar implementation, one can begin to see how adding women does not necessarily destabilize gender and may actually reinforce it to the detriment of women. I conclude K. Ellerby (*) University of Delaware, Newark, DE, USA e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_84

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by arguing for a re-framing of gender equality as women’s inclusion, seeking to foster further debate on if and how these policies can really help women achieve equality. Keywords

Gender equality · Representation · Violence against women · Economics · Women’s inclusion

Introduction As countries and global organizations continue to promote women and gender equality as essential to political stability, peace, growth, and development, it is worth reflecting on gender equality policies and their effects. While globally, the last 40 years have marked increased women’s representation, access to economies, and awareness of gender-based violence all over the world, no political region has made more significant improvements toward gender equality than Sub-Saharan Africa. The scale by which gender equality policies are pursued is impressive, the result of women activists’ tireless work in pressuring governments, international organizations, and their own “fellow” citizens to acknowledge the importance of women’s rights in the name of a powerful global norm of gender equality. Gender equality can be a rather amorphous term, often used to describe anything related to promoting women. In this chapter I will focus on gender equality policy, or the explicit and overt policies states adopt to promote women and their interests. In this capacity, I focus on three major areas of gender equality policy: women in government, women in the economy, and male violence against women. I will survey the extent to which African countries have adopted and implemented policies aimed at increasing women’s representation and their access to economic resources and to curb gender-based violence, like domestic abuse. General trends in Sub-Saharan Africa (SSA) mirror global gender equality shifts in that most countries have tried to adopt some or many policies aimed at improving women’s lives. Indeed, Sub-Saharan Africa – and the Global South more generally – are making faster transitions toward gender equality and are adopting policies and practices of women’s inclusion at much faster rates than their “Northern” counterparts. For example, Rwanda continues to have the highest percent of women in parliament, with 61% (Inter-Parliamentary Union 2018). Initially, Sub-Saharan African countries had some of the highest levels of property and employment discrimination laws in the world but have removed over half of these (HallwardDreimeier et al. 2013, 13). And most Sub-Saharan African states have criminalized at least some types of male violence against women. But even with the diffusion of so many woman-centered policies and a growing awareness of “gender equality,” the latest results are not so promising: nearly all of these policies have yet to reach satisfactory implementation levels. African women still only account for 23% of parliament members, which is only just above the global

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average (and only slightly higher than 10 years ago). 36.6% of African women have experienced and will experience gender-based violence in their lifetime, which is above the global average (World Health Organization 2013, 17). And women still account for the majority of the poor and consistently lack access to land and resources. Women produce more than 80% of the food in Africa, yet they own only 1% of the land (Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations 2011). To understand the disconnect between the systematic adoption of gender equality policy in Africa and its often slow effects, this chapter then complicates the meaning and practices of gender equality itself. To understand the disconnection between policy and results, I argue that since gender equality has come to mean primarily “add women,” it has obscured how gendered power dynamics shape policy implementation. In other words, adding women is not sufficient to change gender and indeed can sometimes actually reinforce gender differences to the detriment of women. This chapter first outlines the scope of both gender equality indicators and policies in Sub-Saharan Africa, comparing them to global trends. It then outlines the research on why gender equality policy gets adopted, focusing on three overarching factors: institutional design, the varying roles of women’s/feminist movements, and the role of sudden changes or flux to states. I then complicate “what we know” about African gender equality policy by exposing how issues of informal practices and beliefs result in policies having little or slow effects. This leads to the central argument that these informal politics, and thus gender equality policy, are shaped by gender and other hierarchical social identities (like race, ethnicity, class, and sexuality), which ultimately result in gender equality policy that promotes some women without necessarily disrupting gendered institutions. I conclude by arguing adding women is not sufficient to actually create gender equality in the African, or any, context.

The Scope of African Gender Equality Policies Gender equality policy varies across the continent, but in general, most African countries have adopted measures to promote women in government and the economy and criminalized some types of violence against women. This section outlines how African countries are doing in both the global context and the African context. In terms of women’s representation in parliament, one-third of those countries with 30% or more women in the world are Sub-Saharan African states (13 out of 38 states). African countries hover at the global average of 23%. This is driven in large part by the majority of African countries that have some type of sex quota, which has a significant impact on women’s representation. A quota entails “that women must constitute a certain number or percentage of the members of a body, whether it is a candidate list, a parliamentary assembly, a committee, or a government;” there are three types of quotas, including reserved seat quota, legal candidate quotas, and voluntary political party quotas (Quota Project 2018). According to Fig. 1, in 2018, out of 45 countries included for study, 35 have some type of quota. For these states

432 Fig. 1 Average Percent of Women in Parliament in SubSaharan African States

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30 25 20 15 10 5 0 Legislative Voluntary Reserved Seat No quota (10 Quotas (13 Political Party Quotas (12 countries) countries) Quotas (10 countries) countries) Average Percent of Women in Parliament

with quotas, the average percent of women ranges from 22% to 26%; states without quotas average about only one-half of that with 13%. Clearly quotas matter for promoting African women into parliament. While the global average for women cabinet ministers in 2017 was 18.3% (UN Women 2018, “Facts and Figures”), the average for African states was 20% (Nwankwor 2014). Today six African countries have over 30% women cabinet ministers: Rwanda’s cabinet includes 11 women out of 20 (6 of these ministers are new and 5 of those are women) and Ethiopia’s new cabinet is 50% women (Kagire 2017; Schemm 2018). In South Africa, 46% of President Cyril Ramaphosa’s cabinet are women (Gender Links 2018). Zambia has one-third women cabinet ministers, and the prevailing global average of women cabinet ministers is about 22% (Pather 2016). And finally, while globally there are 20 countries (non-island states) with women heads of state, only one is currently serving in Africa: Prime Minister Saara Kuugongelwa in Namibia (Wikipedia 2018). And finally, new research on African women in the judiciary indicates the number of women judicial leaders has grown over time, and women have held the highest court positions in Ghana, Nigeria, Benin, Niger, and Rwanda (Dawuni and Kang 2015). The second area of gender equality is in economic rights. Women’s economic rights are defined as policy objectives meant to ensure women’s inclusion in processes that improve access to a basic standard of living and income: these include rights regarding employment, property, and financial independence. Overall, women’s economic rights lag everywhere in the world. The World Economic Forum’s (WEF) “Gender Gap Report 2017” measures “Economic Participation and Opportunity,” which looks at the economic gap between men and women’s economic well-being. In 2017 the WEF noted this gap is actually increasing and

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averages 42%, which is the greatest it has been since they began measuring it in 2008. At this current rate it would take 217 years to close this gap (World Economic Forum 2018). In all regions of the world, women still do more unpaid work than men (UN Women 2011, 105). And when combining both productive and reproductive labor, women everywhere work more than men (World Bank 2012, 198). In SubSaharan Africa, there is already a high level of women participating in the labor force, and in Mozambique, Burundi, Malawi, and Rwanda, there are more women in the labor force than men (World Economic Forum 2018). A look at the promotion of economic rights indicates Sub-Saharan Africa continues to follow similar patterns. Based on new data from the World Bank’s “Women, Business and the Law,” most African states have removed barriers from women’s full participation in the economy. As evidenced in Fig. 2, most states have legal policies protecting women’s access to jobs and inheritance. However, less than half of Sub-Saharan countries legally protect wage equality. In Hallward-Driemeier et al.’s 2013 study of economic rights, Sub-Saharan Africa had the most constraints on women’s economic rights but has also reformed the most, again showing much quicker improvements than even OECD states. In Ethiopia, where family laws were reformed in 2000, researchers have found that female participation in the labor force increased in more “productive sectors” (Hallward-Driemeier and Hassan 2012). One study found by improving women’s property rights in Burkina Faso and reallocating land and fertilizer from men to women, agricultural production increased by 6% without any more resources (Udry et al. 1995). Central explanations for why states promote greater economic rights for women focus on increasingly democratized and secular political institutions, regime changes, and transnational pressure (HallwardDriemeier et al. 2013; Giri 2012; Sweeney 2007). The final issue area of gender equality discussed in this chapter is (male) violence against women policy. Today most states have passed at least some policies criminalizing male violence against women (about 95%), and among these a significant minority have addressed all four main forms of violence against women (sexual violence, domestic violence, sexual harassment, and trafficking of women). Forty-

Fig. 2 Economic Rights for Women in Sub-Saharan African States

434 Fig. 3 Sub-Saharan African States According to How Many Types of Violence Against Women Policies They Have

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2 20%

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two percent of countries have legislation dealing with all four forms of violence against women, and 26% have addressed three categories, meaning today, two-thirds of states have institutionalized violence against women policy within their legal systems. In Sub-Saharan African states (out of a study of 37), all had criminalized some form of violence (domestic, sexual, harassment, trafficking), and 40% had criminalized all four forms, which is about the same as the global average, as indicated in Fig. 3. Based on the World Bank’s data, which included 46 states, only 54% of African states actually criminalize domestic violence (World Bank 2018).

Understanding How Gender Equality Happens To better understand how gender equality policy happens, I focus on three interdependent factors that explain changes in policy regarding women. The first factor is the structure of government institutions or the way institutions are designed that shape the likelihood of gender equality policy getting adopted. The second factor includes the nature of the feminist/women’s movement, and the third factor is the role of disruption and change to opportunity structures within countries. These factors account for the adoption of policies in all three issue areas and thus are central for understanding how gender equality happens. But before assessing these factors, it is worth attending to factors that do not seem to matter for the promotion of gender equality policy: economic development and democracy.

Development and Democracy? While some research has found higher levels of economic growth are correlated with women’s rights cross-nationally (Hughes 2009; Viterna and Fallon 2008), other studies do not find any clear causal relationship between the adoption of gender equality policies and levels of economic development (Bauer and Tremblay 2011, 180; Thames and Williams 2013, 68; Weldon and Htun 2013). Aili Tripp has noted that while economic growth can create more stability, post-conflict African states in particular do not follow this same path to quotas and other gender equality policies (Tripp 2015, 213). Gender equality policies and practices appear across a range of

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types of states – as evidenced by most African countries having these policies in their legal codes. There are patterns to when states adopt gender equality policy, as they seem to cluster geographically and following specific conventions and conferences, like 1995 Beijing Women’s Conference (Ellerby 2017; Tripp 2015). Indeed, African countries in the lead up to Beijing noted that they needed to adopt a “gender perspective” in these issues (UN Commission on the Status of Women 1994). Norway, Sweden, and Finland were among the first to have some form of sex quota in the early 1970s and among the first to mandate parity in cabinets in the early 1990s (Lovenduski 2005). But after the 1990s, Latin America and Sub-Saharan Africa emerged as leaders in women’s representation through the implementation of stronger quotas. Sub-Saharan Africa has more reserved seat quotas and ranks among the highest percent of women in government globally. While Western Europe has had the most female national leaders, Eastern Europe, Latin America, and SubSaharan Africa are not far behind. In comparing the “Global North” and “Global South,” the Global South has had more female leaders (based on Jalalzai and Krook 2010 data). While Sub-Saharan Africa had the most constraints on women’s economic rights in the 1960s and 1970s (many remnants of colonial rule), they have also reformed the most, indicating a much quicker improvement than OECD states. The World Bank has noted that “improvements [for women] that took 100 years in wealthier countries took just forty years in some low and middle-income countries. Change has been accelerating” (World Bank 2012, 56). Violence against women policies do not appear to be tied to level of economic growth or democracy, either. Laurel Weldon and Mala Htun’s 2013 article using their “Index of Government Response to Violence Against Women” found wealth, and length of democratic governance do not account for government responses to adopting anti-violence policy. Another study they published in 2012 found wealth did not predict when women would organize to combat violence. Democracy and democratization are a bit more complicated. While there does not seem to be a clear or causal relationship between democracy, democratization, and gender equality, some improvement in democratic institutions like elections, courts, and constitutions can matter for particular aspects of gender equality policy (Blankenship and Kubicek 2018). Weldon and Htun’s 2012 article on violence against women policy noted that democracy only had a minor effect on whether women organized to promote anti-violence policy, so women may organize in both democratic and less democratic states to demand gender equality. In this sense, democracy itself doesn’t shape gender equality policy but improved strength and openness in government institutions that make space for women’s contestation and participation can (Walsh 2011). It is important to address these theories/beliefs that economic development and democracy are the main causes of gender equality because they often rely upon troubling assumptions about which states can actually achieve equality or innovate it. Specifically, there is a lurking belief that because Sub-Saharan Africa is less economically developed and democratic than its “Northern” counterparts, it somehow cannot have the same types of gender equality found in more developed and

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democratic states. It also ignores that North America and Western Europe have had decades (centuries) to promote gender equality; and no other continent or set of countries started as a greater deficit than Sub-Saharan Africa because of colonial rule. Since most African states were colonies until the 1960s and later, the rate at which they have promoted gender equality is really unprecedented. Since such countries were not even making policy, voting, or constituting their own governments, Africa’s trajectories for adopting gender equality means they have done in 50 years what has taken Western Europe 200+ years to achieve. As Gretchen Bauer and Faith Okpotor (2013) noted in their study of African women in cabinets, African had political power in precolonial times, but “it is generally regarded that colonial rule brought about an overall decline in the position of women, at least relative to that of men.”

The Key(s) to Gender Equality: Institutions, Women, and Disruption While economic development and democracy do not explain African gender equality policy, there are some factors that reach across both varying African states and these varying approaches to gender equality: institutional design, the role of women’s movements, sociopolitical disruptions, or fluctuating “political opportunity structures.” The first factor, institutional design, affects all gender equality policies and practices. The structure of governments and their political processes – electoral processes, power and autonomy of particular offices, and free and open offices – matters. This is because design features shape access for women to the types of power and resources required to change political institutions and pass laws. For example, most studies for why women have more representation, and subsequently under what conditions quotas work, focus on electoral system type, procedural recruitment, and the role of political parties (Bauer 2016; Bauer and Tremblay 2011; Jalalzai 2010; Kittilson and Schwindt-Bayer 2010; Krook 2009; Krook and O’Brien 2012). Institutional design also matters for the executive branch. Coalition-based governments, where cabinets are also generated from multiple parties, tend to promote fewer women (Krook and O’Brien 2012); among African states, coalitions based on politicized ethnic groups tend to have fewer women (Arriola and Johnson 2014). According to Gretchen Bauer and Manon Tremblay (2011), cabinets may be “generalist or “specialist,” which affects the number of women. Generalist states (usually parliamentary systems), whereby women cabinet ministers are selected from parliamentary caucuses, have fewer women than Specialist states where women are recruited selected from outside parliament (more common in presidential systems) (Bauer and Okpotor 2013). These studies explain that generalist states have fewer women because there are fewer women from whom to choose (as they are usually selected from parliament where women are almost always fewer in number), and specialist states have more women because the president has more power to appoint outside of government. Evidence from Sub-Saharan Africa supports this thesis (Bauer and Okpotor 2013), where states with more women cabinet ministers were

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more likely to be specialist systems. For women in the judiciary, women are becoming judges in different types of legal systems, including common and civil law systems; systems that “fused,” or did not distinguish between barristers and solicitors, have more women judges (Dawuni and Kang 2015). The authors posit this has to do with selection processes for judgeships, whereby systems that do not differentiate types of lawyers create a larger pool for candidates, including women. Institutional design also matters for the other gender equality policies discussed here, including economic rights and violence against women policy. While there’s less systematic research on what explains improved women’s economic rights, democratizing institutions still matters. The research on women’s economic rights as part of gender equality also tends to identify how democratizing institutions may make women a more important voting bloc, so their demands for economic rights are more likely to be addressed as countries become more democratic (Sweeney 2007, 234). In particular, changing legal systems seem to really affect property, inheritance, and employment laws for women. The increase in the number of states with civil law rather than family and customary legal systems has meant changes in women’s access to property, inheritance, and employment (Hallward-Driemeier et al. 2013, 10). Women have organized to advocate when constitutions are being written, and new laws put in place to ensure access to land recognize women (Tripp 2005). And for violence against women laws, a women’s bureau or policy agency is key. In 2013, 34 African states had a women’s ministry, and all but Zambia had a woman running it (Bauer and Okpotor 2013). These women’s agencies correct for “gender bias” in institutions by shifting focus and priorities beyond men (McBride and Mazur 2010; Weldon 2002, 5). The second key factor in explaining African gender equality policy (and gender equality policy anywhere) is the prevalence and power of the women’s/feminist movements in a given country. Activist women are responsible for all gender equality policy discussed in this chapter. While it may be no surprise that women’s groups are often the main organizers for gender equality policy, the nature of the movements and their relationship to government institutions can matter and often exert the needed pressure on male-dominated institutions to create significant changes. In Ghana, an autonomous women’s movement like the Women’s Manifesto Coalition help explain the large number of women in cabinets because they directly pressured leaders and held them accountable for their promises (Adams et al. 2016). A strong women’s movement also matters for the presence of women judges at the highest levels (Dawuni and Kang 2015). In cases where democratic transitions do not result in fast adoption of gender equality policy, a strong women’s movement can actually speed the process up (Viterna and Fallon 2008). In several African postconflict peace processes, an organized women’s group was central to advocating for gender equality policies during peace processes, including in Sudan (Darfur), Uganda, Burundi, and the Democratic Republic of Congo (Ellerby 2016). There is also a lot of evidence that strong women’s movements in Africa often result directly from their organizing during conflict and after (Tripp 2015, 37). In regard to economic rights, women’s gains in Africa have been much slower than their political rights. This does not mean women are not active in promoting

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their rights, but that this advocacy is seen as a more direct challenge to gender roles and relations (Tripp 2005). It may also be the case women’s groups advocate for economic rights after they advocate for other types of rights. For example, in Liberia, women demanded more economic rights after they had secured more peace and humanitarian aid (Tripp 2015, 108). While the World Bank and other IOs have advocated for customary land tenure systems in Africa (based on a belief that land titling and privatization under colonialism were bad for women), African women have actually organized against some customary land laws that shape their right to own, inherit, and purchase property. Importantly, women are organizing because customary laws are being selectively enforced to the detriment of women, often steeped in religious and patriarchal ideas surrounding divorce and inheritance. They have also organized to fight where land privatization has privileged companies and large landowners (Tripp 2005). For example, Ugandan women advocated during the creation of the constitution and Land Act in 1998 to make sure their rights and interest were included; similar activism has occurred in Tanzania, Zambia, Namibia, and Kenya where women have built coalitions among different landless groups to advocate for rights (ibid). More recent research on women in post-conflict Africa (2015) notes that women who organize during conflict for social change were often motivated by their changing economic status. Because their economic roles in the family and community changed, they began demanding more rights, presumably increased property and employment opportunities; there is evidence in some African peace processes that women are advocating for these very rights (Ellerby 2013). It is worth noting, however, that while research on how women advocate for their political rights is ample, there’s less information on how women organize and advocate for their economic rights could be an important gap in the literature or, perhaps, gap in the activism of women. This could be due to the challenges in changing laws tied to material resources, whereas political rights are often argued as more symbolic. As will later be discussed, women often have property, inheritance, and employment rights but may feel pressured into not exercising those rights. In understanding violence against women policy, the most important factor in any state having adopting violence against women laws is an active and autonomous domestic feminist movement (Htun and Weldon 2012; Weldon and Htun 2013). In Ghana, women’s groups including the Domestic Violence Bill Coalition and the Women’s Manifesto Coalition pushed for domestic violence legislation (Adams et al. 2016). The final factor that is particularly important in the African context is the disruption to the status quo, or what is sometimes referred to as “changing political opportunity structures” (Bauer 2016). These disruptions to opportunity structures may take various forms, including democratic transitions, ending conflict, changes in leadership, or outside influence and/or impositions. Conflict remains one of the most prominent explanations for changes to gender equality in Africa. That is because disruptions to the status quo can generate windows of opportunity for women to organize and create change without fighting deeply entrenched power structures – and conflict often deeply affects power structures. The “first wave” of African states to adopt quotas (in the 1990s to early 2000s) was almost

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entirely post-conflict and post-transition countries (Bauer 2016; Ellerby 2015; Hughes and Tripp 2015). In some cases, post-conflict peace agreements explicitly include gender quotas as part of their peacebuilding and democratization efforts (Ellerby 2013). Countries in transitions want to design institutions to recognize underprivileged groups within society as a way to legitimate states’ emerging democracy (Bauer and Britton 2006; Towns 2010; Waylen 2007). Women executives have disproportionately come from post-conflict states and are more likely to run for executive office as well; and states with higher numbers of women cabinet members are also usually post-conflict states (Tripp 2015, 199–201). Seventy-five percent of post-conflict African states have (male) violence against women laws compared to 50% of non-conflict countries (Tripp 2015, 220). Post-conflict countries also have fewer property and land laws than non-post-conflict countries (page 226). Democratizing changes without conflict can also matter. Later quota adopters, or “second wave” adopters like Senegal, Tanzania, and Zimbabwe, are not promoting quotas as part of transitions, but they have been adopted during periods of reforms, including to constitutions (Bauer 2016). Larger changes in the number of women in cabinets also coincide with the political transitions starting in the early 1990s in which women embedded themselves as relevant and central actors in newly emerging governments (Tripp 2001; Bauer and Okpotor 2013). Democratic transitions remain an important explanation in the promotion of many of these policies, though the effects may not be immediate; in the case of women in parliament or congresses, it may take a while for democracy to have an impact (Paxton et al. 2010). Another form of disruption may come from “outside” African states, by which they are influenced by global processes. In all of these gender equality policies, transnational feminism, international diffusion, global learning, and sharing have mattered for African states adopting their own gender equality policy (see Adams and Kang; Bauer and Okpotor 2013, Tripp et al. 2009; Tripp 2015). Transnational feminist movements support local actors to pressure for change and promote international norms in ways domestic actors cannot ignore them (Blankenship and Kubicek 2018; Braun and Dreiling 2018; Tripp 2015). As previously stated, these three factors are interdependent. For example, often women and feminist movements may originate when states are in conflict and gain momentum to create change after conflict. Also, government institutions may then be re-designed in ways amenable to gender equality in ways they could not before. Rwanda’s approaches to gender equality, including 60% women in parliament and advanced economic and anti-violence laws, all happened after the egregious genocide in 1994. Women organized to seek power and prevent further conflict, utilizing that time to make changes for themselves and their country.

The Limits of Gender Equality Policy: Informal Barriers Matter While we know a lot about the conditions under which African states adopt more gender equality policy, lurking underneath all of this knowledge is the reality that (most) women still remain more excluded, insecure, and poorer than (most) men.

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When one looks at why institutional design, women’s movements, and changing opportunity structures matter, informal beliefs and barriers emerge in shaping how gender equality policy actually works. In other words, the rules may formally promote equality, but their actual implementation may not meet those standards. It is important to offer this more critical reading of gender equality in order to move the conversations and policies beyond the assumption that simply adopting gender equality is enough to actually promote gender equality. Rather, policies must be constantly engaged with and monitored in order to create meaningful effects. In terms of women’s representation in government, women are more likely to get into power in any office if these following conditions are met: the office is less competitive, prestigious, and appointed; women have more connections and “qualifications” than their male counterparts; other women are already present; the status quo is disrupted. None of these factors are formal or legal rules per se, but they do reflect the realities of power and gender among both men and women and the institutions in which they operate. And all of these factors bound the degree to which women can successfully navigate male-dominated institutions. Women in African parliaments are more likely to be found in lower chambers of parliament, less prestigious cabinet ministries, and lower courts. “Gatekeepers,” or those people appointed at powerful positions in appointment and selection processes in political parties and political offices, can really shape women’s access to said offices (Dawuni and Kang 2015). Another important factor is related to women themselves. Political office can only be held by a few, and if resources matter for obtaining office, then the pool of women who may achieve it is quite small. Women’s success as cabinet members may be shaped by the political networks they have access to, particularly civil society, media, and opposition parties (Nwankwor 2014). For women to have time, connections and material resources often means being located in urban capitols to participate, so geography also matters. Women’s success in the economy is also shaped by informal barriers and beliefs. Despite most states having changed laws on women’s access and rights to land, and employment, African women accounted for, on average, 24% of landholders (Doss et al. 2013). And 70% of women working do so in vulnerable employment (compared to 51% of men) (Anyanwu and Augustine 2013). These are usually lowerwage sectors, such as selling goods or working informally as domestic help. Again, the point is that despite the rules clearing the way for women to own more land and participate in the formal economy on equal footing, it is not happening. For example, within agricultural production, there are informal barriers, such as what sorts of crops one produces and whether or not these are for sale. Men tend to produce and control cash/commercial crops, while women engage in much more subsistence farming (Giri 2012; World Bank 2012). Women also earn less from farm output when crops are sold (World Bank 2012, 227). Changing property laws and emphasis on cash crops increases value of land, making it more appealing for men to keep land for their own cash crops or sell it, which actually displaces women (Budlender and Alma 2011).

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Another one of the major informal barriers to women’s economic rights has to do with the degree to which states privilege customary/family law over civil/statutory legal codes. As previously stated, customary legal systems may actually hurt women because they often rely on informal and community-based arrangements for allocating land. There are a growing number of states recognizing customary laws without including or enforcing anti-discrimination policies as part of it. And in some places customary law was shaped by colonial practices, so in some cases, there is little distinction between customary and civil legal codes because both were shaped by colonialism (Thipe 2013). A recent study noted more African states have been offering constitutional exemptions from equality and nondiscrimination laws in customary legal frameworks in SubSaharan Africa. There are actually more exemptions now than in 1960 (HallwardDriemeier et al. 2013, 15). In studies in Sub-Saharan Africa, women did not know there were statutory laws giving them land rights; in some cases even when women had the titles to land, power dynamics within the family and communities negatively impacted women’s access to this land (Budlender and Alma 2011, 41). In South Africa, even when women were aware of their land rights (still guaranteed under customary law by the South African Bill of Rights equality clause), they were often “thwarted by traditional leaders who insisted that land be acquired through men” (Thipe 2013). This same research found that women’s claims to land were often subject to the informal, gendered beliefs of traditional leaders (Dlamini 2012 cited from Thipe 2013). Researchers also found families did not want to give young unwed daughters or widows land because they may (re)marry, and the property could then be used by another man’s family (Budlender and Alma 2011, 42). According to one group working in Kenya with young AIDS widows, inheritance was often contested by in-laws despite being guaranteed by law (ibid). In terms of combating violence against women, one of the biggest informal barriers is the “leaky justice” pipeline: justice remains elusive as incidents of violence move through a system of reporting and prosecuting. Issues such an under-reporting and attrition with regard to rape cases are an issue everywhere in the world, including Africa. In one study out of South Africa, only 17% of reported rape cases went to trial, and of all reported assaults, only 4% resulted in convictions (UN Women 2011, 51). The United Nations report titled, “In Pursuit of Justice,” notes: While law is intended to be a neutral set of rules to govern society, in all countries of the world, laws tend to reflect and reinforce the privilege and the interests of the powerful, whether on the basis of economic class, ethnicity, race, religion or gender. Justice systems also reflect these power imbalances. (UN Women 2011, 11)

The other major informal barrier in dealing with violence is the fact that it apparently must be women to make it an issue. Because an active and autonomous feminist movement is the key explanation for violence against women policy, it stands to reason that such policies only work or get adopted if women make it an issue. This means men do not make male violence against women a priority, despite being the main source of the problem. Again, there are no formal rules or procedures standing in the way of men’s activism on this issue, but informal beliefs and ideas about this as a “women’s issue” shape these outcomes.

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Why Gender Equality Policy Will Not Create Gender Equality While Africa’s gender equality policy has made significant strides rather quickly compared to other parts of the world, it is still mired in similar issues: despite policies being adopted, women are still poor, unsafe, and not in power. This disconnect between policy and outcome, while tied to informal barriers and beliefs previously discussed, is ultimately shaped by a powerful dynamic that policy alone has not adequately disrupted: gender. Informal barriers and beliefs exist because gender informs how we think, act, and interact. Gender, when used in the phrase, “gender equality,” does not adequately engage with the political history of the concept as a way of focusing on and contesting the socially constructed power dynamics based on ideas about masculinities and femininities. To address these discrepancies, some have argued that today’s gender equality policy, focusing on promoting women in government and economy and criminalizing violence directed at women, falls below the threshold of gender or equality (Arat 2015; Ellerby 2017). Rather, the “gender” in “gender equality” usually means some form of “add women,” while equality is something less than 50%. Women’s inclusion better describes most of these efforts in two ways. First, it acknowledges that policies almost exclusively focus on women – getting women into office and jobs and legal codes. And secondly it sets a lower numerical position than equal, which is inclusion. Thus, while many countries in the world, African states among them, are avidly working to promote women’s inclusion, it is only a partial response to women’s subjugation; it is a necessary yet insufficient condition to actually promote more radical and revolutionary gender equality (Ellerby 2017). Gender and gender equality are now shortcuts: they signify power dynamics without interrogating how those power dynamics operate. Gender has a long history as a feminist intervention against the old ideas that men and women are inherently and essentially different, and those differences are rooted in our biological sex. Feminist gender was a way to challenge this way of thinking by focusing on how what we take for granted is actually socially constructed and reinforces hierarchies based on perceived rather than real differences. Feminist gender is an analytical tool to dissect and complicate how people, institutions, and ideas rely upon and reinforce gendered binaries that generally privilege (many) men over (many) women. Gendered binaries (such as masculine-feminine, rational-emotional, powerful-weak, breadwinner-homemaker) are not just about male-female or man-woman but how particular ideas about masculinities and masculinized institutions are privileged and valued over ideas about femininity and feminized institutions. These values produce gender roles – or behaviors based on gendered binaries – and are intensely powerful despite policies meant to challenge them. Why does this matter? The justifications for women’s inclusion/gender equality are actually (re)enforcing the very gender roles and gendered binaries they are meant to challenge. Women’s inclusion is often promoted because governments, legal systems, and economies expect women to employ either feminized/feminine values or sometimes present masculinized/masculine values. In other words, women are expected to either behave like women or like men, but this still leaves gendered

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category in place and women trying to navigate them. When women occupy these binaries, it does not necessarily destabilize them. For example, gender matters in understanding why labor is so often sex-segregated: when certain jobs exclude women, they often do so primarily based on assumptions about masculinities and femininities. As the UN Women 2015 report states: “The labor market [and] stereotypes about suitable occupations for women and men serve to maintain the existing gender division of labor” (UN Women 2015, 33). For example, women are discouraged (and sometimes formally excluded) from certain jobs based on beliefs about what is physically and/or morally harmful for women. Based on the World Bank data on women’s employment restrictions, 60% of Sub-Saharan African states restrict the jobs women do in some capacity: nearly 35% of countries restrict women from “hazardous” jobs, 20% restrict women from “morally inappropriate” jobs, and around 30% of states do not let women work the same construction, mining, or factory jobs as men. This matters because these jobs are often higher paying than agricultural or social service work, putting women at a structural disadvantage because of the ideas about what constitutes masculinefeminine and “women’s” work. Women’s representation is another area where the logic for including women often reinforces gendered binaries. The World Bank publications (2006, 2012) promote women’s access to public office by claiming that women in office are less corruptible and “women are more community-oriented and selfless than men.” The World Bank cites research that women are generally less likely to take or pay bribes, and that “corruption falls as the proportion of parliamentary seats held by women rises” (World Bank 2006). While these seem like important reasons why women should be in government, what is missing is any discussion of why women are more trustworthy public officials or why men lack the same virtues, which would require looking at the power dynamics of gender in governing institutions. African countries thus may promote women in government as a signal of good governance, rather than a legitimate belief in justice and equality. Even male violence against women policy does little to challenge gender. Global organizations are imploring states to fight violence because it is costly: “This underscores that the loss due to domestic violence is a significant drain on an economy’s resources” (World Bank 2013). But mandating/suggesting states deal with this violence as an economic cost and not one of shared humanity, and equality obscures the causes of violence against women, which are toxic masculinities. And importantly, such logics ignore strong evidence than changing global markets and emerging global preferences for women’s (cheap, informal, unorganized) labor are upending familial orders that may actually promote more violence against women (True 2012).

Conclusion The goals for this chapter were to present, and then complicate, the narrative around gender equality both globally and in Sub-Saharan Africa. SSA, on average, promotes gender equality at the same levels as anywhere else in the world. It is remarkable in

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the sense that the continent did so in a much shorter time period than its counterparts of the “Global North” and did so while dealing with the enormous structural deficits created by colonialism. In this sense, SSA is a leader of gender equality because they skipped the generations of feminist and political fighting other places had to. In some capacities, Africa is a leader of gender equality: more than 25% of states have over 30% women in government, and Rwanda has been number one in the world with over 60% women in government for over 10 years. But in other ways, Africa still lags, particularly in job rights and domestic violence laws. While most states are criminalizing male violence against women, it is usually sexual violence and female genital mutilation (based on World Bank and UN Women data). But this leaves the everyday violence many women experience as normalized and acceptable: that will not lead to a more gender equal world. While Sub-Saharan Africa is well on its way to promoting more women in maledominated and valued spaces, it is important to engage such changes with a critical eye. It matters because despite more women in government and the economies of Africa, and better laws to curb male violence, women’s inequality is still so pervasive. It is worth asking if these policies are enough to radically shift power dynamics in any country. By focusing on these policies as women’s inclusion, rather than gender equality, it also opens the conversation to what policies could eradicate gendered binaries or create a space for valuing femininities? What policy innovations are happening in African states right now that destabilize gender order in ways scholars and practitioners may not know? Engaging with these questions may begin to push our understanding of what is possible for women and men in Africa and beyond.

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Women, Quotas, and Affirmative Action Policies in Africa

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Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Affirmative Action Debate . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Successes and Failures of Gender Quotas as Affirmative Action for Women in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

This chapter focuses on gender quotas as affirmative action policies in Africa. It examines the various debates on affirmative action and analyses the arguments in favor of and against its adoption. It establishes that trends in women’s descriptive or numerical representation in parliament differ across countries on the African continent as a result of the differences in perception of states on the need to integrate affirmative action into the political discourse. The adoption of affirmative action policies has brought about significant increases for women on the political terrain, with women’s representation in parliament rising above 30 percent in some Eastern and Southern countries of Africa, followed by countries in West and Central Africa, and then North Africa. The chapter concludes that though some African countries including Rwanda, Senegal, South Africa, and Uganda, among others, have the world’s highest rates of representation in parliament as a result of the adoption of affirmative action policies, there is still a long way to go on the continent, and progress is slow as a result of the unfavorable disposition of many countries to women’s descriptive representation. Additionally, beyond descriptive representation, progress needs to be made on substantive representation so as to be able to translate the gains of the increase into changing the status and lives of women. The chapter recommends that African states that A. Okedele (*) Political Science Department, Tai Solarin College of Education, Ijebu Ode, Ogun State, Nigeria © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_80

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have laws that stipulate specific quotas for women should establish agencies specifically assigned to scrutinize as well as monitor the implementation of affirmative action by political parties and other institutions, among others. Keywords

Women · Affirmative action · Quotas · Representation · Africa

Introduction In the last few decades, issues that have to do with women and their rights have gained prominence on the global agenda. There is an increased awareness of the disadvantaged and unequal status between men and women. Although the social and economic positions of women have improved in many societies as a result of higher levels of female literacy and education, they still lag behind in political positions in many established democracies for a variety of reasons (Dahlerup 2013; Karam 1998; United Nations Women 2000). To a large extent, discrimination against women accounts for their underrepresentation in leadership and decision-making positions. The underrepresentation of women in leadership and decision-making positions is traceable to the inadequacies of existing national laws as well as those that are pernicious to the welfare of women. Over the last few decades, there has been increasing emphasis on granting women access to decision-making, and this has been largely advocated for by international bodies and local women’s movements, demanding a minimum of 30 percent representation for women in leadership positions (Cheeseman et al. 2017; Hailu 2017; Ndlovu and Mutale 2013). The minimum of 30 percent representation often regarded as the “critical mass” of women as opined by Dahlerup (1988) is needed to bring about a difference on the political terrain. In essence, for the impact of women to be felt in politics, it is important that they constitute at least 30 percent of the total representation. Discriminatory acts and practices experienced by women on the political terrain unlike their male counterparts account for the low female political participation in most African states. These various discriminatory acts have led to the advocacy for women empowerment and the clamor that these should be addressed by policy makers. Against this backdrop, several strategies have been designed to give women a decisive political breakthrough. A key way suggested for policy makers to address these discriminatory acts is through affirmative action legislations and policies. Legislation is a key driver of female representation, and through the adoption of affirmative action policies, African governments are taking action to increase women’s participation in decision-making by reserving seats and quotas for female candidates in parliament. Affirmative action is intended for greater representation which will increase the bargaining power of women and ultimately empower them so that their voices can be heard. While some scholars like Weiss (1997) view affirmative action as a means of reducing poverty and increasing diversity, other scholars are of the opinion that it is a

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subtle, proactive, organized, and gradual system of getting equity and liberation without the use of force but built on positive policies of government to compensate for past discrimination (Barnes and Burchard 2013). There are various types of affirmative action policies. Some are known as strong preferential treatment and others as weak preferential treatment. Affirmative action policies known as strong preferential treatment are the ones that focus on groups such as women groups, and an example of this are gender quotas that specify that a minimum number of seats be reserved for women while giving considerations to qualifications only within the underrepresented group (Faniko et al. 2017). Faniko et al. (2017) explain further that the weak preferential treatment gives consideration to individual merit, and in this case, preference is given to women over men only in situations where their qualifications are equivalent. In most countries of the world, Tripp and Kang (2008) have argued that electoral gender quotas have been the mostly adopted affirmative action measures to increase the representation of women. The development of gender quotas as a mechanism for promoting female political engagement and representation has gathered international momentum over the last few decades as one of the most effective strategies for increasing the number of women in parliament by promoting a level playing field between men and women in political life (Ellerby 2011). Gender quota initiatives could be gender quota laws, voluntary party quotas, or reserved seats, and these have been commonly used in Africa (Bauer 2012; Kang 2013). Such measures have been a vital first step toward gender equality, and in this chapter, unless otherwise stated, gender quotas are equated to mean affirmative action measures. Given this context, this chapter examines the various debates on affirmative action, goes on to focus on the successes and challenges of affirmative action policies for women in Africa, and concludes on the note that some African countries have the world’s highest rates of representation in parliament, though there is still a long way to go on the continent, as progress is still slow. To end the chapter, plausible recommendations are proposed, including the need for women politicians and parliamentarians to continue to increase awareness on the need for affirmative policies for women and ensure the implementation of gender quotas in states where they exist but fall short of the stipulated benchmark.

The Affirmative Action Debate Although affirmative action policies and legislations for women are seemingly well intentioned, there continues to be several arguments for and against them. Proponents of affirmative action measures for women have opined that it is a means of outlawing discrimination against women in society while entrenching their influence and impact in the control of resources; that it ensures fairness in selection procedures and decisions for women; that it ensures that the interests of women are taken cognizance of; that it creates opportunities for women to make use of their innate leadership abilities and skills to influence policy priorities and legislations while re-shapening the parliament; that it makes women models to other women for

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motivation and encouragement; and that it brings about a well-functioning society (Bowen and Bok 1998; Crosby and Clayton 2004; Dahlerup2013; Devlin and Elgie 2008; Tsikata 2009). The benefits of affirmative action for women in politics have been corroborated by other scholars who add that it empowers and ensures greater political representation for them, and also serves as a means of encouraging the aspirations of younger women which would translate into further political involvement (Beaman et al. 2012; Wang 2013; Wilkins and Wenger 2014). Affirmative action policies and legislations are adopted as positive measures to close the gender gap that exists as a result of past marginalization and discrimination faced by women. Research suggests that the higher the percentage of women in parliament, the higher the percentage of women representation in ministerial positions and executive committees and as heads of state and government (O’Brien and Rickne 2014). Beyond increasing representation, it is viewed as a means through which policy makers can target and solve other societal problems such as poverty, discrimination, and oppression (Parikh 2012). In essence, adopting affirmative action policies serves to compensate women for discrimination that they have faced over time because it gives them opportunities to make use of their skills, qualities, and talents that would have remained unused. This allows for confidence building and motivation for other women which ultimately promotes public welfare and brings about a better society. In spite of the increased number of women parliamentarians in various countries around the world as a result of the adoption of gender quotas, some scholars have argued that there is little evidence to show that increased representation by women has significant effect on policy outcomes. For instance, Hassim (2010) points out that the increased representation of women in Mozambique has not significantly translated into women-centered initiatives because of the weak protection of democratic institutions and human rights in the country. In essence, although affirmative action can increase greater representation of women numerically, the argument is that the increase does not necessarily make them to substantively participate in governance and decision-making, especially in undemocratic states that have little or no respect for the promotion of human rights. For a better understanding of these, it becomes imperative to identify from the literature, the distinctions in the representation of women. Scholars have pointed out that women representation can be descriptive, substantive, or symbolic (Franceshet et al. 2012). Franceshet et al. (2012) explain that descriptive representation of women unravels the means employed for getting more women elected and that substantive representation focuses on the extent to which women in parliament are representative of the interests of women in terms of policies, legislations, and accomplishments. They add that symbolic representation probes how the increase in women parliamentarians influences public perception of women participation in politics, as well as women’s own political engagement. There are also arguments that women who come into power through affirmative measures may be discriminated against. Krook (2009) points out that quota for women may be resisted by male party elites who may view it as a threat to their power and position. The reason given for this is the belief that the political

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participation and representation of women in governance and decision-making should be based on merit and on equal terms with men. This notwithstanding, it is important to state that this argument is biased, given that women have often been at a disadvantaged position as a result of various acts of discrimination that they are faced with. Hence, putting measures in place to increase their political participation will serve the purpose of addressing the discrimination, empowering and encouraging them. At times, gender quotas may constitute a limitation to the positions that women may be allowed to occupy. This often happens in situations where political parties do not have a placement mandate. Most times, even when voluntary gender quotas are reserved for women by political parties, the absence of placement mandates make women to be placed in bottom positions (Murray 2010, 2013). Other critiques of affirmative action for women add that it negates the equality of women “from the mainstream social and political life and relegates them to the protective custody of government” (Buch 2000: 37). Apart from these, the efficiency of affirmative action in bridging inequality has been called into question. For instance, Kaletski and Prakash (2016) have pointed out that only minority of women, who may likely be elites, could be beneficiaries, leading to an increase in inequality, even among women. In essence, the argument is that inequality can be further entrenched among women when those that have strong political networks and affiliations are deployed to parliament through processes that are partial or that lack transparency. Aside from this, the introduction of affirmative action policies for women is said to paint a picture of discrimination as it involves treating men and women unequally, though it is considered as positive discrimination, this may have negative implications. It has a potential of stigmatizing women due to the preferential treatment and may undermine the intended outcomes of the measure. In addition, reserving seats for women on the political terrain limits the pool of candidates as eligible and more competent men could be restricted, leading to poorer quality of candidates and poorer policies (Kaletski and Prakash 2016). As such, the notion of positive discrimination also sidelines the principle of equal treatment, which may bring about negativity. Beyond the arguments for and against affirmative action policies for women, another dimension has been introduced into the debate. To ensure gender balanced political representation, an incremental track has been suggested. Dahlerup and Freidenvall (2005) in their discourse on the incremental track are of the view that women’s underrepresentation in politics is due to their not possessing the same political resources as men in terms of education, time, experience, and money. Apart from this, they add that ingrained prejudices against women also account for their underrepresentation in politics. However, with the introduction of capacity building activities – such as political candidate schools for women, mentoring, skills training, modified meeting hours, and baby-sitting activities – women will be able to combine political work with family responsibilities, and gender equality will be reached in due time. In essence, the incremental track discourse represents an account of the gradual improvement of women’s representation (Dahlerup andFreidenvall 2005).

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The trends in women’s political participation differ across countries in Africa as a result of the differences in perception of states on the need to integrate affirmative action into the political discourse. While some African states have a positive disposition to adopting affirmative action policies as a way of increasing the political representation of women, some are not favorably disposed to it. Low educational enrollment rates for women, low female political participation, high female employment in the so-called informal sector, financial dependence on men, discriminatory cultural, and religious practices play major roles in determining women’s political participation. Therefore, African states that are favorably disposed to the integration of affirmative action legislations and policies often times identify these social, political, economic, religious, and cultural limiting factors, and they put these mechanisms in place to address them. Scholars have identified a number of affirmative measures that enhance the political participation of women to include the passing of electoral laws that require women to constitute certain percentage of electoral candidates and seats, reservation of certain districts for women, and the adoption of gender quotas by political parties (Barnes and Burchard 2013; Clayton 2015; Krook 2009). In Africa, gender quotas have been identified as the most certain affirmative measure for enhancing the political leadership of women (Kadaga 2013). Kadaga explains further that while gender quotas are considered by some as a compensation for structural barriers that prevent fair competition, others consider it as being discriminatory and not embracing fairness. A close examination of all the debates on affirmative action policies for women brings up interesting points of view and gives significance to concepts, such as “equality” and “justice.” When quotas are effectively introduced to compensate for structural barriers that prevent equal female representation and ensure fair competition as pointed out by Dahlerup (2004), justice comes to mind. An example of the issue of equality is the consideration of “equal opportunity,” when “the number of women and men to be presented to voters on the electoral lists, and not the gender distribution following the election,” is specified (Dahlerup 2004:17). The literature reveals that the second wave of feminism sought to eliminate gender inequality in social relations and ensure transformations that reflected gender equality by advocating for the breaking of “the glass ceiling” barriers for women in government, business, and industry, arguing for more women education, lobbying for legal as well as civil reforms through affirmative action and anti-discrimination campaigns, among others (Antrobus 2013; Reger 2014; Whelehan 1995). The second wave of feminism had its highlights on the promotion of women’s equality after some time, to bring about solidarity across divides and break down gender stereotypes; hence, the phrase “the personal is political” was coined. Nonetheless, despite the arguments against affirmative action for women for increased political representation, the position in this chapter is that for it to be remedial and ensure that greater representation transcends into beneficial legislations, it is important that policy makers identify the existing inequalities and design appropriate strategies to address them. In other words, it is pertinent to identify the specific forms of inequalities that exist and ensure that the strategies employed to address them are appropriate. Additionally, it is important that regular monitoring,

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assessment and evaluation of affirmative measures are undertaken for intended outcomes.

The Successes and Failures of Gender Quotas as Affirmative Action for Women in Africa To bring about substantive changes and ensure greater representation of women in politics in Africa, gender quotas were introduced. Gender quotas are an affirmative measure that ensures a fixed representation or a minimum percentage for women through legislation or voluntary specifications within parties to nominate women for office (Kaimenyi et al. 2013; Seierstad et al. 2017). Quotas for women have led to the reformation of constitutions and electoral laws in more than 130 countries worldwide to ensure that women candidates or legislators are a particular proportion (Hughes et al. 2015). The type of electoral system practiced in a country impacts on the successful implementation or otherwise of quotas. It has been pointed out that quotas are implemented successfully and tend to be more effective in countries with proportional representative system and especially in those with closed-list (Matland 2006; Mooketsane 2014). The reason given for this by scholars including Jones and Navia (1999) is that in open-list systems, women may contest with men who may be more financially buoyant than them, and as such women may be discriminated against by voters. The literature however reveals a disagreement with this on the grounds that female candidates have emerged victorious in their contests with male contestants in some systems where open-list is practiced (Matland 2006; Schmidt and Saunders 2004). In the decades leading up to 1995, only six countries in sub-Saharan Africa had adopted quotas, while today more than half of all sub-Saharan African countries have adopted gender quotas which are measures that increase the chances of women being elected to office (Tripp 2013). Tripp asserts that reserved seats and voluntary quotas were introduced to influence legislative representation of women in Africa. Reserved seats mandated by constitutions or legislation or both, set aside seats for which only women can compete, guaranteeing from the outset that a predetermined percentage of seats would be held by women and voluntary quotas were adopted by political parties, regardless of whether there is a legal mandate (Tripp 2013). This is buttressed by Kadaga (2013) who explains that in sub-Saharan Africa, Sudan, Uganda, and Tanzania have national legislations that reserved seats for women, while countries including Mali, Senegal, Botswana, Namibia, South Africa, Equatorial Guinea, and Cote d’Ivoire have voluntary quotas adopted by political parties. The introduction of reserved seats and voluntary quotas has brought about dramatic increases in the political representation of women in Africa. Bauer (2013) asserts that some of the countries in the Eastern and Southern parts of Africa were the first to adopt affirmative action policies for women between two and three decades ago, due to the activism of national women’s movements that campaigned for the adoption of gender quotas. The representation of women in parliament has increased to 30 percent or more in some of these Eastern and Southern African

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countries. For instance, the representation of women in Rwanda parliament became 63.8 percent; Seychelles followed at 43.8 percent; Senegal with 42.7 percent; and South Africa with 41.8 percent (Inter-Parliamentary Union 2015). It has been pointed out that where quotas and other affirmative policies and legislations are not adopted, the representation of women becomes stagnated. In Comoros for instance, only 2.5 percent of all electoral candidates were women in its last elections, and this brought about the election of only one woman to parliament (Inter-Parliamentary Union 2017). In South Africa, the specific affirmative measures adopted were to establish women parties, enact laws aimed at ensuring gender parity in political parties and the adoption of voluntary quotas by the African National Congress. Vetten (2016) asserts that the adoption of voluntary quotas by the African National Congress was the most effective strategy that enhanced the political representation of women in South Africa. A combination of affirmative measures including gender parity laws, introduction of quotas, reserved seats, and elected quotas has brought the representation of women in parliament in Senegal to 42.7 percent; 31 percent in Namibia; 38.8 percent in Ethiopia; 36.8 percent in Angola; and 39.6 percent in Mozambique (Inter-Parliamentary Union 2016; Hailu2017; Hirsch 2012). Tsikata (2009) opines that African countries with the most success in affirmative action around women’s representation have also been countries that have experienced major civil conflicts and political crises. This view is buttressed by Tripp (2016a) who adds that countries across Africa that have emerged from major conflicts were quicker to advance the rights of women and elect them into political office than countries that had witnessed lesser conflicts, and as such, ensured that laws and policies that promoted the rights of women were adopted. Nonetheless, not all post-conflict countries record a high percentage of women representation in parliament because of the absence of appropriate legislations necessary for bringing more women into political office. In the Central African Republic for instance, the post-conflict elections did not bring about any meaningful representation for women, with just 7.9 percent women representation in parliament, because there were no legislations in place for electoral quotas (InterParliamentary Union 2017). Some African countries do not have significant representation of women in governance. In Ghana, women’s inclusion is below 30 percent in the national parliament, and this has been attributed to a number of factors highlighted in the next paragraph. In Nigeria, although the National Gender Policy stipulates 35 percent representation for women in political leadership, available statistics reveal that women representation is still far from the stipulated benchmark. The statistics for women representation in parliament in Nigeria is 6.4 percent; Democratic Republic of Congo has 4.6 percent; Republic of Benin has 7.2 percent; Gambia has 10.3 percent; Liberia has 10 percent; Sierra Leone has 12.3 percent; Cote d’Ivoire has 12.1 percent; Ghana has 13.1 percent; Guinea-Bissau has 13.7 percent; Burkina Faso has 13.4 percent; Republic of Togo has 16.5 percent; Niger Republic has 17 percent; Gabon has 17.6 percent; and Equatorial Guinea has 15.3 percent (Inter-Parliamentary Union 2019). It is important to state that Zambia has no formal

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quotas but has 18 percent of the parliamentarians as women, including the vice president and deputy speaker (Inter-Parliamentary Union 2017). Scholars have asserted that the representation of women in parliament and decision-making positions remains low in some African countries as a result of factors including sociocultural limitations especially patriarchy; discriminatory practices that have to do with maternity and marital status; failure of political parties to adopt affirmative action policies for women, and in situations where they do, they fall short of the benchmark set by regional and international documents; conflicting pressures on the time of female candidates because of their social and domestic responsibilities; women’s lack of resources; the social stigmatization of politics as a dirty game; lack of capacity of national institutions to implement transformative processes; gender-based violence; absence of legal measures to ensure compliance of political parties to quotas; resistance to affirmative action; and failure of successive governments to implement the various domestic and international gender protocols and treaties (Abubakar and Bn Ahmad 2014; Amoateng et al. 2014; Apusigah et al. 2017; Makama 2013; Mooketsane 2014; Torto 2013; Tsikata 2009). Burundi, Senegal, Tanzania, and Uganda have legislations that require political parties to implement quotas for women but documents of some of the political parties do not comply with this legal provision (International Institute for Democracy and Electoral Assistance (International IDEA) 2013). Some African countries do not have legislated quotas for women, but some of the existing political parties in countries like Nigeria and Botswana have stipulated voluntary quotas for women. These have however not boosted the representation of women in parliament as a result of lack of commitment to its implementation. In Botswana, for instance, Mooketsane (2014) asserts that the voluntary quotas adopted by political parties in the country have not brought about any significant representation of women in parliament and decision-making positions because of the failure of political parties to implement their commitment. Governments in some African countries have failed to provide affirmative measures to increase the representation of women in decision-making. The failure has been attributed to the arousal of opposition to women politicians and candidates when they are brought into parliament or when there are propositions to do so (Bauer 2012). Apart from this, the absence of legal frameworks that compel the adoption of quotas is another reason. In situations where quotas are adopted either mandatorily or voluntarily, the absence of commitment by political parties, the absence of enforcement mechanisms and sanctions to defaulters, discriminatory cultural and societal attitudes, party quotas in constituency electoral systems, and the lack of resources by women are challenges that hamper the adoption, implementation, and effectiveness of quotas (Dahlerup 2004; Mooketsane 2014). Women’s representation in African parliaments is higher in the East and South regions of Africa, followed by West and Central Africa with North Africa following behind (Bauer 2012). Some of the North African countries have no concrete affirmative measures in place for women. An example of a country with no significant affirmative measure put in place to promote the political participation and representation of women is Libya. In 2012, legislations restricting women from

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contesting for elected office were passed while an election law allocating 10 percent of the seats to women in national elections and giving political parties the discretion to allocate seats at the lower level women as it deemed fit was adopted, but these did not bring about any meaningful representation for women in the Libyan parliament (Fetouri 2015). Some countries in the North African region have adopted affirmative measures for women, but these have not transcended into meaningful representation for women as a result of discriminatory religious, economic, and sociocultural practices. For instance, scholars such as Bargain et al. (2018) have pointed out that the 2014 constitution introduced quotas of one quarter of the seats for women in the local council elections; yet, the representation of women in politics in Egypt remains insignificant. The introduction of affirmative measures has increased the representation of women in countries like Algeria and Tunisia. Prior to 2012, the representation of women in the Algerian parliament was low; however, the adoption of electoral and voluntary quotas in 2012 increased the representation of women in parliament to 31.6 percent (Asmar 2018). In the case of Tunisia, the single political party adopted the use of quotas for women and set it initially at 20 percent but increased it to 30 percent with time (Goulding 2010). As of today, women occupy 35.9 percent of the seats in the Tunisian parliament (Inter-Parliamentary Union 2019). In the North African region, the events that accompanied the Arab Spring improved political freedoms and opened up more political spaces for women. From the foregoing discussion, it is clear that the introduction of gender quotas has had varying effects in Africa. While some countries have experienced considerable increase in the percentage of women in national parliaments, in some others, the effect has not brought about any significant change. Although the number of women in parliament has increased in some African countries as a result of affirmative action policies and legislations, it has been argued that these have failed to improve the quality of lives of women. This is because the increased representation has no significant effect on policy outcomes for women. In essence, though descriptive representation of women has been achieved, a close examination reveals that there has not been substantive women representation. For instance, Tripp (2016b) explains how Ugandan women gained greater representation in parliament through quotas and affirmative action but were unable to effect desirable legislations that were beneficial to women on co-ownership of land as a result of customary practices in Uganda which restricted the opportunities for women to own land. In Mozambique, Hassim (2009) points out that the increased representation of women has not significantly translated into women-centered initiatives. This is buttressed by Karberg (2015) who explains further that many of the women in parliament and in political decision-making positions in Mozambique act as individuals, focus on interests that will benefit them, and therefore are not active in promoting women’s empowerment on a general level. Over the last 25 years in Africa, scholars have asserted that the implementation of various forms of electoral gender quotas has steadily increased the number of women in parliaments in countries such as Rwanda, Senegal, Seychelles, South Africa, Uganda, and Tanzania (Bauer and Tripp 2012; Bauer 2016). A major

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contribution of affirmative action is that it has identified African women as people who deserved equal treatment in terms of opportunities that are opened to all. It has also provided them with the right and privilege to compete on equal basis in all spheres of social, economic, and political activities than before (Msimang 2001). Thus, the adoption of quotas, particularly in Africa, has forced new understandings of what accounts for female political representation globally. Aluko (2011) points out that although affirmative action may be helpful in improving the participation of women in politics, some dilemmas and internal contradictions may arise in its implementation, especially in developing countries to ambush its intended benefits. In other words, although affirmative action can increase greater representation of women numerically, it does not necessarily make them to substantively participate in governance. Therefore, beyond increasing the representation of women in governance and at decision-making levels, it is very important for women leaders in African states to translate the gains of political participation into changing the status and lives of women. In addition, to maintain the gains and achieve gender equality, roles, and positions that would establish women as significant partners with men socially, culturally, legally, economically, and politically should be promoted.

Conclusion One of the most fascinating developments in African politics has been the increase in women’s political participation since the mid-1990s. Women are becoming more engaged in decision-making and at various levels of governance. Today, African countries including Rwanda, Senegal, Burundi, South Africa, Tanzania, and Uganda have some of the world’s highest rates of representation in parliament. Despite these milestones, a number of African countries are yet to embrace the increasing global demand for the inclusion of women in governance and decision-making. Though significant strides have been taken in some African countries for women to occupy parliamentary seats, there is still a long way to go as progress is still slow. This is a political deficit and failure to address it undermines the values of democratic governance, asides perpetuating gender inequality. It is important to mention that although affirmative action policies and legislations are not sufficient to bring about significant change by women in decision-making, they are a necessary step toward bridging gender gaps, challenging gender stereotypes, and increasing the visibility and representation of women in governance. As a result of this, it is not enough for African countries to adopt affirmative policies and legislations to increase the representation of women in governance and decision-making but also important for women to be availed of opportunities of acquiring leadership skills and sustaining them. To increase the political representation of women in governance and decision-making on the African continent, it is recommended that affirmative action legislations be adopted in states without any, to prevent stagnation of women representation. African states that have laws that stipulate specific quotas for women should establish agencies specifically assigned to scrutinize as well as monitor the implementation of affirmative action by political parties and other

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institutions. Such agencies should be empowered to have the necessary technical and administrative capacity to be effective. It is also recommended that stringent penalties should be enforced by such agencies as punishment for non-compliance of gender quotas. Additionally, women politicians and parliamentarians need to continue to increase awareness on the need for affirmative policies for women and ensure the implementation of gender quotas in states where they exist but fall short of the stipulated benchmark. For future research, it is important to probe to see if there is a particular trend in the socioeconomic classes of women that have benefitted from quotas in Africa, especially in countries with a high political representation of women. In essence, it is important to find out if quotas have been beneficial to only low-, middle-, or upperclass women in these countries or if the representation cuts across all the socioeconomic classes. In addition, it is suggested that further research should investigate empirically areas of women’s interests that substantive representation has had the greatest impact on and those with the lowest impact, with a view to finding out the reasons for this and addressing them. Quotas have been the mostly adopted affirmative action measures, therefore future studies should focus on the effect that other types of affirmative action policies have on women political representation across regions in Africa.

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The State of LGBT Rights in Africa

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Zethu Matebeni

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . A Human Rights Frame . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . LGBT Rights and Institutions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Law . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Religion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Family . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Media and Popular Culture . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Health . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

Lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender rights are contested in Africa. On the one hand, there is a reluctance to accept LGBT rights as human rights. On the other, the focus on homosexuality and by extension LGBT means that sexual and gender diversities in Africa remain hidden. This chapter uses the human rights frame to understand responses to LGBT rights in African countries, paying particular attention to religion, law, family, popular culture, and health. Legal steps toward full rights of LGBT people are presented while also providing a synopsis of where each African country fits. Keywords

Africa · Gender identity · (Homo)sexuality · Family · Health · Law · Religion · Queer

Z. Matebeni (*) Department of Sociology, University of the Western Cape, Bellville, South Africa Centre for Women and Gender Studies, Nelson Mandela University, Port Elizabeth, South Africa © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_79

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Introduction Two versions of what is considered LGBT in Africa exist. The first focuses primarily on homosexuality. The second extends the first by paying attention to lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender identities. Both are often used interchangeably, with the former incorrectly positioned to stand in for the latter. What they both share is the resultant homophobia: a hatred of homosexual behavior and people associated with that behavior. Homophobia makes no distinction on the basis of identities. All people presumed homosexual and thus against society’s “natural” heterosexual order (Reddy 2001) become homophobia’s victims. While lesbians and gays are the primary recipients of this form of hatred, bisexual and transgender people have been quickly lined up. However, rather than homophobia the invisibility and underrepresentation of bisexuality and bisexual people constitute biphobia (Monro et al. 2017). The inability to distinguish between homophobia and biphobia is in itself a form of marginalization. Similarly, when transphobia is lumped with homophobia, this contributes to the invisibility of transgender people (Currier 2015). What has come to be understood as homophobia, transphobia, and biphobia “is first and foremost a reaction against space being claimed by a new category of people demanding their rights” (Gevisser 2018). LGBT did not necessarily exist as named in African societies, but varied practices and people of diverse sexualities and genders did. Abadir Ibrahim (2015, 266) notes how “the ‘LGBT’ lexicon is evidence of the predominance of Western discourses on sexuality which may not reflect the experiences and identities of Africans with nonconforming sexualities or genders.” Named in numerous ways, including the Hausa yan daudu of Northern Nigeria (Balogun and Bissell 2018), the ashtime of the Maale in southern Ethiopia, the practice of adandara among the Zande of Sudan (Blessol 2013; Ibrahim 2015), supi in southern Ghana (Dankwa 2009), or the gor djigen of Senegal (Epprecht 2012) to state a few, these local terminologies did not limit experiences of those who practiced or were named as such to LGBT and the everexpanding acronym, which now includes intersex (I), queer (Q), and others or allies (+). With the expansion and use of the acronym came the loss of local and culturally specific forms of association and naming. At the same time, LGBT gained momentum and has been used as an organizing and advocacy tool for claiming rights. In many African contexts, LGBT is not easily accepted because of its Euro-American influences in activist struggles and its link to international donor agencies (Reddy 2001). For other reasons including the need for preserving African culture, claims that homosexuality is a western import, and panics around sexuality, sexual excess, and promiscuity, lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender people in Africa are perceived as un-African (Nyanzi 2013). There is a tendency to view and paint Africa with a singular brush as being inherently homophobic and conservative. However homophobia did not emanate in Africa (Tamale 2011). While evidence of precolonial African societies showed a wide tolerance and acceptance of non-normative sexualities and genders (Ibrahim 2015), this has not been the case in colonial and postcolonial eras. Colonial legacies, religion, and laws were imposed on the continent and still remain intact in many

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African countries with British colonies still retaining the sodomy statues and penal codes, long repealed in Britain, from their colonizers (Kretz 2013). The ways that colonialism impacted discourses on sexuality and gender can be traced back to the trans-Saharan slave trade and to Islam and Christianity (Gaudio 2014). The routes of these discourses operate differently in all countries regardless of whether they are against homosexuality or for gay rights. Notwithstanding the differences, “prevailing antihomosexual and gay rights discourses are integrated into existing social narratives of colonialism, economic dependence, and the conduct of a modern democratic state” (McKay and Angotti 2016, 415). The impact of colonialism has not only affected sexuality and gender identity but also how human rights are perceived (Baisley 2015). The LGBT rights frame used is a universalist human rights frame drawing from key legal instruments and international human rights frameworks such as the Yogyakarta Principles and the UN Human Rights Council Resolutions. At a regional level, the African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights, although not specific on LGBT persons, does confer rights to every individual, and the African Commission could also support these rights (Jonas 2013). The end goal to implementing these instruments is to ensure that all LGBT people have full rights attainable through legal processes. Using the seven phases or stages of legal protection presented by Kretz (2013) as a frame, this chapter will discuss the status of LGBT rights in African countries by paying particular attention to religion, law, family, popular culture or media, and health. In the first instance, the steps toward full rights of LGBT people are presented while also providing a synopsis of where each African country fits in relation to the steps. Secondly, the discussion moves to present the status of LGBT rights in Africa in relation to societal institutions.

A Human Rights Frame Legal scholar Adam Kretz (2013) identifies what could be a continuum comprising of seven milestones for recognizing LGBT rights in Africa. This continuum starts from what many African countries have demonstrated as total marginalization which includes bans on any activities related to LGBT issues and people (an example here would be Uganda’s infamous Anti-Homosexuality Bill debated in 2014 and the Same-Sex Prohibition Bill proposed in 2011 introduced by Nigerian parliamentarians) Both these impose bans on any public display of same-sex affection and a lengthy jail term. The final stage of cultural integration is not yet seen in any part of the continent. The first stage has severe consequences for mobilizing, organizing, and advocacy where LGBT people exist. Only in 2016 did the Court of Appeal of Botswana order the country’s government to register the organization Lesbians, Gays and Bisexuals of Botswana (LeGaBiBo). Denying the registration of LeGaBiBo for all these years was a violation of freedom of association (Tabengwa and Nicol 2013). Although this kind of marginalization enforces invisibility and puts restrictions on organizing, many LGBT groups and organizations in African countries do exist and forge different ways of visibility. The Anti-Homosexuality Bill in

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Uganda did not deter LGBT groups from mobilizing, but they had to find alternative ways of ensuring their existence and visibility within a hostile environment. The second stage in the continuum is criminalization. This extends not only to criminalizing behavior but also declaration of an LGBT status. Accompanying criminalization are heavy penalties, ranging from fines to life imprisonment. In Mauritania, Sudan, Northern Nigeria, and Southern Somalia, LGBT persons (or homosexual people) face death penalty. Homosexuality is still considered illegal in many African countries including Algeria, Botswana, Burundi, Comoros, Egypt, Eritrea, Ethiopia, Gambia, Ghana, Guinea, Kenya, Liberia, Libya, Malawi, Mauritania, Mauritius, Morocco, Namibia, Nigeria, Senegal, Sierra Leone, Somalia, South Sudan, Sudan, Swaziland, Tanzania, Togo, Tunisia, Uganda, Zambia, and Zimbabwe (Amnesty International UK 2018). It is clear from this listing above that majority of African countries find themselves in the first and second stages (Kretz 2013). However, some progress is taking place although slowly. In 2015 and January 2019, Mozambique and Angola, respectively, shifted from the second to the third stage. Both countries’ lawmakers voted to strike the Portuguese colonial era laws pertaining to “vices against nature” following their counterparts in Cape Verde, Sao Tome and Principe, GuineaBissau, and Equatorial Guinea. While homosexuality is now considered legal in these countries, there are still some challenges facing LGBT organizations. The third stage as presented by Kretz (2013) is decriminalization, whereby penal codes are revised as in the recent cases in Mozambique, Angola, and much earlier in South Africa. As observed in these three countries, decriminalization is an important step toward changing other laws that would secure equal rights for LGBT persons. Similarly, it also contributes to changing social attitudes about LGBT persons. It is a break from colonial eras and a necessary step toward attaining autonomy from colonial laws. Ibrahim (2015) argues that for the African Commission to deal with LGBT rights issues at the regional level, member states have to take seriously the decriminalization campaign from the ground up. With such mobilization then there is perhaps hope for widespread decriminalization of non-heterosexual sexuality in the region. Currently, in these countries homosexuality is legal: Angola, Benin, Burkina Faso, Cape Verde, Central African Republic, Chad, Congo-Brazzaville, Ivory Coast, Democratic Republic of Congo, Djibouti, Equatorial Guinea, Gabon, Guinea-Bissau, Lesotho, Madagascar, Mali, Mozambique, Niger, Rwanda, Sao Tome and Principe, Seychelles, and South Africa (Amnesty International UK 2018). Kretz’s (2013) fourth stage is codification of laws protecting LGBT people against discrimination. Currently only five countries in the continent have these: Mauritius, Botswana, Mozambique, Seychelles, and South Africa. With the few other countries that have decriminalized homosexuality, there is hope that they would include laws protecting LGBT people against discrimination. The constitution of Mauritius protects all people against any kind of discrimination. In addition the Equal Opportunities Act of 2008 includes sexual orientation under “status” (similar to age, ethnic origin race, etc.) and defines sexual orientation to mean “homosexuality (including lesbianism), bisexuality or heterosexuality.” Such protections are extended to include rights in employment. Similarly Mozambique’s 2007 Labour Law protects against discrimination and invasion of privacy and unfair labor practices on the grounds of sexual orientation, among others (Mozlegal and

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Centro de Arbitragem Laboral 2007). With the exception of South Africa, all the anti-discrimination laws in these countries focus mostly on sexual orientation, and gender identity has lagged behind. However, in September 2017 the High Court of Botswana ordered the Registrar of that country to change a transgender man’s gender marker on the identity document to reflect his gender identity (Hayes 2017). This is a key ruling in Botswana, which will ensure that other transgender people have a life of dignity and freedom to express themselves as their true selves. Only one country in the continent has achieved the fifth and sixth stages: establishment of positive rights and full legal equality, respectively. South Africa’s laws have been able to grant LGBT person’s equal status to non-LGBT people. With a progressive constitution that protects the rights of every person regardless of their status and a specific equality clause lobbied for and included (Epprecht 2012), various laws granting rights to LGBT persons followed. The equality clause ensured that full citizenship would be granted to lesbian and gay individuals, relationships, and families on the same grounds as all people in South Africa. Extensions of these were later granted to transgender individuals. Noting that many of these rights prioritized sexual orientation, the 2003 Alteration of Sex Description and Sex Status Act gave transgender individuals legal protections (Kretz 2013). Section 2 of the Act as noted in the Governmnent Gazette (2004) specifically states “Any person whose sexual characteristics have been altered by surgical or medical treatment or by evolvement through natural development resulting in gender reassignment, or any person who is intersexed may apply to the Director-General of the National Department of Home Affairs for the alteration of the sex description on his or her birth register.” To reach the seventh stage of cultural integration will require many countries not only to change laws but also to put into place robust systems and mechanisms that would ensure social acceptance and appreciation of sexual and gender diversity as well as LGBT people. This is no easy feat as even South Africa with all its inclusive laws has not been able to reach full social and cultural integration for all LGBT people. While social factors and status on the basis of race, class, gender, and culture may allow some LGBT people integration, this is not accessible to all in South Africa (Matebeni 2015). High levels of violence toward transgender women and black lesbians in particular make cultural integration a difficult goal. Laws granting equal rights and focusing on reform are integral but not sufficient. Politicians, religious leaders, and statesmen in many African countries have been leaders in homophobic rhetoric and hatred. For change to happen, leadership should be directed against harming LGBT people as the former Botswana President Festus Mogae directed his nation (Tabengwa and Nicol 2013). Similarly, strong allies between local civil society, LGBT groups, and women’s and feminist groups could play an important role in advocating for social change and cultural integration.

LGBT Rights and Institutions Activists, bureaucrats, and diplomats across the world, whether to demand specific action, protections, or interventions, mobilize through human rights discourses. It is argued that at times human rights fail the very people they are supposed to protect as

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the notion of human or humanness is not universal across all countries (Thoreson 2011). Many LGBT people in African countries are not considered humans. Various statesmen including those of Zimbabwe, Namibia, and the Gambia to name a few have condemned LGBT people to subhuman and below animal status. In other settings, the transnational discourses of human rights cannot easily be translated or relatable in every local context (Ibrahim 2015). There is contestation and debate on LGBT rights and human rights. Both proponents and opponents of LGBT rights may use human rights to their advantage, and in some cases, both have viewed LGBT rights as cultural imperialism, western, and not deploying African cultural contexts (Baisley 2015). Yet human rights are called and mobilized for with regard to law, religion, family, media, and health. The following discussion probes the uses of human rights within each of these institutions.

Law There are existing laws against homosexuality in many countries including Botswana, Ghana, and Kenya that are not executed as no people are persecuted. However, their mere existence is problematic as it allows LGBT people no protection and regular intimidation or violence. In a Human Rights Watch report (2018) on Ghana, it is noted that while there are laws (Section 104(1)(b) of 1960 Criminal Offences Act (Act 29) that need to be repealed, these are not implemented, and the country is known for protecting the human rights of all people. However, among the 100 LGBT persons and activists interviewed, there was a general agreement that “the law acts as an impediment to access justice, deterring many LGBT victims of crime from seeking redress and contributing to a culture of impunity” (HRW 2018, 30). The report mentions instances where the police would use the law for arbitrary arrests for the purposes of extorting money from people suspected to be homosexual. Each country is different in how it deals with the law and LGBT issues. There may be significant changes in one country that would affect the prosecution of LGBT people (Hellweg 2015). In Malawi political homophobia intensified in 2010 with a 14-year jail sentence handed down to Steven Monjeza and Tiwonge Chimbalanga for publicly celebrating their relationship (Currier 2014). International pressure and intervention changed the course for Monjeza and Chimbalanga, but did not necessarily bring law reform. It is also known that during election periods and political transitions there would be vibrant campaigning against LGBT people. Antihomosexual discourses during such transitions are opportunistic and rouse many emotions among voters as campaigners prey on everyone’s vulnerabilities. In Uganda there was speculation that the debate around the Anti-Homosexuality Bill was used as a ploy to discredit a presidential candidate who was pro-gay rights (McKay and Angotti 2016). Similarly, to gain popularity and win the votes of the conservative culturalists and religious people, anti-homosexual discourses are deployed. Following a robust campaign to repeal Sections 162 and 165 of the Kenya Penal Code, inspired by a 2018 victory in India which saw the decriminalization of Section 377 of that country’s penal code, LGBT activists in Kenya waited with abated breath for a ruling by the Kenyan High Court in February 2019

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(#Repeal162 2018). Although there has been much contestation from many corners of the country about this move, activists are relying heavily on human rights discourses for an outcome that would decriminalize same-sex relations and put an end to British colonial-era laws and pave way for other East African countries to follow suit. To activists’ disappointment, in May 2019 the Kenya High Court rejected the petition to repeal Section 162 of the Penal Code. The decision is open to appeal and activists may seek this recourse. Vibrant LGBT activism in the global south is evidence of the urgency needed to challenge the laws that were created and imposed by the West. More solidarity and alliance within the global south, as in the case with India and Kenya, demonstrates hope in tackling colonial laws through local means. It cannot be that the West will dictate how and when these laws should be done away with (Hellweg 2015). There is a need to remain locally and culturally relevant in pursuit of LGBT rights in Africa. The overreliance and sometimes replication of Western ways do not often do justice to LGBT persons in African contexts (Ibrahim 2015).

Religion Many scholars link homophobia in Africa with religious proselytization, colonialism, law, and nationalism (Currier 2014; El Feki 2015; Hellweg 2015; Lyden 2013; Van Klinken 2019). There is an intimate connection between anti-homosexuality and religion because the misconception that homosexuality is un-African is similarly applied to homosexuality being un-Christian (Hellweg 2015). Given the richness and diversity of Africa in terms of states, cultures, ethnic groups, languages, populations, and religions, it is surprising that the dominant sexuality across the continent is heterosexuality and strictly heteronormative. In the Arab world (including North Africa), with all its diversity, heteronormativity is enforced through strong foundations of family, religion, and marriage (El Feki 2015). Whatever exists beyond heteronormative rules is considered taboo. Shereen El Feki (2015: 8) notes how “reparative therapy is thriving in many parts of the Arab region.” Religious sexual conversion of gay people to being straight is considered a necessary reparative method by many families. The transnational nature of anti-LGBT movements in non-Arab worlds is related to Christian conservative groups (Ibrahim 2015). This is evident mostly in Uganda, where conservative American Christian missionaries perpetrate much of the homophobia present in that country as is seen in the 2013 film God Loves Uganda (Lyden 2013). In this film American evangelical Christians are depicted as having an influence in manipulating opinions in favor of the Anti-Homosexuality Bill. According to the Human Rights Watch (2018, 10), the rise of Pentecostalism in Ghana, condemnations of homosexuality in the churches along with “moral panics around sexuality, compounded by the fear of rapid social change,” has meant that “lesbian sexuality is perceived as a social threat, often associated with the occult, as depicted in popular Ghanaian video-films.” It is understood that in both these countries Christianity has been responsible for homophobic attitudes.

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While religion has been a driver of homophobia in both Christian and Muslim societies, this has not precluded alternative ways of crafting existence by LGBT persons themselves. There are many LGBT Christians and Muslims, and many are finding ways to reconcile their religions and faith with their sexualities and gender identities. In HÏJaB: Unveiling Queer Muslim Lives (2009), the South African organization “Inner Circle” offers compelling personal narratives of Muslim lesbian, bisexual, gay, and transgender Africans struggling and reconciling their spirituality with their sexual and gender identities. Similarly, as Religion and African Studies scholar Adriaan van Klinken (2019) states, while very few clergies have been accepting of LGBT people, notable figures such as Uganda’s Bishop Christopher Senyonjo are commended for his embrace of LGBT people and interpretation of the Bible, as well as African Catholic theologian Agbonkhianmeghe Orobator who has publicly spoken for the inclusion of LGBT people in the church. Van Klinken offers a survey of Christian LGBT organizations in the region, including St. Paul’s Reconciliation and Equality Centre, Metropolitan Community Churches (MCC), and House of Rainbow Fellowship, among others.

Family Family means different things to different people and in different societies. The dominant form of a nuclear family of a mother, father, and children is not one subscribed to in many African societies. Often, family means a collective of people associated either by blood, marriage, or other cultural practices. As law scholar Abadir Ibrahim (2015, 268) argues, “in pre-colonial and colonial times, not only was there a more diverse understanding of sex, gender and family than the Western Judeo-Christian one, but the treatment of sexual and gender minorities within African cultures could have varied from discouraging public discussion of homosexual desires and acts to complete tolerance of LGBT minorities, including the institutionalisation of some forms of same-sex relationships.” Vast evidence points to the existence and accepted of male-male and woman-woman marriages in Africa (Epprecht 2012). Yet, in postcolonial African societies, colonial laws govern family formations on who belongs and on what grounds. Both the law and religion play significant roles in families and their relations to LGBT members. Most LGBT people face pressure from their families to hide their sexuality or gender identity, conform to expectations and forced to marry, have children and follow a heteronormative path, or are ostracized by other family members. Such pressures take away LGBT people’s rights and power to make their own choices on their sexual and reproductive health (Human Rights Watch 2018). It is not uncommon to hear religious leaders and law-abiders make pronouncements on family and homosexuality. Rhetoric on family preservation and the continuation of the nation have been heard from church leaders during the public hearings on the Same-Sex Marriage Prohibition Bill in Nigeria (McKay and Angotti 2016). Similarly lawabiders in Kenya were heard during President Obama’s visit to that country making demands on protecting the family from gay marriage. Ibrahim (2015) poignantly

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observes the obscurity of chanting anti-gay marriage slogans when same-sex marriage is not even on the cards in that country. Thus, the influence of Western/ American conservatism is very clear (ibid). LGBT people are faced with an impossible choice when it comes to family: either to reveal their identities to family members or to live a hidden life. For many, the choice represents only risk. On the one hand, a known LGBT person in a family may be deprived of necessary forms of support (social, psychological, and material) or may be given the condition to denounce their sexual identity and not engage in samesex practices (Balogun and Bissell 2018). In more severe instances, they could be isolated from family, which could have fatal consequences. Referring to the formation of one LGBT association in Kenya, the organizer confirmed that “the group owes its existence to the lonely death of a member of the community who was ostracized by his family” (Epprecht 2012, 236). Such deaths are common among LGBT groups in the continent where persons would remain unclaimed by family members because of the shame they brought to the family. While these events are painful and unfortunate, LGBT people are forging new ways of making their own family formations. The nature of the family is rapidly changing. The South African example bears this evidence. As of the 1990s in South Africa, many same-sex couples were offered the right to reconfigure their family bonds under legal victories, including access to adoption, immigration rights, spousal benefits, reproductive technologies, and parental rights, and in 2006 they won the rights to marriage. While the extension of these rights to lesbian, gay, and transgender couples has offered massive gains for many and shifted the idea of a traditional family – a few remain left behind. Those who choose to define their relations outside marriage or birth, as chosen families (families of friends, lovers, and former lovers), through connections negotiated on the basis of otherness or individuals’ relationship to the world, would mostly not be considered family or kin. Their bonds, while significant, are considered less valuable. However, as a recent collection on Queer Kinship (Morison et al. 2019) shows, different possibilities of making family and kin are developing and offering new ways of understanding the ever-changing bonds and rights to love, belonging, citizenship, and nationhood.

Media and Popular Culture Media has played a very important role in disseminating information about LGBT issues. In the case of Uganda, the tabloid Rolling Stones was responsible for infringing on the rights of LGBT people by violating their constitutional right to human dignity and protection and their right to life as the newspaper printed pictures of LGBT people and called for homosexuals to be hanged (International Commission of Jurists 2010). This was not the first time a newspaper had violated LGBT people’s rights. A South African tabloid, the Daily Sun, published an article and cartoon by Jon Qwelane, a self-proclaimed homophobe who later became the South African ambassador to Uganda as the Anti-Homosexuality Bill was proposed,

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equating homosexuality to bestiality in his column (Mail and Guardian 2010). With the subsequent arrest of Steven Monjeza and Tiwonge Chimbalanga in Malawi in 2009 and the international condemnation of the prosecution, journalists in other African countries started focusing on LGBT issues (Thoreson 2011). As more LGBT people join social media and are taking media into their hands, more respectful forms of representations and reporting on human rights abuses are on the rise (Gunkel and Matebeni 2015). Nowhere is the issue of representation of LGBT people and their rights more vibrant and nuanced than in films. Offering a range of possibilities, including advocating for safety and the rights of LGBT people; archiving LGBT activism and individual lives in different countries; showcasing marginalization, violence, and vulnerability endured by LGBT people; or struggles against repression and restrictive laws, films are a powerful and crucial tool used by LGBT communities everywhere. A case in point is Wanuri Kahiu’s (2018) film Rafiki (2018), a love story between two women in Kenya. The film and publications board in Kenya banned the film raising international interest and outcry. The judge however lifted the ban temporarily, and the film was shown in some parts of Kenya and garnered international success (Osinubi 2019). African Literatures scholar Taiwo Adetunji Osinubi (2019) investigates filmic representations of LGBT Africans. Osinubi states that majority of English-speaking films on LGBT people come from South Africa although Nollywood (Nigerian cinema) does boast a large number of films with non-normative genders and sexualities. Given the South African constitution and the Out in Africa film festival which showed LGBT films since 1994, this is no surprise. However Osinubi (ibid) notes a worrying trend that many LGBT films in other parts of the continent are made by directors and producers outside the continent but about LGBT Africans. Many of these films follow the human rights frame such as 2016 documentary film The Pearl of Africa, which follows the transitioning process of a Ugandan transgender woman and life with her partner. Most notable are films made about Uganda since the Anti-Homosexuality Bill and in Nigeria since the Same-Sex (Prohibition) Bill and its pronouncement in 2014. Perhaps the most prominent representations of LGBT Africans have been in the work of internationally acclaimed South African visual activist, Sir Zanele Muholi. Muholi’s archive of black lesbian, bisexual, gay, and transgender communities in Africa and the diaspora has offered an important visual narrative challenging the rhetoric that homosexuality is un-African. In Muholi’s work, LGBT Africans take bold stands and claim their space in front of the camera and assert their Africanness. In this body of work, Muholi takes risks and pride in portraying the diversity of sexualities and gender expressions that exist in the continent while unafraid to represent LGBT people as desirable (Matebeni 2013). Muholi’s work has further advocated for the acceptance and inclusion of LGBT people in Africa as well as encouraged other artists to take seriously issues of sexuality, gender identity, and expression in their visual representations.

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Health One area where LGBT people’s rights are neglected is access to health. Discrimination and criminalization have severe effects and human rights implications on the health of LGBT persons. Many African states are committed to the health and wellbeing of their citizens and in particular to fighting the scourge of HIV and AIDS, yet the criminalization of same-sex practices, behaviors, and people is a hinderance to accessing medical treatment (Ibrahim 2015). In some countries men suspected of homosexuality have been submitted to forced anal examinations. Studies show the vulnerabilities that LGBT people face in society, yet many are not able to access adequate health care due to secondary victimization in health settings, inadequate health resources, ignorance of health professionals, and their fear of stigma and being judged about their sexuality and gender identity (Matebeni et al. 2013; Sandfort et al. 2013). Rather than protecting LGBT people, it appears that the health system victimizes them. In many African societies, there is great instability of identity categories (gay, lesbian, bisexual, and pansexual) because of the heteronormative cultural expectations. Thus LGBT people have to “shift” often or portray a heterosexual lifestyle even when it is not their norm (Balogun and Bissell 2018). For good reason, men who have sex with men (MSM), a public health and development intervention, have been considered crucial in HIV/AIDS treatment campaigns. HIV preventative information and resources like lubricants and condoms have become widely available through public facilities or MSM-tailored organizations such as Health4Men. While HIV prevention resource and information may exist, in a study of HIV-positive MSM in Nigeria, it was found that MSM suffer double marginalization because of their HIV status as well as their sexual practices (ibid). Sadly the situation for women who have sex with women (WSW) is direr. Unlike MSM WSW have not received the same level of attention, resources, and interventions. Yet, they are also similarly at risk. In a multicountry study in four Southern African countries, it was found that WSW continue to encounter discrimination, homophobia, and sexuality-based violence despite some legal advancement in LGBT rights (Sandfort et al. 2013). A number of risk factors affecting Southern African WSW include forced sex at the hands of both men and women, not having access to protective barriers such as dental dams, engaging in transactional sex, and sex without protection with HIV-positive female partners (Sandfort et al. 2013). The neglect and marginalization of WSW put them at further risk as they themselves are often uninformed about their levels of risk. At a 2017 transgender health conference in South Africa, transgender and sex worker activist Leigh Davids (2017) delivered a gut-wrenching address challenging institutions that black and poor transgender sex workers encounter daily. In this address Davids detailed the intersectional struggles of transgender sex workers as they navigate the law, religion, family, and the health system. Acknowledging the need for transgender health care in order to access hormones and body-affirming

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surgeries, her exhaustion from the constant denial and rejection by the health system as a transgender sex worker living with HIV is an impassioned plea for a more inclusive, sensitive, and informed health system that would fully treat individuals regardless of their class, race, gender identity, or sexual orientation.

Conclusion LGBT people in Africa face many human rights challenges. Many of these challenges cannot be overcome, while LGBT people remain illegal and criminalized. Even solidarity with sympathetic groups and allies is compromised as threats of intimidation and marginalization would be extended to those groups. Decriminalization of behaviors, sexualities, and identities is a necessary step in ensuring that LGBT people can live a life free of intimidation, threats, violence, and persecution. African states have a responsibility and task to re-examine the impact of colonial era laws, not only because they are outdated and continue the legacy of colonialism but also because they are divisive, prohibitive, and harmful. While not all countries in Africa may ever attain the stage of cultural integration, LGBT persons in many countries are forging their own ways pushing against norms and expanding on ideas around sexuality, gender, belonging, nationhood, and citizenship. As is visible in many activist communities in Africa, queerness is rapidly embraced as an important tool to push against the status quo. Thus, while the human rights frame remains important, it also has to make space for a “vision of a queer future” (Thoreson 2011, 3) which is unfolding. Perhaps what is more crucial at the moment is the pursuit of each and every lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, intersex, and queer person’s full humanness.

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Women, Activism, and the State in North Africa

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Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Activism Under Colonialism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Early Years of Independence and Women’s Activism in North Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The 1980s and the Resurgence of Women’s Activism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Morocco . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

Modern North African nation states, also known as the Maghreb, were born between 1956 (Morocco and Tunisia) and 1962 (Algeria) following their political independence from France. Their post-colonial history is therefore marked by processes of identity formation and cultural decolonization. However, although these countries share a colonial history, a common cultural heritage, and their adherence to Islam, they took diverse paths to realize and accomplish their independence. These diverse paths have fundamentally affected their positions toward women and women’s citizenship rights especially as they took divergent standpoints in the way they planned and implemented codes of personal statuses, known as “family codes” that govern women’s destinies and their roles in the post-colonial era. Therefore, it is the aim of this chapter to discuss the dynamics of North African women’s activism with a particular focus on the central role of the family codes adopted and modified by these states. In their dialectical relationships with the state, moderated by a complex of factors including patriarchy, religion, and religious groups, forms of government, political leadership, and various others, Z. Smail Salhi (*) University of Manchester, Manchester, UK e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_78

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women’s activism adopted various strategies and produced varying results over time. Placing family codes as their principal feminist platform, this chapter aims to trace North African women’s activism to modify these family codes in order to secure their citizenship rights and draw comparisons between their diverse trajectories. Keywords

Women · Family codes · Colonialism · Decolonisation · Women’s activism · North Africa

Introduction Under colonial rule North African women’s activism adopted a dual strategy of liberating the self through liberating the nation, because it was implausible to militate for personal emancipation while the nation was under colonial domination. In postcolonial North Africa, women’s activism was essentially shaped by the institution of family codes. The laws contained in these codes were either to the detriment of women as in Morocco or to their benefit as in Tunisia and have accordingly guided women’s activism for the abrogation or amendment of these laws. Liberated in 1962, 6 years after its neighbors, Algeria did not instate a code of personal status laws in the years following its independence but granted women the status of citizens of the newly liberated nation for which they had fought alongside their male compatriots. The main line of argument in this chapter is that before the institution of family codes women’s activism focused on emancipation through national liberation, while after their institution, family codes became the platform and focus of women’s activism.

Activism Under Colonialism North African women entered modern history through their participation in national resistance against colonial occupation. According to Zakya Daoud, without women’s active participation in processes of national liberation, the struggles against French colonialism could not have succeeded (Daoud 1996, p. 19). This view was also held by North African male reformers and nationalist leaders who strongly believed that a country’s liberation was fundamentally linked to women’s emancipation and their active participation in national processes of liberation. Emphasizing these women’s participation in the defense of their homeland not only debunks prevailing stereotypes of North African women as the passive prisoners of the harem in need of rescuing from their male kin by Western colonizers under the guise of their so-called civilizing mission but more importantly is a statement of their agency.

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North African feminist activism began in 1924 when Menoubia Ouertani led an unveiling campaign to liberate Tunisian women. Her call was endorsed by Habiba Menchari who in 1929 followed her path and not only pressed for the removal of the veil as a stifling and physically impeding garment but also as an outdated practice which prevented women from becoming emancipated. However, in addition to their decisive act of unveiling, Menoubia and Habiba adopted a reformist trajectory and denounced women’s illiteracy, seclusion, polygamy, repudiation, and early marriage. While their plea was vehemently opposed as a result of their French education and they were accused of being pro-western, Tahar Haddad, who published his groundbreaking book Notre femme, dans la législation islamique et la société (Our Woman in Islamic Law and Society) in 1930, not only endorsed the feminists’ demands but also called the practices they denounced “anti-Islamic.” Haddad described the veil as a muzzle, rejected polygamy, and deplored the confinement of rebellious women in Dar Joued (a form of prison for rebellious women), as abusive. Understandably, he caused the wrath of the Tunisian male conservatives who not only accused him of heresy but stripped him of his university degrees causing him to lose his job and drift into poverty and isolation. Zohra Ben Milad, a member of the Tunisian section of the Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom, led a campaign to defend him by gathering signatures in a petition with the hope to have his rights reinstated but in vain. The Tunis inundations of 1931 saw Tunisian women leading a wide scale relief action which led to the founding of the Society of the Muslim Ladies in the following year. Their activities were mainly philanthropic, and their presence was mostly noticed during religious celebrations. Beyond this philanthropic work, Tunisian women’s political activism was born within an Islamic religious framework and was launched in 1936 by Bashira Ben Mrad who founded the Muslim Union of Tunisian Women (UMFT). She acknowledged that it was her father, a member of the Tunisian Ulema and an opponent of Tahar Haddad, who encouraged her to rally women to militate for the nationalist cause and for their own emancipation from within an Islamic framework as the best means to oppose colonialism and the assimilationist Tunisian secular modernists. The members of the UMFT openly condemned unveiling but also Western ways of women’s emancipation and devoted their efforts to philanthropic work. Women’s secular political activism was born under the aegis of the Destour Party when in December 1938 a group of women demonstrated their hostility to the French governor Eiric Labonne resulting in the imprisonment of their leaders which brought out hordes of women to organize a demonstration in January 1939 to demand their release (Daoud, pp. 49–50). Tunisian women’s political activism intensified under the tutelage of the Tunisian Communist Party (PCT) who on 8 March 1944 created the Tunisian Women’s Union (UFT) along with the Union of Young Tunisian Girls. The UFT brought together women of different tendencies both liberal and conservative including several members of the UMFT prominent among whom was Nabiha Ben Miled for whom the UMFT was a lethargic and bourgeois association hampered by its conservative principles. In 1951, Nabiha became the president of the UFT, an organization who adopted the views of the PCT who in 1945 openly

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confirmed itself as a nationalist movement for the liberation of Tunisia, and in 1949 it demanded the annulment of the Bardo Treaty, known as the agreement that established France’s protectorate over Tunisia. In conjunction with their political activism for the liberation of Tunisia, the UFT militated for the rights of the working women and girls’ education while they were also dynamically engaged in social work. Along with the UMFT and the UFT, the women of the Destour Party were also very active; between 1953 and 1956, they sustained the movement for the liberation of Tunisia by providing food and shelter for the nationalist militants and by working as liaison officers. For their work Bourguiba proclaimed “without the women we are not capable of doing anything” (Daoud, p. 53). Tunisian women’s activism during this period was two-pronged: along with their pursuit for emancipation as women, their direct activism against French colonialism was fundamental as one cannot be emancipated under colonial occupation. Algerian women’s activism was also born in the twentieth century under the colonial rule. However, despite the presence of women in the many rebellions against occupation during the nineteenth century, they were absent from the political scene and were not included in the nationalist movement which was born at the turn of the twentieth century and was dominated by male intellectuals. It was not until the 1940s that the Algerian male nationalists became attentive to the importance of including women in their political parties. This was partly a reaction to the French charitable organizations who identified Algerian women as the victims of Algerian men and that under the auspices of the French civilizing mission, they needed to save them by freeing them from the prisons of their veil and seclusion. Political parties such as the Party of the Algerian People (PPA) and the Movement for the Triumph of Democratic Freedoms (MTLD), who had initially believed that there was no genuine women’s question for as long as Algeria was not liberated, began to see the centrality of the “woman question” to the struggle for national independence. It was, however, under the aegis of the Algerian Communist Party (PCA), the sole Algerian political party to believe in the equality of the sexes, that the Union of Algerian Women (UFA) was created in 1943. In its first congress held in 1944, the PCA made the “woman question” central to its discussions. Its members condemned colonialism as the direct cause behind the deplorable condition of Algerian women because it denied them the right to live in dignity and the right to have an education. They encouraged girls’ education and the emancipation of women from outdated customs. From here the women of the UFA started to widen their activist base by recruiting more adherents. Between 1944 and 1951, they gathered 10,000 to 15,000 members and issued their own journal known as Femmes d’Algérie (Women of Algeria). The centrality of the “woman question” became even more prominent during and after the 8 May 1945 popular demonstrations to celebrate the end of WW2 and the massacre that ensued. Women made an imposing presence in the demonstrations, and when these turned into the 1945 massacre which resulted in the death toll of 45,000 Algerians shot down by the settlers and the colonial police, women took the central stage in looking after the injured and the families of the deceased.

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At this point the PPA and the MTLD who had initially believed that it was almost indecent to speak about the rights of women for as long as Algeria was colonized changed their view about the women’s movement. However, having Islam at the base of the political strategy of their parties, they called for a women’s movement whose principles and objectives did not ignore the Islamic identity of the nation as a stronghold against colonialism. This debate led to the creation of another women’s organization on the 2 July 1947 known as the Association of Muslim Algerian Women (AFMA) headed by Mamia Chentouf and Nafissa Hamoud. The two women organizations worked hand in hand despite the divergence of their political platforms. In addition to their philanthropic work, they spread political consciousness among the masses and explicated the importance of literacy for both boys and girls in the anti-colonial struggle. Their social program of work reached both rural and urban areas resulting in tangible changes. Highlighting these efforts and the level of awareness enjoyed by these women prior to the outbreak of the Algerian War of Independence on 1 November 1954 debunks the preconceived view that Algerian women sprung out of nowhere in the middle of this war. Having engaged in feminist and political action in the 1940s, their organizations merged with the National Liberation Front (FLN) in the same way as did all nationalist parties. According to Daoud, there were 49 women among the 1,262 first cluster of freedom fighters (Daoud, p. 138). Nafissa Hamoud, the leader of AFMA, was the first woman doctor to join the National Liberation Front (FLN) in 1955 and was followed by Fatima Benosmane, the leader of the UFA. Their example was followed by several female nurses and midwives who answered the call of the FLN to recruit medical members much needed to help in the bush. Following the student strike organized by the General Union of Algerian Muslim Students (UGEMA) in May 1956, multitudes of young high school and university girls joined the war effort on many fronts as fighters, nurses, liaison agents, and so on. By the end of the war of independence, the number of female freedom fighters amounted to 10,949, of whom 1,755 were in the ranks of the National Liberation Army (ALN). To this figure was added the countless number of the fida’iyāt, which according to official statistics amounted to 2,388 women (Daoud, p. 138), when in reality not all of them were counted for. The role of the latter group was extremely vital to the continuation of the war of independence. They assured liaison between the various factions of the ALN and the FLN, they smuggled and hid weapons and funds, and they facilitated the movements of the freedom fighters, especially in urban centers, where women’s roles were of paramount importance. Under their veils they hid messages, money, and weapons and dressed as Europeans; they infiltrated into European quarters and deposited explosives. They also washed, knitted, and sewed clothes for the fighters, and they cooked their food and at times hid them in their homes. For this colossal participation in the revolution, the FLN declared officially: “Algerian women won their rights by their participation in the war” (Daoud, p. 141). Moroccan women’s activism was also born in the heat of the nationalist struggle against colonialism (1912–1956). It made its first public act through the issuance of a

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document demanding the abolition of polygamy in 1946. In the same year, Akhawāt Al-Safā’ (Sisters of Purity) was formed as the first women’s association in Morocco whose members belonged to the middle and upper classes of the city of Fes. It stemmed from the Democratic Party of Independence (PDI), mostly known as the “Istiqlal” (Independence) Party, where the Akhawāt Al-Safā’ women had male relatives. The movement called for girls’ education and criticized outmoded practices such as polygamy, early marriage, superstition, and the maltreatment of women in the judiciary. Although the nationalist men of the time strongly believed that Morocco could not progress without educating and training its women, their prime cause as well as that of the Sisters of Purity was Morocco’s national independence, a goal for which women militated under the wing of their male relatives.

The Early Years of Independence and Women’s Activism in North Africa The liberation of Tunisia in March 1956 followed by that of Morocco in April of the same year and the roles played by women in the liberation struggles of their countries determined their position in the post-independence era. Because of the colonial context in which North African women’s movements emerged during the 1940s, women did not formulate their feminist demands as the basis of their activism because it did not make sense to militate for their rights as women when the liberation of the nation was everyone’s ultimate priority. This is conveyed by Mounira Charrad as follows; “Nowhere in the Maghrib was there a broad-based, grassroots women’s movement demanding the expansion of women’s rights in the 1950s” (Charrad 2001, p. 2). Nevertheless, the leaders of the two newly liberated countries made “Family Law” their priority in their decolonization processes albeit in two hugely divergent styles. While Tunisia made a bold move by reforming family law in radical ways by issuing a most liberal Code of Personal Status Law which granted Tunisian women rights unmatched in the whole Arab and Muslim world, Morocco opted for a conservative Family Law promulgated in 1957–1958. Charrad explains that these two contrasting directions reflect the level to which the two newly liberated countries operated in kin-based environments: “the process of state formation, especially the pattern of integration of tribes or tribal kin groupings in each nation state, has been critical in shaping the state and its family law policy” (Charrad 2001, p. 2). Consequently, while Tunisia’s President Habib Bourguiba adopted the conventional Islamic method of Ijtihad to commission an unconventionally modernist interpretation of the Qur’an, Morocco’s King Mohammed V, working in close alliance with tribal kin groupings, promptly adopted a most conservative family law policy called the Moudouana, which in essence was based on the old Moroccan family law except for some minimal reforms such as raising the minimum marriage age to 15 years for girls and prohibiting forced marriages. Nevertheless, contrary to Charrad’s theory, the 1957–1958 Moudouana was not solely a result of the close ties between the Monarchy and the tribal system but also a

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mirror image of the patriarchal construct of Moroccan society as a whole, including the urban bourgeoisie, which manifested its conservatism all along the colonial period. Based on an analysis of testimonies of Moroccan women, Allal al-Fassi who was appointed by the king to head up a committee to draft the new Moudouana would have anticipated a more liberal family law but was outvoted by the conservative members of his committee. What would have stood in the face of this conservatism would have been the existence of a well-established and strong women’s movement and an equally strong women’s participation in the liberation struggle, not under the wing of male relatives but out of their own free will. Such position and feminist maturity would have allowed women to become full agents able to continue to control their own lives in the post-independence era. Other factors that have contributed to this condition include the fact that of the three Maghrebi countries, Morocco was the least exposed to French/colonial culture, it was the country which was colonized for the shortest period (Algeria was colonized for 132 years, Tunisia for 60 years, and Morocco for 43 years), and the least urbanized. It is also possible that being a monarchy would have added to its conservative and traditional traits. In the early years of their country’s independence which were marked by the promulgation of the Moudouana, Moroccan women were deeply disillusioned. However, due to high rates of illiteracy and a generally conservative tendency adopted by the society as a whole, women were unable to turn their discontent into activism to militate against the family code. The men along whom they militated to liberate the nation have not only let them down but betrayed them in every sense. Daoud cites the example of the war hero Khadija Zerktouni who after a history of militant action ends up without recognition having to work in a hospital as a ward assistant to earn a living (Daoud, p. 256). The few feminist voices which expressed discontent against the promulgation of the Moudouana were restricted to newspaper articles which circulated among very small elites of educated women. On 18 March 1957, they published an open letter which contained eight fundamental questions underlining their main concerns about the condition of Moroccan women (Daoud, pp. 260–261). They questioned gender discrimination, absence of women from political and religious councils, unilateral divorce by repudiation, and male guardianship rendering women minors for life. The letter was addressed to the law-makers whose response emphasized the almost sacred aspect of the Moudouana as it drew its articles from Islamic Sharia law and accordingly was not to be questioned let alone modified. Moroccan women’s condition worsened after the sudden death of King Mohammed V in 1961 and the coming of his successor Hassan II whose reign (1961–1999) was marked by his hard-line approach and was in consequence called the Years of Lead. According to Mohammed Yachoulti, this political climate “negatively impacted the vibrancy and effectiveness of active civil society groups including those focused on women’s empowerment. . . Added to this, political parties were very reluctant to deal with gender issues and claims seriously except when these were part of pushing for a national consensus” (Yachoulti 2015, p. 897). He explains how authoritarianism and political oppression did not help women to take action

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except for some state-sponsored groups. In turn, Moroccan feminists refer to the period between 1965 and 1985 as a long winter (Daoud, p. 274) during which the condition of women went from bad to worse. Illiteracy levels were among the highest in the Arab world giving way to traditional misogynistic patriarchal values to control women’s lives at all levels in both urban and rural milieus. This condition was exacerbated by high levels of female poverty often resulting in women’s sexual exploitation. Oppositely, the voice of Islamic conservatism was becoming ever more conspicuous calling for the Islamization of the society as a means to protect it from vice and deviation. Their project was reinforced by the king who asserted in 1968 that there is no constitutional role for women in Islam and welcomed the fact that there were no Queens in Morocco but only morganatic wives. He insisted that power is for men and that the family law is the only law that is impermeable to change. Nonetheless, 1 year later he launched the national congress for the institution of the National Union of Moroccan Women (UNFM), an organization headed by his sisters the princesses Lalla Aisha as honorary president and Lalla Fatima Zohra as president. In the opening speech, he declared: “We do not want people to say that after their participation in the struggle for the liberation of their country, Moroccan women were forgotten. . .This Union is a necessity imposed by our epoch” (Daoud, p. 277). Despite this high endorsement, the UNFM remained a nominal organization which had no impact on women’s lives. In Tunisia, Bourguiba positioned himself as the “father of Tunisian feminism.” He not only engineered its family code and shaped it as a progressive institution often imposing his own viewpoints on the people and side-lining feminist activists, but he progressively turned women’s activism into a state-controlled institution named the National Union of Tunisian Women (UNFT) as a coalition of the Néo Destour women and the UMFT women in 1958. Meanwhile, under the precepts of his one-party state, alternative voices were stifled, and women were not allowed to organize themselves in independent movements or associations. Furthermore, contrary to prevailing assessments about Tunisian women being granted the most liberal family code in the whole Arab and Muslim world, Bourguiba persistently reminded Tunisian men and women that they should adhere to their cultural values and should not blindly embrace modernity. He relentlessly reminded the members of the UNFT that women should remain the guardians of their families’ values and of the conservative principles of Tunisian society, while he designated men as the heads of their families and, according to Article 23 of the code, the wife ought to obey her husband. Time and again Bourguiba reminded women to prioritize motherhood duties over citizenship rights, and in 1976, 20 years after the promulgation of the family code, he instructed the women of the UNFT to refrain from demanding employment opportunities for women lest they neglect their primary roles as housewives and mothers, reminding them that the private rather than the public sphere is the natural place of Tunisian women (Daoud, p. 68). Consequently, Tunisian women were trapped between a family code which granted their rights and often deemed “in advance of society” and a state rhetoric that reminded them ad infinitum about their traditional roles as wives and mothers.

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As a result, it became clear that Bourguiba used women in order to superficially modernize society through their unveiling and joining the labor force which were associated with nation-building. This state of affairs eroded Tunisian women’s activist base and left them without a cause. A similar condition was lived by Algerian women who while in the eyes of the law they were full citizens enjoying the same rights as their male compatriots, the conservative elements in the Algerian political canvas were restless. They tirelessly lobbied the government to put in place a family code which would align Algerian women with their Muslim sisters across the globe while the hidden agenda was their inability to Islamize society without the legal control of women. They argued that in order for Algeria to retrieve its cultural authenticity after 132 years of French acculturation, women as the repositories of the nation’s cultural values and the guardians of traditions and customs, all fundamentally important components of the Algerian national identity, should be brought back to their traditional place as the homemakers who would raise a new generation of authentic Algerian Muslims. Their demands were rejected by President Boumedienne who through the adoption of the National Charter followed by the 1976 National Constitution, he promoted women’s emancipation, championed the equality of the sexes, and guaranteed women’s freedom of movement. Not only so but the Constitution deplored the condition of women and emphasized the efforts the state should deploy to grant them their political rights and to fight against backward mentalities, meaning both the feudal system and Islamic fundamentalism, in other words local and religious patriarchies, with the latter taking the place of colonial patriarchy. Although Time and again the government insisted on the roles women should play in order to emancipate themselves from backward mentalities, it was often the case that the men they needed to militate against were their close relatives. The Islamists, although banned and often banished by the state in the 1970s, operated underground and were obstinately Islamizing the society at the grass root level. Their activists exercised increasing pressure on women by harassing those they felt were inappropriately dressed in the street and intimidating working women in the workplace. The high levels of illiteracy among women in the first two decades following independence meant that women needed coaching and orientation to become aware of their rights and to continue to challenge the restrictive rule of patriarchy. Although as early as 1962 the government had put in place the National Union of Algerian Women (UNFA) to fulfil this very role and work for the interests of women, it failed in its mission leaving women prey to rising fundamentalism and the revival of traditional patriarchy. Consequently, although for varying reasons, the early years of national independence in North Africa did not record strong feminist activism among the newly liberated women. It was as if their activism to liberate their nation had totally eroded their feminist agency and left them in a state of being mired in the past with an inability to leap up to the present.

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The 1980s and the Resurgence of Women’s Activism Although for divergent socio-political motives, the 1980s saw the degeneration of state-controlled feminism and the birth of independent feminist activism in all three North African countries. Algeria: For Algerian women 1980 heralded a historic decade in their activism. The death of President Boumedienne in 1978 and the coming of Chadli Bendjedid to office as the president who gave in to the Islamic fundamentalists’ pressure meant that women’s acquired citizenship rights became in jeopardy. While the 1976 National Charter guaranteed freedom of movement for all citizens, a group of female students were stopped at the Algiers airport in early 1980 as a result of a ministerial decree prohibiting women from traveling unaccompanied by a male relative. On 8 March 1980, women organized a massive demonstration on the occasion of the International Women’s Day, demanding that the decree be definitively abolished. This was followed by a petition demanding the annulment of the decree which was immediately annulled. This event heralded a long course of feminist activism intensified in 1981 by the pilot study organized by the government together with the Islamists to discuss a draft of a new family code. When the news was announced in the newspapers, women became deeply worried. Outraged, hundreds of women staged a vigil in the offices of the UNFA in Algiers demanding to see the classified text of the pilot study, to which the UNFA women replied Algerian women were not aware of their rights and had, therefore, nothing to discuss” (Messaoudi and Schemla 1998, p. 49). This became a historic moment which signaled the demise of the UNFA, which lost its function as a state organization set up to look after the interests of women, and the birth of a new feminist movement which positioned itself as a pressure group which was not affiliated to the government but organized itself in order to fight for the threatened citizenship rights of Algerian women. In 1982, the new feminist activists called on the women war veterans to join forces with them to voice their rejection of the government’s deal. In the words of Khalida Messaoudi, “the old Moudjahidat joined us, the young, as a bloc, for the first time. Thirty of them decided to join the fight against a government that had completely betrayed them” (Ibid., p. 50). Although this joint effort did not stop the family code from being enacted on 9 June 1984, this union between the women war veterans and the new feminists who were not affiliated to the UNFA became the foundation of a new independent feminist movement whose main activist platform is the repelling of the family code. At this stage it had become clear that the state had preferred to sacrifice women’s citizenship rights in order to appease the Islamic fundamentalists. According to Louisa Ait Hamou, “The one-party state co-opted conservatives, and later, Muslim fundamentalists, to safeguard their interests and stay in power” (Ait Hammou 2004, p. 118). Despite this injustice, the Islamists were far from appeased by the promulgation of the Sharia-based family code (Smail Salhi 2003, pp. 27–35). Their dissatisfaction was expressed via bouts of violence against women as a means to intimidate them in the public sphere, especially women they deemed too western-looking.

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The riots of October 1988: Although they brought the end of the one-party rule with promises for greater political freedom which allowed for the creation of feminist groupings and organizations, they also allowed the Islamists to organize themselves in political parties posing thus an alarming threat to women in general and feminist organizations in particular. At this juncture women found themselves in a dual battle: their feminist activism was geared toward pressing the government for the abrogation of the family code, while at the same time, they had to resist and fight Islamic fundamentalism and the rising terrorist violence that targeted women as the stumbling block on their path to Islamizing the whole society (Smail Salhi 2017, pp. 16–40). This violence against women is women intensified for the duration of the Algerian Black Decade (1992–2002) during which it reached alarming levels amounting to femicide. However, not intimidated by terrorist violence, Algerian women intensified their activism. Their bravery in resisting terrorism surpassed that of their male counterparts; they were the first to stage anti-Islamist demonstrations whose main motto was to warn the society about the dangers of becoming an Islamic state. Their resistance was extolled by national newspapers oftentimes contrasting it to the silence of men paralyzed by fear. Nevertheless, this did not detract women from continuing their fight to repeal the family code. Unlike the colonial period when the liberation of the nation relegated feminist demands to the secondary level, women are now giving priority to their citizenship rights. To this end, they created several feminist organizations including the Independent Association for the Triumph of Women’s Rights (AITDF), the Algerian Gathering of Democratic Women (RAFD), and SOS Women in Distress. The end of the twentieth century signaled the receding of terrorist violence in Algeria and the beginning of a new era in Algerian women’s activism. Starting its work as an organization which cared for the survivors of terrorist violence, Réseau Wassila was established in 2000. In addition to the rehabilitation of victims of terrorism, it engaged in a mission of documenting the atrocities of the Black Decade and sensitizing people about violence against women (VAW) and its impact on the society as a whole. Meanwhile, the campaign to repeal the family code continued unabatedly. Various means including public lectures, conferences, songs, films, and various literary genres were deployed to raise awareness among women about the dictates of the code and the many ways they affect women’s lives. In 2003 the coalition, Collectif 20 ans, barakat! (20 years is enough!) was created. It brought together major feminist associations to join effort to repeal or at least amend the family code. Their activism resulted in the government appointing a commission made of lawyers, activists, and academics to draft a proposal for its amendment in the summer of 2004. Although President Abdelaziz Bouteflika (1999–2019) made sure the reforms only targeted the social customs that have become codified and not Islamic law, Islamist parties incited a stout opposition to the changing of many essential articles in the code but especially the article concerning the matrimonial guardian. After lengthy-heated parliamentary debates, on 22 November 2004, a preliminary draft of amendments to the code was presented to the government who

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examined and approved the changes, known thereof as the 2005 family code. These amendments include the elimination of Article 39 which required a wife to obey her husband and her in-laws. Instead, the new article indicates that spouses have reciprocal rights and duties toward each other. Although the law on the matrimonial guardian was not abolished, the new article authorizes women to choose their guardian. Even though many feminist groups and organizations acknowledge that these changes were modest, they also admit that they have removed the sacred aspect of the code. The major socio-economic transformations taking place in Algeria were bound to render many of its articles completely obsolete especially because women have become autonomous and more visible in the public sphere. In the area of media, for instance, 61% of journalists are women. With regard to political representation, the National People’s Assembly is made of 32% of women, and the Council of the Nation had 7% female representatives in 2012 (UN Women 2015). Having a political presence and voice ultimately contributes to women’s activism in a most effective manner influencing the voting of laws which directly affect women’s well-being. For example, a law criminalizing sexual harassment was voted in 2004, and a law criminalizing domestic violence was voted in 2015. Tunisia: The 1980s have also heralded a transformation in Tunisian women’s activism. On the political scene, 1987 saw the end of the 30 years long rule of Tunisia’s President Bourguiba (1957–1987) and the coming of Ben Ali (1987–2011) who promised a gradual transition toward democracy, allowing women to create several feminist associations. At this juncture Tunisian women were confronted with new realities and challenges. Bourguiba’s era created and sustained a staggering dichotomy between the content of the family code and the political discourse which positioned women as the incarnation of the newly liberated nation that is eager to decolonize itself from acculturation and positioning them therefore as the guardians of its cultural values. However, this contains a deeply confounding contradiction: how can one cling to traditions which are highly patriarchal and remind women ad infinitum about their traditional roles, when at the same time a most liberal and deeply secular family code is promulgated? Serious questions impose themselves: is this code only a façade to sell Tunisia as the most modern state in the Muslim world? Why do political actions such as its promulgation contradict the political discourse of Bourguiba? If the code is only a written document for the intellectuals who care to read it, what happens to those who do not read, meaning the masses of rural and working-class women? If the code was “ahead of its time,” then why not have a code fit for its time? These questions incited Tunisian women to reconsider their position within their country’s political apparatus and opt for an autonomous feminist movement that is not directly affiliated to any political party or government organization who would have the “women question” as an appendix to its main agenda. Furthermore, the state’s position toward women has always proved paternalistic and problematized within a patriarchal framework. It is against this status quo that Tunisian women regained their feminist agency by opting for a definitive breakup from being annexed to male-dominated organizations

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and launching independent feminist organizations that have the interests of women as their chief priority. In August 1989 women created the Tunisian Association of Democratic Women (ATFD) whose main objective was to defend, consolidate, and advance the rights of Tunisian women in the face of a growing Islamic fundamentalist threat. Under this association many corporate groups such as the Association des Femmes Tunisiennes Universitaires pour la Recherche et le Développement (the Association of Tunisian Women for Research and Development: AFTURD) and the Union tunisienne de l’industrie, du commerce et de l’artisanat (Tunisian Confederation of Industry, Trade and Handicrafts: UTICA) were created in 1989 and 1990, respectively. In addition to an activist platform which is inclusive of women of all social strata, Tunisian women activists criticized the position of the state concerning CEDAW which it ratified in 1985 but with reservations on the provisions that contradicted the Tunisian Constitution, the family code, and the Nationality Code. Women pressed on the government to remove all reservations to CEDAW and to take steps to implement full gender equality. Their efforts resulted in the creation of the coalition “Equality without reservations” which lobbied the government during the 1st Session of the Universal Periodic Review in April 2008. They argued that Tunisia is not a wholly egalitarian state because its women still face discrimination in many areas of the society and the law. Such discriminations not only violate the principles of equality of rights and respect for human dignity but constitute an obstacle to women’s participation on equal terms with men, in the political, social, economic, and cultural life of the country. Furthermore, these discriminations obstruct the growth and the prosperity of Tunisian society and hinder the full development of the potentialities of women in the service of their country (Marzouki and Cherif 1989; Chamari 1991). This intensified activism resulted in the government’s acceding to appoint a commission made of seven men and seven women to review the articles of the family code. The changes which resulted from this although seen by the activists as modest are nevertheless very important. For example, Article 23 which stipulates that the man is the head of the family and the wife ought to obey her husband is modified to indicate that husband and wife should support each other reciprocally and this reciprocity also applies to child custody. Another important change to the code is the article on nationality. The code now allows Tunisian women to pass their nationality to their children if they marry non-Tunisian men. In August 2006 Tunisia celebrated 50 years of its family code. Women seized this opportunity to reflect on its achievements and shortcomings and criticized the law on inheritance which, based on the Sharia, allocates male heirs twice the share of female heirs. The government responded that any “radical, quick changes could bring instability” (Grami 2010). This reflects the government’s lenient position by making an allowance for the Muslim conservatives who militate for the Islamization of the society. Yet women are fully aware that they need to militate not only against fundamentalist views but also against patriarchy which maintains its dominance through specific gender control patterns including VAW. Although the Tunisian penal code considers VAW a punishable crime, women often fail to

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report it for fear of reprisals and for matters of personal pride. According to Grami, “violence is deeply rooted in [Tunisian] societal norms including gender roles and expectations” (Grami 2010, p. 66). She explains how lack of education, unemployment, corruption, and freedom make men insecure and more liable to turn oppressive, violent, and dominant, proving to themselves and others that they are still “man enough” (ibid.). Alarmed by the levels of violence inherent in Tunisian society, women activists engaged in a campaign to spread awareness among women that they should not normalize violence, nor accept it, but report it. For this they created the Centre of Listening to Women victims of VAW and opened a women’s shelter for battered women. These levels of violence reached a crescendo during and after the Tunisian Spring in 2011. Although the law states that women’s protection from VAW is essential in Tunisian legislation, this is rarely the case. According to Lilia Blaise (2017), while Tunisia has always been praised for its advocating for women’s rights and gender equality, the reality is that Tunisian women’s existence remains problematically plagued by abuse, unequal treatment of daughters and sons, sexual harassment, and a rape culture. In 2016, the Ministry of Women, Family and Childhood reported that 60% of Tunisian women were victims of VAW and 50% of women said they had experienced violent behaviors in the public sphere at least once in their lives. Likewise, a study by AFTURD published in the same year found that from 2011 to 2015, 70–90% of women have experienced sexual harassment, mostly on public transportation (ibid.). Another anxiety experienced by Tunisian women following the 2011 Revolution is the accession of the Ennahda Islamist Party to power (2011–2014). Time and again Tunisian Islamists called for the aligning of the family code with a conservative interpretation of Sharia law. However, due to their solid and wellestablished activist base, women were able to confront the Islamist government and defend their acquired rights. Their activism intensified and motivated women of all social strata to vote out the Islamists at the 2014 presidential elections which brought to power Beji Caid Essebsi (2014–2019), who in 2017 instated laws that would criminalize all forms of VAW and banned the law that pardoned the rapist if he married his victim. Furthermore, President Essebsi shocked the Muslim world when he changed the inheritance law to give equal rights to male and female heirs, a move which fundamentally defies Sharia law and the Qur’an which state in clear terms that the inheritance share of a male heir is double that of a female heir. These changes were welcomed by Tunisian women as a great feminist victory. Their activism at the present is directed toward spreading awareness about these gains, because although the gender ideology is a significant part of the Tunisian regime’s message, Tunisian women continue to face gender-based obstacles in their way to full realization of their rights. Their other priority is to resist and fight against Tunisian Islamists who have not accepted the government’s move against Sharia law. In their turn, their activism is geared toward the Islamization of Tunisia, a mission they are not prepared to relinquish.

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Morocco Equally for Moroccan women, the 1980s heralded a new era of change after the long feminist winter that lasted from 1965 to 1985 (Daoud, p. 274). Submitting to pressure from the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund following the economic crisis experienced by Morocco in the 1980s, King Hassan II agreed to implement a program of political and economic reforms. This allowed for the emergence and proliferation of a number of associational bodies including women’s NGOs and organizations as part of the emerging civil society groups. These include the Women’s Action Union (UAF), the Democratic Association of Moroccan women (ADFM), Women’s Solidarity Association (ASF), and the Moroccan Association of Women’s Rights (AMDF). Having failed in the past years to secure changes to the Moudouana, these feminist organizations joined forces in 1990 to campaign for a one-million signature petition. Their strategy was to raise awareness among women that “widespread poverty, illiteracy, and domestic violence stemmed from the Mudawana, which made women second-class citizens” (Ennaji 2011, 82). Alarmed by their undertaking, Islamist fundamentalists organized a counteraction inciting violence against all those who organized or signed the petition to reform the Moudouana which they held as an unalterable sacred text. To placate this tension, the King intervened on 20 August 1992 as the commander of the faithful stating: “The Mudawana is my responsibility. I am the only one with the authority to amend it” (Ennaji, pp. 82–83). He added that he was aware that women had grievances and agreed to meet their representatives. A select group representing the women’s NGOs and organizations met with the King and presented a list of proposed reforms to the Moudouana which he recommended to the council of Ulemas who rule on matters relating to Sharia. The council approved some modest changes relating to marriage and child custody which the King announced a year later. Although these changes were purely cosmetic and almost inconsequential, women activists welcomed them as a breakthrough toward further changes in future years for which they intensified their activism as the sole means to militate for and effectuate change. This move deeply angered the Islamists who protested that the King was more worried to please the West and the feminists as its agents than to adhere to the way of God. Feminist activism gained momentum during the first socialist government led by Abderrahman El Youssoufi in 1998. Women NGOs along with political parties of the opposition pressed for the integration of women into development programmes; they demanded better female representation in parliament and urged the government to fight female poverty and illiteracy and to raise awareness about gender-based violence. Women’s activism within their own organizations helped them establish a new presence in society, facilitating their visibility in the public sphere and in the political arena. This visibility although constantly being opposed and contested by the Islamists allowed women to achieve a number of gender reforms and secure many victories in the name of democracy and gender equality.

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The coming of Mohammed VI as the new king after the death of his father in 1999 brought a new dimension to women’s activism in Morocco. To the delight of feminists, he put emphasis on the need to promote women’s status by overcoming the discriminatory legal provisions of the Moudouana against them. He appointed an advisory Royal Commission made of feminist activists, academics, and religious theorists in order the revise the Moudouana within the framework of Islamic law while adhering to the universal declaration of human rights. In October 2003 the King announced the new reformed Moudouana which was ratified on 24 January of the following year to be known thereof as the 2004 Moudouana. To wade off the anger of the conservatives, he emphasized that the reforms address issues associated with the family as a whole and they do not represent a “victory” for one side or another. On the contrary, he clarified, the changes aim to maintain men’s dignity. Nevertheless, due to the political climate of this historical junction subsequent to the Casablanca bombings of 16 May 2003 which discredited the Islamists who were partly blamed for inciting them, the latter did not oppose the new Moudouana. According to Ennaji, “Islamist leaders said the reform was in tune with their ideas.” And in a formal statement by the PJD, the official Islamist party, they affirmed that the new family code “constitutes a substantial accomplishment for the entire Moroccan people” (Ennaji, p. 85). The main reforms of the new Moudouana included raising the minimum marriage age for women to 18 years, making the spouses equal partners in marriage and household responsibilities. It abolished the requirement of a male guardian in marriage giving women the right to contract their own marriage or delegate the responsibility to a male family member. It rescinded the wife’s obedience to her husband and allowed married women the possibility to sign a separate marital property contract. With regard to polygamy, a man may still take as many as four wives, yet this is subject to judicial authorization and strict conditions including the consent of the first wife. However, a wife can make it a condition of marriage that her husband may not take a second wife, and she would be entitled for a divorce if he did. With regard to divorce, women have the right to initiate divorce, and they can opt for divorce by mutual consent. A divorced woman may now retain custody of her children under the age of 7, even if she remarries, and children can choose their custodial parent past the age of 15. Furthermore, children born out of wedlock have the right to determine paternity, whereas before, paternity could only be established by the testimony of 20 witnesses. Despite these seemingly important reforms to the Moudouana, more important work needs to be done by women’s organizations and activists in order to make women aware of their legal rights and remove the hurdles which prevent the enactment of the new law. According to Willman Bordat et al., “Studies demonstrate a lack of knowledge about the Family Code, indicating that over 91 percent of illiterate women lack information on the law, while nationwide just 38 percent of women and 32 percent of men have knowledge of the reforms” (Willman Bordat et al. 2011, pp. 94–95).

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Moha Ennaji also highlights limitations in the promulgation of the new Moudouana. He highlights the problems that remain to be addressed in terms of the functionality of divorce by repudiation and the distribution of property and money accumulated during marriage which still remain challenging issues (Ennaji, pp. 86–87). Beyond the reforms of the 2004 Moudouana, women’s activism in Morocco has made many additional important accomplishments both at the legal and the political levels. In 2008, Moroccan women became able to pass their citizenship to their children, and in 2014 Article 475 of the penal code, which allowed the rapist to escape punishment if he married his victim, was abrogated. With regard to VAW, women NGOs and activists have brought up this issue to the attention of succeeding governments critiquing the poor commitment of the state to protect women from domestic violence and sexual harassment. They assist women survivors of violence by opening shelters and providing legal advice. On the political level, although demands for a quota have always been challenged on the ground of their unconstitutionality, activists still advocated for the increase of women’s representation in parliament from a mere 0.5% to 17% which is still well below that of its Maghrebi neighbors. According to a report by Nadia Naïr, out of the 39 ministers in the JDP government, there was initially only 1 female minister. It was only after much pressure from women activists that they increased this number to six female ministers. Naïr concludes: “Unfairness towards women acceding to decisionmaking positions was palpable” (Naïr 2013–2014, p. 87).

Conclusion This account has demonstrated that North African women’s activism began with the dual mission to liberate the self through liberating the nation during the colonial period. In this process women put the nation before the self and deployed their political action to free the nation in order to free the self. However, in the postcolonial era, women ended up becoming part of the decolonization projects of nation states that identified them as the symbols of cultural authenticity through whom the nation will rediscover its Islamic identity which was almost effaced through processes of acculturation during the long colonial night. As a result, women’s rights were codified in codes of personal status laws and a government rhetoric that reminded them about their fundamental roles as homemakers and the guardians of national cultural identity. As a result, North African women found themselves prisoners of family codes that render them second-class citizens under the law and rising Islamic fundamentalism which positioned itself as the opponent of women calling for stricter control of their lives. It is therefore against these two obstacles that women have organized their activism making the repelling of discriminating laws against women their feminist platform.

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Although in divergent ways, North African women have organized themselves into pressure groups and organizations and have succeeded to press on their governments to bring change to their family codes and negotiate more political rights. Their shared anxieties and unified feminist platform brought them to congregate in 1991 in a meeting in Rabat which resulted in the birth of the Collectif Maghreb Egalité (https://arab.org/directory/collectif-95-maghreb-egalite/) network which was formally established in Beijing during the World Conference on Women in September 1995. Such a consortium helps women of these countries to share experiences, strategize toward the safeguarding of secured rights in the face of rising conservatism, and consolidate their activist base.

References Ait Hammou, L. (2004). Women’s struggle against Muslim fundamentalism in Algeria: Strategies or a lesson for survival? In A. Imam et al. (Eds.), Warning signs of fundamentalisms (pp. 117–124). London: WLUML. Blaise, L. (2017, Aug 1). Tunisia takes a big step to protect women from abuse. New York Times. https:// www.nytimes.com/2017/08/01/world/africa/tunisia-women-domestic-violence.html. Accessed 25 Mar 2019. Bordat, S. W., Schaefer Davis, S., & Kouzzi, S. (2011). Women as agents of grassroots change: Illustrating micro-empowerment in Morocco. Journal of Middle East Women Studies, 7(1), 90–119. Chamari, A. C. (1991). La femme et la loi en Tunisie. Casablanca: Le Fennec. Charrad, M. M. (2001). States and women’s rights: The making of postcolonial Tunisia, Algeria, and Morocco. London-California: University of California Press. Daoud, Z. (1996). Féminisme et Politique au Maghreb: Sept décennies de lutte. Casablanca: Editions Eddif. Ennaji, M. (2011). Women’s NGOs and social change in Morocco. In F. Sadiqi & M. Ennaji (Eds.), Women in the Middle East and North Africa: Agents of change. Oxon: Routledge. Grami, A. (2010). Gender equality in Tunisia. In Z. S. Salhi (Ed.), Gender and diversity in the Middle East and North Africa. London: Routledge. Marzouki, I., & Cherif, K. (1989). Les facteurs socioculturels défavorisant les femmes en matière de succession. In Actes du colloque (Ed.), La non-discrimination à l’égard des femmes. Paris: CERP-UNESCO. Messaoudi, K., & Schemla, E. (1998). Unbowed: An Algerian woman confronts Islamic fundamentalism. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Naïr, N. (2013–2014). Women’s fight for the constitutionalization of gender equality in Morocco. Al-Raida, No. 143–144, Fall/Winter, 83–88. Smail Salhi, Z. (2003). Algerian women, citizenship, and the ‘family code’. Gender and Development, 11(3), 27–35. Smail Salhi, Z. (2017). Tales of ‘springs’ and ‘revolutions’: Women, the Algerian black decade, and the Islamist Femicide. In F. Sadiqi & H. Reifeld (Eds.), Women and resistance to radicalisation (pp. 16–40). Rabat: Konrad Adenauer Stiftung. UN Women. (2015). Spring forward for women programme. Available online: https://springforward.unwomen.org/en/countries/algeria. Accessed 20 Mar 2019. Yachoulti, M. (2015). The feminist movement in the Moroccan spring: Roles, specificity, and gains. Sociology Study, 5(12), 895–910.

Women of African Islands: Rights, Representation, and Participation

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Aleida Borges

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Contextualizing the Islands of Africa: General Trends . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Legal Frameworks for Equality: National and International Dimensions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Representation and Participation: Gendered Power Relations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Gendering Governance: Why Should Gender Equality Count? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Annex . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

With a total population of around 30 million, the islands of Africa offer a particular perspective on the rights, representation, and experience of women in the continent. Although there are varying trends in terms of opportunities and socioeconomic dynamics, women in islands such as Seychelles and Cabo Verde have acquired, over time, significant gains in terms of gender equality, increased labor participation, and representation in Parliament. However, this chapter shows that despite some of the archipelago states in Africa being recognized as leading examples in the region for good governance for well over a decade, this success has not translated into significant progress in the representation of women in Parliament, decision-making bodies, as well as in overall gender equality in society. Therefore, as the good governance agenda is mostly dominated by a neoliberal, market-based ideology, it has failed to align gender equality with good governance practice. This has meant that despite the relative stability and prosperity that some islands have experienced, women for the most part have not been able to enjoy full rights and participation in society alongside their male counterparts. A. Borges (*) Spanish, Portuguese and Latin American Studies, King’s College London, London, UK e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_154

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Keywords

Women’s rights · Political participation · Civic rights · Citizenship · African Islands

Introduction Globally, it can be said that women remain underrepresented in spaces of decisionmaking, in relation to their male counterparts. This is despite the fact that around the world, women’s access to education and labor force participation are increasing with women now having more decision-making power and influence (O’Neil and Domingo 2016). Progress remains, however, uneven across and within regions, and although there has been continuous improvement over time, resistance is still common, and today most countries are still short of achieving the goals set by the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW), adopted by the United Nations General Assembly in 1979. Over the past 20 years, in most African nations, programs were initiated to improve women’s access to healthcare and basic education. Government structures in the form of gender ministries and commissions were also created to oversee the implementation of state policy regarding gender equality and women’s empowerment. In addition, the African Union established in its Constitutive Act, as one of its grounding principles, the achievement of gender equality. This level of institutional commitment did not, however, translate into more gender-balanced societies in the continent, and despite the many commendable efforts and achievements, there remains a gap, particularly between policies and laws and their implementation and practice. Consequently, women continue to have low representation in decisionmaking bodies, with even the set minimum of at least 30% representation in Parliament, established by the CEDAW, not being realized by most countries and the quality of representation remaining a major concern. The island states in Africa have an international reputation for good governance, political stability, and the quality of their democracy. It is remarkable that out of the 6 archipelago states in Africa, Cabo Verde, São Tomé e Príncipe (STP), Madagascar, Mauritius, Comoros, and Seychelles, 3 occupy top positions in Africa for governance on the Ibrahim Index for African Governance (IIAG), with Mauritius coming 1st, then Seychelles 2nd, and lastly Cabo Verde 3rd out of a total of 54 African countries assessed (Mo Ibrahim 2017). However, despite this success, in line with other sociocultural spaces, women in these islands continue to face several challenges in the access to political office. Notwithstanding the inexistence of institutional barriers to the full participation of women in society, these are, predominantly, patriarchal societies with traditions which consign women to the care of children and family and thus limit their ability to access spaces of power within society. The agency of women is thus often associated with the responsibility of raising children and future citizens of the nation. Furthermore, in some of the island nations in the continent, women are disproportionately burdened by family responsibilities as they

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head more than 30% of the monoparental households (INE 2017). This stands as one of the legacies of slavery in some of the islands, as African men and women were not allowed to form families, and instead, there is a history of rape and subjugation of the female slave (Monteiro 2015) which is at the very origin of many creole societies in the continent. These were families that therefore, from their inception, were formed by slave mothers and their children with no protective nucleus or support from a partner. A recent study by the UK Overseas Development Institute (ODI) has found that there is no correlation between development or economic growth and having more women in power as, for instance, there are more women in the national legislatures of low-income countries such as Rwanda, the international leader, coming 1st with 63.8%, than in countries such as the UK and the USA, which ranked 38th and 103rd with 32.2% and 19.6% (lower house), respectively (O’Neil and Domingo 2016). Likewise, countries with the highest GDP per capita in the continent, such as Seychelles and Mauritius are not leaders in terms of the inclusion of women or the promotion of gender equality. The percentage of female MPs worldwide, in both houses, was 12% in 1997, and it only increased slightly to 23% by 2015, this despite efforts put in place by international organizations such as UN Women as well as national governments to bridge the gap between men and women in terms of representation and equality in society. The existing literature emphasizes the importance of promoting women’s representation in high political office as a fundamental question of justice and equality (Alexander et al. 2016; Monteiro 2015; Scherpereel et al. 2018). This literature tends to emphasize as limiting factors access to education, labor force participation, the economic condition of the country, and culture as the most important considerations (Yoon 2001). However, as argued by Alexander et al. (2016), the question of the political empowerment of women is a complex phenomenon that involves several agents, formal and informal institutions at multiple levels and in various geographical areas from the global to the national and subnational spheres. It is also important to consider the representation of women in parliament, in light of the democratization process, which for most African countries took place in the early 1990s (Yoon 2004). Foster (1993) considered that while single party regimes in Africa excluded women from politics by maintaining old-boy networks in the exercise of attributing political power, the prospect of multiparty democracy presented unprecedented opportunities for women’s entry into politics. However, nearly 20 years later, Stockemer found in his study that democratic states have fewer women in parliament than non-democratic states (2011). This in turn leads us to reflect on the intersectionality of different societal, cultural, political, and economic forces at play when considering the inequality women face in terms of access to high office and representation. Monteiro (2015, p. 196) posited that, in the case of Cabo Verde, there remains “the systematic persistence of the sub-representation [of women] in the structures of power, despite the significant progress attained during the democratic process.” In many ways it can be argued that reality in the islands within the continent exists only at the outer limits of the context in which Africa is inserted. These often do not

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fit the epistemic construct which dominates the narratives about the continent. This state of exceptionalism is, to a certain extent, a consequence of historical events which shaped the socialization process of these islanders. For instance, for the Portuguese administration during the colonial period, the islanders in Cabo Verde and STP were not considered to be indígenas (indigenous) under the Estatuto do Indígenato (Indigenous Statute) which was applied to the Portuguese colonies in Africa between 1926 and 1961 to differentiate between African subjects and the citizens of European origin. Despite the fact that all people of the colonies were formally recognized as citizens since the first Constitution of Portugal in 1822 (Seibert 2014), the statute created a separate legal status, under Portuguese law, based on an economic, cultural, and political criteria, which made a distinction between “indigenous” and “citizens” and discriminated against the former (Neto 2015) by considering their culture and economic position to be inferior. This statute’s application was restricted to Angola, Mozambique, and Guiné-Bissau and thus created a separate, more privileged, status for colonial subjects from the islands. The islanders were, at least in theory, considered as “assimilated,” “civilized” citizens, thus simultaneously experiencing inclusion, exclusion, and subjugation based on a notion of citizenship which gained life in the context of the specificities of colonialism and colonial relations (Monteiro 2017). Nevertheless, as it is the case within the continent, it is not possible to generalize the experience of African islanders as if they were a homogenous category of people. From historical to sociocultural and economic particularities, the six archipelago states in Africa offer singular perspectives into life, culture, and society in the continent. More particularly, in terms of women’s rights, representation, and participation within insular states, there are varying trends across different periods of time, which are very much a consequence of the specificity of their history and context, in terms of colonization and the subsequent socialization process. An important consideration is the fact that unlike most nations in the continent, the history of these island states, with the exception of Madagascar and Comoros, begins uncharacteristically with colonialism as the “fact of its origins,” when the European explorers arrived and settled with them (Aumeerally 2005; Cabral 2015). Relying on data from the International Parliamentary Union (IPU), the Ibrahim Index for African Governance (IIAG), the World Bank, and national governments, this chapter will set to explore different aspects of the participation and representation of women in the island states of the African continent. These islands are part of a specific geographical subregion and represent a distinct demographic, historical, and cultural sphere of influence in the continent. As other islands all over the world, these have been imbued with paradoxical myths which combine the idea of them as spaces considered to be concurrently open and closed, complete and peripheral, vulnerable, and yet resilient (Baldacchino 2013). These views are accompanied by a tendency to essentialize island spaces and its peoples associating them with places of “fascination” or “lure,” often compared to the islands in the Caribbean for constituting creole societies emerging from a historical context based on the exchanges of people and goods which has constructed modern worlds and shaped the relationship between people (Green 2009) across oceans and continents.

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As argued by Godfrey (2006), therefore, there are interesting benefits to be taken from focusing on islands as geographical enclaves, which are part of broader realities providing opportunities for a comparative, global, and interdisciplinary research focus. Islands constitute, thus, a very particular focus of inquiry, often ignored by conventional disciplines, but which can be an instrumental force toward a better understanding of the world and the furtherance of knowledge. The structure of this chapter will be as follows: it will start by analyzing the rights of women in these societies, through the endorsement of national and international legal frameworks of protection and non-discrimination. In a second stage, it will examine the available data on the representation of women in parliament and the general socioeconomic situation of women. It will argue that the narrow market focus of governance reforms has led to the neglect of gender equality concerns. This in turn has meant that states which have performed remarkably well in terms of good governance for a period of over 10 years have systematically failed to address the question of gender inequality in their societies. The emphasis has thus been on maintaining a reputation of good governance, in order to attract foreign investment, with complete dissociation between good governance and gender equality. In line with critics of the good governance agenda (Khan 2012; Noman 2012), we suggest that the narrow preoccupation with reforms primarily to expand market activity and its supporting institutions has been detrimental to the rights of marginalized groups such as women and youth. Considering that most Western countries are not leaders in terms of gender equality, it does not come as a surprise that the good governance agenda, which is mostly a Western-driven endeavor, has completely failed to address this fundamental question. Thus, reforms often entail the endorsement of alien, “onesize-fits-all” institutions and policies, based on Western experience and neglecting to address more localized issues.

Contextualizing the Islands of Africa: General Trends There are around 330 islands within the African continent with a total population of around 30 million (World Bank 2017), which is the same as the population of Angola but significantly less than that of countries such as Nigeria. The islands can be divided into two groups: the islands in the Indian Ocean and the ones in the Atlantic. Within the Indian Ocean, there are four sovereign archipelago states: Comoros, Seychelles, Mauritius, and Madagascar. In the Atlantic there are only two: Cabo Verde and STP (Shahin 2002). There are also the French overseas territories of Mayotte and Réunion and the multiple islands which form part of states in mainland Africa, such as Zanzibar and the Bijagós archipelago, which are part of Tanzania and Guiné-Bissau, respectively. All of Africa’s island states, with the exception of Madagascar, are classified as Small Island Developing States (SIDS), under the UNESCO classification system for all islands under 2,000 km2 (Shahin 2002). The SIDS are a recognized group of 58 low-lying island nations across 3 geographical areas – the Caribbean, Pacific, and Atlantic, Indian Ocean, and

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Mediterranean and South China Seas – which although geographically dispersed face similar social, developmental, and environmental challenges. The island nations in Africa share a common history through their experience of colonization by different European nations such as the Portuguese, French, English, and Dutch (Boswell 2005). All island states, with the exception of Madagascar and Comoros, share a basic demographic history in that there was no significant indigenous culture (Pardue 2013), prior to the arrival of the European settlers. Their socialization process is thus often compared, in the literature, with that of the colonized islands of the Caribbean such as Barbados and Trinidad and Tobago, for resulting in the emergence of creole societies where multiculturalism prevails. For instance, in STP, indented labor known as contratados was brought from places such as Cabo Verde, Angola, and Mozambique to respond to an intensification of the demand for cocoa in the early 1900s. This resulted in a mixed society where, despite the inexistence of ethnic divisions, common in the continent, there are divisions in terms of the descendants from the different groups of contratados, which were based at different communities known as roças (plantations) (Seibert 2014). As most people still live in and identify as “coming from” these roças, it is common to hear a person call someone Angolan or Cabo-Verdean even though these people were born in STP. In addition, there are also other pejorative terms attributed to people of mixed descent such as tonga, bóbó, or gabão. An interesting legacy of this period is that it is widely believed that more than 60% of the population today is of Cabo-Verdean descent and that creole from Cabo Verde is spoken in the country more than the main creole of the island, known as crioulo forro. Whereas the Indian Ocean was dominated by French and British forces and the islands exchanged hands between being under the French or the English at different points in history, the Atlantic side was dominated by the Portuguese and the Spanish. There are therefore, significant cultural, as well as political and economic dissimilarities between all of the island and archipelago states in Africa. Ranging from Madagascar, the 4th biggest island in the world, with a population of almost 25 million (World Bank 2018), and a GDP per capita of US$ 449.7, to Seychelles, one of the smallest island states in the world (15th), with the highest GDP per capita in the continent, US$ 15,504.5, it is not possible to generalize on the experience of islanders in Africa, indeed as it is impossible to generalize on the lives and experiences of people on the continent as a whole (Bayart 2009). There are significant contrasts also between small islands such as Mauritius with a GDP per capita of US$ 10,547.2 and Comoros which has the lowest GDP per capita in the group with $ 797.3 (World Bank 2017). This in turn means that the lives and experiences of women in Seychelles and STP, the two smallest nations in the continent, are shaped by completely different socioeconomic contexts, and whereas, for instance, unemployment rates are higher for men (4.2%) than for women (2.9%) in Seychelles, in STP the majority of women (66.5%) are inactive in relation to 33.5% of men with even more significant differences in the category of domestic (or home staying) where women constitute 94.4% and men only 5.6% (INE 2012). The sociocultural and institutional exclusion of women in STP is also shaped by the limited economic opportunities available for women, particularly in rural areas with a perception of

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women still being confined to – commonly said during the 2016 elections in which a woman candidate ran for presidency – “the corner of the bed,” which translates as women in the corner of society. In contrast, in the often considered more progressive and stable neighbor Cabo Verde, there has never been a female candidate for the presidential elections. The Gender Inequality Index (GII) is a useful tool to compare and contrast gender-based inequalities in three dimensions, namely, reproductive health, empowerment, and economic activity. For this context, empowerment is measured by the share of parliamentary seats held by women and attainment in secondary and higher education by each gender. However, most island states in Africa were not ranked. The only exceptions are STP and Mauritius which in 2017 ranked 131st and 84th in the world, respectively. The Gender Gap Index (World Economic Forum 2017) ranked Madagascar 80th, Cabo Verde 89th, and Mauritius 112th out of the 144 countries for which there was available data. These classifications can be useful when examining the general economic and governance indicators in relation to progress made in terms of gender equality as it becomes more apparent both the trajectories followed by the different states in terms of priorities and the outcomes in terms of advancing the position of women in society and gaining ground toward gender equality. However, these indicators fail to explain why despite the many efforts put toward eliminating gender inequality most societies remain very unequal. This inequality shapes the lives of many women in Africa particularly in terms of employment opportunities and career progression but also in terms of poverty as in most countries women are the poorest stratum in society. In some island states, such as Cabo Verde and STP, this poverty is a consequence of the burden put on women as heads of monoparental families, which also happen to be the poorest families as women do not have the same employment opportunities as men. In the latest census conducted in STP, it was found that the medium salary of women is 32.4% less than that of their male counterparts (INE 2012). Considering that 32.2% of women in STP get married before the age of 18, contrasting with only 7.5% of men, it becomes apparent why less women are gaining qualifications and joining the workforce. However, despite having varying degrees of opportunities in the different island states, the majority of women still struggle with discrimination in society and are considered not as good as men in terms of decision-making and access to positions of power in society.

Legal Frameworks for Equality: National and International Dimensions Most island states in Africa have sought to align themselves with international Western standards in terms of gender equality promotion by signing up to international treaties and passing legislation on issues related to gender-based violence, women’s rights, equal access to education, equality in property ownership, etc. However, the putting in place of legal frameworks is just one dimension in the quest to tackle gender inequality. The extent to which policy makers are able to take

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steps toward dealing with questions of women’s poverty or addressing gender injustice is also dependent upon the implementation of these policies. Thus, the second dimension dictates that international obligations and commitments need to be translated into and be reflected in government directives, institutional arrangements, budgetary allocations, bureaucratic procedures, and the monitoring of standards (Scherpereel et al. 2018; Stockemer 2011; Yoon 2004). It requires a holistic approach to gender equality, both as in ideology and in praxis, expressed in the concept of governance, in other words, becoming part of the logic of how governments execute their mandate. Considering the steps taken by the different island states, to align with international frameworks of protection of women and the promotion of gender equality, it is worth noting that all island states in Africa have ratified the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination against Women (CEDAW) 1979. The ratifications took place at different stages with Cabo Verde becoming the first to ratify it in 1980, followed by Mauritius in 1984 and Madagascar signing it in 1980 but ratifying it in 1989. The last island states to ratify it were Seychelles in 1992, Comoros in 1994, and STP which signed in 1995 but only ratified it in 2003. The CEDAW, described as an international bill of rights of women, aimed at bringing the female half of humanity into the focus of human rights concerns (OHCHR 1979) through an agenda for action by countries to guarantee the enjoyment of those rights. The Convention also requires states to take “all appropriate measures, including legislation, to ensure the full development and advancement of women, for the purpose of guaranteeing them the exercise and enjoyment of human rights and fundamental freedoms on a basis of equality with men” (OHCHR 1979). On a regional level, in 2003, the Protocol to the African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights on the Rights of Women in Africa, also known as the Maputo Protocol became the first legal instrument to explicitly articulate the rights of women in Africa. It aimed at reinforcing the legal framework for the protection and fulfilment of the rights of women in the continent, and it came into force in 2005 after 15 countries had deposited their instruments of ratification with the African Union. It was a crucial moment for the affirmation of the rights of women in the continent, which was inspired by the CEDAW, but it also included knowledge accumulated within the remit of the gender analysis done during the period leading up to the 5th Regional Women’s Conference held in Dakar, Senegal, in 1994, which was a precursor to Beijing. Considering the ratification of the Maputo Protocol, it is worth noting that whereas island states such as Comoros, Cabo Verde, and Seychelles ratified it in 2004, 2005, and 2006, respectively, others such as STP, Mauritius, and Madagascar signed the convention but never ratified. In the case of São Tomé e Principe, it only signed the Protocol in 2010. There are also mechanisms which are part of regional integration bodies such as SADC, the Southern Africa Development Community, and ECOWAS, the Economic Community of West African States, of which some of the island states are members. For instance, SADC has a Gender and Development Protocol, with a 50-50 target for representation in legislative bodies, and a Declaration on Gender and Development, of which Mauritius, Seychelles, and Madagascar are signatories.

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This serves as further incentive to commit to gender equality at an institutional and supranational level, but it does not necessarily translate into material change or transformation of women’s rights in society. At the national level, the different island states have also taken significant steps to align themselves with international expectations in terms of the promotion of gender equality, through the creation of dedicated government agencies. For instance, in STP, the INPG (Instituto Nacional para Promoção da Igualdade e Equidade de Género – National Institute for the Promotion of Equality and Gender Equity) was established in 2007, as the main national mechanism charged with ensuring the promotion and execution of the government policy for the advancement of women and gender equality and equity. Furthermore, it is responsible for the implementation of the National Strategy for Equality and Gender Equity, which aims to develop by 2015 a society driven by social justice, solidarity, equality, and respect for all citizens as real values deeply shared by all. Likewise, in Cabo Verde, the ICIEG, Instituto Cabo-Verdiano para Igualdade e Equidade de Género, was established in 1994 as a space of horizontal integration and articulation of government policy relating to gender equality. Furthermore, following some constitutional amendments which had to take place during the democratization process, different provisions to protect gender equality were also introduced to reflect the different international commitments of the various states. In STP, for instance, Art. 15 (1) of the Constitution provides that (2) the woman is equal to the man in rights and duties, having the guarantee of a full participation in political, economic, social, and cultural life. The 1993 Constitution of Seychelles promotes non-discrimination and guarantees equal rights and protection for both men and women. It also grants women citizens the same property rights and the same rights to inheritance as men. There is thus, equality in law. The challenge has been, however, to change societal perceptions and understandings of gender roles as these often emerged as the result of a mix between tradition and religion, more than the laws of the land. These roles are based on social constructs (Harris 2004), which can have a very powerful impact on what women can or cannot do in any given society. For instance, a recent study conducted by the SADC (Southern African Development Community), a regional integration community of which Mauritius, Madagascar, and Seychelles are members, found that in Seychelles, 79% of men believe that a woman should obey her husband. A further 35% think that a man should have the final say in family matters (Morna and Gender Links 2016). This means that despite the fact that Seychelles ranks 1st in the 2016 SADC Gender Protocol Barometer, with 44% of women in Parliament, 27% in the cabinet, and 68% women in labor force participation, these achievements are not reflected in the gender attitudes of society. Therefore, there remains a gap in women’s essential empowerment and freedom. In Cabo Verde, likewise, a recent survey by Afrobarometer (2017) found that, whereas 88% of the population believed that women should have the same chance of being elected as men, 59% also agreed that it is better for a family if a woman has the main responsibility for taking care of the home and the children rather than a man. Thus, if on the one hand it is accepted

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that there should be equal opportunities between men and women, on the other hand, society has not evolved enough to create the environment to foster such equality of chances. The participation of women in society is directly linked to their reproductive rights. The CEDAW, already in 1979, called for states to ensure that the role of women in procreation does not become a basis for discrimination. Article 5 of the Convention promotes the understanding of “maternity as a social function” (OHCHR 1979) and affirms that society’s obligation extends to offering social services, especially child care facilities, that enable individuals to combine family responsibilities with work and participation in public life. Therefore, it is understood that nation states ought to create the right provisions and support to ensure that the fact that women bear the burden of reproduction does not become an individual burden of sacrificing employment prospects and quality of life. It thus remains remarkable that women are still the face of poverty in most island states and that this is directly linked to their responsibilities in terms of caring for children both in single-parent households and in two-parent ones (ACEP 2016; Monteiro 2015). An important indicator of the rights of women in a given society is the existence of laws on gender-based violence. According to UN Women (2018), it is estimated that 35% of women worldwide have experienced either physical and/or sexual intimate partner violence or sexual violence by a non-partner. Furthermore, some national studies show that up to 70% of women report experiencing physical and/or sexual violence from an intimate partner. The passing of gender-based violence laws is also one of the requirements for the fulfilment of the commitments of the CEDAW: to create mechanisms to prevent and punish domestic violence. Examples of island states in Africa passing such laws are STP in 2008, Cabo Verde in 2011, and Mauritius in 2016 (amended). These laws constitute also a victory in terms of activism and civil society engagement with the question of gender equality involving the concerted action of organizations such as UN Women, grassroots organizations, national associations of women lawyers, and parliamentary women networks in these countries. In Cabo Verde, in particular, this has been described as one of the biggest achievements of the nation since democratization. Countries such as Comoros and Seychelles have so far failed to pass such laws, despite a recent national survey conducted in Seychelles pointing out that 59% of women have experienced violence at least once in their lifetime (European External Action Service 2018). Domestic violence is thus recognized as a key concern in Seychelles, and yet, despite partnerships with the UN and the EU seeking to push for action (European External Action Service 2018), there has been no legal provision passed to tackle the social issue. Abortion laws are linked to the question of reproductive health and the rights of women and are thus also important indicators of the rights of women. Cabo Verde became, in 1986, the first country in the Comunidade de Países de Língua Oficial Portuguesa (CPLP), the Community of Countries with Portuguese as the Official Language, as well as in Africa, to legalize abortion without restriction as to reason, through the Lei 9/III/1986. Today, Cabo Verde is one of only three countries in Africa where abortion is lawful without restriction as to reason (with gestational

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limits). Other archipelago states such as Madagascar and STP have a prohibition without any legal explicit exception. Comoros, Mauritius, and Seychelles allow it only to save the life of a woman/preserve her physical or mental health (The World’s Abortion Laws 2018). Considering that in STP there is a high incidence of teenage pregnancy (11% between 12 and 14 years old) (INE 2012), which disproportionately affects young women’s ability to complete their studies, the absence of legal options to terminate unwanted pregnancies might contribute to the marginalization which women face in society with 71.3% of the poor being women resulting in them being considered the face of poverty in the country (ACEP 2016). The resultant differences in education attainment mean that adult illiteracy affects 15% of the female population against 5.1% of the male (INE 2012). Consequently, teenage pregnancy is a phenomenon which disproportionately affects the lives of young women in the country. Before turning to the analysis of levels of representation and participation of women in the island states of Africa, which can be seen as the material outcome of the various legal frameworks put in place, it is important to acknowledge the crucial role played by multiple pressure groups led by women at different levels from the grassroots to the highly institutionalized. Such groups include the women’s wings within political parties, networks of parliamentary women, networks of women ministers, networks of women lawyers, and national women organizations, which pressurized governments to mainstream gender laws, policies, strategies, and programs. In other words, these women-led groups have worked very hard to bring the gender equality agenda to the forefront of governance in their respective countries and societies. Furthermore, international organizations such as UN Women and the diplomatic missions of Western countries such as Spain and Luxembourg also played a significant role in states such as Cabo Verde, through soft power and the financing of projects.

Representation and Participation: Gendered Power Relations Globally, there is an underrepresentation of women in decision-making roles (Raveloharimisy 2016; Yoon 2001) and as women constitute half of the world’s population, that is likely to have a detrimental effect on development efforts. In the island states of Africa, entrenched unequal and gendered power relations (Tandrayen-Ragoobur 2014) continue to shape the way men and women relate in society, as well as the opportunities they have. This unequal relationship has colonial foundations, particularly in creole societies, with female African slaves being subjugated and placed at the center of the slavery system as reproductive subjects with the burden of maintaining the supply of future slaves (Cabral 2015; Monteiro 2015). During the independence struggle, women in many of these island states were therefore fighting against a double system of oppression, colonialism and patriarchy. Upon independence, which turned out to be, for women, much more about continuities than discontinuities (Bauer and Okpotor 2013; Ndlovu-Gatsheni 2018), their situation, for the most part, did not improve, and their demands in terms of equality

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in citizenship and gender parity did not materialize. Thus, although progress has been made over time, inbuilt governing processes and institutions maintain significant challenges in terms of opening up space for women in decision-making bodies. Given that UN Women considers the percentage of women in national legislative assemblies as a standard measure of the achievements of a country in the area of female participation in political life (UNRISD 2005), it becomes important to examine the performance of the island states in Africa, in relation to other countries in the continent. Curiously, whereas some of the island states in Africa have gained an international reputation for governance (Baker 2006; Mo Ibrahim 2017) and the quality of their democratic systems with impressive records on fighting corruption, in regard to women’s representation in Parliament, other countries in the continent seem to be taking the lead. For instance, the classic case is Rwanda, which consistently comes 1st in the world (61.3%), then there is Namibia ranking 6th (46.2%), South Africa 10th (42.2%), Senegal 12th (41.8%), and Mozambique 14th (39.6%) (Inter-Parliamentary Union 2018). These African states are all leaders in the world for women representation in Parliament, considering that the first European country to appear on the list is Sweden, ranking 7th (46.1%) and that the USA ranks 103rd (19.6%). Furthermore, Rwanda, Cuba, and Bolivia are the only countries in the world to by 2018 have more than 50% women in the lower, single, or upper house in Parliament or Senate. As illustrated in Table 1, the island states of Africa have less impressive results. The archipelago state in Africa with the highest representation of women in Parliament in 2018 is Cabo Verde with 23.6% of women elected. That corresponds to 74th in the world, with less than half of the envisaged parity target of 50-50, and then Seychelles ranking 88th (21.2%), Madagascar 104th (19.2%), STP 135th (14.5%), 152nd Mauritius (11.6%), and lastly Comoros ranking 176th (6.1%) with only 2 women out of a total of 33 seats (Inter-Parliamentary Union 2018). The overall improvement of these countries has been very slow, with political parties in Cabo Verde, for instance, consistently failing to meet their own self-imposed quotas of electing at least 30% women to Parliament. Furthermore, as Monteiro (2015) argues, the democratization process which opened the way to multiparty competition in the 1990s failed to democratize access to power and decision-making, resulting in the maintenance of the status quo and the continuous marginalization of groups traditionally excluded from spaces of power and decision-making such as women and youth. Scherpereel et al. (2018) found in her study that the main advantage of increasing the numbers in terms of parliamentary representation is that once levels rise in women’s legislative representation, they tend not to slip back beyond their newly acquired level. However, between 2011 and 2018, just under a decade, Seychelles went from 5th position in the world with 43.8% of women in Parliament (InterParliamentary Union 2011) to 88th position with 21.2% which is a fall of more than 50%, illustrating that the absence of a quota limits the possibility of advancement as numbers can fluctuate greatly between elections, rendering it difficult to measure progress. Furthermore, research has shown that gender quotas and proportional representation have the potential to enhance female legislative representation

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(Danielsen et al. 2016; Yoon 2004). Quotas can be a particularly effective tool to regress gender inequality in politics and bridge the gap in societies dominated by a traditionally patriarchal culture. However, recent research has shown that, though numerical targets are very important and necessary, it is even more critical to enhance the quality of representation and the capacity of leaders to engage and influence decisions (Tandrayen-Ragoobur 2014). It is important to also emphasize the general absence of shift in the culture and practices of political parties which are mostly still male-dominated and thus hinder women’s effective participation (Monteiro 2015; Tandrayen-Ragoobur 2014). Mauritius is the only of the island states in Africa to have a quota system for gender representation, albeit only applicable to local government elections. This was introduced by law in 2012, and it provides that at least one third of the candidates that run for the local elections need to be of a different gender. This has resulted in 32% of women being elected to local governments, contrasted with only 11.6% in Parliament and 12% in the cabinet. Mauritius ranks 152nd in the world in terms of women representation in Parliament (Inter-Parliamentary Union 2018; Morna and Gender Links (Organization) 2016). Mauritius is, however, the only one of the island states of Africa to have had a female head of state or government. Women’s presence in governments is considered also to be an important indicator of representation and participation not only for better democratic governance but also within the broader discourse around gender equality. However, as argued by Scherpereel et al. (2018), at the level of the executive branch of government, increases in women’s representation do not consolidate as they are followed by decreases. Therefore, representational gains in the executive are more fragile and subject to backsliding as these are usually dependent on political decisions made by the head of government. Cabo Verde represents a good example of this case as in 2006, under the premiership of José Maria Neves, the country became the first in Africa to have more women than men in government, at ministerial level (Monteiro 2015). This success was followed by a decline to 44% in 2011 and there are currently 21% of women in government, thus going from regional and world example to average. When analyzing the low levels of representation of women in most societies, women’s labor force participation and access to education are put forward as important determinants. However, Yoon (2001) found in her study that in Europe and Africa these have a negligible effect. In Cabo Verde, despite women being the majority in terms of obtaining degrees and having better performance in school, it does not translate in terms of access to employment and spaces of power. As argued by Monteiro (2013), the argument that women are not put on party lists because they do not have time to be in politics is unsubstantiated because women actively participate in party politics and in electoral campaigns. Instead, it represents a continuation of the historical denial of agency which women faced in these islands, ranging from the condition of slave to that of female and, subsequently, in more “democratic terms” after the so-called democratization process of the 1990s, the condition of inferior or second-class citizen. Thus, the marginalization of women in social, economic, and cultural terms takes place in such mundane ways that it has

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become socially acceptable (Lallmahomed-Aumeerally 2017), even in modern and supposedly democratic societies.

Gendering Governance: Why Should Gender Equality Count? Governance as a driver for development has received a great deal of attention in Africa. Seen as a sine qua non condition for economic growth, different criteria for what constitutes “good governance” were developed with little regard for the local context of specific countries. Therefore, the outcome in Africa has been, for the past 40 years, the imposition by donors and international financial institutions (IFIs) of one-size-fits-all institutional arrangements (UNRISD 2005), which focus on expanding market activity and entrenching private property rights. There are different definitions of the concept of “governance” ranging from a narrow view focusing on the management of the economy to broader approaches embracing such endeavors as the liberalization of politics and the reduction of social inequality (Mo Ibrahim 2017; Noman 2012). The dominance of the narrow approach has resulted in the neglect of other concerns of the state and, particularly gender equality, has received little attention from the “good governance” agenda. Furthermore, the gender-governance nexus has often been overlooked in research, both conceptually and empirically (Tandrayen-Ragoobur 2014) with most of the research on governance focusing on the quality of institutions. The Ibrahim Index for African Governance (IIAG) offers the possibility to analyze gender equality in light of the general governance performance. On the category of Participation and Human Rights, gender is considered a key component, alongside participation and rights. In order to measure the gender component, the following aspects are considered: the promotion of gender equality, women’s political representation, gender parity in primary and lower secondary school, women’s labor force participation, workforce gender equality, representation of women in the judiciary, laws on violence against women, and women’s political empowerment (Mo Ibrahim 2017). These are important considerations which aim to capture women’s participation in society beyond market activity to establish whether women are fully engaging in their societies, including in spaces of power. In terms of averages for the 54 African countries in the Index for 2017, the best performances were in the areas of women’s political empowerment (68.8%), gender parity in primary and lower secondary school (64%), the representation of women in the judiciary (59.3%), and women’s labor force participation (58%) (Mo Ibrahim 2017). These numbers demonstrate the positive outcome which has resulted from the implementation of initiatives to increase the participation and representation of women in society. However, as argued by Alexander et al. (2016), it is important to acknowledge the limitations of such indicators as it is difficult to measure the “political empowerment of women” in the absence of a consensus on what it entails, and thus it remains a complex phenomenon involving multiple agents and institutions working on different aspects as well as approaches to “empowerment.” In terms of the performance of the island states in Africa on the gender component of the Participation and Human Rights category in the IIAG in 2017, Madagascar

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ranks 2nd/54, surprisingly with a note for slowing improvement over the last 10 years. This means that despite ranking 31st/54 in overall governance, it has demonstrated a willingness to improve gender balance in society. Considering that Madagascar is the biggest island in Africa, with a population of nearly 25 million and the lowest GDP per capita among the island states, it is positive that they are leading the rankings within the continent, even ahead of countries such as Rwanda. However, the note for demonstrating slowing improvement serves as a reminder that gender balance remains an ongoing challenge which continues to require the attention of the state through policy and active promotion. Seychelles provides a case for hope as it ranked 3rd on the gender component and 2nd for overall governance, with a note for demonstrating increasing improvement in terms of progress over the last 10 years. Thus, Seychelles is currently the country in Africa with the best balance between gender equality and good governance having managed to stay at the top on both fronts and also demonstrating continuous progress. Cabo Verde ranked 11th/54, with a note on increasing deterioration demonstrating a decline over the last 10 years with the rate of decline increasing. Thus, despite being considered a leader in the continent for good governance (Baker 2006), the archipelago state, which has recently pledged to become a leader in Africa for gender equality, is still short of delivering. This, as mentioned before, despite having become, in 2006, the first state in Africa to have a women majority in government at the ministerial level. The government has recently announced that it is working on a proposal put forward by a civil society consortium involving grassroots organizations, UN Women, and also the Rede de Mulheres Parlamentares, the Parliamentary Women Network, to have a parity law approved by Parliament (Governo de Cabo Verde 2018; Varela 2018). The proposal was delivered to the President of the National Assembly on May 28, 2019, to be scheduled for debate and voting in Parliament. This law would require all political parties in Cabo Verde to submit lists, for all elections, which alternate between men and women on a zebra style list. It is hoped that this law will dramatically change the political game in Cabo Verde and will prompt political parties to become more inclusive and accommodating of the idea of women in positions of leadership. Although there has never been a female Prime Minister in Cabo Verde, the current leader of the opposition party, Janira Hopfer Almada, is a young woman who is a former Youth Minister and this new law if approved might create more opportunities for female leadership in the country. Mauritius, despite leading the ranking in Africa for overall governance for many consecutive years, ranks 18th/54, with a note in warning signs, meaning that despite being the only country with a quota system, there remain issues of concern in terms of gender equality and representation. It illustrates that although it is important to consider the performance and accountability of institutions, it is equally important to recognize that, while these are expected to act in an impartial way, they often reproduce gender biases (UNRISD 2005). STP ranks in the middle on 25th/54 with a note on slowing improvement, and lastly, Comoros comes last on the island states, ranking 48th/54 with increasing deterioration. The narrow market focus of governance reforms has contributed to the neglect of gender equality concerns by governments in Africa. As all of the island states of Africa are vulnerable for one reason or another, be it economically or environmentally, their

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governments are very responsive to the demands of donors or foreign investors. This in turn has meant that for governments in their quest to be recognized for stability and good governance, gender equality has never been a priority. Thus, whereas some states such as Seychelles have sought to bridge the gap and take some positive steps to reduce gender inequality, others have done less. Critics of the good governance agenda argue that the desire to avoid the “messy” political debate, with gender questions often being justified along the lines of culture, religion, and tradition, has meant the external push for reforms was limited even though there was often evidence of gender-specific capacity failures in all institutions targeted for reform (Danielsen et al. 2016; Tandrayen-Ragoobur 2014; UNRISD 2005).

Conclusion This chapter has sought to contextualize the experiences of women in the island nations of Africa in terms of their rights, representation, and participation in society. It has argued that in terms of legal framework, gender equality is a reality in most democratic countries. However, despite some of the island states being recognized for their good governance, in terms of gender equality, they remain places where the position of women in relation to men and, consequently, in relation to the apparatus of the state also determines their social status, the nature of their relationship with the economy, and in turn their material power. Thus, despite states such as Mauritius, Seychelles, and Cabo Verde having developed strong institutions which operate as engines for development and stability, this development is not inclusive of half of the population. In other words, these states are still trapped in a “vicious cycle” in which inequality in employment and economic opportunities is still a significant challenge, as women are still the majority in the statistics regarding violence and poverty. While there has been improvement in the access of women to positions of leadership since the democratization in the 1990s, in the overwhelming majority of countries of the world, gender equality in representation in terms of access to political office, cultural spaces, and the private sector remains a dream to be fulfilled. Although there is some variation with states such as Seychelles attaining the balance between the ranking for overall governance and that for gender equality, the relationship between gender equality and good governance has been mostly ignored. Although women have benefited from new procedural and institutional arrangements put in place in light of international commitments of the many instruments designed to bridge the gender gap in society, these have failed to bring about societal transformation, and gender parity is very much still a “work in progress” (Phakeng 2015). Quotas or other measures of affirmative action have started to be considered as viable options in these island states, as a means to create the conditions for marginalized groups to overcome some of the cultural, economic, and social barriers that prevent them from fully having access to and sharing in the state’s development. However, there is a need for gender equality to be promoted in the continent as central to all efforts aiming to combat poverty, hunger, and disease, as well as stimulating sustainable development. Governance, thus, ought to be conceptualized

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as intrinsically connected with the question of gender inequality, as gender is at the intersection of many other considerations in relation to governance such as poverty reduction, participation, and sustainable development. The intersectional dimension of gender inequality should be taken further in research to seek to understand whether other aspects of marginalization and neglect such as age, social class, and ethnicity are being tackled by the gender equality agenda. In other words, further research needs to be directed at understanding whether, for instance, younger women are less likely to be elected to parliament than older women or whether, when a quota system is put in place, social class will continue to divide access to power between the “haves and the have-nots.” Research needs thus to ensure that women are not homogenized into one category as if all women have the same experience in their respective societies. Poverty and social class will always be an important parameter through which to analyze power dynamics and state-society relations. Lastly, research has shown that gains in gender parity in many European states are correlated with growing electoral participation and confidence in government. Therefore, the increased participation of women in politics ought to be seen as a necessary aspect of a modern and well-functioning democratic system. Female political leadership thus constituting a necessary condition linking gender equality and good governance, as the absence of women in government is characteristic of a male-dominated policy environment which is likely to not be adequate in modern day democratic societies (Scherpereel et al. 2018).

Annex Table 1 Women elected to Parliament in the different Island States of Africa in 2018 Country Cabo Verde Seychelles Mauritius Comoros São Tomé e Principe Madagascar

Total seats 72 33 69 33 55 151

Total women 17 7 8 2 8 29

% women 23.6% 21.2% 11.6% 6.1% 14.5% 19.2%

Quota None None Yesa None None None

Source: Own compilation, data from the Inter-Parliamentary Union (2018) Quota for the local government

a

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Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Executives . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Heads of State . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Prime Ministers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ministers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Legislative Representation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Speakers of the House . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Parliamentarians . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Judiciary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Regional Leadership . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Explaining New Trends in Women’s Political Leadership . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Alternative Arguments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Explaining Women’s Political Ascent in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . International Pressures . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Cross-References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

This chapter looks at the increase in women as legislators, presidents, prime ministers, chief justices, and in other political leadership roles that took place after 1990 in Africa. It explores the reasons for this increase, linking it to political liberalization and a decline in major conflicts on the continent. It also took place within the context of changing international norms regarding gender equality, resulting in authoritarian and democratic rulers alike seeking internal and external legitimacy by promoting women as political leaders. Women’s movements similarly played a key role in bringing about these changes. The article shows A. M. Tripp (*) University of Wisconsin-Madison, Madison, WI, USA e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_153

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the limits of many of the arguments used to explain women’s leadership crossnationally and how they do not necessary explain African dynamics. Regional dynamics and even subcontinental dynamics need to be accounted for. Keywords

Women · Legislatures · Executive · Judiciary · Quotas · Post-conflict dynamics

Introduction Africa saw some extraordinary changes in women’s political representation after 1990 and especially after 2000. The numbers of female legislators tripled between 1990 and 2010. More women began running for the presidency, and women were increasingly claiming positions as heads of state and government, speakers of the house, cabinet ministers, parliamentarians, local government leaders, and members of the judiciary. Some of these gains began leveling off around 2015, particularly female legislative representation. Many of the explanations in the literature for women’s increased representation in this period are based on global trends; however, there are specific conditions in Africa that challenge some of this general reasoning. This chapter looks at the ways in which African countries, including those in North Africa, reflect and diverge from these patterns. What becomes evident is that crossnational generalizations are useful only up to a point and that regional dynamics need to be accounted for. Even Africa itself is such a large continent, that subregional dynamics would also warrant separate analysis; however this is beyond the scope of this chapter. Even though women had played prominent leadership roles in the precolonial period, they were sidelined during colonialism, and these legacies of marginalization continued into the post-independence period. This marginalization happened even in countries where women had participated actively and even fought in independence struggles and wars of liberation, such as Algeria and Rhodesia/Zimbabwe. The emergence of single-party states in which power was highly centralized around the executive and the creation of numerous military regimes served to further exclude women from power (Bauer 2011). The few women who found their way into leadership positions were generally tied to patronage networks, often married or related in other ways to those in power. It was not until the political opening that occurred in many African countries in the 1990s that women’s organizations emerged and began to push for greater representation of women in politics. The end of numerous civil wars in the 1990s and especially after 2000 also propelled many women to seek positions of power. Women had always held leadership positions at the local level as chiefs and other traditional authorities. In some cases, these institutions became even more important as state institutions crumbled in the face of conflict and poor management during the years of economic downturn after the 1970s. Political opening not only allowed for women to move into new positions of power in formal

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institutions, it also gave rise to women’s leadership in some of these traditional institutions (Bauer 2016; Becker 2006; Nyamnjoh 2003; Steegstra 2009; Stoeltje 2003). In Botswana, for example, where women’s representation is low in the legislative and executive branches, women became visible at the local level as chiefs. They sought to represent women in their communities around issues of poverty, children, domestic violence, substance abuse, youth unemployment, inheritance, and land (Bauer 2016). This chapter explores women’s representation primarily in formal political institutions: in the executive, national legislature, and judiciary. Local level politics is beyond the scope of this chapter, although many of the patterns evident in these other areas are becoming visible in subnational politics as well. The rest of the chapter explores some of the main reasons for these changes, starting with alternative explanations derived from cross-national research, which are evaluated in light of the literature emerging from African cases.

Executives Heads of State Prior to 2000, only a handful of women (9 in all) had aspired to the presidency in Africa, whereas in the short time period between 2010 and 2015, at least 31 women ran as presidential candidates. Up until 2000 there had been only three heads of state: Carmen Pereira in Guinea Bissau (1984); Ruth Perry, who served as chair of the Council of State of Liberia (1996); and Sylvie Kinigi, who served briefly as president in Burundi in 1993–1994 (Table 1). Of the 14 women who held the position of head of state, 8 were acting presidents, who served for a very short time. Most women heads of state are from countries such as Liberia, Malawi, and Mauritius with very low percentages of women in legislatures. Ellen Johnson Sirleaf was the first elected female head of state in Africa when she took over the presidency of Liberia in 2006, winning reelection in 2011. She has served the longest of any female head of state at this writing. Joyce Banda, who had been vice president of Malawi, took over as president when the former president died in 2012. And Ameenah Gurib, who was president of Mauritius from 2015 to 2018, was the first Muslim female head of state in Africa. None of these countries had high levels of female legislative representation. As in other parts of the world, women heads of state in Africa often came to power at a moment of transition, instability, political uncertainty, or crisis (Jalalzai 2008). Ruth Perry led the interim Council of State of Liberia that governed the country after the first Liberian civil war (1989–1996), which followed the ouster of president Samuel Doe in 1990 and years of political instability. Ellen Johnson Sirleaf was elected president of Liberia in 2005 after 14 years of civil war. Sylvie Kinigi served as acting president in Burundi following the death of president Melchior Ndadaye in October 1993. Agathe Uwilingiyimana served as prime minister of Rwanda from 1993 until her death in 1994, during the Rwandan genocide. Catherine

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Table 1 Women heads of state Years in office 1984 1993–1994 1996–1997 2004 2004, 2005 2006–2018 2008 2009 2012–2014 2012 2014–2016

Name Carmen Pereira (acting) Sylvie Kinigi (acting) Ruth Perry, Chairperson, Council of State of Liberia Elizabeth Alpha Lavalie Phumzile Mlambo-Ngcuka (acting) Ellen Johnson-Sirleaf Ivy Matsepe-Casaburri (acting) Rose Francine Rogombé (acting) Joyce Banda Monique Agnès Ohsan-Bellepeau (acting) Catherine Samba-Panza (acting)

2015 2015–2018 2018–

Monique Agnès Ohsan- Bellepeau (acting) Ameenah Gurib Sahle-Work Zewde

Country Guinea Bissau Burundi Liberia Sierra Leone South Africa Liberia South Africa Gabon Malawi Mauritius Central African Republic Mauritius Mauritius Ethiopia

Source: Worldwide Guide to Women in Leadership, http://www.guide2womenleaders.com

Samba-Panza was also selected as interim president in the Central African Republic in the midst of civil strife in 2014 and served until 2016. One of the factors that might make it more likely that women are elected or selected to lead in conflict or post-conflict situations has to do with the perception (whether accurate or not) that women are outsiders to the conflict and are not seen as aligned with one side or the other of a conflict. Even though women have been fighters in conflicts and have instigated conflict, the popular perception often sees them as neutral arbiters. This image is sometimes cultivated by women leaders themselves, as was the case with Ruth Perry and Ellen Johnson Sirleaf in Liberia. Finally, as is often the case, if a country has a president and prime minister, women tend to hold the less important position. Thus, in Ethiopia, Sahle-Work Zewde was appointed the first woman president of Ethiopia in 2018. However, this position is largely ceremonial, whereas the prime minister, Abiy Ahmed, holds de facto political power.

Prime Ministers Many of the same patterns that apply to presidents apply to prime ministers. Up to the year 2000, there were only 3 female prime ministers in Africa, and, in all, there have only been 12. Often their tenure has been quite short, with some rare exceptions, including Luísa Días Diogo in Mozambique, who held power from 2004 to 2010 and Saara Kuugongelwa-Amadhila in Namibia, who has been in power since 2015 (Table 2).

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Table 2 Female prime ministers 1975–1975 1993–1994 1993–1994 2001–2002 2002–2004 2004–2010 2005–2006 2009 2011–2012 2012 2013–2014 2015–

Elisabeth Domitien Agathe Uwilingiyimana Sylvie Kinigi Mame Madior Boye Maria das Neves Ceita Batista de Sousa Luísa Días Diogo Maria do Carmo Trovoada Pires de Carvalho Silveira Cécile Manorohanta (acting) Cissé Mariam Kaïdama Sidibé Adiatu Djaló Nandigna (acting) Aminata Touré Saara Kuugongelwa-Amadhila

Central African Republic Rwanda Burundi Senegal São Tomé and Príncipe Mozambique São Tomé and Príncipe Madagascar Mali Guinea Bissau Senegal Namibia

Source: Worldwide Guide to Women in Leadership, http://www.guide2womenleaders.com

Ministers Women have held ministerial positions longer than other formal political leadership positions in post-independence Africa. Ellen Mills Scarborough, who served as the minister of education in Liberia starting in 1948, was the first female minister in Africa. Liberia had a long history of women in high positions of power, not just as ministers but also as supreme court justices, chief justices in the supreme court, ambassadors, mayors of Monrovia and other towns, and superintendents at the subnational county level (Tripp 2015). It was not until 10 years later in 1958 that Burkina Faso had a woman minister, Célestine Ouezzin Coulibaly, for social welfare, housing, and labor. Around the time of independence, we began to see an increase in women ministers, with 6 additional countries appointing female ministers in the 1960s, 18 in the 1970s, 15 in the 1980s, and 8 in the 1990s, and by the 2000s, the remaining 4 countries appointed their first woman minister. The types of positions women held from the 1970s to the 1990s were primarily in the areas of social affairs, the family, community development, women’s affairs, education and culture, youth, sport and recreation, and public health. By the 2000s, the ministerial posts were expanded to include defense, finance, and foreign affairs, which were considered more consequential portfolios. Women hold close to or more than 40% of ministerial positions in Ethiopia, Rwanda, South Africa, Cape Verde, Burundi, and Uganda. The global average for female ministers as of 2017 was 18.3% (including Africa). In Africa the average percent was 19.5% (see Fig. 1). This gap appears to be narrowing as increasing numbers of countries incorporate higher levels of women into their cabinets and seek to exhibit gender parity. Seven of the 32 countries with over 30% women in their cabinet are in Africa. With 50% of ministerial posts held by women in Ethiopia and 55% in Rwanda, both belong to the rarified club of countries like Bulgaria, France, Nicaragua, Sweden, and Canada that have begun to appoint cabinets with 50% women. In Ethiopia, the

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25 20 15 10 5 0 2010

2012

2014 Africa

2015

2016

2017

World

Fig. 1 Rates of female ministerial appointments in Africa and the world (2010–2017). (Source: World Bank DataBank, Gender Statistics, https://databank.worldbank.org/)

prime minister, Abiy Ahmed, reduced the number of ministerial positions from 28 to 20 in 2018 and put women in the top security positions, including Minister of Defense (Aisha Mohammed) and Minister of Peace (Muferiat Kamil). Women also head ministries of trade, transport, revenue, labor, as well as culture and science. Ahmed and the parliament appointed a female president, who sees herself as an advocate for women’s rights. The prime minister’s chief of staff, Fitsum Arega, tweeted that “in a patriarchal society such as ours, the appointment of a female head of state not only sets the standard for the future but also normalises women as decision-makers in public life” (“Sahle-Work Zewde becomes . . .” 2018). It is no accident that both of the countries where women make up half or over half of the cabinet – Ethiopia and Rwanda – are post-conflict countries. The average percentage of ministers in post-conflict countries is almost 25% compared with 17% for non-post-conflict countries in Africa. The countries with the most female ministers, namely, Rwanda (55%), Ethiopia (50%), South Africa (42%), and Uganda (37%), are all post-conflict countries. Some have found evidence to show that levels of socioeconomic development, women’s labor-force engagement, and GDP per capita measurements correlate with women’s cabinet representation globally (Bego 2014). However Escobar-Lemmon and Taylor-Robinson (2005) did not find this to be the case in Latin America, and others have found that this is the case only after certain thresholds had been met (Hogström 2013). None of these patterns are found in Africa (Hughes and Tripp 2015; Adams et al. 2016; Stockemer 2011). Similarly, women’s representation in ministries has been correlated with democracy cross-nationally. Yet some of the most democratic countries in Africa have some of the lowest levels of ministerial representation, namely, Benin (14%), Ghana (17%), and Botswana (16%). Senegal (20%), Cape Verde (25%), and Namibia (24%) are in the lower middle range, and South Africa has among the

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highest rates (42%). Some of the most repressive countries have some of the highest rates (e.g., Rwanda). The general literature on women’s political representation finds that governments built along coalition lines have on balance less women cabinet ministers (Krook and O’Brien 2012; Reynolds 1999; Whitford et al. 2007). In Africa, this takes place within a particular framework. Research by Arriola and Johnson (2014) found that less women are included in cabinets when incumbents use ministerial positions as a means of distributing patronage to procure support from ethnic constituencies and thereby build coalitions. Women are not included in such arrangements by patrons, particularly when there is a large number of ethnic groups that require accommodation. These patterns continued even after democratization. Arriola and Johnson also found that women themselves tend not to be patrons because they lack the resources and do not have the jobs, favors, and money at their disposal to distribute. There is a high degree of correlation between levels of female representation at the ministerial level and within legislatures. Thus, if there are higher levels of female representation in the national parliament or at the local level, this is correlated with higher levels of representation in cabinet (Krook and O’Brien 2012; EscobarLemmon and Taylor-Robinson 2005) (see Fig. 2). These patterns are evident in Africa. For example, one finds countries like Ethiopia, Rwanda, South Africa, and Uganda with over 30% of the ministerial and legislative positions held by women, while at the other end of the spectrum, countries like Nigeria, DRC, Benin, Burkina Faso, Mauritius, Guinea Bissau, Egypt, and Gabon all have less than 15% women in both ministerial and legislative positions. However, the reasons for this pattern of correlation between female representation in parliaments and ministerial appointments are not the same in Africa as we find elsewhere. This is true in both parliamentary and presidential systems although the levels of representation are generally said to be higher in parliamentary systems. In parliamentary systems, the supply and demand of legislators should result in 25 20 15 10 5 0 1985

1995

2005

Ministers

Parliamentarians

2015

Fig. 2 Female ministers (%) and female parliamentarians (%) (1985–2015). (Source: World Bank, DataBank, Gender Statistics, https://databank.worldbank.org/)

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Table 3 Political system effects on female ministerial representation, 2017

Average rates of female ministerial representation

Presidential system with no prime minister (13) 19%

Presidential with prime minister (14) 19.7%

Semipresidential with prime minister (16) 18.5%

Other (9)a

22.7%

Source: UN Women Constitutional monarchy with prime minister, monarchy without prime minister, parliamentary system, combined head of state and government

a

direct contagion effects. The impact is less direct in presidential systems, where the president does not select cabinet members from the legislature (Stockemer 2017). However, there are only three strictly parliamentary systems in Africa, and they have quite disparate levels of female ministerial representation (50% in Ethiopia and 7% in Somalia, 10% Mauritius), thus no such pattern is evident. In Africa, the type of political system does not produce vastly different outcomes in terms of women’s ministerial representation (Table 3).

Vice Presidents There have been 15 countries with female vice presidents in Africa since 1975, starting with Elisabeth Domitién in Central African Republic. Specioza Wandira Kazibwe of Uganda was the longest serving president from 1994 to 2003. As with presidents, the countries with female vice presidents or deputy presidents are not necessarily countries that have promoted women’s political representation or engagement as they include Central African Republic, São Tomé and Príncipe, the Gambia, Malawi, Mauritius, and Zambia (Table 4).

Legislative Representation Speakers of the House Women are speakers of the house in 32% (17) of African parliaments in 2019, which is higher than the world average of 19.7%, according to the Inter-Parliamentary Union. As with heads of state and government, we saw a major change with an increase in speakers of the house after 2000. Up until that time, only six women had served in this position. South Africa has had three consecutive female speakers since 1994. And Lesotho has had the same between 1999 and 2017. The Gambia has had three women since 2005. Here, the regional preponderance of southern African countries (five in all) suggests that pressure from the regional trade bloc, the Southern Africa Development Community (SADC), may have prevailed in influencing some of these choices that were out of the hands of the electorate (Table 5).

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Table 4 Female vice presidents 1975–1976 1980–1991 1992–present 1994–2003 1997–2017 2004–2014 2005–2008 2005–2006 2006–2007 2008–2009 2009–2012 2010–2012 2015– 2015– 2017– 2018–

Élisabeth Domitién Alda Neves da Graça do Espirito Santo Kadidja Abeba Dr. Specioza Wandira Kazibwe Aisatou N’Jie Saidy Joyce Mujuru Phumzile Mlambo-Ngcuka Alice Nzomukunda Marina Barampama Baleka Mbete Joyce Banda Monique Agnès Ohsan-Bellepeau Inonge Wina Samiah Suluhu Fatoumata Jallow-Tambajang Jewel Howard Taylor

Central African Republic São Tomé and Príncipe Djibouti Uganda The Gambia Zimbabwe South Africa Burundi Burundi South Africa Malawi Mauritius Zambia Tanzania The Gambia Liberia

Source: Worldwide Guide to Women in Leadership, http://www.guide2womenleaders.com

Parliamentarians African parliaments have some of the highest rates of representation of women in the world. Rwanda, for example, has the highest rate of women legislators globally, with women holding 68% of the seats. One of the main ways in which women have increased their levels of representation has been through the adoption of quotas, especially after 1995, the year of the UN Fourth Conference on Women held in Beijing. The conference adopted a Platform of Action, requiring member states to advance women’s leadership in all areas, including the legislature. Up until that time only six countries in Africa had adopted quotas, whereas today 72% of African countries have adopted some form of quota. The adoption of quotas resulted in major jumps in female representation, sometimes almost overnight. In Rwanda, there was a jump from 17% in 1993 prior to the genocide to 64% in 2014. In Algeria there was a jump from 7.2% in 2007 election to 31.6 in the 2012 election. Quotas had especially powerful effects after the end of conflict in terms of their impact on women’s representation (Fig. 3).

Judiciary There has been much less written about women in the judiciary than the other branches of government in Africa. The gender composition of courts is changing along with the other political institutions, and there has been an increase in chief justices between 2000 and 2015 with the increase in political liberalization. New constitutions were adopted, and the judiciaries became more independent of

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Table 5 Speakers of the house in Africa Botswana Burundi Cape Verde DRC Ethiopia

Equatorial Guinea Gabon Gambia

Ghana Guinea Guinea Bissau Lesotho

Liberia Madagascar Malawi Mauritius Mozambique Namibia Nigeria Rwanda São Tomé and Príncipe Sierra Leone South Africa

Swaziland/Eswatini

Margaret Nasha Gladys Kokorwe Immaculée Nahayo Carmen Peirra Philomène Omatuku Atshakawo Akatshi Almaz Meko Muferiat Kamil Keria Ibrahima María Teresa Efua Asangonoa Rose Francine Rogombéa Lucie Milebou Aubussona Belinda Bidwell Fatoumata Jahumpa Ceesay Mariam Jack-Denton Joyce Bamford-Addo Jeanne Martin-Cisse Carmen Pereira Ntlhoi Motsamai Mamonaheng Mokitimia Grace Minor Marie Zénaïde Lechat Ramampy Catherine Gotani Hara Maya Hanoomanjee Verónica Macamo Margaret Mensah-Williamsa Patricia Etteh Rose Mukantabana Donatille Mukabalisa Alda Neves de Graça do Espirito Santo Elizabeth Alpha Lavalie Frene Ginwala Naledi Pandor (National Council of Provinces) Baleka Mbete Joyce Kgoali (National Council of Provinces) Gwen Mahlangu-Nkabinde Thandi Modise (National Council of Provinces) Baleka Mbete Trusty Gina Gerlane Zwanea Lindiwe Dlaminia

2009–2014 2014–present 2004–2007 1975–1980) 2000– 1995 2018– 2018– 2015–present 2009–2015 2015–present 2006–2007 2007–2010 2017– 2009–2013 2010–2017 1984–1989 1999–2012, 2014–2017 2017–present 2002–2003 2006 2019– 2014–present 2010–present 2015–present 2007 2008–2013 2013–present 1980–1991 2004 1994–2004 1999–2004 2004–2008 2004 2008–2009 2014–present 2014–present 2004, 2006 2006–present 2018– (continued)

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Table 5 (continued) Anne Makinda Yawa Tzegan Rebecca Kadaga Edna Madzongwea Mabel Chinomonaa

Tanzania Togo Uganda Zimbabwe

2010–2015 2019– 2011–present 2005–2018 2018–present

Source: Worldwide Guide to Women in Leadership, http://www.guide2womenleaders.com. Interparliamentary Union, Women Speakers of National Parliaments: History and the present. http:// archive.ipu.org/wmn-e/speakers.htm a Upper house or senate

21.3

21.75

13.8

7.4 5.1 1.2

1960

2

1965

3

1975

1985

1995

2005

2015

2018

Fig. 3 Female parliamentary representation in Africa (%) (1960–2018). (Source: IPU database, Women in Parliaments 1945–1995: A World Statistical Survey, IPU, Geneva 1995; IPU database, Women in National Parliaments, http://archive.ipu.org/wmn-e/classif.htm)

executive control. Women’s rights movements called on governments to use new laws to advance women’s status (Dawuni 2016). Dawuni and Kang (2015) examined the judicial branch of government in depth, dividing the legal systems in Africa into three main categories: common law systems, civil law systems, and systems that use both common and civil law. Civil law systems are found in 26 countries, most of which are former French or Portuguese colonies. Common law systems are found in former British colonies, 12 in all. And finally, mixed systems, which combine common law and civil law, are found in nine countries, which were colonized by multiple powers or were partially colonized. Generally, elsewhere, civil law countries have a stronger record in promoting women to chief justices than common law countries. This, however, is not born out in the African cases, where half of the common law countries have had women chief justices, whereas only one quarter have had women presidents of constitutional courts in civil law countries. One woman was selected in the nine mixed system countries (Lesotho). It is possible this is tied to the general patterns of encouraging female leadership by the commonwealth organization and SADC, since many of the former British colonies are located in Eastern and Southern Africa (see Fig. 4).

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Average % of Women in Parliament Other

Plurality Majority Mixed

Proportional Representation

0

5

10

15

20

25

30

Fig. 4 Types of electoral systems and % women in parliament in Africa. (Source: Institute for Democracy and Electoral Assistance, Stockholm, https://www.idea.int/; IPU database, Women in National Parliaments, http://archive.ipu.org/wmn-e/classif.htm)

The chances of women becoming high court judges do not seem to depend on whether they are elected or appointed. Dawuni and Kang also found that the use of quotas in the case of the judiciary, which were introduced in the 1990s, seem not to have elevated levels of women appointed to the top position in the judiciary over other selection processes. Finally, gatekeepers influence female representation in courts as in other parts of the world. Presidents, in particular, influence the composition of the high courts, and judicial commissions and parliamentary vetting committees also serve as gatekeepers, influencing judicial appointments. Where merit principles are applied, female appointees tend to do better.

Regional Leadership Women’s political leadership extends to regional bodies as well. Women make up half of the African Union parliament. The African Union Commission was led by Nkosazana Dhlamini-Zuma from 2012 to 2017, making her the first woman to lead the organization (including its predecessor). From 2004 to 2009, Tanzania’s Gertrude Mongella was the first president of the AU’s PanAfrican Parliament. Gambia’s Fatoumatta Ceesay has held the position of deputy speaker of the parliament of the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS), which is made up of 15 member states. Margaret Nantongo Zziwa is speaker of the East African Legislative Assembly. Gambia’s Fatou Bensouda from Gambia serves as the chief prosecutor in the International Criminal Court. All but one of the current five African judges on the International Criminal Court are women.

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Explaining New Trends in Women’s Political Leadership A number of factors help explain the aforementioned changes in women’s political leadership in Africa, ranging from institutional to cultural and structural factors. Changing international norms as well as the role of actors like women’s movements, political authorities, and international donors have influenced these changes. Although some factors explain the overall trends, some are specific to particular forms of leadership, like legislative representation, where quotas feature prominently whereas they have had less impact within the judiciary. Many of the explanations that are advanced cross-nationally do not apply in Africa. A few of these are discussed below, before exploring some of the explanations that are more tailored to the African regional experience.

Alternative Arguments Proportional Representation Systems Proportional representation (PR) systems are generally correlated with higher levels of female representation (McAllister and Studlar 2002; Norris 1985; Reynolds 1999). Although in Africa PR systems do slightly better than mixed systems and better than plurality systems, when examined longitudinally and statistically in conjunction with other variables like quotas and post-conflict impacts, the impact of electoral system becomes negligible (Hughes and Tripp 2015). The largest number of countries in Africa have majoritarian/plurality systems, 23 in all. At least 17 have proportional representation systems and 9 have mixed systems. Mixed systems follow PR systems closely in their effects on female legislative representation. Very few changes have occurred in electoral systems. In fact, only Rwanda, Namibia, and South Africa changed to PR systems. However, PR on its own cannot explain women’s representation over time in Africa. Socioeconomic Development Numerous scholars have linked socioeconomic development and GDP per capita levels to increased female political representation (Inglehart and Norris 2003; McAllister and Studlar 2002). Some have argued that improvements in female education and participation in the labor force positively influence women’s political engagement (True and Mintrom 2001). While this may be the case in cross-national models, when regional effects are accounted for as in Africa, these influences are not evident. Arriola and Johnson (2014) found that socioeconomic development does not influence cabinet portfolios, as evident in tests involving per capita GDP. Moreover, female life expectancy and labor force participation are negatively correlated (statistically significant) with female cabinet representation, as are other measures of socioeconomic status. This is also the case in other parts of the world like Latin America where labor force participation and education do not influence appointment of women as ministers (Escobar-Lemon and Taylor-Robinson 2005).

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Foreign Aid In a study of 173 non-OECD countries from 1974 to 2012, Edgell (2017) found that foreign aid interventions targeting quota adoption have some influence. Like Bush (2011), Edgell argued that developing countries dependent on foreign aid use quotas as a way of signaling compliance with international norms regarding democratization, hoping to improve their international reputation and ensuring continued aid. Staffan Lindberg (2004), on the other hand, found no significant effects of foreign aid on women’s political leadership in Africa nor did a longitudinal study I carried out with Melanie Hughes (Hughes and Tripp 2015). Left-Leaning Parties Left-leaning parties in the 1970s and 1980s had been more egalitarian and therefore more encouraging of women’s leadership. This includes parties associated with the liberation movements like the African National Congress (South Africa), Frelimo (Mozambique), South West African People’s Organization (Namibia), and Eritrean People’s Liberation Front. However, over time and with the end of the Cold War, the left-leaning party effects disappear while other factors like quota adoption and end of conflict become more important (Hughes and Tripp 2015). Religion Culture is often thought of as a constraint on women’s rights, in particular, religion or religiosity. Muslim majority countries are often thought of as less successful when it comes to women’s rights. However, when it comes to women’s political representation in Africa, religion has negligible impact, with women holding 20.1% of legislative seats in predominantly Muslim countries and 21.9% of legislative seats in predominantly Christian countries. Arriola and Johnson (2014) similarly found that Muslim countries are no different from Christian countries when it comes to female ministerial appointments. Moreover, Muslim majority countries had a larger proportion of women cabinet ministers than Christian majority countries in Africa. Colonial Legacies Colonial impacts are also marginal, especially when considered along with other factors (Hughes and Tripp 2015). French and British postcolonial states converged with similar rates of female legislative representation in the mid-1970s, but British former colonies overtook French former colonies after the 1990s. This is probably due to the fact that many former British colonies started introducing quotas after the 1990s, often spurred on by pressures from the Southern Africa Development Community and possibly also the commonwealth association of former British colonies, which had women’s political empowerment as one of its goals. L’Organisation internationale de la francophonie countries did not have such goals or projects. Portuguese and Belgian former colonies had higher levels of female political representation than British or French former colonies after 1975. Here the post conflict and quota effects may have come into play, submerging the independent effects of colonial legacies (Fig. 5).

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40 35 30 25 20 15 10 5 0 1960

1965 Belgium

1975 Britain

1985

1995 France

2005

2015

Portugal

Fig. 5 Colonial legacies on women’s legislative representation (1960–2015). (Source: IPU database, Women in Parliaments 1945–1995: A World Statistical Survey, IPU, Geneva 1995; IPU database, Women in National Parliaments, http://archive.ipu.org/wmn-e/classif.htm)

Explaining Women’s Political Ascent in Africa Having eliminated the impact of democracy, socioeconomic status and GDP, leftleaning parties, cultural factors like religion, and colonial legacies, we turn to factors that have had an impact on improving women’s political representation.

Quotas One of the most important explanations for increases in female legislative representation has been the adoption of quotas. Women in countries with quotas in Africa claim 25% of the legislative seats, while they claim only an average of 14% of the seats in countries that do not employ quotas. Three types of quotas have generally been adopted, with equal numbers of countries adopting each (Table 6). Reserved seats or women’s lists, mandated by constitutions or legislation or both, were adopted by countries like Tanzania and Uganda early on. These systems set aside seats in the legislature for which only women could compete. This approach guaranteed in advance that a certain percentage of seats would be held by women. While on the one hand, such systems have dramatically increased representation of women; they also tend to create a ceiling that is rarely exceeded as few women run for open seats in these systems (Edgell 2018). Voluntary quotas were quotas that parties themselves adopted with or without legislation mandating their compliance. Because party quotas required voluntary commitment, they were sometimes less effective than other forms of quotas.

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Table 6 Adoption of quota types by African countries Legislated candidate quotas Angola Burkina Faso

Voluntary political party quotas Botswana Cameroon

Reserved seats Algeria Burundi

Cape Verde Congo, Democratic Republic of Egypt Guinea Lesotho

Côte d’Ivoire Equatorial Guinea

Djibouti Eritrea

Ethiopia Kenya Malawi

Liberia Libya Mauritania Congo (Brazzaville) Rwanda

Mali Mozambique Namibia Niger South Africa

Morocco Somalia South Sudan Sudan Swaziland Uganda Kenya Niger

Senegal Tunisia Togo

Tanzania Zimbabwe

Tanzania Zimbabwe

No quotas Benin Central African Republic Chad Comoros Gabon Gambia Ghana Guinea-Bissau Madagascar Mauritius Nigeria São Tomé and Príncipe Seychelles Sierra Leone Zambia

Legislated quotas have become more popular in recent years. Legislation is passed that requires all parties to include a certain percentage of women on their party lists and/or to arrange men and women on their party list in a way that ensures female representation. Sometimes sanctions are employed to give these quotas teeth, for example, not allowing the parties to participate in the elections. All forms of quotas seem to have similar outcomes in Africa: Legislative seats on average result in women holding 24% of legislative seats, reserved seats 24%, and party quotas 23%. As elsewhere in the world, quotas have produced stronger outcomes over time as activists as well as domestic and international policy makers have learned to use placement mandates or sanctions better, while political parties have increased their commitment (Hughes and Paxton 2015). In general, countries with proportional representation systems are most likely to adopt voluntary party quotas, while those with plurality/majoritarian systems are mostly likely to adopt reserved seats (Laserud and Taphorn 2007). In Africa, however, no such distinct association is apparent between quota type and electoral systems. The design of the quotas matters, and political parties have considerable input into the ways in which quotas are implemented. The level of competition within the legislature also influences gender quota adoption and outcomes. The countries with the highest levels of political competition have the lowest levels of gender equity in representation, according to Christine Arendt. These include Benin, Ghana, Liberia, Malawi, Liberia, Mali, Sierra Leone, and Madagascar (Arendt 2018). However,

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Arendt shows that systems with dominant parties, such as those found in Rwanda, Tanzania, Uganda, and Senegal, are more inclined to pursue means to increase representation of women because they feel it is politically safe to do so and it will enhance their legitimacy at the same time.

End of Major Conflict The end of major conflict, similarly, has played an increasingly important role since 2000 in boosting all forms of female political leadership. Since the early 1990s, postconflict countries have double the rates of female legislative representation and greater numbers of women leaders in top positions when compared with non-post conflict countries in Africa. Post-conflict countries in Africa are making considerably more constitutional and legislative changes compared with non-post-conflict countries. The post-conflict dynamics can be accounted for by three factors. First, the decline of major conflicts created opportunity structures such as peace negotiations, constitution-making exercises, and electoral reforms that allowed women activists to press for a women’s rights agenda and increased representation. Second, because women’s experiences during war gave them common cause, they mobilized around these concerns through their autonomous women’s movements. The end of conflict also disrupted traditional gender roles and relations and created incentives for women to demand greater rights and representation. And third, post-conflict countries tend to be more easily impacted by international influences and new norms relating to gender due to the prominent presence and influence of external actors as well as increased donor dependence (Tripp 2015). Democratization Even though globally there are correlations between women’s increased political representation and regime type (Davis 1997; Krook and O’Brien 2012; Reynolds 1999), in Africa this correlation is not evident (Hughes and Tripp 2015). In Africa, regime type has little impact on quota adoption, for example, authoritarian and democratic countries are just as likely to adopt quotas to increase female representation. As a result, regime type has marginal impact on outcomes when it comes to women’s legislative representation especially when considered together with other factors like quotas: On average in democracies women hold 24% of the seats, in hybrid regimes that are neither fully democratic or authoritarian, the average percentage is 19%, and it is 21% in authoritarian regimes. Autocratic leaders, for their part, sometimes sought to implement quotas and advance women in politics to divert attention from other undemocratic ambitions and human rights violations. They sought both internal and international legitimacy. They sought to gain votes from women and portray themselves as champions of women’s rights. In North Africa, the adoption of quotas was sometimes a way to demonstrate a commitment to modernity, democracy, and nationalism as well as to neutralize extremist Salafist and Islamist elements. However, when examined from a longitudinal perspective, studies show that it is not levels of democracy, but rather democratization that advances women’s

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political representation over time (Fallon et al. 2012; Paxton et al. 2010). This is borne out in the African context in statistical analyses. Longitudinal analysis suggests that while the expansion of civil liberties in the early 1990s did not start out affecting women’s representation, it eventually began to have an impact (Tripp and Kang 2008; Hughes and Tripp 2015). The opening of political space, thus, allowed women’s organizations to mobilize to increase women’s political representation.

Women’s Mobilization Domestic advocacy coalitions, in particular, became a key variable in explaining the adoption of gender quotas in Africa, which led to elevated levels of female legislative representation. Domestic coalitions cut across ethnicity, religious affiliation, party affinity, and other differences, giving them additional leverage. They also served as a crucial connection between international actors and pressures and domestic policy makers. These coalitions were made up of women’s organizations, women’s policy agencies, women in political parties, women’s parliamentary groups, United Nations agencies, international and domestic NGOs, and donors (Kang and Tripp 2018).

International Pressures Although foreign aid may not have directly influenced changes in women’s political representation, as mentioned earlier, pressures from the international community have had an impact. In Africa, the 1985 UN Conference on Women in Nairobi served as a catalyst for women’s mobilization across the continent. Ten years later, the UN Fourth Conference on Women, held in Beijing, led to significant increases in rates of quota adoption across the globe as women’s organizations lobbied multilateral institutions to adopt treaties, conventions, and resolutions regarding women’s representation, thus changing international discourse and norms (see, for example, Paxton et al. 2006; Snyder 2006). The African Union and regional bodies such as SADC subsequently initiated efforts to expand women’s representation within their member states. SADC, for example, set targets of 30% in 1997 and 50% in 2010. However, not all SADC countries heeded these targets: Eight SADC countries do not have quotas, while seven do. International multilaterals like UN Women and the Inter-Parliamentary Union as well as bilateral NGOs like the German Friedrich Ebert Stiftung Foundation and the US-based National Democratic Institute supported efforts of women’s organizations to promote leadership and other forms of training and political strategizing to women candidates. While women’s rights activists used international treaties and support to advance their own domestic goals of increasing women’s political representation, leaders of countries often used quotas and the increased representation of women to signal to the international community that they were modernizing and democratizing.

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Conclusions This chapter has shown how many of the conclusions that are drawn from crossnational studies do not adequately account for region. In the case of Africa, which itself has enormous variance, many of the conclusions drawn cross-nationally simply do not apply. The chapter argues that explanations for women’s increased political representation at all political levels in Africa need to account for quotas in the case of female legislative representation, the effects of democratization and post-conflict dynamics, local women’s movements and coalitions, as well as international pressures and encouragements from multilateral organizations and international NGOs. The chapter also shows the limits of findings from cross-national studies when applied to the African context. For example, while quotas and post-conflict influences may explain legislative representation of women in Africa, levels of socioeconomic development, women’s labor force engagement, and GDP per capital measurements correlate have little impact. The process of democratization, not democracy per se, has been correlated with women’s political representation. Even though globally there are correlations between women’s increased political representation and regime type, in Africa this correlation is not evident. Generally, the number of female ministers parallels that of women legislators. In Africa, the reasons for this pattern differ from elsewhere because there are few strictly parliamentary systems in which ministers are selected from the legislature. Usually, civil law countries have a stronger record in promoting women to chief justices than common law countries. The opposite is true in Africa. These are just a few examples of the kinds of discrepancies revealed in this chapter when contrasting global findings with realities within Africa. More fine-grained research needs to be done to tease out the particularities of region in the African context and reasons for these divergences, particularly in the study of local governance and different levels of the court structure.

Cross-References ▶ Women, Gender, and Politics in Africa ▶ Women in African Parliaments: Progress and Prospects ▶ Women in Executive Political Leadership in Africa ▶ Women in Judiciaries Across Africa ▶ Women in Political Parties in Africa

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Arendt, C. M. (2018). From critical mass to critical leaders: Unpacking the political conditions behind gender quotas in Africa. Politics & Gender, 14, 295–322. Arriola, L. R., & Johnson, M. C. (2014). Ethnic politics and women’s empowerment in Africa: Ministerial appointments to executive cabinets. American Journal of Political Science, 58(2), 495–510. Bauer, G. (2011). Women in executives: Sub-Saharan Africa. In G. Bauer & M. Tremblay (Eds.), Women in executive power: A global overview (pp. 85–104). New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Bauer, G. (2016). ‘What is wrong with a woman being chief?’ Women chiefs and symbolic and substantive representation in Botswana. Journal of Asian and African Studies, 51(2), 222–237. Becker, H. (2006). New things after Independence: Gender and traditional authorities in postcolonial Namibia. Journal of Southern African Studies, 32(1), 29–48. Bego, I. (2014). Accessing power in new democracies: The appointment of female ministers in Postcommunist Europe. Political Research Quarterly, 67(2), 347–360. Bush, S. (2011). International politics and the spread of quotas for women in legislatures. International Organization, 65(1), 103–137. Davis, R. (1997). Women and Power in Parliamentary Democracies: Cabinet Appointments in Western Europe, 1968–1992. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press. Dawuni, J. (2016). Gender and the judiciary in Africa. In G. Bauer & J. Dawuni (Eds.), Gender and the judiciary in Africa: From obscurity to parity? New York: Routledge. xv, 198 p. Dawuni, J., & Kang, A. (2015). Her ladyship chief justice: The rise of female leaders in the judiciary in Africa. Africa Today, 62(2), 45–69. Edgell, A. (2017). Foreign aid, democracy, and gender quota laws. Democratization, 24(6), 1103–1141. Edgell, A. (2018). Vying for a man seat: Gender quotas and sustainable representation in Africa. African Studies Review, 61(1), 185–2010. Escobar-Lemon, M., & Taylor-Robinson, M. M. (2005). Women ministers in Latin American Government: When, where, and why? American Journal of Political Science, 49(4), 829–844. Fallon, K., Swiss, L., & Viterna, J. (2012). Resolving the democracy paradox: Democratization and women’s legislative representation in developing nations, 1975 to 2009. American Sociological Review, 77(3), 380–408. Hogström, J. (2013). Quality of democracy around the globe: A comparative study. Ph.D., Mid Sweden University. Hughes, M., & Tripp, A. M. (2015). Civil war and trajectories of change in women’s political representation in Africa, 1985–2010. Social Forces, 93(4), 1513–1540. Inglehart, R., & Norris, P. (2003). Rising tide: Gender equality and cultural change around the world. Cambridge, UK/New York: Cambridge University Press. Jalalzai, F. (2008). Women rule: Shattering the executive glass ceiling. Politics & Gender, 4, 205–231. Kang, A., & Tripp, A. M. (2018). Coalitions matter: Citizenship, women, and quota adoption in Africa. Perspectives on Politics, 16(1), 73–91. Krook, M. L., & O’Brien, D. Z. (2012). All the president’s men? The appointment of female cabinet ministers worldwide. Journal of Politics, 74(3), 840–855. Laserud, S., & Taphorn, R. (2007). Designing for equality: Best-fit, medium-fit and non-favorable combinations of electoral systems and gender quotas. Stockholm: Institute for Democracy and Electoral Assistance. Lindberg, S. I. (2004). Women’s empowerment and democratization. Studies in Comparative International Development, 39(1), 28–53. McAllister, I., & Studlar, D. T. (2002). Electoral systems and women’s representation: A long-term perspective. Representations, 39(1), 3–14. Norris, P. (1985). Women’s legislative participation in Western Europe. West European Politics, 8, 90–101. Nyamnjoh, F. (2003). Chieftaincy and the negotiation of might and right in Botswana democracy. Journal of Contemporary African Studies, 21(2), 233–250.

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Paxton, P., & Hughes, M. M. (2015). The increasing effectiveness of national gender quotas, 1990–2010. Legislative Studies Quarterly, 40(3), 331. Paxton, P., Hughes, M. M., & Green, J. (2006). The international women’s movement and women’s political representation, 1893–2003. American Sociological Review, 71, 898–920. Paxton, P., Hughes, M. M., & Painter, M. (2010). The difference time makes: Latent growth curve models of women’s political representation. European Journal of Political Research, 49(1), 25–52. Reynolds, A. (1999). Women in the legislatures and executives of the world: Knocking at the highest glass ceiling. World Politics, 51(4), 547–572. Sahle-Work Zewde becomes Ethiopia’s first female president. BBC, 25 Oct 2018. https://www.bbc. com/news/world-africa-45976620. Snyder, M. (2006). Unlikely godmother: The UN and the global women’s movement. In M. M. Ferree & A. Tripp (Eds.), Global feminism: Transnational women’s activism, organizing, and human rights. New York: New York University Press. Steegstra, M. (2009). Krobo queen mothers: Gender, power, and contemporary female traditional authority in Ghana. Africa Today, 55(3), 105–123. Stockemer, D. (2011). Women’s parliamentary representation in Africa: The impact of democracy and corruption on the number of female deputies in national parliaments. Political Studies, 59, 693–712. Stockemer, D. (2017). The proportion of women in legislatures and cabinets: What is the empirical link? Polity, 49(3), 434–460. Stoeltje, B. (2003). Asante queen mothers: Precolonial authority in a postcolonial society. Research Reviews, 19(2), 1–19. Tripp, A. M. (2015). Women and power in postconflict Africa (Cambridge studies in gender and politics). New York: Cambridge University. Tripp, A. M., & Kang, A. (2008). The global impact of quotas: On the fast track to increased female legislative representation. Comparative Political Studies, 41, 338–361. True, J., & Mintrom, M. (2001). Transnational networks and policy diffusion: The case of gender mainstreaming. International Studies Quarterly, 45(1), 25–57. Whitford, A. B., Wilkins, V. M., & Ball, M. G. (2007). Descriptive representation and policymaking authority: Evidence from women in cabinets and bureaucracies. Governance, 20(4), 559–580.

Section IV African Women in Conflict and Peace

One of the African continent’s signal features in the postindependence era has been the proliferation of armed conflict between, and especially within states, spurred by both internal and international factors. The masculinist nature of political violence has tended to overshadow women’s manifest presence and involvement in these wars, the focus of the present section of this Handbook. Oluwatoyin O. Oluwaniyi flags off the section by tackling the mentioned tendency of scholarship on armed conflict to be gender-blind, to diminish the involvement of women in a wide array of nontraditional gender roles during war, to overlook women’s symbolic presences as cultural bearers of national identity, as well as “failing” to interrogate the continuing impact of these experiences beyond the period-gates of conflict and postconflict. Siphokazi Magadla demonstrates in a stinging critique of extant literature that the major continuity in studies of war and war-making is the denial of women’s involvement and contributions to combat in wars ranging from the anti-colonial wars of liberation to contemporary terrorist conflicts. This elision arises from the artificial binaries of the public/private, civilian/military, girl/woman, and combatant/ noncombatant, divisions that are not gender-neutral but have become normalized in policy and scholarship over time. Refugee and displaced women are also theorized in Olajumoke Yacob-Haliso’s chapter as gendered beings whose experiences beyond victimhood are shaped by their personal intersectionalities and the structural violence that precedes, permeates, and continues even after war, from a continuum-ofviolence perspective. Like Magadla, Margaret Gonzalez-Perez spotlights the absence of women as perpetrators and combatants, this time particularly in terrorist groups, glancing back to the Mau Mau of Kenya and forward to the contemporary use of women as suicide bombers in the Boko Haram conflict in West Africa. For their part, Helen Odunola Adekoya and Mary Leka Beredam further scrutinize how women victims of terrorist groups – in this case, the unfortunately famous Chibok and Dapchi abductees of Boko Haram – are framed in media discourses which ultimately further deepen their misfortune.

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As African women tend to be erased in the annals of agential participation in conflict, they are rarely included in the narratives of peace-making, peacebuilding, and postconflict reconstruction. Adeola Aderayo Adebajo describes the range of roles that women take on throughout the processes of peace-making and laments the constraints that limit their inclusion at decision-making levels. In particular, Tanya Ansahta Garnett spotlights the patriarchy embedded in neoliberal peacebuilding models adopted in postconflict contexts as limiting the potentials of women for structural and impactful social change in conflict resolution processes and peacebuilding in many African countries. The often-ignored necessity of designing pedagogic and education systems to counter the ravages of war in the postconflict period preoccupies Funmilayo Idowu Agbaje, whose chapter advocates a thorough reconstruction of the education systems of post-war nations to recognize and utilize women’s expertise and skills in both formal and informal peace education efforts. Pamela Machakanja buttresses Agbaje’s essay with an in-depth analysis of case studies from across the continent that demonstrate the possibilities, achievements, challenges, and limitations of peace education systems in several post-conflict countries. Continuing on this theme but from a slightly different angle, Esther Mojisola Beckley brings to relief the especial neglect of education programs for girls and women who are ex-combatants due to the male-focused nature of most Disarmament, Demobilization, and Reintegration (DDR) programs. This has resulted in long-lasting debilities for the women and girls whose psychosocial needs have not been appropriately anticipated, planned, and implemented. In their respective chapters, Pamela Machakanja and Chupicai Manuel analyze the varying approaches toward gender justice in transitional justice programs in Liberia, Sierra Leone, and Rwanda, while Olajumoke Yacob-Haliso and Omonye Omoigberaile provide a comparative discussion of the nature of violence experienced by women in conflict and the restorative remedies available in Africa and Latin America. The impact of conflict-related sexual violence (CRSV) on women in African conflicts is analyzed by Akissi Metonou in her chapter which situates this pervasive harm within global trends and proposes a restorative reparations transitional justice paradigm as remedy. Recognizing the pivotal role of intergovernmental organizations in Africa’s conflict resolution processes, Damilola Taiye Agbalajobi interrogates the role of the United Nations in promoting the nexus between peace, security, and governance for African women. Omotola Ilesanmi’s closing chapter draws together the insights from women’s multifaceted roles in conflict and peace processes in evaluating the successes, challenges, and impact of the landmark UN Security Council Resolution 1325 (UNSCR 1325) on women, peace, and security.

Women’s Roles and Positions in African Wars

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Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Gender and Militarism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Historical Role of Women in African Wars: An Overview . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Women and Forms of Recruitment into Armed Groups in the Contemporary Era . . . . . . . . Women’s Wartime Activities . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Women in Military Roles . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Women’s Nonmilitary Role . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Impact of Women’s War Role on Their Postwar Lives . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Deconstructing Femininity in Wars . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

This chapter explores women’s varied roles and positions in Africa’s wars from the precolonial to postcolonial era. It argues that the bulk of the literature on women’s participation in wars have been focused on women’s support to fighting men and not so much on their combatant roles. The lack of scholarly engagement with women’s involvement in the fighting forces and how they negotiate their roles as cultural bearers of national identities shows that mainstream discourses continue to be gender blind, denying women their agency and political labor. Based on an examination of several African cases, this chapter argues that African women throughout history have been engaged at the logistical, ideological, and combatant levels as fighters, spies, and carriers and, at the same time, as sex slaves, wives, and mothers. The marginalization and diminution of women’s unique roles and positions, and the effects of war participation on their lives, undermine their capacities in wars but also result in their absence in the national O. O. Oluwaniyi (*) Department of History and International Studies, College of Humanities, Redeemer’s University, Osun State, Nigeria © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_85

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narratives of post-conflict peacebuilding projects of which male ex-combatants remain major beneficiaries. This chapter concludes that African women’s agency in wars should form the core of knowledge and policy making on war, conflict management, conflict resolution, peacebuilding, and reconstruction efforts. Keywords

Women’s roles and positions · African wars · Victims · Agency

Introduction When women and young girls are mentioned in war situations, it is often implied that they are primarily “victims.” Without doubt, women have been victims of violence in African wars, and much has been written and documented about their “victimcy” (Utas 2005). However, the lack of scholarly engagement with women’s involvement in the fighting forces and how they negotiate their roles as cultural bearers of national identities shows that mainstream discourses continue to be gender blind, denying women their politics and political labor (Parashar 2011: 195). Research has proven that in most war-torn African countries, women have been engaged at the logistical, ideological, and even combatant levels. Women have facilitated and participated in violent activities that include guerrilla warfare, conventional combat, and suicide bombings and acted as couriers of bombs, weapons, money, and messages. In fact, women comprise between 10 and 30 percent of armed forces and groups and tend to be younger than their male counterparts (Specht 2006: 10). What is intriguing is the absence of women in the national narratives of these political projects or their stereotypical portrayal as “victims” of militarized masculine projects (Parashar 2011: 196). Supporting this claim, Coulter et al. (2008) and Enloe (2000b) succinctly note that women play active roles, sometimes even more than men, in African wars. Their experiences are multifaceted and complex as those young women, most times, are victims and perpetrators at the same time. But they remain invisible, their activities are not acknowledged, and in postwar periods, they remain silent within the country’s politics. The sidelining of women’s unique roles and positions undermines their capacities in wars and leads to post-conflict peacebuilding programs’ failure to target and cater for them on issues relating to stigma, health, education, economic livelihood, and political participation, whereas male ex-combatants remain major beneficiaries. This chapter, therefore, primarily challenges the essentialist views that portray women in war merely as victims of men or merely as supporting men. It brings to the fore a critical analysis of women’s various roles and positions in African wars, tracing it from the precolonial to present and unveiling the effects of participation on their lives in the postwar environment. More importantly, it suggests how such participation should form the core of knowledge and policy making. The questions raised by studying the roles and positions of women In African wars are critical in illuminating the status of women in African societies and placing such status in the right direction.

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To fully understand the nature of women’s participation, roles, and positions in African wars, this chapter has been divided into five sections. Following the introduction, the second section focuses on a theoretical analysis of the link between gender and militarism. The third section discusses the recruitment of women, their gendered activities, vulnerabilities and opportunities, and how their activities contribute to the perpetuation of wars. The fourth section evaluates their conditions in postwar situations and reveals how such conditions further deconstruct women’s active roles in African wars. The fifth section is the conclusion.

Gender and Militarism The increasing attention to gender in the study of wars has a great deal more to do with women being involved in violence and less with women being the victims of such wars. To Tickner (1995: 49), war and military issues have been deeply gendered activities throughout history. The concern is that most people perceive women to be too fragile and vulnerable to be involved in political violence and men as innately aggressive, and for one to be a soldier, one must first be a “man.” This perception brings us to the concept of gender and its relevance in the study of women’s roles in wars. Gender has been given different meanings by different scholars. But generally, it is a set of arrangement by which society transforms biological sexuality into products of human activity and in which these transformed sexual needs are satisfied (Yakubu 2010: 8). Okin (1994) argues that gender is the deeply entrenched institutionalization of sexual difference, which is socially constructed in societies. In other words, gender system of domination and subordination is not fixed; rather, it is constructed through socialization and perpetuated through unjust political and economic structures. Within this social construction, women are not expected “in a patriarchal setting” to participate in military functions, which infers the process of preparing and engaging in actual war-related practices. While masculinity is associated with qualities that make good warriors, femininity is limited to home keeping. Violence is thus at the core of maintaining the gender order of male supremacy and female subordination (Reardon 1985). To Goldstein (2001: 275), the development of warrior qualities including physical courage, bravery, endurance, strength, discipline, skill, and honor is part of male socialization. They are particularly important to fighting fear and suppressing of emotions. Men who fail these tests of masculinity are shamed and publicly humiliated. Similarly, Hutchings (2008: 389) contends that there is a functional relationship between masculinity and militarism because qualities like aggression and physical courage are defined as essential components of both masculinity and war. The power imbalance of gender relations in most (if not all) societies generates cultures of masculinity prone to violence and the culture of femininity prone to peace. In fact, to Goldstein (2001: 279), war films most times invoke the deep psychological structure entailed in making men through war, “boy leaves home, faces death (representing fear of castration), wins war, returns to claim bride and

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wins acclaim from father-figures.” Within this context, gender organizes belief systems and identities, which retain a space outside war, “a place to return to, or at least to die trying to protect-‘a place called home’ or normal or peacetime and women constitute the place called ‘home’” (Goldstein 2001: 301). The “protected status” perception is mostly institutionalized during war in which women are usually depicted as helpless dependents rather than as independent persons, capable of coping with the complex world of realpolitik. This view of women denied them participation as soldiers and diplomats in the Gulf War and still contributes to the legitimation of war as a manly activity necessary for the protection of women, children, and the “motherland” (Enloe 1990). Women have helped to reinforce this category through creating male warriors through praise singing of male war victors, encouraging men to go to war and raising boys to excel as men. All these run the danger of reinforcing gender stereotypes that motivate men to fight. Even in war situations, the predominant sex/gender system has restricted focus on female participation in war to assigned traditional gender roles as nurses, cooks, secretaries, and sex machines, while the agency of women in armed conflicts is not recognized. But when their agency becomes obvious, to Barth (2002), “it comes as a surprise to many people,” including the female group. Such women are regarded as deviants since the role contradicts traditional gender roles. This traditional perception only produces and reproduces patriarchal values and helps to conceal women agency in war situations. This is very surprising because history itself has provided several instances of women’s participation with men in wars and even holding very important positions in such armed groups. But owing to the stereotyping of men and women, female fighters are usually considered by their very existence as to be transgressing accepted female behavior, and the very act of fighting by definition makes women and girls less feminine and by extension, “unnatural” (Sorensen 1998: iii). What they fail to understand is that people behave irrationally in war, regardless of their gender and depending on their perception of the situation at that time. Moreover, war affects men and women differently. Lastly, women as a highly differentiated social category are heterogeneous and bear multiple social identities of which gender identity is one. Going by the constructivist theory, gender difference is itself a cultural construct, and since it is dynamic, it is subject to constant changes (Burr 1995; Gergen 1994). Thus gender difference becomes a question of perception of gender rather than innate qualities of men and women.

Historical Role of Women in African Wars: An Overview The historical role of women in African wars is quite an interesting one because it has a precolonial origin. This history challenges the myth of an intrinsic vulnerability of women in Africa. In the precolonial era, women’s militaristic roles among other things ranged from stripping naked to draw attention to their plight to launching military conquests and going to wars with men. Examples of women such as Queen Makeda (Queen of Sheba), Queen Ahywa (also known as Sofya), and Queen Yodit, all of

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Ethiopia, show that women warriors had lasting impact on the country’s history (Tripp 2017). Particularly, the role of Empress Taytu Betul (1850–1918) in establishing and naming the modern capital of Addis Ababa, to commanding an army, which was able to fully resist colonial encroachment by defeating Italy, which invaded Ethiopia in 1896 in the famous Battle of Adwa, cannot be overemphasized. By the Empress’ act, Ethiopia remains one of the two countries in Africa that was not colonized in the twentieth century (Tripp 2017). Others include Queen Amina Sarauniya of Zazzau (today Zaria), Edwesohemaa Nana Yaa Asantewaa of Edweso (Ghana) who led the resistance against British between 1887 and 1900, and Efunsetan Aniwura of Ibadan (in present Nigeria). Also there is the documented evidence of women warriors in Dahomey between the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, known as the Amazons (Mino, meaning war mothers in Dahomean language). The Amazons formed part of the national defense in Dahomey Kingdom. King Houegbadja (1645–1685) the third King of Dahomey started the group as corps of elephant hunters, known as the “ghetto.” In the eighteenth century, the group was originally trained as royal bodyguards but was later transformed into a militia. The king successfully used them to defeat the neighboring kingdom of Sayi in 1792. These examples make very clear, African women’s involvement in wars and political violence. The emergence of colonialism restricted women’s role to the private space, and extremely few women were coopted into colonial governance as examples of Madam Yoko of Sierra Leone and Margaret Ekpo of Nigeria have shown (Chuku 2009; Tripp 2017). Gradually, women defied patriarchal restrictions created by colonial powers and the predominant gender structure to participate in Africa’s liberation struggles especially in Algeria, Angola, Eritrea, Guinea Bissau Kenya, Mozambique, Uganda, and Zimbabwe with the aim to overthrow colonial rule. Unfortunately, there was no African women’s movement devoted to women’s liberation due to the persistent brutal repression of nationalist politics and organizations by the colonial powers. This posed several challenges to both the female activists and the male-led national liberation movements. Thus women’s participation in colonial wars was based on the fact that the demands of women and those of the national liberation movements came to converge on the need to uproot colonialism and restore the land to the “sons and daughters of the soil.” But in Tripp’s words, their personal histories for actively participating in liberation struggles were quite different from men, and even then, both genders were exposed to segregation of various forms and suffered from problems related to taxation, forced labor, compulsory cash crop cultivation, and brutality associated with those practices. In spite of their common grounds, it was observed that some liberation movements in countries like Algeria and Zimbabwe did not make deliberate efforts to appeal to the sensibility of women. Rather, women joined only to express their frustration and anger. But movements like FRELIMO in Mozambique, the African Party for the Independence of Guinea Bissau and Cape Verde (PAIGC) in Guinea Bissau, and the Eritrean People’s Liberation Front (EPLF) in Eritrea perceived women’s participation as integral to national liberation. Reasons for the different outlooks are beyond this study. Either way, all the revolutionary movements relied to varying degrees, on women for crucial support (Maloba 2007: 1; Bernal 2001: 130).

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In Kenya’s Mau Mau Liberation Movement, women’s role was pertinent to the liberation struggles for social justice and freedom. The movement took cognizance of their political needs and made efforts to include them in the political agendas while urging women to participate actively in the fighting. To achieve its aim, women were divided into two groups. The first group of women militants stayed back in the Kikuyu reserve (later in the concentration villages) and were central in the procurement of food and its transportation to the edge of the forests or sometimes into the interior of the forests and information gathering from enemy colonial troops with the purpose of obtaining government secrets about the war prosecution. The second group joined the guerrillas in the forest. While some in the second group performed noncombat roles such as cooking, cleaning, caring for the sick and wounded, and singing for the entertainment of those in the camps, transportation of goods (essential camp equipment), and other traditional roles, a few engaged in combat (Gathogo 2017). The women warriors were extremely loyal to the struggle, which was made legitimate through oath swearing (Presley 1992: 128–129). However, as loyal and committed as they were to the struggles and goals of the group, they were not allowed to assume leadership positions and the Mau Mau never addressed or tackled the gender question (Maloba 2007: 21). As explained earlier, this male attitude toward women in Kenya’s Mau Mau group could not be termed, homogenous to all liberation groups in Africa. For instance, Amilcar Cabral, until his assassination in 1973, singled out women for special attention. He ensured that party activists encouraged women to join the revolutionary struggle not only to dislodge the Portuguese oppressors but also to free themselves. Moreover, there was mass voluntary participation and involvement of women in the struggle through gathering information from the enemies, protecting village populations from Portuguese army attacks and fighting with men in the armed operations when the war intensified from 1965. Owing to women’s loyalty and commitment, they were given some leadership positions even at the very local level (Coutinho 2017: 8–13). Likewise, in Mozambique, the Frente de Libertacao de Mozambique (FRELIMO) Party from inception embraced the principle of gender equality and emancipation of women (Hanlon 1990: 149). As a result, women, having felt self-liberation, selfconfidence, self-worth, and purpose, willingly supported FRELIMO in both traditional and nontraditional roles. For the nontraditional role, female participants acted either as defenders of liberated areas or joined actual combat alongside male guerrilla. FRELIMO formed the female unit known as Descamento Feminino (DF), whereby female participants were given military training. The participation of women in the liberation struggle was extremely pertinent because to Samora Machel, the leader of FRELIMO, “the liberation of women is the fundamental necessity for the revolution, a guarantee of its continuity and a precondition for victory” (Maloba 2007: 27). What these differences in the involvement of women in liberation struggles among the various liberation groups across Africa reveal is that liberation movements established to uproot colonial rule in Africa functioned, based on various groups’ ideologies of equality, liberation, and nonexploitation, a language familiar to and comfortable for a dominant group in such societies.

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With the independence of African states, attention shifted from liberation struggles to mostly intrastate wars (within independent states), guerrilla wars, and terrorism. The postindependence period is marked by the politics of “new wars,” where to Kaldor (2006, 72), the claim to power is on the basis of seemingly traditional identities tied to tribe, religion, and other particularistic identities. To Turshen (2015), these new wars are mostly protracted wars where the frontiers are blurred, identities are constantly shifting, and civilians bombed and killed indiscriminately. As protracted wars, they exacerbate the inability of states already weakened by austerity programs to ensure human security and protect human rights. An important aspect of these new wars is the presence of large number of actors, cutting across gender. Violence of these new wars is pervasive and women cannot be kept out of such wars as it enters the traditional domain of the private home and, thus, the participation of women in such postmodern wars. In the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), to Liberia, Sierra Leone, Rwanda, and Uganda to mention but a few, women played incredible roles in the political, social, and informal economies of wars, including their involvement in the financing, food production, and other support roles. In fact, they participated in a vast array of different roles simultaneously. While women’s participation in wars in contemporary era is no longer in doubt, their willingness to participate in those lingering and internecine wars remains unclear. Literally, it is assumed that women and girls’ participation in wars is grounded in their forceful recruitment or their helplessness in war situations, and as a result, their activities are limited to support roles. It has thus become pertinent to examine these claims. The next sections examine their recruitment methods and wartime activities in postcolonial conflict.

Women and Forms of Recruitment into Armed Groups in the Contemporary Era Research has shown that similar to liberation struggles, recruitment in postcolonial era transcends forcible means. Fundamentally, there are two distinct methods of recruiting both genders into fighting groups, and they include forced and voluntary recruitment. But clearly and finely demarcating the lines between the two forms of recruitment is very complex. A combination of “push” and “pull” factors seems to fuel the recruitment of women and girls into factional groups. What is termed voluntary may in the actual sense be indirectly forced in the sense that victims normally transform into perpetrators. For forced recruitment, just like men, women are victims of murder, persecution, forced disappearance, and assault during wars. But women are usually the major casualties of wars compared to men who could easily protect themselves from violence. For instance, women and girls are victims of abduction. Majority of them are abducted at gunpoint, sexually abused and later forced to be fighters (Amnesty International 2009). In most cases, the knowledge that most captured women would not want to participate willingly makes forcible recruitment the only way to get them. Moreover, prompted by heavy losses of male combatants and the urgent need for new

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recruits, most factional leaders target women and children in roundup sweeps of schools, religious centers, streets, and the marketplaces and through inducements. In other cases, the forceful recruitment of women becomes imperative owing to the knowledge that the participation of women adds legitimacy and symbolic power to the war efforts, shows opposition to dictatorial governments, and influences group actions. Beyond these factors, their bodies represent spiritual symbols for gaining victory against opposition groups. It is believed that certain taboos are associated with the nakedness of women as a weapon of war. In Sierra Leone, it was observed that the Revolutionary United Front (RUF) used women and girls spiritually to destroy the traditional charms of the Civil Defence Force (CDF) members for whom it was a taboo to see the nakedness of females in the frontlines. The RUF made abducted girls to lie naked and flat on the ground, and whenever the CDF fighters saw the naked bodies, the charms possessed by these fighters were reportedly nullified and the RUF members were able to overcome them (Oluwaniyi 2005: 127). In Sierra Leone, thousands of women and girls were abducted after they were sexually exploited. Some of them were attacked in their homes and hideouts, raped several times by their commanders before being finally forced to become the sexual partner or “wives” of men. Some, as young as 10 years old, were forced to kill their loved ones before they were taken away and turned into sex slaves. This method led to the trapping of most women into becoming combatants, “bush wives,” and support staff to the warlords (Oluwaniyi 2003; Human Rights Watch 1998; Wolfe 2004). In fact, in most cases, girls were specifically targeted as instruments of war, losing family members in the process. Some were abducted from streets and schools. But as it occurred in Liberia and other contemporary war zones, girls were also seen to have voluntarily joined for protection, food, and shelter by offering themselves as “wives” and cooks of commanders. Voluntary recruitment is another aspect of recruitment into armed groups. For those who voluntarily give themselves away, it is usually the last option for them within which they could enjoy physical protection and financial assistance for survival. Civilians are usually targets of terror attacks such as killing, torture, looting, burning of property, amputation of limbs, and acts of rape among other injuries inflicted on them. This creates fear in civilians, especially the female gender, who tend to find alternatives by joining armed groups. In such cases, fear becomes a vital instrument for getting women and girls to willingly join the fighting group. Others join due to their alignment with war objectives or the need to support their boyfriends or husbands such as occurred in Liberia, Nigeria’s Niger Delta region (Oluwaniyi 2011), and Sierra Leone (Oluwaniyi 2005). Likewise, women participated in Mozambique’s civil war fought between Resistencia National de Mozambique (RENAMO) and FRELIMO, and the reasons given for joining the two major groups, FRELIMO and RENAMO, differed. Some joined the government forces of FRELIMO primarily, to escape rural areas’ poverty as well as to enjoy urban life, which it provided. Nevertheless, others were forced to join. Other women preferred the RENAMO group owing to their opposition to FRELIMO’s socialist ideology and policies as well as the need to benefit from good social amenities such as educational opportunities (Coulter et al. 2008). In short, military participation for

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this category of women offers them the opportunity to escape the grinding effects of poor standard of living, breakdown of family system, inability to have or continue with their education, and increasing poverty at homes (Oluwaniyi 2003: 148). The reasons given from the various examples of country cases reveal that women, like men, have different social identities, which are culturally and socially constructed. In Liberia as in other war zones, women fighters referred to themselves as “wartime women.” Wartime women represent females at the war front but with a new sense of power, being with male warriors, engaging in war assignments either as fighters or in support roles. They stayed with men till the end of the conflict.

Women’s Wartime Activities In African contemporary wars, it has been proven that women participate both in military and nonmilitary roles. Military in this sense refers to carrying of small arms and light weapons such as Ak-47, RPG, and other weapons, either crude as in Rwanda or sophisticated as in the Niger Delta region among others; joining male combatants in battles, killing opponents, and engaging in training for battles but not after taking hard drugs such as cocaine, heroin, cannabis (known as jamba in Sierra Leone), home-brewed cane alcohol, and gunpowder, which could be injected into the veins or sniffed through the nostrils in order to make them reckless in military operations. After taking such drugs, “they felt very strong and saw human beings as chicken to be slaughtered” (Oluwaniyi 2005: 130). These drugs form the core of indoctrination into groups owing to their ability to increase the courage to perform acts of extreme violence, dull their sensitivity to pain, and, at the same time, act as energizers. Unlike women who join armed forces of states and who must wear their combat uniforms, rebel group women may or may not wear combat uniforms. In most cases, their dress codes signify civilian combatants, most of whom do not pass through formal training but are only shown how to cork and shoot. It is important to note that some factional groups are not expected to recruit girls due to their traditional beliefs about charms and women. Within the Civilian Defence Forces (CDF), a traditional rebel group in Sierra Leone, it was believed that close interaction with the female gender through cooking, touching, or sex, especially during their menstrual cycle, could result in the reduction or total destruction of spiritual potentials of men’s traditional weapons (charms) and, subsequently, lead to opponents’ victory. Thus interaction of such men fighting groups with women during the Sierra Leonean war was usually limited to particular “safe” periods (Oluwaniyi 2003: 149).

Women in Military Roles Regardless of the mode of recruitment, women constitute a significant percentage of militias. However, their activities as combatants have not been given attention. Though some of them are trained in military roles, that is, how to cork and shoot,

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clean, undertake guard duty, and assemble and dismantle guns, such training is usually between 1 day and a week or only as some tag along as they move through the battle front. As a result of their immense energy, they held high positions within the Sierra Leonean rebel groups such as General Blood and General Killer to mention but a few (Oluwaniyi 2003: 150). To Prunier (1995) and West (2000: 190), the Rwandan genocide represents an extreme case of women’s participation in military role. They inflicted extraordinary cruelty through slaughtering of other women. Women are known to participate in armed combat, intelligence gathering, and civilian support mobilization. Through the indoctrination of women in Zimbabwe and Eritrea, about the ideology of freedom and independence, women and girls were armed with weapons of armed destruction (Coulter et al. 2008: 12). In Liberia, some units among the National Patriotic Front of Liberia (NPFL) forces were wholly composed of female fighters, known as Women’s Artillery Command (WAC), and they were in the forefront of Taylor’s rebellion. They did not just inflict harm on men but also were very fierce on fellow noncombatant women, including bayoneting pregnant women. They organized forced sex ring for their male counterparts and held down women to be raped while they looked on (Coulter et al. 2008: 13–14). Some women and girls were militarily powerful in Sierra Leone to the extent that they were rapidly promoted as generals, commanders, and senior officers. The role of Isatu Kallon in procuring arms for the Revolutionary United Front (RUF) cannot be overemphasized. Such women contributed to the militarization of their societies. Without any doubt, some of these women benefitted immensely from the war. Female fighters who gained positions of commanders and high-ranking officers were able to turn war into a successful endeavor. With looted goods, some were able, for example, to build up business enterprises after the end of the war.

Women’s Nonmilitary Role The distinctions between male and female gender in all the roles they play are that apart from participating in active fighting like the men and boys, the females have to go the extra mile of performing nonmilitary roles (Manzurana et al. 2002). Nonmilitary role refers to activities that do not necessitate the use of weapons and fighting in a war environment. But this does not mean that weapons would not be used as a last resort to defend themselves. As Coulter et al. (2008) rightly point out, one of the factors leading to abduction of women and girls that has been sidelined by literature is their productive labor, which is mostly traditional. Women’s productive labor is exploited even more extensively during war. To them, the chores of everyday life, such as cooking, trading, farming, and laundry, need to be performed even in wartime; thus, women are essential to the functioning and maintenance of the war system itself (Thompson 2006: 349). All these form the core of their nonmilitary role. This traditional role restricts women’s movement to the camps. Other nonmilitary roles, which give women opportunity to move outside their camps, include acting as spies, carriers, porters, and looters (jaja in Sierra Leone) and being used as shields for men. Nevertheless, some females alternate between these roles. For

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instance, in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), Liberia, Sierra Leone, and Northern Uganda, majority of the girls simultaneously served multiple roles as combatants, cooks, carriers of loot and weapons, and sex slaves. As part of the nonmilitary role, women provide the primary infrastructure of resistance in most warring environments. For instance, in showing their discontent with Doe’s autocratic rule, Aning Kwesi reveals that some Liberian women such as Ellen Johnson Sirleaf and Grace Minor facilitated Charles Taylor’s success at the early stages of his war program, and Reffel Victoria helped to support his ambition throughout the war (Kwesi 1998: 45–47). Women such as Moumouna Quattara (former Burkinabe ambassador to Ghana and close associate to Blaise Campaore) provided sanctuary for the NPFL members that needed protection in Ghana, Burkina Faso, and Côte d’Ivoire (Kwesi 1998: 47). Hartsock and Nancy (1983) bring to view a feminist standpoint on the hidden, marginalized (though necessary) activity allocated to women in the sexual division of labor. To her, women are subjected to the will of those who possess the means of coercion. Framing war thus calls for a generously holistic conception of power, which should account for women’s experiences not only of labor, subsistence, and mothering, among others, but also of physical violence. One of the most demeaning nonmilitary roles for women and girls in African contemporary wars is the sexual exploitation of their bodies. To Goldstein (2001:336), such sexual practices range from uncoerced sex to military-organized prostitution to the coerced sex extracted from “comfort women.” It is most unlikely that such situation obtained during liberation struggles in Africa since focus was geared toward unifying all efforts to rid off colonial powers as the case of FRELIMO clearly showed in which sexual relations were forbidden between male and female fighters as this measure was intended to protect women from abuse by armed men (West 2000: 190). While sexual violence in contemporary warfare is not restricted to the female gender, it is glaring that the rate is higher for women (D’Odorico and Holvoet 2009: 53; Sivakumaran 2008). For instance, in the DRC, male victims account for 20% of rapes. The use of sexual violence often has several motivations mutually reinforcing each other. These motivations are central to the dehumanization of the female gender (Solhjell 2009; Lewis 2009). Apart from the common notion that owing to their sex, mens aggressiveness and weird social norms, women's bodies are perceived as legitimate instruments or booties of war, it is sometimes, an extremist propaganda to engage in ethnic cleansing or a way to impose domination on male enemies (by violating their cherished property). Lastly, imagined or real marginalization tends to exacerbate abnormal sexual behavior against the more vulnerable female gender partly as a way of drawing attention to the demands of the perpetrators (Oluwaniyi 2010:5–6). Such exploitation is common with forcibly recruited women and girls, who are mostly as young as 13 years of age. This age group is preferred by rebel men because they are assumed to be virgins, healthy, sexually active, and resilient. They are repeatedly raped before they are recruited into the fighting groups to run errands. As sexual slaves, they are assigned rebel husbands in camps. Rape creates fear in the abducted women, forcing them to perform their roles excessively as recruited combatants. The level and extent of the rape program are so high in most

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African wars that Wolfe (2004) in his analysis of Uganda’s war reveals that the military role of girls in Northern Uganda’s war was not publicly recognized except their roles as sex slaves and captive wives. While being sex slaves to most male combatants, they gave birth to children fathered by rebels (Wolfe 2004). Similar experiences occurred in Sierra Leone, Liberia, and other war zones in Africa and beyond. In essence, rape has become the “ultimate metaphor for the wars system” (Reardon 1985: 371). It symbolically genders the victor as male and the vanquished as female. Unfortunately, they make it impossible for these captured and raped girls to escape because in most cases, names of the rebel factions are carved on their bodies, especially, the chest. If they are caught by pro-government or other rebels, they are often killed (Oluwaniyi 2005). Punishment for this category ranges from denial of booties, including food, forcibly raped, laid in the sun, to death. This brings the issue of a warrior or militia definition, which needs to be revisited. The definition that sees men and boys as the only militant ones works to the detriment of the female gender within such groups. This is because in addition to being warriors, women perform a variety of roles. These roles make them bear the war burden more than the men in the group. Unfortunately, their roles, in most cases, are not recognized officially. This has limited many multilateral and government militaries’ understanding of the centrality of women and girls in armed groups.

Impact of Women’s War Role on Their Postwar Lives From the foregoing, it is clear that women participate actively in wars owing to the various military and nonmilitary roles that they perform. These roles have physical, psychological, and social effects on their lives, which could be positive or negative, but in most cases, tilt toward the latter. Literature on postwar effects of war on women and girls reveals a disparaging outlook about them (Persson 2005; Coulter et al. 2008). Despite their double roles in wars, most postwar benefits exclude them. On one hand, a few of them benefit immensely by retaining their military role, gaining access to some material benefits and breaking free from patriarchal control in the postwar era (Chingono 2015). On the other hand, while the female ex-combatants revert to their traditional role, those young women in support roles are made to continue their traditional domestic role. This is coupled with the fact that they are faced with new insecurities, vulnerabilities, and pauperization and exposed to new forms of violence. While they occupied leadership roles in military structures, they were excluded in peace negotiations and sidelined from the offer of important positions in post-conflict society (Farr 2003). Women have not usually been identified with the state and its institutions than have men because they have been generally been situated far from the seats of power. Likewise the sort of citizenship and patriotism that have been legitimated war and traditional concepts of national security have not valorized the contributions of women toward their societies (Enloe 2004: 96). The fact that they are deprived of opportunities that their commanders, generals, and others who initiated the wars,

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recruited and humiliated women, passed through the phases of post-conflict peacebuilding mechanisms, and walk freely on the streets raises serious questions for women’s role in war situations. From the studies carried out by various scholars, it was observed that only a few women turned up for disarmament, demobilization, and reintegration (DDR) (Oluwaniyi 2005, 2018; Mazurana 2005: 33). As Mazurana and Mckay (2004: 44) note, one effect of the social stigma attached to having been a fighter is that many women and girls hide their past and do not come forward to receive the DDR benefits they are entitled to. We tend to blame the women warriors for their failure to access DDR; thus, the shame in joining warring forces, the repercussions and social stigma of being identified as ex-soldiers, and the fear of being rejected by friends and families also affect them. History of having resorted to “unwomanly” behavior like being violent or sexually abused brings shame to them; but policy makers who are mostly men are to be blamed. The role of men (policy makers and militant commanders) in worsening women’s low-esteem cannot be overemphasized. Their bush husbands collect their weapons during DDR to hide the publicly glaring fact that women participated in wars; as wives and mothers of their children, male warriors view them as dependents with no acknowledgment of the skills and resources they have attained in war scenarios and, thus, do not see the necessity in turning them out for such programs as the men represent their families. The use of the Convention on the Rights of the Child (CRC) definition of a combatant as over 18 years excludes a lot of girls from this category. In the process of rejection, ex-war women and girls lose huge social capital that could be of importance for post-conflict peacebuilding. Much more, it affects what aid bodies can do to help female participants. These bodies refer to them as camp followers (Oluwaniyi 2003, 2005) and, therefore, do not necessarily pass through DDR. This is a misperception. As Enloe (2000a: 40) notes, “in the late 20th Century, women who have been mobilised to serve military needs are still vulnerable to the stereotype of camp follower-dispensable-no matter how professional their formal position is in the military.” Most ex-female combatants were stigmatized as “war women” and thereby deprived of a possibility of getting married in post-conflict era. Most men perceived the women as being exposed to different men in wars and could be carriers of sexually transmitted diseases (STDs). Owing to their past activities in the bush, some men felt that these women would be unpredictable and aggressive (Persson 2005). In some postwar countries, the fear of the unknown stopped some of them from accessing the DDR, whereas in other cases, they were usually not recognized by the DDR team. As an alternative, some had to resort to prostitution to survive, cling to their bush boyfriends or husbands, and, in a few extreme cases, out of frustration, commit suicide. To Brittany (2002: 4), the entry into the sexual violence trap becomes much more likely and harder to escape and with the outcome being a recluse life. Most female ex-fighters return from war with physical and psychological health problems. Some of the physical health issues include headaches from beating and psychological causes, STDs, and pelvic inflammatory diseases resulting in serious stomach aches; effects of drug use, chest pain, pain from beatings, genital injuries, or infections such as swelling, fistulas, vaginal discharge, and genital itch.

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Common psychological problems include fear, worry, and anxiety (UNICEF 2006: 26; Rehn and Johnson-Sirleaf 2002: 47–49). All these issues have more consequences for their future, especially their socioeconomic life, including education, marriage, and livelihoods. One would expect that their role in armed conflict would equally give them automatic role in peace talks and post-conflict peacebuilding decision-making, aimed at transforming their lives. But post-conflict programs are usually gendered with women taking role less than men on issues that concern them. The exclusion and probably silencing of women in post-conflict era are symptomatic of the systematic omission of women from decision-making even in peace time. Women still form a minority and some countries do not second women at all for such political discourse. In Nigeria’s Niger Delta, only four women were included out of the 42 members of the Niger Delta Technical Community, appointed in 2009 to come up with a report and appropriate recommendations for peace and development in the region (Oluwaniyi 2011: 162). They are treated with complete nonchalance. The result is that most of them return to their homes without any form of official support. However, the low participation of female fighters despite knowledge of their presence and participation in armed conflicts only villainizes women warriors. This mentality also affects the urge to include them in decision-making fora. With the end of Sierra Leone’s DDR in 2001, a total of 72,509 combatants were demobilized, of whom 4751 were women and 6787 were children, of whom 506 were girls. But in reality, the number of women and girls who participated in the war exceeded the DDR calculation (Mazurana and Carlson 2004: 2; Specht 2006). This attitude is not limited to contemporary wars. For instance, experiences in Mozambique, Angola, and Kenya revealed that men refused to share power with women, and this resulted in the reinforcement of traditional roles (Arnfred 1988). This idea counters the so-called “strong” ideology of involving women in military struggles. It shows that women’s liberation was promoted only when they were needed to show the strength of the group in the overall struggle for independence. After independence, leadership roles for women were limited and the employment market was bleak. Many also found it difficult to get married as they said that men, even former guerrillas, did not want equal partners in marriage after the war. For instance, most FRELIMO men remained sexist and patriarchal and complained that former DFs were too feisty and independent to be married (West 2000: 189). But how are these women negotiating their postwar roles? Are they giving up or are they creating agency for themselves in other ways? Though peace comes as a disappointment, post-conflict setting sometimes brings about windows of opportunity to ex-war women through the formation and participation in civil society groups that emphasize equity and social justice. Their role within civil society groups and as individuals has shown that they cannot be undermined in post-conflict affairs. They evolve non-violent ways of dealing with tensions and conflict, such as peaceful protests, advocacy and talks, and mobilization of women to participate in elections. For instance, women’s role in bringing the Liberian war to an end cannot be overemphasized. Through the formation of groupings such as The Mano River Women’s Peace Network (MARWOPNET), female ex-combatants intervened to

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stop war in Sierra Leone (Cockburn 2007: 33). Moreso, women in Liberia took on the warlords and regime of dictator Charles Taylor in the midst of a brutal civil war. While in times of war, women are commonly excluded from the decision-making processes of war and peace, the women of Liberia took this opportunity to rise up and make their voices heard through the Women of Liberia Mass Action for Peace. Their actions culminated in Taylor’s exile, the end of the war and the rise of Africa’s first female president, Ellen Johnson Sirleaf (Shepherd 2015: 60). As important as their informal role is in negotiating women’s public space, there is a danger of complacency with or an overemphasis on participation in informal processes since it may be counterproductive to the long-term interests of women, which includes formal political role. While focusing on informal processes, women lose the opportunity to voice their perspectives within formal processes where permanent and lasting decisions are made. The experiences of women revealed that despite their efforts to advance their cause, the official settings of peace negotiations and the terms of agreements fail to listen to women’s voices or to acknowledge their contributions (McGuiness 2007: 68).

Deconstructing Femininity in Wars Gender constructs become real not only in discourse but also through institutionalization. Framing war, to Cockburn (2011), calls for a generously holistic conception of power. It must account for women’s experience not only of labor, subsistence, and mothering to mention but a few but also of physical violence. To Enloe (2004: 97), there needs to be a feminist consciousness informing work on gender. A feminist consciousness is what keeps one taking seriously – staying intellectually curious about – the experiences, actions, and ideas of women and girls especially on issues of war and peace. The role of the state and international community in further suppressing and limiting women’s role in war, regardless of the variety of roles they assert in wartime, is debilitating. They are mainly confined to the traditional gendered role of peace making. However, there are huge challenges within this context. First, as detailed as the United Nations Security Council Resolution 1325 is in the area of women and peace, there seems to be a complete disconnect between the pledges made by states to increase women’s participation and their translation of this pledge into practice because women are still significantly underrepresented in or entirely absent from peace negotiations. In most cases, warrior men usually make decisions, no matter who sits at the negotiating table, and women are encouraged to speak out and then go home to the status quo ante (Kronsell and Svedberg 2011:p8). The major consequence has been the preservation of the patriarchal domain such as the masculine warrior culture and feminine peaceful culture. Second, the United Nations policy (UNSCR 1325) in its rhetoric stipulates that women should be involved in international peacekeeping to show its postmodern acceptance of women’s military role in wars. However, the demands of peacekeeping invoke concepts such as to save, to protect, to help, and to make peace. Like a modern service-providing enterprise, they thus encompass tasks that are traditionally

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defined as female. While this international effort is commendable, this is rather a difficult task to achieve knowing fully well that female soldiers need to defend themselves against any harm or hurt, thus the need to use force. Moreso, the continued association of peacekeeping and conflict resolution or passive participants is dangerous because it opens the door for a denigration of their real recruitment methods, activities in African wars, and also postwar treatment. The UNSCR 1325 could be seen as a way of infusing old gender concerns into post-conflict situations. It has only reinforced the social construction of gender in several ways. To Prugl (2003), “insofar as the messages from such reports and resolutions are taken seriously, they are part of the institutionalisation of a feminine side of military operations, and this feminine side is associated with peace.” Hudson (2017) argues similarly that despite the forward-looking agenda of the UNSCR 1325, there is an implementation gap, that is, the lives of women in conflict-ridden areas remain unchanged, and women continue to play a marginal role in formal peace talks. This perception needs to be properly deconstructed to reflect the reality in war zones. This is not about questioning women’s capacities in war, but it is more about defending construction of gender that associates masculinity with combat prowess in defense of the feminine. Though, in 2007, the secretary-general called on member states to ensure the consideration of gender in peacebuilding processes through national action plans (NAP) (UN Sec. Gen, 2007), NAPS has only succeeded in domesticating in toto the international gender norms agenda (Hudson 2017: 4). This remains problematic. This infers that the 1325 Resolution language, which has not changed the gender problem, needs to be revisited by states and the international community in order not to subvert women’s capacities and their double tragedies in postwar environments. Though women are now officially recognized to participate in active military services in their countries, there is no much evidence to show any change in the practice of their exclusion (Shepherd 2015: 65).

Conclusion From the foregoing, this chapter makes it clear that women are not just victims in armed conflicts, but they participate actively in African wars. Though some of the female combatants join voluntarily to escape the crises in war situations, majority of the female combatants are forcibly conscripted into the fighting forces with male combatants utilizing various methods, including rape, killing of loved ones, or exerting other threats to their lives. They are given gender-based roles and later experience gender-based violence. Nevertheless, the exploits of the few female fighters who use Ak-47 rifles in the battlefront or use their natural bodies as potent defense against opposition groups are not well documented and barely discussed in academic circles. This chapter has also shown that when female ex-fighters are discussed and planned for, it is often implied that they are predominantly “victims,” even when they are part of war groups. However, a close examination of their role in wars shows that female combatants engage in the brutalization of war victims. But since their

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real roles are not considered, it affects their perceptions in postwar situations and the kinds of political, social, and economic benefits that should be given to them comparable to what men get. In situating women’s agency in war zones, effort was made to highlight the combatant and noncombatant roles they perform as well as difficulties female ex-combatants pass through after violent conflicts, which cut across political, social, economic, and psychological effects. The effects reveal the undermining and suppression of these pertinent roles, thus the failure of the state to consider these critical roles in order to mainstream policies that will affect them positively as agents. It is important to refrain from gender stereotyping and idealizing women agency in violent conflicts. For now, linking gender equality and women’s rights to international peace and security through the adoption of UNSCR 1325 signifies a shift in both policy and rhetoric. Thus policies should be pragmatic and truly ensure that those young women are recognized as full participants in Africa’s contemporary conflicts. States and institutions, both local and international, should make sure that they participate fully in the DDR programs as ex-combatants and all the benefits due ex-combatants are given to them. Moreover, very active female ex-soldiers who have participated in fighting groups should be involved in decisions that will contribute to peace and development in the post-conflict era. More importantly, elite women who champion gender issues from a distance should as a matter of great significance sponsor or take field reports into cognizance while developing framework or policy papers that aims at reducing the institutionalization of the feminine gender. Armed conflict is not a gender neutral event; thus, women should be given equal recognition as men in wars.

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Theorizing African Women and Girls in Combat: From National Liberation to the War on Terrorism

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Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Gender and War . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Where War Happens: Blurring Private/Public and Civil/Military . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . (Un)defining Women and Girls . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Women and Girls in Wars of National Liberation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Rebel Girls/Bush Wives . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . African Women and Girls in the “War on Terror” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

This chapter shows that the continuity in women and girls’ roles in war is the denial of their contribution to direct combat. It shows that women and girls’ varied roles have been central in the economic and sociopolitical systems that have sustained war efforts in Africa. Examining the evolution of the participation and theorization of women and girls in war allows us to understand the evolving ideologies, tactics, space(s), and the social life of war and its aftermath. The roles of African women and girls in war and conflict, especially after the Cold War, have provided abundant examples of the ways in which war efforts rely on ideas of femininity and masculinity that are simultaneously reproduced, reconfigured, and ruptured in the social and political economy of war. They have been central in challenging established ideas about the places where war happens and those participating in it. African experiences of war have made visible the blurring of homefront, battlefront, combatants, and noncombatants. It is shown that the now accepted discourse of women, peace, and security is evidence of the successful

S. Magadla (*) Department of Political and International Studies, Rhodes University, Makhanda, South Africa e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_86

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excavation and nuanced theorization of women and girls’ roles by activists and feminist scholars. Keywords

Women and girls · Intrastate war · Combat · Combatants · Recruitment · War roles · Tactics/strategies · Africa

Introduction The chapter provides an overview of the theorization of the roles of women and girls in wars in Africa. The first section of the chapter examines the historic distinction that demarcated combatants and civilians. It shows that this demarcation was premised on the separation of the private and public and civil and military spheres that shape dominant ideas about what is presumed to constitute the homefront and the battlefront in war. In this categorization, women and girls are assumed to be in the private and civilian sphere that is outside of war activity, and male citizens take up arms in the battlefront to protect the nation’s sovereignty. By discussing the distinctions that define the statist understanding of the private/public and civil/ military, I argue that these boundaries are not gender neutral. Women and girls being historically relegated to the private, domestic, and civilian spheres have been written out of war efforts and war stories. Different feminisms have made visible the gendered nature of the spaces of war and have shown the important ways in which war efforts rely on an intimate connection between these spaces. Whether these distinctions have ever existed is contested. African experiences of war in different periods have seen a blurring of these distinctions, in ways that have expanded the terrain of combat and multiplied the combatants to include women and girl and boy children. This conceptual section also provides context to the public and scholarly debates about the participation of girl and boy children in war. It points out the dangers of homogenizing the experiences of women and girls in war. While there are overlaps, I show that age shapes the spaces, vulnerability, and agency of women and girls in war. Importantly, I argue that the category of “child soldier” emerges distinctly in postcolonial wars where women and girls are forced into war, while teenage girls who participated in wars of national liberation did not define themselves and are not defined as child soldiers. The section on rebel girls/bush wives examines the multiple roles that women played in postcolonial wars and debates about the “tactical agency” (Honwana 2006) demonstrated in their roles and the “choiceless decisions” (Coulter 2009) they made to survive and attain power. The last section on women and girls and the war on terrorism examines how the abduction of girls is central to the tactics of organizations such as Boko Haram as a military strategy to gain national and global attention. The section shows the use of girls as suicide bombers and the use of wives and mothers as a source of recruitment by organizations such as Al-Shabaab.

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Overall, the chapter shows that continuity in women and girls’ roles in war is the denial of their contribution to direct combat. It shows that a key benefit of examining gender and war is the continuous challenging and undoing of war categories, such as civilian and combatant, that erase women and girls’ multiple roles in war and its political economy.

Gender and War Where War Happens: Blurring Private/Public and Civil/Military Tickner (2008, p. 264) notes that “feminist perspectives entered the International Relations discipline at the end of the 1980s, at about the same time as the end of the Cold War. This was no coincidence.” As Alexander Wendt (1999, p. 4) notes, the collapse of the Soviet Union “caught scholars on all sides off guard but left orthodoxies looking particularly exposed.” In international relations (IR), political realists were particularly critiqued for having failed to anticipate the end of the Cold War, the peace that followed US unipolar dominance, and the shift from interstate war to intrastate warfare in Africa and Eastern Europe (Tickner 2008; Hendricks 2011; Kaldor 2012). While this new era allowed social constructivists to re-examine ideas of the concept of anarchy, for example, this period gave room for feminists to interrogate the discipline’s ideas about how and where war takes place. Feminists argued that the focus on war as the instrument that is used by states to attain and protect their sovereignty erases the role of the individual in war and the ways in which war leads to the transformation of social relations and, in the main, war contributes to more insecurity than the achievement of individual security. Feminists argue that the erasure of the individual in IR’s discourses of war means that IR is not addressing one of the key elements of war: its actual mission of injuring human bodies and destroying normal patterns of social relations. Neglecting the human elements for strategic and interest politics renders the injurious nature of war a consequence rather than the focal point of war. (Sylvester 2012, p. 484)

Feminists have thus argued that “to study war as experience requires that human bodies come into focus as units that have war agency and are also prime targets of war violence and war enthusiasms” (Sylvester 2012, p. 484). Importantly, feminists in IR have shown that when humans appear in analyses of war, they do so as ungendered subjects. One of the key contributions of feminists has been to make visible the gendered nature of the categories that create the distinction about spaces and participants of war. For example, in the distinction that she draws between “old and new wars,” Mary Kaldor (2012, p. 22) argues that “by the end of the eighteenth century, it was possible to define the specific socially organized activity which we perceive as war.” This social activity was defined by “a whole series of new distinctions, which were characteristic of the evolving state” (Kaldor 2012, p. 22). Among these set of distinctions included:

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the distinction between public and private, between the sphere of state activity and non-state activity. . .the distinction between the civil and the military. . .[and] the distinction between the legitimate bearer of arms and the non-combatant or the criminal. (Kaldor 2012, p. 22)

Yet, a key part of the different feminisms that emerged from IR in the 1980s was to challenge these presumed distinctions that mainstream IR theory understood to mark the spaces in which war happens. Feminists in various disciplines and feminisms have shown that the distinction between public and private is not gender neutral. It is women that are assumed to dominate the private space, while men conduct the business of public citizenship and state governance, including the management of war. Coulter (2009, p. 13) also argues that the premise of the “Western soldier has been based on ideal of masculinity that is often defined in exclusive terms. It is a masculinity that is anti-feminine; to be a soldier-man is by definition not to be woman.” This is because “through combat, the man affirms his role as protector and defender”; hence the exclusion of women is “essential for maintaining the ideological structure of patriarchy” (Cock 1991, p. 192). Wars in Africa have been central in demonstrating the blurring of the distinctions that are said to mark gendered spaces of war making. When former Liberian President Charles Taylor “vowed” not to surrender the country’s capital and vowed to “fight street-to-street, house-to-house” in 2003 during Liberia’s second civil war, he unravelled these assumed distinctions about the private/public and civil/ military (Independent News Online 2003). The wars in Liberia and neighboring Sierra Leone, with “combatants wearing shorts and flip-flops,” reconfigured our understanding of war activity, childhood, girlhood, and womanhood in the context of war (Independent News Online 2003). As Turshen (1998, p. 1) argues, these wars have privatized violence; they “engage an array of state and non-state actors.” The “conventional separation of male belligerents and female inhabitants no longer prevails” (Turshen 1998, p. 1). These war experiences have involved those that are historically understood as noncombatants, many of them, women, girl and boy children.

(Un)defining Women and Girls While early feminist analyses tended to reduce gender to women, it has also been the case that discussions of women in war are assumed to include both women and girls. In Girls and Warzones: Troubling Questions (2004), Nordstrom notes that “Cynthia Enloe changed the face of political science and international relations when she insisted we ask: ‘where are the women in politics, in conflict, and in political solutions?’” (Nordstrom 2004, pp. 4–5). She notes that in Mozambique and elsewhere: I could follow their stories. Not all, not most, by any means. But women were visible to me during my time in warzones: they told stories and traded and set up healing programs. Girls, however, were largely, dangerously, invisible. . . I found silences and empty spaces, punctuated only sporadically by a handful of researchers focusing on children in general and girls in particular. (Nordstrom 2004, p. 5)

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Indeed, analysis of the participation of girl children in war emerges more distinctly in the growing literature on child soldiers who participated in postcolonial wars. I argue that this is due to the reality that most child combatants of these wars were abducted and forced to combat, whereas in the wars of national liberation, the participation of children as guerrillas was common and seen to be motivated by higher ideological goals of defeating colonialism. Research on women and the antiapartheid struggle in South Africa (Magadla 2015, 2017) builds on others (see Cock 1991; Lyons 2004) that show that some of the young women who participated in the armed struggle for national liberation were often of adolescent and teenage age. Kongko Makau’s (2009) dissertation on the experiences of ten women combatants of uMkhonto we Sizwe (MK), the military wing of the African National Congress (ANC), shows that “most of the people who joined MK were young, either attending secondary school or university, whose ages fell between 14 and 22 years. Only a few women over the age of 25 joined MK” (p. 30). He argues that someone like Thenjiwe Mtintso, who joined MK at the age of 29, “was older than the average entrant when she joined in 1979” (p. 30). Ngculu (2009) also notes that most of the women who were part of the 1976 detachment “were women in their late teens or early twenties” (p. 148). The South African case shows that women of girlhood age constituted the majority of female combatants in MK outside South Africa (Makau 2009; Magadla 2017). The story of former combatants such as Zimbabwean former deputy president, Joice Mujuru (nom-de-guerre Teurai Ropa, which means “spill blood”), who joined the Zimbabwe African National Liberation Army (ZANLA) in 1973 at the age of 18 and is said to have shot down a Rhodesian army helicopter with an AK47 (Duri 2016, pp. 12–13), is hailed as a popular example of women’s equal participation and heroism in the wars of national liberation. The analyses of their roles have not attracted a focus on their agency or victimhood, which are the themes that underscore the analysis of young people in wars in countries such as Liberia, Uganda, and Sierra Leone. The appearance of questions of childhood and youth in wars in Africa must not be assumed to have always been central. We need to ask questions about the sociopolitical and material conditions that have made the focus on girl and boy child soldiers especially salient in the post-Cold War era. Honwana (2006, p. 1) notes that children have always been at the “forefront of political conflicts in many parts of the world”; what has invited attention and theorization of children and war is the fact that children constituted “a substantial proportion of combatants” in the intrastate wars of the late twentieth and the twentyfirst century. The United Nations Report on the “Impact of Armed Conflict on Children” (1996) by Graca Machel marked a turning point in the global acknowledgment of the ways in which children have become a visible feature of war experiences in various, sometimes overlapping, roles as victims and perpetrators of violence. In the distinctions of the civil and military spaces, children, especially girl children, are assumed to belong to the private domestic space of the home. As Honwana (2006, p. 4) points out,

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Child soldiers find themselves in positions that break down dichotomies between civilian and combatant, victim and perpetrator, initiate and initiated, protected and protector. With these multiple, interstitial positions, child soldiers epitomize the conditions of simultaneously having multifaceted identities and utterly lacking a permanent, stable, and socially defined place.

It has been important to make distinctions about the experiences of children as gendered subjects because of the disproportionate focus on boy child combatants when issues about age and youth are discussed in war and conflict analyses. As Nordstrom (1997, p. 3) argues, “programs that help child soldiers focus predominantly on male youths. In fact, programs in general that help children in war revolve around soldiers (male) and war orphans/street children (male).” Paying attention to the gender of children allows us to make visible the unique experiences of girl children in war. The distinction between children and adults and women and girl combatants has also invited important questions about the socially constructed ideas of childhood, girlhood, and womanhood. The Paris Principles on the Involvement of Children in Armed Conflict (2007, p. 7) defines a child soldier as “any person below 18 years of age who is, or who has been, recruited or used by an armed force or armed group in any capacity, including but not limited to children, boys and girls, used as fighters, cooks, porters, spies or for sexual purposes.” The arbitrary age of 18 that has been used as a marker that distinguishes between children and adults is a Western conceptualization that attempts to simplify the complicated task of the socially constructed and context-specific process of transitions from childhood to adulthood. The work of scholars such as Ifi Amadiume (1987) shows us the importance of ritual, industriousness in work and responsibility that all together influence one’s access to power, status, and seniority in African contexts. The work of Amadiume (1987) and Oyewumi (1997) shows us the ways in which gender roles are social categories that can be used to symbolize one’s seniority within the community independent of their age. Even in the racist colonial logic, some of this African sensibility can be gleaned in the fact that in much of colonized Africa, women and men were seen by the colonizers as perpetual children, garden boys, and tea girls, most of whom had families but were reduced to the status of children. The opposite is also true that for many who joined struggles for national liberation and those who lost families and communities due to the brutality of the postcolonial wars, childhood was lost, and the task of self, community, and national liberation and freedom became all-encompassing. In this context, the distinctions between girls and women are not clear-cut. Yet, it is still important to pay attention to the experiences faced by different generations of young and older women. While there are intersections in their experiences, different ages and seniority sometimes expose girls and women to different dangers and methods of resistance. It is, therefore, important to ask questions about how anticolonial wars and postcolonial wars ruptured and remade ideas of girlhood and womanhood. Boas (2007, p. 40) argues that “war is a social drama over the distribution of ideas, identities, resources, and social positions, which often forces the disadvantaged to design alternative survival strategies.” In the next sections,

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I map out how wars in Africa, mainly anti-colonial, postcolonial, and the war on terror, have shaped women and girls’ roles in war and conflict.

Women and Girls in Wars of National Liberation In his delineation of the different types of insurgencies in Africa, Christopher Clapham’s (1998, p. 6) first category is that of “liberation insurgencies.” He argues that these were “anti-colonial nationalist movements which took an insurgent form, owing to the refusal of incumbent regimes to concede majority rule.” These include liberation movements in countries such as Namibia, Zimbabwe, Algeria, Angola, Guinea-Bissau, Mozambique and South Africa, among others. These are often understood to belong to the category of guerrilla wars of national liberation in the Global South against colonial occupation. What has been defined as guerrilla warfare – in contrast to what Mao Tse-tung (1961, p. 42) terms “orthodox war” – should be understood as “a weapon that a nation inferior in arms and military equipment may employ against a more powerful aggressor nation.” Guerilla warfare “was adopted in Africa as elsewhere as the most effective means of defeating the highly organized [sic] and heavily armed, but also cumbersome and alien armies of the major industrial powers and their local allies,” where in many ways, this form of warfare “may be regarded as the normal form of warfare in societies without powerful states” (Clapham 1998, p. 2). Mao Tse-tung (1961) points out that the military effort on its own does not attain liberation. It is a combination of strategies that meets this goal. As a result, in these struggles for national liberation, the category of combat is blurred, and the specific role of the armed effort toward the broader goal is less clear. As Reynolds (2013) points out in the South African context: The definition of war is at issue because it determines who is recognized as a legitimate fighter. . .The nature of the fight was amorphous, one might say organic, in its origins, growth and spread. It was multipronged, and it was difficult to designate which efforts contributed significantly to the final achievement of its goal. (Reynolds 2013, p. 9)

In the context of guerilla warfare, women in Africa, Asia, and Latin America have been thrust into battle on the side of national movements fighting against colonial occupation. For women in the Euro-American sphere, access to combat has been read as claiming equal citizenship with men, first and foremost. For women in the Global South, their claim to combat has often prioritized national self-determination for the colonized people, as well as claiming equal rights to bear arms with male counterparts. The perception that women in the Global South have prioritized aims of nationalism than those of achieving gender equality has led to bitter and complex contestations between feminists across the Global South and North. Alison (2003) writes about the involvement of women as combatants in the Sri Lankan organisation Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE), arguing that the LTTE women she interviewed “referred to ideas of freedom for the Tamil nation,

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self-determination, land and rights of Tamils as part of or as the main reason for them joining the movement” (Alison 2003, pp. 39–40). She argues that Westerndominated feminist discourse needs to take seriously that women involved in nationalist struggles make visible the reality that a “commitment to the perceived needs of one’s perceived nation or ethnic group is viewed as just as important, or more so, than one’s needs ‘as a woman’” (Alison 2003, p. 52). Pointedly, Alison (2003) goes on to argue that “nationalist sentiment” that underscores the ideological foundation for women to join guerilla war should be seen as: A sort of meta-reason for enlisting; [because] beneath this ideological motivation there also more specific, more personal factors operating. One such factor, intertwined with nationalist ideology, is the communal perception of suffering, oppression and injustice. Sometimes this is related to personal experience; in other cases it has been received as part of the Tamil narrative of oppression and suffering, made tangible by witnessing the experience of friends and neighbor [sic]. (2003, p. 40)

Eleanor O’Gorman’s book, The Front Line Runs through Every Woman: Women & Local Resistance in the Zimbabwean Liberation War (2011), a case study of women in Chiweshe in the Zimbabwean liberation war, warns against the neat categorization of women’s role in war which is reducible to neither the radical nor the maternally defined private domain. In the Zimbabwean case, she challenges the tendency of the liberation war literature that denies women revolutionary subjectivity, because women negotiate war roles together with their everyday roles as mothers. In the case of women’s participation in the Eritrean People’s Liberation Front (EPLF) for independence from Ethiopia, Bernal (2000) points out the EPLF “advocated for gender equality and regarded the advancement of women in its own ranks and in the liberated areas of the country as a significant achievement,” where the third of the party members is comprised women, who participated with men in all capacities except the top ranks of leadership (Bernal 2000, p. 61). Bernal, however, critiques the EPLF for interpreting gender equality as the erasure of the social constructed notions of femininity, which was contingent on women “being able to behave as if they were men,” particularly while “there was no comparable erasure of masculinity” (Bernal 2000, p. 67). In the South African context, McClintock (1993) argues that “from the outset, women’s organized [sic] participation in African nationalism stemmed less from the invitation of men, than from their own politicization [sic] in resisting the violence of state decree” (p. 74), and as a result, “even under [a] State of Emergency, women have everywhere enlarged their militancy, insisting not only on their right to political agency, but also on their right of access to the technologies of violence” (p. 75). Cock’s study of women in MK and South African Defence Force (SADF), Colonels and Cadres: War and Gender in South Africa (1991), examines the experiences of women in MK camps outside South Africa, in comparison with those of white women who were soldiers in the SADF. Cock’s study (1991) shows that women were underrepresented in positions of leadership and authority in MK.

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James Ngculu (2009, p. 149) also argues that “the ANC was patriarchal in its outlook and approach.” Cock (1991) points out that both women in the SADF and MK were excluded from “direct combat.” Women in MK emphasized however the fact that they received the same military training as their male counterparts, while the women in SADF received training separately from the men. With that said, Cock (1991) acknowledges that the notion of “combat” is problematic in a context of guerilla warfare, because “the boundaries between ‘front’ and ‘rear’ cannot be sharply demarcated.” Suttner (2003), too, has argued against this emphasis on women’s exclusion from “direct combat.” He argues that “it is important that we do not fetishise a narrow conception of combat as meaning direct physical fighting” (Suttner 2007, p. 243). In the publicly available transcript of his interview with Totsie Memela-Khambula, who was responsible for infiltrating top ANC/MK leadership inside South Africa such as Mac Maharaj and Siphiwe Nyanda, this work is often not seen as a critical part of warfare. Suttner uses Memela-Khambula’s reconnaissance work to argue that “everything that is part of achieving a military goal is part of a military action” (Suttner 2003). In the chapter on Women in the ANC-led underground (2007), Suttner argues that Totsie Memela’s work in reconnaissance, which may be the type of activity described as less ‘glorious’, appears to have been just as dangerous as the actual infiltration of the Vula group for which she prepared, having to ensure that every point at which they entered, every place where they would stay, was safe. In so doing, she tested the danger or otherwise of the various elements of the enterprise before they entered. (p. 244)

Hassim (2014, p. 62) also notes that women in MK challenged the leadership to send more women for underground activities by arguing that “it has been proven that the chances of survival in the underground for women are greater than for men.” Cock (1991, p. 151) provides a compelling example of this by pointing to how Thandi Modise was called the “knitting needles guerilla,” because while she was operating underground “reconnoitering potential military targets, she tried to look as ordinary as possible.” While Cock’s (1991) study makes an important contribution, it does have its limitations that risk obscuring women’s contributions. While she recognizes women’s role as couriers, surveillance, and reconnaissance, she labels this work as women contributing “indirectly” to combat. While in the very same page, she then argues that “if ‘combat’ is redefined to mean direct exposure to danger, then the acts of arson and sabotage performed by women MK cadres are part of ‘combat’” (p. 165). While it is clear that Cock (1991) and Ngculu (2009) aim to disrupt the dominant rigid definition of combat and battlefront, they nevertheless fall into the same trap, as they demand that women combatants perform battle tasks that hardly resemble the realities of the war being fought. Overall, this section shows that in the unorthodox context of the war efforts toward national liberation in Africa, women and girls have played multiple roles in the often-all-encompassing battlefield against colonialism and apartheid. Women

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and girls’ specific roles to combat continue to be reduced to supporting roles, even though most of all combat in guerilla war is rarely direct. The exclusion of women and girls in demobilization processes in the aftermath of national liberations is evidence of the narrowing of their contributions and statist assumptions of combat (for women’s exclusion in demobilization after national liberation, see Shikola 1998; Farr 2003; Mashike and Mokalobe 2003; Lyons 2004; Mazurana et al. 2005; Van der Merwe and Lamb 2009; Weber 2011). The section below shows that the contestation about women and girls’ roles in combat has continued in the postcolonial wars of the late 1980s till present.

Rebel Girls/Bush Wives The wars and conflicts that have taken place after countries attained their independence in Africa have attracted theoretical and policy intervention owing to the number of casualties and displacement that follows such wars. According to Mkandawire (2002, p. 181), “a disturbing feature of some of the post-independence armed movements in Africa has been the extremely brutal and spiteful forms of violence that they have unleashed and inflicted on fellow citizens.” As Paul Williams argues in the book, War and Conflict in Africa (2016, p. 5), while the rest of the world was experiencing a historic decline in interstate war in the 1990s, “between 1999 and 2008, for instance, Africa experienced thirteen major armed conflicts, the highest for any region of the world.” As Williams (2016, p. 5) argues further, “by the start of the twenty-first century, more people were being killed in Africa’s wars than in the rest of the world combined.” The scholarship of Kaldor (2012) and Paul Collier (2007), among others, has evoked much contestation about the aims of the armed non-state actors that became known as rebel factions across Africa in countries such as the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), Sudan, Uganda, Liberia, Sierra Leone, among others. As Mkandawire (2002) argues, few of these explanations have made compelling arguments that take into account social, economic, and political structural legacies that underscore the violence and insecurity that have pervaded African countries in the later twentieth century into the twenty-first century. The images of young boys with guns and women and girls who are raped and killed have led to a bifurcated theorization of the gender politics of these postindependence wars. On the one hand, boys and men are perceived as perpetrators and women and girls as the victims of these wars. As Hendricks (2011, p. 8) argues, the alarming levels of gender-based violence in these wars were central in the emergence of the “rape as a weapon of war” discourse “culminating in policy and legal frameworks aimed at protecting women in war zones and incorporating them into peace-making, peacekeeping, peacebuilding decision-making institutions and practices (see UN Security Resolutions 1325, 1820, 1886, 1888)” and more recently UN Resolution 2467 of April 2019 by the Security Council on sexual violence. It is also the impact of the gendered nature of

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these wars that saw the historic recognition of rape as a crime against humanity by the International Criminal Court. Scholarship, mostly emerging from anthropologists such as Nordstrom (1997, 2004), Peters and Richard (1998), Honwana (2006), Coulter (2009), Hoffman (2003), Denov (2010), among others, has been useful in providing a nuanced portrayal of the experiences of women and child combatants in these postcolonial intrastate wars. This scholarship has allowed us to see that women and child combatants are not squarely victims in these wars. While most were abducted and families and communities killed, many gave accounts of being combatants and participating in injuring, looting communities, and killing others. Honwana (2006, p. 95) argues that the “blurring of the lines between captive girls and combatants is especially visible in the young girls [who] were captives, but by this stage in their captivity, they acted in concert with their captors to victimize others.” She calls this blurring of roles “tactical agency” which “is sporadic and constrained” but “helps people with immediate circumstances of their lives” which means that for survival, they may also perpetrate violence (Honwana 2006, p. 96). In the book, Bush Wives and Girl Soldiers: Women’s Lives Through War and Peace in Sierra Leone (Coulter 2009), Coulter cites that one way that girls and women survived abduction was to marry a senior commander in the rebel formation. Marrying “well” ensured more safety from sexual violence from multiple men and increased the powers of the woman in the camps. For instance, Coulter (2009, p. 110) shows that “senior wives were in charge of distribution of arms and ammunition before an attack.” Mazurana and Carlson (cited in Coulter 2009, p. 136) also argue similarly about women in the Revolutionary United Front (RUF) in Sierra Leone: Captive “wives” of commanders exerted substantial power within the RUF compounds. The “wives” were predominately girls. When the commander was away, they were in charge of the compound. They kept in communication with the commander and would select and send troops, spies, and support when needed. These girls and young women decided on a daily basis who in the compound would fight, provide reconnaissance, and raid villages for food and loot. Some counseled their captor husbands on war strategies, troop movement and upcoming attacks.

In this regard, although in captivity, “these women had commanding responsibilities, although they were not referred to as commanders.” Coulter (2009, p. 150) uses the term “choiceless decisions” that women took to assert that while most of the women were violently abducted into rebel factions, and therefore “have been victims in any definitions of the word, but this does not mean that some of these women did not also at times loot, kill and cut off hands.” In her book, Liberia’s Women Veterans: War Roles and Reintegration (2018, p. 54), Leena Vastapuu argues that over hundred women veterans that she interviewed in Liberia shared testimonies of having played multiple roles in the war including “cleaning and washing services; finding water and food supplies through legal and illegal means, cooking; carrying ammunition and other equipment; maintaining weaponry, nursing” among others. She argues that “the majority of Liberia’s girl and women fighters were multitaskers with duties including tasks ranging from

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combat service support to frontline fighting” (Vastapuu 2018, p. 69). Her work also shows that a combination of ranking, social relations such as marriage, determined the extent of a woman and girl’s victimhood and agency. She argues (Vastapuu 2018, p. 75): . . .The categorization I support is primarily based on the duties/ranks of women within fighting factions of Liberia. In this manner, sex/gender and social relations are considered as an ‘axis’ of possible discrimination that must always be reflected against the individual rank of a female soldier. . .as in Sierra Leone, girls and women in the lower ranks were most vulnerable to sexual abuse in the Liberian context. Simply put, having a gun also meant increased sexual autonomy.

The main rupture between women and girls participating in wars of national liberation and wars after independence is that in the former, women and girls joined the armed struggle voluntarily being compelled by personal and communal violence that was waged by the colonial state. While there are multiple accounts of sexual violence within the camps of the armed wings of the national liberation movements, the women and girls largely were not abducted into the armed struggle as is the case with the postindependence wars. The continuum is that women’s military and supporting roles continue to be undermined as having been a central part of the war effort. Coulter (2009, p. 117) argues that “the lengths to which rebel commanders went in controlling women to prevent them from escaping” in Sierra Leone support “the supposition that the roles women performed in rebel groups went far beyond being simple ‘sex slaves’ or ‘camp followers’ but were essential to the functioning of the war systems.” Mama and Okazawa-Rey’s (2012, p. 110) comparison of women’s participation in the war economies of Nigeria, Liberia, and Sierra Leone also shows that the women and girls in Liberia and Sierra Leone, especially, “were drawn into all aspects of the war, in ways that exploited pre-war gender inequalities.” The last section below examines women and girls’ roles in the war on terrorism.

African Women and Girls in the “War on Terror” The US-led war on terrorism has reconfigured the categorization of insurgencies in Africa and elsewhere. While the 1990s were preoccupied with understanding the motivations of African rebels and warlords, the turn to the war on terrorism in the early twenty-first century is dominated by the labelling of armed non-state actors as terrorists. As was the case during the ideological contestation of the Cold War, one’s communist and terrorist is another person’s liberation hero! As Boas and Dunn (2007, p. 19) argue, “the ‘war on terror’ has become a new frame by which policymakers and scholars engage with contemporary African guerilla movements.” They argue that one of the ways that Africa has featured in the discourse on terror is US and the European Unions’ “increased concern about failed states as breeding grounds for international terrorism” (Boas and Dunn 2007, p. 19). In the post-9/11

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political order, weak states are seen as central threats to the US-led liberal international order. Hilary Matfess’ book, Women and the War on Boko Haram: Wives, Weapons, Witnesses (2017), provides important insights in some continuities in the role of women in the discourse on terrorism in Africa that has come to be associated with groups such as Boko Haram in Nigeria and Al-Shabaab in Somalia. While women have largely been portrayed as victims of abductions by groups like Boko Haram, she places the emergence of the group within Nigeria’s structural inequality. She argues that contrary to popular belief, “many women married willingly into the group, followed spouses or accompanied sons because the lives they were promised under the rule of Boko Haram were tangibly better than their lives as Nigerian citizens” (Matfess 2017, p. 6). She points out that some women have joined the group for some financial independence, which includes a woman being the one to directly receive dowry for marriage instead of it being given to a male figure in her life. In April 2014, the group abducted 276 girls from a girl’s secondary school in Chibok in Borno State. Due to activist mobilization of the #Bringbackourgirls movement in Nigeria, the abduction of the “Chibok girls” gained international attention and reaction from individuals such as Former US First Lady, Michelle Obama. In February 2018, the group abducted 110 girls from the Government Girls Technical College in Dapchi in Yobe State, Nigeria (Yenwong-Fai 2019, p. 40). The abduction of the girls fits into arguments that the group’s preference for wives who “are typically in their teens” (Matfess 2017, p. 92). Matfess (2017) argues that the international publicity for Boko Haram that followed the abduction of the Chibok girls needs to be theorized as an important tactic by the group to increase their profile and make demands on the Nigerian government. The abduction of young girls who represent “purity” is an important symbol and a tactic for the group to achieve their goals. The abduction of boys is routine for groups such as Boko Haram and Al-Shabaab; thus, as strategy the girls become more than symbols but a key tactic for the group to remain relevant nationally and internationally. One of the ways in which women and girls have also been central to Boko Haram tactics is in their role as suicide bombers. As Matfess (2017, p. 132) points out, Although infrequently analysed, female suicide bombers have become an integral part of Boko Haram’s campaign. In fact, no other insurgency in history has had so many female suicide bombers. The Tamil Tigers, previously the holder of the dubious honour of the most suicide bombers, deployed 46 women over the course of a decade of suicide missions. Within just two years, Boko Haram has been identified as being responsible for more than 100 female suicide bombers.

In her work on the representation of Palestinian female self-martyrs (shahidas), Caron Gentry (2009) shows that they are often represented as “driven to kill themselves and others because their dreams for marriage and children have been destroyed,” and “very little mention is made of the women’s political reasoning – instead their actions tend to be defined by their expected gender roles as mother” (p. 232). Gentry (2009) defines this as a “twisted” use of maternalism that is imposed

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on women’s actions that use violence to deal with their supposed failure to achieve socially accepted roles as mothers, even though “in martyrdom videos, in interviews with the media or in statements by families, women who trained to become shahidas have political reasons that do not highlight any maternalist disappointments or humiliations” (p. 247 emphasis original). But in the case of Boko Haram, the recruitment of some female suicide bombers as young as 9 years calls into question the extent to which they have consented to these actions (Matfess 2017). She draws on interviews with wives of Boko Haram insurgents to point out claims that women and girls volunteer to sacrifice themselves and are granted 3 months training to prepare for their mission (Matfess 2017). In their monograph, Violent Extremism in Kenya: Why Women are a Priority, Ndung’u, Salifu, and Sigsworth, (2017, p. 30), point out that “there was limited evidence of women as direct perpetrators of violent acts in the context of violent extremism in Kenya.” They note that women are active in Al-Shabaab in “noncombative or indirect roles” as “wives, sisters and mothers to recruit” for AlShabaab. Their findings also show that Respondents viewed women who played a role as recruiters through the lens of two age-old female stereotypes: mother and temptress. Those who used their influence in the home – as the familial ‘custodians of cultural, social and religious values’ – were seen in their domestic roles as mothers and wives; those who recruited in a context external to the home, such as in the refugee camps, were seen as temptresses ‘luring’ young men with false promises. (Ndung’u et al. 2017, p. 31)

Women are also said to play roles as “intelligence gatherers and spies for alShabaab. . . because they are viewed with less suspicion” (Ndung’u et al. 2017, p. 31). Other roles include providing shelter and hiding Al-Shabaab members, giving them food and medical care, among others (Ndung’u et al. 2017, p. 31). This research on Al-Shabaab raises questions about the terrain of combat for an organization that relies on secrecy and surprise attacks on communities as its core strategy of violence. The work of hiding its members and intelligence gathering, for example, is central to the organization’s strategy. Thus again, women’s contribution to the tactics of Boko Haram and Al-Shabaab is minimized to support work that is outside of direct combat. Yet studies on women and girls’ roles in these organizations show that they are central to the strategies that they use in achieving their missions and their ability to gain global attention. Even in this discourse on terrorism, women appear in multiple roles, abducted as a strategy, they are suicide bombers, wives who marry for material benefits, and they are mothers who recruit for these armed non-state actors.

Conclusion This chapter examined women and girl’s roles in war in Africa. Looking at women and girls’ roles during the national liberation struggle for independence, the civil wars of the 1980s and 1990s, and the discourse of the war on terror at the turn of the

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century, I examined their motivations, voluntary, and forced recruitment for joining armed non-state actors and their various roles in these organizations. In doing so, the chapter has shown that a key continuity in these different periods is the contestation about women’s contribution to combat in the context of these unconventional wars. I have argued that women and girls’ varied roles have been central in the economic and sociopolitical systems that have sustained these war efforts. Whether voluntary or nonvoluntary, armed non-state actors have relied on women and girl’s contributions for the success of their violent strategies. The chapter has shown that African women and girls experiences have been central in providing feminist scholars and activists empirical evidence that challenges statist and conservative understanding of war roles that exclude and erase women and girls’ contributions. The experiences of African women and girls continue to challenge ideas about battlefront and homefront and civilian and combatant. The chapter has shown the importance of understanding continuities in women and girls’ involvement in different times such as wars for national liberation, postcolonial, and the current war on terrorism. Understanding continuities allows feminist scholars and activists to avoid setting up false hierarchies among various women combatants and to understand war roles as a continuum in women and girls’ everyday life in Africa and in the different periods of African state making that continue to be militarized.

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Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Feminist Intersectionality and the Continuum-of-Violence Approaches . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Label Matters and Why Labels Matter: The Politics of Naming the “Refugee” in International Discourse . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Evolution of International Protection of Refugee Women . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . A Gendered Continuum of Displacement Experiences in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Pre-war . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Outbreak of War . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Fleeing War . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . In Displacement: Camps and Other Arrangements . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Durable Solutions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion and Areas for Future Studies . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

Conflict, war, and human rights abuses remain the most potent cause of forced human displacement globally and on the African continent. Up to 57% of all refugees on the African continent are women, but in spite of this, women often constitute an afterthought in international law and states policy designs or are only added and stirred in the prevalent liberal humanitarian practice. Eschewing essentialist discourses, this chapter critiques these trends from feminist intersectionality and gendered continuum of violence perspectives. It analyzes how African refugee and displaced women’s identities and positions within state and international legal, policy and humanitarian structure produce a gendered continuum of displacement experiences from the pre-war to the conflict and O. Yacob-Haliso (*) Department of Political Science and Public Administration, Babcock University, IIishan-Remo, Ogun State, Nigeria e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_91

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postconflict periods. It further posits pathways for furthering the study of women’s displacement within African women’s studies. Keywords

Refugee women · Displaced persons · Displacement · Conflict · Africa · Intersectionality · Continuum of violence

Introduction Refugees everywhere are a symbol of the political and social upheavals that pervade human societies. From Africa to the Americas and Asia, every region has its own “refugee problem” and seeks to address it in a variety of ways. Consequently, there seems to be no end in sight to efforts by states, humanitarian actors, refugee scholars and activists to resolve the complexities of the issue. This chapter addresses the positions and gendered experiences of African refugee and displaced women within local and global political and policy contexts, the intersectionalities and continuities in refugee women’s lives, and the trends and implications for African women’s studies generally. The year 2018 witnessed the highest levels of forced human displacement on record in history. According to the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR), by the end of the year, a record 70.8 million persons had been forced to flee their homes for various and complex reasons but particularly as a result of war and conflict, violence, persecution, and human rights violations (UNHCR 2019). Of this number, 41.3 million were internally displaced persons (IDPs), 25.9 million were refugees, and 3.5 million were asylum seekers in various countries, with sub-Saharan Africa alone accounting for 31% of the global refugee situation (see Table 1 below) (ibid). With such a massive share of the global burden of displacement, African nations have been presently conscious of the challenges posed and the solutions necessary. At its July 2018 meeting in Nouakchott, Mauritania, the African Union Assembly of Heads of State and Government declared 2019 the year of African displaced persons with the theme, “Year of Refugees, Returnees and Internally Displaced Persons: Towards Durable Solutions to Forced Displacement in Africa.” (AU 2019). The year 2019 also marks the 50th anniversary of the 1969 OAU (Organisation for African Unity) Refugees Convention and the 10th anniversary of the 2009 Kampala Convention for IDPs. While it is now axiomatic to assert that refugee women and children constitute at least 75% of the global refugee population, the numbers can be extricated to avoid what Cynthia Enloe (1990) has referred to as the “womenandchildren” syndrome in analysis. The highest proportion of women in the global refugee population by regions is to be found in sub-Saharan Africa with 52% being women compared with 44% in Europe, the lowest, while 57% in Africa are children under the age of 18 years (UNHCR 2019, 60–62). Studies of women in war often reckon children above the age of 15 as adults. This is partly because of similar definitions in international law (see, e.g., UN Convention on the Rights of the Child and the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court; UN 1989; Rome Statute 2002) and partly because of

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Table 1 Refugee populations by UNHCR regions 2018 UNHCR regions -Central Africa and Great Lakes -East and Horn of Africa -Southern Africa -West Africa Total Africaa Americas Asia and Pacific Europe thereof: Turkey Middle East and North Africa Total

Refugees (including persons in a refugee-like situation) Start-2018 End-2018 1,475,700 1,449,400 4,307,800 4,348,800 197,700 211,000 286,900 326,300 6,268,200 6,335,400 646,100 643,300 4,209,700 4,214,600 6,114,200 6,474,600 3,480,300 3,681,700 2,705,400 2,692,700 19,943,600 20,360,600

Source: Adapted from UNHCR (2019), Global Trends: Forced Displacement in 2018, 14 Excluding North Africa

a

these children’s war experiences (cf. Olsen and Scharffscher 2004) as war permanently alters children’s lives and futures (UNGA/Machel 1996; UNICEF 2009). Refugee and displaced women in Africa are the clichés of refugee and forced migration studies, as well as of negative representations in the media, in academic and in policy discourses: they are always poor, wretched, numerous, mothers, helpless, dependent, marginalized, victims, vulnerable, voiceless, and without agency. They are the left-behind when men have gone off to war, died or gone into hiding, or have sought greener pastures elsewhere, and yet, they are still the leftbehind when men have reached a truce and share newly found powers in the design of postconflict political and economic systems. Indeed, the imagery of refugee women in Africa projected by the dominant discourses is quite flat and perpetually depressing. The problem with this picture though is that it is neither complete nor completely accurate. First, a vulnerability- or victim-focused approach denies the tremendous agency of women in participating in their own lives and finding solutions to their own circumstances while contributing to community survival during displacement, reconstruction, and peacebuilding thereafter. However, narrative and analysis are incomplete if they do not acknowledge, scrutinize, and bring to relief the real and continued marginalization of gendered concerns for displaced people and the implications of this for their lives, livelihoods, and well-being. This balance is important for a more complete picture of refugee and displaced women’s lives. The second consideration is that if refugees everywhere are a product of the social and political contexts from which they emanate and survive (Yacob-Haliso 2019), it follows then that African refugee women must bear the particularities of their national and local contexts even as they interface with a global refugee regime which administers its rules upon them – a Januslike dynamic. On the one hand, while African nations have a shared history of early twentieth-century colonial domination, each has unique histories, cultures, economies, geographies and ecologies, and particular

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political problems and configurations. From Cameroon to South Sudan, Democratic Republic of the Congo and Ethiopia to Somalia, the historical and contemporary drivers of forced displacement as well as the situation of refugees and IDPs in each place are familiar yet particular. Scholars of Africa have long fought the racially motivated reduction of Africa to a unidimensional epistemological entity, and this consciousness surely needs to be applied to refugee and forced migration studies, to studies of refugee and displaced women more specifically and certainly to all of African women’s studies. On the other hand, the structure of international politics, global economic systems, and other transborder dynamics have been definitive in shaping the experiences of African refugee and displaced women both in policy and in practice. Consequently, this chapter foregrounds African refugee women within the dominant frameworks that exist for the study of refugees and of refugee women, taking into consideration their vulnerabilities and their strengths, their particularities, and their globality. It further seeks to transcend these by arguing for a holistic approach which situates African women’s gendered displacement experiences within the domains of society, politics, and humanitarian practice and recognizes these as a product of intertwined local, regional, and international dynamics. In the six chapter sections, I attempt a nuanced narrative on refugee women that takes the above arguments and conditions into cognizance. Two theoretical positions – feminist intersectionality and continuum-of-violence – are foregrounded in this chapter. Further, the chapter engages the problematic question of the “refugee” label and why this debate matters both for policy, practice, and academic research. In the section after this, the international protection of refugee women as a foundation for understanding the complex context within which they exist and receive humanitarian attention on the continent is explored. The chapter then explores the cyclic continuum of displacement and violence, centering the experiences and lives of African refugee and displaced women. I conclude with an exposition on the work that still needs to be done to further promote the Africa-based study of Africa-based refugee and displaced women.

Feminist Intersectionality and the Continuum-of-Violence Approaches The intersectionality approach was birthed out of tensions within the feminist movement concerning how representative the movement was of the lived experiences of nonWhite, non-middle class, non-Western women and is championed by African-American women, women of color, and women from the Global South (Crenshaw 1989, 1991; Collins 2000; Collins and Chepp 2013). Intersectionality has become a cornerstone approach for thinking about difference in a context of diversities of gender, race, ethnicity, class, age, and other markers of difference. It is an effective “model for reading inequalities and for understanding domination” (Bouilly et al. 2016, p. 343). In spite of some contention concerning its parameters, history, and relevance (Nash 2017), intersectionality has seen a multidisciplinary resurgence in women’s studies (Carastathis 2016; Collins and Bilge 2016; May 2015; Lutz et al. 2011; Disch et al.

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2016; Carastathis 2014; Alexander-Floyd 2012; Shields 2008; Smith 2013; Cole 2009; Gouws 2017). In forced migration studies though, the application of feminist approaches to gender issues has been much neglected (Hyndman 2010). While this approach was developed in the context of Black feminism especially in the United States, it has also been articulated in Africa-centric ways by African feminist scholars such as Oyewumi (1997) and Amadiume (1987) who assert similarly that there is no universality to the oppression of women as certain social factors confer disadvantage, while others confer advantages. Beyond acknowledging and mainstreaming difference in feminist theory, the intersectionality framework is vital for calling attention to the ways in which these personal identities intersect with systems of subordination and of oppression (Collins 2000) to produce specific political outcomes with implications for feminist politics. In other words, multiplicities of identities by themselves do not constitute a political problem until complicated by micro and macro social systems, from the family to the state to the global, which shape the meanings and responses to these identities, and give them political salience. African feminist scholars in particular have shown that beyond gender, there is the “need to theorize the impact of imperialism, colonialism, globalisation, ‘modernisation’, the Washington Consensus, and other local and global forms of social stratification on women and men” (Yacob-Haliso and Falola 2017; cf. Mama 2001). This is important such that, when we study refugee and war-affected women in Africa, it is very important to recognize the ways in which their lives and experiences are shaped not just by their gender and personal identities as bearers of ethnic, class, and other national particularities, but also by the social, political, and economic contexts, local and global, which determine their lives and their futures. As refugee women are a product of war and conflict mainly, it is necessary to also take note of the work of several scholars who have theorized the nature of the violence that accompanies conflict and its impact on the lives of women caught in the middle (Rehn and Sirleaf 2002; Moser and Clark 2001; Enloe 1990; Nordstrom 1997; Elshtain 1987; Bop 2001; McKay 1998; Alsaba and Kapilashrami 2016). These feminist scholars have emphasized that a gender analysis of conflict must include the acknowledgment that women’s experiences of violence is everyday, is pervasive, and is frozen into social, political, and economic systems – as also theorized by intersectionality theory. This structural violence (Galtung 1969) accosts women in their quotidian lives such that the onset of conflict or other generalized political violence is only a shift in the scale, magnitude, locale, and intimacy of the violence. Thus, from this perspective, war is not aberrant violence, but rather a continuation of what exists already, and the end of war is not the end of violence, which indeed may increase in this period (Ibeanu 2001; Meintjes 2001). Scholars therefore propose a continuum of violence approach elaborated by Cockburn (2004; cf. Moser 2001; Krause 2015) that calls attention to how women’s lives are affected by and shaped by violence throughout the cycle of conflict, from the so-called pre-war to war and “postconflict” stage. From this perspective, “to consider one moment in this flux in the absence of the next is arbitrary” (Cockburn 2004, p. 43). This approach is helpful for avoiding assumptions which seem to periodize or limit the scope of the impact of conflict on women. Essentially, from this perspective,

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there is no “peacetime” for women as they confront persistent problems in their lives which transcend the presence or absence of war and generalized conflict; in short, the violence, discrimination, and marginalization that women experience in the pre-war situation persist throughout the conflict phase and beyond the cessation of conflict. In the words of Meintjes et al. (2001), there is no “aftermath” of war for women. When applied to our study of refugee and displaced women, this approach directs us to adopt a cyclic model of the causes of displacement as existent before and beyond the particular period-gates of displacement and to theorize the non-resolution of gender inequities in society as critical obstacles both to peace and to ending the problems of refugees (Fig. 1). In the sections below, we elucidate the dynamics of how these features of our theoretical model play out in the lives and experiences of women displaced in various African conflicts. First, however, we interrogate the international politics of naming refugees and its implications for our case study.

Label Matters and Why Labels Matter: The Politics of Naming the “Refugee” in International Discourse Foundational to an essay such as this is an acknowledgment of the politics of naming or labeling which is intrinsic to the discourse on refugees and refugeehood. Scholars from the early days of the emergent field of refugee and forced migration studies • structural violence • patriarchal oppression • identity-based difference • global inequalities • gendered inequities

• durable solutions • enforcement of patriarchy • violence • empowerment • gender inequities

• continuous violence • displacement • empowerment • emasculation • international protection

before war

during war

after the war

end of war • continuous violence • marginalisation • empowerment • displacement • durable solutions

Fig. 1 A cyclic model of causes and consequences of displacement for African women. (Source: Author)

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advocated a questioning of the terms by which we comprehend and analyze the refugee subject (Zetter 1991). Are our research subjects refugee women or displaced women or women migrants or female asylum seekers? Or by what moniker may we best capture a synthesis of their reasons for moving, official labels, legal positions, assessment of their entitlement to protection and solutions, their sex and gendered identities, and our complicated predetermined assumptions about what their place should be? For in many ways, this is what the politics of labeling refugees and refugee women really is about: an attempt to fuse into a convenient phrase the complexity of identities and systems which the persons and experiences we engage as researchers of female refugee subjects embody. These refugee labels are supremely important – not least because they have become highly politicized over the decades for the last century at least. At the minimum, they are vitally important because the legal protection granted by the UN Refugee Convention of 1951 and offered by the states and the UN Refugee Agency is predicated on an individual’s legal recognition as a “refugee” under the definition of the Convention. It is therefore easy to see that the label could be the difference between a guarantee of assistance, protection, and a search for solutions or the precarity of having none of these rights guaranteed. The 1951 Refugee Convention (and its 1967 Protocol) provides an individualized and political basis for the entitlement of a person to refugee status, stipulating individual persecution and subsequent loss of state protection as the basis for seeking asylum [Article 1 A(2)]. However, subsequent events occurring outside Europe, the astronomically rising number of refugees globally, new categories of exiles, and regional peculiarities in the post Second World War era showed up the inadequacies of the definition of refugee status contained in the 1951 Convention and 1967 Protocol, necessitating more specific, more relevant definitions of refugees in specific regions (Yacob-Haliso 2016). In response to these realities, several regional instruments emerged to broaden the definition of the term refugee. On the African continent, mass displacement across new borders became a permanent feature of these societies during the liberation struggles across the continent beginning with Algeria in 1956 and Rwanda in 1969, to the proxy wars of the cold war in the 1970s and 1980s (Milner 2009; Ogata 2005; Betts 2009). Initially, in the early years of independence in the 1960s and 1970s, states were receptive to hosting refugees. However, new responses became necessary with changing refugee dynamics: the economic problems of the African states from the 1980s onward; the rising numbers of refugees in regions that were increasingly becoming destabilized by the political nature of refugee situations in places such as the Great Lakes region, the Horn of Africa, and in the 1990s, the Mano River Union in West Africa; the emergence of large internally displaced populations; and the ineffectiveness of traditional durable solutions. The 1969 OAU Convention Governing the Specific Aspects of Refugee Problems in Africa expanded the refugee definition to include “every person who, owing to external aggression, occupation, foreign domination or events seriously disturbing public order in either part or the whole of his country of origin or nationality, is compelled to [flee]” [Article 1(2)]. The 1984 Cartagena Declaration on Refugees extended its definition of a refugee in Central America to people threatened by

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generalized violence, foreign aggression, and internal conflicts – and most remarkably, to those fleeing massive violation of human rights. These four documents – the 1951 UN Convention, its 1967 Protocol, the 1969 OAU Convention, and 1984 Cartagena Declaration – form the core legal protection instruments in the international protection of refugees today. However, none of these addressed the definition and protection of internally displaced persons (IDPs). The situation of IDPs was indeed so for many decades as a lack of international responsibility for these shielded their experiences from the gaze of the international community. It was not until the Guiding Principles on Internal Displacement of 1998 that a definitive international framework was provided for this (Asplet and Bradley 2013). Again, African nations took global leadership on this matter by being the first in the world to conclude a treaty detailing comprehensively the legal obligation of states toward internally displaced persons: the 2012 African Union Convention for the Protection and Assistance of Internally Displaced Persons in Africa (known as the Kampala Convention). Prior to this, IDPs were the sole concern of the states hosting them, and as IDP numbers ballooned globally, far outstripping the number of Convention-defined refugees, such protection became important as human rights activists and humanitarian actors pointed out that the states hosting these vast numbers of displaced people were usually those that were either unable or unwilling to take care of them. Today, in popular and media discourses, the term refugee masks three particular groups defined so far in this section: Convention-defined refugees, IDPs, and other migrants crossing borders (Yacob-Haliso 2018). While some (especially state actors) insist on the rigid legal definitions as a means for determining responses to refugee problems, many scholars, humanitarian organizations, and refugee activists have argued vigorously for an approach that addresses the needs of as many people on the move and in need of assistance, protection, and solutions, as possible. This area of study from the beginning cast itself as an interdisciplinary “refugee and forced migration studies” field, a term that allows scholars and analysts to sometimes eschew judgment of the causes and definition of who qualifies for refugee protection and focus on analyzing their particular circumstances. In this chapter, the term “refugee” is used in specific terms when necessary, while “forced migrants” and “displaced persons” signal a more generic reference to broader categories embracing both refugees and IDPs. In order to fit into the larger literature, careful use of these labels matter.

Evolution of International Protection of Refugee Women When people become refugees, they become eligible for international protection as their national governments can or will no longer provide them safety, security, and other rights of citizenship. Protection refers to all the measures taken to ensure that refugees and displaced persons access humanitarian assistance, safety, dignity, and durable solutions so they can live relatively normal lives again. Principal to this chapter among various other deficiencies in the refugee protection regime is that all

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the international instruments mentioned above failed miserably in the recognition and inclusion of women as gendered subjects of refugee law and humanitarian practice. The laws were cast in the usual gender-neutral, gender-blind legal language which feminist critics identify as effectively masking the presence of women, rendering their bodies, their experiences, their interests, and their lives invisible to policy and academic scrutiny. So as women came late to the agenda of international law and refugee practice, general human rights-based approaches continued to be applied upon the assumption that all would receive human rights protections on the basis of their humanity. This assumption was blind to the historical fact of women’s subordination in most human societies and the disproportionate burden of war borne by women in both their public and private lives. While the international refugee regime had progressively evolved from the early twentieth century, especially since the so-called age of revolutions and the First and Second World Wars, the legal framework, institutions, and operational policies of the regime did not quickly recognize the protection needs of women, nor make provision for them. Three reasons may account for this, among other possibilities: One is the standard gender blindness that was characteristic of the period, by which women’s concerns were invisibilized, downplayed, and elided from public and policy discourse until later challenged by growing feminist activism. The second reason was that the general profile of a refugee in the early days of the mainly European regime was that of a European White male, and women were not considered political and agentic individuals (Fiddian-Qasmiyeh 2014) and so were not by themselves subjects of the regime until that typical refugee profile changed very dramatically from the 1970s onward. From this time, refugee problems on the international agenda became less Europe-focused, moved to Africa and global South countries, and became more globalized, and the very character of war itself changed. Thirdly, it was not until the 1970s and 1980s that women’s rights became center stage on the global agenda as the so-called second-wave feminist movement thrived on the maxim that sisterhood is global and sought to engender the creation of specific international women’s rights instruments and institutions. So, while the Magna Carta of refugee law, the 1951 UN Convention on the Status of Refugees, was signed in 1951 and its Protocol concluded in 1967, and while the UNHCR was founded since 1950, it was not until almost four decades later that the agency produced its first acknowledgment of women in its process. This occurred with the Executive Committee Conclusion No 39 on Refugee Women and International Protection of 1985 (UNHCR 1985) and its subsequent publication of the Guidelines for the Protection of Refugee Women in 1991 (UNHCR 1991). It took almost another two decades for the UNHCR to revise these guidelines to meet current realities as the Handbook for the Protection of Refugee Women and Girls in 2008 (UNHCR 2008). These policy documents covered issues of refugee women’s legal rights, physical protection, access to assistance, healthcare, camp layout, education and skills training, economic opportunities, reporting of protection problems, access to information, and durable solutions. The 1991 Guidelines were written from a liberal feminist and gender mainstreaming perspective that sought to advocate the treatment of women on the

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basis of their equality with men (Grabska 2011; Freedman 2010). The problem with this is that while the global document was perhaps well intentioned in assuming that equality was desirable for helping to erase women’s discrimination, its “add-womenand-stir” approach was blind to the fact that gender inequalities are embedded in deep social and political contexts that are unique per category of refugees or per refugee situation around the world. For refugee women, I contend, their multiple disadvantages emanate from intertwined factors of subordination comprising personal factors and structural factors emerging from the international political system. As I have argued elsewhere: This approach, which focused on merely including women ‘on the same basis as men’. . . was not adequately nuanced to recognise that there is no single category called ‘women’; ignored fundamental gender considerations arising from differing social, cultural, and political contexts, and which dictated the peculiar problems of individual refugee women; and homogenised women to their disadvantage. (Yacob-Haliso 2016, pp. 55–56)

While it is true that these policy guidelines were an important step in the deliberate inclusion of women in humanitarian programming, elaborating for the first time what protection would mean for women as a particular sex, without a critical gender analysis of women’s lives and positions, these women-focused policies were not transformative in their attempt to improve refugee women’s lives. This is because they largely ignored women’s identities, the intersections among these identities and with the broader social structures, and the specificities of women’s social and political contexts in producing these. In fact, the gender equality approach is used to “sustain power asymmetries in refugee situations and reproduce global power hierarchies” (Olivius 2016; cf. Hyndman 2011). Ultimately, the fact is that because African refugee and displaced women were essentially an afterthought in the evolution of the legal protection framework, their needs have remained peripheral to the international refugee regime which has maintained a largely political and androcentric approach to protection and especially to durable solutions. Considering too that Africa has always occupied a marginal position in the development priorities of donor states and agencies, the implication has been that African refugee and displaced women are the least protected subpopulation of displaced persons.

A Gendered Continuum of Displacement Experiences in Africa As established above, the governance of conflict, displacement, and peace in the international system has traditionally been state centric and male dominated. Consequently, the literature on conflict and forced migration gradually began to articulate these issues, lending credence by research and publications to the activist stance of human and women’s rights advocates. Thus the evolution of a gender perspective in the study of forced migration has been the result of developments at the academic level, in international human rights, refugee, and humanitarian law and in feminist advocacy.

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Torres (2002) informs that gender and forced migration (GAFM) as a field of academic study actually evolved within feminist theory and specifically in relation to the field of gender and development (GAD). The progenitor of GAD was women in development (WID), developed in the 1970s by the liberal feminist school as an attempt at integrating women studies with the field of mainstream development in its quest at achieving “equal” status for women within existing social and political structures. Similar objectives birthed the women in forced migration approach (WIFM) of the 1980s. However, WID soon made a transition to women and development (WAD), which emphasized helping women achieve self-reliance from male domination and control of the factors of capitalist production. These approaches (WID and WAD), however, were not universal in scope and left African and other women from the global South dissatisfied, resulting in the founding of the Development Alternatives with Women for a New Era (DAWN) (Egwu 2003). The Nairobi World Conference on Women of 1985 and the Beijing Conference of 1995 gave tremendous impetus to the women’s movements across the globe. These global efforts resulted in women from both the North and the South adopting the gender and development (GAD) approach to respond to differing contexts of class, racial, and gender inequalities. WAD gave way to GAD which sought to center gender analysis within the study of women and development in order to better describe their complex contexts and realities and prescribe more robust solutions. GAD produced GAFM, and it is this theoretical context that birthed much of our current study of refugee women. It was at Beijing in 1995, the Fourth World Conference on Women: Action for Equality, Development and Peace, that women’s particular situation in armed conflict was brought to the center of women’s agenda for advancement with its inclusion in the Platform for Action as the fifth critical area of concern. The Beijing Declaration and Platform for Action points out that, although all sections of society are affected by armed conflict, women and girls are particularly affected because of their status in society and their sex. In the age of civil wars that spawn more civilian casualties than military casualties, women by the sheer numbers of their disproportionate involvement have emerged as primary victims and actors in war and its aftermath especially. Feminist activism and international recognition of this eventually led to the adoption of UN Security Council Resolution 1325 (UNSCR 1325) on women, peace, and security in the year 2000. UNSCR 1325 noted unequivocally that “civilians, particularly women and children, account for the vast majority of those adversely affected by armed conflict, including as refugees and internally displaced persons, and increasingly are targeted by combatants and armed elements. . ..” It calls on all parties to a conflict to take special measures to protect women and girls in situations of armed conflict and to ensure their participation and representation in security governance globally (Shepherd 2014). These objectives resounded very keenly for African women given the pervasiveness of conflicts on the continent. UNSCR 1325 has since been reinforced by other UN commitments to women especially expressed in UNSCR 1820 (2008), UNSCR 1888 (2009), UNSCR 1889 (2009), UNSCR 1960 (2010), UNSCR 2106 (2013), UNSCR 2122 (2013), and UNSCR 2242 (2015) (▶ Chap. 40, “UNSCR 1325 and African Women in Conflict and Peace”).

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It is therefore well established in policy and theory that women and men experience conflict, displacement, and peace differently as a result of their sex (unique biological characteristics) and their gender (social and cultural constructions of roles and status). While the predominant slant on women’s experiences in conflict is in victim roles, flight and displacement can indeed be seen as a condition over which women had little choice, but conversely also as a coping mechanism expressing women’s agency. Ensor (2017, p. 199) also points out insightfully that conflict and displacement on their own “do not . . . generate heightened levels of sexual and gender-based violence (SGBV) in a vacuum; rather, generalized violence and dislocation often expose and exacerbate underlying prejudice and gender discrimination.” This reinforces the conception of a continuum of gendered violence which rules society from peacetime to wartime to displacement and continues thereafter. Thus, it is not war by itself that produces women’s particular experiences of violence; war only unmasks it, distributing it more widely, intensifying its consequences for women. Most studies focus on women specifically in conflict, or as asylum seekers, in camps or other settings, or in postconflict situations, ignoring the connections between women’s experiences in these different contexts and stages of displacement (Krause 2017), thereby limiting the understanding of these processes. Following a continuum approach which emphasizes continuities in the violence and disadvantages that women encounter throughout their lives, I explore below displaced women’s positions and their experiences of protection and solutions during different phases of their journey. An intersectional lens further requires our analysis to pay attention to the differences among women themselves based on their age, class, sexual orientation, ethnicity, race, political opinion or ideology, resources, education, and other markers of difference and to the impact of social and international structure.

Pre-war Many African feminist scholars have argued that the formalization of patriarchy into state structures and cultural practices proceeded with the colonial situation which erased previously complementary social roles played by women and men in various African societies. Due to women’s many disadvantages in this scenario, the incidence of poverty is higher among women; they are the primary caregivers of the family, responsible for both children and the aged; they lack productive resources or independent assets; have limited networks; are fewer in number in public roles as political and corporate leaders; often have their education curtailed; are victims of violence in domestic and public life; and so on. All these factors not only make women significantly more vulnerable to displacement during conflict but also limit their options beyond flight or joining the fighting forces. Sometimes, women have advantages too that differentiates their experience from that of other women and men. In many African settings, age confers privileges on women equal or nearly equal to that enjoyed by men in the society as older women are able to exercise authority over younger women, sons and daughters, daughters-in-law, and younger

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men (Oyewumi 1997, 2003). Class and education also provide resources and knowledge that may make a difference for women. In many instances of conflict though, these positionings may confer little or no advantage as social hierarchies and statuses are initially disrupted and permanently altered – either destroyed or reinforced as the conflict progresses.

Outbreak of War Since the independence of African states in the 1950s and 1960s, conflict has been a signal feature of politics and society on the continent. The nature of this conflict has changed over time, but a typology (see Table 2 below) makes it clear that in the last two decades, civil wars with (sub-)regional extension and involvement have been the order of the day rather than the exception (see Yacob-Haliso and Iyanda 2018). It is also clear that many of Africa’s conflicts are tied to external interference, as in liberation struggles and cold war proxy wars, as well as to the postcolonial conditions of these states typified by the restriction of participatory democracy, economic collapse, and widespread human rights abuses. Conflict, widespread violence, war, and political instability of various kinds remain the single major cause of displacement on the African continent, indeed as elsewhere. Unquestionably then, violence during conflict leads to women’s flight and eventual displacement to camps and other locations and is linked in a continuum. Additionally, the unprecedented number of civilian casualties has ensured that women who often have the responsibility for the safety and preservation of members of the family and therefore, as noted above, together with children constitute the vast majority of refugee and displaced persons on the continent. It is necessary to enter an important qualification here though. As multiple studies cited above have magnified the impacts of war on women, it has become important to also highlight the various ways that women participate in and contribute to conflict, including as fighting forces and as perpetrators of human rights abuses Table 2 Taxonomy of generations of African conflicts, 1950s–2010s Generations First

Types Liberation/ decolonization wars

Second

Postindependence/ wars of state failure

Third

Post 1989 conflicts

Subtypes Wars for decolonization from European powers Wars of resistance to African colonial powers Wars of failed independence Separatist wars Reform insurgencies

Source: Adapted from Yacob-Haliso and Iyanda (2018, p. 310)

Examples Algerian war, 1954–1962; Kenya’s Mau Mau war, 1952–1960 Western Sahara/Morocco, 1970–present; Eritrea/Ethiopia, 1961–1991 Angola, 1975–2002; Chad, 1966–2002 Biafra/Nigeria, 1967–1970 Uganda, 1973–1986 Liberia; Sierra Leone; Sudan, South Sudan, DR Congo, etc.

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themselves. As members of fighting forces, women in the conflicts in Mozambique, Liberia, and Rwanda, for example, performed combat roles as fighters as well as noncombat roles as cooks, porters, spies, “wives,” sex slaves, and so on. These roles did not usually transform their positions either during the conflict or even after, though; in many instances, they suffered even more from physical and mental illnesses, social stigma, and lack of access to assistance and resources for trauma healing and even basic survival. Similarly, a gender lens also brings to light the differential positions of women and men of varying social statuses in conflict situations which make some men and boys just as vulnerable as some women and men relative to others.

Fleeing War The vast majority of refugees – almost 80%, according to UNHCR (2019) – flee to and settle in neighboring countries to wait for the violence in their own homelands to abate. When fleeing conflict, women with access to adequate information (Martin 1992; Women’s Commission 2002) can flee to relatively safe regions or countries. In the process though, they are susceptible to gunfire, landmines, harassment and violent sexual abuse by soldiers, border guards, other escapees and various conflict actors, and to other harms. They are sometimes arbitrarily detained at border jails and repeatedly raped. Women attempting to cross into Europe are also documented as experiencing hidden but higher levels of SGBV (Freedman 2016). Women separated from or traveling without a husband or male relative/partner may find themselves more vulnerable too. Women with resources and networks are better able to make arrangements to travel to more developed countries either to stay with relatives or to seek asylum or to camps with better facilities. For instance, during the 22-year-long war in southern Sudan (1983–2005), women from “privileged social groups” such as wives and daughters of government officials, traditional chiefs, priest, ranking soldiers, and so on were more likely to travel farther to camps in Kenya or Ethiopia that had better access to education, training, and income-generation activities. This is in contrast to other Sudanese women who were internally displaced within the country and found themselves in squatter camps around the capital, Khartoum, and who had very limited opportunities for education and work and thus were in a more tenuous position (Grabska 2014). From my own decade-long research on Liberia, I found that Liberian women with the means, often those from or linked to prominent families or political dynasties or who were government officials, were better able to flee to the United States during the civil war of 1989–2003 (Yacob-Haliso 2016). Many took advantage of the US government program which extended Temporary Protected Status (TPS) to Liberians from 1991 onward, and they settled with friends and family to wait out the war, after which many did not or could no longer return, though some did. On the other hand, the vast poor majority relocated to neighboring African countries instead, or were internally displaced, moving around within the country during wartime.

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In Displacement: Camps and Other Arrangements Upon arrival at borders, camps, or other facilities for receiving displaced people, women often face difficulties establishing their identity and entitlement to assistance and protection. Refugee women in particular face a two-pronged challenge: they must first establish persecution and their grounds for seeking asylum, and secondly, they require the acknowledgment of this claim evidenced in the formal recognition of the receiving state and UNHCR issuing appropriate documents which become the key to accessing humanitarian assistance and protection (Yacob-Haliso 2012). Women’s engagement with the first process means they must make claims that qualify under international law, and secondly, they must prove or establish those claims to the relevant authorities (Martin 1992). In many African contexts of conflict-induced displacement (as in Rwandese refugees in 1994, Liberians in 1990), refugee status is often granted on a prima facie basis when there are mass movements of people during war or generalized violence (Ogata 2005), and women may not need to make individual claims for recognition. However, in other instances, and also with some women who face individual circumstances which make their situation different from that of the generality of the influx, establishing these other claims can be difficult. As early as 1998, the UNHCR (1998) articulated six such situations of gender-related persecution: the transgression of social norms, customs, and traditions relating to the role of women; sexual violence or sexual torture, especially when used systematically as a weapon of war; female genital cutting; violations of state birth control methods resulting in forced sterilization and other forms of violence and discrimination; homosexuality, as in African countries including Namibia, Zimbabwe, and Zanzibar where it is either outlawed or a cause for violence; and domestic violence where state agents are unwilling or unable to provide protection. Refugee camps, rural settlements, urban centers, and other settlements for displaced persons present specific security challenges for women in these spaces. In theory, camps should provide safety from threatening violence which refugees have fled from, but the norm as attested to by many studies is that refugee and displaced persons camps are often sites of heightened sexual and gender-based violence, torture, intimidation, killings, fear, hunger, despondence, and uncertainty (Hyndman 2004; UNHCR 2000; Janmyr 2014; Human Rights Watch 2006; UNSC 2004). Exacerbating this is that camps on the African continent (such as those hosting Hutu refugees in DR Congo after the genocide of July 1994 and Sudanese refugees in northern Uganda in the 1990s and 2000s) have also often been political and militarized spaces, controlled by (sometimes armed) militia, with forced recruitment of refugees into armed groups (Yacob-Haliso 2018). This seriously violates the fundamental humanitarian principle of refugee camps as neutral and nonpolitical spaces and the explicit forbiddance of the use of asylum and camps for subversive activities by the 1969 OAU Refugee Convention (Preamble; Articles 2 & 3; see also Preamble to UN 1951 Refugee Convention). Ironically, humanitarian workers and peacekeepers who are normally responsible for protection and distribution of assistance have perpetrated the exploitation and sexual abuse of refugee women in camps and have been known to also prey on

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children. In a UNHCR/Save the Children-UK (2002) study of refugee camps in Guinea, Liberia, and Sierra Leone, sexual violence and exploitation of refugee girls in particular was found to be disturbingly extensive and involving actors at all levels including UN staff, security forces, staff of national and international NGOs, community leaders, and government officials. In this instance (as in several other places where this has been reported) women and girls must trade sex for food and rations. The biggest culprits were agency workers, often “using the very humanitarian aid and services intended to benefit the refugee population as a tool of exploitation” (UNHCR/SC-UK 2002, p. 4). Camps (and indeed the entire displacement experience) have also been found to distort and radically alter gender relations among the refugee population, influenced by women’s particular intersectionalities. Among self-settled East and Central African refugee women in Nairobi, Kenya, marital status and economic situation produced heterogeneous, fluid, and complex gendered positions, a “continuum of femininities” which Jaji (2015) typified into normative, agitated, and rebellious femininities. Among young Somali refugee women and girls aged 13–19, also in Nairobi, their agency in patriarchal environments was uncommonly demonstrated as silence and “muted voice” (Thomson 2013). Changes in gender relations sometimes have the effect of reinforcing patriarchal structures to absurd proportions, and sometimes the effect is the empowerment of women to such an extent that their emancipation from male privilege constitutes an opposite effect that may be seen as threatening or emasculating to men (FiddianQasmiyeh 2010). While displacement often disadvantages women, leaving them more vulnerable to gender-based violence and creating new responsibilities and burdens for them, displacement may also benefit them as in when they are given priority in skills training and income-generating programs. Also, while women find displacement more traumatic than men, they show greater flexibility in their adaptation to new environments and in developing survival strategies. Men tend to expect assistance from formal institutions, and their skills are often not transferable (Chhabra 2005). This was apparent in an ACORD (Agency for Co-operation and Research in Development) study of five African countries: Angola, Mali, Uganda, Somalia, and Sudan. The findings in all five countries consistently found that “insecurity reduces men’s economic roles, while propelling women into greater economic activity” (El Bushra and Sahl 2005, p. 87). The effects of these on men were profound: The second adaptation, which was also found consistently across the case studies, was that both men and women have made adjustments in their economic roles at the household level. On the one hand, the resources from which men once drew their power and status (e.g. land, animals, the labour power of women, youth and children) have now been denied them. The options which remain require them to accept menial employment, or worse still to accept dependence on their womenfolk. The result is that many men (seen most markedly in the cases of Angola and Somalia) experience deep psychological distress at this threat to their masculinity, so much so that the research team was taken by surprise at the depth of their distress. While some men reluctantly – tearfully, even – accepted the role of house-husbands, taking on child care and other domestic tasks while their wives work, others could not bring themselves to do this, preferring idleness to this emasculation. (El Bushra and Sahl 2005, p. 86)

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As already noted above though, for women, all these negotiations do not necessarily translate to increased opportunities and empowerment in the postwar period. When NGOs and humanitarian agencies target women for assistance, the effect may be contrary to the intention of empowering them. Instead, the advancement of women’s interests “at a superficial, women-focused level that fails to challenge overall paradigms of gender differences leaves women with new roles to fulfil but no institutional leverage to fulfil them effectively” (El Bushra 2000). Thus Chris Corrin (2004, p. 12) advocates the “post-war creation (rather than reconstruction) of new institutional and societal formations” as a means of addressing gender inequities and extend gender awareness in policymaking.

Durable Solutions The three official durable solutions in policy and studies remain repatriation to the country (or region, for IDPs) of origin, resettlement to a third country/new region, and local integration in the host state/region. The shifting discourses on the so-called durable solutions to refugee problems in the last century have been shaped by a profit motive and economic orientation to refugee presence in Europe and the West that is historical. This has been at the root of persisting imaginaries of refugees initially as mainly adult white males and, as events changed globally and internal displacement also ballooned, of refugees as mainly “helpless” and victimized “womenandchildren” from the global South. The implications of this were that the European refugee regime initially prioritized naturalization and/or resettlement of refugees in the European countries in which they settled after the first and second world wars, but over time, as the profile of a “typical” refugee changed as above, repatriation – voluntary, imposed, and forced – became promoted, preferred, and mandated by the dominant actors in the regime: States and the UNHCR. On the African continent, the “tradition of hospitality” to refugees which followed independence in the 1960s was soon replaced with suspicion and stagnancy in the apprehension and application of solutions that could be durable. The result has been the proliferation of protracted displacement situations by which, following UNHCR’s definition, at least 25,000 refugees from the same nationality exist in the same location for more than 5 years continuously (UNHCR 2016). Refugees in this situation numbered an estimated 78% of all refugees globally by the end of 2018 (UNHCR 2019). This is the case for Burundian refugees in Tanzania, Somali refugees in Kenya, and, more recently, Nigerian refugees in Cameroon and Niger; South Sudanese refugees in Kenya, Sudan, and Uganda; and DRC refugees in South Africa (ibid). In the context of such mass and protracted displacement in various African locations, women often do not have a choice of durable solution either because the conflict drags on so long that there is no end in sight or because the practice of signing tripartite agreements for repatriation which exclude refugees denies them a voice and reduces their autonomy for informed action. The decision to repatriate a group of refugees is often made by UNHCR and the origin and host state, upon consultation with refugee leaders who are often mostly male, a process which

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excludes the person and opinions of the vast female refugee population. IDPs often have even lower chances of being included in decision-making on the issue as the national government retains the authority to take actions it deems best in national interest. Younger women and girls, or those born in exile, may be hesitant about repatriation to a country they only vaguely or do not at all remember, and at the same time, they may not have choice in the decision as dependents on a parent or other adult. And women who have experienced horrendous violence in their country of origin before or during war are usually hesitant to return to the site of the trauma and may not wish to repatriate. UNHCR (2016) informs that local integration or naturalization in a host country remains the least utilized durable solution worldwide, even though, apparently, African countries are said to be leading the way on this comparatively. For many women, this solution simply extends an existence of discrimination, exclusion, marginalization, and lack of access to social and other services. However, by their commerce, education, and other skills, returnee or naturalized refugee women also contribute to local and national economies, to peacebuilding activities, and to reconstruction and reconciliation. For most refugees, resettlement to another usually developed country is a far-off dream and an unrealistic expectation, accounting for only about 1% of all durable solutions. This is because refugees have virtually no control over this durable solution as they cannot access it without the willingness of the receiving country to grant it. This decision is often pre-ordained by annual quotas restricting access to it, and made more difficult by the process of establishing grounds to qualify, and the sheer number of refugees globally applying for this. Women classified as vulnerable or at “heightened risk” may however be given some priority (UNHCR 2008) – of course, within the limits of available spaces. Resettlement can be the beginning of a new lease of life, with opportunities for women to transcend previous limiting gender relations. It can also be marginalizing and the beginning of new experiences of racial discrimination and stereotyping (Ramsay 2017; Windle 2008). In the aftermath of war, internally displaced persons usually migrate to more urban centers in search of safety, often settling there permanently after to take advantage of opportunities in these areas. The impact of such significant ruralurban migration has been immense pressure on infrastructure, housing, education, law enforcement, and other services in these urban areas which exacerbate economic hardships, criminality, and violence for women, continuing a lifetime cycle they are all too familiar with.

Conclusion and Areas for Future Studies In this chapter, I have analyzed women refugee and displaced persons’ life experiences in the context of national, regional, and global histories, policies, and actions, while foregrounding the differences among women that shape their own individual stories. In a tradition similar to that of critical migration studies (Banerjee and Samaddar 2018), this chapter has situated women’s displacement in Africa within

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the broader historical framework of the production of the continent’s post-colonial states and crises and expanded this focus to an embracing continuum approach within feminist studies. The world is at present witnessing an unprecedented explosion in refugee numbers which has ensured that the subject remains critically on the global agenda, while ironically not receiving commensurate policy and operational attention, nor the requisite political will to end it. As the numbers of displaced continue to rise across the continent with persistent violence and conflicts in Burundi, Cameroon, Central African Republic, DR Congo, Ethiopia, Mali, Nigeria, South Sudan, Sudan, and elsewhere, it is time to rethink the roles and positions of women in this milieu. Policymakers and scholars must devote more attention to the construction of genderequitable societal models that tackle the everyday violence in women’s lives which makes them susceptible to displacement and its attendant debilitations. On the other hand, flight and displacement need not be incapacitating as they could be the opportunity for a reset of social norms to make these more open to women’s inclusion in social, economic, and political spaces previously shut to them. One of the few positive outcomes for women’s involvement in conflict on the African continent since the 1990s has been the exponential increase in women’s representation in parliaments on the continent, propelled by women’s activism for peace (Tripp 2015). This is borne out in postconflict countries such as Rwanda which currently has the highest rates of women’s parliamentary representation in the world (InterParliamentary Union 2019) and other places such as Namibia, Uganda, and South Africa. In other places such as in Liberia, refugee and displaced women became leading forces in the national women’s movement for mobilizing for the cessation of conflict and for the negotiation of a new postwar order to make society more gender equitable and protective of women’s rights (Medie 2013, 2016). This produced the first elected African woman head of state in Liberia. Other countries, including Uganda and South Africa, have seen the adoption of gender equality laws that grant women access to land, criminalize domestic and other gender-based forms of violence, and institute quotas for increased representation in politics. The extent to which these have advanced women’s rights and protections, and perhaps reduced the possibility of the return to conflict and displacement, remains a subject for further investigation by scholars and practitioners alike. Recent empirical studies also demonstrate the important link between women’s involvement in peace negotiations and in signing agreements and durable peace (Krause et al. 2018; cf. Adjei 2019). While many studies have explored refugee lives in specific stages in the refugee cycle, it would be helpful for more empirical studies to employ innovative methodologies which allow us better describe and understand refugee women’s experiences from the beginning of the displacement experience to its resolution. This can then be linked to structural factors embedded within their societies, permitting us to get to the roots of social disorder in order to better propose pathways for addressing these. A significant missing factor is the dearth of studies being conducted by Africans themselves in explaining their own realities. Additionally, where these studies exist, they are not published in outlets that are visible to other African researchers or to a

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world jaundiced by a colonial gaze on Africa. When we consider that conflict and displacement experiences on the continent reflect and exacerbate fundamental social disjuncture embedded in the fabric of people’s existence, grounded studies from located perspectives hold the promise of marshaling local languages and indigenous knowledges in a manner that more closely approximates the truth in analysis. Also, centering women’s stories in the narratives that will emerge from this is an effort in balancing previously skewed researches which either excluded women or privileged narration of their disadvantages over their gains and their leadership. A Journal of Gender and Displacement in Africa, sponsored by the African Union or a PanAfrican consortium of universities and managed by African scholars of refugee studies, refugee activists, and refugees themselves, is urgently needed to initiate, support, and bring these progressive studies to light globally and regionally. The anticipated cumulative outcome of the work outlined in this section has promise not just for expanding the scope of African Women’s Studies, but also for restoring African women to history as both lived and read authorities of their own existences.

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Contents Introduction: Conceptualizing Terrorists and Terrorism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Female Terrorists in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Mau Mau Rebellion of Kenya . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Algerian National Liberation Front . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Liberation Front of Mozambique (FRELIMO) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Zimbabwe Army of National Liberation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Boko Haram of Nigeria . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

Women have received little attention in the study of terrorist activity because women in combat, both in Africa and the West, have often been assumed to be bystanders or victims, rather than perpetrators. This chapter moves beyond such assumptions and examines women’s agency in politically motivated violent movements in Africa, ranging from support-level activities to active combat and leadership. The study examines women’s participation in Kenya’s Mau Mau rebellion and in the liberation struggles of Algeria, Mozambique, and Zimbabwe, both as perpetrators and victims of terrorism. In addition to these wars of independence, this study addresses the more recent use of women by Boko Haram in West Africa and its attacks on the Nigerian state.

M. Gonzalez-Perez (*) Department of History and Political Science, Southeastern Louisiana University, Hammond, LA, USA e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_93

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Keywords

Women · Terrorism · Africa · Kenya · Mau Mau · Algeria · Mozambique · Zimbabwe · Boko Haram · Nigeria

Introduction: Conceptualizing Terrorists and Terrorism Any review of terrorist organizations must first address the problem of conceptualizing terrorism and identifying terrorists. Groups may self-identify as rebels, revolutionaries, liberators, or freedom fighters, but they rarely claim to be terrorists due to the negative connotations associated with the term. This problem is compounded by the fact that there is no single universally accepted definition of terrorism or terrorists; however, the majority of definitions crafted by terrorism scholars, national governments, and international institutions share three characteristics. This study integrates those three criteria, defining terrorism as the use or threat of violence, used against civilian noncombatants, by individuals, groups, or state governments for political objectives. Terrorism, then, is not necessarily associated with any particular political group, region, or religion. Rather, terrorism is a tactic, a means to a political objective, regardless of the perceived legitimacy (or lack thereof) of that goal. The groups or events that use these tactics may include guerrilla warfare, revolutions, state-sponsored terrorism, separatist movements, and national liberation movements (Gonzalez-Perez 2008). Political conflicts framed as “independence movements” or “struggles for national liberation” are often viewed positively today, but many of these conflicts were widely perceived as terrorist movements in their own era, particularly by Western and colonial powers. In the following analysis, the term “terrorism” is not intended to necessarily condemn nor support any particular group, but instead categorizes those groups that engage in terrorist tactics defined above as violence against noncombatants for political objectives. On the African continent, terrorism has occurred within two distinct time frames and contexts. Terrorism in mid-twentieth-century Africa developed as national liberation struggles against often brutal colonial rule in response to the weakened condition of European colonial powers after World War II. Terrorism in the postCold War period and twenty-first century has emerged from extremist ideological and religious movements. Women’s roles in African terrorism have been similarly disparate, with women primarily serving as perpetrators in the terrorist movements of the Cold War era, but more as victims in the twenty-first century extremist movements (Urdang 1979; Nhongo-Simbanegavi 2000). Although female participation in political violence is rare in Africa, the women who chose to join anti-colonial nationalist insurgencies such as those in Kenya, Mozambique, Zimbabwe, or Algeria typically did so of their own volition, choosing to fight against their colonial oppressors and even against the restrictive gender roles of their own societies (Kruks and Wisner 1984; Mortimer 2012; Katto 2014). Women’s involvement in more recent terrorist organizations, such as Nigeria’s Boko

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Haram, has been almost exclusively through kidnapping, intimidation, or other forms of victimization. Numerous women have engaged in suicide bombings for Boko Haram, but these women are often forced into this role by violent means rather than recruited through political ideology (Omona Abuja and Ogbodo-Iwuagwu 2014; Stewart 2015). This chapter examines and compares the development and complex evolution of women, terrorism, and terrorist groups in Africa.

Female Terrorists in Africa Historically, women have received little attention in the study of terrorist movements because women in conflict, both in the West and in Africa, were assumed to be bystanders or victims, rather than perpetrators. This chapter moves beyond such assumptions and examines women’s agency in politically motivated violent movements in Africa, ranging from support-level activities to active combat and leadership. In Kenya, the Mau Mau rebellion relied on women to fulfill traditional gender roles, cooking, cleaning, and providing medical aid, but some women also participated in combat and provided strategic intelligence for the movement’s leaders (Elkins 2005; Presley 2013). The women of Algeria’s Liberation Front were mythologized as warriors in popular film, such as The Battle of Algiers in 1966 (Stella Productions 1966), but neither of the major insurgent groups, the National Liberation Front and the National Liberation Army, permitted women to participate in combat or leadership roles (Amrane-Minne and Djevar 1999; Vince 2010). Mozambique’s women were more active in their nation’s struggle for independence than the women of Algeria, but the male leadership of the Liberation Front of Mozambique insurgency remained divided on the subject of women’s participation, precluding their full involvement (Kruks and Wisner 1984; Katto 2014). It was only in Zimbabwe that women were able to approach parity with their male comrades, serving at all levels of the guerrilla insurgency; however, they had to fight the male leadership to do so (Nhongo-Simbanegavi 2000). Fifty years later, the women of Boko Haram exercise less agency than any of their female insurgent predecessors. They are abused and utilized as expendable human bombs rather than active and willing participants (Ogbogu 2015). The author has chosen the aforementioned terrorist movements because women went beyond the traditional expectations of their gender roles within each insurgency. Certainly, the level of participation varied among terrorist movements, but this variation demonstrates the difficulty that women faced, in both fighting colonial powers for agency and equality and struggling for those same objectives within their own societies. The nineteenth-century “scramble for Africa” among European colonial powers had an enormous impact on African political development. Over decades, and sometimes centuries, of colonial rule, imperial powers eliminated or weakened traditional African infrastructures, but by the end of World War II, the European

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colonizers were weakened as well. Faced with rebuilding their own political institutions and economies after WWII, most European powers were unable or unwilling to expend the resources necessary to maintain control of colonial holdings. African nationalists seized this opportunity to mobilize their populations for long-awaited independence movements (Elkins 2005; Howard-Hassman 2010; Vince 2010; Katto 2014; Comolli 2015).

The Mau Mau Rebellion of Kenya British colonization of East Africa began in 1895, and by 1920, the Kenya Colony was established, using a system of indirect rule that appointed corrupt and brutal chieftains loyal to Britain and relegated the rest of the African population to a segregated, apartheid-like system. The appropriation of agricultural land for white settlers threatened the very existence of the local tribes. The British burned villages and forced the Kikuyu and other tribes to rebuild their homes on reserves and carry an identity card at all times, much like the homelands and pass laws in apartheid-era South Africa. Desperate for revenue due to the poor performance of the settler-farmers, the colonial government also taxed Africans at the rate of 2 months’ wages per year and reserved profitable crops for European farmers by prohibiting Africans from growing tea, coffee, and sisal (Elkins 2005). With India’s independence in 1947, Kenya became the new jewel in the British crown. In debt from World War II, struggling to rebuild its infrastructure and a comprehensive social welfare system, Britain could not afford to lose Kenya in addition to India (Davies 2017). As Britain’s colonial grip tightened, Kenya’s resistance grew, and in 1952 the Mau Mau rebellion officially began with the assassination of the loyalist Governor-Chief. Kenyans opposed to British rule are divided into two groups. The more moderate, missionary-educated young Kikuyu men of the Kenya Central Association (KCA) who sought reform through legal channels were led by Johnstone Kenyatta (Santilli 1977; Presley 2013). A more radical faction of approximately 20,000 militants, primarily males, demanded immediate and radical change through violence and were led by Dedan Kimathi Waciuri, who was known for his brutality against both the British forces and Kikuyu who remained loyal to the colonial regime (Anderson 2005; Branch 2009). The militant faction adopted the official title of Kenya Land and Freedom Army (KLFA), but became more widely known as the Mau Mau, very likely a derivation of the word “muuma” or oath. The Mau Mau creed was “land and freedom.” They fought for the return of their traditional lands and the ouster of the Europeans, killing the cattle of white settlers, burning their crops, and murdering Kikuyu loyalists (Elkins 2005). Two weeks after the initial assassination, the colonial government declared a state of emergency. Britain sent 20,000 troops to Kenya to quell the violence and arrested Kenyatta in an effort to decapitate the rebellion. Ironically, Kenyatta’s removal only weakened the moderate calls for peace and shifted power to the Mau Mau. Violence escalated as radicals filled the vacuum left by Kenyatta. British colonials

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panicked as news reports spread of long-time servants hacking white settler families to death, and photos of mutilated corpses were publicized. The colonial government charged and convicted Kenyatta of encouraging rebellion, and government forces adopted a “shoot to kill” policy against suspected rebels (Elkins 2005). Although the Mau Mau had no specific women’s agenda or feminist program, women were already politicized by the time of the rebellion, organizing around protecting wages, land, and culture. In traditional Kenyan societies, women farmed and controlled agriculture, but British colonials pressured Kikuyu women to work as wage labor for white settlers. Women resisted this change from the first colonization efforts of 1895. By the 1930s, Kikuyu women had organized their own female labor associations and were confronting colonial authorities through labor protests and partnerships with other African political groups. After WWII, the colonial government again pressed women into forced labor, resulting in widespread agrarian revolts. Thus, Kikuyu women were already radicalized and mobilized when the Mau Mau insurgency began and were eager to join the movement against colonial oppression (Presley 2013). A pivotal component of the Mau Mau rebellion was a ritual among warriors known as Oathing in which participants swear an oath of solidarity in crisis or war. Traditionally reserved for men, this declaration of commitment was extended to women during the Mau Mau rebellion. From the 1950s, initiates began swearing a New Oath, against the Europeans. Initiates took seven oaths of increasing severity, beginning with the first Oath of Unity and ending with the final Killing Oath. By the start of the war, hundreds of thousands of Kikuyu had taken the Oath of the Mau Mau, rejecting the rule of corrupt loyalist chieftains, demanding an end to forced labor, and calling for land, freedom, and a return to the ancestral cattle-herding life (Elkins 2005). Historically, men controlled and directed Oathing. The New Oath against the Europeans was revolutionary in that it incorporated women into the solidarity of the Mau Mau movement. Women had long been considered the passive wing of resistance, with some militants but few fighters; however, the inclusion of women in Oathing ceremonies recognized the pivotal role of women in the rebellion. The colonial Villagization policy of burning homes and forcing suspected Kikuyu populations into Emergency Villages surrounded by barbed wire, trenches, and watchtowers inadvertently expanded women’s roles even further. With the men separated and detained, women moved beyond support-level activities and began to participate in raids and violent attacks. Colonial government reports discussed female terrorists engaged in violence or armed actions and described the significance of women’s activities in keeping the spirit of the Mau Mau and the movement alive (Elkins 2005; Presley 2013). The Mau Mau Oath officially recognized Kikuyu women as warriors, but they fought in their own squads under female commanders and held ranks up to the level of colonel. Women formed key elements in planning and logistics, gathering intelligence on colonial forces and operations, and organizing raids and attacks. Mau Mau women were entrusted with vital information and were well-known for keeping their Oath under torture (Santoru 1996). The majority of Mau Mau

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women, however, filled traditional gender roles, cooking, cleaning, gathering firewood, carrying water, and serving as scouts, spies, and messengers for the insurgency. Women also served in an advisory role as seers who were believed to see into the future and offer wisdom to Mau Mau leaders, as well as use their powers to curse the colonial enemy. Informal networks of women gathered food, medical aid, and information for the guerrillas fighting in the forest, providing critical support for the insurgency (Santilli 1977). The colonial government realized that the destruction of the female support system was pivotal in defeating the Mau Mau. In fact, a 1953 colonial report prioritized “rehabilitating” women because they were deemed to be more militant than men and alleged that Kikuyu women were forcing their husbands to take the Oath and fight (Santilli 1977). The colonial government responded with what could only be described as state terrorism, evacuating cities, burning villages, and forcing Kenyans into Emergency Villages that were essentially detention camps meant to subdue the African population through forced labor and starvation. The British created even worse penal camps for “hard core” militants with the stated intent of “rehabilitating” them (Elkins 2005, p. 219). Hard core women posed a threat to colonial domination because they knew the Kikuyu community, were involved in African Churches, directed Oathing ceremonies, collected funds, and actively prepared for war. To avoid further recruitment and radicalization of the Kikuyu, the British colonial forces separated hard core Mau Mau women from the general population. Approximately 750,000 women and children were held in 800 camps surrounded by barbed wire, armed guards, watchtowers, and spiked trenches that the women were forced to dig (Elkins 2005). Ultimately, it took the British colonial government 2 years, reinforced by 20,000 British troops and air cover from the Royal Air Force, and armed with modern weapons and technology, to defeat 20,000 Mau Mau insurgents armed with handmade weapons. Faced with the growing humanitarian crisis and the economic costs of trying to maintain the Kenya Colony, Britain realized the futility of continued colonization and negotiated a transition of power in preparation for Kenya’s 1964 independence. The Mau Mau insurgency served as a pivotal point in changing women’s roles in politics and society. While the nationalist struggle of the 1950s established a framework for women’s participation and protection of women’s rights, today, Kenya continues to struggle with significant gender inequality in the postcolonial era. However, the Constitution of 2010 codified women’s equality under the law, and more women now hold seats in the national parliament and county assemblies (United Nations 2015).

Algerian National Liberation Front French colonial rule over Algeria began in 1830 and lasted 132 years. In theory, Algeria was governed as an overseas territory of France, an integral part of the French state. In reality, Algeria was ruled very differently, and its people were not afforded the same rights and privileges as French citizens, especially its women.

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Algerian women were completely excluded from public life. In 1954, the year the conflict began, only 4.5% of women were literate, and education was compulsory only for boys; there were only six female medical doctors in the entire country. Algerian women had no right to vote or hold office, and both political parties isolated women in auxiliary organizations, but these restrictions did not prevent them from supporting the liberation movement (Amrane-Minne and Abu-Haidar 1999; Mortimer 2012). The National Liberation Front (FLN) of Algeria was the predominant nationalist organization in Algeria in the 1950s, and the National Liberation Army (ALN) was the FLN’s armed guerrilla wing that fought to liberate Algeria from French colonial control using terrorist tactics. From 1954 to 1962, the ALN waged a guerrilla war against French authorities and civilians in what became one of the most bitter and bloody liberation struggles of the postwar era (Hill 2012; Mortimer 2012). Most Algerian men did not support, nor recognize the need for, women’s emancipation (Salhi 2003). In post-conflict interviews, Algerian women equated Algerian men with the French during the war, as a force of oppression to overcome. A female interviewee who fought in the insurgency stated, “There were two battles to fight, one against colonialism, the other within our families” (Vince 2010, p. 457). Danièle Djamila Amrane-Minne was a militant in the Algerian liberation movement who later published a study that included interviews with 88 women in the resistance group. According to Amrane-Minne and Abu-Haidar, there were 10,949 “fighting women” (1999, p. 62) among the Algerian militants who were “active in all the fields of battle” (67); however, the vast majority of these women were engaged in support roles, such as nursing or procuring supplies. Anecdotal evidence suggests that some women fought in combat or planted bombs (AmraneMinne among them), but very few engaged in these violent operations. Government records indicate that the moudjahiidat, or female troops, comprised only about 11% of the FLN, or 205 women, in combined military and civilian services, and females designated as soldiers made up only 2% of the women in the ALN. The overwhelming majority of women in the resistance functioned as cooks, nurses, messengers, and even engineers (Amrane-Minne and Abu-Haidar 1999; Vince 2010). The lack of female participation in combat was due to the fact that FLN/ALN leaders neither understood nor accepted the notion of women in combat. FLN propaganda claimed that Algerian women could achieve equality only by fighting for an end to colonial rule, but the ALN was extremely reluctant to arm women, even in combat zones. Moreover, there were no women in leadership or decision-making positions in the FLN or ALN. As Amrane-Minne and Abu-Haidar (1999) state, the men could not accept women as equals. Historian and former FLN member, Mohammad Harbi, states that the FLN was never committed to women’s emancipation and that female participation in the liberation struggle was a fiction aimed at foreign audiences. He emphasizes that no women ever served in FLN governance (Vince 2010, p. 463). In 1958, the ALN reminded commanders that women were not allowed in their ranks. Orders in 1960 reiterated, “I remind you a final time that it is forbidden to recruit female soldiers and female nurses without the zone’s authorization.

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In independent Algeria, the Muslim woman’s freedom stops at the door to her home. Women will never be equal to men” (Vince 2010, p. 467). Despite the bans on women in combat, interviews with surviving female rebels and French Army files of rebel deaths and capture indicate that some women remained active in combat till the end of the conflict. Although male commanders and soldiers were not enthusiastic about female comrades in battle, they respected many women guerrillas owing to their fighting ability (Amrane-Minne and Abu-Haidar 1999). The FLN did, however, use women for propaganda and recruitment. Approximately 2000 girls, half of them under the age of twenty, joined the guerrilla units known as Maquis. The girls “fired the people’s imagination” and “attracted the attention of the media,” but served primarily as medics, cooks, messengers, and spies (Amrane-Minne and Abu-Haidar 1999, p. 63). Photos of Algerian nurses in military uniform were used as propaganda by both the resistance and the French colonial forces. The FLN used images of the attractive young nurses to shame Algerian men into joining the liberation movement, and the French demonized the women as smiling killers who violated their nurturing role as women and their caregiving obligations as nurses. Women faced sexual abuse and rape both from the French Army and ALN. In a culture that revered virginity and abhorred sexuality, French authorities routinely humiliated Algerian prisoners by stripping women and men in the same room. To determine how recently rebel husbands had been in contact with their wives, French soldiers examined the wives’ genitals, knowing that it was customary for Algerian women to shave prior to sex. Rape was widespread, but it was not a random act of sexual gratification. Instead, it became a systematic weapon of warfare (Amrane-Minne and Abu-Haidar 1999), Mortimer 2012). Louisette Ighilariz, a young militant, wrote of her capture, torture, and rape by French interrogators (2001). The Muslim auxiliaries in the French Army, known as goumiers or harkis, often of local origin, and the soldiers from colonial subSaharan Africa were particularly violent in their abuse of Algerian women (Vince 2010, p. 261). Even within the ALN, young female recruits were sometimes subjected to virginity tests, and women who were raped could be executed for adultery (Vince 2010). Many rebel women who had been raped, either by the enemy or their own comrades, spoke of losing their sense of femininity and feeling that they were no longer women because there was no place for sexuality in battle. The women who survived were often forced into silence by the provisional government of the FLN, their families, or their own shame (Ighilahriz 2001; Mortimer 2012; Beauge 2013). Women rebels write that after independence was won, they were pushed aside. Only 10 women were included in the first parliamentary session of 194 members, and there were only 2 women out of the 138 members that participated in the second session. As one explained, the women were worn out after 7 years of war. Once French colonial rule was defeated, the women did not have the strength to continue fighting the Algerian patriarchy, although many later regretted their inaction (Salhi 2003; Kristianasen 2006).

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Liberation Front of Mozambique (FRELIMO) Among the cruelties of colonization, Portugal’s colonial rule in Africa was particularly brutal. Exorbitant colonial taxes, crop quotas, and forced labor contributed to widespread levels of malnutrition and disease, and illiteracy rates ranged from 90% for men to almost 100% for women. Africans were completely excluded from any political participation. By the end of WWII, most European powers had liberated their colonies, but Portugal’s fascist political regime and backward economy left it dependent on its African colonies, resulting in a bloody liberation struggle that did not achieve independence until 1975. In 1962, the Liberation Front of Mozambique (FRELIMO) emerged as a union of three exiled political opposition groups that were trained in Algeria for 2 years before initiating a war of liberation in 1964. Under colonial rule, 6000 white settlers, out of a national population of 11 million, owned 70% of Mozambique’s fertile agricultural land. FRELIMO guerrillas carried out attacks on white settler farms, promising African farm workers that the land would be redistributed to locals after independence – a promise that was never kept. FRELIMO also used widespread insurgent terror against Africans, pressuring entire villages to revolt and coercing locals to inform on neighbors suspected of collaboration with colonial government forces (Henriksen 1976; Igreja 2010) Despite Mozambique’s diversity of ethnicities, most tribes were patrilineal and polygamous and elevated the status of males above females. In addition to daily obligations of maintaining the home, women were responsible for subsistence farming, carrying water, gathering firewood, cooking, and tending the sick, elderly, and children. Indeed, the word for wife and slave were the same. Wives were bought with a bride price, or lobolo, paid to her family in cattle or cash. Women were treated as commodities and even used as payments or rewards for males. In northern Mozambique’s Muslim community, marriage, property, and inheritance matters were governed by Islamic jurisprudence, which also favored the male (Kruks and Wisner 1984). When the FRELIMO insurgency began in 1964, a small number of women joined, but the male leadership denied them access to combat and command positions. Over the next 2 years, vocal protests from female members resulted in orders from the Central Committee, chastising male leaders and demanding that women be integrated into every level of the movement, but these orders were reversed by 1968. FRELIMO mobilized women, but for independence, not for women’s equality (Katto 2014). In 1966, FRELIMO’s League of Mozambican Women (LIFEMO) provided women the first opportunity to participate in the liberation struggle, but women were assigned to defend areas already under rebel control, rather than joining the men in the insurgency (West 2000). In 1967, FRELIMO established a Women’s Detachment to incorporate females into armed struggle. A unit of 25 young women began political and military training in neighboring Tanzania (Katto 2014); however, male leaders continued to exclude women from combat, and the unit was used for agricultural production, weapons transport, and mobilization of villagers

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(Isaacmen and Isaacmen 1984). Although many former rebels voluntarily joined the liberation movement, women’s participation stemmed less from female agency than forced recruitment. FRELIMO preferred to enlist young girls who adapted to the structured life of the military and accepted political indoctrination more easily. Younger women were also less likely to have children. In some cases, FRELIMO commanders recruited and armed girls as young as 10 years old, but the utilization of women and children in the insurgency challenged traditional Mozambican society just as it challenged colonial institutions (West 2000). Women were accepted into the rebel officer corps in 1968, and hundreds underwent guerrilla warfare training, but the Central Committee reiterated its policy against women in combat (West 2000). Some women’s participation was limited to picking up sticks and stones, defending themselves during a colonial massacre, and farming the fields surrounding the FRELIMO bases (Isaacmen and Isaacmen 1984). Nevertheless, they were still expected to provide all the domestic services, such as carrying water, cooking, cleaning, and child care (White 2007). Although anecdotal evidence exists about women participating in combat, these instances violated official policy, and there are no historical reports of women ever being promoted to positions of command and policymaking. While FRELIMO publicly praised the significance of women in the liberation movement, it continued to prohibit women from combat and leadership. Jacinta Bakar, Commander of the 3rd Unit of the Women’s Detachment, recalls that war opened up new opportunities and a different life for her until the leadership withdrew even limited support for female combatants midway through the war (West 2000). Another rebel, Teresa Casiano, said that her AK47 was her “baby” and that the men she fought alongside listened to and respected the women fighters’ input (West 2000). As the war progressed, however, Samora Machel and other FRELIMO leaders grew more reluctant to empower these women, even though they continued to use propaganda images of a female rebel carrying a rifle with a child strapped to her back. To further discourage women’s recruitment, women in the resistance were forbidden from becoming pregnant, and those who did were stripped of their weapons. Mothers were required to leave their children with family or a rebel child care unit. Officially, all fighters were banned from engaging in sexual relations; however, a core group of the Women’s Detachment consisted of prostitutes who gathered intelligence from Portuguese military personnel for the resistance (Urdang 1979). Within the rebel ranks, women were often intimidated into sexual relations with superiors and even raped by male comrades. The heroic narrative, though effective as propaganda, was not necessarily accurate (Katto 2014). The 1976 Family Law brought some improvements for women, including monogamous marriage instead of polygamy, jointly owned property, equal custody rights, and limited divorce rights; however, after the war, many men did not want female rebels as wives because they were perceived to be “the same as men,” denying these women the social status of marriage as well as the support network of family (Kruks and Wisner 1984). Women who fought for liberation often speak of the postindependence era with bitter resentment due to the unfulfilled

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promises made during the war, stating that FRELIMO abandoned them and that the patriarchy that oppressed women throughout the pre-colonial and colonial eras continues in the postcolonial era (West 2000).

Zimbabwe Army of National Liberation British-controlled Zimbabwe, then known as Rhodesia, was ruled by a 3% white minority throughout most of the twentieth century. White Rhodesians wanted independence but feared that Britain would grant the colony independent status only under the majority rule of black Africans. To pre-empt the loss of white power, Rhodesia declared independence in 1965 with the support of South Africa’s Apartheid regime. Britain refused to formally recognize the minority-ruled new state, but had no desire to engage in a war against British settlers in one of its former colonies. Since independence under the white minority held no promise of liberation for black Zimbabweans, African nationalists initiated a campaign of guerrilla warfare against the Rhodesian government (Howard-Hassman 2010). The liberation movement that followed was unique in the sense that it sought freedom not from imperial Britain, but from its own repressive minority-ruled state government. Independence not only failed to bring peace, but incited a violent and bloody conflict between white and black nationalists. The Zimbabwe African National Union (ZANU) and its military wing, the Zimbabwe African National Liberation Army (ZANLA), were quickly branded as terrorist organizations by the Rhodesian government. Both the Rhodesian government forces and opposing ZANLA insurgents employed terrorist tactics, threatening, torturing, and murdering Zimbabwean civilians, from 1966 until Zimbabwean independence in 1980 (Urdang 1979; Salhi 2003). In the first 3 decades of colonial rule in Zimbabwe, Britain prohibited traditional practices that were deemed incompatible with Westernization and modernization, including child marriage, forced marriage, bride prices, and coming-of-age rituals, such as scarification and female genital mutilation. These challenges to women’s roles within the patriarchy ignited rebellions among Zimbabwean men as early as 1896 (Thompson 1982; Schmidt 1990). Other British colonial policies, including forced labor, heavy taxes, crop quotas, and land seizures, only fueled the unrest. To appease male heads of household, the government enacted laws that increased men’s legal authority over their wives, creating an unlikely alliance between two groups that sought to control African women (Seidman 1984). The white Rhodesian government continued this practice, providing Zimbabwean women motivation to join the liberation movement not only to free the African majority but to liberate African women from both colonial and traditional oppression (Howard-Hassman 2010). Just as the white minority government used Zimbabwean men to control women, Zimbabwean women united with ZANLA guerrillas to liberate themselves from Zimbabwean men. Women called upon ZANLA militants to act as arbiters in domestic disputes, relying on guerrillas to beat, threaten, or kill abusive husbands.

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Throughout the insurrection, Zimbabwean women voiced their opposition not only to racial and economic oppression but to gender-based oppression, arguing that for Zimbabwe to be free, its women must be free (Ranchod-Nilsson 2006). Civilians were sometimes caught between government forces and rebel troops, forced to comply yet threatened with death by the opposing side; however, scholars’ interviews with female participants indicate that most women mobilized voluntarily, hoping to liberate themselves from a patriarchal society. Thousands of women served as messengers and spies, smuggling supplies and weapons swaddled like infants. Others functioned as cooks, nurses, and laundresses. Women even procured clothing to disguise male ZANLA fighters as female farm workers and evade apprehension by government forces (Thompson 1982; Urdang 1979). Although civilian women were frequently forced into prostitution by and for the rebels, sexual relations between male and female ZANLA combatants were forbidden, and marriage was strongly discouraged (Ranchod-Nilsson 2006). Despite these seemingly feminist policies, former ZANLA commanders claim that sexual abuse, as well as harassment and intimidation, was rampant. Rural girls, known as Chimbwidos, acted as spies and messengers, often living with the rebels, which put them at risk of sexual abuse. Parents who opposed the practice or hid their daughters were beaten as traitors (Dzimbanhete 2015). After a government attack killed over 1000 trained ZANLA guerrillas in 1976, young undisciplined recruits flooded the movement, and the abuses worsened (Chung 2006: Ranchod-Nilsson 2006). Abuses were significant enough to incite the Nhari rebellion in which a group, led by Thomas Nhari, kidnapped three commanders and took control of a rebel base. The rebellion was motivated, in part, by the common practice of superior officers sexually exploiting lower-ranking female rebels (Seidman 1984). Initially, ZANLA allowed only men to train as guerrillas, but women eventually became active at all levels of the insurgency. The inclusion of women in combat was not based on any ideological platform of equality or gender empowerment, but instead on practical concerns. Women fought as well as men and offered additional advantages because they were less conspicuous and could conduct sabotage more easily. Women also helped recruit men and were better able to shame reluctant men into joining the militia. By the end of the war, thousands of women were highly visible in combat and held positions of command over both male and female troops (Thompson 1982). Between 25% and 33% of the 30,000-member guerrilla army were women who trained and fought alongside their male comrades (Ranchod-Nilsson 2006). Many women became commanders, holding the highestranking positions among ZANU’s Central Committee and ZANLA’s General Staff, training both male and female cadres, and, in some circumstances, husbands had to follow the orders of wives. One of the most well-known female guerrillas was Josephine Nhongo-Simbanegavi, known as “Mrs. Spill-blood Nhongo,” who published a memoir of her life during the resistance (Nhongo-Simbanegavi 2000). The transformations within the ZANU and ZANLA infrastructure promised deliverance to Zimbabwean women, but the new government failed to deliver on those promises. The participation of armed women combatants alongside men

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promised new opportunities for women in an independent nation, but also represented a threat to the traditional patriarchy. Because of this conflict, the Zimbabwean liberation movement failed to embrace a clear feminist agenda (Ranchod-Nilsson 2006). Although its leader, Robert Mugabe, spoke of women’s participation in the insurgency as part of women’s liberation, ZANU never established any formal feminist agenda during the conflict, and women’s equality was never part of the proposed structural changes of national liberation. Immediately after the war, Mugabe’s government formed a Department for Women’s Affairs, but it was essentially a shell, having no ability to influence public policy and relying on other governmental agencies to promote its programs. By 2000, the department had been divided and absorbed into different departments as a check on women’s emerging power (Seidman 1984; McFadden 2005; Hunter-Gault 2007).

Boko Haram of Nigeria From 1901 to 1960, Britain ruled colonial Nigeria. Although 1960 brought a relatively peaceful transition to independence, the next 40 years were marred by cycles of corrupt civilian leadership felled by military coups. Since 1999, Nigeria has remained democratic, but human rights abuses by police, government corruption, and high levels of youth unemployment provide fertile ground for recruitment by militant organizations (Mauro 2015; Ogbogu 2015). Within this political context, Muhammed Yusuf founded Boko Haram, a fundamentalist sect of Sunni Islam whose name translates loosely to “Western education is forbidden” (BBC News 2016). Founded in 2002, Boko Haram’s primary goal was to create an Islamic state in Nigeria, ruled by strict Shari’a principles. Although the group opposed the concentration of wealth in Nigeria’s predominantly Christian South, it was relatively peaceful in its first few years. The organization’s ideology became increasingly radical, however, as it evolved into a violent Salafist jihadi faction opposed to the modernization and Westernization of Nigerian society (Mauro 2015; Subcommittee on Terrorism 2016). In June of 2009, police raided the group’s compound, confiscating weapons and bomb-making equipment. Within a week, revenge attacks and rioting had resulted in over 700 deaths and the destruction of schools, churches, government offices, and police stations. After Muhammed Yusuf was arrested and died in custody, Abubakr Shekau assumed leadership of the insurgent group and changed its name to Jama’atu Ahlis Sunna Lidda’Awati wal-Jihad, or People Committed to the Teachings for Propagation and Jihad. In March 2015, Boko Haram’s leadership split into two rival factions, with Abu Musab al-Barnawi rebranding his contingent as the Islamic State in West Africa (ISWA) and pledging the group’s allegiance to the Islamic State. The name, Boko Haram, remains in common use for both groups (Subcommittee on Terrorism 2016; Center for International Security and Cooperation 2019). Since the initial outbreak of violence in 2009, Boko Haram has waged a relentless campaign of attacks against civilians and authorities, including Muslim clerics

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who denounce Boko Haram’s deadly tactics. Boko Haram routinely strikes “soft targets” or nonmilitary sites that are more vulnerable. Their efforts are focused on public locations, including market places, mosques, churches, and schools (Subcommittee on Terrorism 2016). On Christmas of 2011, the group attacked 5 churches, killing 40 civilians. Schools are favored targets, especially girls’ schools and Christian schools. In April of 2014, Boko Haram raided a girls’ school in Chibok, kidnapping over 300 girls, the majority of whom were still being held as of 2019. According to Shekau, the slaughter of noncombatants is justified, including killing children and pregnant women. Westerners are also targets; although British, French, and Italian abductees have been killed, they are typically kidnapped for ransom. These assaults on civilian life and property are all part of Boko Haram’s strategy to undermine the legitimacy of the Nigerian government and demonstrate to its people the inability of the state to protect them (Comolli 2015; Davis 2017). The 2009 clash between Boko Haram and Nigerian police resulted in more than a schism of the insurgency. The deaths of Boko Haram militants left hundreds of impoverished widows who were recruited by Shekau and remarried to new and surviving members. With the Nigerian military advancing and a groundswell of support for vigilante militias against Boko Haram, Shekau started using male suicide bombers in 2011. Realizing that women offered more tactical advantages, he deployed the first known female suicide bomber for Boko Haram in January 2012. The woman attempted to detonate two explosive devices at a complex of federal buildings in Abuja, but was arrested before she could fulfill her mission. The first successful female suicide bombing by Boko Haram occurred on June 5, 2014, when a woman detonated a bomb in front of the Governor’s residence in Gombe, killing three soldiers. This was quickly followed by an attack on June 8, 2014, in which a middle-aged woman on a motorcycle approached a military barracks in Gombe, her bomb concealed beneath her hijab, and killed one soldier. Since then, Boko Haram has launched more female suicide bombing attacks than any other militant group in history. At least 244 of approximately 434 Boko Haram suicide bombings in Nigeria were conducted by women (The Guardian 2012; Center for International Security and Cooperation 2019). This alarming new dimension of Boko Haram’s terrorist campaign exploits girls as young as age nine as well as middle-aged women. Some women strap their bombs to their backs, like babies. Others hide them under their clothing, like a pregnancy. These ploys are effective because women attract less suspicion and are less likely to be searched due to cultural and religious practices. Women are also more likely to wear clothing that can disguise weapons, such as flowing hijabs, niqabs, or burqas (Comolli 2015). Female suicide bombers are an efficient use of resources as well, because they use small improvised explosive devices (IEDs) that are cheap to build and can be transported directly to the target. The explosives necessary to construct one truck bomb can be used to fabricate dozens of personal suicide bomber devices. Individual suicide bombers can be launched in multiple simultaneous attacks to shock and paralyze government forces or can be used in a prolonged series of events to wear down the opponent’s resolve, as in a war

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of attrition. Female terrorists also carry a high propaganda value, making the government appear even weaker because it cannot defend against what many consider “the weaker sex.” Moreover, the relative rarity of women suicide bombers garners more media attention for their sponsor. Perhaps the most tragic aspect of this use of women is that it is often involuntary. Girls and women are forced to serve as unwilling and expendable human bombs for the insurgency (Davis 2017).

Conclusion Gathering data on clandestine movements poses challenges to the study of any terrorist movement. The examination of terrorism in Africa presents additional obstacles in that much of the information from the colonial era is presented through a Western lens. Societal norms and expectations regarding gender also color such research. For example, female insurgents were discouraged from discussing their experiences, either as perpetrators or as victims, and those who did often waited decades to do so (Ighilahriz 2001; Ranchod-Nilsson 2006). Both the shame of fighting as a combatant, “like a man,” (Oriola 2016) and the dishonor of being raped and tortured (Ighilahriz 2001) caused untold numbers of female insurgents to deny their roles and withhold their truth. The global context is another factor that affects the study of terrorism. The terrorist movements of Kenya’s Mau Mau, Algeria’s National Front, Mozambique’s FRELIMO, and Zimbabwe’s ZANL were all wars of liberation waged in opposition to the brutality of colonial rule. In contrast, Nigeria’s Boko Haram claims to be motivated by religious fundamentalism, yet its terrorist activities victimize its own people rather than liberating them. Some argue that the surge of regional conflicts and terrorist movements is a result of the end of the Cold War, that the absence of the Soviet Union provided opportunities for small insurgencies like Boko Haram, and that the absence of a communist threat made the United States reluctant to address them (Miller and Kagan 1997). Thus, despite the shared tactic of violence, the independence movements of the Cold War are starkly different from the pseudoreligious terrorist Boko Haram. Women’s involvement in terrorism in Africa also varies dramatically. Women demonstrated far more agency in terrorist movements that offered liberty from both colonial rule and the traditionally restrictive gender roles within their own societies. The insurgencies in Kenya and Zimbabwe offered women the opportunity to move beyond traditional gender roles of cooking, nursing, and carrying messages. Kenya’s Mau Mau and Zimbabwe’s ZANL accepted women into their ranks as combatants, leaders, and strategic decision-makers. These opportunities, in turn, encouraged more female participation and improved the chance of success for the entire movement. As indicated earlier in this chapter, Kenya’s female militants conducted labor protests and formed alliances with other independence groups prior to the insurgency. They were eager to join the Mau Mau rebellion and take the Oath of unity because the insurgency embodied an opportunity to defeat not only colonial

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oppression but gender oppression within their own society. Kenyan women actively sought to participate in combat and decision-making roles, and the movement recognized the value of accepting them. Zimbabwe’s women were also motivated by the opportunity to improve their economic and political status. But because women were the primary farm workers, they suffered disproportionately from oppressive colonial agricultural policies. Zimbabwe’s nationalist movement did not actively recruit females, but the nation’s women mobilized themselves and demanded to participate in leadership and strategic decision-making roles as well as traditional support roles. In contrast, the women of Algeria and Mozambique were significantly less active in their nations’ liberation movements because they had to struggle much harder against male resistance. Indeed, even within the nationalist independence movements, women found themselves “fighting two colonialisms” (Urdang 1979). The ALN prohibited women from leadership and decision-making roles, using female members primarily as propaganda. In fact, the male leadership refused to accept women’s equality or individual liberty and was never committed to any feminist agenda. Thus, Algerian women had substantially less motivation to mobilize for independence as they realized that liberation from France meant liberation only for Algerian men, not its women. The Algerian patriarchy continued to oppress female citizens, with or without colonial rule. Similarly, Mozambique’s male-dominated liberation movement rejected women’s equality. Although women and girls were recruited and trained for combat, most were relegated to tasks consistent with traditional gender roles, despite their protests. Women were completely excluded from leadership and decision-making roles, and the few women who were accepted into combat roles were carefully controlled to prevent them from questioning the male hierarchy. Women were permitted to challenge the limitations of colonialism, but not the restrictions of their own society. As such, the women of Mozambique had little incentive to actively participate in the liberation struggle. Because the independence movements of Kenya and Zimbabwe offered an opportunity for equality and empowerment, female rebels made contributions from support levels to combat and leadership; however, Algeria and Mozambique offered little improvement in women’s economic or political status, leaving women far less motivated to participate. The more recent phenomenon of Boko Haram’s terrorist organization is a more extreme version of such restrictions. Unlike the liberation movements previously discussed, Boko Haram does not seek to overthrow colonial oppression or champion civil liberties. Instead, Boko Haram seeks to restrict freedoms, particularly those of women, in pursuit of an allegedly religious mission. This male-dominated strategy offers nothing to women and has resulted in female participation only through force and kidnapping. Although Boko Haram is certainly the most extreme case of women failing to join terrorist movements that offer them no promise of empowerment, the women in each of these cases have failed to gain equality. In spite of their sacrifices, terrorism has not enabled women to overcome the societal oppression of nationalist patriarchies, even after overcoming colonial oppression. The oppression of women continues to be a crisis that extends beyond national borders.

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McFadden, P. (2005). Becoming postcolonial: African women changing the meaning of citizenship. Meridians: Feminism, Race, Transnationalism, 6(1), 1–22. Miller, B., & Kagan, K. (1997). The great powers and regional conflicts: Eastern Europe and the Balkans from the post-Napoleonic era to the post-cold war era. International Studies Quarterly, 41(1), 51–85. Mortimer, M. (2012). Tortured bodies, resilient souls: Algeria’s women combatants depicted by Danièle Djamila Amrane-Minne, Louisette Ighilahriz, and Assia Djebar. Research in African Literatures, 43(1), 101–117. Nhongo-Simbanegavi, J. (2000). For better or worse? Women and ZANLA in Zimbabwe’s liberation struggle. Harare: Weaver Press. Ogbogu, J. (2015). Analyzing the threat of Boko Haram and the ISIS alliance in Nigeria. Counter Terrorist Trends and Analyses, 7(8), 16–21. Omona Abuja, S., & Ogbodo-Iwuagwu, P. (June 15, 2014). Female suicide bombers, our new challenge – military, Daily Independent (Lagos). Online. Last accessed 25 Jan 2019. https:// allafrica.com/stories/201406160089.html Oriola, T. (2016). ‘I acted like a man’: Exploring female ex-insurgents’ narratives on Nigeria’s oil insurgency. Review of African Political Economy, 43(149), 451–469. Presley, C. A. (2013). Kikuyu women, the Mau Mau rebellion, and social change in Kenya. Baltimore: Black Classic Press. Ranchod-Nilsson, S. (2006). Gender politics and the pendulum of political and social transformation in Zimbabwe. Journal of Southern African Studies, 32(1), 49–67. Salhi, Z. S. (2003). Algerian women, citizenship, and the ‘family code’. Gender and Development, 11(3), 27–35. Santilli, K. (1977). Kikuyu women in the Mau Mau revolt: A closer look. Ufahamu: A Journal of African Studies, 8(1), 143–159. Santoru, M. E. (1996). The colonial idea of women and direct intervention: The Mau Mau case. African Affairs, 95, 253–267. Schmidt, E. (1990). Negotiated spaces and contested terrain: Men, women, and the law in colonial Zimbabwe, 1890–1939. Journal of Southern African Studies, 16(4), 622–648. Seidman, G. W. (1984). Women in Zimbabwe: Postindependence struggles. Feminist Studies, 10(3), 419–440. Stella Productions. (1966). Director Gillo Pontecorvo, The Battle of Algiers. Mount Kisco: Axon Video, distributed by Guidance Associates. Stewart, S. (October 23, 2015). An unprecedented use of female suicide bombers, Stratfor Analysis, Stratfor Global Intelligence. Online. Last accessed 25 Jan 2019. https://worldview.stratfor.com/ article/unprecedented-use-female-suicide-bombers Subcommittee on Terrorism, Nonproliferation, and Trade of the Committee on Foreign Affairs House of Representatives 114th Congress (2016). Boko Haram: The Islamist insurgency in West Africa. Washington, DC: U.S. Government Publishing Office, Serial No. 114–140. Thompson, C. B. (1982). Women in the national liberation struggle in Zimbabwe. Women’s Studies International Forum, 5(3–4), 247–252. United Nations. (2015). Kenya. UN Women and Africa. http://africa.unwomen.org/en/where-weare/eastern-and-southern-africa/keny. Online. Last accessed 29 Jan 2019. Urdang, S. (1979). Women in national liberation movements. In M. J. Hay & S. Strichter (Eds.), African women south of the Sahara (pp. 213–224). New York: Longman Scientific & Technical. Vince, N. (2010). Transgressing boundaries: Gender, race, religion, and “Françaises Musulmanes” during the Algerian war of independence. French Historical Studies, 33(2), 445–474. West, H. G. (2000). Girls with guns: narrating the experience of war of Frelimo’s “Female Detachment,”. Anthropological Quarterly, 73(4), 180–194. White, A. (2007). All the men are fighting for freedom, all the women are mourning their men, but some of us carried guns. Signs, 32(4), 857–884.

Women, Terrorism, and Media: Framing of Chibok and Dapchi Schoolgirls’ Abduction Stories in Television

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Helen Odunola Adekoya and Mary Leka Beredam

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Context: Terrorism Against Women . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Media and Terrorism in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Media Agenda Setting Theory and Public Opinion on Terrorism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Research Method . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Test of Hypotheses . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Decision Rule . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Media Framing of the Chibok and Dapchi Schoolgirls’ Abduction Stories . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

622 623 624 625 627 628 628 628 634 635

Abstract

In media analysis, all security issues do not generally get equal media framing and attention, and research has shown that women and girls get far less media attention. Even when they do, they are usually framed negatively using stereotypical gender frames that contribute to the social marginalization of women. This tendency underscores media power at influencing audience perception. Adopting the agenda and media framing theories, this chapter examines the framing of Chibok and Dapchi schoolgirls’ abductions by Channels Television and Al Jazeera English: a local and an international news station, respectively. Purposively limited to the 4 months following the abduction incidences, content analysis was adopted and rescue effort, security, attribution of responsibility, and religious frames are identified. The chapter reveals similarities in framing but differences in the coverage of the incidents by the television stations. Channels Television had more coverage and analysis, while Al Jazeera English had low and zero coverage, respectively. Through the salient attributes of discourses H. O. Adekoya (*) · M. L. Beredam Department of Mass Communication, Babcock University, Ilishan-Remo, Ogun State, Nigeria e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_180

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on the presentations, the stations were inclined toward discussing government activities and attributing blame rather than initiating solution-based discussions. The study recommended more media attention on solutions to terrorism as a way to contribute to the protection of women and girls from terrorism and its attendant consequences. Keywords

News media · Agenda setting · Framing · Terrorism · Public discourse · Security · Audience perception · Media analysis · Media influence · Public opinion

Introduction The negative impact of terrorism has been felt by individuals, families, and nations across the globe. A large number of human and material resources over the years have been lost as a result of varying degrees of acts of terrorism. Terrorists destroy properties and endanger human lives without recourse to the devastating and destructive impacts of their actions on the society. This was aptly captured by Ojebuyi (2017) when he stated that “apart from natural disasters, one major global phenomenon that has remained the most daunting social menace in contemporary world, threatening world peace and human existence is, probably terrorism” (p. 10). This is also in line with the recent observation by Tulga (2020) who sees terrorism as “one of the biggest problems of the world” (p. 48). Terrorism is therefore seen as a global threat that affects individuals in the society physically, emotionally, psychologically, and even spiritually. Fighting against terrorism has been a daunting challenge that successive world governing bodies have had to contend with over the passing decades. Several measures have been applied including those that sometimes affect innocent people negatively, yet the level of success recorded is at its best relative. Following these challenges posed by terrorism, a plethora of researches on terrorism have probed into its impact on different sectors of the world such as the economy, (Yildirim and Ocal 2010; Cinar 2017; Estrada et al. 2018; Muhammad et al. 2019; Pratiwi et al. 2019) while some other empirical studies have tried to understand the other areas of life and society affected by terrorism such as international peace and security (Mapolisa 2013; Bassey 2017). Further studies have also delved into establishing a connection between media and terrorism, trying to scrutinize the role the mass media, print and electronic, play in the escalation or decrease of terrorist attacks (Bassiouni 1981; Peresin 2007; Salem 2017; Tulga 2020; White 2020). These studies have mostly approached the study on terrorism collectively. However, considering the spate of terrorist attacks in Nigeria, ranging from the Chibok schoolgirls’ abduction in April 2014 to the recent Kagara school boys abduction in February 2021, it is pertinent to conduct a study investigating the pattern of reports made on some specific abductions carried out by the Boko Haram terrorist group. According to the Global Terrorism Index (2018), Boko

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Haram are regarded as a deadly terrorist sect that has carried out several devastating attacks in Nigeria, most of which were successful. Despite studies that have analyzed terrorism in Nigeria, particularly attacks exerted by the Boko Haram terrorist sect, surprisingly, none have adopted a comparative approach of incidents and reports particularly since these abductions are carried out in similar patterns. The approach of presentation adopted by news media is instrumental to not only keeping these incidences afloat in public discourses, help in strategizing solution-based discussions but also influence the perception of audience members, both locally and internationally about Nigeria. This study, therefore, in a bid to bridge the gap in extant literature on terrorism, synthesizes literature on terrorism, exploring the media’s role in escalation or decrease of terrorism through the frames adopted in the presentation of news events on specific terrorist attacks in Nigeria. This is achieved through the examination of the news frames adopted by Channels Television and Al Jazeera English in presenting the Chibok and Dapchi schoolgirls’ abduction incidents. The Chibok schoolgirls’ abduction occurred on April 14, 2014, whereas the Dapchi schoolgirls’ abduction took place nearly 4 years later on February 19, 2018. Despite not being the first nor the last attacks by Boko Haram terrorist sect in Nigeria, these two incidents attracted global attention especially the Chibok abduction, with a lot of news media reports locally and internationally. However, till the time of this study, both incidents have not been fully resolved as one of the girls from the Dapchi abduction is still held captive while some girls from the Chibok abduction are still unaccounted for and the terrorist sect is still in operation. Therefore, the unending challenges and concerns posed by the operations of the Boko Haram sect help provide justification for this study. This chapter is divided into sections that address the themes of terrorism against women, the media and terrorism in Africa, media agenda setting theory and public opinion on terrorism, and details the methodological approach employed in the extraction and analysis of secondary data. Finally, the chapter analyzes the media framing of Chibok and Dapchi Schoolgirls’ abduction stories in television, and draws relevant conclusions from there.

Context: Terrorism Against Women Terrorism against women could be classified under what Laquer (1999) referred to as old terrorism and a form of violence toward women which is a human rights violation that affects women all over the world. To this end, research bordering on sexual violence, terrorism, and war have illustrated a nexus between terrorism and sexual violence, identifying rape as the most common type of violence used against women during violent conflicts (Card 1996; Meger 2011; Benshoof 2014; Kitharidis 2015; Attah 2016; Peltola 2018). It is utilized often as a strategy to “humiliate” or “silence opponents.” “In this context, women’s bodies are used by terrorists as battlegrounds, serving the dual purpose of spoils of war and a means of terrorizing the populace” (Attah 2016, p. 385).

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This adoption of sexual violence, sexual exploitation, and abuse as a tactic of war is associated with most terrorist organizations all over the world, including the Boko Haram terrorist group in Nigeria, which is manifested through the numerous physical and psychological abuses perpetrated against the score of women and girls abducted from northeastern Nigeria while in captivity, most of which are unaccounted for (Lord-Mallam and Sunday 2018). Even more so, forced marriages have become one major and prevalent strategy used by the Boko Haram against female victims. Considering this, it stands to reason that some of the released Chibok schoolgirls came back either pregnant or with children. Meanwhile, apart from going through and living with the harrowing experience of rape, there is what seems to be “the second wave of terror” experienced by these victims. That is, the often-stigmatizing reactions of their families or communities, particularly the men, to the victims’ status as survivors of sexual crime, the long-term risk of a number of unintended pregnancies including adverse outcomes, sexually transmitted diseases (STDs) and infections (Eileraas 2011; Human Rights Watch 2014; Ido 2014; LordMallam and Sunday 2018). Buba (2015) also added that even the children born from mothers who were victims of rape during terrorism are stigmatized in the Internally Displaced Persons Camp in the northeastern part of Nigeria. A further extension of terror on the female gender even after terrorist attacks is exemplified in the sexual abuse, including rape and exploitation of 43 women and girls living in seven internally displaced persons (IDP) camps (where they are supposed to be recovering from the woes of terrorism) in Maiduguri, the capital of Borno State in Nigeria as documented by the Human Rights Watch (2016).

The Media and Terrorism in Africa The important role of the media in the circulation of information about different events both within and outside given geographical regions cannot be overemphasized. Media houses share images and news bulletins of events to large heterogeneous audiences across the globe providing them with details and background information about occurrences. When Matusitz (2013) asserted that “terrorism is considered worse than war, torture, or murder” (p. 2), the implication was that the coverage of terrorism and terrorist organizations differs as a result of media affiliation which further influences presentation (Gimbal 2018), prompted by the fact that media organizations have policies in place guiding their coverage of terrorism and how an act of terror is defined. For instance, Reuters upholds the principle that they will not use the word “terrorist” in their reports (Moeller 2009). Although terrorism is a global concern, Africa, in recent decades has attained a reputation for violent terrorism with infamous terrorist groups such as Al Qaeda, Boko Haram, and Alshabab making headlines in both local and international news media. More recently, Nigeria has made frontline news in foreign media when it comes to reporting terrorism as a result of violent attacks orchestrated by Boko Haram insurgents and other restive groups in different regions of the country

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involved in militancy and separatism, all of which were classified as varied forms of terrorism. Since 1999, terrorism, militancy has been on the rise to the point of hampering both economic and infrastructural development in Nigeria with Ezeogidi (2019) noting that terrorism, militancy, and separatism have put a log on Nigeria’s wheel of progress. International news stations have been criticized for promoting Afro-pessimism and preference for negative frames in their representation of Africa as well as their reliance on parachute reporting, a situation whereby correspondents are only dispatched to the scene of the conflict from their offices or beats abroad (Musa and Yusha’u 2013). This leaves foreign reporters and correspondents with little or no knowledge of the context and environment of which they are reporting and this could result in stereotypes. Furthermore, most citizens in the international community do not know much about current status of events in Nigeria except through news reports. Since the members of the public always look up to news media to get updates on recent activities across local and international terrains, the media therefore is at an advantage to set the tone of discussion with the goal of influencing public opinion. In other words, the frames local and international television news stations adopt in telling the stories of the Chibok and Dapchi girls’ abduction incidents have global implications regarding how both local and international communities perceive the country’s socioeconomic stability as well as peace and security. Such implications that may arise from media framing of Chibok and Dapchi girls’ abduction incidents may include: heightening anxiety in the minds of more people, inspiring terrorists to commit more acts of terror, impeding economic growth and development, building negative image for the country’s government, and preventing foreign relations and investments among others. This is so because what reporting media stations consider important about these incidents and consequently what they want the society to focus on are revealed in the framing patterns adopted for news stories on the issues.

Media Agenda Setting Theory and Public Opinion on Terrorism The study is anchored on the agenda setting theory. It is a media effect theory that ascribes conditional power to the media through their choice of contents. The major tenet of the agenda setting theory is that the media attributes importance and consequently what the society considers important through the extent of their coverage (Baran and Davis 2012). The media according to this theory mobilize public discourse, from which public opinions are molded. By implication therefore, what is considered prominent by the media becomes what the public also regard as important. By this, the theory suggests a correlation between media agenda and public opinion. Informed by the ideas of Marshall McLuhan (1964), some scholars have argued that television, with its mixture of audio and visual tracks, its apparent real-life tempo, its nonlinear juxtaposition of video images taken at different times and locales, and so on, interacts with human senses in a unique way and thus is capable

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of producing its own forms of thinking and communicating (Meyrowitz 1985) in (Abdullah 2014). It is through the informative role as well as discursive forum of television news that the public is constantly made aware and kept conscious of terrorist sects and activities. Ezeah and Emmanuel (2016) conform to this notion and believe that “the modern news media, as the principal conduit of information about such acts, thus play a vital part in terrorists’ calculus. . ..” He further explained that “without the media’s coverage the act’s impact is arguably wasted, remaining narrowly confined to immediate victim(s) of the attack rather than reaching the wider “target audience” at whom the terrorists’ violence is actually aimed” (Spencer 2012, p. 8). In other words, if these incidents are not reported, there is to a large extent little or no chance of the society knowing about them. Onyeukwu (2012) also affirmed that knowledge and attentiveness to terrorist attacks in the society is as a result of the media’s informative role, and that the type of effects it has on audience is dependent on the frames employed. Musa and Yusha’u (2013) while extolling the mass media as the body that frames realities for the people in the economic, religious, cultural, political, and social aspects of life explained this in the sense that they (media) mingle all these daily life factual experiences and subtly draw the attention of the audience toward them. According to McQuail (2010), framing is a way of giving overall interpretation to isolated items of fact. It is almost unavoidable for journalists to engage in framing and in so doing depart from pure “objectivity” and to introduce some bias albeit unintended. This also implies that since objectivity is a key element in news presentation; that the opinion of journalists are not demonstrated in news reports; frames become a conduit through which they present to their audience what they think is acceptable and how the society in turn should accept it. The kinds of frames constructed and presented in the reports by television news stations of terrorist activities such as the abduction of Chibok and Dapchi schoolgirls are a representation of that television station’s ideology, perception, understanding of the event, the environment, and context within which the event has occurred. To this end, Orlu-Orlu (2017) averred that “the media not only choose who and what to include inside a frame but who and what to leave out,” based on their perceptions and ideologies. This therefore probes the question, who and what did Channels Television and Al Jazeera English, which are the local and international television stations selected for this study, include in their reports of the abduction incident, and who and what did they leave out while framing these incidents? History has shown that the reports on television news stations especially on issues of terrorist attacks, ethnic and religious conflicts can incite people toward violence owing to its speed in coverage and audio visual characteristics. It is on record that Adolf Hitler used the news media to create hatred for Jews during the Second World War (Jimoh and Danladi 2012). Moreover, Bullock in Okoro and Odoemelam (2013) is of the opinion that framing affects how a story is told and its effects on public perception. In light of these assertions, it becomes expedient to analyze the stance of television news stations such as Channels Television and

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Al Jazeera English on both Chibok and Dapchi schoolgirls’ abductions keeping in mind the surveillance, mediatory as well as watchdog role of the media and the fact that both are trusted local and international news sources for Nigerians. The following hypothesis was formulated for this study and was tested at 0.05 level of significance: There is no significant difference in the direction of framing adopted by Channels Television and Al Jazeera English television news stations in presenting the Chibok and Dapchi schoolgirls’ abductions.

Research Method The Content Analysis research method was used in this study and data collected were analyzed quantitatively. Kelinger (2000) cited in Wimmer and Dominick (2011, p. 156) gave a modified definition of content analysis to mean “studying and analyzing communication in a systematic, objective and quantitative manner for the purpose of measuring variables.” It is through the content analysis that the frames adopted for this study were coded. A major reason for this choice is in the five uses of content analysis as listed and explained by Wimmer and Dominick (2011), two of which are applicable to this study. First, with content analysis, the communication content of the various television stations regarding the incidents could be described and second, the image of the perpetrators of the attacks could also be assessed from the point of view (framing) of the media. For the study population, focus was on the news content of the two selected television stations on the abductions thereby eliminating other broadcast platforms such as radio and print mediums (newspaper and magazines), contents from other television stations as well as other contents from the selected television stations not related to the abductions. Television was chosen for this study because of its audio visual nature as the incidents under study dealt with voice notes and video clips. A total of 288 weekday and weekend editions of news reports on Chibok and Dapchi girls’ abduction incidents published on the YouTube webpages of Channels Television and Al Jazeera English television stations between April 15 to May 15 2014, October 13 and November 13, 2016, and February 19 and March 21, 2018, respectively, constitute the population of the study. Using the purposive sampling procedure, video contents of news reports, news analysis/commentaries, discussion programs, interviews, and documentaries published on YouTube by Channels Television and Al Jazeera English television stations on Chibok and Dapchi schoolgirls’ abductions within the selected time frame were reviewed, using a coding manual consisting of content categories and variables that are in congruence with the study objective. The content categories and variables include format of coverage, salient attributes, source actors, framing of story, direction of framing, and depth of coverage. Descriptive statistical tools of cross-tabulations and frequency distribution tables were used in data analyses and presentation.

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Test of Hypotheses Decision Rule The preset level of significance for this study is 0.05. The hypotheses presumed that there was no significant difference between the variables under consideration. If the P-value which indicates the significance or the probability value exceeded the preset level of significance (P > 0.05), the hypothesis, stated in null form, was accepted; however, if the P-value was less than or equal to 0.05 (P
0.05), the null hypothesis was rejected (Table 1). Table 2 indicates that there was no significant difference in the direction of framing adopted by Channels Television and Al Jazeera English television news stations in presenting the Chibok and Dapchi schoolgirls’ abductions (t(170) ¼ 1.767, P > 0.05). This suggests that the Chibok and Dapchi schoolgirls’ abduction stories were reported using similar direction of frames by Channels Television and Al Jazeera English. Hence, the null hypothesis that there is no significant difference in the direction of framing adopted by Channels Television and Al Jazeera English news stations in presenting the Chibok and Dapchi schoolgirls’ abductions was accepted.

Media Framing of the Chibok and Dapchi Schoolgirls’ Abduction Stories This study focused on examining the framing of the abduction stories of the Chibok and Dapchi schoolgirls published on the YouTube webpages of Channels Television and Al-Jazeera English news stations between April 15 and May 15, 2014, October 13 and November 2016, and February 19 and April 21, 2018, for the different incidents. About 172 video contents on the abductions were identified, downloaded, and analyzed from the entire 248 weekday and weekend news editions of Channels Television and Al Jazeera English news stations. Channels Television had the highest contents on both the Chibok and Dapchi abductions as it reported majority of the stories altogether (n ¼ 146, 84.9%), while Al Jazeera English had n ¼ 26 which is 15.1% coverage of the Chibok abduction and zero percent for the Dapchi abduction being that the incident was not covered by the station within the selected time frame of this study. With the volume as a criterion, it could be inferred that first Channels Table 1 Statistics for significant difference in the direction of framing adopted by Channels Television and Al Jazeera English television stations in reporting the Chibok and Dapchi schoolgirls’ abduction Variables Direction of framing

Television Stations Channels Television Al Jazeera English

N 146

Mean 2.79

Std. Deviation 0.888

Std. Error Mean 0.074

26

3.12

0.766

0.150

Direction of framing

Equal variances assumed Equal variances not assumed

F 2.763

Sig. 0.098

Levene’s Test for Equality of Variances

Df 170 38.047

T 1.767 1.960 0.057

Sig. (2-tailed) 0.079

t-Test for Equality of Means

0.328

Mean Difference 0.328

0.167

Std. Error Difference 0.185

0.666

0.011

95% Confidence Interval of the Difference Lower Upper 0.694 0.038

Table 2 Independent sample T-Test showing significant difference in the direction of framing adopted by Channels Television and Al Jazeera English television stations in reporting the Chibok and Dapchi schoolgirls’ abduction

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Television gave more attention to the incidents than Al Jazeera English and second more attention was also given by both television stations to the Chibok girls’ abduction (n ¼ 93, 54.1%) than the Dapchi abduction (n ¼ 79, 45.9%). Further findings on volume of coverage revealed that for both television stations, there were more coverage in two of the months studied than the others. Implying that within the 4-month study period for both incidents, the frequency of reports between the selected television stations surged between April 15 and May 15, 2014; the first month after the abduction of the Chibok girls and February 19 to March 20, 2018, the first month after the abduction of the Dapchi schoolgirls. This is indicative of the fact that there were more reports by both stations the first month after the abductions than after the release of the girls. Deriving from the main aim of this study, specific objectives were set. The first objective was to find out the formats of coverage employed by Channels Television and Al Jazeera English news stations in presenting the Chibok and Dapchi schoolgirls’ abductions. Findings on this showed that the selected television stations both presented issues regarding the Chibok abductions majorly through news reports (Channels Television ¼ 67.2%; Al Jazeera ¼ 73.1%). Likewise, presentations done on the Dapchi abduction by Channels Television has 60.8% of the adopted format of coverage to be news reports. However, there are two other formats of coverage used which recorded significant numbers for Channels Television station on both abductions which are: the discussion program where Chibok stories recorded 19.4% and 19% for Dapchi stories and the interview program which had 16.5% on Dapchi but did not reflect in the case of Chibok as the percentage was too low. Although there is a wide gap between these formats and the news reports, they still had above 10% of the total coverage, which is worthy of note. However, for Al Jazeera English, news reports was the only major format of coverage employed as other formats recorded below 10% and as such is not considered significant. Therefore from the results of the study, it can be deduced that news reports were the most dominant format of coverage employed by both selected television stations in covering the abductions which did not allow for in-depth analysis of stories. In line with this, Gever (2015) concluded in his study comparative analysis of public and private broadcast media surveillance of the Boko Haram insurgency in Nigeria that public broadcast stations were more investigative in their presentations than private stations as can be seen in the case of Channels Television which is also a private owned television news stations. The second objective was to determine the depth of coverage given to the Chibok and Dapchi schoolgirls’ abductions in the presentations by Channels Television and Al Jazeera English news stations. Through the results of this study it was discovered that the depth of coverage given mostly by Channels Television and Al Jazeera English news stations in the coverage of Chibok abduction stories was below 5 min of television airtime with Channels recording 64.2%; Al Jazeera English ¼ 84.6%. Meanwhile for the Dapchi abduction, presentations done by Channels Television on the incident also had a depth of coverage mostly below 5 min (59.7%), followed by a depth of coverage by Al Jazeera English between 5 to 10 min (22.1%). This implies that Channels Television and Al Jazeera news stations had limited depth of coverage

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of Chibok abduction stories, and this was the same with the depth of coverage of Dapchi abduction stories by Channels Television. This could be attributed to the fact that the most dominant format of coverage adopted for presentations on the abductions by both television stations as stated in the findings of the first objective was news reports which did not allow for in-depth analysis of the stories beyond presenting facts on the status of the abductions and government responses and reactions on how to rescue the girls as opposed to examining and discussing causes as well as what should be done to remedy the situation and prevent the recurrence of the incidents. The third objective of the study was geared toward finding out the sourcing patterns of the presentations done on the Chibok and Dapchi schoolgirls’ abductions by Channels Television and Al Jazeera English news stations. Results revealed that each of the selected television stations employed multifaceted sourcing patterns for the presentations on the different incidents. This implies that while it is common that the different stories for each of the incidents will have different sources, there were cases where one story also had more than one source and the other sources were used as a form of back up. Data analyses on the sourcing patterns for the study were presented in the form of first, second, and third dominant sourcing pattern for stories with more than one dominant source. Government officials as a news source in the presentation of the Chibok schoolgirls’ abduction stories by Channels Television ranked the highest with 44.8% followed by Activists/Bring Back Our Girls (BBOG) group having 16.4%. This also applies to Dapchi schoolgirls’ abduction stories on Channels Television where government officials as a news source ranked highest with a percentage of 36.7% followed by Activists/BBOG forming 12.7% of the news source. Then in ranking the second dominant sources, that is sources that were used to back up or validate the first, we have for Chibok presentations, Activists/BBOG having the highest percentage with 17.2%, followed by foreign government officials having 13.8% as well as families/citizens with the same percentage. However, for Dapchi schoolgirls’ abduction story the second dominant sources are security agencies as well as families/citizens taking the lead with 16.1% each followed by retired military officials taking up 12.9%. In the case of Al Jazeera English, for the first dominant sourcing patterns, government officials ranked first with 38.5%, then families/citizens coming next with 15.4%, and finally international agencies and communities with 11.5%. While in the second dominant sources, Activists/BBOG and families/citizens come first with 20% each, perpetrators/insurgents follow with 15%. As shown in the ranking of the sources, there are cases where sources that were the first dominant in a presentation become the second, third dominant or back up source in another presentation. The implication is that although BBOG might be the first dominant source in a particular presentation, it could still turn out to be the second or third dominant source in another. This suggests that although the sourcing patterns were multifaceted, by the number of recurrence, government officials were the most dominant source of information about Chibok and Dapchi abduction stories reported, respectively, by Channels Television and Al Jazeera English as they appeared as either the first or second dominant source in cases of multiple sourcing. Other prominent

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sources include families/citizens, security agencies, and the government. This is similar to findings by Olomojobi and Ajilore (2018) which revealed that there was heavy reliance on government sources by the newspapers studied in their research on herder/farmer conflict in Nigeria. The fourth objective was to identify the salient attributes of discourses on Channels Television and Al Jazeera English news stations on the Chibok and Dapchi schoolgirls’ abductions. The dominant salient attributes of discourses of Chibok schoolgirls’ abduction story on Channels Television in terms of recurrence and the different stages of rankings were government (38.8%), incident/causes (31.3%); while the dominant salient attributes of discourses of Chibok schoolgirls’ abduction story on Al Jazeera English were government (42.3%), incident/causes (23.1%). Channels Television focused on the Dapchi abduction stories with the following salient attributes of discourses: incident/causes (43%), government (25.3%). That is to say that the focus on presentations on Channels Television shifted during the Dapchi incident in that the focal point of discourse was no longer the government and responses to the incident as in the case of Chibok but rather to the circumstances surrounding the incident and the cause. This shift can be attributed to the fact that the Dapchi abduction was the second occurrence of such incident. As such, Channels Television chose to focus discussions on the reason why there was a repetition of the incident and question circumstances that aided the success of the abduction without hindrance. This eventually led to Channels Television adopting a critical frame stance on the issue as opposed to the support frame adopted in the Chibok abduction as will be discovered in the discussion of findings related to the sixth objective of this study. Shehu (2009) also had similar findings in his study when he revealed that the format of coverage of Boko Haram by Nigerian newspapers is “sensational and war-inclined” and opposed to the pro-solution approaches encouraged in conflict reporting. The fifth objective was to ascertain the dominant frames used by Channels Television and Al Jazeera English news stations in reporting the Chibok and Dapchi schoolgirls’ abductions. Twelve news frames were identified from literature. Just as in the case of the sourcing patterns and salient attributes of discourses, there was more than one news frame identified in the content of each presentation by the different television stations. As such the first four dominant news frames in each of the analyzed video clips were picked and rated according to the most dominant to the least dominant. The first rated dominant news frame of Chibok schoolgirls’ abduction story adopted by Channels Television were rescue efforts frame (59.7%) and security frame (11.9%). The dominant news frames of Chibok schoolgirls’ abduction story adopted by Al Jazeera English were rescue efforts frame (46.2%), religious frame (15.4%), and security frame (15.4%). Channels Television reported Dapchi abduction stories mostly with rescue efforts frame (49.4%), political frame (11.4%), and security frame (10.1%). This pattern is at variance with the results in the study on Nigerian newspapers framing of Chibok schoolgirls’ abduction carried out by Ngwu, Ekwe, and Chiaha (2015) where hopelessness frame was the most dominant news frame adopted by different newspapers examined in the study. It however has a slight similarity with the study by Okoro and Odoemelam (2013) on print media

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framing of Boko Haram insurgency in Nigeria where government response frame was the most dominant news frame employed by the media in the study as opposed to ethnic and religious frames which were prevalent in This Day newspaper. The findings here is also similar to findings in the study by Ezeah and Emmanuel (2016) that dealt on international media framing of Boko Haram terrorist activities in Nigeria of which the study exposed how international news media such as the British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC) capitalized on the socioeconomic and political failures of African countries which further affected the choice of frames they choose such as political and economic frames. The sixth and last objective evaluated the direction of framing adopted by Channels Television and Al Jazeera English news stations in presenting the Chibok and Dapchi schoolgirls’ abductions. The direction adopted by Channels Television in framing Chibok schoolgirls’ abduction were supportive by a ratio of (37.3%), critical (35.8%), and empathic (23.9%); while the direction of framing of Chibok schoolgirls’ abduction story employed by Al Jazeera English were critical (53.8%) and empathic (30.8%). Channels Television employed critical (46.8%) and empathic (21.5%) as opposed to the direction of framing for Dapchi abduction stories. This implies that there was a shift in the direction of framing adopted by Channels Television during the Dapchi incident. This suggest that the recurrence of a similar incident after the first which was the Chibok could have caused Channels Television to critical rather than supportive of government responses as it was in the Chibok schoolgirls’ abduction which was the first incident. This is a pointer to critical and porous security, lack of responsibility, and negligence of government duties which could have caused the incident to recur. While most of the discussion programs done on the Chibok abduction were on topics bothering on how the incident occurred as well as what should be done to rescue the girls, the discussions on the Dapchi incident were more on attributing responsibility and blames to the different offices responsible for ensuring the security of the citizens and questions pondering on political conspiracy. This can be seen in the results on finding out the dominant news frames employed in presenting the Dapchi incident were political and security frames make up the dominant frames. Overall, the test of hypothesis affirmed that there were more similarities than differences between the two selected television stations, Channels Television and Al Jazeera English in their framing of the Chibok and Dapchi schoolgirls’ abductions within the selected time frames for this study. This is so being that the null hypotheses that there is no significant difference between the different patterns of framings employed by the two television station regarding the two abductions was all accepted. However, there is a major difference that exists between Channels Television and Al Jazeera English in the sense that Channels Television being the station selected to represent the local television news stations covered both abductions more than Al Jazeera English television. This is demonstrated by the fact that Channels Television has a total of 146 stories which accounts for 84.9% of the 100% fraction while Al Jazeera English has a total of 26 stories accounting for the remaining 15.1% of the total fraction. Also, in comparing the two stories, more

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coverage is done on the Chibok abduction than on the Dapchi abduction as total presentations by both stations on the Chibok abduction sums up to 93 (54.1%) while the Dapchi abduction is a total of 79 (45.9%). The difference in the coverage of the incidents by the various television stations can be supported with statements made by Gerhards and Schafer (2013) that proposes that media coverage is mainly influenced by national contexts. Accordingly, coverage would be expected to vary considerably from country to country. Additionally, attention here is turned to the “inner circle” where Gerhards and Schafer explained that there are factors such as sociodemographic characteristics, self-perceptions, and motivations of journalists that could affect the coverage on external or transnational issues such as international terrorism. This assumption is applicable to findings from this study whereby Channels Television and Al Jazeera English having different national contexts and affected by different perceptions and motivations reported the incidents differently. There is also the assumption that although terrorism is a transnational issue causing global concern, Al Jazeera English being an international television is not directly affected considering the location of the occurrence of the incidents as opposed to Channels Television, which represents the local television stations because of the geographical location of the station and as such could be inferred to be more affected by the incident therefore had more coverage on the incidents.

Conclusion In tandem with its findings, this study arrived at the conclusion that the selected local and international television news stations, Channels Television and Al Jazeera English, adopted similar framing patterns in their presentations of the Chibok with a slight difference in the framing of Dapchi abduction as exemplified by the volume of coverage on the incident by Channels Television against the no coverage of the abduction by Al Jazeera English within the study time frame. The television stations’ execution of their correlational function was, however, not strong. A vast majority of stories on the schoolgirls’ abductions were presented through the news report genre, outnumbering, in no measure, interpretation, and analysis of the abductions done through news analyses/commentaries, interviews, discussion programs, and documentaries. Therefore, the television stations were overly episodic and less expository in their coverage of the abductions. Specifically, for the different television stations, during the abduction of the Chibok schoolgirls Channels Television adopted mostly news reports in making their presentations which consequently meant that the depth of coverage given was shallow. However, there were few percentages of other formats of coverage such as discussion programs in which case the salient attributes of discourse were about the actions of government and their efforts in ensuring the safe recue of the girls. Likewise, the most dominant news frame used was the rescue efforts news frame and then the security frame which bothered on the state of security of the nation which would have led to the cause of the incident; the presentations were more on abhorring the incident, and hampering on the reactions of the government which

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further proved Channels Television to be unexpectedly more supportive and empathic probably because the Chibok incident was the first of its kind in the history of the nation. Although proffering solutions were hardly the focal points of discussion in the presentations on the Chibok abduction, this changed in presentations on the Dapchi schoolgirls’ abduction in which case the television station focused more on what caused the recurrence of the incident, and some discussants on some of the programs reviewed tagged the incident a “national disgrace.” This could also be assumed to be the reason for the lower coverage given to the Dapchi abduction compared to the attention given to the Chibok abduction being the first incident. There is no doubt that both television stations adopted similar framing patterns about the abductions; however, in the course of a juxtaposition, some minor differences were identified, especially in the level of coverage in which not unexpectedly Channels Television ranked higher than Al Jazeera English in the number of stories covered. Conclusively, the use of episodic patterns of framing by television news stations is considered detrimental as it is done at the expense of thematic frames that allows for cause, risk, and prevention modes of reporting. That is, while using the news report genre as well as frames that are often associated with terrorist attacks is not unnecessary, it tends to throw a blind over other social realities mostly endemic to terrorist attacks against women such as sexual violence, stigmatization, and oppression. Also, considering an incident not shocking and invariably not newsworthy because of its seeming typicality as shown in Al Jazeera English’s zero coverage of the Dapchi schoolgirls’ abduction after the Chibok schoolgirl’s incident implies a myopic perception of the media house toward issues of global concern while taking away the urgency of such incidents and their need for immediate attention. Drawing from Greer (2003), there are larger and sometimes clandestine narratives that could be constructed from occurrences such as terrorist abduction of schoolgirls and women, which will further engender in-depth understanding of issues related to terrorism and the solutions that could be offered to the myriad sociopolitical problems it carries. Hence, media’s failure (intentional or otherwise) at setting the agenda for discursive forums on topical issues such as this goes against the very tenets of their social responsibility roles which could have a ripple effect that transcends its geographical and political borders of operation to a larger world desiring peace, development, and gender equality.

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Women and Peace Processes in Africa

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Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Peace Processes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conflicts in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Need for Inclusion of Women in Peace Processes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Women’s Roles in Peace Processes in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Involvement of Women in Peace Processes: Impacts and Challenges . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

Africa has experienced conflicts causing loss of lives and property. During conflict, although women are stereotypically portrayed as victims, they also play active roles as service providers, combatants, and change agents in restoring peace. However, women’s transformative roles are often not recognized. This chapter examined the roles of women in peace processes in Africa. It asserts that the involvement of women in peace processes cannot be underestimated due to multiple roles in ensuring peace as activists, advocates, mediators, negotiators, and peacekeepers. Involvement of women in peace processes has yielded positive impacts such as making inroads in national politics and implementation of conventions that ensure peace and security of women. Despite the successes recorded, women are still confronted with challenges relating to effective participation in peace processes which include lack of experience to navigate terrains of official negotiation, patriarchal beliefs, poor representation in decision-making positions, and ineffective implementation of UNSCR 1325. There is need for African states to effectively domesticate and implement provisions of UNSCR A. A. Adebajo (*) Political Science, Tai Solarin University of Education, Ijagun, Nigeria e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_87

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1325 for gender parity in conflict resolution processes. Patriarchal beliefs should be dismantled through gender-sensitive informal and formal education in order to change the orientation of African people toward gender equity in peace processes. Keywords

Women · Peace processes · Conflict · Conflict management

Introduction African contemporary history is replete with cases of violent conflicts including inter- and intraethnic, religious, communal, and state wars in countries such as Chad, Sudan, Angola, Liberia, Sierra Leone, Nigeria, Burundi, Rwanda, Angola, Liberia, and Somalia, among others. These countries have experienced internecine wars with grave devastations leading to loss of lives, wanton destruction of property, and massive displacement of people with associated horrific experiences and vulnerabilities which they have not fully recovered from. However, experiences of men and women vary before, during, and after conflict situations. Usually, women suffer more calamities during conflicts than men, as many of them are killed, raped, and most times, lose their loved ones, particularly husbands, turning them suddenly to breadwinners (Olofsson 2018; Nerenberg 2018). In addition, when conflicting parties agree on ceasefires, women are grossly underrepresented in the peace processes, and issues that affect them are not mainstreamed in the conflict resolution agenda. It is imperative to note that between 1992 and 2011, 4% of signatories to peace agreements and less than 10% of negotiators at peace tables were women (UN Women 2018; Simeons 2018). Also, between 1990 and 2017, globally, women made up only 2% of chief mediators, 5% of witnesses and signatories, and 8% of negotiators (Turner 2018). Despite a lot of scholarly work (Codou 2001; Agbalajobi 2009; Stewart 2010; Issifu 2015) available on women in conflict situations and peace-building processes, there is a unanimous portrayal of women as victims instead of critically analyzing their roles in peace processes, therefore, undermining their roles in negotiating and implementing peace processes. Therefore, this chapter seeks to examine the roles of women in peace processes in Africa. Specifically, it discusses the impacts of conflicts on African women, and why women’s inclusion in peace processes is imperative. It also highlights cases of women’s participation in peace processes, the impacts made, and challenges inhibiting their involvement.

Peace Processes Wakugara (2012) defines peace processes as a wide range of activities from ceasefire achieved by negotiations, signing of agreements, disarmament, demobilization, and rehabilitation (DDR) of former combatants, to nation building. Peace processes

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constitute a mixture of politics, diplomacy, negotiations, changing relationships, mediation, and dialogue in official and unofficial arenas. According to the United States Institute for Peace (2019), peace processes are series of negotiated steps to end wars and build sustainable peace. To Saunders (2001), a peace process connotes a political process where conflicts are resolved by peaceful means. It operates in four arenas: the official, quasi-official, public peace processes, and civil society. The official arena involves diplomats who establish personal connections with other stakeholders in conflict management processes. These diplomats are the official representatives of the state who interact with other state-like authorities such as heads of state, state departments or ministry of foreign affairs, and other government institutions. The quasi-official arena engages the people who are not political leaders but have close relationships with the government actors. The public peace processes engage a sustained dialogue between nonofficial stakeholders who address the human causes of conflict, perceptions, stereotypes, distrust, and sense of hopelessness (Saunders 2001). The civil society arena engages civilians and also maintains a network of relations often between the disputing parties. In the opinion of Sisk (2001), peace processes involve step-by-step reciprocal moves to build confidence, resolve issues such as disarmament, and carefully define the future through the design of new political institutions. Four forms of peace process are identified in the literature: peacemaking, peace enforcement, peacekeeping, and peace building. Each of the processes expresses a specific articulation of conflict and development (Ibeanu 2011). Peacemaking involves the actions that bring hostile and conflicting parties to agreement, through peaceful means. It is the diplomatic effort directed at moving a violent conflict into nonviolent dialogue where differences are settled through representative political institutions. Peacemaking as an activity can be achieved through negotiation, mediation, conciliation, and arbitration (Quellet 2003). When the conflict situation is high and there are viable conditions to pursue development, peacemaking can be instituted. Peace enforcement is a practice of ensuring peace in an area or region. Force can be used to bring the conflicting parties for negotiation, and this differentiates it from peacemaking. Peace enforcement can be carried out by a neutral body or outside body (ibid). In a situation where conflict is high and conditions for peace remain limited, peace enforcement can be instilled in order to create an enabling environment for increasing development. On the other hand, when conflict is low and conditions for development are limited, peacekeeping can be put in place. It engages the peacekeepers to keep the warring parties apart in order to reduce the level of the conflict. Peacekeeping involves monitoring and enforcing a cease-fire agreed by two or more former combatants (Quellet 2003). Peace building is applied when a conflict has abated and there is high prospect for instituting development. It is a peace process that facilitates the establishment of building durable peace by trying to address the root causes and effects of a conflict through reconciliation, institution building, and political as well as economic transformation (Alliance for Peace Building 2013). It is also a process of creating self-supporting structures that remove causes of wars and offer alternatives to war in situations where war might occur.

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Conflicts in Africa There are internal and external causes of violent conflict in African states. To start with, colonialism which brought ethnic groups of diverse cultures, orientations, and beliefs together caused ethnic, religious conflicts and irredentism. After independence in many African states such as Angola, Nigeria, Sudan, Rwanda, and Burundi, there was an explosion of conflicts. The African leaders who inherited the colonial states could no longer hold the “forced unions” together. Also, the borders arbitrarily created by the Europeans across ethnic groups and borders led to cases of violent conflicts claiming lives and property. The role of natural resources in deepening such conflicts cannot be overemphasized. For instance, Angola experienced violent conflict that was exacerbated by the struggle for control of oil and diamonds; in Liberia, it was timber and rubber, and in Sierra Leone, diamonds. Also, Ethiopia and Eritrea had their portion of land disputes, leading to war. Women were most affected by the “implosion” in some African states. In addition, the multiethnic nature of Africa and lack of unifying mechanisms, to enable peaceful coexistence, have encouraged incessant violent conflicts among ethnic groups. Further, the socioeconomic and political inequalities created a wide gap among groups and have also led to violent conflicts of devastating consequences in many African states. When inequality permeates the social system, the marginalized group(s) will take up arms to seek to correct the anomaly. Ineptitude of the political leaders who accessed and did not want to leave office has contributed to violent conflicts in Africa. African leaders tend to perpetuate themselves in power, and they employ every avenue to retain it. While in power, they build up cronies through which resources are siphoned. As advanced by Collier and Hoeffler (2002), economic factors are at the heart of violent conflicts, and most of the conflicts experienced in Africa since the mid-1960s had at their roots economic greed. Environmental scarcity caused by intense climate change and its associated droughts and famine has led to violent conflicts in some African states such as Kenya, Tanzania, Ghana, Mali, Cote d’Ivoire, Nigeria, and Cameroon, to mention but a few. Among the Somalis, Karamojong, Massai, Pokots, and Oromos, conflicts between the pastoralists and farmers are prevalent. Apart from the aforementioned factors, there are also external dimensions to the conflicts, including the prolonged proxy wars of the Cold War era orchestrated by the western powers, the destabilization policy of the apartheid regime in Southern Africa, and the economic policies of the Bretton Woods institutions (the International Monetary Fund and World Bank), among others. Women are often subjected to varying degrees of inhumanity, and thus, their involvement in peace processes is vital and should not be undermined. Conflict exacerbates the preexisting limitations experienced by women which further exposes them to gender-based violence (Rohwerder 2017). In conflict situations, women face a lot of risks and vulnerabilities as victims of murder, rape, forced disappearance, survival sex, forced marriage, and other forms of physical and psychological assaults. Thus, conflicts often force women to organize themselves to ensure peace and safeguard basic necessities of life (Agbalajobi 2009).

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The Need for Inclusion of Women in Peace Processes Given the experience of women during conflict and the crucial roles they play in preserving social order, the need for their inclusion in the formal peace processes cannot be overemphasized. It has been established in the literature that formal national and international peace negotiations are male-dominated. Most of the time, women are either not present at all or grossly underrepresented. As noted by Lyytikainen (2009), inclusion of women in peace process and gender-sensitive positions in peace agreements is required for increasing women’s participation in postconflict politics. Women are very critical to development when postconflict reconstruction needs to take place in order to address health, education, and nutrition challenges as well as maternal/child mortality. If women are denied concrete roles in the postconflict governance such as giving them political rights, equal education, and employment opportunities, they will stagnate and society is affected. Women face a lot of hardship such as displacement, loss of means of livelihood, insecurity, lack of access to social amenities, and gender-based violence which can be addressed when they are included in the peace negotiations and postconflict reconstruction. Women’s inclusion in peace processes will allow the challenges affecting women and their viewpoints to be heard (Anderlini 2017). The physical, psychological, and sexual torture women suffer needs to be recognized and mainstreamed not only during official negotiations but also in postconstruction programs so as to provide psychosocial therapy for them. It is practically impossible for men to speak for affected women because they are assumed to be in a better position to narrate their conflict experience (O’Driscoll 2017). The implication of this is that justice is denied to women as those who violated them will not be prosecuted. As argued by Iwilade (2011), a key component of peace talks must be the punishment of crimes committed against women, and it will not be possible if they are not included in postconflict peace process. The challenges women face such as rape, physical assault, loss of means of livelihood, ill-health, and psychological trauma will not be mainstreamed into conflict management processes if not included. Inclusion of women in peace processes is a matter of equality, fairness, and rights. If women are not allowed to participate during the process, it amounts to robbing them of their basic rights of inclusion in the decision-making process that affects their destinies. Human rights are women’s rights, and as a group that constitutes almost half of the population in the society, their voices and plights are to be heard and addressed. If they are excluded particularly at the official negotiation table, they will also not be involved at the postconflict reconstruction stage where issues that affect them will be planned and implemented. Women’s involvement engenders democratic peace process. Conflict is conducted along gendered lines, and for peace building to be successful, it must address the structural, gendered systems of violence that underpin militarization and political economies of war (Democratic Progress Institute (DPI) (2012). Women are to be included in peace processes particularly during negotiation in order to make for an enduring peace (Laurila 2017; Nerenberg 2018; Njoku 2018). The importance of participation of women in peace processes in any society cannot

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be overemphasized because of the credibility and sustainability of the entire process. This is why it is important that the quality of women participation in peace processes is germane rather than the quantity. This boils down to the experience, expertise, and knowledge of women to be engaged in the process. At times it is not in number or quota but the quality of representation. A peace agreement is 35% more likely to last at least 15 years if women participate in its creation (O’Reilly et al. 2015). Also, a study of 40 peace processes in 35 countries over 34 years showed that women were able to influence a peace process (DPI 2012). In Liberia in all the 14 peace talks between 1990 and 1997, women groups were excluded and they all failed. On the other hand, in postapartheid peace talks in South Africa and Arusha negotiations for Burundi, the two processes lasted due to inclusion of women (O’Driscoll 2017). Inclusion of women in peace processes enables their potentials to be harnessed and utilized for the societal reconstruction and development.

Women’s Roles in Peace Processes in Africa Since time immemorial, women have been promoting peace and stability in their various African societies. Women have been traditional peacemakers, sometimes as priestesses to consult gods whether wars should be fought or not. They have also contributed to cultures of peace by inculcating peaceful values in their sons, daughters, and other members of the family. According to Tawiah (2018), women have always been active promoters of peace and harmony in the communities. Women have stopped violence and alleviated its devastating consequences by providing humanitarian assistance, facilitating negotiations and mediations through peace advocacy. They have participated in peace processes in various capacities – as observers, mediators, activists, advocators, advisors, and many more. Despite their involvement in peace processes, they constitute an insignificant proportion of participants especially in formal peace processes. According to Sisulu (2019), between 1990 and 2017, women accounted for only 2% of conflict mediators and 8% of negotiators globally, an indication that women are still relegated during peace processes. During conflict, it is pertinent to note that women have been very vocal in mobilizing for social change. Women advocate for change and transformation by taking part in conflict resolution processes through channels of local peace committees, faith-based groups, and local associations such as market women’s associations and age grades (Alaga 2010). Women work as peace advocates, activists, peacekeepers, aid workers, mediators, and counselors. When there is breakdown of law and order in communities and social disorganization occurs, women act to preserve social order (Obonyo 2014; O’Reilly et al. 2015). Instances abound in West Africa where women engaged in peace processes in order to engender peace, security, and stability in various societies. For instance, during the Liberian civil war, women groups brought the warring factions together to negotiate in order to stop bloodshed. Involvement of Liberian women through Liberian Women Initiative (LWI), Women in Liberia Mass Action (WLMA), and

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Women Peace building Network (WIPNET) enabled them to mobilize for restoration of peace, and their activism and determination resulted in the resolution of Liberia’s 14 years civil war. At the postconflict state, Liberian women played important roles in peace building, galvanized through activism, peace, and development through women-led organizations. In addition, Liberian women influenced peacebuilding activities through advocacy, strategic involvement in truth and reconciliation peace, and security training programs at the grassroots and national levels (Obonyo 2014; Shulika 2016; Zechariassen 2018; Idris 2019). In Kenya, women took part in the peace processes when violent conflict broke out in 2007 due to election disputes. Kenyan women were involved in the local, national, and international levels as mediators, senior advisors, senior members of political delegates, and civil society leaders. In ensuring peace and order in Kenya, women lobbied at the African Union to testify to the US Congress making their voices heard at the highest level of mediation and negotiation table, and this contributed to achievement of peace agreement. In the case of Somalia, women groups initiated the meeting that brought the warlords together so as to end the conflict (Amdezrator 2014). In Somalia, women were able to use the existing power structures to get involved in the 1999 Arta Peace talks. Initially, women were excluded but male elders from the five traditionally dominant Somali clans were involved (Menkhaws 2007; Desmidt et al. 2017). In order for women to be involved, 92 of the 100 female delegates formed the “sixth clan,” a joint women’s coalition which transcended clan hierarchies and voted as a single bloc (Zechariassen 2018). Through coalition of women, 25 seats of the 245 members were reserved for women (Desmidt et al. 2017). The number seems insignificant, but women were represented as members of a coalition. Likewise in Burundi, educated women were engaged in debates and discussion to ensure peace returns in their country (Shulika 2016). Women engaged in peace processes in order to ensure that cease-fire was established between the warring parties. Women in Rwanda campaigned and mobilized their husbands to dissociate themselves from the rebel groups so that the genocide would end even at the risks of their lives and families. Rwandese women played key roles in ensuring peace returns to their society. They worked as activists and advocates for peace, peace keepers, relief aid workers, mediators, policy makers, educators, and leading participants in socioeconomic development after genocide. Rwandese women were practically involved in the national resettlement program where they provided labor for construction of houses for ex-combatants and returnees for proper reintegration into the society. Through leadership positions and organizations such as Forum of Rwandan Women Parliamentarians, Unity Club, and Pro-Femmes/Twese Hamwe Collective (an association of 35 organizations), women participated in peacebuilding. Pro-Femmes facilitated dialogue between Tutsis and Hutus and also promoted communication among government agencies, women’s organizations, and donor agencies in order to render assistance to women affected by the conflict (Oluyemi-Kusa 2011; Iloh et al. 2020; Hogberg 2019; Svobodova 2020). In the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), in spite of low official representation of women in peace processes, they were instrumental in the Inter-Congolose

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Dialogue leading to the Sun City agreement. Despite the fact that Congolese women were denied involvement in the negotiations, they still supplied data and information to official delegation on gender issues (Whitman 2016). Women were also active in mobilizing for peace during the Eritrean and Ethiopian border conflict (Kiden 2018, 2019; Soma 2020). The Sudanese Women’s Voice for Peace convened several meetings with the armies of warring factions and leaders to embrace peace negotiation and cease-fire (Gbowee 2018; Ndonga 2017). In Southern Nigeria, women groups played active roles in bringing warring ties together in the conflicts between Aguleri and Umuleri in order to embrace peace (Njoku 2018). In Sierra Leone, women organizations also mobilized for peace in Sierra Leone in order to achieve stability. They targeted the military government, Revolutionary United Front (RUF) (the rebels), and international community so that the violent conflict could stop in Sierra Leone. Under the Sierra Leone Women’s Forum, women organized peace marches and raised the level of awareness on the effects of the conflicts on their society (Oluyemi-Kusa 2011). Women also participated in peace processes as peacekeepers. The important roles they played in peacekeeping operations cannot be overemphasized in ensuring stability. Knott (2019) argued that deploying women as peacekeepers makes the missions effective and women in conflict zone feel safer in reporting abuses. In conflict-affected states in Africa, women peacekeepers had more access to people particularly women and got more information than their male counterparts. Although, as at 2019, women constitute an insignificant number of 4.9% of global peace keepers which is still far from the United Nations stipulated figure of 15% by 2028, they have played a crucial role in ensuring peace and security in war-torn African nations (Knott 2019). In Rwanda, Namibia, and South Africa, female peace keepers are perceived as conflict de-escalators making local population more receptive to them (Council on Foreign Relations 2018). Through the activities of the female peace keepers in African countries, there was a high reportage of sexual and gender-based violence which lowered the level of sexual exploitation by male peacekeepers. Women peacekeepers have proven that they are better placed to carry out peacekeeping tasks by acting as role models in the local environment to inspire women and girls ravaged by war. Increasing the number of women in peacekeeping operations allows them to make contributions to improve operational effectiveness of peacekeeping unit and guarantee human security of the vulnerable groups particularly women (Menberu 2019). For instance, Ethiopian women participated in the United Nations Interim Security For Abyei (UNISFA). Abyei was a source of conflict between Sudan and South Sudan because of its oil fields. After a peace agreement was signed by the warring parties in 2011, UNISFA was established under the United Nations to ensure peace. However, women constituted 6.8% of the troops and 17.7% of the military observers (Menberu 2019). Ethiopian women peace keepers provided hope for the hopeless during their operations. It is noteworthy that, in spite of women’s demonstrated capabilities in working for peace, and the international commitments mandating their peace involvement, in all peace processes on the African continent, the number of women participants is still very low.

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Involvement of Women in Peace Processes: Impacts and Challenges The essence of involvement of women in peace processes cannot be undermined. It is therefore important to analyze the impacts of women’s involvement in peace processes and challenges affecting their effective representation. To start with, as a result of women peace activism in the conflict-ridden societies in Africa, there has been increased space for women in national politics. Activism, demonstrated by women in Liberia and Rwanda, culminated in restoring peace in their societies, and this also revealed that women are not mere victims of war but agents of social change. For instance, in Liberia, women engagement in peace processes culminated into election of Ellen Johnson-Sirleaf as the President of Liberia in 2005 and 2011 respectively. Also, as a result of the involvement of Ellen Johnson-Sirleaf and Laymah Gbowee (founder of WIPNET), both were recognized and rewarded with Nobel peace awards which will further encourage other women to be involved in peace processes. Another impact of women’s involvement in peace processes is the durability of peace agreements. In a study which analyzed 182 peace agreements signed between 1989 and 2011 involving women as signatories, witnesses, negotiators, and mediators, it was found that the agreements were 35% more likely to last for 15 years (Bigio and Vogelstein 2016). In another related study, it was established that peace agreements involving women’s organizations had 64% rate of sustainability (Bigio and Vogelstein 2016). This is as a result of the fact that in conflict resolution processes, women adopt cooperative approach which cuts across the religious, ethnic, cultural, and class divides in promoting peace and stability. Inclusion of women in peace processes promotes reaching agreements and sustaining peace because they raise issues that are critical to the resolution of the conflict. In Somalia, Sudan, Uganda, and Democratic Republic of Congo, critical issues of education, health, employment, gender-based violence, justice, and human rights were raised and addressed during conflict resolution processes because women were involved. Women were able to overcome tribal differences and formed a united entity to reduce conflict in their communities. As a result of the adoption of the 2015 peace agreement in South Sudan, women came together to lay out their vision for the country irrespective of religion, ethnic group, and regional differences. Sudanese women ensured that all agreements were translated into local languages and educated the public on the contents and trained them in conflict resolution. In 2018, women living in South Sudan and refugee camps formed coalitions and had their members serve as official observers to the renewed peace effort and delivered the updates to the conflict-affected areas. Due to the roles played by the South Sudanese women leaders, the 2017 ceasefire agreements prohibited sexual violence in conflict situations. Women were able to demand for accountability for any atrocities against civilian population by armed groups, security forces, and peacekeepers. Involvement of women in peace-building efforts has also led to implementation of conventions that would further enhance women’s role in peace and security. For instance, the Liberian government has been able to implement conventions by the

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African Union, Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS), and the United Nations on women’s rights and gender equality. The National Action Plan for implementing the UNSCR 1325 was also adopted, and issues of sexual and genderbased violence received attention unlike before. Also, the United Nations Mission in Liberia (UNMIL) Office of the Gender Advisor (OGA) was set up as a framework for gender mainstreaming in disarmament, demobilization, and reintegration program in Liberia (Shulika 2016). Despite the impacts made as a result of involvement of women in peace processes, the number of women in peace processes particularly official negotiation is significantly still low. According to Ilesanmi (▶ Chap. 40, “UNSCR 1325 and African Women in Conflict and Peace”), from 1992 to 2011, women accounted for 5% of signatories to Lusaka agreement in the Democratic Republic of Congo; 20% of lead mediators in the DRC’s North Kivu and South Kivu talks, respectively; and 33% in Kenya. In Burundi, women accounted for 2% of negotiating teams, 12% in the DRC, 8% in Darfur, 9% in Uganda, and 25% in Kenya (▶ Chap. 40, “UNSCR 1325 and African Women in Conflict and Peace”). In as much as women want to participate in peace processes in their various countries, there are stifling challenges inhibiting women’s effective participation in peace processes which include but are not limited to limited experience in the public realm, lack of technical expertise/ exposure in conflict resolution and skills in negotiation, marginalization at the political leadership level, ineffective implementation of UNSC Resolution 1325, and patriarchal ideology. To start with, marginalization of women in political leadership position affects women representation in processes particularly at the negotiation table where high level decisions are taken. In a situation where postconflict reconstruction programs are controlled by men who dominate the political terrains, women’s agency will not be recognized and utilized. If the preexisting unequal power relations in the society determine access and influence in peace processes, women will be sidelined (Ochen 2017). In order for women to play active role in peace processes, they must be adequately represented at all levels of decision-making at the preconflict stage. It is instructive to note that between 1992 and 2011, only five African countries at war (Burundi, Sudan, the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), Kenya, and Uganda) had women on their negotiating teams. Five of them (Liberia, Sierra Leone, Somalia, Sudan, and Uganda) had women observers or witnesses, and two (DRC and Kenya) and only one (DRC) had women lead mediators and women signatories, respectively (Machakanja 2016). Low technical expertise of women often constitutes a barrier to their inclusion in peace processes. Women are experienced in grassroots conflict management processes but lack practical experience in official negotiation (Makar 2019). At the official negotiation tables, men who are experienced are mostly engaged while women are excluded as a result of lack of skill and capacity to influence the process. Inadequate levels of education affect women’s effective participation in the conflict management processes, even at the informal level. In addition, grappling with domestic issues and peace-building activities, simultaneously, can be demanding on women, and this constitutes a hindrance to their involvement in peace processes.

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Lack of resources, particularly finance, constitutes an obstacle toward effective participation in peace processes particularly at the informal level. At the grassroots level, women need money to carry out peace advocacy programs and campaigns in order to create awareness on the importance of peace which might not be affordable. Women nongovernmental organizations involved in peace-building activities find it difficult to implement their programs due to shortage of funds. Women earn lower than men, only a very few women control assets, and they need financial and economic resources to back up their actions (Agbalajobi 2009; Tyson 2010). It is noteworthy that in formal peace processes where the state is involved in funding, inadequate deployment of resources can affect the success of any peace initiatives. Lack of political will by the political leaders in African states to implement and domesticate the provisions of the UN Security Council Resolutions 1325, 1820, and 2122 on women in conflict and peace processes constitutes a challenge to women participation in peace processes. Despite the frameworks, gender issues pervade postconflict peace-building processes as a result of lack of political will by the governments to implement the provisions (Agbalajobi 2009). There is lack of specific budget for UNSCR 1325-related activities that could have enhanced involvement of women in peace-building activities in Africa. There is noncommitment to the implementation of gender programs by African political leaders as most programs and initiatives on gender are externally driven and funded (African Centre for Constructive Resolution of Disputes (ACCORD) 2010). As at 2011, only six African states had developed National Action Plans to implement UNSCR 1325 due to dysfunctional government structures such as ministries and agencies. This is a result of inadequate funding and deficient capacity of the implementers and limited understanding of the resolution (ACCORD 2010). Patriarchal ideology, which permeates the political terrain in Africa also affects women’s involvement in peace processes. Patriarchy constitutes a barrier to women breaking from the traditional gender norms and from occupying political leadership positions in many African societies. Women who defy all odds to break patriarchal barriers are marginalized, stigmatized and labeled as “prostitutes.” Patriarchal ideology permeates state structures, institutions, and intergovernmental agencies such as African Union and the United Nations, and the patriarchal values prevent women from participating fully in formal negotiations and peacemaking processes (ACCORD 2010).

Conclusion The need to include women in peace processes is underscored by their unique roles as active participants and change agents, and not merely, as victims in conflict situations. Women have played active roles as combatants, service providers, and mobilizers of social transformation. Also, women have participated in peace processes in different capacities and dimensions, as observers, activists, advocators, facilitators, and mediators. Despite the significant roles played by women in ensuring peace and security, their contributions are undermined, and they still

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constitute underdogs in peace processes, particularly in official negotiation. As a result of involvement of women in peace processes, implementation of conventions that would further enhance women’s role in peace and security has been carried out in African states like Liberia. There is an improvement in the number of women occupying political leadership position due to the roles women played in restoring peace and order in their countries; Rwanda and Liberia are good examples. Women have been able to make inroad into national politics and decisionmaking processes due to their impacts in peace processes. As highlighted in the chapter, challenges affecting women’s inclusion in peace processes include but are not limited to lack of technical experience required to navigate the terrains of peace processes, patriarchal beliefs that subjugate women, lack of resources, poor representation of women in the decision-making positions where they can influence and shape the political agenda, physical threat, and nonimplementation of the UNSCR 1325, to mention but a few. The need to involve women in peace processes such as formal negotiations and postconflict reconstruction programs cannot be overemphasized. Inclusion of women in peace processes will guarantee enduring peace. Also, the conflict experience and challenges of women will be mainstreamed in the conflict management and postconflict reconstruction agenda. It is also important that African leaders exercise the political will to implement and domesticate UNSCR 1325 provisions to engender democratic peace processes inclusive of women by making provision for specific gender-sensitive budgeting. Women need to be trained and retrained in negotiation and mediation in order to improve the quality of their participation in conflict management processes. Patriarchal ideology that holds sway in politics should be dislodged through gender-sensitive informal and formal education and reorientation of African people in order to change their mindsets so as to achieve gender-friendly and inclusive peace-building processes.

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Women and Peacebuilding in Postconflict African States

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Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Women in War, Peace, and Postconflict Reconstruction Processes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Woman Peacemaker . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Peacebuilding Within Patriarchal Systems . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Women Organizations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

This chapter explores the major arguments in the women and peacebuilding literature regarding the role that women play in peacebuilding and postconflict reconstruction processes in African states, most notably, the essentialist and constructivist arguments regarding women’s motivation and inclination for peacebuilding. It sheds light on the impact of international development discourse in shaping the peacebuilding agenda and how the patriarchy inherent in the neoliberal peacebuilding model limits the potential for women’s participation in sustainable and structural social change during the postconflict era. This analysis reveals that although women tend to be unheard by mainstream peacebuilding initiatives, they are very active in grassroots peacebuilding and demonstrate a great deal of agency in their peacebuilding work. Women organizations build networks that often transcend ethnic, geographical, and religious lines, making their peacebuilding activities a crucial element in sustainable peace. This chapter argues that the various peacebuilding strategies employed by women should redefine the peacebuilding model in order to achieve more meaningful and sustainable peace throughout the African continent. T. A. Garnett (*) IBB School for International Studies, University of Liberia, Monrovia, Liberia © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_88

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Keywords

Women · Peacebuilding · Postconflict · Africa · Gender equity

Introduction It is challenging discussing notions of war, peace, postconflict, and gender without first understanding from which perspective to approach such loaded concepts. When defining these concepts, it becomes apparent that the postconflict era is predominantly defined through an international development lens. It is defined by discourse that has been created and proliferated throughout the African continent by international development actors, such as the United Nations (UN), international institutions, and international and local Non-Governmental Organizations (NGOs). Thus African women’s role in postconflict peacebuilding is usually silenced. Yet a significant amount of peacebuilding is organized and implemented by women, both formally and informally. Women define peacebuilding in the local context in ways that are often overlooked and under-supported. In particular, women’s peacebuilding work is crucial to the sustainability of peacebuilding initiatives throughout the continent, most notably in the Mano River countries of Liberia, Sierra Leone, and Guinea, where women engaged in peacebuilding activities without formal invitation. While discourses of women’s victimhood in violent conflict are a focus of the international community, the reality of African women’s agency stands in stark contrast to this notion. This chapter will synthesize the literature on women in peacebuilding and reconstruction processes, particularly the ways in which women have bargained with patriarchal structures in order to participate. It highlights the informal and often unaccounted ways that women build peace at community and national levels. Analyzing the particularities of the patriarchal system in which women’s peacebuilding work takes place, the chapter then discusses the agency that African women employ to mobilize international and national actors in order to meet their objectives. This research demonstrates that African women are doing phenomenal peacebuilding work and if their peacebuilding was fully recognized and supported, it could bring about a paradigm shift in the international peacebuilding model and ultimately, more meaningful and sustained peace in postconflict African states.

Women in War, Peace, and Postconflict Reconstruction Processes There has been much debate in the literature surrounding women in war and peace. It is a rich field in which feminist scholars have and continue to gradually unpack meanings in order to reconstruct a common and more accurate understanding of women’s realities during these critical moments in social transformation. War, as a key force behind the creation and destruction of states, is central to gender differences within states (Mason 2003). One of the few positive aspects of war is that it can

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destroy patriarchal structures and open up new beginnings because of an almost complete breakdown in social and moral traditions, communities, and customs (Turshen 1998). As a result, war can be a time for social reordering in general, and advances for women in particular. Often, in postconflict societies women find their social roles changed and often are unable or unwilling to return to the social structures that existed prior to the conflict. Women, who become pushed into the public sphere, often have little desire to become less vocal in the political and social discourses that affect their lives. As a result, the societal transformations that take place during violent conflict can have lasting effects on postconflict gender roles (Elshtain 1987). When examining the role of gender in civil conflict, it is important to note that war and peace are socially constructed processes rather than inherited features of an unchanging landscape (Rabrenovic and Roskos 2001). This is significant because both war and peace can be understood as gendered processes and thus a gendered understanding of both phenomena can be essential in conflict prevention and peacebuilding. As Cornwall (2005) reiterates, the starting point for understanding gender roles in Africa must begin with an approach that is sensitive to the range of relational subject positions, which coexist in any single cultural setting. The challenge with any analysis of gender is to find a starting point that avoids assuming or imposing identities on diverse and divergent subjects; particularly in contemporary Africa, where the dynamics of identity and difference are very much at play (Cornwall 2005). Likewise, postconflict is not such a straightforward concept when seen through a gendered lens because in postconflict settings, even though direct forms of violence and civil unrest may have ended, women are often still subject to high levels of gender-based violence (GBV) that will prevent them from achieving sustainable peace. In fact, there is the tendency for GBV to increase during this period; in this sense, postconflict is still a period of conflict for women (Handrahan 2004; Moran 2010). Ongoing structural inequalities and exclusion in economic and democratic processes indicate that lasting peace will be harder to achieve for women. The term peacebuilding entered international discourse in the 1990s and was popularized by the United Nations, specifically by the former UN Secretary General, Boutros Boutros-Ghali, who defined it as a means of identifying and supporting structures that could strengthen and ensure lasting peace (Tschirgi 2004). Peacebuilding can be understood as the construction of local capacity and society’s ability to handle conflict without violence (De La Rey and McKay 2006). The peacebuilding model employed by most international organizations is framed within the neoliberal approach because it drives their understanding of the development process. The neoliberal framework is grounded in modernization theory and perceives peacebuilding as an opportunity to transform failed states into new market economies interconnected with the global economic order (Moola 2006; Ochen 2017). Hence the neoliberal peacebuilding model focuses on formal peacebuilding that takes place on a national level. However, given the track record of the neoliberal approach to development, there is the propensity to perpetuate distributional inequalities when using this top-down approach to economic growth (Moola 2006). It thus

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follows that the common neoliberal peacebuilding model caters primarily to formal structures and processes that are largely driven and occupied by men (Handrahan 2004). Women engage in a significant amount of peacebuilding; however, they do so unofficially and often without recognition, resources, or assistance. For example, women often are instrumental, yet unassisted, in the reintegration of ex-soldiers into communities, particularly former child soldiers (Zuckerman and Greenberg 2004). There is some consensus in the women and peacebuilding literature that the neoliberal peacebuilding model is driven by “sloppy conceptual thinking on conflict and peace, and on the nature of gender politics in ‘postconflict’ situations” (Pankhurst 2003, p. 155). This is in part attributable to the fact that feminist research on the important variances that exist when discussing gender have not been integrated into the mainstream international development perspective. Instead, the majority of peacebuilding literature ignores the issue of gender and assumes that women and men have identical experiences of war, peace, and postconflict (Moran 2010; Garnett 2016). Feminist theorists have defined gender as fluid and variable, with the acknowledgement that there are multiple systems of femininities and masculinities (Moran 2010). Women’s experiences of conflict are both individual and collective and are highly contextualized, making it difficult to ascribe a single universal experience to them, even in African societies that appear comparable in terms of culture, politics, socioeconomics, or history (Ochen 2017). Likewise, gender often becomes defined as women at the neglect of men’s varied experiences, failing to take advantage of the knowledge that emerges from an analysis of militarization and masculinity during the reformation of the nation state in the postconflict era (Moran 2010). This would be a significant contribution to the comprehension of gender dynamics during this period of social reconstruction. Peacebuilding is gendered and culturally specific because its meaning is defined within the context of a particular space and time. Men and women may have different ways of building peace because gender differences and gender inequality imply that women and men experience culture differently (De La Rey and McKay 2006). Hence a more gender inclusive vision of postconflict societies should recognize that many aspects of women’s lives are dictated by gender inequality. A peacebuilding model that adequately conceptualizes and integrates gender would thus include gender awareness and make space for women to define and influence postconflict structures necessary to attain meaningful peace (Moola 2006).

Woman Peacemaker Women’s active roles in peacebuilding are often acknowledged in this body of knowledge; however, the divergence in the literature resides primarily in explaining why women are more concerned with building peace than men. Two overarching themes emerge: the essentialist and constructivist perspectives (Brounéus 2014). The literature on women and peacebuilding seeks to understand whether women have a natural, biological predisposition for peace or are they socially constructed to build peace? There has been a tendency to universally categorize all women as peaceful

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and passive members of society, considering women to be a unique homogenous unit of analysis and ignoring that there are variations between women’s status, even down to the regional level (Gizelis 2011). Women, in this stereotypical role, remain in the private or domestic sphere, nurturing and caring for children and the elderly. They are the essential mother figure, “mother maternity,” nurturing and caring for society writ large (Ruddick 1989; Pankhurst 2003). Through the female anatomy and the process of childbirth, women are seen, literally, as the givers of life and therefore cannot be the “takers” of life. Men, on the other hand, venture out of the home, killing during the hunt, and killing other men in various conflicts, protecting or expanding community interests. This seemingly ancient dichotomy of gender-based experiences continues to define women’s roles in largely patriarchal society. In many societies, women remain relegated to the private sphere or at least, are not considered active members of the public or political sphere. This can be seen in the underrepresentation of women in parliaments worldwide. However, it can be contended that women’s roles in civil war and violent conflict are varied and can be found along the spectrum of active agent to passive victim; in fact, men’s roles in violent conflict can also be understood on this spectrum (Utas 2005). More than passive victims of violence, reality calls on women to fulfill a multitude of positions in times of conflict. Not only do women passively experience violent conflict as the victims of sexual violence and rape but they can also be the perpetrators of violence through their direct and indirect participation in armed struggle. Women may not always participate in war in a violent manner, but they can also support war by assisting men in armed struggle. Although examples such as these demonstrate a wide variation in women’s roles in conflict, Enloe (1993) reminds us that even as soldiers and fighters, women operate within a patriarchal military system that continues to define them in gendered terms. Militarism is defined as masculine because of violence, domination, and force; peacemaking, on the other hand, is defined as feminine due to compassion and passivity (Rabrenovic and Roskos 2001). It has been widely contended that the essentialist understanding of women as peacemakers, which stems from an essentialist understanding of womanhood, is an inaccurate understanding of women’s involvement in peace work (Boulding 2001; Snyder 2000; York 1996). Instead, multiple alternate theories have been explored that attempt to comprehend why women are more likely to be involved or committed to peace as compared to men. For example, Olsen and Tryggestad (2001) argued that women’s propensity to work towards peace is not innate but stems from the historical and traditional role of women in building and maintaining peace and security within their families and communities, even from the private sphere. Hence, not all women are natural peacemakers, but social relations and their social status leads them to develop effective peacebuilding skills (Porter 2007). Boulding (2001) argues that women’s experiences, as opposed to a biological predisposition, grant them the negotiating skills necessary for peace because they learn to deal creatively with difference and conflict, which leads to a listening culture. In other words, women are socialized to develop and utilize peacebuilding skills because they are often forced to bargain with patriarchal structures in their

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homes, schools, and workplaces. Boulding calls this women’s “experience world,” emphasizing a nonessentialist view that gender roles have led women to develop skills essential to peacebuilding and negotiating, yet women are often absent from the negotiating table in the aftermath of war. In peacebuilding processes across Africa, notably Rwanda, Kenya, and Liberia, it is women and women’s groups that brought factions together to simply sit and listen to each other. Boulding argues that we must focus on these problem-solving qualities and pull them into national and international peacebuilding efforts. Within the constructivist theory of women’s propensity for peace work, it is argued that women are more geared towards peacebuilding due to their experience with violence, both structural and physical. The structural inequalities and economic hardships with which women are confronted in patriarchal societies only increases during conflict; particularly when women are relegated to the home front and deemed socially responsible for providing care within their homes, communities, and the maintenance of civil society more broadly. This includes trading of food and livestock, further increasing their exposure to GBV during militarization (Moola 2006). In fact, in patriarchal societies, violence is simply a common factor in women’s lives before, during, and after conflict (Handrahan 2004). While women and men both experience war, they are faced with different types and levels of atrocity during war. Women’s exposure to sexual violence tends to leave them with higher levels of trauma; in certain studies, for example, women have been found twice as likely to suffer from depression and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) (Brounéus 2014). As a result, security means more to women because they face more significant challenges to their safety in the transitional and postconflict setting (Ochen 2017). As victims of sexual abuse and violence that are heightened during war and peace processes, women fight for peace more than men because they want to protect themselves, their children, and communities from violence. The use of GBV, particularly rape, as a strategy of war is thus a motivating factor for women and activists to engage in peacebuilding activities (Handrahan 2004). The UN Security Council Resolution 1325 institutionalized this concept by demanding that women be involved in peacebuilding. This comprises the inclusion of women in peacekeeping operations and the allocation of funds for women’s peacebuilding activities in postconflict states through the United Nations Entity for Gender Equality and the Empowerment of Women (UN Women). Notwithstanding Resolution 1325, whose implementation has yielded mixed results, many international peacebuilding initiatives fail to sufficiently consider women’s unique security needs in the postconflict process.

Peacebuilding Within Patriarchal Systems Scholars tend to be more critical of the postconflict era compared to NGOs and the international community. This is due to the fact that international organizations continue to underestimate and ignore the importance that gender inequality has in

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the postconflict reconstruction process and their interventions. Although some progress has been made, postconflict reform projects tend to be grounded in static or locally inappropriate notions of gender (Moran 2010). Certainly, the principle of do no harm is lacking in international development discourse, as compared to its influence in the humanitarian relief and public health disciplines. Many international interventions utilize a stereotypical and simplified understanding of gender to plan interventions for women in postconflict reconstruction activities, funding training activities in sectors deemed appropriate for women within patriarchal constructs, such as tie-dying, tailoring, catering, and baking. This is often done without any thorough assessment of market dynamics and emerging sectors for economic growth, job creation, or the vitality of such activities for women’s economic empowerment. Furthermore, it demonstrates the level of archaic and patriarchal thinking in the design of peacebuilding interventions. Likewise, many international organizations assume that their interventions impact women and men identically because they do not appreciate how gender inequality and gender roles function within the societies in which they operate. Although tools for gender analysis and assessments do exist, they are not prioritized because gender is perceived as insignificant against the large variables of other issues in the postconflict process, thus gender mainstreaming lacks sufficient budget allocation (Handrahan 2004). This inability to integrate gender into international peacebuilding initiatives, despite the moniker of gender mainstreaming, is certainly linked to the patriarchy that exists within those very international organizations (Handrahan 2004). Of course, patriarchy is a worldwide phenomenon that is not unique to postconflict African settings. One is pressed to find a context that is not confronted with patriarchal systems of oppression, though to varying degrees. It would thus be naïve to assume that organizations could implement consequential gendered peace interventions when they have yet to acknowledge or address the patriarchy that exists within their own country contexts and organizational cultures and processes. In principle, thorough gender assessments investigate the extent to which gender is mainstreamed throughout an organization’s interventions, beginning within the organization. This would uncover the conscious and subconscious gender biases that exist in such organizations. The lack of budget allocated for gender mainstreaming indicates that this is not a priority (Handrahan 2004). In absence of an investigation of these biases, international peacebuilding initiatives will be unable to engender the depth of social transformation needed in postconflict African states. As a result, patriarchy and structural inequalities in Africa continue to limit the breadth of women’s potential contribution to peace and reconstruction processes (Mwambari 2017). The issue here is the influence such international organizations have in shaping the discourse in postconflict states that are undergoing an important transition period, particularly in Africa where international organizations drive the development process. This discourse has the ability to create and reinforce an archaic patriarchy that limits the potential for significant change (Moran 2010). It may also proffer a gendered reality that is not aligned with local realities and social contexts, adding to existing tensions. In postconflict Liberia, for example, the introduction of gender

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equality in certain farming communities increased women’s workload because their male counterparts argued that since genders were now equal under the new female President, women could take on additional farming tasks previously reserved for men. These Liberian men were pushing back on what they perceived as imposed social change that diminished their authority in the postconflict setting, while women were weary that although gender equality seemed like a positive change, its introduction into their lives had created a tangible setback in their household division of labor (Garnett 2012). This is an example of an unintended consequence of postconflict gender equality interventions, wherein programs are introduced without fully understanding the specific cultural context. Postconflict periods are crowded with gendered decisions and issues, such as the reconstruction and rehabilitation of physical infrastructure; the establishment of transparent, accountable, and democratic institutions; the rebuilding of social networks and trust between people; and the enabling of civil society. While both prewar roles and wartime experiences may influence women’s actual roles in postconflict societies, women’s involvement in peace work tends to naturally progress towards a reconstruction agenda in postconflict environments (Rabrenovic and Roskos 2001). As such, women return home as mothers and wives; often skilled labor opportunities that may have existed for women during war diminish when men return and women become restricted to the service sector, unskilled, and informal work. Female soldiers often return to society traumatized and unemployed and are often not recognized by male-oriented veteran organizations – disabled women are particularly disadvantaged in this situation (Karam 2001). Moreover, women are often faced with the burden of rebuilding their communities (Onyejekwe 2005). Zuckerman and Greenberg (2004) go further in their argument by stressing the importance of women in the electoral and political processes. Taking a Women in Development (WID) approach, they argue that women must be guaranteed political rights and participation, and also important, is their right to freedom from all forms of violence. They, along with Campbell (2005), stress the importance of the postconflict institutional framework, i.e., governance and power sharing, in determining the state of women and their achievements towards gender equity in the reconstruction process. Kumar (2001) argues that the South African peace and reconstruction process is one of relative success, and that the integration of women from the peace movement into the governmental decision-making procedure may have significantly contributed to the success of that process. However, Harris (2004) suggests that postconflict institutions should consist of women not only from civil society but also from government, should they hope to impact policy. Furthermore, he suggests that it is primarily men’s attitudes and patriarchal institutions that need reform, thus the importance of including men in women organizations and institutions (Harris 2004). Harris warns that women’s absence in the political realm in conflict makes them unprepared to interact with men on a political scale in the postconflict era and this factor can undermine efforts to include women in the reconstruction process (Harris 2004). Ethnic inclusion is also often seen as an essential aspect to postconflict reconstruction; most certainly because of the role that ethnicity plays in the outset of

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conflict in plural ethnic societies (Harff and Gurr 2003). However, the connection between gender and ethnic inequality is seldom stressed in peacebuilding and reconstruction efforts. Eliminating the structural causes of ethnic conflict is seen as important in the attainment of long-term peace, yet an understanding of inequality more broadly, inclusive of both ethnic and gender inequality, as a more universal structural barrier to peace is overlooked. Nakaya (2003) adds to this body of knowledge when she states that where there is inequality, there is likely gender inequality; hence the importance of addressing both inter- and intra-group inequality in the reconstruction process. York (1996) reiterates that oppression is on a scale, with the original oppression being the oppression of women, therefore women should be particularly concerned with oppression in the reconstruction process. Here, it could also be argued that those concerned with ethnic oppression and inequality should also be concerned with the oppression and neglect of women. Therefore, women’s representation needs to be equitable because legitimate conflict resolution requires an inclusive and participatory process not only among different ethnic groups but also among all genders (Nakaya 2003). Achieving gender equity in a postconflict environment is often dependent upon the structural base of power relations within that particular society from which the gender interface cannot be independently constructed; class, clan, and other forms of group membership make structural change and societal transformation necessary for achieving gender equity. Consequently, domestic society and traditional customary structures play an important role in transforming gender inequality (Nakaya 2003). Also, the culture of violence often present in postconflict societies needs to be addressed in postconflict reconstruction. Sexual violence and its related issues such as PTSD require social, political, and economic rehabilitation but often go unaddressed in postconflict societies (Reardon 1985; Enloe 1993; Rabrenovic and Roskos 2001). As Zuckerman and Greenberg (2004) suggest, sustainable peace requires more permanent transformations of social norms relating to gender, violence, and power and needs to address trauma, breaking the cycle of violence, and the rebuilding of social capital after conflict. Several scholars have stressed the importance of women’s education and training in the postconflict environment (Harris 2004; Campbell 2005). Not only primary, secondary, and tertiary education for women and girls, but more so, education and training geared specifically towards participation in the field of postconflict reconstruction, in order to render the reconstruction process more gender appropriate. Harris (2004) argues that training in management, strategic planning, economics, finance, development, conflict resolution, gender awareness, and community life skills all need to be stressed. There is also a special need for the reintegration of female soldiers because reintegration programs tend to focus on education and training for men in the postconflict environment (Campbell 2005). Gender education is also key for the postconflict environment because in order to achieve social change, women must first be aware of their rights (Zuckerman and Greenberg 2004). Macro-economic issues can prohibit the success of postconflict programming because gender determines economic roles in society (Zuckerman and Greenberg 2004). This stresses the importance of having an awareness of gender in the

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decision-making process in reconstruction planning and programming. Examples from South Africa and Uganda demonstrate that the screening of national budgets to assure their consideration for gender issues is a useful tool in the reconstruction process. As a more equitable distribution of national resources among all members of the new postconflict society is a necessary part of conflict avoidance, including a fair representation of women and ethnic groups at the negotiating table could help maintain peace and assist in conflict avoidance (Karam 2001). An understanding of the feminization of poverty has made it clear that eliminating gender inequality would greatly contribute to poverty reduction (Shoemaker 2002); thus, guaranteeing women the right to employment without discrimination could be instrumental to this effort. Agricultural development is also significant to the reconstruction process because women tend to do the bulk of agricultural work, particularly when men seek paid labor in distant or urban areas (Zuckerman and Greenberg 2004). As the existing literature on women in postconflict reconstruction demonstrates, the state of gender inequality in the postconflict environment and in reconstruction policies and programming will have an impact on the effectiveness of the rebuilding process and also the ability of postconflict societies to rebound successfully from violent conflict and maintain peace. The theoretical foundations of this chapter reveal the danger in conceptualizing women as peaceful and passive victims, in stark contrast to men as warlike because it reinforces culturally defined gender stereotypes, which continue to undermine women’s rights in the postconflict era (Rabrenovic and Roskos 2001; Mason 2003). The intersectionality of women’s experiences is a recurring theme in the women in peacebuilding literature, utilizing case studies with an anthropological and sociological lens that deconstruct the meaning of postconflict on the African continent. These experiences demonstrate the diversity of strategies used by women activists, to the extent that it becomes impossible to identify one single theory of how conflicts are resolved, and peace sustainably and meaningfully attained (Moran 2010). There are large variances in women’s capacity for peacebuilding, socially, contextually, and individually (Ochen 2017). Intersectionality reminds us to avoid overgeneralizing women’s experiences because social status, ethnicity, economics, access to resources, and existing networks are all important factors to be considered when analyzing African women’s peacebuilding work.

Women Organizations The discourse proffered by international organizations is powerful because it is accompanied by funding mechanisms that support certain peacebuilding initiatives, particularly those that fit within their own conception of appropriate gendered peacebuilding. As a result, there remain many unmet needs for women in postconflict settings, such as tailored psychosocial programs for survivors and perpetrators of GBV, locally relevant training for female ex-combatants, and other programs that focus on social reconciliation. Unlike the official male-dominated peace settlement space, women’s peacebuilding power is found primarily at the micro-levels:

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within the realms of families and communities, at the root of social analysis. Ideally, both processes could complement each other in order to sustain peace at all levels; however, for the most part, women’s work doesn’t receive sufficient recognition or support (Pankhurst 2003). Although it is difficult to deny the importance of representation needed in the peace process, particularly impressive is the wide range of unsolicited activities that women and women organizations have carried out in search of peace. In spite of the narrow space that patriarchal systems leave for women’s participation, African women demonstrate great levels of agency in their peacebuilding work. Women organizations play a critical role in bridging the gap across communities and networks; this includes bridging the gap between grassroots organizers and international organizations. Women’s social groups and networks have served to maintain links and connections among women during and after conflict, as well as helping to attain and maintain peace. Although women’s groups are not necessarily strong in terms of organizational capacity, they tend to maintain contacts across territory, which also helps sustain their stability and movements (Kumar 2001). The agency of women involved in the peace process can serve as a peacemaking and peacebuilding resource and women organizations lead to a participatory model that creates a sense of community beyond the organization (Rabrenovic and Roskos 2001). Giving national and international recognition to women’s grassroots peace work would make such work even more effective as it would increase the visibility of peacebuilding initiatives and make the peacebuilding process more public and inclusive (De La Rey and McKay 2006). The proliferation of women organizations during the postconflict era in Africa is also indicative of women’s experience of violence. This shared experience of violence and militarization serves to reduce the significance of ethnicity and strengthen gender identity. As a result, women organizations tend to be more progressive than mainstream NGOs in the way they transcend ethnic and clan divisions. The ability to work across ethnic lines helps to explain the success of women’s peacebuilding interventions (Gizelis 2011). This phenomenon has taken place throughout the continent, with notable examples in Liberia, Rwanda, Uganda, Swaziland, and South Africa (Handrahan 2004). These organizations serve a crucial purpose in channeling international funding to women leaders for the purpose of grassroots peacebuilding activities. Women organizations encourage a culture of peace and certain grassroots organizations grow into international organizations that continue peacebuilding after conflict has ended. Most notably, in the Liberian civil crisis, women organized across ethnic, religious, cultural, and national lines to ensure peace throughout the region. The Mano River Union Women’s Peace Network (MARWOPNET) and the Women in Peace Building Network (WIPNET) grew out of women’s response to the Liberian civil crisis that enthralled the entire Mano River region, including Sierra Leone and Guinea. Key to the success of women’s peacebuilding organizations is their ability to appeal to patriarchal definitions of motherhood. Women involved in the Liberian peace process spoke of using this power during their struggle for peace in the book, Liberian Women Peacemakers (African Women and Peace Support Group 2004).

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These women organizations used a wide range of tactics, such as appealing to warring factions by stressing their roles as mothers, sisters, and daughters, in order to garner sympathy for their cause of ending the war (Garnett 2016). WIPNET began as a program in Liberia in 2002 under the banner of the West African Network for Peace (WANEP). Its goal was to build the capacity of women to enhance their roles in peacebuilding and postconflict reconstruction and increase the visibility of women in these processes. WIPNET brought together smaller women organizations from various religious and cultural backgrounds and organized several peace interventions. They began by organizing nonviolent protests, advocating with warring factions and writing letters to the wives of faction leaders. In 2003, during the signing of the Comprehensive Peace Agreements in Ghana, WIPNET members conducted a sit-in to protest the lack of women and lack or urgency demonstrated by faction leaders. When their actions proved successful, they then became involved in the demobilization, disarmament, and reintegration of excombatants, before turning their attention to the successful electoral campaign of Africa’s first elected female head of state, Ellen Johnson Sirleaf. The important work of WIPNET has been well documented in books, articles, and documentaries and is being replicated throughout the West African region under the WANEP umbrella. In fact, it has become known as the “women peace activism strategy” (Gbowee 2009, p. 50) and has earned one of the leaders of WIPNET, Ms. Leymah Gbowee, a Nobel Peace Prize, a platform that she has utilized to further this peace model globally. Women organizations reveal the spectrum of women’s agency in the peace process and contradict the essentialist perspective that women are helpless victims when faced with violent conflict. Such case studies of women’s experiences demonstrate the gains that some women make during postconflict restructuring (Fuest 2008). Due to the fact that patriarchy prevents the recognition of gender equity as an important feature of the postconflict landscape, women activists both local and international have to fight to be heard and seen. Recognizing the strategic value of the woman-peacemaker association in the patriarchal systems of the postconflict nation state, certain activists and women’s groups play into the essentialism in order to justify their participation in the peace process (Moran 2010; African Women and Peace Support Group 2004). This phenomenon has been referred to as patriarchal bargaining (Kandiyoti 1988), where women play into the essentialist perspective and utilize moral maternity as an instrument of inclusion. What is most fascinating about this approach is that while it demonstrates women’s agency in war and the postconflict period, it also plays into the notion that women are defined primarily as victims. Patriarchy defines women primarily as mothers, wives, and daughters, consequently Liberian women utilized this definition to fight militarization because it was most effective in appealing to patriarchal sentiments. Women’s peacebuilding work often translates into postconflict reconstruction because the need for grassroots organizing still remains. WIPNET and MARWOPNET began during the conflict but continue to work on women’s rights in the reconstruction period. The Association of Female Lawyers of Liberia (AFELL) is another example of a women’s organization that remained active in the postconflict reconstruction process. Established during the height of the civil

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crisis in 1996, AFELL works to support grassroots movements as well as educate Liberians about legislative changes that they might otherwise remain ignorant of. They work within the judicial and legislative systems, including advocating for the passage of laws that impact women’s lives. They lobbied tirelessly for the passage of the Rape Law and the Inheritance Law, which were passed in 2003 and 2005, after the signing of the Accra Comprehensive Peace Agreement that officially ended the conflict. The passing of the Inheritance Law has the potential to greatly impact women’s rights in the reconstruction environment because it recognizes customary marriage and grants all Liberian women, regardless of geographical or cultural heritage, access to the legal system. In fact, it was grassroots women who brought the issue to the attention of AFELL. Once the laws were passed, AFELL worked with the newly established Ministry of Gender and Development to ensure that Liberians knew about the new laws, which they did though the grassroots movement, community engagement, and creating brochures in simple English and various local languages. Liberian women peacemakers have been credited with ending the civil conflict due to their innovative bargaining tactics and determination, including the organization of a national sex-strike. These examples demonstrate the potential for women organizations to engender empowerment and bottom-up civil society mobilization. Women organizations across the African continent create the space for effective mobilization, articulation of interests, and shaping of institutional structures and exertion of greater influence (Gizelis 2011). They accomplish this in spite of the limited recognition and support they receive from national and international actors.

Conclusion The patriarchal bargaining described above reveals the extent to which women’s agency is defined and limited within the possibilities of the patriarchal framework. Women are placed in a very difficult position, particularly those in leadership and decision-making positions, as the very premise for their increased representation lies within their presumed victimhood, thereby restricting their agency. Those interested in increasing the role of women within the postconflict process will need to push beyond the confines of patriarchy and break the pattern of emphasizing women’s victimhood for the sake of resource mobilization. The debate on women and peacebuilding in postconflict African states is moving toward a more critical perspective of the neoliberal peacebuilding model, and also the overarching international development paradigm. This evolution is likely the result of the frustrations surrounding the inability of this model to incorporate gender analyses and broader implications from the feminist literature. The challenge is to broaden the framework of support given to women in order to maximize their peacebuilding work and unleash the potential for sociopolitical transformation that the postconflict era presents. There exists a wealth of research emanating from the feminist framework, which has sought to identify ways to more holistically address the divergent realities of women in the postconflict era. More refined and contextualized gender analyses

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are necessary in the wake of the implementation of neoliberal peacebuilding policies. This might unearth the inherent assumptions, impacts, and unintended consequences of the neoliberal peacebuilding model and further justify a shift in approach. As highlighted above, the essentialist perspective tends to downplay women’s agency, whereas there is much to be learned from the approach of women organizations. Instead of women’s participation being perceived as an unintended consequence of peacebuilding, the bottom-up approach of women’s grassroots activities needs to become systematically integrated into peacebuilding models on the continent of Africa and beyond. Gender analyses could also highlight the role that men play in attaining gender equity in the peace process. While masculinity features prominently in the debates around militarization, it is evidently missing from the peacebuilding debate. Particularly missing is a more nuanced understanding of nonviolent and noncombatant men. This should be integrated into the debate as a means of strengthening new concepts of masculinity in a post-patriarchal paradigm. The apparent misalignment of neoliberal peacebuilding and African realities indicates that there must exist more appropriate methodologies for deconstructing patriarchy and male-dominant institutions in postconflict African states. In the wake of the proliferation of women organizations and their effectiveness in working across ethnic lines and geographical space, a more in-depth study of women’s agency may reveal new approaches for incorporating knowledge and lessons from Africa into more sustainable peacebuilding models.

References African Women and Peace Support Group. (2004). Liberian women peacemakers: Fighting for the right to be seen, heard and counted. Trenton: Africa World Press. Boulding, E. (2001). Building a culture of peace: Some priorities. National Women’s Studies Association Journal, 13(2), 55–60. Brounéus, K. (2014). The women and peace hypothesis in peacebuilding settings: Attitudes of women in the wake of the Rwandan genocide. Signs, 40(1), 125–151. Campbell, P. (2005). Gender and post-conflict civil society. International Feminist Journal of Politics, 7(3), 377–399. Cornwall, A. (Ed.). (2005). Readings in gender in Africa. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. De La Rey, C., & McKay, S. (2006). Peacebuilding as a gendered process. Journal of Social Issues, 62(1), 141–153. Elshtain, J. (1987). Women in war. Brighton: Harvester. Enloe, C. (1993). The morning after: Sexual politics at the end of the cold war. Berkeley: University of California Press. Fuest, V. (2008). ‘This is the time to get in front’: Changing roles and opportunities for women in Liberia. African Affairs, 107, 201–224. Garnett, T. (2012). Understanding gender in Liberia’s Postconflict reconstruction process (Doctoral thesis). Tulane University School of Law, New Orleans. Garnett, T. (2016). Ellen is our man: Perceptions of gender in Postconflict Liberian Politics. International Feminist Journal of Politics, 18(1), 99–118. Gbowee, L. (2009). Effecting change through Women’s activism in Liberia. Institute of Development Studies Bulletin, 40(2), 50–53. Gizelis, T. (2011). A country of their own: Women and peacebuilding. Conflict Management and Peace Science, 28(5), 522–542.

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Handrahan, L. (2004). Conflict, gender, ethnicity and postconflict reconstruction. Security Dialogue, 34(4), 429–445. Harff, B., & Gurr, R. (2003). Ethnic conflict in world politics (2nd ed.). New York: Westview Press. Harris, S. (2004). Gender, participation, and post-conflict planning in northern Sri Lanka. Gender and Development, 12(3), 60–69. Kandiyoti, D. (1988). Bargaining with patriarchy. Gender and Society, 2(3), 274–290. Karam, A. (2001). Women in war and peace-building: The roads traversed, the challenges ahead. International Feminist Journal of Politics, 3(1), 2–25. Kumar, R. (2001). Women’s peacekeeping during ethnic conflicts and post-conflict reconstruction. National Women’s Studies Association Journal, 13(2), 68–74. Mason, C. (2003). Guest editor’s introduction: Women with and without guns: Gender, conflict and sexuality. Social Alternatives, 22(2), 3–4. Moola, S. (2006). Women and peace-building: The case of Mabedlane women. Agenda: Empowering Women for Gender Equity, 69, 124–133. Moran, M. (2010). Gender, militarization, and peacebuilding: Projects of the postconflict moment. Annual Review of Anthropology, 39, 261–274. Mwambari, David (2017). Women-led Non-Governmental Organizations and Peacebuilding in Rwanda. African Conflict & Peacebuilding Review 7(1), pp. 66–79. Nakaya, S. (2003). Women and gender equality in peace processes: From women at the negotiating table to postwar structural reforms in Guatemala and Somalia. Global Governance, 9(4), 459–476. Ochen, E. (2017). Women and liberal peacebuilding in postconflict Uganda: Community social work agenda revisited? African Sociological Review, 21(2), 15–35. Olsen, L., & Tryggestad, T. (Eds.). (2001). Women and international peacekeeping. London: Frank Cass. Onyejekwe, C. (2005). Women, war, peace-building and reconstruction. International Social Science Journal, 57(184), 277–283. Pankhurst, Donna (2003). The ‘Sex War’ and Other Wars: Towards a Feminist Approach to Peace Building. Development in Practice, 13(2/3), pp. 154–177. Porter, E. (2007). Peacebuilding: Women in international perspective. London/New York: Routledge. Rabrenovic, G., & Roskos, L. (2001). Introduction: Civil society, feminism, and the gendered politics of war and peace. National Women’s Studies Association Journal, 13(2), 40–55. Reardon, B. (1985). Sexism and the war system. New York: Teachers College Press. Ruddick, S. (1989). Maternal thinking toward a politics of peace. Boston: Beacon. Shoemaker, J. (2002). War and peace: Women and conflict prevention. Civil Wars, 5(1), 27–55. Snyder, A. (2000). Peace profile: Federation of African Women’s peace networks. Peace Review, 12(1), 147–153. Tschirgi, N. (2004). Root causes of peace and challenges to peace. New York: International Peace Academy. Turshen, M. (1998). Women’s war stories. In M. Turshen & C. Twagiramariya (Eds.), What women do in wartime: Gender and conflict in Africa (pp. 1–26). London/New York: Zed Books. Utas, M. (2005). Victimcy, girlfriending and soldiering: Tactic agency in a young woman’s social navigation of the Liberian warzone. Anthropology Quarterly, 78, 403–430. York, J. (1996). The truth(s) about women and peace. Peace Review, 8(3), 323–329. Zuckerman, E., & Greenberg, M. (2004). The gender dimensions of Postconflict reconstruction: An analytical framework for policymakers. Gender and Development, 12(3), 70–82.

Women and Peace Education in Africa

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Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Development of Peace Education . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . African Women’s Involvement in Peace Education . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Strategies of African Women in Peace Education . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Broader Impact of African Women in Peace Education . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

Peace education plays a key role in ending the cycle of violence in the world because it utilizes education systems as agencies of conflict prevention, conflict management, and peacebuilding. However, while scholarly discourses and debates have centered on the roles of African women in peace-making and the inadequacies in their involvements in post-conflict peace processes, the fact that women should be trained in the pedagogical aspects of peace has not attracted due attention. One critical premise in the overlooking or rationalizing of the non-inclusion of women in peace education is the tendency to ignore the roles and established competence of women who were already working on crucial areas of resolving conflicts and building peace. This chapter examines the role and importance of women in peace education in Africa to addressing a more fundamental and rounded gendered perspective to peace education on the continent, given the rising necessity for peace education. It further seeks to contextualize and problematize African women’s role in peace education and not portray African women as one homogeneous group, deserving special treatment. It explores the true status of women in peace analysis and how this can be translated F. I. Agbaje (*) Department of Peace, Security and Humanitarian Studies, Faculty of Multidisciplinary Studies, Institute for Peace and Strategic Studies, University of Ibadan, Ibadan, Nigeria © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_89

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into peace education by articulating the contributions of African women to peace education while addressing the need for a more gendered approach to both formal and informal peace education in Africa in the context of changing trends. Keywords

African women · Peace education · Gender · Peacebuilding

Introduction The need for peace education globally is more urgent than ever before and especially more so in Africa. One reason for this is the spate of conflicts that have become an intractable component of human society. Peace education is described by Fountain (1999) as an essential component of quality basic education. It is not only a concept but also the process of promoting skill, knowledge, and values needed to bring about behavioral change among children, youths, and adults to prevent conflict and, when one arises, to resolve it amicably. Peace education is focused on achieving harmony at multiple levels, including intrapersonal, interpersonal, intergroup, national, and international. Peace education in the African context is aimed to achieve a set of goals among which are emotional intelligence, peaceful and nonviolent coexistence, conflict resolution mechanisms, human rights, gender equity and equality, human security, environmental safety, effective communication practices, tolerance of diversity, and healthy national and international relationships (Enaigbe and Igbinoghene 2016). Furthermore, it promotes values such as freedom, trust, respect for fundamental human rights, communalism, and justice. It is also aimed at transforming the long-held culture of war and armed conflict into an alternative long-term behavioral change toward peace. This chapter examines the role and importance of women in peace education in Africa with a view to addressing a more fundamental and rounded gendered perspective to peace education on the continent, considering the increase in armed conflicts and the subsequent demand for peace education. As indicated before, peace education is an important requisite for creating a culture of harmony and teaching people how to interact without strife or aggression. It encompasses all aspects of peace activities such as peacekeeping, peacemaking, and peacebuilding and promotes peaceful skills such as effective dialogue, negotiation, mediation, arbitration, and eventual reconciliation. It aims at addressing fear, insecurity, cultural differences, and root causes of conflicts in order to manage and, if possible, resolve them. It is an education for empowerment and interaction (Frances 2005). The word “peace” does not just stand for the absence of violence or war but also means well-being, harmony, health, security, wealth, and tranquility (Adirika 2014). Peace education has developed as a means of achieving and addressing all the aforementioned goals and needs. African women have worked tirelessly to promote the core values of peace education in terms of building trust, solidarity, nonviolence, and social justice.

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However, it has become clear that peace education can be both formal and informal in nature and can be delivered in all settings during, before, and after conflicts (Johnson and Johnson 2005). While formal peace education involves instruction about the response to conflict, informal peace education may be informed by culture, religion, and other values informed by traditional practices and transmitted outside the formal education system. The methods of deployment, therefore, may be different but the result is the same (Candice 2013). They both complement each other in promoting peaceful existence among humans. Thus, peace education serves the dual roles of prevention and management of conflict for all humans irrespective of their gender, class, or age. In essence, more cross-cutting, robust, complimentary, and gender-sensitive formal and informal peace education programs are required to strengthen existing institutions for peace in the face of persisting intrastate and interstate conflicts, including acts of terrorism and all forms of insurgencies. Even though African women have been involved in peace education across the ages from the domestic arena to the community at large through their multifarious, mostly traditional institutions, their peace activities have witnessed a lot of changes influenced by colonialism and modernity (Akinsola 2013; Agbaje 2017) among which is the introduction of western education. This development gave rise to the quest to further strengthen the capacity of formal educators to build peace through schools’ curriculum (Candice 2013; Armstrong 1987; Avoseh 2008). This quest has not been altogether futile because it has actually yielded positive response as many primary, secondary, and tertiary educational institutions have now incorporated peace education either as a discipline, subject, activity, or course. What remains is the notable gap in gender proportioning of actors and repositories of peace education in Africa in the sense that women are not given adequate space either as educators or as participants. This underscores the urgent need for complementarity in teaching and learning of peace education. In addition, the lacuna in peace education is also evident in the ways it has been reduced mainly to just the four walls of classrooms (UNICEF 2001). Even though women have been recognized as victims of physical and sexual abuse all over the world and for the role they play in making peace, relevant literature has underscored inadequacies in the reality of positioning women in areas of practical peace activities, thus accounting for the little number of women involved in (formal and informal) peace talks (Avornyo et al. 2015). There are reasons women in Africa should be included in peace education in all its forms. They have played and continue to play important roles in peace education even if their roles have not been adequately recognized officially as such. Women in Africa educate others about peace not only in the homesteads but also in the larger community, using praise poems, songs, stories, maxims, foods, body inscriptions, and proverbs to pass the values of peace to their progenitors. At times, these women deploy the use of sanctions to enforce peace, if the need arises. African women have been described as the primary teachers in the field of life (Cornwall 2005; Agbaje 2019; Agbalajobi 2010). They convey such lessons of life to their offspring through the media outlined above. For example, it is widely held that it is primarily the mother’s responsibility to look after children until they reach a certain age when they could be considered independent.

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Despite numerous ways women have contributed to peace across African nations, they are still treated as dispensable. Women generally remain absent from policy dialogue on peace education at all levels. Female peace knowledge is usually not sought in developing the curriculum for formal peace education. Moreover, most of the cultural peace practices across the African continent have not been adequately studied and disseminated to increase the possibility of achieving long-lasting peace. Peace education plays a key role in ending the cycle of violence in the world because it utilizes education systems as agencies of conflict prevention, conflict management, and peacebuilding. Peace education is not aimed solely at responding to conflict, it is also a proactive step in making peace in society to prevent conflict. African women therefore should be an integral part of peace education. Again, as noted earlier, while scholarly discourses and debates have centered on the roles of African women in peacemaking and the inadequacies in their involvements in post-conflict peace processes, the fact that women should be trained in the pedagogical aspects of peace has not attracted due attention. This argument is ubiquitous and has long been used to push women’s agenda at national and international platforms such as the United Nations. Its Security Council Resolution 1325 calls for broad participation of women in peace processes at all levels (Shepherd 2008). However, it has also resulted in essentializing women as a group of a unique and different set of human beings with distinct identities and, thus, often excused from varieties of activities and experiences directly available for men (Enloe 1993). This chapter seeks to contextualize and problematize African women’s role in peace education and thus not portray African women as one homogeneous group. Rather, it explores and gives special treatment to the true status of women in peace analysis and how this can be translated into peace education. In addition, this chapter presents how African women’s diverse peace knowledge can be strengthened through adequate training and, also, by involving women in peace education at all levels across Africa since the culture of peace requires the mobilization of all members (males and females) of society.

Development of Peace Education The end of World War II in 1945 marked the beginning of the formal discipline of peace studies globally (Chernoff 2004). This is not to say that peace as an educational concept had not been incorporated into courses in higher institutions before then, as there were elements of peace featuring in the social sciences and humanities such as political science, religious studies, sociology, and history. However, the fear of another world war led to the creation of peace studies as some universities in the United States came together to start what is today known as peace studies. The major difference between peace studies and peace education is that peace studies, on the one hand, includes research, deep thinking, and dialogue on issues such as conflicts, war, violence, and the necessary measures needed to establish sustainable peace (Martin 2010). In other words, it is formal in all senses. Peace education, on the other hand, is about integrating peace into the thoughts and living experiences of all

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human beings. It teaches how to be a global citizen through transformative actions reflective of an embodied peace paradigm (Salomon and Nevo 2002; Aspeslagh 1996). Nevertheless, the development of systematic peace education has led to a discussion about whether the fundamentals of peace education should be incorporated into the regular school subjects or that it should be taught in separate programs in and out of schools. Even though this debate is still ongoing, many in the field believe that the implementation of principles of peace education into the institutionalized educational system is a better approach. The essence of peace education is woven around the fear of insecurity. The first school of thought clamors for the removal of fear to achieve peace, while the second school advocates for the elimination of the afraid to make peace. In other words, the first school is pushing for pacifism and solving basic human problems that trigger conflict such as fear of poverty and poor health, among others, while the other school believes fear is an integral part of humanity and as such, the ones that are pushed by it should be removed from the global space (through arms) in order for peace to reign. In essence, one group of scholars argues that peace can only be achieved using peaceful methods, while the other group believes that the protection of innocent human lives requires the willingness to defend moral values using force and violence (Brough et al. 2007). In other words, violent conflicts have been used in shaping and reshaping peace education. Peace education, therefore, can not only take a formal mode but can also take an informal shape. It can be taught by different people, including teachers and parents, and it can be taught at all stages, both in the classroom and out of the classroom. Specifically, peace education in Africa involves both institutionalized and non-institutionalized educational practice. It is also interdisciplinary, multicultural, and interreligious in nature. It is noteworthy that in 1919, after World War 1, an organization known as Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom (WILPF) (Bussey and Tims 1965) was established. This women’s organization operated long before the global peace education campaign of the 1970s. These women organized and, as they grew, established branches across nations based on the pervasive belief that armed conflict was solely men’s preoccupation while women stood for peace. This further confirms the alignment between women and peace. Nevertheless, while the idea of WILPF is commendable, it should be worthwhile to mention that African women have been pushing the agenda of peace long before World War 1. However, the activities of these women have been largely undocumented in the literature. This is built on the foundation of the historical reality that women’s work of building and rebuilding the society under conditions of constant change, in times of war, famine, and disasters, is, indeed, an assembly of skills and resources. These skills and resources are critical, not only to human survival but also to human development. Over time, numerous female groups and institutions were saddled with the responsibility of maintaining decorum in society (Ardener 1978; Hafkin and Bay 1976; Kathyn 1986). The idea of peace education is therefore not alien to Africans. It is a vibrant, powerful concept characterized by the general formulation of people’s mentality, culture, and religion. It is aimed at creating a relational and structural justice that allows for social and personal well-being. It addresses issues of social justice,

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cohesion, and equity in access to power and resources. Peace education does not deny the essential need for adversarial processes, but rather, places such processes into a larger perspective whereby conflicts are perceived as opportunities for people to grow, to accept responsibility, and for the potential of apology, forgiveness, and reconciliation. It is, thus, not only a concept but also a process of addressing conflicts about culture and context. At present, there is an ongoing debate on whether peace is an independent academic program and should be so studied or if it is better understood as an integral part of courses in the social sciences or humanities. According to WANEP (2012), there are two types of peace education structures, namely, integrative peace education and independent peace education. While integrative peace education structure is the infusion of the peace education program into already existing approved education curriculum, independent peace education structure is a conscious development of peace education as a separate subject of learning. In many African nations, the prevalent peace education structure is the integrative form whereby peace education features in subjects such as social studies, government study, and religious studies. Nevertheless, there is a need for urgent review in the curricula of peace education in Africa to accommodate an integrative peace education structure. A good reason for the review is to establish clarity of terms such as what constitutes peace in Africa; what are the African traditional mechanisms of making peace, history, and its attendant changes and continuities; what are the factors responsible for insurgency, banditry, kidnapping, and terrorism; and how do Africans synergize the existing mechanisms in tackling conflicts. In a similar vein, it is essential to provide African solutions to African’s diverse problems. By doing so, peace education will not only be responding to conflicts but more importantly, providing proactive measures to making peace. In other words, peace education will not only be about peace but for peace. Peace education draws methodology and epistemology from other disciplines, but the difference lies in the constant reviewing and updating of strategies. This makes peace education a more practical discipline rather than just an academic exercise (Bretherton et al. 2005). That is why even though peace education programs have been developed by UNICEF in many African states over the past decade, new ideas continue to evolve about how to use the full range of children’s educational experiences to promote commitment to principles of peace and social justice (Fountain 1999). Peace education, therefore, responds to problems. It seeks to transform the knowledge, skills, attitudes, and behaviors that have created violent conflict into knowledge, skills, attitudes, and behaviors supportive of peace and peacebuilding (Nario-Galace 2019). The need for peace education in Africa cannot be overemphasized (Lanham 2003; Uwazie 2011; Alimba 2013). Peace education aids in the construction of the right framework of positive values based on trust, transparency, justice, compassion, and respect for people. As noted earlier, the United Nations Security Council (UNSC) adopted UNSC Resolution (UNSCR) 1325 that acknowledged the important roles women play in different aspects of peace work. The resolution encourages United Nations (UN) member states to increase women’s participation and leadership in these efforts. Another important point to note is the role that African women’s movements and

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African women activists played in the development of the UN’s gender and peace architecture over the decades, including the UN conferences on women. In particular, it was African women’s sustained activism for the recognition of conflict as central to women’s lives that saw this finally recognized in the Beijing Platform for Action of 1995, which was the direct precursor of UNSCR 1325 of 2000. Also, the presidency of the 15-member Security Council that put the draft 1325 on the agenda and saw it passed in October 2000 was Namibia, an African nation (Tripp 2015; Lileka and Imene-Chanduru 2020). In 2001, the United Nations, through the Kofi Annan International Peacekeeping Training Centre in Accra, established the Women, Peace, and Security Institute in Ghana and Chile (UNFPA 2001). The UN also created the University for Peace, which is located in Costa Rica, and also established an Africa program based in Addis Ababa with the explicit motto: Education for Peace. The establishment of these institutes was meant to promote African foci for education in peace, gender, and security issues. In addition, it was aimed at actualizing the aim of the United Nations Security Council Resolution 1325 that calls for an increase in women’s participation in peace processes at all levels. Thus, recognizing the impact of women’s transformative leadership in policymaking in analyzing women’s mobilization throughout history is crucial in bringing to the fore women’s political activism as the urgent agency of social change and peace education in contemporary Africa. For example, Tripp et al. (2009) have explored the historical contexts in Cameroon, Mozambique, and Uganda to explain how African women’s movements have influenced the latest global trends and the international political impact of the implementation of global norms. Similarly, women’s movements such as Women in Nigeria (WIN), Mano River Women’s Peace Network (MARWOPNET), Liberia Women’s Initiative (LWI), and the Pro-Femmes/Twese Hamwe Collective in Rwanda, among others, participated in gender-sensitive peace processes on all fronts (Nzegwu 1994, 2000). Given the fact that the African continent has suffered a lot of unrest in form of conflict, terrorism, insurgencies, and banditry, this chapter recognizes a missing link in a bid to restore a sustainable peace to the region through peace education by acknowledging the contributions of women. It has been argued (Tawiah 2019) that these positive values can only be fully achieved if African women are included in its peace architecture. This argument is buttressed by the fact that African women have been teaching peace from time immemorial by inculcating proper behavior and the ethics of society on their family, friends, and neighbors. African women, therefore, have always been active promoters of peace and harmony in the society (Atuhaire 2015). Despite the ubiquitous roles played by women in promoting peace virtues, contemporary Africa is plagued with the reality of numerous evolving armed conflicts. Overcoming the challenges posed by these conflicts is fast becoming a far-fetched phenomenon. For this reason, the continuing role and influence of African women in projecting as well as strengthening peace values among their progenies in modern Africa are indispensable. The relationship between traditional methods of peace education (rooted in the culture and history of Africa) and modern ones (rooted in global efforts such as the Sustainable Development Goals) is a contested terrain fraught with complexities. To further entrench the value and

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importance of African methods of peace education to complement the western methods, it is immensely important to document best practices undertaken by women as the conveyance of the culture of peace education in Africa. Suffice to say that while no sex either female or male should be excluded in any peace activities including peace education, there is a persistent demand that more African women be involved in peace education discourse and activities.

African Women’s Involvement in Peace Education There is still a very wide knowledge gap in women’s leadership and role model stories in Africa, hence programs that showcase women as leaders will improve young girls’ understanding of their rights and also encourage more women to get trained and participate in peace work to impact at all levels. In Liberia, peace education started with a change in perceptions about traditional gender roles. The society then begins to recognize women as leaders rather than seeing them only at the margins of commerce and politics (Bekoe and Parajon 2007; Yacob-Haliso 2011). Supporting more women in peace education promotes what Galtung (1969) referred to as positive peace (the elimination of social injustice). It is a long-term strategy that will operationalize and integrate gender balance in peace education programs. African women have always been contributing to the peace of their society. However, as the trend of wars and armed conflicts in West Africa changed, women became the victims of unimaginable forms of violence as a tactic of war and they suffer more than their male counterparts (Ngongo-Mbede 2003). Research (Haleh 2003; Bouta and Frerks 2002) underscores this fact that women are disproportionately affected by conflicts and underreported in peace activities. Women often face the brunt of war through the objectification of their bodies, the emotional trauma of losing loved ones, and due to inappropriate foundational training and experience and have to undertake the sudden role of family heads. This is reinforced with age-long isolation, stigmatization and discrimination, illiteracy, and abuse of diverse forms. Unfortunately, although women face a lot of vulnerabilities during conflict, they are not given adequate opportunities to be part of peace processes including peace education. Activities which compensate for gender disparities during, before, and after conflicts such as fundamental human rights, quality education, equal allocation of resources, and empowerment (which are components of peace education) are required to bring more talented women into peace labor and leadership in Africa. Furthermore, before conflict and in many post-conflict African societies, women are adversely affected by unequal access to education. The source of gender inequality in postcolonial Africa can be traced to the Victorian concept of womanhood introduced by the colonialists to African nations (Irukwu 1994). The policies of the colonialists weakened some of the traditional structures in Africa and created power vacuums which did not only gave rise to conflict in the continent but also undermined the ability and legitimacy of women to govern peace. This is true to

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the postulation (Mba 1982:38) that the British administrators did not allow traditional African women to be active in the scheme of governance on their arrival to the continent. This period marked the beginning of women’s neglect in the society, with boys going to school while girls are made to stay back at home. The result is that, in Mali, for instance, poor education among women has translated into fewer women in public service (UNDP 2012). Moreover, one of the reasons for the ineffectiveness of the role of women as architects of peace in modern African society is the marginalization of women in peace processes (Okafor and Abdulazeez 2007). Apart from being marginalized socially, economically, and politically, African women had increasingly become victims of male violence, harmful cultural practices, and inequality (Ardener 1978; Irukwu 1994). Besides, the debilitating aftermath of conflicts on women, their interest is often either misrepresented or not represented at all during peace discussions. The consequence of this is the predominantly malecentered approaches to peace and security in Africa with little attention paid to the interest of women in peace and security. This limitation transcends not just community peace processes as it affects even the emerging trends in peace education in Africa. Even though contemporary women are increasingly preoccupied with work outside the home, balancing their professional life and family with much aplomb, women’s peace activities are still mostly confined to the informal sector. Consequently, there is an inadequate number of women representatives in the public sector, and the few who managed to rise to a remarkable position in their organizations are often denied adequate participation in policymaking. Besides, lack of experience, exposure, and skills in negotiation, advocacy and lobbying techniques are also evident. Also, the dereliction of some of the indigenous institutions such as the family, traditional rulers, peer groups, and traditional tribunals (Agbaje 2019; Mcfadden 1997), among several others, has also contributed to the societal vices in forms of crime commission, violence, immoralities, and all other observable vices noticeable in the society. Another factor responsible for the ineffectiveness of African women’s role in peace education may not be far-fetched in lack of cooperation from the men. Perhaps, men’s abandonment of their traditional roles in the family and their refusal to participate in domestic duties due to the society’s stigmatization have created a vacuum in domestic peace training of children. Thus, it is justifiable for peace education to be integrated into formal education in schools to make up for the family deficit. Perhaps, a very good starting point will be recognizing African women as repositories of African peacemaking as well as acknowledging them as potential beneficiaries of peace education, not because they are simply women but because they are human beings (Adirika 2014). In addition to this, African women themselves must also confidently work at peace education with assertive tenacity whether the society encourages them or not. The more advocacy is raised in this regard, the better achievable the goal will be. Also, there is a pressing need for the overhauling of the current peace education pedagogical structure in terms of the curriculum, content, and methodology to accommodate the peculiar needs and experiences of African women (Nnaemeka 2005). Creating a very strong awareness about the

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importance of women’s civic obligation in peace education is germane at fostering sustainable peace in Africa. In essence, the ideas and experiences of African women are crucial in understanding the requirements for peace. It is, therefore, obvious that African women, who conceived the idea of peace so excellently, have borne the consequences of armed conflict incessantly, and have pushed for the agenda of peace relentlessly, are better prepared to impact and be impacted with peace education (Mazurana and Khristopher 2004). The positioning of African women in peace education will discard the rigid picture of African females as main victims of war and bring to the fore a new gender mindset of women active in peace that will mitigate gender-based violence during conflicts as well as translate to future genderbalanced education aimed at shaping responsible males and females in the society. In contemporary times, it has become pertinent to focus more on the role of women in peace education in Africa. African women are described as peacemakers who have promoted a vision of peace that goes beyond the negotiating table (Tawiah 2019). They have contributed to stopping violence and alleviating its consequences in a range of ways by helping in bridging societal gaps and mending relationships through cultural and social avenues. They have worked relentlessly for the establishment of peace in the continent by utilizing their roles as mothers, wives, and sisters to teach peace. This type of peace education is usually aimed at strengthening the capacities of people to prevent disputes from developing into violent conflicts and existing conflicts from further escalating, dousing the tension of conflicts by preventing re-occurrence, and also encouraging alternative and peaceful solutions to conflicts. For example, in Burundi traditional society, the task of handing down peace as an inestimable value falls on the family, and the women, in particular, have important roles to play (Ntahobari and Ndayiziga 2003). Women play the greatest part in the education of children and the management of everything connected with the home because it is believed that charity begins at home. It is primarily the mother that has responsibility for the upbringing of the children. Disciplinary measures also exist to set an erring child on the right road at an early stage. All these measures are reinforced in the interests of a stable society. Also, in Liberia, women are described as indispensable stakeholders in peace processes. Similarly, traditional central African societies assigned to women the role of educator. This is because women are procreators; hence they determine the continuous existence of the people. The essential values underlying a harmonious household and peace in the community are inculcated into the young minds by their parents (Mathey et al. 2003). The same process is observed in Namibia (Mazurana and McKay 1999; Soiri 1996). Mothers are considered as the best schools in life. This is because mothers always strive to bring up their children with positive norms and ethos, with a view to building a family equipped to contribute to the foundation of a decent society (Mohamed 2003). In essence, peace education is a familiar phenomenon in many African societies, and women are the driving force behind it. Furthermore, the role of traditional African women in educating their children cannot be overemphasized. Despite their different geographical locations, there exist reasonable levels of cultural homogeneity in terms of peace values (Ross 1993). African women are regarded as the driving force behind the family’s kinship

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(UNESCO 2003). A broader conception of peace, one that is often termed positive peace, is in many ways synonymous with social justice. This approach takes into account a wide range of traditional fields in which African women are often better represented from domestic to public health and political advocacy all of which contribute to creating stable, just, and peaceful societies. Traditional peace knowledge was often passed through proverbs, myths, songs, poems, dance, and moving theater, among several other ways (Agbaje 2019; Barber 1991). African women are so versatile in the school of peace that, perhaps, this is the reason academics and peace educationists often assume women are natural advocates for peace. African women play crucial roles in promoting a culture of peace from the domestic sphere to the society at large. Women have used oral traditions, foods, body languages, rituals, signs, and symbols to teach their family and wards from one generation to another about peace and thereby contribute to cohesion and stability in African societies. For example, among the Orma and Pokoma ethnic groups of Kenya, peace is an integral part of their daily lives. Peace known as Nagaa is an indicator of a good relationship with neighbors and it is exhibited through greetings. Greeting and getting greeted in return is a sign of peace among the Orma and Pokomo of Kenya, and it is the responsibility of mothers to train their young ones about the importance of greeting others using Nagaa (Werner 1913).

Strategies of African Women in Peace Education There are strategies employed by African women in deploying peace across the ages. First, African women are storytellers. Women tell stories using fictitious humans and animals to project realities of life’s challenges and how to overcome them. They also make historical references to past events to discourage violence in the society. A lot of the unchecked atrocities perpetrated against womanhood in Africa were committed against their voices. From this standpoint, it may become evident that women will employ their storytelling skills in delivering peace education to their listeners. As Nwoye has noted (2007), women are natural educators who know that peace is not born but made in a child through responsible upbringing and socialization undertaken and supervised by mothers through songs, stories, proverbs, and maxims. Thus storytelling is one of the important traditional strategies employed by African women in promoting peace and understanding in their community. This is introduced from childhood. Through varieties of stories about past events and folktales, maxims, and proverbs, children are taught basic lessons about peaceful coexistence, ethics, customs, traditions, customs, and morality (Nwoye 2007). African mothers are pillars of the society because they are the first teachers observed by children, and it is their responsibilities to bring up children in peaceful manners. Similarly, praise songs and praise names are potent instruments of conveying peace education to progenitors among the Yoruba women of Nigeria (Barber 1991). Specifically, among the Ekiti of southwest Nigeria, body ink inscriptions, food, and hairstyles are used by the women to teach peace (Agbaje 2019).

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African women have always been at the center of peace processes across different stages, both cultural and sociopolitical. For example, Tanzanian women have always played a crucial role in maintaining peace and equilibrium in their society by bringing up their children as responsible members of the community. According to Lihamba (2003:115), “women taught their daughters and sons, proper behaviour and the ethos of society, and impressed on them the importance of such values as honesty, uprightness and the necessity to compromise.” Evidently, these women have always been active promoters of harmony in their community – what we now refer to as peace education. In the same vein, the traditional Somali women were known for their versatility in peace messages and reconciliation (Mohamed 2003). The same goes for Ethiopia, Kenya, Nigeria, Ghana, Liberia, Uganda, and Cameroon among other African nations where women have engaged in preventive diplomacy, conflict resolution, and peace rituals (Lanek 1999; Ngongo-Mbede 2003; Yacob-Haliso and Falola 2017). Furthermore, Familusi (2009) mentions how virtue was in the form of good character among many traditional African women and also how taboos and restrictions have served as checks and balances used to restore harmony and order in Yoruba families. In Somali and Burundi societies, women possess high oratory skills which are extensively used in teaching peace, justice, and wisdom (Gardner and El-Bushra 2004; Agbalajobi 2009). This is what Olajubu (2005) describes as power investment in the sphere of deeper knowledge. According to her, this ontological source maintains the balance between the forces of chaos and social order. In addition, peace education involves extracurricular activities such as drama, arts, dance, and songs. Some of these activities are funny, sad, or disturbing, but they are all aimed at achieving thoughtful reflection that will bring about peace. Also, there are images, fables, dancing steps, and chosen oral traditions symbolic to peace. One example is that of the South Sudanese women engaged in participatory theater to illuminate their perspectives and offer solutions to problems (Iyaa and Smith 2018). Peace education in Africa, therefore, must take cognisance of these significant African values (Murithi 2009). In Rwanda, the concept of Ubumuntu (to be human) was fostered after the genocide to educate the public on what could be done to prevent atrocious conflicts in the future (Musundi 2018). Moreover, educational teaching and delivery methods of men and women differ in some aspects. While the men may adopt the coercive, harsh, and compelling mode of teaching, the women are likely to resolve to use of tact and collaboration. This is not to say that women are always persuasive in their peacemaking approaches, but rather, women (due to long-standing stereotypes and discriminations) have mastered the art of negotiation in obtaining whatever they want (Anderlini 2000; Cornwall 2005). The latter mode tends to be more impactful and constructive as it produces peaceful outcomes. Thus Omotayo (2006) maintains that masculine principles of competition, dominance, and aggression can be balanced by feminine principles of cooperation, nurturance, and compromise. For example in Cameroon, women have engaged in collaborative peace initiatives among the Bakossi and Guidar ethnic groups long before the arrival of the colonialists. These women pass the baton of peace from one generation to the other (Mbuoben 2018). However, most of their

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peace knowledge is attributed to the home front when it comes to implementing formal peace education policy. In the same light, women in Liberia and Uganda built strategic awareness through what they referred to as organized peace education, children’s peace festival, peace theater, peace songs, peace talks, and resource centers. However, developing curriculum and/or written materials that students can use as part of learning in schools remains a predominantly male affair (African Women and Peace Support Group 2004; Kagaari et al. 2017). Note that despite the diversity in African states, there are similarities and a level of synergy among African women. This bond, if properly annexed, can be a useful tool for not only intrastate but also for interstate peace measures. Ross (1993: 20–22), in a critical examination of the functions of women, acknowledges this and concludes that there seems to be something that links women over wide areas so that a woman’s call to other women would echo far beyond the boundaries of her town.

Broader Impact of African Women in Peace Education Given the diverse roles women have played in traditional peace education in many African states, and also observing the relegation that has visited womanhood in the contemporary times, it might suffice to say that there is a pressing need for African women to have their actions duly acknowledged as peace educators at all levels. Women are important in providing, through education, a blueprint for a morally upright and peaceful society (Carroll 1987). The many potentials of African women need to be harnessed in peace education for both boys and girls in order to incorporate into their minds values required for sustainable peace and development. More importantly, the higher the number of women in the peace education system, the more influential they will be. This is because the motherly poise and authority in any African society cannot be easily ignored. The women will bring their nurturing attributes into the classroom and thus make a successful impact (Delamont 1996; Freeman 2004). Also, the idea of young boys and girls being in constant touch with older female role models can only reshape their image of African womanhood from denigrated pictures of sexual objects, victims of war, and very weak individuals to more vibrant humans capable of mentoring and leadership and of great value to the society. Even though several countries are implementing gender-equality policies in their respective ministries of education and parliaments as in the case of Rwanda and Kenya (Association for the Development of Education in Africa 2018), a lot remains to be done to bridge the gender equality gap in Africa’s education systems. To be hired into jobs in many African states, there is a need to be influential or be close to someone in power. This has affected the capacity building of the continent because women are highly disadvantaged when it comes to power broking and influence in Africa. However, as more women are enrolled in peace studies at graduate and undergraduate levels, there is hope for more female professionals in the field of peace.

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There are quite a number of positive contributions that can result from involving women in peace education in Africa. First, since traditional peace mechanisms in many African states are complementary in nature, it will be correct to assert that women will bring their traditional roles of promoting cohesion and integration into the field. These are part of the crucial skills needed for peace education, and these women have mastered these skills in their roles as mothers and wives, the bridges across sons and husbands that constitute masculine teams which dominate the battlefront. Women contribute to building the capacity of their communities and nations to prevent violent conflict through lifelong socialization processes and experience of unequal relations and values that had encouraged constant negotiation, mediation, and reconciliation. The versatility of these skills was brought to the fore in 1998 during the Arusha peace processes in Burundi where women’s organizations from opposition groups (Hutu and Tutsi) pressurized the government into agreeing to a culture of negotiation for national peace (Agbalajobi 2009). Increasingly, the African region continues to grapple with situations of violence and insurgencies that impede growth and development across the continent. Nevertheless, African academics and practitioners are fast becoming aware of the role of peace education in addressing some of the challenges relating to violence (WANEP 2001). This has given rise to the demand for the resuscitation of some of the age-long traditional ways of inculcating peace into the minds of the people. Modern African women have to resume their original position as peace educators, especially in the home. As mothers, women have the prerogative of bringing up their children with decency and tolerance. In other words, there is a need to rehabilitate the role of peace teachers played by women in the family in particular and in society in general. Suffice to say at this juncture that if peace education is a specialized field of study and can raise professionals of excellence in Africa, women in the continent should not be sidetracked in this regard. Besides, going by the UNESCO (2005) position that the selection of participants for peace education should be based on a needs assessment that highlights all stakeholders who have a critical, impactful, and facilitative role to play in the success of the program, there is a pressing need for equitable gender representation to ensure sustainability at the longer run. Also, African governments must guarantee the rights and dignity of women in their efforts at building or rebuilding the continent.

Conclusion This chapter highlights the role of women in contributing to peace education in African societies. It has corroborated the need for careful gender analysis of conflict and peace education in Africa. While formal education could be used to teach children the values of peace by incorporating the culture of peace into the school curriculum, informal education could predominantly be the forte of women who, in the past, utilized songs, dance, maxims, theater, and proverbs to mobilize their people for peace. The combination of formal and informal peace education models is intrinsically linked and has a crucial role to play in promoting a culture of peace.

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Women teachers therefore should be recruited, trained, and encouraged. These women educators will serve as role models for the coming generation. Moreover, female-friendly space provides an opportunity to interact, build lasting relationships, synergize, and strengthen common interests and increased trust. It is hoped that this chapter will further stimulate academic discussions aimed at achieving clearer articulation of good practice in women and peace education in Africa and to pave the way for further exploration of how best to evaluate the impact and effectiveness of incorporating gender lens to peace education by involving more women and, also, incorporating some of African’s homegrown peace knowledge into the curriculum.

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Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Peace and Peace Education as Gendered Concepts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Peace Education as Transformative Education . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Making a Case for African Women as Peace Educators . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Understanding the Multiple Roles of Women . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . African Women as Critical Agents in Promoting Peace Education . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Challenges and Risks for African Women Mobilizing for Peace Education . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

This chapter gives a critical examination of the role women play in promoting peace education using a gendered practitioner’s perspective. Informed by the theory of change, the chapter utilizes bottom-based approaches to how women act as agents of change in promoting peace education in society. The chapter underscores how women are instrumental in using localized peace experiences to shape through socialization the behavior of children as responsible and active citizens in later life. The chapter conceptualizes peace education as a gendered process which is complex, dynamic, nonlinear, and interactive. The gendered nature of peace education allows women to amplify their voices while at the same time challenge the dominant perspectives aimed at totalizing and universalizing discourses and practices of peace education in society. Thus, by focusing on the gendered nature of peace education and amplifying the role of women as peace educators, the chapter seeks to engender new thinking into the theoretical and practical conceptualizations of peace and peace education within an African context. P. Machakanja (*) College of Business, Peace, Leadership and Governance, Africa University, Mutare, Zimbabwe © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_175

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Keywords

Peace · Peace education · Cultures of peace · Transformative education

Introduction The history of African women advocating for peace and nonviolence has been practiced for decades where, for example, within the family unit, women through socialization were responsible for laying the foundation in children upon whom the culture of peace would be promoted and sustained by imparting the principles and values of tolerance and sharing. Women in the African traditional system would provide young people with the knowledge and skills required to ensure the promotion of positive life skills and attitudes that would help them lead a culture of nonviolence. Women have always been instrumental in inculcating values that allowed children to grow heightened awareness of their human rights and duties as responsible citizens. As such, it is through these nonformal aspects of peace education that enable youth and family members to make positive choices in life. Despite these nurturance roles, women have also been agents of change by challenging exclusionary and oppressive practices where traditionally women would threaten to strip naked as a way of summoning their traditional power to demand for change. Threatening to strip naked is a powerful example used by women in context-specific nonviolent civil disobedience across Africa to negotiate for change against the resistant status quo. This activist nonviolent behavior is often used with an understanding that viewing a woman’s naked body in public remains a cultural taboo in many African societies, a situation which has often forced resistant government regimes and rebel warlords to broker peace deals in a number of protracted conflicts including Sierra Leone, Liberia, Nigeria, and the Democratic Republic of Congo. Other nonviolent tactics include protests, sit-in campaigns, and women’s conferences which provide additional platform spaces and opportunities for creating solidarity toward promoting peace, resolving conflicts aimed at building peaceful and resilient communities. It is these nonviolent peace education strategies that are used as innovative and inspiring initiatives aimed at mobilizing for the creation of cultures of peace and championing women’s cause for the greater good. Such innovative nonviolent interventions have always represented women as agents of change, human rights defenders, and peace activists capable of agitating for transformative change essential for cultivating cultures of peace for the survival of both children and society. The significance of all these tactful and strategic nonviolent disobedience peace strategies has been used to challenge militarized patriarchal spheres where women are often used as weapons of war and/or viewed as perpetual victims of war. By using these nonviolent peace education strategies, women have often displayed tenacity and creativity in challenging assumptions about the power of women as effective strategists, leaders, and change agents for peace. This has also challenged the normative thinking and conceptualization about the role of women as peace educators, a situation which has enhanced women’s capacity advocate for

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equal opportunities in knowledge sharing and engaging in dialogical processes aimed at resolving protracted conflicts. This brings to the fore the argument that to achieve sustainable peace requires the inclusion of women as they have always been the key drivers of change processes essential for the creation of cultures of peace. Therefore, the central argument of this chapter highlights the complex but important role women play in educating for peace, to ensure social harmony just as much as they have the power and capacity to challenge numerous injustices exerted by patriarchal social norms in their quest for envisioning a culture of peace as peace educators. Through these complex but complementary roles, women have contributed to achieving the aims of peace education including managing conflicts without violence, appreciating intercultural diversity, engaging in social justice activism, and envisioning a nonviolent future for the younger generation.

Peace and Peace Education as Gendered Concepts Definitions of peace have been influenced by how people experience conflict and war situations, how society is structured, and how they have tried to resolve those conflicts using nonviolent strategies in their historical contexts (Barash 1999). For example, in the African setting, it can be argued that peace means different things to women and men because of their unique gendered experiences as a result of protracted wars and the patriarchal nature of the African society that perpetuate the legitimization of violence by men (Reardon 1993). The gendered notion of peace also gives two assumptions about women and men, that is, women as peacemakers and men as aggressors. For example, peace to most women means putting food on the table, caring for family members in sickness or health, social and economic empowerment, and access to healthcare and education but at the same time speaking up against abuse and violence in the home and society at large. While reality shows that much of the violence is perpetrated by men and too often women remain silent because of patriarchal expectations, such notions are being challenged as they marginalize women’s experiences and voices in debates about the positive meanings of peace and peace education. On the other hand, men essentially understand peace more in terms of winning battles usually through use of force. For example, from a men’s perspective, lack of job opportunities and failing to provide food for the family is a major factor contributing to lack of peace and insecurity in the home as men are traditionally perceived as providers for the family. While progress has been made, men continue to dominate women through domestic violence and sexual abuse, thereby reinforcing an essentialist understanding of manhood (Ng’eny-Mengeh 1995). This perspective of essentializing differences can be challenged as experience has shown that men can also be victims and women perpetrators of violence and aggression. Thus, conceptualizing peace and peace education as gendered concepts allows for alternative narratives that look at women and men as imbued with both peaceful and war-prone tendencies that are informed and influenced by context, culture, and socialization in dynamic ways.

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Peace Education as Transformative Education Peace education as part of broader education is a transformative process that cultivates knowledge, skills, attitudes, and values essential for the promotion of cultures of peace (Barash 1999; Navarro-Castro and Nario-Galace 2010). It seeks to transform individuals’ cognitive processes so that they appreciate the use of nonviolent critical and rational alternatives to resolving conflicts with a view of producing peaceful outcomes essential for building harmonious relationships as well as creating stable and peaceful societies. In this sense, peace education as a process raises awareness, consciousness, and commitment toward resolving conflicts in nonviolent ways in order to promote harmony, coexistence, social justice, and peacefulness in the lives of people who previously viewed each other as enemies or protagonists (Morrison 2011). Peace education, therefore, is a strategy and process utilized by members of society to impart essential knowledge, skills, and values that promote harmony, love, trust, peaceful coexistence, social justice, and healthy life skills among groups of people (Potter 2005; Navarro-Castro and Nario-Galace 2010). The shared peace-oriented norms and values form the foundation that binds people together for the achievement of shared goals that define a peaceful and developmental society. Since peace education was conceptualized after the creation of the United Nations in 1945 at the backdrop of the scourges of the two world wars, this prompted interest in education for global citizenship founded on the values of coexistence and cultures of peace (Fountain 1999; Carson and Lange 1999). As articulated in the Preamble of the United Nations Charter, the traumatic events of the first and second world wars provided an acknowledgment of the horrors of a traumatic past and an affirmation of the importance of embracing a new world order founded on the universal principles of respect for human rights, social justice, dignity, worth, and equality of all human beings (Report of the Expert Group Meeting on Gender and the Agenda for Peace 1994). From this perspective, peace education becomes an integral part of the vision and mission of the United Nations of promoting education for peace for the achievement of global peace and social cohesion founded on the pillars of nonviolence, gender equality, and democratic values (Brock-Utne 2002). In this context, education in the general sense is inextricably linked to peace as an assurance of human peaceful existence, prosperity, and sustainable development. The link between education and peace is also stressed by Anuradha (2006) in his conceptualization and interpretation of education as an enlightenment agency that facilitates the raising of people’s awareness of their capacity and capabilities to transform societal values, norms, and beliefs for the good of people’s selfpreservation as active members of society and humanity at large.

Making a Case for African Women as Peace Educators Historically women in traditional African societies have not only occupied an important place but played very critical roles in the family as the anchor and foundation of the social fabric of society (Adhiambo-Oduol 1999). Despite the

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entrenched nature of patriarchal system that characterizes most African societies and sexist attitudes ascribed to women’s identities, the common belief and perception about women is that they bear the greatest peace-oriented attributes essential for the stabilization of any society. For example, Luo and Kipsigis women in Kenya were at the forefront in the management of conflicts between Luo and Kipsigis in Upper Nyakach and Sigowet sub-counties from 1963 to 1992. At different stages of the conflicts, the Luo and Kipsigis women initiated many innovative strategies that have been instrumental in preventing and resolving conflicts caused by recurrent cattle theft, which often led to retaliatory attacks between these two communities. Thus, from an Afro-centric perspective, women have always been regarded as the cradle of society as they symbolize unity, empathy, and sacrifice in the family (AdhiamboOduol 1994). They are regarded in high esteem as an embodiment of motherhood with capability to nurture life, as “natural” peacemakers, protectors, and teachers. However, Adhiambo-Oduol (1999) questions whether this speaks to the feelings and views of women who have not had children and whether this view creates accommodative spaces for men who object to violence and have embraced nonviolence and peace values as part of their identity. Despite these contesting views in many African cultures, the consensus is that women’s gendered roles empower them to socialize and impart in children and family members values and norms that promote peace and social cohesion in society (Adhiambo-Oduol 1999; Myrttinnen et al. 2014; UNICEF 2014). To date, through the work of the United Nations Entity for Women (UN Women) in partnership with governments, academic institutions, and many civil society organizations in Africa, women and youth especially girls are trained to become leaders, mediators, and ambassadors for peace and social cohesion and encouraged to actively participate in peacebuilding activities aimed at strengthening cultures of peace in families, communities, and society at large. For example, through workshops UN Women continue to conduct dialogue-oriented workshops in major thematic areas and issues related to gender, peacebuilding, mediation, conflict resolution, and creation of peace committees where women take leading roles as agents of peace in promoting social dialogues and peace, gender justice, and empowerment. Using simulation exercises, participants in most of these workshops critically analyze key concepts, the challenges of peace for nation building, and women leadership and practice peacebuilding techniques to respond to their respective sociopolitical, cultural, and security situations in their respective countries. At the end of each of these training workshops, participants do not only receive certificates as validation for workshop attendance but are encouraged to put into practice the knowledge and skills acquired during the training sessions. It is through such efforts that UN Women working in over 70 countries globally, including African countries such as Angola, Botswana, Cameroon, Ethiopia, Ghana, Namibia, Sierra Leone, Mozambique, Nigeria, Rwanda, and Zimbabwe, has been influential in encouraging governments to align their constitutional mandates with national legislative laws and implementation of National Action Plans on gender equality, women empowerment, and representation (UN Women Annual Report 2012–2013; United Nations Security Council Report of the Secretary General on Women, Peace and

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Security S/2019/800). All these efforts are informed by the global legislative normative frameworks such as the 1995 Beijing Platform for Action (Beijing Platform for Action of the 4th World Conference on Women n.d.), the 1994 African Platform for Action, the UN Resolution 1325, and all other related resolutions aimed at engendering cultures of peace in women, girls, and youth education, peace and security, health, and science and technology development (African Platform for Action 1994; Breines et al. 1999). These historical genres affirm the argument that women’s full participation in social and economic development and in all democratic peace processes at the community, national, and international levels is not only a moral imperative but a matter of justice and human rights. Thus, women’s visions, intelligence, energy, and experiences become indispensable to the creation of more just, prosperous, and peaceful Africa.

Understanding the Multiple Roles of Women The reality in many African societies is that women bear multiple roles including the burden of ensuring the survival of society as child bearers to ensuring that children get quality education and nourishment to protect them from hunger and disease. This is against the lived reality of many women in Africa who experience violent deaths due to lack of adequate reproductive healthcare as many countries on the continent are affected by protracted violent conflicts, which put more pressure and restrictions on the health of both women, mothers and carers for the extended family members. Despite these odds for their survival, many African women in conflict-ridden countries such as the Democratic Republic of Congo, the Central African Republic, and South Sudan, struggle to make ends meet as they toil in assuring that children and all family members grow up in a safe and secure environment free from both physical and psychological harm. It becomes imperative for society to recognize the tremendous sacrifice women make in preserving peace and tranquility for the good and survival of humanity. For example, it is estimated that because of the protracted wars and conflict, the continent is home to one third of the global refugee population, the highest proportion being refugee children and women, representing 51% and 59%, respectively. Also girls are 2.5 more likely to be out of school than boys and have fewer education opportunities (Egbetayo and Nyambura 2019). While the consequences of all the violent conflicts across Africa vary in scope, nature, and intensity, the reality of the situation is that it is the surviving women who in addition to being exposed to the heinous acts of violence remain caring for the injured children and family members. Evidence from the field shows that while the conflict in the eastern Democratic Republic of the Congo continues to create untold suffering for women, this situation was further complicated by the consequences of the Ebola disease (Garcia-Moreno 2000). However, research evidence in Burundi, Rwanda, Uganda, South Sudan, Somalia, and Democratic Republic of the Congo shows that despite these cycles of violence women continue to be actively involved in resolving conflicts, promoting healing, as well as rebuilding relationships and peaceful coexistence in their respective families and communities (Egbetayo and

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Nyambura 2019). Thus through peace education women can facilitate the achievement of peace in many of the African societies that continue to experience violation of women and children’s rights especially Northern Nigeria where abduction of young girls is still a challenge due to Boko Haram terrorist activities. These lived experiences speak volumes regarding the burden that women carry to ensure their own survival as well as caring for their children in very difficult circumstances with limited humanitarian aid and other means of survival. As Bar-Tal (2002) and Galtung (2010) argued that unless women are actively in situations that render their existence, meaningful peace cannot be sustained in the family and society at large. Society has an obligation to make sure that the environment in which women and children live is free from all forms of violence not only physical forms of violence but structural and cultural violence as well. It is evident that where women remain oppressed by their male counterparts and harmful traditional practices such as sexual domestic violence, early child marriages are condoned leading to more violence among younger generations as cycles of violence are perpetuated as the norm. As Mandela has indicated, the development of any society is measured by the way it treats its women and children. This implies that peaceful societies that respect women as human beings and grant all opportunities for women to experience and meaningfully educate for positive peace such situations enhance women’s rights as fundamental human rights that empowers all members of society to exercise their potential for optimal development. There is therefore the realization that when conflict and war erupt, families are impacted first with women bearing the brunt and traumatic consequences as they are uprooted from their homes, victimized, or even raped or killed. Most times, these effects are felt by many family members especially women, children, and the elderly as the suffering usually leads to serious traumatic consequences through fragmentation of the family unit and society. The void created by failing to recognize the critical role women play as caregivers and stabilizers of the family unit and society at large can be detrimental to the development agenda of any nation. Hence, violence against women whether direct or structural can have serious consequences in the upbringing of the family and maintenance of social cohesion in society. It becomes imperative that women are adequately recognized as active contributors to the peace dividends that society enjoys. Women it can be argued are better positioned to impact educational values as they are able to socialize their children and society at large against incidents that give rise to violent behaviors which disrupt the normal functioning of society.

African Women as Critical Agents in Promoting Peace Education Women in different parts of Africa have played a critical role in promoting peace education consciously or unconsciously at the family, local, national, and regional levels (Breines et al. 1999). Women individually and collectively have always used their status in society to influence change of mindsets from violent to nonviolent identities. Women have also been instrumental in educating the children to be

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morally sound citizens and embodying the values of honesty, accountability, and growing up as responsible citizens who symbolize cultures of peace and harmony in society. Such skills and attitudes are usually transmitted through socialization processes as ways of enhancing social cohesion, coexistence, and healthy relationship building among people (Galtung 1974, 2010; Potter 2005). As Reardon (1988) points out, it is through socialization that people learn to share common values and social practices in society. For example, children in many African settings acquire their initial language and cultural values through the matrilineal pathways. This implies that mothers are the first peace educators who instill social values that are expected to guide the children’s behavior and quality of life in society. Both daughters and sons are taught the basics of being civilized and ethically grounded human beings ready to coexist with others and all spheres of their lives. They are taught the essential skills of survival in life such as human relations as well as how to resolve conflicts amicably as a way of preserving peace and harmony in society. There is growing acceptance of women as positive agents in peacebuilding and not simply as victims of conflict or agitators of violence. The role of women in promoting peace education has also come with the realization that while women can be agitators of violence, quite often evidence shows that most women are better gifted with nurturance skills essential for developing healthy lifestyles among family members and strengthening social cohesion in society (Cook 1994; Harber and Sakade 2009; Brock-Utne 2002). This potential role is not only unique to African women but is also generally viewed as being experienced in different societal contexts globally. This viewpoint is further affirmed by the UNESCO Agenda for Gender Equality (1995) on how women are better endowed with the caring and nurturing functions than men. This strategically positions women as being more gifted in transforming situations of violence into situations of peace without resorting to violence or aggression than their male counterparts. Through nonformal education women prepare children to take up responsibilities in life that would help them participate with an in-depth understanding of peace, tolerance, friendship, respect for elders, and equality among other people as these are the general expectations of society. Through such peace education qualities, children can learn to empathize with other people who are different from them as they become more tolerant of others. Essential to peace education is the ability of women to ensure that such kind of education is imparted to children as this helps them develop critical thinking skills essential for solving problems that they may encounter in later life. In addition to developing independent thinking, these critical thinking skills can also lead to innovative solutions and alternatives to violence through women actively engaging in actions and initiatives that promote peace. Research shows how women who are actively engaging and advocating peace in many countries in Africa at the local, national, and international is evidently growing. From Angola, Mozambique, Rwanda, and Uganda to the Democratic Republic of the Congo, women on a personal and practical level continue to mobilize communities to cope with the adversities of war by re-envisioning and recreating new forms of normalcy and existence through the formation of alliances and networks that foster transformative cultures of peace (Nordstrom and Robben

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1995; Chingono 1996). For example, while negotiating in formal peace processes has not always yielded the expected UN mandated 50–50 gender parity threshold, in Liberia, Sierra Leone, and the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC), women mobilizing through activism and peace movements have successfully contributed toward lasting peace at all levels. Women in the DRC, Liberia, Sierra Leone, and Cote d’Ivoire during peace negotiations in their respective countries mobilized and demanded compliance of their leaders in signing peace agreements, implementing and maintaining peace accords, and shaping post-conflict reconstruction agenda (Badmus 2009). During the early years of the war, Concerned Women of Liberia, a national women’s coalition, made direct contact with women in communities held by the warring factions, often building on a history and tradition of mediation and negotiations within families, prayer bands, and using new skills gained through conflict resolution training programmes within and outside of Liberia (Ng’enyMengeh 1999; Potter 2005). Moran and Pitcher (2004) further reveal how the Mano River Union Women for Peace Network (MARWOPNET), a group of professional women from the three Mano River Union countries (Liberia, Sierra Leone, and Guinea), was instrumental in bringing the countries’ presidents back to the negotiating table in September 2001 and how MARWOPNET eventually served as a signatory to the Liberian peace accords in 2003. In addition, Karam (2000) showed how the Liberian Women’s Initiative (LWI) was instrumental in blocking UN-sponsored peace accords, which they saw as rewarding leaders of the armed factions with positions in the transitional government without many incentives for real disarmament. The women’s fears were confirmed with the election of Charles Taylor in 1997. The LWI was eventually able to participate in the next phase of peace talks after exerting huge pressure on the government. This allowed them to negotiate a new unit for women and children within the Ministry of Planning and also to convince the Ministry of Education to carry out a peace-oriented mass literacy program for women and girls, with a member of the LWI also becoming Minister of Education. The Women in Peacebuilding Network (WIPNET) launched a Women of Liberia Mass Action for Peace Campaign in 2003, focusing on the cessation of hostilities between the warring parties, and lobbied at governmental and UN level. The case of Rwanda shows that during and after the genocide, women played critical roles as they took over as heads of many family units where men had been massacred due to the violent ethnic conflict that pitted Hutus against Tutsi resulting in entrenched hatred that fractured the social fabric of society. It is the women who first acting as family caregivers, activists, and advocates for peace mobilized using community-oriented nonviolent mechanisms and strategies in pursuit of democratic peace founded on the principles of reconciliation, justice, human rights, and restoration of human values of respecting life as a fundamental right. In addition, Rwandan women engaged and mobilized through their social networks to reclaim their community social values of tolerance and sowing the seeds of peaceful coexistence between the ethnically divided groups. Through these transformative informal peace education processes, Rwandan women continue to play critical roles in rebuilding and transforming relationships in their local communities as processes

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of trauma healing, counseling, and engaging in dialogical conversations as a way of dealing with their violent past. As peace educators and agents of family socialization, Rwandan women are informed by their traumatic historical experiences of unequal power relations, fractured identities, and ethnic intolerance to recognize the importance of dealing with the past by instilling the values of peace, tolerance, forgiveness, and restorative justice as part of the regenerating new peace-oriented mindsets in children and youth who had borne the brutality of the war. In Kenya, young girls are involved in an education for peace and leadership program called Women of Integrity, Strength, and Hope Project (WISH) offered at the Daraja Academy. This case study demonstrates the potential role of women as peace educators and peace ambassadors. Through the WISH project, female youth in Kenya are engaged in critical peace education pedagogy which they use as a tool to develop leadership and peace education knowledge and skills as future ambassadors of sustainable peace and adaptive and innovative leaders. Through this innovative peace and leadership program, the girls were able to demonstrate critical reflective thinking skills that embodied a sense of meaning about how peace education inculcated in them self-confidence that enhanced their communication skills and a sense of self-worth which strengthened their peer and family relations. The dialogical peace education pedagogical skills allowed the girls to appreciate new perspectives to issues and helped them to become critical thinkers as they were able to search for innovative alternatives in resolving conflicts and creatively search for solutions to the challenges they faced in their daily lives at family and societal levels. They were also able to manage peer pressure which increased their sense of agency in promoting peace, developing healthy relationships, and strengthening social cohesion in their respective communities as peace champions (Zanoni 2017). In the Gambia, the story of Mamadou also illustrates the role women can play to bring new alternatives to resolving conflict that affect people in their communities. In a village called Tostan, women in the Gambia were implementing the peace and security project aimed at resolving conflicts in 40 communities on the border area covering the Gambia, Southern Senegal, and Guinea-Bissau. Sharing his story Mamadou narrated how for over 7 years he was involved in a protracted family problem with his younger brother who wanted to displace him from his plot of land as he was working away from home. This led to this younger brother chasing Mamadou’s two wives and children from his plot. In anger, Mamadou reported the case to the police and this led to the brother’s arrest. He was sent to jail thereby worsening the family crisis and feud with the other members of the family who accused Mamadou of betraying his own blood over his wives and children. In an effort to resolve the protracted family feud, Mamadou’s friend introduced him to a women-led peacebuilding project that facilitated conflict resolutions sessions using nonviolent techniques. It was through the nonviolent and peacebuilding sessions that Mamadou learned new insights and alternatives to resolving family conflicts. This approach led to the rebuilding of relationships with his brother and other family members. The new insights helped Mamadou to gain deeper understanding on the role that peace plays in families and the wider community and how

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he regretted the fractured relationship with his brother and family members. It is through the work championed by a group of women that helped Mamadou to learn about reconciliation, forgiveness, negotiation, mediation, nonviolent conflict resolution, and peacebuilding strategies (Peace and Security Project in the Gambia, Mamadou’s Story 2019). The West African Network for Peacebuilding (WANEP) working in seven countries, namely, Cote d’Ivoire, Guinea Conakry, Liberia, Sierra Leone, Nigeria, Togo, and Ghana, initiated peace education projects founded on the understanding that it is critical to lay the foundation of inculcating peace values and social norms in children if cultures of peace and security were to be sustained in society. It was envisaged that the principles and values of tolerance, respect, and human dignity were very important as these would help in instilling nonviolent attitudes in children. Transmitting these life skills to children was envisioned as part of their developing positive life skills essential for a tolerant society. Imparting these skills to children at an early stage helped in raising awareness and making children to be responsible and accountable of their behaviors. Children were made aware of the negative consequences of war and violence as a way of shaping identities that would help them grow into law-abiding citizens (Clarke-Habibi 2018). In Côte d’Ivoire, UNICEF working with women in a project called “Learning for Peace” is empowering women as peacebuilders through their engagement in the delivery of early childhood development services. Through this innovative project initiative, “Mother and Early Childhood Clubs” have been established by uniting women from various national, ethnic, and social backgrounds around the common goal of their children’s well-being. As part of the initiative, women receive training on basic literacy, numeracy, and income generation and management, as well as conflict resolution which after completion of they are able to impart to their children as part of the intergeneration learning process (United Nations Children’s Fund 2014). However, as Lisa and Manjrika (2005) pointed out, it would be naïve to assume that all African women are predisposed to transmit peace values to children in society as peace educators simply because of their biological sex, thereby essentializing women due to social and cultural traditions. This implies that society has a serious bearing on how women or men position themselves to accepting or not accepting to transmit peace values to the younger generation in society. As many African countries are usually ravaged by wars and conflict whose roots are mainly grounded in ethnicity, tribal rivalry, religious affiliation, or political allegiances, it is important that these issues are considered as they usually affect how women present themselves as promoters or violators of peace in society. The Rwandan case on the backdrop of the genocide reveals how some women were accused of being perpetrators of massive genocidal violence rather than agents of peace as is normally presumed. As such, it is critical to bear in mind that gender roles can easily shift especially in times of conflict resulting in differentiated role expectations between men and women regarding their responsiveness to promoting peace and transmitting peace values to the younger generation. Thus, based on these field experiences in being promoters of peace education, women need to show willingness to learn and have the ability to think differently

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being aware of their own biases, struggles, and personal worldviews or orientations which require a shared sense of purpose toward inclusivity and integration. This is critical because while society generally assumes that women have this disposition toward sharing harmonious peace values, there are situations which reveal that other women could actually do more harm than good especially if they themselves have gone through traumatic experiences or troubled violent pasts. As Freire argues, being aware of one’s personal struggles, critical self-assessment, and reflection becomes a very important part of being a peace learning and peacebuilding agency. Without a self-reflective sense of healing or engaging with one’s personal development dynamics can create greater risks to a woman’s ability to promote peace values essential for the growth and development of principles to peace-minded younger generation (Freire 1972a, 2001; Tidwell 2004; Harris 2007).

Challenges and Risks for African Women Mobilizing for Peace Education While recognizing the many positive gains and impacts of women as critical agents in promoting peace education, their active engagement can be risky due to the myriad of challenges and multiple roles they play in society. For example, the violent protracted conflict situations in Africa usually increase women’s vulnerability due to high levels of sexual violence perpetrated against them. Women in many ravaged countries are often raped and used as weapons of war as a way of revenge against enemy combatants (Chingono 1996). Due to the inherent cultural perceptions and stereotypical attitudes women who advocate for peace and nonviolence often face open opposition, accusations, and/or slanderous remarks from males and authorities who oppose interaction or getting directions from women. Male hardliner patriarchs within communities often accuse women who promote peace educators and nonviolence of being disloyal and unpatriotic to causes of fighting those perceived to be enemies. In Rwanda and Burundi, some women who advocated reconciliation and peace were accused of having forgotten their history by members of their own ethnic groups after having participated in inter-ethnic and/or interreligious peace events in what was viewed as enemy communities (Moran 1999). Youth and girls in particular also expressed fear of parental criticism for interacting or engaging in inter-ethnic dialogues and relationships, despite the fact they were committed to building peace. Women’s efforts are also undermined by political elites who at times deliberately stir up tensions and bitterness between ethnic groups or single women as a way of advancing their own political interests and agendas, stigmatizing and labeling women peace education advocates as prostitutes (Moran and Pitcher 2004). The other challenge for women peace educators and peace promoters is guarding against the capture of resources for the promotion of peace and peace education by powerful local and national male or female elites and using those resources to empower women groups and individuals whose interest is not to promote peace but the interests of powerful elites. Furthermore, reality in many African countries is

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that cultural activities are not well supported financially or through media to the extent that female artists such as writers and musicians in particular who make efforts to promote innovative peace ideas aimed at promoting coexistence, healing, reconciliation, or unity are not given due respect or recognition. To overcome some of these challenges, Hyatt (1991) showed that using women’s shared experiences to transform and improve their immediate conditions and situations, opportunities can be developed for mutual peace dividends. This in turn can help in strengthening community relations and encourage marginalized groups such as women to become peace actors and agents for change that foster cultures of peace in communities and society at large. Reference can also be made to the work of the United Nations Children’s Fund in South Sudan where efforts were made to engender national and local policies guided by humanitarian principles and international women rights norms and values that embody respect for children and women and their rights to access food aid through women-led humanitarian organizations. Through UN country offices, many governments in Africa are encouraged to sign, ratify, and domesticate many universal conventions and ethical standards that respond to the concerns of women and their families. These universal ethical values are embodied in such international and regional legal instruments such as the Convention on the Rights of the Child, the African Charter of the Rights of the Child, the Convention on the Rights of Women, the African Charter on the Rights of Women, the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women, and the Convention against Torture and Genocide, all of which promote women’s active and meaningful participation in initiatives that promote cultures of peace in line with the UN Agenda for Peace that actively participates in peace education initiatives at the family, school, and community levels (UNESCO 1993a, 1994b; Breines et al. 1999, p. 80). Enforcement of all these laws can provide tools that allow to lobby and advocate transformative change, hold authorities to account over provision of services and welfare, or even seek remedies when women’s rights are violated. Women’s involvement and active participation in livelihood projects and community advocacy can serve both to empower women individually and creation of peaceful and prosperous societies in general (Hyatt 1991; Lister 1994).

Conclusion This chapter, through field case experiences, has demonstrated that while many types of violence pervade human societies and brutalize women, African women continue to foster peace education values such as love, trust, respect for others, and a sense of belonging at different levels of society from the personal, family, and society at large. Using field experiences from across the African societal spectrum, women remain critical agents in ensuring that every society starting with the family as a foundational social fabric of society plays critical roles in engendering peace values essential for the survival and peaceful coexistence. Women across Africa continue to represent their societies as embodiments of peace education that guarantees

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harmonious coexistence and respect for nonviolence as an acceptable way of humanity. Women in different parts of Africa are engaging in practical innovative initiatives aimed at promoting cultures of peace as part of the peace education or culture of peace agenda. Individually and as groups, African women continue to play major roles in working for peace and reconciliation at local and national levels. At times, individual women use their high status in the family to negotiate peace in their communities and use their influence as go-betweens with the warring factions to maintain constructive dialogue. Thus, as both mothers and peace activists, women have gone into the bush to bring their sons and daughters home. Without essentializing the role of women as peace educators, research evidence has shown that compared to their male counterparts, women are better positioned to educate and socialize children in the home and ensure that children and members of the family grow valuing trust, honesty, and love and building sustainable relationship critical for sustainable peace and development in society. These determinants of peace education can be definitely nurtured by none other than women.

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DDR and the Education of Ex-Combatant Girls in Africa: A Gendered Analysis

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Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . DDR, Education, and Child Soldiers: Overview . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Child Soldiers in African Conflicts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . DDR and Child Soldiers in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . A Gendered Analysis of DDR and the Education of Ex-Combatant Girls . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Way Forward for Future DDR Programs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Cross-References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

Previous studies on girls in conflict and post-conflict peacebuilding have focused on gender-based violence and how disarmament, demobilization, and reintegration (DDR) programs have underserved girls, while little emphasis has been placed on the education of former girl soldiers. The effect of this neglect is the lack of policy which establishes the rights of the girl-child to education in the post-conflict peacebuilding era in African countries. To address this anomaly in the field of conflict and peacebuilding, this chapter examines how education programs have been used in the reintegration of ex-combatant girls during DDR processes in Africa. This is particularly important because such programs have differing implications for males and females. The chapter argues that while few girls compared to boys benefit from the education programs during the DDR in Africa, there is the issue of long-term sustainability regarding these programs which equally raise the question of effectiveness. This chapter concludes that education programs provided are not targeted at the long-term survival of these girls in the postwar economy. Thus, it is recommended that policymakers and DDR stakeholders take into consideration the sustainability of education E. M. Beckley (*) Department of International Relations, Faculty of Arts, University of Malta, Msida, Malta © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_178

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programs among other issues highlighted in this chapter when planning and implementing future DDR programs. Keywords

Disarmament, demobilization, and reintegration (DDR) · Ex-combatant girls · Education · Africa

Introduction As armed conflict permeates Africa, children are repeatedly exposed to the violence of war and in most cases, recruited as soldiers. Those who recruit and abduct children have realized that young people can become superb assets to an armed faction. They are fast learners, obedient, and can be easily manipulated. They provide an unending reserve when there is a shortage of adults; they can also perform any role including combat, domestics, porters, spies, and wives or concubines. Most importantly, they are easily replaceable if they are lost (Sommers 2011). Unfortunately, when children are forced to partake in the evils of conflict as soldiers, in addition to various social, psychological, and economic impacts, their education is affected. Compared to children not associated with fighting forces, the education of child soldiers is more affected because the longer they stay in the captivity of an armed group, the larger the gap in their education (Betancourt et al. 2008). As a result, reintegrating former child soldiers back into the society has become a primary concern in the post-conflict era, in a bid to achieve sustainable peace and security (Awodola 2009). Often, in the discourse on child soldiers, there is the common misconception that only boys are recruited, and this is mainly because the picture of a child soldier portrayed by the media is usually a boy holding an AK-47 rifle. Even when girls are mentioned in armed conflict, they are often portrayed as victims who require special needs and attention because of their perceived peaceful nature. While it is usually assumed that men and boys are the perpetrators of violence, girls are also perpetrators of violence. They have been associated with armed groups in conflicts in Sri Lanka, Uganda, Sierra Leone, Liberia, Colombia, Cote d’Ivoire, to mention but a few. Some studies have estimated that 40% of children associated with fighting forces in contemporary wars are girls (Haer 2017). Yet, by simply ascribing victimhood to girls, their full capacity as political and social actors in armed conflict is concealed, which in turn contributes to their marginalization in post-conflict reconstruction and peacebuilding. Peacebuilding attempts to understand and change the root causes of armed conflict (Hudson 2009). It encompasses security, democracy, human rights, economic reform, and good governance. During the post-conflict era, the very first step towards peacebuilding is what I will term the “trinity,” i.e., disarmament, demobilization, and reintegration (DDR). DDR seeks to create security and stability in postconflict environments to begin the process of recovery and development. This is

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usually done by disarming former combatants and providing them with opportunities for sustainable social and economic reintegration into civilian life (Pannilage 2015). However, these programs tend to exclude girls due to the assumption that DDR participants should be only adult males with weapons (Mazurana and Carlson 2004), and even if they are children, they have to be boys with rifles. The gender blindness of DDR programs has robbed ex-combatant girls of the benefits that could provide them with opportunities to enroll in school and/or learn marketable skills, which will enable them to contribute to the development of their societies. Considering the above, this chapter examines whether education programs have been used to reintegrate ex-combatant girls into the post-conflict society in African countries and to what extent they have benefitted these girls. It begins with an explanation of the DDR framework and the importance of education under the DDR umbrella. Following this is a brief discussion on the use of child soldiers in African conflicts. Then, an overview of the DDR process and the education of child soldiers in post-conflict African countries, which includes a detailed explanation of how the DDR of children was conducted and the type of education programs offered. Finally, this chapter offers recommendations to guide policymakers and DDR stakeholders, to apply a gendered lens when designing and implementing education programs in ongoing and future DDR processes.

DDR, Education, and Child Soldiers: Overview DDR sets the foundation for protecting and sustaining the communities in which ex-combatants return while building the nation’s capacity for long-term peace (UNDDR 2005). DDR programs are essentially a vital part of the United Nations’ effort to accomplish short- and long-term peacebuilding in conflict regions around the world. The primary focus of DDR programs is to assist ex-combatants in their transition to civilian life and prevent them from participating in future conflicts. These programs have been implemented in African countries including Angola, Burundi, Cote d’Ivoire, Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), Liberia, Sierra Leone, and Uganda to restore peace and security. Disarmament is primarily a military operation (Dzinesa 2017); it seeks to eliminate the proliferation of small arms and light weapons (SALWs) in a country just recovering from conflict. After this process, the personal information of the ex-combatants is collected making them eligible for benefits such as food aid, shelter, clothing, orientation programs, to mention but a few and transportation to a demobilization center (Hanson 2007; Mazurana and Carlson 2004). This phase primarily involves the development of arms management programs as well as demining (Hanson 2007; Knight 2008). It also serves the purpose of testing the commitment of former warring factions to the peace process. Sometimes, this phase might include incentives before weapons are surrendered by ex-combatants. This was the case with the arms for development program launched by the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) in Sierra Leone as a way of encouraging ex-combatants to submit their weapons. Overall, disarmament seeks to reduce the

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circulation of weapons in a State and restore the monopoly over the means of violence to the State (Dzinesa 2017). However, some problems associated with this phase include combatants who try to disarm multiple times to receive benefits multiple times, commanders who refuse to release their best weapons, and the inability of some female combatants to participate because they do not possess weapons. Demobilization is the formal disbanding of military formations where combatants are generally separated from their commanders and sent to temporary quarters where they receive basic supplies and counselling, after which they are transported to a local community where they have chosen to live permanently (Hanson 2007). During this phase, children are also separated from their commanders and moved to a temporary facility where their basic needs are met, and the process of family tracing and reunification commences to reunify them with their parents or relatives. Reintegration is mainly a civilian process. It is a complex and long-term process undertaken at social, political, economic, and psychological levels (Dzinesa 2017). The fact that it is a process by which ex-combatants acquire civilian status by gaining education, sustainable employment, and income makes it critical to peacebuilding (Oluwaniyi 2018). During this phase, the focus is no longer solely on ex-combatants but also the communities they are being reintegrated into. This phase addresses the psychological, social, and economic transformation of both ex-combatants and their communities. While the first two phases are essential in the threefold DDR concept, reintegration is usually regarded as the most crucial element in achieving sustainable post-conflict security. In fact, debates continue over the view that whereas the two D’s in the DDR process is easy to achieve since they are short-term security procedures, they do not guarantee long-term peace and development like the reintegration phase which is usually more complex and time-consuming (Hanson 2007; Oluwaniyi 2018). It is during this phase that former child soldiers are either sent to schools or vocational training institutes to bridge the gap in their education caused by the war in a bid to contribute to the development of their communities. The three main dimensions in the reintegration of child ex-combatants are education and economic opportunities, psychological support/reconciliation, and family reunification (Awodola 2009; Wessells 2016). Likewise, some researchers (Betancourt et al. 2008; Sinclair 2001; Sommers 2011) attest that education is one of the elements of a successful reintegration as it enables conflict communities to transition successfully to peace. In the words of Betancourt et al. (2008), “sustained access to education remains an important consideration for the well-being of former child soldiers.” Education is a major protective factor for children because, for many of them, the school is a haven where they feel protected, where they can behave like children, and where they can learn and continue their normal childhood development activities. When children are given a chance at education, it is usually difficult to lure them back into fighting factions or other criminal activities. Education also restores a sense of normalcy and hope for former child soldiers (Sinclair 2001). For example, participating in cultural and recreational opportunities and after-school educational support improved the

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psychological health of Palestinian children in Gaza and the West Bank (ibid., 2008). Similarly, it provides former child soldiers with a solid shield from their torturous past. Formal education, entrepreneurial skills, and vocational training improve the chances of former child soldiers at acquiring sustainable employment. Most importantly, education provides a healing effect and protection for girls who are often at risk of unsafe work like prostitution. It reduces the stigma attributed to former girl soldiers who are often labelled “unmarriageable” or “damaged goods.” It restores a means of identity and self-worth for these girls who can begin to see themselves as someone other than a victim or soldier. Since armed conflict negatively impacts the education of child soldiers and education under the DDR umbrella can bridge the gap and restore civilian identity to this group of children (especially ex-combatant girls), it is important to study these education programs and their ability to benefit former child soldiers. A few studies have explored the negative effects of armed conflict on the education of child soldiers. For example, a study on child soldiers in Mozambique and El Salvador showed that post-conflict educational and economic challenges are closely linked for former child soldiers (Betancourt et al. 2008). However, the complexity of providing education to ex-combatant girls who are regularly marginalized during DDR programs in Africa remains mostly unexplored in research. Therefore, the extent to which the DDR in Africa has been able to use education programs to adequately reintegrate ex-combatant girls is the basis for this study.

Child Soldiers in African Conflicts The recruitment of children by armed factions has become a trend in the way wars are fought in Africa. While this is not a recent phenomenon (Oluwaniyi 2003), the rate at which children are used and abused in Africa’s wars these days is rather alarming. Although there are no accurate figures as the numbers are unreliable, it is safe to state that tens of thousands of children under the age of 18 are enlisted into fighting forces. For example, it is estimated that children made up 80% of the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA) in northern Uganda, of which 30% were girls (Coulter et al. 2008). Also, in Sierra Leone, an estimate of 15,000–22,000 children of all ages were taken from their families and forced to serve in the fighting forces in diverse ways (Betancourt et al. 2008). In both forcible and voluntary recruitment, girls constituted a good percentage but comparably lower to boys. In Liberia, 81.7% were boys as compared to 18.3% girls, whereas in Sierra Leone, girls constituted 33.3% while boys constituted 66.7% (Oluwaniyi 2003). In Somalia, children were largely recruited by the Somalian Islamic Court Union to fight against the Ethiopian and Somalian forces (Oluwaniyi 2008). Of these children who participated in the EthioSomali/Ogaden war, an estimate of 2,250 were females (Van Hauwermeiren 2012). While the common tactics in recruiting child soldiers are abduction and coercion, some children might willingly join an armed faction to avenge the death of a family member or to seek protection and have their basic needs met, among other possible reasons. This was the case of some of the children in the Liberians United for

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Reconciliation and Democracy (LURD) faction during the Liberian civil war (Amnesty International 2008). However, it has been argued that the concept of voluntary enlistment is not acceptable as children are pressured to make drastic decisions based on the situations they find themselves during armed conflicts. Additionally, children as minors do not have the capacity to make rational decisions that choose benefits over risks. Nevertheless, when children participate in armed conflicts, they are subject to human rights violations that affect their physical, mental, emotional, spiritual, and material well-being. In Sierra Leone, for example, children were forced to commit atrocities against their families or villages to instill fear and the sense that they will not be able to return. Many abducted girls were sexually assaulted with objects like umbrellas, sticks, and firewood (Sesay 2007). Individual and gang rape was constant and some eventually became “bush wives” who were informally attached to single combatants. Apart from being bush wives and sex slaves, girls also passed through military training and assumed military roles. Girls married to commanders in the RUF were given authority over the Small Boys Unit (SBU) and Small Girls Unit (SGU) (Mazurana and Carlson 2004). Likewise, in northern Uganda, children abducted by the LRA were beaten, tied, and abused, after which they were given guns for raiding and killing (Annan and Blattman 2008). The cumulative effects of these exploitative and unjust treatments during armed conflicts have had profound negative impacts on the education of children because schools are usually vandalized or even become recruitment camps for children causing many to flee. During the Liberian crisis, many schools were closed or used as refugee camps and many displaced children were forced to change their environment (Liebling-Kalifani et al. 2011). Still, the education of those conscripted into fighting factions to serve as child soldiers is more affected due to the lengthy period spent with armed groups. In addition, whereas children in refugee camps run by humanitarian organizations may have schools to attend in the camps even as war is still raging, children associated with fighting forces do not have this opportunity. It is important to understand that while armed conflict affects the education of child soldiers, most times, countries were already dealing with a dysfunctional education system before the war. For example, in Sierra Leone, illiteracy was already high with girls being mostly on the receiving end before the civil war. Gislesen (2006) noted that only 12% of the girls and 22% of the boys were enrolled in primary schools in 1990. In fact, the lack of quality education is believed to be one of the reasons for the protracted civil war. Nevertheless, armed conflicts intensify the already dysfunctional education system in most African countries, leading to an increase in the demand for education during the peacebuilding era. Therefore, at the end of every armed conflict, DDR programs targeting former child soldiers to reintegrate them into their communities of origin commence education programs.

DDR and Child Soldiers in Africa For several decades, Africa has hosted a considerable number of DDR programs organized by the United Nations in conjunction with nongovernmental organizations (NGOs). While some of these programs have been successful, others have failed for

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reasons ranging from inadequate resources to vague mandates. For example, the DDR process in Sierra Leone has been hailed a major success by the United Nations, and it has been used as a model in other countries like Liberia, Burundi, and Haiti. It is widely believed that former child soldiers received a formal education, vocational training, and the like. However, the same cannot be said of the DDR process in Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) as ex-combatants who participated were reenlisted into fighting factions thereby compromising the peace process (Honwana 2017). The UN mandate for DDR and children stipulates that while children with weapons should be disarmed, eligibility should never be linked to weapons possession, knowledge, or use (United Nations 2006). Unfortunately, this has not been strictly adhered to during the disarmament phase of most DDR programs organized in Africa. For instance, in Sierra Leone, officials used the knowledge of assembling and relocking an AK-47 rifle to determine entry into the program, even for those under the age of 18 (Solomon and Ginifer 2008; Williamson and Cripe 2002). This was also the case in other countries including Liberia where the United Nations Mission in Liberia (UNMIL) required participants including children under 18 to present a serviceable weapon to be considered for DDR benefits (Amnesty International 2008). Consequently, children who did not own weapons or those who used unsophisticated weapons like machetes and charms were ineligible for DDR benefits. From a gender perspective, some scholars have criticized the UN mandate for DDR stating that the very first phase of disarmament underserves and excludes many girls from the process (Denov and Richard-Guay 2013; Mazurana and Carlson 2004). Once children were disarmed, separated from their commanders, and registered, they were transferred to Interim Care Centers (ICCs). ICCs were secure environments where children were accommodated temporarily and expected to relax their minds while their parents or relatives were traced. There were several ICCs operated by UNICEF’s implementing partners in most countries to prepare children for reintegration. As indicated in the Paris Principles (2007), reintegration programs must be long-term and sustainable, gender- and age-sensitive, and must provide children with access to health care, psychosocial support, and education. This section will focus on the educational reintegration of former child soldiers which comprises mainly formal education and vocational training. Formal education under the DDR satisfies the desire of former child soldiers to return to school with their peers and become productive members of their society. As observed by Awodola (2009), the most frequent request by former child soldiers in most post-conflict contexts is access to education. In Sierra Leone, the educational component of the DDR was structured such that three major education packages supported the formal education of former child soldiers during the peacebuilding era, namely: Rapid Response Education Program (RREP), Complementary Rapid Education for Primary Schools (CREPS), and Community Education Investment Program (CEIP). The Rapid Response Education Program (RREP) was a typical example of “education in emergencies” in Sierra Leone supported by UNICEF and implemented by the Norwegian Refugee Council (NRC). It was a 6-month preparatory program to enable former child soldiers to return to school and bridge the gap that had existed by the duration they had spent with the fighting forces. After 6 months, children were evaluated with the expectation that some of them would

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move into regular schools or the CREPS program if their results were satisfactory (Beckley 2019). The Complementary Rapid Education for Primary Schools (CREPS) was an Accelerated Learning Program (ALP) also implemented by the Norwegian Refugee Council for older children who had lost their years of schooling as a result of the war, to complete their primary education in 3 years instead of the standard 6 years of primary education operated in Sierra Leone. It was intended as a supplement for formal school and designed in three levels combining: Classes 1 and 2 as Level One, Classes 3 and 4 as Level Two, and Classes 5 and 6 as Level Three (ibid., 2019). The Community Education Investment Program was a more inclusive education program by UNICEF geared towards community reintegration. This program was introduced to address the growing resentment among other children who felt that former child soldiers were being rewarded for their wrong deeds. Likewise, most schools did not support the enrolment of former child soldiers as they feared a negative effect on other children. Therefore, the program was organized in a way that for every child soldier accepted by a school in the community, the school administration was allowed to choose from the three kits designed to assist 200 students for a year (Williamson 2006). In Liberia, the Susukuu organization gave education vouchers to child ex-combatants in exchange for guns (Doerrer et al. 2010). The aim was to encourage children to disarm while also providing them with the opportunity to become responsible citizens. The downside of this approach is that children who did not have guns to submit were ineligible for the education voucher. Programs like the CREPS and CEIP in Sierra Leone were also implemented in Liberia to encourage children to return to school without paying fees. However, these education programs were implemented during the 2003 DDR program in Liberia as the previous program in 1997 did not prioritize the education of former child soldiers (Awodola 2009). Even so, these education programs were only available in selected parts of the country, of which rural areas were mostly left out (Amnesty International 2008; Wollie 2016). As a result, many former child soldiers became street children. Similarly, in Central Africa Republic (CAR), Plan International implemented Alternative Learning Programs to help children meet the requirements of the national education curriculum (Cotorcea 2017). Children aged 6–16 were enrolled in the national education program according to their age and level. Notwithstanding the potentials of these education programs, cost played a key role in determining whether former child soldiers will continue their education. It is important to note that the civil war intensified the rate of poverty in most of these countries. Although primary education, as well as the CREPS program, were free, parents and guardians were not financially capable to continue supporting their children’s education beyond primary education after the DDR. Besides, they still had to pay community fees and buy uniforms and other school supplies. In Sierra Leone, Wang (2007) clarified that the education of children “cannot be separated from the broader context of poverty, and one of the main reasons for children not attending school is the economic difficulties of the family.” Similarly, in Liberia, Awodola (2009) documented that the 3 years of educational support was not

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sufficient to see a child through elementary and secondary schools. In other words, once the 3 years of educational support were exhausted, parents and guardians who were financially incapable had to take up the responsibility which made it impossible for many children to continue their education. Vocational training is usually an alternative for children who feel they are too old to return to school and are more interested in income-generating activities. In Liberia, ex-combatants were trained in tailoring, agriculture, plumbing, masonry, and auto-mechanic by the Monrovia Vocational Training Center (Wollie 2016). In Sierra Leone, vocational training programs were offered either in an institution or through apprenticeship with the latter being more rampant (Beckley 2019). Children aged 16 and above were assigned to a master tradesperson, and the skills training programs available during this period were tailoring, masonry, “gara” tie-dyeing, hairdressing, soapmaking, carpentry, and auto-mechanic. These programs lasted 6 months, and upon successful completion of the program, children were presented with start-up kits to enable them to become more economically self-reliant in their communities (ibid., 2019). This was the same experience in CAR where children aged 13–17 were trained in auto or bike repair, agriculture, livestock breeding, and restaurant business for 4–8 months (Cotorcea 2017). Once the training was completed, children were presented with start-up kits to begin work. Still, it appears that while vocational training was an alternative way to build livelihood peace, these programs were only able to meet the short-term needs of ex-combatant children. They did not guarantee long-term employment. First, the duration allotted to vocational training programs was not enough to fully equip a former child soldier with a transferrable skill taking into consideration the fact that many of them had little or no education before the civil war. Williamson and Cripe (2002) documented that in Sierra Leone, the majority had difficulties in reading instructions or understanding measurements due to their lack of education which was a major detriment to the skills training process. Hence, many sold their start-up kits to make quick cash and fend for themselves. Furthermore, children were taught skills that were not applicable and practicable in their communities of origin, which automatically questions the relevance of the skills provided. For instance, training a boy from a rural area in auto-mechanic means that he is not returning to his community because there are neither cars nor motorcycles in his community (Beckley 2019). A study by Honwana (2017) also documented that whereas DDR programs are supposed to assist former child soldiers in acquiring new skills, they are often not designed to fit the particular conditions of child combatants. This, in turn, raises the issue of rural-urban migration as seen in Liberia and Sierra Leone. Bennett (2002) documented that some young people were unwilling to return to their communities because they knew there were no opportunities there. More so, while some child ex-combatants received start-up kits, others did not which further hindered them from practicing what they had learnt. For example, in Liberia, children received incomplete start-up kits or it was such that three people had to share one sewing machine (Amnesty International 2008). Furthermore, ex-combatants with inadequate skills were unattractive to employers and unable to compete with their peers in the labor market, leaving them unemployed in the

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postwar society. Consequently, many were unable to fully reintegrate into their communities of origin in spite of the skills they had acquired. What is more, some scholars have argued that education programs were only available to former child soldiers who participated in the formal DDR thus marginalizing ex-combatant girls who simply returned to their communities (McKay and Mazurana 2004)

A Gendered Analysis of DDR and the Education of Ex-Combatant Girls Ideally, DDR programs are critical steps to restoring human security after armed conflict, but an important question here is: Whose security is emphasized and how? McKay and Mazurana (2004) answered this question by asserting that, “. . .when we talk about girls and demobilisation, we are talking about something that never happened.” Indeed, mostly boys and only a few girls participate in DDR programs in most African countries. For instance, in Liberia, only 30% of 11,000 demobilized children were girls (Doerrer et al. 2010). Whereas, in Sierra Leone, an estimate of 72,500 combatants were demobilized, including 4,751 women and 6,787 children, of whom 506 were girls (Mazurana and Carlson 2004). The reasons for the low rate in female participation have been analyzed. First, the design of most DDR programs enabled commanders to play a huge role in determining whether girls will participate in these programs. For example, in an interview with ex-combatant girls in Liberia conducted by Amnesty International, former girl soldiers claimed that they were often asked to bring their commanders with them to prove they were part of the armed group to be eligible for the DDR program (Amnesty International 2008). In a situation where they are unable to find and bring their commanders, they will not be able to participate in the process. Coulter (2009) also recorded that girls were deceived by their commanders and bush husbands who did not want to share the material benefits of the DDR benefit with them and made it seem like disarmament was strictly a “man’s thing.” Disarmament being a “man’s thing” as depicted in Coulter’s study is not surprising because it is arguable that the main reason for the low turnout of girls’ and women’s participation during the DDR processes in Sierra Leone is the fact that this group of people were not regarded as soldiers but merely as wives or camp followers. To support this assertion, in an interview conducted by Beckley (2019) with an employee at UNICEF Sierra Leone, the participant said: Some of them were trained as fighters and the situation of women in Sierra Leone, this was completely new. We did not have women in the police force; there was a very small number of women. We did not have women in the military only for a very few number, so having girls train as fighters in itself was new, it was a new phenomenon and it put a lot of strain on girls because they were not as respected as boys who were trained. . .

Based on this assertion, a major reason why girl soldiers did not disarm in Sierra Leone was that those who planned and implemented the DDR process only looked

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forward to receiving adult male fighters, and even if there were children involved, they had to be boys with rifles which in turn resulted in the bias against those who were not seen as real soldiers, the latter conceived as only men or boys with guns. A recent study by Haer (2017) also concluded that the study of child combatants has always been tantamount to the study of boy combatants, of which children who served in other roles and did not have weapons at the time of the disarmament were often sidelined. This does not mean that girls did not use guns but most of the girls had their guns collected by their commanders who in turn gave it to their relatives to receive DDR benefits (Beckley 2019). Some even had their guns stolen by the boys in their fighting factions (ibid., 2019). Another school of thought worth considering states that a likely reason why most girls were unable to benefit from the DDR programs for children is linked to the fact that majority of these girls had children and were regarded as women, not girls. It is important to understand that the concept of childhood in Africa has a cultural notion to it, in that childhood is not chronologically defined by age but the actions taken by the individual. For instance, a girl having a baby, of which one ceases to be a child when the person has a baby. Hence, in the case of the DDR programs, Mazurana and Carlson (2004) noted that in Sierra Leone, girls who had children entered as women since that is how they are culturally perceived. Thus, they were largely unsupported as the DDR program did not make provision for ex-combatant girl mothers. Similarly, McKay et al. (2006) acquiesced that girl mothers are usually not regarded as soldiers but as wives of soldiers which makes them the most vulnerable of all returnees, who in turn do not benefit from formal DDR assistance. Meanwhile, Ortega and Maria (2009) assert that some girls may feel they have nothing to gain and participation in DDR may even be counterproductive to their reintegration in that the entire community will know who they are, hence they willingly abstain from DDR programs. Mazurana and Carlson (2004) and Amnesty International (2008) also document that some girls will rather not participate in the DDR due to fear of reprisals, further marginalization by their community members, to mention a few possible repercussions. While it is true that some girls willingly abstain from DDR, the majority do not participate due to other extraneous reasons. For instance, Amnesty International states that in Liberia, thousands of girls formerly associated with the fighting forces did not take part in the DDR for reasons such as misinformation about the process, manipulation by commanders, and choosing not to participate. Nevertheless, the few girls who participate in formal DDR processes usually have a choice between formal education and vocational training, but they must deal with certain inequities and prejudices. As explained by Doerrer et al. (2010), the structure and implementation of education programs during DDR can either promote inclusiveness or worsen existing inequalities. For example, the inclusion of mostly ex-combatant boys in education programs, especially when such boys are overaged, can be a source of discouragement for girls who have experienced several forms of harassment by men and boys in the bush. This is even worsened in most schools in post-conflict African countries where there is a shortage of female teachers to serve as mentors to these girls. More so, the fact that the design of most DDR programs implemented in Africa was not gender-inclusive prevented many girls from participating in education programs. For

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instance, in Sierra Leone and Liberia, female hygiene products like sanitary towels were not provided which hindered many girls from taking part in education programs. While some of these issues might not be peculiar to girl ex-combatants, more specific to this group of girls is the peer rejection and isolation they experience in the schools in their various communities. In northern Uganda, for example, former girl soldiers interviewed by Chrobok and Akutu (2008) complained about the peer rejection and isolation they experienced in addition to their inability to pay school fees. As explained by these scholars, this made school attendance very unexciting for these girls and contributed to many of them dropping out. Besides, adequate provision was not made for girl ex-combatants who returned pregnant or with children which further limited their chances at gaining education. Doerrer et al. (2010) stated the pregnant girls were excluded from vocational training programs during the reintegration process in Sierra Leone, of which the only exceptions were programs run by Forum for African Women Educationist (FAWE) and Progressive Women’s Association who operated skills training centers that accommodated pregnant girl ex-combatants. Moreover, some scholars have highlighted concerns regarding vocational training for former girl soldiers. For instance, Ortega and Maria (2009) argue that DDR programs often promote “female skills” like tailoring, hairdressing, mat weaving, cooking, to name a few which often encourage girls and women into the domestic sphere. This was the case in most African countries as skills were provided according to culturally acceptable gender roles. Even so, these programs were not planned to ensure the sustainability of ex-combatant girls in the postwar economy due to the reasons outlined above. Consequently, they turned to prostitution or transactional sex to support themselves and their families. To an extent, it seemed like more time and resources were devoted to the formal education sector than vocational training programs, taking into consideration the duration of both programs. The duration of skills training programs was between 6 and 8 months depending on the country, which was not enough to learn anything, while for formal education, there was the initial 6 months’ preparatory course (RREP) then 3 years of CREPS or 1-year fees payment for those who returned to normal schools. From the foregoing, it might be convenient to conclude that DDR programs simply strive to retrieve weapons from ex-combatants and separate children from their commanders, after which they are sent back to their communities with inappropriate skills and inadequate education that they are unable to earn a living from. For ex-combatant girls, it is even worse because first, they are faced with the identity crisis of whether they should be regarded as soldiers or merely camp followers, then they are faced with the issue of skills training programs that are not applicable in their communities. Little wonder scholars like Oluwaniyi (2018) argue that while disarmament and demobilization include short-term security operations, reintegration which addresses the social and economic transformation of ex-combatants and their communities is often ignored in DDR programs in post-conflict societies. Correspondingly, Denov (2006) and Hanson (2007) concluded that DDR programs are usually successful only in terms of the collection of weapons from ex-combatants (the disarmament phase) as the efficacy of the reintegration and rehabilitation component remain debatable.

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To achieve human security in the post-conflict era, the Commission on Human Security (2003) recommends that demobilization and reintegration of combatants should exceed the political and military attempt to peace, and emphasis should be placed on social integration especially for child soldiers who have received little or no education. It was further stated that attention should be drawn to children and youths who tend to be ignored or forgotten during DDR processes, mostly former girl soldiers. However, when reintegration for those who tend to be forgotten during DDR processes (girl soldiers) incorporates skills which are impracticable in their communities of origin, leaving them with options of prostitution or early marriages to fend for themselves and children, one cannot but question how/if gender is considered in post-conflict peacebuilding in Africa.

Way Forward for Future DDR Programs As aforementioned, the design of most DDR programs implemented in Africa underserved many girls because the DDR implementers who were mostly men only anticipated receiving adult males or boys with rifles. A report by UNICEF (2005) indicated that no female military observer was deployed in the field to be in charge of the DDR program in Sierra Leone. Likewise, in Liberia, Amnesty International (2008) documented that several attempts made by women to be involved in the preliminary stages and consulted throughout the DDR were rejected by the United Nations Mission in Liberia (UNMIL). Therefore, it is recommended that more female military observers should be positioned in countries just recovering from conflict to oversee DDR programs and ensure that more girls are able to participate in the DDR process. This recommendation means actualizing a key component of the UN Security Council Resolution 1325, which calls for gender balancing in United Nations peace processes by “increasing the representation of women as envoys or special representatives in United Nations field-based operations, and especially among military observers, civilian police, human rights and humanitarian personnel” (United Nations Security Council 2000). By doing this, more girls will be encouraged to come forward to disarm, and the disarmament of former girl soldiers will be taken more seriously as it will not only be perceived as a “man’s thing.” In other words, UNSCR 1325 still needs a full transition from paper to practice. Since the educational component of the DDR permitted former child soldiers to choose between formal education and skills training, many ex-combatant girls opted for skills training to make income and cater for their children (Bennett 2002). They saw formal education as a luxury, something to aspire to after their basic needs are met. However, as noted above, most girls had difficulty in understanding measurements or reading instructions due to their lack of formal education. Thus, for future DDR programs, it is recommended that basic literacy and numeracy is compulsory for all former child soldiers, while vocational training will still be an option for those interested in making fast income. Alternatively, basic literacy and numeracy should be incorporated into the vocational training program. Nevertheless, the latter might not be easy to achieve if skills training is mostly by apprenticeship as seen in the case

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of Sierra Leone since there were only very few vocational training institutes functioning in the country at the time. In that case, it is advised that all children acquire basic literacy and numeracy skills right from the Interim Care Centers (ICCs), instead of providing formal education for only those who desire it and strictly skills training for those interested in generating income. That way, these girls would be able to read, write, and understand what is being taught. In addition, the issue of selling start-up kits for cash or opting for risky options like prostitution will not arise. Given that these girls could not learn much within the allotted period for vocational training, the situation was exacerbated by the inappropriateness of skills acquired. Ex-combatant girls who learnt tailoring returned to their communities where people were hardly sewing clothes as cheaper second-hand clothes had flooded the markets. Besides, even if people were interested in handmade outfits, there would have been the issue of patronage because no one will want to give their fabric to an inexperienced tailor who had barely learnt how to make patterns. It is highly recommended that community assessment is truly conducted to be aware of what is accessible to former child soldiers in their communities of origin, and skills taught should be able to meet the needs of communities. Doing this will allow ex-combatant girls to contribute towards the growth and development of their communities, which will, in turn, facilitate community acceptance and reintegration. This will equally reduce the tendency of rural-urban migration. Also, ex-combatant girls should not be abandoned after they have been reintegrated into their communities; there should be adequate post-monitoring activities to ensure that they have properly adjusted to civilian life. Regular community visits should be conducted by organizations to see how these girls are coping. Finally, for formal education to be sustainable, it is recommended that parents, relatives, or foster parents of former girl soldiers are provided with some funds to launch a small business or engage in any income-generating venture to enable them to continue supporting these girls through school when DDR programs are over. If this is sorted, parents will not have any reason to withdraw these girls from schools thereby stopping their education or even marry them off due to lack of funds. When planning and implementing DDR programs, it is always important to keep in mind how former child soldiers (especially girl soldiers) will continue their education when these programs are over. It is crucial to think long-term when reintegrating former child soldiers, or else, there is the chance that these children will end up being on the streets or getting involved in other criminal activities. For former girl soldiers, prostitution or getting married to a man three times their age to fend for themselves and family might just be the order of the day in the post-conflict society.

Conclusion This chapter has examined how education programs were used to reintegrate former girl soldiers during the DDR processes in Africa. It started by debunking the misconception that girls are only victims during armed conflicts and emphasized that this is the reason why many ex-combatant girls are marginalized during the peacebuilding era. This echoes feminists’ arguments that when girls and women are perceived as inherently peaceful, their capacity as perpetrators of violence is

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concealed, which in turn leads to their needs being ignored during the post-conflict peacebuilding era. It was also stated that compared to girls who are not recruited into fighting forces, the education of girl soldiers is more affected due to the prolonged period spent with the fighting forces. But, even during the DDR processes which would have given ex-combatant girls a chance at education to enable them to learn marketable skills and become valuable in their societies, they are often marginalized and forgotten because they are not regarded as soldiers but as camp followers, messengers, or wives of soldiers. Consequently, they are forced to return to their communities to face further isolation and marginalization, having assisted in committing several atrocities against their relatives and community members. Focusing on the educational component of the DDR, this chapter has shown that girls were indeed underserved by the DDR processes for reasons ranging from unwavering commanders to gender bias associated with the design of the DDR program itself. Nonetheless, the few girls who participated in the DDR had the choice between formal education and vocational training, although they had to deal with certain prejudices. In analyzing the education programs offered during the DDR in most African countries, this chapter revealed that these programs were not planned to ensure the sustainability of ex-combatant girls in the postwar economy. The recommendations produced at the end of this research – “deployment of more female military observers,” “compulsory basic literacy and numeracy,” “suitability of skills,” and “extended duration” – sums up what needs to be done to ensure that the education of former girl soldiers is properly addressed during the peacebuilding era. Nevertheless, education of child soldiers (especially girl soldiers) in peacebuilding remains an emerging field that is still trying to establish its footing. This explains why only a few countries were cited in the chapter. Therefore, it is recommended that more research is produced in this area using this chapter as a point of reference. Through such studies, policymakers and DDR stakeholders are better informed and guided on how the education of ex-combatant girls should be addressed during the peacebuilding era.

Cross-References ▶ Theorizing African Women and Girls in Combat: From National Liberation to the War on Terrorism ▶ Women and Peacebuilding in Postconflict African States ▶ Women and Peace Processes in Africa ▶ Women’s Roles and Positions in African Wars

References Amnesty International. (2008). Liberia: A flawed process discriminates against women and girls. Retrieved from https://www.amnesty.org/download/Documents/52000/afr340042008eng.pdf Annan, J., & Blattman, C. (2008). Child combatants in Northern Uganda: Reintegration myths and realities. Security and post-conflict reconstruction (pp. 123–145). London: Routledge.

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Oluwaniyi, O. O. (2003). The phenomenon of child soldiers in Liberia and Sierra Leone. African Journal of Peace and Conflict Studies, 1(1), 140–157. Oluwaniyi, O. O. (2008). International humanitarian law and child soldiers in Africa. Ota: Covenant University. Oluwaniyi, O. O. (2018). The challenges of reintegration in post-conflict peacebuilding: The case of Nigeria’s Niger-Delta region. Social Science Research Council | Working Papers, 2(18), 1–46. Ortega, L. M. D., & Maria, L. (2009). Transitional justice and female ex-combatants: Lessons learned from international experience. Retrieved from https://www.ictj.org/publication/ transitional-justice-and-female-ex-combatants-lessons-learned-international-experience Pannilage, U. (2015). The post-conflict rebuilding process of Sri Lanka: A content analysis of issues, challenges and lessons learnt. Journal of Conflict, Peace and Development Studies, Tribhuvan University, Nepal, 1(1), 11–28. Sesay, A. (2007). Does one size fit all?: The Sierra Leone truth and reconciliation commission revisited. Uppsala: Nordiska Afrikainstitutet. Sinclair, M. (2001). Education in emergencies. In: J. Crisp, C. Talbot, D. Cipollone (Eds.), Learning for a future: refugee education in developing countries (pp. 1–83). Geneva: UNHCR. Solomon, C., & Ginifer, J. (2008). Disarmament, Demobilization and Reintegration in Sierra Leone (pp. 1–52). Centre for International Cooperation and Security: University of Bradford. Sommers, M. (2011). Conflict, education and youth: The forgotten challenge? Conflict and Education, 1(1), 34–35. UNDDR. (2005). What is DDR? Retrieved from https://www.unddr.org/what-is-ddr/introduction_ 1.aspx UNICEF. (2005). The disarmament, demobilization and reintegration of children associated with the fighting forces: Lessons learned in Sierra Leone 1998–2002. Dakar: UNICEF, West and Central African Regional Office. UNICEF. (2007). The Paris principles. Principles and guidelines on children associated with armed forces or armed groups. New York: UNICEF. United Nations. (2000). Security Council Resolution 1325 on women, peace and security. New York: United Nations. United Nations. (2006). Operational guide to the integrated disarmament, demobilization and reintegration standard. New York: United Nations. Van Hauwermeiren, R. (2012). The ogaden war: Somali women’s roles. Afrika Focus, 25(2), 9–30. Wang, L. (2007). Education in Sierra Leone: Present challenges, future opportunities. Washington, DC: World Bank Publications. Wessells, M. G. (2016). Reintegration of child soldiers: The role of social identity in the recruitment and reintegration of child soldiers. In Understanding peace and conflict through social identity theory (pp. 105–120). Cham: Springer. Williamson, J. (2006). The disarmament, demobilization and reintegration of child soldiers: Social and psychological transformation in Sierra Leone. Intervention, 4(3), 185–205. Williamson, J., & Cripe, L. (2002). Assessment of DCOF-supported child demobilization and reintegration activities in Sierra Leone. Washington, DC: USAID. Wollie, J. T. (2016). Phenomenological study of the educational component of the formal disarmament, demobilization, and reintegration program of ex-militants in Liberia. United States: Walden University.

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Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Goals and Objectives of Transitional Justice: Adding an African Woman’s Voice . . . . . . . Case Study Analysis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Legacy of the Conflict in Uganda . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Conflict in Liberia . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Legacy of the Conflict in Sierra Leone . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Women in Transitional Justice in Rwanda . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Legacy of the Conflict in South Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Comparative Analysis of Transitional Justice Processes in Multi-Case Studies . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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This chapter traces the role of African women in transitional justice processes. Transitional justice creates an opportunity for people to tell their stories and experiences of traumatic pasts and histories, reflect on the impact of those experiences in their lives as well as gain a better understanding on how to move forward. This chapter traces the experiences and the strategies that women on the African continent have used to combat impunity and injustice, for the betterment of humanity, and peace and security for all. This chapter argues that past transitional justice processes approached issues of violence against women in different ways, portraying women either as observers or mere narrators of past events. Considering the foregoing, this chapter is motivated by the human rights dimension to transitional justice with particular emphasis on gender justice and gender-sensitive approaches to transitional P. Machakanja (*) College of Business, Peace, Leadership and Governance, Africa University, Mutare, Zimbabwe C. Manuel Institute of Peace, Leadership and Governance, Africa University, Mutare, Zimbabwe e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_90

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justice in Africa. Finally, the chapter argues that if global peace is to be achieved through transitional justice legislative mechanisms and as part of historical memory, the participation of women should be recognized. This is imperative for sustainable positive peace, gender justice, human security, protection, and promotion of rule of law and human rights. Keywords

Transitional justice · Women · Participation · Gender justice · Sustainable peace

Introduction The United Nations (UN) doctrine of Responsibility to Protect and UN Security Council Resolution (UNSCR)1325 affirms the need to include women in all peace processes and in the search for justice for human rights violations. Resolution 1325 is particularly significant because it does not only recognize the impact of war and conflict on women and children, but also advocates for women’s inclusion and active participation in the search for peace and justice at all levels of decision-making processes in society. In pursuit of lasting peace, transitional justice is one means among many others through which peace and nation-building could be achieved. The UN defines transitional justice as the full range of practices and processes associated with a society’s attempt to come to terms with traumatic past, characterized by legacies of large-scale past abuses and human rights violations (United Nations 2014). Thus, transitional justice is a means through which society can use to search for the truth and ensure that accountability and justice is done for the wronged as well as a return to a new sense of normalcy founded on sustainable peace and justice (UN Women 2015). Porter (2013) views transitional justice processes as being inclusive of both judicial processes and nonjudicial. The judicial processes take the form of retributive justice with a focus on prosecution of perpetrators through criminal law and lustration as ways of reestablishing rule of law. In contrast, nonjudicial mechanisms focus on restorative justice through truth-telling, institutional reforms, or a combination of all these processes. However, transitional criminal justice requires oversight and accountability if a culture of impunity for human rights abuses is to be addressed while restorative transitional justice requires trust to rebuild relationships between state, civil society, and the general population. With a focus on gender justice, Bonn et al. (2007a) make reference to the devastating effects of war and conflict on women and children and how UNSCR 1325, adopted in October 2000, emphasizes the importance of involving women in all peacebuilding processes, and recognizing their often-undervalued contributions in the prevention, resolution, and peace-making processes. Such an approach to engendering transitional justice requires political settlements that connect with grassroot grievances where women are mostly found, a redefinition of unity, a reflective way in addressing issues of diversity, sharing of resources, and inclusive approaches to reconciliation. Despite the gravity of the violent conflicts, the mass killings, enslavement, and rape accountability for gross human rights violations especially as they affect women

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and children are issues that, until now, have not been adequately addressed from an inclusive gender justice perspective. There has been little forward-thinking beyond signing peace agreements by male-dominated peace negotiators and gaining power. Scanty provisions have been made on how inclusive such peace agreements are, how the new states would be governed in terms of power sharing, and distribution of wealth among men and women (Huyse and Salter 2008). Of significance, exclusive peacebuilding processes and gender-insensitive approaches of transitional justices relegate to contribute and participate in the prevention, creation of unified nations, and redress of human rights violations. Most importantly, women are missing in resolving the underlying causes of conflict including economic and psychological redress and the women’s engagement in the “never again” narratives and discourses. Therefore, beyond the conventional transitional justice interventions of vetting, prosecutions, fact-finding, reparations, truth-telling, and reconciliation as ways of seeking redress in different contextual situations is the need to reconceptualize the notion of transitional justice. This is justified by the context of the changing and complex nature of modern-day conflicts characterized by traumatic sexual human rights violations that now require not only remedy, justice, and accountability but more innovative inclusive, participatory approaches responsive to emerging violations. The modern-day forced sexual violations and enslavement, massive genocidal tendencies, and arbitrary executions require more inclusive approaches of those who experienced these atrocities. This now requires comprehensive, inclusive, and holistic human rights–based approaches to dealing with these gendered atrocities in ways that guarantee women’s active involvement in achieving gendered transitional justice outcomes. This is because women’s voices have often been visibly absent in both judicial and nonjudicial transitional processes despite the rampant crimes against women on continent. Addressing gender-based violations becomes not only a critical facet of women’s struggles for human rights but also challenges cultures of impunity that perpetuate gender inequalities that continue to present women survivors as victims. As such, the chapter goes beyond reducing sexual-based violence as simply women’s problems to deeply interrogating the engrained patterns of human rights abuses that undermine the legitimacy of gendered transitional justice initiatives embracive of both women’s and men’s collaborative search for justice and peace. This is because women have always been regarded as recipients and not agents of transitional justice even though Africa has seen widespread conflicts which orchestrated gross violation of women rights through sexual violence, mass displacements, and other atrocities. Therefore, the authors of this chapter considered the geographical spread in choosing our case studies. To this end, we chose countries in sub-Saharan Africa (South Africa that had a well-documented and celebrated Truth and Reconciliation Commission to deal with the apartheid). We also considered case studies from countries in East and Central Africa (Uganda and Rwanda) bearing in mind the large-scale genocide in Rwanda that also motivated the institutionalization of the International Criminal Court. Our interest, therefore, is in examining the processes that were taken to check whether women took the lead in dealing with wrongs of the past and facilitate a just and equal society.

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The Goals and Objectives of Transitional Justice: Adding an African Woman’s Voice Africa’s multilayered historical memory implies that there cannot be a one-size-fitsall approach to the goals and objectives of transitional justice. While the goals of transitional justice will vary depending on the context, its features remain constant, and thus the recognition of the dignity of individuals, the redress and acknowledgment of violations, and prevention of atrocities from happening again. These goals enable societies to examine past crimes and human rights violations in order to prevent their recurrence, through truth-seeking processes which address root causes, and bring acknowledgment, accountability, gender justice, respect for rule of law, inclusion, reconciliation, healing, restoration of peace, and redress for victims (Huyse and Salter 2008; Boraine and Valentine 2006). Thus, a gendered approach to transitional justice should be rooted in accountability, interrogating retrogressive cultural and patriarchal norms and upholding of human rights principles, which embrace context, creativity, and participation of women as human beings and active agents of transformative justice. The global concept of transitional justice takes cognizance of gender justice. However, Africa is still lagging behind on gender justice in many aspects, hence when invoking transitional justice usually women face double dilemma of being big victims of sexual violence and big losers of transitional justice process that tend to include women without due regard to gender-sensitive approaches that will render the process just and equitable. In addition, global application of the notion of transitional justice leaves out the African women who in many cases are economic victims as transitional justice may target men who are ordinarily the husbands of the same African women who should be protected by transitional justice. While there is need to rethink transitional justice and women in Africa, the one-size-fit all approaches mooted from the Global North may as well not work well in a patriarchal society. In view of the above, women in Africa are largely left out as they are likely to face further retribution and rejection in society if they go against the norm and values of society. The exclusion of women in this case is a centerpiece and machinery that perpetuates their subjugation to social norms and patriarchy. In response, women across Africa with the support of UN Women and other women civil society organizations have since raised their voices arguing that violence against women does not operate in a vacuum, but within gendered power relations in society, hence the need for transformative transitional justice. African women are arguing that any redress measures must incorporate transitional justice as a goal, seek to address not just the consequences of violations committed during conflict but the social relationships that enabled these violations in the first place, and this includes the correction of unequal gendered power relations in society. Thus, in calling for transitional justice measures that integrate gender dimensions, African women have collectively pressured governments to acknowledge and respond to the full range of violations women and girls experience during conflict. They have also advocated for differentiated responses to needs women and men have with respect to accessing and benefiting from transitional justice processes.

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Case Study Analysis The Legacy of the Conflict in Uganda The deeply ethnically engineered and politically orchestrated conflict in Uganda resulted in cycles of revenge, mistrust in the legitimacy of the monolithic government, polarization in society, and loss of human life. The 20-year protracted brutal conflict between the government of Uganda and the rebel group, the Lord Resistance Army (LRA), led by Joseph Kony resulted in the destruction of infrastructure, weakening of the economy and governance system, and forceful displacement of over 400,00 people by 2004 and that number rose to millions of which many of them were women, children, and other vulnerable groups who were brutally murdered, abducted, and sexually enslaved. Apart from being used as sexual slaves, many of the forcefully abducted children were used as child soldiers by the LRA to create fear and brutalize communities into submission (Khika Sarah Kasande 2010). The war, which was fought over grievances ranging from dictatorship, ethnic exclusion, economic marginalization, and limited spaces for democratic politics, was preceded by a series of coups over the same issues. This situation created marginalization and institutionalization of successive abuse of power, a situation which fueled ethnic divisions and manifested in the creation of militia groups in Northern Uganda fighting for their rights. This situation was exacerbated by external powers, particularly the British who stigmatized and labeled the Acholi tribe of Northern Uganda as a problem and security threat to peace and security (Huyse and Salter 2008, pp. 85–86). As a result, the Acholi were stereotyped and continued to suffer discrimination because of the former British who once labeled them as problematic. The postcolonial Uganda also rode on the same stereotypes to propagate conflict and displacement against the Acholi tribe.

Gender-Specific Mandate of the Transitional Justice System in Uganda The war which was characterized by widespread human rights violations and impunity ended with the signing of the Juba Agreement between the Government of Uganda and the Lord Resistance Army (LRA) and the drafting of the Transitional Justice Policy enacted on 21 May 2013. The mandate of the Transitional Justice Policy was to seek accountability and reconciliation with a view to bringing back stability and deal with the human rights violations through judicial and nonjudicial processes. Although the Uganda Transitional Justice Policy on accountability and reconciliation recognized gender equality as one of its guiding principles, the involvement of women in the initial development of the transitional justice policy was very limited (ICTJ briefing 2014). Women’s Participation in the Ugandan Transitional Justice Processes There were notable shortcomings in Uganda, however the involvement of women in the Uganda transitional justice was a positive step towards harnessing the voices of women in peace processes. In Uganda, women activists, who through coalition groups and support from international women lobby groups, mobilized themselves

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to claim their rights and creation of spaces for their active engagement initially as grassroots mediators and negotiators during the peace negotiations. For example, women lobby groups such as the Uganda Women’s Coalition for Peace (UWCP) played an instrumental role in mobilizing women to claim their rights for ensuring that they were actively engaged during the peace negotiations. Of significance was the instrumental role played by Betty Bigombe, now senior director, Fragility, Conflict, and Violence, World Bank, as chief mediator in ensuring that the protagonists, the Lord’s Resistance Army, and the government agreed to come to the negotiation table, to dialogue in search for peace (Bonn et al. 2007a). At the grassroot level women community leaders including Rosalia Ato Oywa also pioneered community-based conflict resolution mechanisms and the institutionalization of traditional cultural norms and values that guaranteed social cohesion through reconciliation and re-integration of child soldiers and other conflict survivors into society (Bhagwan-Rolls 2011). Acting as agents of change, the women in Northern Uganda also ensured the mainstreaming of gender budgeting that would guarantee sustainable peace and security at all levels of society (Nabukeera-Musoke 2010). Thus, as part of the post-transitional justice period, the women in Uganda held the government accountable in the promotion of the economic empowerment of women in recognition of how women were excluded by the brutality of war and the persistent patriarchal social norms. For example, through the Foundation for Integrated Rural Development (FIRD) Uganda women’s strategic and specific needs were addressed as part of national healing, reconciliation, and nation-building (Porter 2013). Analysis shows that the transitional justice processes were significant in that women’s voices were visibly amplified as the most pervasive violations against women were no longer obscured or suppressed. Women were also empowered to challenge the traditional justice system and mechanisms most of which had remained premised on discriminatory cultural values, norms, and practices.

The Conflict in Liberia The conflict in Liberia can be traced back to the 1980s when Samuel Doe leading the Armed Forces of Liberia staged a coup against the ruling class made up of former American slaves. This was followed by the rebellion of Charles Taylor, leader of the National Patriotic Front (NPFL), who ousted Doe in 1989. From 1990 the war escalated into a civil war with the emergence of splinter groups including the United Liberation Movement of Liberia (ULIMO) founded in 1991 and the Liberia Peace Council (LPC) launched in 1993, all of which were contesting over political power and economic disparities (Amnesty International 2001). This resulted in a complex civil war of rival rebel coalitions characterized by multiple competing dynamics which spilled over into neighboring Sierra Leone and Guinea Conakry. The protracted civil war resulted in serious human rights violations, the loss of many lives, and destruction of infrastructure. The traumatic civil war only ended with the signing of the Accra Comprehensive Peace Agreement in

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August 2003, and the formation of a transitional government whose term ended in 2006 when Ellen Johnson Sirleaf, the first elected female president in Africa, became Liberia’s head of state and government in accordance with the constitution of Liberia (Campbell-Nelson 2008).

Gender-Specific Mandate of the Transitional Justice Mechanism in Liberia The mandate of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC), enacted by the gender-sensitive National Transitional Assembly Act of 10 June 2005, as provided for in the August 2003 Comprehensive Peace Agreement (CPA), was to thoroughly investigate the gross human rights violations and violations of international humanitarian law from 1 January 1979 to 14 October 2003. Like other TRCs, the Liberian TRC was not a court with punitive powers, instead its mandate focused on truth-seeking and understanding the root causes of the conflict with the view of eliminating a recurrence of such human suffering. Of importance, the Liberian TRC explicitly emphasized the inclusion and participation of women as expressed in the preamble which underlines the rights of women and children and mainstreams gender issues in dealing with the past traumatic experiences of women and children. In addition, a Gender Commission was setup to oversee and safeguard gender and women’s issues during the TRC process. This also created safe spaces for women to testify and act as witnesses to public hearings. Women and Transitional Justice Processes Upon assuming power, President Ellen Johnson Sirleaf made a commitment to not only promote gender equality and women’s empowerment but to also deal with the human rights violations and sexual gender-based violence of a traumatic past. As pointed by Campbell-Nelson (2008), p. 7), the 2003 Golden Tulip Declaration demanded recognition of women’s historical suffrage and struggle to claim their rights and empowerment in the public sphere, and their active engagement in peace processes. It also encouraged women to interrogate and question the patriarchal cultural norms regarding the role of women in the negotiating for sustainable peace and human security that transcends the monolithic state security system in most African societies. As such, the Declaration outlined women’s strategic and specific demands for their inclusion into all structures and institutions both during and post the transition period. To help women deal with the traumatic experiences of the war, stress, and stigma of being survivors of sexual brutality and gender-based violence, psychosocial support and peer counseling training were also offered to women by the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. As reported by Buckley-Zistel and Stanley (2012), by 2008, 42 female traditional leaders had shared knowledge and skills to help and encourage women use traditional methods of communication as part of the TRC communication and healing process. Women were also involved in dialogue fora regarding livelihood issues including health care, education, and sanitation as a recovery and empowerment process. With the support of women’s organizations, women made live presentations on TV and radio recounting individual war

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experiences, as well as their involvement in peacebuilding initiatives as part of transitional justice recovery process. Women also interrogated some of the political, social, economic, and cultural thematic issues that limit women’s active involvement in decision-making and peace-making processes, and strategies for advocating the incorporation of women’s voices in the public sphere. However, because of the societal stigma associated with rape and sexual abuse, some women were not willing to testify in public. The other challenge was that despite a lot of outreach programs, they did not reach the rural grassroots level where there were still high levels of illiteracy because of the war. Although the constitution of Liberia regards men and women as equal and symbolizes that equal rights are the foundation for women’s inclusion in transitional justice processes, inconsistencies remained between customary and traditional norms and the espoused equality and empowerment values because of the patriarchal nature that most women find themselves. The other challenge was that of portraying women as passive victims of the war’s sexual violence, neglecting other agential aspects of their experiences and needs (Crawford 2015).

The Legacy of the Conflict in Sierra Leone In Sierra Leone like many other countries across Africa, armed conflict legitimized high levels of brutality and impunity causing a lot of suffering with women and children bearing the brunt of these horrendous brutalities. The 10-year war was started in March 1991 by the Revolutionary United Front (RUF), a rebel group led by Foday Sankoh with the aim of toppling the Sierra Leonean government of President Joseph Saidu Momoh whom they accused of corruption, dictatorship, tribalism, and lack of popular mandate, all of which compromised the government’s legitimacy (Sooka 2006). This plunged the country into anarchy as the RUF launched from neighboring Liberia ravaged the country from three districts of Bomaru, Koindu, and Kailahun bordering Liberia. Immediately, Captain Valentine Strasser, leader of the National Provisional Ruling Council (NPRC), a militarynationalist movement, seized power in a coup in 1992, suspended the 1991 Constitution, and declared a state of emergency. He was also overthrown by one of his members Brigadier Julius Bio in January 1996 who organized elections in March 1996 won by Ahmed Tejan Kabbah. Kabbah was soon after toppled from power on 25 May 1997 by Major Johnny Paul Koroma. Mr. Kabbah’s government was restored to power from March 1998, following military intervention by the British and the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS). The civil war continued until 2002, leaving a trail of brutality, serious human rights violations, and a traumatic past that continues to linger in the minds and bodies of many Sierra Leoneans.

Gender-Specific Mandate of Transitional Justice System in Sierra Leone The Sierra Leonean government enacted the Truth and Reconciliation Commission Act on 22 February 2000 as a legal framework in dealing with the traumatic and

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grievous human rights violations (Huyse and Salter 2008). The key mandates of the Sierra Leone Truth and Reconciliation Commission (SLTRC) and the UN-backed Special Court for Sierra Leone (SCSL) were reconciliation, reparation, and gender justice. Women issues were enshrined in the Lomé Peace Accord that was signed in 1999 with a focus on six main objectives: 1) creating an impartial historical legacy of brutal abuses and human rights violations; 2) addressing the culture of impunity that had permeated society; 3) responding to the needs of victims; 4) promoting healing and reconciliation; 5) preventing a repeat of the violations and human rights abuses especially sexual violations of women and children’s rights; and 6) seeking gender justice and recourse for the victims and survivors (The Truth and Reconciliation Act, 2000). The SLTRC report defined victims of sexual violence as “those women and girls who were subjected to such acts as rape, sexual slavery, mutilation of genital parts or breasts, and forced marriage” (SLTRC 2004, Vol. 11, Ch. 4, p. 250 para.95). Because of these violations Article 28.2 of the Lomé Accord required the full participation of women in the transitional justice process at all levels. The Special Court for Sierra Leone paid special attention to addressing sexual and gender-based violence-related crimes (Nowrojee 2005a) through Statute Article 2 on “Crimes of Humanity” which gave the court the power to prosecute persons who had committed systematic human rights violations such as rape, sexual slavery, enforced prostitution, forced pregnancy, and other forms of sexual abuse as expressed in Article 3 “Violations of Article 3 common to the Geneva Convention and of Additional Protocol 11.” Article 3 and the Additional Protocol 11 stated that the Special Court shall have the power to prosecute persons who committed or ordered the commission of serious violations as stated in Article 3 of the Geneva Convention of 12 August 1949 and Additional Protocol 11 of 8 June 1977 on the protection of war victims. These violations shall include outrages upon personal dignity, in particular humiliating and degrading treatment, rape, enforced prostitution, and any form of indecent assault (UNSC, August 2000). These provisions are consistent with the call for the inclusion of women in the transitional justice system both as participants, testimony givers and as decision makers as well as the degree of involvement as well as how their inclusion and/ or exclusion in the transitional justice process.

Women’s Participation in Transitional Justice Processes Like other African contexts, the inclusion and/or exclusion of women in the Sierra Leonean transitional justice process was heavily influenced by the patriarchal nature of society, where under customary law, a husband has the right to chastise his wife and children by physical force and violence. For instance, the rape of a virgin is considered a crime while the rape of a married women or nonvirgin is largely ignored (Nowrojee 2005, p. 88). However, the consequences of the civil war made promises of transforming societal inequalities, advocating for gender equality and instituting gender justice mechanisms in the transitional justice and judicial systems. However, despite these promises, quantitative analysis of the Statistical Report of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Sierra Leone published in October 2004 showed that of the

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7,706 testimony statements received only 35% (2,728) were from women and about 63% (4,878) were from men (Sierra Leone Truth and Reconciliation Commission 2004, p. 4). King (2006, pp. 251–252) also noted that females comprised 33.5% of the victims of the violence and that “among the violations reported to the TRC, rape and sexual slavery were committed exclusively against females.” It can be argued that because women only represented 35% of those who gave statements and 33.5% of those who were victims of violence as reported in the hearings, victimization of women was lower compared to men. But considering that some women could not report these cases because of cultural and social norms, the actual rate of victimization could have been higher. Binder et al. (2008) noted limited participation of women in transitional justice decision-making, with only one woman appointed to the Appeals Chamber while the rest were men. However, according to Nowrojee (2005) 20% of SCSL’s sexual assault investigative teams were women compared to 1.2% in the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda. King (2006) also noted three out of the seven commissioners selected for the SLTRC were women, representing a rate of nearly 50% in decision-making. In terms of women having voice or the ability to express their views and opinions and be heard by others, King (2006, p. 258) noted how women’s involvement and prioritization of sexual violence cases in the TRC had a significant impact on the outcome of the truth-telling, prosecutorial, and reparation processes and the achievement of gender justice. Nowrojee (2005a, p. 95) noted that rape victims who testified before the TRC appeared to have fewer problems in testifying their experiences, because sharing their stories in a public forum illustrated a positive relief experience and healing. The fact that rape victims were attended to by female commissioners and prosecutors and that the adoption and application of International Criminal Court standards for crimes against humanity strengthened the achievement of SCSL mandates. For example, in 2009 three out of four judgements issued against the Armed Forces Revolutionary Council (AFRC) related to gender-based crimes (Oosterveld 2009, p. 9, 76). In addition, the SLTRC provided three options that witnesses could choose to present their testimony. According to Nowrojee (2005a) the options included (1) testifying in camera, which would then be shown in a public forum, (2) having a screen placed in front of the person to hide their identity, or (3) speaking openly in front of the SLTRC audience. Having these options enhanced anonymity and empowering them to be in control of the testimony process and most importantly strengthening the recognition of women’s inclusion rights and meaningful participation and decision-making. The creation of a Women’s Task Force was credited with involving women in designing the SLTRC and addressing the need for achieving inclusion, gender balance, and sensitivity within the commission (Naraghi-Anderlini 2005, p. 9; McAuliffe 2008, p. 389).

Women in Transitional Justice in Rwanda The conflict in Rwanda had been ongoing since 1990, and this came to climax when the genocide was ignited on 6 April 1994 after the shooting down of the aircraft that

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killed the then President Juvenal Habyarimana. This led to the horrific genocidal violence against the Tutsi minority comprising 14% of the population by the majority Hutu ethnic group comprising 84% of the population, resulting in over 800,000 deaths. The other minority ethnic group are the Batwa comprising 1%. The traumatic genocide happened within a space of 100 days and left the world in horror and disbelief, thereby placing Rwanda on the global map. The Hutu-Tutsi ethnic bipolarity historically created a sociopolitical landscape which manifested in sporadic eruptions of ethnic violent struggles over power and wealth. According to Huyse and Salter (2008, p. 26), the conflict cemented the precolonial historical contestations that characterized the already fractured ethnic origins of these social groups along socioeconomic classes, with the Tutsi represented as the wealthier native pastoralists and the Hutu as the subaltern peasantry social group with little or no land and no cattle. Thus, the status of wealthier cattle and property owners became tutsified, while those with no significant status became hutufied. The Belgian colonial system of divide and rule further fragmented the Rwandan social fabric through institutionalization of these ideological and psychocultural narratives and images. This legitimization strategy was perpetuated under President Kayibanda (1962–73) and under President Habyarimana’s government (1973–1994). The entire system was directed towards the maintenance of the pyramidal, hierarchical state structures, status-quo, and chains of command that went deep into rural life. While the genocide complicated further an already turbulent political situation, the Rwanda Patriotic Front (RPF), a predominantly Tutsi rebel group based in Uganda, overpowered the Rwandan army and with Ugandan military support. This military intervention ended the genocide on 4 July 1994. This led to the restoration of order and reconstitution of the state through a multiparty transitional government of national unity, created through an interim constitution of 1995, and in line with the provisions of the Arusha Peace Accords of 1993.

Gender-Specific Mandate of Transitional Justice System in Rwanda The International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda (ICTR), established in November 1994, through UN Security Council Resolution 955, was framed around truthseeking aimed at achieving accountability for genocidal mass atrocities, seeking justice for the victims and survivors of sexually orchestrated violations of particularly women’s rights through systematic rape, murder, and torture, which constituted violations of international law. The other mandate of the transitional justice system was shaping the reconstruction of constitutional and legislative reforms aimed at enhancing democratic governance and reconciliation. Alongside the ICTR was the Gacaca court system which was already dominant in the Rwandan society as a customary conflict resolution mechanism at the local level. As a justice system of proximity, the Gacaca legislative system was framed around three fundamental principles: first, the popularization or decentralization of justice in all administrative units of society; second, plea bargaining to increase the amount of evidence and information; and three, categorization of type of offense. As such, the Gacaca court system was mandated to achieve five goals, namely: (1) establishing the truth about what happened through the principle of acknowledgment, confession,

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and plea bargaining, (2) accelerate the legal proceedings for those accused of genocide crimes and prosecuting perpetrators of genocide and other crimes against humanity committed between 1 October 1990 and 31 December 1994, (3) eradicating the culture of impunity, (4) reconciliation and reinforcement of unity and social cohesion in society, and (5) use the capacities of the Rwandan society to deal with its problems through a justice based on Rwandan custom (Nowrojee 2005b; Huyse and Slater 2008, pp. 38–41). Rwandan women permeated both the Gacaca traditional legislative system and the conventional transitional justice tribunal system by taking key multiple roles acting as judges, legal experts for victims, witnesses, and peacebuilders at all levels of society. For example, 70% of the Gacaca system judges were women who ensured speedy justice processing and full protection of women giving testimonies of sexual violence from backlash and revenge by perpetrators and male counterparts in society (Gil 2013). By taking leadership roles as government ministers, community leaders, judges, prosecutors, police, and military chiefs women claimed public spaces at all levels of society that dramatically changed the historically male-dominated political and transitional justice landscape which saw the Gacaca transitional justice system processing 1.9 million cases compared to 50–60 done through the ICTR (Crawford 2016). Therefore, from a gender perspective, the Gacaca transitional justice system can be applauded as one of the most powerful, transformative, and contextualized mechanism that brought women empowerment and remodeled gender roles within the Rwandan society especially at the community level in ways that ensured positive peace and justice (Crawford 2016).

The Legacy of the Conflict in South Africa South Africa’s legacy of impunity and repression has its foundational roots long before the apartheid system officially become a bedrock of South African society in 1948. It became more visible when an ideology of the Afrikaner National Party government was effectively used to disenfranchise the whole society along racial lines. Apartheid, from an Afrikaans word meaning “apart-ness,” or “separateness” refers to a set of laws enacted in South Africa in 1948 intended to ensure the strict racial segregation of South African society and the dominance of the Afrikaansspeaking White minority. In practice, apartheid was enforced in the form of “petty apartheid,” which required racial segregation of public facilities and social gatherings, and “grand apartheid,” requiring racial segregation in government, housing, and employment. While the end of the Second World War highlighted the problems of racism, alerting the world turn away from colonial policies and encouraging demands for decolonization, it was during this period that South Africa introduced the more rigid racial policy of apartheid. While many reasons can be given for instituting such draconian laws, the main reasons lie in ideas of racial superiority and fear given that the White people in South Africa remain in the minority, a situation which exacerbated the enactment of colonial laws. Such laws included the Prohibition of Mixed Marriages Act, 1949; the Population Registration Act of 1950 which

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registered people according to their racial group, and the Group Areas Act of 1950 which said that different racial groups had to live in different areas leading to the creation of townships and settlements for the Black South Africans (Coleman 1998). Resistance to apartheid came from all circles, including neighboring states and those from within who had not suffered the negative effects of racial discrimination, but empathized with the struggle of oppressed majority (Reddy 1990). Some of the most notable organizations involved in the struggle for liberation were the African National Congress (ANC) formed in Bloemfontein in 1912 by the educated Black elites, the Pan-Africanist Congress (PAC), the Inkatha Freedom Party (IFP), the Black Consciousness Movement (BCM), the United Democratic Front (UDF), the Natal Indian Congress (NIC) and the Colored People’s Organization (CPO). Alexander (2011) argues that of significance in the history of South African resistance movement was by the ANC whose agenda focused on three priorities. The first was dialogue and petition, the second direct opposition, and the last resort was the armed struggle. For example, in 1949, just after apartheid was introduced, the ANC started on a more militant path, with the Youth League playing a central role in mobilizing for strike action, protests, and other forms of nonviolent resistance. Nelson Mandela, Oliver Tambo, and Walter Sisulu played leading roles in the ANC during this period. In 1952 the ANC started the Defiance Campaign, mobilizing people to protest against apartheid laws and offer themselves for arrest. It was hoped that the increase in prisoners would cause the system to collapse and get international support for the ANC. Black people got onto “white buses,” used “white toilets,” entered into “white areas” and refused to use passes. Despite 8000 people ending up in jail the apartheid regime remained defiant. However, with the international condemnation of apartheid, the South African Prime Minister P.W. Botha lost the support of the ruling National Party and resigned in 1989. Botha’s successor F. W. de Klerk amazed observers by lifting the ban on the African National Congress and other Black liberation parties, restoring partial freedom of the press, and releasing political prisoners. On February 11, 1990, Nelson Mandela was also released after 27 years in prison. With growing worldwide support, Mandela continued the struggle to end apartheid but changed the narrative to that of peaceful change. These efforts were also intensified with the support of women’s movement in South Africa, led by Winnie Dikizela Mandela, who throughout the struggle acted as primary catalyst for protests against the apartheid regime. The formation of the Federation of South African Women (FSAW) in 1954 and the Black Women’s Federation (BWF) in 1975, respectively, intensified the struggle mobilizing against effects of apartheid on the status of women. These women’s movements argued that meaningful change for them could not come through reform only, but through the combined efforts of both men and women for the destruction of the apartheid system. As such, FSAW had two primary aims: to wage the struggle towards majority rule and end the policy of apartheid, and to build a multiracial society where both women and men would enjoy fulfillment of all rights and fundamental freedoms for all. On July 2, 1993, Prime Minister de Klerk agreed to hold South Africa’s first all-race, democratic election. On May 9, 1994, the newly elected, and racially mixed,

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South African parliament elected Nelson Mandela as the first president of the nation’s postapartheid era. The apartheid system in South Africa was ended through a series of negotiations between 1990 and 1993 and through mobilization by both women and men. The negotiations resulted in South Africa’s first nonracial election, which was won by the African National Congress.

Gender-Specific Mandates of Transitional Justice System in South Africa The South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission (SATRC) legally constituted in 1995 consisted of three controversially constitutionally constituted committees, namely: (1) the Human Rights Violations Committee, whose mandate was to investigate the cause, nature, and extent of gross human rights violations from 1960 to 1994; (2) the Amnesty Committee, whose mandate was to grant conditional amnesties and reparations/compensation only for victims of gross human rights violations after thorough review of the politically motivated applications; and (3) Reconciliation Committee, whose mandate was promotion of national unity informed by the Ubuntu philosophy of collective empathy and solidarity (Graybill 2001, Graybill and Lanegram 2004, p. 6). Since the Amnesty Committee was presided over by judges and lawyers, perpetrators were subjected to serious cross-examination. Women challenged some of the amnesty applications, resulting in 21,298 statements received, concerning 37,672 gross violations of human rights and only 1, 973 cases out of the 7,000 applications going through the public hearings (Graybill 2001; Ross 2003, p. 13). Women’s Participation in Transitional Justice Processes Human rights violations against women in South Africa signify the masculine and patriarchal nature of society which denigrates women as inferior. For example, in its definition of “victim” the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission (SATRC) did not address sexual violence and torture in the same way that it did with racial discrimination (Ross 2010). Hence, failure to effectively enact robust legislation to protect women against sexual violence did not ease the burdens of deprivation already created by apartheid. Second, SATRC systematically excluded millions of women whose rights were sexually violated and degraded at the hands of apartheid, despite the fact that it is signaled as a universally standardized human rights legal instrument for reconciliation and forgiveness (Graybill 2001). Despite its acclaimed international visibility, a gendered analysis of the SATRC’s response to addressing women’s inclusion in the decision-making processes remains contested. Evidence shows that SATRC failed to seriously investigate the widespread cases of gross women’s rights violations specifically rape, domestic, and sexualized violence, but instead focused on the human rights violations against men (McEwan 2003). SATRC only responded to investigating gross sexualized violations after vigorous lobbying by women human rights defenders, after which it organized 3 days of hearings for women’s human rights violations from only three provinces as an attempt to legitimize the mandate of SATRC under the Human Rights Violations Committee. However, contrary to earlier work by McEwan (2003) showing contestation and underrepresentation of women in the transitional justice process, Gobodo-

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Madikizela with Ross and Mills (2005, p. 5) present a different picture of women’s active and influential involvement in the design and selection of the TRC commissioners. Women represented 56.5% of the 21,227 of the testimonies presented to the TRC. They also argue that 41% of TRC commissioners and 75% of the regional managers were women, respectively (Mills 2005). Both McEwan (2003) and Gobodo-Madikizela et al. (2005) concur with the view that initially women were viewed as secondary agents of justice as they were not allowed to testify in their own right as primary victims, but only testified in support of the victimization of their male counterparts and relatives. While this process provided a conscious sense of empathy, ubuntuism, dialogue, solidarity, forgiveness, and collective national healing, it can also be argued that such a process essentialized women’s roles and identities to the culturally accepted roles of motherhood and sisterhood (Andrews, pp. 14–15. It was only after women rights defenders protested this exclusionary process that women were tokenized 3 days to give their testimonies as primary victims and survivors of human rights sexual violations that they endured during the conflict. However, the creation of separate structures for women’s hearings and victim-friendly process created safe spaces and a sense of security and transparency for women to testify without fearing revenge from male perpetrators. Furthermore, the inclusion of women legal experts and trauma counselors in these pro-women transitional justice structures allowed women to freely tell their traumatic experiences on the sensitive and culturally taboo subject of rape and sexual violence as a crime against humanity under international law. Women rights defenders attribute the suppressed role of women as agents of change to the masculine and patriarchal nature of most African societies characterized by their averseness towards accepting women as liberated and autonomous human beings and decision-makers capable of making meaningful contributions to the peacemaking and transitional justice agenda in society. This exclusionary process against women remains one of the major shortcomings of the so-acclaimed South African transitional justice measures, even though women played significantly active roles throughout the liberation struggle (Van der Merwe and Lamb 2009, p. 6). However, it can also be argued that despite these shortcomings, the truth-telling and the amnesty debate provided an accountable impetus for the truth commission to involve women survivors as active agents in addressing issues of impunity and making visible the horrendous acts of sexual human rights violations, even though the majority of the women made statements relating to their male relatives, rather than their own victimization (Van der Merwe and Lamb 2009, p. 17).

Comparative Analysis of Transitional Justice Processes in Multi-Case Studies The implementation of transitional justice in all the case studies under review have to a certain extent taken conscious steps in mainstreaming gender in a bid to promote gender justice and deal with the wrongs of the past. It is imperative to note that all transitional justice mechanisms implemented across Africa used hybrid (conventional such as trial

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of offenders in courts, and local arena, such as Gacaca in Rwanda) transitional justice system. They also took a social and economic justice approach and leaned towards traditional mechanisms, which were less punitive and at the same time ensure locally accepted means to deal with wrongs of the past. This section provides a comparative analysis of the transitional justice processes in all the case studies which have some similarities and also glaring differences in their approaches. The international community instituted an International Criminal Tribunal of Rwanda in 1998. The ICTR found former mayor, Jean-Paul Akayesu, guilty of nine counts of genocide, crimes against humanity, and war crimes that included him having incited and encouraged his troops to commit acts of rape. The intervention of women as agents of transitional justice in Rwanda witnessed the prevailing of justice against Jean-Paul Akayesu whose charges initially did not include rape. Pillay’s appointment as a presiding judge for crimes against women was applauded as this resulted in the prosecution of Jean-Paul Akayesu. As a result of her intervention as well as mounting pressure from women’s groups, charges for rape were investigated. South Africa also scored several milestones in trying to include women in transitional justice processes through the TRC. The United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights (2006) pressured national states emerging from conflicts to report the often-overlooked range of abuses suffered by women during conflicts. This resulted in the adoption of a gender-sensitive approach to the work of SATRC which sets some benchmarks that guided deliberations on transitional justice. The SATRC was tasked with compiling a detailed record of the nature, extent, and causes of human rights violations that happened between 1960 and 1994, and to hear and document testimonies of those who had experienced violations. Despite efforts to engender the transitional justice process, a clear weakness was the fact that in the accounts given, women tended to speak about the experiences of others, such as their partners or children, rather than their own experiences. As such, it can be argued that SATRC failed to uncover the gendered truth because it adopted the definition of gross violations of human rights that was grossly gender blind to the type of abuses experienced by women. Liberia set up Truth and Reconciliation Commission in June 2005 in accordance with the 2003 Accra Comprehensive Peace Agreement (CPA). Liberia’s TRC began public hearings of both perpetrators and victims in February 2008 which have consistently highlighted the play of gender violence in the conflict. However, this did not change both the narrative and discourse on women’s participation in transitional justice in Liberia. Despite these important achievements that indicate the real impact of TRCs in the advancement of gender justice, truth commissions have been criticized for advancing a narrow and partial truth rather than taking a more holistic approach which integrates gender fully. The failure to look at the broader issues of the impact of conflict on women’s lives holistically is still lacking. These problems are amplified by certain factors which have made many women reluctant to engage fully in “truth telling,” which have yet to be fully integrated into TRCs’ mandate. These include social stigma or shame around discussing GBV, worry about security or retaliation from perpetrators still living in the community, and the prevailing tendency of women to focus on experiences of others rather than their own.

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There were several positive instances of women inclusion in transitional justice process mostly in Sierra Leone and Rwanda while others had minimal women inclusion. For example, Sierra Leone’s Special Court ensured that 20% of its investigative team was focused on sexual offences while an increase in women prosecutors in the Rwandan International Tribunal provided an impetus to have women tell their experiences of sexual abuse and violence. In addition, the extent to which the Special Court pursued sexual violence convictions was significantly questioned as it was dominated by male prosecutors. For instance, a study of the Special Court conducted by Kelsall and Stepakoff (2007) revealed that by excluding evidence from women’s testimonies, their experience was effectively silenced before the court. Furthermore, in addition to a legal framework, other criteria need to be considered in the pursuit of gender-sensitive prosecutions where there is need to have a holistic approach that considers the other roles women have that may inhibit transitional justice such as transport cost to court and childcare duties. In Sierra Leone an estimated 72% of Sierra Leonean women and girls experienced human rights abuses during the war and over 50% were victims of sexual violence (Nowrojee 2005a). The provision of public hearings brought national attention to the plight of women during the war and the Commission also focussed on the marginalization and discrimination of women prior to the war. The TRCs in Sierra Leone that established the Commission helped draw up a gender-sensitive approach to dealing with the past and hence some civil society groups such as the Mano River Women’s Network took up the recommendations to implement gender justice projects on transitional justice.

Conclusion This chapter has revealed that the causes of conflict in Africa are a complex mix, and African countries remain dominated by patriarchy and paternalistic societies raising the question whether the representation of women in the transitional justice systems can transcend the culturally constraining private sphere that many women find themselves. While women in all the case studies have played a critical role in transforming the transitional justice system, there is need to change not only the public sphere but reevaluate and interrogate further gender relations at all levels, especially the private sphere where residues of gender-based violence and women’s struggles for meaningful emancipatory gender justice remains a contested reality for most women. All case studies revealed that like many post-conflict countries in Africa, women continue to bear the brunt of the traumatic wars without much recourse, mainly due to the social ordering of the patriarchal system which justifies the subordination of women to men, even though the mandates of most transitional justice systems centered on prevention, protection, and providing remedies through justice. It is imperative therefore that transitional justice systems become not only victimcentered, but pro-women in ways that are responsive to complex sexual violence. This could be achieved through debunking of gender injustices that undermine a

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transformative transitional gender justice. It is this lacuna that has to be filled at the jurisprudence level if transitional justice systems have to make sense and meaning in women’s lives and help them narrate the widely experienced abuses. As revealed in all the case studies, women’s participation should be integral in any truth commission process as a crucial process to the construction of truth, promotion of accountability, redress of traumatic injustices, and avert recurrence of violation of women’s rights and impunity. A gender perspective of transitional justice systems presents a unique opportunity to the achievement of gender justice and acts as principal recourse in addressing gender inequalities for most women in Africa. While measures have been taken to address gender inequalities and bring gender justice, it is important to institute ways of inclusion of women in transitional justice legislative systems and institutions and public hearings continued dialogue on power and power relations, and gender roles require transformative changes in mindsets and societal attitudes.

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Nowrojee, B. (2005b, November). Your justice is too slow. Will the ICTR fail Rwanda’s rape victims? UNRISD, Occasional Paper. Oosterveld, V. (2009). The special court for Sierra Leone’s consideration of gender-based violence: Contributing to transitional justice? Human Rights Review, 10, 73–98. Peace agreement between the government of Sierra Leone and the Revolutionary United Front of Sierra Leone. (n.d.). Sierra Leone Web Retrieved from www.sierra-leone.org/lomeaccord.html. Accessed 12 July 2018. Porter, E. (2013). Ethical commitment to Women’s participation in transitional justice. Global Justice: Theory and Practice Rhetoric, 6. https://doi.org/10.21248/GIN.6.0.36. Accessed 12 July 2018. Pratt, D. (2001, July 27). Sierra Leone: Danger and opportunity in a regional conflict. Report to Canada’s Minister of Foreign Affairs. Reddy, E. S. (1990). Liberation of Southern Africa – Our responsibility, selected speeches of Olof Palme. New Delhi: Vikas Publishing House, Pvt. Ltd. Ross, F. (2003). Bearing witness: Women and the truth and reconciliation Commission in South Africa. London: Pluto Press. Ross, F. (2010). An acknowledgement failure: Women, voice, violence and the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission. In R. Shaw & L. Waldorf (Eds.), Localizing transitional justice: Interventions and priorities after mass violence (pp. 69–91). Stanford: Stanford University Press. Rubio-Marín, R. (2006). The gender of reparations: Setting the agenda. In R. Rubio-Marín (Ed.), What happened to the women: Gender and reparations for human rights violations (pp. 20–47). New York: Social Science Research Council. Rubio-Marín, R. (2009). The gender of reparations in transitional societies. In R. Rubio-Marín (Ed.), The gender of reparations: Unsettling sexual hierarchies while redressing human rights violations (pp. 63–120). Cambridge University Press: New York. Rubio-Marín, R., & deGreiff, P. (2007). Women and reparations. International Journal of Transitional Justice, 1(3), 318–337. Schabas, W. A. (2006a). The UN international criminal tribunals: The former Yugoslavia, Rwanda and Sierra Leone. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press. Schabas, W. A. (2006b). The Sierra Leone truth and reconciliation commission. In N. Roht-Arriaza & J. Mariezecurrena (Eds.), Transitional justice in the twenty-first century: Beyond truth versus justice. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Sierra Leone Annual Report. (2001). Amnesty International. http://www.amnesty.org. Accessed 12 Aug 2018. Sooka, Y. (2006). Sierra Leone – Building peace through accountability. In A. Boraine & S. Valentine (Eds.), Transitional justice and human security (pp. 218–227). Cape Town: The International Center for Transitional Justice. South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission. (1998). Truth and reconciliation final report, Volume 1, Johannesburg TRC, 12 Dec 2004. http://www.stanford.edu/class/history48q/ Documents/EMBARGO/VOLUME1.HTM,169 Special Court for Sierra Leone. (2010a, April 7). The Special Court for Sierra Leone: Home. Retrieved from http://www.sc-sl.org/. Accessed 12 July 2018. Special Court for Sierra Leone. (2010b, April 7). The Special Court for Sierra Leone: Home. Retrieved from http://www.sc.sc-sl.org/. Accessed 13 July 2018. Statistics South Africa. (2018). Crimes against women in South Africa, Report no 03-40-05, Released June 2018. www.statssa.gov.za/publications/Report-03-04-05/Report-03-0405June2018pdf. Accessed 20 July 2018. UN Women. (2015). UN women global study: Preventing conflict, transforming justice, securing the peace. http://2.unwomen.org/-/media/files/un/wps/highlights/unw-global study-13252015.pdf. Accessed 12 May 2018. United Nation. (2014). Transitional justice and economic social and cultural rights. Geneva/New York: Human Rights Office of High Commissioner.

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United Nations, S/2001/228, Ninth report of the Secretary-General on the United Nations Mission in Sierra Leone, 14 March 2001. Available on http://www.un.org. Accessed 30 July 2018. Van der Merwe, H., & Lamb, G. (2009). Transitional justice and DDR: The case of South Africa, research unit, International Center for Transitional Justice. www.ict.org. Accessed 20 July 2018. Walaza, N. (2000). Insufficient healing and reparation. In C. Villa-Vicencio & W. Verwoerd (Eds.), Looking back, reaching forward: Reflections on the truth and reconciliation Commission of South Africa. Cape Town: University of Cape Town Press. Warner, G. (2016). It’s the no. 1 country for women in politics – But not in daily life. Goats and soda, stories of life in a changing world. http://www.npr.org/sections/goatsandsoda/2016/07/29/ 487360094/invisibilia-no-one-thought-this-all-woman-debate-team-could-crush-it. Accessed 30 Aug 2018.

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Olajumoke Yacob-Haliso and Omonye Omoigberale

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Understanding Structural Gender Disparities . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Recognition and Acknowledgment of Gender-Specific Harms Against Women . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Institutionalizing Gender-Specific Reparative Policies . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Women’s Participation in Conflict Prevention and Peacebuilding . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

A gendered reading of transitional justice raises critical questions considering the nature of peace expected to be achieved in post-conflict settings. This chapter assesses the themes that shape these conversations, structured around the recognition of gender-specific harms against women, gender-sensitive reparation policies, understanding gender structural disparities that expose women to certain harms, and engaging women in the institutions and processes of planning and implementing transitional justice mechanisms and processes. These gendered justice gaps discursively shape transitional justice scholarship in Africa and Latin America, as a critical pointer to the state of the field. It underscores the important benefits in the coalescence of gender studies in transitional justice protocol, particularly in the development of the relevant body of scholarship, the ability to learn through transitional justice mechanisms and processes, and the increasing scholarly demand for prioritizing these gender-specific themes in policy formulation. The chapter provides us with new information inspiring cautious optimism about mainstreaming gender concerns and priorities in postO. Yacob-Haliso · O. Omoigberale (*) Department of Political Science and Public Administration, Babcock University, IIishan-Remo, Ogun State, Nigeria e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_158

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conflict peacebuilding policy and the implementation of conflict transformative programs in these transitional societies. Keywords

Gender · Critical agency · Transitional justice · Peacebuilding · Africa · Latin America

Introduction The burgeoning literature on gender studies and transitional justice have continuously raised critical questions since its incipience some decades ago, as the lives of women in conflict and post-conflict settings have not changed (Pankhurst 2008; Alam 2014; O’Rourke 2014; Grewal 2010). The themes that shaped these conversations are structured around the recognition of gender-specific harms against women, gender-sensitive reparative policies, eliminating gender structural disparity that exposes women to certain harms, and engaging women in the institutions and processes of planning and implementing transitional justice mechanisms and processes (Björkdahl and Selimovic 2013, p. 201; O’Rourke 2014, p. 1; UN Women 2012, pp. 1–2). Women’s inclusion in transitional justice processes have been achieved by their rather disturbing status as victims of sexual violence, a restrictive focus that not only masks the broader political project of equality but reinforces women as victims of a specific category of violence, thus perpetuating gender stereotypes (Karam 2000; El Jack 2003; Rimmer 2010; Buckley-Zistel and Zolkos 2011; Grewal 2010). These gendered-justice traditional epistemologies discursively shape transitional justice scholarship in developing countries in Africa and Latin America, such as Argentina, Colombia, Democratic Republic of Congo, Guatemala, Kenya, Liberia, Mali, Peru, Rwanda, Sierra Leone, Somalia, South Africa, Sudan, and Uganda as a critical pointer to the state of the field. It underscores the important benefits in the coalescence of gender studies in transitional justice protocol, particularly, in the development of relevant body of scholarship; the ability to learn through transitional justice mechanisms and processes, and the increasing scholarly demand for not just prioritizing these gender-specific themes in policy formulation, but going beyond and focusing on other coterminous acts of violence against women (Duffy and Dicker 1999; Eaton 2004; El-Bushra and Sahl; Schomburg and Peterson 2007; Kent 2012; Simić 2016). However, this chapter recognizes other emerging debates in the growing field of gender studies and transitional justice, for instance studies that engaged issues of masculinity and intersectionality (Crenshaw 1989; Phoenix and Pattynama 2006; Rooney 2006; Hamber 2009; Hancock 2007; Ni Aoláin and Rooney 2007; Cole 2009; Theidon 2009; Cahn and Ni Aoláin 2010; Dhamoon 2010), male to male sexual violence during conflict and how it inflicts, emasculates, and strip off a sense of manhood by its wanton disregard and cover up in gender justice scholarship (DelZotto and Jones 2002; Oosterhoff et al. 2004; Sivakumaran

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2007; Stemple 2009; Sigsworth and Valji 2012), through experiences of men in war and post-war settings which have perhaps inadvertently been excluded from the broader literature on gender justice (Zarkov 1997, 2001; Moser and Clark 2001; Hamber 2007; Simić 2015), and in the most generic sense, the constellations of enduring scripts in gender studies that attenuate masculinity and feminist frameworks (Engle 2005; Campbell 2007; Beltz 2008; Sjoberg and Gentry 2007; Manjoo and McRaith 2011). The essay also recognized the emerging debates surrounding the complex gendered frames in the energetic field of inquiry that investigate and interrogate the understudy frames of female perpetrators of violence, and how this social and political dynamics reinforce the andocentric perspective of the realm of masculine exclusivity in perpetuating political violence – that masculinized characterization of war and militarism, thus ignoring women’s agency (Sharlach 1999; Sjoberg and Gentry 2007, 2011; Sjoberg 2016; Eager 2008; Bloom 2011; Cohen 2013; Brown 2014; Smeulers 2015), or domestic violence (Dobash and Dobash 2004; Dutton et al. 2005), and the crucial need for cognitive restructuring to accommodate the notion that women at some point in time and as agentive subjects have engaged in activities outside their traditional gender(ed) roles, thus far, deny violent women’s “agency, rationality and womanhood” (Björkdahl and Selimovic 2015, p. 168; Alison 2004, 2007; Auchter 2012; Shepherd 2014). This study nevertheless reflects on the emerging themes in transitional justice enterprise, as an indication of the state of the field, and the need for mainstreaming gender justice, particularly, reassessing the path to gender parity, and redefine actions to bridge the gaps. It is also reflective of the constraints evident in the scholarly mobilization, most prominent is the political dynamics that continue to shape transitional justice in specific contexts, and how gender studies continue to intersect these dynamics (Alison 2004; Handrahan 2004; Yuval-Davis 2008; Shepherd 2012; Cockburn 2013). This new reality is substantiated by three distinctive developments in the literature. Firstly, privileging procedure over tangible transformative gains in transitional justice approaches. Secondly, the domineering emphasis on political gender violence that antedates and outlived political transitions, rather than exploring the novel ways in which political violence has constructed new gendered harms. There is also the growing concern about the centric fixation on sexual violence against women during wartime, overshadowing the more contemporary concerns such as socioeconomic and domestic violence in the aftermath (Engle 2014; Henry 2014; Cahn and Ni Aoláin 2010; Engle 2005; Gardam and Jarvis 2001). Thirdly, the non-tangential invocation of women’s involvement in transitional justice processes is something that transcends ethnic, religious, and economic dynamics that majorly shape scholarly conversations on political violence. This study, therefore, raises the question, as to whether there is a renewed impetus to gender studies in transitional justice that transcend political nuances. This question will be explored through gendered justice readings in Africa and Latin America. The peace that has been constructed in Africa and Latin America since the third wave of democratization through the dynamics of peacebuilding and transitional justice processes have been fragile, externally sponsored, and rived with

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inconsistency and gender disparity (O’Rourke 2014, p. 1; Björkdahl and Selimovic 2013, p. 201), albeit, gender disparities have a global outlook, irrespective of the economic strength of the country, thus far, notwithstanding the remarkable progress achieved in some areas “no country in the world – rich or poor – has achieved gender equality” (UNDP 2020, p. 1). These developments have conservatively redefined and reconstructed gender identities through the debates that shape transitional justice and the intersection of the imponderables of religion and culture. As a consequence, women in these regions have seen their agency and space delineated in subjugating mannerism, and of course, the demand for justice unheard becomes inevitable. By bringing together the reflections from scholarly writings, within the manifolds of processes constricted to gender justice; this study seeks to unmask women as creative and critical agency in the traction of transformative gendered responsive apparatus in Africa and Latin America. The essay is structured in parts to reflect the central themes that have come to shape gender studies and transitional justice scholarship in recent times: the first brings to bear the subsisting structural inequality experienced by women in Africa and Latin America. It acknowledges that gender racism affects all women irrespective of cultural and historical affiliations, albeit, the context differs from society to society. This section articulates organizations and normative structures that continue to impervious women’s voices within transitional justice scholarship. The second section demonstrates how transitional justice processes and mechanisms have been able to recognize sexual harms against women during periods of war. It, however, raises concerns about other broader constellation of harms perpetrated during peace time not captured in transitional justice protocol; and how feminists’ strategies have not been able to fully prioritize these gains in a transformative capacity. The third part addresses issues of institutionalizing gender-specific reparative policies in transitional justice enterprises. The final section considers the invocative scholarly mobilization of normative structures that continues to articulate full participation for women within transitional justice scholarship. It, however, acknowledged the minuscule traction recorded so far, and how this gendered compartmentalization continued to reflect on women’s representation in national and international decision- and policy-making processes. This section also considered the utility-based argument for women’s participation in transitional justice processes.

Understanding Structural Gender Disparities Even with the long-standing history of women’s movements in some of these regions, and the progress they have made in improving the status of women, there is still severe threat to women as critical and creative agency of peacebuilding, especially for those women living in poverty, with little or no access to power. Indeed, there has been robust documentation casting light on the plethora ways power imbalance between men and women have stunted women’s agency in political, economic, and administrative life, and as such, it is in response to this growing concern that structural inequalities emerged as a precondition for contemporary

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feminists’ scholarship into transitional justice enterprise (O’Rourke 2014). Indeed, this contemporary intervention witnessed the transition in feminists’ scholarship from the mere theorization around the recognition and acknowledgment of genderspecific harms to a more practical means of addressing, through transitional justice programs, the plethora of structures women are constrained with. Implicit within these debates for addressing structural disparities through transitional justice enterprise is appreciating the fact that sexual violence against women during wartime and peacetime is intimately linked with the broader agenda of power dynamics that predates and follow the pre-transitional society (Cockburn 2004, p. 43). Of particular significance in this persistent power imbalance that is reflected in the interactions between individuals and institutions is the continuum of violence against women. The debates in feminists’ literatures have continued to reflect on the limitations of transitional justice in the conceptualization of harms against women in wartime as a theoretical construct “lying outside the continuum of violence against women, in which it is inherently embedded, singling it out alone for the possibility for redress. In doing so, it casts the one as ‘extraordinary’, the rest as inherently ‘ordinary’” (Sigsworth and Valji 2012, p. 119). Scholars like Shackel and Fiske (2016), Sigsworth and Valji (2012), and Boesten (2010) have worked on various cases of gender-based violence especially rape regimes in Kenya, South Africa, and Peru, respectively, as indicative of the temporal trend of feminists scholarship in transitional justice enterprise, that documents the intricate connection between sexual violence during war time and the continuum of sexual violence in everyday, which is reflective of the broader agenda of subordination “to keep women in their place, to limit opportunities to live, learn, work, and care as full human beings, to hamper their capabilities to organize and claim their rights. It is a major obstacle to women’s empowerment, and their full participation in shaping the economic, social and political life of their countries” (O’Connell 1993, p. iii). These literature, thus, challenge the existing conceptualization of political violence during war as an exclusively public phenomenon, ignoring the historic inevitability that political transition, does not necessarily translate to positive transformation in private sphere, and as Cohn and Ruddick had cautioned against “the conception of war as a discrete event, with clear locations, and a beginning and an end” (2004, p. 41). What all these imply is the need to locate and situate a broader conceptualization of political violence during transition that incorporates the infiltration of these cultural, political, and ideological dynamics that sustained and maintained these standing armies well into peacetime, and that this will help to capture the social and political dynamics of the politics of transition in these postconflict settings. Significantly, that in both normative and practical terms, genderbased violence in wartime is an “unbounded” phenomenon that continues through periods of peacetime (Cohn and Ruddick 2004, p. 41). Studies have revealed that while there are advances in feminists advocacy in these regions, these progress have, however, been stunted by the institutionalism of normative and political structures that continue to treat gender-based violence against women in ways that deemphasizes the diverse forms of harms against women (O’Rourke 2014; Shackel and Fiske 2016). Within the seam of this

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theoretical construct is the categorization of violence against women based on their “basic common character” (Kelly 1988, p. 76), and such have created hierarchies of legal interpretation that allow men to interpret these forms of violence according to their perceived severity, that disproportionate gender symmetry evident in almost all societies. This power imbalance has “generate[ed] cultures of masculinity prone to violence” (Cockburn 2004, p. 44), which has found its full expression in every sphere of life. It is no wonder that these patriarchal structures have reenacted women’s status to the background, thus determining women’s multiple subject positions. This was particularly the case in the regions of Bungoma, Kibera, Mukuru, Kisumu, and Tana in Kenya, as the discrimination and violence were perpetuated within the consciousness of second-rated citizens (Shackel and Fiske 2016, p. 36). In Mexico in 2016, a female parliamentarian by the name Gisela Mota was killed at her home, hours after being sworn in as the Mayor, in the city of Temixco, as was the case in Brazil where a female parliamentarian by the name Mariello Franco, who was murdered in 2018, are evidences of the broader embedded dominant structures that have a pronounced impact on women’s everyday realities (BBC 2016; Hinsliff 2020; Minutaglio 2020). There is, however, a striking consensus in feminists’ scholarship that there is a crucial need to ameliorate structural gender disparities through transitional justice institutions. For example, Fioona Ní Aoláin advocated for structural political change, such need to secure restitution and redistribution that goes beyond restorative and retributive justice to accommodate other embedded structural concerns such as social, cultural, and economic disparities, in order to end the subsisting cycle of violence and address gender asymmetries (Ní Aoláin 2013). Indeed, the conversations around gender equality, which presuppose that “women, men, girls and boys must [as of right] enjoy equal rights, resources, opportunities and protection” (UNICEF 2019), are instrumental of transitional justice programs in securing structural change and gender transform relations.

Recognition and Acknowledgment of Gender-Specific Harms Against Women The establishment of the International Criminal Tribunals for Rwanda and Yugoslavia in the mid-1990s marked a watershed moment for gender studies in transitional justice scholarship. This period saw the developments of international jurisprudence on war crimes and crimes against humanity, which significantly influenced the establishment of the International Criminal Court (ICC), informed by the Rome Statute of 1998. These Tribunals prosecuted sexual violence in war times and laid the foundations for sexual violence to be moved from the margins to the center in transitional justice literatures (Campbell 2007; Fiske 2019, p. 21; Teitel 2003, p. 89), and as Kelly Askin notes that “laws prohibiting wartime sexual violence languished ignored for centuries, so the recent progress in prosecuting various forms of gender-related crimes [such as rape, sexual slavery and other forms of sexual violence by the ICTR and ICTY] is unparalleled in history and has established

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critical precedential authority for redressing these crimes in other fora” (Askin 2003, p. 288). This was followed by the establishment of several hybrid courts and tribunals, including the “Special Court for Sierra Leone, the Serious Crimes panel in Timor Leste, the Extraordinary Chamber in Cambodia and the Bosnia War Crimes Chamber” (Fiske 2019, p. 21; Björkdahl and Selimovic 2013, pp. 201–218), and also the United Nations Security Council’s resolution (UNSCR) 1325 in 2000, and other complementary resolutions 1820 (2008), 1888 (2009), 1889 (2009), 1960 (2010), 2106 (2013), and 2122 (2013) aimed at providing international legal frameworks for securing the recognition of gender violence and gender inequality in peacebuilding and reconstruction (Shepherd 2011, p. 505; Arostegui 2013, p. 535). Tellingly, these United Nations resolutions also incorporate other international legal conventions that reinforced the rights and protection of women, girls, and children, notably, the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW), the Declaration of Elimination of Violence Against Women, the InterAmerican Convention against Women, the Convention on the Rights of the Child (CRC), Geneva Convention, and the Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities (CRPD); – that critical agency, that acknowledge, recognize, and protect the rights of women, girls, and children to redefine gender essentialism. Thus far, the question in contemporary scholarship is not what should be done after egregious atrocity, but how it should be done – how to meet women’s legitimate expectations of justice and what is necessary for them to feel that justice has been done (Shackel and Fiske 2016, p. 6; Nagy 2014, p. 216). The recognition of genderbased violence against women at the highest level of transitional justice enterprise was welcomed with high hopes at the corridors of gender advocacy, as not only victory for mankind, but also symbolic in bringing down the adversarial wall of impunity that reinforces gender essentialism (Bunch 1990; Eaton 2004; Mertus 2004; Human Rights Watch 2015; Fiske 2019). Recognizing gender-specific harm against women has been the greatest achievement of gender scholarship in transitional justice to date. Indeed the decisive characteristics of gender priorities in transitional justice have distinctively broaden the range of harms recognized within its processes and institutions (O’Rourke 2014, p. 2; Ní Aoláin and O’Rourke 2010, p. 1). While this landmark achievement is not without its criticisms, indeed feminists’ scholarship has grappled with relevant legal developments in this field, the conceptual challenge of practically securing redress for gender-specific harms within domestic and international law. The emphasis on holding perpetrators of sexual violence against women during periods of conflict, criminally accountable, became a sequential trend in feminist studies since the 1990s. The widespread sexual violent conflicts at that time, particularly at the Balkans, coincided with the emerging transnational activism to “prohibit, prevent and punish conflict-related sexual violence against women,” in a broader concept, in order to stimulate advocacy and analysis on a broad spectrum (Chinkin 1994). This multilayer oeuvre oriented toward advancing judicial and legal reforms to ensure that sexual crimes like rape, sexual slavery, and forced prostitution are recognized as meeting the necessary criteria of torture, and as an essential

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constituents of crimes against humanity and of genocide (Chinkin 1994; Copelon 1994; Askin 1997; Bell and O’Rourke 2007; Arostegui 2013). The earlier transitional justice programs in Argentina, Colombia, El Salvador, Guatemala, Peru, and South Africa did not explicitly include gender-specific violence against women, thus limiting the scope of the truth commissions to capture and address these gendered crimes, as they were seen as outside the commission’s mandate. These truth commissions were particularly subject to significant criticisms for its extemporized approach to gender harms, focusing exclusively on past political violence, undermining as it does, other coterminous situations that foster ongoing psychological and structural violence, and the representation of women, principally as witnesses to violence against men, which has significant effect on the historic context, reparative policy, and justice intervention in gender studies, as was quite evident in the South Africa Truth and Reconciliation Commission (Borer 2009; Kusafuka 2009; Goldblatt and Meintjes 1996). Although the South Africa Truth and Reconciliation Commission acknowledged this restrictive focus in their final report, noting “that it would have to amend its understanding of its mandate and how it defined gross human rights violations” to “integrate gender fully,” and that the “Commission’s relative neglect of the effects of the ordinary workings of apartheid has a gender bias” (Kusafuka 2009, pp. 60–61). The final report of the Sierra Leone Truth and Reconciliation Commission has a separate chapter that explores women’s lived experiences of sexual violence and oppression, and incorporates gender-specific methodologies in their mandate. It took the initiative to engage them in the process, and provided therapy and tangible support for women testifying before the Commission. The Commission’s mandate provided the women with the option to either give written or oral testimony, or whether to give evidence at open or closed hearing. The Commission provided women specialized in the task of taking statements from women who had suffered sexual violence. The Commission in their report acknowledged that while the Act setting up the Truth and Reconciliation Commission did not clearly make reference to women “to restore the dignity of victims” (SLTRC 2004, p. 86), the Commission’s mandate to give “special attention to issues of sexual abuse” required it to look particularly at experiences of women and girls during the conflict (SLTRC 2004, p. 86). While the Commission’s mandate was to address issues of sexual violence, it proactively decided “to capture the experiences of both women and girls in respect of sexual violence, as well as their complete gendered experiences at a political, legal, health and social welfare level,” given that they were overwhelming victims of sexual violence (SLTRC 2004, p. 87). Although subsequent truth commissions particularly in Haiti and Sierra Leona incorporated gender-specific violence in their approach/mandates with a bid to unearth the diverse ways violence and oppression intersect, directly or indirectly. However, in all these cases, sexual crimes during periods of political violence against women were centralized, ignoring other forms of harms such as domestic violence, disinheritance, internal displacements, and political exclusion, and everyday form of violence that produces insecurities (Innes and Steele 2019, p. 155). In a study conducted by Rita Shackel and Lucy Fiske in Kenya, they discovered that

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women complained of a “continuum of violence and subjugation,” even before and during the 2007/2008 elections. Even though the violence was there before, it however, became worse during the elections; and it is present till today (2016, p. 43). In the 2 years preceding the elections, the regions of Bungoma, Kibera, Mukuru, Kisumu, and Tana in Kenya were already experiencing varying degrees of violence against women. In all these regions women have spoken of their varied experiences of violence and the difficulty to get justice. Myriam Devon talked about the continuum of sexual violence against the women and girls even in the displacements camps in Sierra Leone. Myriam Devon revealed that even after war, sufficient attention was not given to address issues of reconciliation and rehabilitation, as the act of violence did not terminate even after the end of the war (Denov 2006). The ostensible increase in criminal prosecutions and truth commissions in conflict-related gender violence has foreshadowed doubts about the nature of peace hoped to be achieved. The growing practice of criminally prosecuting perpetrators of sexual violence against women has raised the question of appropriateness of criminal tribunals in delivering transformative gender outcomes (Grewal 2010; Zinstag 2013). Recurrent in this maze of uncertainty is the overwhelming emphasis placed on proving the alleged offense, rather than providing women with the platforms to tell their stories of harm, torture, and survival (Meyers 2016; Kent 2014; Rosser 2007; Stover 2011). Julie Mertus eloquently characterized how women’s stories of harm, torture, and survival in criminal proceedings are stunted by the judicial exigencies to prove the required criminal intent and action of the perpetrator (Mertus 2004, pp. 110–111). This legal backdrop transcends ad hoc tribunals, and it has even been advanced to cover such coterminous collaboration, such as hybrid (national and international) tribunals. For instance, some scholars have explored the divergence in the narratives from the testimonies of women who have survived sexual violence in criminal proceedings at the Sierra Leone Special Court with even more grand narratives of forbearance and survival enunciated by these same women in a monotonic dialogue with these scholars (Kelsall and Stepakoff 2007). Chappell, Greyy, and Waller examined the ad hoc tribunals in Guinea and Columbia and the gender disparity in sexual violence cases categorized within the International Criminal Court and those under the municipal legal system (complementarily) (Chappell et al. 2013, pp. 1–21). The authors argued that the apparent insufficient consideration from the Office of the Prosecutor has left impunity from perpetrators of the crimes unabated and victims of this sexual violence not recognized and acknowledged. They argued that to address impunity from sexual violence through collaboration with state governments require the ICC to incorporate an examination of sexual violence in domestic criminal institutions, in order to assess state’s willingness and ability to handle domestic prosecution, with a view to put in proper perspective those biases that impede women’s access to justice. In tandem with its multifaceted legal and quasi-legal processes and mechanisms of accountability, gender studies have attended in detail to access transitional justice protocol to recognize harms against women through non-retributive processes. Arguably, Ross’s (2003) work on South Africa Truth and Reconciliation Commission remains the most sterling gender

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manuscript on truth commissions. This intervention accentuated the practice of truth commissions in responding to the call for accountability after mass violence and egregious human rights violations. The text raises caution about the limits of truth commission to comprehensively capture experiences of women from political violence and the proclivity to include individual narratives to a more general agenda of “victimhood and nation building.” Since then, there have been increasing trajectories in pieces that record the recognition of gender-specific harms within the mandates of the Commissions’ (Bell and O’Rourke 2007). This perceived success has poignantly eclipsed into the broader agenda of peacebuilding neglecting as it does crucial issues that continue to shape gender studies. Lia Kent (2014) argued that truth-telling commissions have not effectively been able to capture the full scale of sexual violence during conflict, evidencing an even broader infiltration of this gender analysis of transformative approach to transitional justice protocol. Where this trajectory has left gender scholarship is curiously interrogating the dilemmas that have inspired mainstream literatures in gender justice (Nino 1991). Firstly, should there be emphasis on criminal prosecutions in lieu of non-retributive measures to terminate an era of impunity and provide accountability for sexual harms against women? In light of this concerted advocacy, authors like Estelle Zinstag (2013) and Boesten and Wilding (2015) caution feminist advocates that while stressing the need for criminal accountability for sexual harms against women, attention should be more on transformative over retributive justice in addressing conflict-related sexual harms. This perception portrays a more realistic agenda in gender objectives through transitional justice. Secondly, whether restorative approaches provide the requisite therapeutic healing in securing a steady transition to a stable and more equitable society (Olsen et al. 2010). Some authors have expressed doubts about the therapeutic assumptions that the testimonies of victims of sexual harms during trials contribute to their psychological healing and long-term reconciliation (Henry 2009). To present gender justice in this manner, as the development of mainstreaming gender activism and scholarship, possibly brings to bear Fionnuala Ni Aoláin’s concerns that gender advocates are relentlessly trying to catch up with the expansion of the field, in a mindless replication of the justice versus peace antimony, although in distinctive terms (2013, p. 207). The need to secure recognition of gender-specific violence against women in the field of transitional justice is an integrationist approach that seeks to bring to the fore mainstreamed feminist perspective in transitional justice paradigms and construct (Jahan 1995; David 2018).

Institutionalizing Gender-Specific Reparative Policies The recent focus of the International Centre for Transitional justice (ICTJ) into gender studies in matters of reparations has been one of the most defining themes of gender studies in transitional justice enterprise (Rubio-Marín 2006, 2009). This three-layered paradigmatic gendered analysis seeks to reiterate the themes that have shaped gender studies over the years: the recognition of gender-specific harms, quota

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system of reparation, understanding the inner workings of structural gender disparity, and these outcomes in the various experiments were considerably influenced by structural, political, and historic factors (Duggan et al. 2008). Institutionalizing gender-sensitive reparative policies would require abolishing institutionalized gender-based discrimination in legislation, in addition to dismantling patriarchal structures that interfere with the guidelines for reparation, that is, how reparations are divided and for whom (Alam 2014). Understandably, even when the novel interventions succeed in eliminating preexisting legislations that are gender-insensitive relating to child custody, property ownership, employment, land distribution, and inheritance, patriarchal norms that intersect the everyday life of women have to as well be addressed. Thus far, what is argued is that for reparative policies to meet the minimal threshold of gendered justice in feminists’ scholarship, such programs must acknowledge both men and women as equal stakeholders and contributors, albeit in distinctive terms, in post-conflict reconstruction. For there to be restoration, reparative programs must have the potential to be transformative, especially for women in situations characterized by habitual scarcity. Thus far, apart from social justice, economic justice has been thought to be an important component in gendered justice (Valji 2007; Rubio-Marín 2009; Ni Aolain 2012; O’Rourke 2013b; Alam 2014). Arguably, the prominence of economic justice in gender analysis is attributed to “the uniqueness of reparations in transitional justice, as a measure on behalf of victims, rather than in response to perpetrators” (de Greiff 2006, p. 2). Retributive justice has shown limited capacity to economic justice, to the hundreds of thousands of victims of human rights violations during this transitional periods, only a fraction of individual cases are addressed in a total victimized population (Moffet 2017, p. 380; O’Rourke 2013a), while reparative programs, as part of restorative justice, have proved to be grossly inadequate, as they are limited in logistical and financial resources required to bridge the gap between short-term compensatory needs and long-term economic development. This political dynamics intersect the decision open to transitional societies, so that notwithstanding the unparallel attention sexual and gender-based violence gained over the decades, “[the] trend has not led to any systematic reflection on the bearing that a gendered analysis of violence should have when discussing reparations for victims of mass and systematic abuses of human rights” (Rubio-Marín 2009, p. 64). In the regions under study, it is only in few cases that states have acknowledged the need for administering reparations, especially monetary and material compensation. Nonetheless, reparation is not only about money but also about repairs, “mental repairs, psychological repairs, cultural repairs, organizational repairs, social repairs, institutional repairs, technological repairs, economic repairs, political repairs, educational repairs, repairs of every type that we need in order to recreate a sustainable. . .[society]” (Chinweizu 1993, p. 3). Therefore, the already installed international laws recommend broad constellations of “restitution, compensation, rehabilitation, measures of satisfaction, guarantees of non-repetition, changes in relevant laws and bringing perpetrators to justice” (di Sarsina 2019, p. 67; Sullo 2018, p. 77; Moffet 2017, p. 377; Van Boven 2009, pp. 19–282; Puente 2009,

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pp. 68–98). These documents attenuate the need for prompt and effective reparative mechanisms for victims of egregious human rights violations. Thus far, in some cases where some efforts have been made such as Guatemala, Kenya, Peru, and South Africa, the results have been rather mixed, encumbered by structural and administrative bottlenecks. These impediments, some avoidable, have reduced the symbolic significance of reparative programs. In Kenya and South Africa there have been attempt to strategically implement policies that are gender sensitive to acknowledge the rights and needs of women (Alam 2014), as was the case in Guatemala and Peru, where these transitional institutions redirected their attention to reparative programs for victims to create recognition and accountability for violations of women’s sexual and reproductive rights, “that quintessentially gendered harm experienced disproportionately by women and girls” (O’Rourke 2014, p. 2); however, there was no such consideration in other regions. Indeed, despite the firm international principle of reparative justice, emphasized in article 25 of the Basic Principles and Guidelines, it has seemed rather impossible to grant every claim to survivors of sexual and gender-based violence or families of victims who have suffered a loss in a post-conflict setting, and even when granted might not be well enough for the victims. These inconsistencies, whether in terms of the victims’ unfettered access to justice or monetary and non-monetary elements, have created a double-bind effect where it disaggregates victims and the reparative measures, by individualizing reparations for victims, rather than creating all-inclusive gender-sensitive reparative policies (Moffet 2017, p. 380). What is more, even where there are genuine attempt at administering reparative measures that pay heed to women’s live through experiences and deemed to address the total victimized population, women’s full and equal enjoyment of these reparative benefits might be compromised by legal and sociocultural imponderables that intersect women’s right to own property and inheritance. The increasing trajectory of these gender-specific reparative policies within the seams of gender studies and policy stakeholders evidences the success of scholarly inquiry. However, this has raised few contentious issues: the feasibility of drawing the line in reparative programs between political and apolitical, past and present violence. This distinction is crucial in understanding why protection and prevention has become an elusive dimension in reparations, particularly in the regions under focus.

Women’s Participation in Conflict Prevention and Peacebuilding Significant works have been done to give a wider coverage to these gendered harms to the public, at both conceptual and empirical levels, for example the everyday experience of women in displacement and refugee camps that has created multiple forms of vulnerability and insecurity; the manifold ways poverty intersect with women’s full participation in administration, judicial, and politics; the ways in which women’s remembering experiences of violence is inextricably linked with their attempt at the public sphere (Okello and Hovil 2007; Stockwell 2014; Fiske and Shackel 2019), and yet women’s participation in peace negotiation has remained an

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unfulfilled aspect in gender studies (UN Women 2015; Duncanson 2016; Shepherd 2016; Krause et al. 2018; Adjei 2019). Notwithstanding the multifarious resolutions, energetic advocacy asserting women’s indispensable impact in peace processes and peacebuilding, the reality leaves much to be desired; as women’s participation remains conspicuously low; the number of female delegates in peace negotiations has been an average of 9% and a 4% rate of signatories in peace negotiations globally since the passage of UNSCR 1325 in 2000 (UN Women 2011). Peace negotiations have largely remained patriarchal reflecting the high stakes in political and administrative participation, reparative policies, amnesty, security, and more (Bell and O’Rourke 2007, pp. 24–25), that if women’s concerns are acknowledged at all, at these fora, they are not only marginalized, but even more herculean to get the issues that affect women addressed at these peace negotiations. Indeed, that women are noticeably ignored or unrepresented in negotiations, is evidenced by the United Nation’s Women report in 2011 on women’s participation in peace negotiation, indicated that only 92 (16) percent out of 585 peace negotiations signed since 1990 contains at “least one reference to women and gender” (Gardner and El-Bushra 2013, p. 10; McWilliams and Kilmurray 2015, p. 128), albeit, there has been increase since 2000 from 20% to about 50% in 2015 (UN Security Council 2015). Some of the notable account of women’s participation in conflict prevention and peace building occurred in the 1990s. Some of the notable account of women’s participation in the peace negotiations took place in the 1990s, for instance, in countries such as El Salvador, South Africa, Guatemala, and Somalia women took the center stage at nearly all peace negotiation tables. One of these peace Commissions was composed of six women and one man. The progress achieved at the end was quite significant, as women benefited from the land redistribution and reintegration programs, full participation in political and administrative sphere, and agentive subjects in addressing their concerns in the peace process (Shair-Rosenfield and Wood 2017; Anderson 2016; Myrttinen 2016; Page et al. 2010; Heyzer 2005; UNIFEM 2005; Anderlini 2004, 2016; Luciak 1999) that not only transcend the existing discursive scripts in the field to negotiating ideas about “whose justice” and “justice for whom” (Björkdahl and Selimovic 2015, p. 166). Significantly, gender insensitivity in democratic political spheres during peacetime has been well documented, as it is indicative of its global stance. For example, a report from the inter-parliamentary union indicated that as of February 1, 2019, women’s involvement in national parliaments globally accounted for only 24.3%, showing steady increase from 11.3% in 2015 (Inter-parliamentary Union 2019; UN Women 2019). On the average, parliaments in Africa such as Nigeria (5.6%), Comoros (6.1%), Botswana (9.5%), Democratic Republic of Congo (10.3%), Liberia (12.3%), and Malawi (16.7%) accounted for less than 20% women, as is true for parliaments in Latin America such as Hungary (12.6%), Brazil (12.6%), Colombia (18.7%), Panama (18.3%), Guatemala (19.2%), and Paraguay (15.6%) (Interparliamentary Union 2019a) (see Table 1). However, Rwanda has the highest number of women in parliament, with women occupying 61.3% of seats in the single or lower house, while Cuba came close with 53.2% at the lower chamber. On the whole, Bolivia seemed to have a fair amount of women parliamentarians in both

Rank 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23

Country Rwanda Cuba Bolivia Mexico Namibia Costa Rica Nicaragua South Africa Senegal Mozambique Ethiopia Ecuador Tanzania Burundi Tunisia Uganda Zimbabwe Cameroon El Salvador Angola Peru South Sudan Sudan

Lower House or House of Representative Elections/year Seats Women % 03/09/2018 80 49 61.3% 11/03/2018 605 322 53.2% 12/10/2014 130 69 53.1% 01/07/2018 500 241 48.2% 29/11/2014 104 48 46.2% 04/02/2018 57 26 45.6% 06/11/2016 92 41 44.6% 07/05/2014 393 168 42.7% 30/07/2017 165 69 41.8% 15/10/2014 250 99 39.6% 24/05/2015 547 212 38.8% 19/02/2017 137 52 38.0% 25/10/2015 393 145 36.9% 29/06/2015 121 44 36.4% 26/10/2014 217 78 35.9% 18/02/2016 459 160 34.9% 30/07/2018 270 86 31.9% 30/09/2013 180 56 31.1% 04/03/2018 84 26 31.0% 23/08/2017 220 66 30.0% 10/04/2016 130 39 30.0% 04/08/2016 383 109 28.2% 13/04/2015 481 133 27.7%

Table 1 Distribution of Women in Parliament in Africa and Latin America Upper House or Senate Elections/year Seats 26/09/2011 26 – – 12/10/2014 36 01/7/2018 128 08/12/2015 42 – – – – 21/5/2014 54 – – – – 05/10/2015 153 – – – – 24/7/2015 39 – – – – 30/7/2018 80 25/3/2018 100 – – – – – – 05/8/2011 50 01/6/2015 71 Women 10 – 17 63 10 – – 19 – – 49 – – 18 – – 35 26 – – – 6 19

% 38.5% – 47.2% 49.2% 23.8% – – 35.2% – – 32.0% – – 46.2% – – 43.8% 26.0% – – – 12.0% 26.8%

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24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51

Djibouti Algeria Somalia Cape Verde Lesotho Guinea Uruguay Venezuela Eritrea Kenya Seychelles Honduras Morocco Mauritania Equatorial Guinea Madagascar Guatemala Colombia Panama Zambia Gabon Niger Malawi Togo Libya Brazil Paraguay Chad

23/02/2018 04/05/2017 23/10/2016 20/03/2016 03/06/2017 28/09/2013 26/10/2014 06/12/2015 01/02/1994 08/07/2017 08/09/2016 26/11/2017 07/10/2016 01/09/2018 12/11/2017 20/12/2013 06/09/2015 11/03/2018 04/05/2014 22/05/2016 06/10/2018 21/02/2016 20/05/2014 20/12/2018 25/06/2014 07/10/2016 22/04/2018 13/02/2011

65 462 275 72 120 114 99 167 150 349 33 128 395 153 100 151 158 171 71 167 134 171 192 91 150 513 80 168

17 119 67 17 28 26 22 37 33 76 7 27 81 31 20 29 30 32 13 30 24 29 32 15 24 77 12 25

26.2% 25.8% 24.4% 23.6% 23.3% 22.8% 22.2% 22.2% 21.0% 21.8% 21.2% 21,1% 20.5% 20.3% 20.0% 19.2% 19.0% 18.7% 18.3% 18.0% 17.9% 17.0% 16.7% 16.5% 16.0% 15.0% 15.0% 14.9%

– 29/12/2018 22/11/2017 – 11/03/2017 – 26/10/2014 – – 08/07/2017 – – – – 12/11/2017 29/12/2015 – – – – – – – – 13/0/2015 07/10/2018 22/04/2018 –

– 132 40 – 32 – 31 – – 68 – – – – 72 63 – – – – – – – – 100 81 45 –

– 9 4 – 7 – 8 – – 21 – – – – 11 13 – – – – – – – – 17 12 9 –

Women and Transitional Justice in Africa and Latin America (continued)

– 6.8% 10.0% – 21.9% – 25.8% – – 30.9% – – – – 17.7% 20.6% – – – – – – – – 17.0% 14.8% 20.0% –

37 757

Country Egypt Sao Tome and Principle Guinea-Bissau Burkina Faso Ghana Bahamas Hungary Liberia Sierra Leone Mauritius Congo Cote d’Ivoire Democratic Republic of Congo Gambia Botswana Mali Central African Republic Benin Comoros Nigeria

Lower House or House of Representative Elections/year Seats Women % 17/10/2015 596 89 14.8% 07/10/2018 55 8 14.5% 13/04/2014 102 14 13.4% 29/11/2015 127 17 13.4% 07/12/2016 275 36 13.1% 24/05/2017 39 5 12.8% 07/04/2018 199 25 12.6% 10/10/2017 73 9 12.3% 07/03/2018 146 18 12.3% 10/12/2014 69 8 11.6% 16/07/2017 151 17 11.3% 18/12/2016 255 28 11.0% 30/12/2018 485 50 10.3% 06/04/2017 58 6 10.3% 24/10/2014 63 6 9.5% 24/11/2013 147 13 8.8% 14/02/2016 140 12 8.6% 26/04/2015 83 6 7.2% 25/01/2015 33 2 6.1% 28/3/2015 359 20 5.6%

Upper House or Senate Elections/year Seats – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – 31/08/2017 69 25/03/2015 224 19/10/2007 108 – – – – – – – – 23/10/2018 30 – – 28/3/2015 109

Source: Inter-Parliamentary Union (2019a). Women in national parliaments: World average and regional averages

Rank 52 53 54 55 56 57 56 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71

Table 1 (continued) Women – – – – – – – – – – 13 27 5 – – – – 7 – 7

% – – – – – – – – – – 18.8% 12.1% 4.6% – – – – 23.3% – 6.4%

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houses, with a 53.1% at the lower chamber and 47.2% at the higher house, this is in contradistinction with the situation in Nigeria with 5.6% and 6.4% at both houses, respectively. Significant variations are quite evident in the average percentages of women in parliaments in both regions, with 30.6% in Latin America, and 23.9% recorded for Sub-Saharan Africa, 19.0 for North Africa (Inter-parliamentary Union 2019a; UN Women 2019) (see Table 1). Consequently, as of January 1, 2019, women in ministerial positions, with the highest ranging from 50% to 59.9% for Latin America include Costa Rica (51.9%), Colombia (52.9%), Nicaragua (55.6%); however, Rwanda is the only country in Africa to come close, with a 51.9 percentage. The lowest ranging from 5% to 9.9%, for Africa region including Morocco (5.6%), Equatorial Guinea (6.7%), Nigeria (8.0%), Comoros (8.3%), Mauritius (8.7%), and Sudan (9.4%), while for Latin America Guatemala (6.7%), Hungary (7.7%), and Brazil (9.1%) (Inter-parliamentary Union 2019b; UN Women 2019, see Table 2). Indeed, the world is not on track to achieve gender parity even in the next decade, as it is indicative of the current trends in gender inequality in the area of economic, administration, and political life (UNDP 2020). Tellingly, with the current position on gender disparity in these regions, and indeed reflective of the situation in most regions around the world, arguably, it would take at least 257 years to close in the gaps in economic, administration, political, and juridical opportunity (World Economic Forum 2018, 2020). Possible drivers to these gender disparities have been attributed to a combination of preexisting biases that restrict women to certain roles, reinforced hierarchies of class, race, citizenship, and religion, and inadequate legal framework that not only reinforces gender parity across board but also protects women’s rights as part of the broader constellation of human rights. Indeed, beyond what can be accounted for is the plethora of invisible deeply entrenched patriarchal constraints that reinforce gender asymmetry in the regions under focus. Indeed, as the United Nations Human Rights Working Committee had acknowledged in 2013 that “stigmatization, harassment and outright attacks have been used to silence and discredit women who are outspoken as leaders, community workers, human rights defenders, and [female] politicians” (UN Human Rights Council 2013, p. 15). In October 2016, following a study conducted by Inter-parliamentary Union to develop indicators to measure violence against women in political spheres, the Inter-parliamentary Union came up with a resolution condemning all forms of violence against female parliamentarians. Significantly, comparative evidence has revealed, how women’s advocacy groups and in peace negotiations have played major roles in policies transformation and peacebuilding. Both at the national and regional levels to address the rights of both women and girls during and after conflict, particularly in the Great Lakes of Africa, leading to changes in laws and policies transformation, that recognized and acknowledged women’s roles in public life, and the crucial need for gender equality in administrative and political spheres – that ominous cloud on the perceptive horizon of gender roles (Arostegui 2013). However, since 2000, the success recorded has been quite negligible, with regard to women participation in peace negotiation and the spectrum of issues that concerns them. Indeed, there is want of precision on why women’s participation is crucial in

Rank 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 7 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25

Africa Country Rwanda South Africa Ethiopia Seychelles Uganda Angola Mali Sao Tome and Principle Mauritania Zambia Mozambique Madagascar Zimbabwe Guinea Burundi Chad Ghana Kenya Egypt Congo Senegal Tanzania Cape Verde Namibia South Sudan NoW 14 17 10 5 11 11 11 4 7 9 6 6 6 6 7 5 6 8 8 8 5 3 5 6

% 51.9% 48.6% 47.6% 45.5% 36.7% 34.4% 34.4% 33.3% 31.8% 30.0% 28.6% 27.3% 27.3% 26.1% 25.9% 25.0% 25.0% 24.2% 23.5% 22.9% 22.7% 21.4% 20.0% 18.8%

23 27 20 24 33 34 35 22 14 25 32

Total Ministers 27 35 21 11 30 32 32 12 21 30 21 22 22

Table 2 Distribution of women in ministerial positions in Africa and Latin America Latin America Country Nicaragua Colombia Costa Rica Uruguay Mexico Grenada Andorra Chile El Salvador Honduras Dominica Venezuela Haiti Peru Panama Argentina Cuba Saint Lucia Ecuador Paraguay Bolivia Brazil Guatemala % 55.6% 52.9% 51.9% 42.9% 42.1% 41.7% 36.4% 34.8% 33.3% 33.2% 29.4% 29.4% 27.8% 27.8% 26.7% 25.0% 25.0% 23.1% 22.2% 21.4% 14.3% 9.1% 6.7% NoW 10 9 14 14 8 5 4 8 5 8 5 10 5 5 4 3 7 3 6 3 3 2 1

a

Total Ministers 18 17 27 14 19 12 11 23 15 25 17 34 18 18 15 12 28 13 27 14 21 22 15

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Cameroon Sierra Leone Benin Central African Republic Gabon Guinea-Bissau Malawi Togo Botswana Cote d’ Ivoire Lesotho Somalia Burkina Faso Niger Algeria Guinea Gambia Djibouti Tunisia Sudan Mauritius Comoros Nigeria Equatorial Guinea Morocco

18.6% 18.5% 18.2% 18.2% 17.9% 16.7% 16.7% 16.7% 15.8% 15.0% 14.8% 14.8% 14.3% 13.5% 13.3% 11.8% 11.1% 10.0% 10.0% 9.5% 8.7% 8.3% 8.0% 6.7% 5.6%

8 5 4 6 5 3 3 4 3 6 4 4 4 5 4 4 2 2 3 2 2 1 2 2 1

43 27 22 11 28 18 18 24 19 40 27 27 28 37 30 34 18 20 30 21 22 12 25 30 18

a

Source: Inter-Parliamentary Union (2019b). Women in national parliaments: World average and regional averages. NoW ¼ Number of Women.

26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 50 51 52 53 54 55

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conflict prevention, peace negotiations, and post-conflict reconstruction and what “form” this participation should adopt (UNSCR 2010; O’Rourke 2012, 2014, p. 7). Ensuring women’s full/equal participation in transitional justice processes is not just because of “women’s and girls’ right,” but that: Women are crucial partners in shoring up three pillars of lasting peace: economic recovery, social cohesion and political legitimacy. Several of the world’s economies that have grown the fastest during the past half-century began their ascent from the ashes of conflict. Their success stemmed in part from women’s increased role in production, trade and entrepreneurship. (UNSG Report on Women’s Participation in Peacebuilding, 2010, para. 7)

Indeed, the broader assumptions, whether normative or utility-base of how women’s participation in conflict prevention, peace negotiations, and post-conflict reconstruction would promote durable peace (Krause et al. 2018; Anderson 2016; Myrttinen 2016; UNSG 2016; Stone 2014; Caprioli et al. 2010; Boals 1973), have been based on the instrumental invocation, which portrays women as agentive subjects that can unearth the root causes of violence (Chinkin 2012; Adjei 2019). According to these arguments, the integration of women in these peace negotiations would not only legitimize an otherwise secretive, patriarchal, and elitist process that privileges perpetrators but that the likelihood of reaching a peace accord and its eventual and successful implementation is intricately linked with women’s meaningful participation in these peace processes (O’Reilly et al. 2015; Martin 2006). This is further exacerbated by the international legal order whether states or international organizations are shredded in masculine perspective and continue to reflect attributes that ensure male dominance (Chinkin et al. 2005, p. 621). Thus, despite the differences in “culture and history” women around the world shared the same sense of concern – the domination by men in decision-making process. The miniscule representations of women in conflict prevention and peace negotiations, judicial, and political sphere are not likely to contribute to sustainable peace and development. Until these gendered concerns are addressed in transitional justice scholarship, that focuses on all peoples, distant from its momentary gendered subjectivity, that accentuates male dominance, it will always be subjected to agendas that are inimical to gender concerns. Indeed, we can learn a great deal on how these women in Africa and Latin America have been able to live through their experiences, assimilated their traumatic pasts and how they have been able to shape social relations in these regions. Despite the broader energetic assumptions of mainstreaming gender-specific policies in peace processes, the impact or lack thereof has been quite difficult to measure. Thus far, in feminists’ studies and transitional justice scholarship, the understanding of the multifaceted challenges that stunt women’s agency is quite limited.

Conclusion In spite of the impressive volume of research on the subject matter thus far, gendered readings within transitional justice scholarship are even more pragmatic and policy driven than just a mere academic exercise. The manifolds of concerns raised by

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feminists scholars through diverse international protocols, for example, United Nation’s World Conference on Women in Mexico (1975), subsequent Women Conferences in Copenhagen in 1980 and Nairobi 1985, the 1993 Vienna Conference on Human Rights that extensively campaigned for the acceptance of the rights of women and violence against women as integral to human rights, the passing of historic United Nations Security Council Resolution 1325 (2000), the United Nations Women’s Participation in Peace Negotiations (2012), International Protocol on the Documentation and Investigation of Sexual Violence in Conflict (2014), the Guidance Note of the Secretary-General (2014), and the 25th anniversary of Beijing Declaration and Platform for Action (Beijing +25, 2020), as its true for the temporal trend of social movements around the globe advocating for a re-conceptualization of gender disparity and women empowerment. Apart from the aforementioned, several online campaigns have sprang up over the decade, there are such advocacy movements, such as the #MeToo movement which has given voices to the novel forms of vulnerability and abuse women are constrained with. There is also the #IWillGoOut movement that sprang up in India, which took activists to the streets advocating for legal protection for women and minorities in India, after the slew of sexual assault cases (Divya 2018). The #NiUnaMenos movement in Latin America, spreading across Argentina to Mexico, as the number of femicides and sexual violence against women soared (Giraldo-Luque et al. 2018). The infectious hymn chanted by crowd of exuberant Chilean women with the chorus line: “It’s not my fault! Not where I was, not how I dressed! The rapist was you! The rapist is you,” which sprang a global movement, from France and Mexico to Kenya and India with the catchphrase “a rapist in your path,” protesting against systemic acts of sexual violence especially rape to subjugate women (Hinsliff 2020; Minutaglio 2020). The song that was sung 367 times in 52 countries, and on every continent (except for Antarctica), sends a message that “rape doesn’t happen in a political vacuum; that it is welded to patriarchy power structures as a means of keeping women down” (Hinsliff 2020; Minutaglio 2020). What is striking about this movement was that states that replicated it created layers of distinctiveness that was specific to them. In Brazil, women added the phrase “Marielle is present. Her killer is a friend of our president,” referring to Mariello Franco’s murder in 2018. The Rio de Janeiro city conciliator whose murder became a symbolic affront to the dominant patriarchy and normative structures against women’s participation in political spheres is pointed movement unveiling the centuries of subjugation against women. All these are indicative of the critical debates that continue to shape the voices of women masked within the international legal order that reflects gender asymmetries. The continued dominance of asymmetry structures – deeply entrenched political dynamics and inadequate juridical apparatuses that continue to stunt the conversations for gendered-specific benchmarks in the world order, and how it has continued to inhibit women’s impact in conflict prevention, peace negotiations, and postconflict reconstruction fora. Evidently, the case study in Africa and Latin America demonstrates the crucial call for greater and more strategic participation in political, juridical, and administration spheres that transcend women’s categorization as the niche demographic of

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witnesses, testimony givers, and the weak gender. Addressing issues of inclusion and better representation in transitional justice protocol requires dismantling the adversary wall that encumbered women’s access to justice, so that there will be more inclusivity, accessibility, and capability in justice initiatives. This position was poignantly stressed by the UNSC that there is “the need for continued efforts to address obstacles in women’s access to justice in conflict and post-conflict settings, including through [academic investment], gender-responsive legal, judicial and security sector reform, [grassroots activism], and other mechanisms” (UNSCR 2122, Article 10, 2013). Beyond this, what is argued is that aside from women’s full and equal participation in transitional justice initiatives, gender parity within the context of analysis is imperative, not only because it reinforced the crucial principles of equality, but that it is also in furtherance of durable peace, stability, and development – indispensable facets for the building and restructuring of the society and state. Indeed, gender parity in transitional justice institutions would engender the incorporation of issues that are specific to women within the context of structures and reforms that are gender-sensitive, including juridical and security reforms, and better representation in governance. However, this can only be possible by a deliberate attempt to create an enabling environment and transitional justice institutions play a significant role in creating gender parity in politics, administration, and legal spheres, as well as economic conditions that defy gender asymmetry. Tellingly, women’s full and equal participation in transitional justice institutions not only illuminates on their contributions or lack thereof in these post-conflict settings but also demystify the sublime conjecture that portrays women as a monolithic subset of a population. It is therefore timely and within the realm of reasonability to therefore reflect on the broad constellations of this scholarship and how their cumulative effect reflect on women in the third world countries in African and Latin America. This study has documented the enduring gendered concerns in transitional justice scholarship, through the lens of women’s lived experiences/realities in Africa and Latin America. It reflects on the continued reluctance of feminists’ scholarship to explore the political dynamics of women’s contestation in issues of peace, security, inclusivity, gender parity, multiculturality, and development; and how these dynamics in particular contexts continue to shape the gendered narratives.

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Conflict-Related Sexual Violence and Women’s Rights: Africa in Global Context

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Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Women’s Rights Are Human Rights . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Incidence of Conflict-Related Sexual Violence . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Patterns and Forms of Conflict-Related Sexual Violence . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Rape in War . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Rights Violated Through the Perpetration of Sexual Violence in War Zones . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Violation of the Right to Life . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Right to Freedom of Expression . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Abuse of the Right to Education . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sexual and Reproductive Rights . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Right to Personal Dignity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Right to Reparations for Victims of Conflict-Related Sexual Violence . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Necessity of the Reparation of Wartime Sexual Violence Victims Rights Violated . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

Conflict-related sexual violence (CRSV) is a grave and dehumanizing act. It is neither a new issue nor is it limited to one geographical region, time period, or conflict. The continent of Africa has not been an exception: from ancient wars to modern conflicts, as populations suffer the impacts of devastating wars, African women endured untold additional harms specifically due to their gender. Several of their rights are routinely violated in wartime. This atrocity constitutes an injustice far too serious to overlook and every injustice that women suffer is a human rights abuse. Consequently, international law and African human rights instruments require states to safeguard women’s rights, to prohibit abuses of human rights of women and to take measures to thwart their occurrences even A. Metonou (*) Babcock University, Ilishan Remo, Nigeria e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_179

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in the time of war. The extent to which this has been successful is the subject of much debate. In addition to advocating the protection of women’s rights in the conflict environment by all instrumentalities possible, this chapter recommends that reparation measures for victims should be transformative. Keywords

Conflict-related sexual violence (CRSV) · Women’s rights · War · Transformative reparations · Africa

Introduction Sexual violence is too commonly committed in conflicts throughout the world; it occurs in virtually all wars. From Africa to Europe and the Americas, all are implicated in the deployment of conflict-related sexual violence (CRSV) and no continent is immune. Conflict-related sexual violence is manifested in various formulae: it can take the form of coerced undressing, gang rape, sexual slavery, forced marriage, involuntary abortion, compulsory sterilization and undesirable prostitution, and so on. These indignations have left behind indelible mental and physical scars on the victims thereby violating their fundamental human rights. However, all women, including those in warzones, are supposedly entitled to the full realization of all human rights enshrined in the international and regional instruments of human rights. Thus, women whose rights have been violated deserve transformative reparation that takes into consideration not only the restoration of the past but also the guarantee of non-repetition of the criminal act. This chapter therefore focuses first of all on the interconnections between women’s rights and the human rights discourse as applicable to Africa, with an emphasis on the need for these to be protected and not be disregarded in times of peace as well as in times of war. The next section discusses the specific rights abused and ignored, which are usually founded on the excuses of war, a period when rules and regulations are particularly susceptible to being vandalized and individual rights are grossly violated. The next section focuses on the victims’ right to reparation, while the subsequent section concludes the study.

Women’s Rights Are Human Rights Bunch (1990), supporting the Gabriela Women’s Coalition in the Philippines, affirmed “Women’s Rights as Human Rights,” a slogan that has become a rallying cry for the women’s movement over decades of activism. Human rights are rights that belong to every human being without discrimination. Women are part of humanity and they are therefore entitled to all rights pertinent to humans. Clinton (1995) echoed that slogan during her historical speech and declared that humanity should know that human rights are women’s rights and women’s rights are human

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rights once and for all. In the context of sexual violence perpetrated in war, women do not always have the privilege to enjoy their rights; most of the time, they find themselves in coercive situations that deprive them the freedoms of enjoying their basic rights as humans. It is in that context that the 1993 UN World Conference on Human Rights acknowledged women’s rights by identifying rape, sexual slavery, and all forms of sexual violence in war as human rights issues. The conference recognized that women have to be protected from all forms of violence in time of peace as well as in times of war. Thus, the 1949 Geneva Conventions extended the protections previously set for individuals during wartime to those “hors de combat” (out of action) during conflict, civilians such as women. The conventions stipulate that women shall be particularly protected against any attack on their integrity, especially against rape, enforced prostitution, or any form of indecent assault. At the regional level, specifically in Africa, some efforts have been made by policy makers to reinforce the idea that women’s rights are undeniably human rights. Thus, the African Union established the African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights, which was adopted in Nairobi on 27 June 1981 and entered into force on 21 October 1986. Its article 18 (3), obligates parties to eliminate all forms of discrimination against women and to ensure the protection of the rights of women at all times. In addition, the Protocol to the African Charter on the Rights of Women in Africa (“the Maputo Protocol”), was adopted by African Heads of State and Government in Maputo, Mozambique on 11 July 2003 to put a serious emphasis on the fact that women are part of humanity and therefore deserve the promotion and protection of their fundamental rights. The Maputo Protocol is the most complete and reformist women’s human rights instruments on the continent. It can be even regarded as one international human rights instrument of having one of the highest number of ratifications for an instrument in the African Union. The Maputo Protocol focuses on the development of African Women’s Rights, it warranties wide-ranging rights to African women and girls based mostly on Harmful traditional practices, reproductive health and rights. Soon after the adoption of the Maputo protocol by the African Union, the Solidarity for African Women’s Rights (SOAWR) Coalition was founded in 2004 with the mission to ensure that the rights of girls and women articulated in Maputo Protocol are highlighted by policy makers in African countries pushing governments to sign and ratify the Protocol. Since then, the principles contained in the Protocol have been incorporated in national legislations, constitutions, and policies in countries across the continent; for instance in Zambia, which ratified the Protocol in 2006, it was cited in the court’s decision against a teacher who defiled (raped) his student. Also in Liberia, it is being used to push for a ban on female genital mutilation. Thus, this protocol can be of great utility in the promotion of women’s rights as human rights in Africa. However, despite these efforts, these commendable declarations and conventions, numerous obstacles remain that hinder efforts to achieve a significant and longlasting impact in eliminating acts of sexual violence especially in war, women continue to suffer in the hands of combatants.

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The Incidence of Conflict-Related Sexual Violence Conflict-related sexual violence is pervasive and gendered in its manifestation. Josse (2010) argues that whenever there is war, women bear the worst of the combat, as they have to face both guns and the sexual violations of soldiers and various other perpetrators. In Africa, sexual violence was perpetrated in Rwanda, Uganda, the Democratic Republic of Congo, Cote d’Ivoire, Sierra Leone, Liberia, and South Sudan wars just to name this few; It was also used as a weapon of war in Asian battles in Iran, Syria, Kuwait, Nepal, and especially in Japan with the “comfort women.” Moreover, it was also a tool of domination in American conflicts, in Colombia, Chile, Guatemala, and Peru’s wars. The combatants in Europe did not hesitate to practice it in Greece, Croatia, the former Soviet Union, and Northern Ireland, to name just these few as examples of sexual violence practices in all its forms. Asuagbor (2017) affirms that conflict-related sexual violence continues to be a worldwide scourge and the African continent is not an exemption. It remains widespread both in time of conflict and crisis. It takes place in public, in the street and on public transportation, and fighters’ camps. Wasserman (2016) reveals some dire figures: with reference to the Rwandan conflict, it was estimated that between 250,000 and 500,000 women and children were raped; also, the civil war in Sierra Leone permitted culprits to rape approximately 235,000 women. In other regions of the world, Flisi (2016) exposes through a survey done by women’s groups spanning a 9-year period (2000–2009) that in Columbia wars, 12,809 women were victims of conflict rape, 1575 women were forced into prostitution, 4415 had forced pregnancies, and 1810 endured forced abortions. All these figures are just estimation for it is always difficult to ensure exact figures of such incidences since sexual violence is most of the time underreported. Moreover, FIDH (2013) admitted that sexual violence was common in the Democratic Republic of Congo’s (DRC) wars and fighters engaged in systematic and generalized sexual violence against women. In fact women were targeted by all parties till their bodies became the real battleground and rape was committed with such a brutality that it sometimes resulted in death. On the grounds of such grave human rights violations, humanitarian organizations and human rights groups have declared DRC, “the worst place to be a child,” “the worst place in the world to be a woman” and “the worst place to be a mother.” In fact, in DRC, the perpetrators of the crime did not discriminate between schoolgirls or mothers, engaged, married, or widowed; farmers, wives of political leaders, opposition party activists, humanitarian workers or members of nongovernmental organizations – all female beings (and men in some cases) were all subjected, regardless of social class or age to the most diverse forms of sexual violence.

The Patterns and Forms of Conflict-Related Sexual Violence The 2012 United Nations General Assembly (UNGA) declared that conflict-related sexual violence is sexual assault perpetrated in conflict or postconflict settings or having a direct or indirect link with conflict. Taking cognition of Article 7 (1) (g) of

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International Criminal Court statute, the UNGA further states that: “conflict related sexual violence includes rape, sexual slavery, forced prostitution, forced pregnancy, enforced sterilization or any other form of sexual violence of comparable gravity against women, men or children.” Furthermore, lawyers, scholars, and experts in the studies of sexual violence in armed conflicts such as Skjelsbæk (2007) have added some other patterns to the above list: forced maternity, forced abortion, forced marriage, forced nudity, sexual molestation, sexual humiliation, sex trafficking, coerced undressing, the intentional spread of sexually transmitted infections, including HIV/AIDS. Thus, sexual violence in war is a multifaceted phenomenon, which encompasses a wide range of acts. The most common and the most widespread method of sexual violence in armed conflicts is rape.

Rape in War Skjelsbæk (2001) argues that rape is a physically forceful attempt at sexual intimacy when one of the individuals involved chooses not to become sexually intimate. Women in armed conflicts are forced to endure forced sexual intercourse that they would not have accepted in time of peace. Several authors have conducted surveys in war torn countries involving interviews with soldiers and others who had been perpetrators of rape in various regions of Africa. From these studies, various kinds of wartime rape have been identified. Baaz (2009) identified what they termed the recreational rape. This is the “inevitable” consequence of when a “real” man is deprived of the possibilities to have sex: he does not have money and he cannot reach his family, then the soldier uses the opportunity given to him by war to satisfy his sexual desires, to satisfy his biological needs. The meaning of this is that, as victims are suffering, soldiers or perpetrators are supposedly “relieving” themselves of the stress of battle. Furthermore, Chong S. (2005) explained three other forms of rape in war. The exchange rape, which is when genital contact is used as a trading tool, means of conciliation or solidarity. The military authorities use this type of rape as a war strategy, exchanging women for arms. Theft rape is the involuntary abduction of individuals as sex slaves, prostitutes, concubines, and bush wives. Survival rape is when young women enter into partnership with older men to obtain goods and/or services needed to survive. Case in many instances, this involves peacekeepers and staff of other humanitarian agencies who take advantage of vulnerable women in quest for survival in the low economic periods due to war. Ben-Ari and Harsch (2005) also explains the brutalities of sexual violence in the decade-long Sierra Leonean war, in which rape was routine. Sexual violence was widespread and systematic and women were raped in extraordinarily brutal ways as described above. Likewise, Salzman (1998) expounded on the form of the ethnic cleansing rape, which happens when rapes from different ethnic groups are perpetrated with the intention of resulting in pregnancies. The descendants will no longer be of one ethnicity and culture but of two or several. One ethnic group could eventually start to evolve as mixed offspring are formed from mass rape. This is very strategic, as it can wipe out entire ethnic groups without firing a single gunshot. The passing down of

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the culture and heritage of the group will start to slowly fade as fewer “pure” children are born. In such cultural communities, soldiers rape women and keep them in sexual slavery till they give birth for their enemy ethnic group. The International Criminal Tribunal of the Former Yugoslavia (ICTY) confirmed that Serb forces imprisoned women for the purpose of forcibly bearing Serbian-fathered infants, as a component of ethnic cleansing. Perpetrators aimed to erase victims’ cultural identities to provide a new source of Serbian citizens. Bosnia was a clear characteristic of ethnic cleansing rape, which in terms of effects is not far from the genocidal rape. Another notable instance is the genocidal rape perpetrated in Rwandan war. De Brouwer (2007) affirms that some opponents used rape to change the genetic make-up of the “enemy” population in the case of the Rwandan genocide. It was decided in the Akayesu case in 1998 that sexual violence was an integral and deliberate strategy of the Rwandan genocide; it was committed with the specific intent to exterminate totally or partially, a particular group, targeted as such. Hubbard (2008) adds that rape was used as a systematic policy to decimate an ethnic group, the Tutsi, through torture and the deliberate spread of HIV. Tutsi women in Rwanda thus frequently experienced rape mainly because of their ethnicity. It is also worthy to note that the ways of executing rape in war differ from one group of criminal perpetrators to another. In wars, perpetrators may indulge in gang rape, forced rape among victims, and rape with insertion of various harmful objects. Gang rape is when one or several individuals are raped by two or multiple perpetrators simultaneously or one after the other. A great number of perpetrators, national fighters, and mercenaries from neighboring countries, even UN peacekeepers, gang raped women on a daily basis in several African wars from Liberia to the DRC. UN Human Rights Council (2008) asserted that every 5 min in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), four women are raped, a ratio of 40 women in just a day. There is also another dangerous way to execute rape in war, which is called forced rape, that is, when victims are forced to rape one another. The perpetrators coerce family members to have incestuous sexual relations with one another, sons are ordered to rape their mothers, fathers their daughters, and sometimes brothers and sisters are forced to commit sexual acts. Generally, the assault is executed under threat of death, while other family members are forced to watch. The refusal to rape may result into greater harm. From one IRIN Report (2004) in North Darfur, the Janjaweed militia inflicts terrible pain in case of refusal to rape. If a man protests, he is shot in both legs and hung naked on a tree. If a woman protests, she might be beaten and then raped in front of the group. Human Rights Watch (2003) revealed that in the Cote d’Ivoire war, Ivorian soldiers and the Liberian mercenaries raped wives in front of their husbands; the situation was compounded by the fact that victims were forced to be on their knees to thank their perpetrators. Another brutal way of executing rape in war is rape with the insertion of objects into the genitals, for this method of raping, the soldiers use objects such as bananas, rifle barrels, pestles covered with chili pepper, bottles, even sticks and slot them in the victim’s private parts. Pratt and Werchick (2004) explain that it can also be in the form of direct mutilation of the woman’s genitals. Soldiers will shoot them or burn

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them after the assault. In addition, women can be held in sexual slavery for days, months or years as seen in conflicts in the DRC and Uganda, to mention a few.

Sexual Slavery as a Form of Sexual Violence in War Terrell (2005) notes the broad definition of “sexual slavery” adopted by the Women’s International War Crimes Tribunal, as follows: “the exercise of any or all of the powers attaching to the right of ownership over a person by exercising sexual control over a person or depriving a person of sexual autonomy.” In this case, women are held individually or in groups as sexual slaves for rape and sexual gratification. Bineafer (2005) described how sexual slavery was perpetrated in many armed conflicts around the world, in Africa, Asia, and in South American armed revolutions. The most atrocious case of sexual slavery occurred during the internationalized war of Japan with its neighboring countries in Asia, forming part of the Second World War. Tosiyuki (2002) explained how between 1931 and 1945, more than 200,000 women, mostly from occupied territories, were kidnapped and made sexual slaves by Japan’s imperial army in military brothels. Lamont-Brown (2002) notes that those women called Ianfu (comfort women) were imprisoned into RikugunIanjo (military brothels) or “comfort stations.” Wawrynek (2003)’s records showed that “comfort women” were repetitively raped and used as many as 80 times a day. Many died from exhaustion, disease and also from shame. Some were murdered, to stop them from giving evidence to the advancing Allied forces. Furthermore, in war, women can even be forced to marry their perpetrators. Human Rights watch (2017) asserted that in the Central African Republic conflict, women and girls were held as sexual slaves for up to 18 months, often subjected to repeated rape by multiple men. Many were taken as fighters’ “wives” and forced to cook, clean, and collect food or water. All the women were said to be raped each night. Forced Marriage, Forced Impregnation, and Forced Maternity Amowitz (2002) explained forced marriage in war based on a decision taken by the UN Special Court for Sierra Leone, which described forced marriage as a situation in which the perpetrator through his words or conduct, or those of someone for whose actions he is responsible, compels a person by force, threat of force, or coercion to serve as a conjugal partner resulting in severe suffering, or physical, mental, or psychological injury to the victim. Women are forced into a de facto situation of forced marriage. They are captured by military personnel and held for domestic servitude and forced sexual services. Amowitz (2002) explicated that in Sierra Leone, for example, victims were called “bush wives” and in the country’s decade-long conflict, armed rebels and insurgents forcibly married more than 65,000 women. Although many women and girls sought to escape their captors, some women chose to stay, fearing rejection should they return home. From the forced marriage form of sexual violence derive two other practices of sexual violence namely forced impregnation and forced maternity. Lleiby (2009) argued that forced impregnation is a method of sexual violence used in war when women of the adversary troops are kept in detention, impregnated and released by

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the enemy only when it is too late to abort. Women have to produce offspring for their enemies and raise children of unknown fathers. Most of the attacks take place in rape camps, during flight from hostilities and in victims’ homes. Cojean (2014) explained that in the Libyan war, women were incarcerated in the detention center of Damascus for the purpose of impregnation; in the cells, a doctor would go round the cells to note the dates of the menstruation of every woman and distribute contraceptive pills. Women lived in the grime, in blood, in filth, without water and almost without food. Fisher (1996) pointed out rightly that, women forcibly impregnated did not even have the privilege to be pregnant when they wished and with whom they desired.

Coerced Undressing Another cruel pattern of sexual violence in war is the phenomenon of coerced undressing. Inger (2011) expounded on the fact that in the case of forced nudity, the victim is forcibly undressed and compelled to make some movements naked. By one account, during the war in Bosnia, a civilian Bosnian Muslim woman was arrested and taken for questioning to the military headquarters. The interrogators made her stand nude before them while another group of laughing soldiers were ridiculing her. The International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia found that there was sexual violence because of the forced nudity of the victim. Wartime sexual violence can have serious and multiple consequences on the life of victims. Beyond the violence and trauma of the act itself, the criminal act may result in severe emotional and psychological damage. Weber (2018), quoting (Hayner 2001) posit that one of the most challenging effects of sexual violence is the pervasive social stigma against victims and survivors, which often stops them from speaking out about the events. For Olujic (1998), another serious social consequence is when victims are seen as impure or immoral women, accused for having triggered the event, they may be even considered as source of shame to their husbands or families should they talk publicly about the crime. They can therefore be rejected by their families, even by their own children, and be forced out of their communities. As described above, during wars women go through the unbearable with unimaginable consequences. It is therefore necessary at this point to designate the rights violated in order to ascertain the nature of the reparation that they deserve.

Rights Violated Through the Perpetration of Sexual Violence in War Zones With the perpetration of sexual violence in war, many rights of women are violated (Kristen 2001). These gross violations of human rights are as destructive as any bomb or bullet. In 1993, United Nations world leaders of more than 180 governments and several NGOs met in Beijing, China, for the United Nations Conference on the Status of Women. It was decided that violations of women’s rights in situations of wars are violations of the key principles of international human rights

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and humanitarian law. Furthermore, the erstwhile UN Secretary-General, Ban Ki Moon, posits that human rights are intended to be effective and operational “always, everywhere and to everyone” (Ki-Moon 2014). Therefore, armed conflicts might be situations under exceptional conditions of hostilities and armed battle, but they should not lead automatically to the exclusion of the applicability of law. Thus, there is no reason to violate women rights even in times of war. Rape and all forms of sexual violence in war must be considered as violations of human rights. Ward et al. (2016) note that most of the violations mentioned by Hillary Clinton in her 1995 speech to the Fourth World Conference on Women are perpetrated in armed conflicts against women. Some of those abuses are explored in this chapter.

Violation of the Right to Life The 1984 Convention against Torture and Other Cruel, Inhuman or Degrading Treatment or Punishment (CAT) in its Article 1 stipulated that: “No one shall be subjected to torture or to cruel, inhuman, or degrading treatment or punishment.” The Convention recognizes the individual’s intrinsic right to life. Despite that laudable declaration, women in times of war are still exposed to degrading treatments, which ultimately lead to death. Many die from exhaustion or shame. Some others die painful and slow death because of incurable diseases contracted during the assaults. Thus, sexual violence in war kills both physically and psychologically. Victims’ right to life is thus grossly violated. The slow and painful death which rape victims suffer dying of bleeding is also included here. Gahima (2012) makes it plain that rape in war is a psychological torture and some women even beg to die, to be shot rather than be tortured. Cojean (2014) explained that the same plea for death was expressed by women in Syria. For those Syrian women, rape was worse than death. Peacekeeper Beardsley (1995) overwhelmed by the outrageous atrocities in Congo’s wars stated that: “Massacres kill the body. Rape kills the soul.” It is obvious that the right to life of such women is utterly violated.

The Right to Freedom of Expression The 1948 Universal Declaration of Human Rights advocates in its Article 19 that “Everyone has the right to freedom of opinion and expression.” This right includes freedom to hold and seek opinions without interference. Notwithstanding that rule, in war time, women’s will and opinion are not taken into consideration when they are abducted, trafficked, exposed to sexual attacks, required to marry their opponents, obliged to be pregnant for their adversaries, and they have to give birth or to abort under the control of the antagonists. Salzman (1998) evoked the vivid instance of the Bosnian case in the European Balkan wars. Between 1990 and 1992, the world was stunned by news of sexual brutalities that were executed. Newspaper headlines decried: “Serbian rape camps: evil upon evil, Serbs rape on highest orders.” Notorious detention camps such as Sušica camp and Ormaska camp were set up

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specifically for the rape of women by the highest levels of the Bosnian Serb military structure. Forcing a woman into forced maternity is to violate her freedom to emotional expression, and it is evident that countless numbers of women around the globe have been deprived of such a right during war time as their right to freedom of expression was abused.

The Abuse of the Right to Education The 1948 Universal Declaration of Human Rights and the1966 International Covenant on Economic Social and Cultural Rights (ICESCR) demand that “Everyone should enjoy his or her right to education. Education shall be free.” Education is seen both as a human right and as an essential means of fulfilling other human rights. Education should be obtainable, reachable, and inexpensive without segregation. In times of war or post conflict, young girls are afraid to go to school because of the probable attacks. These teenagers have either been attacked before or they have heard about the anguish of others. Perpetrators do not discriminate while attacking targeted females. Pratt and Werchick (2004) revealed that Martine was 14 years old when she was abducted and raped by armed men in the Democratic Republic of Congo. “They would choose the youngest for their chiefs,” she recalled. She was later rejected, wounded and pregnant. Thus, the time for school is spent serving troops or militia sexually. The then UN Special Representative on Children and Armed Conflicts, Sherwood (2014) also observed that children are easier to abduct, manipulate, and abuse. By implication, they become destitute of their rights to education and, thereby, to development.

Sexual and Reproductive Rights The International Covenant of Economic Social and Cultural Rights (ICESCR) in its Article 12 recognizes the right of everyone to the enjoyment of the utmost achievable standard of bodily and mental health related to reproductive rights. Health can be understood not just as a right to be in good physical shape, but as a right to control one’s own well-being including sexual and procreative rights, which are considered in International Law as universal rights. Universal rights cannot be called into question under any circumstances. They must be promoted, guaranteed, and implemented whenever possible. The right to free choice in matters of sexuality and reproduction is vital to women’s development. Unfortunately, in war, women do not enjoy that privilege. The first and most appalling consequences of sexual violence on women bodies are the injuries and damages to the reproductive system. The reproductive system of victims is, in most cases, severely damaged by the frequent and brutal rapes. Carlsen (2009) explains how as a result of violent rape, gang rape, and rape with objects, women sustain incredible injuries in their bodies, including prolapsed uteruses, severe vaginal tears, broken pelvis, and vagina mutilation. Often, the pain is accompanied by internal and external bleeding or discharge, and urinary or fecal incontinence.

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The deplorable condition of female victims of conflict-related sexual violence can be compounded by infertility, difficult pregnancies, and child birth complications. Many young victims become pregnant before their bodies are capable of safe and healthy pregnancy and child birth. Angelina Jolie, an actress and special emissary of UNHCR, who has been in contact with several of the victims in Bosnia and the Congo states that “there were young girls who were raped and impregnated before their bodies were able to carry a child, leaving them with scars on their reproductive system during their life time” (UN 2014). The unwanted and forced pregnancies damaged the body of the girls especially their reproductive system for life.

Right to Personal Dignity Many of the international human rights and humanitarian instruments advocate the principle of personal dignity for all humans without distinction. Article 1 and 4 of the 1948 UDHR stipulate that “all human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights. No one shall be held in slavery or servitude; slavery and the slave trade shall be prohibited in all their forms.” Moreover, the Maputo Protocol, which focuses on the development of African women’s rights, warranties wide-ranging rights to African women and girls with reference to harmful traditional practices and reproductive health and rights. Article 3 of the Protocol put a special emphasis of the importance of women’s right to dignity. Also the African Union Strategy on Gender Equality and Women’s Empowerment (GEWE) 2018–2028, which was launched during the AU Summit in February 2019, has Pillar 2 which focuses on the rights of women and girls to dignity at all times, in times of peace and war. Notwithstanding those laudable rules, when sexual violence is perpetrated in war, that right is completely ignored. Women of all categories and social classes are violated, and even elderly women are not spared. Women’s right to personal dignity is violated when pregnant women and women about to give birth, or who had just given birth are also the victims of sexual abuse. Women who are “untouchable” according to tradition (e.g., nuns) are also involved. Women are also subjected to trafficking. It was documented that women were bought and sold among the Interahamwe soldiers in Rwanda (Human Rights Watch 1996). Amnesty International (2005) revealed that in Asia, “comfort women” endured excessive mistreatment in the hands of Japanese soldiers. One officer confessed that “they’re less than cattle; they were treated as supplies.” Thus, the right to dignity of women victims of sexual violence in war is completely denied.

The Right to Reparations for Victims of Conflict-Related Sexual Violence Indeed, the range of gross human rights abuses affecting women in conflict require a range of remedies including medical assistance, counseling and rehabilitation services, economic support, family reunification, community reconciliation, punishment of

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perpetrators, and so on. This study focuses in particular on reparations as a remedy that is most comprehensive and widest ranging for achieving the goals of restoring women’s rights, dignity, and capabilities after experiences of wartime sexual violence. In doing so, it does not exclude other possible remedies but argues for an expansive and transformative conception and application of the five aspects of reparation. With these gross violations of women’s rights in war, victims can be considered to be the beneficiaries of basic principles and guidelines on the right to a remedy and reparation for victims of gross violations of international human rights law and serious violations of international humanitarian law as adopted and proclaimed by UN General Assembly Resolution 60/147 of 16 December 2005. The Resolution stipulates that: Victims are persons who individually or collectively suffered harm, including physical or mental injury, emotional suffering, economic loss or substantial impairment of their fundamental rights, through acts or omissions that constitute gross violations of international human rights law, or serious violations of international humanitarian law.

Women in war suffer all the harms enumerated in the Resolution. They therefore need reparation. Moreover, the Resolution emphasized the fact that victims should be treated with humanity and respect for their dignity and human rights, and appropriate measures should be taken to ensure their safety, physical and psychological well-being, and privacy as well as those of their families, Thus, these victims are entitled to an adequate, effective, and prompt reparation as to be proportionate to the seriousness of the violations and the maltreatment endured.

Necessity of the Reparation of Wartime Sexual Violence Victims Rights Violated Gilmore (2019) declares that there has been increasing attention to reparations for wartime sexual violence victims, indicating the necessity for victims to enjoy their rights to reparation. Several instruments have enunciated the importance of the rights to reparation for the victims of sexual violence generally and specially in war. These include the 2007 Nairobi Declaration, and the 2014 UN Secretary General’s Guidance Note on Reparations for Conflict-Related Sexual Violence. Moreover, reparations have been recognized as part of a victim’s right under international human rights and international humanitarian law instruments such as the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, the Convention against Torture, and the Four Geneva Conventions, all of which include provisions on victims’ right to reparations. All the mentioned instruments propound that it is necessary that reparations be proportionate to the rigorousness of the harm. Leyh and Fraser (2019a) affirm that reparation must “completely” restore any injury, including any material or moral damage caused by the wrongful act. It must, so far as possible, wipe out all the consequences of the illegal act and reestablish the situation that would, in all probability, have existed if that act had not been committed.

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Categories of Reparations Needed by Victims of Wartime Sexual Violence Reparations cover five categories of procedures which are restitution, compensation, rehabilitation, satisfaction, and guarantees of non-repetition. Those forms of reparation can be received by the victims in a single form or in combination. The measures are intended to complement each other, given that just one form of reparation would not be able to wipe out all the harm caused especially in the case of war time sexual violence victims. Restitution is indicated as consisting of measures that restore the status quo existing prior to the injury. It is considered as reestablishing the victim to the earlier condition before the commission of the crime, the gross violation of human rights. It may be in a form of restitution of liberty, identity, or restoration of employment and return of property. Victims may enjoy it if they were not already in an abuse system prior to the crime, otherwise restoring them to their former situation will not change their deplorable condition. Compensation deals with pecuniary payment, as appropriate and proportional to the gravity of the right violated when the physical or mental harm has caused lost opportunities, including employment, education, and social benefits. A vivid example of compensation attributed to victims of wartime sexual violence was described by Flisi (2016) concerning the situation in Colombia. Colombia law enabled victims of wartime sexual violence to receive a compensation maximum of 30 minimum wages, which at the salary exchange rate at the time amounted to about $6900. Also, Ristic (2017) notes that the amended law in Kosovo provided both female and male survivors of wartime sexual violence with the right to apply for reparations for survivors to receive a monthly payment of 230 Euros, around 90% of the average salary for women in Kosovo, and other subsidies. Unfortunately, many victims are ashamed to come forward to receive such reparative measures. Satisfaction entails formal acknowledging of responsibility, expressing sincere regrets and formally tendering meaningful public apology, reestablishing the damaged dignity, the tainted reputation, and the violated rights of the victim and of persons closely connected with the victim. Moffett (2019) described the great satisfaction for victims who are recognized at the international level as victims and received public award. In 2018, Dr. Denis Mukwege and Nadia Murad received the Nobel Peace Prize for their work with victims of conflict-related sexual violence, a major affirmation of the experiences of the victims. Ms. Murad, a Yazidi activist was herself raped by ISIL extremists in Iraq, who enslaved thousands. Dr. Denis Mukwege, a medical doctor, deserved the award for providing medical, reconstructive, and psychosocial services for victims of rape and sexual violence in his clinic in the DRC. Furthermore, Flisi (2016) notes that, in Columbia, as a collective reparation measure, May 25 was established as the National Day for the Dignity of Women Victims of Sexual Violence in the Armed Conflict (Decree 1480/2014). Guarantees of Non-Repetition are forward-looking cures centering on avoidance that can refer to either measures of deterrence aimed at protecting a victim from further harm or broader measures, such as legal and institutional reform and vetting of public officials aimed at avoiding the wider conditions that allowed for the breach.

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Browes (2015) explained that the best reparations happen when women see that preventive measures are put in place such as the regularization of gender equalities in time of peace in communities, for inequalities in time of peace fuel rape in times of war. Despite these laudable ways of viewing reparation, access of victims of conflictrelated sexual violence to these reparation efforts remains unsatisfactory (Eboe-Osuji 2011). The above three forms of reparation, referred to as traditional reparations, have been criticized as failing to address socioeconomic disparities and unequal power structures. The suggested idea is that reparation must be transformative to really be meaningful for women who have suffered not only the debilitations of war but also the sexual degrading treatment.

Transformative Reparation Transformative approach to reparations can be considered the best for victims of wartime sexual violence. A considerable body of literature such as Manjoo (2017) focuses on the fact that reparations must be transformative. Moreover, the principles regarding transformative reparations for violence against women are imbedded in several international human rights and humanitarian laws. Likewise, this approach has been acknowledged by the 2014 Guidance Note of the UN Secretary General on Reparations for Conflict-Related Sexual Violence (Ki-Moon 2014). For him, reparations should strive to be transformative in design, implementation, and impact. To reinforce that idea, scholars such as Stappers (2019) argue that reparations for wartime sexual violence crimes must be transformative, requiring a watchful and holistic style, a reparation that takes into consideration the deep injury instigated to the victims and the heavy societal stigma attached to the violence. Such transformative aspect must comprehend the political, social, economic, and cultural modifications needed to keep the events from happening again with victims playing a central role in the building up and implementation of the reparations, and their full recognition in society guaranteed. Thus Gender-just reparations should be transformative rather than merely corrective or restorative. Likewise, Eboe-Osuji (2011) insists that reparation must be transformative in that the vigorous concern must always remain the welfare of victims and not the academic fulfillment of well-meaning experts. The most knowledgeable reasoning of reparation will be of no significance if it does not, in practice, assist in improving the lives of the victims. It is how victims see the program of their reparation that matters, the rebuilding of hope and ensuring that the harms will not be repeated, is paramount. In addition, Manjoo (2017) posited that adequate reparations for women cannot simply be about returning them to where they were before the instance of violence, but instead should strive to have a transformative potential. For Maja (2013) reparation is transformative when victims participate in various techniques of the reparation process, in the design, implementation, and monitoring of the reparation program where they ought to be beneficiaries. Victims need to know that they have rights that their voice matters to the state, and their views are duly taken into consideration. As they participate, they can easily indicate their preferences, for instance, the facilities that meet their basic needs. Their needs are so immediate, and

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their bodies have endured a lot of atrocities, such that any delay plunges them into another trauma. Unfortunately, most of the times, African governments have ignored the transformative aspect of reparations. Leyh and Fraser (2019b) declare that the outcome of a transformative reparation is tremendous as the victims are revitalized and ready to start life again. This kind of reparation offers a new future for survivors, free from the conditions that occasioned the violations they underwent, which is contrary to the traditional vision of reparations. Indeed, reparations must not only eliminate the harm from the past but they have to eradicate dread and uncertainty for the future. According to Vasuki (2006) some countries have already made efforts to include the issue of transformative reparation in their proceedings and their domestic laws. For example, in Colombia, the Ministry of Justice and Law in 2011 formally assured to victims the guarantee of non-repetition. Also, in Haiti, Sierra Leone, and Timor Leste, implemented regulations on gender or sexual violence were explicitly incorporated into the mandate of the respective truth commissions and the violations were recognized as serious opportunities of investigation. Despite the important advances, several challenges lie ahead that restrain the promise of an “integral,” transformative reparation. Indeed, there is a substantial gap between the theory of reparation procedures and their application and implementation. Among the multiple obstacles preventing victims from obtaining transformative reparation are their own overwhelming silence, the non-reporting or the underreporting, or the reporting to the wrong agency, all due to stigma and ostracism. Another obstacle is a lack of awareness of human rights instruments by victims who do not even know that they are victims or can be considered as victims entitled to reparation. Some who are more courageous to voice their ordeals may face societal obstacles. They may be totally rejected by their own family members, who may refuse to associate themselves with the ugly event, and for these, the victims should be excluded and reparation should not even be on any agenda. Furthermore, when governments decide to set up laws and regulations for the reparation of the atrocities committed, the laws may not fully address the gravity of the rights violated, for, in the forum of legislation, women are either not represented or are underrepresented; thus, most of the victims are greatly missing, so reparation may not be effective and compensation will never meet the satisfaction of victims. Also, laws may be set on the books, but there may be a lot of delays in the implementation of laws related to victims of sexual violence. As a result, these victims can often be marginalized in reparation debates and benefits. Furthermore, the masculine culture is still prevalent in many legal bodies where women’s cases have been decided. O’Rourke and Swaine (2017) identified such an instance as they observed that both reparations and conflict-related sexual violence have been neglected in the postconflict compact of Northern Ireland, while CRSV received meager recognition. On the African continent, Zuma (2014) indicates that a number of countries have made reservations to certain articles of the Maputo Protocol on the grounds that certain principles of the Protocol are incompatible with their national law, tradition, religion, or culture. Some of those African countries are Cameroon, Namibia, South

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Africa, and Uganda. Other African countries have signed the Protocol but they are yet to ratify. Therefore, in places like DR Congo, for instance, it is reported that victims of sexual violence rarely obtain justice and never receive reparation as there is delayed and weak response from national authorities (FIDH 2013). In some cases, women may even be bold to endure family rejection and report their case to court expecting an approachable bench, but even there, they have to face another set of obstacles because many a times the ordeal endured by the women during war is considered as normal collateral damage of war without any need of reparation. In the law court, in order to prove their victimhood, many victims have argued their cases for days while describing the painful and degrading event. They may even be exposed to ridicule from judges and others in court as they recount their ordeal. They may have to encounter the complexity, opacity, and the cost of proceedings, which too often depend heavily on the efforts of the victims themselves and their lawyers, the fear of retaliation, and the absence of any genuine reparation. Premised on the above described situation, some women have preferred to die in silence than be humiliated a second time. Some sufferers may not receive any form of acknowledgment or apology. Gilmore (2019) declared that reparations can equally be too late, such as in the Bemba case at the International Criminal Court (ICC), that while the defendant was later acquitted, the reparation process started some 15 years after the mass rapes. This meant that many victims had died from sexual transmitted diseases or had been left in terrible hardship and rejected by their communities by the time reparations were about to be determined. Others may die without seeing justice. Their restorative justice may be totally absent, preventing them from enjoying their fundamental right to remedy. Despite the obstacles enumerated above, some have received some kind of reparation but many are suffering in silence or have passed away before justice was pronounced on their behalf. Experience has proven that reparation could not fully capture social transformation.

Conclusion In many armed conflicts, women endure two types of war: the lethal war and sexual violence, a weapon of war, unfortunately a common one employed by all parties to conflicts. The effects are still visible on women even though the guns are silent and countries are engaged in post crisis reconstruction. Reparation measures are necessary for the women whose rights were violated through the perpetration of sexual violence, which could have been avoided in armed conflicts. Many efforts have been put in place but a lot has to be done for women living in towns and cities across Africa, burdened by customary practices, ignorant of government services and international reparative mandates. In response to the above findings, this chapter asserts that victims of conflictrelated sexual violence should be considered as victims in need of transformative reparation. Moreover, their reparations should be equivalent, to the extent possible, to the benefits provided to other categories of wartime victims as well as those of

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ex-combatants. Furthermore, states should create adequate, realistic, effective, and timely reparation measures to victims of conflict-related sexual violence. A separate tribunal or chamber of the Court, which deals exclusively with the provision of reparations to victims, and which runs parallel to the criminal trial of the accused, would allow victims to be present and express themselves with boldness and confidentiality. In addition, the victims’ interest in reparation programs need to be closely connected with initiatives in truth-telling and official public apologies, promoting a respectful environment for their claims. All reparative programs should be constructed on a victim-centered approach and should prioritize survivor confidentiality, dignity, and respect in order to improve the quality of justice for victims of sexual violence in armed conflicts. Also, African states have to fully ratify the Maputo Protocol and lift their reservations (particularly those reinforcing gender inequality and suppressing women’s autonomy). Additionally, African governments should set up policies and guidelines to eradicate discriminatory customs glamorizing violence against women, which are so rampant in Africa. Moreover, states’ Ministries of Women and Gender Affairs should educate the population on women’s rights and the negative impacts of violence on their lives. The African Union should mandate African governments, through their Ministries of Defense, to not only incorporate in the codes of military service of the armed forces, the prohibition of sexual violence during conflicts in accordance with international humanitarian regulations, but outline measures for monitoring compliance and punishing noncompliance. All African States, which have not yet adopted the principle of the United Nations on reparative measures, should incorporate the United Nations 2005 guidelines in regard to reparation, rehabilitation, compensation, and guarantee of non-repetition in country legislation for victims of wartime sexual violence. Finally, victims must be informed about their rights and also about the laws and court proceedings and should be encouraged to come forward and report their ordeal in a conducive environment.

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Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The African Woman, Peace, Security, Governance: Conceptual and Theoretical Interrogation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . United Nations and the Women, Peace and Security Agenda . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . African Women in Peace, Security, and Governance . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . African Women’s Involvement in Peace and Security . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Moves to Sustain Higher Levels of Women Involvement . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Peacebuilding . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . United Nations Security Council (UNSC) Resolution 1325 and Its Effects on African Women . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Challenges of WPS Agenda . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

Drawing on relevant resolutions of the United Nations, this chapter examines the role of African women in peace, security, and governance and the impacts of these resolutions on African women’s engagement in peace processes. In achieving this objective, the chapter analyzes the relationship between peace, security, and governance, focusing on spaces created for women in peace, security, and governance environments. It also considers the possibilities of mitigating the negative impact of conflict on women. Through analysis of the peacebuilding roles of the UN and women in Africa, the decisive roles of women in society get some mention.

D. T. Agbalajobi (*) Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-Ife, Osun State, Nigeria e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_95

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Keywords

United Nations · Peace · Security and Governance · Women Peace Security (WPS) Agenda and UNSR1325

Introduction The spate of violence and conflict in many African countries “has torn apart her social fabric and also weakened the solidarity and human characteristics of African society” (Agbalajobi 2009). These conflicts were full of “destabilisation, displacement and infrastructural destruction, all of which have gender-specific consequences” (Agbalajobi 2009). These conflicts pose a challenge to peace, security, and governance at every point in time. Women have remained a minority of combatants and perpetrators of these acts of violence and conflicts, yet they suffer the most significant harm. The United Nations recognizes the need for the inclusion of women and gender considerations in decisionmaking as a means of strengthening the prospect for sustainable peace, hence the adoption of the United Nations Security Council Resolution 1325 on women, peace, and security in the year 2000 to further the inclusive participation of women beyond rhetoric. With the assumption of a linear relationship among peace, security, and governance, the inclusion and participation of women in peace negotiations help lasting peace and impacts on security and governance. This chapter focuses on two issues: How far has the adoption of specific Security Council Resolutions enhanced the role of African women in mediating peace and ensuring security and their participation in the governance process? Moreover, what are some of the challenges African women face in their quest to be fully involved in peace, security, and governance process, and how have they been able to mitigate such challenges? This chapter is in five sections, exploring relevant theoretical debates within the broad framework of the United Nations, peace, security, and governance. The first section explores concepts and the relationships of African women, peace, security, and governance with section two looking at the United Nations, Women Peace Security (WPS) agenda. In section three the author focuses on the role of African women in peace, security, and governance, while section four focuses on the United Nations Resolutions 1325 as the flagship of the WPS agenda, its impacts, and its support for initiatives seeking African solutions to African problems, challenges, and achievements. The conclusion summarizes the significant findings and their implications for the future of African women in peace, security, and governance.

The African Woman, Peace, Security, Governance: Conceptual and Theoretical Interrogation An African woman is a woman born in, lives in, and is from the continent of Africa (Hay 1988; Hunt 1989, 1996; Hetherington 1993; Coquery-Vidrovitch and Raps 1997; Sheldon 2005). Iman (2015) elucidates what it means to be an African woman,

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and to him, this entwines with the problematic interpretation of cultural values, customary institutions, and such beliefs. Iman infers that the identity of an African woman or who an African woman is can be interpreted differently by each individual. This chapter adopts the second perspective of an African woman, which is as a female of African origin. When seen as a female of African origin, the African woman is seen rightly as a person who has not only duties but also rights; not only responsibilities but also privileges in her own right and as an individual with potential, ideas, wishes, choices, and interests. This view has become popular in recent times. It has been the result of many decades of struggle for the recognition of women (Holt 1999; Gumisai 2005; Rubio-Marín 2014; United Nations 2014). Besides, women have taken on new roles in society and in the labor force in many post-conflict countries (Tripp 2015, p. 5), which account for the change in the perception of African women. Kumalo (2015) also affirms Tripp assertion that African women have played a role in bridging clan divisions and acting as mediators in the post-conflict process. African women are recognized as having a crucial role to play in achieving lasting peace. According to Francois Delattre, the permanent representative of France to the UN Security Council, this new recognition of women’s roles means the future of Africa is in the hand of its people, especially its women (Permanent Mission of France to the UN 2016). Hence, African women are not just victims in conflict ravaging the continent but stakeholders in the peace of Africa tomorrow. Peace as a concept does not concur only with definitions or grammatical inferences of that word but also with sociological, political, and philosophical meanings of it. Peace could be the “absence of violence” (Galtung 1969), in its purest form, but it is never in absolute terms. Until issues get out of hand completely, peace is always assumed while of course, the evident absence of chaos does not necessarily establish the existence of absolute peace. Peace, in most cases, is relative depending on what is measured. In other words, peace could be the norm where there are no “peace leakages” or the restoration of the norm, where there are apparent leakages in the peaceful space and needs regaining. Peace is a social condition that guarantees the prosperity and well-being of individuals and society at large. Miller and King (2003) define peace as “a political condition that ensures justice and social stability through formal and informal institutions, practices and norms.” On the other hand, within a broader perspective, Galtung (1990) had earlier outlined two dimensions of peace. The first is negative peace, that is, the absence of chaotic events, and the second is positive peace, that is, the absence of injustice. Peace is not only the absence of violent disruptions but also the presence of social justice (UN 1997, 1998, 2019; Vincent 2001; Ledesma 2007). Security is a critical concern in negotiating peace, and a central focus of peace negotiations and peace processes (Pospisil and Bell 2018). That is why about 85% of peace agreements from 1990 to 2016 include situations that address issues of physical security (Pospisil and Bell 2018). Pospisil and Bell observed that security is particularly vital for women to address in peace negotiation because it affects all aspects of their lives. Without physical security, no other security is feasible. Views of security changed after the cold war and security are now viewed from the individual’s perspective rather than from States’ perspectives, and placing people in the security equation is helpful to Africa’s quest for nonviolent solutions to

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security issues (Gadin 2010). Kofi Annan (1998) cited in George-Genyi (2013) emphasized the human perspective of security by placing security beyond mere conflict or absence of it. Annan believed that lasting peace is a vital component of security and should extend to all areas of human endeavor. Annan also believed that starvation and poverty would stand in the way of security, peacebuilding, and justice. Human security issues through the lenses of Hudson (2005) show that the main point is to understand security comprehensively and holistically in terms of the reallife, everyday experiences of human beings, and complex social and economic relations as these exist within global structures. It, therefore, becomes imperative to view security in terms of patterns of systemic inclusion and exclusion of people (Thomas 2002). The twin goals of protection and empowerment “freedom from fear” and “freedom from want” (Human Development Report 1994, p. 3) thus represent the core principles of ensuring survival, meeting basic needs (protecting livelihood), and safeguarding the human dignity of the most vulnerable groups in society. In this way, emphasis shifts from a security dilemma of states to a survival dilemma of people. “Governance” refers to the system of rules and procedures that people use to resolve collective disputes and distribute public goods. A growing body of research suggests that failures and weaknesses of governance are strongly associated with an increased risk of armed violence. When governance systems work well, they can prevent or resolve many of the problems that can give rise to conflicts before violence is triggered (Seyle 2017). Furthermore, governance systems that contribute to stable peace would be inclusive, accountable, and supportive of development and that lead to “a mutually reinforcing virtuous cycle that reduces the risk of violence” (Seyle 2017). The United Nations Economic Commission for Africa (UNECA 2019) pins the success of sustainability on peace, security, and stability but observed that low-income States with weak and fragile governance are persistent African situations. As a result of the many efforts of the United Nations, many States in Africa are through various international arrangements obliged to promote good governance and ensure peace and stability in their respective countries. Where there is no peace, invariably, there will be insecurities of various descriptions, and that does not make for good governance. The relationship between these variables of peace, security, and good governance necessarily is derived and linear. The linearity of peace, security, and governance could be established in principle through the examination of the following three statements: (a) Good governance leads to peace and security (b) Security leads to peace and good governance (c) Peace leads to security and good governance Summing these three statements, the more peace there is, the more security and the more good governance there will be. The inverse is also correct in that the less peace there is, the more insecurity or, the more insecurity, the less peace there will be. The level of peace and security, therefore, could be “linearly proportional” to

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good governance and that is one of the reasons to look at how these variables interact in Africa as provided for by UN Security Council Resolution 1325 (UN 2006; Bussmann 2007; Kartas 2007; Abramov 2009). It is valuable for sociopolitical reasons, perhaps, to understand that peace, security, and governance are negotiable and that women have the insights and leverage in negotiating these, although they are hardly involved in calibrating or recalibrating these variables. One possible reason for the lower involvement of women in deliberations relating to peace, security, and governance in Africa could be the patriarchal nature of Africa’s institutions. However, beyond that, the levels of security or insecurity dictate such involvements as well. Security at the strategic level would necessarily involve security professionals and tacticians to amass information and plan accordingly. African women are hardly in the security industry as African society considers some careers to be feminine and others masculine (Zheng 2003; Olonisakin and Okech 2011; Alaga 2010; Martin and Barnard 2013). The choice of careers is usually affected by many factors, including the experience of other women in male-dominated industries; inadequate accommodation of women’s unique physical identity; work-life balance needs. Also, essential influencers are cultural standards that negate the value of women’s contributions and voices, restrictions on women’s mobility, and the traditional exclusion of women from political arenas (Agbalajobi 2010; Martin and Barnard 2013). This situation is also real for African women who populate administrative and commercial positions in industries and life (Boserup et al. 2013; Abramovitz 2017).

United Nations and the Women, Peace and Security Agenda The aftermath of the cold war and its attendant disproportionate impact on women and girls engendered a movement by African stakeholders to push for global attention to the issues of women in armed conflict (Lyytikäinen 2007; AUC 2016). Women and girls had multiple, or various, vulnerable situations and 15 members of the Security Council also shared this view. The members of the Security Council did not just see women as victims. However, they also saw women as having important roles to play in conflict prevention, resolution of conflict, and the building of peace (Osagioduwa and Omotoso 2019). This view of women led to the Windhoek Declaration of May 2000, which was championed by Namibia, and it was an encouragement for the United Nations Security Council to adopt the first landmark resolution on women, peace, and security that same year (AUC 2016). The Women, Peace and Security (WPS) agenda of the United Nations came up as a result of the various advocacies by women civil society organizations, and it became the structure for the management of gendered impacts of war, violence, and security practices (Basu 2016). The WPS agenda developed a structured plan at global, continental, and regional levels, which became the international standard for addressing issues relating to gendered violence in Africa and elsewhere. The WPS agenda consists of various security resolutions starting with the UNSCR 1325, which was passed by the United Nations Security Council in 2000.

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The core themes of WPS since the year 2000 are premised on these three pillars: participation, protection, and gender perspective (Kirby and Shepherd 2016). While sometimes maybe four with the inclusion of “normative dimension.” These pillars received more attention in the nine subsequent resolutions that together form the policy structure of the agenda; the relevant resolutions are UNSCR 1820 (2008), UNSCR 1888 (2009), UNSCR 1889 (2009), UNSCR 1960 (2010), UNSCR 2106 (2013), UNSCR 2122 (2013), UNSCR 2242 (2015), UNSCR 2272 (2016), and UNSCR 2467 (2019) (Shepherd 2016; NGO Working Group on Women Peace and Security 2019). At all levels, African nations have steadily built up an extensive body of instruments and policies useful and relevant to the WPS agenda. At the continental level, the Protocol to the African Union, “The Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights on the Rights of Women in Africa” (also known as the Maputo Protocol) is one and the “Solemn Declaration on Gender Equality in Africa” (SDGEA) is the other dominant instrument. Other instruments and policies at the regional level are such as the Southern African Development Community (SADC) Gender Monitor, which is a vital monitoring mechanism (AUC 2016). Other UN agencies, organs, conventions, conferences, United Nations General Assembly, resolutions, and reports had a significant impact on developing the WPS agenda. The UNSCR 1325 was part of the global commitment and instruments to the WPS agenda. However, also, there is the CEDAW General Recommendation 30 that links the WPS agenda to CEDAW, including measures to ensure the protection of women during and after conflict. There are also Continental Commitments and Instruments (African Union) such as the Agenda 2063 and First 10 Year Implementation Plan (2015), among others. There are also regional instruments and commitments in which regions have taken into consideration their regional peculiarities. For instance, while the Great Lakes has focused on the prevention of sexual and genderbased violence, the Intergovernmental Authority for Development (IGAD) and the Southern African Development Community (SADC) have emphasized inclusion and participation. Also, while the general focus at the continental level is the building of instruments, policy frameworks are the focus of some regions. Hence, various measures were put in place to ensure the implementation of the WPS agenda, taking into consideration each nation’s unique context. WPS agenda is a strategic tool used by women activists in conflict zones by giving them a voice before officials and policy-makers (Martin de Almagro 2018). In Burundi, the agenda was prevalent among local women organizations that, together with some international NGOs, used it as an advocacy tool to mainstream the general elections in 2005 and 2010 through a campaign titled “Yes, she also can” (Martin de Almagro 2018). The Liberian National Action Plan (LNAP) also promotes the role of women organizations. Women organizations and government staff drafted the plans in 2009 in an inclusive process involving a governmental commission, a parliamentary committee, and CSOs. The same structure and inclusive approach emerged in the drafting of the 2010 Democratic Republic of Congo NAP (CNAP). Furthermore, a national steering committee, in which 10 out of 40 members represent CSOs, monitors the implementation of the 2010 CNAP, revised in 2013

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(Martin de Almagro 2018). On a broad scale, a global study undertaken by United Nations Women (UNWOMEN) in 2015 identified that “88% of all peace processes with UN engagement in 2014 included regular consultations with women’s organisations, a notable rise from 50% in 2011” (Martin de Almagro 2018). A profound criticism of the progress made so far is that report admits that these consultations are sometimes just procedural and there is no conscious preparation, representativeness, and follow-up.

African Women in Peace, Security, and Governance African Women’s Involvement in Peace and Security Women are involved in different aspects of conflicts in Africa. Women rarely initiate violent conflict, yet they suffer its worst consequences on multiple fronts: physically, economically, socially, and politically. Several instances of African women’s involvement in peace, security, and governance would include the following nonexhaustive list: The Solidarity for African Women’s Rights (SOAWR) which combines 47 women organizations across 24 African countries (SOAWR 2015) within the continent which works to achieve universal ratification of the AU Protocol on the Rights of Women (The Communication Initiative Network 2011). Another example is the International Conference on the Great Lakes Region (ICGLR) which is an intergovernmental organization of 11 countries in the Great Lakes Region, working toward the prevention of sexual violence. The Somalia Sixth Clan is another one formed as a result of various peace talks engendered toward reconciliation where women succeeded in having “10% quota for women in the Transitional National Assembly” (UNIFEM 2006). Besides, Somalia women participated as delegates and observers to the Intergovernmental Authority on Development (IGAD). They led negotiations from 2002 to 2004, which led to the passage of “12% quota for women in the new National Assembly and a 25% quota in the regional assemblies” (UNIFEM 2006). Another example is the Arusha Peace and Reconciliation Agreement and Implementation (1996–2014). The process began in 1996 as a result of the war of 1993– 2008 and featured the Burundian Women’s Voices, where 19 Burundi organisations sent representatives to the peace negotiation. Each of these women organisations sent two delegates each who participated in the event (Hernández 2017). There was a direct representation of women at the negotiation table. Women and civil society organizations were observers of the process. Women took part in the public consultations on transitional justice, women were members of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, and they also achieved 30% quota for women’s political representation in the constitution (Inclusive Peace & Transition Initiative 2018). The militaries and peace support operations is also a level of engagement of African women in the peace process playing essential roles in conflict and postconflict environments as either soldiers or arbitrators.

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The increasing humanitarian focus informs the push to have women play a more significant role in peacekeeping missions during post-conflict reconstruction. Provisions within international policy frameworks, such as Beijing Platform for Action (BPFA) and UNSCR 1325, have also demanded greater vigilance – mainly when peacekeepers engage in crimes against women. Notably, “the South African National Defence Force (SANDF) represents one of the few militaries on the African continent that has made significant strides to ensure gender parity” (Memela-Motumi 2011, p. 13). In the peace-making processes in Africa from 1992 to 2011 women were only signatories to peace agreements in the DRC (5%); lead mediators in DRC’s North Kivu and South Kivu talks (20%, respectively) and Kenya (33%). Women were part of negotiating teams in Burundi (2%), DRC (12%), Darfur (8%), Uganda (9%), and Kenya (25%) (AUC 2016, p. 20). In the Mali peace process of 2015, 11 women participated (three from government and eight from civil society). In South Sudan, where the process is still underway, three of the ten Sudanese Peoples Liberation Movement – in Opposition, and three members of the government’s delegation are women (African Union Commission (AUC) 2016, p. 21). Women in peace processes not only require the nurturing of collaborative processes but “also benefits immensely from social networking and solidarity initiatives” (African Centre for the Constructive Resolution of Disputes (ACCORD) 2011, p. 40). After most wars in Africa, women are essential interlocutors for peace-making predominantly at a local level. At formal peace-making and peace-building processes, however, they seem to be marginalized, notwithstanding the loud rhetoric about the need to include women at formal peace tables. The adoption of the UN Security Council Resolution 1325 on women, peace, and security calls on actors to involve women in peace settlements. For the first time in UN history, Resolution 1325 acknowledges the contribution of women as peacekeepers and agents of change for peace beyond their status of victims of armed conflict. It enables women’s organizations to gain leverage on getting access to official peace negotiations.

Moves to Sustain Higher Levels of Women Involvement Women involvements in conflicts resolution and peacebuilding have been sustained given the various initiatives across the continent training women to become mediators (e.g., by the AU, ACCORD, and by the Department of International Relations and Cooperation in South Africa) (Hendricks 2017). The establishment of the Africa Standby Force to provide rapid deployment capability and capacity for peace support operations has also gone a long way to enhance the involvement of women in the peace process (Neethling 2009, p. 14). The activities undertaken by women vary from technical briefings to governments and technical support in implementing the relevant Resolutions from drafting to monitoring and applications of action plans. (Track II diplomacy).

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Local people are often not able to address all the drivers and dimensions of conflict on their own (Catherine 2006), hence the need for support from others. One example of a solidarity group or networking initiative is Mano River Women’s Peace Network (MARWOPNET), which brought women from Liberia, Guinea, and Sierra Leone together in efforts to create peace in Liberia. The collective voice of these women became a dominant force in the Liberian peace process, to the extent that a delegation became one of the signatories of the 2003 Accra Comprehensive Peace Agreement between the Liberian government, the rebels, and political parties. This cooperation accounts for the success of the strategy. Another strategy adopted is the Track II diplomacy which was also successful. Track II diplomacy refers to peacemaking and peacebuilding initiatives by nonstate actors who are outside formal governmental power structures (Naidoo 2000). The women’s use of Track II processes has resulted in some concrete and constructive influences on political negotiation, albeit, with its limitations. Similar obstacles confront African countries despite differences in culture and politics.

Peacebuilding In general, according to King (2005), the term peacebuilding refers to policies and programs to restore stability and effective social, political, and economic institutions after a war or severe upheaval. The term peacebuilding may have first been used in UN operations in Namibia in 1978. Secretary-General Boutros BoutrosGhali cited the concept in the 1992 and 1995 editions of An Agenda for Peace, and the United Nations subsequently pursued initiatives with aspects of peacebuilding (King 2005). Boutros-Ghali (1995) defines peacebuilding as “comprehensive efforts to identify and support structures which will consolidate peace and advance a sense of confidence and wellbeing among people.” One example is the Peacebuilding Support Offices under the Department of Political Affairs, first operative in Liberia in the late1990s and later in Guinea-Bissau and the Central African Republic. Peacebuilding involves restructuring political and social institutions, and women cannot be left out of its implementation for it to be successful. According to the United Nations Report on Human Security and Peacebuilding, peacebuilding as a concept gained traction in policy circles after the end of the Cold War. At its root lay the idea that peace was more than merely an “absence of war” or violent conflict, but that it constituted a positive state of being that needed to be built and reinforced. Peacebuilding aimed to discover and address the proximate and root causes of conflict – the intention being to address these before they led to a return to conflict after the tentative or formal conclusion of a peace agreement (United Nations UNIES 2009). The UN Peace Building Commission puts together a range of measures to reduce the risks of conflicts. These measures include, for example, security sector reform, elections, human rights monitoring, and institutional capacity development.

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Peacebuilding could be a bridge to reforms in gender issues, human rights, and other forms of democracy (King 2005). Peacebuilding aims to create and foster stability and adequate functioning of a region or nation-state. Although peacebuilding is often understood to be the final phase of a conflict, such wide-ranging processes can start amid violent conflict. The conflict-transformation theorist, John Paul Lederach, and others have proposed that the term should read as one word, “peacebuilding,” an idea that is gaining currency in some circles of peace and conflict studies. Peacebuilding represents the phase of the peace process that takes place after peacemaking and peacekeeping. It occurs after cessation of hostilities. Several interagency organizations and civil society appreciate and recognize the comprehensive nature of peacebuilding. The Beijing Declaration and Platform for Action advocated for equal access to issues of peace and conflicts resolution. Women, like men, have a right to participate in the promotion of peace, prevention and resolution of conflicts, and in rebuilding societies after a conflict (Lukong 2016). Also, women have a right to demand justice for crimes committed against them, and to receive redress and restitution for damages they have suffered. The belief, therefore, is that exclusion from political and public decision-making, including issues of peace and war, and exclusion from conflict resolution is injustice (UN Women 2015, p. 3). According to Lukong (2016), women were already subconsciously or consciously involved in peacebuilding decision-making processes, especially under the aegis of women organizations. However, patriarchy and marginalization of women existed as challenges, and these continue to impede women’s peacebuilding efforts, even in contemporary times (Lukong 2016). According to Anderlini (2004), women bring a critical perspective to the planning and implementation of programs, have a positive influence as members of the security forces – including peacekeeping units, and are critical to building peace and security. African women have played important roles in peace, security, and good governance but their peacebuilding roles stand out more. Until recently, the significance of women in the resolution of conflict and peacebuilding was overlooked entirely. The torments resulting from acute conflict affect men and women differently, and their subsequent roles in peacebuilding also differ. African women participated in every stratum of African life before colonialism (Amadiume 1987; St. Clair 1994) but colonialism radically masculinized and feminized specific roles of men and women (Shulika 2016). However, despite the antics of the colonialists to limit the women’s active role in political and economic issues, African women remained strategically active. They were able to establish and join resistance movements to fight for political independence through different community mobilization schemes (Amadiume 1997; Tamale 2000; Isike 2009). Literature abounds on the consciousness of women’s role in Africa in various countries where women work their way into taking more active peace roles (Rehn and Sirleaf 2002; Powley 2003; Anderlini 2004; El-Bushra 2007; Fuest 2008, 2009; Alaga 2011) and to position themselves for greater participation in governance. Such

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involvements set the stage for influencing the peaceful resolutions of conflicts and safeguarding societal peace and stability (Shulika 2016). Women are involved and seek more involvement because most atrocious activities of warlike sexual brutality, other physical and psychological abuses target women (Rehn and Sirleaf 2002; El-Bushra 2007). Powley (2003), however, noted that though the Rwanda genocide was a tragedy, it, however, gave women a dramatic space to become pillars of longer-term democratization and sustainable peace. This same experience holds for Liberian women as a study on women in war demonstrates that war may also bring gains. Tripp (2015) asserts that part of the gains war brought is the advancement in women’s right, especially by countries that were previously at war along with significant social and cultural transformations. According to Tripp (2015), these transformations came about as a result of various conflict resolution initiatives such as the UN and regional peacemaking and efforts, UN sanctions, peacekeeping interventions, among others. Besides, one of the most significant advances made in the post-conflict era is the increase of women representation in decision-making at national, regional, and international governance and institutions (Tripp et al. 2009; Bauer and Britton 2006). Fuest (2008, 2009) highlights how the political and economic roles performed by Liberian women seem more significant than before the war noting that some women have been able to use the openings the war provided for them gainfully individually and collectively. She, however, notes that there is the influence of international peacebuilding and development initiative in this. With Africans in the lead, King (2005) says, “shifts are underway in recognizing that peace cannot occur without consequential involvement of women” (2005). In Africa as elsewhere, peacebuilding must go beyond sorting “political and institutional deficits” (Llamazares 2005) to healing lives damaged by protracted conflicts. Women are highly visible in peace movements and more often than men resist increases in military expenditures and the operation of new weapons. Despite all the obstacles of gender prejudice, women’s interest in peace has been compelling. Women are gradually becoming visible at the forefront of movements for nonviolence and peace worldwide. Women usually assume roles of peacemakers in families, in communities and societies, even though they have often always been victims (Pankhurst 2003; Sokoloff and Dupont 2005). This development is evident in the active role women have played in the peace process in Liberia, Kenya, Uganda, and Rwanda.

United Nations Security Council (UNSC) Resolution 1325 and Its Effects on African Women Long before the United Nations, women played significant roles in conflict resolution, albeit largely unrecognized. The recognition of women’s involvement in conflict resolution beyond being mere victims is due largely to the efforts of the United Nations. Though this has been achieved on many fronts, the UNSC Resolution 1325 (which was adopted on the 30th of October 2000) stands out significantly.

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It matches the experiences of women in times of war and violence with commensurate efforts to maintain peace and stability. After the adoption of UNSC Resolution 1325, the Security Council passed seven new resolutions with a focus on women’s participation in peace and security. The work of women’s organizations began to bear fruit as the United Nations took shape after World War II. There were delegations from Brazil, Mexico, and the Dominican Republic, with added support from Indian and North American NGOs. They pushed and forged recognition of the linkage between human rights and women’s rights. After that, the UN Charter that was signed in San Francisco in 1945 included the phrase “equal rights of men and women.” The adoption of UN Security Council Resolution 1325 (2000) affected Africa such that in July 2016, 19 of the AU Member States developed and adopted 1325 National Action Plans (NAPs). This adoption of Resolution 1325 by a mere 30% of African States shows that much still requires to be achieved. These member states made strides in putting in place gender equality legal and policy provisions and gender-responsive laws and policies for peacebuilding purposes. This response occurred through the launch of the Gender, Peace, and Security Program (2015– 2020) of the AU Peace and Security Department. Also, member states have taken steps to translate the resolution into action plans across various platforms worldwide. Africa has domesticated UNSCR 1325 seeing 19 AU member state as at 2016, developed and adopted 1325 NAPs, and through Solemn Declaration on Gender Equality in Africa (SDGEA) provided for reporting on its implementation (African Union Commission 2016). Given that African countries experience rampant armed conflicts which lead to instability, this directly impacts on human rights of the citizens with women and girls being disproportionally affected. The adoption of the UN Security Council Resolution brings to fore the need to better understand and address the multiple role women can play as drivers of conflict as well as the positive potential women harness as agents for peace. UNSCR 1325 marked its 15th anniversary in October 2015, and it is noteworthy that African States have embedded UNSCR 1325 in the continental, regional, and national legal and policy instruments and programs. African Union also made provisions for an annual reporting mechanism on women’s empowerment and equality through the Solemn Declaration on Gender Equality in Africa. Moreover, some African member states instituted special measures and quotas, thereby increasing the representation of women in decision-making bodies and within the security sector and peacekeeping forces. For instance, the African Union Commission (2016, p. 16) identified that Burkina Faso has 9.4% of women in the National Assembly and as at the 2015 election has made a particular provision of 30% for legislative candidates quotas. Burundi has 36.4% of women in the National Assembly at the 2015 election and made for a particular provision of 30% reserved seats. Kenya has 19.7% of women in the National Assembly as of 2013 election and made provision for 18 seats reserved. Resolution 1325 has been instrumental to the women, peace, and security policy agenda. It has, to an extent, been able to authenticate the pushback and unleash the

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leadership potential of African women as active agents of positive peace. Considerably, a number of the African Member States have registered some achievements in the area of UNSCR1325 implementation. Stakeholders generally agree that Resolution 1325 has been instrumental in bringing women and peace issues to an appreciable level of importance worldwide. Hilker (2015) identifies the significant recognition of women issues that arose from the adoption of Resolution 1325 as a build-up of and a boost to feminist researches on the same issue and has led to higher levels of peace activism. Hudson (2013) also claims that Resolution 1325 has “increased awareness among international actors about women and gender issues in situations of armed conflict.” According to Shepherd (2011), the adoption of Resolution 1325 has enlarged the understanding of women’s roles and experiences of conflict. Regional and global mobility of activism was made possible by Resolution 1325 and has led to more significant advances in legislation on women, peace, and security in different countries with Colombia, Israel, and Liberia as examples (Anderlini and Tirman 2010). However, these results are yet to be achieved in most other places (Pratt 2011; Farr 2011). Across many nations, funding for issues relating to women, peace, and security has improved as a result of Resolution 1325 and many countries have created National Plans for women protection and peace issues (Hilker 2015).

Challenges of WPS Agenda The WPS agenda, though was seen as potentially one of the most promising developments in the field of peace and security, however, had its challenges as the promises of WPS agenda remain largely unfulfilled (Cohn 2017). The belief is that this is due to massive resistance to its implementation, despite heroic efforts made by everyone from grassroots activists to high-level feminist bureaucrats. Also, while implementing the WPS agenda, political institutions were not given adequate considerations, which are vital in addressing the design and rules of new institutions; this according to Thomson (2019) encourages thinking of women as owners of rights that can and should be exercised in the public sphere. It reminds in other words that women can be full participants in rebuilding society, not merely passive victims requiring support which was missing. There are also challenges of accountability gaps, data gaps, analytical gaps, and the implementation gap within the Council. These challenges emerge in the problems associated with the inconsistent integration of WPS commitments in the Council’s reports, missions, briefings, presidential statements, and resolutions (Peace Women n.d.). As argued by Laura Shepherd, already in the title of the agenda, the word “women” indicates that WPS privileges gender above other power relations, such as race, class, or sexuality. This privileging is necessary in order to (re)produce the two central subject positions of “women as victims of CRSV (conflict-related sexual violence)” and “women as peacebuilders and agents of change.” Despite efforts made to reinforce UNSCR 1325 and the subsequent introduction of other SCRs 1820, 1888, 1889, 1960, 2106, 2122, 2242, 2272, 2467, and 2493,

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there are challenges to the full implementation of the resolutions and the wider WPS agenda given the peculiarities of the various countries on the continent of Africa and more importantly in the area of implementation, impact, and monitoring. According to the African Union Commission (2016, p. 9), the monitoring and reporting of the UNSCR commitments have been limited and insufficient. Langdon (2019) also avers that the lack of accountability mechanisms, monitoring measures, and disciplinary cautions is a significant barrier to change that comes from the text itself. Scholars have reported that there is a need to put in place accountability mechanisms to ensure monitoring and reporting on UNSCR 1325 (Siider 2013; ElMahdy 2016; Husain 2016). This lack of monitoring is evident in the poorly implemented processes in the day-to-day work of the UN (Deiana and McDonagh 2018). Another challenge of the UNSCR is the failure to elucidate or attempt to implement structural changes. According to Langdon (2019), the UNSC Resolution 1325 aimed at collaborations between international agencies, NGOs, and others, especially in post-conflict territories but fails to address gender inequality in the long run (Cohn et al. 2010). The UNSCR 1325 is said to ignore the structural changes needed to allow women to add progressive and transformative discourse (O’Connor 2014). The challenges also include lack of sufficient funds to secure safe convening spaces for women to get together and unite their efforts and inadequate funding for the implementation of UNSCR 1325 by governments and especially by civil society organizations (CSOs) (Cabrera-Balleza 2019). In this regards, there is a deficit in meeting the prescribed 15% of all peacebuilding and recovery funding to gender equality. Other challenges are the lack of political will to include women in peace and transitional processes. These include difficulties in building solidarity and trust among women due to diversity in political affiliations, ethnicities, backgrounds. Another is societal and cultural barriers that hamper women’s active engagement in the political and public spheres. Women’s lack of knowledge and skills and attitudes needed to be politically active is yet another factor. The rise of armed conflicts and its impact on women’s security and freedom of mobility is equally an issue. All these challenges make Resolution 1325 and other efforts equivalent to stereotyping women’s role in conflict and peace as the subtle, peaceful, and innocent gender. These have made it difficult for women to adequately perform their roles as peacebuilders and peacemaker within the context explained above. Resolution 1325 is not without criticisms, and one of such is the limited engagement of men in the implementation of the WPS agenda has been a big obstacle (ACCORD 2011; Fellin 2018). Another criticism of Resolution 1325 is that it does not have the force of any law to compel its adoption or punish errant nations.

Conclusion By building on the vast literature on African women, peace, security, and governance, the study identified that the relationship between them is direct. Women are at grave danger in times of violent disruptions in Africa, and their roles in peacebuilding are invaluable.

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Resolution 1325 has been useful in empowering women inclusion in peacebuilding and other extended ways. The progress recorded in women’s involvement in the peace process from the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Burundi, Kenya, Darfur, South Africa, and more has been sustained by the various initiatives to get women trained as peace mediators by various civil society organizations. African member states of the United Nations still have to do more. There are major but surmountable obstacles on the path of actualizing the WPS agenda, which requires a more systematic, consistent, and comprehensive implementation by the Security Council and African government. Hence addressing the structure of the WPS and its political institutions will encourage us to think of women as owners of rights that can and should be exercised in the public sphere. Despite efforts made to reinforce UNSCR 1325 and the subsequent introduction of other Security Council Resolutions, there are challenges to the full implementation of the resolutions and the wider WPS agenda given the peculiarities of the various countries on the continent of Africa and more importantly in the area of implementation, impact, and monitoring. According to the African Union Commission (2016, p. 9), the monitoring and reporting of the UNSCR commitments have been limited and insufficient. Langdon (2019) also avers that the lack of accountability mechanisms, monitoring measures, and disciplinary cautions is a significant barrier to change that comes from the text itself. Scholars have reported that there is a need to put in place accountability mechanisms to ensure monitoring and reporting on UNSCR 1325 (Siider 2013; ElMahdy 2016; Husain 2016). This lack of monitoring is evident in the poorly implemented processes in the day-to-day work of the UN (Deiana and McDonagh 2018). Another challenge of the UNSCR is the failure to elucidate or attempt to implement structural changes. According to Langdon (2019), the UNSC Resolution 1325 aimed at collaborations between international agencies, NGOs, and others, especially in post-conflict territories but fails to address gender inequality in the long run (Cohn et al. 2010). The UNSCR 1325 is said to ignore the structural changes needed to allow women to add progressive and transformative discourse (O’Connor 2014). The challenges also include lack of sufficient funds to secure safe convening spaces for women to get together and unite their efforts and inadequate funding for the implementation of UNSCR 1325 by governments and especially by civil society organizations (CSOs) (Cabrera-Balleza 2019). In this regards, there is a deficit in meeting the prescribed 15% of all peacebuilding and recovery funding to gender equality. Other challenges are the lack of political will to include women in peace and transitional processes. These include difficulties in building solidarity and trust among women due to diversity in political affiliations, ethnicities, backgrounds. Another is societal and cultural barriers that hamper women’s active engagement in the political and public spheres. Women’s lack of knowledge and skills and attitudes needed to be politically active is yet another factor. The rise of armed conflicts and its impact on women’s security and freedom of mobility is equally an issue. All these challenges make Resolution 1325 and other efforts equivalent to stereotyping

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women’s role in conflict and peace as the subtle, peaceful and innocent gender. These have made it difficult for women to adequately perform their roles as peacebuilders and peacemaker within the context explained above. Resolution 1325 is not without criticisms, and one of such is the limited engagement of men in the implementation of the WPS agenda has been a big obstacle (ACCORD 2011; Fellin 2018). Another criticism of Resolution 1325 is that it does not have the force of any law to compel its adoption or punish errant nations.

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Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . African Conflicts and Its Gendered Impact on Women . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Emergence of UNSCR 1325: Conceptual Issues . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The African Union, Regional Economic Communities, and National Implementation of UNSCR 1325 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Implementing UNSCR 1325 in Africa: Progress and Problems . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

The adoption of United Nations Security Council Resolution 1325 (UNSCR 1325) in October 2000 attracted widespread commendation from African women groups and civil society organizations as the first international framework recognizing the interlinkage between women, peace, and security and a major milestone in global efforts to achieving gender equality and better status for women globally. UNSCR 1325 is important to Africa in particular considering the prevalence of violence, conflict, and wars on the continent and its dire consequences for women, men, girls, and boys. Women and girls in Africa suffer from widespread atrocities, discrimination, and violence including sexual violence, rape, and mutilation, to mention a few. Nevertheless, African governments, the African Union, and Regional Economic Communities have put in some effort to achieve the goals of the resolution and have integrated the principles and provisions of the resolutions into their legal and policy framework and structures at the national, regional, and continental levels including the adoption of national and regional action plans for implementing UNSCR 1325. However, several O. A. Ilesanmi (*) Research and Studies Department, Nigerian Institute of International Affairs, Victoria Island, Lagos, Nigeria © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_94

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years after the adoption of the resolution, the goals of the resolution cannot be said to have been effectively achieved in Africa as women and girls still experience widespread violence, discrimination, and inequality. Using a desk review of literature, the paper examines the implementation of UNSCR 1325 in Africa, with a view to highlighting its impact, successes, limitations, and challenges on the continent. Keywords

UNSCR 1325 · United Nations · Security Council · Africa · Women · Security · Peace

Introduction United Nations Security Council Resolution 1325 (UNSCR 1325) occupies a significant role in the quest to achieve gender equality, women’s rights, and social justice in Africa. Since the emergence of UNSCR 1325 in October 2000 as an international framework, African gender activists and women groups have employed the resolution as a tool for achieving these goals. Armed conflict and wars in Africa have had devastating effect on women and girls on the continent. Indeed, the African continent has been bedeviled with widespread violence and wars, ethno-religious violence, refugee crisis, and terrorism with dire consequences for women, men, boys, and girls. Conflicts negatively impact women and girls as they are faced with increased risk of sexual violence; disruption of livelihoods; lack of access to healthcare, education, and economic resources; as well as heightened level of care burdens (Buscher 2009; Arnett 2015). The end of the Cold War signaled a change in the nature of armed conflict from a prevalence of interstate conflicts to intrastate conflicts characterized by civil wars, insurrections, and insurgencies to mention but a few. Armed conflicts and violence remain a critical challenge to achieving sustainable peace, security, and development in Africa. Consequently, the African Union (AU) and Regional Economic Communities (RECs) in Africa have placed a high premium on conflict prevention, conflict management, and peace processes by developing continental frameworks and establishing institutions to address the threat violent conflicts pose. Furthermore, the African Union and Regional Economic Communities such as the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS) have integrated UNSCR 1325 into their structures and developed instruments and policies to enhance the status of African women. A number of African countries have developed National Action Plans for the implementation of UNSCR 1325 in line with the directive of the United Nations Security Council. However, the goals of the resolution has not been successfully achieved in several African countries, as women continue to suffer from widespread sexual and gender-based violence, mass atrocities, inequality, marginalization, and discrimination. This chapter is an exposition of what UNSCR 1325 represents to African women, highlighting the impact of UNSCR 1325 on African

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women within the complex web of political, social, and economic spaces while highlighting the successes, failures, limitations, and challenges of implementing the resolution in Africa.

African Conflicts and Its Gendered Impact on Women Since the end of the Cold War, Africa continues to experience a disproportionate degree of violent conflicts with negative consequences for its socioeconomic and political development. Although armed conflicts are ubiquitous and not limited to Africa only, the continent has recorded a large number of violent conflicts compared to other parts of the world. Themner and Wallensteen (2013) point out that of the 223 non-state conflicts which occurred globally, from 2002 to 2011, 165 of these conflicts were located in Africa. According to SIPRI Yearbook (2018), there existed seven active armed conflicts in sub-Saharan African in 2017 located in Mali, Nigeria, Central African Republic, Democratic Republic of Congo, Ethiopia, Somalia, and South Sudan with several other countries on the continent experiencing postwar conflict and tension or remaining flash points for potential conflicts. These include Burundi, Cameroun, the Gambia, Kenya, Lesotho, Sudan, and Zimbabwe. In a similar vein, the Uppsala Conflict Data Program shows that there has been an estimated 630 state-based and non-state armed conflicts on the African continent between 1990 and 2015. From the database it is apparent that Africa remains home to violent armed conflicts. Some major conflict zones include the Sudan, Cameroun South Sudan, Nigeria, Somalia, Democratic Republic of Congo, and Mali. In a similar vein, Africa is home to 7 United Nations peacekeeping operations out of the 14 missions worldwide, a UN/AU hybrid mission, and 1 African Union led peacekeeping mission. These include the United Nations Mission in the Republic of South Sudan (UNMISS), the United Nations Interim Security Force for Abyei (UNISFA), the United Nations Mission for the Referendum in Western Sahara (MINURSO), the United Nations Multidimensional Integrated Stabilization Mission in the Central African Republic (MINUSCA), the United Nations Multidimensional Integrated Stabilization Mission in Mali (MINUSMA), the United Nations Organization Integrated Stabilization Mission in the Democratic Republic of Congo (MONUSCO), the African Union-United Nations Hybrid Mission in Darfur (UNAMID), and the African Union Mission in Somalia (AMISOM). Two other UN Missions in Africa have recently concluded their mandates and closed down; these include the United Nations Mission in Cote d’Ivoire which closed down in June 2017 and the United Nations Mission in Liberia (UNMIL) which closed down in March 2018. The prevalence of armed conflict and wars remains a key impediment to achieving sustainable development and human security in Africa. A common denominator of these conflicts in Africa is the negative impact they have on women and girls, and several studies have established that they experience conflict in a plethora of ways and play multifarious roles in violent conflict such as victims, combatants, fighters, and peace advocates (El Jack 2003; Urdal 2010). Women are largely victims of

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conflict-related sexual violence (CRSV) which is mostly perpetrated by men in conflict zones which include men from rebel militia groups, national militaries, peacekeepers, and humanitarian workers, among others (Mazurana and Piza-Lopez 2002). Feminist scholars have argued that although women and men suffer from fatalities such as death, injury, displacement, and loss of livelihoods, during conflicts, women and girls experience additional violence from sexual and gender-based violence (Annan 2002). Although it has been established in the literature that men and boys also suffer from sexual violence in conflict zones, it is however at a lower scale compared to women and girls (El Jack 2003; Bastick, et al. 2007; Abdi 2011), and the physical consequences are vastly different for male and female bodies. The different ways in which women become “victims” in armed conflicts include rape, forced prostitution, sexual slavery, forced pregnancy and sterilization, sexual mutilation, and sex trafficking (Carreiras 2013). As victims of sexual violence, African women suffer from the aforementioned crimes, and their bodies are specifically targeted by parties to conflict and have become sites of battle to denigrate the enemy. Similarly, women are the majority of persons displaced from their homes and constitute the majority of internally displaced persons (IDPs) in their home countries and refugees beyond the borders of their countries. The gory and horrific experiences of women and girls during armed conflict have received widespread attention in several conflicts in Africa. A recent example is sexual violence and rape experienced by women in the South Sudan conflict, with women experiencing widespread rape, constant harassment, and violence in the world’s youngest country which gained independence in 2011 (Pinna 2018). Mass rape and sexual violence and the targeting of women as weapons of war are a major characteristic of armed conflicts in several countries in Africa including Darfur, Democratic Republic of Congo, Liberia, and South Sudan to mention a few. In these conflicts, women are forcefully impregnated by raping them repeatedly until they conceive and are also raped with the willful intention to transmit HIV to victims (Smith 2002; Kudakwashe and Richard 2015). In a similar vein women have also participated in African wars and armed conflict occurring throughout history both directly and indirectly. In contemporary armed conflicts in Africa as well as past decades, women have been actively involved as combatants and fighters in national liberation armies, armed militia groups, national militaries, paramilitaries, and terrorist organizations (Bennet et al. 1995; Lindsey 2001; Coulter et al. 2008). Women’s participation in perpetrating and unleashing violence as fighters is at variance with mainstream thinking which conceptualizes women as peaceful and passive, incapable of unleashing violence while men are perceived as aggressors and perpetrators of violence. This is in accordance with societal constructions of femininity and masculinity in which women who participate in violent acts are seen as deviants (Bloom 2011). Historically, women have participated as freedom fighters in national liberation wars in the mid-twentieth century in different parts of Africa including Eritrea, Kenya, Mozambique, Namibia, South Africa, and Zimbabwe. Jalufka (2011) avers that Black African women participated in liberation struggles and wars in Africa as guerillas and guerilla supporters fighting against colonial powers. Kombo (2012) corroborates this and argues that women were combatants in anti-colonial wars alongside their menfolk in

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parts of Africa. However women’s fighting alongside men in these liberation wars did not yield much for gender equality as women remained in their subjugated positions after independence was achieved for their countries. Kombo (2012) explains that women’s participation in liberation struggles did not ensure a transformation of gender roles and status in their societies. This is as a result of the patriarchal nature of the societies in which men dominate public spaces and national politics, while women remain relegated to the private sphere of caregiving and domestic responsibilities (Mckay and Mazurana 2004; Coulter et al. 2008; Ekiyor n.d). This is alluded to by female members of the Eritrean People’s Liberation Front (EPLF) who expressed the loss of the respect and equal status obtained during wartime and their return to normal life when the war ended (Arnett 2015). Furthermore, women also participate as members of non-state violent groups in Africa, playing various roles as cooks, sex slaves, wives, spies, fighters, and combatants in rebel militia groups. Byrne (1996) argues that females actively participate in unleashing terror as fighters and combatants in rebel militia groups and terrorist organizations, provide moral and physical support to the men, as well as incite them to violence. Nzomo (2002) reports that during the Rwandan genocide, hundreds of educated women including Catholic nuns, ministers, civil servants, doctors, nurses, and journalist used their status and background to incite other women to kill and unleash terror. Women’s participation as fighters in conflicts in Africa has been on both voluntary and involuntary basis. Women, of their own volition, join such groups due to several reasons including economic and political survival, as avenues to escape women’s subjugated position in society, and agreement with war objectives, among others (Moser and Clark 2001). However a large number of women are forcefully recruited as members of such groups. Specht (2006) avers that a least a third of female combatants in the Liberian conflicts were forcibly recruited. In recent times, women have also participated as active members of terrorist organizations in Africa and have been used as suicide bombers, spies, sex slaves, porters, and wives. The 2015 UN Global Study underscores the changing nature of the conflict environment which is characterized by a reduction in the number of conflicts globally but with terrorism and counter-terrorism posing new challenges (Coomaraswamy 2015). Women are affected by terrorism in a plethora of ways: as victims who are abducted, raped, and used as sex slaves and wives and as fighters, spies, and combatants (Mlambo-Ngcuka and Coomaraswamy 2015). Women and girls are increasingly participating in terrorist activities in Africa, although history is replete with women participating in terrorist activities and insurgencies in several parts of the world. Examples include the Black Widows of Chechnya, Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PFLP), Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE) in East Timor, Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia (FARC), and Red Brigades in Italy (Spencer 2016; Agara 2015). The participation of women in terrorist groups has evoked scholarly debates which highlight the motivations for women’s involvement in such groups. While some women are abducted and forcefully recruited into terrorist groups, some have voluntarily joined such groups based on factors ranging from grievances, revenge for the death of a loved one, need for protection and

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survival, and devotion to a cause or ideology and transformation of gender roles (Cunningham 2007; Coulter et al. 2008; Bloom 2011). Similarly, young girls (sometimes as young as 10 years) are increasingly being recruited into terrorist organizations and used as spies, sex slaves, suicide bombers, and in other operational roles (Bloom 2011; Raghavan and Balasubramavan 2014; UN Secretary-General Report 2017). The Boko Haram terrorist organization which operates across some West African countries including Nigeria, Chad, Niger, and Cameroun has gained notoriety and attracted international attention for its use of women and girls as suicide bombers. By the late 2015, Boko Haram’s use of females as suicide bombers had become globally unprecedented. Boko Haram’s adoption of females as suicide bombers emerged in 2014 with its deployment of its first female suicide bomber in an attack on military barracks in Gombe State, Nigeria; and as of February 28, 2018, 469 female suicide bombers had been deployed or arrested in 240 incidents and killed more than 1200 people across Nigeria, Niger, Chad, and Cameroun (Pearson 2018). The abduction of about 276 girls by the Boko Haram terrorists from their school in Chibok, Borno State, in Northeast Nigeria on April 14, 2014 is a case in point. It is widely believed that some of these abducted Chibok girls including others abducted elsewhere are sent on missions as suicide bombers in communities in Northeast Nigeria. Furthermore, African conflicts have also seen women actively participate as change agents and peacebuilders, contradicting the widespread portrayal of women as majorly victims in violent conflicts. Although the portrayal of women as victims in conflicts is widespread in the literature, it has also been established in the literature that women transcend their status as victims in armed conflicts to actively engage in conflict prevention and conflict management and to entrench peace in their communities their roles as peacebuilders (Kuehnast 2016). El Jack (2006) argues that focusing on women’s role solely as victims in armed conflict not only limits their agency but conceals their full range as political and social actors. As peace activists and peacebuilders, women in the midst of conflicts in Africa have shown resilience, resourcefulness, and determination in ending conflicts and entrenching peace in their societies (Abdi 2011). Women’s roles as peace actors and advocates have been overshadowed by their widely proclaimed role as victims. Historically, African women have played critical roles in conflict prevention and conflict resolution in their communities by acting as intermediaries between communities in conflict and acting as bridges between hostile communities. However, in contemporary wars in Africa, women’s peacebuilding roles have been eroded with women largely absent from formal peace processes and the negotiations. Despite their vast experience and closeness to their communities, women are often marginalized from decision-making positions and relegated to the periphery of formal peace processes. In Africa, women’s participation in conflict prevention and conflict resolution has been more visible in the grassroot and informal levels of peacebuilding, and this has undermined the capabilities and agency of women’s active participation in the formal processes of preventing conflict and building peace. Several arguments exist in the literature on the need for women’s equal participation in peacebuilding and their inclusion in peace processes. These include the fact that as

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the largest casualties of wars and armed conflict, and the fact that they bear the burden of conflict, it is imperative that they should be actively involved in creating solutions to end it. Similarly, the equal participation of women in peace processes has also been identified as critical to achieving sustainable and long-lasting peace as both male and female perspectives are extremely important in peace processes. Other reasons for women inclusion in peace processes include the fact that it is a human right, and since research has shown that women make up half of the global population, it becomes imperative for them to actively participate as decision-makers in issues that concern them.

Emergence of UNSCR 1325: Conceptual Issues The unanimous adoption of the United Nations Security Council Resolution 1325 on October 31, 2000, signaled the emergence of a new international framework hinged on the advancement of women’s rights and their equal participation in security matters. Specifically, the resolution recognizes the disproportionate impact of conflict on women and girls and calls for their equal participation in peace processes including conflict prevention and conflict management, peacekeeping, and peacebuilding (UNSC/RES/1325 2000). Heralded as the flagship UN Security Council Resolution on women’s security concerns and the greatest achievement in integrating women issues into international security policymaking (Olsson and Tryggestad 2001; Olonisakin et al. 2011), UNSCR 1325 is primarily concerned with the enhancement of women’s role in security governance and their increased representation in decision-making in conflict management and peacebuilding initiatives. According to Shepherd (2014), UNSCR 1325 articulates three critical areas, namely, the representation of women at all levels of peace and security mechanisms, the meaningful participation of women in peace and security matters, and the protection of women’s rights and bodies in conflict and post-conflict situations. Widely acclaimed as the most cited international policy on women security issues, and most utilized tool for advocacy by women activists and women groups, UNSCR 1325 has brought about a new opportunity for increased representation and visibility for women and achieving greater participation of women on matters of security. Sister resolutions in the framework include the UNSCR 1820 (2008), UNSCR 1888 (2009), UNSCR 1889 (2009), UNSCR 1960 (2010), UNSCR 2106 (2013), UNSCR 2122 (2013), and UNSCR 2242 (2015) which all seek to broaden and strengthen UNSCR 1325. It is noteworthy that Africa is critical to the emergence of UNSCR 1325 and the women, peace and security agenda as an international framework for advancing gender equality and women’s rights. Hendricks (2017) avers that the emergence of UNSCR 1325 is rooted in Africa’s conflicts because it was the targeting of women in armed conflicts in Africa that led to increased advocacy by civil society organizations and other stakeholders for the UN Security Council to recognize the disproportionate impact of armed conflict on women and girls; and it was during the tenure of Namibia as the President of the Security Council that UNSCR 1325 was birthed.

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Diop (2011) alludes to the above assertion by explaining that the policy documents that expressed the concerns of UNSCR 1325 and its focus on the linkage between women and peace and security issues, and which contributed to the emergence of UNSCR 1325, resulted from some events that took place in Africa. These include the 1985 Nairobi Forward-Looking Strategies which was the outcome document for the UN World Conference on Women in Nairobi, and the 1994 Fifth Regional Conference on Women in Dakar, Senegal, which was one of the earliest steps on the regional level that contributed to the adoption of UNSCR 1325 in 2000. Furthermore, the main provisions of the African Platform of Action which was the outcome document of the 1994 Fifth Regional Conference on Women in Dakar, Senegal, became major constituents of the Beijing Declaration and Platform for Action (BPFA) adopted in 1995 at the Fourth World Conference on Women. Similarly, UNSCR 1325 derives its legitimacy from a number of international legal frameworks including International Humanitarian Law, International Human Rights Law, and the United Nations Charter. The resolution is situated within the Feminist Scholarship in International Relations and Security Studies that identifies the absence of women in international security governance, disproportionate impact of conflict on women and girls, and the under-recognized roles and contribution women make to peace processes (Tickner 2001; Olsson et al. 2015). UNSCR 1325 emerged as a result of conflict-related sexual violence and wartime violence against women and girls in Africa and indeed other parts of the world which was brought to international spotlight through international conferences and activities and consistent advocacy by international civil society organizations, women’s groups, and the academia gradually introducing women’s agenda into the UN’s security governance regimes (Barnes 2011; Olsson and Gizelis 2015). Some of these conferences and events include the “UN Decade for Women” (1975–1985) declared by the UN General Assembly; the three UN World Conferences on Women which took place in Mexico (1975), Copenhagen (1980), and Nairobi (1985); and the Beijing Conference of 1985 (Zinsser 2002; Miller et al. 2014; Olsson and Gizelis 2015). Indeed much of UNSCR 1325’s emergence has been attributed to the work of nongovernmental organizations and women’s groups from Sierra Leone, Somalia, Tanzania, and Guatemala that addressed the UN Security Council on October 23, 2000, in what is regarded as the Arria Formula, providing an exposition of the gendered consequences of armed conflict and its impact on women (Hill et al. 2003).

The African Union, Regional Economic Communities, and National Implementation of UNSCR 1325 One area in which the implementation of UNSCR 1325 in Africa can be said to have achieved significant progress is implementation by member states, the African Union, and Regional Economic Communities (RECs). Several African countries have put in motion the machinery for the implementation of the resolution by domesticating UNSCR 1325 through the adoption of National Action Plans (NAPs). NAPs signify government’s commitment and responsibility in fostering

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the security of women and girls in conflict and post-conflict situations and enhancing their effective participation in conflict management and peacebuilding processes, thereby serving as a road map for the implementation of UNSCR 1325. Consequently, as of June 2018, 23 out of 54 African countries had developed National Action Plans (NAPs) as a mechanism for the implementation and domestication of the resolution. These include Angola (2017), Burundi (2012), Burkina Faso (2012), Cameroun (2017), Central African Republic (2014), Democratic Republic of Congo (2010), Gambia (2012), Ghana (2012), Guinea Bissau (2010), Guinea (2009), Ivory Coast (2008), Kenya (2016), Liberia (2009), Mali (2012), Mozambique (2018), Niger (2017), Nigeria (2013), Rwanda (2009), Senegal (2011), Sierra Leone (2010), South Sudan (2015), Togo (2012), and Uganda (2008) (Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom 2018). Campaign for the development of NAPs began in 2004 and 2005 when the President of the Security Council called on member states to develop NAPs for the implementation of 1325 and to achieve the goals of the Women, Peace and Security (WPS) Agenda in their national context (Lee-Koo 2016). Similarly, UNSCR 1889 (2009) and UNSCR 2242 (2015) further call on member states to develop NAPs to facilitate the implementation of UNSCR 1325 through collaboration between government, civil society, and development agencies. Rayman et al. (2016) opines that National Action Plans have been identified as a mechanism for member states to (1) help implementers set priorities, coordinate action, and track progress; (2) prompt meaningful changes in behavior, policies, and funding; (3) provide civil society with a mechanism to hold governments accountable; and (4) create space for governments, multilateral institutions, and civil society to work together for greater impact. Similarly, Africa’s continental organization and regional economic communities have also developed policy and legal frameworks and have integrated gender equality and gender empowerment which are the principles of UNSCR 1325 into their structures, operations, and processes. Indeed, the African Union has demonstrated significant commitment to the implementation of UNSCR 1325 through its integration of the principles of the resolution into its policy frameworks and structures. Diop (2011) argues that gender equality and women’s empowerment have been embraced by member states of the AU right from the establishment of the continental body in July 2002. This has resulted in the adoption of gender parity principles being enshrined in the African Union Constitutive Act (Article 4) declaring its promotion of gender equality. The transformation of the Organisation of African Unity (OAU) to the African Union in 2002 which took place 2 years after the unanimous adoption of UNSCR 1325 by the Security Council was to position the continental body to effectively address the widespread armed conflict that had engulfed the continent and to respond to post-Cold War security challenges facing Africa. Furthermore, the transformation of the OAU to the AU also afforded the AU the opportunity to address critical issues embodied in UNSCR 1325 which border on prevention, protection, and participation in its policy frameworks (Diop 2011). AU policy framework which has integrated the principles of UNSCR 1325 on gender equality and gender mainstreaming includes Protocol to the African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Right on the Rights of Women (Maputo Protocol 2003), the

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Solemn Declaration on Gender Equality in Africa (2004), African Union Gender Policy (2008), Framework for Post-Conflict Reconstruction and Development (2006), Policy Framework for Security Sector Reform (2011), and Agenda 2063 (2015). Similarly, the African Union has integrated UNSCR 1325 into the operations and structure of its African Peace and Security Architecture (APSA) which provides the AU’s agenda and mechanisms for peace and security on the continent. These include conflict prevention, early warning and preventive diplomacy, peacemaking, peacebuilding, promotion of democratic practices, intervention and humanitarian action, and disaster management (African Union Commission 2016). The African Peace and Security Architecture is made up of the Peace and Security Council (PSC), Panel of the Wise (PoW), Continental Early Warning System (CEWS), African Standby Force (ASF), Peace Fund, and Military Staff Committee. The Panel of the Wise is a five-man panel of “highly respected African personalities from various segments of society who have made outstanding contributions to the cause of peace, security and development on the continent” and is saddled with the responsibility to support the efforts of the Peace and Security Commission and those of the Chairperson of the African Union Commission particularly in the area of conflict prevention (AUC 2016). Similarly, in line with integrating the principles of UNSCR 1325 in the African Union, the Protocol to the African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Right on the Rights of Women in Africa (Maputo Protocol) calls on member states to take appropriate measures to ensure the participation of women in “the structures and processes for conflict prevention, management and resolution at local, national regional continental and international levels” and “in all aspects of planning formulation and implementation of post-conflict reconstruction and rehabilitation” as well as the need for the “protection of civilians including women in armed conflict” (AU 2003). In addition, UNSCR 1325 has been integrated into the AU’s legal and policy framework through the Solemn Declaration on Gender Equality in Africa which serves as a reporting mechanism on women’s empowerment and equality, and to this end, AU Heads of State and Government have agreed to “develop, implement and report national and regional Action Plans on UNSCR 1325 as a means of accelerating the Women, peace and security agenda” (African Union Commission 2016). The Solemn Declaration on Gender Equality in Africa highlights the need to appoint women as Special Envoys and Special Representatives of the AU (AU 2004). In reality, women are largely underrepresented among the AU’s Special Envoys and Special Representatives. Ani (2018) argues that with regard to high-level mediation efforts of the AU, majority of the AU’s Special Envoys, Special Representatives, and Heads of Missions who are assigned to conflict zones have been mostly men. However, the Network of African Women in Conflict Prevention and Mediation (FemWise-Africa) was established in July 2017 as an AU initiative to redress the imbalance. Indeed, of the 9 Special Representatives and 11 Special Envoys of the AU, only 1 is a female which is the Special Envoy on Women, Peace and Security, Ms. Bineta Diop. In a similar vein, Regional Economic Communities in Africa have also developed a wide range of policy frameworks and instruments which bear relevance to the UNSCR 1325 and the Women, Peace and Security Agenda. Furthermore, some

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RECs have also developed Regional Action Plans for the implementation of UNSCR 1325. Some related regional instrument and policy framework on UNSCR 1325 and the Women, Peace and Security Agenda which are not however exhaustive include the following: (i) The Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS) adopted the Regional Plan of Action on the implementation of the UNSCR 1325 and 1820 in 2010. Other instruments include ECOWAS Protocol on Democracy and Good Governance (2001), ECOWAS Conflict Prevention Framework, Women, Peace and Security Action Plan (2008), ECOWAS Plan of Action for the Implementation of the United Nations Security Council Resolution 1325 and 1820 (2010), and ECOWAS Parliament Gender Strategy 2010–2020 (2011). (ii) East African Community (EAC) instruments include EAC Gender and Community Development Framework (2012), EAC Protocol on Peace and Security, and Regional Strategy for Peace and Security (2006). (iii) Common Market for Eastern and Southern Africa (COMESA) instruments include COMESA Gender Policy (2002) and COMESA Gender Mainstreaming Strategic Action Plan (2008). (iv) Economic Community of Central African States (ECCAS) instruments include ECCAS Gender Policy and Implementation Action Plan (2006/2007). (v) Intergovernmental Authority on Development (IGAD) instruments include IGAD Gender Strategy and Implementation Plan 2016–2020 (2015), IGAD Strategy for Higher Representation of Women in Decision Making Positions (2013), IGAD Regional Action Plan for the Implementation of the UNSC Resolution 1325 and 1820 (2012), and IGAD Gender Policy Framework (2012). (vi) International Conference on the Great Lakes Region (ICGLR) includes Regional Action Plan for the Implementation of UNSCR 1325, International Conference Protocol for the Prevention and the Punishment of the Crime of Genocide, and War Crimes and Crimes against Humanity and All Forms of Discrimination (2006) (AUC 2016).

Implementing UNSCR 1325 in Africa: Progress and Problems The successful implementation of UNSCR 1325 remains very crucial to Africa, and it therefore becomes imperative to examine what impact UNSCR 1325 has had in Africa, the progress recorded for African women, as well as the challenges to its implementation. Since the adoption of UNSCR 1325 on October 31, 2000, and despite the opportunities and benefits the resolution provides in advancing gender equality and women’s rights on the continent, several challenges have stifled the effective implementation of the resolution in Africa. Since its adoption, UNSCR 1325 has enhanced the utilization of a gender lens into peace and security interventions and resulted in the engendering of peace

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processes in conflict and post-conflict zones in Africa. UNSCR 1325 is the first Security Council Resolution that addresses women’s participation in peace and security concerns, and it has been used as an advocacy tool by women activists and women civil society organizations for integrating women’s concerns in policy and constitutional documents in Africa (Hendrick 2017). According to Diop (2011), “. . .UNSCR 1325 provides African women with a legitimate platform to hold African states accountable for the respect of women’s empowerment, gender equality and mainstreaming in peace and security policies and to demand adequate protection for women and girls during conflict.” It is also a frame of reference and international legal instrument employed by countries including those in Africa during peace and reconciliation processes and in multilateral, regional, and subregional cooperation from a gendered perspective (Ceesay-Ebo 2011). Furthermore, UNSCR 1325 has enhanced the advancement of women’s right to participate in peace and security initiatives and mechanism in Africa hereby resulting in women’s increased participation in peace processes and negotiations. Since the adoption of the resolution which puts international spotlight on the importance of women’s participation in peacebuilding, there has been increased awareness and understanding of the differential impact of conflict on women and girls, and it has brought about opportunities to promote women’s rights in peacebuilding (Nduwimma n.d; Castillejo 2016). African women play active roles in conflict prevention and conflict management in their communities, although this is more visible at the grassroot and informal levels as they are largely absent from formal peace processes. From Burundi, Liberia, Democratic Republic of Congo, Somalia, Sudan, and South Sudan, African women’s resolve and determination has led them to achieve gains for peace. In recognition of the unique contributions women make to achieving peace in their countries, two African women were among the three women awarded the 2011 Nobel Peace Prize, namely, Ellen Johnson Sirleaf, the first female President of Liberia, and Leymah Gbowee, a Liberian peace activist. However, despite women’s contribution to peace processes, they are still relegated to the margins of formal peace processes and largely absent in peace negotiations. Another area in which UNSCR 1325 has made some progress in Africa is in the participation of women in politics. Though still marginally low, women participation in political processes and decision-making level since the advent of UNSCR 1325 has increased particularly in post-conflict countries. UNSCR 1325 calls for increased representation of women in decision-making positions and governance, urging member states to “ensure increased representation of women at all decision-making levels in national, regional and international institutions” (UN 2000). Since its adoption in 2000, there has been relative increase in the proportion of women participating in the political process in several African countries (ACCORD Report 2011). In recent decades, Africa has recorded women occupying the highest position in government as presidents and prime ministers. These include former President Joyce Banda of Malawi (2012–2014), former President Ellen Johnson Sirleaf of Liberia (2006–2018), and former interim President of Central African Republic Catherine Samba-Panza (2014–2016). This can be attributed to changing attitudes against women that limit their political participation occasioned by entrenched

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sexism in politics, hostile political environment, and discriminatory cultural norms (Domingo et al. 2014). This is glaring in post-conflict countries where women have increasingly participated in politics with several of them holding political offices. Several African countries have introduced gender quotas as a means of guaranteeing female representation in their political systems, and this has resulted in increased number of women participating in governance (Murias et al. 2013) and, especially, occupying more parliamentary seats. In January, 2007, the percentage of women in parliament in sub-Saharan Africa increased to 23.6% as against 9.8% in July 1995 (Inter-Parliamentary Union 2017). In Rwanda, during the 2013 election, women attained 63.8% membership of parliament, breaking records worldwide as a result of gender quotas (Guariso et al. 2017). In another vein, UNSCR 1325 has contributed to the empowerment and equipping of African women with the requisite skills for the advancement of their rights and facilitates their participation in peace process. A plethora of development agencies, UN agencies, and civil society organizations are using UNSCR 1325 to organize training and capacity building programs to educate and train women with a view to strengthening participation in peacebuilding including peace negotiations. Examples of such include West Africa Network for Peacebuilding (WANEP), the African Centre for the Constructive Resolution of Disputes (ACCORD), Femmes Africa Solidarite (FAS), and UN Women, among others. However, in spite of the lofty aspirations and goals of UNSCR 1325 of advancing women’s right and gender equality in peace processes, there are still formidable challenges to its effective implementation in Africa. UNSCR 1325 has failed to address the structural problems that exist in peacetime which are magnified in conflict and post-conflict periods and has been unable to facilitate a transformation of the gendered hierarchies (Olonisakin 2010; Hendricks 2015). Although UNSCR 1325 has been used by women and women groups as an advocacy tool for integrating gender perspectives into peace processes in Africa, much is yet to be achieved as its impact in the peace and security debate in Africa is uncertain. . In addition, despite the passage of UNSCR 1325 which calls for an end to sexual violence against women and girls in conflict and post-conflict situations, armed conflicts in Africa still feature widespread violence against women by state and non-state actors, as well as peacekeepers including United Nations peacekeepers, as well as poor access to justice. Sexual violence is still pervasive, and women are still targeted in armed conflicts and their bodies’ battlefields for opposing parties to the conflict. Women experience sexual crimes such as mass rapes, forced pregnancy, sex slaves, and forced prostitution among other forms of violence. Although not limited to only armed conflicts in Africa, these crimes have persisted even with the adoption of UNSCR 1820 which specifically calls for an end to sexual violence. Armed conflicts in the Democratic Republic of Congo DRC, South Sudan, and Central African Republic have all featured high levels of violence against women notwithstanding the presence of United Nations peacekeeping missions there. Indeed, conflict-related sexual violence have persisted in African conflicts because it has become a deliberate tactic of war employed by opposing parties to conflict to destroy the social fabric of entire communities. Women’s bodies have become weapons of

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war targeted by the enemies as a way of denigrating and dehumanizing them with a wider social impact on the communities. UNSCR 1325 can be regarded as a useful tool in facilitating women’s participation in peacebuilding processes and can play a key role in achieving more peace and inclusive society in Africa. Seventeen years after the adoption of UNSCR 1325, the goals of the resolution are yet to be effectively achieved globally; this is particularly glaring in African countries where women are largely absent in peace processes, mediations, and negotiations in decision-making levels, while men are the major members of such compositions. According to the African Union Commission Report (2016), from 1992 to 2011, women accounted for 5% of signatories in the Democratic Republic of Congo; 20% of lead mediators in the DRC, North Kivu, and South Kivu talks, respectively; and 33% in Kenya. In Burundi, women accounted for 2% of negotiating teams, 12% in the DRC, 8% in Darfur, 9% in Uganda, and 25% in Kenya (AUC 2016). Absence of women from formal peace negotiations remains a persistent challenge in Africa, in spite of the adoption of UNSCR 1325 that underscores women’s participation in peacekeeping, peacemaking, and peacebuilding. Furthermore, in spite of the recognition of the crucial roles women play in entrenching peace in their societies, they are still relegated to the periphery and margins of formal peace processes. A review of 31 major peace processes between 1992 and 2011 showed that women negotiators account for a low number with only 2% of chief mediators, 4% of witnesses and signatories, and 9% of negotiators being women (UN Women 2012). The average number of women participating in peace negotiations in official roles as negotiators, mediators, signatories, and witnesses is still incredibly low in comparison to the men. Women’s absence from formal peace negotiations limits the inclusion of women’s priority concerns and the opportunity for such issues to be addressed in the resulting peace agreement or document. Such concerns include sexual and gender-based violence, women’s citizenship rights, and so on. Several reasons have been identified as factors that limit the effective implementation of UNSCR 1325 in Africa. Scholars have attributed the lack of effective implementation of UNSCR 1325 in Africa to the state-centric nature of implementing the resolution. Olonisakin (2010) argues that responsibility for the implementation of UNSCR 1325 which has been placed largely on state governments and the UN has been to the detriment of civil society organizations. The author maintains that this is problematic because it is states that are historically responsible for the unequal and insecure governance systems on the continent. Although a large number of national constitutions in Africa condemn discrimination on any basis including religion, ethnic affiliations, and gender among others, in practice women continue to face widespread discrimination and subordination as a result of sociocultural norms further reinforced by state institutions and legal systems (Pereira 2003; McFadden 2001). Similarly, implementation of UNSCR 1325 by formal state structures including state ministries, parastatals, and agencies of government has limited the development of National Action Plans (NAPS) in Africa and the implementation of the resolution (ACCORD 2011). This has resulted in the limited involvement of civil society groups and grassroot women groups who are critical to the successful

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implementation of the resolution, as well as a lack of ownership by these grassroot women and women groups (Ekiyor and Wanyeki, n.d). Although not peculiar to Africa, the existence of belief systems and cultural norms that place women in subordinate positions in the society has significantly stifled the implementation of UNSCR 1325. Although several African countries are signatories to international instruments on human rights such as the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW), and have clauses in their constitutional provisions that denounce discrimination, in practice however women suffer from wide-ranging discrimination and harmful traditional practices such as female genital mutilation, harmful widowhood rights, exclusionary inheritance laws, and exclusion of women from the public sphere of politics and decision-making. While the discriminatory practices and violent acts exist in peacetimes, they are magnified and compounded in armed conflict and post-conflict situations (Olonisakin 2010; Ekiyor and Wanyeki n.d). Furthermore, entrenched patriarchal ideology in Africa enhances gender-based violence and contributes to a pervasiveness of physical, sexual, and psychological violence against women including rape, enforced prostitution, trafficking in women, and sexual abuse perpetrated by non-state and state actors (Accord 2011). The lack of political will by state actors who are saddled with the responsibility of implementing UNSCR 1325 has greatly limited the effective implementation in Africa. In another vein, the inherent deficiencies and contradictions of the resolution itself has been identified as a major factor that limits the successful implementation of the resolution. For instance, Hudson (2013) argues that UNSCR 1325’s portrayal of women as key contributors to conflict management and peacebuilding processes actually essentializes women as peacemakers and mothers which further reinforces their subordination in the society. Also, UNSCR 1325’s focus on women and gender concerns has been largely perceived by policymakers and top decision-makers as extraneous and not crucial to other “hardcore” security matters that affect the state such as terrorism, defense, and counterterrism, among others. This has resulted in a half-hearted and ineffective implementation of the resolution by the state machinery which is reflective of gender tokenism and inadequate allocation of resources and budgeting for the implementation of the resolution (Machakanja 2016).

Conclusion About 17 years ago, UNSCR 1325 was adopted by the Security Council as an international instrument which for the first time underscored the linkage between women and peace and security concerns and the crucial need for the equal participation in peace and security matter on local national and international levels. The 2015 UN Global Study of the implementation of UNSCR 1325 provides a mixed record of successes and failures. Africa has been crucial in the emergence and remains committed to the implementation of UNSCR 1325 and achieving the goals of gender equality and women empowerment which underlie the resolution. This chapter examines the linkage between women, conflict, and peace in Africa

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using UNSCR 1325 as a template. It however does not provide a comprehensive assessment of the role of women in peace and conflict in Africa. It tried to provide a broad view of African women’s positioning in situations of peace and conflict. Furthermore, it highlights Africa’s effort in the implementation of UNSCR 1325 with regard to the development of policy and legal framework at the continental, regional, and national levels to drive the implementation of the resolution. In addition, the chapter highlights the ways African conflicts affect women and the multifarious roles women play in conflict, their contributions, as well as the challenges they face in their efforts to achieve peace. Although Africa has put in much effort in implementing UNSCR 1325, there is still a wide gap between development of norms and instruments to actual implementation and achieving on the ground impact in the lives of women, girls, men, and boys. Although significant success has been achieved with the development of National and Regional Action Plans, with 23 countries out of 54 African countries developing NAPs as at June 2018, and some Regional Economic Communities also developing RAPs, success rate of implementation has been low. There are several challenges that constrain the successful implementation of the resolution in Africa such as inadequate funding and resource allocation, engrained negative cultural and social norms, lack of political will by state actors, state-centric implementation of resolution, lack of awareness and ownership by grassroot women groups, and intractable and brutal conflicts among others. According to the UN Women (2016), UNSCR 1325 has had minimal impact on women’s role in peace processes as less than half of the peace agreement signed made reference to women. Notwithstanding, African women have shown determination and resilience in their goal of ending conflicts and entrenching peace even though their contributions have been largely unrecognized and are underrepresented in peace talks. African women have overcome such constraints and have gone ahead to creatively express their concerns and make their demands in peace processes. A case in point is the Liberian women in Peacebuilding Program (WIPNET) in 2003 that physically prevented delegates from leaving the venue of the peace talk in Ghana without signing the peace agreement after months of social mobilization through sit-in, vigils, and demonstrations (UN Women 2012). There is therefore an urgent need for African governments to provide an enabling environment for women to reach their potentials. There is also an a need for increased synergy and collaboration between relevant stakeholders including civil society organisations, government, development agencies for the effective implementation of the resolution. Furthermore, responsibility for implementing UNSCR 1325 should move from state governments to a broader-based group of relevant stakeholders including civil society, donor agencies, and grassroot women. Similarly, it is crucial that effective monitoring and reporting mechanisms are developed by member states and Regional Economic Communities to ensure that the goals of the resolution are achieved and that its impact is felt locally. To prevent the marginalization of women in conflict prevention and management, there is need for governments to enact and endorse gender responsive legislative measures and policies and translate them into action such as affirmative action and proportional representation in the electoral political context. Women themselves must seek to

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organize and develop into critical mass of active players at all levels of decisionmaking in their societies. Countries should develop and adopt or review their National Action Plans to adequately reflect these new security challenges and conflict triggers in Africa such as climate change, terrorism, and violent extremism. There is need for changing attitudes and enactment of laws to combat the negative cultural norms and patriarchal ideology ingrained in African societies. Furthermore, it is crucial that new and emerging threats of terrorism, extremism, climate change, and cybercrimes in Africa are addressed as this also affects the implementation of UNSCR 1325. For scholars in African women’s studies, more studies are required to interrogate the tangible and intangible contributions of UNSCR 1325 to emerging discourse on African women in peace and security. Also, there is currently a dearth of empirical studies that systematically investigate the impact of the resolution in specific national contexts and the broader implications for women’s protection in wartime and peacetime on the continent.

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Section V Women and Gender-Based Violence (GBV) in Africa

Violence against women was early on the agenda of African women’s activism, and it was African women who foregrounded it on the international agenda as they theorized the violence that had become endemic in their various societies in the postcolonial period. Indeed, the WHO (2012) indicates that women and girls in Africa experience some of the highest levels of intimate partner violence and sexual violence in the world, a situation since compounded by the Covid-19 pandemic during which UN Women has warned of GBV as a “shadow pandemic” (UN Women 2020). Chapters in this section take pains to define and expound the dynamics of the phenomenon and assess the responses of various actors to it. Starting with North Africa, Loubna H. Skalli contends that North African states, “with rare exception” have a “high tolerance” for violence against women as, despite being signatories to major international human rights treaties, and despite the determined efforts of the women’s movement there, significant legal obstacles and lack of political will remain to obstruct its mitigation. Zeroing in on sexual offenses, in particular, Lillian Artz and Shelley D’Cruz provide a majestic overview of their range, dimensions, definitions, problematics, and solutions to bridge gaps in scholarship, policy, and practical interventions. In the chapter by Lefatshe Anna Moagi and Azwihangwisi H. Mavhandu-Mudzusi, the disproportionate violence experienced by LGBTQI+ persons in Africa, occasioned by rampant homophobia, stigma, and discrimination, are addressed. They also spotlight the relative silence on the issue in African gender studies as scholars seeking to escape stigma avoid the study of LGBTQI+ issues, leaving the subject to only a few determined activist-scholars. The concept of “safe spaces” is deconstructed with empirical evidence concerning violence against girls in Africa as Arit Oku analyzes girlhood in Africa and societal sources of violence against girls. Oghoadena C. Osezua and Aimiulimhe E. Edobor characterize female genital mutilation/cutting as a product of patriarchal contestation and control of female bodies and women’s sexuality and the policies that may be addressed to this. In African prisons, women face additional complex structures that impose everyday violence on them. Abidemi Fasanmi argues that the ideologies of confinement,

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correction, and punishment upon which prisons are instituted are gendered and have an inimical and lasting impact on female prisoners’ mental health – even beyond the prison time. Fasanmi more so connects the larger social context to the immediate context of imprisonment by linking the construction of womanhood in many African societies to the causes of incarceration, to women’s particular experiences in the prison system, and to the lasting and devastating physical, health, economic, and social consequences of incarceration for women. Franca Attoh weaves together the multiple and complex international, local, and personal factors that enable, sustain, and exacerbate the trafficking of African women and their involvement in forced prostitution. Asymmetries in the international political and economic order, globalization, and the rise of non-state actors such as terrorist groups and sophisticated human smuggling rings have facilitated the trafficking of women from various parts of Africa to North Africa, the Middle East, and the Global North. A variety of non-state actors implicated as perpetrators of gender-based violence are analyzed in the chapter by Maryam Omolara Quadri and their embeddedness within family, communal, and societal structures that complicate efforts to eliminate the violence that women in these social spaces face. Moving the discussion forward, Taiwo M. Williams cumulates in their chapter the multidimensional health impacts of the multiple forms of gender-based violence discussed in preceding chapters, including various physical injuries, substance abuse, depression and mental health problems, and death. All the chapters in this section, one way or the other, ruminate on designing appropriate responses to gender-based violence, which disproportionately affects women, girls, and LGBTQI+ persons in Africa. The question of the different roles to be played by state and non-state actors, and the complicating influence of conservative social forces such as culture and religion, make the discussion difficult to resolve. Using cultural embeddedness theories, Damaris S. Parsitau and Ruth A. Aura conduct a critical analysis of diverse kinds of interventions that have been attempted for dealing with female genital cutting, one of the most contentious forms of gender-based violence in Africa. The innovative but controversial Alternative Rights of Passage (ARPs) implemented in many parts of Kenya is found to have had only moderate success as it has had unintended effects, leading to pushbacks. The chapter by Peace Medie, which closes this section, provides a historical and thematic overview of the diversity of state responses across the continent and non-state actions against gender-based violence. While states have responded to pressure from women’s rights advocates and international organizations by adopting laws, creating policies and institutions, the response has been very uneven and inconsistent, and the implementation of these initiatives has been severely wanting, almost across the board.

Violence Against Women in North Africa

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Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Scale, Scope, and Severity of VAW in North Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Women’s Movements Against VAW: Strategies and Interventions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Protective Legal Frames: Trends and Tendencies . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Cross-References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

This chapter discusses violence against women (VAW) in the six Muslim countries of North Africa, namely, Morocco, Algeria, Tunisia, Libya, Egypt, and Mauritania. It provides a comparative framework for assessing existing data on the nature, scope, and severity of VAW in these countries. It further discusses the critical role that women’s right advocates and defenders have played over the last decades in documenting the scope and severity of VAW in their countries. The chapter goes on to evaluate their continuous efforts to raise public awareness and their relentless pressure campaigns targeting policy makers to develop protective legal measures to combat VAW. With rare exceptions, North African states, I contend, have demonstrated a high tolerance for VAW. Although they are all signatories of important international conventions and protocols against VAW, most countries have not committed the necessary political will and resources to combatting it. The chapter ultimately underscores the legal ambiguities and confusion in defining violence against women and discusses the implications this has for women’s lives. It concludes with a discussion of the emerging legal trends in a few countries to criminalize sexual harassment and underline the persistent challenges for ending VAW. L. H. Skalli (*) University of California, Washington Center, Washington, DC, USA e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_103

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Keywords

Violence against women · North Africa · Women rights activists · Protective legal frameworks · State violence

Introduction This chapter provides a comparative perspective on the nature and scope of violence against women (VAW) in six Muslim countries of North Africa: Morocco, Algeria, Tunisia, Libya, Egypt, and Mauritania. It discusses the strategies and interventions developed by women’s rights advocates to combat violence, the existing legal trends and frameworks recently introduced by state agencies, and the continuing challenges that women face in the public and private spheres of their lives. As is the case in all societies, North African women suffer various forms of violence throughout their life cycle. Violence is multidimensional and occurs in various forms including physical, sexual, emotional, psychological, and economic. It takes place in various spaces including home, school, workplace, as well as various other public spaces and is perpetrated by various actors including intimate partners, members of the family, community, and even state representatives. Yet, the frequency and severity of the violence women endure in North Africa remains largely underreported given the legal, social, and personal burden that the victims face in addition to the trauma of violence. Additionally, national surveys on VAW in North Africa are rather scarce, and when available, they tend to be dated even as national and international rights groups continue to denounce the alarming increase in violence against women during and since the democratic uprisings that swept the region in 2011. The most recent national surveys from Algeria, Morocco, and Tunisia were conducted and published between 2009 and 2010. Libya and Mauritania, on the other hand, have no national surveys while Egypt has sparse information on a few aspects of violence. Interestingly, each of the six North African countries has signed and/or ratified the 1993 United Nations Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW), albeit with reservations. CEDAW’s General Recommendations 19 and 28 state that violence against women amounts to a form of discrimination and notes that states have “a due diligence obligation” to prevent, investigate, prosecute, and punish acts of gender-based violence. Algeria, Libya, and Mauritania also signed the Protocol to the African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights on the Rights of Women in Africa, referred to as the Maputo Protocol. Article 4 of the Maputo Protocol requires state parties to adopt all necessary measures for the prevention, punishment, and eradication of all forms of violence against women. All North African countries have signed on the United Nation’s 1993 Declaration on the Elimination of Violence Against Women (DEVAW) which clearly lays out not only the close links between patriarchy and violence but the structural nature of violence. DEVAW roots the prevalence and justification of VAW in the historical

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construction of gender inequalities and injustices by stressing that is it “a manifestation of historically unequal power relations between men and women, which has led to domination over and discrimination against women by men and to the prevention of the full advancement of women, and that violence against women is one of the crucial social mechanisms by which women are forced into a subordinate position compared with men,” (www.un.org/documents/ga/res/48/a48r104.htm). DEVAW also provides a comprehensive definition of violence that recognizes its multidimensional nature, the multiplicity of spaces in which it occurs, and actors who perpetrate it. Article 2 states that violence can be: “(a) Physical, sexual and psychological violence occurring in the family, including battering, sexual abuse of female children in the household, dowry-related violence, marital rape, female genital mutilation and other traditional practices harmful to women, non-spousal violence and violence related to exploitation; (b) Physical, sexual and psychological violence occurring within the general community, including rape, sexual abuse, sexual harassment and intimidation at work, in educational institutions and elsewhere, trafficking in women and forced prostitution; (c) Physical, sexual and psychological violence perpetrated or condoned by the state, wherever it occurs.” Violence against women, as international conventions, protocols, and declarations confirm, is a violation of women’s rights and a powerful expression of gender inequality that is produced and reinforced by patriarchal ideologies, practices, and institutions. Social scientists have long argued that violence serves both a “social purpose” and a “collective need” that include “maintaining social boundaries, access to resources, hierarchies of power, or identity and associated status” (Brysk 2018, p. 7). Feminist scholarship has been instrumental in examining ways in which violence against women is not only pervasive but also purposive in character (Hall 2015; Yodanis 2004). Violence needs to be seen in terms of the “socialized needs for dominance” within the patriarchal system of gender hierarchies that nurture male privileges and naturalize women’s oppression. As such, VAW becomes both an expression of and an instrument for protecting the “interlocking logics of patriarchy, profit, and power that seek to control women’s reproduction, labor, and citizenship” (Brysk 2018, p. 7). This explains the pervasiveness of violence across women’s age groups, classes, races, ethnicities, as well as mental and physical (dis)abilities. This explains the challenges in combatting the various dimensions of VAW even within societies that support gender equality and develop legal frameworks that seek to criminalize violence. This is the case of Tunisia, for instance, which is considered the most progressive country in the Middle East and North Africa. Although it is often referred to as the “Tunisian exceptionalism,” given its long history of state feminism and gender progressive policies, many Tunisian feminists question the “exceptionalism” rhetoric given the pervasiveness of VAW and the considerable gulf between the legal texts empowering women and the patriarchal cultures undermining them. Sections below demonstrate that state agencies and actors in North Africa are still hesitant about what qualifies as VAW and divided as to how or if it should be criminalized at all, and there is ample evidence that women are subjected to practically all forms of violence.

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Scale, Scope, and Severity of VAW in North Africa The production of comprehensive and reliable data on VAW is critical for understanding the scope and severity of violence, devising the appropriate legal measures and public policies, and implementing efficient social and medical interventions. Yet, the production of data is both problematic and political: it requires the mobilization of adequate resources and expertise to apply gender-sensitive indicators and tools for data collection; and it depends on the political investment and commitment of national leadership to combat VAW in all its forms. This is what the substantial variations in the quality and quantity of data on VAW across North Africa confirm. Mauritania, according to The Global Data on Violence Against Women produced by the United Nations, has no “official national statistics” for “Lifetime Physical and/or Sexual Intimate Partner Violence” or “Lifetime Non-Partner Sexual Violence.” In addition to the absence of data, the Ministry of Health has, until 2018, “tallied sexual violence incidents under the category of accidents on public thoroughfares (accidents de la voie publique) or victims of intentional assault and battery (victimes de coups et blessures volontaires)” (Human Rights Watch 2018). Four decades of the Gaddafi regime produced no data on VAW in Libya although all accounts suggest that the traditional tribal and patriarchal cultures of Libya are heavily discriminating against women. Since 2011, however, numerous reports from national groups and international human rights organizations recorded the alarming cases of rape, targeted killing of women activists, physical and sexual harassment of women by various militias and groups. Thus, the first indications of the nature and severity of VAW in North Africa emerged from women’s organizations and rights activists who started since the 1980s to document testimonies and accounts of women violated in their physical, psychological, social, and economic well-being (Arfaoui and Moghadam 2016; El-Zanaty and Way 2005; Skalli 2006). In Morocco, and despite the politically repressive regime of the 1980s and the deeply patriarchal Family Laws, called Personal Status Code, that the post-colonial state developed, the women’s group Union D’Action Feminine was the first feminist organization to initiate coverage and discussion of the problem of violence. Under the leadership of Latifa Jbabdi, the organization’s Arabic language monthly magazine Thamania Mars (Marsh 8) published since its founding in 1983 pertinent articles as well as tragic women’s testimonies on the subject (Skalli 2006). The organization and its magazine became trend-setters not only for discussing VAW within the broader contexts of legal, socioeconomic, and political discrimination against women but also for collecting data on the incidence of violence to use for advocacy as discussed in sections below. Empowered by the progressive postcolonial state’s policies towards women, and the legacies of Bourguiba’s state feminism, two Tunisian organizations took on the leadership role in reporting on VAW and drawing the attention of policy makers and the general public: L’Association Tunisienne des Femmes Démocrates (Tunisian Association of Democratic Women, ATFD) and L’Association des Femmes Tunisiennes pour la Recherche et le Développement (Association of Tunisian Women for Research on Development, or AFTURD (Arfaoui and Moghadam 2016).

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In Egypt, where women’s activism dates to the1920s, early discussion of violence against women revolved mostly around the practice of female genital mutilation (FGM) and its consequences on the sexual, mental, and physical health of women. Nawal El Saadawi, in particular, became the first and loudest voice against FGM given her medical expertise as Director of the Ministry of Health and chief editor of a health journal in the 1970s. Her 1972 book, Woman and Sex, detailed the various violations perpetrated against women’s bodies and the devastating health consequences these have. The collection and publication of national surveys on VAW by national governments and agencies in North Africa did not take place until the 2000s. In Morocco, Algeria, Tunisia, and Egypt, this was mostly a response to the mounting pressures from international conferences (the Fourth World Conference on Women in Beijing 1995 and the 1994 World Conference on Population and Development in Egypt), UN conventions (CEDAW), and Declarations that linked VAW to human health and human rights. Notwithstanding the dated nature of these national surveys, they reveal significant trends worth underlining including the high prevalence of intimate partner violence, the vulnerability of women in low-paying jobs, the pervasiveness of sexual harassment in all spaces, the increasing state violence targeting women activists, and the quasi-normalization of violence by the victims themselves given the burden of social silence, stigmatization, and absence of specialized health services and support networks. First, and with respect to intimate partner violence, data from the 1995 Egyptian Demographic and Health Survey confirmed the high incidence of “wife-beating” in association with contraceptive use and pregnancy management. What the data reveals here is that Egyptian husbands not only exercise their control over their wives’ use of contraceptives and pregnancy management, but they subject their wives to violence if their male authority is challenged. Out of 6566 married women, aged 15–49, who responded to both the main questionnaire and a special module on women’s status, results indicate that 34% of women were ever beaten by their current husband while 16% were beaten in the past year (Diop-Sidibé et al. 2006). The higher frequency of beating according to the survey was associated with reproductive health, and specifically with the wives’ nonuse of contraceptive methods because “asking for contraceptive use might be interpreted as a sign of infidelity,” and beaten women “were more reluctant to ask their husband’s permission to go to the clinic to get a contraceptive method” (Diop-Sidibé et al. 2006, p. 1273). In Tunisia, the 2010 survey conducted by the National Office of Family and Population, in collaboration with the Spanish Agency of International Cooperation and Development, revealed that out of the 4000 surveyed women, aged 18 and 64, nearly 47% of them had been victims of violence ranging from harassment to physical violence at least once in their lifetime. Although most assaults reported occurred in a domestic setting, there seemed to be no difference in the location (rural or urban areas) of the victims of violence or their levels of education. However, the correlation between the victims’ low-waged labor and precarious employment conditions (as domestic or factory workers) heightened their vulnerability to various forms of violence and exploitation. As is the case in Egypt, intimate partner violence

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was found to be very high with 47.2% of women reporting physical violence, 68.5% psychological violence, 78.2% sexual violence, and 77.9% economic violence (National Survey 2010; also Arfaoui and Moghadam 2016). The Moroccan 2011 national survey of 8300 women, ages 18 and 64, confirmed that nearly 63% experienced violence in at least one of its forms. The survey focused on four types of violence (physical, sexual, psychological, and economic) experienced in their intimate relationships, within the family, work, and at school. Here again, intimate partner violence was very high, with 55% reported within their marriage and 47% in nonmartial relations (Lahlimi 2011). Similar trends are confirmed by two surveys conducted in Algeria in the mid-2000s. The first one was published in 2005 by the Ministry of Health, Population and Hospital Reform and focused only on victims of violence who seek help from women’s associations and other institutions supporting victims of violence. The clear majority of the 9033 surveyed women reported that they experienced physical and emotional violence within family spaces and intimate partner violence. About 35% of women reported that they endured physical violence since the age of 18. A survey published 1 year later by the same ministry confirmed the same trends in addition to the fact that violence was twice as high for urban women as it was for rural women. The only data available on VAW in Mauritania confirms the extremely high rates of female genital mutilation (FGM). In 2015, it was estimated that at least two thirds of women and girls aged 15 to 49 had gone through a form of (FGM) in the past, with significantly higher rates in rural (79%) than urban areas (55%) (Human Rights Report 2018). While FGM is not typically practiced in Morocco, Algeria, or Tunisia, most Egyptian women are still victim to this form of violence. In both Mauritania and Egypt, the practice is deeply engrained in the cultures and it has resisted the bans put on the practice. In these countries, as in others, FGM is closely tied to the patriarchal ideals of submissive femininity, subdued female body, and controlled sexuality. According to a joint demographic health survey conducted in October 2015 by the Egyptian Ministry of Health, the United States Agency for International Development, the United Nations International Children’s Emergency Fund, and an Egyptian nongovernmental organization, approximately nine in ten women aged 15– 49 are victims of FGM in Egypt (Sadek 2016, p. 1). Existing data from North Africa also confirms that sexual harassment in various spaces is another form of violence that is extremely high. Practically, all the national surveys and other reports reviewed for this chapter (Lahlimi 2011; Nazra 2014; Sadek 2016) emphasize the hostility of the streets to women of all ages. Indeed, the street comes first among the public spaces where women are physically and sexually harassed, with work and school usually coming in the second and third place, respectively. Studies on this type of violence typically point to the correlation between women’s increasing education, employment opportunities, and social and physical mobility in the postcolonial countries and the heightened backlash against them that takes the form of the masculinization of the streets. The trend, according to all accounts, seems to have worsened in frequency and levels of violence especially during the 2011 democratic protests. The Egyptian Center for Women’s Rights

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confirmed in its 2010 survey of 1,010 women that nine out of 10 women had been sexually harassed in Egypt and two-thirds of men said that they had harassed women (Egyptian Center for Women’s Rights 2015). Indeed, sexual harassment and assault on the street are anything but new in North African women’s experiences of public spaces. However, and particularly since the Arab uprisings of 2011, escalation in this type of violence has reached disturbing proportions given the complicity of the state in tolerating the culture of impunity. Researchers on the violence against Egyptian women during and since the 2011 uprisings (Amar 2011; Skalli 2014; CMI 2014) have argued that the state not only condoned but also perpetrated violence against women activists and protesters to neutralize their political participation. Reports from national and international rights groups on the state of violence against women in post-Gaddafi Libya indicate that the availability of weapons, the lack of security and law, and the ongoing conflicts among various political and armed factions have made public spaces extremely dangerous for women (CPIN 2018). In Algeria, the most recent data was produced in 2013 by Balsam, a national network of centers supporting women victims of violence. According to their report, 4,116 out of 29,532 cases of violence reported to the network were victims of sexual violence (HRW 2014, pp. 5–6). Sexual violence was particularly high during internal conflict that engulfed the country in the 1990s. Reports from human rights groups (Human Rights Watch 2014, 2015) estimate that hundreds, if not thousands of women and young girls, were abducted, raped, and impregnated by armed groups. Not only has the government failed to conduct any investigation on the conflictrelated violence but it has provided the victims neither judicial remedies nor resources and services to recover from the trauma of violence (Human Rights Watch 2014, p. 6). Quite the opposite, and as research on recent revolutions in the regions shows (Amar 2011; CMI 2014), the state and its representatives (police, military, and security forces) often become complicit in perpetrating violence against women protesters and their families. Numerous cases from Morocco, Libya, and Egypt reveal that state sponsored violence targets women protesters and activists particularly through their bodies and sexuality, knowing full well that these are closely linked to family honor and reputation in the tribal and traditional cultures of the region. Similarly, female relatives of male protesters and political activists are specifically targeted through sexual and physical violence (Human Rights Watch 2004; Lawrence 2013). Numerous sources on Libya report on the high cases of rape during and since the 2011 conflict (CPIN 2018, p. 22). Amnesty International reports in 2018 that Libyan authorities continue to silence women activists, bloggers, and journalists through physical assault, beatings and torture, abductions and sexual violence, smear campaigns on and off social media, death threats and, even killings (CPIN 2018, p. 22). In June 2014, members of parliament Fariha Al-Barkawi, and human rights activist Salwa Bugighis were assassinated, and rights activist Intissar Al-Hassairi was assassinated 1 year later.

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In the last days of the Mubarak regime, Egyptian streets became spaces for punishing and disciplining women protesters and human rights defenders. Young activists, including the much-publicized case of Samira Ibrahim, were labeled prostitutes and forced to endure invasive virginity tests by male doctors. Mob attacks and gang rapes, which started under Mubarak regime, known today as the infamous “circles of hell,” increased dramatically and, at times, even under the indifferent watch of security forces (Skalli 2014). Egyptian human rights organizations, Nazra for Feminist Studies and the Center for Egyptian Women’s Legal Assistance, documented over 500 cases of gang rape and sexual assaults between June 2012 and June 2014 (Nazra 2014). The role of the state might still be unclear; however, what is established by human rights organizations is that the state forces did not respond adequately, if at all, to this scale and cycle of violence against Egyptians. In fact, the state did not intervene when national and international rights groups issued reports of the systematic physical and sexual abuse of women activists who were detained by the police since the January 25, 2011 revolution. The indifference and complicity of the state has been observed and recorded in Morocco as well during its own version of “Arab Spring” protests. Several young activists from the February 20 youth movement, who were leading the protests, were harassed, arrested, and/or abused by the police during their activism (Lawrence 2013). Most recently, Moroccan police arrested the 25-year-old artist and activist Salima Ziani for participating in the protests for social and economic rights in the Northern region of the country. Videos of police brutality against other leading women activists from the protest movements have gone viral and emboldened Moroccan women to launch in 2017 the campaign known as Moroccan Women Against Political Arrest which has been protesting the state’s targeted use of genderbased violence. Existing research on VAW in North Africa confirms that, although there is ample evidence of the pervasiveness of violence in women’s lives, accurate data on all forms of violence is still sorely lacking. Nonetheless, that which exists gives women’s rights activists and several nongovernmental organizations a strong basis for mobilizing against VAW.

Women’s Movements Against VAW: Strategies and Interventions North African women’s movements and human rights defenders have been, as in other parts of the world, spearheading the fight to end all forms of violence against women. Their activism, which spans over several decades, reveals important steps and strategies targeting the complex and challenging facets of the problem. In this section, four significant strategies observed across the region are discussed: anchoring VAW within broader struggles for gender equality; forming national, regional, and transnational alliances around VAW; targeting the public with awareness campaigns; and, providing relevant information and support services to victims of violence. These strategies overlap and reinforce each other in efforts to both educate the public about VAW and pressure governments to commit to policy, legal, and

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social reforms necessary for ending violence against women (Collective MaghrebEgalite 1997; Mahfoudh 2014). First, North African rights activists contextualize the debates and concerns around VAW within the broader struggles for gender equality and justice. Rather than isolating VAW as an anomaly, women’s movements across the region, approach it as an expression and inevitable consequence of gender discrimination institutionalized through the patriarchal family laws. As Arfaoui and Moghadam cogently argue, “Citoyenneté” or citizenship is the “lens” through which women demand their rights as well as a life free from violence and abuse (2016, p. 4). With the exception of Tunisia, where Bourguiba’s postcolonial regime promoted women’s rights through a progressive family law, the other North African patriarchal and authoritarian regimes legally undermined women’s rights. This was done, for example, by placing women under the guardianship of their husbands or other male family members, reinforcing women’s financial dependence on the husband in exchange for wifely obedience and consent to be overpowered. Generations of feminists and women’s rights defenders, therefore, have centered and continue to center their mobilizational energies on legal reforms by pressuring religious and political leaders in their societies to repeal and replace the discriminatory clauses from legal texts and penal codes. This is precisely what the Moroccan Spring of Equality did as an advocacy structure launched in 2001 by seven leading Moroccan NGOs in promotion of women’s rights. The Spring of Equality came on the heels of at least two decades of women’s activism for improvement in women’s rights. The advocacy structure was formed to lobby for more substantial revisions of the Moroccan Personal Code by targeting policy makers as well as the public through press releases, posters, and articles in national dailies explaining the discriminatory provisions of legal texts in matters of repudiation, divorce, child support, and domestic violence. For the first time in the history of the country, the public could see in major urban centers billboards putting real faces on the traumas of domestic violence, physical and sexual abuse. Posters, postcards, and flyers were distributed around the country featuring victims of abuse, their real-life cases, and the legal discrimination that permitted the violence (Skalli 2007). In Egypt, although women’s activism has spanned over a century, it is only in the last few decades that attention has turned to the problem of violence against women. Feminist Scholar, Nadia Al-Ali, contends in her overview of Egyptian women’s movements that issues of education and poverty alleviation have dominated the agenda of activism for the longest time, at the expense of the elimination and criminalization of violence against women (2012, p. 22). However, yet, when activists turned their attention to the problem, they anchored it within the broader gendered perspective of citizenship rights and justice (Moghadam 2003). The second important strategy adopted by North African activists involves building advocacy alliances and coalitions around VAW at the national, regional, and transnational levels. These alliances serve several significant purposes ranging from building broad based advocacy platforms to exchanging information and skills and solidifying their pressure points on their respective governments. One of the early efforts in this direction was the regional Collective 95 – For Equality in the

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Maghreb, created in 1991 by leading women’s organizations and researchers from Algeria, Morocco, and Tunisia. At the invitation of the Moroccan Women’s Democratic Association, the Collective met in Rabat, Morocco, to harmonize their work and agendas in preparation for the Beijing Fourth World Conference on Women 1995. This alliance allowed the organizations to map out the gains and challenges in women’s rights in the region, assess the reservations their governments put on international conventions such as the CEDAW, and strategize for effective approaches to their lobbying for discriminatory legal reforms. Alliances also play a considerable role in providing spaces for women’s rights defenders to share best practices and exchange information about fighting VAW. In 2014, for instance, Tunisian women’s organizations hosted a regional seminar focusing on the “Best Practices for Combating Violence against Women” (Arfaoui and Moghadam 2016). Activists from Algeria, Egypt, Libya, Morocco, and Tunisia debated measures to both prevent as well as respond to domestic violence, street harassment, and police brutality, as well as the violence caused by terrorist activities and ongoing civil conflict in Libya in particular. In Egypt, given the dramatic escalation of the physical and sexual violence against women during and after the revolution, various alliances and coalitions were formed specifically around VAW. On February 24, 2011, the Coalition of Feminist Organizations in Egypt was created to protect and support women, as well as document cases of VAW. The Coalition included New Woman Foundation, Women and Memory Forum, Center of Egyptian Women Legal Aid, Women’s Forum for Development, Alliance of Arab Women, Egyptian Association for Family Development, and “Nazra” Association for Feminist Studies. The coalition became the umbrella for very active and innovative support structures and antisexual harassment support groups such as Operation Anti-Sexual Harassment/Assault, Tahrir Bodyguard, and Harass-map. These support groups filled the gap left by security and police forces by providing safe spaces as well as medical and psychological support to victims, and raising public awareness. The coalition has also demanded investigation, prosecution, and fair trial of the crimes of sexual harassment and assault cases during the 2011–2014 demonstrations. One of the significant characteristics of these coalitions is the diversity of their active members and supporters. This diversity cuts across age, class, gender, and generational and religious lines. With the diversity of representation comes also the diversity in the tools and strategies developed especially with the young generation of activists who are more adept at using digital technologies and social media platforms to organize their marches, mobilize the public, and publicize their grievances. Building coalitions took place not only in Egypt, Tunisia, and Algeria but also in Morocco where the Spring of Dignity was recently launched in 2010 to combat VAW. This coalition comprised of 22 women’s organizations who responded to the alarming increase in rape cases and violent assaults on women in public spaces, many of which were caught on video recordings that went viral on social media platforms (Outaleb 2011). The coalition directed a memorandum to the Ministry of Justice with calls to amend the penal code that fails to penalize the perpetrators of

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sexual harassment, rape, and sexual assault. Part of the efforts of the coalition is to inform victims of VAW about their legal rights as well as the legal and social services that can provide them with support. To date, the contributions of this initiative have remained unclear since there is no rigorous assessment on the subject. Raising public awareness and engaging the public in the fight against VAW in all its forms is the third important strategy used by women’s rights defenders in North Africa. In this context, the challenges that women’s groups face are considerable especially since women’s literacy rates in some North African countries are low (Morocco 58.8% and Mauritania 35.35) while traditional and patriarchal cultural norms in all the countries force victims of violence to silence to protect the family honor. Centuries of abuse and silence have not only condemned women to endure violence in silence but have also, unfortunately, normalized violence in their lives. In Mauritania, for example, the National Office of Statistics reported in 2015 that nearly 27% of Mauritanian women said that a husband has the right to be physically violent with his spouse(s) if she goes out without telling him, if she neglects children, if they argue, if she refuses to have sexual relations with her husband, or if she burns the meal (Mauritania MICS 2015). Even in Tunisia, where the laws are relatively more supportive of women, the 2010 national survey revealed that a high number of women do not make official complaints against the perpetrator. Nearly 55% of the surveyed women stated that violence is a “normal fact” of life that does not merit open discussion. Reports from Libya on the acceptability of domestic violence echo the same trends. In a study, for example, found that 52% of interviewed men and 41% of women justify a husband beating his wife if she left the house without his knowledge or consent, while only 24% of women and 30% of men would reject domestic violence in any of the listed scenarios (e.g., neglecting household responsibilities, being disobedient to the husband, neglecting children, etc.) (CPIN 2018, p. 20, also in Khalifa 2015). To blame silence and the normalization of violence on the victims themselves, however, is not only dangerous but misleading as well. Silence is caused not only by traditional cultures but by the behavior of the state towards VAW in matters of protective legal frameworks, as well as support structures and services for victims of violence. The quality and availability of laws and services play a huge role in either incentivizing or discouraging acts of victim-reporting. Surveys and reports from the six countries confirm that victims of abuse are resigned to silence precisely because they have (a) little faith in the police force that tends to afflict additional abusive on women, (b) little awareness of any supported services with staff trained to deal with the traumas of VAW; and (c) no faith in the justice system to vindicate them since existing laws tend to criminalize the victims more than the perpetrators. Examples of these laws include the rape laws which, until recently in most countries of North Africa, exonerate the rapist if he accepts to marry his victim. The second example is the Zina (adultery) law which criminalizes the rape victim as demonstrated by a recent case from Mauritania. When a 16–year-old girl reported to the police her sexually abusive father as well as her captivity and gang rape in the house of a 23–year-old man who promised to marry her, the police arrested her and sent her to the national women’s prison on charges of engaging in sexual relations

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outside marriage: “I asked them, ‘Why? What did I do?’,” Rouhiya said. “They told me to keep quiet and not to ask questions” (HRW 2018, p. 10). This explains why collecting reliable information about all facets of VAW and its perpetrators, and providing adequate support structures to victims of abuse is one of the important strategies adopted by women activists across North Africa. In this context, women’s groups consolidate their efforts through coalitions and alliance to create platforms for collecting data on VAW and its victims, recording and monitoring abuses perpetrating by different abusers including state institutions and their representatives as well as providing legal economic and social services to victims who have no resources. In the early 1990s, the Tunisian women’s rights Association of Democratic Women took on the leadership role by establishing the first centre d’écoute or counseling center and hotline for women victims of domestic violence. The initiative was a first not only in the country but the entire Arab world. Few years later, a similar initiative was launched by the Association Marocaine de Lutte contre la Violence a l’égard des Femmes which created in 1995 a Centre d’Ecoute et d’Orientation Juridique et Psychologique pour Femmes Victimes d’Agression. Soon after, it created the Centre de Médiation Conjugale Fondée sur le Genre, which became a space for dialogue, mediation, and resolution of conflicts in marriages. More recently, Mauritania saw its first support center for women and girl survivors of gender-based violence, run by the Association of Women Heads of Family, Nouakchott, Mauritania. The Association of Women Heads of Family, under the leadership of activist Aminetou Mint Ely, offers financial help for medical support, mental health counseling, and legal aid. It helps rape survivors re-integrate into society, find work, and rebuild their lives. In many cases, these centers and shelters have also been useful to activists for collecting first-hand information on multiple dimensions and consequences of VAW. Such information has been critical for giving a human face to a complex problem and building awareness campaigns to educate the public and lobby policy makers for legal reforms. An interesting example in this context is the online platform, Anaruz, created in 2004. In 2004, a national network of 17 Moroccan women’s organizations and centers for battered women launched the website Anaruz (anaruz.ma) to promote women’s freedom from violence as “a right and not a privilege.” Grounded in the reality of the women’s movement in Morocco, the initiative builds on the advocacy work of women’s associations over the last decades and extends their mobilization to areas long considered by male structures too private to justify their inclusion in public debate and political action. Anaruz acts as an information broker and an unparalleled platform for collecting, disseminating, and updating information on domestic violence. It informs the (national and international) public, creates a social dialogue, and pressurizes policymakers to respond to the basic rights of Muslim women (Skalli 2010). Alliances among women’s organizations also play a critical role in collecting information, monitoring legal slippages, and holding state officials responsible for negligence in their duty to protect women from violence. In Egypt and Mauritania,

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for instance, where FGM was officially banned in 2008 in the former and 2017 in the latter, women’s groups remain extremely vigilant in documenting the outlawed practice since their governments have no monitoring mechanisms in place. As examples above all demonstrate, women rights defenders across North Africa, are actively engaged on many fronts to combat the multidimensional nature of VAW despite the complex cultural and institutional environments that produce and normalize violence. While laws criminalizing VAW are still lacking, or poorly implemented, recent legal victories, such as the Moroccan antisexual harassment law 103-13 passed in 2018, give women hope that their hard work is beginning to pay off.

Protective Legal Frames: Trends and Tendencies Women’s rights defenders in North Africa, like their counterparts around the world, turn to international conventions and protocols to hold their states responsible for developing legal frameworks and mechanisms that protect women from VAW. Laws that criminalize violence confirm the state’s commitment to honor these international conventions and dismantle the deeply embedded structural foundations for gender discrimination. A review of existing laws in North Africa shows that, by and large, the legal frameworks across the region neither respond to the scope and urgency of the problems nor do they meet the guidelines and commitments of the international human rights community and conventions. Nonetheless, a few recent moves towards criminalizing sexual harassment and rape in the region give women hope for a better future and give activists momentum to press for more comprehensive and less ambiguous legal reforms. To begin, most African countries provide a rather weak legal protection for sexual violence as a form of domestic violence. In Tunisia, where the new constitution of the post-2011 era has reinforced advances in women’s rights, the constitution has remained rather silent on the issue of sexual violence and rape within marriage. Other important ambiguities related to rape and the criminalization of sexual assault remained unaddressed until 2018. For example, Article 227 of the Tunisian penal code criminalizes sexual crimes, including rape, and Article 226 of the Code prohibits sexual harassment. However, Article 226 allows the rapist of a minor to avoid jail if he marries her regardless of her rape trauma or her willingness to live with her rapist (Arfaoui and Moghadam 2016, p. 9). Similarly, Moroccan Article of Law 475 has allowed the rapists of minors to be exonerated from their crime by marrying the victim. Under the relentless pressure from established women’s rights groups and the online activism of a young generation of activists, the government finally abolished the article in 2014. Further, although revisions to the Moroccan Family Code in 2004 and the Constitution in 2011 provided a relatively more egalitarian vision of gender roles, few legal measures were taken to criminalize rape within marriage or sexual harassment, for instance. It is only in 2018 that the Moroccan parliament passed law 103-13 criminalizing, for the first time, sexual harassment on the street, workplace, and at

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school. Although this law signals a triumph of activism in the country and a promising move towards protecting women’s dignity and citizenship, women’s organizations are concerned about the absence of mechanisms for monitoring the implementation and enforcement of the new law throughout the country. Similar concerns are expressed by women’s rights groups in Egypt who decry gaps, ambiguities, and outright discrimination perpetuated by laws. In 2014, Egyptian Penal Code, for example, still considered husband’s disciplining of his wife a right. The same Code used a very limited definition of rape while sexual assault was not given any definition, though it was categorized under crime of indecency, according to Article 268 of the same Code. Under the rule of the former interim President, Adly Mansour, a few amended provisions were made to the Penal Code to criminalize, for the first time in the country’s legislation, sexual harassment. In fact, The Egyptian Constitution of 2014 is one of the two main legislative instruments protecting women from sexual violence; the other is the Criminal Code of 1937 and its amendments. The Egyptian Criminal Code divides crimes of violence against women into misdemeanors and felonies. Misdemeanors include sexual harassment, while felonies are comprised of female genital mutilation, rape, kidnapping a female, and sexual assault (Sadek 2016). On August 31, 2016, the Egyptian People’s Assembly approved amendments to toughen the punishment of individuals who perform FGM by calling for their imprisonment for between 5 and 7 years. The amendment also punishes any individual who escorts a victim of this crime to the perpetrator with a penalty of imprisonment of between 1 and 3 years. Furthermore, the amendment provides that a person can be sentenced to up to 15 years of imprisonment if the act of FGM leads to death of the victim. Activists and women’s rights organizations as well as the National Women’s Council have called on the three branches of government to establish an action plan to not only enhance sanctions in order to deter the perpetrators of these crimes but also to provide adequate protections so that victims can come forward and testify against those perpetrators. In Mauritania, and until only a few years ago, there has been a complete legal vacuum with virtually no laws that criminalize sexual assault. Mauritanian law does not adequately define the crime of rape and other forms of sexual assault, although there is an attempt to do so in a still pending draft law that was presented to the parliament in 2017. The draft approved the law promises sweeping legal reforms that would punish rape and sexual harassment, “create specific sections in criminal courts of first degree to hear sexual violence cases, consolidate criminal and civil court proceedings to favor prompt compensation of survivors, and allow civil society organizations to bring cases on behalf of survivors” (HRW 2018, p. 12). In 2017, the newly adopted General Code of Children’s Protection and law on reproductive health formally and unconditionally criminalized the practice of FGM. In Libya, there are no laws protecting women from domestic violence. National and international rights groups have been denouncing the absence of legislation punishing perpetrators of VAW at a time where all forms of violence seem to be on the rise given the ongoing conflict and the breakdown in state institutions (CPIN 2018). A recent report on the state of VAW in Libya underlines that a Cabinet

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Decree 119/2014 addressing the status of victims of sexual violence during and since 2011 “met with opposition from the legislature on the grounds that it conflicted with society’s values and religion, which dictated that such incidents not be exposed” (Cairo Institute for Human Rights Studies 2018, p. 6). What virtually all North African women’s rights defenders agree on is that protective legal frameworks are important and necessary in the struggle to eliminate all forms of violence against women. However, laws on the books, they also agree, are insufficient to guarantee women a life free from violence. As examples from Morocco, Tunisia, and Egypt confirm, laws may coexist with a high prevalence of violence. Various conditions permit this to happen including vague and ambivalent laws, poor implementation and enforcement of laws, low capacity and lack of gender-based training of those implementing the law, and lack of monitoring mechanisms. This gap between legislation, implementation, and monitoring is not unique to the North African region. UN Women observes that in many developing countries, “While a historic number of laws and policies against violence are now in place, implementation is still lagging behind. Measures to strengthen effective implementation should include training of officials who handle cases of violence against women, the establishment of mechanisms for monitoring and impact evaluation as well as accountability and better coordination. Committing adequate human and financial resources is also essential” (UN Women). As confirmed by the few examples of legal provisions discussed above, North African countries reveal serious contradictions and gaps in the protection of women from violence. While most governments are yielding to national and international pressures to strengthen laws that criminalize VAW, there are still considerable gaps that leave women unprotected. This applies, for instance, to rape within marriages as well as violence perpetrated by state agents. It is no surprise to observe, therefore, the similarities in the demands that women’s rights defenders make across the region: they all make the same call for a more coherent and comprehensive plan of action that can simultaneously (a) address the root causes of violence in all its dimensions, (b) hold those who perpetrate it legally responsible for their criminal acts; and, (c) provide adequate support resources and services for survivors of violence. A holistic approach, in other words, entails providing preventive, proactive, and protective measures against VAW.

Conclusion This chapter has focused on the nature, scope, and severity of violence against women in Morocco, Algeria, Tunisia, Libya, Egypt, and Mauritania. The paucity of comprehensive, current, and reliable data on VAW, it has demonstrated, is a common challenge observed throughout the region. Despite this, women’s rights activists have been relentless, for decades now, in their efforts to document the multidimensional nature of violence that women endure, the different spaces in which that occurs, and the variety of actors who perpetrating it. The production of this knowledge is not only important for assessing the scope and severity of VAW

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but also for educating the public and pressuring policy makers to pass adequate legal measures to protect women. Although promising trends are emerging in the region, ending all forms of violence against women requires a continued commitment from numerous social, political, and religious actors in society. For North African women, the task is complicated by the deeply entrenched patriarchal cultures, the continuing threats of regressive ideologies that hide behind religion to legitimate discrimination, and the unstable political and economic developments in the countries. Since the 2011 uprisings, conditions on the ground have continued to threaten not only women’s safety but also the protection of any gains they may have made over the years. In fact, the recent wave of protests seems to have sharpened the states’ authoritarian impulses and their repressive apparatuses (CMI 2014; Lawrence 2013). This has resulted in further restricting rather than widening the freedoms of civil society groups and curtailing the activists’ scope of work. Egypt is a telling case in this context. Strict laws on associations and foreign funding have forced many human rights organizations – including women’s rights groups and research centers such as Nazra – to scale down their work. Imagining a world where women are free from violence requires, therefore, a paradigm shift in how societies think about and act on gender justice. As Alison Brysk argues in her recent book, The Struggle for Freedom from Fear: “if we see the future of human rights as an evolving movement toward freedom, equality, and dignity in power relations, the struggle against gender violence is key to constructing new rights repertoires for all” (2018, p. 2). The construction of this new repertoire is both a challenge and a motivation for most women’s rights defenders around the world, including North African groups.

Cross-References ▶ The Arab Spring and Women’s Movements in North Africa ▶ Women, Activism, and the State in North Africa ▶ Women, Domestic Violence and Justice in Africa

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Brysk, A. (2018). The struggle for freedom from fear: Contesting violence against Women at the Frontiers of globalization. London: Oxford University Press. Cairo Institute for Human Rights Studies. (2018). Libya must uphold its obligation to protect women. https://cihrs.org/libya-must-uphold-its-obligation-to-protect-women/?lang¼en CMI. (2014). Sexual violence and state violence against women in Egypt 2011–2014. September, N. 7. https://www.cmi.no/publications/5226-sexual-violence-and-state-violence-ag ainst-women CPIN. (2018). Country policy and information note libya: women. UK Home Office. https://assets. publishing.service.gov.uk/.../Libya_-_Security_Situation_-_CPIN_-_v3.0 Diop-Sidibé, N., Campbell, J. C., & Becker, S. (2006). Domestic violence against women in Egypt – wife beating and health outcomes. Social Science and Medicine, 62(5), 1260–1277. Egyptian Center for Women’s Rights. (2015). Egyptian women status report 2014. https://ecwronline.org/index.php/2015/03/08/2014-the-year-of-unfulfilled-promises-for-egyptia n-women/ El-Zanaty, F., & Way, A. (2005). Egypt Demographic and Health Surveyn. Egypt Ministry of health and population: Egypt National Population Council, 2006. Hall, J. R. (2015). Feminist strategies to end violence against Women. In R. Baksh & W. Harcourt (Eds.), The Oxford handbook of transnational feminist movements (pp. 2–25). New York: Oxford University Press. Human Rights Watch. (2004). https://www.hrw.org/legacy/wr2k4/ Human Rights Watch. (2014). Algeria: Comprehensive reforms needed to end sexual and gender based violence against women and girls. https://www.amnesty.org/en/documents/mde28/010/ 2014/en/ Human Rights Watch. (2015). https://www.hrw.org/sites/default/files/wr2015_web.pdf Human Rights Watch. (2018). They told me to keep quiet obstacles to justice and remedy for sexual assault survivors in Mauritania. https://www.hrw.org/report/2018/09/05/they-told-me-keepquiet/obstacles-justice-and-remedy-sexual-assault-survivors Khalifa, A. (2015). Women in Libya: The ongoing armed conflict, political instability and radicalization: Up holding gendered peace at a time of war. MA Thesis. http://womeninwar.org/ wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2015/08/Beirut/6/Asma%20Khalifa_Libyan%20Women%20in %20Conflict-UHGPW.pdf Lahlimi, A. (2011). Enquête Nationale sur Enquête Nationale sur Enquête Nationale sur la Prévalence la Prévalence la Prévalence la Prévalence. Principaux résultats. Rabat: Haut Commissarit: Royaume du Maroc. Lawrence, A. (2013). Repression and activism among the arab Spring’s first movers: Morocco’s (Almost) revolutionaries. https://as.tufts.edu/politicalscience/sites/all/themes/asbase/assets/doc uments/newsEvents/2013dec2.pdf Maghreb-Egalite. (1997). Violence a L’egard des Femmes et violations de leur droits (AlgerieMaroc-Tunsie). Algiers: Collectif 95 Maghreb Egalite. Mahfoudh, D. (2014). Le Collectif Maghreb-Égalité 95: Pour un mouvement féministe maghrébin. Nouvelles Questions Féministes, 33(2), 132–135. https://doi.org/10.3917/nqf.332.0132. Mauritania MICS. (2015). Enquête par grappes à indicateurs multiples MICS5 2015. https:// microdata.worldbank.org/index.php/catalog/3473 Moghadam, V. M. (2003). Engendering citizenship, feminizing civil society. Women & Politics, 25(1-2), 63–68. National Survey. (2010). Rapport enquête nationale sur la violence à l’égard des femmes en Tunisie. http://www.medcities.org/documents/10192/54940/Enqu%C3%AAte+Nationale+Violence+envers +les+femmes-+Tunisie+2010.pdf Nazra. (2014). “Qanun Nashaz” – A Campaign on the legal issues associated with violence against Women in both Public and Private Sphere. http://nazra.org/en/node/388 Outaleb, F. (2011). Gender Laws: Morocco upholds dignity and the rights of women. Morocco World News. https://www.moroccoworldnews.com/2011/11/14576/gender-laws-moroccouphold-dignity-and-the-rights-of-women/

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Sadek, G. (2016). Egypt: Sexual violence against Women. Washington, DC: Library of Congress. Skalli, H. L. (2006). Through a local prism: Gender, globalization and identity in Moroccan Women’s magazines. Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield. Skalli, H. L. (2007). Women, communications and democratization in Morocco. In M. Valerie (Ed.), Empowering women: Participation, rights, and Women’s movements in the Middle East and North Africa (pp. 120–135). Moghadam: University of Syracuse Press. Skalli, H. L. (2010). New modes of communication: Youth, Women and web representations in North Africa. In S. Joseph (Ed.), Encyclopedia of women & islamic cultures. Leiden: Brill. Brill Online. Skalli, H. L. (2014). Young Women and social media against sexual harassment in North Africa. Journal of North African Studies, 19(2), 244–258. UN Women. Passing and implementing effective laws and policies. https://www.unwomen.org/en/ what-we-do/ending-violence-againstwomen/passing-strong-laws-and-policies Yodanis, L. C. (2004). Gender inequality, violence against Women, and fear: A cross-National Test of the feminist theory of violence against Women. Journal of Interpersonal Violence, 19(6), 655–675.

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Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Defining and Contextualizing Sexual Offences in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Magnitude of Sexual Offences in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Prevalence Data . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . International Frameworks and Norms on Sexual Offences . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . International and Regional Instruments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Domestication of International and Regional Instruments: Country-Level Sexual Offences Laws . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Responding to Sexual Offences in Africa: A Whole Sector Approach . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

This chapter provides a magisterial overview of the diversity, definition, range, problematics, frameworks, solutions, and limitations of sexual offences and their remedies on the African continent, taking into consideration vital components of politics, culture, and resources in framing the issues and the solutions to sexual offences in Africa. We discuss the possibilities of more far-reaching state responses to sexual offences by highlighting African women’s initiatives responses to sexual and gendered-based violence (SGBV), thus bridging gaps in scholarship, policies, and practices as well as offering solutions improving data collection, interventions’ cost-effectiveness, and legal outcomes for survivors.

L. Artz (*) Gender, Health and Justice Research Unit – Faculty of Health Sciences, University of Cape Town, Cape Town, South Africa e-mail: [email protected] S. D. D’Cruz Gender, Health and Justice Research Unit, Cape Town, South Africa © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_96

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Keywords

Africa · Women · Sexual and gendered-based violence · One-stop centers · Medicolegal services · Legal frameworks · Cultural contexts

Introduction The subject of “sexual offences in Africa” is an especially complex topic to cover in a single chapter. Sexual offences take many forms; they result in a wide range of psychosocial and societal reactions, and are responded to legally in disparate, sometimes conflicting, ways throughout the continent. Though it is regularly reported about in the global context, particularly during times of civil unrest and armed conflict or in relation to transmission risks for HIV, it is a phenomenon that is generally poorly documented on the continent. A particular challenge is the extent to which prevalence and incidence data are collected, reported, and made available by each country, and by international human rights agencies. There is no global reporting mechanism, or template, that countries and development agencies adhere to. All this considered, “official rape statistics” – those collected by both police and nongovernmental agencies – do provide us with a general picture of the scale, and even sometimes the circumstances, of sexual offences. It is with these available data, that this chapter explores the nature and extent of sexual offences in Africa. This chapter provides a “framework” from which we define, “measure,” and explore the social and legal complexities of sexual offences in Africa. With 54 culturally and legally diverse countries across the continent, we can only just introduce the fundamentals of the subject matter. Methodologically, finding up-to-date country-by-country statistics is exceptionally challenging, with statistics being both scarce and disputable. Some countries do not collect, or provide, official data on sexual offences. Others only have data collected through small scale and highly localized studies in the region. Methods of data collection from one source to the next vary in terms of what measures are used to collect data (e.g., population surveys, reports of sexual offences to the police, or smaller qualitative studies), they diverge in what definitions of sexual offences are used to collect statistics and are highly variable in terms of what populations are studied (e.g., general population data or specifically from victims of sexual offences). Some sources of sexual offences data come from national governments, for example police statistics, while others come from grassroots groups and other civil society organizations. In humanitarian settings and conflict-affected countries, data on the prevalence and incidence of sexual offences are either nonexistent or crudely approximated. What does emerge from the literature is that sexual offences and other forms of violence against women can be linked to the degree of a country’s political stability (State of African Women Project 2018). For example, in conflict zones, humanitarian reports reflect “increasing” levels of more severe forms of sexual violence, and in some of these contexts reports of increasing human trafficking and sexual slavery (i.e., Libya, Tunisia, and the Democratic Republic), and within politically stable contexts,

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where governments have established national laws and mechanisms to address sexual offences, we see a greater number of sexual offences victims both seeking and receiving protection, treatment, and support. It is important to note that the findings that we present on the “prevalence” of sexual offences, as well as on the laws that have been adopted by African countries to address it, are based on secondary data analysis. We began with consulting international and regional institutions’ online datasets as well as their reports on sexual and gender-based violence (SGBV), including those from UN agencies, the World Bank, the African Union, among others. This was followed by a verification process with SGBV datasets compiled by African states (e.g., data emanating from police or justice departments), datasets compiled by African research centers and nongovernmental organizations, as well as those from international government aid or development agencies located on the continent. What we present here are four key areas of focus: the definition of sexual offences, the prevalence of sexual offences, the legal frameworks available on the continent to address sexual offences, and, finally, examples of support responses to sexual offences.

Defining and Contextualizing Sexual Offences in Africa Sexual offences occur in a variety of contexts: during times of war and during times of peace, on the streets and in homes, in the big cities and small rural villages, by strangers and by intimate partners and even family members, in all African countries, at all times of the day, to all ages of people, and to all genders. Sexual offences are a global phenomenon and it is also an African one. Sexual offences are also defined as many things, sometimes interchangeably, in African state laws, but has generally been known to include the following range of violations: • Rape (and marital rape): The invasion of any part of the body of the victim or of the perpetrator with a sexual organ, or of the anal or genital opening of the victim with any object or any other part of the body by force, coercion, taking advantage of a coercive environment, or against a person incapable of giving genuine consent (as defined by the International Criminal Court and as contained in the Elements of Crimes Annex and the Rome Statute). • Child sexual abuse, defilement and incest: Any act where a child is used for sexual gratification. Any sexual relations or interactions with a child (including child marriage). • Forced sodomy/anal rape: Forced or coerced anal intercourse, usually male-tomale or male-to-female. • Attempted rape or attempted forced sodomy/anal rape: Attempted forced or coerced intercourse, where there is no penetration. • Sexual abuse, sexual assault, or sexual violation: An actual or threatened physical intrusion of a sexual nature, including inappropriate touching, by force or under unequal or coercive conditions, without an act of penetration.

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• Sexual exploitation: Any abuse of a position of vulnerability, differential power, or trust for sexual purposes. This includes profiting momentarily, socially, or politically from the sexual exploitation of another. Sexual exploitation is one of the purposes of trafficking in persons and includes various acts such as performing in a sexual manner, forced undressing and/or nakedness, coerced marriage, forced childbearing, engagement in pornography or prostitution, sexual extortion for the granting of goods, services, assistance, benefits, sexual slavery, including in conflict and humanitarian aid contexts (UNHCR 2003). • Forced prostitution (also referred to as sexual exploitation): Forced/coerced sex trade in exchange for material resources, services, and assistance, usually targeting highly vulnerable women or girls unable to meet basic human needs for themselves and/or their children. • Sexual harassment: Any unwelcome, usually repeated and unreciprocated sexual advance, unsolicited sexual attention, demand for sexual access or favors, sexual innuendo or other verbal or physical conduct of a sexual nature, display of pornographic material, when it interferes with work, is made a condition of employment or creates an intimidating, hostile, or offensive work environment. • Sexual violence as a weapon of war and torture: Crimes against humanity of a sexual nature, including rape, sexual slavery, forced abortion or sterilization or any other forms to prevent birth, forced pregnancy, forced delivery, and forced child rearing, among others. Sexual violence as a form of torture is defined as any act or threat of a sexual nature by which severe mental or physical pain or suffering is caused to obtain information, confession of punishment from the victim or third person, intimidate her or a third person or to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnic, racial, or religious group. In 2018 African writer and journalist, Nduta Waweru, laconically captured the many ways in which sexual offences are specifically “expressed” on the continent, ways that are sometimes evidenced in human rights reports or in the media, but seldom systematically documented through formal research or monitoring projects. She reflects on what many women’s human rights activists and researchers have heard throughout the continent but cannot adequately describe or are simply reluctant to. Waweru (2018) expressly signals the maintenance of “rape culture” through certain African rituals and customs including the ritual of Ukuthwala (as it is referred to in South Africa, but also practiced in other countries in Africa) where “a young man of marriageable age would kidnap a girl or a young woman with the intention of compelling her family to approve the marriage and start negotiations; the rape of girls or women as a way of forcing a marriage; the prosecution of female rape survivors with the crime of ‘adultery’ if they are raped, which include punishments like marrying the person who raped the girl; and in the context of child marriages where ‘spousal rape’ is not a crime, the rape of underaged girls without consequence” (p. 1). She reinforces the notion that while customary practices are culturally vital, they can also be deeply harmful, insentiently generational, and can be contrary to basic human rights principles, particularly the rights to equality and bodily integrity.

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The African Commission for Human and People’s Rights also reminds us of how widespread sexual offences are on the continent, both in times of conflict and in times of peace: It takes place in public, in the street and on public transportation, but also in private, in the workplace or in intimate relationships. It mainly affects women and girls, but men and boys are also victims. The statistics are alarming: in Sub-Saharan Africa almost 39 per cent of girls are married before the age of 18. In certain African countries, up to 95 per cent of girls are the victims of genital mutilation; more than 70 per cent of women report having been the victims of domestic violence, including sexual violence; and more than 90 per cent report having been the victims of sexual harassment and not feeling safe in public places. In addition, in several countries where conflict prevails, rape and other forms of sexual violence are used on a wide scale as a weapon of war. (ACHPR, 2017, p. 6)

Countries emerging from a conflict are particularly vulnerable to high levels of sexual offences. They are identified under international nomenclature and categorization (OECD 2007), as “fragile states,” which are further characterized by a dysfunctional government and a dilapidated service delivery system; meaning those states are unable or have limited institutional capacities to meet and secure its populations’ basic needs (Justino 2011). In spite of aid programs and policy reforms implemented by financial international institutions to instill the process of economic recovery and state-building, post-conflict and transitional countries are still at risk of relapsing into conflict (Walter 2004) and the absence of active warfare does not necessarily bring an end to violence and insecurity (Brahimi 2007). The militarization of post-conflict societies, the proliferation of small arms (ex-combatants returning to civilian life), and socioeconomic grievance not only increase armed criminality, vigilantism, and social violence, including sexual offences (Holmqvist 2005; Dzinesa 2007), but also threaten the restoration of a country’s sustainable peace and stability. Yet even in contexts of post-conflict and “peace,” rape and other forms of sexual offences persist. Artz and Moult (under review) maintain that rape is a crime unlike any other form of violent crime: It affects all women, their sense of safety and their physical integrity, and is invasive, dehumanising, and humiliating for the victim. The use of force, violence and subordination are central to the act of rape. The consequences for the rape victim are severe and life long, and include the loss of the ability to trust, of freedom and identity. Often, for the rape victim, restitution is never fully realised, even if the offender is “brought to justice”. Rape victims, unlike other victims of crime, are not venerated for their bravery in coming forward with their experiences. Instead they are ignored, dismissed, questioned and shamed by the very people meant to support them: their families, communities, the criminal justice system and society in general. (p. 1)

Sexual offences within these contexts often co-occur with underlying or preexisting structural inequalities and “cultural violence” which are (re)produced within post-conflict societies (Muggah and Krause 2009) and which affect disproportionately women and children (Hynes 2004). Galtung (1990) defines the concept of cultural violence as “any aspect of a culture that can be used to legitimize violence in

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its direct or structural form” (p. 291). The culture of violence, the norms and practices inherited from conflict, generates new forms and use of violence at all levels of a post-conflict society, and as highlighted by Steenkamp (2005), violence “loses its political meaning and becomes a way of dealing with everyday issues: it becomes ‘trivialized’ or ‘everyday’, and becomes a socially acceptable mechanism to achieve power and status in society” (p. 254). Rape and domestic violence are the most pervasive and significant forms of violence encountered in post-conflict and transitional societies (Ní Aoláin et al. 2011), and while violence against women has been recognized as being integral to conflict dynamics, the persistence of large-scale violations and abuses of women and children in post-conflict and transitional settings is a phenomenon that has yet to be fully comprehended, and in some contexts, satisfactorily responded to in terms of legal protections and healthcare support, despite international and regional reports which show the devastating immediate and corollary effects of sexual offences on victims and on communities (Krug et al. 2002; WHO 2004; Manjoo and McRaight 2011). The negative health, economic, and social impacts also undermine the recovery processes of post-conflict and transitional countries (UN Secretary General 2009). Of course, many African states emerging from political turmoil and conflicts have brought significant changes to their respective legal and policy frameworks (Ndulo 2003), translating international human rights norms and standards to domestic law in an effort to curtail and respond to sexual offences. This has been done mainly through the ratification of international treaties and through the revision or adoption of legislation and penal codes enacting laws that criminalize – or extend the criminalization of – rape and other forms of sexual offences. However, realizing justice for victims of sexual offences solely based on the legal system response in transitional and post-conflict countries “cannot address the deep-seated gender inequalities, which are produced by and reflected in legal, political, social, economic, and cultural practices, institutions and identities” (Reilly 2007, p. 169). Given the complex nature of sexual offences, the criminal justice system response is often insufficient (McQuigg 2013, p. 40), which is in part explained by the lack of data that could guide States in drawing up or adapting their public policy for combating sexual violence and its consequences. We discuss the possibilities of state responses to sexual offences further below, specifically the importance of disaggregated data in enabling States to adapt public policy for responding to sexual violence and its consequences.

The Magnitude of Sexual Offences in Africa Data on the extent of sexual offences in Africa is extremely difficult to come by. There are many factors that contribute to the challenges in establishing both the nature of these offences as well as the prevalence. Firstly, the political state of the country is important. Countries may be conflicted-affected (and therefore considered fragile states), or they may be emerging from conflict (post-conflict or transitional states) and therefore be in the early phases of nation (re)building, including key

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institutions. Other countries may be full or emerging democracies at various stages of development. The political state of a country affects the extent to which it can document, investigate, and prosecute sexual offences, not to mention the extent to which they can provide health and psycho-social support services to victims of rape. There have been certain international polls, for instance “WordLists,” that through the analysis of police statistics, have reported that the three countries with the highest prevalence rates of sexual offences “in the world” are South Africa, Botswana, and Lesotho. Interestingly, these three countries are all considered “countries in peace time,” which begs the question of whether or how records of sexual offences in countries in conflict are collected. Even in contexts of “peace,” official rape statistics can be woefully inadequate. These statistics only represent cases that are reported to the police. They do not take into account the large number of cases that are reported elsewhere (e.g., to friends, family members, customary leaders, healthcare facilities, religious leaders, counselors, and NGOs) and which the survivor does not want to report to the police. Of course, many do not report to anyone at all. The reasons for “non-reporting” sexual offences are multifarious. Artz (2012) explains that victimological studies have shown that there are many reasons why victims of sexual offences do not report their experiences to the police (or other state authorities) or even to families or confidantes. For instance, some women are uncertain as to whether what they experienced constitutes rape or sexual assault; they may not be able to recall all of the events of the incident; they may feel humiliation and shame at having been raped; they may fear being blamed for having been raped, especially if they knew the perpetrator, or if they had been drinking, or had been taking drugs; they may be anxious or fear retaliation by the perpetrator; they may have reported to someone (a friend, a family member) who either did not believe them or encouraged them to keep quiet about the incident; they may fear the stigma of having been raped or that they will not be believed if they have no outward, obvious signs of injury; or they may have waited a long time before disclosing the rape, which means that the likelihood of finding evidence or successfully prosecuting the offender is very low. This under-reporting means we “see” far fewer sexual offences documented than those that actually exist, but it also highlights the importance of documenting suspected cases of sexual offences within the health, mental health, and allied services. Underreporting is also remarkably estimate, and while there have been a few small-scale studies that have estimated underreporting through feedback from “post-rape helpseeking” populations, no national studies have been conducted which rigorously quantify incidents that are not reported. The reasons for this are multifarious, from the more obvious reason that some of those who have been sexually assaulted are not likely to report their experiences to any researcher or service provider, to the more complex operational and methodological challenges in conducting population studies on under-reporting. While the estimates from smaller scale studies provide a wide range of estimates across a wide range of populations, what is common is both the recognition that many victims of sexual offences do not report their experiences and the innumerable personal, societal, and systemic reasons for not doing so. Prevalence data, though also not without its methodological challenges, is less to a certain extent less problematic to establish, and is discussed below.

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Prevalence Data In the WHO’s Global and regional estimates of violence against women prevalence and health effects of intimate partner violence and non-partner sexual violence (2013), it was estimated that lifetime prevalence of “physical and/or sexual intimate partner violence among ever-partnered women” in Africa is 36.6% and “on-partner sexual violence” is 11.9%, with “the higher prevalence estimates from studies that focused on measuring violence in conflict-affected settings” (p. 19). According to a United Nations Entity for Gender Equality and the Empowerment of Women (UN Women) presentation (2018) “gaps in gender data and the lack of trend data make it difficult to assess and monitor the direction and pace of progress for women and girls.”1 The availability of data necessary for global monitoring of the genderspecific indicators is at a mere 26%.2 In sub-Saharan Africa, the availability of data is slightly lower, with 25.2% of the necessary data for monitoring progress on gender equality in the SDGs. The figure for availability of recent data is 23.4%. Unless gender is mainstreamed into national statistical strategies, gender data scarcity will persist.3 Below we present data from the UNODC on the number of police-recorded rapes against women in some African countries between 2013 and 2015 (there was no data more recent than 2015 available in this database). The data on sexual offences against children from the same report is regrettably under-reported and not consistent with the range of countries reported here below. What can be said is that in those countries where data on children was provided by the UNODC, the levels of sexual offences against children were about equivalent to sexual offences against adult women. What Table 1 illustrates is the inconsistent data collection and reporting of sexual offences in Africa, with only a quarter of African countries represented here. By “inconsistent” we refer to under-recording of both rape and other forms of sexual offences, the absence of child-related data (or data disaggregated by age and gender) in many countries, and the surprisingly low numbers of reported incidents. By contrast, South Africa – from where this chapter originates – has one of the highest “reported” rape statistics in the world. There are approximately 50,000 police-reported cases per annum, depending on one’s definition and analysis of official statistics. From 2016/7 to 2017/18, the level of reported cases went up by 8.7%, for combined rape and sexual assault cases. While there is some debate as to whether an increase in reporting of sexual offences reflects a positive change, where victims are more likely to report to the police, or a negative one, reflecting higher levels of sexual offences, the comparative

United Nations Entity for Gender Equality and the Empowerment of Women (2018). “Turning Promises into Action: Gender Equality in the 2030 Agenda for Sustainable Development”. Retrieved from http://www.unwomen.org/en/digital-library/sdg-report 2 Ibid., p. 48. 3 United Nations Entity for Gender Equality and the Empowerment of Women (2018). “Turning Promises into Action: Factsheet for Sub-Saharan Africa”, p. 5. Retrieved from https://www. unwomen.org/-/media/headquarters/attachments/sections/library/publications/2018/sdg-reportfactsheet-sub-saharan-africa-en.pdf?la¼en&vs¼3558 1

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Table 1 Total sexual offences* against women at the national level: number of police-recorded offences by country 2013 Country Burundi Kenya Madagascar Rwanda Uganda United Republic of Tanzania Cameroon Algeria Morocco Botswana Cabo Verde Nigeria Senegal

No. – 4779 419 1734 10,974 3 673 5596 4327 – 238 1788 –

2014 Per 100,000 – 10.94 1.83 15.65 30.01 0.01 3.03 14.65 12.93 – 46.92 1.03 –

No. 1265 5184 893 – 13,676 22 703 3017 – 2750 211 – –

2015 Per 100,000 11.69 11.56 3.79 – 36.20 0.04 3.09 7.75 – 123.88 41.06 – –

No. – 6164 1115 – – 52 – 3360 – – 220 – 252

Per 100,000 – 13.39 4.60 – – 0.10 – 8.47 – – 42.27 – 1.67

Source: www.unodc.org/documents/data-and-analysis/Crimestatistics/Sexual_violence_sv_ against_children_and_rape.xls *Sexual offences: include “Rape,” “Sexual Assault,” and “Other Acts of Sexual Violence” but excludes sexual exploitation, prostitution offences, pornography offences, and trafficking in persons for sexual exploitation

figures between South Africa and other African states, leaves one questioning the reliability of the statistical collection process across the continent. Again, in contrast, the State of African Women Report (2018) provides the following (unreferenced) data on gender-based violence: One in three African women experience violence4 in their lives. Lifetime prevalence of some form of physical and/or sexual violence by an intimate partner is estimated to be 36.6% for African women. Intimate partner violence varies between countries from 5% to 57% and non-partner violence is estimated at 11.9% among African women. They also report that non-partner violence is higher in Central and Southern Africa (21% and 17.4%, respectively) than it is in Eastern and Western Africa (11.5% and 9.2%, respectively), and lowest in Northern Africa (4.5%). Again, one speculates as to the extent to which sexual offences are considered a criminal offence, the extent to which sexual offences are reported, and whether they are eventually officially recorded by the policing authorities. Data from conflict-affected countries is also difficult to come by – Algeria, Angola, Burkina Faso, Burundi, Cameroon, Central African Republic, Chad,

The report refers uses the term “Gender-based Violence Against Women” (GBVW) which involves all acts perpetrated against women which cause or could cause them physical, sexual, psychological, and economic harm.

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Congo, DR Congo, Eritrea, Ethiopia, Libya, Mali, Niger, Somalia, and South Sudan among them – as it is often the reports of humanitarian organizations that provide conflict-related data on sexual offences in the areas in which they provide humanitarian care. Other initiatives such as the Sexual Violence in Armed Conflict (SVAC) Dataset provide a portal through which SVAC data can be deposited. The database includes data on sexual offences from around the world by state and paramilitary forces including acts of rape, sexual slavery, forced prostitution, and forced pregnancy, sterilization and abortion, although regular updating of the database appears to be a challenge. There is, however, important qualitative data in this database that specifies the nature of the forms of sexual violence that took place and who it was reported to. Indeed, like any initiative that aims to document sexual offences, the “project” needs to be sustainable, accessible, and properly supported.

International Frameworks and Norms on Sexual Offences We now turn to the legal frameworks that promote the right(s) to be free from all forms of violence and to bodily integrity. These frameworks – whether international, regional, or national – are critical to the advancement of human rights in that they not only provide a clear set of principles for the prevention of and response to sexual offences, but can be, and are, used to hold African countries accountable to a range of treaty and monitoring bodies, including the United Nations, the African Union (African Commission of Human and People’s Rights), national parliaments, national human rights institutions, and other monitoring mechanisms that countries may have in place to ensure the implementation of human rights as contained in their respective Constitutions (or Bills of Rights).

International and Regional Instruments Sexual offences are recognized in international law as a violation of human rights and contained within a wide range of international human rights instruments. An analysis of these is beyond the scope of this chapter. It is worth noting however, that early international treaties only provided protection against sexual violence implicitly, and it was only in the 1990s that sexual offences began to receive more explicit and detailed attention with the passage of the General Comment No. 19 by the Committee on the Elimination of Discrimination Against Women (1992) and the Declaration of Elimination of Violence Against Women (1993). African countries have also taken steps, at a regional level, to strengthen the international and continental legal and institutional frameworks to address violence. The African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights (hereinafter “the African Charter” 1981) has been instrumental to these legal developments. The African Charter guarantees the principle of nondiscrimination; the right to equality before the law and to equal protection from the law; the right to a hearing before competent national courts; the right to physical and integrity; the right to dignity; a prohibition on slavery, human

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trafficking, torture, and cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment or punishment; the right to freedom and security; the right to the enjoyment of the best possible physical and mental health; and the right to education. There are also several important Regional instruments, such as the SADC Protocol on Gender and Development (1997) and the Protocol to the African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights on the Rights of Women in Africa (the “African Women’s Protocol,” 2005) that have emerged as unambiguous human rights instruments that protect and promote the rights of victims of sexual offences in the African context. The Protocol to the African Charter on Human and Peoples Rights on the Rights of Women in Africa – known as the “Maputo Protocol” – was adopted by the African Union in 2003 and was entered into force in 2005. It marked a breakthrough in the protection and promotion of women’s rights in Africa as it explicitly set out the reproductive right of women in Africa. It provides for specific measures to combat violence against women, especially sexual violence (in Articles 3(4), 4, 5, 6, 11(3), 22(b), and 23 (b)), and authorizes medical abortions in situations involving sexual assault, rape, and incest (in Article 14(2)(c)). Additionally, while incorporating core tenets of international human rights, humanitarian and criminal laws, the adoption of the SADC Protocol on Gender and Development (1997) and the International Conference on the Great Lakes Region (ICGLR) Protocol on the Prevention and Suppression of Sexual Violence against Women and Children (2006), enhance the implementation of regional instruments by setting time-bound targets and measurable goals in relation to the provision of sexual offences prevention, prosecution, and support services to victims. The SADC Protocol commits countries to enacting and enforcing legislation that prohibits all forms of violence, to reviewing and reforming criminal laws and procedures applicable to cases of gender-based violence, as well as establishing special counseling services, legal and police units to provide dedicated services to survivors of gender-based violence. In the Addendum to the 1997 Declaration on Gender and Development (1998), state parties are further obliged to allocate the necessary resources to ensure the implementation and sustainability of gender-based violence laws and programs. There are also several “topical resolutions” adopted by the African Commission – including resolutions condemning sexual violence committed in specific situations and countries, such as “Resolution 284 on the Suppression of Sexual Violence against Women in the Democratic Republic of Congo (2014)” and “Resolution 288 on Condemning the Perpetrators of Sexual Assault and Violence in the Arab Republic of Egypt (2014)” – as well as special declarations like the “Kigali International Conference Declaration to End Violence against Women” (2008–2015). More recently, the Guidelines on Combating Sexual Violence and its Consequences in Africa (also known as the Niamey Guidelines) were adopted by the African Commission on Human and Peoples’ Rights (ACHPR) during its 60th Ordinary Session in 2017. They are described by the ACHPR as “a set of practical, specific and concrete measures, and were developed pursuant to Article 45 (1) (b) of the African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights, which gives the African Commission a mandate to create and draft the principles and regulations relating to human rights, which African governments may use as the basis for their domestic

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legislation” (p. 7). These guidelines were also “designed as a tool to offer a methodology to African States, and to serve as a foundation for an adequate legal and institutional framework” (p. 7). The guidelines cover several important areas including providing definition(s) of sexual violence, the implementation of international and regional obligations, prevention of sexual violence and its consequences, protecting and supporting victims of sexual violence, investigating and prosecuting sexual violence and reparation. It also includes an important section on statistical data where it obliges African countries to do the following: States must take the necessary measures for statistics on sexual violence and its consequences to be compiled by independent authorities. In particular, statistics must be compiled on the different forms of sexual violence, their frequency, the personal characteristics of the victims and perpetrators and their relationship, information pertaining to the location, legal actions taken as well as legal and judiciary outcome [. . .] among other information. This disaggregated data should serve as a tool to enable States to draw up or adapt their public policy for combating sexual violence and its consequences and should be publicly available. (p. 49)

Domestication of International and Regional Instruments: Country-Level Sexual Offences Laws It is clear, as Artz (2018) argues, that “African states have not been without guidance from international bodies and instruments as well as African-centric declarations and guidelines which support state parties in establishing monitoring mechanisms, drafting laws, and creating guidelines for the implementation of international norms and minimum standards” as it pertains to sexual offences (p. 167). In this last decade, several African states have adopted news laws criminalizing different aspects of sexual offences. As can be seen in Table 2, some countries have established specific statutory laws to prevent and respond to sexual offences, while others have specific offences relating to rape and other forms of sexual violence within their penal (criminal) codes. The latter are often not as well-defined and only set out the elements of these offences and the punitive measures to be taken, as opposed to statutory laws which are generally much more well-defined in terms of both the substance of the law as well as process and procedures in responding to sexual offences. Not all African states have laws to cover all aspects of sexual offences and vary in terms of the extent to which they criminalize other sexual offences besides “rape,” such as sexual offences that are non-penetrative, marital rape, female genital mutilation, sodomy/anal rape, sexual offences against persons with disabilities or against boys and men, and attempted rape. The State of African Women Project (2018) describes the challenges of legal frameworks in Africa like this: The key challenges vary by region. In the Western African region, the major concern for the legal framework relates to gaps in legal provisions on domestic violence, marital rape and/or sexual harassment. In Eastern Africa, the countries in the Horn of Africa, as well as to a slightly lesser extent Tanzania, stand out for their weak legal frameworks on all dimensions

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Table 2 African countries: GBV and sexual offences laws

Country 1. Algeria 2. Angola 3. Benin 4. Botswana 5. Burkina Faso 6. Burundi 7. Cabo Verde 8. Cameroon 9. Central African Republic 10. Chad 11. Comoros 12. DR Congo 13. Côte d’Ivore 14. Djibouti 15. Egypt 16. Equatorial Guinea 17. Eritrea 18. Eswatini 19. Ethiopia 20. Gabon 21. The Gambia 22.Ghana 23. Guinea 24. Guinea-Bissau 25. Kenya 26. Lesotho 27. Liberia 28. Libya 29. Madagascar 30. Malawi 31. Mali 32. Mauritania 33. Mauritius 34. Morocco 35. Mozambique 36. Namibia 37. Niger 38. Nigeria 39. Rwanda

Constitutional protection violence/ bodily harm • • • • • • • • • • • – • • • • • • • • • • • • • • – • • • • • • • • • – • •

GBV laws* • • • • • • •

Separate sexual offences act**

Criminalization of marital rape

•

• •

•

•

• – • •

• • •

–

• –

•

• •

•

• • –

• • –

• • –

• • • • • • • – • •

• –

• • – • (continued)

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Table 2 (continued)

Country 40. São Tomé and Príncipe 41. Senegal 42. Seychelles 43. Sierra Leone 44. Somalia 45. South Africa 46. South Sudan 47. Sudan 48. Swaziland 49. Tanzania 50. Togo 51. Tunisia 52. Uganda 53. Zambia 54. Zimbabwe Total out of 54

Constitutional protection violence/ bodily harm – • • • • • • • • • • • • • • 50 (4 Unknown)

GBV laws* –

Separate sexual offences act** –

Criminalization of marital rape •

• • • • •

• • •

• – •

• •

•

• • • • • 37 10 (4 Unknown) (4 Unknown)

14 (4 Unknown)

Source: Predominately based on UN Women Global Database on Violence against women, available at http://evaw-global-database.unwomen.org/en *These included statutory laws on “violence against women” including sexual violence, domestic violence, and trafficking within statutory law or those offences criminalized in the country’s penal code. Excludes laws on child marriage and female genital mutilation (FGM) **Refers to a separate “statutory” law specifically relating to sexual offences – No current information available

of [gender-based violence]. The most prominent weakness in the Central region is the lack of criminalisation of marital rape, and Angola, Congo Republic and DRC have the weakest legal and policy frameworks. In Southern Africa, the key gap is the lack of legislation prohibiting marital rape, and Comoros, Swaziland and Tanzania stand out for having the weakest national frameworks. In the Northern region, none of the countries has criminalised marital rape, and only three have legislation on domestic violence. Libya has the weakest legal and policy framework on [gender-based violence], and Mauritius and Morocco follow. (p. 42)

From what we have managed to access and compile for Table 2, 50 countries have Constitutional provisions protecting its citizens from physical violence (four countries are categorized as “unknown” due to challenges accessing current information). Constitutional rights in the other countries generally refer to the prohibition of “any cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment” or infringements against “physical or moral integrity of a person,” the right to “physical freedom and individual security,” the right to “life, liberty, security and integrity” or any combination of these. Interestingly, 14 of the 54 countries do not criminalize marital rape, and others do not

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criminalize child marriages, though data on the latter is difficult to obtain given the diverse legal “ages of consent” across countries. Connected to this are sexual and reproductive rights, which are beyond the scope of this analysis. However, inherent in the violation of women’s (and girls’) sexual and reproductive health rights are the risks of forced marriage, honor killings, child marriage, and unsafe abortion. Only three countries in Africa have liberal abortion laws: South Africa, Cape Verde, and Tunisia.5 Setting aside the four countries where information was difficult to secure – namely, Democratic Republic of Congo, Liberia, Niger, and São Tomé and Príncipe – 37 countries have laws on gender-based violence more generally. This category included laws on “violence against women,” including sexual violence, domestic violence, and trafficking, within statutory law or offences criminalized in the country’s penal code, but excluded laws on child marriage and female genital mutilation (FGM). Only 10 countries have specific or separate statutory laws on sexual offences; or a “Sexual Offences Act.”

Responding to Sexual Offences in Africa: A Whole Sector Approach Effectively addressing sexual offences, and other forms of gender-based violence, implies that concurrent to the enactment of specific laws prohibiting sexual offences, African states – including post-conflict, transitional, and non-conflict states – need to implement reparation measures and/or institutional mechanisms that bridge the gaps between statutory requirements (the laws preventing sexual offences) and victims’ recovery processes. In fact, Paragraph 3 of the Nairobi Principles on Women and Girl’s Right to a Remedy and Reparation deliberately addresses this and states: “reparation must drive post-conflict transformation of socio-cultural injustices, and political and structural inequalities that shape the lives of women and girls; that reintegration and restitution by themselves are not sufficient goals of reparation, since the origins of violations of women’s and girl’s human rights predate the conflict situation.”6 Providing sexual offences victims’ right to legal redress and reparation, 5

https://www.guttmacher.org/fact-sheet/abortion-africa The notion of reparation is well accepted in international law. And victims’ rights to access and benefit from effective remedies and judicial redress for the violation of their rights are reaffirmed in international human rights and humanitarian law treaties and other legal instruments. Among those, the Basic Principles and Guidelines on the Right to a Remedy and Reparation for Victims of Gross Violations of International Human Rights Law and Serious Violations of International Humanitarian Law lays out states’ obligation to ensure victims’ right to reparation and remedies, and in Chapter IX spells out the forms of reparation from harmed suffered, to be laid down by domestic law and / or administrative regulations; which are the following: restitution, compensation, rehabilitation, satisfaction, and guarantees of non-repetition. UN General Assembly, Basic Principles and Guidelines on the Right to a Remedy and Reparation for Victims of Gross Violations of International Human Rights Law and Serious Violations of International Humanitarian Law: resolution / adopted by the General Assembly, 21 March 2006, A/RES/60/147, available at: http://www.refworld.org/docid/4721cb942.html 6

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in respect to the rule of law, constitutes the bedrock of sustainable peace and stability. This of course applies to countries in transition and those in contexts of peace. What is required in responding to sexual offences is the belief that “recovery, justice and restitution” is possible and that sexual offenders do not act with impunity. Conventionally, a chapter on sexual offences and human rights would focus on the legal frameworks – which are partially addressed above – as well as other mechanisms and services that support justice and restitution for sexual offences survivors. However, we are going to (re)focus on other measures that are already in place in some parts of Africa, and, though they are in critical need of attention and reinforcement, are also pivotal in ensuring recovery and justice for sexual offences survivors: the medicolegal system, which in of itself, includes multiple services. Strictly speaking, the term “medicolegal” relates to the legal aspects of the practice of medicine. It also refers to the nexus between the health and criminal justice sectors. This nexus is inherent when victims of sexual offences seek some form of clinical assistance for physical, sexual or psychological injury and seek legal recourse. It is widely accepted across the continent that if victims of sexual and genderbased violence report to any formal state institution, it will be first to a health facility, and then to a criminal justice agency. Medical attention is sought by victims of sexual and gender based violence from emergency/trauma rooms, outpatient centers and general hospital admissions, primary healthcare settings and other health facilities such as obstetrics and gynecology units and voluntary counseling and testing centers (VCT), yet injuries and other consequences of sexual offence-related trauma and abuse (such as HIV transmission) are rarely documented and treated as sexual offences cases by attending healthcare practitioners. In clinical health settings, women tend to report the secondary effects of violence and rape (e.g., as gynecological issues, unresolved physical injuries and acute or chronic symptoms such as abdominal pain, gastric complaints, headaches and fatigue, anxiety and depression, “unexplained” injuries), all of which can signal health practitioners to the possibility of sexual and other forms of gender-based violence. Thus, healthcare services are an ideal place to both detect all forms of gender-based violence in a private setting as well as a site from which to provide victims with information about referral options, support services, and available criminal justice options. Ensuring “recovery and justice” means adequate medical, legal, and psychosocial services that meet sexual offences survivors” immediate and medium-term health and mental health needs and foster a sense of confidence in the criminal justice process. The health sector has, and continues to play, an important role in contributing to survivors’ recovery. In fact, healthcare providers are likely to spend more time with rape complainants than anyone in the legal system and therefore have a prominent place in addressing the health consequences of sexual offences, by treating injuries, testing and treating HIV and other STIs, giving clinical assessments, collecting forensic evidence from victims and in making referrals to psycho-social or other specialized post-rape services. Medicolegal care facilities are an important mechanism for addressing sexual offences in Africa. These services can be found in Sierra Leone, Zambia, Zimbabwe, Ethiopia, South Africa (SA), Kenya, South Sudan, Uganda, and the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), among other countries.

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There are few examples of the role and relevance of medicolegal services in promoting justice for sexual offences victims in post-conflict, transitional, and postconflict/democratic African states. These countries generally use one of two systems: (i) the institutional systems model; and (ii) the integrated model. The institutional systems model approach aims to expand the responsibilities, roles, and legal duties of the concerned agencies (health, judicial, and law enforcement) in order to increase the effectiveness and efficiency of their responses to sexual offences (Bott et al. 2010). It implies to change the process of managing the medical, social, and legal consequences of sexual offences by establishing gender-sensitive policies and practices within the relevant sectors to comply with enacted key national legislation, as well as developing skills, standards of procedure, protocols which emphasize the linkages between healthcare services and the legal system’s needs. This approach requires each institution to put in place safe and adequate structures, redress mechanisms, and interventions for sexual offences victims. It also seeks to enable survivors to report the abuse and facilitate the investigation and prosecution of perpetrators by strengthening each sector’s response. The integrated model is most often used in resource-constrained settings, where governments and peace-building agencies rely on third-party stakeholders to assume partially the responsibility to coordinate and provide sustainable quality services to sexual offences survivors. Resulting from partnerships between governmental institutions, non-state providers, and health organizations, the integrated and comprehensive model approach, also known as “one-stop center” or “OSC” (Keesbury et al. 2012), emerges to be the most common strategy implemented in post-conflict and transitional African countries to address sexual offences. OSCs are separate units dedicated to the management of sexual offences survivors, which are situated within health facilities such as public hospitals and community-based health centers or clinics. They are operated either by the public health institution itself, nongovernmental organizations (NGOs) or by an intergovernmental unit. The OSC seeks to deliver comprehensive care treatment, by strengthening and complementing the provision of existing medicolegal and support services to sexual offences victims who present themselves for medical attention. In other words, the OSC model integrates multidisciplinary services, ranging from health, welfare, counseling, and legal services accessible from one single location. The OSC hospital-based model has been widely adopted in Kenya, South Africa, Uganda, and the DRC with variations observed, regarding the range of medicolegal services provided. However, both strategies are confronted with the lack of defined legal duties expected by key service providers as well as a lack of state funds to sufficiently support these interagency efforts in addressing sexual offences. OSCs’ sustainability and capacity to promote sexual offences survivors’ access to justice can only be achieved if national governments show political will to actively promote and support sexual offences prevention and response programs, by turning positive legal frameworks to address sexual offences into action. This includes not continuing to rely on international foreign organizations and donors to support these programs. Governments need to mobilize local expertise, including women’s rights advocacy groups, as well as harness resources and skills that can be reasonably replicated throughout

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rural areas, so as to scale up sexual offences prevention and response (Keesbury and Thompson 2010). Strengthening and financially supporting OSCs’ approach to medicolegal services increases access points to the formal justice system as well as health care for sexual offences survivors, but it especially protects and fulfills the fundamental and inalienable human rights to access justice and the “highest attainable standard of health.”7

Conclusion The establishment of medicolegal services, through the introduction or integration of judicial and forensic services into the medical management of victims, as well as the inclusion of health-related services during legal proceedings, meets the holistic needs of sexual assault survivors. Strengthening and intertwining the response to sexual offences of the health sector and of the criminal justice system can contribute to the enforcement of law and the enhancement of survivors’ access to justice through the reinforcement of their right to health care. As such, establishing medicolegal services translates a dialectical relationship between the health sector (the right to health care) and the legal system (the right to access justice) in the management of SGBV survivors. On the one hand, it provides them with the necessary medical and psycho-social care, and on the other hand, it provides legal assistance to victims, in respect of the court’s requirements (collection of forensic evidence). Thus, medicolegal services should be considered a crucial mechanism, which incorporate international human rights norms into national legislation and institutional policies and ensure victims’ rights to access health care, judicial redress, and obtain reparation. OSC not only allows decentralized and de-partitioned interventions but offers tailored services to SGBV victims. OSCs facilitate and maximize the collaboration between specialized protection units and other relevant sectors addressing SGBV which in turn increases positive legal outcome for survivors. Commonly agreed upon standards of procedure between concerned parties is crucial in helping governments to gather and standardize, in comprehensive manner, statistics capturing the extent of SGBV. OSC enables stakeholders to build and disseminate cost-effective and reliable interventions supported by evidence-based studies. However, responding to sexual and gendered-based violence requires women to exercise ownership of these particular issues. Feminist movements are at the forefront in designing effective services and facilities, working with formal and traditional legal systems, monitoring and documenting GBV, and demanding and improving accountability systems.8 7

Article 1 of the Constitution of the World Health Organization. Geneva: World Health Organization; 1948. 8 Tappis, H., Freeman, J., Glass, N., & Doocy, S. (2016). Effectiveness of Interventions, Programs and Strategies for Gender-based Violence Prevention in Refugee Populations: An Integrative Review. PLoS currents, 8, ecurrents.dis.3a465b66f9327676d61eb8120eaa5499. doi:https://doi. org/10.1371/currents.dis.3a465b66f9327676d61eb8120eaa5499

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References African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights. (1981). African Commission on Human and Peoples’ Rights. (2017). Guidelines on combating sexual violence and its consequences in Africa (the Guidelines). Adopted by the ACHPR during the 60th Ordinary Session held in Niamey, Niger from 8 to 22 May, 2017. Artz, L. (2012). Expert Affidavit for the Western Cape Commission of Inquiry into the Policing System in Khayelitsha (pp. 1–25). Evidence-based affidavit submitted to the Western Cape Commission of Inquiry on Policing in Khayelitsha on behalf of the Social Justice Coalition, Ndifuna Ukawzi, Equal Education, Triangle Project and the Treatment Action Campaign: represented by the Women’s Legal Centre Trust. PART 1. Artz, L. (2018). Ukhohliwe’: A South African perspective on the Corston Report. In L. Moore, P. Scraton, & A. Wahidin’s (Eds.), Women’s imprisonment and the case for abolition: Critical reflections beyond Corston (pp. 150–171). London: Routledge. Artz, L., & Moult, K. (under review). Adult Sexual Offences In South Africa. In J. Barkhuisen, & B. Beukman’s (Eds.), Contemporary Criminology in South Africa. Bott, S., Guedes, A., Claramunt, M., & Guesmes, A. (2010). Improving the health sector response to gender based violence: A resource manual for health care professionals in developing countries. New York: International Planned Parenthood Federation. Brahimi, L. (2007). State building in crisis and post-conflict countries. 7th Global Forum on Reinventing Government, Vienna, June 2007. Retrieved from: http://unpan1.un.org/intradoc/ groups/public/documents/un/unpan026305.pdf Dzinesa, G. A. (2007). Post-conflict disarmament, demobilization, and reintegration of former combatants in Southern Africa. International Studies Perspectives, 8, 73–89. https://doi.org/ 10.1111/j.1528-3585.2007.00270.x. Galtung. (1990). Cultural violence. Journal of Peace Research, 27(3), 291–305. Holmqvist, C. (2005). Engaging armed non-state actors in post-conflict settings. In A. Bryden & H. Hanggi (Eds.), Security governance in post-conflict peacebuilding (pp. 45–68). Munster: Lit Verlag. Hynes, H. P. (2004). On the battlefield of women’s bodies: An overview of the harm of war to women. Women's Studies International Forum, 27(5), 431–445. Pergamon. International Conference on the Great Lakes Region (ICGLR). (2006). Protocol on the prevention and suppression of sexual violence against women and children, signed 30th November 2006, Nairobi, Kenya. Retrieved from http://www.internaldisplacement.org/8025708F004BE3B1/ (httpInfoFiles)/381B8D820A51C229C12572FB002C0C5B/$file/Final%20protocol.Sexual% 20Violence%20-%20En.pdf Justino, P. (2011). The impact of armed civil conflict on household welfare and policy. IDS Working Papers (384), pp. 1–38. Keesbury, J., & Thompson J. (2010). A step-by-step guide to strengthening sexual violence services in public health facilities: Lessons and tools from sexual violence services in Africa (p. 100). Lusaka: Population Council/USAID. Retrieved from http://www.popcouncil.org/pdfs/ 2010HIV_PEPFAR_SGBV_Toolkit.pdf Keesbury, J., Onyango-Ouma, W., et al. (2012). A review and evaluation of multi-sectoral response services (‘one-stop centers‘) for gender-based violence in Kenya and Zambia. Nairobi: Population Council. Retrieved from http://www.popcouncil.org/pdfs/2012RH_SGBV_ OSCRevEval.pdf. Krug, E. G., Mercy, J. A., Dahlberg, L. L., & Zwi, A. B. (2002). The world report on violence and health. Geneva: World Health Organization. Manjoo, R., & McRaight, C. (2011). Gender-based violence and justice in conflict and post-conflict areas. Cornell International Law Journal, 44, 11–18. McQuigg, R. (2013). Gender-based violence as a public health issue and the legal perspective: A critical overview. In K. Nakray (Ed.), Gender-based violence and public health: International perspectives on budgets and policies (1st ed., pp. 40–53). Abington: Routledge.

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Muggah, R., & Krause, K. (2009). Closing the gap between peace operations and post-conflict insecurity: Towards a violence reduction agenda. International Peacekeeping, 16(1), 136–150. Ndulo, M. (2003). The democratization process and structural adjustment in Africa. Indiana Journal of Global Legal Studies, 10(1), 315–368. Ní Aoláin, F., Haynes, D., & Cahn, N. (2011). On the frontlines. Oxford: Oxford University Press. OECD. (2007). Principles for good international engagement in fragile states. Learning and Advisory Process on Difficult Partnerships, Development Assistance Committee (DAC). Paris: Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development. Reilly, N. (2007). Seeking gender justice in post-conflict transitions: Towards a transformative women’s human rights approach. International Journal of Law in Context, 3(2), 155–172. Steenkamp, C. (2005). The legacy of war: Conceptualizing a ‘culture of violence’ to explain violence after peace accords. The Round Table, 94(379), 254. The State of African Women Report. (2018). The State of African Women Report. Retrieved from https://rightbyher.org/wp-content/uploads/2018/08/SOAW-Report-FULL.pdf The UN Secretary-General. (2009). Report of the secretary-general pursuant to security council resolution 1820, } 8, U.N. Doc. S/2009/362 (July 15, 2009). UNHCR (2003). Special measures for protection from sexual exploitation and sexual abuse (9 October 2003). Retrieved from https://www.un.org/preventing-sexual-exploitation-andabuse/content/documents Walter, B. F. (2004). Does conflict beget conflict? Explaining recurring civil war. Journal of Peace Research, 41(3), 371–388. Waweru, N. (2018, September 7). Rape culture and how African customs promote it. Retrieved from https://face2faceafrica.com/article/history-of-rape-culture-and-how-african-customs-promote-it World Health Organization. (2004). Gender-based violence and HIV/AIDS: Critical intersections – Intimate partner violence and HIV/AIDS. Information Bulletin Series, Number 1.WHO, 2004.

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Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Forms of Violence Experienced by LGBT(QI) Individuals in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sexual Violence . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Criminalization of Identification as LGBT(QI) Individuals . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Derogation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Exclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Rejection . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Labeling . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Banning from Social Gatherings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sources of Violence Against the LGBT(QI) Communities in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Protecting Heteronormativity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Adherence to National Laws . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Perpetuating Inequality . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Religion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Impact of Violence on the LGBT(QI) Community in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Challenges in Accessing Healthcare . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Fleeing the Country . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Subjection to Systemic Abuse/Police Brutality . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Strategies for Averting Violence Against LGBT(QI) Individuals . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Inclusion of Clauses to Protect LGBT(QI) Individuals in the Laws of the Country . . . . . . . Enshrining Mechanisms for Implementation of Non-discrimination Clauses . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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L. A. Moagi (*) Department of Political Sciences, University of South Africa, Pretoria, South Africa e-mail: [email protected] A. H. Mavhandu-Mudzusi Office of Graduate Studies and Research, College of Human Sciences, University of South Africa, Pretoria, South Africa e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_102

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Social Mobilization to Fight for the Rights of LGBT(QI) Individuals . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . LGBT(QI) Activism in Africa and the Way Forward . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

Aspects of gender diversity and sexual orientation pose a threat to lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer, and intersex (LGBT(QI)) individuals in Africa. These individuals have become targets of violence. This chapter provides empirical evidence of how violence is a challenging, unethical aspect of discrimination against LGBT(QI) individuals. It is not directed at merely speculating about the way members of the LGBT(QI) community are experiencing different elements of violence in Africa; rather, it analyzes the implications of this for LGBT(QI) persons in Africa, especially in the context of the various cultural and religious identifiers associated with African norms and cultural practices. These identities are not easy to circumvent, yet they are the architecture of African norms and prescriptions of how African sexualities should be. We interrogate further how African states can contribute to the immediate protection of LGBT(QI) communities on the continent. Keywords

LGBT (QI) · Sexuality · Violence · Vulnerability · Human rights

Introduction This chapter will cover, firstly, issues of violence in Africa and the vulnerability of the LGBT(QI) community; secondly, the levels of violence perpetrated on this community; thirdly, the commitments by African governments to address such violence and homophobic issues; and, lastly, the collective efforts in creating initiatives such as End Homophobia, #HowIresist, and Love Not Hate campaigns in addressing human rights violations and the brutal attacks faced by LGBT(QI) individuals. This chapter focuses on violence against LGBT(QI)) individuals in Africa. There is a pressing need to devote attention to their challenges and their inclusion as they struggle, not only for justice, equality, and dignity but also in what is a critical component of their quest, for more peaceful, just, and secure societies for everyone (Poku et al. 2017, p. 438). According to scholarly publications, the acronym LGBT(QI) is an inclusive term for lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, (and queer or questioning and intersex) (Goodrich and Luke 2015). In current gender research, the acronym LGBT(QI) is also used to refer to homosexual and gender nonconforming individuals, who are lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, questioning, and intersex (Goodrich and Luke 2015). Studies that focused on the LGBT(QI) community have, in the past, been greatly curtailed by what some authors referred to as academic amnesia or academic defiance, since there was a lot of stigma surrounding the issue (Ilyayambwa 2012, p. 50). This form of silence of academia about homosexuality in Africa has contributed in covering stigma and

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discrimination, which exists in society against LGBT(QI) individuals, thus exacerbating violence, including sexual violence, against LGBT(QI) people in Africa (Cinar 2011, p. 2). Arriola (1994, p. 108) argues that discrimination occurs whenever interactions between people are based on their personal differences. Therefore, this study addresses gaps in the literature regarding several key issues affecting LGBT (QI) people and provides ways of challenging violence against them across Africa. LGBT(QI) individuals face various forms of violence all over the world. According to a Human Rights Watch (2015) report, LGBT(QI) individuals are the most vulnerable and marginalized groups in the world. The vulnerability toward LGBT(QI) individuals is exacerbated. This often leads to LGBT (QI) people to experience a level of violence and exclusion beyond that borne by others (Human Dignity Trust 2014, p. 5). Researchers on gender behavior recognize that there exists gendered nature of violence produces its own sets of vulnerabilities against homosexuals and marginalized groups such as the LGBT(QI) community (ThaparBjörkert et al. 2016, p. 1). Matolino (2017, p. 60), confess that homosexual people in Africa suffer deep hostlity, discrimination and violence in the community. These situations allow researchers the opportunity to gain a theoretical understanding of the embeddedness of subordination, domination, and exploitation that many LGBT(QI) individuals experience in their everyday lives (Thapar-Björkert et al. 2016, p. 2). One common stigma attached to LGBT(QI) groups is that they are vulnerable to sexually transmitted infections (STIs) such as HIV, warts, syphilis, and gonorrhea. Suffering from the STIs predisposes LGBT(QI) individuals to often experience humiliation when they visit healthcare facilities, which means that other health conditions remain untreated (Poku et al. 2017, p. 435). According to research by Human Dignity Trust (2014, p. 4), in an environment where there is heightened vulnerability, increased lawlessness, and pressure on scarcer resources, homophobia rises to the surface and can be acted upon with impunity; thus, preexisting stigma becomes amplified. According to the Human Rights Watch (2015) research, LGBT(QI) persons are victims of homophobic attacks due to the lack of awareness of transgender identities among many people in Africa. This is seen in countries such as Kenya, which is one of at least 34 African countries where same-sex sexual acts are illegal and punishable by 14 years in prison, according to its penal code (Nelson 2018). In Kenya, LGBT (QI) persons face discrimination, stigma, and physical violence, including sexual and gender-based violence (Sida 2015). This violence against LGBTI people is often based on nonconforming gender identity or sexuality choices (Sida 2015). The high levels of homophobia and transphobia in Kenyan society are often incited by religious organizations and leaders publicly condemning homosexuality. The Human Rights Watch (2015) reports that, in Kenya, it is predominantly religious groups that vilify LGBT(QI) persons. This may be a contributing factor to the increasing levels of homophobia in that society. Homophobic attacks are on the increase in communities, and individuals tend to emulate behaviors that are reflective of the society that they come from (Nduna et al. 2017, p. 2). According to Nsapu (2018), abuse and discrimination are on the increase for members of the LGBT community in Bukavu, the capital of the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), though homosexuality is legal in that country.

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Forms of Violence Experienced by LGBT(QI) Individuals in Africa This section focuses on the diverse forms of violence experienced by members of the LGBT(QI) community. These include physical, verbal, and psychological violence, sometimes involving torture and murder, committed by family members, the public, and state authorities alike (see Goodall and Walters 2019, p. 4). Members of the LGBT(QI) community face numerous other challenges, as they often encounter ignorance, hatred, discrimination, and general rejection, often also from within their own families, and these are their daily experiences (Cinar 2011, p. 6). These forms of violence can be damaging to the well-being and safety of a person. When they disclose their sexuality, physical violence may occur following their disclosure. LGBT(QI) individuals are more than twice as likely to report having experienced violent victimization than those who identified as heterosexual (Goodall and Walters 2019, p. 12). The following are some of the common forms of violence against this population group.

Sexual Violence The extent of physical and sexual violence endured by LGBT(QI) individuals across the continent has attracted global attention and inspired an interest in acquiring an intellectual assessment and research on the topic (Poku et al. 2017). Sexual violence is predominantly an act of violence or coercion, in which sex is used as a weapon. Sexual violence violates the right to bodily integrity and has an enduring impact on the health and social lives of victims (Jewkes et al. 2011, p. 1). The Sisonke Gender Justice Report (2017) suggests that there is a broad category of sexual violence, incorporating various forms of misconduct, including, but not limited to, rape, sexual assault, and sexual harassment. According to research, lesbians, gay men, bisexuals, and transgender people are subjected to the same spectrum of sexual violence and gender-based violence (GBV) as the general population (see also WCASA 2003; Sisonke Gender Justice 2017). However, according to the OHCHR report (2017a, p. 4), lesbian and bisexual women, or women perceived as lesbians and transgender men, are additionally systematically subjected to the so-called corrective rape, to punish them for their gender expression. The LGBT(QI) individuals, who are victims of sexual violence, are often reluctant to report these incidents of discrimination and violence, as they rightly fear secondary victimization (Benjamin et al. 2015, p. 5).

Criminalization of Identification as LGBT(QI) Individuals Part of the oppression that LGBT (QI) people have faced, because of their sexual orientation and gender identification, is the criminalization of their sexual activities (WCASA 2003). Homosexuality is outlawed in 35 African countries and punishable by death in 2 countries, Mauritania and Sudan, as well as in areas of Somalia and Nigeria,

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according to Amnesty International UK (Solomon 2017). Criminalization of those who are not heterosexual, or who do not identify with their sex as assigned to them at birth, has produced serious conditions of oppression for LGBT(QI) communities in many parts of the world (Mulé 2018, p. 97). Goodall and Walters (2019, p. 6) emphasize the need to holistically put pressure on authorities to actively address anti-LGBT(QI) hate crimes by calling for specific laws aimed at enhancing the penalties meted to offenders who commit crimes with an element of anti-LGBT(QI) bias.

Derogation Derogation is using statements and words that are derogatory. Derogation is one of the forms of violence against LGBT(QI) people, which is common in most African countries. This form of violence is also used by people in high political positions such as presidents and kings. An example of this is, in Zimbabwe, there have been constant derogatory attacks directed at the LGBT(QI) community since the 1990s and the former president of Zimbabwe, Mr. Robert Mugabe, described gay people as pigs and dogs (Van Heerden 2018). Homosexuality has become the fodder for insults of any form in many forums in Africa (Matolino 2017, p. 62). Such violence against LGBT(QI) persons becomes an obstacle and increases the vulnerability they face in their communities, especially regarding hate speech (Namaste 2009, p. 16). Hate speech offences often involve a very different and complex assessment of human rights laws (specifically freedom of speech and the right to be free from targeted victimization) (Goodall and Walters 2019).

Exclusion The exclusion of LGBT(QI) persons at the workplace or from accessing economic opportunities is another form of mental violence, as, in certain instances, they are deliberately excluded from associations and services or face restriction in their duties, and these exclusions might affect their mental health capacities. Considering that LGBT(QI) individuals face numerous challenges globally, phenomena such as ignorance, hatred, and discrimination, based on their sexual orientation, are factors that play a role in their ability to have access to decent work opportunities (Cinar 2011). According to research by Benjamin et al. (2015), in many cases, LGBT(QI) jobseekers are unable to secure employment because of their perceived sexual orientation or gender nonconformity. Arguably, the compounded drivers and experiences of social exclusion, often combined with a discriminatory legal framework, have deeply eroded, if not outright denied, recognition, respect, and dignity for LGBTI individuals across most of Africa (Poku et al. 2017, p. 436). In some instances, LGBT(QI) groups, who are subjected to discrimination and excluded from job opportunities, are unable to advance in their careers, as they have a fear of reprisal should they express their vulnerabilities or speak out in their workplaces (Goodrich and Luke 2015). Others choose not to disclose their sexuality at work, and

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they hide their private lives from colleagues and clients for fear of homophobia, exclusion, or in case they are overlooked for valuable promotions (UNICEF 2015).

Rejection The LGBT(QI) experience general rejection, often also from within their own families, and these are their daily experiences (Cinar 2011, p. 6). It is predominantly LGBT(QI) youths, following their disclosure to loved ones, who tend to feel isolated and experience the fear of such isolation. This rejection could lead to emotional, physical, and financial consequences for youths, including risks of verbal or physical abuse, homelessness, and alienation or isolation from others (Goodrich and Luke 2015, pp. 82–83). According to UNICEF research (2015), LGBT(QI) youths, who have been rejected by their families, experience disproportionate levels of suicide, homelessness, and food insecurity. Discrimination and violence contribute to the marginalization of LGBT(QI) people and their vulnerability to ill health, including HIV infection, yet they face denial of care, discriminatory attitudes, and pathologization in medical and other settings. The rejection aspect is additional pressure that can be a form of violence, as facing rejection from parents or other caregivers can put them in serious situations that could impact their life or health (Goodrich and Luke 2015, p. 95). The reason behind various rejections of those who identify as LGBT(QI) in African countries and the often expressed hostility toward homosexuality is that many African leaders feel that gay rights are against their cultural and religious value systems and they consider homosexuality to be an imposition by Western nations (Nkosi and Masson 2017, p. 78).

Labeling Labeling is another form of violence against LGBT(QI) individuals. LGBT(QI) students, at a South African university, have indicated that they have been labeled, stigmatized, and discriminated against by heterosexual students and university employees, and, according to research by Mavhandu-Mudzusi and Sandy (2015), many LGBT(QI) students are labeled as demon-possessed or satanic. Arguably, the stigmatized status of LGBT(QI) individuals subjects them to symbolic violence (Kitzie 2015, p. 2). Symbolic violence depicts the extent to which a society has created a stigma about LGBT(QI) individuals and how this manifests in society. The notion of symbolic violence is that it removes the victim’s agency and voice, and the LGBT(QI) person’s agency is subjugated by society (Thapar-Björkert et al. 2016, p. 1).

Banning from Social Gatherings Sexual orientation has become a basis, or perhaps an excuse, for political persecution and personal violence in diverse African contexts (Amory 1997, p. 5). In some

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African countries, such as Nigeria, Sudan, and Uganda, LGBT(QI) people are banned from holding meetings or forming clubs, and the laws make provision to penalize homosexuality with a jail sentence (Gander 2017). Research on LGBT(QI) experiences in Africa has emphasized that social factors sustain homophobia and transphobia and make it difficult for LGBT(QI) to undertake their work duties (Benjamin et al. 2015, p. 26).

Sources of Violence Against the LGBT(QI) Communities in Africa There are several sources that contribute to violence against LGBT(QI) individuals in Africa. The following are some of the common sources of violence in Africa.

Protecting Heteronormativity Heteronormativity is a system that works to normalize behaviors and societal expectations that are tied to the presumption of heterosexuality and adherence to a strict gender binary (Nelson 2018). This system of heteronormativity is upheld through promoting heterosexuality as the only “normal,” “healthy,” and “natural” pattern of human behavior (Msibi 2009; Henderson 2015). The assumption of heterosexuality as a norm is deeply rooted in cultural and religious beliefs, and those who are not heterosexual often experience gross levels of alienation (Sigamoney and Epprecht 2013). According to research, sexual violence against individuals, who are identified as LGBT(QI), is perceived as a violent attempt to oppress those who are challenging social norms around gender and sexuality (Gentlewarrior and Fountain 2009). For others, the violence against LGBT(QI) individuals is associated with the disclaimer of not understanding such activities. According to this view, the LGBT(QI) community is subjected to oppression, as they are perceived to be “different” from what society has labeled as “normal” in terms of sexuality and gender identity (Belcher et al. n.d.).

Adherence to National Laws In some African countries, such as Uganda, laws have been created that ban samesex relationships. Under the Anti-Homosexuality Act of 2014, passed in Uganda in December 2014, harsh legal action will be enforced against gays, lesbians, and transgender individuals, and even those in same-sex marriages, in that country. The penalty for contravening this law also includes imprisoning gays, lesbians, and transgender persons for life. This emphasizes the reality that the rights of sexual minorities are still a sensitive issue in Africa, since African culture is depicted as unique, and the view is advanced that African morality and heritage abhor homosexual practices (Ibrahim 2015, p. 267). In many African countries, there is the misconception that homosexuality is un-African and that LGBT(QI) identities are

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hypothetical and mysterious (Nduna et al. 2017, p. 9). This idea of homosexuality being “un-African” reverberates throughout the continent’s political elite and other circles (Van Heerden 2018). The resistance is based on the premise that such a sexual orientation, or consequent sexual behavior, violates basic principles and beliefs of African reality (Matolino 2017, p. 59). For example, during a 2015 speech at the UN General Assembly, Zimbabwe’s former head of state, the 92-year-old Robert Mugabe, lashed out at the world body for trying to force gay rights reforms on Zimbabwe. Mugabe is quoted as saying: “We equally reject attempts to prescribe new rights that are contrary to our norms, values, traditions, and beliefs. We are not gays” (Solomon 2017, p. 1). Strict laws against homosexuality were embraced by Mugabe, who has compared gays to animals. In Nigeria, same-sex relationships are also banned. The former president of Nigeria, Mr. Goodluck Jonathan, signed the Same-Sex Marriage Prohibition Act of 2013 (Nzwili 2014). A legacy from colonial rule, anti-gay laws in Nigeria can lead to punishment, from a minimum of 14 years in prison to death by stoning (Gander 2017). The law imposes life imprisonment for some types of homosexual acts. The former president of Nigeria insisted that financial incentives from Western nations are tied to the demands for changes in the legislation regarding homosexuality in Nigeria and that foreign aid funding for African programs has influenced them and made them lose their “moral values” (Nzwili 2014). In African countries, such as Mauritania, Sudan, and Northern Nigeria, homosexuality is punishable by death (Nzwili 2014). The compact among several African leaders is: “There Is No Homosexuality in Africa!” (Amory 1997, p. 5) There are people, including presidents such as Robert Mugabe, whose derogatory statements against LGBT(QI) individuals are based on the premise that these are “un-cultural” practices imposed on the country by foreigners (Van Heerden 2018). Within contemporary African literature on violence in our society, sexual violence perpetrated against LGBT(QI) individuals has been underrepresented (Mankayi 2010) because talking about sexuality and sexual violence is taboo in the African family system, including in same-sex relationships. In September 2017, the Egyptian security forces went into overdrive, arresting dozens of people following the display of a rainbow flag – a sign of solidarity with LGBT (QI) people – at a concert. They relied on a “debauchery” law that was used in the early 2000s against gay men and transgender women and was revived with a vengeance following the 2013 coup, when the government, led by President Abdel Fattah al-Sisi, appeared to embrace the persecution of gays and transgender people as a political strategy (HRW 2018, p. 2).

Perpetuating Inequality Violence functions as a tool to demonstrate, for instance, dominance, superiority, scorn, or delineation (Cinar 2011). The huge statement concerning issues of oppression is that, in a group, certain members might have an issue of oppression that is more comfortable or familiar to them rather than addressing the type of discrimination that was presented by another group member (Burnes and Ross 2010). Many

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cultures, particularly African cultures, do not condone homosexuality (Nkosi and Masson 2017). It is imperative to acknowledge that society is not static and, therefore, culture cannot be static; culture changes, and, as it changes, society has to adapt to those changes (Netshandama et al. 2018). Certain members may not understand what it means to be oppressed based on a culturally marginalized identity, due to their identification with groups that hold various types of cultural privileges in the larger society (Burnes and Ross 2010). For instance, according to Mavhandu-Mudzusi and Sandy (2015), in relation to research among students in South Africa, lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender university students may be exposed to a range of stigmatizing and discriminatory practices that differ from the experiences of their heterosexual counterparts. Mule (2018) argues that of great importance to a discussion on international LGBT(QI) development are the social locations of culture, race, and ethnicity and how they intersect with sexual orientation, gender identity and expression, and sex characteristics. Instances of exclusion from services are also contained in these accounts (Poku et al. 2017, p. 435). There must be a commitment from private and public institutions to ensure that we adhere to the 2030 Agenda for Global Action, Sustainable Development Goals (SDG), goal four on social and economic inequality, by addressing inequality in Africa. There also has to be a commitment made to the African Union (AU) 2063 mandate for policy reform and the development and implementation of a framework to ensure that the African child will have access to basic/economic/social resources, in order for the continent to succeed and, in the process, to ensure gender equality. With the focus of Leave no one behind, the SDG will need to identify who the socially excluded are (the most “left behind”); how and where this arises; and what is needed to foster or enable inclusion. Among the socially excluded on the African continent are the many lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, or intersex individuals (LGBTQI), who continue to endure a daily reality of threats to and violations of their rights, health, well-being, and dignity (Poku et al. 2017, p. 434). Of course, the denial of basic human rights for members of the LGBT(QI) community is a denial of their humanity, which has had a profound impact on this community, as there has been an increase in hate crimes perpetrated against them (Marks 2006, p. 33). It’s imperative for African countries to address hate crimes toward LGBT(QI) individuals and to find a new sense of urgency toward ending and reducing inequality and ensuring peace, if the goal of creating inclusive societies is to be achieved.

Religion The issue of religion and African spirituality in relation to sexuality has an effect on the way the LGBT(QI) community is treated in Africa. According to Matolino (2017, p. 63), the religious issue has little to do with the traditional African religion, but more to do with the significant influence of Western religious norms and practices on the continent that individuals are guided by. This is predominantly because deeply embedded continental traditions, privileging family, and communal structures remain

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dominant modalities for defining identity and structuring social relations and economic interdependence (Poku et al. 2017, p. 435). Many Africans profess to be of the Christian faith, and, traditionally, the religion of Christianity promotes heterosexuality and does not advocate for acceptance of homosexuality or bisexuality (Nkosi and Masson 2017, p. 72). The Christian community is at the forefront when it comes to condemning the LGBTI community, because their thinking is conditioned by values and principles outlined in the Bible (Netshandama et al. 2018, p. 214). Their general moral views, as well as their sexual views, are informed by the Bible, theology, and the authority of the church. Accordingly, some religious organizations tend to treat nonheterosexual individuals differently from their heterosexual counterparts, irrespective of laws promoting equality (Mavhandu-Mudzusi and Sandy 2015, p. 2). Religious inclination toward LGBT(QI) is a form of religious colonialism that suppresses diverse sexual orientations, gender identity and expression, and sexual characteristics, which differ to those perceived by the “colonizer” as being acceptable and adhering to social and cultural norms (Mule 2018, p. 98). While it is not suggested that religion is solely responsible for homophobia in Africa, it is clear that it plays a central role that needs to be taken into account (Ibrahim 2015, p. 270). The religion-related stigmatization of LGBT(QI) is based more on socially constructed notions that are informed by what the Bible prescribes (Netshandama et al. 2018, p. 313). Consistent with this, Kenyan religious militant organizations, such as the Kenya Muslim National Advisory Council (KEMNAC), have opposed same-sex marriages and called for the resignation of government officials who support the rights of LGBT(QI) (Human Rights Watch 2015, p. 14). Not surprisingly, same-sex relationships are also illegal in Zimbabwe, and criminalization and intimidation of LGBT(QI) individuals perpetuate stigma and discrimination against this community.

The Impact of Violence on the LGBT(QI) Community in Africa Violence against the LGBT(QI) can threaten the well-being and safety of that community. According to Human Rights Watch (2015), stigmatizing and discriminatory acts against LGBT(QI) individuals could have a negative impact on their physical, social, emotional, and spiritual well-being. There are documented cases in which LGBTQI individuals have experienced stigma in institutions such as hospitals and education facilities. Human rights movements in Africa should provide a broader platform of social inclusion to provide an opportunity to bring forward other aspects of the lives and aspirations of LGBT(QI) individuals that include, but go beyond, protection from discrimination and violence based on sexual orientation or gender identity (Poku et al. 2017, p. 439).

Challenges in Accessing Healthcare As it stands, there is insufficient public awareness of issues such as risk to health matters, professional healthcare services including the problem of accessing healthcare services in the public sector. There are potential dangers that sexual

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violence could expose victims to, particularly in a community that is hostile toward the LGBT(QI) group. Victims of sexual violence experience barriers to finding information about and accessing treatment resources and face stigma if there are indications of any diseases, such as sexually transmitted infections, because of sexual violence (Turchik et al. 2016, p. 134). According to research on health issues relating to LGBT(QI) mental health, LGBT(QI) clients have increased psychological and mental health issues. In the public hospitals, the stigma against LGBT(QI) people persists, and there is a lack of training for healthcare professionals to understand LGBT(QI) health matters (Human Rights Watch 2015).

Fleeing the Country Because of the threat posed by homophobia, many LGBT(QI) in Africa flee and form communities in other countries (Edozien 2018) in order to find safety and security and to escape police brutality (see Marks 2006). In South Africa, there is a high tolerance of the LGBT(QI), and the “right to freedom” and the “right to association” are protected by the Bill of Rights. Therefore, many LGBT(QI) groups have settled there, after they have fled from their home countries, because of stringent anti-gay laws. International humanitarian law (IHL) pays little regard to the vulnerability and needs of LGBT (QI) people in Africa (Human Dignity Trust 2014, p. 4). South Africa’s post-apartheid constitution was the first in the world to outlaw discrimination based on sexual orientation; because of its history of segregation, the imperatives were to create a society that is, among others, inclusive and tolerant (Netshandama et al. 2018, p. 319). In contrast, in Kenya, which is a democratic state, there is general homophobia, which is fear of contempt for or discrimination against homosexuals or homosexuality.

Subjection to Systemic Abuse/Police Brutality It is extremely difficult for the LGBT(QI) individual to report abuse to the police. Police abuse of LGBT people is common and pervasive in many places in Africa (Marks 2006, p. 2). Many LGBT victims of violence believe they have no recourse and that the police are just as likely to persecute them as to protect them (HRW 2015, p. 1). LGBT(QI) people in Cameroon continue to face criminalization, violence, intimidation, and discrimination. The police arbitrarily detain many individuals and physically and psychologically abused while in custody. Attacks against persons, based on their sexual orientation and gender identity, go largely unpunished, and hate crimes are rarely investigated (OHCHR 2017b).

Strategies for Averting Violence Against LGBT(QI) Individuals Tackling hate crimes and sexual violence against LGBT(QI) involves several interventions.

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Inclusion of Clauses to Protect LGBT(QI) Individuals in the Laws of the Country A useful strategy for averting violence against members of the LGBT(QI) community is to include clauses to protect LGBT(QI) individuals in the laws of the country, including the constitution. In many African countries, the acceptance of homosexuality has been hampered by societal attitudes that are near impossible to deal with, since Africa generally faces the rule of law challenges (Ilyayambwa 2012, p. 57). In this regard, the South African policy, with its progressive Constitution, is exceptional, as Chapter Two of the Constitution, the Bill of Rights, affirms that everyone has the right to associate freely with any group, without discrimination. The South African policy ensures that LGBT(QI) individuals enjoy the same rights as heterosexuals in the country, and this has allowed LGBT(QI) individuals to be more open about their lifestyle choices. According to the Centre for Risk Analysis at the South African Institute of Race Relations (SAIRR), four out of ten LGBT(QI) South Africans know of somebody who is or whom they believe is gay, lesbian, bisexual, or transgender (Voluntary National Review Report 2019). South Africa experienced oppression under the apartheid regime; therefore, diversity is highly regarded and protected through human rights legislation that guides South Africans to respect each other’s religion, culture, and racial background. South Africa provides an important site of research, because of the broader liberation struggle and the organization of LGBT(QI) groups there. Concerning the South African context, the pursuit for equality is well captured in Chapter One of the South African Constitution (1996), which provides for (a) human dignity, the achievement of equality and the advancement of human rights and freedoms, and (b) non-racialism and non-sexism (Ilyayambwa 2012, p. 51). Lawmakers made history by writing sexual orientation into the national non-discrimination clause, enshrining gay rights in the supreme law of the land (Ilyayambwa 2012, p. 51).

Enshrining Mechanisms for Implementation of Non-discrimination Clauses Apart from including aspects of non-discrimination in the policy or constitution, the government should devise a strategy to implement and reinforce the implementation of such aspects. This is because just having the non-discriminatory rules written in the policies does not mean that people will adhere to the rules and regulations. According to Keeton (2017), nearly 800‚000 people, who identify as members of the LGBT(QI) community‚ have experienced violence and discrimination as stigmatization and discrimination are rife in South Africa, regardless of the Constitution, which emphasizes equality and non-discrimination. There is a disjuncture between the political and legal position of the state and that of society about the inclusion of LGBT(QI) groups. Particularly regarding homosexuality, the broader society believes that it is against African values and ethics and that it does not relate to the African way of life.

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Social Mobilization to Fight for the Rights of LGBT(QI) Individuals In Africa, civil society organizations, representing LGBT(QI) communities within their respective countries, are mushrooming; thus, greater activism is required to achieve stability regarding debates on sexualities. However, there is also a brutal onslaught by governments, as they continue to bully prominent LGBT(QI) activists (Edozien 2018). According to Sida (2015), several organizations, including the Gay and Lesbian Coalition of Kenya (GALCK), the Kenya Human Rights Commission, and National Gay and Lesbian Human Rights Commission (NGLHRC), have publicly condemned homophobia and urged the Kenyan government and the public to support LGBT(QI) rights while also recommending the removal of certain sections of the penal code and the enacting of a comprehensive equality and nondiscrimination law. In Kenya and Botswana, local nongovernmental organizations (NGOs) for LGBT(QI) rights have achieved legal recognition after suing their respective governments for denying them legal registration (Ibrahim 2015, p. 275).

LGBT(QI) Activism in Africa and the Way Forward According to Ibrahim (2015, p. 275), activists should focus on the rights of LGBT (QI) individuals to work, associate, express their views, and be free from violence and discrimination. LGBT(QI) activists in Africa are under constant threat, and they face tremendous uncertainty about their future, which limits their ability to engage in activism (HRW 2018, p. 17). Activists have demonstrated creativity and dynamism, even in such challenging contexts, by training LGBT(QI) people on how to digitally protect themselves from police surveillance and entrapment and galvanizing international pressure on their government, a tool which they have employed cautiously, often reserving it for human rights emergencies (HRW 2018, p. 2). The Love Not Hate campaign should be honored for fostering activism against violence toward the LGBT(QI) community around the world. According to Van Heerden (2018), the visibility of LGBT(QI) people should, firstly, be increased by encouraging broader media representation to allow them to have a voice and share their experiences and the trend and practices of postcolonial LGBT(QI) identities. Together with advocating for the social inclusion of LGBT(QI) individuals across the continent, activists must pursue these campaigns without fear. Prejudice undermines a basic founding principle, namely, the democratic principle of tolerance, including diversity (Arriola 1994, p. 132). Prejudice harms more than the individual or group against whom it is directed (Arriola 1994, p. 130). The persecution of homosexuals and the accompanying legislation to oppress the members of the LGBT(QI) community has led to Western organizations rising as crusaders to lecture African leaders and, by extension, Africans on the importance of respecting and protecting gay rights. In countries such as Kenya, LGBT(QI) activism and civil organization networks are gaining prominence as they rally to protect the dignity of homosexuals. According to Sida (2015), Kenya has a somewhat exceptional position in the region and stands out as an East African country with a thriving LGBT(QI) movement. Such movements

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involve the gathering of individuals, whose collective voices and perspectives often challenge the pervading assumptions and viewpoints within the wider society (Mule 2018, p. 90). Research shows us that LGBT(QI) movements have formed and asserted their views accordingly (Mule 2018, p. 90). In Africa, LGBT(QI) activists must be trained to organize campaigns on the rights of individuals to the extent that the homophobic discourse is transcontinental. LGBT(QI) rights activism is becoming inevitably multi-local as well and should be applauded for having a transcontinental face (Ibrahim 2015, p. 266).

Conclusion From an unapologetic feminist perspective, regarding discrimination against members of the LGBT(QI) community, there is a high level of injustice that is inhabited and perpetuated by government systems that are not willing to transform their historical views about sexuality in Africa. Currently, there is a vacuum between traditional values and human rights, which does not allow for adequate debate. Researchers must create opportunities for analysis to link political and social opportunities to address the social exclusion of LGBT(QI) people in Africa to the SDGs and Agenda 2063. If ignored, the consequences will be that social exclusion of the LGBTQI, which will lead to widespread poverty, ill-health, and a heavily compromised quality of life for Africans (see Poku et al. 2017, p. 438). It is important that researchers focusing on LGBT(QI) issues bring in feminist consciousness in the conversation of the challenges that LGBT(QI) community faces in the world. The source of the discrimination toward LGBT(QI) in Africa can often be traced to politicians, who want to gain support by instigating anti-gay legislation during election periods. Many leaders in Africa incite negative sentiments by demonizing gays for political gain and, in this way, distract the community from monitoring serious shortcomings such as poor services that they have promised to deliver when they were voted into leadership (Edozien 2018). Public awareness and policy reform to protect the LGBT(QI) community are imperative. To debunk stereotypes, the sharing of information, as well as educating and the generating of knowledge, is necessary (Netshandama et al. 2018, p. 318). Policy directives, interventions to counteract stigma, subjective experiences, and expressions of LGBT(QI) individuals are represented in the different studies. Arguably, certain policies may encourage violent, prejudicial acts towards individuals or groups, who are different in representation in society. Deep-rooted conservative values and attitudes toward sexual and gender diversity remain widespread, and the government continues to face significant criticism over its failure to enforce legal protections or to respond to violence and other forms of discrimination (Benjamin et al. 2015, p. 5). In addition to research on violence against the LGBT(QI) community, additional efforts should be made to promote awareness on the broader conceptualization of sexual violence and challenges in this regard to highlight the importance of implementing steps so that all victims have access to medical, psychological, and legal services (Turchik et al. 2016, p. 143). There is also a high emphasis by LGBT

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(QI) groups to have regional seminars in response to the rising violence and other violations.

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Nsapu, E. (2018). Members of the LGBT community in DRC face violence and excommunication. Retrieved from https://globalpressjournal.com/africa/democratic-republic-of-congo/memberslgbt-community-drc-face-violence-excommunication/ Nzwili, F. (2014). Nigeria’s religious leaders welcome controversial anti-gay law. Retrieved from https://www.washingtonpost.com/national/religion/nigerias-religious-leaders-welcomecontroversial-anti-gay-law/2014/01/16/12485d88-7ef7-11e3-97d3-b9925ce2c57b_story.html? noredirect¼on OHCHR. (2017a). Human Rights violations against lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender (LGBT) people in the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC): Submitted for consideration at the 121st Session of the Human Rights Committee. Retrieved from https://tbinternet.ohchr.org/ Treaties/CCPR/Shared%20Documents/COD/INT_CCPR_CSS_COD_29078_E.pdf OHCHR. (2017b). The violations of the rights of lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender (LGBT) individuals in Cameroon. Retrieved from https://tbinternet.ohchr.org/Treaties/CCPR/Shared% 20Documents/CMR/INT_CCPR_CSS_CMR_29079_E.pdf Poku, N. K., Esom, K., & Armstrong, R. (2017). Sustainable development and the struggle for LGBTI social inclusion in Africa: Opportunities for accelerating change. Development in Practice, 27(4), 432–443. Sida. (2015). The rights of LGBTI people in Kenya. Retrieved from https://www.sida.se/English/ partners/resources-for-all-partners/methodological-materials/human-rights-based-approach-atsida/rights-of-lgbti-persons/ Sigamoney, V., & Epprecht, M. (2013). Meanings of homosexuality, same-sex sexuality, and Africanness in Two South African Townships: an evidence-based approach for rethinking same-sex prejudice. African Studies Review, 56(02), 83–107. Sisonke Gender Justice. (2017). Reporting on gender-based violence: A guide for journalists & editors. Retrieved from https://www.saferspaces.org.za/uploads/files/Reporting-on-GBV.pdf Solomon, S. (2017). Gay Zimbabweans fight stigma, harsh laws. Retrieved from https://www. voanews.com/a/zimbabwe-gay-rights-lgbt/3673999.html Thapar-Björkert, S., Samelius, L., & Sanghera, G. S. (2016). Exploring symbolic violence in the everyday: misrecognition, condescension, consent and complicity. Retrieved from https:// research-repository.st-andrews.ac.uk/bitstream/handle/10023/10214/Sanghera_2016_FR_ SymbolicViolence_AM.pdf?sequence¼1&isAllowed¼y Turchik, J. A., Hebenstreit, C. L., & Judson, S. S. (2016). An examination of the gender inclusiveness of current theories of sexual violence in adulthood: Recognizing male victims, female perpetrators, and same-sex violence. Trauma, Violence, & Abuse, 17(2), 133–148. UNICEF. (2015). Ending violence and discrimination against lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and intersex people. Retrieved from https://www.unicef.org/media/files/Joint_LGBTI_State ment_ENG.pdf Van Heerden, G. (2018). So, you think homosexuality in Un-Africa? Um, think again. ‘Categorising same-sex attraction as a foreign concept and a form of neo-colonialism serves as a major obstacle to LGBTI rights on the continent.’ South African Institute of Race Relations (SAIRR). Retrieved from https://www.huffingtonpost.co.za/gerbrandt-van-heerden/dispellingthe-myth-that-homosexuality-is-un-african_a_23478498/ Voluntary National Review (VNR). (2019). Citizens’ report South Africa: Ensuring an inclusive reporting process for HLPF: South African Civil Society working group on the 2030 agenda for sustainable development. Wisconsin Coalition Against Sexual Assault (WCASA). (2003). Lesbian, gay, bi-sexual, transgender (LGBT) populations and sexual assault. Retrieved from http://www.wcasa.org/file_open. php?id¼151

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Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Theoretical Underpinnings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Male Versus Female Values . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Girls and Women as Spoils of War . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Girlhood in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Anatomy of Gender-Based Violence in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conflict and Terrorism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Globalizing Influences: The Internet and Social Media . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Female Genital Mutilation/Cutting (FGM/C) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Early and Forced Marriage . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Perception of Sexual Minorities . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Understanding Gender-Based Violence in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Any Safe Spaces for Girls in Africa? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Responses to GBV: Girls’ Empowerment . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

Girls in Africa face a myriad of daunting challenges, including gender-based violence, in navigating life’s journey, making informed choices, and overcoming obstacles in trying to attain safe, pleasurable sexuality, free from harassment, coercion, disease, and violence. Culture, tradition, and interpretation of religious tenets objectify females to silence their voice and curtail agency, even in matters pertaining to their sexuality. Gender ideologies and patriarchal power structures essentialize females to restrict life outcomes and opportunities, leading to the low status of females and increasing feminization of poverty. This further exposes females to violence (harassment, rape, and harmful practices). Unfortunately,

A. Oku (*) Centre for Gender and Social Policy Studies, Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-Ife, Nigeria © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_135

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there is no safe place for girls whether in their homes, schools, or streets where they have an assurance of protection and safety from violence. Legal instruments developed to curb violence seem inadequate. While globalizing technologies offer alternative sources of information, providing more access to global sexuality cultures and resources, hidden dangers here expose girls to other forms of violence. This chapter applies a feminist-critical viewpoint – feminist values of care, empathy, and gender justice – to a critical examination of patriarchal systems and inequality as the fundamental source of female oppression responsible for enforcing male control and even violence. Keywords

Early/forced marriage · Female genital mutilation / cutting · Girls’ empowerment · Patriarchy · Safe space · Sexuality · Gender-Based Violence Girlhood

Introduction This chapter explores the character and scope of gender-based violence (GBV) in Africa in relation to girls’ sexuality and the reasons for the escalation of violence against girls in spite of the proliferation of policy and legal instruments. Girls are females in the period from birth to age 19, which includes infancy, childhood, and the period of adolescence. The World Health Organisation (WHO 2006) defines sexuality as “a central aspect of being human throughout life” and pertains to areas germane to well-being such as sex, gender identities and roles, sexual orientation, eroticism, pleasure, and intimacy. Sexuality is “expressed in thoughts, fantasies, desires, beliefs, attitudes, values, behaviours, practices, roles and relationships” (WHO 2006, p. 5). Sexuality issues, especially gender identities and sexual orientation, are shrouded in silence in most of Africa given the emphasis on heteronormativity. Three out of five countries in Africa criminalize same-sex relationships and marriage, with some countries like Nigeria, Kenya, Uganda, and Tanzania imposing prison terms and death sentences on homosexuals (Pichon and Kourchoudian 2019). With the exception of South Africa where same-sex marriage is legal, the LGBTI (lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, intersex) community operates in secret; their sexual rights, even right to health, often denied. Local cultures are increasingly influenced by globalization and popular culture. Thus, girls today confront sexuality dilemmas that their mothers never imagined. According to Leclerc-Madlala (2019), no single narrative can adequately describe the diversity of experiences of African girls. Factors influencing experience of sexuality include: biological, psychological, social, economic, political, cultural, ethical, legal, historical, religious, and spiritual (WHO 2006). These influences impinge on the right of individuals to pleasurable and healthy sexuality, which is the innate desire of most individuals, young and old. Gruskin, Yadav,

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Castellanos-Usigli, Khizanishvili, and Kismödi (2019) call for a perfect triangle of sexual health, rights, and pleasure for all people everywhere in the world. Leclerc-Madlala (2019) draws attention to the influence of Christianity and Islam on different regions of Africa and the interplay between indigenous spiritual beliefs, the religious practices associated with the two dominant religions, and their impact on sexuality. Bhana 2017 argues that prior to Christianity, historical narratives of South African communities captured more candidly accounts of how intimacy, desire, and love are shaped by African girls and boys. The author questions the silence surrounding sexuality of children and young people in Africa and calls for the development of new methodological and theoretical tools that can promote better understanding of childhood sexuality and support program interventions. Girls in Africa are exposed to harmful practices without their consent under the authority of adults who make decisions for them. These may include harmful traditional practices such as female genital mutilation (FGM) also known as female genital cutting (FGC), sexual abuse and harassment by older males and male peers, incest, and early and forced marriage. Yet, the sexual rights of women incorporate their right to decide freely and responsibly on all matters related to their sexuality, without any form of coercion, discrimination, and violence (WHO 2006; Gruskin et al. 2019 citing the 1995 Beijing Platform of Action). The 1989 Convention on the Rights of the Child (CRC) cautions that the best interest of the child should remain of foremost concern (CRC, Article 3) and the “basic concern” of parents (CRC, Article 18) (International Women’s Health Coalition (IWHC) n.d.). The CRC emphasizes the right of the child to receive health counseling even without parental consent in cases where the child’s needs and/or interests are distinctively in opposition to those of parents; for example, in situations involving violence and abuse by parents and other family members (IWHC n.d.). The right to age-appropriate, factual information and life skills capable of informing and strengthening girls to protect themselves from GBV are of utmost importance. Unfortunately, girls who drop out of school due to pregnancy and other causes, and out-of-school adolescent girls, may not have access to the few comprehensive sexuality education programs that are provided as part of the curriculum of some secondary schools in Africa. These would require access to sexuality education programs designed to meet their peculiar needs. Fifty-two million girls in SSA are out of school (UNESCO Institute for Statistics (UIS) 2019). Girls with lower educational attainment and who lack marketable skills populate the informal sectors’ less remunerated jobs and are easy prey of scouts of sex-trafficking networks who cajole them to migrate to Europe and other destinations where they are forced into prostitution. West Africa supplies the bulk of trafficked girls with SSA regarded as a global player (Rickard 2019). Trafficking of girls from Edo State, Nigeria to Italy has helped their families to escape poverty (Babatunde 2014). International law stipulates that children enjoy the same human rights as adults (IWHC n.d.), and most of Africa’s 54 recognized sovereign states are signatories to existing international and regional anti-GBV instruments.

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Regional instruments include: African Commission on Human and Peoples’ Rights, Resolution on the Right to a Remedy and Reparation for Women and Girls Victims of Sexual Violence (2007), and The Maputo Protocol (African Union (AU) 2003). The instruments call on state parties to protect the rights of individuals (especially women and children) from (sexual) violence occurring in different situations, including human trafficking. Some focus on parties engaged in conflicts and wars, calling attention to the response of the police and armed forces to sexual and other forms of violence and encouraging the provision of gender-focused training to enable informed response to violence, and specifically GBV. Participation or inclusion of women in the police force and in peacekeeping forms a major thrust. While many of the legal instruments tackle state apparatuses, and since national governments are meant to adopt the recommendations, interpret, and implement them to address context specific challenges, there appears to be an undercurrent of strong resistance to change fuelled by prevalent gender norms embedded in socialization processes. These norms are powered by long-standing traditions and religious beliefs that normalize GBV. These same norms serve to maintain a shroud of silence around various harmful and sometimes life threatening practices affecting girls. Ninsiima et al. (2018) warn that gendered norms that taboo access to sexuality information for girls fail to create a safe environment for fostering girls’ agency and well-being. Acts of GBV pose serious threats to girls’ mental and physical wellbeing. The dislocation from reality that such acts could initiate is demonstrated particularly by the trauma of rape, as evidenced by a survey on GBV by Mejiuni and Obilade (2012) in which the concerned girl asked whether it is possible to grow one’s virginity back, after it has been taken through violation in childhood! Folayan, Odetoyinbo, Harrison, and Brown (2014) detail the debilitating impact of rape including: Physical injuries, fatigue, chronic headaches, emotional problems, suicide attempts, stress disorders, depression, and sexual dysfunction. Victims of rape are also susceptible to alcohol and drug abuse and more likely to have multiple concurrent sex partners and are less likely to report using contraception. Girls are often compelled against their will or better judgment into actions inimical to their own interests because of the need to be respectful to older persons such as male tutors who sexually molest them, and to parents who give out underage girls in marriage or enforce traditions such as female genital mutilation/cutting (FGM/C). Sadly, as Mejiuni and Obilade (2012) illustrate, the home and the school that should constitute the safest spaces for girls are in many cases infested with potential assailants, many of these being dens of predators. Observing that childhood sexualities in Africa are often linked with disease, war, poverty, and violence, Bhana (2017) calls for “missing” narratives that explore desires, pleasures, and anxieties of young people regarding their sexuality. Bhana (2017, p. 245) advises: “It is time to acknowledge young Africans as motivated by sexual pleasures” without neglecting gender issues. Leclerc-Madlala (2019) concurs that framing of sexuality for many Africans is aligned to “legal restrictions, cultural proscriptions, social control, sexual violence, and to a large extent, also disease” (p. 237). Though Bhana (2017) strives to unearth pleasurable sexuality discourses in the context of Africa’s young people, the picture that still persists is a sexuality tinged

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with materialism and inequality. The author asserts that love is often a strategy to address economic and other challenges – girls find males with money more appealing, males idealize girls from rural areas constructed as virgins, and girls assent to their own domination by accepting cheating boyfriends who are “loving and caring.” A study involving 14–19-year olds in Malawi by Undie, Crichton, and Zulu (2007) also underlines gender inequality in their relationships even when respondents’ “references to food and the manner in which it ought to be consumed evokes a sense of naturalism and normalcy where sex and pleasure are concerned” (p. 229). A female respondent likened sex with condom to eating a candy in its wrapper or a banana with the peel – “It doesn’t taste good.” In describing pleasurable experiences, respondents coined own expressions that parents and younger siblings were unlikely to decode. For a girl, “hitting water” simply referred to sexual intercourse while for boys it meant achieving orgasm [ejaculation]. Undie et al. (2007) ponder whether this points to a de-emphasis of female pleasure? This chapter advances the argument that due to gendered socialization processes and hierarchical and unequal power relations between males and females, females oftentimes coconstruct their domination and oppression and acquiesce to situations of violence in order to be seen to comply with social norms oppressive to themselves. It lends support to the arguments for dismantling all impediments to the rights of girls, assuring their safety in matters pertaining to their sexuality, and promoting gender equality in all aspects of their lives and is in consonance with Sustainable Development Goal (SDG 5) – Achieve gender equality and empower all women and girls. The chapter has eight sections: (i) Introduction (ii) Theoretical Underpinnings (iii) Girlhood in Africa (iv) Anatomy of Gender-Based Violence (v) Understanding Gender-Based Violence in Africa (vi) Any Safe Spaces for Girls in Africa? (vii) Responses to GBV: Girls’ Empowerment (viii) Conclusion.

Theoretical Underpinnings This chapter is informed by a feminist critical viewpoint, applying feminist values of care, empathy, and gender justice to a critical examination of patriarchal and gendered systems as the source of women’s oppression and low status and responsible for enforcing male control and GBV. Patriarchy propagates violence through gender norms that reinforce cultural, traditional, and religious practices that violate the rights of girls while simultaneously shrouding these practices in a conspiracy of silence and normality. “Normalization,” “acceptance,” and “tolerance” of genderbased violence may reach the extent that communities are desensitized and only react to the most extreme forms of violence. Girls tend to keep silent in situations of rape because of the fear that they will be blamed for complicity – for their mode of dressing and for inviting the attack. In Morocco, Sadiqi (2010) explains that paradoxically, “the victims of rape are often seen as the criminals, or at least as the ones who provoked violence by the way they

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dress, talk, look. . .the abuser is seen as a victim who committed his crime without meaning to do it” (p. 58). Patriarchy and attendant gender inequality, including unequal power relations, are key concepts that come to bear in explaining GBV against girls. Without addressing the existing gendered attitudes and behaviors, it would be difficult to end GBV in Africa. Attempts to control girls’ bodies because of their roles as wives and mothers result in practices that expose girls to violence. Also, prevalent perceptions of females as the weaker sex, as emotional, irrational, and illogical, and thus, “must be kept under control” empower males to exercise physical, mental, and psychological control over females. The acceptance and validation of aggression and violent behaviors as masculine traits is a barrier to curbing GBV. Interventions also tend to provide Band-Aid solutions and palliatives that do not address the root cause of the problem – existing gender imbalance and society’s constructions of maleness and femaleness.

Male Versus Female Values Feminist ethics of care promoted by theorists, Carol Gilligan and Joan Tronto, suggest a different way to look at male and female socialization – that human beings live in a mutually interconnected world characterized by inequality. Hankivsky (2014, p. 253) observes that what makes ethics of care attractive is its view that “all people are vulnerable, dependent and finite, and we all have to find ways of dealing with this in our daily existence and in the values that guide our individual and collective behaviours.” Further, care prioritizes prevention of harm and suffering. A balance needs to be achieved between the ethics of care that emphasizes interconnectedness associated with being female and the ethics of justice that is associated with being male. Males need to be socialized to embrace the qualities of care. Marilyn Friedman (as cited by Tong 2009) suggests women must engage men and demand reciprocation as a matter of justice. It is not fair for one person in a relationship to shoulder the lion’s portion of the burden of care, while the other basks in the security of being cared for. This caring and nurturing spirit must be encouraged in males as a strength, rather than a weakness.

Girls and Women as Spoils of War Postcolonial Africa has experienced wars and conflicts that affected the very social fabric and cohesion of community life leading to arms proliferation and upscaling of violence against females. One is forced to question why the bodies of girls continue to be part of the battleground or battle-spoil during male-generated conflicts? Ayiera (2010) explains that historically GBV has been framed as part of the package of war and its casualties: The violated bodies of females from the enemy side serve as a reward for war-weary soldiers or as a way to punish or humiliate the enemy.

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Ayiera (2010) observes that there is a gap in the thinking around curbing GBV. The impression is that sexual violence in conflict situations is an isolated phenomenon. The separation of violence into silos whereby sexual violence in conflict is viewed as separate from GBV in peacetimes is misleading. Ayiera considers it a continuum within which a culture of violence breeds and becomes part of the social structure of society. The scale of sexual violence that erupts in conflict situations attracts a mass media buzz, and international resources are deployed to address the problem. Peacetime sexual violence is conceptualized as a lesser evil. It took the massive killings and rape of women in Rwanda and Bosnia to prick society’s conscience and to break the silence on rape and orgy of ethnic cleansing. The International Criminal Court (Statute of the ICC) in 1998 included rape as a war crime, prosecutable alongside other crimes against humanity and genocide. Diabate (2011, p. 26) draws attention to the extremes of FGC practice: “Among the Beti of Cameroon, female genital mutilation is the ultimate form of punishment for an adulterous woman.” Yet, among the Igbo of Nigeria, FGC is perceived to accentuate femininity of women. Malawian girls perceive that having elongated labia improves marriageability, and so they labor to pull the labia (Undie et al. 2007). Is a girl conceptualized as a human being with rights or as an object with mammary glands and a vagina produced to provide for the sexual and other needs of males and bear children? Why are girls’ bodies or clitorises viewed as objects that can be cut, tweaked, pulled, and mutilated purportedly to maintain their virginity to satisfy male egos or to punish infidelity? On the one hand, men desire to marry virgin girls, but on the other hand, girls are being raped and their virginity robbed by force. The interest in virgin girls is still enforced through rituals such as virginity testing in Southern Africa. LeclercMadlala (2019) notes that female virginity continues to provoke strong cultural and symbolic value, in spite of the vast changes in sexual norms.

Girlhood in Africa The category of African girls is not homogenous. The diversity of experiences and conditions of girls in Africa expose them to various forms of violence. Girls are vulnerable because they are usually under the care of older people whom the girls are acculturated to respect and obey. When these guardians turn out to be the very perpetrators of violence, the girl faces a serious dilemma. Sexuality is a lifelong process characterized by many events during the stages of adolescence when girls reach puberty. Adolescence is a phase of transition to adulthood during which major life events related to sexuality occur. For instance, the girl reaches menarche, begins to develop adult features such as breasts, armpit and pubic hairs. It is at this point that cultures that practice early marriage often carry out the transaction. FGM/C serves as a form of control to forestall premarital sexual activity. A key concern is pregnancy and family shame. However, the onset of

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puberty does not mean the girl is ready for sexual intercourse, marriage, or the responsibilities of motherhood. The construction of female sexuality as passive, devoid of desire, and subordinate to male needs disempowers and deters sexually active girls from acquiring skills necessary to negotiate safer sex (Ninsiima et al. 2018) or to say no, emphatically. An older woman in a Ugandan study suggested: “Girls have more challenges in this modern world. With this exposure, girls need to be locked up,” while a parent in the same survey likened girls to groundnuts: “Everyone wants to pick and eat them. Parents to girl children must take extra effort to control and discipline them” (Ninsiima et al. 2018, p. 7). Obviously, the focus is not on restraining or controlling those who seek to devour girls. Therefore, girls require access to information and youth-friendly services to make informed decisions, and boys should also be acculturated to treat girls with respect.

Anatomy of Gender-Based Violence in Africa GBV is violence that an individual incurs due to her or his sex, gender identity, or expression of socially defined norms of masculinity and femininity. However, gender inequality is a root cause of GBV (Population Services International 2016, para. 1). GBVand violence against women (VAW) are often used interchangeably. In most cases, violence against women is gender-based, and GBV is inflicted by men on females. According to the United Nations Declaration on the Elimination of Violence against Women (1994): . . .“violence against women” means any act of gender-based violence that results in, or is likely to result in, physical, sexual or psychological harm or suffering to women [and girls], including threats of such acts, coercion or arbitrary deprivation of liberty, whether occurring in public or in private life. (Article 1)

The following offer illustrative examples of areas where girls’ sexuality renders them vulnerable to violence in Africa.

Conflict and Terrorism Violence against girls is escalating with the challenge of conflicts and terrorism, exemplified by terrorists abducting teenage girls from communities, abusing and violating them for years before any form of rescue is achieved. “Across Africa – from Uganda to Liberia to Angola – girls as young as 12 have been abducted during conflicts and forced to fight, work as servants or become sexual slaves for combatants” (The African Child Policy Forum 2006, p. 8). Girls in Liberian refugee camps report being forced to exchange sex for food. “The UN expressed ‘grave concern’ over the numerous accounts of rape, sexual slavery, and forced marriages perpetrated by jihadist groups like . . . Boko Haram” (Bloom and Matfess 2016, pp. 107–108). In

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addition, Boko Haram has used females as suicide bombers and weapons of war (Bloom and Matfess 2016). In Nigeria, 276 girls were abducted in 2014 from their school in Chibok community by Boko Haram terrorists who claim to be against Western-style education. Many of the girls remain unaccounted for. The terror group held them as captives in their Sambisa forest hideout. A number of the girls lost their lives, while others returned from captivity with babies. Those who were fortunate to return home said they endured long periods of hunger in captivity and were made to work as servants for the militants who also reportedly raped them especially if they refused their marriage proposals (Toromade 2018). Boko Haram broke into homes and threw sums of money at parents of teenage girls as the dowry for their daughters, whom they then forcefully abducted (Bloom and Matfess 2016). During the conflict in Sierra Leone, more than 70% of the reported cases of sexual violence were perpetrated against girls below 18 years, and more than 20% of those affected were girls under 11 years.

Globalizing Influences: The Internet and Social Media A Kenya study notes the increased exposure of adolescents to sexually explicit materials including music, sex images and videos, sex texting, and online sex solicitation through social media. The study attempted to link access to social media to high prevalence of teenage pregnancy among adolescent girls in Kenyan high schools (Ali Abdullahi and Abdulquadri 2018). Girls in Africa are increasingly accessing information on sexuality from the Internet, a source that is unlikely to provide factual, correct, nor age-appropriate information unless navigation is informed by knowledge about where to find balanced resources. Also, girls are likely to be attracted to more risky sites due to curiosity and naiveté. Unhindered access to sexuality information that the Internet provides contrasts with the secrecy and silence that usually shroud sexuality information, especially where adolescents are concerned in Africa. Fortunately, information and communication technologies also enable political action against GBV by providing a platform for sharing of stories that reject negative norms and disseminating messages that reinforce positive social norms (Haylock et al. 2016). Internet sources, however, are akin to a double-edged sword with advantages in regard to ease of information access, but unfortunately, when such information is incorrect or not factual, it can disempower girls further exposing them to violence. For example, Internet-facilitated child sexual tourism and child pornography are on the rise with Ethiopia, Kenya, Morocco, Senegal, and South Africa cited as hotspots (African Child Policy Forum 2014). Social media is increasingly being exploited to contact, recruit, and sell children for sex (University of Toledo 2018).

Female Genital Mutilation/Cutting (FGM/C) FGM/C alludes to procedures involving partial or total removal of the external female genitalia or other practices that are injurious to the female genital organs

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for reasons that are nonmedical (UNICEF 2010). Girls are socialized to accept FGM/ C not with the intention of harming them but to ensure conformity with community expectations and social norms. In many cases, the aim is to improve girls’ marriageability. Thus, communities consider it a strategy necessary to raise girls properly and to “secure the best possible future for them” (UNICEF 2010, p. 2). Unfortunately, FGM/C can have untold negative health and psychological impact on females, impinges on their right to pleasurable and safe sexuality, and the performance of reproductive functions such as childbearing during the lifespan of affected females. Even though FGM/C is often performed on girls in childhood, the impact lingers through life. Studies have listed severe pain, hemorrhage, shock, dysuria, and death among the most common immediate complications of FGM/C (Al-Saadi et al. 2016). FGM/C could expose affected persons to human immunodeficiency virus. Long-term complications include infertility and an increased risk of cervical cancer. Besides the damage to the genital organs, FGM/C can pose a threat to both the fetus and mother during childbirth. FGM/C is the community’s method of exercising control over the sexuality of females and is sustained through a regime of sanctions for noncompliance and rewards for complicity. In Egypt, Ethiopia, and Northern Sudan, FGM/C has been practiced by the majority of the population, which makes national prevalence rates high. In Kenya and Senegal, prevalence rates remain high only among certain population groups (UNICEF 2010). Prevalence in Africa is declining slowly in some affected countries due to pressure from nongovernmental organizations (NGOs), the mass media, and government through promulgation of anti-FGM/C legislation. Sensitization of communities about the health hazards and positioning FGM/C as a violation of women’s rights has contributed to the decline in prevalence. According to UNICEF Global Databases (2019), countries with prevalence rates of over 90% among females aged 15–49 include: Somalia (2006 MICS), Djibouti (2006 MICS), and Guinea (2016 MICS). Countries recording a prevalence of over 80% include Sudan (2014 MICS), Sierra Leone (2017 MICS), and Mali (MICS 2015). The lowest prevalence rates are Uganda at 0% (2016 MICS) and Nigeria with 2% (2012 DHS). When communities change the narratives surrounding FGM/C, families and individuals are empowered to take the decision not to circumcise girls because it would not attract the customary sanctions – stigma, ostracism, loss of face, and decline in marriageability. Thus, attempts to curb FGM/C require “multi-pronged approaches in which political, legal and cultural elements are choreographed to effect large-scale change” (Sipsma et al. 2012, p. 125).

Early and Forced Marriage Globally, child marriage is acknowledged as one of the worst violations of the rights of the girl-child and a most cruel form of child abuse. It is attributed to gender inequality and the low value placed on girls and women in society (Nyamongo and Shilabukha 2017). Prioritization of boys’ education over girls’ is one of the root

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causes of early marriage. “Also inequitable gender norms and economic insecurity contribute to a cycle of unintended pregnancy, school dropout, and child marriage, particularly for girls living in poverty” (Petroni et al. 2017, p. 789). Early and forced marriage is described as one that lacks the free and valid consent of at least one of the parties involved. In its most severe form, forced marriage may involve threats, abduction, imprisonment, physical violence, rape and, in some cases, murder (UNICEF 2010). In the four study sites (Kenya, Senegal, Uganda, and Zambia) cited by Petroni et al., girls indicated they would rather remain in school, given the choice. The median age girls indicated they would like to be married was 25 years in Zambia and 27.5 years in Kenya. This is in contrast with actual practice whereby four out of five girls are already married by age 25 (Petroni et al. 2017). The study found Uganda had the highest prevalence rate of child marriage at 40% while Kenya had the lowest at 23% based on DHS data from the individual countries (Petroni et al. 2017). In Uganda, by age 18, 45% of girls are married. 20–24% are married or pregnant before age 15 accounting for 20% of maternal deaths in the country. Surviving teen mothers often develop health complications such as fistulae and other forms of disability (Ninsiima et al. 2018). The study by Petroni et al. (2017) also noted that in countries where prevalence rate of child marriage is high, girls are viewed as an economic burden because of their low status and lack of viable economic opportunities. The authors conclude that such girls cannot earn wages that guarantee independence or provide leverage necessary to survive outside of marriage. A survey of 31 countries in the SSA region showed that while marriage before age 18 has become less common throughout much of the region, nevertheless girls aged below 15 years continue to marry at younger ages: In more than half of the countries sampled, the study noticed no significant progress made toward delaying marriage and reducing the prevalence of early marriage among girls younger than 15 – a sign of resistance to delaying marriage among the youngest and most vulnerable girls (Koski et al. 2017). Koski et al. note that in countries like Burkina Faso, Ghana, Mali, and Cameroon the proportion of marriages among very young girls has increased. This cohort of girls constitutes the poorest of the poor with limited options open to them. Central Africa Republic and Chad record the highest numbers of child marriages in Africa with 29% married before age 15 and 68% married by age 18 (Girls not Brides 2015). In Mozambique, 41% of 15–19-yearold girls have either already borne children or are pregnant, while 80% are sexually active (AU 2013). Early marriage exposes girls to early childbearing and health complications (Koski et al. 2017). Obstetric complications arise because girls who marry early have children at shorter intervals and may lack knowledge of contraceptive use. Being usually much younger than their spouses, girl-brides are also unlikely to take active part in decision-making about their sexual and reproductive health. For instance, they may be unable to negotiate condom use with their older spouses and are therefore more susceptible to sexually transmitted infections, including AIDS (Koski et al. 2017).

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Given the inexperience of the girls involved in these early sexual encounters, coupled with high unmet need for family planning (along with low condom use), it is no surprise that girls make up 62% of the 2.1 million adolescents living with HIV (most of whom are in Africa) (AU 2013).

Perception of Sexual Minorities Findings by Mucherah, Owino, and McCoy (2016) in a study conducted in Kenyan high schools indicated that while the students were ill-informed, they did perceive that homosexuality exists in their schools. The students also believed that homosexuality is mostly practiced in single-sex boarding schools, especially boys’ boarding schools, and were of the opinion that homosexuality in schools is influenced by “sexual starvation.” But they did not also believe that those in same-sex relations would change on graduating from single-sex schools. Respondents opined that prayers and counseling could change one’s sexual orientation. Thus, almost all the students “believed that homosexuality is an abnormal sexual behavior” (Mucherah et al. 2016, p. 259). The students recommended that peers found culpable should be expelled. Mucherah et al. (2016) found that more females than males affirmed that homosexuality exists in their schools. This is contrary to the boys’ opinion that homosexuality is more prevalent in the all-boys’ boarding schools. The authors surmise that this finding is likely influenced by gender stereotypes which are less accommodating of gay men but slightly more tolerant of lesbianism, perceived as harmless and less offensive. Existing literature indicates that traditional Africa was more tolerant of a broad spectrum of unions that did not conform with heterosexual sensibilities. African scholars argue that African arrangements of sexuality and gender are more accommodating of diversity than Western definitions of sexual identity. Earlier perspectives include Amadiume (1987) whose book Male Daughters, Female Husbands: Gender and Sex in an African Society explored women’s power in precolonial Africa and loss of these powers with the advent of colonialism. Other writers pointed out by Leclerc-Madlala (2019) include Teunis (1996), Murray and Roscoe (1998), and more recent writers: Awondo, Geschiere, and Reid (2012) and Eprecht (2013). Leclerc-Madlala (2019) examines Teunis’ description of the gordjiguene of Senegal, which exemplifies long-standing acceptance of feminine men who have sex with men. “Theirs is a way of life that betrays a certain institutionalised sexual fluidity with concurrent maintenance of heterosexual identity” (p.233).

Understanding Gender-Based Violence in Africa The scope of interpretations of gender constructions in the history of African societies is demonstrated by the nexus of responses to arguments advanced by Oyěwùmí (1997) in The Invention of Women: Making an African Sense of Western

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Gender Discourses, arguments that she elaborates further in (Re) Constituting the Cosmology and Socio-Cultural Institutions of Oyo-Yoruba (2005). Oyewumi, both in terms of reference to Africa in general and her focus on the Yorubas of Oyo in Nigeria, asserts that gender as a construct which carries with it hierarchical power structures, male/female binaries and domination of females, was alien to Africa before colonialism. She offers the example of the precolonial Oyo dynamic and asserts that age and seniority, not gender, determined the power one held within the family and community structures. Writers have responded to these arguments: Peel (2002), Olajubu (2004), BakareYusuf (2003), Oku-Egbas (2006), and Mathews (2014). Summing up the complexity of the debate in response to Oyěwùmí (1997, 2005), Naminata Diabate (2011, p. 31) states in note 30: . . . while Oyewumi rejects “woman” as a social category among the pre-colonial OyoYoruba, Kamene Okonjo and Niara Sudarkasa do not. In their analyses of the Yoruba, Igbo, and Asante, both argue that the hierarchical system did not encompass all spheres of life.

Sudarkasa (1986) observed that data from Africa categorized male and female as clusters of statuses in which gender is only one out of other defining characteristics. She perceives males and females as occupying two distinct domains. Within the male as well as the female domains, hierarchies exist with each contributing to domestic as well as public activities. The question then, in regard to gender and power, is: What was the nature of domestic activities carried out by occupants of respective male and female domains? Analyses of the domains will highlight the socially constructed statuses of females and males in the society. For Morojele (2009), “age is a significant determinant of respect and social status in Basotho communities where respect of older people by younger people is mandatory. The reverse does not apply” (p. 81). One of the ways that the power of seniority commonly works against girls in educational institutions in Africa is their inability to challenge lecturers who threaten them with failure if they do not succumb to their sexual demands. Because of seniority-power, sexual harassment policies if they exist at all mostly exist only on paper. In Nigeria, “bottom power” is a coinage that gives the erroneous impression that the female in question has exercised her seductive resources in gaining power for herself. “In which case, the female is seen as the one with power who sets an agenda for herself, initiates a sexual bargaining process with her body as the sole bargaining chip; the aim of which [in academic contexts] is to obtain good grades” (Oku-Egbas 2006, p. 66). Bottom power discourses veil the fact that the female is disadvantaged in the majority of these cases because it is the teacher who has the power to apply sanctions. Whether the power source is gendered, based on chronological age, or achieved with the barrel of a gun or threat of failure in a context where a certificate is considered one of the prime escape routes out of poverty, power is in operation. I agree with Bakare-Yusuf (2003, p. 134) that: No mode of power, be it gender, seniority, race or class, has the same value from context to context and from time to time. No form of power is monolithic or univocal, existing in

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isolation from all other modes of social structuration. Rather, each variable of power acquires its specific value in the context of all other variables operating in a given situation.

Newspaper headlines reflect society’s concern about girl-child abuse. “Why are child defilement cases in Zambia rising?” Martin Mulenga asks in an article in Lusaka Times of March 5, 2012. Mulenga (2012) suggests, “This is an evil that has everything to do with myths of cure for some STI and AIDS or cleansing from some evil spirits [through having sex with children] and/or mere lack of selfcontrol.” A report in Uganda’s The New Vision newspaper of March 9, 2014, by Moses Walubiri presents a different view. For economic reasons, especially in rural areas, cases of child defilement are hushed as underprivileged parents collect money from men who have harmed their daughters, Walubiri (2014) notes.

Any Safe Spaces for Girls in Africa? A safe space is a formal or informal place where women and girls feel physically and emotionally safe. The term “safe” refers to the absence of trauma, excessive stress, violence, or fear of violence. Thus, beneficiaries of a safe space feel comfortable and enjoy the freedom to express themselves without the fear of judgment or harm (UNFPA 2015). Mejiuni and Obilade (2012) conducted a survey of girls and their experience of sexual abuse in three categories of spaces normally considered to be safe spaces for girls in Nigeria. Safe Space 1: respondents’ homes, schools, churches/mosques, and hospitals/clinics were assumed to be a high level safe space Safe Space 2: home of respondents’ relatives, a hostel, and a shop – assumed medium level Safe Space 3: assailants’ homes, streets, neighborhoods, a friend’s home, at a party, in the bush, by the river, in a farm, and in the assailants’ workplace/office – assumed low level safe space. The results showed that girls’ exposure to violence in the assumed No. 1 safe space was almost at par with their experience of violence in the No. 3 space, which was the assumed low-level safe space. “While 48.47% of the respondents were abused in Safe Space 3, 46.49% were abused in Safe Space 1.” Sadly, in Safe Space 1, the respondents’ home topped the list of the places of abuse. Abuse in their homes was perpetrated by relatives, teachers, religious leaders, family friends, fellow students, boyfriends, and armed robbers. “Home was where girls and young women were most abused, with 1 out of 3 respondents suffering abuse.” (p. 43). School premises was the next place where respondents were often abused. Adhiambo (2017) writing about the situation of sexual and gender-based violence (SGBV) in Kenya explains that it is “endemic” in spite of measures the government has put in place to curb the crime. Citing Githugo and Gichobe (2016), Adhiambo

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notes: “Police officers have been accused of dismissing cases without proper investigation . . . and belittling instances of SGBV as domestic issues” (p. 5). A 2007 Swaziland study was in most respects similar to the Nigerian one. The Swaziland survey showed that sexual violence experienced by girls under the age of 18 was highest in the assumed safest space, the girls’ own homes (32.9%). This was followed by the house of a friend, relative, or neighbor (22.8%). A lower percentage (19.1%) occurred in a public area such as an open area of land. Ten per cent occurred in a school building or on school grounds, and 9.5% occurred on the way to or from school (Africa Child Policy Forum 2014, p. 29). Itegi and Njuguna (2013) describe situations whereby girls in Kenya are coerced into sexual relationships or are raped by matatu [commercial mini bus] drivers, touts, and car owners who lure the girls with freebies, including cash for sex with the girls who may end up pregnant and drop out of school. In Uganda, “drivers contribute to both teenage pregnancy and child marriage for the vulnerable 4.3 million Ugandan girls aged 10 to 24, whether in-school or out-of- school” (UNFPA 2018, p. 10).

Responses to GBV: Girls’ Empowerment Education (including age-appropriate sexuality education) is recognized as one of the viable pathways for empowering girls to resist GBV. Education could also delay age of marriage of girls (Sieverding and Elbadawy 2016). Unfortunately, millions of girls are out-of-school, especially in SSA. For such girls, safe spaces provide literacy and skills-building programs where they can also obtain referrals for sexual and reproductive health services. Safe spaces also provide opportunity for girls to meet and build respectful relationships with peers. Therefore, citing of a safe space has to be strategic in terms of accessibility and reach (Sieverding and Elbadawy 2016). Sieverding and Elbadawy (2016) further note the limitation in outcomes when girls’ empowerment programs are implemented in terrains with deeply rooted gender attitudes and in conservative social settings such as rural Upper Egypt where the reported project was implemented. Context-specific strategies would need to be developed to address GBV in resistant settings. Sometimes the school system further exposes girls to various forms of harassment and violence perpetrated by especially male tutors and peers. Responsive policies need to be enacted, made accessible to all students, clearly delineating reporting procedures and with necessary systems and safeguards to protect subjects of sexual harassment and other forms of GBV from stigmatization and victimization by oftentimes more powerful perpetrators of violence (Oku-Egbas 2006). Mass mobilization (social movements to change norms that cause harm), sensitization, and male involvement strategies are also critical and not enough as standalone strategies. Males need to be socialized to embrace the qualities and ethics of care and nurturing as a strategy to address GBV. To foster behavior change, it is imperative to embrace new ways of doing things. For example, practitioners of FGM/C in some reported cases were provided alternative income sources because some of them held steadfastly to the practice for

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economic reasons. So, while FGM/C is the community’s method of exercising control over the sexuality of females, tackling practitioners’ needs (while not directly affecting the norms) can substantially weaken the overall FGM/C structure. NGOs are breaking the silence on GBV through policy advocacy and community sensitization leading to behavior change. Adhiambo (2017) discusses extensively what community policing achieved in Kibera, a low-resource community in Kenya. Capacity building programs equipped the police to respond to reported cases of GBV competently. A framework developed by UN Women delineates key thematic areas of focus: legislative, policy, and institutional reform; advocacy to prevent violence against women; formal and informal education (including community dialogues); and mobilizing and engaging communities and organizations (to identify and dismantle structures that contribute to GBV). The framework also includes skills development (targeted at parents and guardians to promote nonviolence in their parenting practices) and mitigation of the consequences of prior exposure to violence (targeted at children who have experienced violence in their homes (UN Women 2015, pp. 38–39). Multifaceted strategies are necessary, including male involvement strategies that focus on boys and men. A scoping study conducted by Parkes et al. (2017) in Zambia – also found that a huge gulf exists between policy and implementation of such policies. But they also note interventions that are yielding good results. Besides sensitization and dialogues, Parkes et al. highlight the example of one-stop centers that provide integrated, multidisciplinary services to survivors of GBV. This strategy supports medical, legal, and mental health services in one location such as an accessible health facility.

Conclusion This chapter has explored the nature of GBV with respect to girls’ sexuality in Africa in seeking to understand why violence against girls is escalating in spite of the presence of policy instruments enacted at the global level and in the continent to curb GBV. Gender equality (as endorsed by SDG5) is a prerequisite for achieving sustainable development and ending GBV in Africa. Ending GBV is critical because it hinders the achievement of safe and pleasurable sexuality throughout the lifespan, which is the innate desire and right of individuals, young and old. No single narrative can adequately encapsulate the diversity of experiences of African girls because various influences shape the ways that girls express and experience their sexuality. Barriers in Africa include the low status accorded to females; the social, religious, and gendered constructions of girlhood; and power of seniority reinforced by inimical gender norms, which expose females to various forms of violence even in their homes and schools which are assumed to be safe spaces. The situation is such that girls find no safe place where they are protected from GBV. Unfortunately, poverty further heightens girls’ vulnerabilities. While globalizing forces are democratizing information sources and providing opportunities for individual learning and empowerment, popular channels like the

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Internet and social media are also replete with hidden dangers exposing girls to inaccurate and inappropriate sexuality information as well as violence, including child sex tourism. Policy instruments address super structures, but they fail to adequately dismantle gendered sociocultural and religious norms that fuel, sustain, and normalize GBV. Strategies to resist and prevent GBV aim to empower girls to take control of their lives through education (including sexuality education). Education could also delay the age of marriage of girls and address the problem of early marriage. Large-scale social and behavior change programs are important to discourage norms that sustain GBV.

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Rickard, C. (2019). Human trafficking reports show Sub-Saharan Africa a global player. African Legal Information Institute. Retrieved from https://bit.ly/2YiMiy6 Sadiqi, F. (2010). Domestic violence in the African North. Feminist Africa: Rethinking Gender and Violence (14), 49–62. Retrieved from https://bit.ly/2Fi1Pqb Sieverding, M., & Elbadawy, A. (2016). Empowering adolescent girls in socially conservative settings: Impacts and lessons learned from the Ishraq Program in Rural Upper Egypt. Studies in Family Planning, 47(2), 129–144. Retrieved January 9, 2020, from www.jstor.org/stable/ 24720386 Sipsma, H. L., Chen, P. G., Ofori-Atta, A., Ilozumba, U. O., Karfo, K., & Bradley, E. H. (2012). Female genital cutting: Current practices and beliefs in western Africa. Bulletin of the World Health Organization, 90, 120–127F. https://doi.org/10.2471/BLT.11.090886. Sudarkasa, N. (1986). “The status of women” in indigenous African societies. Feminist Studies, 121), 91–103. https://doi.org/10.2307/3177985. The African Child Policy Forum. (2006). Born to high risk: Violence against girls in Africa. Addis Ababa: The African Child Policy forum (ACPf). The African Child Policy forum. (2014). The African report on violence against children. Addis Ababa: The African Child Policy forum (ACPf). Tong, R. (2009). Feminist thought. Colorado: Westview Press. Toromade, S. (2018, April 14). Chibok girls: What has happened to schoolgirls 4 years after Boko Haram abduction? Pulse Nigeria. Retrieved from https://bit.ly/2AMo9Uq UN Women. (2015). A framework to underpin action to prevent violence against women. Retrieved from http://bit.ly/2QxoBwv Undie, C., Crichton, J., & Zulu, E. (2007). Metaphors we love by: Conceptualizations of sex among young people in Malawi. African Journal of Reproductive Health/La Revue Africaine De La Santé Reproductive, 11(3), 221–235. https://doi.org/10.2307/25549741. UNESCO Institute for Statistics (2019). New methodology shows that 258 million children, adolescents and youth are out of School. Factsheet No. 56. Retrieved from http://bit.ly/ 2t8MbHY UNFPA. (2015). Women and girls safe spaces: A guidance note based on lessons learned from the Syrian crisis. Retrieved from http://bit.ly/2rCUYBm UNFPA Evaluation office. (2018). Evaluation of UNFPA support to the prevention, response to and elimination of gender-based violence and harmful practices: Uganda case study. UNICEF (2010) The dynamics of social change: Towards the abandonment of female genital mutilation/cutting in five African countries in Innocenti Insight. Innocenti Research Centre United Nations & United Nations. (1994). Declaration on the elimination of violence against women. New York: United Nations Dept. of Public Information. University of Toledo. (2018). Study details link between social media and sex trafficking. Retrieved from http://bit.ly/36iuWTj Walubiri, M. (2014, March 9). Defilement cases in Uganda on the rise. The New Vision. Retrieved from https://bit.ly/2zuUzB1 World Health Organization. (2006). Defining sexual health: Report of a technical consultation on sexual health, 28–31 January, 2002, Geneva. World Health Organization. (2014). Global status report on violence prevention 2014. Geneva: WHO. http://www.who.int/violence_injury_prevention/violence/status_report/2014/report/ report/en/. Last checked by the authors 4 May 2016.

Female Genital Mutilation/Cutting in Africa: Patriarchy and Policy

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Oghoadena Clementina Osezua and Aimiulimhe Emily Edobor

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Types of FGM/C and Women’s Health Implications . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Debates on the Cultural Practice of FGM/C . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Role of Patriarchy in the Practice of Female Genital Mutilation/Cutting . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Global Efforts Toward FGM/C Eradication . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Policy Interventions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

This chapter examines the prevalence of female genital mutilation or cutting (FGM/C) in Africa, implicated by the adverse effects the practice has on the reproductive and sexual health of women. It establishes a nexus between patriarchal ideologies and cultural norms which validate patriarchal control of female sexuality and which have continued to reinforce and sustain the practice of FGM/ C. The chapter asserts that female sexuality is a highly contested site of patriarchal exploitation and a veritable focus of gender-based violence that requires context-specific and strategic interventions. Keywords

Female Genital Mutilation/ Cutting · Patriarchy · Culture · Gender-based Violence and Policy

O. C. Osezua (*) Department of Sociology and Anthropology, Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-Ife, Nigeria A. E. Edobor Department of Sociology, Ambrose Alli University, Ekpoma, Edo State, Nigeria © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_157

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Introduction One of the most contested emotive debates related to human rights, gender-based violence, and culture is the phenomenon of female genital mutilation/cutting. Also referred to as “female circumcision,” female genital mutilation/cutting is the removal of female genitalia and involves ‘the partial or total removal of the external genitalia for cultural, religious and other non-therapeutic reasons” and usually it takes place at infancy, childhood or adolescence (WHO 2008). Even the name, FGM/C, is associated with a high degree of dissonance among scholars. Hence, initially, it was called “female circumcision,” a term that has been deemed misleading. According to the UNICEF (2008), this term did not equate to male circumcision since it obscures the degree of violence against women inherent in the practice. This necessitated the need for a change of appellation from “female circumcision” to female genital “mutilation” which seeks to capture the essence of the intensity and magnitude of violation of the human rights of girls and women (UNICEF 2008). The terminology of “cutting” in FGC was adopted in 1990 by the African Committee on Traditional Practices Affecting the Health of Women and Children, and in 1991, the WHO adopted it as well. However, the UNFPA and the UNICEF agreed on hybrid terminology of FGM/C to capture the various ranges of excision and diverse contexts. It is important to note that the WHO and United Nations have continued to use the terminology FGM with the intention to muster a massive campaign against the practice, since it is perceived as a gross violation of human rights that must be eradicated. Though many consider the concept as judgmental and stigmatizing, alienating, and culturally insensitive (Vissanjdee et al. 2014), it has persisted. This chapter therefore adopts the hybrid terminology, FGM/C, to capture the wide range of views associated with the practice, as documented in extant literature. A recent estimate has placed women who have been circumcised globally at 200 million (WHO 2016). In fact, a relatively more recent estimate by the WHO disclosed that about three million women are at risk of being circumcised annually (WHO 2020). FGM/C is becoming a pervasive phenomenon across the globe with high concentration in Africa, Asia, and migrant communities in the Asia and the Americas. Consequently, a review established the prevalence of FGM/C in the Horn of Africa and the Middle East (UNICEF 2016) in the areas of Iraq, Yemen, and some other Asian countries like Maldives, Indonesia, with variation in prevalence (UNICEF 2020). In the Horn of Africa, the practice is almost universal in Somalia, Djibouti, and Guinea with levels around 90% (UNICEF 2020). FGM/C is also practiced in other parts of Africa. Okeke et al. (2012, p. 71) noted that about 28 countries in Africa with its burden still practice FGM/C but mostly observable in the Central African Republic, Egypt, Eritrea, and Nigeria, Northern parts of Ghana, and Sudan with age-long traditional and cultural norms across ethnic groups which have continued reinforcing the phenomenon. Nigeria as a country due to its huge population has the highest count of absolute cases of FGM/C globally, accounting for one quarter of the world’s estimate of women affected (Okeke et al. 2012).

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Nigeria only legislated against FGC in 2015 (Okeke et al. 2012). This goes to underscore the deeply entrenched sociocultural norms that continue to perpetuate the phenomenon. For instance, only the Fulanis out of the six major ethnic groups in Nigeria do not practice FGM/C. Based on the foregoing, the chapter answers some pertinent questions. It attempts to provide context to the subject matter about what the present-day realities are and how the culture of patriarchy has helped in the propagation of this practice. What changes have the policies emanating from the various charters and conventions made? What interventions have these societies applied? This constitutes the core of this chapter.

Types of FGM/C and Women’s Health Implications The World Health Organization developed a typology in 1997 which they updated in 2007 in a bid to provide a proper understanding of this practice. FGM/C was classified into four main categories: types I, II, III, and IV (UNICEF 2013). Type I – This involves the excision of the prepuce with partial or total excision of the labia. This practice also known as clitoridectomy involves the surgical alteration of the clitoris, in such a way that the prepuce is not affected. It is less severe compared to other types. Type II – This second type is a form of excision which involves the partial or total removal of the clitoris and, in extreme cases, the labia majora also. Type III – This is known as infibulation and it is the most severe of all. It involves narrowing the vaginal opening through the creation of a covering seal by cutting and repositioning the inner and sometimes outer labia. Infibulation is done with or without the removal of the clitoris by joining and fusing the raw edges of the labia, of the external genitalia, and with stitches or glue leaving a small opening for the flow of urine and menses. It is also known as the Pharaonic form of circumcision. Type IV or unclassified – This involves all harmful procedures and non-therapeutic operations on the female genitalia; alterations including pricking, piercing, stretching, or incision of the clitoris and/or labia; and cauterization by burning the clitoris and surrounding tissues. It also includes incisions to the vaginal wall, scrapping or cutting off the vagina and surrounding tissues, and introduction of corrosive substances or herbs into the vagina (WHO 2008). Several health complications have been implicated by this practice of FGC, which include short-term and long-term complications (Almroth et al. 2005; Okonofua et al. 2002; Gruenbaum 2001). Short term, also known as immediate complications, may include severe pain, hemorrhage of interior dorsal artery of the clitoris, damaged urethra, tetanus arising from the use of unsterilized instruments, shock, and death, among other conditions (Farage et al. 2015). The long-term effects have been identified to include urinary tract infection, usually associated with infibulation (Almroth et al. 2005), vesicovaginal fistulas (VVF), obstructed menstrual flow, development of vulva cysts with social stigmatizing effects, and other adverse

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reproductive health outcomes (Farage et al. 2015). A multicountry study conducted in 2006 with women who had undergone FGM/C, which examined 28,300 participants in Burkina Faso, Sudan, Ghana, Nigeria, and Kenya, revealed that women who experienced FGM/C were at a higher risk of caesarian surgery (CS), stillbirth, postpartum hemorrhage, and low birth rates (Banks et al. 2006). Similarly, women who have undergone FGM/C have been discovered to experience pain during sexual intercourse, thereby reducing their desire for sexual activity (Berge et al. 2010). In a changing world where gender equality is considered pivotal in achieving and sustaining development goals globally, the subject matter FGM/C is identified as a harmful traditional practice that must be eliminated, not only because it is a violation of fundamental human rights but because it also has the capacity of jeopardizing the chances of building a peaceful prosperous and sustainable world. Even though some commendable efforts have been made in eradicating FGM/C globally as indicated in extant literature, a lot still needs to be done in many parts of Africa where entrenched cultural practices are still endemic with extraordinarily strong patriarchal control.

Debates on the Cultural Practice of FGM/C The pervasiveness of FGM/C globally has some historical validations, although the practice is differentially embedded within specific institutional and social structures. As a result of increased cross-border movements and intercultural exchange, the need for examining FGM/C in global contexts has been reinforced (Boyle 2002; Hernlund and Shell Duncan 2007; Wallace 1997). For instance, Christine Wallace (1997) in her groundbreaking article titled “Searching for Female Voices: Feminism Anthropology and the Global Debates over Female Genital Operations” attempted a historical account of the heated controversial debate surrounding FGM/C. Attributing its spread in human societies to a plethora of factors like migration, globalization, and multiculturalism, the phenomenon has continually engendered continuous debates, contestations with regard to the definition, ambiguities associated with the practice, and politics associated with knowledge production related to the practice, such as intent of scholars in dominant or privileged groups to establish cultural superiority over those considered to be inferior, among many other factors. Currently, in multiethnic societies across the Western world, healthcare professionals are confronted with the stark reality of the increase in number of women, who originate from countries where FGM/C is still being practiced on a relatively permissive scale (Cook and Dickens 2010) Consequently, healthcare systems are required to be equipped to deal ethically with the sociocultural and psychological complexities associated with the women who have undergone FGM/C, within the national legal and professional guidelines of the host countries (Macklin 2006). For instance, in Canada, a bill was modified in 1997 to capture this reality among migrants especially those of African descent where FGM/C is still pervasive (Vissanjdee 2014). The amendment took a prohibitive stance on FGM/C, which implied that those who practiced under any guise could face prosecution. Statutorily, such healthcare professionals are expected to report such bodily harm to the

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authorities. The ethical dilemma that ensued was that the migrants do not consider FGC/M as a form of harm. Even though they may be suffering from a long-term impact of FGM/C, studies suggest that they are usually unable to establish the link between such adverse outcomes and the practice. Criminalization and prosecution in many states have tended to drive the practice into a more clandestine operation with potentially deadly outcomes (Vissandjée et al. 2014). Hence re-infibulation in Canada is carried out within the confines of the prescribed medical guidelines (Cook and Dickens 2010). In the USA, the nation continues to respond to FGM/C as a gross violation of human rights. Although healthcare providers in the USA are responding to cultural diversity arising from increased migration flow in recent times, a great need to develop a culturally sensitive approach in attending to migrant women from practicing countries, with emphasis still being given to the dignity of the person, is a categorical imperative (Equality Now 2013). While functionalist anthropologists have explained that rites of passage and excision are fundamental in initiating adolescent young girls into adulthood (Gluckman 1963; Turner 1970) and are used to enhance women’s status through collective bonding (Goldschmidt 1976, 1986), others argue in favor of the symbolic expression and relevance of FGM/C as associated with purification, cleanliness, and a de-emphasis on sexuality in preference for fertility, chastity, and virginity concerns. Hayes (1975) and Boddy (1982) described clitorectomy and infibulation in Northern Sudan as a strict sex-segregated dominant honor of families that are intrinsically linked to sexual purity of female members and if not controlled could bring disgrace to the patrilineage. Hence, they argued that FGM/C remains a social marker which has become an age-long phenomenon of accentuating femininity and elevating fertility in the Northern region of Sudan. Consequently, some of such literature portray an African femininity that celebrates fertility but de-emphasizes sexuality. In the same vein, challenging the over-sensationalization of the practice in Africa, Wallace (1997) and many other feminist anthropologists such as Mohanty et al. (1991) have affirmed that patriarchal structures are not only noting important elements that call for interrogation but also the effect of colonial voices and the underlying dichotomy being drawn between Euro-American scholars and African/ Third World scholars with the Western scholars claiming cultural superiority and creating the “us” and “them” dichotomy. The fact is that cultural practices, whether designated as harmful or beneficial to humanity, are located within specific historical and postcolonial contexts which are usually ignored in comparative methodologies in academic researches (Mama 2001). In this same vein, Odoi (2005) observed that there are marked variations in the prevalence, type of surgery performed, and the rituals associated with FGM/C. Although the origin of this practice is relatively unknown or shrouded in myths, one thing is however certain: in most African societies, the practice is tied to the rituals of maturation of the girl-child from girlhood to womanhood, known as the transition/rites of passage in many societies (Esho et al. 2010). Culture is dynamic, yet culture is relative. Knowing this places one in a better position to approach the subject matter in the light of its practice which seeks to

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provide response to why such an act with adverse health outcomes has become so entrenched in many human societies. In other words, why do people still engage in the practice of FGC given the health implications? The answer rests significantly on the sociocultural perspectives from which the phenomenon of FGC is understood. For instance, Esho et al. (2010) in their study among the Masai of Kenya alluded to the notion of dominance, that is, “who is in charge,” which depicts patriarchal control, where women are subjugated on all fronts in the society. Sex is seen as a means of domination in most patriarchal societies, and the only way women in this case, the Masai women, feel they can be in charge of their sexuality is by determining with whom and when to engage in sexual coitus by cutting that sensitive part of their sex, which they feel will enslave them to the men (Esho et al. 2010). Similar to the perspective of the Masai, uncircumcised girls are considered more likely to be promiscuous; hence the perceived need to cut off the clitoris in order to minimize her sexual drive and preserve her for her husband. For instance, Shewder (2000) as observed by Njambi (2004) argued that people perform female genital mutilation to reduce a girl’s sexual desire and to preserve her virginity before marriage. Some scholars (Ezeigbo 1996; Omonubi-McDonnell 2003; Patra and Singh 2014) have explained that the practice of FGM/C is to ensure the female’s virginity before marriage and chastity of the woman throughout her marriage life and of course protect family honor. Another reason for the continued practice as found by some scholars is that in some of these communities where FGM/C takes place, it enhances the marriage value of young girls, since many young women who are not cut will find it difficult to be married (Esho 2010; Farage et al. 2015). Moreover, research conducted in Africa by scholars observed that the practice of FGC is carried out by women who also are at the vanguard of preserving the practice (Gruenbaum 2001; Young 2018). The question to ask is why women are the “strongest advocates” of this practice despite the detrimental effects on their socioeconomic and reproductive well-being. This question takes us to a considerably basic issue which has bedeviled the African woman for a long time, that is, patriarchy.

The Role of Patriarchy in the Practice of Female Genital Mutilation/Cutting A major reason for the persistence of various kinds of violence against women in most parts of the world especially in Africa is the strongly rooted culture of the patriarchal system in the society. Gruenbaum (2001) has argued that it is a basic reason why the practice of FGM/C is still prevalent. This is so because patriarchy subordinates the female gender, since the practice involves the curtailing of the sexuality of the female gender, thereby limiting her sexual potentials. In Africa where the practice is still very predominant according to Yoder and Khan (2008), patriarchy is seen as a dominant force. Patriarchy is the domination of the male gender in every aspect of the culture especially in affairs of the family. Walby (1990, p. 20) defines patriarchy as a system

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of social structures and practices used by men to oppress and exploit women. Patriarchy is deeply insidious and extremely manipulative. Literally, it means rule by the male as the head of a unit (a family or ethnic groupings) and is a situation where the elder male has legitimate power over other members, which include younger males, children, and women (old and young) (Eguavoen and Ebalu 2007). It is seen as a contributory factor to the continued practice of FGM. This is based on the premise that to most men in some cultures such as the Masai in Kenya and Sudan, “a girl who is not ‘circumcised’ is not considered marriageable” (Esho et al. 2010). Patriarchy is an important concept in feminist writings and has been identified as the basis of women’s subordination by men. What connection does patriarchy have with FGM/C? That the world is viewed from the tainted glass of the male is a fact of life as Ezeigbo (1996, p. 35) explains “men create the world from their own point of view which becomes the truth to be described.” Gruenbaum (2001) described FGC as a deliberate patriarchal act whose goal or consequence is the oppression of the woman. FGC thrives in a system that feeds it, and that is the cultural practice within the societal structure. In every society there are structures, and most of these structures are largely patriarchal, enabled by certain customs, traditions, and religious practices which reinforce FGC in Africa. It is important to note therefore that in most of these African communities where FGC practice is still prevalent, women are subordinated, and men wield greater social power. Many women are perceived to have gained social status primarily based on marriage and childbearing (Omonubi-McDonnell 2003). Hence, the reproductive site, according to Lerner (1986), is a veritable site of patriarchal control. Hakim (2016) observed that Lerner’s thesis was based on patriarchal laws and institutions which enshrined the rights of men to exploit, control, and appropriate the sexual and reproductive services of women. In such situation, it is therefore clear to note that part of the control of the female sexuality has become institutionalized in many societies. Thus, traditionally, many women associate a high social status to heterosexual marriage and childbearing. This process means women derive their social status and economic security from their roles as wives and mothers. It therefore means that in order to maintain this flow, the rules of eligibility for marriage will be carefully followed by the women even if it means undergoing FGM/C no matter how painful the ordeal may be (Omonubi-McDonnell 2003). Indeed, women exercise a level of agency, as pointed out especially by scholars that have argued in favor of FGM/C being a traditional practice that must be understood from a cultural relativist point of view. Hence, Dorkenoo (1995) and Topping (2014) disagreed with the hegemonic portrayal of FGM/C as a form of violence where women are completely helpless, having no agency. They observed that the Western view about powerlessness is generally associated with women who were infibulated, even though infibulation is the least practiced of all forms of FGM/C accounting for only 1% of all excision carried out (Shetty 2014). It is obvious that not many are conversant with how thoroughly manipulative and insidious patriarchy can be in many human societies. For instance, Osezua (2012) noted how women have always been pawns in the hands of powerful men in many traditional societies through the manipulative agency of

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patriarchy where they are not socially and economically empowered. The woman’s body (sexuality) has become the man’s field where economic transactions are engaged in arbitrarily and exploitative sites which are affirmed by religious institutions (Osezua 2013, 2016). In other words, the woman in a patriarchal setup has no right to pleasure as she is made for the pleasure of the man and that must remain so. As a result of the controversies on female genital cutting, it appears that the practice is more revered than male circumcision and is believed to carry a lot of negative effects and stigma if it is not done. Many still believe that failure to circumcise a girl or woman can lead to a high sexual desire and sensitivity which may make women promiscuous. While some scholars disagree, they see it as being a crucial factor in defining women’s social individual identity as well as a contributory factor in enhancing the bodily integrity of women. Unfortunately, scholars who argue along these lines have a rather scant view of the insidious and manipulative effects of patriarchy. It has the capacity of disempowering women and using them as social pawns to perpetuate hegemonic control of males. Despite the negative health implications and the various laws in place, the practice is still common (Kandala and Komba 2018). Abusharaf (2006) affirms the slow rate of the progress made in combating this practice and the need for a strategic push before certain communities are finally convinced to stop the practice. It is based on these controversies that some have proffered that a system of medicalization be adopted to forestall the inherent/perceived health hazards that the process would have on women’s reproduction (Light-foot Klein 1989). Medicalization in this sense entails that healthcare professionals carry out FGM/C, whether in a health facility or at home or elsewhere, often using surgical tools, anesthetics, and antiseptics in the hope of mitigating complications (Kimani and Shell-Duncan 2018). It may also include the administration of painkillers while cutting is done and the use of antibiotics by the medical professional or those who perform it traditionally. Advocates of medicalization are of the view that since the practice is in consonance with the traditions/cultures of most societies that practice FGM/C, it is best that a safer method be used in order to save the lives of the girlchild in these societies. Thus, from the review of Kimani and Shell-Duncan (2018), medicalized FGM/C performed by a doctor, nurse, midwife, or other health professionals among women aged 15–49 is highest in five countries: Egypt (38%), Sudan (67%), Guinea (15%), Kenya (15%), and Nigeria (13%). A total of nearly 16 million women reported medicalized genital cutting (Shell-Duncan et al. 2017). The clamor for medicalization of the practice of FGC in some societies obviously points to one fact that most societies would rather find other means to observe this traditional “ordinance” than eliminate it. A common feature runs through these countries found to be medicalizing the practice of FGC, and this feature is the strong patriarchal nature of the societies. Many African nations have tried to come up with laws geared toward eradicating the practice, describing it as part of harmful traditional practices. A review of such laws will be examined shortly. However, states establish commissions with provisions for the prosecution of offenders, not minding the fact that in most of these nations, there are already laws which could readily treat the case of FGM as a form of

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bodily harm, sexual violence, abuse/violence against the female, as well as an infringement of the rights of the female.

Global Efforts Toward FGM/C Eradication In 1993, the Vienna World Conference on Human Rights represented a watershed in the FGM/C discourse globally. For the first time, FGM/C was designated as a form of violence against women (VAW) while it categorized VAW as a human rights’ violation. The United Nations initiated an abolitionist stance against FGC when it adopted the UN Declaration on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination against women in 1993. This position was further strengthened in the International Conference of Population in Cairo in 1994 and consolidated in the Fourth World Conference on Women, held in Beijing, China, in 1995. In 2008, a more elaborate interagency statement led by the WHO was set forth in response to eliminating the practice of FGC globally (WHO 2008). Another important date is 20 Dec. 2012, in which the United Nations adopted a resolution banning the practice of FGM/C with intensified efforts to scale up operations geared toward eliminating its practice globally. It acknowledged the efforts engaged by various countries to promote social change through coordinated approaches across the state, regional, and international levels. However, it reiterated the imperativeness of revisiting the methodologies engaged in exploring FGM/C in different societies with a strong emphasis on ensuring a comprehensive, culturally sensitive, and systematic approach that should incorporate a social perspective, based on human rights and gender equality principles. Despite the intent of the United Nations stated in 2012 to put an end to FGM/C globally, efforts to eradicate the practice have continued to generate some forms of resistance especially from those who believe that this is a test of the belief in cultural relativism by scholars and international organizations. Yet growing global concerns have continued to emphasize the dangers of FGM/C and its debilitating effects on women’s sexual and reproductive health outcomes (Almroth et al. 2005; Okonofua et al. 2002; Gruenbaum 2001). Goal 5 of the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) of 2015 is targeted toward eliminating early/forced marriages of the girl-child and FGM/C by 2030 (Nabaneh and Muula 2019). State parties are mandated to engage diverse actors in order to end the practice. The United Nations Resolution 67/146, adopted in its 67th session, called for the intensification of efforts to eliminate FGM/C in 2013. At the same time, the UNGA recognized that the political will of the International Community and national partners is a crucial requirement in eradicating FGC in all continents (UNICEF 2016). In 2018, the UNGA reiterated its call to intensify the efforts toward eradicating globally FGM/C by supporting policies and programs geared toward achieving this goal. At the regional level, the African Union has also demonstrated significantly, efforts targeted toward eliminating FGM/C. Hence, since 1990, the African Charter

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on the Rights and Welfare of the Child was adopted. The treaty’s call was to take appropriate measures in eliminating harmful sociocultural practices militating against children’s welfare and development. In 2003, the African Union adopted the Protocol to the African Charter on Human and Peoples Rights on the Rights of Women in Africa, otherwise known as the Maputo Protocol. This was a comprehensive, legally binding document which specifically noted FGM/C as gender-based violence that must be eliminated in the continent. The Maputo Protocol came into effect on 23 Nov. 2005 and obliged state parties to employ legislative and other measures in obliterating the practice of FGM/C across the continent (Nabaneh and Muula 2019). Unfortunately, due to lack of political will and the persistence of cultural norms entrenched in patriarchal ideologies and beliefs, the practice of FGM has continued to slow down various efforts toward eliminating FGC (UNICEF 2013). For instance, as at 2013, the UNICEF reported that only 24 (22) African countries have legislated against FGC: Benin, Burkina Faso, Central African Republic, Chad, Cote d’Ivoire, Djibouti, Egypt, Eritrea, Ghana, Guinea, Guinea Bissau, Kenya, Mauritania, Niger, Senegal, Somalia, Sudan, Tanzania, Togo, Uganda, Zambia, and South Africa (UNICEF 2013). The number has since increased to 35, according to the World Health Organization (WHO 2020a). Moreover, several scholars have also examined FGM/C against the backdrop of the international provision of human rights laws (Okeke et al. 2012; Muteshi et al. 2016). For instance, Article 25 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights which states that everyone has a right to a standard of living adequate for health and wellbeing has been used to oppose the practice of FGM/C as it undermines the right to health of women and their bodily integrity. In the same vein, the United Nations Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW) considers FGM/C a form of gender-based violence that should be eradicated. Similarly, other regional protocols, notably the Maputo Protocol, have demonstrated the continent’s commitment to eliminating the practice of FGM/C. Some appreciable successes have been recorded in countries like Kenya and Tanzania, where rates of FGM/C have been reduced to about a third in the past 30 years through active community engagement, awareness, and legislation (Muteshi et al. 2016). Similarly, in Nigeria, Liberia, and Central African Republic, incidence of FGC has dropped by half. Yet there is still relentless pressure on the girl-child in these countries to undergo FGC (UNICEF 2016).

Policy Interventions The various methods or approaches used by states to combat the continued practice of FGM have been interrogated by scholars like Islam and Uddin (2001), Farage (2006), and Berg and Denison (2012) who emphasize the effects on the reproductive health as well as the sexual functioning of the woman as a veritable reason the practice should be eradicated. Kandala and Komba (2018), in reviewing the practice of FGM/C in some African countries, found that, in Burkina-Faso, there was a presidential decree establishing

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the National Committee to Combat the Practice of Excision while the practice was criminalized as found in Article 380 of the Burkinabe Criminal Code. By this code both offenders and accomplices are prosecuted and could be granted jail terms from 6 months to 10 years depending on the gravity of the offence and made to pay a huge sum as fine. Despite this provision, there is no evidence that the law against FGM/C is being enforced despite the practice having been declared unlawful since 1996. Interventions in Senegal by law, according to Kandala and Komba (2015) are consistent with human rights standards which the country had incorporated into her domestic legal system and the FGM law of 1999. The fact that the country is committed to international human rights standards is premised on them having ratified the various treaties and conventions having to do with the eradication of discrimination as well as violence against children and women. Thus, an article in the country’s penal code stipulates a prison sentence of 5 years for perpetrators of FGM. In their bid to show serious commitment to the elimination of FGM, the Ministry of Family Affairs generated an action plan (in line with the Millennium Development Goals, MDGs) to be implemented for the first time for the years 2000– 2005. The aim of the action plan was to use the machinery of networking and education in explaining the legal import of FGM/C, using formal and the informal educational approaches. It seems this method worked for some communities as an evaluation of the action plan in 2008 showed that of the 5000 or so villages which practiced FGM, a total of 3300 had forsworn the practice by 2008 in public declarations (Kandala and Komba 2018). This could be likened to the pledge system employed by the Chinese government in the eradication of foot-binding, a common practice in China, and also “just as groups of Sudanese fathers from single villages met in the mosque and agreed to minimal bride-wealth payments for any marriage of their daughters to their sons in order to counteract inflation and excessive delays in marriage” (Gruenbaum 2001). Although it took the Ugandan government almost 6 years after signing the Maputo Protocol in 2003 to pass a bill prohibiting the practice of FGM, it adopted a legal framework which is the standpoint from which perpetrators of FGM could be prosecuted. This is encapsulated in the Prohibition of Female Genital Mutilation (PFGM) Act 2010 and the Children Statute 1996 (No. 6). Convicted offenders are liable to be imprisoned for 10 years (US State Department 2011, Kandala and Komba 2018). In as much as there have been few prosecutions of cases of FGM in Uganda, it remains an issue because communities which practice it usually do so in secret; besides, it is not easy getting villagers to testify against a suspected perpetrators of FGM/C. The recent case where “unknown” gangs attacked women in order to perpetuate FGM in Uganda is a typical example of how perpetrators of FGM/C are still being protected by their people Okiror (2019). In Nigeria, the Federal Ministry of Health and WHO, Abuja, in December 2007 called for the elimination of FGC in Nigeria. At that time, Nigeria had not officially criminalized FGC. In 2015, the national assembly passed a law prohibiting violence against persons (Mberu 2017). Prior to this time, it relied on the 1999 Federal Constitution Section 3 (1) (a) which stated that “no person shall be subject to torture or any form of degrading treatment.” Despite the legal provisions, there is justifiable

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pessimism on the effectiveness of the law as the nation had foot dragged before criminalizing FGC (Ifijeh 2015; Ezeamalu 2016). From the discussion so far on the intervention methods used in the eradication of the practice of FGC, the legal approaches seem minimally effective against FGC though the laws are found in the legal documents of many African countries. The practice of FGC satisfies a two-pronged function from the traditional perspective. One is that it serves to “protect” the female gender’s sexuality and at the same time gives the male gender “control and sexual fidelity” as far as his relationship with the female gender is concerned. Therefore, customarily there would be enforcers introduced by societies which practice FGM providing incentive and further perpetuating the practice. This could be the reason why in several African societies where FGC is practiced, young girls who are circumcised are given gifts of money and elaborate and sumptuous meals prepared just for the girl, making her feel like a “queen” for the period she would stay indoors for the wounds to heal (Gruenbaum 2001; Davis 2004). The role of the laws in protecting victims and would-be victims has been argued by Kandala and Komba (2018), who are of the view that though there is a relatively low rate of prosecution which is scanty compared to the practice, the law also lacked adequate protection for potential victims of FGM. This notwithstanding, the presence of the legal framework has its advantages, the first being that the legal framework has enabled nongovernmental organizations (NGOs) to engage in the campaign for its eradication. Secondly, it gives governmental bodies the legal powers to ensure the protection of women and serves as a deterrent to those who dread criminal prosecution. It has been noted though that the law can only contribute to efforts to stamp out the practice only if there are enough resources provided to speed up the anti-FGM campaign.

Conclusion It is obvious from the discourse that the potential exists for the eradication of this practice, but it should be premised on a people-oriented approach that would take into cognizance the value system of the people. Thus, for there to be a change in attitude and behavior on the practice of FGM/C, a holistic approach is advocated. As a corollary, multidisciplinary researches should be encouraged to capture the complex dynamics associated with the phenomenon within a cultural space. This position is in tandem with the UN (2015) call for a comprehensive and culturally sensitive approach in eliminating FGM/C across the globe. In addition, a call for a new methodological orientation was also made to capture the inherent dynamics in different contexts. There is a dire need to engage actively with relevant stakeholders in the legal, social, cultural, and religious institutions as well as medical practitioners. We would advocate that a method of consciousness raising be adopted, that is, intense educational campaign with culturally context-specific content targeted toward eradicating FGM/C. There is no doubt that this phenomenon has placed Western and non-Western scholars at the opposite side of the pole because some non-

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Western feminists still argue that campaign against FGM/C is still a form of cultural imperialism and attempt to denigrate some cultural values, yet what cannot be contested is the evidences that have continued to establish the overwhelming hold of disguised patriarchy and its detrimental effects on the total well-being of affected women. Finally, males need to be systematically targeted at various levels of engagement, trained, and empowered to be part of those campaigning against violence against women, which includes FGC. We may query methodologies and analyze the politics of knowledge production associated with FGM/C, but what we must never try to forget is that every woman has a right to determine what goes on with her body and that right must never be contested, manipulated, or hijacked by any group of people or powerful social structure in any human clime.

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Ezeamalu, B. (2016). Over six million people in South West Nigeria victims of female genital mutilation. www.premiumtimesng.com Ezeigbo, T. (1996). Gender issues in Nigeria: A feminine perspective. Lagos: Vista Books Ltd. Farage, S. (2006). Female genital alterations: a sociological perspective. In: The Vulva – Anatomy, Physiology, and Pathology. Farage, MA, Maibach, HI (Eds). Informa Healthcare, NY, USA. Farage, M. A., Miller, K. W., Tzeghai, G. E., Azuka, C. E., Sobel, J. D., & Ledger, W. J. (2015). Female genital cutting: Confronting cultural challenges and health complications across the lifespan. Women’s Health (London, England), 11(1), 79–94. https://doi.org/10.2217/whe.14.63. Gluckman, M. (1963). The role of the sexes in wiko circumcision ceremonies. In: M. Fortes, (Ed.), Social StructureStudies presented to A. R. Radcliffe-Brown. Pp. 145–167. New York: Russell and Russell, Inc. Goldschmidt, W. (1976). Culture and behaviour of the Sebei: A study of continuity and adaptation. Berkeley: University of California Press. Goldschmidt, W. (1986). The sebei: A study in adaptation: New York, Holt Rinehart, and Winston. Gruenbaum, E. (2001). The female circumcision controversy: An anthropological perspective. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Hakim, C. (2016). The sugar in his tea: Sexuality, patriarchy and sexual politics. Sociologica Fascicolo, 10(3), 1–27. Hernlund, Y., & Shell Duncan, B. (2007). Transcultural position: Negotiation and rights and culture. In Y. Hernlund & B. Shell Duncan (Eds.), Transcultural bodies: Female genital cutting in a global context. New Brunswick: NJ Press. Hayes, R. (1975) Female genital mutilation, Fertility control, women’s roles and patrilineage in modern Sudan. A functional analysis. American Ethnologist, 2, 617–633 Ifijeh, M. (2015). Nigeria: Genital mutilation–will nigeria enforce the law? This Day. http:// allafrica.com/stories/201505281523.html Islam, M., & Uddin, M. M. (2001). Female circumcision in Sudan: Prospects and strategies for eradication? International Family Planning Perspective, 27(2), 71–76. Kandala, N. B., & Komba, P. N. (2015) Geographic variation of female genital mutilation and legal enforcementin sub-Saharan Africa: a case study of Senegal. Am J Trop Med Hyg, 92(4), 838–847. Kandala, N. B., & Komba, P. N. (2018). Female genital mutilations around the world: Analysis of medical aspects, law and practices. Cham: E-book Springer International. https://doi.org/10. 1007/978-3-319-78007-8_1. Kandala, N. B., Atilola, G., Nanatu, C. C., Ogundimu, E., Mavatikiua, L., Komba, P., Moore, Z., & Matanda, D. (2020). Female genital mutilation/cutting in Nigeria: Is the practice declining? A descriptive analysis of successive demographic and health surveys and multiple indicator cluster surveys 2003–2017. Evidence to End Female Genital Mutilation/Cutting: Research to Help Girls and Women Thrive. New York: Population Council. www.popcouncil.org Kimani, S., & Shell-Duncan, B. (2018). Medicalized female genital mutilation/cutting: Contentious practices and persistent debates. Current Sexual Health Reports, 10(1), 25–34. Lerner, D. (1986). The creation of patriarchy. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Light-foot Klein, H. (1989). Prisoners of ritual: An odyssey into female genital circumcision in Africa. New York: Haworth Press. Macklin, A. (2006). The double-edged sword. In R. A. Mustafa Abusharaf (Ed.), Female circumcision: Multicultural perspectives (pp. 207–223). Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Mama (2001). Challenging subjects: gender and power in Africa context. African Sociological Review / Revue Africanine de Sociologie, 5(2), 63–73. Mberu, B. (2017). Female genital mutilation/cutting in Nigeria: A scoping review: Evidence to end FGM/C research to help women thrive. New York: Population Council. http://www.popcouncil. org/uploads/pdfs/2017RH_FGMC-NigeriaScopingReview.pdf Mohanty, C., Talpade., Ann R., & Lourdes, T. (eds.) (1991). Third world women and the politics of feminism. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.

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Women in African Prisons

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Abidemi Omolara Fasanmi

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Prison and the Law . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Making of “Prisons” in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conceptualizing Female Prisoner’s Mental Health in the Context of African Prisons . . . . . . . . African Prisons, Female Inmates, and Oppressive Gender Norms . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . African Female Prisoners’ Well-Being and Mental Health . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Addressing the Mental Health of African Female Prisoners . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Prisons signify different things in different cultures in Africa and around the world. In a legal context, prison is synonymous with confinement and justice, but its socio-medical implications must also be recognized. This chapter is a critical examination of the impact of prison confinement on the mental health and social well-being of female prisoners in Africa. A postcolonial analytic approach is used to explore the historical, social, and particular ideology of the prison system and the institution’s ability to serve justice and promote mental health at the same time as it utilize deprivation, constraint, and control as forms of punishment. Narratives and prison studies literature on incarcerated women’s experiences in African prisons were examined to identify the origin and constructs of prisons in Africa. The intersections of gender, health, and socioeconomic realities of African female prisoners are explored via three themes: the construction of womanhood in African societies, factors that predispose women to crimes or criminal actions, and the negative social and mental effects of incarceration on female prisoners in African prisons. The chapter argues that the “correctional” functions of prisons A. O. Fasanmi (*) Satcher Health Leadership Institute, Morehouse School of Medicine, Atlanta, GA, USA e-mail: [email protected]; [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_100

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aimed at “punishing offenders” make achieving mental health in prisons unattainable. Prisons are also inadequately equipped to facilitate access to resources that enable the smooth reintegration of female prisoners into societies. This chapter calls for a reevaluation of prison systems, and the state of African female prisoners, and encourages the reconceptualization of alternative approaches to addressing “criminality” in African societies. Keywords

African prisons · Female inmates · Mental health · Womanhood · Imprisonment · Well-being

Introduction The role of prisons in maintaining law and order in countries is a contentious one, from a health and human rights perspective. Low or poorly resourced countries have a poor legislative, judiciary, and prison infrastructure which make it difficult for these countries to conform to international or regional standards related to prison policy, infrastructure, and human rights. Furthermore, there is a paucity of research on the health of female prisoners except in the area of HIV/AIDS and infectious diseases (Fasanmi 2015; Van Hout and Mhlanga-Gunda 2018). The World Prison Studies show that there are 714,000 women and girls held in penal institutions throughout the world, either as pretrial detainees/remand prisoners or having been convicted and sentenced (Walmsley 2006). The total female population in African prisons is about 35,606, and women and girls in African prisons make up 3.4% of the total prison population globally. Hence, female prisoners are a minority in the total prison population statistics across the world, inclusive of Africa, based on available data dated August 30, 2017 from the World Female Imprisonment List (Walmsley 2006). This data is, however, not comprehensive because it is not inclusive of all African countries, due to the difficulty in the documentation of prison offenders in conflict regions. In Africa, the percentage of female prisoners among the total prison population ranges from 0.8% to 8.2% with the highest countries being Central African Republic (8.2%), followed by Rwanda (6.4%), and lower countries – Gambia, Djibouti, Mali, Nigeria, Sudan, Tunisia, Uganda (2%), Zambia and Algeria (1%), and the least Malawi (0.8%) (Agomoh, 2018). Therefore, an analysis of the situation of African female prisoners requires examining the differences in the political, cultural, economic, social, and legal systems. It also requires an examination of the historical and contextual factors that inform why prisons are philosophically set up and maintained. Africa is heterogeneous in its legal framework and administration of criminal justice (Agomoh 2018). This difference influences the approaches to justice such that the treatment of female offenders differs depending on the country (Agomoh 2018). Agomoh explained that legal practices, in countries colonized by the British (e.g., the Gambia, Ghana, Kenya, Malawi, Namibia, Nigeria, Tanzania, Zambia, and

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Zimbabwe), used an accusatorial approach under the common law system compared to countries colonized by the French (e.g., Benin, Burkina Faso, Guinea, Mali, Senegal, and Togo) whose practices are inquisitorial. An accusatorial system is a form of criminal prosecution in which a person is accused of a crime and is tried in public by a judge who is not also the prosecutor (Merriam-Webster n.d., 2021) while an inquisitorial system is a legal system in which the court, or a part of the court, is actively involved in investigating the facts of the case (Dammer and Albanese 2014). Agomoh, therefore, asserts that these differences are connected to the colonial heritage of the respective countries. Other differences in the treatment of female offenders are influenced by the availability of resources in each country, the country’s political stability, and conflict/postconflict state. An example is Rwanda’s postgenocidal conflict restitution and reconciliatory commission (Gacaca) community corrective initiatives and reforms (Agomoh 2018). This chapter utilizes a postcolonial approach to explore the history of prisons, its implications for female prisoners in African prisons, the effects of imprisonment on the mental health of African female prisoners, and the paradoxical challenges of expectations to protect the health and human rights of prisoners. Postcolonial theory maintains that decolonized people acquire a postcolonial identity built on cultural interactions between diverse identities (national, cultural, and ethnic as well as gender and class) (Bullock, Alan; Trombley, Stephen, Editors 1999). These identities are granted differing degrees of social power by their colonizers. The first part of this chapter will, therefore, introduce the history and construct of imprisonment and define the concepts: womanhood, health, and mental health in Africa. The second section will engage these concepts in examining how imprisonment impacts the mental health of African female prisoners using case studies, and the chapter will end with a conclusion and recommendations.

Prison and the Law A prison is a facility in which inmates (or prisoners) are compulsorily detained legally and denied a range of freedoms under the authority of the state as a punishment for a crime they have committed. Prisons are used by the criminal justice system, and people may be imprisoned before their trial when charged with crimes, or when found guilty of a crime they are sentenced to a specified period of imprisonment. A prison is also identified as jail, gaol, correctional facility, penitentiary, detention center, and correctional, or remand, center. The rise of the state as a form of social organization, the development of written language, and formalized legal codes and guidelines for social conduct in societies has been associated with the use of prisons. Examples of these civilizations and legal codes are the Code of Hammurabi, written in Babylon (ancient Mesopotamia, now around present-day Iraq), around 1750 BC which centered on the concept of “lex tallionis,” the law of retaliation/revenge. Other legal codes include the ancient Sumerian codes (Langdon1920), the Indian Manusmriti, the laws of Manu (Jois 2015), the Hermes Trismegistus of Egypt (Brown 2010), and the Israelite Mosaic

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Law (Allen 2003). According to ancient Greek history, the prisons were also known as “demoterions,” “place of chains” (Roth 2006). The idea of using punishment to reform offenders instead of only using it as punishment was promoted by Plato, a Greek philosopher. Initially, imprisonment as a penalty was used for those who could not afford to pay their fines, and subsequently, it became used as a form of punishment, mostly for people who could not pay their fines. Consequently, many Athenians who could not pay their fines were indefinitely imprisoned, and this led to the revision of the Greek law and the setting of time limits (Allen 2003). It is important to note that given the illustration above on the payment of fines, it is not surprising that individuals with poor economic statuses are more likely to be imprisoned with time. In most societies, women have been shown to have lower socioeconomic status compared to their male counterparts and therefore more vulnerable to this outcome.

The Making of “Prisons” in Africa The evolution of African prisons has strong links to the colonial history of prisons in Africa. Sarkin, in his article, “Prisons in Africa: An Evaluation From A Human Rights Perspective,” argues that prisons were not institutions “indigenous to Africa” and that “prison,” as a concept for punishment, was an alien practice before European invasion in the 1800s (Sarkin 2008, p. 24). He asserts that in the precolonial era, rather than punishment, restitution for wrongdoing was preferred, and pretrial detention was more common than imprisonment. Sarkin emphasizes that in the precolonial era African local justice system was victim- rather than perpetratorcentered and focused on securing compensation for victims rather than punishing offenders. Subsequently, imprisonment and incarceration were only a last resort for cases of incalcitrant offenders. Sarkin further stressed that “imprisonment-as-punishment” in the precolonial era was not practical, and when it was introduced during the colonial era, it was institutionalized as a structure of power, and for the objectification, oppression, and control of local populations who were rebellious. Sarkin, concludes that the early introduction of imprisonment within the African community in that era (the 1800s) was not for “rehabilitation or reintegration of criminals” but was centered on “economic, political, and social subjugation of indigenous peoples” (2008, p. 24). Prisons became a source of cheap labor such that even minor offenders were subjected to confinement to benefit from this practice (Sarkin 2008). Hence, the historical foundation of modern-day prison in Africa is premised on punishment for crimes, suppression of resistance to the ruling power, and source of cheap or unpaid labor (Sarkin 2008; Allen 2003; Roth 2006). In the colonial era, prisons were used to punish and detain “criminals” or offenders of the state. This practice of detention as punishment, in addition to physical punishment and the use of prisoners/inmates for labor, is still appealing to the State because it serves two functions, i.e., removes unwanted “criminals”/offenders and/or threats from society and utilizes prisoners as a source of labor. These two incentives have enhanced the thriving of prisons to this day (Van Zyl Smit 1987) and foreground the origin of, and conceptualization of, the

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“prison” within Africa’s justice system. This historical analysis of the purpose of prisons in Africa gestures toward the notion that the primary basis for institutionalizing prisons in Africa in the colonial era is antithetical to rehabilitation, restitution, or reparation but inclined to criminalization, punishment, and exploitation. Furthermore, the colonial history of Africa, prisons, and legal frameworks and practices that lead to imprisonment are very diverse in Africa because they are also a reflection of the social and cultural norms that are heterogeneous because of country-specific colonial influences (Agomoh 2018). Consequently, understanding the historical and foundational rationale of prisons in African countries, first, makes it possible to appreciate the reasons for the differences in carceral rates of women in different African countries as well as grasp the effects of incarceration on female prisoners in Africa. Second, it allows for an analysis of the paradox of an aspiration to achieve mental health and human rights in prison systems not designed to rehabilitate and integrate their inmates. Third, and finally, it enables the reconceptualization of alternative approaches to addressing criminality in African societies.

Conceptualizing Female Prisoner’s Mental Health in the Context of African Prisons Conceptualizing female prisoner’s mental health in African prisons requires an intersectionality approach. This entails examining how societal constructs of “womanhood” in African societies influence perceptions and treatment of female prisoners and how this affects their mental health. Fasanmi asserts that current approaches to the imprisonment of females “merely reinforce and deepen the gender paradox of social oppression experienced by women in the wider society” (2015, p. 67) because of its gender-blind approaches to addressing crimes. An understanding of the societal constructs of gender is therefore important for examining the mental health impact of female imprisonment. About gender roles in Africa, the identity of females in relation to societal perceptions of “womanhood” is vital to their self-hood, selfesteem, and self-realization. These states of personhood are important aspects of an individual’s mental health. The Merriam Webster dictionary defines womanhood as the “state of being a woman” or “the distinguishing character or qualities of a woman or of womankind.” Historically, defining who a woman is has been an agelong preoccupation of humans in different societies particularly concerning gender and social norms. Religious texts such as the Bible recognize a “woman” as being born out of a man; therefore, the identity of a “woman” is connected to a “man.” English texts from as far back as the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries reference writings and debates on who a woman is. According to Henderson and McManus (1985), in their book titled, “Half Humankind: Contexts and Texts of the Controversy about Women in England, 1540–1640,” these debates were often by male scholars or writers describing the societal perceptions of women (Henderson and McManus 1985). These scholars indicated that women in England were often described by men in derogatory and negative terms, particularly within a moral context. In the African context, most of the explorations of the concept of womanhood have been mostly

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from the literary writings of African authors and anthropological perspectives. Nnaemeka (2005), in “The politics of (M) Othering: Womanhood, identity, and resistance in African literature,” examines the sexual and cultural politics around the construct of a woman in various societies. Nnaemeka points out that in the African context, womanhood is wrought with paradoxes such that “woman” in African literary texts assumes a complicated identity, “idealized/objectified, central/marginal, powerful/powerless, passive/active, victim/agent” (2005, p. 32). These reflections of gender as it relates to what and who a “woman” represents in societies are very relevant in exploring how these representations intersect with the justice/ criminal system to influence female incarcerations and eventually impact the mental health of female prisoners. Health is “a complete state of physical, mental and social well-being, and not merely the absence of disease or infirmity” (World Health Organization [WHO] 1946, p. 1; Fasanmi 2015, p. 67). It is also important to note that spiritual and community health is being promoted because of the need to acknowledge that the health of an individual is dependent on the social determinants of health that the individual may have no control over and are socially constructed based on a community’s social norms regarding human rights, equity, and justice (Saracci 1997; Üstün and Jakob 2005; Nijhuis and Van der Maesen 1994; Awofeso 2015; Fasanmi 2015). Furthermore, the World Health Organization (WHO) defines mental health as “subjective well-being, perceived self-efficacy, autonomy, competence, inter-generational dependence, and self-actualization of one’s intellectual and emotional potential, among others.” (Mental Health n.d.). WHO further links mental health to a “realization of their [ones’] abilities, coping with normal stresses of life, productive work, and contribution to their [ones’] community” (Mental Health n.d.) and asserts that these factors are influenced by cultural differences and subjective assessments that are dependent of professional theories (Mental Health n.d.). The definition of health above allows an examination of the intersections of the influence of determinants of health such as environmental, economic, and social factors and its impact on female prisoners and their mental health. It is, therefore, necessary to emphasize the intricate connection between an individual’s self-realization as it relates to societal constructs of gendered roles, mental health, and how it impacts females within the criminal justice system and prisons. Studies have shown, firstly, that the circumstances that have led most incarcerated women into prison are circumstances associated with mental stress (Fasanmi 2015; Agomoh 2018). Several studies on women in prisons all over the world have also shown that women are mostly incarcerated due to nonviolent crimes (Fasanmi 2015, Liddell and Martinovic 2013), and in cases of violent crimes committed, these are often in retaliation to their abusers for the abuses suffered by these women and sometimes due to acting in defense. For example, most violent cases of assault have been reported to be due to self-defense when being violently assaulted such as cases of rape, sexual assault, and abusive partners (Fasanmi 2015; Liddell and Martinovic 2013). Secondly, prison conditions have been documented to exert both physical, psychological, emotional, and social stress on its inmates (Sykes 2007), and thirdly, the state of being a prisoner itself has different implications in different environments due to diverse cultural

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understandings and perceptions of prisons and their function (Agomoh 2018). The concept of health and justice within a prison system is, therefore, wrought with contradictions and ambiguity due to divergent objectives because as Fasanmi points out, they coexist as “strange bedfellows” (2015, p. 68). This chapter agrees with calls that the criminal process before the incarceration of females should require a holistic consideration of the circumstances that bring the female suspect to the criminal justice system as well as the subsequent impact on the female prisoners’ mental health and well-being.

African Prisons, Female Inmates, and Oppressive Gender Norms Prison studies in Africa mostly examine the legal and judicial challenges as they relate to crime, the state of prisons, and the health status of inmates, particularly HIV/AIDS and sexual and reproductive health (Fasanmi 2015). Documented accounts of women in prison as far back as the 1800s, postcivil war era in the USA, depicted incarcerated women in a stigmatizing way, as “fallen” women. Most women in prison at that time were incarcerated for nonviolent crimes such as drugs or alcohol-related, prostitution, street walking, and drunkenness (Banks 2003) which is still the case today (Belknap 2010, 2014; Dodge 2002). Additionally, in cases of violent offenses, research shows that most women imprisoned were for acts committed in retaliation to domestic violence, assaults, or sexual abuse (Banks 2003; Fasanmi 2015; Silberman 2007). There are also accounts of women in prison as collateral for an offending partner, inability to pay fines or awaiting trials, and other minor offenses (Fasanmi 2015). Consequently, examining the nature of some offenses that cause women to be imprisoned, for example, sex work, it can be argued that prisons are still being used for restraining the bodies of women who engage in activities culturally viewed as threatening to the idea of a “woman” (Fasanmi 2015; Simon 2014; Belknap 2014). The moral perceptions about women in prisons as social deviants are also prevalent across the world, including Africa (Fasanmi 2015; Liddell and Martinovic 2013; Simon 2014; Belknap 2014). Prisons, therefore, symbolize sites for subduing the untamed woman’s body and, in some ways, their mind (Van Zyl Smit 1987, Fasanmi 2015) because prison studies have shown that incarcerated women receive harsher punishments than men when they are perceived as disrespectful or acting outside the acceptable norms expected of a woman (Kajstura 2017; Barberet and Jackson 2017; Duff 2019; Sawyer and Wagner 2019). In South Africa, findings from a study conducted by the Centre for the Study of Violence and Reconciliation (CSVR) with women and girls incarcerated in three Gauteng prisons explored the history of abuse of the incarcerated women both during childhood and adulthood. The study found a relationship between the experiences of violence and engagement in unlawful activities (Haffejee et al. 2005). Women in these prisons were seven times more likely to have been raped as children than the general female population, and more than half had experienced one or more forms of sexual, emotional, physical, and economic violence in the past (ibid.). Most female prisoners can thus be thought of as collaterals of oppressive societal norms

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and unequal gender power that predisposes them to offend the law or being vulnerable within the criminal justice system. Another study of 57 prisons in Nigeria conducted by the Prisoners’ Rehabilitation and Welfare Action (PRAWA) also indicates that of the general prison population in Nigeria, females make up about 0.8–8.2%. Of all the female prisoners, 91.5% were first offenders and not actual offenders. These female prisoners were taken into custody because they were accused of conspiring “to commit whatever is the offense the male suspect was suspected to have committed.” These women are often caught in these injustices and are the victims here since they are taken as hostages because they were related to the crime suspects (Agomoh 2018, p. 134). In these 57 prisons, 86.8% of the female prisoners were aged 18–50 years, 3% were under 18 years, and 10.1% were above 50 years. Before their detention/imprisonment, 65% had children at home. Of the female prisoners interviewed, 9.3% were pregnant while 7.8% delivered their babies while in prison. In 27 of the 57 prisons visited, there were also pregnant female prisoners and female prisoners with babies (Agomoh 2018). The main issues identified in a systematic review of 46 African prisons across sub-Saharan Africa (SSA) are overcrowding and lack of sanitation, poor nutrition, lack of prison support for women’s needs around menstruation, and physical and sexual abuse by prison staff and inmates. In terms of access to health care services, there are inadequate prison clinics and prison-based health service provision in female prisons particularly provision of specific sexual and reproductive health services, HIV/TB prevention, treatment, care, and support for female inmates. Furthermore, in terms of access to the outside community and primary care health services, the resources to support outside care are scarce, and accessing emergency and chronic care outside of the prison is reported to be controlled by medically unqualified and untrained prison officers (Van Hout and Mhlanga-Gunda 2018; Todrys and Amon 2011). Rather regrettably, studies of African prisons have rarely engaged female inmates in narrating their experiences in prison and how it affects their mental health. Most studies have rather examined the state of prisons and the general health of inmates, especially with regard to HIV/AIDs and infectious diseases (Fasanmi 2015; Van Hout and Mhlanga-Gunda 2018).

African Female Prisoners’ Well-Being and Mental Health The African prison system is still gender insensitive to the social and mental health well-being of its female prisoners and biased largely by societal perceptions of conformity to the gendered attributes ascribed to females or representations of “womanhood” in its society (Fasanmi 2015). However, there is a paucity of narrative research depicting the mental health experiences of female prisoners in Africa in general (Baranyi et al. 2018; Van Hout and Mhlanga-Gunda 2018). South Africa’s expansive prison research is mostly concerning the reformation of a racially biased justice system that led to the mass incarceration of political opponents and activists during the apartheid era (Sloth-Nielsen 2005; Dissel 2002). A South African prison

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study recounted the experience of a female political prisoner in South Africa and how she used religious/spiritual engagements in dealing or coping with the mental and psychological stress experienced because of her imprisonment (Du Preez 2008). Sykes’ (2007) work on “the pains of imprisonment” in the midtwentieth century identified five main deprivations experienced by prison inmates, namely, deprivations of liberty, goods and services, heterosexual relationships, autonomy, and security. Deprivation of liberty is with regard to being separated from family and kin and free society; deprivation of goods and services – prisoners are denied the right to ownership, so although their basic needs (food, clothing, and shelter) are met, the distinctions that they can acquire through ownership of/access to personalized good and services are denied; deprivation of heterosexual relationships resulting in “involuntary celibacy,” Sykes argues, represents a figurative castration, which is both physically and psychologically serious; deprivation of autonomy – how prisoners are denied self-determination, or the ability to make choices (for example, when to eat, sleep); deprivation of security – the infliction of “prolonged intimacy” with inmates that are violent and aggressive. Consequently, Sykes argued that although “modern” prisons are intentionally moving from past practices of bodily suffering as punishment, prisoners still experienced equivalent pain. He explained that prisoners described their experience of deprivation and frustrations as psychologically threatening. Other studies have shown that prisoners are predisposed to a mental disorder called Post Incarceration Syndrome (PICS) (Jose-Kampfner 1990; Liem and Kunst 2013; van Willigenburg 2020). PICS occurs in individuals either presently incarcerated or recently released; symptoms are most severe for those who encountered extended periods of solitary confinement and institutional abuse. PICS is characterized by a complex set of diverse mental disorders as follows: posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD) – passive-aggressive outbursts in response to perceived threats; institutionalized personality traits – the experience of learned helplessness due to various deprivations leads to suppressed personal nature and individualized critical thinking as a protective coping mechanism when a threat to safety is perceived; antisocial personality traits (ASPT) – passive-aggressive behavior and antagonism toward both authority and their peers; social–sensory disorientation/deprivation syndrome – a state of sensory deprivation due to prolonged periods of solitary confinement; and substance abuse disorder (SUD) – turning to drugs to self-medicate as a way to eliminate temper and escape the symptoms of the mental disorders. Therefore, prisoners in prison environments that focus on punishment and provide little opportunity for education, vocational training, or rehabilitation tend to be more susceptible to PICS; this supports Syke’s assertion that incarceration affects the mental health of prisoners.

Addressing the Mental Health of African Female Prisoners There have been several efforts by governments and international bodies to address the health of prisoners around the world and in African prisons. To this end, there are some international mandates such as the United Nations Rules for the Treatment of

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Women Prisoners and Non-custodial Means for Women Offenders (the Bangkok Rules), and several technical guidance and checklist documents by UNODC (UNODC 2014), UNAIDS, WHO, and ICRC (Bangkok Rules 2016), for example, UNODC, “Women and HIV in Prison Settings,” UNODC/UNAIDS, “Women’s Health in Prisons,” WHO/UNODC, and “Health Systems and Needs Assessment in Prisons - Practical Guide and Toolkit” (Van Hout and Mhlanga-Gunda 2018). These documents address the role of governments, prison, and relevant institutions, and organizations in improving the state of female prisoners, such as considering alternatives to imprisonment as provided for in the Tokyo Rules, considerations for gender specificities, and the resultant need to give priority to applying noncustodial measures to women who encounter the criminal justice system (Kleinig 2017; Limsira 2011). Despite these rules and resolutions, the attainment of mental health by female prisoners is still particularly complex and may be unattainable because of the foundational ideology of a criminalizing carceral prison system and the definition of mental health, both of which appear incompatible. The reason is, that, incarceration is not a normal state. Incarceration forces incarcerated women to deal with harsh physical and emotional experiences of intentional deprivation as part of their punishment or as a result of the realities of human rights abuses in the prison system, such as the denial of female prisoner’s menstrual hygiene products (Van Hout and Mhlanga-Gunda 2018), inadequate prenatal attention and often unattended delivery, and separation of female prisoners from their children and loved ones (Adebayo 2019). The emotional, mental, and psychological stress of separation from their families, particularly their children of whom they are often the primary caregivers due to mothering and parenting obligations, is adverse and has been documented (Otu et al. 2013; Durosaro 2012) Majority of women in Nigerian prisons lived with their children before incarceration (Otu et al. 2013; Durosaro 2012); also, studies have shown that compared to male prisoners whose children are often cared for by their spouses, children of incarcerated women often end up in the care of the immediate or extended family (Aborisade and Balogun 2016; LeFlore and Holston 1989; Musengzi and Staunton 2003; Otu et al. 2013). Consequently, “when a woman is incarcerated, she is forced to deal with feelings, which are often very intense, and usually feelings of personal failure, guilt, rejection and fear” (Du Preez 2008, p. 192; Sloth-Nielsen 2005). Given the issues outlined above, African female prisoners are truly subjected to the psychological anxiety of defining their womanhood amid the paradox of a complicated identity of a prisoner, “fallen woman,” and the “idealized/ objectified, central/marginal, powerful/powerless, passive/active, victim/agent” (Nnaemeka 2005, p. 32).

Conclusion An understanding of the historical, social, economic, political, cultural, and foundational rationale of African prisons makes it possible to appreciate the differences in carceral rates of women in different African countries and the effects of incarceration

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on female prisoners in Africa. A historical narrative analysis of prisons in Africa will enable an examination of the paradox of achieving mental health and human rights in a system that may not be designed to promote health in that sense or prepare female prisoners for integration into their societies. This approach to examining the state of African female prisoners will enable the reconceptualization of alternative approaches to address “criminality” in African societies. Prisons were built with an intent to deprive their inmates of fundamental basic rights as punishment for breaking the law. Therefore, serving jail time will expose many incarcerated women to the experience of emotional, mental, and psychological trauma. Studies show that despite female prisoners being victims of domestic abuse, and a failing justice system. Prison conditions such as isolation from family or loved ones and deprivation of basic needs further aggravate and promote mental stress. It is, therefore, important that the fractured judiciary processes that unjustly expose women to needless incarcerations be reexamined, improved, and the role of prisons in addressing social ills be tailored in productive ways toward rehabilitation and reintegration of female inmates. Gender sensitivity to the peculiarity of female prisoners is needed to eliminate predisposition to mental health problems that are eventually counterproductive for societal well-being, given that incarcerated women are often primary caregivers to their children and need to be mentally fit to function in the society they are reintegrated into and perform the role of guardians and caregivers to their children. To prevent Post Incarceration Syndrome (PICS), African prisons need to address the criminalizing and punishment-focused prison framework and rather explore restitution and reconciliatory processes as well as develop programs that provide the opportunity for education, vocational training, or rehabilitation of African female prisoners while societies address the social ills that predispose females to the criminal justice system.

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Women, Trafficking, and Forced Prostitution in Africa

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Franca Attoh

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Trafficking and Forced Prostitution in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Globalization, the International Political Order, and Trafficking and Forced Prostitution in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Push and Pull Factors in Trafficking and Forced Prostitution in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Case Studies and Trends . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Policy Issues and Evaluation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

The chapter interrogates the illicit transportation of women within Africa and their attendant forced prostitution. The argument is that a multiplicity of factors such as the collapse of primary commodities, globalization, and the emergence of numerous non-state actors such as Al-Qaeda in the Maghreb, the Tuaregs, Al-Shabaab, and the Boko Haram has impelled numerous conflicts and a refugee crisis in Sub-Saharan Africa causing a migratory wave of young persons who often move from West Africa to East, North, and Southern Africa in search of better living and with the intention of crossing into Europe if offered the opportunity. It argues that the existing asymmetry in the international political order, feminization of poverty, and bad governance create a duality even within Africa that impels poverty stricken and marginalized women to seek employment and better well-being. But unfortunately these women often fall prey to criminal syndicates who force them into commercial sex work for profit maximization. Many of these women did not set out ab initio to prostitute but rather went in search of pink jobs which turned out to be a mirage and were subsequently forced F. Attoh (*) Department of Sociology, University of Lagos, Akoka-Yaba, Nigeria e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_98

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into prostitution. The axis of evil crosscuts the eastern, southern, and northern regions of the continent, but often the victims originate from West and East Africa. The chapter recommends bridging the imbalance in trade, mainstreaming gender, and making migration policies open to all to cut off criminal syndicates. Keywords

Migration · Forced prostitution · Feminization of poverty · International political order and non-state actors

Introduction Trafficking in persons is the illicit transportation of human persons from one milieu to another with the sole purpose of labor/sexual exploitation. International trafficking in women refers to all criminal activities having to do with the illicit transfer of women from countries of origin to destination countries. Often trafficking in persons is from peripheral states to the core nations by criminal syndicates for commercial sexual exploitation (Attoh and Makanju 2017). The above definition is in tandem with Wallerstein’s postulation on the world systems as evidenced by the movement of labor from poor nations to rich nations (Wallerstein 1974). Women trafficking could equally take place within peripheral states as trafficking syndicates plan the journey in phases to evade detection and arrests. Those being trafficked could be moved from one country to another within Africa before the final destination. Women trafficking and its attendant forced prostitution are assuming a global menace with increasing number of countries entering into the dehumanizing business. Globalization has created an enabling environment that facilitates the activities of traffickers to transport victims between countries with relative ease. The menace of women trafficking, even though a major concern globally, implicates most countries in Africa. According to a report on Trafficking in Persons by Gbadamosi, the fact that this form of slavery still exists in the twenty-first century is a source of concern (Gbadamosi 2006). The evidence from literature shows that there are 127 countries of origin, 98 transit countries, and 137 destination countries (Lipede 2007). Countries of origin are where the victims are sourced from and kept in transit countries until there exists the possibility of moving to the destination countries without the fear of detection. The fact remains that trafficking in women and girls is not new, and it is traceable to prehistoric times and has taken many forms but, in the context of modern globalization, has assumed shocking new dimensions. In modern times, it has become a complex, multifaceted phenomenon involving multiple stakeholders at the institutional and commercial level (Akpomera 2009). Global Patterns, published by the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime, shows that governments need to get serious about identifying the full extent of the problem to stem the menace (UNODC 2005). There is hardly any country in the world that is not implicated in the crime of human trafficking for sexual exploitation

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or forced labor, but Sub-Saharan Africa happens to be a major source of young women trafficked to Europe for sexual exploitation. Scholars, researchers, governmental organizations, and international agencies have variously examined the phenomenon of human trafficking in order to proffer lasting solutions (Attoh 2013, 2017; Iyanda and Nwogwugwu 2016; Nagle 2007; Soroptimist International 2012). For instance, the African Sisters Education Collaborative (ASEC 2018) estimates that a total of 6.25 million people are enslaved in Sub-Saharan Africa. However, in spite of the numerous efforts, the phenomenon remains intractable. Scholars argue that trafficking in human beings is a very sensitive issue because it is situated within the contemporary anxiety concerning the global political, economic, population growth, gender and ethnic stratification, transnational (organized) crimes, and human rights abuses and the inability of states and international agencies to effectively control the phenomenon (Apap et al. 2001; Onyeonoro 2004; Attoh 2009, 2013). They argue that though the phenomenon continues to exacerbate, it is difficult to have accurate statistics either in terms of its growth or decline. They posit that trafficking is a serious human rights issue and should not be viewed only through the prism of organized crime but rather should be viewed within a wider context. This chapter attempts to contextualize the phenomenon of women trafficking and its attendant forced prostitution within developmental complexity. Forced prostitution which is concomitant of trafficking for sexual exploitation is a form of labor exploitation (see Wallerstein 1974 on the relationship between the core and the periphery). This position is reinforced by Iyanda and Nwogwugwu (2016) who state that trafficking in persons is a commonly used term in the modern legislation as a euphemism for slave trade. The latter obnoxious practice which was abolished by the League of Nations in 1926 through the efforts of the abolitionist movement that swept across Europe has reared its ugly head again in our modern society in another dimension, that is, the manifestation and incidents are not different from the slave trade of old in which many Africans were ferried across the Atlantic Ocean to Europe and the new world. Iyanda and Nwogwugwu (2016) concluded that nowadays, the captors of slaves or victims of trafficking are not usually brutal slave raiders of spoils of war; rather they employ organized recruitment strategy that is less visible but equally dangerous such as deception, coercion, threat, and fraud. To deconstruct the phenomenon and proffer lasting solutions, this chapter seeks answers to the following questions: What are the patterns and current dynamics of trafficking and forced prostitution in Africa? How does the asymmetry in the international political order exacerbate women trafficking? What are the causes and factors that propel trafficking and forced prostitution in Africa? What policies are in place to prevent trafficking and forced prostitution in Africa? The chapter is organized into five sections, and section one comprises the introduction. Section two examines the patterns and current dynamics of trafficking and forced prostitution in Africa, while section three discusses the effects of the asymmetry in the international political economy as a concomitant for trafficking and forced prostitution. Section four seeks to interrogate the causes and factors that propel trafficking and forced prostitution in Africa. Section five evaluates existing policies and concludes the chapter with necessary recommendations to ameliorate the situation.

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Trafficking and Forced Prostitution in Africa As the world shrinks to become a global village, the transfer of people both voluntary and coerced becomes more prevalent especially in Africa. The argument of Wallerstein (1974) is that the world systems refer to the inter-regional and transnational division of labor which divides the world into core and periphery countries. It is from the periphery countries that trafficked women are drawn to the destination countries. The US Department of State puts the number of those trafficked annually from Africa at about 600,000–800,000 people mostly women and children (USDS 2007). In 2012, the Soroptimist International of the Americas published a report which showed that over 80% of 2515 investigated cases of human trafficking between 2008 and 2010 involved adult prostitution and the forced prostitution of children (Soroptimist 2012). The reason for the prostitution may not be unconnected to the collapse of primary commodities in most African states which left majority of the people without jobs especially with the influx of cheap commodities and products from Asia especially China. Additionally, the high demand for cheap labor in the tourism industry (red light districts) and sweat shops of Europe has resulted in the exacerbation of trafficking and forced prostitution of women. As socioeconomically disadvantaged women improvise to eke out a living in a changing world, opportunistic predators seize upon their desperation to traffick them. The events that played out in Libya in 2017 demonstrate the desperation of traffickers as stranded migrants were sold as slaves and forced into prostitution (Mohammed 2017). The Internet has facilitated the trafficking of individuals as traffickers can now operate from the comfort of their living rooms and lure women into trafficking under the guise of exotic jobs in Europe. Attoh (2013) concludes that the growing inequality between the core and periphery manifests in poverty, growing unemployment, and underemployment especially among women who are mostly found in the informal economy. Their quest for better opportunity to change their well-being and support their families causes their vulnerability (Attoh 2013).

Globalization, the International Political Order, and Trafficking and Forced Prostitution in Africa Globalization comprises an interlocking array of political, economic, social, and cultural forces that challenge the traditional international order in two key ways. First, states historically had “hard shells,” by means of which they were capable of consolidating differences between “inside” and “outside” to the point where the latter could more easily be quarantined. Second, for closely related reasons, they were largely able to “absorb” domestic society, such that the individual was less a citizen than a subject. But through globalizing processes, these attributes have been starkly exposed, which leads Haigh to ask, whither the state under globalization? (Haigh 2013). Contemporary world politics presents a different image as the intense rivalry of the cold war ended without any cataclysmic occurrence. The reality is that in spite of the diminution of great power military contestation, the completion has

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shifted to the global economy. Nation states remain principal actors, and their competition for markets and raw materials and high-value technology which generates employment replaces traditional military competition (Paul and Hall 1999; Chernilo 2007). The bipolarity that emerged in 1945 after the second world collapsed in 1989 with the collapse of the old Soviet Union giving rise to a seemingly multipolar world. But unfortunately, the emergence of the USA as a hegemon and the sole policeman of the world has put a lie to multipolarity. The result has been a realignment of forces especially non-state actors resulting in the proliferation of terror groups, sleeper cells, and failed states especially in Sub-Saharan Africa. Such groups include Al-Qaeda in the Maghreb, Al-Shabaab, Tuaregs, and Boko Haram and its splinter groups in West Africa. The contestation between the states and non-state actors has created massive refugee crisis and displacement in some states, in others’ civil conflicts, and in other forms of internal strife. Such situations of anomie give impetus to the trafficking and forced prostitution of women as evidenced in Libya, Sierra Leone, Somalia, Liberia, and Nigeria. In other states without conflicts, weak governance structures trigger a migratory wave of the unemployed and socially excluded. Evidence of trafficking and forced prostitution in Africa in Libya (see evidence of trafficking in persons as captured by the CNN documentary on modern day slavery 2017), Nairobi, Somalia, Mali, Southern Sudan, Congo Democratic Republic, Ouagadougou, Morocco, and South Africa. The red light districts of these cities are ridden with young nubile Africans trafficked and coerced into prostitution for commercial sexual exploitation (see IOM 2008).

Push and Pull Factors in Trafficking and Forced Prostitution in Africa Several factors are responsible for trafficking of women and forced prostitution in Africa. These comprise factors in the country of origin that push the victims into the phenomenon, while others are factors in the intended destination country that pull them to leave their countries of origin to destination countries. Push factors discussed in this section include feminization of poverty and bad governance as captured by the narratives of those trafficked. The pull factors include the quest to travel to the west and the pull of strong exchange rate which favors remittances. Other push factors include conflict situation and economic recession, whereas the allure of the west and the quest for better well-being are other pull factors that attract young Africans into trafficking and forced prostitution. Most of those trafficked in Africa have Europe as the final destination. What happens is that the journey is broken into stages to evade the scrutiny and arrest of security agents and to earn some money before embarking on the last lap of the journey (Attoh and Okeke 2012). This is the reason why there is a large population of African young women and men in Libya and Morocco. Feminization of Poverty: Feminization of poverty is a concept that explains that women represent a disproportionate percentage of the world’s poor. Poverty can be said to be the other side of well-being which is not only concerned about income, but rather it encompasses the inability to own a piece of land and have access to credit,

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healthcare service, quality education, exposure to violence, external economic shock, natural hazard, voicelessness, and social exclusion (Yekini et al. 2012). The “feminization of poverty” is a feature of much of the developing world, with females accounting for half of the world’s population but 70% of the poor (Moghadam 2005). The causes of poverty include one or more of the following: low income, low assets, lack of opportunities, and social exclusion. The worst forms of poverty are those that combine all four of these aspects: income poverty, asset poverty, opportunities poverty, and access poverty (Hazel 2010). Hazel reiterates that in Africa, the incidence of poverty (i.e., the proportion of individuals who live on less than $1.25 a day) is second only to parts of South Asia. The depth of poverty, that is, those who fall below the poverty line, is far greater than in other parts of the world. Scholars have argued that globalization is one of the triggers for feminization of poverty in Africa, as the shock of market fluctuations, and the outcome of integration into the global system impacts on women who work in the informal sector. Because of the weakness of social protection in African countries and their peripheral position in the international economy, globalization affects women the more as cheap goods from China and Europe are dumped in the economies due to trade liberalization. These women lose their small holdings as their products become uncompetitive and their husbands become unemployed because of the free flow of goods and services from more competitive economies. However, the greater problems of poverty for African women are to be found in restriction to property rights such as access to land, microcredit, cattle and cash crops, weak governance, and the various conflicts in the region which results in displacement from ancestral homes and means of livelihoods. Perversely, restrictions on women’s rights to land coexist with the reality that women are the main cultivators – undertaking about 80% of the work in food storage and transportation, 90% of the work of hoeing and weeding, and 60% of the work in harvesting and marketing (IFPRI 2000). In Kenya, for instance, women are 5% of registered landowners but 80% of the agricultural labor force (Moghadam 2005). The consequences of weak property rights are clearest in the termination of marriage. In the event of divorce or widowhood, in most African countries, women are often stripped of the right to use their husbands’ land, which they may have cultivated for years, thus losing their main source of income. The cycle of poverty is intensified when the children of women expelled from their former husbands’ land drop out of school to find work, thus compromising their economic future (Hazel 2010). Bad Governance in Sub-Saharan Africa: Sub-Saharan African region comprises 42 continental countries south of the Sahara and 6 Island states. In comparison to the rest of the World, Sub-Saharan Africa is mired in poverty and characterized by dysfunctional states with disillusioned citizenry. Trafficking in human beings within any political entity is a sign of dysfunctionality and the inability of the state to fulfill its contractual obligations toward the citizenry. Ninalowo (2004: ix) posited that “the state since antiquity had been charged with the task of either mitigating or negating instances of crisis of legitimation thereby bringing about a semblance of order in society.” However, since the state was borne out of the immanent contradictions of social class structures and relations, it will be jaundiced in favor of the dominant class interests instead of the interests of the oppressed majority. Ake (1981) had canvassed similar

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Af Su ric ba, Sa av ha e r ra Su ag n be Sa ha Su lo ran b- w- Af Sa inc ric m ha om a, id ra e dl n e- A in fric co a m , e Fr an co ph on An e gl op ho ne

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arguments that those belonging to the economically privileged class have access to better education and are more cultured and of higher social status. The import of this is that economic inequality reproduces itself in a series of other inequalities. The economically privileged want the existing social order preserved. Ake (1981, Gramsci in Schaefer 2006) was of the view that the morality and values of a society tend to support the preservation of the existing division of labor and distribution of wealth in that society. “The integration of African economies into the world capitalist system by western colonialism and imperialism is the event which has had the most import in shaping the economic and development of contemporary Africa” (Ake 1981: 14). He asserted that the capitalist mode of production is characterized by two major elements. First, the means of production are unequally distributed, and second, the capitalist society is a market. The capitalist mode of production polarizes society into two groups of “the haves and the have nots.” Most states in Sub-Saharan Africa fall within the low development category as attested to by the World Bank report for 2018 which shows that Sub-Saharan Africa with a population of about 1,050,135,841 billion people has a GDP per capita of $1,553.8 and a life expectancy at birth of 46 years (World Bank 2018). This is in spite of the fact that Sub-Saharan Africa recorded the fastest growth in its tertiary gross enrollment ratio (GER) during the period 1970–2013 at 4.3% annually, faster than the global average of 2.8%. However, it has the lowest tertiary gross enrollment ratio globally (Brookings 2018). This is captured in Fig. 1, where the lowest gross enrollment ratios are recorded in the poorest quintiles and such pervasive inequality in education translates into unemployment and poverty and often it becomes a push factor for human trafficking. The same Brookings Institute report cited above reports that 3.2 million more people are living with poverty in Africa and by the end of 2018 two thirds of the world’s poor people will be in Africa (SundaySun 2018: 13). The report blamed governments and policy makers for their inability to address poverty. Endemic corruption, political instability, and violent upheavals including leadership deficit are some of the drivers that fuel poverty in Sub-Saharan Africa. These negative

Poorest

Middle

Richest

Fig. 1 Tertiary education GER by wealth quintiles, by Sub-Saharan African region. (Source: www. brookings.edu/blog/Africa-in-focus/2018)

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indices had further impoverished their citizenry and made them vulnerable to trafficking situations. The Quest to Travel to Europe: Africa is not as often a final destination for the victims trafficked on the continent which serves mainly as transit as those trafficked are kept preparatory for a final journey to Europe. With the exception of South Africa which serves as destination for some trafficked Africans and Chinese girls, the IOM reports that there are over 700,000 to 1 million people stranded in Libya hoping to cross into Europe (IOM 2016). This population of stranded victims has engendered the establishment of several slave markets in Libya where victims are sold and resold (CNN 2017). Evidence from IOM also shows that Morocco is a source, transit, and destination country where women and children are forced into prostitution and labor exploitation. As many as almost one million, stranded victims in Morocco were trafficked from Nigeria, Senegal, Cote d’Ivoire, Cameroon, and Democratic Republic of Congo (USDS 2016). Remittances: The Financial Action Task Force (FATF 2018) reports that as a result of the diversity of trafficking and forced prostitution, it is difficult to estimate an accurate figure as proceeds from the phenomenon. However, the International Labour Organization (ILO) estimates that a total of USD 150.2 billion is realized annually from global human trafficking and forced labor exploitation including sexual exploitation. This makes it one of the most lucrative transnational crimes. Unfortunately the data is not disaggregated to get the regional average or continental average. On the surface it may seem as if trafficking within the continent does not pay, but within Africa syndicates traffick their victims to countries with high tourism potential such as Kenya, South Africa, Cote d’Ivoire, and Libya before the death of President Muammar Gaddafi. In addition, some countries in Africa with strong currencies are attractive to trafficking syndicates. These countries are mere transit for the syndicates before the final destination which is usually Europe.

Case Studies and Trends The narratives below are true life stories of those trafficked and sold as slaves in Libya in the aftermath of that country’s recent civil war post-Gaddafi. Nafisat, (23 years old young woman from Ogun state) in Nigeria, is an auxiliary nurse who desired greener pasture in the United States of America. Her family, parted with N500, 000 ($1388.88) to her traffickers but to her chagrin rather than fly them through the airports they were transported through Niger via the desert to Libya. On getting to Libya she discovered that she had been sold together with other girls for prostitution. From Nafisat’s narrative, it is an organized syndicate comprising of members from different countries in Africa. And Nafisat was expected to commence work immediately to pay back the amount she owed the trafficker. Her initial refusal to work as a prostitute resulted in physical assault and rape to break her resolve. Nafisat was one of those rescued by the Nigerian government from Libya. (Source: Field work 2017) Efosa, (17 years old from Edo state) is a young Nigerian girl that was trafficked from her state in Edo State to Libya under the pretext that she was going to work as a domestic in

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Europe. Her family mustered a lot of resources an equivalent of over one thousand dollars to the syndicate that trafficked her. Unfortunately, she ended up in Libya, where she was forced to go into prostitution. According to her, the syndicate that trafficked her has girls as young as 14 and 15 years from Togo, Cote d’Ivoire, Ghana and Burkina Faso. She informed that a number of the girls die on the job without their parents being informed. (Source: Field work 2017)

The situation of trafficking in East Africa contrasts with that of West Africa as most of those trafficked was actually in search of employment. The case of Mary (18-year-old female and orphan) captures it. Living with foster parents in Tigoni, Kenya, she wanted a good job to take care of herself and her foster parents. She was introduced to a young man who said he was recruiting domestics for affluent families in South Africa. She jumped at the offer and ended in the red light district of Johannesburg. Mary had worked for some years before she was rescued by missionaries. Significantly, those trafficked in East Africa were not coerced into trafficking situations but deceived into believing that they were going to get employed as domestics unlike the West African situation where victims knew they would work as commercial sex workers but did not realize that all their earnings would go to the madams. For a fact, the International Organization for Migration (2008) did report that many of those trafficked from East Africa got their desired jobs either as domestics or commercial sex workers, but the circumstances of the jobs exposed them to trafficking. The trafficking situation in Southern Africa differs in the sense that those trafficked from Malawi, Maputo, Lesotho, and even Nigeria are taken to South Africa. In that case, South Africa unusually serves as a destination country for those trafficked from many other countries in Sub-Saharan Africa. There are also cases of Chinese young girls recruited by Chinese gangs trafficked to South Africa to work in the tourism industry. The situation in the rest of southern Africa is peculiar in the sense that those trafficked come from the poorer regions in southern Africa and are often in search of employment. The IOM mentioned cases where Malawi businesswomen recruit young girls to be sold to Nigerian madams in the Netherlands, Belgium, and Germany (IOM 2003). Evidence from research and anecdotal narratives show that the West African trafficking syndicates run by Nigerians are the most sophisticated and have wider networks (Germano 2001; GPI 2002; Okonofua et al. 2004). This fact is buttressed by the news of a Nigerian-born British nurse convicted of trafficking five Nigerian women into Germany. In the trafficking world, she was known as Madam Sandra, but her real name is Josephine Iyamu. Ms. Iyamu was not only a nurse in the UK but the leader of a Nigerian cartel that trafficks women into Germany to work as prostitutes. In addition, she was also a local politician in Benin City, campaigning on the promotion of women’s rights and empowerment. She was home often and active in the local politics to the extent that she won the primaries to represent her constituency in the state legislature. Below is the narrative of one of those she trafficked to Germany as captured by the British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC). One of the trafficked women known as Kiki (21 years old) interviewed by the BBC had this to say: she told me that she was going to help me and because I trained as a

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hair dresser I accepted the offer and left my baby at home to travel. She informed me that I would pay her Euro 30,000 for assisting me to get to Germany. Kiki informed that all five of them were subjected to Juju rituals to ensure their loyalty. I work from 2pm to 6.am every day sleeping with an average of 15 men. I pay her Euro 1,000 every month and Euro 120 daily as her rent. I thought the Euro 30,000 was a small amount but I just discovered that I am trapped as she was always demanding for more money (BBC News, 28:6: 2018). The fact is that there are many Kikis in the red light districts of Europe. Ms. Iyamu has been sentenced to 14-year imprisonment by a British court. When confronted with the evidence of trafficked Nigerian women in an interview with Channels Television (Nov. 30th 2017), the Special Assistant to Nigeria’s President on Diaspora matters (Mrs. Abike Dabiri-Erewa) informed that human trafficking is organized by a cartel from diverse nations and requires concerted effort from both countries of origin and destination with international organizations to stem the menace. Her assertion was reinforced by ABANTU for Development, a women’s rights organization in Ghana, whose spokesperson asked that the United Nations mandates its 193 member states to embark on practical measures to eradicate forced labor, human trafficking, and child labor. She attributed the phenomenon to social exclusion, discrimination, poverty, and violence. Just like the Nigerian official, she believes that stemming the menace requires concerted efforts from all the stakeholders especially human trafficking within Sub-Saharan Africa. Countries within the subregion could initiate measures to stem the menace of trafficking syndicates.

Policy Issues and Evaluation When the PALERMO Protocol was adopted by the United Nations in 2000 to prevent, suppress, and punish trafficking especially women and children, many people saw it as an end to the inhuman phenomenon. But almost two decades later, the phenomenon rather than abate has become exacerbated. In 2006, the African Union adopted the Ouagadougou Action Plan to combat trafficking in human beings especially women and children. The Action Plan reaffirms the internal instruments on human trafficking and urges African states to adopt legislative, administrative, and institutional initiatives to combat human trafficking. Some regional initiatives such as the ECOWAS Plan of Action Against Trafficking in Persons (2002–2003), the joint ECOWAS/ECCAS Regional Plan of Action to Combat Trafficking in Persons Especially Women and Children (2006–2009), and SADC Regional Plan of Action on Trafficking in Persons (2009–2019) are current initiatives put in place to combat trafficking in persons. In addition, many African states did establish national initiatives to boost and reinforce the existing regional initiatives, but these have not reduced the rising phenomenon of trafficking in women and its attendant prostitution. One of the reasons for failure is that many African countries do not have specific legislation on human trafficking. The absence of legislature makes prosecution of traffickers impossible, thus providing

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protection to the syndicates. Another limitation is the corruption of the judiciary and enforcement agencies. Trafficked victims find it difficult to come forward to provide evidence for fear of reprisal against family members (Adepoju 2005; Adesina 2014). The United Protocol against Trafficking in Persons (The Palermo Protocols) has been ratified by 189 countries including 184 members of the UN as at 19 September 2017 (UNODC 2005), and this protocol should have been fully implemented by those countries. Unfortunately no country in Africa has fully implemented the protocols by making trafficking in persons a security issue. The Swedish model which cut human trafficking by 50% is a model which countries in the West are considering. The Swedish model is based on the country’s Sex Purchase Act passed in 1999. The act denounced prostitution as a form of gendered violence against women. It made it legal to sell sex but a crime to buy it (Chuang 2010). The policy targets the demand for sex and the activities that support it instead of the supply side. And this approach reduced the phenomenon without turning the victims into criminals.

Conclusion Evidence from literature and anecdotal narratives shows that numerous factors are responsible for the trafficking and prostitution of women. The factors include globalization which impels asymmetry in the international political order resulting in unemployment and poverty in peripheral states. This asymmetrical relationship refracts on the national states resulting in tension and contestation between the states and non-state actors creating conflicts and strifes which push women into trafficking situation and forced prostitution. Finally bad governance resulting from dysfunctional states mired in corruption engenders poverty which in Sub-Saharan Africa is feminized. The implication is that income inequality reproduces itself in a series of inequalities creating a new migratory wave of women who seek better fortune in the red light districts of core states. In the light of the foregoing, the following recommendations are made: • The asymmetrical nature of globalization and its attendant effects require the World Trade Organization and multilateral institutions such as the World Bank and IMF to find solutions to the imbalance in trade. • Sub-Saharan African states should walk the talk by mainstreaming women in development to discourage human trafficking. • Many African leaders have been criticized for failure to run transparent governments. The result is that the MO Ibrahim prize for leadership in Africa instituted by an African businessman to reward exceptional African leaders has been awarded to only five persons since inception. This is a lesson to African leaders to institute good governance in order to reduce poverty. • Finally migration policies by destination countries should be open as anything short of this empowers criminal syndicates to prey on the weak and vulnerable.

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Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Non-state Actors and Gender-Based Violence . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Non-state Actors in the Family . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Non-state Actors in the Community . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Non-state Actors in the Context of Conflict . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Roles of Non-state Actors and the Challenges of Eliminating Violence Against Women . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Violence against women is a form of discrimination and a violation of women’s human rights. It is prevalent, widespread, persistent, and global and is deeply rooted in gender inequality and social norms that condone violence and control over women. Historically gender-based patriarchal discrimination of females globally has interfered with addressing forms of violence perpetrated against women and girls by non-state actors. Instances of violence perpetrated by nonstate actors against women vary. Women experience violence from non-state actors such as individuals within the family and their immediate community as well as violence by armed non-state actors. In the private sphere just as in the public sphere, many women are subjected to sexual, physical, and psychological violence. Armed rebel groups, militias, and state security forces often commit heinous sexual crimes against women in situations of conflicts and wars. However, as much as they are perceived as dangerous and perpetrators of violence against women most especially during conflicts situations, they are also seen as the expression of social problems because they see themselves as representatives M. O. Quadri (*) Department of Political Science, University of Lagos, Lagos, Nigeria © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_104

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of distinct interests and may build on broad support within communities. Their influence therefore may be useful for pacifying warlords and rebels in some circumstances which may eventually result in disarmament and peaceful resolution of conflicts. This chapter focuses on violence against women by non-state actors. The position of non-state actors as perpetrators of violence against women across Africa is examined to have a nuanced understanding of their role in gender-based violence. Keywords

Non-state actors · Violence against women · Conflict resolution · Discrimination · Gender-based violence · Women

Introduction Violence against women is prevalent, widespread, and global, affecting all countries. Even though a woman may not be a victim herself, gender-based violence shapes all women’s lives and affects their choices (Tiroch 2010). Women experience violence in a wide range of settings, including the family, community, and state custody, and in armed conflict, wars, and its aftermath. Article 18 of the Vienna Declaration and Program of Action 1993 affirms that the human rights of women and of the girl-child are an inalienable, integral, and indivisible part of universal human rights. Violence against women is therefore a form of discrimination and a violation of human rights (SIDA 2015). Violence constitutes a continuum across the life span of women, from before birth to old age. It cuts across both the public and the private spheres (United Nations 2006, 2011) as women experience sexual, physical, and psychological violence in different forms and magnitudes in both spheres. Many forms of violence against women continue to be accepted among both men and women in Africa as a result of persisting social norms, beliefs, and practices that legitimize the acceptance and tolerance of gender-based violence against women (SOAW 2018). Several factors are responsible for violence against women in different settings and contexts, and the manifestations are in varying degrees according to the context. To Reid-Cunningham (2008, p. 283), “sexual violence is highly contextualized by individual, situational, social, and cultural factors. . .The social systems and structures that form the framework of society influence all aspects of human behavior: factors such as poverty, low socioeconomic status, unemployment, and isolation of women and families have been linked to increased prevalence of sexual violence against women.” Gender inequality, unequal power relations, and discrimination based on gender are the overarching causes of gender-based violence, and this violence is not limited to specific regions or socioeconomic, religious, or ethnic groups but occurs everywhere; the interplay between other causes and contributing factors such as violence associated with armed conflict, poverty, and economic stress among other factors

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influences the prevalence of gender-based violence (SIDA 2015). So it is possible to provide multifarious explanation for violence against women depending on the setting and context of occurrence. Women face in peace time as well as in wartime different forms of discrimination and gender-based violence and especially from non-state actors. Instances of violence perpetrated by non-state actors against women vary as women experience violence from non-state actors within the family and their immediate community. This form of violence includes forced marriage, forced genital mutilation, harmful rites of passage, death rituals, honor killing, sexual assault, and incest among others. In conflict, crises, and war situations, women become victims of violence which includes sexual violence, rape, and torture by armed non-state actors. During the times of armed conflicts, armed groups often target the most vulnerable members of the society (women and children), and because of the atmosphere of chaos, terror, intimidation and excessive use of power and arms, and impunity, this form of violence increases and affects women’s dignity and security (Farah 2015). Despite the considerable achievements of the women’s movement over the last decades in exposing violence against women as a human rights violation, violence still occurs in every country. It is perpetrated by state and non-state actors and manifested in different ways in different contexts. This chapter focuses on violence against women by non-state actors in the family, community, and armed groups. The position of non-state actors as perpetrators of violence against women across Africa is examined to have a nuanced understanding of their role in gender-based violence.

Non-state Actors and Gender-Based Violence As defined by Amnesty International (2004b), the term “non-state actor” encompasses people and organizations acting outside the state, its organs, and its agents. It is not limited to individuals since some perpetrators of human rights abuses are corporations or other structures of business and finance. The term non-state actors may also encompass armed political groups who inflict violence in different forms on women in situation of conflicts. While there are some similarities among non-state actors, they are also different from each other in many ways. “Some may have clearly defined political objectives, while this may be less clear-cut in other cases. Some may control territory and have established administrative structures parallel to or instead of those of the state, while others have loose command structures and weak control over members. Some operate in rural areas conducting guerrilla type warfare, while others are mainly urban phenomena. Some concentrate on attacking military targets, while others attack civilians as a matter of strategy” (DCAF 2015, p. 8). Abuses by non-state actors that infringe on an individual’s human rights can range from the actions of a violent husband, for example, or cruel, inhuman, and degrading punishments inflicted by a group that exerts informal authority within the community such as a parallel legal authority or killings by a group acting

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unlawfully, such as a criminal gang or an extremist religious group (Amnesty International 2004, p. 6). However, state actors do and sometimes carry out violence against women in many societies, and this takes many forms among which is sexual violence (including rape, sexual harassment, and molestation) and torture. State forces are more likely to be reported as perpetrators of sexual violence than rebels (SIDA 2015). First and foremost, the raison d’etré of the state is the protection of the lives of its citizens; therefore the state has positive obligations under international human rights law to ensure that rights of individuals are fully protected against violations by its agents. Failure to ensure the individual is not arbitrarily deprived of his life as required by Article 4 of the African Charter will be tantamount to a violation of that right by the state. This is so because in such a case, the state is deemed to have permitted the killing perpetrated by its agent or to have failed to take appropriate measures or exercise due diligence to prevent, punish, investigate, or redress it (Anyangwe 2017). But, as rightly observed in some instances, state officials or state agencies are directly or indirectly involved in the activities of non-state armed actors – sometimes for ideological reasons (e.g., secret support for rebels) and sometimes because of personal interests (such as political career, corruption, family or clan ties, clientelism, and profit) (Hoffman and Schneckener 2011). States may also condone violence against women through inadequate laws or through ineffective implementation of laws, effectively allowing perpetrators of violence against women impunity for their acts (UN 2006, p. 52). Sexual violence in most cases is used as a weapon of war by both state and non-state actors in conflicts in which case girls and women are usually the targets. Bauer and Hélie (2006) have identified three broad categories of non-state actors: non-state actors in the family, non-state actors in the community, and violence perpetrated by the non-state actors in the context of conflicts. In any of these categories, violence may be physical, psychological, and sexual. The activities of these categories of non-state actors are examined in subsequent sections for a deeper understanding of how they perpetrate gender violence in different settings.

Non-state Actors in the Family Domestic violence, violence in relationships, intimate partner violence, and spousal abuse are common under the non-state actors in the family type of violence against women. This may involve blood relatives (parents, siblings, extended family members) and partners (in both married and common law unions). Domestic violence includes physical, psychological, and sexual attacks against women in the home or within a family context. It can include violence toward a woman by the husband, which is sometimes referred to as spousal abuse, or a family member other than the husband (such as a son, mother-in-law, or other relative). Reference to the privacy of the home, in both law and practice, contributes not only to impunity for violence against women at the hands of family members but also to impunity for violence against domestic workers (SOAW 2018). Sexual abuse

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includes a range of sexually, psychologically, and physically coercive acts used against women of all ages, from infancy to old age, and it also includes all forms of non-consensual sex, sexual harassment, and sexual exploitation. It encompasses rape, forcing somebody to participate in unwanted, unsafe or degrading sexual activity, and forced prostitution (United Nations Office on Drugs and Crimes 2010). Violence makes an early appearance in women’s intimate and sexual relationships. A report by the United Nations Children’s Fund (UNICEF) indicates that over 50% of ever-married girls have experienced intimate partner violence, with the highest rates in Equatorial Guinea, DRC, Gabon, Zimbabwe, and Cameroon (SIDA 2015). It should be noted that the factors that induce violence are female specific. Killings or violence against women may result from certain factors (including patriarchy, gender stereotyping, and women lack of power) which predispose them to harm or violence committed by an intimate partner or a member of the family. For instance, wife assault or battery may result in maiming or death, and sexual violence by an intimate partner may result in anxiety, depression, and other forms of emotional and psychological problems. Shija as cited in Bazza (2010, p. 2) reports that in Nigeria, an average of 300–350 women are killed every year by their husbands, former partners, boyfriends, or male relations. Most times the incidences are considered family feuds, which should be treated within the family. As a result of its prevalence and tacit acceptance of violence against women in the family, social and structural explanations have been provided. “Violence in the home has its origins in an entire social context. Wife battery is a reflection of the broad social structures of sexual and economic inequality in the society. . . .rather than representing an aberration, violence in the home is widely accepted and tolerated. It is an extension of the role society expects men to play in their domestic sphere” (United Nations 1993, p. 10). This form of violence though condemnable is often accepted as normal within the society. The subordinate position of a woman and her seeming inferiority to a man is further entrenched by the norms and beliefs about women’s place in the society. A United Nations Report (2019) observes that the home remains the most dangerous place for women who continue to bear the heaviest burden of lethal victimization as a result of inequality and gender stereotypes. However, violence that women suffer from their intimate partners carries particularly serious and potentially long-lasting consequences, as it tends to be repetitive and accompanied by psychological and sexual violence as well (United Nations 2015).

Non-state Actors in the Community The non-state actors in the community may include neighbors as well as unknown persons, medical professionals, employers, religious leaders, or staff of educational institutions operating outside the state system. Violence may be a form of social pressure manifested through forced segregation, forced seclusion, control of

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mobility, and imposition of dress codes; public condemnation of individuals whose behavior is labelled “inappropriate” by community members; and verbal abuse or threats by extremist religious leaders against women in public spaces (Bauer and Hélie 2006). Female infanticide and prenatal sex selection, early marriage, dowryrelated violence, female genital mutilation/cutting, crimes against women committed in the name of “honor,” and maltreatment of widows, including inciting widows to commit suicide, are also forms of violence against women that are considered harmful traditional practices and may involve both family and community (United Nations 2006). These forms of violations either perpetrated by family members or community members may present regional or cultural specificities. Honor violence constitutes another form of violence perpetrated by family and/or community with reference to shame and dishonor a family member has brought to the community. Honor violence may include physical, sexualized, and psychological violence as well as other forms of control such as forced marriages or coerced marriages of women with the men who raped them (SIDA 2015). “It is not only ‘actual’ behaviour, but also how the community perceives a woman’s, or in some cases a man’s, behaviour can be interpreted as shameful. Lost virginity, adultery or rumours of the same are perceived as an irreparable dishonour on the family/community, which in extreme cases lead to decisions to murder – an ‘honour killing’. . . It is sometimes perceived as an Islamic phenomenon, which is not true: honour violence occurs among Christians, Muslims, Hindus, and in other religious and non-religious groups” (SIDA 2015, p. 12). Amina Lawal’s story is typical of discriminatory laws and biases on addressing violence against women. Amina Lawal (a Nigerian by birth) was sentenced to death by stoning on March 22, 2002 by the Bakori Islamic Sharia court (Katsina state, Nigeria) for adultery (zina) and for conceiving a child out of wedlock. Ironically, the man she named the father of her baby reportedly denied having sex with her, and the charges against him were dropped. Amina Lawal’s conviction was dropped in 2004 on appeal after an international campaign and a legal defense was mounted by a coalition of women’s groups. Other instances of violence against women in the community may include harmful cultural widowhood practices which include widow inheritance, widow “cleansing,” and widow witchcraft accusation among many others. Widowhood and inheritance rites and practices are a form of violence that dehumanizes a woman and reinforces unequal power relations between men and women in the society. According to Fraser and Nwadinobi (2018), the practice of widow inheritance varies by the type and purpose: (i) ritual sexual cleansing to cleanse the “widow” and fully reintegrate her into normal community life; (ii) bearing children – to continue the lineage of the deceased husband for widows without children or with few children; (iii) sexual companionship particularly for women who are widowed young; and (iv) other sexual rituals during widowhood – to mark the beginning of social events, food production seasons, rites of passage, and establishment of homes. Bazza (2010) observes that in some societies, a woman is expected to mourn her husband through acts that inflict physical and psychological violence and torture, for

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example, violent shaving of her head, making her drink the water used to bath the corpse of her deceased husband, or making her sleep with the corpse alone in a locked room over-night, all in an attempt to prove her innocence. Among the Igbos of the southeastern part of Nigeria, for example, a widow is subjected to various degrees of dehumanizing practices or rites all in the name of customs and traditions. These may include denial of inheritance rights, shaving of hair, drinking from the water used in bathing the deceased spouse to sitting and sleeping on the floor. Similarly, in Yoruba communities in the western part of Nigeria: a widow is expected to express her sorrow of losing her husband through wearing black clothes.., go into seclusion seven days during which she is not expected to take a bath or change her clothes. As a sign of severing bonds between her and her late husband, she may be expected to un-weave her hair, have a low cut, shave or scrape her hairs depending on the type of practice prevalent in such community. Similarly, the mourning period varies from one community to another. (Akinbi 2015, p. 68)

In many African countries, women are still vulnerable to these harmful cultural practices which have continued to subjugate them in those countries. What is common to the two categories of non-state actors’ violence against women described so far is their link to women’s sexuality. Perpetrators often argue that their crimes are motivated by jealousy or by their inherent responsibility (as head of the family or as leader of a clan or the community or religious leaders guided by religious doctrines and precepts) to ensure women’s proper behavior and uphold “morality.” So when women depart from what the community holds to be “appropriate” behavior, whether by asserting their sexuality or in other ways, they are often met with violent retribution – by their families, members of the community, or the state (Amnesty International 2004). In the case of the widowhood practice, its proponents have contended that the burial rites are necessary in order to ward off the evil spirits of the deceased from intruding. They have also argued that long confinement and isolation are necessary in order to mortify the body of the widow and test her endurance in time of mourning (Durojaiye 2013).

Non-state Actors in the Context of Conflict Non-state actors in the context of conflict include organized armed groups, combatants, warlords, and militias as well as mercenaries and private security/military companies. Whether they control territory, supply members, and constituencies with services or are embedded within the wider society, non-state actors are capable of endangering the lives of communities. They may do this by hindering humanitarian aid, planting landmines, recruiting and using child soldiers, and by trafficking and misusing small arms and light weapons (DCAF 2015, p. 12). In any situation of internal or transborder conflict, civilians are often the victims of indiscriminate attacks. The attacks on civilians have become a strategy of war, with non-state actors involved in systematic humiliation and harassment, sexual violence,

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mutilations, extrajudicial executions, forced disappearances, or torture (Bauer and Hélie 2006, p. 63). Women are said to be more vulnerable than men to violence during armed conflicts and wars. Armed conflicts disrupt law and order and create a sense of impunity among belligerents (Lamaziére). So, in this situation women and girls are profoundly affected than men. Women do not experience conflict and war in the same way as their male counterparts, their experience is different, and they experience, in particular, exploitation including sexual and gender-based violence and abuse of their human rights (Wright and Miller 2017). As a result of their vulnerability, women are often the targets in violent situations. Conflict presents opportunities for sexual violence and exploitation of girls and women. Many fighting forces have found that there is no better way to accomplish the objective of disempowering and humiliating their enemies than by targeting and raping women and girls. Sexual violence in form of rape is a potent weapon in many conflicts, and women are mostly the victims of this act. Rape and other forms of sexual violence during armed conflict acknowledged as weapons of war are designed not only to inflict bodily harm on primarily – but not exclusively – female victims but also to terrify and humiliate them, their families, and their communities (Jones et al. 2014). Rape according to Peltola (2018) has been used as a weapon to exert power and dominance over women, ethnically cleanse a region, and undermine the fabric of society. It is a method of physical and psychological torture, both for the victim and the victim’s community. It is also a crime closely associated with murder as women can literally be “raped to death.” Rape is used as a tactic of war and genocide because of its physical and psychosocial consequences for individuals, families, and communities as Reid-Cunningham (2008) observes: Rape leads directly to the destruction of family and community structures that is the ultimate goal of territorial war. . ... During war and ethnic conflict, rape acquires a deeper meaning: rapes committed in war may be intended to destroy the raped woman’s culture or community. The deconstruction of culture—and not necessarily the defeat of an army—can be considered one of the primary goals of rape warfare. Individual rapes translate into an assault on the community through the social emphasis placed on women’s sexual virtue: . . .the shame of the rape humiliates all those associated with the survivor. . . .When a woman is raped in the context of war, ethnic conflict, or genocide, the symbolic message to the woman’s community is one of territorial conquest. The culture has been symbolically “penetrated” by the enemy, and this is demonstrated through the physical penetration of its individual female representatives. The humiliation of a culture through the systematic violation of women is the primary goal of mass rape during ethnic conflict. (Reid-Cunningham 2008, p. 292)

Women are also used as instruments of war and lethal weapons by warring factions to attack the opposing forces. They become tools in the hands of warlords, terrorists, and rebel fighters and are used to achieve the purpose of the fighters. Leduc (2015) observes that the female suicide bombers in Nigeria have been described as Boko Haram’s weapon of choice. According to her, women have

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become the new weapon of war for Nigerian-based jihadist group Boko Haram. As the war evolved, women became recruiters, spies, domestic labor, fighters, and forced or willing suicide bombers (International Crisis Group 2016). While the dreaded Boko Haram reigned in Nigeria, it deployed women and children as suicide bombers to attack civilians. According to Searcey (2016), Boko Haram has used at least 105 women and girls in suicide attacks since June 2014 when a woman sets off a bomb at an army barracks in Nigeria. In the objective of using women and girls as weapon of war against enemies, it has been observed that “targeting young girls achieves this most simply and effectively. They are not armed and they pose no physical threat. And targeting them, both government soldiers and rebel groups have found, can be a very effective means of intimidating and humiliating, terrorizing and demoralizing an entire population” (Women’s Refugee Commission 2009). In Sierra Leone, during a decade of conflict, armed opposition forces undertook a deliberate campaign of mutilation. Civilians had limbs amputated or the letters RUF (initials of the armed opposition Revolutionary United Front) carved into their flesh. Abduction of girls and women, rape, and sexual slavery were systematic and widespread. Most victims had sexually transmitted diseases, and many became pregnant. Abortion is illegal in Sierra Leone, leaving such women with few options (Amnesty International 2004, p. 57). Africa has witnessed the world’s highest number of conflicts over the last three decades and has been hardest hit by conflict-related sexual violence. Countries where sexual violence in conflict has occurred include Algeria, Angola, Burundi, the Central African Republic, Chad, Côte d’Ivoire, the DRC, Eritrea, Ethiopia, GuineaBissau, Kenya, Liberia, Mozambique, the Republic of Congo, Rwanda, Sierra Leone, Somalia, South Africa, Sudan, Uganda, and Zimbabwe. Sexual violence against women has been extensively used as a strategy of war by armed non-state actors in places like Rwanda, Darfur, and the DRC (Nobel Women’s Initiative 2011, p. 5). Although population displacement and refugee crises are also common features of armed conflict wherever it occurs, they have been particularly serious and protracted in Africa. For example, Uganda hosted a large population of refugees in 2017, where arrivals of refugees from South Sudan and the DRC pushed the number to 1.4 million (UNHCR 2017). Majority of the refugee’s population are women from war-torn countries. Women’s Refugee Commission (2009) reported that more than 140 million girls live in fragile states affected by armed conflict. Of the 42 million people who have had to flee their homes because of war, 80% are women, children, and young people. Displaced and refugee women are vulnerable to sexual violence, both during flight and within and around camps. Perpetrators may be armed groups, but also fellow refugees and fellow displaced persons (Bastick et al. 2007, p. 28). Evidence from the literature shows the magnitude of violence against women (including sexual violence) committed by armed non-state actors during conflict in many countries leading to devastating physical and psychological ramifications for survivors, their families, and communities (SOAW Report 2018; Nobel Women’s Initiative 2011; Amnesty International 2004). Women and girls face different risks

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and dangers in armed conflict and are more susceptible to different forms of abuse as illustrated above. Settings of instability conflict and war not only increase women and girls’ exposure to gender-based violence against women but also are related to other detrimental effects on their sexual and reproductive health. High maternal mortality rates have been observed in countries as Burundi, CAR, Chad, DRC, Guinea-Bissau, Liberia, Sierra Leone, and Somalia, which were either facing or emerging from conflict (SOAW Report 2018).

The Roles of Non-state Actors and the Challenges of Eliminating Violence Against Women According to the United Nations (2006), states have concrete and clear obligations to address violence against women, whether committed by state agents or by non-state actors. States are accountable to women themselves, to all their citizens, and to the international community. States have a duty to prevent acts of violence against women; to investigate such acts when they occur and prosecute and punish perpetrators; and to provide redress and relief to the victims. There are international instruments that address specifically the issue of violence against women by state and non-state actors to which many countries are signatories. However, despite the potential of these various international conventions and treaties, the lives of many African girls and women remain enmeshed in violence. The question then is whether states are implementing in full the international standards on violence against women. No doubt armed non-state actors (militias, terrorists, insurgents) portend danger for the population of territories in which they operate. We shall reiterate Hoffmann and Schneckener (2011) submission that armed actors of different types shape the situation during and after armed conflict in many ways. They are often perceived as responsible for violence against unarmed civilians in breach of international humanitarian law. But they are also seen in the light of being the expression of social problems because they see themselves as representatives of distinct interests and may build on broad support within communities. The influence of these non-state actors they argue may be useful for pacifying warlords and rebels in some circumstances which may eventually result in disarmament and peaceful resolution of conflicts. In one stance, Geneva Call’s experience is contributing to international efforts and understanding in fostering an engagement with armed non-state actors on sexual violence in the context of armed conflict (Lamaziére 2014). Created in 2000, Geneva Call works with armed non-state actors (ANSAs) through a constructive and sustained dialogue aimed at improving their compliance with international humanitarian norms. A key component of Geneva Call’s work is to build local civil society knowledge and capacity to advocate on certain issues with armed non-state actors, supporting them in implementing their commitments and assisting Geneva Call in monitoring the commitments undertaken. Its innovative tool of engagement is the Deed of Commitment. The Deed covers the absolute prohibition of sexual

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violence in the context of armed conflict and recognizes the positive role that ANSAs can play in preventing and responding to sexual violence in areas under their authority. The Deed also addresses aspects of gender discrimination, notably the issue of women’s participation in decision-making. Lamaziere observes that while there are still challenges in monitoring the extent to which ANSAs respect the obligations contained in the Deed of Commitments, openings for dialogue and progress in engagement confirm the added value of such an approach. Philipsen (2019) is of the view that most armed non-state actors are interested in being part of a national political process. This he believes can be used to put pressure on them to gain political leeway in negotiations with them. It is instructive that different approaches to conflict resolution, arms disarmament, and peace building may be required depending on the context within which peace is being sought.

Conclusion This chapter observes that violence in any forms whether emotional, physical, and psychological is an attack on the integrity of women; it dehumanizes and violates their fundamental human rights. Many forms of violence against women continue to be accepted among both men and women in Africa as a result of persisting social norms, beliefs, and practices that legitimize the acceptance and tolerance of genderbased violence against women. Women face in peace time as well as in wartime different forms of discrimination and gender-based violence and especially from non-state actors. The chapter further examines the activities of the categories of nonstate actors to provide a deeper understanding of how they perpetrate gender violence in different settings. While it is acknowledged that there are many international instruments addressing gender-based violence, its prevalence remains a serious concern. However, to tackle violence against women in all ramifications, the primary obligation rests with the states; the role of other actors including non-state actors and stakeholders is also crucial. Violence prevention in different contexts (in the family, community) should be a legitimate focus of the state and need to be made a priority by strengthening violent prevention policies and programs and their enforcement.

References Akinbi, J. O. (2015). Widowhood practices in some Nigerian communities: A retrospective examination. International Journal of Humanities and Social Science, 5(4), 67–74. Amnesty International. (2004a). Making rights a reality: The duty of states to address violence against women. Retrieved from https://www.amnesty.org Amnesty International. (2004b). It’s in our hands: Stop violence against women. London: Amnesty International Publications. Anyangwe, C. (2017). Vulnerability of women in Africa to extra judicial killings. African Human rights Yearbook 1–22. Retrieved from https://doi.org/10.29053/2523-1367/2017v1n1a1

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Bastick, M., Grimm, K., & Kunz, R. (2007). Sexual violence in armed conflict: Global overview and implications for security sector. Geneva: Geneva Centre for the Democratic Control of Armed Conflict. Bauer, J., & Hélie, A. (2006). Documenting women’s rights violation by non-state actors: Activist strategies from Muslim communities. Montréal: Rights and Democracy and Women Living under Muslim Laws. National Library of Canada. Bazza, H. I. (2010). Domestic violence and women’s rights in Nigeria. Societies without Borders, 4(2), 175–192. DCAF & GENEVAL CALL. (2015). Armed non-state actors: Current trends and future challenges (DCAF horizon working paper no. 5). Geneva. Available at www.dcaf.ch Durojaiye, E. (2013). ‘Woman but not human’: Widowhood practices and human rights violation in Nigeria. civilistica.com II a.2. n.3 II, pp. 1–24. Farah, L. (2015). Sexual violence as weapon of war. Retrieved from http://www.womeninwar.org/ worldpress/wp-content Fraser, E., & Nwadinobi. (2018). Harmful cultural practices towards widows. VAWG helpdesk research report no. 196. UKAID. Hoffman, C., & Schneckener, U. (2011). Engaging non-state armed actors in state and peace building: Options and strategies. International Review of the Red Cross, 93(883), 603–621. International Crisis Group. (2016). Nigeria: Women and the Boko Haram Insurgency. Report No 242 AFRICA. Available at: www.crisisgroup.org Jones, N., Cooper, J., Presler-Marshall, E., & Walker, D. (2014). The fallout of rape as a weapon of war- the life-long and intergenerational impacts of sexual violence in conflict. London: Overseas Development Institute (ODI). Lamaziere, A. (2014). Engaging armed non-state actors on the prohibition of sexual violence in armed conflict. Humanitarian practice network, no. 60. Leduc, S. (2015). Female suicide bombers: Boko Haram’s weapon of choice. Online source: www. france24.com/en/20150224-nigeria Nobel Women’s Initiative. (2011). WAR on women: Time for action to end sexual violence in conflict. Ottawa: Nobel Women’s Initiative. Peltola, L. (2018). Rape and sexual violence used as a weapon of war and genocide. CMC Senior Theses. 1965. http://scholarship.claremont.edu/cmc_theses/1965 Philipsen, L. (2019). Armed non-state actors need to be included in pragmatic peacebuilding. Report –Danish Institute for International Studies. Reid-Cunningham, A. R. (2008). Rape as a weapon of genocide. Genocide Studies and Prevention: An International Journal, 3(3), 4. Searcey, D. (2016). Boko Haram turns Female Captives into Terrorists. www.nytimes.com Swedish International Development Cooperation Agency SIDA. (2015). Preventing and responding to gender-based violence: Expressions and strategies. Stockholm. The State of African Women Report. (2018). BGKI, The European Union. Tiroch, K. (2010). Violence against women by private actors: The inter-American Court’s judgement in the case of Gonzalez et al.(“Cotton Field”) v. Mexico. In Von Bogdandy, A., & Wolfrum, R. (Eds.) Max Planck yearbook of United Nations Law (Vol. 14, pp. 371–408). UNHCR. (2017). Global trends – Forced displacement in 2017. The UN Refugee Agency. United Nations. (1993). Strategies for confronting domestic violence: A resource manual. New York: United Nations Publication. United Nations. (2006). Ending violence against Women- from words to action. Study of the Secretary-General. United Nations Publication. United Nations. (2015). The world’s women. Violence against women. Retrieved from https://unstats.un.org/unsd/gender/worldswomen.html United Nations. (2019). UN study on homicide. DW Newsletter. United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime (UNODC) World Drug Report (2010). Sale No. E.10. XI.13.

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United Nations Secretary-General’s Campaign to end Violence against Women. UN Department of Public Information 2011. Retrieved from https://endviolence.un.org Women’s Refugee Commission. (2009). Refugee girls: The invisible faces of war. Pearson Foundation. New York. Wright, A., & Miller, C. (2017). Feminist perspectives on gendered violence: An examination of Boko Haram and the conflict in Northern Nigeria. Retrieved from https://projecter.aau.dk

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Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Forms of Violence Affecting Women’s Health . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Causes of Violence Against Women . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Violence and Women’s Health . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Physical Injuries . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Psychological and Mental Health Injuries . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Reproductive and Genital Injuries . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Combating Violence Against Women . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

Violence against women is a global issue. It is the most pervasive and least recognized human rights violation which cuts across culture, religion, wealth, age, and status and has profound health implications, depleting women’s energy; compromising their physical, mental, and reproductive health; and eroding their self-esteem. Women who are violated suffer physically, their mental health is compromised, they experience all forms of injuries and are prone to substance abuse and depression, and exposure over a long period to violence may eventually lead to death. This chapter explicates the nature of violence affecting women in Africa, foregrounding the gender inequalities embedded in society which place women in subordinate social relationships that make them more vulnerable to violence, and increases their suffering from it. The study considers the nature of the impact of violence on women’s health across the continent and the possible measures for addressing this pervading menace against women’s enjoyment of their full and complete human rights. T. M. Williams (*) Babcock University, Ilishan Remo, Ogun State, Nigeria e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_101

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Keywords

Violence · Gender-based violence (GBV) · Women’s health · Gender inequality · Human rights · Africa

Introduction All women are at risk of violence, but some are more vulnerable than others. Violence against women may have started even before they were born and may continue throughout their lives. This is because some females may be aborted as fetus because of their sex, as can be found in some African cultures, they may be abused and raped as children and adolescents and may grow up to experience intimate partner violence as married adults or eventually be killed by their spouses, and the cycle is endless. Violence against women was not considered an issue worthy of international attention or concern until the 1980s when women’s groups locally and internationally demanded attention to the physical, psychological, and economic abuse of women (Elisberg and Heise 2005). The decision by most victims of violence not to report cases of violence may have resulted from a number of factors, with culture and religion ranking highest. The Declaration on the Elimination of Violence Against Women adopted by the United Nations General Assembly in 1993 defines violence against women as “any act of gender-based violence that results in or is likely to result in physical sexual or psychological harm or suffering to women including threats of such acts, coercion or arbitrary deprivation of liberty, whether occurring in public or private life makes violence against women a serious human right violation and consequently a public health issue globally” (UN 1993). Since the Declaration recognizes violence as a manifestation of historically unequal power relations between men and women, which has led to domination over and discrimination against women, and to the prevention of their full advancement, and that violence against women is one of the crucial mechanisms by which women are forced into subordinate positions compared to men, therefore, violence against women is often times referred to as gender-based violence (The Women’s Health Council 2007). The United Nations (UN 2014) still showed a persistent and alarmingly high rate of violence against women despite the fact that 189 countries signed the Beijing Declaration and Platform for Action, advocating for women’s full participation on the basis of equality in all spheres of society, including participation in the decision-making process and access to power. The failure of many countries especially in Africa to meet up with the Millennium Developmental Goals (MDGs) in 2015 which was aimed at combating environmental degradation and discrimination against women led to the adoption of Agenda 2030 in 2015 where African governments joined other countries in adopting the United Nations Sustainable Development Goals. SDG 5.2, a development agenda which deals with the elimination of violence against women, is critical for achieving gender equality and the empowerment of women. Gender equality is considered as a

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fundamental human right and economic necessity for development and social justice and is an important goal to achieve (UNESCO 2017). Gender-based violence (GBV) is physical, mental, or social abuse that is directed against a person because of his or her gender role in a society or culture. In these cases, a person has no choice to refuse or pursue other options without severe social, physical, or psychological consequence (Interagency Working Group (IGWG), USAID 2006). Again, IGWG and USAID (2006) further described gender-based violence as being widely used as a synonym for violence against women (VAW), in order to highlight the gender inequality in which much violence is rooted. Azhar et al. (2012) referred to violence against women as the worst form of human rights violation and is present in every country, culture, class, ethnicity, and age. GBV not only violates peoples’ integrity and human rights and traumatizes its survivors, but it also undermines the resilience of individuals and the wider society, making it harder to recover and rebuild (Food and Agriculture Organization, FAO 2010; Inter-Agency Standing Committee, IASC 2015). Gender-based violence is closely linked to women’s subordinate position and unequal power relations of men and women within the families and communities which results from cultural manifestations (Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights, OHCHR (2017). In other words, they experience such violence because of their sex and close relation to gender inequality. This further makes women and girls in particular vulnerable to certain forms of violence given their assumed subservient status within families and the society in general (World Health Organization, WHO 2013a). For instance, a study in Zambia indicated that among female sexual assault survivors, 49% were younger than 14 and 85% younger than 19 (Keesbury and Askew 2010). A further report by United Nations Children’s Fund (UNICEF) indicated that over 50% of ever-married girls have experienced intimate partner violence, with the highest rates in Equatorial Guinea, DRC, Gabon, Zimbabwe, and Cameroon (UNICEF 2014). Studies conducted by Kishor and Johnson (2004) on violence against women in Africa have reported that about half of all evermarried women in Zambia, 46% in Uganda, 60% in Tanzania, 42% in Kenya, and as high as 81% in Nigeria have experienced some form of violence in their lives. The Council of Europe (2006) and Watts and Zimmerman (2002) view violence against women as a serious obstacle to equality between men and women as well as a manifestation of gender inequality and a means to the maintenance of such power imbalance. This is sustained by a culture of silence and denial of the seriousness of the health consequences of abuse (The Women’s Health Council 2007). Violence against women is a global issue which usually occurs in a society where women are considered as property and dominance is given to male members of the society (Babur 2007). The Marxist feminist theory argues that class is the primary basis of oppressive actions such as sexual violence and that gender is secondary (Hibberd 2017). Consequently, inequalities between males and females result from societal structures that allow only men to own and inherit private property, thus leaving women economically powerless (Rennison 2014). While Marxist feminism agreed with radical feminism that sexual violence is used to assert power and control, Marxist feminists argued that capitalism was the root cause of patriarchy and sexual

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violence. Therefore, law-and-order policies that typically favor the wealthy would do little to eradicate the class inequalities between men and women and therefore have a negligible effect in reducing sexual violence (Schwedinger and Schwedinger 1983). WHO (2005) grouped violence against women or domestic violence into physical violence, sexual violence, psychological/emotional violence (including coercive acts), and threat of physical or sexual violence. Recent statistics by WHO showed that one in every three women is vulnerable to physical and sexual violence, and the UN added that only 40% victims of violence seek any sort of help (Qaisarani et al. 2016). Violence against girls takes many forms including that perpetrated by intimate partners, non-partners, and strangers or through trafficking (Bruce 2011). The devastating effects of violence on women are enormous and require more awareness especially as it affects the health of women in a society that is shrouded with so much secrecy about the evil behind closed doors. It is in this light that this chapter examines the context, types, and causes of violence among women in Africa, outlines the intersections between violence and women’s health, and makes recommendations to curb it.

Forms of Violence Affecting Women’s Health Intimate partner violence is definitely a public health issue that has become worrisome to the society. Estimates on regional violence from intimate partners are readily available, but little is known and recorded about violence from nonpartners (WHO 2013b). Abraham et al. (2014) said it is often hampered by little research on the topic, reluctance to report due to stigma surrounding violence, and lack of standardization in measurement. Intimate partner violence has been described by the World Health Organization as behavior within an intimate relationship that causes physical, sexual ,or psychological harm, including acts of aggression, sexual coercion, psychological abuse, and controlling behaviors encompassing both current and past intimate partners (WHO 2008). Bates et al. (2004) linked intimate partner violence to numerous kinds of immediate and longterm physical and psychological injury in women since it is related to, or has a bearing on, the idea of superiority of men over women (Jewkes 2002). Intimate partner violence is often recognized as a pattern of deliberate, coercive, and violent behavior that surpasses cultural and natural settings (El-Bayoumi et al. 1998). WHO estimates that 29% of all ever-partnered girls aged 15–19 years had experienced physical or sexual violence perpetrated by an intimate partner (WHO 2013a). Joyner et al. (2015) further lay credence to this by reporting that half of women, for instance, murdered in South Africa are killed by their intimate partner. Worldwide, Semahegn and Mengistie (2015) reported that 40–70% of female murder was by their intimate partner. WHO (2013a); United Nations Women (2012) in a multicountry survey recorded domestic violence, either physical or sexual to be 71% in Ethiopia, 36% in Namibia, and 56% in Tanzania. Further, Rwanda’s National Institute of Statistics indicates that 31% of women are subjected to domestic

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violence after age 15, generally by a husband or intimate partner, and in 10.2% of cases, the violence occurs during pregnancy (Chibesa 2017). Abrahamsky et al. (2011) and Garcia-Moreno et al. (2013) defined domestic abuse as abuse by one person against another in an intimate relationship including marriage, cohabitation, dating, or relations within the family, and it is one of the most common forms of gender-based violence. The International Violence Against Women study found the percentage of violence with respect to the age of women and revealed that 35% of women from the age of 16 experienced physical and sexual violence (Kabeer 2014). Krug et al. (2002) define physical violence as the intentional use of physical force with the potential for causing death, injury, or harm. It includes, but is not limited to, scratching, pushing, shoving, throwing, grabbing, biting, chocking, shaking, poking, hair pulling, slapping, punching, hitting, burning, the use of restraints or one’s body size or strength against another person, and the use or threat to use weapons. This was further defined by WHO (2013a) as being slapped or having something thrown at you that could hurt you; being pushed, or shoved; being hit with a fist or something else that could hurt; being kicked, dragged, or beaten up; being choked or burnt on purpose; and/or being threatened with or actually having a gun, knife, or other weapon used on the person. Sexual violence is a broadly defined phenomenon that predominantly affects women and children (Benoit et al. 2015). Sexual violence between adults can be broadly defined as a sexual act that is committed or attempted without freely given consent (Halstead et al. 2017). Sexual violence may include gang rape, homicide, and school- and workplace-related violence (The Women’s Health Council (2007), and this occurs in the spaces and environments within which women’s general life experiences occur (Kabeer (2014). These environments include their homes, schools, workplaces, neighborhoods, and communities. UNESCO (2015) reported that psychological abuse has not been given proper attention. This is perhaps so because it is usually hidden and may not be visible to other individuals when it is being experienced by the woman or perhaps because it is under-reported as many may consider psychological abuse to be less harmful when compared to physical or sexual abuse. Psychological abuse also called emotional abuse (and verbal abuse is one of its prominent features) is a strategy used to belittle women that can damage women’s self-esteem and integrity in the long run (Packota 2000). Forced prostitution or other kinds of commercial exploitation by male partners or parents are other forms of violence against women and children reported worldwide. UNICEF (2000) reported that destitute families, who are unable to support their children, often hire out or sell these children, who may eventually then be forced into prostitution, and that most times they may be used as domestic workers where they may be physically or sexually exploited by their employers (UNICEF 2000). Female genital mutilation refers to all kinds of procedures that involve partial or total removal of the external female genitalia or other injuries to the female genital organs for nonmedical reasons (WHO 2018). It has been estimated that nearly 130 million women worldwide have undergone FGM and that approximately two million girls undergo the procedure every year worldwide (UNICEF 2000). UNICEF (2013)

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in a study conducted of this practice found that FGM culture is mostly practiced in 29 countries in Africa. Their report showed that in the Middle East, Egypt has the region’s highest number of women (27.2 million) who have been subjected to FGM, while the highest percentage (98%) of FGM in Africa occurred in Somalia. Other countries (mostly in Africa) that practice this include Benin, Burkina Faso, Cameroon, Central African Republic, Chad, Côte d’Ivoire, Djibouti, Eritrea, Ethiopia, Gambia, Ghana, Guinea, Guinea-Bissau, Iraq, Kenya, Liberia, Mali, Mauritania, Niger, Nigeria, Senegal, Sierra Leone, Sudan, Togo, Uganda, Tanzania, and Yemen (UNICEF 2013). The idea behind FGM is to control the sexual desires of girls so that they will be “satisfied” with their husbands only and also that the men may have easy intercourse with their wives (Galukande et al. 2015; Wambura and Khaday 2010).

Causes of Violence Against Women Patriarchy is pervasive across Africa. Most times, patriarchy is confused with domination and brutality rather than masculinity and strength. Most African countries follow the patrilineal mode of operation at all levels, ranging from kinship to politics. Power and inheritance are usually transferred to generations through the male lineage. This is not to say that some African countries do not have matrilineal social organization by which women are seen as the sustenance of the lineage and are thus beneficiaries of inheritance succession. For example, Oppong (2001) reported that the Ashanti ethnic group in Ghana permits the allocation of wealth to women, and women are socialized to occupy comparatively independent positions as well as actively partake in traditional politics in the Ghanaian society. Although Nigeria is mostly patriarchal and scarcely allows women to be heard in matters relating to religion and politics, McCall (2000) and others have noted that in Ohafia (Abia state), property rights were inherited primarily through the maternal descent group, and the allocation of farmlands were mainly determined by the elderly men of the maternal descent group. By allocation of farmland, McCall refers to the fact that right of inheritance was usually taken care of by the mother’s brother in Ohafia. This may still be considered somewhat patriarchal since it is the woman’s brother that decides how the woman manages her inheritance. Scholars have further argued that violence against women is an expression of patriarchal domination of women by men, rooted in gender and power inequality (Lawson 2012). Traditional beliefs expect that men provide for their families, while the women stay home to cater for the home and children, but Anderson and Umberson (2001) and Heise et al. (1999) reported that when there is a change in gender roles or transgression of these expectations, there is likely to be violence in order to discipline the woman. Whereas the status of women has evolved to include specific rights since the adoption of the United Nations Convention on the Elimination of all Forms of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW) (United Nations Women 2017; United Nations General Assembly, OHCHR 1979), men have found violence useful to maintain power and control over women, while holding to a wrong concept of masculinity to justify violence against women (Abrahams et al. 1999;

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Fakunmoju et al. 2018). Burazeri et al. 2005 see violence as a way of creating and enforcing gender hierarchy and punishing transgressions, resolving relationship conflict, and seeking resolution of masculinity crises by providing a sense of power. These traditional beliefs that men have the right to control women make women and girls vulnerable to physical, emotional, and sexual violence by men (Ilika 2005; Mitra and Singh 2007), and this also hinders the ability of those abused to remove themselves from abusive situations or seek support (Heise and GarciaMoreno 2002). WHO (2002) reported that between 12% and 25% of women have been forced by an intimate partner or ex-partner to have sex at some time in their lives. There are societies in Africa that have embraced and may indirectly have promoted rape culture. Waweru (2018) described rape culture as an environment in which rape is not only pervasive but also normalized (or trivialized) because of societal attitudes about gender and sexuality. This is easily permissible because of the patriarchal culture in Africa. For instance, according to Waweru (2018), a marriage practice called Ukuthwala in the Nguni community in South Africa, where a young man of marriageable age would kidnap a girl or a young woman with the intention of compelling her family to approve the marriage and start negotiation. This is also practiced in communities in Kenya, Rwanda, and Ethiopia. Though these communities have banned the “bridegrooms” from having sexual intercourse with the kidnapped “brides,” it does not usually work in many cases, because the women are raped as a way of forcing the hand of the bride and family into accepting the marriage. Before the law that would send the perpetrators of rape to 20 years imprisonment was enacted in 2018, rape survivors were forced to marry their rapist to avoid bringing shame and stigma to the family in Somaliland Waweru (2018). An Egyptian lawyer recently came under heat from the society when he called on men to rape women as a matter of “national duty” (Ngugi 2017). Oguonu (2005) noted that sometimes religious teachings compel women into accepting humiliation as if it is the same as the Christian or Islamic virtue of humility. In a study conducted by Al-Tawil (2012), among 800 Ankawa and Erbil women who were from Christian and Muslim communities, respectively, 26.4% of women in Erbil group and 1.4% of woman in Ankawa agreed that men have the right to hit their wives. This is in line with the study done in Nigeria by Oyediran and Isiugo-Abanihe (2005) which showed that 74% of Muslim women supported wife beating as well as an equally high proportion of 51.5% Christians. Further, a study done in Ethiopia showed that Muslims were about two times more likely than their Christian counterparts to experience physical violence during their lifetime (Feseha et al. 2012). This disparity may be a result of so many (mis)interpretations of religious teachings on the position of a woman in society and the home, in addition to other sociocultural beliefs. Further research would be beneficial for explaining these trends. Studies indicate that certain personality traits exhibited by some women may affect the level of severity of abuse or violence experienced (Montevaliyan et al. 2014). This may also determine whether a woman may try to seek help or not to decrease the severity of abuse (Panaghi et al. 2011). Colemont et al. (2011) showed that personality trait is related to punitive attitude, and, based on this attitude, some

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women think they deserve to be abused. Sharma (2011) also found a positive relationship between abuse and some personality traits. For instance, extraversion and agreeableness had significant positive relationship with verbal and physical abuse. Dutton and Golant (1995) suggested a psychological profile of men who abuse their wives, arguing that they have borderline personalities that developed early in life. One would expect that the more education attained by women, the lesser their experience of gender-based violence especially in intimate partner violence. This is because education is expected to help the woman become more assertive in her roles both at home and in the society at large. Earlier studies have supported this assertion, whereas others found education to have placed the woman at a risk of violence. For instance, Regassa (2012) found literacy to have negatively affected the chance of facing intimate partner violence among a study population in Ethiopia. Regassa further found women who are illiterate to be 24.4% less likely to experience intimate partner violence compared to their counterparts who are literate, suggesting that modest increase in educational status of women does not bring significant changes to the reduction of violence. The possible explanation for this is not farfetched and may be adduced to imply that the male partners feel that their power and control are being threatened leading to more violence. Again, women who have equal educational status with their partners reported experiences of intimate partner violence than women with greater educational status of their partners (Abeya et al. 2011). Further, Garcia-Moreno (2002) in a cross-cultural study noted that women with very poor or good education were likely to be abused, but those with higher and enough education to challenge the status quo is at the greatest risk of intimate partner violence. All of the above assertions contradict research by Morales and Reichenheim (2002) and Koenig et al. (2003) who found that women who have low educational attainment were more likely to experience violence.

Violence and Women’s Health The plight of every violated girl-child and woman is summarized in the quote by a stanza from Nenna Nehru’s poem, A battered Indian woman: Breast bruised, brains battered, Skin scarred, soul shattered, Can’t scream-neighbors stare, Cry for help-no one’s there. (Asian and Pacific Development Center APDC 1989)

Violence is a violation of the human rights of women and girls, and it takes a heavy toll on the physical, mental, and reproductive health of the individual which may be chronic and prolonged. There is consequently a ripple effect not only on the victims but their families, children, and the society at large. These risks are not limited to intimate partner violence victims alone because a further study revealed that non-partner violence has negative implications for physical and mental health outcomes in the short and long term, thus, contributing to the burden of poor health of affected women (Culbertson and Dehle 2001; Temple et al. 2007).

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Physical Injuries WHO (2013a) reported a lifetime prevalence of some forms of physical abuse to have been perpetrated by intimate partners and puts the figure at 36.6% among African women, whereas non-partner abuse was estimated at 11.9% among African women. The physical damage resulting from intimate partner violence can include bruises and welts, lacerations and abrasions, abdominal or thoracic injuries, fractures and broken bones or teeth, sight and hearing damage, head injury, attempted strangulation, and back and neck injury (Heise and Garcia-Moreno 2002). However, in addition to injury, and possibly far more common, are ailments that often have no identifiable medical cause or are difficult to diagnose. These are sometimes referred to as “functional disorders” or “stress-related conditions” and include irritable bowel syndrome/gastrointestinal symptoms, fibromyalgia, various chronic pain syndromes, and exacerbation of asthma (Heise and Garcia-Moreno 2002). A serious risk of physical abuse is concussion and traumatic brain injury (TBI) from being hit on the head or falling and hitting your head. TBI can cause headache or a feeling of pressure, loss of consciousness, confusion, dizziness, nausea and vomiting, slurred speech, memory loss, trouble concentrating, and sleep loss. All these can lead to a reduced ability of a woman to work, care for her family, or even contribute to the society.

Psychological and Mental Health Injuries The perpetrators of gender-based violence often use psychological abuse to control, terrorize, and disparage their victims, thereby reducing them to nothing emotionally. Most times, psychological abuse is followed by physical or sexual abuse. Victimsurvivors report that ongoing psychological violence – emotional torture and living under terror – is often more unbearable than the physical brutality, with mental stress leading to a high incidence of suicide and suicide attempts (UNICEF 2000). Society many times judge females who experience sexual violence in the hands of the male counterparts. For instance, while reporting Buyisiwe in 2005, Muimbi (2007) noted that many described the cross-examination of Buyisiwe as atrocious, with obvious hostile court environment and absolute disregard for what the victim went through. The victim was made to recount the experience again and again. The victim suffered emotionally by recounting who raped her first out of the eight suspects and who came last. The mental health of victims of violence are affected in damaging ways, especially when they are stigmatized and viewed as “damaged goods” (United Nations Mission in Liberia (UNMIL) 2008). The psychological and emotional wounds that violence inflicts are sometimes deeper and longer lasting than the wounds from physical violence (UN 2006). Assaulted women may become dependent and easily swayed and have difficulty undertaking long-range planning or decision-making (Bard and Sangrey 1986). Long-term mental health effects of violence against women can also include post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), usually a result of experiencing trauma or having a shocking or scary experience,

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such as sexual assault or physical abuse, depression, and anxiety (Delara 2016; Jina and Thomas 2013). Other effects can include shutting people out, losing interest in once pleasurable activities, not being able to trust others, and low esteem. Unfortunately, others cope with this trauma by using drugs, drinking alcohol, smoking, or overeating (US Centers for Disease Control and Prevention 2015; Office on Women’s Health 2017). Although the causes of suicide are multiple and interact in complex ways, mental health problems, particularly depressive disorders, are some of the best-known risk factors associated with suicide ideation, suicide attempts, and suicide mortality (Harris and Barraclough 1997). There is increasing interest in understanding how psychological trauma may affect suicidal behavior, with studies indicating a strong positive association between history of IPV and suicidal behaviors among women (Kernic et al. 2000).

Reproductive and Genital Injuries A systematic review of 28 studies demonstrated a significant association between intimate partner violence and HIV (Elisberg et al. 2001). Women who experience physical and/or partner sexual violence are 1.5 times more likely to acquire sexually transmitted infections (STIs), and women in sub-Saharan African are 1.5 times more vulnerable to HIV (Li et al. 2014). Garcia-Moreno et al. (2013) reported that women who had experienced physical or sexual abuse by their partners were 16% more likely to give birth to low-weight babies than women who did not experience abuse. The medical complications resulting from female genital mutilation can range from hemorrhage and sterility to severe psychological trauma (UNICEF 2000). Further studies in many countries have shown high levels of violence during pregnancy resulting in risk to the health of both the mother and the unborn fetus, while sexual assaults and rape can lead to unwanted pregnancies and the dangerous complications that follow from resorting to illegal abortions (UNICEF 2000). Girls who have been sexually abused in their childhood are more likely to engage in risky behavior such as early sexual intercourse and are at greater risk of unwanted and early pregnancies, whereas women in violent situations are less able to use contraception or negotiate safer sex and therefore run a high risk of contracting sexually transmitted diseases and HIV/ AIDS (Heise et al. 1994). Female genital mutilation has no health benefit and can cause immediate bleeding and pain and are associated with risk of infection, and the risk of both immediate and long-term complications increases with the extent of the cutting (WHO 2012). A WHO (2006)-led study of more than 28,000 pregnant women in 6 African countries found that those who had undergone FGM had a significantly higher risk of childbirth complications, such as cesarean section and postpartum hemorrhage, than those without FGM, and, in addition, the death rate for babies during and immediately after birth was higher for mothers with FGM than those without, while the risks of both birth complications and neonatal death increased relative to the severity of type of FGM. Sexual problems are also more common among women who have undergone FGM. They are 1.5 times more likely

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to experience pain during sexual intercourse, have significantly less sexual satisfaction, and are twice as likely to report a lack of sexual desire (Berg et al. 2010). Women and girls who are forced into sex work and those who are sexually abused suffer a range of health problems and rarely seek health care because of the fear of being deported and lack of funds or are prevented from seeking care (Orhant and Murphy 2002). They have a high risk of complications and infertility due to undiagnosed and untreated STIs, including HIV/AIDS, and risk of complications from pregnancy and unsafe abortions (Pan American Health Organization, PAHO 2001).

Combating Violence Against Women Gender-based violence has received increasing attention in recent years, and many African states, often under pressure from local women’s movements, have passed laws to criminalize various forms of gender-based violence (GBV), including rape (Tripp et al. 2009). However, the passage of such laws has not always translated into implementation; victims of GBV often face many obstacles within society and in the criminal justice system that render it difficult, and sometimes impossible, for them to benefit from new laws (Tripp et al. 2009). Passing legislation to address genderbased violence is only a first step toward eliminating the problem. It is also essential to ensure that countries properly implement laws at all levels and that their judicial systems hold perpetrators accountable (UNFPA 2016). In 1992, the Committee on the Elimination of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW) adopted General Recommendation No. 19, in which it confirmed that violence against women constitutes a violation of human rights and emphasizes that “States may also be responsible for private acts if they fail to act with due diligence to prevent violations of rights or to investigate and punish acts of violence, and for providing compensation” (Committee on the Elimination of Violence Against Women, CEDAW 1992). CEDAW also calls on states to “pursue by all appropriate means and without delay a policy of eliminating violence against women” and further to “exercise due diligence to prevent, investigate and, in accordance with national legislation, punish acts of violence against women, whether those acts are perpetrated by the State or by private persons” (General Assembly 1993). The Protocol to the African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights, on the Rights of Women in Africa, also known as the Maputo Protocol, prohibits gender-based violence as part of women’s rights to life, integrity and security of the person, and dignity (Klugman 2017). Article 1 defines violence against women as including “all acts perpetrated against women” (African Commission on Human and Peoples’ Rights 2003). The Maputo Protocol addresses violence against women in many of its provisions and establishes legal obligations. Of the 53 member countries in the African Union, 36 countries have signed and ratified the protocol, and another 15 had signed but not ratified, while 3 states – Botswana, Egypt, and Tunisia – have not signed (African Commission on Human and Peoples’ Rights 2003). The failure of justice systems in the past across the globe to effectively charge, investigate, and prosecute human rights violations against women and girls

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has resulted in a system of global impunity for perpetrators (Division for the Advancement of Women 2005). This is gradually improving with the enactment of laws and policies in many African countries. For instance, Botswana amended its Constitution in 1995 to facilitate the realization of equal rights between women and men, and in 1996 women were granted access to community property. Although women’s political, social, and economic equality is enshrined in the Constitution, discrimination continues to be rife throughout Botswana society in practice. Again, in Central Africa Republic, Act No 6.032 related to the protection of women against violence was passed, and this law punishes physical, sexual, and psychological violence against women, whether in the public or the private sphere (United Nations Economic Commission for Africa African Centre for Gender and Social Development (ACGSD) 2010). Further, in post-conflict Liberia, a Ministry of Gender and Development was established in 2006 to handle GBV cases; resolve cases that have no legal implications; provide counseling services to survivors; and make referrals to appropriate service providers, including legal and medical services (United Nations Economic Commission for Africa African Centre for Gender and Social Development (ACGSD) 2010). Unfortunately, many governments in Africa have not responded adequately to the fight on violence against women by enacting and enforcing laws to protect girls and women from violence, and this continues to be detrimental to the general well-being of the victims of violence.

Conclusion Violence against women is widespread and deeply ingrained and has serious impacts on women’s health and well-being. Its continued existence is morally indefensible, and its cost to individuals, to health systems, and to society in general is enormous. Yet no other major problem of public health has until recently been so widely ignored and so little understood. The colossal negative impacts of exposure to physical, sexual, and psychological violence have been documented. This review suggests a number ways to address violence against women. The government at all levels should make adequate provision for economic empowerment of women to foster gender equality, thus improving their status. Finally, rehabilitation services for both the victims as well as the perpetrators to curb all forms of violence should be considered. Providing psychological care and support for victims of violence through counseling, therapy, and support group system is key to their recovery. Again, because violence is largely a hidden problem in many homes, home is far from being safe for children of victims experiencing violence. Thus, children of women victims of violence should be included in treatment and therapy. This is because the children are also usually affected negatively. There is the need for continuous education by religious leaders to encourage their congregation more on the need to report abuse and get help on time before it becomes fatal. Girls and women also need to be told that violence is not synonymous with submissiveness and humility.

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Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Research Methods and Theoretical Underpinnings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Criminalization of FGM/C and Unintended Consequences of Legal and Policy Approaches . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Unintended Consequences of Anti-FGM Legislation and Community Tensions . . . . . . . . Cross Border FGM/C . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Can Laws Criminalize Culture? Tensions with Criminalization of FGM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Community Wide Approaches to FGM/C in Africa: Tostan Village Empowerment Models in West Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . FGM/C Villages in Egypt . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Safe Houses and Rescue Centers in Kenya . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Education and School Based Models in Kenya . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Promising Approaches: Leveraging the Role of Multiple and Wide Range Community Actors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Working with Spiritual/Religious Leaders . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Working with Young Men: The Case of Anticut in Kenya . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Intergenerational Dialogue Approaches . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Emerging Approaches: Understanding and Transforming Social and Gender Norms . . . . Alternative Rites of Passage (ARPs) in East Africa: Perspective from Kenya . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The History of ARPs in East Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . AMREF Alternative Rites of Passage Model Among the Maasai and Samburu of Kenya . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

In the last three or so decades, local and international organizations have formulated many intervention programs in a bid to eradicate Female Genital Mutilation/ D. S. Parsitau (*) · R. A. Aura Institute of Women Gender and Development Studies, Egerton University, Nakuru, Kenya e-mail: [email protected] © This is a U.S. Government work and not under copyright protection in the U.S.; foreign copyright protection may apply 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_138

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Cutting (FGM/C) which is globally recognized as a serious violation of women and girls’ rights. While there have been uneven successes and failures, tensions persist around some of these interventions while FGM/C continues to affect women and girls globally but especially in Africa. Using cultural embeddedness theories coupled with critical analysis of some of these interventions, this chapter examines varied approaches to eradicating FGM/C with a special focus on the popular but contested Alternative Rites of Passage (ARPs) widely practiced in East Africa, in Kenya in particular. This chapter argues that many of these interventions have not only generated significant controversies but have also led to unintended consequences for communities that are now pushing back and resisting these interventions, a move that suggests that there is need to rethink, and perhaps search for more sustainable approaches that are acceptable to practicing communities. The essay is based on years of qualitative research on the subject of FGM/C and NGO-led ARPs and other interventions, literature review and desktop research coupled with insider knowledge and experience gained working with communities that practice FGM/C, and survivors’ narratives of FGM. Keywords

Female genital mutilation/Cutting · Alternative rites of passage · Approaches · Women and girls · Cultural embeddedness

Introduction Female Genital Mutilation (FGM), also otherwise known as Female Genital Cutting (FGC), is recognized globally as a practice that violates the human rights of women and girls (Droy et al. 2018). Yet it remains not just highly controversial but a complex and deeply entrenched practice that refuses to go away despite the many legal, policy, and nonlegal frameworks, programs, and other interventions put in place in many parts of the world to try to eradicate it. The World Health Organization (WHO) defines FGM/C as “all procedures that involve the partial or total removal of the external female genital organs for nonmedical reasons” (Droy et al. 2018; PRB 2013). While FGM/C is now recognized as a global issue, evidence coupled with anecdotal data and observations suggests that it is highly concentrated in nearly 27 countries in Sub-Saharan Africa (28 Too Many 2018 Report). Other countries for which nationally representative data exists include Iraq, Yemen, and Indonesia. It is further estimated that between 100 million to 140 million girls and women worldwide have undergone FGM/C and that more than 3 million girls in Africa alone are at risk for cutting each year (Shell-Duncan 2008: ICRW 2016; WHO 2008). Similarly, two-thirds of all women who have experienced FGM/C reside in just four countries in Africa, namely Egypt, Ethiopia, Nigeria, and Sudan (Shell-Duncan 2008). One in every five women who has experienced it is from Egypt (UNIFPA-UNICEF 2013).

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While there are many types of FGM/C that vary in severity, it is largely recognized that there are four types of FGM/C known as types 4 (Droy et al., 2018; PRB 2013; Parsitau 2017a). While FGM/C is primarily performed on children and adolescents, the age at cutting varies widely with some girls and women undergoing it later in life, often in preparation to marriage. In nearly 22 countries for which national data is available, the majority of young girls are being cut before the age of five. Notable exceptions such as Egypt, Kenya, and the Central African Republic exist where cutting continues well into the teen years according to ICRW 2016 Report. There is also documented data and anecdotal evidence from Kenya and elsewhere that women over 20 are now being subjected to the cut while giving birth at home and in hospitals. The cut is typically performed by traditional circumcisers, usually elderly women who perform nearly 78% of the cut in rural areas. In such areas, the cut is often performed without anesthesia using crude tools such as razors, knives, or pieces of glass and other crude tools (ICRW 2016). In developed democracies, FGM/C occurs predominantly among diaspora communities representing countries where FGM/C is prevalent. For example, in Minnesota in the USA, the large Somali diaspora there continue to practice FGM/C. FGM/C has thus been reported in Western Europe, the UK, USA, Australia, New Zealand, and Canada. According to Equality Now 2016 Report, girls in diaspora communities are also at risk for “vacation cutting” in which they are sent to their families of origins or across the border to a neighboring country under the guise of vacations or cultural learning but are forced to undergo FGM/C upon arrival. From the aforementioned, it is clear that FGM/C is a global phenomenon that continues to puts millions of girls and women at serious health and psychological risks. Over the last nearly three decades now, there have been significant global, regional, and local efforts to address FGM/C. These efforts became the goal of both local and international organizations, national governments, development agencies, and advocacy groups. Consequently, countless programs, interventions, and approaches have been appropriated to educate, convince communities to abandon the practice. Different interventions and approaches have been used across Africa (PRB 2013). A number of international conventions, declarations, and legal and policy frameworks have also been put in place to protect and promote the rights of women and girls. These include the Universal Declaration on Human Rights (UDHR); the International Convention on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR); the International Convention on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights (ICESCR); Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination (CEDAW); the Convention against Torture and other Cruel Punishment (CAT); and the Convention on the Rights of the Child (CRC). On the African continent, national governments have international obligations to adopt effective measures to abolish harmful traditional practices such as FGM/C including early marriage which is a precursor to FGM/C in some cultures (Parsitau 2017a, b). Many countries in Africa are also signatories to some if not most of these protocols and frameworks including the African Charter on Human and Peoples

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Rights (art 18), The African Charter on the Rights and Welfare of the Child (article 21), and the Maputo Protocol (Protocol to the charter to the African Charter on the Rights of Women in Africa) (article 5) among many of others. The Maputo Protocol obligates African states to take necessary action to prohibit and condemn FGM/C as well as other harmful practices that negatively affect the human rights of women and girls. In Europe, FGM/C is considered a violation to several treaties and conventions, including the European Convention on Human Rights. According to the UN Human Rights Committee, FGM/C constitutes cruel inhumane or degrading treatment that violates the general prohibition against torture (UNHRC). Many countries have made attempts to criminalize FGM/C through their policy and legal frameworks. Twenty-six countries in Africa and the Middle East have, for example, prohibited FGM/C by law or constitutional decree according to (UNFPAUNICEF 2013). The UNFPA- UNICEF study further reveals that other than Guinea and the Central African Republic, where bans on FGM/C were instituted in the mid-1960s, the process of enacting legislation or revising the criminal code to outlaw the practice began to take hold in Africa quite recently. Legislation prohibiting FGM/C has also been adopted in other countries, mostly to protect children with origins in practicing countries. Several African countries with high prevalence of FGM/C as well as low prevalence countries with important populations originating from countries where FGM/C is practiced have passed national anti-FGM laws. According to 28 Too Many 2018 Report, 28 countries in Africa that practice FGM/C have national legislation criminalizing FGM/C either through specific anti-FGM/C laws or within criminal penal cords or other forms of legislation (28 Too Many 2018). In 2018, 28 Too Many also reported that six countries in Africa were without laws meaning that FGM/C is effectively legal in Chad, Sierra Leone, Mali, Somalia, and Sudan. In 2020 Sudan effectively banned FGM/C in a move that was hailed globally and welcomed by human and gender rights activists (UN News 2020). Despite both global, regional, and national efforts through legislation and other approaches to eradicate FGM/C, it continues to persist and pose significant physical, psychological, emotional, and reproductive health risks to millions of women and girls globally but especially in Sub-Saharan Africa. The Drivers of FGM/C are complex and multidimensional (Parsitau 2017a). FGM/C is a long standing social and cultural practice among communities that view it as a rite of passage. Sociological, religious, and cultural traditions continue to provide justification and legitimation for FGM (Parsitau 2017a, b). For many families that practice the ritual, FGM/C is related to marriageability, maintenance of family honor and respect, community acceptance and ethnic identity, ritual marking of transition to womanhood, improvement of hygiene, religious requirements, and social cultural norms (Droy et al., 2018; Mepukori 2016; Parsitau 2017a, b; Gitagno 2015; Hughes 2018; Kassim 2014). FGM/C also prepares girls for their roles as adults and good wives. More importantly, FGM/C is used to control women’s sexual desires and fidelity (Kangethe 2013; Hughes 2018; Parsitau 2017b; Kassim 2014). It is because of such social and religious justifications and the fact that it is deeply entrenched in communities’ psych that FGM/C continues to persist to date despite tremendous

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local and international action to try to eradicate it. But more importantly is the fact that FGM/C is so heavily embedded and deeply entrenched in communities’ psychs that makes it difficult to legislate and uproot (Graamans et al. 2019). Yet, tensions exist to date and FGM/C still continues without a single community that has successfully and completely eradicated it. However, there are some successes and failures and tones of lessons learned along the way. Besides the popular ARPs in East Africa, there have been various approaches used to persuade communities to abandon FGM/C in Africa with varied degrees of success and failure. Both data and anecdotal evidence suggest that interventions that have been somehow successful tended to focus on holistic, integrated, sustainable, and cultural sensitive approaches that are also organically generated by communities with a multisectoral outlook. This cultural sensitivity and respectability as well as community buy in are important to FGM/C eradication strategies (Parsitau 2017a; PRB 2013). Below, this chapter critically focuses on a couple of selected but varied approaches, interventions, and programs with examples from across the continent. The various approaches used have had mixed and varying degrees of success and failures. Early interventions focused on reproductive and health risks education models many of which aimed to support girls from FGM/C and early marriage which have been both successful and problematic. Popular approaches are varied and can be grouped into legal and nonlegal approaches, community wide approaches, education and school based approaches, and engaging community leadership. Other approaches that have been appropriated include girls empowerment programs, sex and reproductive health programs, girls’ leadership and mentorship programs, and positive deviance approaches. Still, other approaches include health risk and harmful traditional practice approach which emphasizes the harmful physical effects on women. Others seek to addressing health complications arising from FGM: through this approach, health care providers and medical workers are equipped to manage complications such as Rectal Vaginal Fistula (RVF), Vesico Vaginal Fistula (VVF), and re-infibulations (Frontiers 2006). Approaches that have been relatively successful include building partnerships with wide range of actors including working with spiritual/religious and community leadership, engaging men and boys, women and girls, media, and other publics. Interventions based on these approaches have targeted stakeholders at individual, interpersonal, community; national and regional levels have also been relatively successful (PRB 2013; Berg and Denison 2012). Others have sought to changing social and gender norms as well as alternative rites of passage ceremonies. Some of these strategies have been implemented alongside legal and policy frameworks. Others include the popular but contested alternative rites of passage as well as creating social and gendered change. These strategies have helped to reduce the prevalence rates in some parts of the African continent as well as in particular countries. This chapter critically examines popular approaches to FGM/C as well as some of the unintended consequences and emerging tensions around some popular strategies with a focus on the popular but contested alternative Rites of Passage (ARPs). But first we highlight our research methods and theoretical underpinnings.

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Research Methods and Theoretical Underpinnings This chapter examines varied approaches to eradicating FGM/C with a special focus on the popular but contested Alternative Rites of Passage (ARPs) widely practiced in East Africa, Kenya, in particular. It examines the complex challenges posed by FGM/C eradication strategies both legal and nonlegal. It seeks to map out the complexities around the anti-FGM/C legislations as well as the varied approaches and interventions including ARPs and place them within a complex web of beliefs, traditions, values, and the deep embeddedness of traditional rituals in the communities where FGM/C is practiced. Although the Anti-FGM laws and strategies have been hailed as offering hope to millions of girls and women in countries where it is practiced, eradicating FGM/C still presents huge challenges to various stakeholders. A number of questions have been raised around legal approaches including whether legislation alone is adequate in eradication FGM/C. Questions have also been raised whether social change can be legislated and if government can effectively ban and criminalize deeply embedded social and cultural traditions like FGM/C. Still many ask about social and gender norms and if it is possible to re-examines them. In conceptualizing these questions and tensions, this essay argues that it is impossible to create an effective strategy to eradicate FGM/C without understanding the deeper theoretical issues involved as well as some appreciation of its social and cultural significance in practicing communities. To start with, FGM/C is deeply embedded in a complex matrix of beliefs, values, attitudes, and the psyches of societies that practice it. These complex matrix and web of beliefs and values shape and provide functional significance to the practice of FGM. As so aptly observes: An outsider who has the advantage of distance. . . might be tempted to dismiss the practice as irrational. . .Participants who are more steeped in the indigenous psycho-social context are more prone to a holistic appraisal and less enchanted with worship of rationality. Accordingly, they may perceive the significance and efficacy of female circumcision differently.

This chapter asks questions about FGM’s persistence and refusal to die despite significant and comprehensive global and regional efforts and suggests that these questions and tensions might help explain why FGM/C still continues posing tremendous health and mental risks to girls and women despite all these efforts. It is argued that while laws, policies, frameworks, and other intervention strategies are critically important towards eradicating FGM/C, there is also need to understand the wider social meaning and deeper cultural embeddedness of such rituals from communities’ points of view. Throughout this chapter, it is cautioned that unless these communities’ perspectives are integrated into these interventions, there is a real danger that both legal efforts and nongovernmental organizations (NGOs) led actions will not effectively eradicate or reduce FGM/C. To emphasize this caution, the essay draws on cultural embeddedness theories (Graamans et al. 2019) to help understand community resistance to anti-FGM laws, varied approaches with a focus on the popular but contested Alternative Rites of Passage (ARPs).

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The chapter further elaborates why communities’ perspectives and buy-in are critically important to the fight against FGM/C from below. Significantly, it examines some emerging tensions in the fight against FGM/C using examples from across the continent with a special focus on East Africa more broadly to demonstrate tensions around popular but contested eradication strategies including tensions around the anti-FGM/C campaigns and ARPS approaches. It emphasizes that there is urgent need to put practicing communities at the center of not just legislation but also important discourses on FGM/C. Throughout field research, the authors captured the frustrations of communities in respect of both legal and nonlegal strategies and interventions as well as the tensions they engender. This is counterproductive and stakeholders need to rethink the role of communities in embracing these anti-FGM/C eradication interventions. Based on literature review conducted for this study and case studies of selected intervention programs including ARPs and community perspectives on these interventions, the chapter cautions that if the numerous programs put in place are not shaped by critical understandings of the deeper meanings and the cultural embeddedness of these traditional rituals, there is real danger that FGM/C will continue putting millions of girls and women at risk for a long time.

The Criminalization of FGM/C and Unintended Consequences of Legal and Policy Approaches A popular approach to eradicating FGM/C across Africa has been the criminalization of the practice. Several African countries have passed laws that essentially criminalize the practice. A number of African countries with high prevalence of FGM/C, as well as countries with prevalence with important population that is originating from countries where FGM/C is practiced, have also passed such laws. Available evidence suggests that 28 countries in Africa practice FGM/C. Out of the 28 countries in Africa that practice FGM/C, 22 have national legislation criminalized FGM/C, either through specific anti-FGM/C legislation or within criminal penal codes or other forms of legislation. Six countries are currently without laws meaning FGM/C is effectively legal in Chad, Liberia, Mali, Sierra Leone, Somalia, and Sudan although Sudan recently banned FGM (28 Too Many 2018; UN News 2020). Laws banning FGM/C at all ages have been passed in the majority of African countries (UNICEF 2013). The report shows that in Burkina Faso, fines can be levied not only against practitioners of FGM/C, but also against anyone who knows that the procedure has been performed and fails to report it. In 2011, Kenya expanded the 2001 ban on FGM/C among minors to apply to adult women and added an extraterritoriality clause, extending restrictions to citizens who commit the crime outside the country’s border (Parsitau 2018). Reports of prosecution or arrests in cases involving FGM/C have been made in several African countries, including Burkina Faso, Kenya, and Egypt. Thus, it seems to us that criminalization of FGM/C has been one of the most popular approaches used to try eradicate FGM/C in the majority of African countries.

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The Unintended Consequences of Anti-FGM Legislation and Community Tensions The anti-FGM/C campaigns focusing exclusively on the negative health consequences of the practice may have inadvertently bolstered both the medicalization and cross border FGM/C in some areas and countries. Medicalization of FGM/C refers to the performances of FGM/C by a healthcare provider rather than a traditional excisors for the purpose of physical harm reduction. Increased medicalization of FGM/C has been reported and documented in Kenya, Egypt, Tanzania, and Indonesia. Studies suggest that 18 per cent of women who have been subjected to FGM/C were performed by a medical provider (Parsitau 2018). There is evidence of increased medicalization of FGM/C in Kenya since the 2011 anti-FGM ban where medical personnel illegally collude with parents to perform FGM/C in clinics, health centers, and homes both in urban and rural areas (Parsitau 2018). Although FGM/C in Kenya continues to be carried out predominantly by traditional circumcisers for nearly 75% of girls aged 0–14 and 83.3% of women aged 15–49, recent reports suggest that medicalization cases have risen up to as much as 41% in some areas (Kenya Law Report 2018). Medical professionals perform FGM/C in homes, hospitals, and temporary clinics particularly during school holidays which are the designated “cutting season.” The Kenya Demographic Health Survey based on a small sample of women and girls suggests that 14% of women aged 15–49 and 19.7% of girls aged 0–14 have been cut by a medical professional, of these, most are carried out by a nurse or midwife. A 2016 study also suggests that Kenya is third in the world for cases of medicalized FGM/C (The Star 2018). The reasons for increased medicalization are many including parents and guardians trying to circumvent the law, the ready availability of unscrupulous medical professionals out to make money suggesting a thriving economy of women bodies among many other reasons (Parsitau 2018).

Cross Border FGM/C Another unintended consequence of the anti-FGM/C legislation criminalizing the practice is increased cross border FGM/C that have been reported in a number of countries including Kenya, Uganda, Tanzania, Somalia, Ethiopia, and Sudan (Parsitau 2018). Cross border FGM/C is a situation where parents smuggle their girls and young women across the borders to neighboring countries to undergo FGM/C. In such countries, FGM/C has either gone underground or crossed borders to avoid prosecution. There is also evidence of vacation cutting emerging across borders FGM/C where girls are taken out of their country in the guise of vacation and cultural tours only to undergo FGM/C in another country (28 Too Many). Countries with porous borders are especially vulnerable. Kenya shares borders with countries such as Somalia, Ethiopia, South Sudan, Uganda, and Tanzania. Cross border FGM/C has been reported in between Kenya and or with Somalia, Ethiopia, Tanzania, and Uganda. While the existence and enforcement of anti-FGM/C laws in these

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countries vary as cross border FGM/C is common in countries that have outlawed the practice. In the countries, girls are smuggled across borders to undergo FGM/C and they are smuggled back home after the procedure. Cross border FGM is particularly common during school holidays. Cross border FGM/C in such countries are linked to anti-FGM/C legislation. For example and ever since the Government of Kenya outlawed of FGM/C, there have been notable tensions that appear to be directly related to the legislative ban. Women and girls living in border communities remain particularly vulnerable to cross border FGM/C.

Can Laws Criminalize Culture? Tensions with Criminalization of FGM While anti-FGM/C legislation has been hailed as a step in the right direction in eradicating the practice, they remain controversial and steeped in tensions with practicing communities. Debate on the efficacy of legislation banning FGM/C has been largely overtaken by a growing consensus that laws should be one of a set of interventions by governments to support efforts by social movement towards its elimination. A UNICEF Report (2013) on legislative reform and FGM/C aptly notes that such reform needs to take into account the degree of social support for the practice for it to work. In settings where segments of practicing populations agree that girls and women should not undergo FGM/C, institutional frameworks can play an important role in supporting social change aimed at ending the practice. Yet critics argue that laws by themselves though helpful have not protected majority of women and girls from undergoing the cut. And while criminalization of the practice is generally acknowledged as an important step in the global efforts and strategy towards abandonment of FGM/C, most experts would dispute the fact that laws alone cannot solve the problem. The absence of significant decrease of prevalence of FGM/C in many communities where laws exists is testament to this. Communities have also resisted laws and are pushing back against what they perceive as a criminalization of their traditions and cultural practices. There is growing resistance towards not just laws but also how those laws are implemented. In Kenya, for example, over five hundred Maasai women from Kajiado County in Southern Kenya publicly held demonstrations against the government’s ban on FGM/C, the harsher penalties for parents who circumcise their daughters and the fact that their uncircumcised girls are shunned by Maasai men who refuse to marry them because they have not been circumcised (The Standard Newspaper 2014). They also argued that they cannot be forced to abandon their rich culture and that the government should allow them to be. The women also called for an end of a laissezfaire approach to “our traditional practices” and the excessive force government officials use on parents who break the law. The government has used the full force of the law but most parents have not been sensitized about the dangers of FGM/C. Many of our informants saw the official response to resistance against the ban on FGM/C as excessive (Parsitau 2017a, b).

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Practicing communities also suggested that they are often stigmatized and profiled by the international community as well as communities that do not practice FGM/C. Others felt that parents and guardians are often arbitrarily arrested by law enforcement officers while there have been concerns raised by some parents that their daughters have been forcefully examined by government administrators and medics without their consent to find out if they have been cut. If they are found to have been cut, then their parents are arrested and their children taken into custody or rescue centers (The Star 2018). At the same time in Europe and America, there has recently been arise in aesthetical genital surgeries such as “labia reductions which became popular in 2010” raising serious questions as to why this is not regarded as FGM/C and is not prosecuted in the west. Critiques are piqued by the double standard of international organization calling for the end of FGM/C in Africa yet they do not fight to end the rise of new genital surgeries in the west (CoP 2019 Report). These tensions are important in not just understanding the complexities of antiFGM/C laws in Africa but also the inherent gaps in both legislative and NGO led action as well as enforcement of the law by various government agencies. At the same time, individuals and communities are also questioning the constitutionality of the law in respect to people’s traditions (Kenya Law Report 2020). These concerns are valid and raise important questions, tensions, and resentments, least of all is not just about the efficacy of the law in eradicating deeply entrenched cultural traditions but also forcing people to adopt laws they do not understand in the first place. As one Maasai elder asked us during an interview, does the government have a right to criminalize my culture without educating me why my culture is all of a sudden, a crime? Can laws uproot my culture from my mind and heart? (Interviews with Letura Ole Parsaloi, a cultural Maasai leader in 2017). There have been tens of community wide approaches that have been implemented across the African continent in efforts to eradicate FGM/C. Some have shown promise while others have engendered significant tensions within communities. Below the chapter examines selected community wide approaches and village models across the continent.

Community Wide Approaches to FGM/C in Africa: Tostan Village Empowerment Models in West Africa Some of the earliest interventions in West Africa included those that focused on education, community wide programs including empowerment programs for women and girls. Such programs sought to build capacity for girls and women, giving them both voice and agency as well as improving their capacity to question and oppose practices that touch on abuses of their rights. The aim of the programs was to improve their decision-making powers, especially those relating to reproductive health. This was done through training and education on the rights and the dangers that FGM/C pauses to their lives.

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One of the first and perhaps best known and often touted community based models that focused on education, community engagement, and women’s empowerment is the Tostans’ village empowerment model popular in Mali, Senegal, and Burkina Faso (PRB 2013; WHO 2008; ICRW 2016). Tostan, which means “breakthrough” in Wolof, first implemented its Community Empowerment Programme (CEP) in communities and villages in Senegal and later on expanded to ten other countries in West Africa (PRB 2013). Tostan uses a sort of hybrid approach to maximize the spread of information and ideas from program participants to others within and to neighboring communities. The program used education, literacy, advocacy and human rights, and sexuality education in a bid to engender social change. In 2002, the program adopted to focus on FGM/C through a curriculum that focused on human rights, reproductive health, hygiene, and problem solving skills (ICRW 2016). While evaluation reports appear to suggest that the Tostan model was relatively successful and was even replicated in several countries in West Africa, the model it seems to us was successful in promoting broader social change through education and literacy and serves as a powerful example of how community engagement and buy-in is critical in generating important community conversations in not just anti-FGM/C eradication strategies but also in broader social change.

FGM/C Villages in Egypt Other community based education programs that embraced similar models include Egypt’s FGM free villages. The FGM free village Model is Egypt’s national program to eradicate FGM was launched in 2003. The model was conceptualized and designed to create an environment to foster dialogue and critical thinking on the cultural and social factors that lead to support to FGM/C. Dialogues also focused on the practice as harmful and a violation of the human rights of girls and women. The model sought to promote national dialogue and succeeded in roping in government, spiritual leaders, media, medical professionals, and policy makers. It is also said that its advocacy and engaging multiple stake holders is credited for providing the push and momentum that culminated in the criminalization of FGM/C in Egypt in medical facilities. The FGM free villages have also proven somehow success in creating broader social and gendered change that has helped in efforts to reduce FGM in Northern Africa. Evaluation reports suggest that the model was successful in changing views and attitudes towards FGM/C in the country (ICRW 2016; PRB 2013).

Safe Houses and Rescue Centers in Kenya A popular approach to FGM/C abandonment strategies has been the creation of safe houses and rescue centers/shelters for girls and women escaping FGM/C from their villages. In Kenya, for example, girls facing FGM/C have sought shelter in such safe shelters where they are also able to attend school. Examples of safe houses and rescue centers in Kenya include the Tasaru Ntomonok Initiative (TNI) that is said to

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have included a residential community-based rescue center offering holistic services for Maasai Girls escaping FGM/C and early marriages, the Samburu Girls Foundation (SGF) centers run by Josephine Kulea, and AIC Maasai Girls School and Centre, Kajiado County, as well as many smaller ones among many others (PRB 2013; Parsitau 2017a). The creation of safe houses and rescue centers was a popular strategy in the 1990s to date when the idea was first popularized by nongovernmental organizations who sought to create safe shelters for girls running away from their villages. Some safe houses like Kajiado AIC girls also became schools for girls. Safe houses also incorporated broader gender based violence and girls’ empowerment programs, mentorship and leadership development programs and provided safe space for young girls to shelter in place. But the safe houses model is problematic in a number of ways. First, critics argue that safe houses and rescue centers merely removed the girl or woman from harm rather than address social and gendered norms and pressure that drives FGM/C (PRB 2013; Parsitau 2017a). Secondly and while these shelters may have saved many girls from FGM/C and kept them in schools, the approach has been faulted as forceful and antagonistic in nature. Safe houses and rescue centers also became very unpopular with communities that felt that rescue centers constitute a ripping off of young girls and women from their homes and families, separating them from their environment, families, and communities. The long term emotional and psychological impact of separating young girls from their families has not been assessed but anecdotal evidence suggests that families were negatively affected and relationships between girls and their parents creating tensions, rifts, and conflicts between parents in a way that negatively affected the family and community. Our experience with rescued girls coupled with anecdotal data suggests that the majority of “rescued girls” were never able to rebuild their lives and family relationships with their parents, especially their fathers. Ultimately, the emotional and psychological strain on parents and their children was too much to bear. Also, rescued girls cannot be expected to remain estranged from their families and communities for life, and so long as they remain estranged they will face on-going discrimination and stigma for not having undergone FGM. There is no evidence to show that rescue centers provide sustainable solutions for girls in need of protection, and they cannot prevent girls from undergoing FGM/C on their return home(Droy et al., 2018; Hughes 2018; Parsitau 2017a). Where possible, rescue centers should be used as a short-term resort, and preferably based in schools. Evidence shows that the school model creates a conducive learning environment for girls, leading to improved enrolment and performance, and increased female literacy. However, sustainable long-term alternatives should be sought that include rehabilitation and family reintegration, community and family sensitization, and on-going peer-to-peer support for both parents and girls. This created huge resentments and a rift with communities and further antagonized girls from their families. Evidence adduced from interviews with parents and girls from such families in Kajiado and Narok Counties in Kenya suggests that such girls and women ended up having strained relations with their parents, especially their fathers who abandon such girls and threaten to curse them. Ultimately, the emotional and psychological

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strain on parents and their children is too much to bear. Mothers of such girls have also been thrown out of their marital homes and left vulnerable and having no financial security (Parsitau 2017a, b; Kassim 2014). Third, communities have also raised integrity issues with the management of some rescue centers with many suggesting that the managers and owners of such homes have also been accused of using safe houses to make money from donors with little or no intention of eradicating FGM/C. Fourthly, there have also been integrity and accountability issues raised about some of these centers with families and community accusations of abuse of rescued girls’ rights and dignity in these spaces, further raising issues about their safety. Lastly, some rescues centers and safe houses have created tensions between government agents, law enforcement and rescue shelters on the one hand and families and communities on the other hand. This has led to community tensions and suspicions that may hamper anti-FGM/C efforts. While rescue centers and rescue camps can play a role in temporarily giving refuge to at-risk girls (e.g., during holiday and vacation cutting when FGM is most prevalent, and girls run away from home), they are not a viable long-term solution. Institutional care is not the best practice in these circumstances, and it also has huge cost implications (Hughes 2018).

Education and School Based Models in Kenya There are also scores of programs that focus on girls’ education as a strategy to eliminate FGM/C. In Kenya, for example, the Forum for African Women in Education (FAWE) through its Tusome Youth Programme has incorporated awareness rising on sexual maturation and FGM/C in Kenya but especially in two schools in Kajiado District, AIC Primary Kajiado, and Athwana High School. This program allows girls to speak against FGM/C through drama. It also runs a media program that sensitizes the community on FGM/C. The schools have rescue centers for girls feeing from FGM/C and through this intervention the schools have experienced increased retention rates girls. Through this training, it is suggested that girls have been empowered to make informed choices on whether or not to undergo the cut. This has increased awareness and more girls look for help as opposed to those who lack the information. Other organic models have emerged from career educators from communities where FGM/C is rampant and constitutes internal initiatives from community role models to inspire both broader social and gendered change using education. Examples of such models in Kenya include Let Maasai Girls Learn Initiative (LMGL) founded by one of these authors and Kakenya Centre of Excellence (Kenya and USA). These organizations leverage the power of education, girls’ mentorship and leadership development and engaging community leadership and buy in to help eradicate FGM/C. While small studies show a positive correlation between education and FGM/C, more studies need to be undertaken to understand this more. Nevertheless, education models appear less antagonistic to conservative communities as many have embraced education of their children (Parsitau 2017a).

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Promising Approaches: Leveraging the Role of Multiple and Wide Range Community Actors Some promising approaches that have been implemented in the last two or so decades now and have shown both promise and lessons in certain contexts are the leveraging of the role and power of a wide range of actors. These wide ranges of actors include traditional, spiritual, political, and community leadership who are not just important cultural and social influencers but also custodians of traditions and culture (PRB 2013; Parsitau 2017a, b; ICRW 2016). Spiritual/religious leaders are particularly important given that religious justifications have been used to justify and support FGM/C in some Muslim, Christian, and traditional communities. Spiritual leaders remain highly influential and respected in their communities and are important allies in FGM/C eradication strategies. As important opinion shapers in their communities, their efforts towards FGM/C eradication are crucially important. Anecdotal data as well as NGO reports suggests that working with a wide range of community and spiritual leadership holds promise because of community buy in. Similarly, working with a wide range of spiritual and community leadership has been found to be promising in East and West Africa. A few examples demonstrate how this works.

Working with Spiritual/Religious Leaders The Population Council (PC), for example, developed an innovative approach to engaging the Somali communities in the Wajir region of northern Kenya where FGM/C stands at 97 per cent. The Population Council’s approach aimed at generating discourses and consensus among religious scholars on Islamic practices to enable religious leaders to encourage FGM/C abandonment in the community. The intervention found that using a religious approach can be powerful in convincing community members to reject FGM/C. Spiritual leaders can play critical roles in abandonment of FGM/C at the community level. Working with spiritual leaders seeks to provide information from the perspective of either Christianity or Islam that distance FGM from religion (Frontiers 2006). Christian community such as the Seventh Day Adventist church in Kenya has also used religious oriented approaches. This church runs sensitization programs that raise the health risks issues related to FGM especially in Kisii accompanied with messages that FGM practice contradicts or offend the biblical teachings according to. Similarly, World Vision International Channels of Hope program works with spiritual and community leaders to help fight FGM/C and early marriage in East Africa, Kenya, in particular (ICRW 2016). The Interreligious Council of Kenya has worked with donors and NGOs to try eradicate FGM/C in Kenya. Available evidence suggests that using religious/spiritual approach can be powerful in convincing community members to reject FGM/C.

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Working with Young Men: The Case of Anticut in Kenya Another approach that leverages the role of important community actors includes working with young men in Maasai land in Kenya. Among the Maasai of Kenya, for example, it is becoming increasingly clear that engaging young men can lead to social and gender norms. The Kenyan based African Medical Research and Education Foundation (AMREF), for example, has been working with a group of young men called the anticut warriors to speak up against FGM/C in deep and rural villages where FGM/C is deeply embedded. These warriors represent a powerful internal driver pushing force for change, directly questioning their own culture, demanding an end to cultural practices that harm women. These emerging voices and allies hold out hope that long standing and stubborn social change and gendered change and patriarchal practices can be slowly overturned. It also holds out much promise for bringing men into the fight against FGM/C. It is becoming increasingly recognized that engaging men in the fight against FGM/C is critical for social change. For long, the war on FGM/C was seen as a women’s burden. Yet, it is not just sanctioned by men but it is performed on women for the benefit of men as well as to tame their sexual lives. If men sanction FGM/C, it only makes sense for them to be part of this fight (Parsitau 2017a, b).

Intergenerational Dialogue Approaches Another approach that is becoming increasingly popular is fostering and forging intergenerational conversations and dialogues between older and younger generations. As custodians of traditions and culture, and key influencers in family, society, and community, engaging intergenerational dialogues could be helpful in designing new value systems and traditions around gender roles and social norms that could help women and girls. Intergenerational dialogue have been implemented in Mali, Senegal, Kenya, Guinea as a participatory approach that seeks to engage members of community across sexes and generations to create helpful dialogues around difficult traditional taboo conversations. The intergenerational dialogue approaches allow communities to engage in the process, identify issues that need attention, and create conversations around it (ICRW 2016; PRB 2013). This approach recognizes that change can be threatening even unsettling to older generations and their voices and concerns are important if we are to bridge the generational tensions. By engaging older people, they feel respected and their perspectives and voice are respected thereby reducing tensions. But it also enhances knowledge and behavioral change informed by oral traditions. An evaluation report in Mali suggested that intergenerational dialogues showed improvements in knowledge, attitudes, and behavior among participating groups. These approaches are not free from challenges and the communities are still resistant to their use. Yet they hold promise to the war against FGM/C. Because they are organically formed, they come with less external baggage. In 2008, Kenya’s Ministry of Gender, Children and Social Development launched a national plan of action for accelerating the abandonment of FGM/C (2008-2012).

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By 2013, through the Fulda-Mosocho Project, the Kisii have organized 52 public events attended by tens of thousands of people to promote FGM/C abandonment. In August 2009, the Njuri Ncheke Supreme Council of Ameru Elders condemns FGM/C and resolves to fine anyone found to be practicing it in the Meru districts of Eastern Province. The Pokot Council of Elders and IL Chamus Council of Elders made public declarations against FGM/C in their communities, representing a total of over half a million people (UNICEF 2013). Securing the support of men, working with community and spiritual leaders encouraging gender and social change though community education and girls’ reproductive health education and mentorship and leadership development programs. Anecdotal evidence also shows that multisectorial approaches are promising especially where communities are fully engaged. Advocacy work, legal, and policy frameworks can only work if there is community buy in (ICRW 2016; Hughes 2018; PRB 2013).

Emerging Approaches: Understanding and Transforming Social and Gender Norms Social norms, defined here as the often unspoken and unwritten rules that govern behavior in a particular reference group and context, often shape every aspect of human life in many societies in the world. According to Equality Now 2016, social norms are shared expectations, beliefs, or informal rules among a set of people that dictates how people should behave or not. Social norms create expectations about typical and appropriate behavior within different social groups and sanctions and rewards ensure adherence to those expectations. As such, they are like invisible and informal legal systems, determining standards of behavior and systems of compliance. Social norms are reinforced and regulated by social functions and fulfill a wide range of functions. There is currently a great deal of interest in understanding social norms. This is because of the role they play in underpinning and reinforcing practices that could be harmful in a number of ways including contributing to poor health outcomes, upholding gender inequality and discrimination, sexual and gender based violence, harmful social cultural practices such as Female Genital Mutilation/ Cutting (FGM/C) and child marriages. Others include norms concerning girls’ education, marriage, child bearing, decision making, voice, and agency among many others. Social norms are both reflected and reinforced by other factors across the social-ecological model such as religion, gender, race, masculinity and femininity, culture and patriarchy. While there is growing interests on social norms, there is urgent need to explore its role in FGM/C eradication strategies. While there is a general understanding about the harmful impact of social norms, there is need to expand our understanding of not just how they work but also how we can move the needle to foster norms that support and promote healthy behavior. Perhaps an important and emerging realization in the fight against FGM/C is that FGM/C is a social and cultural norm that cannot be legislated. From the aforementioned, it is clear that there have been countless programs and approaches to FGM/C eradication strategies. And while all these approaches are

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wrought with both tensions and promise, they have provided both lessons and challenges that we can build on to win the fight against FGM/C. It is also evident that a lot has been done at global and regional level to end FGM. Despite the efforts the practice of FGM/C remains a great challenge and steadily persistent. It is also clear that FGM/C poses danger to the health and well-being of girls and women who are subjected to it. These dangers have caused the world to jostle and offer alternatives to the practice in a way that can still preserve the value that the communities attach to the practice without violating the rights of unsuspecting women and girls and without stigmatization and discrimination. One of the major approaches adopted is Alternative Rite of Passage (ARP) that remains one of the most popular models in East Africa as we discuss below.

Alternative Rites of Passage (ARPs) in East Africa: Perspective from Kenya The History of ARPs in East Africa Alternative Rites of Passage (ARPs), known colloquially as a “ritual without cutting” or “circumcision by words,” were first developed in the 1990s by NGOs as part of strategies aimed at eradicating FGM/C (Droy et al. 2018). Since then, ARPs have not just grown in popularity but are also often touted by NGOs and other stakeholders that organize them as a viable alternative female initiation into womanhood than the cutting of women and girls’ genitals (Droy et al., 2018; Parsitau 2017a). While ARPs are not new approaches in the fight against FGM/C, they have become increasingly popular in East Africa as an alternative that aims to replicate or mimic certain social and cultural aspects of the traditional initiation process without the physical cut. The first Alternative Rites of Passage (ARPs) in Kenya was first introduced in 1996 among the Meru People by The Programme for Appropriate Health Technologies (PATH) in conjunction with the Maendeleo ya Wanawake Organization (MYWO), a leading women’s grassroots development organization spread across rural and urban Kenya (Droy et al., 2018; Parsitau 2017a, b). According to a PRB (2010) Report, “FGM/C among the Ameru People of Kenya was practiced as a coming- of-age ceremony. Similarly, the first public ARP ceremony in Kenya was held in Tharaka Nithi in Meru County in 1996, with 29 girls participating with the objective of improving living standards of families and communities. It was thought that by substituting ARPs, the community would stop the genital cutting but maintain the essential component of passage to womanhood such as education for the girls on family life and women’s role, the exchange of gifts, celebration and public events for community recognition.” This public ceremony was dubbed Ntanira Na Mugambo in Meru language which means “Excision by Words.” The initiates of this program first went through one week of intensive instruction through guidance and cancelling on various issues but did not undergo the actual circumcision or cutting as it were. They also obtain all

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the information and privileges associated with traditional “coming of age” ceremonies which included exchange of gifts, eating good food, dancing, and a public declaration for community recognition. Moreover, upon graduation the initiates were presented with certificates and in 1997 the number of supporters had grown and ARPs became popular in Meru. Since it was first introduced in Meru, it has been replicated in different parts of the country especially in communities where FGM/C is prevalent such as among the Maasai (Kassim 2014; Parsitau 2017a, b); the Samburu (Mepukori 2016); the Gucha, Kuria, Kisii (Oloo et al., 2011), the Tugen (Chebet 2009), the Pokots, Marakwet (Gitagno 2015; and the Kipsigis. By April 2001, it was said that approximately 3000 girls from these communities had participated as initiates and graduated through these programs (Droy et al., 2018; Hughes 2018; Parsitau 2017a, b). In the last nearly two and a half decades, Alternative Rites of Passage (ARPs) have proliferated in East Africa, Kenya, in particular. Forms of ARPs are also practiced elsewhere on the continent, for example, by the REACH project in Uganda (see e.g., Namulondo 2009) and by the NGO Foundation for Research on Women’s Health, Productivity, and the Environment (BAFROW) in the Gambia (Muteshi and Sass 2005). Public declarations, a key component of ARPs graduation ceremonies, are central to the NGO Tostan’s work in Senegal (see O’Neill 2012; Mitchell and Eke, n.d.) and other African countries (for Somalia, see for example World Bank & UNFPA 2004). Others affirmed their authority within the community by teaching initiates how to behave as proper women, wives, and daughters-in law. Jonneke Koomen also notes, in a discussion of campaigns against FGM in northern Tanzania, that Maasai communities do not regard FGM as “an isolated event” but as part of generational rites that “help to establish pastoralist gender roles and communal identities.” Miroslava Prazak (2007) makes similar points. By the end of the 1990s to date, Alternative Rites of Passage (ARPs) were not only replicated in different parts of the African continent but they also became a model for fighting FGM/C. They have also remained increasingly popular with NGOs and donors (Anti-FGM Board media Reports). Yet and as Droy et al. (2018) aptly observes, “ARPs remains highly under-researched, both by scholars and development practitioners, and research access is difficult to negotiate because of the alleged ‘sensitivity’ surrounding them. However, this is belied by the keenness with which NGOs invite media coverage, and give journalists access to vulnerable girls without subjecting them to any vetting procedures.” Studies carried out by or for NGOs or other aid organizations include, for example, Chege, Askew and Liku (2001); Döcker (2011); and Oloo, Wanjiru and Newell-Jones (2011). However, many of these studies (including the more scholarly ones) do not include much in-depth analysis, provide very sketchy information about what actually happens, and fail to explain the meaning of the so called cultural components of ARP (Droy et al. 2018). Some have been touted and celebrated by NGOs and international donors “as successful alternatives to female initiation into womanhood, but without female genital mutilation/cutting. In these ceremonies and the instruction that usually precedes them, “girls” human rights and cultural rights (manifested in teachings and

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ritual elements that aim to mimic the cultural traditions of the community concerned) are intertwined in one social space” (Droy et al., 2018; Hughes 2018; Parsitau 2017a). Drawing on AMFREF’s ARP model from Kenya, the sections below explore how ARPs are working in Kenya as well as shine light on some of the tensions they engender.

AMREF Alternative Rites of Passage Model Among the Maasai and Samburu of Kenya Since 2009, the African Medical Research Education Foundation (AMREF) Health Africa rolled out a series of ARPs among the Maasai and Samburu People of Kenya. AMREF pinned its hope on these rites as a viable alternative to FGM/C. ARPS were intended as a rite that mimics the original female circumcision but without the “cut” (Parsitau 2017a, b; Hughes 2018; Droy et al. 2018) and delay marriage for young adolescent Maasai girls. Among the Maasai People, FGM is a precursor to marriage (Parsitau 2017b). Like other similar models popular in East Africa, the AMREF model is said to work by sensitizing communities: men, women, youth/warriors, mothers, traditional circumcisers, religious leaders, and other stakeholders to abandon the harmful cut. AMREF has touted this rite as successful and are said to have “saved” hundreds of girls from FGM/C. For example, it is alleged that AMREF in conjunction with the Kenyan government has trained over 937 young men popularly known as Morans who have denounced FGM/C and have become change agents who go out and fight FGM/C in deep and remote villages in Maasai land (Parsitau 2017a). It is also suggested that since the inception of these rites among the Maasai people, more than 16,000 girls have undergone their training programs and graduated without undergoing the cut (AMREF Media Centre). Yet, that impact does not appear to reflect the situation on the ground where FGM/C in the two counties of Kajiado and Narok as well as Samburu still stands at 77.9% according to the (KDHS 2014). Ethnographic studies of the appropriation of ARPs among the Maasai and Samburu people since their inceptions in the early 1990s suggest that they are steeped with rejection, resistance, and some sort of reluctant acceptance. For example, a study of Maasai and Samburu (Mepukori 2016; Kassim 2014; Parsitau 2017a, b) Peoples’ perception of ARPs in Narok County suggests that there is both acceptance but also high resistance to the programs. Although NGOs and donors tout ARPs as not just highly successful but also a one-size fit all program for pubescent girls, reality at the grassroots paints a grimmer picture, a picture of resistance and suspicions by communities who view these rites as an outside imposition by people who have different agenda (Parsitau 2017a). Our study further revealed not just some reluctant acceptance but also deep and simmering tensions among communities that have resisted ARPs as an imposition from outside while others dismiss them as a public relations exercise to appease donors and the international community. At the same time and despite the fact that the AMREF model strongly suggests community buy-in and support, evidence shows the contrary. Statistics on the

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prevalent of FGM among these two communities still stands at nearly 80 per cent (Parsitau 2017a). ARPs also raise important questions around issues of the sustainability of these programs for vulnerable girls and women in communities where FGM/C is prevalent. Studies as well as our own observations based on field research indicate that significant number of girls who graduate from the much touted ARPs programs go back to the villages where they succumb to FGM/C due to incredible pressure from families, friends, and peers. There is tremendous stigma associated with being uncircumcised among these two communities where FGM is the norm as already said. Young girls who graduate from ARPs are often ridiculed by peers and shunned by men from their communities. Such strong societal pressure presents huge challenge to young girls, many of whom are forced to undergo the cut to gain acceptance in their community (Parsitau 2018; Hughes 2018; Droy et al. 2018). At the same time, there are no studies to the best of our knowledge that have followed up on the thousands of girls who are said to have graduated from ARP programs to find out if they succumbed to pressure to undergo the cut or not. There have also been questions raised about the motives of such programs given that their end result is only helping girls to avoid the cut but do not seem to work on changing social and gender norms that continue to perpetuate the practice. Also, the drivers of FGM/C as well as the social and cultural significance of FGM/C do not seem to feature high on the agenda of ARP programs we have reviewed especially among Maasai people. Based on out field research, we suggest that NGO reports need to be evaluated, not just ethnographic data but also external evaluation to determine the actual impact of ARPs as opposed to an imagined or exaggerated impact usually projected by NGOs. Besides, such programs that are hardly ever evaluated by external researchers seem exaggerated compared to the real situation on the ground. Such claims we suggest need to be supported by evidence-based research as well as lived experiences of narratives of graduates who were supposedly “saved” from FGM/C. More importantly, there is need to deeply understand community resistance, list of all public resistance of FGM/C and ARPs. Space precludes us from describing this at greater length but resistance to ending FGM/C among the Maasai people as already reported has manifested in public protests by women about what they consider as “an erosion of their long standing cultural values.” Many such programs have largely failed to eradicate FGM/C nor led to any tangible social or gendered change. Neither training or sensitization nor legislation as central as they are in attempts to abandon the cut has been effective. And while there is some decline in the incidences of FGM/C in some communities, tangible success will be a consequence of larger social changes including the role of education in FGM/C abandonment (Hughes 2018; Droy et al. 2018). There is also need to rethink and unpack community resistance and what that means for the planners of such programs. Communities that resist ARPs cite exclusion from the planners of such programs while many view it as an imposition by stakeholders, mainly NGOs and international organizations (Kassim 2014; Parsitau 2017a, b). Studies among the Maasai show that they feel excluded in the planning, formulation, and implementation of these programs (Kassim 2014). But

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there is also need for planners and implementers to observe cultural sensitivity in their program formulation and implementation. Some studies blame the lack of cultural sensitivities towards the Maasai culture and traditions, for example, as one reason APRs have failed to eradicate FGM in the Maasai community (Parsitau 2017a, b). Maasai people have also claimed that outsiders have sought to image Maasai culture as backward, irrational, and ignorant. They have expressed these frustrations publicly and are pushing back on what they perceive as an onslaught on their culture and traditions. In Kenya, for example, there have been several recent cases of young married women “choosing” to undergo FGM/C, reportedly because they could not face the discrimination and marginalization they have suffered as a result of not being “cut,” as well as cases of women forced to undergo the cut during labor and childbirth. Grown women who voluntarily undergo FGM/C because of bride wealth, so they can take care of their sons when they undergo the male cut so they can be accepted in the community also need to be unpacked. Uncut women in some Kenyan communities cannot participate in family and community rituals because they are considered as immature. This places incredible pressure on such young women so they can gain community acceptance and respectability. In December 2017, Dandelion Africa reported that over 50 women underwent the cut in Rongai and Mogotio areas of Baringo County in Kenya Rift Valley alone in a span of one week, so they can participate in family and community rituals. Similarly, six women between the ages of 18 and 24 years were arrested at Sachangwan village in Molo Sub County and later, doctors who examined them confirmed that indeed, they had undergone FGM/C. For such groups, ARPs are not applicable and cannot be a solution. Related to the above is the fact that there is no standard ARP curriculum with each NGO creating and implementing its own. There is need for a harmonized curriculum but one that can be contextualized to the particular needs of the community it is being implemented for. Questions have equally been asked about the one-size fit all question of ARPs. They certainly do not always apply to different groups and situations. ARPs, for example, are not relevant for communities where girls are cut when they are infants or grown women. FGM/C draws legitimacy and justification from complex and multidimensional socio-cultural and religious factors. It is embedded in cultural traditions that hold a symbolic meaning in communities that view it as a rite of passage. Yet, for local communities in which the practice remains endemic, the psychological implications of not undergoing circumcision equally place a heavy burden on such women and girls. The stigma, loss of cultural identity, the lack of acceptance and ostracism, anxiety, and being constantly taunted by peers result in mental anguish for such women and girls (Hughes 2018; Droy et al. 2018). In communities like the Maasai where the rite is linked to marriageability, failure to undergo the cut results in exclusion from society putting women at social and economic disadvantage since they often depend on their husbands for economic sustenance. ARPs are one element of longer-term strategies that include community education, awareness-raising, the empowerment of girls and women, and law enforcement. There is no standard curriculum for ARPs and individual NGOs created their own models. ARPs are

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touted by the NGOs that organize them and by other stakeholders including development agencies and donors as a viable alternative to girls’ initiation but without FGM/C’ (Droy et al. 2018). In conclusion we argue that on the surface, ARPs appears to be working but they are far from being effective. Further research is needed to understand and unpack these rites as well as the tensions they engender with communities.

Conclusion FGM/C is a complex issue that is deeply embedded in the societies where it is practiced. It has also been outlawed in a number of African countries. While criminalization of FGM/C is generally acknowledged as an important step in the global strategy toward its eradication, most experts would agree that anti-FGM/C legislation alone cannot solve the problem. The absence of a decrease of prevalence of FGM/C in many countries where it has been outlawed raises serious questions. There is also growing critiques about the way they are being implemented. At the same time, there have been unintended consequences of the criminalization of FGM, namely, its increased medicalization as well as cross border FGM. Both present new challenges in the fight against FGM/C. Similarly, NGO led solutions such as ARPs equally present huge challenges even as communities struggle to embrace such rites. What NGOs and Governments have failed to appreciate in the fight against FGM/C is the deeply entrenched meaning of these traditional rituals in communities’ psyche that presents challenges to any eradication strategy. In this chapter, we have highlighted the complexities and tensions in ant-FGM/C strategies in global, regional and local perspective. We argue that there is need to embrace new frameworks that integrate both legal and community perspectives and buy-in into antiFGM/C legislation and other interventions otherwise both legislation and ARPs will stall and FGM/C will continue to put many girls and young women at risk. More importantly is the need to all communities to come up with strategies that puts them at the center of not just anti-FGM eradication strategies but also conversations around social and gender norms that are meaningful to them.

References 28 Too Many 2018 and Reuters 2018. http://www.trust.org/contentAsset/raw-data/1e5a2969-bd564fc3-8034-5409fd161175/file accessed 08/06/20 28 Too Many 2018: The Law and FGM; An Overview of 20 African Countries, September 2018., https://www.28toomany.org/static/media/uploads/Law%20Reports/the_law_and_fgm_v1_(sep tember_2018).pdf. Accessed 30 May 2020. 28toomany. (2018). Somalia: The Law and FGM. https://www.28toomany.org/static/media/ uploads/Law%20Reports/somalia_law_report_(july_2018).pdf Berg, R. C., Denison, E. (2019). Interventions to reduce the prevalence of Female Genital Mutilation/Cutting in African countries. Campbell Systematic Reviews 2012, 9. https://doi.org/ 10.4073/csr.2012.9.

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Chebet, S. (2009). Chebet, S. (2005) “Tumdo Ne Leel” A coming of age concept annual report for 2003–2004. Retrived on September 10, 2012 from http://eldoretinfo.com Chege, J. N., Askew, I., & Liku, J. (2001). An assessment of the alternative rites approach for encouraging abandonment of Female Genital Mutilation in Kenya. Washington, DC: Frontiers in Reproductive Health and Population Council. Droy, L., et al. (2018). The use of alternative rights of passage in FGM/C abandonment campaigns in Africa: A research opportunity (Leicester University series). https://www.researchgate.net/ publication/326956650_Alternative_Rites_of_Passage_in_FGMC_Abandonment_Cam paigns_in_Africa_A_research_opportunity. Accessed 08 June 2020. Frontiers. (2006). Reproductive health update trainings for health Workers in North Eastern Province: Training health care providers as change agents. Nairobi: Frontiers, Population Council. Gitagno, J. F. (2015). Effects of alternative rite of passage on girls’ education among the Keiyo community of Elgeyo Marakwet County, Kenya. Masters, Egerton University. Graamans, E. P., et al (2019, January). Lessons learned from implementing alternative rites in the fight against Female Genital Mutilation/Cutting. Pan African Medical Journal. Hughes, L. (2018). Alternative rites of passage: Faith, rights, and performance in FGM/C abandonment campaigns in Kenya. African Studies, 77(2), 274–292. International Centre for Research on Women (ICRW). (2016). Report; Leveraging Education to Education to End FGM/C worldwide; Author. Kangethe, S. M. (2013). The panacea and perfidy of cultural rites of circumcision in African countries: Examples from Kenya Botswana and South Africa. Social Science Research Review, 29(1), 107–123. Kassim, S.S. (2014). The attitudes of Maasai parents towards alternative rites of passage of girls in Central Division, Narok County, Kenya. Masters, University of Nairobi. Mepukori, D. N. (2016). Is alternative rites of passage the key to abandonment of female genital cutting? A case study of the Samburu of Kenya. BA, Duke University. Mitchell, L., & Eke, C. (n.d.). Alternatives to Female Genital Mutilation in Western Africa. Available at: http://web.stanford.edu/group/womenscourage/FGM/chibuzo_lily_FGM_paper. html. Accessed 2 Apr 2018. Muteshi, J., & Sass, J. (2005). Female Genital Mutilation in Africa. An analysis of current abandonment approaches. Nairobi: PATH. Namulondo, J. (2009). A case of the Sabiny in Kapchowra District, Uganda. MA, Universities of Trømso, Gothenburg and Roehampton. O’Neill, S. (2012). Defying the law, negotiating change. The Futanke’s opposition to the national ban on FGM in Senegal. PhD, University of London. Oloo, H., Wanjiru, M., & Newell-Jones, K. (2011). Female Genital Mutilation practices in Kenya: The role of alternative rites of passage. A case study of Kisii and Kuria districts. London: Feed the Minds. Parsitau, D. S. (2017a). Engaging the custodians of tradition and culture: Leveraging the role multiple actors in Maasai Girls’ Education (Global Scholars Policy Brief). Washington, DC: Center for Universal Education (CUE), Brookings Institutions. https://www.brookings.edu/ research/engaging-the-custodians-of-tradition-and-culture-leveraging-the-role-of-multipleactors-in-maasai-girls-education/. Accessed 08 June 2020. Parsitau, D. S. (2017b). How young men can change gender and social norms of the Maasai people to support girls education. https://www.brookings.edu/blog/education-plus-development/2017/ 11/07/how-young-men-can-change-gender-and-social-norms-of-the-maasai-people-to-supportgirls-education/. Accessed 08 June 2020. Parsitau, D. S. (2018). How Outlawing FGM has driven it underground and led to its Medicalization in Kenya. Brookings Institutions’ Blog Series Forthcoming June 20, 2018. https://www. brookings.edu/blog/education-plus-development/2018/06/19/how-outlawing-femalegenital-mutilation-in-kenya-has-driven-it-underground-and-led-to-its-medicalization/. Accessed 08 June 2020.

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Population Reference Bureau (PRB). (2013). Ending Female Genital Mutilation/Cutting; Lessons from a decade of progress. www.prb.org Prazak, M. (2007). Introducing alternative rites of passage. Africa Today, 53(4), 19–40. Shell-Duncan, B. (2008). From health to human rights: Female genital cutting and the politics of intervention. American Anthropologist, 110(2), 225–236. The Standard Newspaper. (2014). Over 500 Maasai Women Protest FGM Ban, June 2014. https://www.standardmedia.co.ke/article/2000123627/over-500-maasai-women-protest-fgm-ban. Accessed 08 June 2020. The Star Newspaper. (2018). Call to Inspect Narok School Girls for FGM Causes Aproar! https:// www.the-star.co.ke/news/2019-01-04-call-to-inspect-narok-schoolgirls-for-fgm-causes-uproar/ . Accessed 08/06/2020. UNFPA 2015 UNFPA/UNICEF. (2013). Joint evaluation of the UNFPA-UNICEF Joint Programme on Female Genital Mutilation/Cutting (FGM/C): Accelerating change (2008–2012). Country Case Study: Kenya. No place of publication given. United Nations Children’s Fund (UNICEF). (2013). Female Genital Mutilation/Cutting: A statistical overview and exploration of the dynamics of change. New York: UNICEF. World Bank/UNFPA. (2004). Female Genital Mutilation/Cutting in Somalia. No place of publication.

The Response to Gender-Based Violence in Africa

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Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Gender-Based Violence During the Colonial Period . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Gender-Based Violence in Postindependence Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

While there is variation within and across countries, gender-based violence is widespread in Africa and girls and women are disproportionately affected by this violence. Increasingly, states are responding to this violence due to pressure from women’s rights activists and from international organizations. This has resulted in the adoption of laws, the creation of policies, and the establishment of specialized mechanisms such as gender units within police stations to address the problem. However, states have not responded evenly and there is a deficit in the implementation of progressive laws and policies. This chapter draws on examples from across the continent to discuss the prevalence of various forms of gender-based violence and how state and nonstate actors have responded to this violence. It concludes with an argument for the provision of social, health, and legal services to survivors of gender-based violence, in addition to the strengthening of the criminal justice system. Keywords

Gender-based violence · Violence against women · Police · Court · Customary justice P. A. Medie (*) University of Bristol, Bristol, UK e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_105

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Introduction Although the definition continues to be debated, gender-based violence describes violence perpetrated against people because of their gender. According to the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR), “Sexual and gender-based violence (SGBV) refers to any act that is perpetrated against a person’s will and is based on gender norms and unequal power relationships. It encompasses threats of violence and coercion. It can be physical, emotional, psychological, or sexual in nature, and can take the form of a denial of resources or access to services. It inflicts harm on women, girls, men and boys” (UNHCR 2019). This violence includes intimate partner violence, nonpartner sexual violence, human trafficking, and early and forced marriage. Gender-based violence also includes economic and psychological abuse and although boys and men are victims of some forms of gendered violence, girls and women are disproportionately victimized. Indeed, global statistics suggests that girls and women in Africa are subjected to some of the highest levels of intimate partner violence as well as sexual violence globally (World Health Organization 2013). Thus, although there is variation across and within countries in Africa, the level of violence against women (a form of gender-based violence) on the continent is high. Increasingly, African countries are passing new laws and amending existing ones to address various forms of gender-based violence (Adomako Ampofo 2008; Crawford and Anyidoho 2013; Darkwah and Prah 2016; Medie 2020; Tripp et al. 2009; Tsikata 2009). Thus, countries have passed laws to criminalize acts such as intimate partner violence, rape, and early marriage. Some countries have also established specialized criminal justice sector mechanisms to address gender-based violence (Medie 2020; Medie and Walsh 2019). These include specialized police units, prosecutorial units, and courts, to respond to various forms of gender-based violence. While these measures have produced some improvements in survivor’s access to formal justice, most survivors still face barriers when trying to access the formal criminal justice system and many who succeed in accessing this system end up dissatisfied with the treatment they receive and with how their complaints are resolved (Medie 2017). Thus, most victims of gender-based violence have not benefited from the progressive laws and specialized criminal justice sector mechanisms that have been established. Indeed, in many countries, the majority of survivors of gender-based violence rely on informal mechanisms such as customary courts. This chapter, therefore, examines how formal and customary laws have responded to gender-based violence within Africa and the challenges to addressing the problem in the formal criminal justice system. It begins with a discussion of gender-based violence in Africa, highlighting its presence during colonialism. It also discusses how formal and informal mechanisms have responded to various forms of gender-based violence in the pre- and postcolonial periods. I explain that formal and customary legal systems are often in tension when it comes to gender-based violence and argue that while formal law has advanced, implementation is lagging behind, resulting in barriers to survivors’ access to justice. The chapter concludes with a discussion of how the state can more effectively address gender-based violence in Africa and increase survivors’ access to justice.

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Gender-Based Violence During the Colonial Period Various forms of gender-based violence existed in most societies and were prevalent in some countries, or in specific regions of African countries. While men were also victims of this violence, studies suggest that girls and women were disproportionately victimized and were, therefore, victims of various forms of gender-based violence within and outside of the home. Intimate partner violence, which is termed “domestic violence” in many anglophone African countries, was one of the most common forms of gender-based violence to which women were subjected. This violence describes “physical, sexual, and emotional abuse and controlling behaviors by an intimate partner” (World Health Organization 2012). This violence had, and continues to have, wide-ranging deleterious effects. Magistrate court records from South Africa reveal that this violence sometimes ended in murder (Thornberry 2015). Colonial court records in Kenya and Nyasaland from 1920 to 1956 show that “domestic violence was one of the most commonly attributed reasons for murder” (Hynd 2015). However, even when this violence did not end in death, it affected women’s lives in many ways. In Liberia, it was one of the most common reasons for divorce within customary marriages and one of its main causes was girls’ and women’s failure to adhere to patriarchal gender norms (Medie 2020). Writing about the southeastern part of the country, Schwab and Harley (1947, p. 175) states that a wife risked a “sound beating” from her husband for reasons that include: “disrespect and imprudence, disobedience, bad or indifferent cooking, barrenness, flirtation, refusal to marry (care for and live with) her husband.” Indeed, this violence has been used to reinforce male power and to punish girls and women who are perceived to have defied this power. These examples demonstrate how expectations about girls’ and women’s place in the home and society rendered them vulnerable to gender-based violence. Patriarchal gender norms within society were at the foundation of this violence, although it was also exacerbated by other social, economic, and political pressures. For example, in French Sudan, the end of slavery disrupted domestic relations by forcing women into new domestic roles. When women resisted these new domestic roles, they were sometimes subjected to violence by their partner (Burrill and Roberts 2015). This example shows how political and economic phenomena, both global and local, affected the occurrence of intimate partner violence and other forms of gender-based violence. Indeed, gender-based violence was closely tied to the colonial project in Africa. Historical documents reveal sexual violence perpetrated by colonial officials and by the African troops under their command. During the Mau Mau Rebellion in Kenya, British soldiers of the Royal Engineers were investigated and, in some cases, prosecuted for raping Kenyan women (Andersen and Weis 2018). Soldiers of the Kenyan Home Guard were also implicated in abuses such as the rape of women (Andersen and Weis 2018). King Leopold II’s brutal and inhumane rule of the Congo Free State was marked by rape and sexual torture of Congolese girls and women committed by Belgian colonial officials and the troops under their command (Mertens 2016). However, colonial officials and troops were not the only

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perpetrators of sexual violence. Studies show sexual violence against women by nonstate actors as well. For example, court records from the Eastern Cape of South Africa from 1847 to 1902 reveal that men committed the practice of ukuzuma, which was the act of having sexual relations with a sleeping woman (Thornberry 2015). The victim and perpetrator usually had “no prior intimate relationship” (p. 102). These are but some examples of forms of gender-based violence during this period. Furthermore, while the literature mostly covers female victims, men were also victims of gender-based violence, including sexual violence. Rape was criminalized in some countries during the colonial period. Intimate partner violence was not recognized as a category of crime but could be prosecuted under laws on assault. These laws were generally modeled after those of the colonizing country and were sometimes replicas of these laws. While in most countries, gender-based violence was rarely reported to the state, records show that instances of sexual violence were brought before formal courts and were prosecuted. For example, rape cases were prosecuted by courts in the Eastern Cape. In Liberia, women, sometimes, with the support of their parents and other relatives, brought intimate partner violence cases before the courts (Medie 2012). These incidents of intimate partner violence often came to light during divorce proceedings as it was often one of the reasons for which the women were seeking divorce. However, they often faced a difficult time in the courts, as the law and the officials enforcing the law, favored men. It is partly for this reason that most women relied on informal justice mechanisms. Indeed, the majority of cases were adjudicated within families or customary courts. Few Africans relied on the state to address gender-based violence or other forms of offences and crimes. However, survivors’, families, and communities’ responses to each form of violence differed across communities and countries. Thus, there is no singular experience of men and women in family palavers and other family gatherings, customary courts, and other informal forums. Among some ethnic groups in Liberia, the focus in cases of intimate partner violence was often on reconciliation except where the violence was deemed severe (Medie 2012). In such cases, parents might encourage or support their daughter to leave an abusive relationship. Customary courts also generally emphasized reconciliation, although not in all cases. Gibbs (1986) describes a case in a Kpelle chief’s court in which a man is accused of assaulting his wife, causing a cut on her head. According to Gibbs (1986), the chief was displeased because the woman’s blood had been spilled during the altercation. He explains that among the Kpelle, “life force is felt to be largely located in the blood; therefore, a wound which breaks the skin and causes blood to flow is considered to be very serious” (p. 284). The chief underlines this point when he states that, “You little boy, what kind of wrong thing can a woman do to make you cut her? You cut her without a reason and you shed her blood. You people had better try to make a sacrifice with a cow. You were not right to cut her” (p. 284). This is just one example of a customary court adjudicating a case of intimate partner violence and it is one in which the female victim received some support. However, this was not always the case in this or in other communities. Just as the formal courts were often not sympathetic to female victims, informal forums such as customary courts

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also sometimes mirrored this treatment. The postindependence period, especially since the 1980s, has witnessed an improved state response to gender-based violence against male and female victims but the state remains a threat, and even when progressive laws exist on the books, there is usually a major implementation deficit. Most incidents of gender-based violence are not reported to a formal agency such as the police but are adjudicated within informal forums. While civil society actors have tried to influence the behavior of actors within informal forums, many problems persist, and evidence suggests that the majority of survivors of various forms of gender-based violence rarely get the justice they seek.

Gender-Based Violence in Postindependence Africa Increasing attention to gender-based violence by researchers and activists has provided more insight into the problem and allowed for comparisons across countries. Therefore, there is more information on incidents of gender-based violence, on victimization, on the social, health, and legal measures that are in place, and on how actors in formal and informal forums respond to the problem. Demographic and health surveys conducted across Africa have provided comparable data on genderbased violence, particularly violence against women. They show that intimate partner violence is often the most prevalent form of gender-based violence to which women are subjected. For example, in Zimbabwe’s 2015 Demographic and Health Survey, 14% of women aged 15–49 reported that they had experienced sexual violence at some point in their lives. Eight percent had experienced sexual violence in the 12 months preceding the study. Conversely, 45% of ever-married women reported that they had experienced physical, sexual, or emotional violence by their current or most recent partner. Of this figure, 30% reported that they had experienced this violence in the preceding 12 months either sometimes (21%) or often (9%) (Zimbabwe National Statistics Agency and ICF International 2016). However, there are instances where sexual violence is more prevalent. In Burundi’s 2016–2017 Demographic and Health Survey, 17.9% of females above the age of 15 surveyed reported that they had experienced physical violence in the 12 months preceding the study (2017). The figure for sexual violence was 18.9%, and for psychological violence was 16.5%. The higher level of sexual violence could be connected to the resurgence of political violence in the country since 2015. Data also suggest that the level of some forms of gender-based violence has not changed significantly over time. For example, Zimbabwe’s 2016 Demographic and Health Survey (ZDHS) states that, “36 percent of women age 15–49 reported having ever experienced physical violence since age 15 in the 2005-06 ZDHS, 30 percent in the 2010–11 ZDHS, and 35 percent in the 2015 ZDHS” (Zimbabwe National Statistics Agency and ICF International 2016 (p. 318). Nonetheless, just as there is variation across countries, there often is variation within countries. For example, Benin’s 2017–2018 Demographic and Health Survey revealed that while 51% of girls and women between the ages of 15 and 49 in relationships had experienced intimate partner violence in the department of Atacora in the north-west of the

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country, the figure was 36% in the department of Littoral in the south-east (Institut National de la Statistique et de l’Analyse Économique and ICF 2019). It is also important to note that in most African countries, the perpetrators of sexual violence against girls and women are partners and other men who are known to the victim. For example, in Zimbabwe, “Among women age 15–49 who ever experienced sexual violence, 55 percent reported that the perpetrator was their current husband/partner and 30 reported their former husband/partner” (Zimbabwe National Statistics Agency and ICF International 2016 p. 319). Both intimate partner violence and nonpartner sexual violence have been exacerbated by conflict. In civil wars across the continent, government and rebel forces have committed widespread torture and rape. In Liberia’s Montserrado County, 49% of 205 girls and women surveyed reported that they had experienced at least one act of physical or sexual violence between 1989 and 1994 at the hands of combatants (Swiss et al. 2008). Research also shows that boys and men are also victims of conflict-related sexual violence. In Johnson et al. (2010) population-based survey in North and South Kivu in the DRC, 39.7% of women and 23.6% of men surveyed reported lifetime exposure to sexual violence. Of these figures, 74.3% of women and 64.5% of men reported exposure to conflict-associated sexual violence. These figures and figures from other conflicts show that sexual violence against boys and men is also a major problem. Writing about male rape in northern Uganda, Schulz (2018) explains that “although women and girls were disproportionately affected by gender-based violence throughout the course of the conflict, during the early stages of the war sexual violence against men was geographically widespread enough for the Acholi population to invent a new term to describe this tactic: tek-gungu” (p. 1109). Esuruku (2012 cited in Schulz 2018) discusses this term and the dynamics of the violence. However, sexual violence against men has been understudied and received significantly less attention from policymakers and humanitarian agencies. Similarly, intimate partner violence has received comparatively less attention despite its prevalence in conflict-affected settings. In fact, research has shown that in some conflicts, intimate partner violence is more prevalent than nonpartner sexual violence. Hossain et al. (2014) found that the perpetrators of most forms of violence against women in rural areas in the course of the country’s first civil war were people that were close to them, including partners, relatives, and acquaintances. Okello and Hovil (2007) found that intimate partner violence was a major problem in displacement camps in Uganda. It has been argued that conflict exacerbates some of the causes of intimate partner violence such as poverty, rendering women particularly vulnerable during this period (Carlson 2005). The effects of this violence are wide-reaching and extend beyond the conflict (Medie 2019). Furthermore, it has been argued that conflict erodes the protections that are available to women and that contribute to preventing intimate partner violence (Blay-Tofey and Lee 2015). Morkeh Blay-Tofey and Bandy Lee in their study of Côte d’Ivoire found that “The conflict affected potential services that exist for women such as village chiefs or elders, family networks, peace committees, and hospitals” (p. 345). Indeed, most survivors, both male and female, lack access to formal and customary justice mechanisms during conflicts. Thus, the aftermath of

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conflicts has seen more laws being introduced and institutions created to address gender-based violence. Tripp et al. (2009) found that postconflict African countries had adopted more women friendly legislation. For example, Liberia amended its rape law in 2005, introducing harsher penalty for rapists. However, progress has not been limited to postconflict states as other African countries have also adopted gender-based violence laws in the past two decades. Female genital mutilation is one form of genderbased violence that has been criminalized in several African countries. In Guinea’s most recent Demographic and Health Survey, 95% of women between the ages of 15–49 reported that they had undergone some form of the practice. The survey also found that the level of female genital mutilation was high regardless of the area of residence, ethnicity, region, or income level (Institut National de la Statistique and ICF 2018). Women organizing domestically have been behind the introduction of new laws and the strengthening of existing ones (Adomako Ampofo 2008; Anyidoho et al. 2020; Crawford and Anyidoho 2013; Darkwah and Prah 2016; Tripp et al. 2009; Tsikata 2009). In Ghana, the Domestic Violence Coalition, which included women’s organizations, was behind the adoption of the country’s 2009 Domestic Violence Bill (Adomako Ampofo 2008; Anyidoho et al. 2020; Crawford and Anyidoho 2013; Darkwah and Prah 2016; Tsikata 2009). They adopted a variety of strategies to place pressure on the government, including protest marches (Anyidoho et al. 2020). Pressure and support from international organizations have also contributed to states’ adoption of gender-based violence laws and policies (Medie 2013). For example, the United Nations has provided expertise to support some postconflict states in creating National Action Plans for the implementation of UN Security Council Resolution 1325 on Women, Peace, and Security. In some countries, women’s activism has also contributed to the establishment of specialized criminal justice sector mechanisms to address gender-based violence. These mechanisms include specialized police units, courts, and prosecutorial units. These units became popular in Latin America in the 1990s and have since been promoted by the United Nations which has funded their establishment in several countries. Countries that have established these mechanisms include Ghana, Liberia, and Côte d’Ivoire. Indeed, postconflict states have made progress in establishing these mechanisms and have adopted a variety of models. Rwanda’s Isange One-StopCentre has been lauded as a best practice. The Centre employs a multisectoral approach, working with health, social, and legal services and the police. Liberia has established the most specialized mechanisms with a specialized rape court (Criminal Court E), the Women and Children Protection Section of the police force, the Sexual and Gender Based Violence Unit of the police force, and the GBV unit of the Ministry of Justice. The country’s women’s movement influenced the performance of officers in the Women and Children’s Protection Section through the training provided, by reforming the rape law, and by monitoring police performance (Medie 2013, 2020). The specialized mechanisms have been found to improve the criminal justice response to gender-based violence and the treatment that survivors receive. According to the United Nations Fund for Women (UNIFEM), “Women’s Police Stations and dedicated gender units help to counter the under-reporting of crimes

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against women that is ubiquitous in patriarchal societies as well as in their police services. By allocating specific resources to deal with gender-based violence, a strong message is sent to the population about the end of the impunity for these crimes” (2007, p. 6). In Liberia, police officers of the Women and Children Protection Section were more likely to view rape as a crime and agree that it should be prosecuted (Medie 2020). Similarly, police officers were more likely to treat domestic violence as a serious offence that should be prosecuted (Medie 2015). However, the specialized units in Liberia and in other African countries faced many challenges and sometimes mirrored the unethical and discriminatory practices found in nonspecialized criminal justice sector agencies. For example, due to a severe lack of resources, police officers in Liberia’s Women and Children Protection Section sometimes requested money from rape and domestic violence victims to transport themselves to the crime scene (Medie 2015). They have also been accused of accepting bribes from perpetrators to compromise rape cases. Where specialized mechanisms do not exist, the situations can be even more dire. Police stations have been known to trivialize women’s complaints and evidence suggests that it is the same for male survivors of violence. The failure to achieve democratic policing contributes to the problem. Furthermore, this failure mirrors weaknesses in other sectors – for example, such as health and education – that are present in many African countries. Indeed, the social and health services available to survivors in most countries are highly inadequate. For example, in Côte d’Ivoire, police insistence on rape survivors submitting costly medical forms made it difficult for most survivors to lodge their complaint and hindered access to justice. The weaknesses in the criminal justice system have contributed to a reliance on informal justice mechanisms. The majority of victims do not report gender-based violence to the state. Instead, these cases are adjudicated in informal forums such as family palavers, customary courts, and by religious leaders. For example, in a study of three Liberian counties, only 1% of domestic violence cases went before a formal forum such as the police (Isser et al. 2009). Indeed, in most countries and communities, the majority of incidents were resolved in informal forums. It has been argued that informal forums are preferred because they are less adversarial and thus, more suitable for communities that prioritize harmony. Corruption in the criminal justice system, inaccessibility, the slow pace of justice, and distrust of the police are other reasons why survivors often do not report gender-based violence to the state (Medie 2018). However, research also shows that women are more likely to report rape when they receive support from family and friends (Medie 2017). Indeed, the reliance on informal justice mechanisms cannot be divorced from the inadequacies of the formal criminal justice system. This suggests that with improved performance within the criminal justice system, survivors of violence are more likely to rely on formal structures. Overall, there is progress as there is increasing recognition of the magnitude of the problem of gender-based violence in many countries, and this is evidenced in changes in the law and in criminal justice sector institutions. Women’s rights advocates working at multiple levels have played a key role in placing the problem on the state’s agenda. International attention to the problem has also placed pressure

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on states and provided resources for action. However, some countries have made more progress than others. Furthermore, evidence suggests that there is a widespread implementation deficit, such that the laws on paper do not benefit many victims of gender-based violence. While the stronger laws and criminal justice sector institutions are only one part of the response to gender-based violence, they are important, and the implementation deficit demonstrates that more needs to be done in Africa.

Conclusion Gender-based violence is a major problem in Africa. Both men and women are victims of this violence, although only girls and women are affected by some forms of gendered violence (e.g., female genital mutilation) and are disproportionality affected by others (e.g., intimate partner violence). Countries have passed laws to address various forms of this violence and have also created specialized criminal justice institutions. However, when disclosed, this violence has mostly been dealt with in informal forums such as family meetings and customary courts. This reliance on informal mechanisms can be partly explained by the weaknesses of the criminal justice system in most African countries. Thus, while there have been introductions of new laws and institutions, and the strengthening of existing ones, there remains a major gap in survivors’ access to justice across the continent. Survivors also struggle to access health care and social and economic services. This points to the need to strengthen the criminal justice system and make it more responsive to the needs of survivors of gender-based violence. It also underlines the need for African countries to devote resources to providing social, health, and legal services to survivors of gender-based violence, both male and female. More attention also needs to be paid to informal forums and how they address gender-based violence. In Côte d’Ivoire, nongovernmental organizations sought to train community chiefs to better handle cases of gender-based violence. Change has been very slow, demonstrating that both states and human rights organizations need to do more to get chiefs and other community actors to prioritize human rights.

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Carlson, S. (2005). Contesting and reinforcing patriarchy: An analysis of domestic violence in the Dzaleka refugee camp (Refugee Studies Centre, 2005: Oxford). Crawford, G., & Anyidoho, N. A. (2013). Ghana: Struggles for rights in a democratizing context. In B. A. Andreassen & G. Crawford (Eds.), Human rights, power and civic action: Comparative analyses of struggles for rights in developing societies (pp. 88–119). London: Routledge. Darkwah, A. K., & Prah, M. (2016). Beyond domestic violence Laws: Women’s experiences and perceptions of protection services in Ghana. Accra: Center for Gender Studies and Advocacy. Esuruku, R. (2012). Peace recovery and development plan for northern Uganda. In M. Okello, C. Dolan, U. Whande, N. Mncwambe, L. Onegi, & S. Ola (Eds.), Where law meets reality: Forging African transitional justice. Cape Town: Pambazuka. Gibbs, J. L. (1986). Poro values and courtroom procedures in a Kpelle chiefdom. Journal of Anthropological Research, 42(3), 279–288. Hossain, M., Zimmerman, C., Kiss, L., Kone, D., Bakayoko-Topolska, M., David Manan, K. A., Lehmann, H., & Watts, C. (2014). Men’s and women’s experiences of violence and traumatic events in rural Côte d’Ivoire before, during and after a period of armed conflict. BMJ Open, 4, 1–9. Hynd, S. (2015). Narratives of spousal killing and domestic violence in murder trials in Kenya and Nyasaland, c. 1930–56. In E. S. Burill, R. L. Roberts, & E. Thornberry (Eds.), Domestic violence and the law in colonial and postcolonial Africa. Athens: Ohio University Press. Institut National de la Statistique (INS) et ICF. (2018). Enquête DÉmographique et de SantÉ en GuinÉe 2018: Indicateurs ClÉs. Conakry/GuinÉe/Rockville: INS et ICF. Institut National de la Statistique et de l’Analyse Économique (INSAE) & ICF. (2019). Enquête DÉmographique et de SantÉ au BÉnin, 2017–2018. Cotonou/BÉnin/Rockville: INSAE and ICF. https://dhsprogram.com/pubs/pdf/FR350/FR350.pdf Isser, D. H., Lubkemann, S. C., & N’Tow, S. (2009). Looking for justice: Liberian experiences with and perceptions of local justice options. Peaceworks, 63. Washington, DC: United States Institute of Peace. Johnson, K., Scott, J., Rughita, B., Kisielewski, M., Astor, J., Ong, R., & Lawry, L. (2010). Association of sexual violence and human rights violations with physical and mental health in territories of the Eastern Democratic Republic of the Congo. Journal of the American Medical Association, 304(5), 553–563. Medie, P. A. (2012). Police behavior in post-conflict states: Explaining variation in responses to domestic violence, human trafficking, and rape. Ph.D. dissertation, University of Pittsburgh. Medie, P. A. (2013). Fighting gender-based violence: The women’s movement and the enforcement of rape law in Liberia. African Affairs, 112(448), 377–397. Medie, P. A. (2015). Women and postconflict security: A study of police response to domestic violence in Liberia. Politics and Gender 11, 478–498. Medie, P. A. (2017). Rape reporting in post-conflict Côte d’Ivoire: Accessing justice and ending impunity. African Affairs, 116(464), 414–434. Medie, P. A. (2018). The police: Laws, prosecutions and women’s rights in Liberia,” in Institutions and democracy in Africa: How the rules of the game shape political development, ed. Nic Cheeseman (Cambridge University Press: Cambridge), 137–159. Medie, P. A. (2019). Women and violence in Africa. In Spear, T. (ed.), Oxford Research Encyclopedia of African History (Oxford University Press: Oxford). Medie, P. A. (2020). Global norms and local action: The campaigns to end violence against women in Africa. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Medie, P. A., & Walsh, S. D. (2019). International organizations, NGOs, and police implementation of domestic violence policies in Liberia and Nicaragua. Politics & Gender. https://doi.org/ 10.1017/S1743923X19000515. (online first). Mertens, C. (2016). Sexual violence in the Congo Free State: Archival traces and present reconfigurations. The Australian Review of African Studies, 37(1), 6–20. Ministère à la PrÉsidence chargÉ de la Bonne Gouvernance et du Plan [Burundi] (MPBGP), Ministère de la SantÉ Publique et de la Lutte contre le Sida [Burundi] (MSPLS), Institut de

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Statistiques et d’Études Économiques du Burundi (ISTEEBU), & ICF. (2017). Troisième Enquête DÉmographique et de SantÉ. Bujumbura: ISTEEBU, MSPLS, et ICF. Okello, M. C., & Hovil, L. (2007). Confronting the reality of gender-based violence in Northern Uganda. International Journal of Transitional Justice, 1(3), 433–443. Schulz, P. (2018). Displacement from gendered personhood: Sexual violence and masculinities in northern Uganda. International Affairs, 94(5), 1101–1119. Schwab, G. & George W. Harley, G. W. (1947). Tribes of the Liberian Hinterland: Report of the Peabody Museum expedition to Liberia (Peabody Museum: Cambridge, MA). Swiss, S., Jennings, P. J., Aryee, G. V., Brown, G. H., Jappah-Samukai, R. M., Kamara, M. S., Schaak, R. D., & Turay-Kanneh, R. S. (2008). Violence against women during the Liberian civil conflict. Journal of the American Medical Association, 279(8), 625–629. Thornberry, E. (2015). Sex, violence, and family in South Africa’s eastern cape. In E. S. Burill, R. L. Roberts, & E. Thornberry (Eds.), Domestic violence and the law in colonial and postcolonial Africa. Athens: Ohio University Press. Tripp, A. M., Casimiro, I., Kwesiga, J., & Mungwa, A. (2009). African women’s movements: Transforming political landscapes. New York: Cambridge University Press. Tsikata, D. (2009). Women’s organizing in Ghana since 1990s: From individual organizations to three coalitions. Development, 52(2), 185–192. United Nations Development Fund for Women (2017). Policy briefing paper: Gender Sensitive police reform in post conflict societies. United Nations Development Fund for Women https:// www.google.com/url?sa¼t&rct¼j&q¼&esrc¼s&source¼web&cd¼&cad¼rja&uact¼8&ved¼2a hUKEwj_stT_j-TqAhUDsXEKHXafDV4QFjAAegQIBRAB&url¼http%3A%2F%2Fwww.undp. org%2Fcontent%2Fdam%2Fundp%2Flibrary%2Fgender%2FGender%2520and%2520CPR%2F Policy%2520briefing%2520paper-%2520Gender%2520Sensitive%2520Police%2520Reform% 2520in%2520Post%2520Conflict%2520Societies.pdf&usg¼AOvVaw2zfBFMOoXUvioc5hRt LpwB United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees. (2019, May 24). Sexual and gender-based violence. United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees. https://www.unhcr.org/sexualand-gender-based-violence.html World Health Organization. (2012). Understanding and addressing violence against women: Intimate partner violence. Geneva: World Health Organization. World Health Organization. (2013). Global and regional estimates of violence against women: Prevalence and health effects of intimate partner violence and non- partner sexual violence. Geneva: World Health Organization. Zimbabwe National Statistics Agency and ICF International. (2016). Zimbabwe demographic and health survey 2015: Final report. Rockville: Zimbabwe National Statistics Agency (ZIMSTAT) and ICF International.

Section VI (Re)Writing African Women's Histories

The sole purpose of this section leading this volume of the Handbook is to question, challenge, and deconstruct the established, malestream histories of African societies with a reformulation of those stories and a foregrounding of African women’s experiences and knowledges, their herstories, in these records, for posterity. The first part of the section partitions the stories geographically and temporally, while the second part of the section is devoted to a critical analysis of the major themes and challenges in the effort of rewriting African women’s, and indeed, all of African history from a gender perspective. The two leading chapters by Christine Saidi adopt a longue durée, comprehensive, state-of-the-art, and multidisciplinary approach to writing the history of African societies. Covering the period from human African origins to 800 CE, with the second chapter extending up to 1900, these two chapters call into question longstanding understandings of gender roles, gender relations, gender concepts, and the gendered history of humankind, and of African societies. Much remains unknown about women’s full-length experience in the transatlantic slave trade as there is a dearth of sources, observes Nemata Blyden. Blyden not only pieces together scarcely available evidence to reconstruct the history of enslaved African women but also explains how gender affected their experience, resistance, and the transformation that the trade wrought on their lives and futures. In the description of precolonial East Africa, Nakanyike B. Musisi also draws on recent innovative scholarship in multiple disciplines to construct a longue durée view of how ecology, trade, war, violence, calamities, institutions of monarchy, motherhood, and spirituality impacted the lives of ordinary and elite women, and how they, in turn, shaped those forces through innovation and contestation. Cyrelene Amoah-Boampong and Cristabel Agyeiwaa assert women’s heterogeneity in precolonial West Africa, from Asante to Mali to Zazzau, whose dynamic and diverse roles in various spheres transformed their societies. Anna Lefatshe Moagi and Butholezwe Mtombeni contend that, contrary to the gender oppression school of historical analysis, Southern African women in the precolonial period featured

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important roles in production, politics, and religion, were independent, controlled their bodies, owned their labor, and determined their destinies. Colonialism would greatly alter these trajectories across the continent, as much scholarship from across the postcolonial world has demonstrated. According to Zahia Smail Salhi and Meriem Bougherira, North African women had to engage two colonial onslaughts – the Arabic/Islamic incursions, and European colonialism of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. North African women became agents of revolutionary change, subverting the stereotype of the passive, submissive North African woman. Similarly, Butholezwe Mtombeni blames the colonial library for wrongly constructing Southern African women as helpless and powerless victims of patriarchal precolonial societies, passive participants in colonialism, and domesticated subjects. East African women who had voice, rights, and respect in their societies had these challenged by the colonial economy’s transformations and political space, explain Susan Mbula Kilonzo and Jethron Ayumbah Akallah. For West African women, colonialism unleashed their dynamic strength against oppression in their famed fierce resistance to colonial rule and their effective nationalist mobilization, according to Gift Ntiwunka and Chibuzor Ayodele Nwaodike. In two refractive chapters, Toyin Falola interrogates the involvement of Nigerian women in politics, the economy, education, and literary works to demonstrate their agency, their significant loss of status over, women’s determined resistance throughout, and the lasting significances. In a regionally comparative and summative chapter, Oluwakemi Abiodun Adesina parses the contexts and relative impact of colonialism and women’s multifaceted encounters and responses to the ideas of empire, public life, social and economic change, anti-colonial struggles, and armed resistance. The remaining chapters in this section critically evaluate the scholarship on writing women’s history and its historiographies. In their articulation of the concept of the Bantu Matrilineal Belt, Christine Saidi, Catherine Cymone Fourshey, and Rhonda M. Gonzalez describe a geographical area of the continent covering up to two-thirds of sub-Saharan Africa, stretching far east, west, north, and south, and having the most communities operating matrilineal principles than any in the world. It is in this context that Saidi et al. prove that biological sex alone was not a means of deciding who could make decisions or wield authority and “power and authority . . . unfold and are expressed in multiple sites within any given society.” Thus, they propose heterarchy rather than hierarchies; cosmic families; and lifestages “as transformational processes that shape access to authority and status in a Bantu historical context” (emphasis in original). The implication of this is that, historically, large parts of Africa operated non-patriarchal, nonhierarchical, decentralized authority systems – a rewriting of the history that fundamentally changes how we think about traditional and contemporary Africa. Funmilayo Idowu Agbaje offers a critical history of colonialism and gender as complex social processes that, in their interaction, produced the altered gender roles, gender identification, and gender stratification in the postcolonial situation. Yolande Bouka critiques the androcentrism in much of the literature within African Studies on anti-colonial resistance, which erases women’s contributions, while the colonial encounter itself defined which spaces of nationalist contestation were taken seriously

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and not, thereby minimizing women’s involvement. Positionality is the lens through which Athambile Masola dissects four letters from four African women from different historical decades. Masola deftly interprets these letters as decolonial sources of knowledge production as the epistolary form was traditionally used by women to subvert their marginalization in public discourse. In the closing chapter of this section of the Handbook, Egodi Uchendu and Zara Emmanuel Kwaghe sum up by highlighting the myriad practical, linguistic, structural, cultural, and political constraints on the production of African women’s histories, and as they rightly conclude, these deficiencies ultimately lead to the distortion of African history in its entirety.

A History of African Women from Origins to 800 CE: Bold Grandmas, Powerful Queens, Audacious Entrepreneurs

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Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . African Concepts of Gender and Gendered Institutions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Bantu Matrilineal Belt-Sidebar . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Eve and Her Grandmother . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Gatherer Becomes the Farmer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Female Power in the Afroasiatic Ancient World . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Circumcision and Labia Stretching-Sidebar . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . West Africa and the Bantu Migration 4500 BCE to 1000 CE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Bantu Grammar-Sidebar . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

Based on the latest research and perception of how most African societies conceptualized gender and gender dynamics, this chapter will examine a very different understanding of women’s and men’s changing positions over a very long time span of African history. Since all humans originated in Africa and did not leave the African continent for at least 70,000 years, much of what is considered “human behavior” started in Africa. This chapter will begin with a brief discussion of African gender concepts and institutions. Since humanity started in Africa, the latest research on social relations among early human beings and the grandmother hypothesis are crucial to understanding gender in Africa over the longue durée of African history. The agricultural revolution, starting about 12,000 years ago in Africa, had ushered in a more sedentary way of life and transformations in gender relations. This is when most African societies began to C. Saidi (*) History Department, Kutztown University of Pennsylvania, Kutztown, PA, USA e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_1

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organize into unilineal clans, and the latest genetic and linguistic evidence indicates that these clans were matrilineal. As the Sahara Desert became drier, centralized societies developed along the Nile River. Both ancient Nubia and Egypt developed more hierarchal societies, yet there were woman leaders, and most women enjoyed a great deal of independence and equality. In the Horn of Africa around 2500 years ago, Axum became an important state, but a local queen and her army led to its demise. Among the seminomadic peoples of Somalia and the Sahara Desert, women play significant positions based on oral traditions. Since a large portion of Africa south of the Sahara is populated by Bantu language-speaking peoples whose social institutions center on gender equity, matrilineal worldviews, and motherhood, a major discussion of the Bantu expansion and Bantu social history closes this chapter. Keywords

Gender in africa · Matrilineal · Patrilineal · Grandmother hypothesis · Bantu matrilineal belt · African social history · African women · African female leaders · Motherhood

Introduction This chapter starts with a new approach to the study of women and gender in African history. Much of the latest historical research shows that women in most African societies prior to 1900 were at least equal and in some cases had more status than African men. It is not surprising that the idea of powerful African women is confusing, since in the popular media African women are often represented as starving creatures holding skeleton babies, victims of “tribal” warfare, or “beasts of burden,” beaten down by African culture. Even after the Kenyan Wangari Maathai won the Nobel Peace Prize, this image of African women, as only downtrodden and oppressed, persists. This myth of African women as powerless within their own societies started with the written accounts by colonial anthropologists, historians, and missionaries about African societies. Later in the 1970s, with very little criticism, feminist scholars, postcolonial historians, and anthropologists perpetuated these misunderstandings. Their combined work has created a myth of universal patriarchy in African societies prior to contact with the West. The belief that all African women are and always have been helpless victims to both African traditions and African men is a dominant concept in the Western imagination and in the writings of anthropologists, development theorists and practitioners, historians, and political scientists. Contact and then subjugation of Africa to European powers starting in the fifteenth continuing through the twentieth centuries have challenged women’s status economically, socially, and politically. The fact that scholars might accept any gender relationship as a given for all times and places across the African continent, with little or no investigation, is a problematic assumption.

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Since the 1990s African and non-African scholars have presented evidence that challenges previous research and presents more African-based understandings of women’s and men’s changing positions over the very long time span of African history. Since all humans originated in Africa and did not leave the African continent for at least 70,000 years, much of what we consider “human behavior” started in Africa. This chapter will begin with a brief discussion of African gender concepts and institutions. The second section will look at the latest research on social relations among early human beings and the grandmother hypothesis. Next the role of gender in the transition of gatherers and hunters to farmers and pastoralist around 12,000 years ago will be discussed. A study of the female rulers among the peoples of North Africa, ancient Egypt, Nubia, and Somalia will follow. Since a large portion of sub-Saharan Africa is populated by Bantu language-speaking peoples, an analysis of Bantu gender concepts will end this chapter.

African Concepts of Gender and Gendered Institutions Today there are over 3000 distinct ethnic groups in Africa, and it is probable that even more existed prior to 1900. This section presents a discussion of African gender concepts. The great diversity of peoples in Africa creates the necessity to make certain generalizations about gender that were true for most African societies before colonialism. There were always exceptions, but for the vast majority of African societies seniority brought more status than gender. Older men and older women had power over younger men and younger women. If an individual were lucky enough to live a long time, she or he would become an elder and thus a powerful person in the community. Social institutions and the conceptualization of gender change over time, in some societies more slowly or quickly than others. Outside forces, such as intruders or environment, and internal contradictions, such as population growth or strong disagreements between groups in a community, can transform gender concepts. Later in this chapter, the history of these changes over time is discussed, but in this section, it is important to introduce the basic concepts of gender in Africa since they are in many ways different from Western norms. In almost all African societies prior to 1900, motherhood was the most important social institution (Oyewumi 2001). In centralized large-scale societies, often, the queen mother had as much or more power than the ruler. In the smaller less centralized societies, women who were grandmothers and postmenopausal were important leaders and helped make the major decisions of the community. Motherhood gave a woman status in almost all African societies, and motherhood did not have to be biological; rather, it could be based on social relations (Stephens 2015). Motherhood and reproduction were highly honored in African societies for religious and social reasons, but there were also long-term economic motivations. Africa has for a long time in human history had lower population densities than any other major continent. Prior to 1900 very few African societies had private

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ownership of land. In centralized large-scale societies, rulers could control access to all the land, and in smaller societies, elders controlled the access to land, but in most African political organization, most people had rights to work it, and no one could sell it. The combination of low population density and community-controlled land meant that the only way Africans could make a surplus was through control of labor. The main way to increase a lineage was through the birth of new members; therefore, motherhood was essential to the development and, sometimes, the survival of a lineage. The more children a lineage had, the more labor it could command; the more labor meant that they could produce more food or other items. Eventually some lineages would become richer and more important than other lineages. African loyalties were to their lineages, and in fact there were no tribes in Africa. These so-called African tribes were a construction of colonialism (Vail 1989). Instead, the largest political unit was the clans, which were a group of lineages that recognized the same original ancestor. Almost all African societies determine a person’s identity and inheritance through their mothers’ lineage or their fathers’ lineage, rarely both as in Western societies. Patrilineal societies are those where one’s lineage and clan are determined through the father’s lineage, and matrilineal societies are those in which identity is determined through the mother’s lineage. Historians who do research on early African history use historical linguistics to analyze social institutions of previous eras. To do this historian linguists have divided African languages into four major language families: Nilo-Saharan, NigerCongo, Afroasiatic, and Khoisan (Ehret 2002). Historical linguistic reconstructions have determined that the people that spoke either Nilo-Saharan or Niger-Congo languages had organized themselves into matrilineal social organization, some as early as 10,000 years ago (Ehret 2002). Many Afroasiatic language speakers were and are matrilineal, but the linguistic evidence of early matrilineal social organization is inconclusive. Most Khoisan speakers in the past were gatherers and hunters and organized into bands, not lineages. Early African civilizations from ancient Egypt, Nubia, to Mali and more recently the Kingdom of the Kongo and the Asante were all organized matrilineally. Thus, in African history, matrilineality appears to be a common form of social organizing even among centralized societies. Africa has more matrilineal societies today than any other part of the world. From the Bantu expansion 5500 years ago, Bantu speakers have been matrilineal, and currently the majority of the matrilineal people are Bantu speakers. In Central and East Africa, most Bantu matrilineal societies were organized around sororal groups (Gonzales 2008; Saidi 2010), which consisted of a grandmother, her sisters, their daughters, and her grandchildren. Marriage was contracted in these matrilineal societies through the institution referred to in anthropological writings as bride service or groom service, and this meant that marriage was a process not just an event. In more recent times, for example, among the Bemba located in modern Zambia, bride service meant that a young man who wanted to have a wife must work for his mother-in-law for five to seven years and during that time also show that he could produce children. He lived with his wife in her sororal group’s village, but he could not speak to, eat with, or even walk on the same path as his mother-in-law. Only when she decided to end mother-in-law avoidance could her son-in-law speak

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to her, eat with her, or have close physical contact. Once mother-in-law avoidance was over, he could take his place as husband and father. In many African societies during earlier periods, the average life-span was around 35 years. This short life-span meant that elder women in the sororal groups controlled both young male labor, because of bride service, and young female labor, since the young wives were junior partners in the sororal groups, during their most productive years (Saidi 2010). In matrilineal societies all the children belonged to the mother’s lineage. Divorce was easy, and the closest male relative for children in a matrilineal society was the mother’s brother. In a matrilineal worldview, an individual’s mother determines a person’s identity, and since the father of the children comes from a different lineage and a different mother, the mother’s brother is by definition the closest male relation. Fatherhood was of course acknowledged and understood. Yet Europeans arriving in Africa after 1800 believed that the nuclear patriarchal family was the only natural form for a family, and once Africans were civilized [sic], matrilineality would become extinct. In a patrilineal society, marriage is secured by bride price. The future husband’s family gives goods, animals, money, or anything of value to the bride’s family. Colonialists incorrectly thought that Africans bought wives, but in reality bride price played two very important roles in patrilineal societies. First, the young woman’s family was compensated both for raising her and for the children she would produce for her husband’s lineage and the loss of children she will not produce for her own lineage. Second, it secured a bond between the two lineages. The young wife would have difficulty divorcing her husband until she had produced a few children since her lineage must pay back the bride price with negotiated deductions for each child. Since the father determines one’s lineage in a patrilineal society, children born into these lineages always belong to the father’s clan even if there was a divorce. Women in patrilineal societies do not always have the same rights and status as women in matrilineal societies, but in most patrilineal lineages, women, especially older women, had a great deal of independence and authority. A young wife in a patrilineal society did not have much status until she started producing children. But when she returned to her home, she had status over the women who married her brothers and her brothers if they were younger (Sacks 1982). In pre-1900 Africa, young women were able to return to their own homes often, since rarely did they marry too far from home. When scholars study gender in African history, they almost always focus on a woman’s role as wife. This is because in Western societies there is a belief that the nuclear family is universal and a spouse is one’s closest relative. To focus too heavily on African wifehood would exclude women’s relationships to their own lineages and gender groupings, which were often a primary source of status and support. African women did not see themselves primarily as wives, but more as sisters, mothers, mothers-in-law, grandmothers, daughters, and lineage members. African women did not become members of their husband’s lineage or change their names, as they generally do in much of Western Europe and the United States. For most African societies, husband and wife were not the most relevant relationship for either a man or a woman; spouses usually look to their relatives or friends for their emotional, social, and financial needs.

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Polygamy is an institution that seems to generate a great deal of controversy, since one man with more than one wife still boggles the Western mind. The idea of polygamy conjures images of men laying on beds while their multiple wives fan them and peels their grapes, and in this myth, the subjugation of women is implied. In a continent where women have a great deal of power, polygamy is quite different from the above Western fantasy. Marriage was not necessarily based on romantic love and was primarily the way to produce children. Children increased the lineage and provided labor and security in old age. In the majority of polygamous households in Africa, each woman had her own house and her own fields and took turns visiting the husband’s house. In African societies prior to 1900, women did a great deal of work each day, and another wife could lessen the burden. In West Africa where women entrepreneurs dominated the markets, polygamy allowed some women to leave their children at home with a sister wife while she traveled and built up her business. In turn she would give the other wife a percentage of the profits. This is not to say that there was never jealousy among wives, but it was often that the husband was at a disadvantage if the women united against him. Polygamy was more prevalent in patrilineal societies, but it was also found in matrilineal societies such as among the Asante. Another very African institution that was found in patrilineal societies, especially those that were producing a lot of wealth, was that of the “female husband” (Amadiume 1987). Within societies where only men could add to their lineages and receive important titles, women who had become wealthy could become female husbands. An older woman, usually divorced, would pay the bride price for a younger woman. This young wife would have a lover and produce children for the female husband; thus the wealthy older woman could start her own lineage as a female husband. The two women married, but this marriage did not imply sex between the two women, since female husbands primarily wanted children so they could start their own lineage. In addition to starting new lineages, the female husband could purchase titles and reap surplus and status from her children. African societies prior to 1900 attempted to create gender equity. Men often had political power, even though there were many female chiefs in both patrilineal and matrilineal societies. Women usually had more authority in religious matters, and they controlled the central religious and educational ceremony, female initiation at puberty. Male elders played the same role in the initiation of young men at puberty. In agricultural societies women managed the technology of planting as well as that of potting, and thus, depending on the society, women could control the key economics of a society. Most African societies believed that when one gender had too much power, society was out of balance, which created chaos. In patrilineal societies throughout Africa, older women formed organizations to counter male misbehaving. If a man beat his wife repeatedly or did anything to harm a pregnant woman or disrespected female elders, these groups of women would use group humiliation to force men to behave. Women would attack a man’s house, sing obscene songs, and even physically abuse the man. African women employed all these traditional tactics later in their battles against colonialism with mixed results.

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The Bantu Matrilineal Belt-Sidebar There are more matrilineal societies in Africa than anywhere else in the world, and the region where most matrilineal peoples live is called the Bantu Matrilineal Belt. The matrilineal belt is a vast area of Bantu-speaking peoples stretching from modern-day Angola in West-Central Africa, east to Democratic Republic of Congo, Zambia, Malawi, Tanzania, and south to Mozambique. Evidence shows that Bantu-descended people, who migrated and settled across those regions, historically shared a set of institutions, practices, and worldviews that privileged tracing of inheritance and identity through one’s mother’s lineage (Fourshey et al. 2017).

Eve and Her Grandmother How far in the past were African concepts of gender formulated? Since the overwhelming evidence shows that modern humans evolved in Africa, it is essential to examine the latest research on human origins in order to answer this question. A woman living 200,000–150,000 years ago in Africa (probably in the Southern Sudan) was the first modern human (Hoffecker 2017), and humans did not begin to leave Africa until 80,000–100,000 years ago; as a result early humans lived in Africa for at least 70,000 years before some migrated outside (Wood 2005). Within these 70,000 years, the origins of human behavior such as eating, mating, defining the world, needing religion, determining social relationships, and much more, developed in Africa. Thus, basic human institutions – family, religion, language, social manners, and gender concepts – originated in Africa. Images of a caveman dragging a woman by her hair is often used as a symbol of early African gender relations in the popular media. Bad male behavior is often blamed on traits acquired during early human existence, and that these traits were an evolutionary adaption because men were responsible for the survival of humanity. The latest research by evolutionary anthropologists has found something radically different. It was not hunters, but older women, grandmothers, who were essential to the survival of the modern humans in Africa (O’Connell et al. 1999). This new understanding of early human history has been appropriately called “the grandmother hypothesis.” Scholars argue that in early human society the most successful social unit was one headed by a grandmother past childbearing but still healthy. All humans had to rely on gathering and hunting to survive until about 12,000 years ago. Gathering, according to anthropologists, provided 60–80% of the food and the major source of day-to-day sustenance (Mace and Holden 1999). Hunting could bring in enough meat to widely distribute or it could result in failure. Hunters with stone implements often had to follow and attack a large animal days away from the camp. Once they killed it, they had to eat it quickly since there was no refrigeration, and those at the home camp may not get any meat. In Africa and in most parts of the rest of the world, gatherers were women and men were hunters. Women provided the necessary food, and men could provide either a feast or nothing. Scholars (O’Connell et al. 1988) base this hypothesis on in-depth studies of the Hadza gathering and hunting peoples of Tanzania. While Hadza social institutions have

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changed over time, as a people they tend to be very conservative and therefore the best example of earlier human societies available in modern times. Since women produced the bulk of the food, the grandmother would be able to help feed her daughters during their pregnancies and while their babies were still nursing. This meant that a social unit without a healthy grandmother would have a much harder time during pregnancies and a higher infant mortality rate. In early human society, most of the day was spent searching for food. The social unit of the grandmother, her daughters, and their children was the most successful and insured that more children would survive. Scholars contend that the largest part of modern human DNA came from this successful social unit, and recent studies of many gatherer-hunter societies strengthen this claim (Hawkes et al. 2018). The dispersal patterns of mitochondrial Y-chromosome (chromosome passed through the father) among many African gatherer-hunter groups show that women continued to reside with or close to their mothers, while men moved away (Destro-Bisol et al. 2004). This distribution may reflect evidence both for the grandmother hypothesis and the antiquity of such institutions as bride service, which required women to stay with their maternal family and males to move out. Early gatherers and hunters were organized in bands and little gender hierarchy existed. By around 10,000 years ago, many African societies developed descent through only one parent, and in the earlier periods, that was through their mothers. The evidence for this is found in the linguistic and comparative ethnographic data (Saidi 2010). The main social unit in these societies was most probably the sororal groups that were discussed previously. The sororal groups in more recent matrilineal societies resemble very much the most successful social unit found in the grandmother hypothesis.

The Gatherer Becomes the Farmer This section shows the key role of African women in the transition from gathering to farming. Twelve thousand years ago, the earth was much wetter than it is now. The Sahara Desert was lush, and there were many rivers and lakes in what is, in modern times, one of the driest places on earth. This moister earth created an ideal situation for the invention of agriculture. Africa was one of the first places where people began to purposely grow food and domesticate animals. Since women had gathered small plants, it is logical that they would innovate agriculture. To be a successful gatherer, a woman needed to know the growing habits and habitats of thousands of plants. She also was required to understand variations in vegetation and insects based on the different seasons. Under the right conditions, women were able to replicate the growing of plants under a controlled condition and over many generations invented agriculture. Men would have had to know the entire life stage of the animals; they hunted and would have logically been the ones to domesticate animals. The latest linguistic and archeological evidence shows that Africans were the first to domesticate cattle, and it was done in what is today the Sahara Desert (Ehret 2002).

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There is one more key element to the development of agriculture in Africa, and that is the invention of pottery 12,000 years ago, around the same time as agriculture was developed and in the same place, the lush Sahara Desert. In Africa today 90% of the potters are women, which contrasts with the rest of the world where the majority of potters are men (Bern 1993). Since it is essentially a female technology in Africa, it can be assumed that women also invented pottery production. Pottery was essential to the development of grain cultivation because grains could be cooked in pots and turned into what is today the mainstay of most African diets, grain porridge. This grain porridge with small differences is made throughout Africa. In West Africa it is referred to as fufu; in East Africa it is called ugali in Kiswahili; in Central Africa among the Chewa it is named nshima; in South Africa the general term is mealie meal; and in the United States it is called grits. Prior to the invention of pottery, Africans could only cook bread on stones or cook in animal stomachs; thus the invention of pottery allowed women to cook grains and vegetables, which greatly increased the variety of the diet. This transition to agriculture probably took a long period of trial and error, but once Africans could reproduce “mother nature,” they were able to set up permanent or semipermanent settlements. These new technologies also gave woman control over both the production and processing of food, a position of power in subsistence agricultural societies (Saidi 2010).

Female Power in the Afroasiatic Ancient World The high status of women leaders from such ancient centralized societies as Egypt, Nubia, and Axum as well as those from seminomadic peoples, Berbers and Somalis, is the subject of this section. All these societies spoke languages that belonged to the Afroasiatic language family which are those found in North Africa, Somalia, and Ethiopia. Additionally, major Afroasiatic languages such as Hausa are spoken in West Africa, and in the Saudi Arabian peninsula, Arabic and Hebrew are the only Afroasiatic languages spoken today outside of the African continent. While Egypt is the best-known African kingdom of the ancient period, it was actually in Nubia that the first centralized societies occurred. Around 5500 years ago, the Sahara Desert was in the process of drying up, and the peoples whose ancestors had lived in the region when it was lush began to move west to West Africa, south to Central Africa, and east to the Nile Valley. Along the Nile River, the African populations settled on the fertile strips along both sides of the Nile River, surrounded by the encroaching desert. The linguistic evidence as well as written outsiders’ reports indicates that ancient Nubian societies were matrilineal and that many of the rulers were queens. Another source of evidence is found in the New Testament of the Bible, Acts 8:26–8:27, “. . .Now there was an Ethiopian eunuch, a court official of the Candace, queen of the Ethiopians, in charge of her entire treasury” (St. James version New Testament Bible). The word for female ruler, Candace, is from the Cushitic word Kandake, (Lohwasser 2001) which meant both “queen mother and queen.” This concept of powerful queen mothers is found throughout Africa in most

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centralized societies prior to 1900, and these queen mothers usually were a “check and balance” to the power of the male ruler. Since the written languages of ancient Nubia are still not completely translated, scholars need to rely on the Greek and Roman records, as well as images of the queens carved in stone on walls in ancient Nubia. One of these queens is Kdke Shanakdakheto, dressed in armor and wielding a spear, who is represented in a Basrelief dated to about 170 BCE. In this rock carving, she is dressed in armor and wielding a spear in battle. In 25 BCE, according to Roman records, Kdke Amanirenas attacked Syene (modern Aswan in Egypt) (Dafa’alla 1993). There are few reliable records concerning female rulers of Nubia in the earlier periods, but many of the queens of Egypt were Nubian. Nefertiti, named the queen of peace, married Rameses II in 1225 BCE. Often the Nubian queens of Egypt were represented in statues and tomb art as the same size as the pharaoh – which in the Egyptian worldview indicated that they were equal in status (Watterson 1997). The 25th dynasty, 760 BCE to 656 BCE, of the New Kingdom of Egypt was ruled by Nubians, and one of the main changes they enacted was having the queen play the role of priestess of cult of Nut, the goddess of the sky (Hollis 1987). The significance of this change is that goddess Nut was believed to give birth to the sun every morning over the Nile and her actions were essential to the survival of the Egyptians. Even after the end of Nubian rule, Egyptian women continued to play important roles as priestesses to various gods and goddesses. The ancient Egyptian script has been translated into modern languages, and as a result, scholars have access to many papyrus scrolls found in important tombs. In the Old Kingdom, there was a queen from the fourth dynasty called Queen Khentkawes, translated as “she who unites the two lords.” She was the mother of the first two kings of the fifth dynasty and had a huge tomb (Watterson 1997). In the records there were between four and seven female pharaohs who ruled on their own (ibid). Ancient Egyptian society was matrilineal since a man identified himself as the son of a particular mother and property was inherited matrilineally (ibid). The right to become a pharaoh was carried through the mother’s line. Land was not only inherited matrilineally, but women obviously controlled land in their own name. The Wilbour Papyrus, from1143 BCE (New Kingdom), shows that women owned at least 50% of the land discussed in this document (ibid). Other legal documents recorded on papyrus show that women were active participants in civil litigation including divorce. There is another document, which recorded a case where the wife sued her husband over a loan (ibid) and which shows that wives had independent control of their finances. There is also evidence of the key role that women played in the economy. In the Old Kingdom and Middle Kingdom, women were the weavers. In the New Kingdom, men became the weavers, but women were often their bosses. Woven cloth was a key element of the economy since Egypt was the major manufacturing power in the ancient world. In addition to linen and cotton cloth, Egyptians produced glass beads, papyrus, and ship sails for export. For evidence concerning of the status of Egyptian women during the postdynastic period, there are many Greek accounts of powerful Egyptian women. For example, Herodotus, considered the first European historian, was shocked at the

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freedom of Egyptian women and wrote: “The Egyptians, in their manners and customs, seem to have reversed the ordinary practices of mankind. For instance, women attend market and are employed in trade, while men stay at home and do the weaving” (https://www.ancient.eu/article/86/herodotus-on-the-egyptians/). In addition to Herodotus’ comments, various other Greek writers warned their countrymen not to bring their wives or daughters to Egypt, because they would be “corrupted” by the gender equality of ancient Egypt (Watterson 1997). The next major important state was Axum, which was located in modern Ethiopia. Axum dominated the Red Sea and the Nubian Nile area around 100 CE, filling in the vacuum left by the “fall” of the Roman Empire. The people of Axum believed in the old Eastern Cushitic religion, but in early 400 CE, around the same time as Europe, Axum’s elites became Christian. The Ethiopian elites were Semitic ancestors of the modern Amharic speakers who have for over a thousand years dominated the Eastern Cushitic majority. The Eastern Cushites in Ethiopia a thousand years ago were the Agaw, and these people refused to accept Christianity. In 950 CE Queen Gudit led the Agaw in a rebellion and conquered Axum. Axum was already a weakened power, but this queen’s actions finally destroyed the empire. Her religious origins are unknown. She is called by various names depending on the text – Esther, Yodi, Judith, and Esato. She destroyed churches and Christian monuments, and it is reported by office of the patriarch of the Egyptian Coptic Church, that she killed thousands of Christians and secured the throne of Axum (Tamrat 2009). Archeologists have found her burial place, which is marked by tall stone steles, symbolic of the Eastern Cushitic religion. It appears that Queen Gudit still practiced an early Eastern Cushitic religion based on the style of her tomb which was in the form of stele, which was an aspect of early Eastern Cushitic religion (Ehret 2002), but the Falasha, Ethiopian Jews (Beta Israel), also claims her as a Jewish queen. Queen Gudit destroyed the ruling elites of Axum and ruled for over 30 years (Andersen 2000), but later some of the elite families were reconstituted as the Solomonic dynasties of the Amharic speakers in Ethiopia. According to tradition the son of the Ethiopian Queen of Sheba and King Solomon started the Solomonic dynasties. The country of her origin is unknown but probably was Ethiopia or Yemen. Historians agree that she lived around 1000 BCE. The story of her role in creating new dynasties is written 2300 years after she reigned, but accounts of her life are found in both the Bible and the Quran. The Kebra Nagast [Glory of the Kings], which dates to 1300 CE and was written in the Ethiopian script, Geez, tells the story of the great queen named Makeda (Queen of Sheba) and her visit to King Solomon. That night King Solomon seduced her and her handmaiden, and they both got pregnant and produced sons nine months later who would create the two branches of the Solomonic dynasties (Harris 1974). The Solomonic dynasties ruled for over 1000 years in Ethiopia and only ended after Haile Selassie was overthrown in 1974. There are written records of female rulers of centralized states along the Nile River and in Ethiopia, but scholars must rely on oral traditions and archeology to learn about women leaders among the Berbers of North Africa and the Somalis of the Horn of Africa. The Tuareg Berbers are matrilineal, and there is both

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archeological and oral traditions that show they have been so for a very long time, in spite of being Muslims. In what is today Hoggar, Algeria, there is a large burial site, dating to around 300 CE, of a tall woman, who was lame and had not given birth. Her body is facing east, and she was buried with a great deal of gold and other valuables (Gautier 1934). In Tuareg Berber her name, Tin Hinan, means “Mother of Tents,” and she is believed to be the ancestress of all the Tuareg. She is mentioned in Arabic sources by Ibn Khaldun, the famous Arab historian of the 1300s, who wrote about a lame queen, Tiski of the Berbers. In the oral traditions of the Berbers, Tin Hinan’s granddaughter, Kella, gave birth to a daughter; and her maidservant, Takamat, had two daughters. These girls grew up and became the original ancestors of the matrilineal Tuareg of Ahaggar (ibid). The fact that Tin Hinan probably did not physically give birth, but is considered a “mother” of the Tuareq, is an example of social motherhood found throughout Africa. She may be part of the origin myth of the Tuareg, but she also clearly exists in the archeological records and is used by the Tuareq today to justify matrilineal descent (Gélard 2004). A more recent Berber queen is Queen Kahina who around 680 CE led the Berbers against the new Muslim armies of the Arabs (Hannoum 1997). She has been claimed as a heroine by various peoples of North Africa. The Jews claim that she was a Jew and fought against the arrival of Muslims. Muslims see her as an “eventual” heroine because she had her two sons convert to Islam and fight against the nonbelievers. The French colonialists, in an attempt to divide and conquer Algeria, tried to use Queen Kahina as a symbol of the Berbers’ fight against Arabs. To the east in the semiarid lands of what is today Somalia, women were rulers and had a great deal of authority according to the many oral traditions. Probably the most interesting and intense of these stories is about Queen Arraweelo. She was almost certainly a historical person since there are archeological ruins found in the place reported to be her grave, and she is assumed to be a contemporary of the Queen of Sheba living around 1000 BCE (Ahmed 1988). According to oral tradition, she was very fat and needed four servants to place her in a bathtub. At some point during her rule, she got tired of male misbehavior, so she castrated them all except for her grandson. Some men avoided castration by running to the forests. Eventually her grandson led the men from the forest to overthrow Queen Arraweelo. Whatever is the moral of Queen Arraweelo’s stories, in recent times, women put flowers on her grave, and men throw stones at it.

Circumcision and Labia Stretching-Sidebar The ancestors of many Africans have practiced male circumcision for at least 10,000 years (Ehret 2002), but female circumcision is primarily found among some Afroasiatic-speaking peoples and other ethnolinguistic groups influenced by Afroasiatic language speakers. Female circumcision is a tradition in much fewer societies and is not as ancient as male circumcision. It is claimed that some female mummies from ancient Egypt were circumcised, but the evidence is unclear. Female circumcision has been mistakenly considered an Islamic tradition, but many non-Muslim societies practice it and most Muslim societies

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around the world do not. Another tradition found primarily in the southern half of the African continent is labia stretching which is used to enhance both female and male sexuality. The widespread distribution of this tradition, from the Buganda of Uganda to the Luba of the DRC to the Khoisan of South Africa indicates that most probably this was a gatherer-hunter tradition adopted by many Bantu-speaking peoples (Saidi 2010). While this tradition is more widespread, much less attention is given to it in academia, feminist theory, or the media, because it does not fit the paradigm of poor, sexually oppressed African women.

West Africa and the Bantu Migration 4500 BCE to 1000 CE While there are many written documents that name queens of the Afroasiatic world in this section on the Niger-Congo-speaking peoples, the evidence of their social history primarily comes from linguistic data, archeological evidence, oral traditions, and comparative ethnography. The use of these methodological tools to recapture African history may not tell the reader “what named historical figure did on suchand-such a date,” but it can reveal the deeper ideological understandings as well as the transformations of these ideas over time as represented in language. The archeological findings for the Nok people of West Africa, the long-term migration of Bantu-speaking people out of West Africa, and settling Central, East and South Africa will be discussed in this section. The Nok people lived in modern-day Nigeria around 1000 BCE and excelled at iron and ceramic production. Nok is actually the village where in 1943 large terracottas were discovered (Fagg 1994). The terracotta figures are life size, made by coiling the clay and are hollow. They look very much like woodcarvings of much more recent years. Most art historians see the Nok as ancestors to the Yoruba people, but this has not been proven conclusively. In this region of West Africa, only women make pottery in more recent eras; as a result, it can be assumed that women made these magnificent terracotta animals and humans. Unfortunately, the Nok culture disappeared around 200 CE, and key elements of the culture are still unknown; however women must have played a significant role since they are clearly represented in the terracottas as well as likely created them. Much earlier than the Nok civilization, Bantu, a sub-linguistic group of the NigerCongo language family, left West Africa and proceeded to populate East, Central, and Southern Africa. 5500 years ago, the Bantu migration began, and it was the greatest movement of people since the populating of the Americas by Asian people over 30,000 years ago. In the forested areas of what is today Cameroon and Gabon, a group of people speaking Bantu languages moved through the rain forests and in the next 4000 years became the dominant ethnolinguistic groups in East, Central, Southern, and South West Africa. Gender equity best describes gender relations in the early Bantu world. Men and women often did different things in society, but key elements of social hierarchy were based on seniority, not gender (Fourshey et al. 2017). The division of labor was usually based on gender, and male jobs were not given more importance than female jobs. In Bantu-speaking societies of 2000 years ago, women controlled the technology of agriculture, pottery, house building, and food preparation, while men herded the animals, carved wood, smelted iron, wove

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raffia, and were responsible for protection. Until around 1000 CE, most Bantuspeaking peoples lived in subsistence-based economies (ibid). Bantu societies were matrilineal from the beginning of the migration (ibid; Murdock 1959). Matrilineality in Bantu societies was not just a method of inheritance and clan membership calculated through the mother’s bloodline but also an ideology. Matrilineal societies tended to be decentralized; surplus was widely distributed to distant relatives, and private accumulation of goods was discouraged. Through this wide distribution of goods, people could be integrated into Bantu societies easily as well as creating a safety net for times of drought or other foodgrowing failures (Poewe 1981). The latest linguistic studies show that Bantu-speaking peoples, as they migrated, were organized into matrilineal clans and practiced male circumcision and both male and female initiation at puberty. Since the Bantu speakers were both matrilineal and decentralized, each village would have been primarily the residence of one matrilineage, and the word for the head of each lineage was mu-kumu, which can be reconstructed to have been in use over 3000 years ago (Ehret 2002). This title incorporated both religious and political leadership and was not gender specific and therefore was applied to both male and female heads of villages.

Bantu Grammar-Sidebar One important element of Bantu languages is that all have the same word for “mankind and humanity” and the word is form of Bantu. Third person singular Bantu languages English men __Bantu __ women __Bantu __ Bantu mankind/human In English everything is based on the root, “man.” In all Bantu languages, the above terms are based on “Bantu” which means humans. To show gender either a prefix or a suffix must be added to bantu (plural) or muntu (singular). In English third person singular is “he, she, and it” (yet rarely or derogatory when used for a person). But in Bantu languages, the only translation for third person singular is “the person.” The implications of this Bantu grammar are twofold. First Bantu-speaking people do not conceptualize their world into gender, especially when speaking. Second, when Bantu languages were translated, a non-gendered term suddenly became gendered. For example, in Central-East Africa, the word for God is Leza and is conceptualized as either non-gendered or gendered male and female, but when translated into English, God became male.

Bantu-speaking peoples moved into areas where there was an abundance of land, some of which was useable and some of marginal fertility. Low population density and a constant shortage of laborers made motherhood, like in other parts of Africa, a most powerful social institution. Infant mortality was extremely high; therefore, the need both to reproduce and to protect the babies born became essential to the survival of these people. Matrilineal social organizing was centered on mothers and grandmothers, and this was apparently the best situation for infant survival, thus reenforcing matrilineality.

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In the subsistence economies, women controlled the bulk of the food production and preparation; therefore it is not surprising that women had economic power and were often leaders. Preparing the food gave women authority in a way unfamiliar in modern societies (Muhonja 2009). A man whose female relatives would not cook for him 2000 years ago could not call for a pizza or Chinese takeout; he just went hungry. Male status within these Bantu subsistence-based societies was often a result of who could offer a feast and feed the most people, as a result women growing and cooking the food became crucial to male upward mobility. For a man to marry in a Bantu matrilineal society, he had to work for his future mother-in-law for several years and show that he could produce children before he was accepted fully as a husband. Marriage was a process that started at the marriage ceremony and ended when mother-in-law avoidance rules were lessened, usually after years of labor and several children. While marriage was considered important for the raising of children, the social category of wife was relatively unimportant, and this was probably true 5000 years ago since historian linguists can reconstruct a proto Bantu root, -yadi, to mean a life stage for young women from puberty to her first pregnancy (Saidi 2010). The significance of this was that a young woman entered puberty, married, but was still considered a “yadi” until the birth of her first child, when she became an adult. Marriage was not the transforming event in a young woman’s life, motherhood was. Men too had to wait to be considered adults until they had fathered a child. The importance of motherhood over “wifehood” can be best understood in the context of the multiple female initiation ceremonies. Female initiation was probably the most important religious, political, and cultural event within the community. And these initiation ceremonies were presided over by important older women from the initiate’s sororal group. In more recent times, the first initiation ceremony could last as long as several months and probably was even longer in earlier times. The female initiation ceremonies marked key events in a young woman’s life. The first ceremony was celebrated after the young woman’s first menstrual period. The whole village would come out, celebrate with music and dance, rejoicing in the fact that she now could potentially become a mother. Then the elderly women of the village, often led by a knowledgeable and well-respected woman, would seclude the young woman and start her formal education. The comparative ethnographic and linguistic evidence demonstrates that at least 2000 years ago, in most Bantu-speaking communities, female initiation comprised at least two sets of observances: the first at puberty and the last at the first successful pregnancy. A young woman’s first menstruation meant she entered the yadi life stage, and once she became a mother, she was no longer a yadi (ibid). A major feature of female initiation among Bantu-speaking societies was their use of figurines of various materials and types as pedagogical tools to introduce the girl to her history, gender concepts, and behaviors considered essential for the transition to female adulthood (Gonzales 2008; Saidi 2010). This feature of female puberty observances occurred, in recent centuries, in scattered distribution among many Bantu speakers and could date as far back as 4000 years ago. Another element of female initiation that appears to be quite old is the painting of designs; these schematic images were often painted white, but some were done in red and black paint too. These designs were drawn by female elders as teaching devices and are similar to rock art designs done by Batwa people found in rock shelters that spread as

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far as Angola, the Great Lakes region, East-Central Africa, and northern South Africa (Smith n.d.). Female initiation was the most central ritual in most Bantu societies, but male initiation was also celebrated. For many Bantu-speaking societies, it was the mothers and female elders that would perpetuate the culture, the history, and the social mores; thus female initiation was key to maintaining social institutions. Central to male initiation was circumcision and the education of young men (Ehret 2002). General and historical education was taught in initiation schools, but the knowledge and control of technology tended to be gender specific, and elders well versed in the technology taught the appropriate apprentices. The technology of potting once wellestablished around 3000 BCE in Bantu societies retained the basic methods of shaping clay and firing the finished objects. Women may have had to make small adaptations to their methods in various regions in response to differing qualities of the clays and kinds of tempers available or change decorating styles in response to cultural transformations, but for the most part, they retained pottery production techniques from much earlier times. The importance of potting went well beyond the economic or practical use value; pots were used in all religious ceremonies, and in Central Africa. God creating humans was equated with a woman making a pot. This alternative name for God was Nakabumba [na-mother/female prefix; ka-a prefix to show honor and –bumba, a potter] (Saidi 2010). But the new technological factor in the history of the Bantu-speaking peoples of East, Central, and Southern Africa from 300 CE to 1000 CE was iron working. Interestingly, the ritual, traditions, and cultural mores associated with iron production were based on the potting traditions that date back to a much earlier period (Saidi 2010a). Only adult women were able to gather clay; women menstruating were excluded from rituals, as were men and all children. Potters prior to clay rituals were also forbidden to have sexual intercourse with their husbands. Men smelting iron had similar prohibitions including the exclusion of the other gender when producing iron. As in potting rituals, menstruating women were not allowed at the smelting site, and men were not allowed to have sexual intercourse with their wives prior to smelting iron. An interesting element of iron smelting rituals in Central and parts of East Africa was the distribution of overtly gynecomorphic iron-smelting furnaces. These furnaces were referred to as a wife, an initiated young woman, or a mother. Some furnaces were made with breasts or were set up to mimic the position of a woman giving birth. The process of iron smelting contained all the metaphors for birth, and iron processing may well have been seen as a male version of reproduction (Herbert 1994). During this historical period, Bantu-speaking peoples began producing iron jewelry, iron ritual items, and iron fishhooks. Male control of iron working meant that smiths made the iron tools needed by both men and women. A highly important new tool of cultivation, the iron hoe, was invented in the first millennium BCE (Ehret 2002). This new implement, specifically for women’s farming work, would have enhanced women’s capacity for digging savanna soils and preparing fields for grain cultivation. But in adopting the hoe, women’s exclusive control of productivity in agriculture was transformed into one where they needed at least one essential tool based on a male- produced item. Possibly in response to improved agricultural production, some Bantu societies began to transition between 500 to 1000 CE from matrilineal descent to patrilineal

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descent. Patrilineal societies tended to create corporate kinship organizations that controlled female labor to a greater degree. Polygamy was much more common in patrilineal societies, and since women produced most of the agricultural goods, husbands with several wives could produce more agricultural surplus. Private accumulation of goods was possible within a patrilineal society. Wifehood in patrilineal societies became a more important institution because a young man could not marry unless his family had presented the future wife’s family with goods, cattle, or other valuable items; therefore, marriage involved a large investment. Marriage contracted by bride price could also be a process, since it often took a long time for all the bride price to be paid. In both matrilineal and especially patrilineal societies, young women had little power, but young men were also powerless. Parenthood and seniority started young people on the road to elder status. From 500 CE many Bantu-speaking cattle-keeping peoples in East and Southern Africa changed to patrilineal social organization. In societies that depended on cattle raising, chiefs were able to command younger male support by inflating the amount of cattle needed for marriage. The young men were forced to work or fight for the chief since he controlled distribution of cattle. Bantu-speaking peoples in the Nyanza area of the Great Lakes by 1000 CE had become patrilineal and were socially organized to the extent of having a king or central ruler. In most of the centralized Bantu-speaking societies, the queen mother and other royal women, especially when united, could command more political power than the actual ruler.

Conclusion There were some major themes found in the history of African women to 800 CE. Firstly, one’s age and life stage determined authority and status rather than gender. Secondly, women could and did have political power and military prowess. Finally, many of the social institutions that are found throughout the continent center on the importance of motherhood as well as producing, educating, and nurturing the next generation. From the beginning African women have been major players in African history as grandmothers aiding early human survival, to gatherers inventing agriculture and potting on the continent, to queens who ruled and lead armies in the ancient world, and to mothers-in-law controlling labor in Bantu subsistence societies; African women played leading parts in African history prior to 800 CE.

References Ahmed, A. H. (1988). Sheckoxariirooyin Soomaaliyeed (Folktales from Somalia). Uppsala: Sweden, Somali Academy of Science and Arts, Scandinavian Institute of African Studies. Amadiume, I. (1987). Male daughters, female husbands: Gender and sex in an African society. London: Zed Press. Andersen, K. T. (2000). The Queen of the Habasha in Ethiopian history, tradition and chronology. Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London, 63(1), 31–63.

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Berns, M. C. (1993). Art, history and gender: Women and clay in West Africa. African Anthropological Review, 11, 129–148. Dafa’alla, S. (1993). Succession in the kingdom of Napata, 900–300 B.C. The International Journal of African Historical Studies, 26(4), 167–174. Destro-Bisol, G., et al. (2004). Variation of female and male lineages in sub-Saharan African populations: The importance of sociocultural factors. Molecular Biology and Evolution, 21, 1673–1682. Ehret, C. (2002). The civilizations of Africa: A history to 1800. Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press. Fagg, A. (1994). Thoughts on Nok. African Arts, 27, 79–83. Fourshey, C., Gonzales, R., & Saidi, C. (2017). Bantu Africa. New York: Oxford University Press. Gautier, E. F. (1934). The monument of tin Hinan in the Ahaggar. Geographical Review, 24, 439–443. Gélard, M.-L. (2004). Representations of kinship. Agnatic ideology and uterine values in a Berberspeaking tribe (Southeast Morocco). Anthropos, 99(H.2), 565–572. Gonzales, R. (2008). Societies, religion, and history: Central east Tanzanians and the world they created, c. 200 BCE to 1800 CE. New York: Columbia University Press. Hannoum, A. (1997). Historiography, mythology and memory in modern North Africa: The story of Kahina. Studia Islamica, 1. Harris, J. E. (1974). Pillars in Ethiopian history. Washington, DC: Howard University Press. Hawkes, K., O’Connell, J., & Jones, N. B. (2018). Hunter-gatherer studies and human evolution: A very selective review. American Journal of Physical Anthropology, 165(4), 777–800. Herbert, E. W. (1994). Iron, gender, and power: Rituals of transformation in African societies. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Hoffecker, J. F. (2017). Modern humans: Their African origins and global dispersal. New York: Columbia University Press. Hollis, S. T. (1987). Women of ancient Egypt and the sky goddess nut. The Journal of American Folklore, 100(398), 496–503. Folklore and Feminism. Lohwasser, A. (2001). Queenship in Kush: Status, role and ideology of royal women. Journal of the American Research Center in Egypt, 38, 61–76. Mace, R., & Holden, C. (1999). Evolutionary ecology and cross-cultural comparison: The case of matrilineal descent in sub-Saharan Africa. In P. C. Lee (Ed.), Comparative primate socioecology (pp. 387–405). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Muhonja, B. B. (2009). She loved and ruled that kitchen: Space and autonomy in Kenya kitchens. JENdA: Journal of Culture and African Women’s Studies, 15, 7–25. Murdock, G. P. (1959). Africa: Its peoples and their culture history. New York: McGraw-Hill. O’Connell, J. F. O., Hawkes, K., & Blurton Jones, N. G. (1988). Hadza scavenging: Implications for Plio-Pleistocene hominid subsistence. Current Anthropology, 29, 356–363. O’Connell, J. F. O., Hawkes, K., & Blurton Jones, N. G. (1999). Grandmothering and the evolution of Homo erectus. Journal of Human Evolution, 36, 461–485. Oyewumi, O. (2001). Ties that (unbind): Feminism, sisterhood and other foreign relations. Jenda: A Journal of Culture and African Womens Studies, 1, 1–18. Poewe, K. (1981). Matrilineal ideology: Male and female dynamics in Luapula, Zambia. London: International African Institute. Sacks, K. (1982). Sisters and wives: The past and future of sexual equality. Westport, Conn: Greenwood Press. Saidi, C. (2010a). Women’s authority and society in early East-Central Africa. Rochester: University of Rochester. Saidi, C. (2010b). Nakabumba: God creates humanity as a potter creates a pot. In O. Oyewumi (Ed.), Gender Epistemologies in Africa (pp. 199–222). New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Smith, B. (n.d.). Zambian rock art. Lusaka: National Heritage Conservation Commission. Stephens, R. (2015). A history of African motherhood: The case of Uganda, 700–1900. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Tamrat, T. (2009). Church and state in Ethiopia. Los Angeles: Tsehai Publishers. Vail, L. (1989). The creation of tribalism in southern Africa. Berkeley: University of California Press. Watterson, B. (1997). Women in Ancient Egypt. New York: St. Martin’s Press. Wood, B. (2005). Human evolution: A very short introduction. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

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Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . African Women, Islam, and Gold, 800 CE to 1800 CE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Somali Women and 1992 Famine in Baidoa: Sidebar . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Women and the Slave Trade 1500 CE to 1880 CE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . East, Central, and Southern Africa: Elite Women and Centralized Societies 1500–1800 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Jihad and West African Women 1700–1900 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . African Women and the Domination of Europe to 1900 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Empress Taytu: Sidebar . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

This chapter begins with the rise of Islam and its impact on African gender dynamics especially during the integration of the West African and East African coasts into the Islamic trading networks beginning around 700 CE. The major trading empire of West Africa, Mali, was matrilineal, and in East Africa the original Bantu rulers of the Swahili city-states were women. The impact of the Atlantic Slave Trade on gender relations on the continent is addressed next, and this chapter ends with an analysis of the status of African women prior to the arrival of European colonialism in the late nineteenth century. Keywords

African women · Matrilineal · Patrilineal · Slave trade · Women and islam · African female leadership · Gender in Africa C. Saidi (*) History Department, Kutztown University of Pennsylvania, Kutztown, PA, USA e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_167

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Introduction The history of African women from 800 CE to 1900 is a period of time in which large parts of Africa will be affected first by Islam and then by Europe and Christianity. This is a historical era where African women adapt, innovate, and transform their lives and the world around them. Even such negative historical events as the Atlantic Slave Trade that made many women victims, some women were able to benefit and take advantage of the situation. This is an era where there are amazing warrior queens and female slave traders as well as women entrepreneurs and female farmers living in small village communities raising new generations. This section will start with the changing roles of women with the integration of parts of West and East Africa into the Islamic trading network as well as the impact of Islam on women’s status and authority. The Atlantic Slave Trade challenged all of the African communities affected, but for many African women, it was a time when some were forced into slavery, but for other women, it enhanced their status. This concludes with an examination of the status of women prior to the European penetration and eventual colonialization of the continent.

African Women, Islam, and Gold, 800 CE to 1800 CE Queen mothers and other royal women played a similar role in the empires and states that would develop in the Sahel region of West Africa. During this same period, Swahili city-states became important trading centers in the Indian Ocean, and according to oral traditions and the written histories, the first rulers were women. Both in West Africa along the borders of the Sahara Desert and along the East African coast, African societies were integrated into the Islamic trading network. Africa was definitely involved in international trade prior to arrival of Islamic armies and traders, but once the Islamic trading networks were established, Africa continued as a major player in the old world economy. Today around 47% of Africans are Muslim, and one third of the world’s Muslims live in Africa. Islam is practiced differently throughout the continent, but historically African women have used Islamic laws for their benefit. Some of the earliest evidence of women converting to Islam was found in Mogadishu, Somalia, where there are the remains of two graves dating to 749 CE with the names of two Muslim women (Hersi 1980). This is significant because when Muslim traders arrived along the East African coast, they did not bring women from their own societies, so whenever there is evidence of Muslim women, they represent indigenous Africans. In the oral traditions of the Swahili, the peoples of the East African coast, the first rulers of the Swahili city-states were women, and they welcomed Muslims and encouraged the adoption of the Muslim religion. Why did African women embrace Islam? Since there were no Islamic armies south of the Sahara Desert, the reasons for acceptance of Islam were varied and rarely involved force. African women like African men saw conversion to Islam as a way to gain status and become part of major international trading networks. In

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addition to economic status, there also was the spiritual reason. Islam was not radically different from their local religions since most were monotheistic. For women, Islamic laws may have given them an advantage within their societies, especially those that were patrilineal. The Islamic dowry, which is part of the marriage contract, states that the money, jewelry, or other items specified must be given to the bride prior to consummating the marriage. This dowry is strictly for the wife – she can share it with her family or keep it for herself. In Islamic Africa this dowry is often gold jewelry, and these golden assets can be found adorning most African Muslim women today. In addition to their beauty, this jewelry represents a woman’s savings account.

Somali Women and 1992 Famine in Baidoa: Sidebar In 1992 at the end of the famine in Baidoa, Somalia, in addition to dangerously thin people and no pregnant women, no surviving Somali women were wearing their trademark gold jewelry. Most Somali women received substantial gold jewelry as their Islamic dowry when they marry. There are many poems or songs in Somali that encourage women to collect as much gold as possible – “love is good, but gold is better” (Ahmed 1996). Somali women’s jewelry is their savings account, their major asset. Anthropologists often wrote that the low status of Somali women was due to the fact that they did not own camels or cattle, a major source of income in Somali societies. They observed Somali women wearing large amounts of gold jewelry, but just assumed it was some form of vanity. In Baidoa after the famine, all Somali women interviewed admitted that they had sold all their gold to feed their families. Divorce for younger women from patrilineal societies was easier if they were Muslims since it was the Islamic law that determined whether they could divorce, and there was no requirement to pay back the dowry. In more recent times, African Muslim women certainly understood their rights in divorce; for example, among Swahili women, many have been married at least three times in their lifetimes (Nabhany 1998). The marriage institution for Swahili women could be described as “serial monogamy.” Islam also allows polygamy, which was found throughout Africa, but limits it to four wives. Often elite non-Muslim males in Africa could have married dozens or even hundreds of wives. Muslim women did not have to share any income they made on their own with their husbands, since under Islamic law, the man must support the family. She was also able to inherit and own property in her name. During colonialism in Kenya, the British “native courts” took away women’s rights; as a result many non-Muslim women migrated to the Swahili coast and became Muslim so that they could own their own property, inherit, and divorce (Strobel 1979). In East Africa, Muslim traders from Arabia, Persia, China, and India all arrived to trade, and often they married Swahili women. The Swahili were successful farmers and fishing people but became merchants controlling the trade of gold from Southern Africa, ivory from the forested areas, and rock crystal from Ethiopia to the rest of the Islamic world and beyond. Since Swahili society was matrilineal in the early stages

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of this trade, it was advantageous for outside Muslim merchants to marry Swahili women in order to get access to the society. While the Swahili encouraged these marriages, they never let their daughters sail home with their husbands since they believed that they could not protect them in the faraway lands. Swahili fathers would build homes for their daughters and their families to live in when their trader husbands were gone. This tradition still exists today among many Swahili. Once a daughter is born, her father starts building a house for her to live in during periods between marriages. Since many Swahili women marry more than once, these houses are often in use (Nabhany 2010). There was also a long-term Islamic trade in enslaved people across the Sahara and Indian Ocean. After the ninth century, Zanj Revolt was led by East African slaves in Iraq, and the Muslim world rarely allowed plantation slavery until the nineteenth century; therefore most slaves were for domestic labor, and women were preferred. A slave according to Islamic law is still a human and must be treated as such. Also, in the Quran for many sins, Muslims are asked to free slaves. Unlike the Americas, there is no large clearly ascertainable African diaspora in the Islamic world. The reason for this is that, unlike the Atlantic Slave Trade where the child’s identity was through their mother, Islamic law required that any child, whose father was free, is born free. Additionally, usually the mother is set free too, and if she remains a slave, she cannot be separated from her child or sold. In West Africa, Africans were trading gold and other valuables across the Sahara Desert by camel caravans. The Trans-Saharan trade produced the gold that funded Cairo and other important Islamic trading centers. In the Sahel, the border between desert and forested areas, several large centralized states developed as major trading societies. The largest and most important was Ancient Mali which from 1200 to 1600 CE controlled the trade in gold. The gold came from the forested regions further south and were carried across the Sahara Desert by Berber camel herders. Recently it was determined that the richest person who ever lived was Mansa Musa, a sultan of Mali from early 1300 CE (http://www.bbc.co.uk/learningzone/clips/ mansa-musa-of-mali-the-richest-man-ever/14207.htm). Ibn Battuta, a world traveler who traveled from Ancient Mali in West Africa all the way to China following the Islamic trading networks in the fourteenth century CE, is our best source on the social life of African Muslims. He did not write much about East African Muslim women except to state that in Mogadishu they “wore silk and were fat” (Hamdun and King 1994). But in Ancient Mali of West Africa, he gave us a great deal of insight into the life of West African Muslim women. Ibn Battuta was probably a Moroccan, heavily influenced by Arab culture; thus he was shocked when he learned that the people of Mali were matrilineal and that the queen mother was extremely powerful. The sultan of Mali could only rule if his mother was from the royal clan. Battuta also wrote that both boys and girls were educated in Koranic schools, the only formal education of that period. He compliments the Muslims of Mali on their honesty and that women could wear their gold and never had to fear thieves (ibid). But possibly his most significant observations involved his disapproval of the way the women of Mali behaved. He walked in on his host’s wife and a male friend who was not related, speaking freely together. He complained to the host

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and the host responded, “Women’s companionship with men in our country is hono [u]rable . .;there is no suspicion about it. They are not like the women in your country (ibid).” Battuta’s writings clearly tell us that the Muslim African women of Ancient Mali were not secluded and that they were well educated. By 1100 CE in the area around what is today Northern Nigeria, several Muslim city-states of the Hausa became important in the trans-Saharan trade. The oral tradition of the origin of the Hausa tells of a man who arrived from the East and married a crippled Berber woman (possibly related to the story of Tin Hinan). According to the legend, she had three sets of twins – each set of twins became the name of the city-states. The Kano Chronicles, a written history of the Hausa city-state of Kano, claims that all the Hausa were Muslim by 1473. While Islam transformed Hausa society, the Bori Rituals maintained the traditional pre-Islamic religion of the Hausa. Women preserved their positions within Hausa society by their roles in the Bori, retained in contemporary Hausa society as spirit possession and integrated with Islamic beliefs in Jinn’s (Ogungbile 2004). The most important leader in Islamic Hausa history was a woman, Queen Amina of Zaria (1421–1438). She led the Hausa army to many victories, and soon Zaria controlled the eastern part of the trans-Saharan trade. Every time she conquered a city, she instructed the people to build a wall for protection, and today in city of Zaria, the ancient surrounding wall is referred to as “the wall of Amina (Berger and White 1999).” While the Hausa city-states and Ancient Mali were trading gold and other items across the Sahara Desert, the Akan people were actually living in the region where the gold was mined. The Akan are matrilineal peoples who have populated forest regions of West Africa for over 2000 years. The best-known Akan empire is the Asante. While they were familiar with Islam and often in later times used Muslim scribes, they never converted to Islam. Early Akan state centers were at the fringes of the forest, but they moved deeper into the rain forests after the arrival of Europeans on the West African coast. Their societies produced much more than gold; they were excellent farmers with very fertile land and also produced high-quality iron items. Among the Akan, there were both male and female leaders. To become a leader, one’s mother must be from a royal clan. The Asante, who constitute a major part of the population of modern Ghana, came to dominance in the 1700s as European powers began to reduce the trade across the Sahara Desert. The Asante were situated in a position to benefit from both the slave trade with the West and the gold trade with the Muslim world. It is estimated that the Asante had accumulated gold by 1800 of 400,000 ounces, which is the equivalent of two billion dollars today. Women played a key role in commerce and they still do in modern Kumasi, Ghana. The Asantehene and the Asantehemmaa were respectively the male and female leaders of the Asante people. Each local polity had a chief and a queen mother who were in charge of the day-to-day operations. The queen mother (Aidoo 1977), whether she ruled the Asante nation or a local town, was selected for her ability as well as her blood ties. The queen mother embodied the virtues of motherhood and was considered the mother of the nation or of a town. She was responsible for many

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duties, but her primary role was in the resolution of conflict especially cases involving women, domestic affairs, or issues of commerce. The Asantehemmaa also had many ritual duties, but one of the most important was the recognition of a young woman’s puberty. In more recent times, all young women, once they began to menstruate, had to be registered with the queen mother, and she officiated at the female initiation ceremonies (Steegstra 2008). Prior to colonialism the Asante were a very powerful and rich empire, but at the core of their society were and still are matrilineal clans.

Women and the Slave Trade 1500 CE to 1880 CE Women’s positions within West African societies were about to be challenged and transformed. From 1500 to 1880, more than 20 million Africans were captured in Africa, shipped to and enslaved in the Americas. This started a new era primarily for West Africa in particular but also for all of Africa. From 1640 on, Europe dominated Africa’s external trade, and this trade was the slave trade. This section specifically looks at the effects of the Atlantic Slave Trade on gender dynamics within Africa but also on African women as both players and victims of the Atlantic Slave Trade. The Middle Passage was the voyage that brought Africans to slavery in the Americas. The trip on the ship could last from 30 to 90 days, and often the ships were extremely overcrowded. But as bad as it was for male slaves, it was worse for the women slaves since often the crew repeatedly raped them. African women arrived in the Americas traumatized and sometimes pregnant. In the early stages of the slave trade, especially in the sugar plantations of the Caribbean, slaves were just worked to death. This meant that pregnant women, babies, and children could not produce enough sugar to be profitable. Often an entire slave work force had to be replaced every 4 years. Once slaves became more expensive, plantation owners decided to have slaves reproduce themselves, and this led to giving women more time to rest than men. Also, this is the only time in Western history that matrilineality was encouraged. Slave owners and other men in charge often raped African-enslaved women, and since slavery was a permanent condition in the Americas, the children’s status was inherited matrilineally. As a result, the slave owner father never had to take responsibility for his child. Matrilineality for enslaved women was just another way to continue the permanence of slavery in the Americas. The gender ratio in the Atlantic Slave Trade was two men for every one woman. The difference in gender reflected the western belief that men worked harder than women and that men had the knowledge of tropical agriculture. Finally, in the 1700s, American plantation owners realized that they needed women’s understanding of tropical agriculture, specifically Mende women, to set up rice cultivation in southern South Carolina (Carney 2001). African women in the Americas, especially in the Caribbean and Brazil, have maintained the African culture and worldviews in syncretic religions such as

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Candoble, Voodoo, and several others. In these religions the clergy are women of African descent, and the rituals contain African rhythms, dances, and religious concepts. But these female African traditions are found in other aspects of Latin American societies. For example, a group of dances found primarily in Brazil are called the samba, and the very same word samba (a reconstructed root) is used in Bantu-speaking Africa to designate dances performed at female initiation (Saidi 2010). The Atlantic Slave Trade had a major impact on gender dynamics in West Africa by 1640. The slave trade created a great deal of insecurity in most West African societies, and many societies were faced with a harsh dilemma. The only way to protect yourself and your kin from the slave trade was to have guns, but only Europeans sold guns, and they would only sell guns for slaves. Many African families had to decide if they wanted to be slavers or become slaves themselves. As a result of slave raiding, many African communities that were based on varying forms of gender equilibrium were transformed into warrior societies. While some women were warriors, mostly men were involved in raiding or repelling raids. There was a new division of labor. Men became part of the military force needed for survival in West Africa, and women now had to do both men and women’s agricultural work. Women’s work was devalued and the matrilineal worldview came under attack. Since more men were captured for slavery in the Americas, fewer men remained in Africa, resulting in an increase in polygamy. In Muslim areas women were secluded for the first time and had less public participation. But another major factor transforming women’s status was the increase in female slavery within Africa. Men were desired for the Atlantic Slave Trade, but in Africa women and girls were wanted, both because of their productive and reproductive abilities. As discussed previously, the more labor a linage could control, the more important a lineage became. As a result, lineages that were able to purchase or capture women slaves could increase their prestige. So, women who had lost their kin to the slave trade or for one reason or another found themselves alone were often captured and forced into this internal slave trade. Interestingly many of the owners of female slaves were women. During this period women who could buy a few slaves could increase their agricultural production because of these women’s labor. Often there were only three or four slaves, and these slaves ate and slept with their owners. But even with just a few female slaves, their labor made some women wealthy. Women who could not afford slaves could not produce the same amount of agricultural goods as the women with slaves. This created new divisions among women based on economics: elite women with slaves, common women with no slaves, and of course, enslaved women themselves. Among the Wolof and the Sereer of Senegambia in the nineteenth century, slave women worked for their owners 5 days per week from sunrise until 2 pm. After 2 pm they could grow their own gardens (Klein 1977). Often female slaves would sell enough produce from their gardens to purchase their freedom. This form of slavery was very different from the Atlantic Slave Trade because these women slaves were integrated through various means into the local population, usually within a decade or at most a generation.

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While the effects of the slave trade were both beneficial to some African women and detrimental to many others, there was a group of women who absolutely benefited from the Atlantic Slave Trade. Most were located in the Senegambia region of West Africa where women held high office and controlled much of the local commerce prior to the Atlantic Slave Trade. These women were often referred to as Signares. In the West African societies, women were the major traders, while in Western societies it was almost exclusively men, thus the union of a European man and an African woman would be beneficial to trade. European men often had to marry African women to have access to African commerce. Their daughters were comfortable in the ways of African commerce as well as understand European commerce, and as a result they became successful intermediaries and power brokers. In the late 1600s, there were three dominant Signares. One was Senhora Catti, who was the agent for the slave trade in the Senegalese state of Cayor in 1685. The other two were Bibiana Vaz who in the 1670s had an extensive trading network between the Gambia and Sierra Leone rivers and even established her own state for a few years and Senhora Philippa who in the 1630s controlled the slave trade in Western Senegal (Mouser 1997). The Kingdom of the Kongo became among the first area in Africa to be seriously affected by the Atlantic Slave Trade. Kingdom of the Kongo, an important African empire from approximately 1350–1700, was located in Southwest Africa where the modern country of Angola is today. The major social and political divisions of this empire were the kanda, the matrilineal lineages. The kandas were very powerful, and a person’s identity, access to land, political office, and inheritance were determined by their mother’s lineage. After over 100 years of independence, the Kongo became involved with the Portuguese, Christianity, and later, the Atlantic Slave Trade. Once the Portuguese established the sugar plantations at Sao Tome and later in Brazil, they began to secure slaves from the Kongo, and this began to undermine the power of the kandas. Many of the Portuguese troops, who had fought in various local wars as well as participated in catching slaves, remained in Kongo and married women from important kandas. This allowed these men to be integrated into Kongo society. These mixed families soon became a strong Kongolese merchant class and began to dominate the slave trade. But after several years, the Kingdom of the Kongo found itself on the periphery of the important trading routes, and the kandas became the major political power base once again. Queen Njinga is the best-known woman ruler of this region. As the Kingdom of the Kongo was declining, the Portuguese were turning to the new slave-trading state of Matamba and Ndongo. Njinga was born in 1583 and was favored by her father, the king. After her father’s death, her brother became the new ruler. He sent Njinga to negotiate with the Portuguese. When she arrived, the Portuguese leader was seated in a chair, and she was told to sit on a mat. In her culture, this was an insult, so she then asked one of her women servants to get on her hands and knees. Njinga sat on the woman’s back and negotiated with the man as an equal. She became ruler after her brother committed suicide. She had a 40-year military career and was a master at playing various sides against each other (Heywood 2017). She twice converted to

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Christianity as well as she often relied on her matrilineal social relations. At times she supported the slave trade and other times she fought against it. She was a very important ruler of Angola, but she was complex and neither a villain nor a heroine.

East, Central, and Southern Africa: Elite Women and Centralized Societies 1500–1800 While the Atlantic Slave Trade was transforming West Africa, in East, Central, and Southern Africa, other factors were compelling some Bantu societies to begin the process of centralizing. As some lineages became more important than others and women from those extended families began to have more authority than those from common lineage, hierarchy began to transform social relations among women. During the centralization process, some communities began to base their economies on male-centered production such as cattle or iron. Others relied on military prowess; thus warriors became more important than farmers. Often these economic or military changes resulted in women losing political or economic authority, but women from elite lineages tended to retain and often enhance their ritual and religious influence. For instance, in the Kingdom of Baganda, women had controlled the production of the most important agricultural item, bananas. Women farmers were so successful with banana crops that the surplus of food led to centralization. Once the kingdom began to rely more on cattle than bananas as a means of survival, women lost a great deal of their economic dominance. As a part of the centralization process, some clans became elite, while others were considered common (Stephens 2015). Women lost economic power, but the elite women retained authority as mediums and spirit leaders of Kubandwa, the spirit possession and religious organization. The Kubandwa had always been an important part of Baganda religion, but as elite women were losing power economically, they began to use Kubandwa as a way to have authority over men (Doyle 2007) – similar to Hausa women’s use of the Bori. Also, the queen mother and royal sisters were extremely powerful in the court of the Kabaka, the ruler of the Bagandan kingdom, until the arrival of Europeans. The transition from matrilineality and patrilineality was not an easy transition and created interesting contradictions such as those found among the Kikuyu who occupy the most fertile lands and as a result are the largest ethnicity in modern Kenya. The Kikuyu are patrilineal, but the remembered original ancestor of each clan is a woman. The justification for this is found in the Kikuyu oral traditions, which tell of a time when women had all the power. Men resented their supremacy and hatched a plot. They threw a large party and invited the women. At the party the men seduced all the women, and, since this is a myth, all the women became pregnant. Once they were 7 months along and could not fight back, the men overthrew them. Then the men wanted to change the names of the original female ancestors of each clan to male ones. The women threatened to stop having children if the men did that; thus today the Kikuyu are patrilineal, but the original clan ancestors are all women.

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The Eastern Luba are a people from Central Africa who created an empire around 1500. In the process of becoming an empire, the Luba elites became patrilineal, even though many of the common people remained matrilineal. The pattern found among the Baganda was repeated in Central Africa. Older women, who were relatives of elite clans, became essential to the religious rituals created around the spirits of deceased rulers. A major tenet of Luban religion was that only women could communicate with God and ancestors (Roberts and Roberts 1996). It was believed that a male Luba ruler could only be reincarnated as a female spirit who would only communicate with elderly women of status (ibid). An interesting contradiction found in the Luba transition to patrilineality is that they use the prefix Bena to refer to all groups of people, and the word Bena is actually be, meaning “people of,” and na, meaning “the mother.” For example, Bena Chewa means the “people of the mother of the Chewa” (Saidi 2010). In this term the essence of all people is in relationship to their mother, a strange way to conceptualize identity if you are patrilineal. The internal slave trade of African women was also a major factor in changing gender relations in the early nineteenth century in East and Central Africa. Often marrying slave women allowed men in patrilineal societies to avoid bride price and having to secure a relationship with his wife’s family. But it is within the matrilineal societies that enslaved wives had a major impact. For example, the Yao of Mozambique were and still are organized matrilineally, and in the nineteenth century, they were major players in the East African slave trade. Among the Yao, most of the traders were male, yet when they married, they were forced to work for their mothers-in-law and their children belonged to the wife’s clan. But when men married enslaved wives, they were not required to perform bride service, and the children of that union would belong to his lineage not the enslaved wife’s. Consequently, men could create dependents of their own within matrilineal societies by having children with his enslaved wife (Alpers 1969).

Jihad and West African Women 1700–1900 While some societies were centralizing in East and Southern Africa and in West Africa, another significant event was the Fulani Jihad, which united many West African Muslims. This was an Islamic rebellion against the Hausa States led by Usman Dan Fodio starting in 1804. Dan Fodio was a very contradictory leader especially in terms of his approach to the role of women. He thought women should be secluded at home, yet he also preached that all women should be well educated. He so supported the education of women, that he encouraged wives to disobey their husbands if they refused to allow them to be educated. A long-lasting result of this Jihad was that there have been over five generations of important female Islamic scholars descended from his family (Ogungbile 2004). Further south in the forested regions of West Africa, the large, but de-centralized Igbo were prospering in the fertile areas of Nigeria. Even though the Igbo were patrilineal, women played a key role within their society. During this period more

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and more women became traders and their wealth increased. There were many female husbands, since older women were becoming wealthy and could purchase titles and pay bride price for wives and children. Also, the Igbo women had several women’s organizations that transcended family alliances. Igbo women had a women’s council called Inuom Nnobi, and these women had a powerful weapon they used to keep men in line called “Sitting on a Man (Van Allen 1972).” If men did something that the women thought was inappropriate, such as hit a pregnant woman, these women would come together, lift their skirts, and point to their genitalia, saying, “you all come from here” – invoking the power of motherhood. They also sang obscene songs and forced the offender on the ground and sat on him. The humiliation was extreme and men rarely would commit the offence again. Later, under British colonialism Igbo women used their organization and the tactic of “sitting on a man” to fight the attempt to tax women in the colony of Nigeria in 1929. This was a tactic, with minor differences, used by women in many other parts of Africa. From Cameroon to Kenya to South Africa, older women have used the image of motherhood to shame men into behaving properly (Rogers 1980).

African Women and the Domination of Europe to 1900 In the mid-to late nineteenth century, as Europeans were changing power relations in Africa, some elite women benefited from the chaos; others would lead their people in rebellion against European domination. But by 1900 European colonialism was established, and a major attempt was made to push all women out of leadership positions and toward a subordinate position within their own societies. Two examples of women using the chaos created by the entrenchment of European powers in West Africa to their benefit are Madam Yoko, a Mende chief from Sierre Leone, and Madam Tinubu, a powerful Yoruba merchant. Madam Yoko was able to control the most important women’s organization, Bundu. Bundu was the female initiation ceremony for all freeborn Mende women and was traditionally supervised by local older women. Madam Yoko changed this by personally controlled this ceremony, and this allowed her to solidify her power as chief since she could limit male access to wives and thus children. No Mende woman could marry without having been initiated in Bundu. Madam Yoko was able to do all of this by taking advantage of the disruption the British were creating in Sierre Leone (Berger and White 1999). Yoruba Madam Tinubu started out her merchant career as a slave trader but later started supplying various armies, fighting local wars, with arms and salt. She was very much opposed to British colonialism but used the instability created by the British to maintain her power position. She became the first Iyalode (female chief) of the Egba clan. As the British became more powerful, they were able to banish her from her business and political base in Lagos. She died in exile in 1897 (ibid). In what is today Ghana, two Asante women led the struggle against British colonialism. Yaa Kyaa, an Asantehemmaa, led the fight against the British in 1820

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and negotiated a fair peace. Later Yaa Akyaa, another Asantehemmaa, became the absolute ruler of the Asante in 1880, and she fought against the British who replaced her with a male leader who was more pliant (Aidoo 1977).

Empress Taytu: Sidebar The most significant battle against colonialism from an African perspective was the Battle of Adowa in 1896, where Ethiopian troops defeated the Italian army and prevented Italy from colonizing Ethiopia. While much of the credit for this victory is given to Menelik II, most Ethiopians believe that it was really the leadership of his wife, Queen Taytu, that was crucial to wining this battle (Bizuneh 2001). This was the only time under colonialism that a European power was defeated by an African army and was prevented from colonizing the region. Ethiopian art representing the Battle of Adowa shows Queen Taytu prominently leading on the troops.

Conclusion From the earliest times to right before colonialism, African women have had status and authority within their communities. There was hierarchy among African women, but that was primarily based on life stage. Young women had less authority than older women. Women with children had more status than those without. In more centralized societies, elite women were more powerful than common and enslaved women. But women as a sex were not considered less important than men. In most African communities, women were not considered the “weaker sex” but honored for both their productive and reproductive capabilities. While men and women often did different jobs, male work was not usually considered more important than female work. In Africa from the origins of human history to the women rulers of the period prior to colonialism, women played strong roles within their societies and often were able to use various historical events to improve or stabilize their positions. While African women had power within their communities, this did not mean that men didn’t have power. In most African societies prior to 1900, men had authority in one area of society, and women had it in another, and the result was often a form of gender equity within each community.

References Ahmed, C. C. [Saidi]. (1996). Finely etched chattel: The invention of a Somali woman. In A. J. Ahmed (Ed.), The invention of Somalia (pp. 157–190). Lawrenceville: Red Sea Press. Aidoo, A. A. (1977). Asante queen mothers in government and politics in the nineteenth century. Journal of the Historical Society of Nigeria, IX, 1–13. Alpers, E. A. (1969). Trade, state, and society among the Yao in the nineteenth century. The Journal of African History, 10(3), 405–420.

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Berger, I., & White, E. F. (1999). Women in sub-Saharan Africa: Restoring women to history. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Bizuneh, B. (2001). Women in Ethiopian history: A bibliographic review (Northeast African studies, new series, Vol. 8, No. 3, pp. 7–32). Special Issue: Women in the Horn of Africa: Oral Histories, Migrations, and Military and Civil Conflict. Carney, J. (2001). Black rice: The African origins of rice cultivation in the Americas. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Doyle, S. (2007). The Cwezi-Kubandwa debate: Gender, hegemony and pre-colonial religion in Bunyoro, Western Uganda. Journal of the International African Institute, 77(4), 559–581. Hamdun, S., & King, N. (1994). Ibn Battuta in Black Africa. Princeton: Marcus Weiner Press. Hersi, A. A. (1980). The Arab factor in Somali history. Ph.D. Dissertation, UCLA. Heywood, L. (2017). Njinga of Angola: Africa’s warrior queen. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Klein, M. A. (1977). Servitude among the Wolof and Sereer of Senegambia. In S. Miers & I. Kopytoff (Eds.), Slavery in Africa. Madison: University of Wisconsin. Mouser, B. (1997). Women slavers of Guinea-Conakry. In C. Robertson & M. Klein (Eds.), Women and slavery in Africa. New York: Heinemann. Nabhany, A. S. (June, 2010). Interview in Kibokoni. Mombasa/Lamu Island. (July, 1998). Ogungbile, D. O. (2004). Religious experience and women leadership in Nigeria Islam. JENDA: A Journal of Culture and African Women Studies, 6, 1–19. Roberts, M. N., & Roberts, A. F. (1996). Memory: Luba art and the making of history. Prestel: The Museum for African Art. Rogers, S. G. (1980). Anti-colonial protest in Africa: A female strategy reconsidered. Heresies, 3, 22–25. Saidi, C. (2010). Women’s authority and society in early East-Central Africa. Rochester: University of Rochester.

Interviews in Baidoa, Somalia, 1992 Steegstra, M. (2008). Consulting the old lady. In J. Kommers & E. Venbrux (Eds.), Cultural styles of knowledge transmission. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press. Stephens, R. (2015). A history of African Motherhood: The case of Uganda, 700–1900. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Strobel, M. (1979). Muslim women in Mombasa, 1890–1975. New Haven: Yale University Press. Van Allen, J. (1972). “Sitting on a Man”: Colonialism and the lost political institutions of Igbo women. Canadian Journal of African Studies/Revue Canadienne Des Études Africaines, 6(2), 165–181.

African Women and the Atlantic Slave Trade

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Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Origins . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Transatlantic Slave Trade . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Women in the Transatlantic Slave Trade . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Middle Passage on Land . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Middle Passage at Sea . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Historiography . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Cross-References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

This chapter examines African women in the Atlantic slave trade, exploring what scholars know about their experiences in the trade and highlighting what remains to be known. From the sixteenth to the nineteenth century, millions of Africans were transported across the Atlantic Ocean. Women made up a large portion of those enslaved. The chapter considers the history of enslaved African women, considering how gender affected their experience, how women coped and resisted their enslavement, and how their lives were transformed by the trade. Keywords

Africa · African women · Transatlantic Slave trade · Slavery · Middle Passage (s)

N. Blyden (*) George Washington University, Washington, DC, USA e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_6

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Introduction At the beginning of the sixteenth century, the first women and men from communities on the African continent were transported directly to the Americas. This began centuries of a trade which resulted in millions of African women and men being transported to the United States, the Caribbean, and Latin America. Demand for labor in the Americas transformed Africans into human commodities. While we know much about this brutal episode in human history, one gap still remaining in the literature of the Atlantic slave trade is the full-length perspective of women who experienced the horrific middle passage en route to slavery. No full length narrative akin to Olaudah Equiano’s narrative of his captivity and enslavement exists for a woman. As one historian has noted studies of the slave trade do not “directly address the gendered nature of the Atlantic slave trade through capture and transportation on the slave ships, to arrival in the Americas” (Bush 2008). This chapter examines African women in the Atlantic slave trade, allowing us a “deeper insight into the transformations in women’s lives” (Bush 2008). Women taken from their homelands in Africa were irreversibly changed even as they created new lives for themselves in the Americas. This chapter, therefore, strives as much as possible to present a perspective of the Atlantic slave trade through the eyes of women, an endeavor made difficult by the dearth of sources.

Origins Scholars now know much about the places on the continent from which captives were derived, the destinations in the Americas to which Africans were taken, and can provide an assessment of how many were enslaved during the course of the Atlantic slave trade. Men and women were taken from the Gold Coast, Bight of Benin, Upper Guinea Coast, Bight of Biafra, and West Central Africa. African ports accounting for at least half of all the Africans deported to the Americas were Luanda (Angola), Whydah (Bight of Benin), Bonny (Bight of Biafra), Old Calabar (Bight of Biafra), Benguela (Southern Angola, Cabinda, north of the Congo River), and Lagos in the Bight of Benin (Lindsay 2008). Historians of the slave trade estimate that between 12 and 15 million Africans were taken from Africa during the course of the Atlantic slave trade, while about 10–12 million survived the journey. Final destinations in the Americas include the Caribbean islands, Brazil, and the United States (Curtin 1969; Klein 2010; Eltis 2007). A tremendous amount of scholarship has been generated on the influences Africans brought to the Americas – religious practices, cuisine, and other elements of their individual and group cultures (Gomez 1998; Sweet 2003; Hall 2005; Heywood and Thornton 2007). Women, especially, would have contributed to retention of many elements of the cultural practices they had brought to the New World, passing them down to subsequent generations. One scholar has noted that before the large-scale migration of European women to the Americas, African women were responsible for significant numbers of births. Those who survived the ship’s journey, he maintains, “were the women who gave birth to African American

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culture and society” (Lovejoy 2006). Nevertheless, before women had an opportunity to contribute to societies in the New World, they had to survive the ship’s voyage across the Atlantic Ocean.

The Transatlantic Slave Trade Much is now known about the operation of this trade which lasted for several centuries, and scholars can say something, however limited, about the experiences of African captives during the journey across the Atlantic Ocean. In the last 30 years, scholars such as Phillip Curtin, Paul Lovejoy, and Joseph Inikori, among others, have produced a great deal of literature on the Atlantic slave trade, showing it as a complex enterprise, with long-lasting impact on people in Africa, Europe, and the Americas. (Curtin 1969; Inikori 1982; Inikori and Engerman 1992, Eltis 2007; Klein 2010; Lovejoy 2011). Recognizing that it was central to the economic and social expansion of the West, and fundamental to the history of the United States, Latin America, and the Caribbean, scholars have taken great interest in understanding the trade over the centuries it operated. Much remains unknown about the Atlantic slave trade, but there are fundamental things about which historians agree with respect to the general shape and economic arrangement of the trade. The magnitude of the trade’s historical legacies for Africa and Africans, in particular, have prompted explorations of its impact in a variety of ways, not the least of which is on how the millions of Africans that were enslaved coped with the ordeal, how they survived it, and its lasting impact on their lives. The shape of the trade, as it involved the sale of men and women from communities in Africa, meant that lives were destroyed, families torn apart, and violence meted out to those who resisted enslavement. European demand for slaves was met by African sellers who, in large part, determined the shape of the trade, at least in the early centuries of contact and trade. For that reason, in the early period of the Atlantic slave trade, women were not likely to be sold into Atlantic slavery. Demand for women in the internal slave markets on the continent, and European desire for male captives, meant that more men were sold than women to European buyers. Martin Klein and Claire Robinson have argued that women predominated as enslaved in African societies. Valued both for their reproductive and productive capacity, women played an important role in sub-Saharan African societies. Despite their importance to African communities, women were not spared. From the beginning of the Atlantic slave trade, women were among the captives snatched, branded, imprisoned, and loaded aboard slave vessels bound for the Americas (Klein and Robertson 1983).

Women in the Transatlantic Slave Trade Most of what is known about women in the slave trade comes from the records of ship’s captains, ship logs, and other European observers. There is little information about enslaved women and men beyond cursory observations of their physical

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appearance, their mortality rates, and records of infractions aboard ship, in some cases. Enslaved people were a particular kind of cargo, made into commodities by their European captors, and the sources speak to this peculiar form of trade. This meant that their enslavers sought to dehumanize and degrade their captives, providing them with the bare minimum allowing them to stay alive. Value was placed on a captive’s life only in so far as profit could be made on her body. While it is difficult to directly access the voices of women in their own words, there are sources that can give an insight into their experience of captivity. Given that women experienced the slave trade differently from their male counterparts, it is important to understand the ordeal they went through from the moment of capture. Scholars can only guess at, or make inferences about women’s experiences from the available sources of European slave traders on the African coast, and on board slave ships. Recent discoveries of narratives from the perspective of women help to illuminate how women suffered during the slave trade, but much is still missing.

Middle Passage on Land In his fictional account of the life of an enslaved woman, the author Lawrence Hill captures the horror of capture and slavery. Someone Knows My Name tells the story of Aminata Diallo taken as a young girl into slavery in the Americas. In vivid detail the protagonist describes her capture in the fictional town of Bayo. Coming home at the end of the day with her mother, they are surrounded by men with “faces like mine,” who spoke in a “strange tongue.” Her mother is killed trying to protect her daughter. The young girl’s wrists are bound and a noose is placed around her neck. As she is transported to the coast bound for a slave ship to the Americas Aminata wonders: “How could this be? I prayed that this was a dream, but the dream would not relent” (Hill 2007). Although few narratives of capture and enslavement in Africa exist, there are some accounts that can provide a glimpse into the experience of those snatched from their homes and eventually taken to the Americas. In his autobiography, published in 1789, Olaudah Equiano describes his enslavement in Africa in great detail, describing his capture and sale first to several African owners, then to owners in the Caribbean and the United Sates. Equiano describes his experiences at a coastal port in West Africa: “The first object which saluted my eyes when I arrived on the coast was the sea, and a slave ship, which was then riding at anchor, and waiting for its cargo. These filled me with astonishment, which was soon converted into terror when I was carried on board” (Equiano 2009). Likewise, other published narratives of male captives like Mahommah Gardo Baquaqua and Venture Smith chronicle the moment of their capture and captivity (Smith 2000). Few such accounts exist for women. While the story of Aminata Diallo is fictional, the novel evokes a sense of how women and girls lived through the Atlantic slave trade. During the course of the trade, men, women, and children were traded to the Americas at different rates. Because women were valued in the internal trade fetching higher prices, and because European buyers sought to buy men, more

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men were sold in the era of the Atlantic slave trade than women. Historians estimate that almost two thirds of Africans transported to the Americas were men. However, during the late seventeenth to the mid-eighteenth century larger numbers of women were sold into slavery. Scholars have attributed this to greater demand among European buyers for women due to their reproductive capacity, and higher prices demanded for enslaved males. Furthermore, there were regions such as the Bight of Biafra where more women were sold than men. Ugo Nwokeji asserts that from the 1650s to the mid-nineteenth century females were “consistently in the majority” (Nwokeji 2001). The nineteenth century also saw an increase in the number of children, especially girls, sold into slavery. Thus Aminata Diallo, as she retold the story of her captivity, remembers the many children with whom she was enslaved, remembering: “I think of the people who crossed the sea with me. The ones who survived. We saw the same things. Some of us still scream out in the middle of the night.” (Hill 2007). The significant numbers of men and women taken from their countries left a vacuum in their homeland, resulting in separation from loved ones, death and painful memories of the lives they left behind. Women and girls, as illustrated by the fictional Aminata, experienced the Atlantic slave trade in particular ways. Snatched from their homes, girls, young women, and married women were likely to be taken as slaves. Alexander Falconbridge, a British ship surgeon on several slave ships between 1780 and 1787, interviewed African captives and chronicled their stories. Many of them were women. Describing the process of enslavement, he recounted what the enslaved had told him about the process. From his recollections something of women’s suffering can be gleaned: “I was likewise told by a Negro woman that as she was on her return home, one evening, from some neighbors, to whom she had been making a visit by invitation, she was kidnapped; and, notwithstanding she was big with child, sold for a slave. This transaction happened a considerable way up the country, and she had passed through the hands of several purchasers before she reached the ship” (Falconbridge 1788).

Middle Passage at Sea The ship’s voyage across the Atlantic Ocean shapes the understanding of the Middle Passage, but Africans taken from their homes were subjected to several middle passages, beginning from the moment of capture and continuing with the trek to the coast, imprisonment in a hold at a coastal fort, boarding a slave ship, and journeying across the Atlantic. The walk to the coast from the location of capture could take several days or weeks depending on how far inland a woman was captured. Along the way enslaved women and men faced all sorts of hardship. They were subject to resale, humiliation, and violence. Fictional accounts attempt to recreate the real experiences of enslaved Africans on this passage (Hailey 1976; Herbstein 2002; Gyasi 2017; Moore 2018). Hill’s Aminata Diallo describes her long journey from where she was captured to the coast, as the coffle picked up more captives along the way. The story vividly gives an

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account of attempted escape and recapture, and death and separation as those enslaved are taken farther from their homes. It also recounts experiences particular to women – pregnant women giving birth, a young girl experiencing her first menstrual flow, and the all too common experience of women being raped by their captors (Hill 2007). Falconbridge described the ordeal of pregnant women observing that some “who happen to be so advanced in their pregnancy, as to be delivered during their journey from the fairs to the coast; and I have frequently seen instances of deliveries on board ship” (Falconbridge 1788). In Aminata’s tale, a woman from her village, pregnant when captured, gives birth to a child on the journey to the coast. Many more gave birth aboard slave ships. Once captured, women and men were marched to coastal prisons to await transportation across the Atlantic. The trip to the coast could take several weeks to months before an enslaved woman embarked on a ship, during which she might have been subjected to all sorts of indignities. On the African coast she could be imprisoned for weeks in one of the slave forts or barracoons. These prisons often at the lowest level of fort were dark and dank, and crowded, with hundreds of enslaved in small spaces (Lindsay 2008). Captives were fed the bare minimum, and food shortages were likely to impact the enslaved first. For African captives, “the abject conditions of their incarceration made this an exceedingly narrow range within which to subsist: between abject and benign starvation, between the absolute or near absence of food at worst and daily rations even at best too scanty and nutritionally limited to supply nourishment beyond a minimal level” (Smallwood 2008). This meant that captives were subject to illness and death. Chained together in dungeons in coastal forts, there was little possibility of escaping their imprisonment. Some women avoided this plight by being employed as “castle slaves,” put to work preparing food, washing clothes, and performing other tasks for their European captors. At Cape Coast castle during the seventeenth century the Royal African Company employed many such women. These were the lucky ones who had the possibility of returning to their families if they could abscond. Many more African captives found themselves languishing in the holds of the forts for days or weeks awaiting embarkation aboard a slave ship (Smallwood 2008). In Hill’s novel, until she is put on board a slave ship, Aminata has hopes of becoming free: “Surely I would get free. Surely this would end. Surely I would find a way to flee into the woods and to make my way home.” (Hill 2007). Once taken out of the castle prisons, the torment for the enslaved often continued with the “coasting” of slave ships along the West African coast, as it picked up more human cargo before sailing to the Americas. This could be weeks or months. Although some Africans were able to escape capture and enslavement before boarding a slave ship, many were not so lucky and ended up transported to the Americas or lost their lives on the voyage across the Atlantic Ocean. Ship captains, traders, and other Europeans often recorded attempts by Africans to escape before embarking, and after, before a ship set sail. Falconbridge recorded one such attempt by some women: “The night before our departure, the tent was struck; which was no sooner perceived by some of the negroe women on board, than it was considered as a

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prelude to our sailing; and about eighteen of them, when they were sent between decks, threw themselves into the sea through one of the gun ports” (Falconbridge 1788). Knowing this was their last chance, it seems the women sought a way to escape, for once a ship sailed the possibility of flight was diminished. The experience aboard ship across the Atlantic has garnered much attention from historians of the slave trade (Greene 1944; Lovejoy 2006; Taylor 2006; Smallwood 2008; Mustakeem 2016). This middle passage, which one historian has described as an “experience of motion without discernible direction or destination” for African captives, was perhaps the most horrific as women and men found themselves aboard floating vessels sailing to unknown destinations (Smallwood, p. 122). A tremendous amount of scholarship has been generated on the ship’s journey across the Atlantic, documented by scholars, and showing what the journey across the ocean entailed. Those who participated in the slave trade kept meticulous records of this leg of the slave trade, largely for economic reasons. Of primary concern for slave traders was being accountable to investors and shareholders. Profit, therefore, was paramount. The well-being of captured Africans was secondary. Scholars of the slave trade have mined the journals and records of participants in the slave trade to understand the full spectrum of its operation, revealing the structural elements of the trade. More recently, scholars are using these sources to access the experience of enslaved Africans, however limited that information might be. In her examination of seventeenth-century slave trade records of several European nations, Angela Sutton maintains that “mentions of African women and the variety of ways in which they were treated by both African and European men in the European records can also reveal much about the power dynamics between and among European and African slave traders on the Gold Coast” (Sutton 2015). While these women did not speak directly, glimpses of their experiences can be caught in these secondhand accounts. The extent of women’s suffering in the middle passage will never be fully known, but from the fragmentary evidence mined from the documents of slave traders, we can imagine the horror they suffered. The few records from their own perspectives, detailing the plight of African women on board slave ships, illuminate its horrors. These fragmentary accounts of women captured in Africa mirror Equiano’s experience. In 1783, Belinda, “the African,” a 70-year-old woman petitioned the legislature in the Massachusetts legislature for a pension. Recounting her life story Belinda Sutton chronicled her captivity and transportation to America providing a description of the ship’s voyage: “Scenes which her imagination had never conceived of, a floating world, the sporting monsters of the deep, and the familiar meeting of billows and clouds, strove, but in vain, to divert her attention from three hundred Africans in chains, suffering the most excruciating torment; and some of them rejoicing that the pangs of death came like a balm to their wounds” (Finkenbine 2007). There are no graphic details of her tribulation but the misery of her journey can be imagined. Likewise, historians Randy Browne and James Sweet uncover the memoirs of Florence Hall, a woman enslaved in Jamaica in the late eighteenth century. She recalls the name she was born with – Akeiso – and remembers elements of her life

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before her abduction. The splintered pieces of Akeiso’s story that were uncovered are reminiscent of Aminata Diallo’s ordeal. Akeiso details her memories of childhood in the “Country of the Eboe,” and her capture by “a party of the enemy,” who sold her to Europeans. Her description of the ship’s voyage was cursory. Still a child she was “permitted to walk about the ship,” while “the men and women were chained and kept in darkness below.” She remembers the poor quality of the food and the punishment meted out to those enslaved on board ship (Browne and Sweet 2015). The historian Jon Sensbach’s recounting of the life of Rebecca Protten details the experience of women in the middle passage including the records describing “an unidentified African woman,” who “brought a child into the world, nurtured it, kept it as clean as she could, and carried it to shore alive in the New World” (Sensbach 2015). The fortitude and strength required of such an act speaks to what that particular woman must have clung to in her past. Yet as the historian Stephanie Smallwood observes, “Each person pulled onto the slave ship embodied a social history: one or more distinctive places that were called ‘home’ and an indelible web of relationships comprising ties with immediate family and the extended network of kin” (Smallwood 2008). That may have been even more so in the case of women, who often were mothers or who had aspired to motherhood before their capture. Aminata Diallo would surely have married in her village, had children of her own, and possibly followed in her mother’s footsteps as a midwife, but her enslavement changed that trajectory. Even though she had a daughter in America, the circumstances under which she could be a mother were limited in enslavement. As Jennifer Morgan maintains, the childhood memories enslaved women carried would have included memories of marriage and birth ceremonies, in addition to other childhood memories: “Both mothers and daughters would feel the absence of the moment of puberty at which a girl came under her mother’s care, to learn weaving, baking, and marketing,” or in the case of Aminata, midwifery (Morgan 2004). The experience on board slave ships created ties among those who survived the journey, forming connections of friendship and kinship as they endured the long journey to slavery. Women enslaved while pregnant gave birth on board ship helped by other women. Children, like Aminata Diallo, with no parents surely sought comfort with women on board ship who may have left their own children behind. On slave ships such a bond might have developed between a young girl and a woman. Fictive kinship relationships developed and persisted for those who might have ended up in the same place in the Americas. Indeed, the enslaved men and women constantly developed new familial bonds as those they considered kin were sold. Holding on to elements of what they had left behind and creating new bonds was a way enslaved women coped. For the most part the suffering of, and brutality toward, women is gleaned from what others described. The accounts of the treatment they were subjected to were often terse, cursory entries in the ship logs of captains – records of death, beatings, illness, or other attacks on the bodies of captive women. Conditions on board ship were degrading for women and men. Once on board African captives were chained

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in the holds of ships, forced to lie side by side. The spaces in which they lay were cramped cesspools of disease and filth. Some slave ships allowed women and children to move freely about on deck, but this could subject them to other depredations – cruelty and sexual abuse from crew members. Falconbridge described the molestation women faced: “On board some ships, the common sailors are allowed to have intercourse with such of the black women whose consent they can procure. And some of them have been known to take the inconstancy of their paramours so much to heart, as to leap overboard and drown themselves. The officers are permitted to indulge their passions among them at pleasure, and sometimes are guilty of such brutal excesses as disgrace human nature. The hardships and inconveniences suffered by the Negroes during the passage are scarcely to be enumerated or conceived” (Falconbridge 1788). Falconbridge’s intimation that the captive women entered these liaisons willingly exhibits the power held over women’s bodies in these circumstances. Women were often used to entertain the crew, made to sing and dance for the pleasure of bored sailors. On board ships women bore a variety of torments – sickness, starvation, physical abuse, sexual exploitation, and death. The annals of the slave trade are filled with notations of torture, rape, and other humiliation. But we also get a glimpse of women’s responses, and they were not always passive. Female captives fought the notion that enslavement was their lot and responded accordingly. Wherever and whenever they could, enslaved women resisted their capture, running away from barracoons on the coast, jumping overboard in waters off the coast, or revolting in mid sea. Resistance began, no doubt, at the moment of capture as depicted by Aminata Diallo whose mother died resisting the enslavers attempting to capture her daughter. Likewise, en route to the coastal forts women tried to run away, challenged their captors, and found ways to end their captivity. Women refused to eat, often dying of starvation. At the slave forts, women were often separated from men, but there are many accounts of women being among those who escaped from coastal forts where they awaited ships. On board ships women continued to resist. Women were often not shackled but put above deck, and there too they resisted their captivity by jumping overboard or starving themselves. Ship’s captain logs described the many causes of death of the enslaved. One cause of death was through rebellion. Although men were most likely to be the leaders of shipboard revolts, women also took up arms aboard slave ships. In 1839 women were among those who revolted aboard the Amistad. Led by Sengbe Pieh the captives succeeded in taking over the ship demanding that the ship’s captain return them to their homelands (Rediker 2012). Women were part of other ship board revolts. In 1797 African captives aboard the ship Thames attacked the crew. The ship’s doctor described how the slaves armed with crude implements fought to free themselves. Although women were not part of the attack, he noted it was because there had not been enough time for the men to alert them (Greene 1944). Other accounts describe women, because of greater mobility aboard ship, smuggling weapons and ammunition to men to aid rebellion aboard ship. Because they were on the “periphery of white surveillance,” with less oversight, they were able to play a

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supportive role (Taylor 2006). When revolts aboard slave ships were quelled, punishment was as likely to be meted out to women as men. When a group of captives mutinied on the slave ship Robert in 1721, a woman served as the lookout for the men, and stole the weapons that were used in their attempt to free themselves. The captain severely punished her for this act: “The woman he hoisted up by the Thumbs, whipp’d, and slashed her with Knives before the other Slaves till she died.” Clearly, this public display was meant to deter other women from attempting a similar act of rebellion (White 1985). Resistance on board ship is typically represented as insurrection or revolts, but enslaved men and women responded to their captivity in other ways (Richardson 2001). Women resisted their captivity in subtler ways on board ship. Slave ship captain’s logs are filled with descriptions of women refusing to eat and committing suicide in that way. The logs of ship doctors were filled with entries of women dying of “lethargy,” clearly related to women either refusing to eat, or going into depression, leading to death. Falconbridge’s narrative spends much time depicting the plight of women. He describes many instances and cases of women’s despondency – from a woman who “pined for a considerable time,” and “refused all food and medical aid,” to a young woman “falling into a despondency” who later hung herself. In great detail he observed the psychological effects of enslavement on women: “I saw a young negroe woman chained to the deck who had lost her senses, soon after she was purchased and taken on board” (Falconbridge 1788). While rebellion was a cause of death on slave ships, disease was more likely to kill enslaved women. The same diseases killed women and men, for the most part. Dysentery, smallpox, and scurvy were common on board slave ships, but diseases specific to women were also a cause of mortality. Sowande Mustakeem has described the many diseases to which captives were subject. Venereal diseases, in particular, most commonly affected women. When African captives on board ship fell ill, particularly with communicable diseases, the consequences could be dire (Mustakeem 2008). Enslaved Africans were also murdered. The infamous case of the slave ship Zong in 1781 illustrates another way captives lost their lives. When the ship was stranded on its way to the Americas, its captain in order to collect insurance and conserve water threw over 130 of its captives overboard. As one historian has noted, slave traders who made the decision to jettison sick or dying captives “fully understood that potential buyers judged slaves’ financial worth according to their physical health” (Mustakeem 2011). So it was that in 1791 an African woman on board the slave ship Polly on contracting smallpox was tied to a chair, gagged, and blindfolded by the captain and crew and drowned in the ocean, for fear she would infect the rest of the ship (Mustakeem 2011). As in the case of the Zong, her story came to light only because a court case ensued. Yet while her story can be told, nothing more is known about this captive African woman. What was her name? Who was she? What were her origins? Was she a mother? A daughter? A wife? As one scholar has observed, “the irreparable violence of the Atlantic slave trade resides precisely in all the stories that we cannot know” (Hartman 2008).

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Historiography The stories of most women are absent in the history of the Atlantic slave trade, but increasingly these lives are being unearthed through innovative methodologies and mining of archives. Several scholars, as part of larger work on the Atlantic slave trade, have addressed the subject of women in the slave trade. The seminal work on women in slavery in Africa is perhaps Martin Klein and Claire Robertson’s Women and Slavery in Africa (1983). Other scholars such as Jennifer L. Morgan and Deborah Gray White discuss the slave trade as part of larger studies on women in slavery in the Americas. The work of Barbara Bush and Verene Shepherd on women’s lives in slavery in the Caribbean explores the African background and transit to the Americas, as well as how the ship’s journey affected women in a variety of ways. Stephanie Smallwood’s account of Africans turned into “Atlantic commodities” vividly exhibits the length to which Europeans went to maximize profits, and the consequences of those actions on Africans. More recently Sowande Mustakeem has explored the experiences of women and men on board slave ships, alerting us to the individual horrors African captives lived through, while Eric Robert Taylor highlights women’s role in rebellion at sea. Other scholars have tried to access the voices of the many women taken into captivity (Klein and Robertson 1983; White 1985; Shepherd 2002; Morgan 2005, 2016; Taylor 2006; Mustakeem 2008, 2011; Bush 2008, 2010).

Conclusion While much of what is available to elucidate these experiences is fragmentary, they allow the stories of enslaved women to be told, and scholars must continue to mine these documents, however patchy and sparse they might be. Sadiya Hartman has rightly noted that “the stories that exist are not about them [enslaved women], but rather about the violence, excess, mendacity, and reason that seized hold of their lives, transformed them into commodities and corpses, and identified them with names tossed-off as insults and crass jokes” (Hartman 2008). However, if historians of the slave trade omit these stories, African women disappear from history altogether. Hartman recognizes the difficulty of recreating the histories of these silent women asking, “how does one recuperate lives entangled with and impossible to differentiate from the terrible utterances that condemned them to death, the account books that identified them as units of value, the invoices that claimed them as property, and the banal chronicles that stripped them of human features? . . . How does one listen for the groans and cries, the undecipherable songs, the crackle of fire in the cane fields, the laments for the dead, and the shouts of victory, and then assign words to all of it? (Hartman 2008). The answer is complex. The many silences in the archives do not allow scholars to fully access women’s voices and experiences. Nonetheless, so as not to leave those voices silent, scholars excavate the voices of others, problematic as they might be. How, after all, can a

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captain of a slave ship who has murdered a young African woman tell us anything about her? In the last two decades, historians of Africa, the Atlantic slave trade, and American slavery have attempted to read across the grain of the many biased and problematic records of the Atlantic slave trade. What is now known about African women in the Atlantic slave trade is measurably more than what was known even a decade ago, allowing us to understand the indignities, sorrow, loss, and death which millions of female captives faced over three centuries of the brutal trade in human bodies. Much remains to be known, and the burgeoning scholarship in the fields of African women’s history, slave trade history, and African history will surely lead to more innovative histories that uncover the lives of African women in the Atlantic slave trade.

Cross-References ▶ African Women and Globalization ▶ Challenges of Writing African Women’s Histories ▶ Gender, Motherhood, and Parenting in Africa ▶ Researching Women and Gender in Africa: Present Realities, Future Directions ▶ Teaching Women’s Studies in Africa ▶ Women in Pre-colonial Africa: East Africa ▶ Women in Pre-colonial Africa: Southern Africa ▶ Women in Pre-colonial Africa: West Africa

References Browne, R., & Sweet, J. (2015). Florence Hall’s “memoirs”: Finding African women in the transatlantic slave trade. Slavery & Abolition, 37(1), 1–16. https://doi.org/10.1080/0144039 X.2015.1074795. Bush, B. (2008). “Daughters of injur”d Africk’: African women and the transatlantic slave trade. Women’s History Review, 17(5), 673–698. https://doi.org/10.1080/09612020802316157. Bush, B. (2010). African Caribbean slave mothers and children: Traumas of dislocation and enslavement across the Atlantic world. Caribbean Quarterly, 56(1–2), 69–94. https://doi.org/ 10.1080/00086495.2010.11672362. Curtin, P. D. (1969). The Atlantic slave trade a census. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press. Eltis, D. (2007). ‘A brief overview of the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade,’ Voyages: The Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade Database. https://www.slavevoyages.org/voyage/about. Accessed 27 Apr 2018. Equiano, O. (2009). The interesting narrative of the life of Olaudah Equiano written by himself. Auckland: The Floating Press. Falconbridge, A. (1788). An account of the slave trade on the coast of Africa. Printed by J. Phillips. Retrieved from http://hdl.handle.net/2027/mdp.39015063081023. Finkenbine, R. (2007). Belinda’s petition: Reparations for slavery in revolutionary Massachusetts. (Forum). The William and Mary Quarterly, 64(1), 95–104. Gomez, M. A. (1998). Exchanging our country Marks: The transformation of African identities in the colonial and antebellum south. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press.

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Greene, L. (1944). Mutiny on the slave ships. Phylon (1940–1956), 5(4), 346–354. https://doi.org/ 10.2307/272039. Gyasi, Y. (2017). Homegoing: A Novel. First Vintage books edition. Vintage Books. Hailey, A. (1976). Roots: The Saga of an American family. Garden City: Doubleday. Hall, G. M. (2005). Slavery and African ethnicities in the Americas: Restoring the links. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press. Hartman, S. (2008). Venus in two acts. Small Axe, 12(2), 1–14. https://doi.org/10.1215/-12-2-1. Herbstein, M. (2002). Ama. E-reads. New York, USA. Heywood, L., & Thornton, J. (2007). Central Africans, Atlantic Creoles, and the Foundation of the Americas, 1585–1660 (p. 2007). New York: Cambridge University Press. Hill, L. (2007). Someone knows my name (1st American ed.). New York: W.W. Norton and Company. Inikori, J. E. (1982). Forced migration: The impact of the export slave trade on African societies. New York: Africana Publishing Company. Inikori, J. E., & Engerman, S. L. (1992). The Atlantic slave trade effects on economies, societies, and peoples in Africa, the Americas, and Europe. Durham: Duke University Press. Klein, H. (2010). The Atlantic slave trade (2nd ed., New ed.). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Klein, M., & Robertson, C. (1983). Women and slavery in Africa. Madison, Wis: University of Wisconsin Press. Lindsay, L. (2008). Captives as commodities: The transatlantic slave trade. Upper Saddle River: Pearson Prentice Hall. Lovejoy, P. (2006). The “middle passage”: The enforced migration of Africans across the Atlantic. Ann Arbor: ProQuest Information and Learning. Lovejoy, P. E. (2011). Transformations in slavery: A history of slavery in Africa (p. 2011). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Moore, W. (2018). She would be king: A novel. Minneapolis, MN: Graywolf Press. Morgan, J. (2004). Laboring women: Reproduction and gender in New World slavery. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Morgan, J. L. (2005). Women in slavery and the transatlantic slave trade. In A. Tibbles (Ed.), Transatlantic slavery: Against human dignity. Liverpool: Liverpool University Press. Morgan, J. L. (2016). Accounting for “the Most excruciating torment”: Gender, slavery, and transAtlantic passages. History of the Present., 6(2), 184–207. Mustakeem, S. (2008). “I never have such a sickly ship before”: Diet, disease, and mortality in 18thcentury Atlantic slaving voyages. The Journal of African American History, 93(4), 474–496. Mustakeem, S. (2011). “She must go overboard & shall go overboard”: Diseased bodies and the spectacle of murder at sea. Atlantic Studies, 8(3), 301–316. https://doi.org/10.1080/147888 10.2011.589695. Mustakeem, S. (2016). Slavery at sea: Terror, sex, and sickness in the middle passage. Urbana: University of Illinois Press. Nwokeji, G. (2001). African conceptions of gender and the slave traffic. The William and Mary Quarterly, 58(1), 47–68. https://doi.org/10.2307/2674418. Rediker, M. (2012). The Amistad rebellion: An Atlantic odyssey of slavery and freedom. New York: Viking. Richardson, D. (2001). Shipboard revolts, African authority, and the Atlantic slave trade. The William and Mary Quarterly, 58(1), 69–92. https://doi.org/10.2307/2674419. Sensbach, S. (2015). Born on the Sea from Guinea: Women’s spiritual middle passages in the early Black Atlantic. In M. E. Bay, F. J. Griffin, M. S. Jones, & B. D. Savage (Eds.), Toward an intellectual history of black women. Chapel Hill: The University of North Carolina Press. Shepherd, V. A. (2002). Resistance and rebellion of African captives in the transatlantic slave trade before becoming seasoned labourers in the British Caribbean, 1690–1807 in Shepherd, V. In Working slavery, pricing freedom: Perspectives from the Caribbean, Africa and the African diaspora. New York: Palgrave.

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Smallwood, S. (2008). Saltwater slavery a middle passage from Africa to American diaspora. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Smith, V. (2000). A narrative of the life and adventures of venture, a native of Africa: But resident above sixty years in the United States of America, related by himself. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press Academic Affairs Library. Sutton, A. (2015). The seventeenth-century slave trade in the documents of the English, Dutch, Swedish, Danish and Prussian Royal Slave Trading Companies. Slavery & Abolition, 36(3), 445–459. https://doi.org/10.1080/0144039X.2015.1067975. Sweet, J. H. (2003). Recreating Africa: Culture, kinship, and religion in the African-Portuguese world, 1441–1770. Chapel Hill: The University of North Carolina Press. Taylor, E. (2006). If we must die shipboard insurrections in the era of the Atlantic slave trade. Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press. White, D. (1985). Ar’n’t I a woman?: Female slaves in the plantation South (1st ed.). New York: Norton.

Women in Pre-colonial Africa: East Africa

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Nakanyike B. Musisi

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Motherhood and Marriage . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Women, Power, and Politics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Women, Work, Trade, and Mobility . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Women, Slavery, and the Slave Trade . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Women and Religious Rituals . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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This general survey of the lives of women in pre-colonial East Africa draws upon recent innovative scholarship in multiple fields, especially that of historical linguistics. Based on the longue durée approach, this scholarship is giving us glimpses of how ecology, trade, war, violence and other calamities, institutions and ideologies related to monarchy, motherhood and spiritual formulations, slavery, and changing marital and kinship patterns impacted the lives of both ordinary and elite women and how, in turn, these women as historical players shaped these forces through innovation and contestation. Motherhood and marriage were at the center of the revolutionizing thrust in the evolution of political systems in this period, most notably with respect to the centralization of power and the development of hierarchical systems that emerged in many of these polities. Women in acephalous groups as well as those in centralized polities exercised considerable power at the local level and played decisive roles that determined the quality and character of their polities. Evidence proves that N. B. Musisi (*) History Department, University of Toronto, Toronto, ON, Canada e-mail: [email protected] © Crown 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_123

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women’s productive and reproductive labor was at the core of advancements made during the Iron Age in the Nile Valley and the Great Lakes region. Prior to the agricultural revolution, the sexual division of labor was relatively flexible and equalitarian; thereafter much of women’s labor became primarily designated to food production on land women did not own. Women captured in expansionist wars frequently became booty and were treated as commodities in regional and international trade in which some women stood to gain. Women’s participation in commodity production and trade as societies became more complex attests to women’s agency and empowerment. The articulation of intensified global commercialization in the eighteenth and nineteen century with domestic demands for female productive and reproductive labor for the sustenance local communities accelerated the demand for female slaves and the retention of large numbers of slave women for domestic use by both men and women. While enormous gaps in our historical understanding of women in this period remain and continue to pose a challenge, we now possess a more nuanced understanding of the complexities of the central roles pre-colonial African women played in their societies. Keywords

Pre-colonial · East Africa · Motherhood · Marriage · Great Lakes region · Slavery · Politics · Agency · Kinship systems · Economy · Patriarchy · War and violence · Work · Religious rituals

Introduction The designation “pre-colonial” has been found wanting on a number of counts, the most important being its disguised supposition that life on the African continent was static before the advent of European imperialism and its tendency to dissolve markedly different epochs occurring over 2000 years of African history into one amalgamated mass. For the purposes of this chapter, the idiom is used to show that women in pre-colonial East Africa lived lives that were at times exciting and/or precarious in increasingly complex and changing environments. They existed in societies, communities, and polities of various sizes stretching across territories covered today by the countries of Burundi, Eritrea, Ethiopia, Kenya, Rwanda, Somalia, Southern Sudan, Tanzania, and Uganda. Moving fluidly, people interacted with strangers, adapting their institutions and developing ideas which expanded throughout the region. In the process, tensions developed over the use of different resources, with consequent transformations in gender relations, roles, positions, and identities. An inventory of scholarly work shows that certain key issues or, in some cases, entire histories have gone undocumented, due in part to a lack of evidence. Moreover, following its initial and brief boom of the 1970s and 1980s, pre-colonial history became sidelined from mainstream Africanist scholarship when, in the 1980s, interest turned to the colonial and post-colonial periods (Reid 2011). In recent years, however, methodological rigor combined with a multidisciplinary approach has yielded path-breaking scholarship that, drawing in new and innovative

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ways on oral traditions, archaeology, comparative ethnography, and paleoenvironmental sources, has reinvigorated the subfield. Most importantly, historical linguists’ innovative work with the different meanings of words is giving us glimpses into the thinking of the historical actors themselves and providing us with fascinating insights into this far and distant history. While publications about pre-colonial women in East African history remain few in number, recent scholarship (Stephens 2008, 2009, 2013; Schoenbrun 1993, 1998, 2004; Gonzales 2009; Kodesh 2010; Vansina 2004) branches out beyond the perennial mold that has until now drawn conclusions about African women’s past based on what is known about their lives during the two or three centuries preceding colonialism. The new scholarship, based on the longue durée, is giving us glimpses into the region’s continuous and fluid history which should energize current pertinent debates. It presents a nuanced appreciation of how ecology, trade, diseases, war, violence and other calamities, institutions, and ideologies related to monarchy, motherhood, and spiritual formulations impacted the lives of both ordinary and elite women and how, in turn, these women as historical players shaped these forces through innovation and contestation. This scholarship debunks what Fourshey et al. (2016) call the “single-story” narrative about pre-colonial African women having lived static, uniform, and unchanging lives of perpetual victimhood. The chapter is divided into five broad sections. The first section covers the subjects of motherhood and marriage as critical institutions and ideologies in the development and evolution of not only agriculture but equally so social and political systems as well as the production and reproduction lineages and societies. The second section deals with power and politics in both centralized and acephalous polities, while the third section looks at work, trade, and mobility – emphasizing women’s agency in the creation and redistribution of resources (goods and services) between families, communities, and regions. The fourth section recounts the widespread phenomenon of slavery and slave trade extending from the northern modernday Sudan in the ancient kingdom of Kush, Sudanic Funj dynasties, the southwestern and the central parts of the region, as well as along the whole coastline. The fifth section briefly relates to the subject of religious rituals particularly their enabling potential to free women from various societal constraints while empowering others to form advantageous and beneficial links. The conclusion reemphasizes the importance of a longue durée approach to East African women’s history.

Motherhood and Marriage An examination of motherhood and marriage over the longue durée in East Africa reveals that the experiences of and practices connected to being or becoming a mother or wife were never universal or static for pre-colonial women. The realities of individual women varied according to social location and political structure (centralized and decentralized). And not all women could enjoy the benefits of becoming a mother. For example, while princesses in Ankole were permitted to have children, princesses and certain wives of the Buganda kings were prohibited from doing so

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(Musisi 1991, 1992). The institution of motherhood was, nevertheless, at the core of social, political, and economic organization in pre-colonial societies (Schoenbrun 2004; Stephens 2013). Far from being a private individual effort, marriage and motherhood were public undertakings. As social agents acting in the context of obtrusive patriarchy, women willfully and strategically deployed motherhood and marriage as empowering tools to both advance individual interests and benefit their communities. Such deployment enabled them to wield even more power. Women were far from pawns in the games orchestrated and commanded by men. At the turn of the first millennium C.E., the challenges of taking possession of and settling on new lands in the Great Lakes region led to innovative practices in agriculture and social organization (Schoenbrun 1993, 2004). In places, this led to the intensification of agriculture (particularly banana cultivation) and pastoralism, movements to increase and sustain a critical mass of followers (boost group numbers) as well as the development of robust institutions. Preserving fecund maternity remained a critical tool in achieving these goals and lies at the center of the subsequent development of patrilineages and patriclans, embryonic polities, and the sexual division of labor (prescriptions designating which tasks women and men could perform). Among the inhabitants of the Kivu Rift Valley and beyond, the birth of a son became, after 800 C.E., the most desired outcome of a woman’s reproductive potential (Schoenbrun 2004). As giving birth to a son could enhance a women’s status within her adopted lineage, it gave her a vital tool to negotiate for better conditions in her life. In the aftermath of the banana revolution and the concomitant expansion of settlements which took place between 1100 and 1500 C.E. on the western shores of Lake Victoria, marriage and motherhood became imbricated in a complex web of social and political networks (Schoenbrun 1998, 2004; Stephens 2013). Designed for the purpose of reaping the critically important agroecological wisdom of indigenous women, exogamous intermarriage as a social strategy brought about new social relationships as well as multifarious and complex networks of land-use configurations. Motherhood’s centrality in these social configurations found expression in metaphors such ndaa (belly) and eka (house) which people of the Great Lakes region used to denote the symbiotic relationship between social and biological reproduction and small and large patrilineages and land holdings (Schoenbrun 1993, 1998). By delivering to their husbands what they most desired – children and labor – married women in the Kivu Rift Valley transformed their subordinate position as wives into other statuses that ensured them greater security (Schoenbrun 2004). To the northeast, ancestors of speakers of the proto-Eastern Cushitic languages in present-day Somalia in expressions such as min (uterus/house) underscored a similar importance of motherhood and probably the matrifocality of earlier Somali societies (Ahmed 1995). Given the importance of their biological and social labor, women were often pressured to have more children. They were also compelled to observe a number of taboos, such as food proscriptions, or associations – especially foods rich in proteins that could support the development of big fetuses (which women with smaller pelvises often could not deliver safely without complications or death) – and to

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undergo specific fertility rituals. But the intent of such pressures was less to dominate and control women than to facilitate successful social and biological reproduction. Women innovated using fertility devices and medicines provided by older women and grandmothers who cultivated and jealously guarded their specialized knowledge to ensure that a woman delivered safely and the life of her newborn was secured. In preparation for their future roles as wives and as mothers, girls in various communities underwent elaborate initiation ceremonies and coaching. Fertility being at the core of many such rituals, their training necessitated emphasizing sex education. Among the matrilineal and matrifocal proto-Ruvu (600–900 C.E.) communities in Tanzania, a prospective suitor to a lineage daughter could be required to undergo a fertility examination by senior women. Among the Kutu of the East-Ruvu subgroup, the gravity of ensuring that a marriage would result in children required young women to at times engage in premarital sex with their suitors, while under the watch of older women (Gonzales 2002, 2009). Along the East African coast, oceanic traders were assimilated into the communities of indigenous women through a variety of marital arrangements, their children eventually building a unique cultural group that came to be known as the Swahili (Horton and Middleton 2000). These interethnic marriages transformed family and marriage structures in significant ways. Since uneven gender migration patterns made it impossible to strictly maintain culturally sanctioned Swahili endogamous marriage prescription, it was not until late in the nineteenth century that, a critical mass having been reached, the reverse of this ideal could be imagined. A significant economic effect of the preference for endogamous marriages was the consolidation of communal solidarity, which made resource sharing with outsiders a difficult and complex matter. The social strata facilitated by these marriages remained crucial (Horton and Middleton 2000; McDow Thomas 2018). Thus, despite the religious prescription that all wives and children be treated equally, when a polygamous Arab man with an Arab wife took on African wives or concubines, the status of the latter and their children was subordinate to that of the Arab wife and her children. Moreover, while sons inherited rights to status and wealth from their fathers, they inherited rights to land through their mothers. The Islamic legal framework and the Arab notion of kafa’a (sufficiency in marriage) protected while at the same time constrained women in marriage (McDow Thomas 2018). Nevertheless, divorced or widowed women could exercise considerable social and commercial freedom. For example, Bint Habib, mother of the notorious Tippu Tip, exercised substantial autonomy as a divorced woman in the choice of whom to remarry (McDow Thomas 2018: 128–129). Yet the duress widows experienced from the cultural and social disapproval of being unattached compelled several to reenter marriage. Makaa bint Khamis a-Lamiyya of Lamu married four times – first to a Comorian man, then to an Indian in Pemba, and next to another Indian in Zanzibar – before finally settling down in the late 1870s with a Khoja or Indian Muslim man, Dhala Sumar (McDow Thomas 2018:). Motherhood was at the center of the revolutionizing thrust in the evolution of political systems in the pre-colonial period, most notably with respect to the centralization of power and the development of hierarchical systems that emerged

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in many of these polities (Schoenbrun 1998, 2004; Stephens 2013). The triumph of the great families in Rwanda in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries was achieved on the basis of mothers’ work, with the support of their lineages. The expectation that a queen mother’s power was absolute and could not be vetoed by her sons led a queen mother to commit suicide in the eighteenth century when her son, having refused to take her advice, massacred the inhabitants of Kalu; her death halted their persecution (Vansina 2004). In Buganda, where this political ideology was strongest and in direct contrast with other monarchies in the region, Buganda princes took their mothers’ clans (Musisi 1991, 1992). A significant effect of rotating kingship among different clans was that certain (warrior) clans were excluded from providing a wife for the king. Members of the clan that provided the wife whose son became heir to the throne stood to materially gain, and, hence, every clan’s dream was to provide their sister to this enviable position. Nevertheless, a queen mother’s considerable political power and influence did not benefit the majority of women. In Buganda, where inheritance did not specify which son would become heir, royal women were in constant competition, maneuvering with one another to get their son to become heir as this was the only way they could secure an influential position for their lineage and themselves as queen mother (Kagwa 1934, 1971; Stephens 2007). Female palace intrigue was an everyday experience of being a royal wife (including in Rwanda and Buganda, competing with the king’s male lovers). In Busoga, the possibility of adoption, combined with the fact that inheritance was premised on the son of the first wife, led first wives without sons to adopt them from a co-wife or lineage and raise them as their own (Stephens 2013). The centrality of motherhood in political governance is demonstrated by the existence of the office of queen mother in almost all centralized polities across East Africa – among the sixteenth-century Funj, the eighteenth-century Ufipa, and among the nineteenth-century Hehe, Darfur in the Sudan, Ankole, Rwanda, and Burundi, to give but a few examples (Willis 1981; Vansina 2004; Schoenbrun 1998). Queen mothers wielded substantive power in their polities (see below). Yet their power fluctuated constantly in consort with ideological changes at the state level. For instance, the early Christianization of Nubia, which undermined the queen mother’s power, resulted in changing the ideology of succession to son from father rather than from mother. Queen Yodat (Gudit) resisted this change by reversing the policy in her polity in the tenth century (Kropacek 1984; Berger 1999). In the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, the 27th Buganda king, Kabaka Ssemakookiro Wasajja Nabbunga, attempted unsuccessfully to restrict the queen mother’s overbearing political motherhood and influence by ordering her and many members of her lineage exterminated in an effort to replace matrilineal descent and succession in the royal family with patrilineal descent, as in the general population (Stephens 2007:171). Queen mothers, nevertheless, continued to wield power in Buganda until the 1900 when the British signed a misogynistic agreement with the ruling male oligarchy (Schiller 1990; Hanson 2002). Overall, while commoner women in decentralized polities did not directly exercise power at the level enjoyed by queen mothers, motherhood guaranteed and bestowed reverence

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upon them in their communities, which they often exploited to influence events and command others’ labor. In Somalia to date, there are clans that still bear the names of their ancestral mothers such as reer-Cambaro and reer-Maryan (Ahmed 1995:176). Women entering their husband’s lineage as wives were valued as generators of wealth and were central to its redistribution through various networks. In addition to being a token that underscored the interests various individuals had in a woman’s offspring, bride wealth offered by a man’s to a woman’s lineage symbolized this recognition. In Kivu in the Rift Valley, a substantive amount of this wealth went to women and children (Shoenbrun 2004), as was also the practice in several other communities in the Great Lakes region and in Somalia (Ahmed 1995; Kapteijns and Spaulding 1989). In the expectation that children would issue from the union, the ideal form of marriage was one in which bride wealth had been officiated, although this changed in the late nineteenth century when greater numbers of slave women became available who could be taken as wives. Nonetheless, marriage as an institution facilitated the creation, control, and redistribution of wealth as well as bonds between families of different lineages/ethnicities and safeguarded women’s agency. Moreover, the motherhood labor of married women in Buganda, for example, also provided men more freedom to engage in wealth creation activities outside the domestic realm. Foreign men gained access to the most valued resource in pre-colonial East Africa – land – by marrying indigenous women. Moreover, births in marriage augmented societies’ numbers. On the East African coast and in the interior, strategic marriages were exploited by individuals and lineages that wished to boost their political or economic influence and/or enlarge their membership group. By 1887, several Buganda women were married to a wealthy Arab/Swahili trader at the Kabaka’s court – Ali bin Sultan. By marrying Karunde, the daughter of a prominent Nyamwezi chief (Fundikira), Muhammed bin Juma gained a valuable foothold in the Nyamwezi trade as well as protection from other Nyamwezi rulers. Moreover, Muhammed bin Juma benefitted from being treated with deference by other Arabs in Tabora who wished to enter Nyamwezi affairs. When Karunde died, Muhammed bin Juma, anxious not to lose his privileges, married another daughter of the same family (McDow Thomas 2018: 140–141). It was not always the case that women in pre-colonial East African societies were in dependent and subordinate positions to their husbands in marriage. Certain wealthy women exercised great freedom and marriage to them provided not only vital social or commercial links but, in some cases, starting capital in support of their spouses’ economic activities. If necessary, as stipulated by conventions governing the institution of marriage, these women could settle a deceased husband’s debts (McDow Thomas 2018:180). A Kilwa widow, Hasan Musa Balu (d. 1880), sold her jewelry to settle her deceased husband’s debt; Salum bin Abdullah, a Barwani woman with immense wealth in Zanzibar and in Muscat in the late nineteenth century, financed the in-land trade ventures of the infamous slave trader Tippu Tip (McDow Thomas 2018). In the city states along the Somali coast, wealthy women commanded a lot of power over other women and even men (Ahmed 1995).

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Women, Power, and Politics Whether in acephalous groups or centralized polities, there was no period in precolonial East Africa during which women were completely excluded from political power. The diversity and complexity of political structures, even within the same locale, combined with the multiplicity of avenues to exercise power, defy any generalization about women, power, and politics in the area in pre-colonial times. Women exercised various types of power – diffused, coercive, material, or even abstract – in a variety of institutional and/or spiritual settings and in visible and/or discreet ways to shape their societies. While the levels at which women could exercise power varied, some wielded so much power that historians may never comprehend how they were able to do so, other than to infer that they were wise, insightful, and shrewd strategists. And when they died, they were venerated and given fitting burials. In Nubia in Axum, women were interred in pyramids, as were the great pharaohs of Egypt, and with human sacrifice. Queen Amanishaketo (35–20 B.C.E) was entombed in a pyramid along with various treasures (Akurang-Parry and Clay 2008). In Buganda, queen mother Muganzirwazza’s death (d. 1884) was followed by state terror and insecurity. She was buried wrapped in an enormous quantity of bark cloth and linen in the most ostentatious funeral ever seen in Buganda. Following her death, her son, Mutesa I, sank into an irreversible depression (Musisi 2008). In Rwanda, the queen mother’s burial ground became part of a ritual (hence sacred) site on land which could not be alienated (Vansina 2004). In Somalia, legendary queen Arraweelo’s stone mound in Ceelaayo village (northern Somalia) is visited and venerated with fresh leaves and flowers by contemporary Somali women, while it is stoned by by-passer men (for allegedly having historically castrated men) (Ahmed 1995). From the time of the warrior Queen Makeda (Queen of Sheba/kingdom of Saba) (1000 B.C.E) to that of the rule of Empress Taytu Betul (T’aitu Bitoul) (1850–1898), women founded dynasties, protected their kingdoms, engaged in palace politics to ensure their son was selected heir, and sometimes overthrew their husbands. They competed for political power as sole absolute rulers or within a structure that allowed them to rule with either their sons or with a son and a designated queen sister (Lebeuf 1963; Ehret 1998). As a sole ruler, Makeda founded and ruled the Menelik dynasty for almost 50 years (Tripp 2017). The dynasty lasted over a thousand years, until 1974, when Emperor Haile Selassie was deposed. At its zenith, the Menelik Empire’s influence was felt both within and beyond the region in the Middle East. Between 60 B.C.E and 80 C.E., no fewer than six queens presided over the ancient city of Meroe at the center of the affluent empire of Kush (Ibid.). Indeed, the period during which power was centralized and institutions built between 1100 and 1900 C.E. saw a more active involvement of women in politics. The towns of Pate, Lamu, Malindi, and Kilwa that stretched along the coast from Zanzibar to Mombasa had a long line of queens. Mwana Mwema served as the queen of Wahadimu people, the indigenous inhabitants of the island of Zanzibar, in the mid-seventeenth century (Amory 2008). In the Rwandese kingdom that developed between the seventeenth and nineteenth centuries, royal power was shared between the king (Mwani) and his

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mother, the queen mother (omugabekazi) (Vansina 2004). Among the Baganda, Banyoro, and Banyankole, power was shared between the king, his mother, and one of his classificatory sisters (often a half-sister). With the exception of the king, who was the queen mother’s equal, each of these positions conferred higher status and power than that conferred to the most important chiefs. In Buganda, while the designation kabaka came to be used popularly in reference to the king in the nineteenth century, kabaka was a title that had been used in the past to refer to the queen mother (nnamosole) and queen sister (lubuga) (Roscoe 1911; Kagwa 1971; Kiwanuka 1971; Sacks 1979; Schiller 1990; Musisi 1991, 1992; Hanson 2002; Stephens 2007). Among the Ufipa, Baganda, Banyankole, Banyankole, and Banyoro Banyarwanda, in addition to being consulted on all state affairs, queen mothers performed judicial work and were, with certain exceptions, the only ones who could veto a king’s execution decisions. Women were also expected to receive the same kinds of tribute and engage in redistributions similar in type to those of the king. Among the Ufipa, the queen mother had the added prerogative of being the only office holder who could dethrone the king for unacceptable conduct (Willis 1981). The classificatory sister (not necessarily a biological sister/could be a cousin), enthroned together with the king, was considered as the king’s “official spouse,” though a sexual relationship was not permitted between the two, and she was barred from having children (Ibid.). At the time of a king’s death in Buganda, the queen sister acquired the ritual responsibility of announcing the dead king’s oracles. The women occupying each of these royal offices held land, extracted taxes from their tenants, attracted a hierarchy of chiefs to their palaces, and participated fully in the governance of their kingdom. Social background and age were important criteria in selecting women who could exercise power in pre-colonial East Africa. In Rwanda, queen mothers had to be descendants of four ibibanda or clans that could produce abagabekazi (queen mothers); in Buganda they could be drawn from any clan. Nonetheless, marriage into the royal family made them candidates for the role of nnamasoleship (queen mother), the highest status a woman could hold in Buganda. At the end of the nineteenth century, Mashina rose from being a young servant in the household of a chief in the small state of Mamba on the slopes of Mount Kilimanjaro to being the chief’s wife whom the people chose to succeed him when he died. Mashina’s love of war enriched her people, and she also expanded the market for cattle during her reign by allowing poor people to possess and participate in the cattle trade (Gollock 1971:16–23). In acephalous polities, women who held chiefly positions were often older and widely respected for their mystical powers which they could exercise as individuals or through gender specific or mixed groups/associations. Elite women used a variety of strategies to access and retain power. One of these was making alliances with foreigners, as done by Queen Fatuma of Zanzibar who, when faced with the coastal rebellion of 1690, sought to ally herself with the Portuguese forces. Earlier, in 1650, when Queen Mwana Mwema – Queen Fatuma’s aunt – found herself in the midst of intricate diplomatic and military struggles to control the lucrative Indian Ocean trade, she formed alliances with various neighbors and Omanis in order to maintain the island’s independence and

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survive (Amory 2008). Between 1892 and 1893, Isike, a female relative of the Nyamwezi chief, conspired with the Germans to install her in the chief’s place (Stephens 2008). Two centuries earlier, a queen in Hadeya solicited the aid of the Abyssinian emperor to oust her husband and install her instead (Ibid.). For some women, particularly kings’ wives, eroticism, seduction, and intimacy were powerful devices used to influence state policy, retain their powerful positions at court, and/or get their sons chosen as heirs to the throne. Watkins (2017) demonstrated how, in the midst of a mammoth shift in power in Rwanda between 1750 and 1900, women such as Umwamikazi (queen) Nyiramongi used this tool as a means to propel her to the even higher status of umugabekazi (queen mother). As regent for her young son, the Mwami Rwogera Nyiramongi, queen mother Nyiramongi commandingly exercised direct power from 1847 to 1863 (Watson (Ibid.). Deception, conspiracy, and secrecy were effectively used by some queens as options to influence succession outcomes. This was the case when, in 1525, Ga’éwah kept secret the death of her brother, the supreme ruler of the Mazäga, until she had secured for herself nomination as regent of her preferred nephew, the successor (Stephens 2008). In the Darfur in the late eighteenth century, a senior wife, Kinana, conspired to not only have her husband selected as the new sultan but to overthrow him (Ibid.). In most cases, in addition to relying on a sizeable number of warriors which they could deploy, elite women redistributed wealth for the purpose of accessing and maintaining patronage relationships and multiple support networks at court and across the country. To access and maintain power, the support of their male lineage kin was indispensable. No queen mother in Buganda or Rwanda survived without that crucial support (Roscoe 1911; Vansina 2004; Newbury 2009). Besides, to stay in power and remain successful, elite women had to always be attentive and skillful in day-to-day interactions with their husbands, sons, courtiers, and lineage members. In spite of the sophisticated diplomatic skills and political acumen exhibited by some of these women, the forces against them were often overwhelming. In 1652, the Portuguese exiled Mwana Mwema from Zanzibar for her role in their humiliating defeat by the Omanis in Mombasa in 1650 in an attack that destroyed the Portuguese settlement and murdered the Augustinian monks residing there, which resulted in the imprisonment of the Christians (Amory 2008). In the nineteenth century, in the aftermath of failing to wrestle the crown for her full brother from the sanctioned prince, Mboza Mamwinu of the Shambaa kingdom left with her brother to create a rival kingdom in Mshihwi (Feierman 1974, 1990). The force of patriarchy did not stop elite women from holding power, though its potency occasionally modulated how and when they could hold power and exercise control over their own movements and sexuality. While royal houses were notorious for being polygamous, there is no documented instance of polyandry in East Africa, not even in the case of the most powerful women, such as the Queen of Sheba/Saba (biblical and qur’anic respectively). Yet, whether in Rwanda, Buganda, or Bunyoro, queen mothers’ and queen sisters’ sexuality was subject to various forms of social and state control throughout the pre-colonial period. When, in the nineteenth century, queen mother Murorunkwere defied custom by taking a lover, Seruteganya,

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circulation of the rumor that she was pregnant gave rise to political scuffles that left them both dead and their son implicated in their murders. The news that a queen mother could die at the hands of her son left the entire country in a state of fear (Vansina 2004: 168–169). In as much as sexual charm and devotion facilitated some royal wives political power, that power was also often contingent on a royal wife’s husband naming her son as heir as well as the wife’s male lineage relatives rallying behind her so that, as the royal wife advanced to the enviable office of queen mother ship, they as members of her lineage could also advance to higher status levels. Patriarchy also shaped access to power in less centralized polities. For this reason, it was difficult for pastoral women in Somalia, for example, to directly exercise institutional political power although one of the most important characters in Somali folk tales is queen Arraweelo. Arraweelo is said to have “castrated all men and ruled with an iron hand” (Ahmed 1995: 176–177). In the nineteenth century, the Shambaa chief’s mother acted in consort with her brothers when they (chief’s mother and her brothers) wished to curb their son’s (chief’s) powers. The defensive and expansionist policies of more highly centralized polities made war and insecurity an almost routine occurrence for most women rulers and their subjects. Kush in Nubia and Axum became renowned for their warrior queens, queen regents, and queen mothers. When his efforts to conquer Nubia in 332 C. E. were rebuffed by the mighty force of Candace, the frustrated Alexander the Great invaded Egypt instead. The queen of Axum led an army in 23 C.E. that advanced along the river Nile to Elephantine in Egypt in search of wealth and land. In the midtenth century, Queen Yodit, also known as the “fire” or “heathen” Queen of Agao, spearheaded a decisive insurrection against the Christian kingdom. Her troops overthrew the Ethiopian king, destroyed churches, and exterminated Christians. The most feared ruler in the region, Queen Yodit, retained sovereignty for 30 years (Tamrat 1972). War and violence were common strategies to access power and resources for redistributive purposes in the centralized polities of the Great Lakes region in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. By pillaging adjoining federations, Buganda, Rwanda, and Bunyoro kings fortified ties with chiefs, pacifying their militias by giving them captured women and girls. In the Great Lakes region, as in ancient Nubia and Axum, the practice of maintaining large courts meant there was a constant demand for labor, particularly that of female slaves. In Rwanda, for example, the presence of the king or the queen mother was always essential in the execution of a battle (Vansina 2004). In addition to seizing large numbers of women and girls, it was not uncommon for victors to execute a queen mother as a sign of humiliation and defeat. In Busoga, the military labor of all adult men was compulsory. Men who failed to participate risked losing their property and reputation and becoming social outcasts. In this militarized social system, wives were not spared as their fate became inextricably linked with their husbands’ military honor. Fellow women often illtreated and even tortured the wives of men who absconded (FitzSimons 2018). Women’s participation in the culture of war took several forms – singing songs commemorating martial valor, naming dead heroes, brewing beer, preparing banquets to honor war heroes, and physically scorning and/or denying food and

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other services to men reluctant to fight. By the nineteenth century, it was not uncommon for women to transport weapons to the front lines (Ibid.). Queens also utilized war for the purpose of defending their kingdoms against foreign incursions. When Italy invaded Ethiopia at the end of the nineteenth century, it was Empress Taytu Betul (T’aitu Bitoul) who, commanding her army in a last ditch effort to protect her sovereignty, defeated the Italians at the famous Battle of Adwa (Prouty 1986; Zewde 2001; Pankhurst 2001). This victory ensured Ethiopia’s position as one of two African countries to escape European colonization.

Women, Work, Trade, and Mobility Women’s work patterns, particularly the sexual division of labor and their participation in trade, varied across historical epochs, cultural boundaries, and social strata. Whether in the Nile Valley or the Great Lakes region, there is enough evidence to prove that women’s productive and reproductive labor was at the core of advancements made during the Iron Age. In what David Schoenbrun has called “the vasts of green, brown, and blues,” between 500 B.C.E and 1000 A.D., women in the Great Lakes region actively and innovatively interacted with the physical and biophysical environment to carve out settlements and survival mechanisms and to create durable communities (Schoenbrun 1998). The changes generated by their labor brought fundamental changes in societal organization which, nonetheless, laid the ground for the development of restricting ideologies. In the first millennium, for instance, women in the Great Lakes region were excluded from certain forms of hunting and fishing. In patrilineal societies, children belonged not to their mother’s lineage but to that of their fathers (Ibid.). Between 1000 and 1500 C.E., the agricultural revolution – based in some areas on root crops, millet, and sorghum or bananas and in other areas on pastoralism or a combination of both – transformed the sexual division of labor (Ehret 1998). Prior to the agricultural revolution, the sexual division of labor was relatively flexible and equalitarian; thereafter women’s labor was primarily designated to food production on land women did not own. Nonetheless, there were exceptions, as the Nubian and Ethiopian cases demonstrate where male agricultural labor predominated and most peasant women processed grains, cooked food, and were responsible for other domestic chores (Berger 1999). Among the Shambaa, land clearing was done by men only for the first opening of the field, and together with their female folks, they planted and weeded the crops, while women were singularly responsible for harvesting (Stephens 2008). In Rwanda, the division of labor by gender was not absolutely rigid (Vansina 2004; Newbury 2009). Men and women usually collaborated on major tasks such as clearing fields, working with the hoe, harvesting, and (perhaps) threshing. But certain tasks were gender specific. In Buganda, although men generally did the first clearing of new land and planted the banana rootstocks, women were responsible for the upkeep of the banana groves (Kagwa 1934; Roscoe 1911; Musisi 1992; Schoenbrun 1998; Stephens 2007). In addition to being the primary managers of agricultural

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affairs, women in Ruvu communities also controlled harvest yields. Rhoda Gonzales (2009) proposes that women most likely coordinated collective agricultural work parties. The symbolic relationship between many societies and economies in the region facilitated the development of interdependence between communities that were primarily dependent on agricultural crops and pastoral societies. Hence, in the nineteenth century, many Kikuyu women exchanged food for livestock (Berger 1999). Women in the north Nyanza communities of the Basoga, Baganda, and Bagwere who generated food surpluses could exchange these for animal skins, dairy products, or meat. In the process of ensuring a more balanced diet for their families, they also gained a certain economic autonomy (Stephens 2013). Land remained a contestable resource for communities and individuals in the region. While wealthy Amhara women owned land as private property and, hence, could control the entire process of agricultural production – plowing, planting, and harvesting their own fields (Berger 1999) – women in most areas had only usufructural rights to the land they cultivated. Commoner women in Buganda could not own or inherit banana gardens although, as individuals, wives were entitled to their “own” garden on which to cultivate bananas and root crops (Roscoe 1911; Schoenbrun 1993, 1998; Stephens 2007). Nonetheless, elite women, including the queen mother, could own and accumulate wealth in land by extracting taxes from tenants. From the eighteenth century on, increasing urbanization in the kingdom of the Sinnar in the Nile Valley left many women who had previously owned land vulnerable to losing their right to land ownership. To survive in the emerging urban commercial society, many were compelled to part with their land by selling it (Berger 1999). The division of labor by gender among pastoralists was often sharp. Among the Oromo and Galla, for example, women tended the livestock while men cultivated (Stephens 2008). Among the Somalis, women were responsible for all the tasks having to do with livestock other than camel (Ahmed 1995). Among Rwandan herders, women who neither herded nor milked cows – though they processed and stored milk – seemed to possess more personal authority than women in farming communities (Vansina 2004). In the nineteenth century, Tegre women, like those in several other polities, could not milk livestock (Stephens 2008). Among the Ufipa, only women of the royal family could milk livestock (Willis 1981); similarly, only some Amhra could milk livestock. In the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, while Maasai women milked but did not herd cows, Chagga women on the slopes of Mount Kilimanjaro collected grasses to feed cattle but did not own them (Stephens 2008). Women’s labor in agricultural communities was not limited to the production of staple crops. While salt mining and iron smelting were generally done by men, a few women were occasionally involved in mining, especially its processing, transporting, and marketing. Kushite women worked in the Nubian gold mines and smelted iron for trading purposes as early as 1000 B.C.E. (Burstein 1998/2009) Pare women were involved in iron smelting. Women also worked in salt mines

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located in the Great Lakes region at Kibiro on the southeastern shores of Lake Albert and at Katwe on the northern edge of Lake Edward (Schoenbrun 1998). Gender was not always the deciding factor in the sexual division of labor. Hence, while potting was done by women among the Ruvu, Ufipa, Kikuyu, Kamba, and Maasai, it was done by a special class of women and men in nineteenth-century Ethiopia (Stephens 2008). Moreover, whereas basketry and mat making were female activities in Ethiopia and Buganda, on the Swahili coast, Nyiha men engaged in basket-making and marketing, while Swahili women generated surplus income from trading baskets (Horton and Middleton 2000). Women with specialized skills such as making pots, weaving, or smelting passed on these skills to their daughters or nieces. Almost everywhere, it was women, as wives, mothers, sisters, and grandmothers, who produced, processed, cooked, and served the staple foods. Some women, particularly in urban centers along the coast, traded in sex as prostitutes. Women such as spirit mediums, who had specialized knowledge, could exchange it for material goods such as animals, food, clothing, or other items of trade (Horton and Middleton 2000). The co-existence of mixed economies permitted the exchange of goods and services produced by women. Women’s participation was important in trade at both local and regional levels. At the regional level, women produced a number of items exchanged in the lucrative trade that kept the ancient Nubian kingdom of Kush in close contact with Egypt (Berger 1999). Before the fifteenth century, women in Ethiopia were involved in transporting honey and wine in large earthenware jars (Ibid.). In the nineteenth century, Kikuyu women successfully engaged in long distance trade with the Kamba and Maasai. Protected by their gender from being perceived as war mercenaries, Kikuyu women traversed long distances hawking domestic handcrafts and other products. Many women exchanged food for livestock (Ibid.). The services provided by Nyamwezi women (wives, concubines, and daughters) who accompanied porters carrying ivory to the coast and items such as textiles and guns to the interior were critical components of the nineteenth-century trade caravans that trekked through what is now Tanzania (Rockel 2006). East African market women’s activities in the pre-colonial period remain under researched. Early European travellers made reference to market women, and there is evidence that, in the nineteenth century, women were among some of the principal market traders in Geledi, Somalia (Pankhurst 1961). Women market traders were also common in Pare and among the Chagga of northeastern Tanzania. Products intended for domestic use such as pottery and woven goods, including floor mats, cloth, baskets, and winnowing trays, were among the products women traded. The fact that some women in sixteenth-century Ethiopia specialized in measuring grains and salt suggests their agency in market activities (Stephens 2008). Organizational and social deterrents frequently constrained women’s economic participation. Since long distance trade requires women’s absence from home for an extended period of time, a number of young mothers were excluded. For this reason, trade was primarily dominated by single non-childbearing women, though there were some exceptions, such as a few young women on the Nyamwezi caravan route. On the East Coast, women who engaged in the public arena were

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not considered “virtuous” enough to be sought as future wives (Miller 2007). Moreover, women isolated in harems, away from the public arena because of the practice of seclusion, were dependent on intermediaries to run their businesses. Such women sometimes commanded significant wealth by making use of female slaves to trade for them in public (Ibid.). Hence, since strict gender segregation restricted the economic opportunities of some women and only women could perform certain services, gender segregation expanded certain women’s opportunities, especially those of lower status, to engage in lucrative economic alternatives. Secluded middle-class women in the Somali city states expended their time by beautifying themselves, embroidering, and cooking for their families (Stephens 2008). In late eighteenth- and nineteenth-century Buganda, wives of wealthier husbands could enter local markets to trade beer, banana cider, or food surpluses and thus obtain rare consumables brought by long distance trade from places as far away as Bunyoro. Such goods included hoes, knives, salt, or fat for making soap (Roscoe 1911; Schoenbrun 1997). By offering new opportunities to traders, increased foreign commercial penetration in the region directly and indirectly altered women’s lives in fundamental ways. In many places it accelerated processes of political centralization in ways which negatively impacted women’s status. The emergence of a centralized kingdom among the Shambaa in conjunction with increased trade in the seventeenth century and eighteenth centuries significantly distorted the gender division of labor, giving men an advantage over women (Berger 1999). As men progressively withdrew from agricultural production and turned to trade, women’s participation in food production intensified, to the latter’s disadvantage. A significant negative effect of early nineteenth-century trade in central Rwanda as well as the larger Great Lakes region was the escalation in the numbers of young women and children captured for the purpose of slave trading (Vansina 2004; Chretien 2003). Despite the fact that political instability in the nineteenth century made life precarious for many, women’s labor remained central to agricultural production, trade, and other economic pursuits. The wars and insecurity did not, however, deter some women from pursuing trade; wandering and women hawking their goods continued to be part of the landscape. Nevertheless, men dominated long distance trade almost everywhere in the region towards the close of the pre-colonial period because they were able to take advantage of new opportunities which, due to cultural constraints, were out of women’s reach. Though relatively small in scale, women’s trade in goods and services sustained long distance trade and, for this reason, was important. Unfortunately, the arteries along which trade goods moved across the region also served as pathways for transporting diseases affecting men and women alike (Kodesh 2004). Far from providing evidence of the subornation and exploitation of their labor, women’s participation in commodity production and trade attests to women’s agency and empowerment. Women’s trade was crucial to the sustenance of their families. In addition to generating wealth for women, it enhanced men’s freedom to become active in other social sectors. Although women’s work facilitated or constrained their mobility and, at times, their independence, their work also proved to be an indispensable component of the labor force in pre-colonial East Africa.

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Women, Slavery, and the Slave Trade The acceleration of both foreign and local trade which opened up the East African region at the advent of the nineteenth century led to momentous changes in the configuration of political power that resulted in the expansion of some polities and the centralization of others (Médard and Doyle 2007). In many parts of East Africa, however, the fluctuations in trade and political expansion were accompanied by violence, war, insecurity, and vulnerability. Austere gender repercussions accompanied these shifts. Indeed, as Catherine Coquery-Vidrovitch states, under such circumstances, the lives of most women “grew harder and harder” (2009:58), especially the lives of those who were enslaved. Women captured in expansionist wars frequently became booty and were treated as commodities in regional and international trade. Some became recognized and favored wives, traders, and the mothers of lineage heirs; others became concubines, domestic sexual objects or pimped sex workers, domestics, and industrial or field laborers. All functioned in roles that sealed the patron-client relationships of their owners and users. Domestic slavery and slave trading were common phenomena prior to the nineteenth century. There is evidence of the existence of slaves and slavery in Kush and the ancient city of Meroe where slave labor was utilized in the construction of pyramids, in the service of courts, and for domestic purposes. A number of East African slaves were transported to the Red Sea and the Persian Gulf in the eighth and ninth centuries by the early Islamic regimes in that region. In fact, in the lucrative trade in slaves that took place across the western Indian Ocean during the ninth century, hundreds of enslaved East Africans left the continent annually as cargo to multiple destinations, including the Indian subcontinent. From the sixteenth through the nineteenth centuries, slaves were owned and traded by merchants as well as by members of the royal family of the Nilotic Sudan Funj dynasty, which owned a large number of slaves and lasted for almost three centuries (Stephens 2008). While most female slaves were not circulated in international trade networks, the Dār Fūr markets, which became famous for their supply of female slaves during the seventeenth century, were an exception (Ibid.) By the late eighteenth century, it was not uncommon for Arab Muslim merchants to raid Nubian and Dinka communities to obtain female and juvenile slaves. Throughout dynastic rule in Ethiopia, the palace population was made up of several thousand slaves and concubines (Ibid.) In the 1820s and 1830s, Egyptian Pasha Muhammad Ali’s military forces enslaved many Sudanese, including thousands of women and children, who were sent downriver to Egypt (Miller 2007). The eighteenth and nineteenth century expansionary wars in Buganda generated a constant supply of captive women who were held in domestic servitude by primarily elite men whom they served as cultivators, wives and concubines. In areas such as Teso in Uganda, hard hit by the regional famine towards the end of the nineteenth century, peasants sold their daughters and sons for food. During the reign of Rwobugiri (1867–1897) in Rwanda, female slaves and children who were exchanged for luxury goods, textiles and guns, constituted an important part of the international commerce (Vansina 2004).

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By the nineteenth century, female slaves constituted the largest proportion of the coastal population. The exact numbers of women displaced and sold in slavery are speculative, but evidence shows that, in the nineteenth century, a disproportionate number were female slaves compared to male. Female slaves in domestic settings in Ethiopia, for example, always outnumbered their male counterparts (Campbell et al. 2007:1; Fernyhough 2007:219). This was also the case in the palaces of the Gibe Gojab states, the Dedesa Omotic states, and the Sawa states of Jenjaro, Jimma, Kaffa, Kucha, and Walamo. In northern Ethiopia and the Gulf of Aden, it is estimated that two-thirds of the enslaved population was female compared to onethird male (Fernyhough 2007). Elsewhere, the articulation of intensified global commercialization in the eighteenth and nineteen century with domestic demands for female productive and reproductive labor for the sustenance local communities accelerated the demand for female slaves and the retention of large numbers of slave women on the continent. Fernhough estimates that 13% of the total population of the Oromo kingdom of Gera and 21% in Kaffa were made up of female slaves (Fernyhough 2007:220). In Buganda, it transformed practices of servitude transactions and how women were generally perceived in society (Tuck 2007). Whether in Ethiopia or Buganda, the enormous numbers of domestic slave women point to the conspicuous nature of their social and economic acquisition. Women brought from the interior were sold in the coastal slave markets for money, while many in the interior were privately exchanged for commercial goods or for other women, primarily because of their childbearing potential, outside the market place (Tuck 2007). In Ethiopia, a woman’s physical attractiveness, age, ethnicity, and place of origin were factors entering into the determination of her destination and price (Fernyhough 2007). There were disproportionately high numbers of women from Gurage and Konso and from Oromo Omotic regions or Galla kingdoms to the southwest who, on the basis of their color (“red”), were considered more attractive than the darker pastoral shanqellas from the Sudanic frontiers, and higher prices were paid for them. At Qabena in the late 1870s, a teenage girl costs three times more than an elderly woman; a young woman costs seven times more (Fernyhough 2007: 226). The modes of acquiring slaves differed from region to region, between communities, and sometimes by age. Younger women and girls were acquired primarily through tribute, as gifts, by kidnapping, deception, and “voluntary” enslavement, either due to fear of starvation in a famine year, to escape a pandemic, or because of taxation (Tuck 2007; Fernyhough 2007). Older women, however, were acquired as war victims or sold by lenders for failure to pay a debt. Nineteenthcentury Buganda was unique in that a large percentage of female slaves were kidnapped or stolen by individuals rather than acquired through state-directed warfare (Tuck 2007). Each of these methods points to the vulnerability of women in periods of local hostilities, expanding lawlessness and natural disaster. Female slaves held various statuses as “slaves” and were treated differently according to their status. The status of female palace slaves in Ethiopia, who were guarded by eunuchs and held in seclusion, was comparable to that accorded to “free” Muslim women along the Swahili coast (Fernyhough 2007). Based on appearance,

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place of origin, mode of acquisition, and other such factors, the slave hierarchy to a large extent determined the destiny of many slave women and how, in particular, they were treated. In Buganda, where many slave women ended up as wives, numerous words existed to describe their passage to bondage as wives. Obwenvubo, for example, denoted a marriage by abduction (Roscoe 1911; Musisi 1992). Similarly, on the Swahili coast, several labels were used that described different female slave statuses, some of which denoted the identities of their owners or traders or indicated a change in status from one slave category to another. For example, a slave woman (msichana mtumwa) who became a concubine was called a mjikazi or musria (Campbell et al. 2007). A “slave woman” could be distinguished from a “free” woman concubine or recognized wife by seclusion as well as by a dress code that required the latter to veil as a sign of her higher moral virtue, in contrast to the former, who could expose both her hair and shoulders. Most slave women lost control over their bodies, and their sexuality was exploited to reproduce a generation of servile labor. The king of Kaffa allocated land to slave couples on the understanding that their union would produce a child within a year (Fernyhough 2007). Failure in this regard could lead to the disaster of being resold. The demand for slave women in the interior was predicated on dissimilar wants. In partilineal societies, slave women were valued as wives for both the reproductive and productive labor required to expand lineage numbers. Slave women were in high demand as wives in matrilineal societies, however, because their husbands were assured of full ownership and authority over their offspring, contrary to local custom whereby children belonged to their mother’s lineage and were under the authority of maternal uncles. In Ethiopia, where the status of women was considered lower than that of men, opportunities to gain and exercise political power (military and administrative) which were open for men were nonexistent for female slaves (Fernyhough 2007). Yet, because of the domestic nature of the work they were called upon to perform, female slaves were less socially isolated from their owners than their male counterparts. Some succeeded in gaining the confidence of the queen or other noble women or intimacy with their master. On the East African coast, the status of slave women who became mothers of their master’s children changed to that of concubine or wife, statuses which gave them some security and protected them from being resold (Miller 2007). The historical record indicates that, once enslaved, female slaves had some opportunity to improve their situation, which was never stable or monolithic (Wright 1993).

Women and Religious Rituals Many religious rituals mirror shifts in societal structures as well as societies’ moral order and innovative capacities. Throughout the pre-colonial period, religion had a crucial place in women’s lives as they confronted personal and public trials and questions. In turn, in their capacity as healers, magicians, prophets, and defenders and transmitters of spiritual beliefs, or as simple practitioners, women impacted

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religious ritual through their practical creations. Women in the Great Lakes region played significant roles in the broad-based Cwezi kubandwa cult which cut across local kinship and geographical boundaries (Berger 1973, 1981; Doyle 2007). Women in late nineteenth-century Rwanda were central to the propagation of the Ryangombe cult, while on the Swahili coast, they became agents in syncretic innovations which, by combining traditional with Swahili Muslim beliefs, gave birth to a number of cults (Vansina 2004; Horton and Middleton 2000). Female deities were idolized and held in high esteem, and queens assumed the ritual office of “divine wife” in the Nubian Kingdom of Kush (Berger 1999). Moreover, a disproportionate number of female and juvenile – compared to male – human sacrifices were made in the service of these deities. Excavations of graves (1730 B.C.E.–1580 B.C.E.) indicate that most humans buried alive to escort the owner of the grave to the next world were women and children (Berger 1999). Innovations that benefitted agricultural and herding communities during the Iron Age were accompanied by the development of novel religious practices conceptualized around generous and opulent deities. Although women’s significant roles in the biological and social reproduction of their communities, as well as their importance in agricultural production, put them at the center of the spiritual systems of Iron Age societies, their location did not completely free them from male social control in their execution of religious rituals (Berger Ibid.). Islam and the processes of Arabization in the region’s northeast as well as along the coast transformed women’s lives in both negative and positive ways. Although Sha’riah law contained some protective clauses for women, its gradual expansion in the sixteenth century in the Fuji kingdoms of Nubia led to a number of women being withdrawn from public life, a process that was repeated in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries further south along the coast (Ibid.). Whether inland or on the coast, the changes brought about by contact between indigenous matrilineal kinship systems and Muslim patrilineal ideology had a profound repercussion on women’s positions in society. Nonetheless, women remained important agents of cultural change in their respective areas. Public religious ritual was work performed in the service of group continuation and survival, while mediums’ provision of and treatment with medicines aided personal self-preservation. Members of all social strata, from kings to lineage and household heads, utilized the services and expertise offered by female religions practitioners to prolong their stay in power as well as to ensure the health and enhance the wealth of their kingdoms. In almost all the centralized polities, women of rank – queen mothers, wives, and princesses – held designated roles as ritual practitioners or specialists; most rulers relied on their creative spiritual power for their success. In Kush, for example, princesses were dedicated to and took up residence at the major religious sanctuaries where they functioned as musicians for Amun, the great god of the dynasty (Ibid.). Although their offices as priestesses and royals entitled them to privileges, and they could act as though they were in authority in a parallel dynasty, their powers were subordinate to those of the king. In ancient Ethiopia, kings patronized high priestess queens whose roles formed the core of religious and ritual performances (Ibid.).

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In the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, the female divine spirit Nyabingi, accompanied by predominately female mediums, provided ideological legitimacy to several dynasties in the Great Lakes region (Schoenbrun 1996; Berger 1981, 1995; Vansina 1966). When King Kasagama of Toro converted to Christianity in the late nineteenth century, so also did his female spiritual guide Kagei who thus maintained her position as the king’s counsellor (Gollock 1971). Recognizing the centrality of shrines in the kingdom of Buganda, kabaka Kyabaggu (1750–1780) initiated the practice of dedicating princesses to the principal gods (lubaale) and shrines by dedicating his daughter, Princess Nakayiza, to be the “spirit wife” of the lubaale Mukasa. In conformity with the ancient Buganda custom of dedicating young girls and women to spirits, this act symbolically expressed the perceived intimate and symbiotic link between women, fertility, and the continuity of life. It is important to note, however, that a “spirit wife” sacrificed her fecundity to the service of a larger cause – increasing the bountifulness of the king and the larger community (Kagwa 1971: 82–84). Like Catholic nuns, the princesses remained chaste for the rest of their lives. Throughout the region of the Great Lakes in which Cwezi kubandwa cults exercised their authority (Uganda, Rwanda, Bunyoro, Burundi, and Congo), cult devotees treated mediums as “wives” of their incorporeal spirit husbands. Unlike their female counterparts (i.e. none religious/medium women), however, female mediums enjoyed freedoms, though they were also subject to restrictions similar to those pertaining to princesses. For example, female mediums in neighboring Busoga were treated as men and, like men, had stools during states of possession, in contrast to women not holding religious office who forbidden to sit on stools generally sat on the floor (Kodesh 2004). Powers bestowed on female mediums in Burundi gave them the authority to judge cases, a privilege ordinarily reserved for men. Female mediums were also permitted to wear men’s ceremonial robes. Until recently it has been argued that, from state to personal levels, participation in public religious rituals or what Neil Kodesh (2004) called “public healing complexes” (particularly spirit possession) provided an outlet for socially marginalized individuals and groups (kinless, childless women, slaves, etc.) to confront their particular (or several) dis-ease. For example, among the peoples of the Zaramo (Kaguru, Kwere, Kutu, Kami, Sagara, Luguru, Ngulu, and Vidunda) in the Dar es Salaam region, who were constantly victimized by slave raiders and traders in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, the cult of spirit possession took a firm grip on the population, particularly among women (Gonzales 2002, 2009). Recent research, however, suggests that members of all social strata, including free elite women as well as men, were associated with these groups (Ibid). Although the nineteenth century presented East Africans with opportunities associated with European social and economic incursions, it was generally characterized by massive challenges – ecological, contact with diseases never before experienced, intensified slavery and the slave trade, war, violence, population displacement, and political centralization. Roaming mediums, claiming the powers of Nyabingi and disseminating their ideology, moved rapidly across the Great Lakes

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region in the middle of the century. In the Cwezi kubandwa cult, male adherents became mediums, while females were more numerous among the followers (Doyle 2007). Although the cult offered women some temporary power and freedom, its structure remained hierarchical and patriarchal. The benefits the cult brought to women have been subject to debate. Earlier sources argued that the cult provided women with power, status, and an area of activity in which they experienced some autonomy and could resist male domination, particularly with respect to their fertility. The cult has also been identified as a form of social protest. Recent research indicates, however, that, while women predominated in the cult as mediums, decisions about the succession and inheritance of Bacwezi spirits remained largely in the hands of older male relatives (Doyle 2007). Recent literature also documents that, in addition to being socially exploited, women adherents were taken advantage of sexually. Encumbered by pressures arising out of Muslim orthodoxy, women along the coast also initiated new spirit possession cults. Women from the same occupation or possessed by the same spirit banded together to create associations, which could also be organized on a neighborhood basis. Often these associations opened membership to non-kin women of free and slave ancestry (Horton and Middleton 2000). Iris Berger (1976, 1981) has argued that, in addition to exemplifying female solidarity, spirit possession cults created a liminal space in which conventional rules were temporarily suspended, facilitating the expression of resistance to dominant male ideologies. Like the inland Cwezi kubandwa cults, those that developed on the East African coast failed to fundamentally change the hierarchical structure of male dominance that constrained women’s lives (Doyle 2007; Horton and Middleton 2000; Schoenbrun 2013).

Conclusion A history of pre-colonial East Africa defies being represented as having homogeneous and static social formations; rather, what we have is an opulent dynamic history which reveals women’s numerous achievements and challenges. Yet, as Fourshey et al. note, “the present-day gender and identity categories applied to the deep past often miss the nuances of gender, identity and power dynamics in Africa” (2016: 302). Women’s history in this part of Africa was shaped to be a complex interplay of social, political, economic, environmental, and demographic forces over a long span of time. Using the longue durée approach to the environmental, social, political, and economic dynamics and their direct implication to women’s lived experiences is thus a precondition of any appreciation of the history of women in pre-colonial East Africa. By revealing how ordinary women, like the perennially documented queens, queen mothers, and princesses, played critical roles that shaped different aspects of the societies to which they contributed as agricultural and other commodity producers, wives, mothers, and spirit mediums, this approach brings hitherto disregarded historical actors to center stage. Women exercised considerable power at the local level and played decisive roles that determined the quality and

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character of their polities. This was because they did not view their maternal fecundity and positions as wives as limited to their roles as child bearers, but rather as unavoidable social and political resources they could make use of to sustain their communities. Nevertheless, marriage and motherhood never went unchallenged by women as well as men. The importance of pre-colonial history to the future cannot be denied as the past continues to influence public understandings, constructions, beliefs, and opinions regarding African women’s capabilities, rights, and place in society. Indeed, as Vansina’s work on Rwanda’s late twentieth-century genocide (Vansina 2004) demonstrates, identifying linkages and trends between the past and present can inform contemporary understanding, explanations, and future projections regarding several aspects of the lives of East African women. One such topic is the overt recurrence of contemporary slavery and human trafficking, which involves Africa’s younger women (and men) in particular. At minimum, pre-colonial history offers a starting point and a “laboratory for drawing conclusions” (Vansina 2004:196, 201). This noted, the study of women in pre-colonial Africa remains be devilled by problems of evidence, including its lack in some places or on some key issues. Still missing, for example, are focused histories about many ordinary women and girls who lived in smaller states or communities (later imagined as ethnic groups by colonialists) on the eve of colonialism, as are longue durée histories of disabilities, sexualities, and human passions in relation to ordinary living, as well as deeper histories of marriage and motherhood in areas beyond the Great Lakes region. Accurate historical representations of East African women remain an urgent and vital project to combat what Reid (2011) has called the “foreshortening of African history” manifest in current scholarship, particularly on such crucial topics as the making and remaking of communities, sexualities, migrations, conflict/violence, landscapes and labor/ work, power, spirituality, changing and complex identities, and environmental formations.

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Stephens, R. (2009). Lineage and society in pre-colonial Uganda. Journal of African History, 50(2), 203–221. Stephens, R. (2013). A history of African motherhood: The case of Uganda, 700–1900. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Tamrat, T. (1972). Church and state in Ethiopia, 1270–1527. Oxford: Clarendon. Tripp, A. M. (2017). Women and politics in Africa. Oxford research encyclopaedia of African history. https://doi.org/10.1093/acrefore/9780190277734.013.192. Tuck, M. W. (2007). In H. Médard & S. Doyle (Eds.), Slavery in the Great Lakes region of East Africa (pp. 174–188). Oxford: James Currey/Kampala [Uganda]: Fountain Publishers/Nairobi (Kenya): EAEP/Athens: Ohio University Press. Vansina, J. (1966). Kingdoms of the savanna. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1966. Vansina, J. (2004). Antecedents to modern Rwanda: The Nyiginya kingdom. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press. Watkins, S. E. (2017). ‘Tomorrow She Will Reign’: Intimate power and the making of a queen mother in Rwanda, c. 1800–1863. Gender & History, 29(1), 124–140. Willis, R. (1981). A state in the making: Myth, history, and social transformation in pre-colonial Ufipa. Bloomington: University of Indiana Press. Wright, M. (1993). Strategies of slaves & women: Life-stories from East/Central Africa. New York: Lilian Barber Press. Zewde, B. (2001). A history of modern Ethiopia (2nd ed., pp. 1855–1991). Oxford: James Curry.

Women in Pre-colonial Africa: West Africa

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Cyrelene Amoah-Boampong and Christabel Agyeiwaa

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Women and Society . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Women and Public Life . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Women and the Economy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Women and Traditional Religion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Women in pre-colonial West Africa were not a homogenous group that lived static lives relegated to the domestic sphere. Women contested, negotiated, complemented, and transformed their societies through their diverse roles in the political, social, religious, and economic realities of pre-colonial life in West Africa. This chapter presents this dynamic history, foregrounding the dynamics of society and social life within which women from Asante to Mali to Zazzau participated in public life, social and economic production and reproduction, and spiritual life. In sum, pre-colonial West African societies valued women, and while the entry of colonial states and religions was definitive in altering this, further research is required to better understand how women created space for themselves within both broad historical eras. Keywords

Pre-colonial Africa · Women · Gender complementarity · Economy · Politics · Religion C. Amoah-Boampong (*) · C. Agyeiwaa Department of History, University of Ghana, Accra, Ghana e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_126

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Introduction Historical studies on West Africa have neglected the arena of women’s pre-colonial lives in favor of a heavy concentration on women’s experiences and roles during the colonial era (Akyeampong 2000; Allman et al. 2002; Berger 2003; Achebe 2011; Sheldon 2017). This bias has perpetuated the myth that gender relations in precolonial Africa were static with the widespread subordination and subjugation of women. This perception cannot be further from the truth. West Africa is a vast continent with a plethora of people, cultures, and historical narratives. Thus, observations adduced about women in West Africa must take cognizance of the local individualities that are unique to West African women. An awareness of the divergent worldviews of West African women enables a more representative contextualization of their daily lives in the pre-colonial period. It also limits the tendency to treat West African women as a homogenous and monolithic group. Regrettably, the limited studies on women in pre-colonial African societies concentrated on women in the ruling elite class (Mba 1982; David 1984; Amadiume 1987). Women such as princesses, queen mothers, and concubines whose activities did not represent the mass of West African women dominated the historical discourse. The voices of precolonial women who negotiated, complemented, and transformed their societies over time were largely silenced. This chapter provides an overview of the diverse roles, experiences, and status of West African women in the pre-colonial era. Using examples from women in Ghana, Benin, Sierra Leone, Gambia, Senegal, and Nigeria, the chapter discusses the social, economic, religious, and political experiences of women in West Africa to buttress the argument that pre-colonial West African women experienced gender parity especially in the dual-sex political systems in which males and females managed and controlled their own affairs in a complementary manner in the public and private arena. The pre-colonial period within the context of this chapter refers to the period before formal European colonization. In West Africa, colonial rule was commenced in the nineteenth century. By the time the European nations of Britain, France, Germany, Belgium, and Portugal met in Berlin in 1884–1885 and divided areas of influence in Africa among themselves, Victorian England and other European societies had restricted views of women’s roles which did not reflect the West African woman’s reality.

Women and Society The social position of women varied among the diverse ethnic groups in pre-colonial West Africa. However, women enjoyed positions of prestige and recognition for their social roles in circumcision, marriage ceremonies, funeral rites, and traditional festivals. This was because in West Africa, as in other societies, gender is a social construct, and gender roles are nurtured roles and responsibilities conferred by society. In traditional African societies, gender was not the most important stratifying category. Sudarkasa (1986) notes that power was based on seniority rather than

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gender. The absence of gender in the pronouns of many West African languages, “personal dress and adornment, religious ceremonials, and intragender patterns of comportment,” is a further relation of the social de-emphasis on gender as a designation for behavior (Sudarkasa 1986, p. 36). This lack of emphasis on gender by West African indigenous societies was based on the kinship system. Kinship was the basis for the organization of group relations around which the fabric of social life was constructed. It served as the central unit that socialized individuals and provided a sense of belonging. Kinship ties were derived from consanguinity, marriage, or adoption. The structures in a family determined the rights and responsibilities of individuals and defined the limits within which members must confine their behaviors and activities (Falola and Amponsah 2012). The importance of women was reflected in the social system because it was through women that the family existed and was perpetuated through reproduction. Family relations in most West African societies during the pre-colonial era were either matrilineal, patrilineal, or bilateral. Among the ethnic groups that were matrilineal such as the Asante in Ghana and the Baddibunka of the Gambia, every woman who married and had children originated a family, while in patrilineal ethnic groups such as the Yoruba in Nigeria, it was men who married and had children that created a family. Both men and women had distinct roles in their families and households. Irrespective of the type of kinship system, the fundamental role of women within the household was reproduction and production. Women were expected to be fertile and to bear children for their husband and the community. This represents the relevance that West African societies and families placed on women’s reproductive roles. Beyond giving birth to children, women were expected to raise socialized offsprings. Phillott-Almeida (1994) notes that among the Baddibunka, the Gambia women were valued and had tremendous power to a degree that their children were named after them and regarded as the possessions of their mother’s families. This authority accorded to women was truncated with the onset of Islam and European colonialism. Instead children bore the surnames of their fathers in religious and educational records. Within the household, women were responsible for performing domestic duties such as fetching water and firewood, cooking, cleaning, gardening, subsistence farming, and small-scale trading. However, in some communities, the distinction between the roles of men and women was not distinct. For instance, among the Fon of Benin, women worked the land aside from their domestic activities (CoqueryVidrovitch 1997) even though clearing the land was considered a difficult task and primarily the role of men. Beyond these roles, Fon women engaged in trade and handicraft production. One of the important arenas in which women’s traditional roles were dominant in the social life of pre-colonial West Africa was in marriage ceremonies. Traditional African marriage ceremonies are a union between two families not just a union between a man and woman. It is frequently misunderstood and misrepresented as a transaction that subordinated women to men due to the payment of a bride price and the erroneous impression that women were equated to commodities sold to their

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husbands. On the contrary, the institution of marriage was rather seen by West African women as a means through which they could enhance their status and economic wealth. For instance, in Zaria, Nigeria, Kayan daki (literally goods of the room), a collection of brass bowls, decorated enamel plates, pots, pans, and glass comprised an important component in a woman’s dowry and remained her personal property throughout her life (Benson and Duffield 1979). Thus, most women devoted their energies to amassing such items for their daughters since it was the responsibility of the mother, or female guardian, to provide kayan daki for her daughter on the occasion of her marriage. These items could only be obtained in the market and encouraged women to be economically independent and engage in economic activities that gave them clout. Falola and Amponsah (2012) intimates that residential patterns also affected women’s roles and positions in marriage and within the household. Married women in most West African societies resided with their husband’s kin. However, in some societies married women resided with her own kin especially among the Ga in Ghana. Women played diverse roles and occupied different positions within these structures. Among the Akans of Ghana, a woman who maintained her residence with her matrilineal kin gained the advantage of getting additional help from her younger sisters and nieces in caring for her children (Falola and Amponsah 2012). Within the patrilocal system, women achieved a position of seniority based on the order of marriage if the husband was polygynous. Senior wives had the privilege of performing lighter domestic duties, while junior wives were tasked with difficult chores within the household. This practice was common among the Yoruba of Nigeria. Among the Sherbro society of Sierra Leone, senior wives engaged in wealth accumulation by setting up economic ventures for junior wives which they controlled (Falola and Amponsah 2012). In polygamous families where the wives lived in the husband’s house, women had some considerable autonomy to control their foods, lands, and daily chores. In matrilineal societies, older women on reaching menopause took on political and religious roles which were restricted to men. Among the Asante of Ghana, menopausal women assumed religious roles as they were regarded as “ritual men” (Akyeampong and Obeng 1995). Such old women acquired elderly privileges such as the right to cut their hair short (dansikra), wear their cloths in a male fashion, drink liquor, and pour libations. This enabled them to exercise control over women in the household as they ensured that younger women reproduced to expand the family. A girl’s puberty rites were a vital social ritual that was dominated by women in view of the indispensable function women played in matrilineal societies. In many West African societies from Cape Verde to Niger, women are considered to be symbols of purity, dignity, and beauty of the society (Nkansa-Kyeremateng 2004). This is the main reason behind the nature and level of prominence attached to nubility rites. Among the Krobo people in Ghana, nubility rites of a girl (Dipo) were performed soon after her first menstruation. Several girls partook in this event which lasts for a year during which they spend most of their time in the Dipo house where the rites take place. The initiates are given vocational training and taught housekeeping, opposite sex interaction, birth control techniques, family nutrition,

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and child-rearing skills. As part of the puberty rites, ceremony girls are taught a ritual dance and undergo a ritual bath (Steegsta 2005; Adjaye 1999). In the course of the ceremony, there are numerous gifts provided to the girl by her family and community. These gifts are provided as an appreciation for maintaining her virginity and serve as a source of wealth for the girls. The crux of the rite is when the girls are made to sit on a stone which is believed supernaturally determines virginity. Any girl who is found not to be a virgin is ostracized. After this ceremony, the girls are therefore initiated into womanhood after which they were ready to be married.

Women and Public Life Women were instrumental in state formation in West African societies. Oral traditions of the Akan of Ghana define women as leaders of migrant groups that later emerged into various communities. The seat of the Oyoko clan of the Asante is believed to have been purchased from a woman (Akyeampong and Obeng 1995). Amina Kulibali was the founder of the Gabu dynasty in Senegal. In most West African societies such as Ivory Coast and Ghana, women were encouraged to reproduce to serve as a source of labor due to the agricultural nature of these societies and the scarcity of labor force. Moreover, the presence of Europeans on the coastal areas of Ghana endangered states with the introduction of diseases such as measles and smallpox which subsequently resulted in high mortality rates (Akyeampong and Fofack 2012). Women were therefore encouraged to reproduce to ensure the sustainability of the state. Among the Akan of Ghana, women with high fertility were celebrated. A man’s family was and is still given a sheep called badudwan (tenth born sheep) when his spouse gives birth to their tenth child as a result of the matrilineal system of inheritance. The woman has the honor of wearing white clothing for a whole week, and she is pampered in the community. Villagers and relatives acknowledge her achievement and congratulate her by depositing money into a brass bowl for her personal use (Yankah 1992). Prior to the advent of Islam and Europeans, no restrictions barred West African women from participating in the public sphere. Accounts given by Ibn Battuta, a North African traveller on his trip to Mali in 1352 recorded that West African women enjoyed unprecedented freedom unlike their counterparts in North Africa (Diop 1978). This was because pre-colonial societies in West Africa provided avenues for women to exercise political power. Women were influential political actors in indigenous African governance structures. Barnes (1997 p. 13) referred to African women as “one of history’s most politically viable female populations,” considering the extent of women’s office holding in sub-Saharan African societies. Women wielded power in many ways as they served as influential queen mothers in their societies. According to Odotei (2005), the most pervasive of female traditional leadership in West Africa, specifically Ghana, is the position of the queen mother. The queen mother is seen as a co-ruler of the chief and was originally the overall leader of an Akan polity. She later delegated that authority to a male member of the royal family to act as the chief. It was through this that the chief became the

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overarching leader in the community. The queen mother, however, retained some of her authority. She presided over women’s issues within the society and was very pivotal in the enstoolment and destoolment of chiefs. The unique qualities of the queen mother therefore balanced that of the chief. Between the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, Queen Amina of Zazzau (present day Zaria in Nigeria), Ogiso Omose, and Ogiso Ohorhor of Edo, Nigeria, were some of the powerful rulers in their respective societies (Odotei 2005). Queen Amina of Zazzau is known for her prowess in territorial and economic expansion of her state in the sixteenth century. The emergence of Queen Amina attests to the power of female leadership before the advent of Islam in Hausa public life. Indeed, the ability of Queen Amina to hold on to power amidst men was due to her ability to control tributes to finance wars and to maximize trade through the trans-Saharan trade routes. In Dahomey, Queen Hangbe was co-sovereign with her twin brother Akaba from the late seventeenth century to the early eighteenth century. In the royal family in Dahomey, female dependents of the king served as “ministers of state and counsellors, as soldiers, commanders and governors of provinces” (Tashjian and Allman 2002, p. 220). This signifies women’s leadership and status within their societies. It also shows how women were instrumental in indigenous political structures in pre-colonial West African societies prior to the advent of colonial rule. In Asante, Ghana, Nana Ama Sewa, Afrakuma Panyin, and Ama Saponmma ruled in succession as chiefs of Dwaben in the nineteenth century (Rattary 1929). Having lost all the eligible male heirs to the Dwaben Stool, Dwabenhemaa (queen mother of Dwaben) Nana Ama Sewa led the people of Dwaben back to Kumase in 1841 after they fled to the state of Akyem Abuakwa during a war between Dwaben and Kumase. She then began to rebuild the ruins of Dwaben and fortified the territories she annexed. Nana Ama Sewa was succeeded by her daughter, Afrakuma Panyin, who in turn was succeeded by her daughter, Akua Saponmma. The latter women held the dual offices of Dwabenhemaa and Dwabenhene (king of Dwaben) concurrently. The status and position of these women shows how women were able to overcome feminine taboos surrounding chieftaincy in pre-colonial African societies. Among the Asante of Ghana, women were forbidden from ruling as chiefs because of menstrual taboos. Menstruation was believed to contaminate the ancestral stools and shrines (Akyeampong and Obeng 1995). Thus, during their time of the month, childbearing women in the royal household were secluded (Wilks 1993). According to Rattary (1929), two stools existed in Asante royal court. The senior stool okonua panyin is the stool of the queen mother, and the second stool belongs to the chief. However, due to the biological limitation affecting women as a result of their ritual impurity during menses, the male stool became predominant. Among the Yoruba of Nigeria, the Iyalode, served as a female chief in her own right. Her position was on merit not inherited, and her office comprised a council of subordinate female chiefs who exercised jurisdiction over all matters that pertained to women. The Iyalode settled legal disputes in court and met with women to determine women’s opinions on declaration of war, opening of new markets, and the administration of women at local levels. Achebe et al. (2018) state that the Iyalode exercised legislative, judicial, and executive powers with male chiefs in their council.

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The roles and experiences of women in politics in West Africa during the precolonial period were diverse. Societies with complex hierarchical systems provided women belonging to the royal family an opportunity to enjoy authoritative power through the various political offices they held (Falola and Amponsah 2005). These women were key agents in decision-making process within the community. In Iyede, Nigeria, women exercised their political rights through decision-making, protests, and settlement of disputes at judicial courts. Politics was not the reserve of men only. Ogbomo and Ogbomo (1993) reiterate that women in pre-colonial African societies were politically vibrant. Iyede tradition has it that, Atebo, the daughter of Ovie Izenue became a kingmaker and a priestess of Omotuvioto shrine after her father’s death. Unfortunately, she was barred from ascending the throne due to her femininity. Her power was however exercised through her control of the clan shrine and her power to determine who became king according to her wishes. Women in precolonial West African societies therefore were vibrant in traditional political systems. Their position and status were only undermined with the onset of colonialism.

Women and the Economy The sustenance of every society depends on the ability of individuals to be economically productive. Women in West African societies have been the fundamental agents in the economic development of their societies, and their economic contributions actualized the subsistence of daily life. In pre-colonial African societies, particularly in West Africa, many women worked from dawn to dusk. With the exception of a few prominent women like queen mothers who were predominantly in the public sphere due to their political and religious roles, women spent more time in the household. However, this did not prevent them from engaging in agricultural activities. Women had strong work ethics, and all able-bodied women engaged in productive activities. Thus, the luxury of being a stay-at-home mother who solely tended to the domestic sphere was an anomaly. Women’s productive roles in precolonial societies therefore did not fit the Eurocentric mold of a woman chained to the domestic sphere. Women in West Africa were known for their significant roles in domestic work, agriculture, and trade. Falola and Amponsah (2012), in examining the productive roles of African women, emphasized that women were active in agricultural production and distribution and controlled their incomes. In the management and disposal of their incomes, the activities of West African women and men in patriarchal society were separate and coordinated. This was because within the conjugal family unit, women and men had different responsibilities which were met from the proceeds of their separate economic pursuits. This economic worldview was based on the strong functional symbiosis between men and women in West African society which was not based on power differences between the sexes but rather on the balance between male and female expectations and responsibilities in West African societies.

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Most pre-colonial societies in West Africa depended on subsistence farming. As such, women cultivated food crops to feed the family. Their major roles were weeding, planting, harvesting, and storing. Women in pre-colonial Iyede, just like their Yoruba male counterparts, were known for the cultivation of cassava, okra, and pepper, which were regarded as female crops. With the exception of yam which was regarded as a male crop, women controlled the surplus foods that they produced (Ogbomo and Ogbomo 1993). The profit from the sale of the surplus goods solely belonged to women. African women’s roles in agriculture supported the family. To be able to ensure agricultural productivity, men married more wives to promote reproduction, which served as a source of labor on the farms. Women were therefore valued as producers and reproducers in pre-colonial West African societies. For instance, oil palm production in West Africa was predominantly a female avenue for accumulation of wealth. Women harvested the crop, cracked the kernel, and extracted oil for sale in the markets. It was not until the 1860s with advent of European markets that women were deprived of their income from palm kernels as it became a commercial crop (Akyeampong and Fofack 2012). Women were also involved in distribution and trading activities. Surplus food produced from the farm were sold in the market. Among the Egba and Iyede of Nigeria, women dominated the trade and merchant exchange of goods in their community. These goods included produce that women cultivated and crafts they manufactured as well as the produce from their husband’s farms. These enterprising women developed a strong business acumen and were responsible for establishing the terms of trade among themselves and with outsiders. They also organized and run the market system. As powerful as they were as traders, Iyede women became influential in decisionmaking and enjoyed equal status with their men. Arguably, they acquired their status as a consequence of hard work as against the men who secured theirs owing to accident of birth. According to Ogbomo and Ogbomo (1993), Madam Tinubu, Odubu Eridi Ovie, Avegheheho, and Etsasuekho were some notable traders who were held in high esteem in Lagos in the 1840s. Odubu Eridi Ovie traded in fish and was said to have had a substantial number of men and women who worked for her. Etsasuekho was reported to have paid off a debt owed by another community by Iyede people. Between the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, women from coastal areas of Ghana were noticed by a Dutch trader, Pieter de Marees, for their vibrant trading activities (Adu-Boahen 2018). These women traded in items such as fish, beads, and salt in exchange for millet, bananas, gold, cloth, livestock, and oranges obtained from women traders from the interior. Subsequently, women’s participation in trade whether in local or long-distance arena promoted state formation and development of market centers. Trading activities served as avenues for women to generate income. It also represented their ability to merge their domestic lives with their public lives.

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As part of their productive roles, women in pre-colonial West African societies were the economic powerhouse of their societies and were involved in other economic ventures apart from agriculture. In West African societies such as Mali and northern Nigeria, women have been credited with the production of textiles. Farming of cotton and dyeing of textiles were primarily done by women in the Sokoto Caliphate as well as the high-skill task of spinning (Kriger 1993). According to Kriger, the textile industry required a high standard of workmanship. As such, women invested much time and effort into their training. The training period could last for 5 or 6 years and doubled when girls learned both spinning and weaving skills. Spinning was a demanding occupation by itself, given the high quality of thread required by the industry; mastery could be attained only if a girl started her training early, at the age of 6. Soap making, pottery, and bead making were also the reserve of African women. Herbert (1993) in examining the history of metalworking and pottery in African societies makes the point that, though men and women are fundamental to the evolution of complex societies, the male metal worker was ranked socially higher than the female potter. According to Herbert, West African women have been making pots from as early as 8000 BCE. In the Nok region of central Nigeria, pottery has been dated to at least 500 BCE. Though men engaged in work on pottery, they shared the task with women especially in northern Nigeria and parts of Niger where women dominated the industry. Indeed, Quarcoo and Johnson (1968) and Anquandah (2006) contend that pottery was a distinctly female art among the Shai people of Southern Ghana; thus, men who tried their hands at pottery or showed up at the clay pits were perceived to have lost their sexual potency. Shai women had exclusive rights over pottery production. Through their economic and commercial ventures, West African women were able to accumulate wealth. The wealth accumulated was invested in the education of their children and investment in lands and farms in the forest areas of southeastern Ghana. Prior to colonialism in West Africa, women were instrumental in the development of their societies and played vital roles in the economic well-being of their communities. Akyeampong and Fofack (2012) contend that, though African women were marginalized over time, they contributed significantly to the economic development of African societies through their economic activities in the pre-colonial era. Subsequent colonial and postcolonial periods have rolled back the advances pre-colonial women attained and its attendant gender parity in relations. Women lost the recognition and respect that they used to receive from their societies. During the colonial period, the imposition of a taxation system by the colonialists on male heads of household compelled men to search for employment from which income could be derived for tax purposes. This development relegated women’s food crop production to the periphery because it did not generate substantial income that could be used to pay taxes. This situation accounts for the current failure to classify women’s work in the agricultural sector as employment, thus minimizing women’s contribution to national development.

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Women and Traditional Religion West Africans conceptualized their worlds as physical and spiritual. These worlds form a seamless continuum with a hierarchical structure where God is the penultimate. The West African God does not fit the typical binary notions of male and female. It is a combination of male and female forces (Achebe et al. 2018). For example, the Supreme God of the Ewe people of Ghana, is Mawu-Lisa. Mawu is the female and is represented by the moon, while Lisa is the male complement represented by the sun. As a result of this conceptualization, in many West African societies, such as in Nigeria and Sierra Leone, religious matters have been an equal platform for both men and women. Secondly, apart from the Supreme God, West Africans recognize lesser spiritual forces (divinities) that may be male or female and are serviced by both priests and priestesses in shrines. Interestingly, both sexes can serve as intermediaries between humans and deities. Thus the spiritual realm of traditional West African religion appears less sexist than the world of Christianity or Islam. The introduction of Christianity by missionaries subjugated women. Women were prohibited from taking up any leadership position in the church. They were confined to domestic chores such as cleaning the church, teaching children, attending church activities, and preparing food for church programs when necessary. However, traditional West African religion also has been an avenue for subordination and oppression of women especially with regard to issues about the polluting nature of blood from menstruation and childbirth as it relates to ritual sacredness. Yoruba, Igbo, Iyede, and Mende religious beliefs uphold the female sex as sacred and a vital life force (Falola and Amponsah 2012). Among the Yoruba (Nigeria) and Mende (Sierra Leone) people, women were also considered anomalous creatures – intimately associated with the well-being of society through their life-giving attributes and deeply threatening to life through their polluting qualities (Kilson 1976). In certain aspects of traditional religion where women were considered wives and mothers of deities, they were held in high esteem, while in other instances, however, they were not recognized. Traditional African religious ideology, therefore, stresses the domestic orientation of women’s lives and affirms their reproductive role while disdaining other aspects of their sexuality. Women’s involvement in African religions as ritual specialists, cult leaders, priestesses, healers, diviners, and spirit mediums has a connection to how women have negotiated, and continue to negotiate, their roles in the social, cultural, economic, and political spheres in African societies. Among West African traditional worshippers from Guinea-Bissau to Mali, cults of deities and divinities were in the hands of priests and priestesses who were formally trained in traditional jurisprudence, taboos, songs, making sacrifices, offering prayers, conducting rites, and knowledge of herbs and medicinal plants. Calling to priesthood was usually evident through spirit possession. In Ghana, the Akonedi shrine of the Larteh people trained women to become priestesses. Okomfohemma Akua Oparebea, the head priestess (1900–1996), usually presents a ritual meal of mashed yams with palm oil and eggs to the deity to enable her cure physical illnesses. Through her efforts, priestesses were valorized in this community.

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Priestesses in traditional West African society also addressed issues of social injustice in the community through the songs and dance routine they performed at festivals. These performances chastised individuals that broke the norms and customs prevalent in the community during the year. Among the Techiman people in Ghana, the Apoo festival was the occasion in which traditional religious practitioners, especially priestesses, expressed the citizenry’s discontent about traditional leadership without repercussions. Thus, the priestesses served as the upholder of the moral values and conscience of the society. Women in patriarchal West African societies played significant and economically relevant roles in the religious life of their people irrespective of the concept of impure blood that cast a negative cloud over the heads of women. In Sierra Leone, women of the Temne ethnicity managed to become respectable female diviners in charge of mainly the private and individual domains in a society in which divination was a male preserve despite the fact that women comprised of majority of its clients. Among the Sande (a female-only initiation society) of Liberia, Sierra Leone, and Ivory Coast, women signified the foundation of fertility and prosperity and wielded strong spiritual influence over the people in the community. The Sande also possessed a monopoly over certain sacred knowledge crucial to the development of the community and well-being of the people (Boone 1986). This society was one of the few female-exclusive societies that used masked female ancestral figures during their ceremonies, and it is through these figures that they demonstrate their power in the community (MacCormack 1979) and reinforced the agency of pre-colonial women.

Conclusion Pre-colonial West African society valued women. Irrespective of their social and political rank and their individual culture’s values, women in West Africa led active lives and were not solely relegated to the domestic sphere. They engaged in production, reproduction, the social economy, spiritual rites, and decision-making in their societies. Women controlled their own lives. They testified on their own behalf in court and were an integral part of internal and external political affairs. Yet, modern-day West African women do not enjoy the same level of freedom as their ancestors. The reason can be found in European colonial development policies, which were designed to discriminate against women by reducing their public roles and barring them from economic activities. Indeed, as Europeans controlled land and commercial agriculture flourished, the value of women’s contribution to West African society declined leading to a loss of women’s economic power as the award of land titles by the colonial government transferred farmlands controlled by women to male ownership. In the religious realm, in contrast to the traditional West African religion, Christianity and Islam demanded lower status of women and undermined the leadership role of West African women. Thus, as the modern West African world strives for gender equality and equity using Western paradigms, there is a need to go back to the conceptualizations of traditional West African societies to harness their worldview of gender complementarity where men and women had

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different spheres of influence in society. Scholarship on pre-colonial West African women would benefit from investigation into the traditional social fabric of life in West African society and how women created space for themselves. Studies on West African society’s conceptualization of women are long overdue.

References Achebe, N. (2011). The female king of colonial Nigeria: Ahebi Ugbabe. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Achebe, N., Adu-Gyamfi, S., Alie, J., Ceesay, H., Green, T., Hirribarren, V., & Ampadu, B.-K. (2018). History textbook: West African Senior School Certificate Examination. http://wasscehis torytextbook.com. Adjaye, J. (1999). Dangerous crossroads: Liminality and contested meaning in Krobo (Ghana) dipo girls’ initiation. Journal of African Cultural Studies, 12(1), 5–26. Adu-Boahen, K. (2018). Female agency in a cultural confluence: Women, trade and politics in seventeenth-eighteenth-century Gold Coast. In J. Osei-Tutu & V. Smith (Eds.), Shadows of empire in West Africa: New perspectives on European fortifications (pp. 169–199). Cham: Palgrave Macmillan. Akyeampong, E. (2000). Wo pe tam wo pe ba (You like cloth but you don’t want children): Urbanization, individualism & gender relations in colonial Ghana c.1900–39. In D. Anderson & R. Rathbone (Eds.), Africa’s urban past (pp. 222–234). Oxford: James Currey. Akyeampong, E., & Fofack, H. (2012). The contribution of African women to economic growth and development: Historical perspectives and policy implications. Policy Research Working Papers, 1–39. https://doi.org/10.1596/1813-9450-6051. Akyeampong, E., & Obeng, P. (1995). Spirituality, gender, and power in Asante history. The International Journal of African Historical Studies, 28(3), 481–508. Allman, J., Geiger, S., & Musisi, N. (Eds.). (2002). Women in African colonial histories. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Amadiume, I. (1987). Male daughters, female husbands: Gender and sex in an African society. London: Zed Books. Anquandah, J. (2006). The traditional Potter’s craft. Retrieved from http://www.ghanaculture.gov. gh/modules/ Benson, S., & Duffield, M. (1979). Women’s work and economic change: The Hausa in Sudan and in Nigeria. IDS Bulletin, 10(9), 13–19. Berger, I. (2003). African women’s history: Themes and perspectives. Journal of Colonialism and Colonial History, 4(1). https://doi.org/10.1353/cch.2003.005. Boone, S. (1986). Radiance from the waters: Ideals of feminine beauty in Mende art. New Haven: Yale University Press. Coquery-Vidrovitch, C. (1997). African women: A modern history. Boulder: Westview Press. David, S. (1984). Women leaders in African history. London: Heinemann. Diop, C. (1978). The cultural unity of black Africa. Chicago: Third World Press. Falola, T., & Amponsah, N. (2012). Women’s roles in sub-saharan Africa. Oxford: Greenwood. Herbert, E. (1993). Iron, gender, and power: Rituals of transformation in African societies. Bloomington: Indiana, University Press. Kilson, M. (1976). Women in African traditional religions. Journal of Religion in Africa, 8(2), 133–143. Kriger, C. (1993). Textile production and gender in the Sokoto caliphate. Journal of African History, 34(3), 361–401. MacCormack, C. (1979). Sande: The public face of a secret society. In B. Jules-Rosette (Ed.), The new religion of Africa: Priest and priestess in contemporary cults and churches. Norwood: Ablex.

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Mba, N. (1982). Nigerian women mobilized: Women’s political activity in southern Nigeria, 1900–1965. Berkeley: University of California Institute of International Studies. Nkansa-Kyeremateng, K. (2004). The Akans of Ghana: Their customs, history and institutions. Accra: Sebenic Publishers. Odotei, I. (2005). Women in the male corridors of power. In I. Odotei & A. Awedoba (Eds.), Chieftaincy in Ghana: Culture, governance and development (pp. 81–100). Accra: SubSaharan. Ogbomo, O., & Ogbomo, Q. (1993). Women and society in pre-colonial Iyede. Anthropos, 88, 431–441. Phillott-Almeida, R. (1994). A profile of the roles of women as economic producers and family supporters in the Gambia. Dakar: UNESCO. Quarcoo, A., & Johnson, M. (1968). Shai Pots: The pottery tradition of the Shai people of southern Ghana. Baessler -Archiv, 16, 47–88. Rattary, R. (1929). Ashanti law and constitution. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Sheldon, K. (2017). African women: Early history to the 21st century. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Steegsta, M. (2005). Dipo and the politics of culture in Ghana. Accra: Woeli Publishing Services. Sudarkasa, N. (1986). The status of women in indigenous African societies. Feminist Studies, 12(1), 91–103. Tashjian, V., & Allman, J. (2002). Marrying and marriage on a shifting terrain: Reconfigurations of power in early colonial Asante. In J. Allman, S. Geiger, & N. Musisi (Eds.), Women in African colonial histories (pp. 237–259). Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Wilks, I. (1993). She who blazed a trail: Akyaawa Yikwan of Asante. In I. Wilks (Ed.), Forests of gold: Essays on the Akan and the kingdom of Asante (pp. 329–361). Athens: Ohio University Press. Yankah, K. (1992). Traditional Lore in population communication: The case of the Akan in Ghana. Africa Media Review, 6(1), 15–24.

Women in Pre-colonial Africa: Southern Africa

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Lefatshe Anna Moagi and Butholezwe Mtombeni

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Matrimonial Matters in Pre-colonial Southern Africa: Lobola (Bride Price) and Marriage . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Women as Active Agents of Production . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Women’s Influence in Politics and Religion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Women as Political Leaders . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Women as Religious and Spiritual Leaders . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

The gender oppression school of historical analysis maintains that pre-colonial southern African women were confined in the domestic space and were oppressed by their men. Women are depicted as minors who needed protection and guidance from their male counterparts. Contrary to their narrative, this chapter explores the roles played by women in pre-colonial southern Africa, arguing that women were not restricted to the domestic sphere nor oppressed, instead they played important roles in production, religion, and politics. They were very active in the public domain; in politics as Princesses, Queen mothers, and regents; and in religion as

L. A. Moagi (*) Department of Political Sciences, University of South Africa, Pretoria, South Africa e-mail: [email protected] B. Mtombeni Department of Political Sciences and Department of History, University of South Africa, Pretoria, South Africa e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_125

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prophets, diviners, and rainmakers. Gender division of labor was not rigid in precolonial southern Africa as women could crossover to male type duties and sometimes, the sexes complemented each other. The social, economic, and political domains were therefore not exclusively for men as the gender oppression schools of historical analysis would like us to believe; they were for both sexes. In short, women in pre-colonial southern Africa were independent; they controlled their bodies, owned their labor, and determined their destinies. Keywords

Gender oppression · Pre-colonial southern Africa · Domestic sphere · Public domain · Production · Reproduction · Queen mother · Regent · Lobola

Introduction There has been a mass production of scholarly literature on colonial and postcolonial women in southern Africa (ed. Walker et al. 1990; Guy 1989; Eldredge 2014; Ndlovu-Gatsheni 2008; Weir 2000; Stayt 1931; Masuku 2009; Krige 1974; Musiyiwa 2008). There are, however, worrying gaps in literature on pre-colonial women in southern Africa and Africa in general. It is not clear how women were active in the social, economic, and political spheres. The literature on their participation in these domains is scant. This gap is a serious wound in the history of women in Africa. It suggests that women had no history or played insignificant roles in precolonial societies. One of the reasons for this omission is that the production of mainstream historical literature was done by men, about men, and for men. The widely held view that pre-colonial societies in Africa were steeped in the patriarchal order, diminished women, and consigned them to the domestic sphere is problematic. Pre-colonial societies might have worshipped the god of patriarchy, but women and their active participation in their communities were never back stage. It is the gender oppression school of historical analysis represented by scholars such as Cherryl Walker et al. (1990) that consciously or unconsciously omitted the imperishable and independent roles that women played in their societies. The gender oppression school of historical analysis posits that women’s labor was owned and controlled by their male counterparts, and therefore, women labored under the oppressive stigma of men. What is also troubling is that the Europeans involved in the production of pre-colonial African history focused more on men than women. Perhaps this confirms that patriarchy was/is a global phenomenon. The evidence about women in the pre-colonial history of southern Africa is limited because European men who recorded it in writing were interested in influential men and history in this era was viewed as the story of great men. Jeff Guy’s (1990) chapter on gender oppression in southern Africa’s pre-capitalist societies, in Women and Gender in Southern Africa to 1945, (ed. Walker et al. 1990), is important in understanding gender relations and the place of women in pre-colonial southern African societies. He argues that women’s labor was owned and controlled by men. This popular gender oppression school of thought analysis reduces women to mere objects of production and reproduction. Guy

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(1990) consciously or unconsciously ignores the fact that women in the production sphere were able to accumulate status, recognition, and authority. This enabled them to be independent and influential in decision-making within their communities and further carve their own alternative gender roles. The main weakness of his work is that he overlooked women’s participation in the agricultural sphere, which helped to sustain the economy of the Zulu Kingdom and in the leadership sphere, which helped to consolidate power in their respective societies. Contrary to the gender school of oppression, some scholars have revealed that women in pre-colonial southern Africa were not trapped in domesticity nor oppressed by their men. Elizabeth Eldredge (2014) in her book, The Creation of the Zulu Kingdom, 1815–1828, dedicated a chapter to royal women in the Zulu Kingdom. Using a range of archival sources, she mapped out the role played by royal women in the governing of the great Zulu Kingdom. The very outstanding mark about her work is that she exploited the richness of Zulu oral traditions to provide a sound and compelling narrative of Zulu royal women. Despite the fact that her focus was on providing a complete narrative on the creation of the Zulu Kingdom, its main limitation is that it paid limited attention to other categories of women in Zulu society. Jennifer Weir’s (2000) chapter on chiefly women and women’s leadership in pre-colonial southern Africa is important in locating the role of women in precolonial southern African communities. She explores the role of royal women in pre-colonial southern African communities, noting that there is limited scholarly literature on women because we rely on writings by missionaries and early nineteenth century travellers. These colonial writers reinscribed the domination of masculine over feminine. The author notes that while her chapter focuses on precolonial Zulu women, it is clear that these chiefly activities were evident in other southern African groups. Weir’s (2000) work concludes that women in pre-colonial southern Africa were not restricted in the domestic space; they performed leadership roles in the military, economic, and religious domains of their communities. Sifiso Ndlovu (2008) chapter on Reassessment of Women’s Power in the Zulu Kingdom, in Zulu Identities, examines the roles of women in the Zulu Kingdom in the pre-colonial era. The chapter focuses more on Regent Queen Mkabayi’s influence in the Zulu Kingdom. It uses the rich Zulu Kingdom oral literature to dispel the notion of gender oppression in most pre-colonial southern African states. Women in the Zulu Kingdom were involved in production and were leaders in the family homesteads (Ndlovu 2008, p. 111). It is in this sense that Ndlovu (2008) argues that in the Zulu Kingdom women were recognized and revered. The limitation of this essay is that the author focuses mostly on Queen Mkabayi (a royal woman), not common women. Nnam Nkunzi’s (2007) work entitled, Colonial Mentality in Africa, explores the misconceptions about Africa. The interesting and most relevant part of his book is the chapter on the role of women where he argues that African women are not subservient and helpless in the hands of their male counterparts. He further notes that prominent women in pre-colonial Africa successfully ruled cumbersome empires and earned respect from their male counterparts. The main limitation of this study is that it does not give much attention to pre-colonial southern African women, the region of this chapter’s inquiry. With limited scholarly literature that specifically focuses on pre-colonial southern African women, this chapter will use the bits and pieces of available primary and

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secondary literature to attempt to reconstruct the history of pre-colonial southern African women. The James Stuart Archives, which is a collection of recorded oral evidence on the history of the Zulu Kingdom and neighboring peoples, is one of the main primary sources for this study. The archives are now an authority to historians, ethnographers, anthropologists, and researchers who wish to understand better the Zulu and neighboring peoples. James Stuart is a former Natal civil servant who collected oral evidence on the Zulu and the neighboring people. The main purpose of this chapter is therefore to exhume women’s roles in precolonial southern Africa. It argues that despite the silence of the archives and available literature on women in pre-colonial southern Africa, women were visible and played imperishable roles in their communities. They occupied positions of influence in the public space and were active in domains that were dominated by male stereotypes. Furthermore, the chapter dispels the widely held gender oppression notion by the gender oppression school of historical analysis, which is a brainchild of Jeff Guy (1989) and ed. Cherryl Walker et al. (1990). The chapter focuses on matrimonial matters, women as active agents of production, women’s influence in politics and religion, and culminates in a conclusion.

Matrimonial Matters in Pre-colonial Southern Africa: Lobola (Bride Price) and Marriage Marriage was highly valued in the pre-colonial southern African societies. Married women were accorded respect and enjoyed several favors. In this section, we discuss the custom and practices associated with marriage among people in the nations of pre-colonial southern Africa. In some southern African countries such as Lesotho, Botswana, South Africa, Swaziland, Mozambique, Zambia, Zimbabwe, and D. R Congo, the tradition of paying lobola or bride price was/is common (Heeren et al. 2011). Lobola in the pre-colonial era was paid in cattle, and this payment was a demonstration that the man would be able to take care of the wife. It also cemented relations between the two families. In South Africa, there are debates currently raging on the issues of traditional pre-colonial practices such as ukuthwala (the abduction and rape of underage girls by older men) and lobola (bride price), which were and have been practices that were deemed as oppressive to women (Gouws and Stasiulis 2013, p. 5). The codification of certain customary cultural practices as law has reinforced misogynistic and static interpretations of “African culture” (Gouws and Stasiulis 2013, p. 7). Gouws and Stasiulis (2013, p. 11) further argue that the rights/culture debate may have similar manifestations in post-colonial societies. Per Dyer Macebo (James Stuart’s informant) posits that the sentiments that prompted men to pay lobola are the same as that which prompted Western men to give their wife-to-be a wedding ring (Macebo, JSA, Vol. 2:42). Contrary to Per Mabola’s (one of James Stuart’s informants) narrative that lobola was a purchase (Mabola, JSA, Vol. 2:8), lobola was a token of appreciation to the father or mother-in-law for raising the daughter and a bridge to connect the two families

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(Heeren et al. 2011, p. 74). Viewing lobola as a purchase risks reducing women to mere commodities for sale on the supermarket shelves. Marriages in most communities in pre-colonial southern Africa were a common practice. The patrilineal bride wealth system was also a dominant practice in Gweru, Zimbabwe (Jeater 1990, p. 8). Among the Ndau people in Mozambique, marriage is anchored on lobola payment (Mawere and Rambe 2012, p. 5). Mawere and Rambe (2012) opine that in traditional Ndau communities, a plethora of traditional customary marriages were permitted. The most common one was kuzvarira, whereby the parents pledge their daughter to a rich man, with or without her consent. This marriage arrangement guaranteed the girl’s family economic, political, and social security (Mawere and Rambe 2012, p. 3). While gender scholars have attacked this customary practice as archaic and barbaric, in Mozambique and other southern African countries, it afforded the wife and her family generational respectability and social mobility they would not have tasted without this arrangement. The practice therefore cannot be castigated as wholly archaic and in need of complete overhaul or deserving a deep place in the historical dustbins. Marriage in the Zulu Kingdom could take place although the full number of cattle had not been handed over (Mabola, JSA, Vol. 2:11), and the groom could make future payment arrangements. Eldredge (2014) also asserts that marriages were “a key means of establishing and reinforcing political alliances between ruling houses of different chiefdoms as well as between chiefs. . .” (Eldredge 2014, p. 177). Though lobola was a common practice in most parts of southern Africa, in Malawi among Nyanja and Manganja people, marriage did not involve any exchange of goods or lobola. Prospective husbands were placed on probation for a year or more, staying with his in-laws, performing agricultural activities for them (Vaughan 1985, p. 38). The main reason for this practice is that women had easy access to land and men could only gain access to land through marriage. This access to land by women afforded them status and authority than their male counterparts. Young girls and boys had to be initiated into adulthood and made ready for marriage. In the VhaVenda culture, in Limpopo province, South Africa, they went to domba (an initiation place where girls display their allurements and young boys vie with each other to receive favors from girls of their choice) for initiation. At the domba the two sexes are brought together, and together initiated into the mysteries of sex and childbirth, as well as being warned about the pitfalls that lie before them on their path through life. Here the training is hard and tedious, but it has to be negotiated. When this has been accomplished the initiates are ready for marriage, and at the birth of the first child have a full status in society. (Stayt 1931, p. 124)

This training, which prepared them for marriage, also emphasized the value of a family as a whole compared to an individual (Stayt 1931, p. 152). A family was the nucleus of the pre-colonial societies; hence, it was valued and properly nurtured. The rigorous preparations reveal how important marriage was in the pre-colonial southern African societies. In these societies, children born out of wedlock were illegitimate and were treated as such. Baleka ka Mpitikazi (one of James Stuart’s

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informants in JSA, Vol. 1:5) asserts that her father told her “Nandi bore Tshaka out of wedlock. Tshaka is therefore illegitimate.” Nandi also confessed that she was made pregnant by Senzangakhona and bore Tshaka at the home of the Langeni people (Baleka ka Mpitikazi, JSA, Vol. 1:5). This confirms that illegitimate children were treated as outcasts and were brought up by their mother’s people. Nandi was treated as an outsider in the Zulu clan because she was not officially married to Senzangakhona. It is worth noting that women and children are the ones who bore the indignity of this illegitimacy. Marriage brought dignity both to men and women, which was not afforded to unmarried people. Social conventions in the pre-colonial KwaZulu Natal ensured protection for women (Eldredge 2014, p. 175). Those who abused women were severely punished or banished from the kingdom. Young unmarried girls in KwaZulu-Natal were protected and kept as virgins for marriage. Men who hlobonga-ed (practiced premarital (external) sexual intercourse) or entered isigodhlo (the king’s or chief’s private enclosure at the upper end of his houses, where the huts of his household are situated. Women of the king’s establishment and girls presented to the king as tribute or selected from the households of his subjects, including his daughters stayed here) were punished severely, as narrated by Ngidi ka Ncikaziswa: Senzangakhona drove away all his children for hlobongaing (Committing adultery or having sex before marriage) with girls before they had been given permission by their fathers to marry. Some of his sons were killed. It was, I think, on that occasion that Tshaka left. He ran back to the Langeni country, whilst Dingana, Nqojana, Sopana, mfihlo, Mbudhlele, Somajuba and Ndungazwe all ran off to the Qwabe (Pakathwayo). (Ngidi ka Ncikaziswa, JSA, Vol. 5:52)

Isigodhlo was heavily guarded by amabutho (these were age groups regiments of male or female warriors), signifying the value of women in the Zulu Kingdom. One can argue that this imprisoned them and restricted their movement and participation in economic and political activates. However, KwaZulu Natal was a space of endless conquest wars in the pre-colonial era, hence the need to protect women. The gates of isigodhlo were closed at night and manned by many guards (Baleni ka Silwana JSA, Vol. 1:38). According to Baleni ka Silwana (JSA, Vol. 1:38), entering isigodhlo was prohibited and some of those who entered received the death penalty. Those killed include among others; Ndabezimbi ka Paqa, Makanjana ka Manyosi, Fokoti, Ntshumayelo ka Notshwilo, Dundu, Nkonzo, and Mtetiwamanga (Baleni ka Silwana, JSA, Vol. 1:37). Isigodhlo accommodated the “flowers” of the Zulu nation that were supposed to be nurtured and protected at any cost. This explains why young men who plucked the flowers without permission from the King or their fathers were harshly dealt with. Young boys were supposed to get permission from their fathers to marry, those who hlobongaed were punished. They were supposed to lobola the woman first, and it is the fathers who carried the burden of paying lobola for the young boys. This is one of the many examples of generational control of the young women and men by their elders in the Zulu kingdom. This generational control also preserved some cultural practices in the pre-colonial era.

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Tshaka (the Zulu King who succeeded his father Senzangakhona) allowed young unmarried girls in the Zulu Kingdom to spend time with their lovers. However, they were not supposed to fall pregnant for as long as they were not married. Those men who impregnated these young girls received the maximum penalty from Tshaka. Tshaka would give the order permitting girls to go as they liked to their lovers. Even if a girl stayed six days with her lover, it was all right. It was not an offence to Tshaka; it was good. What was an offence was if a man spoiled (impregnated) that girl. For she belonged to the King. He would now be spoiling a member of the regiment. They would die; they would be killed. (Baleni ka Silwana, JSA Vol. 1:12)

Baleka further emphasizes how Tshaka allowed the girls to go to Mpapala (a center where young male warriors stayed) in large numbers to see their lovers and have a species of edible tuber cooked for them (Baleni ka Silwana, JSA Vol. 1:12). They were still not expected to be pregnant by their lovers out of wedlock. This shows marriage was prized in the pre-colonial Zulu Kingdom. According to Per Mabola (one of Stuart’s informants), the lobola custom is essentially an umntengo, i.e., a purchase, and for this reason, the woman when she goes to her husband is separated from her home. When she dies, she is buried at her husband’s home (Per Mabola, JSA Vol. 2:12–13). The bride price for royal women was higher than that of the common women. One of James Stuart’s key informants, Per Mabola narrates on the exorbitant bride price for the royal women: If the King’s daughter married to a man living out of the country, as for instance in Tongaland and Zululand, the lobola claimed was amounted to as much as 100 head of cattle, and she might be married even though the bridegroom was not a king or prince. The ordinary people’s lobola consisted of the payment of cattle, at first one or two heads, then three. Afterwards this was raised to five, with an additional beast called lugege (a beast slaughtered for the girl at the consummation of the marriage). Later on ten heads were claimed. (Per Mabola, JSA, Vol. 2:12–13)

The number of cattle paid for women in the form of lobola is an indication of the value of women in these societies; they were highly prized and celebrated (Krige 1934, p. 137; Ansell 2001, pp. 698–700). In the Bafokeng culture, in North West Province, in South Africa, daughters-in-law were revered and were socialized into nurturing the family. They were not treated as outsiders but rather as daughters of the family they were married into. A daughter-in-law was highly respected. Upon her betrothal, if she found that the household of her in-laws was not strong, she was the one who lifted it up and strengthened it (in her role) as the woman (mosadi) of that ward (kgotla). She was the one who also took it upon herself to turn the ward into a haven (botshabelo) for all. She was the one to whom everyone turned and trusted. . . That way, she became the woman of that ward (mosadi wa kgotla eo), and she became the one in charge (molaodi). . . charged with the responsibility of putting right everything that was wrong in the ward. If and when she did all these things, her in-laws respected and gave in to her. . . in this way (to be) a daughter in-law was a big thing. (Mafela 2007, p. 4)

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Nombango, one of Stuart’s informants, concurs that a wife respected her father-inlaw and his brothers (Nombango, JSA, Vol. 6:137). It is however important to note that this respect was reciprocal, i.e., the in-laws in turn respected the daughter-in-law. When the husband died, one of his brothers ngena-ed the wife, making her his wife (Nombango, JSA, Vol. 6:137). This practice was meant to keep the woman within the family, so that she continues nurturing the family. It can also be argued that this practice oppressed widows and denied them the freedom of choice. However, as bad as it might appear, this practice protected widows and ensured that they were taken care of after death of the husband. In the Ndebele Kingdom, captured girls (in conquest wars from defeated Kingdoms and chiefdoms) grew up to womanhood in the same way the other Ndebele women grew and were eligible for marriage (Ndlovu-Gatsheni 2008, p. 14). They were regarded as daughters of the captor and were regarded for lobola. Captured women in the Zulu Kingdom were spared and treated as the other women within the kingdom. They were all eligible for marriage like the rest of the women in the Kingdom. Marriage in the pre-colonial Nguni states of southern Africa (in the present day KwaZulu Natal region) and other southern African states was highly prized. It was a birth right for women from different walks of life. If a woman was abused by her husband in the VhaVenda culture, she could leave him and take refuge in her people (Stayt 1931, p. 152). Her people would return her depending on the magnitude of the abuse. Divorce in pre-colonial southern African societies was avoided at all costs. Barren women in the Balobedu (in Limpopo province, South Africa) had very special rights and were treated like men. They inherited cattle and received a share from the bride-wealth when girls in the family got married (Krige 1974, p. 12). Like their male counterparts, barren women could accumulate wealth and be influential in the society. Postmenopausal women in the Zulu Kingdom were no longer regarded as unclean and thus, they could function as a distinct and powerful kind of woman (Ndlovu 2008, p. 114). They were more like a bridge that connected the female and male domains since they could easily move between the female and male domains. Women, in pre-colonial societies, regardless of their conditions or situations, were celebrated and revered. Marriage was important in pre-colonial southern Africa and women played imperishable roles in their marriages. This explains why Tshaka and other pre-colonial southern African leaders guarded the girl child jealously. Lobola was not a practice meant to diminish women into marketable commodities on the supermarket shelves. It was instead a symbol of honor and gratitude to the in-laws for raising the girl child into adulthood. It further defines the value of women in the pre-colonial societies that spans beyond production and reproduction. Women nurtured their families and in cooperation with their husbands, made family decisions. They were, therefore, pillars of hope and sources of family unity and happiness that provided for their families and their societies in general.

Women as Active Agents of Production The gender oppression school of historical analysis depicts pre-colonial African women as people who were trapped in domesticity and in dire need of a savior. They conclude that the patriarchal order reduced women to the status of instruments of

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production and reproduction (Guy 1989 and ed. Walker et al. 1990). However, available primary literature on pre-colonial southern Africa, particularly, the archival sources on the Zulu Kingdom, contradict this widely held notion of the gender oppression school of thought. Instead, KwaZulu-Natal’s oral history reveals that women, like their male counterparts, were actively involved in so-called male-type duties. While the gender division of labor, founded by the patriarchal system, existed in the pre-colonial southern African states, there were times when the sexes cooperated. The gender oppression school of thought asserts that Zulu women toiled in single sex regiments that followed a strict gender division of labor (Ndlovu 2008, p. 112). Baleni ka Silwana’s narration on how izinceku (a servant or an attendant in the king’s or chief’s household) served the king, questions the rigid gender division of labor perpetuated by the gender oppression school of thought (Guy 1987, pp. 21–23 and ed. Chery et al. 1990): I used, with others, to fetch water for the king from the river. At Nodwengu l used to get it early in the morning and a long way off, from the patch of bush. We had to dig for it in the bush. Once it was known the king’s water was got there, no one was allowed to walk on that hillside. (Baleni ka Silwana, JSA, Vol. 3)

Considering the fact that Baleka ka Silwana was a male servant (inceku) who did what today is female-type duties, this narration disapproves the notion of rigid gender division of labor in the Zulu Kingdom propagated by the gender oppression school of historical analysis. Men’s duties in the pre-colonial Zulu Kingdom sometimes overlapped into female-type duties leading to cooperation of sexes. Zulu girls also looked after cattle during some important ceremonies (Ndukwana, JSA, Vol. 3). In the royal house, many of the cooking duties were not carried out by women, but by men (Ndlovu 2008, p. 112). It is therefore apparent that in the Zulu Kingdom, there was no rigid line of gender division of labor. Both sexes interchangeably performed tasks. However, Zulu women like the other pre-colonial southern African women were industrious. Brewing African beer was one of the women’s hobbies. They also cultivated the fields, wove mats, and threaded beadwork, as Baleni ka Silwana narrated: The isigodhlo girls used to occupy themselves by making beer and food. They brewed the beer. This beer would be drunk by the king and by other people, i.e. those called to the king’s hut or those seated at the man’s assembly place in the cattle enclosure, having perhaps just arrived. The girls cultivated their fields, also those of the king and those of Mpande’s children. They wove sleeping mats and threaded beadwork. They also made eating mats, and moulded earthenware pots. (Baleni ka Silwana, JSA, Vol. 1:38–39)

These duties were not exclusively performed by Zulu women. Khoisan women practiced pottery as a pastime activity (Bollong et al. 1997, pp. 272–273). The Nama women (in Namibia) had complete control over the household space (Smith and Webley 2000). Archer (1994) notes that the ash and ash dumps in pre-colonial Nama communities belonged to individual women and marked their territorial space that was respected by everyone, including men. The Batswana women in Botswana were

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responsible for growing food crops and sometimes building houses (Kalabamu 2006, p. 237). They played imperishable roles in the production domain, without them being forced or policed by their male counterparts. Molapo (1994) notes that in southern Africa and Africa in general, “before marriage, women were children of their fathers, after marriage they were children of their husbands, and during their widowhood they were children of their heirs or sons.” This notion is reductionist and not different from the gender oppression narrative that women in pre-colonial southern Africa were zombies trapped in domesticity, in the hands of their oppressive male counterparts. It further consigns women to the position of objects with no rights or choices in the pre-colonial southern Africa. Contrary to this narrative, women in pre-colonial southern Africa cooperated with their male counterparts in labor domains such as subsistence farming, building houses, and fetching water and firewood. They were not treated like “jural minors” but like responsible and productive adults. VhaVenda women also occupied themselves with beer production, plastering huts, and making baskets as explained by Stayt: On some occasions the preparation of beer takes up most of the day, on others the plastering of newly erected huts or fences. If she has time she may make a basket (if she is one who understands that art), or visit a friend, or do service for a friend in exchange for beer, but generally she is kept busy all day long and seems to have an incredibly short period for sleep. (Stayt 1931, p. 124)

Young girls assisted their mothers to perform their duties. This was more like an apprenticeship for the young girls that socialized them to the world of womanhood. They learnt from their mothers through watching and active participation as seen by Stayt (1931, p. 124): The little girls help their mothers in the performance of their duties, and in so doing achieve a working knowledge of domestic occupations. The economic and domestic training of both boys and girls is continued in the mahundwane (a game played by young boys and girls) which, although a game, serves as an excellent medium for this branch of their training.

The training of young girls in the VhaVenda and other southern African societies prepared them for marriage. It also prepared them to fill in the gap left by the aging women population and ensure undisrupted continuity of their respective societies. Pre-colonial southern African women were more industrious than men. They worked hard as family nurturers and were the nuclei of family production. Stayt’s narrative on VhaVenda women confirms the industriousness of women: The women are far more industrious than the men, who do a minimum amount of work and spend a great deal of the day in sleep or complete idleness. This is made possible for them by the industry of the women and the fertility of the soil. (Stayt 1931, p. 154)

However, this cannot be interpreted to mean that women’s labor was owned and controlled by their men. Women were independent entities who controlled their

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bodies and owned their labor. In times of good harvest, VhaVenda women were free to share their agricultural produce with friends and relatives. On the other hand, Zulu women involved in agricultural production were not under rigid control of their men. This questions the validity of the gender oppression school of historical analysis’s assertion that men rigidly controlled women’s production and reproduction in precolonial southern Africa (Guy 1987, pp. 21–24). Stayt confirms that, although VhaVenda women worked hard, they had some freedom: The women work hard, but have considerable freedom, frequently visiting their parents’ homes and taking part in every festivity and excitement. They are not treated as slaves by their husbands in any way; there is often a genuine affection between a man and his wives and an intense love of both parents for their offspring. (Stayt 1931, p. 157)

Women were generally not oppressed in pre-colonial southern Africa. They were free to visit their parents, friends, and relatives. Husbands respected and protected their wives. While women toiled in the fields, they in most cases worked together with men. This confirms that gender cooperation was common in the pre-colonial southern African societies. In Botswana, wives were entitled to their own pieces of land and could possess cattle; husbands had no control over them (Hjort 2010, p. 698). They owned and controlled their labor and agricultural produce therein. This produce afforded them respectability and social mobility in their Tswana communities. It is in this sense that Brain (1978) notes that women in pre-colonial southern Africa had honorable and economically important positions in their communities. He further posits that these positions were based on their overwhelmingly important role in the crop production domain, which was in most pre-colonial communities the basis of the economy. Passive, oppressed, harmless, and defenseless are some of the stereotypes used by the gender oppression school of thought to describe pre-colonial African women (Guy 1990 in ed. Walker 1990). However, pre-colonial women’s active involvement in the production sphere in cooperation with their male counterparts proves that women were not limited instruments of production. They were not oppressed by men or forcefully consigned to the domestic sphere. Instead, they worked with considerable freedom and in some cases both sexes cooperated to increase agricultural production. Indeed, women were not restricted to the domestic sphere but were also active in the public domain such as in politics and religion.

Women’s Influence in Politics and Religion The archives are sparsely populated with evidence of active participation of women in politics in pre-colonial southern Africa. This suggests that they were not fully involved in decision-making within their societies. However, a close analysis of the available evidence on the pre-colonial KwaZulu-Natal in the James Stuart archives reveals that “royal women were sometimes entrusted with significant roles of

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authority by their male kin, but they remained subject to the authority and control of Royal men” (Eldredge 2014, p. 172). They were more visible in sociopolitical spaces than other women. San women (found mostly in arid and semiarid areas in Southern Africa) were involved in decision-making and could become Shamans (a diviner, priest or priestess who uses magic for curing the sick) like their male counterparts. This is premised on the fact that San communities were egalitarian and the members of the community were equal. In contrast, the Khoikhoi communities (found in the Cape region in South Africa) were patriarchal and hierarchical, with men at the apex and women at the bottom of the sociopolitical structure. They had no right whatsoever to inherit livestock nor to occupy positions of authority in their communities. Women in patriarchal societies were viewed by the gender oppression scholars as powerless, controlled and protected by men. However, a close analysis of available primary literature on women in pre-colonial southern Africa proves that women were as powerful and influential in politics and the religious sphere as their male counterparts.

Women as Political Leaders Sargent (1991) posits that in pre-colonial Africa for a woman to achieve power, she was obliged to exploit various avenues meant to enhance status and privilege. He further adds that for her to accumulate political influence, she must excel in whatever chosen field, for example, in trade, pottery, and house building. It is therefore clear that status, privilege, and wealth were the most important avenue for the establishment of political authority. These avenues were not blocked for pre-colonial African women to exploit. It is in this sense that Michelle Rosaldo (2007) notes that, “Africa is noted for the presence of women in very high positions in formal government, in the pre-colonial era.” Way before the advent of the colonists, African women held offices of authority in the public sphere where they were involved in decisionmaking and controlling resources (Eldredge 2014, p. 201). Women in the Zulu and other kingdoms in southern Africa occupied positions of authority like their male counterparts. In the Zulu Kingdom, the royal household where warriors were quartered (amakhanda) was headed by old royal women or by senior women promoted from within the ranks of the izigodlo (Ndlovu 2008, p. 114). This has prompted Ndlovu (2008) to argue that: Contrary to the scholarly views of the gender oppression school, izigodhlo were far more than harems of the king; they were focal points and regal sources of patronage. . .powerful women in charge of isigodhlo monopolised decision-making. (Ndlovu 2008, p. 114)

Prominent women ruled powerful empires and ethnic groups, in some cases, with the assistance of their male counterparts. Royal women in the Zulu Kingdom played pivotal roles in managing ritual spheres and decision-making. They even mediated in succession disputes and solved people’s problems (Ndlovu 2008, p. 114). Queen

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Mkabayi is one of such great female leaders in the pre-colonial KwaZulu Natal (KZN) whose name towers above them all. Mkabayi from birth had a much stronger character than her twin sister, Mmama, who ruled Osebeni military harem. When her mother died before producing a long awaited heir, she courted Mthaniya (a beautiful Zulu woman who later became Jama’s wife) for her father, Jama. The union produced the Zulu Kingdom heir, Senzangakhona (Masuku 2009, p. 124). After the death of her father, she imposed herself on the Zulu throne as the regent for Senzangakhona. This move attracted criticism among influential Zulu men who later succumbed to her domineering character (Masuku 2009, p. 124). When Senzangakhona came of age, Mkabayi stepped down in his favor (Masuku 2009, p. 124). Mkabayi protected Tshaka (The illegitimate son of the Chief of the Zulu clan, Senzangakhona, born out of wedlock) when he was young, and Senzangakhona had ordered that he must be killed. After the death of Senzangakhona, she paved the way for him (Tshaka) because the masses did not like Sigujana (Tshaka’s half-brother). Thus, her bravery and obstinacy became apparent when she killed the powerful Sojiyisa (an illegitimate son of Jama: Jama married a Tonga woman who was already pregnant with Sojiya) who posed a serious threat to Tshaka’s accession to power. This shows that she had attributes of a great leader who boldly took action to influence things and at the same time listened to the concerns of her people. When Tshaka became uncontrollable and ruled his people with an iron hand, Mkabayi indicated her displeasure to her nephews, Dingani and Mhlangana. The Zulu people were fed up with his ruthlessness and Mkabayi became their savior, plotted his assassination, and later killed Mhlangana to pave way for Dingani. Under the leadership of Dingani, she retained her political influence and leadership of the Qulusi military kraal. This brief history reveals that Mkabayi was a kingmaker who was endowed with great negotiating skills. She understood the ABCs of the then political terrain, which helped her to outmaneuver her rivals and position herself as the most able regent in the Zulu history. The gender oppression scholars depict women as docile zombies, confined in the domestic sphere. Walker (1990) and Guy (1990) in Women and Gender in Southern Africa to 1945 posit that women in precapitalist southern African communities were oppressed and exploited by men. They focus more on the productive and reproductive capacity of women, arguing that their male counterparts controlled them. Thus, women in the gender oppression school of thought are painted as zombies with no rights whatsoever, surviving at the mercy of their masters – men. Mkabayi’s powerful attributes that are normally associated with men contradict the stereotype that women in the pre-colonial Africa were always docile and submissive (Masuku 2009, p. 126). In the VhaVenda people, the chief’s sister (makhadzi) was afforded the same influence in politics and the sociocultural space. She was involved in succession disputes and her word was final. Stayt notes that: When the succession is disputed it is the duty of the makhadzi and khotsimunene (the chief’s young brother) to try to come to a mutual agreement that will be satisfactory to all concerned; relationships are traced and every possible factor considered, but in the event of a deadlock

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ensuing, the makhadzi has the final word. . . If the royal wife bears only a female child, this daughter is in theory the legal heir, but she is not permitted to reign; she may, however, in conjunction with the makhadzi, designate a brother to reign in her place, often the elder brother of the father’s second wife. (Stayt 1931, pp. 208–209)

Makhadzi with her male royal counterparts sat at the court (khoroni) to address the assembly, especially when settling succession disputes. Her people revered her (because of political and spiritual powers ascribed to her in tradition) such that whenever she addressed the assembly, they all stood in absolute silence (Stayt 1931, pp. 208–209). She also presented the heir to the throne before the assembly. Like Mkabayi, makhadzi was a kingmaker whose decision was final. She played an active political role that the gender oppression school of historical analysis believed was beyond the reach of women. The political domain was therefore not an exclusive sphere for men but was open for both sexes to explore. The role of the Queen mother in politics has been important in pre-colonial African polities (Sargent 1991). She could be the focal point of important political institutions within the chiefdom or kingdom, and her political authority paralleled that of the king. In Swaziland, the Queen mother was revered because of her political influence. On installation as the Queen mother, she was named indlovukazi (Lady Elephant) and the king, ingonyana (the Lion). The Queen and the King in Swaziland were central figures of all national activities (Ogbomo 2005, p. 53). Ogbomo (2005) contends that the Swazi Queen had her own tributary villages, which paid tribute directly to her, making her economically independent from the throne. This narrative shows how powerful and influential the Queen mother was in the pre-colonial Swaziland. Nandi, Tshaka’s mother, was one of the most powerful women in the Zulu Kingdom. One of the incidents that confirm her influence and control over Tshaka is recorded in the James Stuart Archives Volume 1 when she saved Mpitikazi’s life. Mpitikazi’s sin was that of warning the Langeni people to flee because Tshaka was coming to kill them. An army was set to hunt for him and kill him. When he surrendered himself to King Tshaka, Nandi pleaded for him saying: “Surely you will not kill Mpitikazi? What is Mpitikazi that you should kill him, he who is just a dog?” (Baleni ka Mpitikazi, JSA, Vol. 1:7). It is therefore not out of context to argue that Nandi was able to save Mpitikazi because of her influence on Tshaka and because Nandi was his mother’s sister. Royal women in pre-colonial southern Africa used their proximity to men in authority to influence their decisions. In most cases, these decisions were meant to be favorable to them and their people. Ngidi narrates how Nandi protested when Tshaka set on a killing spree, killing even those that were his relatives. Tshaka threw off his covering (literally) and killed Makedama and the Qwabe people. Nandi asked Tshaka, “Why are you taking off your covering, the one of your mother’s people? Why are you killing them? Where will you run away? What people will you fly to?” (Ngidi ka Ncikiza, JSA, Vol. 5:39). Nandi is one of the few women who could control Tshaka and influence his decisions. She had the courage to approach and reproach him as her son. Ngidi’s

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narration of the event proves that the king’s or chief’s mother in the pre-colonial southern Africa had influence in decision-making; she could plead for her people. The King’s wives in pre-colonial southern Africa were influential in politics and in the social sphere as custodians of social values. They took care of the King and sometimes influenced his decisions. It is worth noting that the King had a soft spot for the intandokazi (The king’s favorite wife) who could get anything she asked for. Baleni ka Silwana narrates that: The king was sometimes scolded by one or other of the wives. She would have some cause for the grievance, and she would lash out at him in the wildest manner and aloud, the reason being that she wanted him to consort with her. He, unable to face this, would go out to the men. . . (Baleni ka Silwana, JSA, Vol. 1:39)

The King’s wives had influence over the King and their people in general. In the Ndebele Kingdom, there is the legend of Queen Lozikheyi, Lobhengula’s wife who is rated as one of the best strategists in the history of Zimbabwean politics (Clarke 2004). During the 1896 Ndebele revolt, she organized the army and made sure the military was well equipped. The strategy did not leak to the settlers, allowing the Ndebele warriors to take them by surprise. Her bravery and strategic prowess earned her an iconic status with the Ndebele people. One of the most celebrated pre-colonial Nguni Queens is Queen Nyamazana, who drove the last King of the most powerful Rozvi Empire, in present day Zimbabwe, Changamire Chirisamhuru, out of his capital. Changamire Chirisamhuru was defeated and fled with his people from the more powerful female warrior (Gudhlanga and Chirimuuta 2016, p. 58). Queen Nzinga, the sixteenth century Angolan leader, led a powerful army of female warriors. She was powerful and influential in the present day Angolan area; hence, the Portuguese called her the “Amazon Queen” (Gudhlanga and Chirimuuta 2016, p. 58). In the Khoikhoi communities, women were at liberty to admonish the chief in public. Hahn recounts how a ruthless Namaqua Khoikhoi chief was scolded by the women of his tribe: Once I saw a chief sitting by, when the young girls sang into his face, telling him “that he was a hungry hyena and a roguish jackal; that he was the brown vulture who is not only satisfied with tearing the fresh from the bones, but also feasted on the intestines.” (Elphick 1985)

Women were not a powerless and voiceless group who had no control of their bodies and circumstances. In most cases, they were able to express themselves and fight for better treatment from their male leaders. While in most pre-colonial southern African communities, there were clearly defined gender divisions of labor, characterized by unequal power relations between women and men, the available archival literature on the Zulu Kingdom reveal that there were a range of cross-gender obligations. Consistent with findings about pre-colonial women elsewhere, women and men’s roles here were often complimentary. Women performed male-type duties with great ease. They also accompanied their male counterparts on military expeditions.

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Tshaka used to go out to war with amakhosikazi (king’s wives) as well as girls. Girls were like men, collected into regiments. They cut shields, necklace of honor worn by women who have killed enemy fighters on the battlefield (izihlangu), carried assegais and had to fight when required to do so. Girls were sometimes to be seen wearing iziqu (bravery ornaments), showing they killed people. (Ngidi ka Ncikiza, JSA, Vol. 5:41)

Ngidi’s narrative dispels the widely held notion that military expeditions in the pre-colonial southern African states were gendered and that the battlefield was a masculine domain beyond the reach of women. Women were conscripted into the army and went to war with their male counterparts. The presence of the regiments of young women is an indication that the battlefield was not an exclusive domain for men; the domain was instead ungendered. The King rewarded those women who fought with great bravery and determination. Ndlovu (2008) notes that such active involvement of women in military expeditions defies an easy categorization of female warriors as largely ceremonial bodies with major purpose of providing agricultural labor for the Zulu state and being a source of wives for the male warriors (Ndlovu 2008, p. 113). In the Manyika region, in present day Mashonaland in Zimbabwe, there were women who were sometimes appointed as rulers over vast territories. Schmidt notes that in the Monomotapa state, in the pre-colonial Zimbabwe, there were powerful women chiefs who led female warriors in wars against their rivals. According to Kriger (1992), during the Monomotapa period, the best combat regiments were made of young, unmarried women (Kriger 1992, p. 192).

Women as Religious and Spiritual Leaders Women in pre-colonial southern Africa shared the religious domain with their male counterparts. The Balobedu people of Limpopo in South Africa had a divine powerful Rain Queen, Modjadji, whose position was hereditary. The succession of the Rain Queen was hereditary and only the eldest female daughter was eligible. It is believed that the Queen had supernatural powers to control the clouds and make rain. Rain Queen I Maselekwane Modjadji (1800–1854) and Rain Queen II Masalanabo Modjadji (1854–1894) were the most popular pre-colonial Rain Queens. Tshaka and other Kings from southern Africa paid tribute to Queen Modjadji to supplicate for rain (Mahashe 2012). This tribute was in the form of women who were given as wives to the Queen. The Balobedu Rain Queen, in precolonial Africa, was one of the most powerful and influential female leaders, who was revered for her rain-making powers. In Malawi, among the Nyanja and Manganja agricultural people, the chief’s sister prayed for rain during drought (Ogbomo 2005, p. 68). The Nyanja people in the drought region depended on the mercies of the female rainmakers. Perhaps it is in this sense that Dime (1985) asserts that in some pre-colonial societies, it was universally believed that the universe rainmaker was a woman.

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Among the Xhosa people of South Africa was the prophet Nomgqawuze who was an important leader in the nineteenth century. She prophesized to her people about the hardships that would follow under colonial rule (Gudhlanga & Chirimuuta 2016, p. 58). In the Shona tradition, there is a heroine, Charwe, popularly known as Mbuya Nehanda, who is believed to have been Nyatsimba Mutota’s daughter, and was given her own area to rule in the 1500s (Gudhlanga & Chirimuuta 2016, p. 55). Nehanda was one of the most popular symbols of resistance to early colonial rule in Zimbabwe. Musiyiwa (2008) describes her as one of the most brilliant female leaders of the time who ruled her people very well. Spirit mediums played pivotal roles in the precolonial societies and she was a revered spirit medium in Mazowe valley in the central Shona area (Beach 1998, p. 27). She led a network of mhondoros (both men and women) that prepared the masses for battle in the Mazowe area. Mbuya Nehanda, as spirit medium, occupied the sacred spiritual sphere in her community and was viewed as the spiritual leader endowed with prophetic foresight, to guide and warn her people, both men and women. The legend of Nehanda and others prove that women in the pre-colonial southern African societies were not passive recipients of instructions from their male counterparts but had power and actively participated in the public sphere. The sister of the head of the Venda clan (makhadzi) was an important anchor in their socioreligious behavior (Stayt 1931, p. 250). She played an important part in the religious affairs of the clan, which included officiating religious events in the absence of the chief or the heir. Makhadzi was the priestess of the clan who was able to approach and appease the lineage paternal spirits. In the case of the death of the priestess, the daughter acted in her place. If she had no children, the diviner appointed one of the headman’s sisters to replace her. In tshikona (a dance associated vaguely with the ancestors and is the Venda national dance; it is always performed to inaugurate initiation and other ceremonies) dance ceremonies, makhadzi officiated and sometimes joined in the dance. Stayt narrates that, “When she is tired, she kneels down and does losha (It means to salute or honour) to the drums as a sign that she is content, and, slowly rising, moves away from the circle” (Stayt 1931, p. 250). The active involvement of makhadzi at the helm of the VhaVenda religious sphere proves that religious leadership in pre-colonial southern Africa was not exclusively a domain for men; women could participate as heads of religious ceremonies. Women in the army, politics, and religious leadership in pre-colonial southern African societies were not marginalized but cooperated with their male counterparts for the betterment of their societies. These interactive relations between the sexes, common in pre-colonial southern African states, question the notion of separate spheres perpetuated by most gender oppression school of historical analysis scholars. They enjoyed several rights in the pre-colonial era that saw them occupy political and religious positions of authority in their societies. Pre-colonial women were not trapped in the domestic sphere, but they were free to explore other domains such as political and religious leadership.

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Conclusion Most historical writing in the western tradition on ancient and pre-colonial African societies posits that pre-colonial African women were trapped in domesticity and were merely instruments of production and reproduction. Such studies assert that women in pre-colonial southern Africa and Africa in general were treated as outsiders. However, this chapter, using the available oral sources and secondary literature, has proven that women in pre-colonial southern Africa were not trapped in domesticity but were free to participate in male-type activities. They were active in traditional leadership, governance, production, and reproduction in pre-colonial societies, way before the advent of colonists. Thus, women were not “jural minors”; they were instead, independent people who had full control of their lives and resources. It is also worth noting that the roles of women in male-type domains decreased with the onslaught of colonialism (Ranger’1981). Women lost their rights and other privileges in colonial southern Africa. Gender division of labor became an unwritten policy that consigned women to separate spheres of daily labor. The phenomenon of gender division of labor was exported across southern African frontiers by the colonists, whose divide and rule policy reigned supreme. The divide and rule policy was heavily applied to divide indigenous people’s labor according to gender. On the other hand, land dispossession compelled men to migrate into early mining towns as cheap laborers, leaving women interminably trapped in domesticity and as agents of production and reproduction. Women in pre-colonial southern Africa were thus not oppressed nor trapped in domesticity; they were active in production, political, and religious spheres. They ventured into male-type domains, controlled their bodies, owned their labor, and determined their destinies.

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Gouws, A., & Stasiulis, D. (2013). Gender and multiculturalism-dislodging the binary between universal human rights and culture/tradition: North/south perspectives. Politikon, 40(1), 1–13. Gudhlanga, E., & Chirimuuta, C. (2016). Incorporating oral literature’s concept of gender relations as an alternative solution to the gender equality debate. In J. M. Akuma et al. (Eds.), Public policy and transformation in Africa. Rome: EUSER. Guy, J. (1987). Analysing pre-capitalist societies in Southern Africa. Journal of Southern African Studies, 14(1), 18–37. Guy, J. (1990). Gender oppression in Southern Africa’s Precapitalist Societies in C. Walker (Ed.) Women and Gender in Southern Africa to 1945. Cape Town: David Philip. Heeren, G. A., Jemmott, J. B., III, Tyler, J. C., Tshabe, S., & Ngwane, Z. (2011). Cattle for wives and extramarital trysts for husbands? Lobola, men, and HIV/STD risk behavior in Southern Africa. Journal of Human Behavior in the Social Environment, 21(1), 73–81. Hjort, J. (2010). Pre-colonial culture, post-colonial success? The Tswana and African economic miracle. Economic History Review, 63(3), 688–709. Jeater, G. (1990). Marriage, perversion and power: The construction of moral discourse in Southern Rhodesia (Zimbabwe) 1890–1930 (Unpublished PhD thesis). Trinity College. Kalabamu, F. (2006). Patriarchy and women’s land rights in Botswana. Land Use Policy, 23, 237–246. Krige, E. (1974). Woman-marriage, with special reference to the Lovedu: Its significance for the definition of marriage. Africa, 44, 1. Krige, N. J. (1992). Zimbabwe’s guerrilla war: Peasant voices. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Mafela, L. (2007). Batswana women and law: Society, education and migration, 1840–1980. Cahiers d’études africaines, 3(187-188), 523–566. Mahashe, T. (2012). Dithugula tsˇa Malefokana; Paying Libation in the Photographic Archive made by Anthropologists E.J. & J.D. Krige in 1930s Bolobedu, under Queen Modjadji III. University of Cape Town. Masuku, N. (2009). The depiction of Mkabayi: A review of her praise poem. South African Journal of African Languages, 29(2), 121–130. Mawere, M., & Rambe, P. (2012). Violation and abuse of women’s human rights in the customary practice of kuzvarira among the Ndau people of Mozambique. International Journal of Politics and Good Governance, 3(3), 1. Molapo, M. (1994). Women and shelter development. Paper presented at the ‘housing for the urban poor’ Symposium. International Convention Centre, Birmingham, 11–14 Apr 1994. Musiyiwa, M. (2008). The significance of myths and legends in children’s literature in contemporary Zimbabwe. Available online at: http://www.ibby.Org/index.Php?id=913 (Accessed on: 18 March 2019). Ndlovu, S. (2008). “A Reassessment of Women’s Power in the Zulu Kingdom.” In Zulu Identities. Being Zulu, Past and Present, edited by B. Carton, J. Laband, and J. Sithole, pp. 111–121. Pietermaritzburg: University of KwaZulu-Natal Press Ndlovu-Gatsheni, S. J. (2008). Who ruled by the spear? Rethinking the form of governance in the Ndebele state. African Studies Quarterly, 10(2 & 3), 71–94. Nnam, N. (2007). Colonial mentality in Africa. Plymouth: Hamilton Books. Ogbomo, O. W. (2005). Women, Power and Society in Pre-colonial Africa. Lagos Historical Review, 5 , 49-74. Ranger, T. O. (1981). Women in Politics of Makoni District, Zimbabwe, 1890-1980. Manchester: University of Manchester. Rosaldo, R. M. (2007). Woman, culture, and society: A theoretical overview. Woman, Culture, and Society. California: Stanford University Press. Sargent, R. A. (1991). Found in the Fog of the Male Myth: Analysing Female Political Roles in PreColonial Africa. Oral History Forum. Available online at: http://www.oralhistoryforum.ca/ index.php/ohf/article/viewFile/214/263 (Accessed: 18 March 2019). Smith, A. B., & Webley, L. (2000). Women and men of the Khoekhoen of southern Africa. In D. L. Hodgson (Ed.), Rethinking pastoralism in Africa: Gender, culture and the myth of the patriarchal pastoralist (pp. 72–96). London: James Currey. Stayt, H. A. (1931). The BaVenda. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

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Vaughan, M. (1985). Household units and historical process in southern Malawi. Review of African Political Economy, 12(34), 35–45. Walker, C. (Ed.). (1990). Women and gender in southern Africa to 1945. Cape Town: David Philip. Webb, C., & Wright, J. B. (Eds.). (1914). The James Stuart archives Vol. 6: Of recorded oral evidence relating to the history of the Zulu and the Neighbouring peoples. Pietermaritzburg: University of Natal Press. Webb, C., & Wright, J. B. (Eds.). (1976a). The James Stuart archives Vol. 1: Of recorded oral evidence relating to the history of the Zulu and the Neighbouring peoples. Pietermaritzburg: University of Natal Press. Webb, C., & Wright, J. B. (Eds.). (1976b). The James Stuart archives Vol. 2: Of recorded oral evidence relating to the history of the Zulu and the Neighbouring peoples. Pietermaritzburg: University of Natal Press. Webb, C., & Wright, J. B. (Eds.). (1982). The James Stuart archives Vol. 3: Of recorded oral evidence relating to the history of the Zulu and the Neighbouring peoples. Pietermaritzburg: University of Natal Press. Webb, C., & Wright, J. B. (Eds.). (1986). The James Stuart archives Vol. 4: Of recorded oral evidence relating to the history of the Zulu and the Neighbouring peoples. Pietermaritzburg: University of Natal Press. Webb, C., & Wright, J. B. (Eds.). (2001). The James Stuart archives Vol. 5: Of recorded oral evidence relating to the history of the Zulu and the Neighbouring peoples. Pietermaritzburg: University of Natal Press. Weir, J. (2000). ‘I shall need to use her to rule’: The power of ‘royal’ Zulu women in pre-colonial Zululand. South African Historical Journal, 43, 3–23.

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Susan Mbula Kilonzo and Jethron Ayumbah Akallah

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Context . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Land, Labor, and Agriculture . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Trade . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Education . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Politics, Nationalism, and the Liberation Struggle . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

This chapter provides a contextual analysis of the role and place of women in colonial East Africa. Several factors including land, labor, agriculture, education, trade, politics, nationalism, and struggle for liberation are deemed relevant in explaining power dynamics among men and women in this historical period. Through a theoretical analysis of existing literature, the chapter explores the various nuances that define women’s social, economic, political, and spiritual contexts in the colonial era. The chapter succeeds in showing that women in the pre-colonial era, in many communities within East Africa, had a voice and were respected in their own rights, although in some communities, male dominance was evident. Regardless, the advent of colonialism and European approach to gender relations influenced the status quo for societies in East Africa and elsewhere on the continent. The end of the colonial era did not change the gender relations that the colonial masters had entrenched in the economic, political, and social lives of Africans. Women found themselves disadvantaged. For this reason, they continue to struggle for liberation and expanded rights. S. M. Kilonzo (*) Department of Religion, Theology and Philosophy, Maseno University, Maseno, Kenya J. A. Akallah Department of History and Archeology, Maseno University, Maseno, Kenya © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_127

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Keywords

East Africa · Women · Gender relations · Colonialism · Liberation

Introduction There is varied literature on the implications of colonialism to power relations between men and women in Africa. Some of the authorship has been bold enough to provide an overview of colonial role in gender relations in Africa as a whole. Vince, Rodet, and Goerg (2007), for instance, examine shifting gendered and colonial spaces in Africa. Henderson and Whatley (2014) used ethnographic atlas to explore pacification and gender in colonial Africa. Tripp (2004) provides an analysis of women’s movements that have actively engaged customary laws and colonial land rights in Africa as they fight legal battles for women’s rights to own land. Though Tripp studies the case of Uganda, she draws examples from different African countries. Akyeampong and Fofack (2012) extrapolates the contribution of African women to economic growth and development and, through a historical perspective of pre-colonial and colonial periods, while drawing examples from various African countries, shows the policy implications of African women engagement. Wendpanga (2015) provides various African case studies on the role of imported religions and colonialism in the situation of African women. Even though this literature cites cases from diverse African countries, the vastness of the coverage cannot take into account detailed analysis of specific gender power relations. This gap is filled by a number of case studies that exist on different gender perspectives across diverse countries and communities in Africa including Salhausen (2015), Montgomery (2017), Gachihi (1986), Guyo (2017), Goertz (2002), and Musisi (2002), among many. For the Eastern Africa region, which is the interest of this chapter, a number of studies suffice. Gachihi (1986) examined the role of Kikuyu women in the Mau Mau movement that resisted colonial masters and whose outcomes contributed to Kenya’s liberation from colonial rule. Other studies in the Kenyan context that explore the place of women in colonialism include a study on Luo women and economic change during the colonial period (Hay 1976), women’s role and status in pastoral communities (Guyo 2017), and inclusive decision-making processes in land leasing (Otieno 2014), among many. Quite an amount of literature is available about African women and coloniality in Uganda. By examining the colonial and missionary representation of Buganda women, Musisi (2002) brings to the fore the capture and attempt to control the sexuality of Buganda women. Goertz (2002), who does a contemporary account of women’s political representation in Ugandan politics, praises the number of political positions created for women in the government but is quick to warn that the representation should not be confused for assertion given the era of suppression of party competition and lack of democratic decision-making structure. Salhausen (2015) engages the colonial roots that are a basis for contemporary women empowerment in Uganda and extensively uses missionary records in doing so. Recently,

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Haas and Frankema (2018) studied gender, ethnicity, and unequal opportunities in colonial Uganda as they focused on the European influences, the realities within the African continent, and more pertinently in their work, the pitfalls of Parish register data in Uganda. Still in the region some authors have branded their study titles German East Africa when the focus is mainly on Tanzania, which, unlike the British colonies of Uganda and Kenya, began its colonial activities with the Germans in 1884. Although Illife’s work (1969) centers on Tanzania after German rule, his research did not focus on gender dynamics. He historicizes the colonial activities between 1884 and particularly the British rule from November 1890. In the recent past, Montgomery (2017) did a theoretical expose of colonial legacy of gender inequality by studying the role of missionaries in German East Africa and how the missionaries paved way for the colonial masters by imposing European education and religion that in the end aimed at benefiting the colonialists. Haustein (2017) has also examined how slavery, colonial policies, and religion acted as strategic tangles to enhance German’s authoritarianism in Tanzania. These accounts just provide a highlight of some of the studies that have been done, especially on the influence of colonialism on gender and, to a great extent, women. The present essay is situated within this scholarship to provide an examination of how colonial impositions on land and agriculture, labor, trade, education, and politics affected the place of women in East Africa. It therefore takes a theoretical perspective and utilizes historical analysis, to document the experiences of women during the colonial period in East Africa. This could be a broad scope, and as such, the chapter is limited to the abovementioned specific factors that are deemed relevant in interrogating the influence of colonialism on women, specifically in Kenya, Uganda, and Tanzania and with limited reference to Rwanda, Burundi, and South Sudan. The chapter first provides the colonial context with a specific focus on the place of women. This context lays a basis for examination of factors that are deemed relevant in studying women’s place under colonialism and the power dynamics embedded in these aspects. In the first section of the discussion of these factors, land, labor, and agriculture interrelate, and as such, they have been merged. Trade and education, though discussed separately, interrelate with the others as seen in the discussion. Politics, nationalism, and struggle for liberation interrelate and as such have been hinged together in the discussion.

Context Evidence abounds that women as seers, herbalists, and meticulous traders characterized pre-colonial East Africa. They played central roles in the economy of their respective societies as both producers and reproducers. Collectively, through local level organization, they would make beer for the community, harvest their crop, run and manage the exchange of produce, and also build houses apart from playing their roles as wives and mothers (see Akyeampong and Fofack 2013). Among Kenyan societies, women dominated barter trade, and men would play the role of escort to women who carried large loads of goods to trade over long distances (Gachihi 1986).

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Women in pre-colonial Uganda are depicted as having more freedom, and generally, the community exhibited less exploitative gender relations (Haas and Frankema 2018). In pre-colonial Tanzania (formerly referred to as Tanganyika), communities consisted of a number of cultural groups that depended on hunting and gathering with varying divisions of labor and functions between genders. Like in Kenya and Uganda, women in Tanzania played key role in farms and trade, being able to command their own possessions (Montgomery 2017). All these pre-colonial arrangements were disrupted by the introduction of missionary “civilization” and capital and cash economy by the colonial governments. Colonization effectively began in the middle of the nineteenth century, when European governments decided to take administrative control of the region under the framework that emerged from the Berlin Conference in 1884 (Akyeampong and Fofack 2012). Subsequently, the colonial period has been defined as a simple extension of the exploitation and unfair slave trade regime that governed the relations between Europe and Africa over a period of about four centuries (O’Connell 2010). Karari (2018) shows that the modus operandi as used by the British, and to a great extent the Germans, included tactics such as crown land ordinances, estate production, establishment of reserve and squatters systems, formation of White highlands, imposition of taxes, forced labor, missionary churches, declaration of state of emergency, military operations, villagization, ethnic divide and rule, flogging, torture, incarceration, and execution. All these strategic styles aimed at subduing, conquering, and oppressing the Africans in order to effectively rule over them and achieve the maximum benefits (Mazrui 2008). The kind of rule by the missionaries, Germans, and British in the region destabilized the natives, cohesion, and specifically their subsistence livelihoods, which later led to anticolonial insurgency among various communities in the region as seem from the Mau Mau and Maji Maji rebellion in Kenya and Tanganyika, respectively. Montgomery (2017) avers that colonization altered local cultures in favor of persisted European norms, which in turn affected choices made by the later generations. This further affected the social, cultural, legal, and traditional practices transmitted from generation to the next. For instance, the colonial government introduced a dual legal system of European courts based on common and civil land and native courts under the jurisdiction of chiefs. Matters of custom or family law were delegated to native courts or tribunals, including marriage, divorce, custody, inheritance, and land tenure. In effect, the domestic community and the matters that most affected women were placed in the hands of men, who during the colonial period were chiefs and elders (Akyeampong and Fofack 2012). Although there is evidence of women chiefs and elders in communities during the pre-colonial period, this changed in colonial phase. This can be attributed to the European culture, where the place of women was perceived to be the domestic domain. According to Ghosh (2004), as much as the field of gender and colonialism has developed and expanded, two significant challenges still abound. One is whether the concerns of gender and colonial history have affected the interests of older fields of history such as economic, political, and labor histories. Second is the challenge to define and study gender and colonialism so that it does not replicate the inequalities

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and hierarchies of colonialism. The writing of regional and national histories of gender and women in particular, in this case, the impact of colonialism on women in East Africa, is imperative as a way of revisiting the already established knowledge and questioning the existing hierarchies to minimize the entrenched inequalities and suppressed female voices, respectively. In doing so, this chapter focuses on land, labor, agriculture, trade, education, and politics. These constitute the major facets by which colonialism was expressed through various policy legislations, ordinances, and decrees to effect the greatest impact.

Land, Labor, and Agriculture Prior to the introduction of capitalist relations, the established patriarchal systems in some pre-colonial societies in East Africa saw male elders wield massive powers over the labor of all women and junior males. Through ritual and marriage law, senior males benefited from the labor of their wives who worked both in their husbands’ fields and on their own fields as food crop producers (see Meillassoux 1981). However, in some pre-colonial communities like in the region, resources were communally owned as organized around parties linked by kinship or reciprocation (Kameri-Mbote 2002). At the onset of the disruptive colonial establishment in East Africa and with the settler economy as the most viable endeavor in the region, one of the concerns for the White settlers was to secure vast and fertile lands for their comfortable stay but, importantly, for agricultural production for export. Since there were no written legal rules on land ownership, the colonizers took advantage to draft laws that favored their occupancy of productive lands and legalized their own control. In the East African countries, as Mazrui (2008) citing the example of Kenya shows, the British enacted a series of land ordinances to formalize dispossession of the natives. They then created reserves for the natives to share. Much of Kenya’s productive highlands were reserved for White settlement. The Central part of Kenya was most affected by land legislation as the Whites captured the highlands throughout the colonial period (Ogot 1969). In Uganda, in 1900, the Uganda Agreement between Buganda and the British allotted half of Buganda’s land into freehold estates held by the Royal Family and about 1000 chiefs as freehold tenure (Hansen 1986). In total disregard of the indigenous arrangement of land tenure and use (Karari 2018; Rutten and Ombogi 2005), this new colonial arrangement disrupted the subsistence livelihoods of the natives (Rutten and Ombogi 2005) and especially the place of women in the production chain (Akyeampong and Fofack 2012). The indigenous known modes of production completely changed, altering the natives’ subsistence economy, identity, and customary ways of life (Rutten and Ombogi 2005). This is so because in some communities like in the case of Kenya, the natives originally lived communally with equal righs to land use (Mazrui 2008). Subsequently, the land ordinances of the White settlers, for instance, the Crown Land Ordinance of 1915 in Kenya, awarded them freehold titles of 1000 acres of land and a security tenure of up to 999 year leases, declaring that all land belonged to the

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Queen and was subject to disposal at her will (Gachihi 1986; Otieno 2014; Karari 2018). The land ordinances in East Africa meant that communal land became obsolete and customary law became subordinate to British Law (Karari 2018). Losing land to the colonial masters meant that women, who carried the burden of cultivating, planting, and harvesting crops for both subsistence and barter trade, received the brunt of the colonial changes on land ownership. This position is true from the accounts of how women in the pre-colonial days controlled agricultural land use in most communities within the East Africa region. Hay (1976) shows that in some communities, like the Luo of western Kenya, like in many communities, women were responsible for agricultural production. They stored and managed food supply to the family. In many patrilineal societies like the Luo of Kenya, senior males allocated land among users and women had access to it as daughters and more securely as wives (Okeyo 1980). Men had very specific and time-sensitive tasks and limited responsibilities with respect to agricultural production. Their only contribution to food production was limited to clearing the fields and breaking the ground for first cultivation. However, in a few other communities in the region like in the steppes and savannas of the Sudan, men participated in the whole chain of food production (Hay 1976; Fofack 2015). The food production and control over the same, in most East African communities, was different from property ownership. Despite being responsible for almost 80% of agricultural production, property rights of women in western Kenya specifically Luo, Gusii, and Luhya were always limited (Coquery-Vidrovitch 1994). Succession to property was through the male lineage with the basis for male inheritance of property being the fact that men stayed within the family unlike women who, when married, left their domiciles of origin and joined their husbands’ families (Kameri-Mbote 2002). The colonial enterprise through land annexation and restricted access spelt far more complex disaster for women as they lost their autonomy over both their productive and reproductive labor (see Boserup 1970; Sen 1999). Further, colonialists divided labor along gender lines. While at the beginning men were forced to work in the White settlers’ lands, factories, and later on, for those who received missionary education, in lower positions of colonial administration, women’s main reserve was to take care of their families and engage in subsistence farming (Fofack 2015). In earlier days, men would work in the settlers’ land to earn and then pay back to them taxes. Using the divide and rule tactic (Karari 2018), the settlers would isolate the men from their families, and further, divide them along ethnic lines, and then confine them in different domains to work for the benefit of the settlers. The settler further established the pass (kipande) that was meant to restrict their movement (Wamwere 2008) as they targeted to harness from almost free labour and guard against revolt (Gachihi 1986). All these activities further affected the place and role of women as they were alienated from their husbands and had to act as the household heads and providers. As Karari (2018) shows, the ethnic preferential treatment of colonialists, which depended on loyalists versus rebels, changed and reconstructed the identities of the native groups. Though this has a broader picture in

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the ethnic wars that were to be later observed in the German and British colonies (Karari 2018), the immediate effect was felt by the women, who had to venture into roles that were mainly a preserve of men in the pre-colonial East Africa. From these gender roles, a total overhaul of the indigenous setup was witnessed and as Fofack (2015) shows gender imbalance in the non-agricultural sector and clear division of labor in the agricultural sector, less paying types of work were associated with women. Mainly, they performed domestic duties and, in White settler farms, were employed as workers to help their husbands with food production and conservation. The first agricultural technology to be imported to the East African region in the colonial period was a hoe, which the natives preferred more for its light weight and affordability for one would exchange grains and not goats or sheep for it. However, this and other technologies that came later including axes, machetes, and ox ploughs were to favor mass production of commercial produce in the settler farms, with men as the first beneficiaries (Tanui 1996). Farm mechanization, use of imported knowledge and technology in agriculture in East Africa as introduced by the colonial state, did not only reinforce the exploitative gender relations but also created more work for women. This is because it made it easier to absorb male labor into the capitalist economy of cash crop production. Women in turn had to work harder and find creative ways of maintaining their families’ subsistence level as well as supplementing the male labor in the plantations (Strobel 1982). In addition, as African families moved from subsistence to commercial agriculture and as foreigners developed commercial plantations, men were more prone to do the farming unlike before. The commercialization of agriculture also made farmers more dependent on the state for credit and technical training greatly disadvantaging women who found themselves frozen out of such aid (Anunobi 2002). With the need to help their husbands keep up with the demands of the new plantations, women ended up working harder without compensation (Coquery-Vidrovitch 1994). The non-monetization of female labor continued to perpetuate exploitative gender relations. Despite women labor being critical for the cash crop economy, the maledominated and autocratic colonial state continued to treat them with disdain and contempt. In Uganda, for instance, it was women farmers who first started cotton cultivation, yet in 1923, the British administrators in charge of agriculture declared that cotton growing could not be left to women and old people (Freeman 1993). Thus, as new technologies were introduced for cotton growing, they were taught only to men, ultimately driving Ugandan women out of that occupation (Anunobi 2002). This was the case across most of the polities in East Africa where the cash crop economy thrived. The colonial establishment further appropriated payment of taxes. With the emergence of towns that grew later into cities like Dar es Salaam, Nairobi, and Kampala, there was great influx of migrant labor to the fast-emerging urban centers specifically, to look for wage labor to facilitate payment of taxes. While the colonial administration through the Native Authorities recognized that on one hand, without labour migration tax collection would be impossible in their areas, on the other hand, they understood that marital and family instability is caused by labour migration.

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They ignored the fact that it was a threat to the maintenance of lineage organization (Bryceson 2010). In an effort to address this, the Native Authorities tried to mitigate by ruling over such matters. For instance, in 1931, as Bryceson (2010) points out, the Makonde Council in Newala, Tanzania, ruled that any man found guilty of enticing or seducing or stealing a married woman while her husband was away earning money to pay taxes may suffer imprisonment not exceeding 3 years (with hard labor) in addition to the customary adultery damages. However, despite the threat, the real effect of migrant urban labor on gender relations was the creation of more work for women. Retrospectively, as colonialism and missionary activities disrupted the pre-colonial socioeconomic structures, establishing new gender roles, men became the sole owners of family enterprise and related production factors, enjoying full control of household assets and inherent production under that social division of labor (Fofack 2015). Unfortunately, there were none unaffected, as literature shows that this kind of ownership, distribution of resources and division of labour became widespread across Africa, irrespective of colonial power (Fofack 2015; Akyeampong and Fofack 2012). This affected the rights to ownership that women once enjoyed, including their trade rights as we shall see below.

Trade In pre-colonial East Africa, women in nomadic communities played roles from herding small stock to economic roles of processing the primary products of milk, meat, and skins. The women in question are from the Maasai (found in all East African countries), Borana and Rendille (mainly found in Kenya, South Sudan, and Somalia), Kalenjin (in Kenya), and Karamoja in Uganda and Turkana (in Kenya). However, this changed during the 1890s in the colonial period (Guyo 2017). The socioeconomic and political policies introduced by the colonial government aimed at integrating Kenyan societies into colonial economy. This meant that any customary regulation that guided the pastoral communities was codified with the help of the village chiefs and elders to suit the demands of the colonialists. In the initial colonial days, pastoral communities paid taxes in kind by 30 heads of cattle and 50 sheep annually. However, the colonial policy of monetization and commodification altered this arrangement when hut and poll tax was introduced in 1928 requiring all men above the age of 16 years to pay tax in cash (Gachihi 1986; Karari 2018; Guyo 2017). The pre-colonial currencies such as cowry shells and ivory discs that women used, and barter trade, were replaced by the colonial government’s single currency – first with the Indian rupee and later the East Africa shilling in 1921 (Salhausen 2015). This worked well for the taxation of the native because the capitalist economy needed money to thrive (Anderson 2005). The tax defaulters would be killed, imprisoned, and/or their huts burned (Anderson 2005; Karari 2018). This move then discouraged subsistence economy and forced the native men to agree to wage employment (Anderson 2005; Gachihi 1986). For pastoral communities, Guyo (2017), Hodgion (2001), and Sobania (1979) show that this change left them with

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no choice but to be part of the cash economy trade. The challenge to women then was that, since it was required of men to pay taxes, women lost control over milk and skin processing, as well as any form of barter trade. Further, African chiefs, elders, and district officers who worked with the colonial government took advantage of their newly given mandates. This lot, taking advantage of the colonial government, changed the family life that existed before the advent of colonial masters to reify patriarchy and control women and the junior men. They converted marriage transactions into cash to benefit from the income of the migrant young men working in the Whiteman’s fields and industries. For the crop farming communities, the colonial masters taxed men of the low wages they earned from the forced production of cash crops. They further imposed food levies and separated men to work on leading sectors of colonial production (see Boserup 1970; Karari 2018). This took a toll on women. In Uganda, for instance, this kind of taxation and approach to agricultural activities is linked to women’s segregation from formal work as Salhausen (2015) shows. In the late 1940s, 20% of women were employed in formal work compared to 90% of men. The formal work was coupled by the high percentage of time that women spent in formal and informal labor markets that helped them earn a living. This was however not the concern of the colonial masters. Their focus was export earnings from cash crop production. Ogot (1969) argues that in 1934, exports from agriculture, mainly cotton in Uganda, amounted to more than GBP 3 million while in Kenya, not more than GBP 300,000, half of which was from the export of hides. This kind of economy only meant that men had to reduce their initially limited contribution to food crop production and allocate more time for wage labor (Fofack 2015). They were not even allowed to plant cash crops of their own for this was a reserve for the White settlers (Salhausen 2015; Gachihi 1986). Women, who could only do subsistence farming, were restricted to staying in the reserves or to helping their husbands work for the Whites. In some spaces, they were denied access to towns in the face of long-standing tradition of female industry and entrepreneurship (Akyeampong and Fofack 2012). Besides the effects of this form of division of labor, trade, and entrepreneurship on natives’ families, the largest of workload fell on women who worked for long hours without corresponding benefits. Research during the colonial period indicated that women worked for an average of 70 h a week compared to 46 h a week of pre-colonial period. Men averaged 55 h a week in the colonial period (Henn 1978). The divide and rule approach largely affected communal way of living, forcing natives to work according to their new allocated roles. Household modes of production were restructured to specialize in commodity production, labor export, squatter, and working-class households (Rutten and Ombogi 2005). There was no deliberate effort on the part of the colonialists to harmonize the diverse modes of production for the benefit of the native. Cash-related productions were associated with men for they had the responsibility of paying taxes. This further sidelined women in wage labor. Clearly, their roles had already been determined by the ways in which the colonialists had stratified labor. Gachihi (1986) explains that, in Kenya, the years between 1939 and 1949 saw a large section of able-bodied men forced to join British troops

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locally and abroad, leaving a whole gap to be filled by women. The women had therefore no choice but to engage in petty businesses to support their children to attend schools and to take care of health costs and food. They engaged in diverse off-farm income-generating activities and occupations such as informal and nonformal petty trading, barter trade, and waged labor (Verma 2001; Gachihi 1986). By walking where men had now been accustomed to walk by the Europeans, the women took on increased labor burdens and responsibilities (Verma 2001). In places like Kenya, 7 years into independence, the colonial government created native reserves whose role was to benefit colonialists with cheap labor from African men (Karari 2018; Campell 2007; Gachihi 1986). The colonial governments demanded exponential growth of manufactured goods, shifting from labor- to capital-intensive industries for production (Akyeampong and Fofack 2012). Men worked in factories to the detriment of African women, some of whom continued to work in the colonial masters homes as housemaids, while the rest were held captive within the domestic realm in their homes and in the reserves created for them by the colonial governments (Akyeampong and Fofack 2012). In Kenya, trade, including peddling, was early taken over by the Indians who had come after the British to undertake railway construction works. However, this had been a preserve of women. One of the reasons was that at least women could travel safely unlike men who were thought of as being on the warpath (Coquery-Vidrovitch 1994). In Uganda, the presence of South Asians who absorbed a large portion of the limited demand for semi-skilled and skilled labor in the colonial export economy cut off the avenues for occupational mobility for both men and women. This way, the incentives that the colonial government allocated for developing working skills to encourage Africans to work for them were also diminished (Haas and Frankema 2018). With urbanization and exploitative colonial laws, women in East Africa steadily started trooping into cities either to escape from the double-edged sword that was rural life under colonial domination or following their migrant husbands. For instance, censuses carried out in Dar es Salaam would place men to women at a relative ration of 141:100 in 1941, 131:100 in 1957, and so on (Bryceson 2010). Once in town and facing job discrimination, women would often join the informal labor market, surviving by petty trading, selling illegally brewed beer, engaging in prostitution, or developing a series of liaisons with boyfriends (Strobel 1982). In colonial Nairobi’s African neighborhoods of Pangani and informal settlements of Mathare, indigenous brews that had been prohibited by the colonial administration thrived and women were in full control of the sector (Nelson 1979; see also Bujra 1975). In Kibera informal settlement, the Nubian gin became one of the most popular locally distilled drinks. The Nubi women were at a clear advantage, as they already lived in (near) town, and had easy access to a market for their product. In addition, their fathers or husbands did little to interfere with alcohol production for they too benefited from the profits. As a result of their income, the Nubi women became the economic power in Kibera (de Smedt 2009).

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Education Missionaries were pivotal to the introduction and spread of European education in most African countries. However, the initial educational institutions were not only gender-biased (Akyeampong and Fofack 2012), but they also aimed at confining African women to the European culture, which saw the place of women as secondary. Education was therefore used as a tool to shape gender and family perceptions in many ways. Whereas boys were taught agricultural and trade skills that eventually took away what was women’s roles in pre-colonial East Africa, women were contained in the domestic skills such as sewing, knitting, and behavioral as well as moral education on how to be housewives. The Europeans, for this reason (and others), discouraged mixed schools since the type of skills offered was different (Haas and Frankema 2018). This trait, as Montgomery (2017) explains, was observed across majority of former European African colonies. The kind of education introduced in the name of civilization was aimed at remaking African families monogamous, secluding men from women in the domestic domain under the Christian discourse of respectability and, subsequently, feeding the embers of individualism. It assigned tasks that gave preferential treatment to men over women (Montgomery 2017). Though the alleged primary endeavor of missionary conquest was to provide civilization through schooling and hope for transition of indigenous ideas to religious teachings, the German colonial administration, for instance, favored men’s education allowing men to attend universities and providing incentives to those that graduated from secondary education as a motivation for learning (Montgomery 2017). This widened the gender literacy gaps in the German East Africa protectorate, especially in Tanganyika, though other countries included Burundi and Rwanda. This was also favored by the fact that most indigenous societies had a preference for male offspring for continuity of their lineages, and having found such arrangements in place, the colonialists encouraged parents to send more boys to schools than girls. Education for men also worked well to the benefit of the colonial establishments. It took a while, as Salhausen (2015) explains, for women to achieve relatively comparable literacy levels with men. The time lapse between men and women’s literacy achievements in the period following the arrival of the missionaries is one of the causes of this inequality. Further explanations floated included the lack of fathers’ support in paying for their daughters’ education especially in colonial period as this conflicted with the girls’ duties as future cultivators of the food of the household and general power imbalance in the household (Gachihi 1986). In Kenya, in 1938, only about 12.3% of Kenyan children of school age were receiving any form of education at all. Of these, 96,938 were in sub-elementary and elementary schools, 3059 in primary schools, and 176 in junior schools. There was no native in college or university. There were several well-established secondary schools for Europeans, and those graduating were taken to British universities on government bursaries through taxes and profits earned from natives’ salaries and labor (Ogot 1969). The amount spent from central funds per head of the African

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population fell between 44 and 64 cents in 1932 and 1936 and 852 and 800 shillings for the European children between 1929 and 1930 (Ogot 1969). The gap in education for men and women in Uganda’s context widened quite a lot with time between 1943 and 1952. As Haas and Frankema (2018, p. 983) shows, the 1953–1955 statistics from Mulago and Kisenyi exemplify how men and women’s occupational structure varied in job types and pays. While 225 men were skilled waged workers, only 33 women matched this number. This compares to statistics in Kampala that showed that even though the share of skilled work in 1910 had reached 50% for men and 30% for women, skilled premium work was more than twice as large for male skilled workers than women (Salhausen 2015). These figures are attributable to the education system by the missionaries, which within East African region was influenced by colonialists for their own benefit (Gachihi 1986) They needed more educated men than women, and subsequently, the opportunity costs for women’s education were particularly high for the families that received no missionary support and which relied on traditional occupations as peasant farmers (Haas and Frankema 2018). Ogot (1969) shows that missionary activity, especially education, produced a new elite among Africans, which accepted the European values and acted as chief agents of Westernism. This was however biased on the side of men. Women, who at the time received less or no education at all, did not stand to benefit from whatever accrued from this form of education within the colonial governments. The emergence of cash crops and wage labor markets in the colonial era, parallel to the expansion of Christian missionary education (Frankema 2012), served as an impetus to profound cultural transformation and socioeconomic change in many parts of Africa (Iliffe 2007; Henderson and Whatley 2014). With transformation of men’s roles through migration to cities as a result of colonial policies, women took on gendered roles and responsibilities of home management (Verma 2001). This patrilineal leadership decreased female empowerment (Montgomery 2017) and diluted the cultural observances that allowed for division of labor.

Politics, Nationalism, and the Liberation Struggle In most pre-colonial and colonial societies in Kenya, for instance, women did not hold significant positions of political decision-making. However, in some societies like the Luo, Kikuyu, Gusii, and Giriama, some women leaders played significant roles in leadership aspects of their people. These leaders included chief Wangu Wa Makeri (Kikuyu), Moraa Moka Ngiti (Gusii), and Ciokalaine M’barungu (Meru). The participation in governance at the highest level of the political hierarchy, notwithstanding, custodians of real power of these societies, were men (Ochwada 1997). With the coming of missionaries and colonial masters, women were forced to take a back seat as men were appointed to serve the role of marshaling communities to act in favor of the White colonial masters. Through the reinforced status and authority of men, a new gender hierarchy was created (Guyo 2017) not just in East Africa but also in the entire colonial Africa.

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The divide and rule politics meant that communities that were once united had to be separated in order for the colonial masters’ objectives to be met. The use of the indirect rule in all the East African countries, in which the Whites ruled through existing native governments including the use of headmen, village elders, and chiefs, further strengthened the authority of men. These changes during the colonial period further reduced women’s effective participation in politics. By shifting the locus of decision-making from the local traditional mechanisms of power to the colonial capital or metropole brought about a loss of influence for women, who had often affected political decisions of male kin only informally (Strobel 1982). By the colonial state altering the socioeconomic structure of African indigenous communities, women lost their power to control their labor, agriculture, and their own being. As earlier noted, plantation agriculture and the cash economy empowered men at the expense of their female counterparts. Among pastoralists, the introduction of new property and commercial relations eroded the status of women (Guyo 2017). In some regions, with the introduction of property rights and with such rights bestowed on men as owners, women especially in agricultural and pastoral economies lost their statuses that derived from the roles they played. Among pastoralist communities in Kenya, for example, women lost their right to cattle, and the roles they played were undermined leaving them hapless to depend on the goodwill of their fathers, husbands, sons, or husbands’ brothers when widowed. Ownership rights were defined in Western commercial terms. This now meant that those men, not women, could make decisions and profit from the sale or acquisition of family property (ibid). Guyo (2017) further observes that women themselves became another form of property to be controlled as they lost effective control over their own labor. The condition of ownership and diminishing position for women as a result of colonialism was exacerbated with the codification of customary laws and the legal reforms introduced in the post WW II period. In the 1950s, most east African polities witnessed myriad reforms in colonial policies and law. In Kenya, for example, the adoption of the Swynnerton Plan to bring about individual tenure resulted to men increasingly becoming the owners of land titles (Okeyo 1980). By doing this, the colonial state did not only reinforce traditional patrilineal structures of power and control but also limited women’s public sphere. Despite the limited power in their hands, women continued to organize locally to fight for improved positions. With the birth of nationalism, they joined their male counterparts to push for decolonization. In the struggle for liberation, it was the duty of women to deliver foodstuff to warriors at the frontier of protracted combat and would be escorted by men to do so (Gachihi 1986). In the colonial period, although the tools introduced by the colonial government worked toward subjugating women, their role in the struggle for liberation, in certain instances, was evident. For instance, in the Kenyan Mau Mau movement, whose agenda was to topple the colonial government and liberate the native, women played key roles. When the Mau Mau, whose membership was mostly made up of men, started fighting, the colonial government in October 1952 declared a state of emergency and unleashed terror on every native including women and children. Villagization, for instance, was a tactic that was used to lump all the

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natives into small villages where they would be starved and tortured as a way of warning them against participating in the Mau Mau war (Gachihi 1986; Karari 2018). Women were however quite instrumental for they would sneak out whatever food they could afford in their loads of manure as they went out to work in the White settlers’ farms. The chosen women leaders, who together with the rest of the community members, including children, had taken an oath of blood and soil as symbols of protecting their land from the colonial settlers, acted as coordinators in the preparation and delivery of food and smuggling of weapons stolen from the White settlers, to the Mau Mau, who spent most of the time in the forest (Gachihi 1986). Though their roles in the fight were not clearly defined by the oath administrators, who were mainly men, their partaking of the oath meant that they were ready to serve toward liberation of their country. By administering the oath to women and children, the movement had transcended traditional customs and taboos since oath was never administered to women and children (Kenyatta 1938). This is because the moral and religious force associated with it was considered too strong for a woman. Besides the voluntary services, women would also be captured by the fighters and used as load carriers. They would transport heavy loads from one camp to the other in the forest (Gachihi 1986). In such movements for the struggle of liberation, education however basic, as Gachihi (1986) explains, played a very important role in enhancing communication. Ginda Reli, a Mau Mau woman leader, is cited to have only attained grade four education but played a significant role as a contact in Nyeri town in Kikuyuland where ayahs (househelps) working in European households would pass information on telephone exchanges by the colonial masters, which would benefit the Mau Mau. She later on moved to join the Mau Mau fighters in the forest. It is important to note that the ranks and profiles of men and women were not clearly defined in this quest for liberation, unlike those of men, which were clearly compartmentalized. As Gachihi (1986) explains, the women sworn in performed any available task that was entrusted to them, with topography and their locality acting as a determinant factor of the tasks. Those in towns were used to relay information from government offices and European households to help the fighters plan their activities. Those on the fringes of the forest were more adept at food production and shelter for the fighters. Further, the influential and outspoken women were considered good leaders from their abilities to establish authority and discipline. They however had to walk a very thin line between loyalty to the Mau Mau movement and decency to the colonial government to cover up their trails of evidence in order not to betray the fighters. Colonialism ended with waves of independence, and in the East African region, this was in the early 1960s. Tanzania gained independence in 1961, Uganda and Rwanda in 1962, and Kenya in 1963. Colonial gender inequality was sustained in the post-colonial period, and male-dominated politics did little or nothing to correct the gender imbalances (Akyeampong and Fofack 2013, 2014). This, at the time, resulted in political antipathy among women in general, in most African countries. Women who had contributed to independence and democratization were relegated to nothing or to very lowly positions in the countries’ governments. In the first few years after

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independence of East African counties, the government leadership consisted of men. However, with time, it is clear that women have fought for their liberation as seen in the significant increase of wage employment and politics. In Uganda, for instance, the growth of this employment was from 20% in 1950 to 70% in 2015 (Salhausen 2015). Further, in Uganda, women hold leadership positions in all tiers of national and local governments (Goertz 2002). As of April 2018, women made up 34.7% of the 10th Parliament of Uganda. Those directly elected at constituency level was 12.1%, while at the district level women representatives formed 76.4%. As Goertz (2002) shows the increase was initially through a creation and reservation of new seats in the national and local government; and, an affirmative action in the administrative appointments. Lately, women have also been directly elected into political seats. This picture reflects the politics in Kenya, Rwanda, and Tanzania, though at different measures.

Conclusion As this chapter has shown, colonialism as a relationship of domination greatly impacted gender roles in East Africa. Men’s roles in agriculture, for instance, seem to have been affected by rural-urban migration. Women therefore had to take up the triple roles of reproduction, production, and community responsibility. The inequitable gender relations that the colonial directives changed, as the chapter has shown, seem to have been informed by the patriarchal European ideology, which only strengthened the sense of patriarchy that existed in some of the African communities. With inequalities in labor skills, education, trade, and political involvement, the advancement of the colonial system seems to have worked against women empowerment. Retrospectively, the study of colonialism and women as indicated in this chapter unearths the webbed character of colonialism and the difficulty in addressing the case as an either/or scenario. The overlaps in colonial policies and how they shaped the status of women necessitate an intersectional approach that will be able to untangle the complex phenomenon that was colonialism and gender in Africa. All in all, as Duflo (2012) shows, gender gaps in sub-Saharan Africa have persisted beyond the colony in all aspects of life. Post-colonial African governments therefore need to decisively and deliberately streamline policies that aim at narrowing the gaps. This should be coupled with targeted implementation of the policies.

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Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . North African Women and the Colonial Encounter(s) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Women’s Activism in Algeria . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Women’s Activism in Tunisia . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Women’s Activism in Morocco . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Women’s Activism in Egypt . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

The paper traces the roots/routes of North African women’s engagement with colonialism from the seventh-century CE Arab/Islamic incursions to the nineteenth and twentieth centuries’ European colonialism. While the colonial experiences were both multiple and heterogeneous throughout the region, the paper attempts to show how North African women happened upon similar episodes of exploitation, abuse, and retrogression albeit relatively. It also attempts to show how, in face of these very infringements, North African women offered powerful accounts of defiance, be it in Algeria, Tunisia, Morocco, or Egypt and how in so doing they proved to be agents of revolutionary change, countering as such colonial and/or oriental narrations of the passive, submissive North African woman. Keywords

Women · Resistance · Colonialism · Settler colonialism · North Africa · North African women’s activism · Oriental women · Women and the subversion of stereotypes Z. S. Salhi (*) · M. Bougherira University of Manchester, Manchester, UK e-mail: [email protected]; [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_172

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Introduction “The history of the world was but the biography of great men,” infamously declared the nineteenth-century Scottish philosopher Thomas Carlyle. Although Carlyle’s statement has by and large ignored women’s contribution to the making of world history, the world has correspondingly long been defined by the stories of great women. This was especially the case with the women of North Africa who faced with different challenges at different times in history; they have many a time taken center stage and carried the torch of change. The story of North African women and colonialism which has a complex, nuanced, and a very long historical trajectory might be a telling instance. Faced with the heterogeneous yet comparable colonial experiences in their corresponding countries, stretching from the Red Sea and the Suez Canal in the East to the Atlantic shores of Morocco in the West, they have been subjected to innumerable episodes of violence, brutality, and abuse but also of heroism, resistance, and defiance. In the face of the multiple colonizations endured by this region, this chapter shows they have always embraced novel and conniving ways to throw off the shackles, empower, and establish themselves as agents of revolutionary change.

North African Women and the Colonial Encounter(s) While it is widely agreed that the beginnings of North African women’s history lie in their participations in the national resistance movements against European colonial occupation throughout the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, it is worth reiterating that the story of their militancy can be traced back to much earlier times in history and, more specifically, to the seventh century CE when Amazigh Queen warrior Dyhia, nicknamed the Kahina (the priestess) by the Muslim conquerors, led the Berber/Amazigh resistance and fought against the Arab/Islamic troops halting as such their expansion for six decades. Her story of female heroism occupies an important place in the Islamic history of the Maghreb and is cited by major Muslim historians including Ibn Khaldun (2005), Al-Maliki (1969), and Al-Tijānī (1994) as well as by many Orientalists and modern historians including Julia Clancy Smith (1998), Jean Déjeux (1983), and Abdelmajid Hanoum (2001). It is no surprise therefore for the Kahina to be hailed today as an epitome of North African women’s freedom and will, of resistance and resilience, and of defiance in the face of all (post)colonial regimentation. The Kahina legend has provided the ideological armature for use in anti-colonial struggles, North African nationalism and feminism, and Berber nationalism. While this status devolved with the arrival of the Arabs from the Arabian Peninsula, the European colonial presence in North Africa has undeniably further complicated the legacy and was more degrading than upgrading for women who were left at a clear disadvantage. From rape, gender stereotypes, exploitation, and overt sexual segregation to unveiling and prostitution programs among others, various episodes of encounter testified to the treasonous aspects inherent in the

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French colonial practices in Algeria (1830–1962), Tunisia (1881–1956), and Southern Morocco (1912–1956), in the Italian occupation in Libya (1911–1951), in the Spanish protectorate in Morocco 1912–1958, and in that of the British in Egypt (1882–1956) and the Sudan (1890–1953). Therefore, North African women’s colonial encounter is complex and enigmatic at the same time. History annals speak of Algerian women who were captured, raped, and mutilated before they were killed or auctioned to colonial French soldiers like animals (Bennoune 1999). Yet, the same annals also speak of the exoticized and eroticized Oriental woman as a magnetic lure and a source of sexual desire for European soldiers, artists, and explorers. Whether in Egypt during Napoleon Bonaparte’s expedition (1798–1801) as the first European invasion of Muslim lands since the Crusades, or in the Maghreb starting from the invasion of Algeria in 1830, the French conquerors brought with them inherited pre-conceived views about North Africa and its people. Central to these inherited ideas are sexual perceptions of North African people gated through travel writings, paintings, and literary works which were in effect myth-making tools deployed for fabricating blatant misrepresentations. Nevertheless, it is these false images that informed European perceptions of North African people, especially women, and for times immemorial they have deeply influenced the relationship between North Africa and Europe starting from the first colonial encounter in the nineteenth century all the way to the present. According to Derek Hopwood (1999), sexual attitudes and proclivities affected the ways in which people reacted to each other and, perhaps more controversially, influenced the course of history (321). Therefore, images of North African women as imprisoned harem slaves needing the West to liberate them from veiling, seclusion, and the tyranny of their men conflicted with those of the sought after Oriental prostitutes and debased yet dangerous women who populate the Orientalist artists’ paintings and the colonial photographs’ pictures. Such representative keepsakes travelled the world and became the tokens of the Oriental women possessed by the wealthy and the destitute. Malek Alloula (1986) affirms: “Photography steps in to take the slack and reactivates the phantasm at its lowest level. The postcard does it one better; it becomes the poor man’s phantasm: for a few pennies, display racks full of dreams. The postcard is everywhere, covering all the colonial space, immediately available to the tourist, the soldier, the colonist” (p. 4). He explains that there is no other place in the world where women have been so intensely painted and photographed as in the North of Africa. This obsession reflects colonial attitudes toward North African women as booty of war and the colonial desire for penetrability and appropriation of the Oriental women who were in effect less available in the North African colonial environs than they were in the Orientalist paintings and the colonial photographs. Contrary to these stereotypical depictions are images of North African women as ruthless fighters against colonialism demonstrating their power and reproving the stereotype of the powerless imprisoned, Oriental victim. Accounts of Algerian women as foot soldiers in the early days of the French invasion in 1830 left many French officers and historians in shock and disbelief (Smail Salhi 2019). French feminist Hubertine Auclert who set up on a mission to rescue the Oriental victims

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reached the conclusion that in effect she was mistaken as these same helpless victims “so very much helped their husbands defend their country against us every inch of the way” (p. 321). Far from being destitute victims of colonialism, North African women’s participation in their respective struggles was not tangential but rather crucial. According to Zakya Daoud (1996), the fight against colonialism could have been a failure were it not for women’s active involvement in national liberation movements (p. 19). While literature testifies to the fact that women were also active during anti-colonial resistance, fighting the incursions from their very onset and initiating revolutionary change, their participation became more visible with the rise of the nationalist movements which culminated in the independence of their corresponding countries by the mid-twentieth century. However, while this side of their story is fairly documented to varying levels across the region, it is the nineteenth-century part of their story that remains neglected and overshadowed.

Women’s Activism in Algeria In Algeria, for example, women’s resistance against colonialism does not begin with the much mediatized Battle of Algiers (1956–1957) but goes back to the early days of the occupation. Women were part of the first resistance to the French conquest as mentioned above, and they were also present as war leaders when in 1851, the illustrious Lalla Fatma N’Soumer (1830–1863) rallied troupes made of men and women and organized a popular uprising and resistance to the French incursion of the Kabyle region. From the Zawiya al-Rahmaniya which she headed along with her brother Sidi Mohand Tayeb, she launched the call for jihad and led a number of victorious battles, like the 1854 battle of Tachekkirt when she defeated the French armies under the commandment of General Randon. She caused them heavy losses, counting 800 dead and 371 injured (Perret 1886, pp. 132–138). Very much like the Kahina, and championed as an icon of womanly leadership, Lalla Fatma continues to fascinate women and to strike their imagination in their fight against patriarchy in today’s Algeria, and a number of associations are named after her, like Tharwa n’Fadhma n’Soumeur (Fellowship of Fatma N’Soumer) (Bitam 2000; Carrey 2004; Oussedik 1983). Nevertheless, the story of Lalla Fatma N’Soumer does not solely celebrate female heroism per se but defeats the core of the colonialist discourse that justifies occupation by its mission to civilize the uncivilized people of North Africa and rescue its women from the tyranny of their own men. However, the story of the Algerian woman and French colonialism is too intricate and cannot be reduced to this simplistic narrative. On this very issue, and when France first colonized Algeria in 1830, the French populace was unenthusiastic about such step, and the colonial discourse had thus to forge a series of mythologies that envisioned Algeria as a country of fanatics, harems, prostitutes, and barbarians that were all in need of French assistance to both advocate and legitimize the move (Addi 1996). To that end, the French leaders embraced two main doctrines that served as

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potent tools to guide their policies, namely, assimilation and the mission civilisatrice. Also known as a civilizing mission, the mission civilisatrice was an assumption that the Europeans were more civilized and enlightened than those non-Europeans who were reversely seen as primitive and inadequate to govern themselves. They were thus believed to have a moral duty to disseminate their civilization and, more importantly, to rescue the wretched from their barbarity. Nowhere was this narrative of rescuing the wretched more evident than in the case of women. This is demonstrated in the work of many French feminists, most famous of whom is Hubertine Auclert (1848–1914) who lived in Algeria from 1888 to 1892 with her husband Antonin Lévrier who went there on a mission to save Muslim Algerian women. Her views of native women as “bundles of dirty linen,” (Auclert 2014) which she published in her book Les Femmes arabes en Algérie, constitute the kernel of the current rhetoric about saving brown women and Muslim women from their own men. Added to the wretched and “the dirty linen” narratives was a decades-long imaginations and narrations of the native women as being sexually licentious and who need thus saving. Imagined as such, and upon landing in Algeria, the French failed however to find the imagined Orient and the native prostitute who is laid naked in the fenced harem dancing and/or hookahing. Coming rather upon the veiled and the impervious to their gaze which marred their imagination, the French photographers shortly availed themselves of models to pose for prostitute-like photos in the now quadrated studios where they had the rooms fashioned in harem and prison-like designs. Manipulating both the body and the space, the photographers produced photo postcards of prostitute-like women which were, as put by Alloula (1986), nothing but a “rhetoric of camouflage,” to make-believe the women-in-need-ofsaving narrative (p. 28). But there is even more to the story of women and colonialism in Algeria. Given the many ways in which Algeria had to be “a mere continuation of France on the other side of the Mediterranean,” France was from the very onset determined upon frenchifying Algeria (Stora 2001, p. 6). For that to happen, Algeria was subject to a rigid form of settler colonialism which, and as argued by Veracini (2016), was a mode of domination that was “related to colonialism but also inherently distinct from it” (p. 4). It was a form of “a collective and sovereign displacement that moves to stay, that moves to establish a permanent homeland” (ibid., p. 4). Moving to stay, and upon landing on the Sidi Ferruch shore on 14 June 1830, the French embarked on discovering, advancing into, and annexing the virgin territory, an advancement that was hence coupled with the large-scale pouring of the European settlers and the appropriation of land. Although the new established homeland pretended to be a replica of the French metropolis, it was however “almost but not quite,” in the famous words of Bhabha (1994), homely as France and L’Algérie Franc¸ aise manifested an array of asymmetries at the politico-social and cultural policies, regulations, and fabrics (p. 129). While settler colonialism shared with classic colonialism its oppressive, exploitative nature, and in moving to establish a homeland, it tended to simultaneously be so disruptive and upsetting of the native culture and/or habitat that its legacy outlived and/or could not be undone at decolonization.

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For French Algeria to become “almost but not quite” a replica of the colony amidst the exerted settler colonialism, France had to both annihilate and refashion the core of Algeria’s institutions, traditions, and practices. Algeria was, to that end, subject to an array of cultural strategies that were particularly designed to alienate the populace from Algeria’s past and yield, as a substitute, a sense of Frenchness, namely, alienation and frenchification. As best delineated by Fanon (1989), the Algerian woman who “does not yield herself, does not give herself, does not offer herself” was at once the incarnate of Algeria’s cultural difference and a peril to the colonial plans (p. 44). The French put thus into practice a ‘let’s win over women and the rest will follow’ formula that beheld women as a chief anchor of the reimagination of na(rra)tion. Used first as pawns to legitimize the colonial move in the guise of the civilizing mission, women were further used to construct an “almost but not quite” simulacrum of France through an array of assimilationist programs. In this vein, Auclert argues that native women would greatly benefit from the French assimilationist project as they would gain access to French education which would enable them to escape their fate of the victim. To accomplish this mission, she slips into the perilous suggestion of using French women as a means to reach those areas French men could not enter, i.e., the harems and the women’s worlds. She argues that because French male soldiers have subjected native women to disdain and extreme violence during the wars of “pacification,” and because most native women do not leave their homes where they are sheltered from male view but especially from foreign/colonial men, the only way to reach these women and earn their trust is through French women who unlike French men they could gain access to their dwellings as women. She insists: “Muslim women being invisible to men, only women could reach them” (p. 7). Whether intentionally or not, this is an open call to include French women in the colonial project of acculturation through penetration into the very intimate places where native women were actively preserving national culture. For l’Algérie Franc¸ aise to substitute Ottoman Algeria, the French further put into practice a deliberate policy of keshf (exposure) of Muslims’ ser (essence) (Lazreg 1994, p. 52). The keshf was mainly implemented through the establishing of prostitution houses throughout North Africa that attracted sections of the disadvantaged women who were obliged to turn into prostitutes as a form of wage labor amidst the drastic socioeconomic transformations brought about by colonization. More interestingly, the way the French dealt with the issue of prostitution in France and in North Africa was further characterized by marked difference and overt hypocrisy. Establishing laws that strictly regulate the issue in France through outlawing both brothels and human trafficking in the 1940s, the French manifested however an indifference toward the issue in North Africa, on the pretence that the problem was a peculiarity of the Arabs, particularly resultant from the decadence of Arab women’s morals. Such uneven treatment, of women and of the issue broadly, was brought to the extreme during the Algerian war of independence when the French rounded up wives and daughters of a number of Algerian men and forced them into prostitution as a punishment for their non-collaboration with France.

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Added to prostitution, the Algerian woman was further exposed through unveiling programs. With the veil being an emblem of Algeria and a cultural shield that halted the colonial penetration, although symbolically achieved via mediatic means of representation, the French were from the very onset determined on unveiling women and, to use Neil Macmaster’s (2009) famous words, on “burning the veil.” Amidst the Algerian liberation war, when Tunisia and Morocco, recently became independent from French rule, inaugurated programs that were, at the time, drastic and emancipatory for women, France attempted to imitate the model to ride the wave and prove to the international public that French Algeria was being modernized too. To broadcast Algerian women as modern, and in an overly cited incident on 16 May 1958, a deputation of French women publicly unveiled a number of Algerian women, providing as such visible evidence for France to publicize. Commenting on the portrayal of the events in the colonial press where they were described more as spontaneous, as a proof of Algerian women’s alliance to France, Fanon (1989) argued: “Every veil that fell, every body that became liberated from the traditional embrace of the haïk, every face that offered itself to the. . . occupier, was a negative expression of the fact that Algeria was beginning to deny herself and was accepting the rape of the colonizer” (p. 42). The veil was thus soon given a new politicized understanding as it emerged as a tool of cultural resistance. As asserted by Marnia Lazreg, this event had indelible detriments on Algerian women since it “brought into the limelight the politicization of women’s bodies and their appropriation by colonial authorities” (p. 138). In such context, and given “the laws of the psychology of colonization” that dictate that “the plans of the occupier. . .determine the centres of resistance around which a people’s will to survive become organised,” it is no surprise for France’s Keshf to be counter-narrated with an antithetical frame of seclusion. Within the confines of this very antithetical frame, the Algerian woman, her veil and body soon emerged as pillars of seclusion and of resistance against l’Algérie Franc¸ aise along with language and Islam, among others (Fanon, p. 50). Hence, although women were initially part of the anti-colonial armed resistance, they were however largely excluded from the nationalist movement which was overtly male-dominated. The outbreak of the First World War in 1914 was one of the main events which triggered the rise of the nationalist movement following the travel of thousands of Algerians to France either as enlisted soldiers in the French army or workers in the French industries. This move, while it exposed them even more to the profound inequalities which existed between them as the colonized and the French as the colonizers, exposed them to universal ideas of freedom and independence, equality of the races, and the struggles of the working classes against capitalism, especially through their direct interaction with the European workers who introduced them to the French Communist party. Although initially excluded, and following the activism of a number of the French philanthropic organizations which, in the guise of the civilizing mission, targeted native women in their homes to save them from the veil and seclusion, understood as being means of enslavement, Algerian male-nationalists’ attention was called to the relevance of women’s presence and/or inclusion in the nationalist movement.

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Accordingly, a number of political parties such as the Party of the Algerian People (PPA) and the Movement for the Triumph of Democratic Freedoms (MTLD) soon seconded the importance of the so-called women’s question to be part and parcel of the nationalist struggle. By 1943, and under the activism of the Algerian Communist Party (PCA), the one and only political party in Algeria to plead for the equality of the sexes and to be a pioneer in condemning the colonial practices exercised toward native women, women started to embrace new and, oftentimes, revolutionary roles when the UFA (Union des Femmes d’Algérie: The Union of Algerian Women) was created in 1943 (Smail Salhi 2010, p. 115). Working actively to improve women’s conditions under colonialism, they succeeded in issuing the organization’s own journal known as Femmes d’Algérie (Women of Algeria). However, a watershed moment in the history of Algeria and more specifically of women in Algeria was the events of 8 May 1945 where a number of Algerians demonstrated to celebrate the end of the Second World War and the Triumph of France and seized the opportunity to call for independence as an acknowledgment of their wartime efforts against Nazism alongside the French. However, the demonstration in which women of all ranks and ages partook turned into a bloody massacre when the demonstrators were aggressively shot and repressed. With women taking it upon themselves to look after, care for, and aid the victimized families and the injured, a number of nationalist parties, like the Party of the Algerian People (PPA) and the Movement for the Triumph of Democratic Freedoms (MTLD), were alerted to the crucial role women’s presence and involvement could play on the same battlefield they were standing on. Strongly affiliated with Islam which was its pillar of resistance against L’Algérie Franc¸ aise, the party had however a very conservative approach toward the women’s movement resulting accordingly in the formation of a new women’s organization on 2 July 1947 known as the Association of Muslim Algerian Women (AFMA) headed by Mamia Chentouf and Nafissa Hamoud. Although different in nature and programs, the UFA and the AFMA collaborated on a number of social programs in both rural and urban areas and effectuated substantial change. Upon the outbreak of the armed resistance in 1954, Algerian women offered their most gripping accounts of resistance, freedom, and prowess in the fight against colonialism. Being pioneers to sign up to join the movement from its very onset, they constituted a total of 49 participants among the very first wave which amounted to 1262 participants (Daoud 1996, p. 138). Nafissa Hamoud, the leader of AFMA, and Fatima Benosmane, the leader of the UFA joined the National Liberation Front (FLN) as early as 1955. Most impressive, however, is the fact that women’s participation was not solely confined to the performance of noncombat traditional roles of cooking, washing, nursing, or sewing. Some women were ALN-committed and were indeed part and parcel of the guerrilla warfare. While some women carried arms, explosives, and money past French posts and checkpoints under their Haik/ veil, some others drastically refashioned their style, abandoned the veil, and disguised in western clothes to work as liaison agents between Algerian and French zones, fooling as such the French and manipulating their perceptions of the passive native woman, her body and veil.

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Some other women took on more revolutionary roles and were directly involved in the war, working as Moudjahidat (female freedom fighters) in the mountains. It is no surprise thus for the battle for freedom to witness the emergence of more female heroes, like the famous Zohra Drif who fiercely fought the French in the Battle of Algiers as a member of the ALN and who was imprisoned for many years for her activism. Discovering the crucial role women played in aiding the national struggle, some other women, like Djamila Boupacha, were atrociously tortured at the hands of the French. Their torture made the front pages of international tabloids and aided to draw universal attention to the Algerian cause. By the closing years of the war, female participation totaled up to 10,949 fighter, with 1755 serving in the National Liberation Army (ALN). This was so much so that the FLN famously boasted: “Algerian women won their rights by their participation in the war” (Daoud, p. 142). It is worth stressing, therefore, that of all of North Africa, colonialism had the most unsettling impact on, and was most detrimental to, Algeria and its women. Subjected to settler colonialism that was inordinately culturally assimilationist, indigenous culture was more than any other’s refashioned. In this respect women as the customary guardians of national culture were more targeted by colonial assimilationist endeavors and imperial feminism. In the protectorates of Tunisia, Morocco, and Egypt, where colonialism was less interventionist, culture was less assaulted, and accordingly, women, their voice, body, and veil emerged relatively as less politicized. While in Algeria women had to be a part of a bloody liberation war and took up arms in face of colonialism, women’s resistance in the remaining North African regions followed more of a social, cultural, and political resistance against colonialism. This is not to underestimate the impact of colonialism on these North African countries but to underscore differences in the regions’ her-stories.

Women’s Activism in Tunisia In Tunisia, for instance, there was a different yet equally powerful story of North African women and colonialism. A protectorate that was never subjected to military rule, women in Tunisia, unlike Algeria, had a relatively swifter colonial encounter. In this vein, and when the 1881 treaty established Tunisia as a French protectorate, Tunisia was already influenced by the suffragette movement prevalent throughout Europe and the USA by the mid-1830s. Being under a different status and enjoying a great deal of autonomy, a French-educated group known as “Young Tunisians” organized themselves to press for reforms and modernize Tunisia after the European model as early as the 1890s. With the contact with the West and/or with a number of French settlers, Tunisians were further endowed to benefit from the new ideas and from the very onset of nationalism which challenged colonial France under the aegis of the Destour party. By the 1920s, Tunisian intellectuals realized the benefits of modernity and the possibilities for alternative lives.

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With a few well-off women having access to education in France, a number of women, like Zohra Chenik, were similarly engaged in a wide variety of activism ranging from social work, writing, and/or journalism and were able to observe, assess, and voice early on the colonial condition which was denounced for being racist, assimilationist, and unequal in nature. Another group of women like Menoubia Ouertani, who in 1924 led an unveiling campaign to liberate Tunisian women, along with Habiba Menchari, were already following more of a reformist line and were calling for the curbing of women’s illiteracy, seclusion, polygamy, repudiation, and early marriage. However, and as famously argued by Partha Chatterjee (1989), the dichotomy of nationalism and colonialism in most (post)colonial societies resulted in an ideological embarrassment over authentic/inauthentic, Western/Eastern, colonial/national definitions of womanhood. Accordingly, and although Tunisian women were less pawns of French colonial assault, their activism was also too dilemmatic, generating two parallel but contradictory polemics. While a group of traditionalist Ulema denounced the Tunisian women’s movement as being French-influenced, a group of modernists like Tahar Haddad who published his groundbreaking book Notre Femme dans la Législation Islamique et la Société (Our Woman in Islamic Law and Society) in 1930 embraced the feminists’ aforementioned demands which he conceived of as antiIslamic. Haddad’s statements were however so revolutionary and controversial that he was subsequently accused of heresy and denied his university degrees and position. While Nabiha Ben Milad, a member of the Tunisian section of the Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom, stepped into his defense and was campaigning for the restoration of his rights, her efforts were largely fruitless. During the 1930s, Tunisia was subsequently a theatre for an unprecedented intellectual women activism, resulting in the formation of a number of organizations like the Société des Dames Musulmane (The Society of the Muslim Ladies) which was however mainly philanthropic-oriented, with women being mostly concerned with social reform and mostly active during religious celebrations such as the Mawlid (Prophet Mohammed’s birthday). While more organizations were making the scene, the cultural competition over the definition of Tunisia and/or women in Tunisia persisted, best epitomized in the appearance of l’Union Musulmane des Femmes de Tunisie (The Muslim Union of Tunisian Women: UMFT) in 1936, founded by Bashira Ben Mrad. Encouraged by her father who was a member of the religious Ulema and a fierce opponent of Tahar Haddad, she campaigned for the importance of Islam to fight not just colonialism but also the assimilationist Tunisian secular modernists. Under the political activism of Habib Bourguiba and his 1934 Néo Destour party, women soon realized the impossibility of achieving full emancipation under occupation, and by 1938, Chédlia Bouzgarou led a demonstration with a number of Tunisian women where they exposed their animosity to the French governor Eric Labonne shouting “down with privilege,” leading to their detention. Accordingly, a number of women organized themselves and manifested against their arrest calling for their release and voicing their dissatisfaction with the colonial practices (Daoud, pp. 49–50).

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By 1944, and with the intensification of the campaigns for Tunisia’s independence after Bourguiba’s escape following the accusations of his collaboration with the Nazis, Tunisian Women’s anti-colonial resistance gained more momentum. At that time, l’Union des Femmes de Tunisie (The Tunisian Women’s Union: UFT) along with l’Union des Jeunes filles Tunisiennes (The Union of Young Tunisian Girls) were created under the aegis of the Parti Communiste Tunisien (Tunisian Communist Party: PCT), mainly with the UFT bringing together both liberal and conservative women among whom was Nabiha Ben Miled who became the president of the UFT. This very organization espoused the views of the PCT which in 1945 openly confirmed itself as a nationalist movement for the liberation of Tunisia, and in 1949 it called for the abolition of the Treaty of Bardo, also known as the Treaty of Al-Qaṣr as-Saʿīd, which is the agreement that established France’s protectorate over Tunisia. (For more details see: https://www.britannica.com/event/Treatyof-Bardo [Accessed 22/01/2019].) Central to this nationalist resistance against the French were also the efforts of Les Femmes du Destour (The women of the Destour Party) who manifested unprecedented activism between 1953 and 1956 and were working relentlessly to brace the movement for the liberation of Tunisia. Providing food and shelter for the nationalist militants, working as liaison officers, and being part of the waged guerrilla and movement for independence, they were a pillar of resistance and as ascertained by Bourguiba: “without the women we are not capable of doing anything” (Daoud, p. 53).

Women’s Activism in Morocco In the neighboring country of Morocco, there was a similar story of women and colonialism. Even decades prior to the French colonization, women were already active participants in the fight against the European invasions. As narrated both in the Moroccan oral tradition and in a number of colonial documents and upon the sixteenth century’s Portuguese invasion, Moroccan women got together and had their long hair cut off, braided, and used as ropes to hoist the boats of the Moroccan fighters. As sources further chronicle, a Moroccan woman stood on top of a tower, referred to today as Torre de la Mora (the woman’s tower), and had a boulder thrown on the Portuguese Officer Vasco Ataydi who was left dead (Baker 1998, p. 18). Similarly, and upon the French-Spanish colonialization (1912–1956) and the establishment of their joint protectorates in the region, Moroccan women were engaged in early anti-colonial resistance. The Riff women of the Atlas Mountains had especially shown unprecedented heroism and were leaders of the resistance against the Spanish for decades-long, aiding the injured, catering for the fighters, making bombs, carrying guns in the face of the colonizers, lighting signal fires to the Moroccan worriers, and carrying weapons. Similarly, women of the Middle Atlas Mountains offered equally powerful episodes of resistance when they had men who tried to escape out of the battlefield shamed by throwing henna paste on them, leaving them with visible stains of cowardice (Baker, pp. 18–19).

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Upon the French arrival in Southern Morocco, and although French Morocco, unlike French Algeria and similar to French Tunisia, was allowed a degree of autonomy, with the traditional Makhzen system existing alongside the newly established French government, Moroccans were slowly growing more and more dissatisfied with the French practices and with the prevalent inequities, poverty, and oppression. While France was less interventionist and the Moroccan traditional, Islamic culture was less assaulted, the European presence resulted similarly in cultural competition over the definition of the nationalist struggle. Thus, with the rise of the Moroccan nationalist movement after the First World War and its intensification following the formation of the Istiqlal (Independence) party by the 1940s and influenced by the party’s call for freedom, women organized themselves and chose to seize the opportunity and press for change. Establishing Akhawāt Al-Safā’ (Sisters of Purity) as Morocco’s first women’s association which pressed for girls’ education and criticized outmoded practices such as polygamy, early marriage, superstition, and the maltreatment of women in the judiciary, they were however hampered from full-fledged participation by the cultural competition over the course of the struggle. Thus, with anti-nationalist resistance growing more pointed following the outbreak of the armed resistance and the series of Moroccan demonstrations along with the subsequent French repressions between 1952 and 1953 which resulted finally in the signing of the 1956 joint declaration in Paris, Moroccan women did not hesitate to partake in the war and were operating as liaison officers, collecting funds and transporting weapons and messages. However, with the ideological embarrassment as to the definition of women in the nation and with the nationalist movement being largely dominated by conservative leaders who were influenced by the Salafist doctrine, women only entered the armed nationalist movement against colonialism accompanied by their male relatives. With leaders opposing a drastic transformation of the existing social order, women’s resistance remained second to the national struggle. As put by Zakya Daoud, “National independence was of prime importance to the point that even schooling was seen as proof of nationalism” (Daoud, p. 256). While some women joined the armed resistance accompanied by their male relatives, others were reversely denied the right to partake in the conflict and were merely contributing to the war effort from their homes. In so doing, Moroccan women were thus also denied the opportunity for full emancipation during the colonial period, the status of war veterans in independent Morocco, and the privileges enjoyed by the male veterans, leaving them without a state pension comparable to that of the male fighters. (For more details, see Alison Baker, Voices of Resistance, pp. 165–168. See also Leila Abou Zeid who in her novel Year of the Elephant she draws a poignant portrait of a woman war veteran betrayed by both the nation she fought for and the husband along whom she militated for her country’s independence.) Emerging more as helpers than full-fledged agents, the colonial and/or anticolonial experience(s) were thus less revolutionary for women and for gender roles in Morocco.

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Women’s Activism in Egypt The Egyptian colonial experience under French and British colonialisms offered similar her-stories of defiance. In this vein, and when Napoleon Bonaparte’s invasion force, fuelled by the eighteenth-century Anglo-French imperial rivalries, landed in Alexandria, were defeating the Mameluke’s army and were tightening the grip on Egypt in 1798, many women in many Egyptian villages and towns were opening fire from outside the city windows onto the rebel-held neighborhoods. Some French sources even chronicle that Napoleon himself was fired at and nearly killed by a woman (Abu Ghazi 2015). In the aftermath of this very participation, Egyptian women’s attention was thereof drawn to their disadvantageous conditions which resulted in their holding of the 1799 women’s conference and/or meeting in the city of Rashid, also referred to as Rosetta, where they discussed their roles and/or status within the society. Egyptian women also happened to show similar stances of resistance following France’s ephemeral conquest (1798–1801) and the restoration of Ottoman rule. With the continued violations of Pasha al-Bardisi, a bundle of Boulak’s women held a number of protests to revolt against the ceaselessly increasing and/or imposed taxations. However, with the British taking over Egypt (1822–1956), Egyptian women had yet to witness their greatest episode of defiance. From the very early days of the British presence on the Egyptian soil, a number of Egyptian women from different yet especially well-off social strata, and very similar to their Tunisian counterparts, were already aware of the existing social inequities, were critical of the practices that sustained their discrimination, and were calling for expanded female societal rights. Upon the British occupation, and already engaged in a variety of activism mainly through writing and women’s press, they were similarly and forcefully resisting the colonial practices that they conceived of as conflicting with their role in the polity. Perhaps the best known of these is Nabawiyya Musa (1886–1951) who was born to a middle-class family where she received a lenient upbringing, she was endowed to denounce early both societal and colonial chains that were inimical to women’s position in Egypt. Pioneering in calling for an education and a payment equal in scope to that of her male counterparts, and in her 1999’s work Tārī khī bi Qalamī (My History with my Pen), she described her life as being one of “perpetual jihad” especially against, but not confined to, the colonial impediments of her time (p. 7). She recounts, for instance, a telling episode in her life with the colonial encounter when the British advisor to the Ministry of Education, Dunlop Douglas, refused her admission to the baccalaureate examination at Abbas School and ordered her to cancel her request unless she promises success. As recounted in her Tārī khī , she stood in his face arguing: “And have any of the others promised you success. . .No one can make of me a servant” (p. 114). Even after her graduation, Musa continued to be hampered by and to stand on the face of the British colonial chains as she recounted her battle with the British headmistress who fiercely refused her admission to the teaching cadre at al-Saniya school, along with the British inspectors of education who considered Egyptian teachers to be inferior. Thus, by the onset of

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the 1900s, women like Nabawiyya Musa along with the famous Huda Sha‘rawi (1879–1947) were already “claiming public space,” embracing revolutionary roles for themselves, galvanizing toward nationalistic activity, and were being prepared for political action (Badran 1996, p. 47). It comes thus as no surprise that these very women were pioneers in “nurturing the infant nation” as they were part and parcel of the 1919 Egyptian revolution against the British (Pollard 2005, p. 189). At the outset of First World War, and after the formation of a group of Egyptian intellectuals known as wafd (delegation) to discuss the possibility to attend the 1919 Peace Conference, and following the British denial of the request along with their arrest of the Wafd leader Saad Zaghloul and his associates, a series of Egyptian demonstrations broke out in protest against the British practices and their continued occupation. With women of both popular and, for the first time, upper classes participating, the protests constituted a watershed event in Egyptian history and became referred to as the 1919 revolution. Led by Huda Sha‘rawi, a bundle of well-off women organized themselves, painted banners, signed petitions, and planned the protest. With placards of “We demand complete independence” and slogans of “Down with the protectorate,” the women marched in the demonstration and became famously referred to as the “ladies’ demonstration.” As recalled by Huda Sha‘rawi: “British troops surrounded us. They blocked the streets with machine guns. . .a British soldier stepped toward me pointing his gun. . .I shouted in a loud voice: let me die so Egypt shall have an Edith Cavell” (Sha‘rawi 1998, p. 113). It was during such demonstration that women like Hamida Khalil were martyred by British bullets. Angered at and dissatisfied with the course of the events, the funerals became demonstrations themselves where women voiced the British military’s treatment of the peaceful demonstrations. Following the 1919 demonstrations, women continued their activism against colonialism. While some women like Musa abstained from any direct confrontation with the British given her position as a headmistress of the Wardiyan Women Teachers’ Training school and chose to fight in writing, others like Sha‘rawi formed the 1920’s Wafdist Women’s Central Committee (WWCC) and were actively engaged in more political endeavors. Upon the arrest and/or imprisonment of the Wafd leaders, these Wafdist women took to the streets of Cairo in protest, were adequately replacing the leaders, and were in charge of financial affairs. “The Wafdist women,” and as put by Pollard, “organized demonstrations and boycotts of British goods, collected money and jewellery to help finance the nationalist struggle, and dealt directly with the British authorities when male Wafdist leaders were exiled or imprisoned” (p. 189). So also was the case in the years following the 1922’s British declaration which unilaterally ended the protectorate. Meeting the declaration with fierce objection, the WWCC was ceaselessly pressing for Egypt’s total independence. Upon the fourth anniversary of the revolutionary 1919 demonstration which coincided with the 1923 new Egyptian Constitution, women’s efforts went unacknowledged which, altogether with dissatisfaction as to the British’s continued control of Sudan, resulted in the resignation of Sha‘rawi. Shortly after her resignation, she invited a bundle of other women activists to her home in Cairo who managed altogether to reorganize themselves under the Egyptian Feminist Union (EFU) in 1923.

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Although unable to achieve significant reform, Egyptian women remained true to their cause and never relinquished their efforts. By the 1930s, they were still fighting Ismail Sedki’s government (1930–1933) and were holding more demonstrations, sending telegrams to the press, and reaching out to international platforms to voice both colonial and nationalist dissatisfactions. By that same time, and given the electric atmosphere between Arabs and Jews following the 1936–1939 Palestinian Revolt, women’s activism broadened its outreach as attention turned to, and expanded to include, other regions of the Arab World. In 1939, Sha‘rawi, for instance, organized the first Pan Arab women’s Congress for the defense of Palestine. Very much like its neighboring countries of Algeria, Tunisia, and Morocco, 1940’s Egypt was similarly going through an ideological embarrassment as to the nature of Egypt, its resistance, and its women. Being a theatre for a fierce rivalry between Western/non-Western definitions, 1940’s Egypt was thus also a theatre for rivalry for Egyptian feminism(s)- socialist, liberal, and/or Islamic feminism(s). Amid the embarrassment, some women like Sha‘rawi were accused of what scholars called “negative freedom” for their activism (Lo 2018, p. 56). while some others, like Doria Shafiq, were even accused of being agents working for the enemy following her sojourn in Europe. Amid the prevalent contestation and/or embarrassment, it is no surprise that the 1940s was also a period of activism from the political left led mainly by Latifa Zayyat and Inji Aflatun who were fierce opponents to colonialism. As to Aflatun and her affiliation with the Ansar al-Salaam (Peace Partisans) organization, and as argued by Tareq al-Bishri (1972), the organization was inherently politically impartial as it had both world peace and the ousting of colonialism from Egypt at its center (p. 440). With Mahmoud Fahmy el-Nokrashy Pasha’s government (1945–1948) targeting and arresting of the leftists, women like Inji were openly holding a series of attacks and demonstrations in protest against the government’s continued condoning of the British presence in the Suez Canal. By the 1950s, and in spite of the disparity in, and the plurality of, their political orientations, Egyptian women managed to come together and form al-Lajna AlNisa’iya lil-Muqawama Al-Sha‘biya (The Women’s Committee for Popular Resistance) which had the fighting of colonialism at its center. Following the outbreak of the Egyptian-British confrontations in the Canal Zone, these leaders themselves partook in the struggle and were assisting in the fighting, leaving behind all differences and the stage was being set for the 1952 military coup d’état and for ridding Egypt of the British presence (Badran 1999).

Conclusion What trajectory would North African women’s lives have followed had colonialism not intruded their respective countries is a labyrinth with no way-out. The only certainty is that North African her-stories were by and large shaped and/or dictated by the different European colonial routes and roots.

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Opening with Thomas Carlyle’s saying that “The history of the world was but the biography of great men,” this essay has demonstrated that the history of North African women is central to national history, and as testified by many nationalist male leaders, their participation in processes of decolonization was central and not tangential. The overshadowing of her-story in official history registers is, however, a fact that cannot be denied signaling the recurring story of the betrayal of women by their male counterparts.

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Déjeux, J. (1983). La Kahina: de l’histoire a la Fiction Littéraire. Mythes et Epopée, Studi Magrebini (Naples), XV, 1. Fanon, F. (1989). Studies in a dying colonialism. London: Earthscan. Hannoum, A. (2001). Post-colonial memories: The legend of the Dihyā, a North African heroine (Studies in African literature). Westport: Greenwood Publishing Group. Hopwood, D. (1999). Sexual encounters in the Middle East: The British, the French and the Arabs. Reading: Garnet Publishing Limited. Ibn Khaldūn, A. (2005). The Muqaddimah: An introduction to history (trans: Rosenthal, F.). Princeton/Oxford: Princeton University Press. Lazreg, M. (1994). The eloquence of silence: Algerian women in question. New York: Routledge. Lo, M. (2018). Political Islam, justice and governance. Berlin: Springer. Macmaster, N. (2009). Burning the veil: The Algerian war and the “Emancipation” of Muslim women, 1954–62. Manchester: Manchester University Press. Musa, N. (1999). Tārī khī bi Qalamī. Cairo: Multaqā al-mar’a wa al-dhākira. Oussedik, T. (1983). Lalla Fadhma n’ Summer. Alger: Laphomic. Perret, E. (1886). Les Franc¸ ais en Algérie: Récits Algériens 1848–1886. Paris: Bloud et Barral. Pollard, L. (2005). Nurturing the nation: The family politics of modernizing, colonizing, and liberating Egypt, 1805–1923. Berkeley: University of California Press. Sha‘rawi, H. (1998). Harem years: The memoirs of an Egyptian feminist (1879–1924). New York: Feminist Press at CUNY. Smail Salhi, Z. (2010). The Algerian feminist movement between nationalism, patriarchy and Islamism. Women’s Studies International Forum, 33, 113. Smail Salhi, Z. (2019). Occidentalism: Literary representations of the Maghrebi experience of the east-west encounter. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Stora, B. (2001). Algeria, 1830–2000: A short history. Ithaca: Cornell University Press.

Women and Colonialism in West Africa

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Gift Uchechi Ntiwunka and Chibuzor Ayodele Nwaodike

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Leadership Roles of Women in Precolonial West Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Women and Economic Development in Colonial West Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Women’s Resistance to Colonialism in West Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Impact of Colonialism on West African Women . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

This chapter offers a detailed explanation of the significant historical roles and positions of women in West African societies. Women and men were noted to have played complementary roles in political, economic, and sociocultural spheres before the colonial incursion. The advent of colonialism altered this reality as women were relegated to the background and seriously marginalized. Colonial administration through various policies gave greater recognition and power to men at the expense of women’s historical positions. The female gender lost control over land and means of survival. The adoption of indirect rule, the imposition of taxes, and appointment of illegitimate rulers all eventually led to nationalist and liberation struggles involving women in different parts of the region as women resisted colonial rule in different ways. Despite the negative impact of colonialism on gender roles in the regions, West African women have since made significant efforts to regain the powers lost to colonialism and to expand their rights.

G. U. Ntiwunka · C. A. Nwaodike (*) Department of Political Science and Public Administration, Babcock University, Ilishan Remo, Nigeria e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_130

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Keywords

Colonialism · West Africa · Indirect rule · Women

Introduction Before the advent of colonialism in West Africa, women like men played significant roles in their various societies. Apart from contributing to agriculture and economic organization of their communities, women occupied prestigious positions which included as deities, priestesses, and warriors (Falola and Amponsah 2012). Women also held political positions. Such women included Queen Iyannegi of the Mossi people of Burkina Faso; Madam Yoko of Mende, Sierra Leone; Queen Amina of Zazzau now in north-west region of Nigeria; and Ogosi Emose and Ogiso Orhorho of Edo in Nigeria; among others. Women in both centralized and decentralized societies played key roles in ensuring the well-being of their people and were highly respected. Cases abound where women complimented the leadership positions of their sons and determined the genealogy of the royal matrilineage. In Ghana, among the Ashanti, Yaa Asantewa ruled with Kings. Queen Moremi of Ile-Ife kingdom in Nigeria was also popular for her active role in leadership. These cases were proof that West African women even though few in number contributed meaningfully to governance in their various societies. With the advent of colonialism, women were relegated to the background. British colonial rule was gender biased as women were stigmatized and marginalized especially with regard to public office. Both administrative and political powers were withheld from women during this period (Okome and Zakiya 2013). Colonialism, apart from regulating the “knowledge, culture, art and economy” of African societies, also influenced gender relations. The system encouraged patriarchy and altered gender identity in Africa (Bertolt 2018, p. 2). Women lacked the necessary resources required to build patron-client networks in the political systems that emerged after independence. Women could no longer enjoy the rights and privileges they had during the precolonial era. Not only did they lose control over property, but also they could no longer exercise their political rights (Boahen 1987 in Arriola and Johnson 2014, p. 497). The adoption of indirect rule, the imposition of taxes, and the appointment of illegitimate rulers who failed to cater for the needs of their people resulted in nationalist and liberation struggles by women and men in different parts of Africa. Guyo (2017) established that women were mostly ignored in colonial decisionmaking and leadership positions; women nevertheless played prominent roles in the nationalist and liberation movements. The Women’s War of 1929 was part of the resistance to tax imposition. Kom women in Cameroon also rebelled against colonial imposition of the vertical contour farming. Elizabeth Adeyemi Adekogbe of Nigeria and Constance Cummings-John of Sierra Leone were some of the prominent women who were at the forefront in the nationalist struggles. Women’s involvement led to the collapse of colonial rule across West Africa, from Guinea-Bissau to Sierra Leone,

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Nigeria, and everywhere in-between (Falola and Amponsah 2012; CoqueryVidrovitch 1997). In spite of the significant roles played by West African women toward independence, they are yet to feature prominently in government till date. Although the level of involvement has improved in some countries on the continent, the colonial effects still linger in many of the countries of West Africa. This chapter therefore examines women’s multiple roles in various societies in the subregion before and during colonialism, women and economic development in colonial West Africa, women’s resistance to colonialism in West Africa, and impact of colonialism on West Africa women.

Leadership Roles of Women in Precolonial West Africa This section explores the roles played by West African women in the political development of precolonial and colonial West Africa. Makama (2013) noted that unlike most western literature that postulated men to be superior while women were relegated as second fiddles in the affairs of governance and politics, leadership and power were not alien to west African women in the precolonial era. In many places, political positions were complementary and not subordinate. The obnoxious misconception of patriarch in relation to West Africa was that women were not actively involved in political activities cum governance but were more subjugated and subordinated to their male counterparts (Okpe 2005). The precolonial era produced female political leaders who were as vibrant as male rulers such as Turunku Bakwa, the founder of the Zauzau kingdom, now modernday Zaria in Nigeria, amazon regiments of Dahomey, now the Republic of Benin, and Moremi Ajasoro from the Yoruba kingdom of Ile-Ife in Nigeria, among others. In some instances, they played critical roles in decision-making that not only brought peace but also engendered development. These female leaders were kings or installed as regents as obtainable in parts of Southwestern Nigeria. These monarchs gave orders, settled disputes, and presided over community functions and made meaningful contributions to societal progress. Yoruba tradition has it that once a princess ascends the throne, and as long as she remained the regent, she was no longer regarded as a woman but as a man and was expected to appear like a man in public. They were either virgins or older women on the premise that they must not conceive and give birth while in position as regents. Unlike the Yoruba in Southwest Nigeria where many female kings with political authority existed, only few are documented as such in Southeast Nigeria. Notable among this few was Ahebi Ugbabe who was born in Enugu-Ezike, an Igbo community, in the late nineteenth century. According to Nwando (2011), Ahebi Ugbabe was the only female king in colonial Nigeria, and she upset the gendered politics in her community and performed masculinity, superseding existing male political hierarchy and authority. Aside the women that occupied kingship seats, there are others who were queens in their own right and as occupants of such positions liberated their people and communities from external aggressors. Notable among this category of women were

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Princess Amina, the queen of Zazzau (Zaria); She-Dong-Hong of Abomey; the Dahomean Amazons; and Queen Ndate Yalla and her resistance movement in Senegal, among others. These women engaged in warfare with the aim of liberating their communities, expanding their territories and extending their domination to other societies. There were others who had spiritual powers and were endowed with spiritual abilities to interpret the unseen spiritual realm. These were priestesses, goddesses, diviners, spirit mediums, healers, and prophetesses such as Oya and Osun from Yorubaland in Nigeria. They were authorities in their own right and had the capacity to predict and/or give detailed interpretation of an occurrence in order to find a solution to an issue affecting the society. In many cases, they also advised kings, queens, and other political rulers on matters such as war-making and community development. Furthermore, there were other categories of women who played the role of “influencers,” that is, they may not directly be in the position of political authority, but by virtue of being close to political authority, they influenced decisions. These among others included queen mothers and princesses. A good example in this case was among the Asante whose society was organized on a complimentary basis between the sexes, in a dual-sex political system. In this context, queen mothers were corulers of Asanteland and the matrilineal nature of social organization existed (Nwando 2018). In other instances, women occupied chieftaincy positions and formed groups. They wielded significant political authority and influenced decisions to either favor other women or to mobilize female groups to behave in certain ways. An example of such is the Iyalode in Yorubaland, Otu Umuada and Otu Iyomdi in Igboland. Iyalode was a chief with special insignia of office with huge responsibilities. The position was an appointive one and at the discretion of the Oba (King) to do so. To qualify for such an exalted position, the occupant must understand the needs and aspiration of women as well as articulate the feelings in the kingdom. She advocated the female gender’s cause, was a political and economic influencer, and through her, the voice of women was heard. She has been referred to as “queens of ladies” in Yorubaland in Nigeria (Falola Invalid Date). This is the reason the position is given to the most distinguished lady in the kingdom. The umuada on the other hand included all married, unmarried, divorced, and widowed daughters of the lineage or community. According to (Nwando 2018), their meetings were held on rotational basis between the communities in which they married. The result was the creation of communication networks of women throughout Igboland. Their duties included the following: (i) Serving as political pressure groups in their natal villages. (ii) Unifying influences between their natal lineages and marital lineages. (iii) Settling disputes, including intralineage disputes and disputes between natal villages and villages in which they were married. (iv) Performing rites, rituals, and sacrifices for the community, including the final absolution rites for new brides. On the day in question, the bride-to-be would confess all her wrongdoings to the otu umuada who would then purify her.

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(v) Performing purification rituals for lineage houses and other areas that were considered polluted, so that the gods or goddesses would not unleash their wrath on the people but, instead, provide them with good health, bounty, and offspring. (vi) Hearing confessions from adulterous wives and performing purification rituals for them (Nwando 2018). Similarly, the otu inyomdi were wives of the village. Their leader, anasi, was the most senior wife in the community. She was the woman who was married longest in the community. The anasi was the medium through which the women could voice their concerns and protect their interests as wives, mothers, farmers, and traders (Nwando 2018). Their duties were to: (i) Help lineage wives in times of stress and illness (ii) Hear and pronounce punishments in cases involving husbands who mistreated their wives (iii) Make sure that the village stream and marketplace were clean (iv) Make decisions involving the planting and harvesting of crops (v) Take care of animals that had destroyed their crops In these and other ways, women in various West African societies played key roles in the leadership of their communities before the advent of colonial government.

Women and Economic Development in Colonial West Africa Established societies in precolonial West Africa that were not sovereign states with adequate state apparatus to secure the border, therefore, were surrounded by lands that were exposed politically and physically. This context was conducive to mobility, explaining the frequent migrations that characterized precolonial Africa (Akyeampong and Fofack 2012). Groups moved out over political differences, in search of fertile lands or hunting grounds, and could easily set up their own social order in the institutional vacuum between settled societies or join an established polity. Settled communities were eager to attract settlers and grow their numbers as a defense measure, and to strengthen the viability of their communities through extending farmland (Akyeampong and Fofack 2012). This is the concept of “wealth in people,” by which people, other than material belongings, constituted wealth (Guyer and Belinga 1995). Therefore, family size became the center of attention because it was assumed that larger families invariably determine how wealthy the family will become as a result of the multiplier effect it has on the production process. Survival was central to kinship networks and women were indispensable to the economic and social organization of production and reproduction. As a result of this, where women were the primary agricultural workers such as in planting

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cultures, polygyny was valued, and men married many wives. Marriage involved very little material transaction, and women were valued as producers and reproducers, whereas in cultures where women did little agriculture and were dependent on husbands they were valued primarily as reproducers (Akyeampong and Fofack 2012). West African women have been economically active and productive in all spheres of human endeavor. Following the colonial introduction of cash crops, which labor was gendered male, while subsistence or food crops were gendered female, it was observed that the socioeconomic status of African women became worse off in the colonial period than in the precolonial period. Therefore, the colonial wage economy was essentially a male one (Akyeampong and Fofack 2012). The argument, therefore, and from historical accounts, is that if precolonial West Africa was not an era of perfect gender equality, colonial Africa on the other hand clearly emerged as an epoch of established gender inequality in practice and custom. The shape of the colonial production system which marginalized women in the cash crop economy is one among some of the most critical determinants of persistent gender inequality in Sub-Saharan Africa (Akyeampong and Fofack 2012). Regrettably, European missionary activities, and colonial draconian policies, worked against women and distanced them from expanding market opportunities in the nineteenth century. Many of them were denied venturing into the production of tree crops such as oil palm and cocoa that generated interest in owning the land as distinct from mere land use rights (Akyeampong and Fofack 2012). The implication of the exclusion of women in the cash economy was to subject them to financial handicap and deprive them of financial independence and self-sufficiency. According to Falola (2007), when the economy became increasingly geared toward the production of cash crops for export, Nigerian men and European firms dominated the distribution of rubber, cocoa, groundnut, and palm oil, and women were forced to shift to the production of subsistence crops. With this development, commercialization of land that was introduced by colonial masters favored those that had access to money gained from the sale of cash crops. Since women could not afford the high price of land and were denied cultivation of cash crops, this resulted in them becoming more socially inferior to men, reflecting gender imbalance in the division of labor. Commerce, mining, and agriculture were at the center of the colonial economy. Mining and agriculture produced the primary products that were exported to Europe. Unfortunately, the colonial government did not have any economic master plan to initiate development in the rural areas from where these primary products in form of raw materials were extracted. The colonialists rather resided in first-class townships. These first-class townships that harbored the whites and their workers were characterized by heavy concentration of infrastructure and social amenities such as schools, hospitals, roads, and railway lines, ostensibly for the development of rural areas. However, the foci of attention for such constructions were exploitative rather than welfarist in nature, which was to facilitate colonial evacuation of raw materials such as cocoa, cotton, timber, and groundnut, among others. Therefore, rail lines only connected the hinterlands with the seaports from where these products were transported to Europe (Raheem and Bako 2014). These colonial policies affected

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women in these areas. For example, the majority of women were concentrated in the rural areas, and thus the colonial neglect of the rural areas contributed to women’s marginalization and distance from opportunities for economic and social advancement. More so, there were policies against indigenes and women were at the receiving end. Some of these policies manifested in the methods of taxation targeted on forcing labor to work in the farms. The policies of taxation such as poll tax, hut tax, and head tax forced indigenes to leave their family farms to labor in the farms and plantations owned and controlled by Europeans. In the process, they forced migrations and Africans who could not afford these taxations went in search of paid jobs. Women were deprived access to land in the context of cash crops which was reinforced by the central role of men in the codification of customary law under colonial rule (Lawrance et al. 2006). As such, women abandoned their traditional subsistence agriculture which their families depended on for survival. At the receiving end of these migrations were women who were left behind by their husbands to cater for their children (Sudarkasa 1977). Similar to the above was the nature of education and educational policies that were adopted by the colonial administration that did not favor West Africans, especially women. The earliest type of education that was practiced in the precolonial era was often gender differentiated. For instance, boys were mentored by their fathers, or other masters in learning various vocations and skills such as farming, trading, craftwork, fishing, cattle rearing, wine tapping, traditional medicine, and blacksmithing, among others. Girls, on the other hand, were made to learn domestic and other skills such as cooking, sweeping, weeding the farmlands, hair weaving, decorations of the body, dye production, and the like from their mothers (Mkpa 2013, pp. 1–4). With the arrival of the colonialists, gender-differentiated education and skills were assumed and formalized. While colonialism was a late nineteenth century phenomenon, it took the missionaries some years to establish elementary and secondary schools. In Nigeria, for instance, Wesleyan Methodist missionaries arrived in 1842 but established the first boys’ school at Lagos in 1878, after 36 years, and a girls’ school by 1895, after 53 years (Ajah 2015). The inequality was obvious and did not favor girls. The enrolment of students in these schools only favored boys, especially those from influential families such as royalty and the nobility. According to Lord Lugard, the percentage of girls among the pupils attending primary schools in 1950 was 22 in Nigeria, 21 in the Gold Coast, and 30 in Sierra Leone (Hailey 1957, p. 1186). Tamale and Oloka-Onyango (2000) noted that women in West Africa were more at a disadvantage because of high level segregation between male and female education. This was a pervasive feature of colonial education. More worrisome was the attitude of the British colonial administration to establish higher institutions of learning such as polytechnics and universities. For instance, Lagos was invaded by the British forces in 1851 and Nigeria became a British protectorate in 1901. However, the first higher institution was the Yaba College of Technology, which was only established in 1947, while the oldest

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degree-awarding institution and the first university was the University College, Ibadan, established in 1948. The implication of this is that it took the British almost 50 years to establish the first Polytechnic and University respectively in Nigeria. A similar scenario occurred in other West African states, for instance, Universite du Dahomey (1975), University of Ouagadougou (1974), Universite Nationale de Cote d’ivore (1958), University of Ghana (formerly University College, Ghana, 1948), Cheikh Anta Diop University (1957), Universite de Lome (1970), and so on. Many of these universities are the oldest in their respective countries yet were founded only after many years of colonial rule. It is also important to note that some of them were established only after independence, especially those in French colonial territory. More so, the enrolment ratio between male and females during the colonial era also favored male students, and as such, more men benefitted from higher education within this period (Tamale and Oloka-Onyango 2000). Similarly, in affirming the implications of colonization on West African Women, Staudt (1981) observed that not only did missionary education disproportionately extend educational opportunities to men, but male education was also accorded higher priority than that of the female gender. This is one of the reasons there is persistent male domination in political and economic activities in postcolonial Africa. The consequences of the imposition of colonialism in West Africa were that women did not only lose decision-making power and economic autonomy, but it must also be asserted that they lost identity as well. In most cases, women could not have access to farmland as a result of the codification of customary law under the colonial rule and were unable to venture into cash crops. Only few concentrated on subsistence farming to feed their immediate family while men earned wages by working for the colonial masters in rubber, cocoa, and other cash crop plantations ((Akyeampong and Fofack 2012)). This did not only establish a scenario that necessitated women’s dependency on men for economic sustenance, but also created lacuna as many women who were economically viable were deprived of contributing to economic needs of their homes. In search for wage labor, some of the men in West Africa left their daily duties and worked for Europeans in a different environment from their immediate families.

Women’s Resistance to Colonialism in West Africa The English colonialists in West Africa had a different orientation on the economic activities and the critical roles played by women that defined the nature of African societies. Colonial notions of inequality and relegations limiting women to domestic duties thrived as a result of cultural/traditional and religious influences. Judging from the vast number of African traditional systems in different societies, it would be rather inaccurate to classify all the anticolonial struggles of women in one category. Due to the violence, marginalization, and disempowerment experienced by women during the colonial period, women in most countries in West Africa took part in nationalist and liberation struggles. These struggles were mainly spearheaded by women whose powers were eroded and further triggered by the imposition of

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taxations and appointment of illegitimate rulers in some cases (Okome and Zakiya 2013). The Women’s War of 1929 in Eastern Nigeria was a reaction to the colonial imposition of taxes and appointment of warrant chiefs. In Cameroon, Kom women for 3 years (1958–1961) rebelled against the vertical contour farming imposed by the colonialist as against the horizontal contour farming that they were used to as well as the sale of their lands to the Igbos of Nigeria. Kom women successfully seized political power from men (Falola and Amponsah 2012, p. 159). To elaborate, the Women’s War of 1929 in southern Nigeria was one of the more notable acts of women’s resistance to British colonial policy in West Africa. Build up to the protest started shortly after the amalgamation of the northern and southern protectorates in Nigeria on January 1, 1914, coordinated by Lord Lugard, the British colonial governor. As a result of the vastness of the country, language barrier, and a shortage of manpower (the British Government participated in the First World War and lost quite a number of persons), among other factors, necessitated the adoption of indirect rule in the administration of the country. The indirect rule system recorded relatively huge success in northern Nigeria but was only partially successful in the west and recorded abysmal failure in the eastern part of the country. The failure could be explained on the basis of the fact that the Igbos of eastern Nigeria were acephalous societies, without central authorities, chiefs, or kings who commanded collective subservience. Thus, to make the indirect rule system more effective, local chiefs were appointed by warrant and came to be known as “warrant chiefs” (Akanji 2014). These warrant chiefs abused their positions for selfish and personal aggrandizement. This led to the rejection or unpopularity of the chiefs and, by extension, indirect rule. To worsen the matter, especially for women, the British imposed taxation on women against the norm in eastern region. What started as a peaceful protest turned violent. The movement was strongly resisted by the British authorities, but the women stood their ground against the oppression and in retaliation; the act became the fiercest and most dangerous women-organized resistance the British colonial government ever envisaged and experienced in Nigeria. Ekeh (2007) notes that about 25,000 women were mobilized, and they broke into prisons releasing prisoners. They also attacked European-owned stores and native courts run by colonial officials, burning many of them to the ground. Eventually, brutal force was employed by the colonial troops (police) to curtail the resistance and more than 50 women were killed and at least another 50 wounded. These women, against all odds, risked everything they had including their lives to engineer policy change. Antiwomen economic policies necessitated other kinds of resistance in African societies. For instance, the activities of the Lagos Market Women’s Association (LMWA) led by Madam Alimotu Pelewura in 1920 at which they strongly resisted the imposition of tax on Lagos market women were one of the colonial masters’ miscalculation of underrating the influence of women in policy direction. Even though many of them lacked formal education, they were able to organize themselves, form a party structure that was powerful, and even hire the services of educated clerks and lawyers to defend their cause. More significant in their activities

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was the ability to conduct a mass protest that resisted the imposition and increment of tax on market women from 50 to 200 pounds in 1939. Johnson (1982, p. 137) observed that LMWA drafted a petition, stating antecedents of opposition to women taxation, and argued that female taxation was contrary to custom. They were able to mobilize as many as 200 market women that signed the petition with their thumbprints. This action eventually led to policy change, even though women were still taxed. Although women’s organizations continued to exist under colonial rule, women were denied political rights, which they continued to pursue. In Lagos, Nigeria, western-style political pressure groups were founded in the 1890s in addition to the indigenous women’s groups like the Lagos Women’s Market Association. The Lagos Women’s League was founded in 1901 under the leadership of Mrs. Charlotte Obasa, while the Nigerian Women’s Party was formed on May 11, 1944, in reaction to women’s marginalization in the male-dominated political parties (Strobel 1982). In Abeokuta, Mrs Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti founded the Abeokuta Women’s Union (AWU) in 1949 which later became the Nigerian Women’s Union (NWU) comprising of educated women and women traders. Branches of the union were established between 1948 and 1949 in Ijebu Ode, Ijebu Remo, Ilara, Egbado, Benin, Ibadan, Calabar, and Aba. Precisely on December 18, 1949, the Enugu Women’s Association founded in 1945, by Janet Okala, G.I. Okoya, and Madame Peter Okoye, became the Nigerian Women’s Union in honor of Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti’s visit to the association. During the period 1950–1953, the Union spread across the country to Zaria, Kaduna, Jos, Kano, Jebba, Kafanchan, Funtua, Ilorin, Ekiti, Ilesha, Ado Ekiti, Asaba, and Abakaliki. At the national level, the Union’s president was Funmilayo Ransome Kuti with Margaret Ekpo as the national secretary. The objectives of the Union were to work toward the achievement of franchise for women; the abolition of electoral colleges; and the allocation of a definite proportion of representation to women, with women being allowed to nominate their own representatives on the local councils (Johnson-Odim and Mba 1977; Okome and Zakiya 2013). Women in Ghana (then the Gold Coast) contributed significantly to national struggles against colonial rule and women’s political development in West Africa. Franchise for women was achieved in 1951, and thereafter, representation in municipal assembles began. Mrs H. Evans Lutterodt and Stella Dorothy Lokko contested at the Town Council under the Ghana Congress Party (GCP) while Mabel Dove contested under the Convention People’s Party, all in September 1953. Even though the women lost out in the election, Dove (later Mrs. Danquah) was the first woman in West Africa to be elected to the national council in the Gold Coast in 1954 based on popular vote. Other notable women that contributed to the political activities of their countries included Aoua Keita of Mali who became the first woman to be elected a deputy to the national assembly in French-speaking West Africa, and Wuraola Adepeju Esan, the first woman to serve on the federal legislative council of Nigeria and the first to be on the federal executive committee of the Action Group, a regional political party (Cornwall 2005). In the French colonial empire, voting and citizenship laws enable all French citizens to involve in political participation irrespective of gender, race, income,

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religion, place of origin, parentage, class, employment, and education. The French system to some extent protected the political and voting rights of metropolitan women and inhabitants of the empire in the policy of assimilation (Labouret 1940). However, when this is denied, women in the empire frequently challenged the administration in asserting their own social and economic rights. Despite the above development on social rights, the expansion of women’s political rights took a different dimension in the French colonies after the Second World War. As part of an effort to present their empire as progressive and united, the French administration sought to reframe its empire as a willing alliance between a benevolent metropole and enthusiastic subordinate territories. As such, colonyspecific laws divided the inhabitants of the empire into a variety of citizenship categories with a range of modified rights and obligations in the policy of association. This effort at colonial reform overlapped with the 1944 institution of female suffrage in the French metropole, prompting the question of women’s rights in the colonies to become more immediate (Emily 2016). This was the situation in Senegal where the colonial administration announced and granted all female citizens of the empire the right to vote. However, a special exception withheld this right in the Communes including four urban sites comprising Dakar, Rufisque, Saint-Louis, and the island of Gorée. Emily (2016) noted that due to a complicated and unique citizenship history, all those born within the borders of the Communes had the right to automatic French citizenship. This manifested in a much higher number of nonwhite, non-Christian, and, crucially, nonmale citizens in Senegal than almost anywhere else in the French empire. Under the new selective suffrage law, women in the Communes became citizens who could not vote. As a result of this, the Communes were immediately consumed with mass protests against their targeted exclusion, with activists arguing that allowing other female citizens to vote while explicitly denying that right to women in the Communes was racist, insulting, and undemocratic (Emily 2016). Protesters distributed tracts outside of cinemas and mosques, held rallies and meetings, and wrote to the French administration in Dakar and Paris. Public gatherings of thousands of people cheered passionate speeches in which men and women spoke in French and Wolof to demand gender equality. A petition was drafted, and the argument was that women’s exclusion was antidemocratic, anti-Republican, and contrary to the liberalism and conception of equal citizenship in France. The protest movement forced the French administration to reverse its position, and in July 1945 Senegalese female citizens from the Communes voted in large numbers (Emily 2016). Aoua Keita of Mali mobilized some women groups to make inroads to resist colonialism. Keita a midwife and anticolonial activist joined the political party Rassemblement Démocratique Africain (African Democratic Assembly; RDA) in 1946. She was punished for her anticolonial activism and was assigned to remote locations, including Gao in 1950 and Nara in the mid-1950s as a midwife (Sheldon 2016). Rather than view the posting as a setback, she impacted the women in these areas and took up sewing. The idea was that women would be interested in new clothes whether they were pregnant or not. As such, she was able to empower the

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local women through imparting entrepreneurial skills as well as synthesize ideas on modern medical practice with traditional cultural custom (Denzer 1976). Kéita’s position of leadership grew in the community. The young women paid her assiduous and continual court. In 1951, she renounced her French citizenship and campaigned for the RDA. The party won three parliamentary seats. As the RDA gained power, she rose through its ranks. Women who gathered in her home learned not only about birth and delivery, but also about voting and national independence; her position was strengthened by the fact that the mothers and families of babies she had safely delivered became extremely loyal to her. It was comparatively easy for her to garner considerable support for the Union Sudanaise du Ressemblement Democratique Africain (US-RDA), a political party she later joined along with the husband Dr. M. Diawara in 1935 (divorced and remarried Mahamane Alassane Haidara in 1949), among a large segment of the population that might otherwise have been apathetic. She campaigned widely in the first election which women were allowed to vote in 1946. It was in the same 1946 that a territorial assembly was established. In 1951, Women’s networks delivered voting cards taken from Sudanese civil servants; it also occupied voting sites to thwart electoral fraud and removed two military officers that tried to steal votes for the French party (Zoe 2020). It is important to note that the territorial assembly was known as the Sudanese Republic and an autonomous state within the French community in 1958. However, in 1959, Senegal and Sudanese Republic joined to form the Mali Federation under the presidency of Keita. But in August 1960, the federation broke up over major policy differences and each went their different ways (Kurtz 1970). Politically, Keita assumed a greater public role, becoming an advocate for several issues, especially health reform, which she viewed as critical to the improvement of welfare for women in her country. In 1957, along with Aissata Sow, they founded the Union of Salaried Women of Bamako, which gave professional women a voice in the political sphere. Keita helped establish the Federation of Black African Workers, or UGTAN (Union Générale de Travailleurs de l’Afrique Noir), which represented African workers of both sexes, and became a representative to the World Federation of Trade Unions, or FSM (Fédération des Syndicats du Monde) (Denzer 1976). In September 1958, she was elected to the RDA’s executive body, the Bureau Politique National. In the same year, she organized the Bamako Women’s Bureau, which became another political vehicle for presenting the interests of women to the US-RDA Party. Through her efforts, the US-RDA Party platform achieved a number of goals: participation of women in the political struggle for Mali’s liberation; participation of women in Mali’s economic development; improved educational opportunities for Malian women; and women could have access to improved health services (Denzer 1976). To actualize these important goals, a women’s bureau was organized within the US-DRA to implement these goals as policies. In 1959, Aoua Kéita ran as a US-RDA candidate from the region of Sikasso and was elected to parliament and became the first woman deputy elected to the national assembly of the Republic of Mali (Akyeampong and Henry (2012).

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There is a long history of Togolese women resisting against oppression. During the period of French colonialism, Togolese women rose in protest against increased taxation. In 1932, the governor of French Togoland, Robert de Guise, announced an increase in taxes and the levying of new fees for Lomé market women to “rescue” the territory from the economic malaise caused by the global depression. The governor also went ahead and proposed the replacement of the municipal structure operating in Lomé since 1922 with a commune mixte. Although both the city council (the Conseil des Notables) and a relatively clandestine organization called Duawo (an Ewe word meaning “the people” from the root dou) presented petitions and complained to reject these plans, they also warned of social unrest (Lawrance 2007). In January 1933, market women made war with the French colonialists. It is therefore noted that the role women played in the resistance of colonialism in Togo was a significant one. They were also involved in various aspects of the struggle. Aside that they protested against colonial policies, they also financed the opposition and held sex strikes to force their men to be more active in the fight against colonialism in Togo (Lawrance 2007). In Ivory Coast, women were affected by three colonial practices in the early twentieth century: forced labor, taxation, and military draft. In fact, practically all French West Africa was subject to periodic forced labor campaigns, which peaked in the 1930s, and declined thereafter. Ivory Coast was unique in that the north of the colony had white-run cotton plantations for which locals were pressed into service when migrant labor (mostly from modern Burkina Faso) was unavailable. Unlike road building or other forced labor projects for which men were called up for a period ranging from days to months, men (and some women) were pressed into cotton work for years at a time. While only a small number of women were drafted into French labor schemes, the process of taking men out of their communities for long periods of time meant that women were forced to provide for their households (Thompson and Adloff 1958). In Ivory Coast, the political struggle for independence after the Second World War was organized around the Rassemblement Démocratique Africain (RDA). Women, notwithstanding, were active in the formal leadership of the RDA and played significant roles in the struggle for independence from France (Andrew and Kanya-Forstner 1976). One dramatic example was in 1949, when protests by local women in Grand Bassam and Abidjan caused the administration to back down on the detention of RDA leaders, and help spread support for the party at a time it faced severe repression (Echenberg 1990).

Impact of Colonialism on West African Women Colonialism did not appreciate the principles, ideals, value system, morals, and symbols that West African women represented and cherished. First, it divided the societies and subjected women to subordinate positions in the society. Therefore,

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the era marked the genesis of deep gender inequalities which permanently affected the relationships between males and females. This inequality has been evident in politics, governance, commerce and industry, banking and finance, and education. On politics and governance, none of the West African countries have met the 30% representation threshold stipulated by the Beijing Platform for Action for the appointment and election of women into political office. Men have therefore capitalized on the situation created by the colonialists to monopolize political leadership positions. Unfortunately, this has not led to any meaningful social transformation and West African countries are short of good governance. Social amenities and infrastructure such as hospitals, schools, and roads among others are in very bad shape. These have affected the quality of lives and have even led to untimely death of innocent people. A further implication of male dominance in postcolonial West Africa is that issues affecting women are given less attention and not effectively resolved. More so, cases involving women that were traditionally amicably solved or handled by women groups such as Umuada and Iyomdi are now taken to conventional courts. This led to a situation where these women groups lost their original status as they were replaced by colonial institutions of administration. While clinics and hospitals were introduced in West African societies, these medical institutions relegated the influence of goddesses, local medicines, and women who were endowed with spiritual powers. The hospitals and clinics administered western medicine, and therefore, local herbs and healing practices were abandoned or given less attention in the postcolonial era despite their local content, efficacy, and relevance. Furthermore, in West Africa, arable land, which served as the main source of livelihood and economic base for the men who engaged in cash crops and women who engaged in subsistence crops for farming, was largely lost to women and they were denied significant livelihood because of this. With colonialism, land was seized, privatized, and commercialized by the colonial masters. This action thwarted the traditional system of communal land ownership (Nwando 2018). To worsen this, the lands were sold at exorbitant amounts to the African men. This action made it extremely difficult for women to continue their economic activities since they could no longer have access to farmland. Therefore, women economic empowerment and contribution to economic growth and development was seriously affected. Colonialism also created a situation in which some vocations for training in educational institutions were reserved for men whereas women were confined to vocations that related to the acquisition of skills in line with the notion that it will prepare them to be better wives. This orientation has affected the psyche of many contemporary Africans who continue to believe that certain skills or fields of endeavor are reserved for male and less important ones for women.

Conclusion Precolonial West African societies were characterized by contemporary roles for both genders in political, economic, and sociocultural spheres. Regrettably, the advent of colonialism thwarted this system and subjected women to a position of

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subordination to the male gender. This chapter has illustrated the dynamics of this situation, as well as the significant efforts women have made to shake off the debilitating shackles of colonialism.

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Johnson-Odim, C., & Mba, N. E. (1977). For women and the nation: Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti of Nigeria (p. 101). Champaige: University of Illinois Press. Kurtz, D. M. (1970). Political Integration in Africa: The Mali Federation. The Journal of Modern African Studies, 8(3), 405–424. https://doi.org/10.1017/s0022278x00019923. Labouret, H. (1940). France’s colonial policy in Africa. Journal of the Royal African Society, 39(154), 22–35. Lawrance, B. (2007). Bibliography. In Locality, mobility, and “nation”: Periurban Colonialism in Togo’s Eweland, 1900–1960 (pp. 245–276). Woodbridge/Suffolk/Rochester: Boydell & Brewer. https://doi.org/10.7722/j.ctt1bh2mm5.16. Lawrance, B. N., Emily L. O., & Richard L. R., (Eds.) (2006). Intermediaries, Interpreters, and Clerks: African Employees in the Making of Colonial Africa. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press. Makama, G. A. (2013). Partiarchy and gender inequality in Nigeria: The way forward. European Scientific Journal, 9(17). https://doi.org/10.19044/esj.2013.v9n17p%25p. Mkpa, M. A. (2013). Overview of educational development: Pre-colonial to present day. [Online]. http://www.Onlinenigeria.com/education/. Accessed 27 Jan 2013. Nwando, A. (2011). The female king of the colonial Nigeria: Ahebi Ugbade. Reviews in history. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Nwando, A. (2018). Women and authority in West Africa history. In A. Nwando, S. Adu-Gyamfi, J. Alie, H. Ceesay, T. Green, V. Hiribarren, & B. Kye-Ampadu (Eds.), History textbook: West African senior school certificate. https://wasscehistorytextbook.com/ Okome, M. O., & Zakiya, A. S. (2013). Women’s political participation in Nigeria. Ibadan: Bookbuilders. Okpe, O. (2005). Main streaming ender in the African development process: A critic of NEPAD and the women question. BSU Press. Raheem, W. M., & Bako, A. I. (2014). Sustainable rural development and programmes in Nigeria: Issues and challenges. Asian Journal of Science and Technology, 5(9), 577–586. Sheldon, K. (2016). Historical dictionary of women in sub-Saharan Africa (pp. 145–146). Rowman & Littlefield. Staudt, K. (1981). Women’s Politics in Africa. Studies in Third World Societies,16, 1–28. Strobel, M. (1982). “African women” Margaret Strobel, “African women”. Signs, 8(1), 109–131. Sudarkasa, N. (1977). Women and Migration in Contemporary West Africa. In: The Wellesley Editorial Committee (Ed), Women and National Development: The Complexities of Change (pp. 178–189). Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Tamale, S., & Oloka-Onyango, J. (2000). “Bitches” at the academy: Gender and academic freedom in Africa. In E. Sall (Ed.), Women in academia: Gender and academic freedom in Africa. Dakar: CODESRIA. Thompson, V., & Adloff, R. (1958). French West Africa (pp. 527–528, 580–582). Stanford: Stanford University Press. Zoe, G. (2020). Women in Mali: Key influencers in turning the tide. https://aspeniaonline.it/womenin-mali-key-influencers-in-turning-the-tide/

Women and Colonialism: Southern Africa

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Butholezwe Mtombeni

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Women as Agents of Reproduction and Production . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Colonial Laborers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Women in Traditional Leadership and Liberation Struggles . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Women in Traditional Leadership . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Women in the Liberation Struggle . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

Vigorous scholarship has been produced on the history of Africans and colonialism in Southern Africa during the colonial period. This abundant literature places too much emphasis on the role of men in challenging colonial rule with little or no attention to African women. No wonder the field of women’s history in Africa is relatively underdeveloped. There are, of course, various reasons for this lack of sustained scholarly attention to the role of African women in colonialism. First, the lack of in-depth study can be attributed to the fact that the colonial library perceived African women as passive participants in colonialism. Second, African women were portrayed as helpless and powerless victims of the colonial patriarchal order. Third, the colonial library created a cult of domesticity, evinced by gendered differences in the social, economic, and political spheres that confined women to the domestic sphere. In summation, control of the socioeconomic and political domains increasingly became exclusive for men, while African women were confined to the periphery. Countering this gendered, domestic, and largely inferior B. Mtombeni (*) Department of Political Sciences and Department of History, University of South Africa, Pretoria, South Africa e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_129

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portrayal of African women, the present chapter argues that while colonialism forged a gendered division of labor, it could not completely contain African women who played an essential and indispensable role as active agents in production, reproduction, traditional leadership, and other socioeconomic and political roles. Keywords

Women · Patriarchy · Colonialism · Production · Reproduction · Liberation · Southern Africa

Introduction The gender oppression school of historical analysis has spearheaded a narrative in which African women were metaphorically characterized as people in dire need of salvation; the salvation they found in colonialism so goes the argument. According to this school of thought led by Jeff Guy (1987, 1997) and Cheryl Walker (1990) and Cheryl Walker (1991), women were helpless and powerless victims of men’s patriarchal order. However, evidence suggests that women occupied positions of economic, political, and religious influence (Schapera 1971; Brown 1983; Schmidt 1988; Epprecht 1993; Matemba 2005; Helander 2006; Clarke et al. 2010). They owned and controlled their bodies and labor. Gender division of labor was not rigid as both sexes cooperated and could easily crossover to female- or male-typed labor domains. Precolonial societies might have been steeped in patriarchy, but women were not helpless victims of this patriarchal order. Colonialism rigidized gender division of labor and consigned into oblivion the active participation of women in different spheres of leadership and production. It designed separate labor spheres for men and women and reduced the influence of women in politics, religion, and the economy. Those involved in production of mainstream scholarly literature in the colonial era in Southern Africa omitted active involvement of women in the three main facets of society: in politics, religion, and economy (see Guy 1987, 1997; Walker 1990, 1991). The evidence about colonial women is limited because the production of scholarly historical literature at this time was gendered. The shortage of written sources in African history has made women invisible, leaving a worrying gap in the historiography of African women. This explains why the historiography of African women in the colonial era remains underdeveloped (Strobel 1982, p. 509). Beall (1982) notes that historians have written women out of history; they have not written women into history to be precise. She argues that this is because of the ideas historians have about the significant past. This has reduced the field of history to the study of an exclusive past. Oral history (the mainstay of remote African history) has produced some evidence that has been used to reconstruct colonial history of women in Africa. However, the available literature on migrant labor in colonial Southern Africa does not clearly show how African women shaped the colonial economies. This chapter therefore explores the contribution of Southern African women in the colonial economies, arguing

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that women like their male counterparts contributed to the shaping of colonial political economies. It further shows how they participated as agents of reproduction and production in rural areas, as colonial laborers, as traditional leaders, and as activists and soldiers in the liberation struggles. The chapter covers cases and examples from the Southern African countries of South Africa, Lesotho, Swaziland, Namibia, Zimbabwe, Botswana, Mozambique, Malawi, Zambia, and the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC).

Women as Agents of Reproduction and Production The advent of colonialism led to the breakdown of family structures in Africa. It exerted more pressure on these family structures and led to the genesis of a new era of exploitation of Blacks by Whites. The colonists in Southern Africa and Africa in general, with their superior gun power, fought, subjugated, and displaced local communities in their attempt to establish colonial rule. Most Blacks in Southern Africa, as a result, were dispossessed of their land, which was their vital means of livelihood, and were thus compelled to seek other means to sustain their families. The establishment of early mining towns in South Africa further dissolved family structures as men migrated to these cities in search of employment (Henn 1983b, p. 1043). However, women in rural areas were left with double jeopardy: as agents of both reproduction and production. They worked on the land, nurtured their families, and initiated the boy child to manhood in the absence of the fathers. In Botswana, in the 1920s and 1930s, women married in their early 20s after a long period of betrothal (Brown 1983, p. 371). At this time, families continued to select spouses for their children, although young men and women were consulted for their preferences (Schapera 1971, p. 32). Colonists in Botswana and other Southern African countries dispossessed Blacks of their land through a series of land alienation policies. After losing land, which was their main means of livelihood, men migrated to the early urban centers in search of employment to sustain their families. The mass exodus of men in Southern Africa to early colonial cities and towns left women isolated as marriage and family relations shifted significantly (Brown 1983, p. 371). Women and men in precolonial Botswana married at an early age, and they were both involved in child bringing. However, in colonial Botswana, marriage patterns changed due to outmigration of men: men married when they were ready in the 30s because they wanted to accumulate economic resources before they thought of finally settling down. Colonialism took away men from their families, wives, and communities, thereby shifting the marriage age to between the early 20s and the early 30s. In some cases, colonial life in the cities swallowed men who never reunited with their families, leaving women-headed families scattered all over the rural social terrain. Tswana, Zimbabwean, Zambian, Malawian, Sotho, and Swati migrant men were lost to South Africa and never returned home. The shortage of labor in South African mines and farms attracted Black men from neighboring countries. In the precolonial era, women could not have children out of wedlock because marriage was a respected institution and family structures were still intact.

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Those who did faced severe public humiliation, which consigned them to the position of less desirable women in their societies. Marriage was thus associated with good morals, honor, respectability, and economic cooperation. Most marriages in the colonial era could not withstand the torment of long distance between the wives in rural areas and the husbands in the cities. This frequent separation of couples required by migrancy, in some cases, led to permanent separation (Brown 1983, p. 372). Brown (1983) further posits that some women in colonial Botswana remained unmarried mothers even though they preferred being married. The decline of polygamy as a practice in the era of migrant labor meant that more women remained unmarried and some remained single mothers. It can therefore be argued that single motherhood is a relic of colonialism, which was unheard of in the precolonial era where family structures were intact and men assumed their responsibilities as heads of the families. Rapid industrialization in South Africa, from the late nineteenth century, led to the demand for cheap labor. The shortage of cheap labor for mines and industries was the major economic headache for the colonial regime. Women as a result became reproducers of this labor force, with limited support from their men and the colonial government. The colonial system reduced women to isolated agents of reproduction. Brown (1983, p. 375) concurs that: South Africa needed a large labour reserve not just so that the reserve could bear part of the cost of subsistence, but also so that it would serve as a place for the social reproduction of the labour force: a place where women go into confinement, give birth and then raise the children at no cost to apartheid, while the men return to the mines and factories, leaving the women behind. Though migrant men are victims of this system, the women bear a greater burden.

Most women with absent husbands, who, due to migrancy, abdicated their duties, relied on the support of their immediate families for survival. Though women performed various social and economic functions, most of their duties (crop cultivation, tending small animals, and family nurturing) offered limited financial rewards (Brown 1983, p. 375). This served to increase the vulnerability of single mothers, especially when family ties that provided socioeconomic security to women were eroded by migrancy. The dissolution of the African chieftaincy in Botswana and other Southern African countries in the colonial era led to the diminishing of community welfare, cattle, and land, leaving most women exposed to the vagaries of colonialism. Lesotho is one of the Southern African countries, which had high rates of male migrant labor (Epprecht 1993, p. 203). Young men migrated to South Africa to seek work in mines and factories in the colonial era, leaving women as heads of families. The isolated Basotho women organized themselves into the “homemaking movement” also known as dikopano in Sotho. Historians have a tendency of dismissing dikopano as mere natural acts of women’s religiosity and domesticity. However, a close look into them reveals that they were a great social and economic tool for women in the absence of their husbands. Epprecht (1993) asserts that dikopano was meant to fill the gap left by their male migrant labor and to help them cope with the related socioeconomic disruptions.

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Similar to dikopano were stock fairs (setokofele) which operated as informal banks that made credit available for its members on rotation basis (Epprecht 1993, p. 204). Maholisana (rotationally paying each other) operated like setokofeles but included entertainment. According to Epprecht (1993), these colonial women’s organizations originated from a long tradition of Basotho women helping each other with childcare, agricultural work, and domestic chores. These societies became of great help when migrant male labor became fully entrenched by the late nineteenth century. Young married women were left by their husbands who joined the migrant labor force in South Africa, and this necessitated support from women within their communities. This system of women supporting each other in strange and transformed new communities was also common in early Johannesburg labor camps, especially in Soweto townships. Women involved in brewing illicit alcohol were supported and concealed by their fellow women from being detected and arrested by the security forces (Bonner 1928; Sheldon 2003). The same practice was common in Zimbabwean mines as Schmidt (1988, p. 59) observed: Hawking produce and beer at the mines was also a female-designated task. Ambuya Chitiya recalled that in the 1910s, she used to go with other girls and women to sell green mealies and mealie-meal at the Arcturus mine near Chishawasha Mission. That her experience was common is corroborated by the account of the Goromonzi native commissioner, who in 1910 witnessed dozens of young women and girls selling beer at mining compounds throughout the district.

Before colonialism in Botswana, boys and their fathers customarily herded cattle together, nurturing young boys into manhood (Brown 1983, p. 379). With the mass exodus of fathers into early colonial cities in search of employment, the duty of nurturing young boys into manhood was organically transferred to women. The communal spirit of working together as family and a community was discouraged consciously or unconsciously by the colonial system. This left women with absent husbands isolated and vulnerable. With the intensification of colonialism, the value of cattle was magnified, thereby heightening the conflicts over their control (Brown 1983, p. 379). It was therefore common that when the cattle owner dies, his brothers kept them away from the widow. This meant that widows were denied access to wealth and further isolated from their in-laws. They were left to fend for themselves and their children: a difficult exercise in the absence of the means of wealth and a proper support system (Molutsi 1991; Van Hook 1994; Nelson 1983; Schmidt 1991; Stewart et al. 1990). Women controlled crop production in Ovamboland, Namibia. In the absence of their husbands, women in rural areas were drawn deep into subsistence farming. They increasingly became economically insecure when assistance from the extended families diminished (Brown 1983, p. 380). Women in colonial Africa therefore experienced colonialism differently from their male counterparts. Subsistence farming became the economic mainstay of women in Bantustans. While young able-bodied men were drawn into wage labor and the production of cash crops, women were trapped in subsistence agriculture, under oppressive

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colonial conditions. Colonialism, therefore, destroyed family structures and burdened women with the duty of family production and nurturing. This compelled women to be both socially and economically independent from their men. Strobel (1982, p. 519) asserts that in South Africa: Most striking, Black African men have been drawn disproportionately into the wage labour force, particularly mining, while women are left in the rural Bantustans doing subsistence agriculture under incredibly oppressive and difficult conditions.

Women were further forced by the situation precipitated upon them by the colonial system to work extra hard to provide for their families. Colonialism led to the genesis of the process of wealth polarization by privatizing resources that were previously communally owned, such as land (Brown 1983, p. 380). This privatization of resources did not mitigate the wider economic disruptions, which fell heavily on the shoulders of women. Sunseri (1996, p. 583) opines that in the absence of men, women had to double their labor for food production to make up for male labor lost in migrancy. The surplus produced was sold to the European markets. As a result, Black African women became primary food producers. Migrant labor in Southern Africa created two contrasting spheres: the urban sphere for male migrant labor and the rural sphere largely for female subsistence farmers. This led Beall (1982, p. 52) to comment that keeping women separate from men risked leading to ghettoization of women’s position in society and creating a caste of women. Women at the beginning of colonialism were separated from the urban migrant labor class, and this created a misconception that men are a breed apart. However, in vivo and in vitro, it has been proven that women were/are also capable to do duties that were stereotyped by colonialism to be male-type duties, well beyond the reach of women. The widespread subordination of women on gender basis, mostly by the colonial system, has led to women being called the “last colony” (Van Hook 1994, p. 288). However, in colonial Zimbabwe, Malawi, and Zambia, gender cooperation continued in the production of cash crops like cotton. The involvement of women in the production of cash crops in Zimbabwe, Malawi, Botswana, Zambia, and other Southern African countries discredits Hemmings-Gapihan’s (1982) notion that “Most women cannot earn cash from export crops: those are ‘men’s crops’ belonging to the husband even when the wife does a considerable share of the work on their production.” While it was difficult for women to compete with men in the production of cash crops, some women were able to use the colonial cash crop production system to challenge men in the production space. Cash crop production therefore afforded women economic independence coupled with upward social mobility. Schmidt (1988, p. 45) concurs that: In other societies, women’s early involvement in the production of cash crops strengthened their economic and social position – at least temporarily. . . In colonial Nyasaland, as women and men worked together to produce and market the cash crop, some women gained in economic and social status.

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Women in the 1930s onward intensified their own agricultural labor to meet the household basic. In Sena, Mozambique, the colonial administration introduced forced cropping of cotton (O’Laughlin 2001, p. 11). In Gaza, Inhambane, Zambezia, Sofala, and Tete provinces of Mozambique, women were obliged to grow cotton and rice. This was an extension of forced labor that fell squarely on the shoulders of women. The system of forced cropping was gendered; men were showered with more favors than their female counterparts were. They owned large pieces of land and were considered principal market agents for their families. This qualifies the argument that colonialism in Southern Africa intensified gender division of labor and further exacerbated the inequalities of the sexes, deeply imbedded in colonial culture of patriarchy. Peasantization, depeasantization, and repeasantization occurred in greater parts of colonial Zimbabwe, Mozambique, Zambia, South Africa, Lesotho, and Botswana. In most cases, these processes were enforced by the colonial administration on women in the absence of their men who were in urban centers as cheap laborers. Women became active agents of production restricted by the colonial system in rural areas. This served to create and recreate a separate caste of rural women (agricultural producers) and urban men (migrant laborers). Schmidt (1988, p. 47) notes that overcrowding and overuse of land in African reserves spelled new trouble to women. To make up for the diminishing access to nutritional land, women were forced to overwork themselves for diminishing agricultural returns. During dry season, women kept themselves occupied with gold panning to supplement their agricultural produce. This was common in Mozambique, Zimbabwe, South Africa, and other Southern African countries with gold deposits. Some women were involved in the craft industry, especially those with artisanal skills. In colonial Zimbabwe, Shona, and Ndebele women were respected artisans and skilled workers. They dominated trades such as molding, burning of pots, beer brewing, midwifery, salt production, and herbalism (Schmidt 1988). They used their art and craft products to supplement their agricultural earnings. Marriage in the colonial era became closely linked to wage earning capacity (Ferguson 2013, p. 228). The institution of marriage lost its essence in the colonial era, leaving some women unmarried or as single mothers. From the second half of the twentieth century, the colonial regimes employed political instruments such as land alienation, taxation, and forced labor to compel men to migrate to work as cheap laborers in mines and factories. Women in colonial Southern Africa often rejected the colonial norms of domesticity (Epprecht 1993, p. 203) and moved to occupy like their male counterparts, the public space. From the 1960s onward, women defied the imperialist regimes’ migration rules and made their way into the cities in search of employment. They penetrated the colonial labor market and created a space for themselves. They worked with great determination in these colonial cities and proved beyond doubt that men are not a breed apart. Women opted for a life in the labor camps common in colonial cities in South Africa, Zimbabwe, Mozambique, and later Botswana. They risked being arrested by colonial security forces by

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migrating to these cities in search of employment. In 1956, 42,000 women migrated to South Africa to join their counterparts as colonial laborers. This marked the beginning of a new era in the colonial labor history in Southern Africa: an era of acceptance of female labor in the colonial cities and beyond.

Colonial Laborers The colonial system was founded on ruthless capitalism which according to Ferguson (2013, p. 232) pulled apart Black families and sacrificed family unity on the altar of cheap labor. In the late nineteenth century, at the beginning of urbanization in Southern Africa, women were denied citizenship in towns and cities because colonists believed that the presence of women in these production centers would destruct men and reduce the rate of productivity. As a result, women were trapped in rural areas as agents of reproduction and production. However, the growing demand for cheap labor in these colonial cities created a space for women in the labor market. There is however limited scholarly work on women’s involvement in the colonial labor market. Their involvement in the colonial system as colonial laborers remains obscure. The lack of interest from historians and colonial administrators to record movement of women into urban centers in the colonial era explains why there is scant literature on women’s involvement in the colonial labor market. This section therefore explores women as colonial laborers in Southern Africa. It argues that although the colonial labor market had limited space for women, the demand for cheap labor created a vacuum that was later occupied by women who worked with great distinction and defied colonial gender stereotypes. Blacks were allowed into the urban centers only when their presence was meant to minister to the needs of a White man as maintained by the Stallard doctrine (Rich 1978, p. 177). This explains why at the beginning, men started migrating to colonial cities when there was a demand for their cheap labor. Women brought their rural skills in urban centers, retained some aspects of their rural life, and at the same time began new lives. Kathleen Sheldon (2003, p. 359) remarks that women migration to the cities marked a break from unwanted aspects of rural life. A close analysis of Sheldon’s remark reveals that it is a branch from the gender oppression school of historical analysis that views Black Africans’ culture with disdain. It is this attitude that defined African cultures as barbaric, as archaic, and in need of civilization. Therefore, it is not true that the White man’s burden was to rescue and civilize Black Africans. Their mission was to subjugate, brainwash, and exploit Black Africans, treating them as permanent aliens in their own land. In Maputo, Mozambique, women who came to work in cashew factories were unattached: without protection from their communities. Sheldon (2003, p. 359) asserts that these single mothers in urban areas were without male protectors. This assertion diminishes women into jural minors whose survival was wholly dependent of their male counterparts. Women in urban centers did not need men to survive and establish new networks and family formations. Although their access to education, income, land, and housing was restricted during colonialism (Sheldon 2003, p. 359),

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in the absence of their men, they successfully penetrated the hostile and gendered wage labor market. The capitalist system broke down the indigenous labor systems and drew the entire continent into commoditized labor (Ferguson 2013, p. 227). In South Africa, the discovery of gold in 1884 in Johannesburg and diamonds in Kimberly in 1867 led to mass exodus of men from all over Southern Africa in search of employment in these mining towns. State coercion, driven by capitalism, was applied to break down Black peasantry and consign the farmers into waged labor. Ferguson (2013) posits that men migrated thousands of miles from all over Southern Africa to subject themselves to the most oppressive and notorious socioeconomic system. As a result, wage labor became the foundation of male personhood and the determining factor of a man’s position in urban and rural communities. According to Simelane (2004, p. 103), men in Swaziland collaborated with the colonial administrators and devised strategies to control the movement of women. He further notes that men had the power to determine when and how women could migrate. This notion is not different from the gender oppression school of historical analysis that views precolonial and colonial African women as oppressed by their men and in dire need of a savior. Furthermore, this notion risks creating a caste for women whose destiny was in the hands of their men and the colonial administrators. A close study of revisionist literature on women reveals that they were always able to express themselves, make choices, and author their own destinies, both in the precolonial and colonial eras (Sunseri 1997; O’Laughlin 2001; Matemba 2005; Helander 2006; Clarke et al. 2010). Women either forced themselves into urban centers or were attracted by the demand for their labor in the late stages of colonialism. They therefore successfully took possession of their destinies and penetrated what was perceived as colonial male-type labor market with great distinction. In Ovamboland, northern Namibia, Finnish women trained local women as teachers, thereby creating a colonial career for them. Finnish missionaries played a pivotal role in creating a new socioeconomic class of career women in Ovamboland (Helander 2006, p. 65). However, it is worth noting that although these career women worked in their communities, they were in the employ of the colonial regime. Education was viewed by the colonists as the only criterion for upward social mobility, especially for women. The Finnish missionaries focused on educating Namibian girls in the colonial era when it was not fashionable. The colonial government was not in favor of educating an African child because they felt that it was a domain beyond their reach and the colonial labor market was masculine. On the other hand, in the absence of men (who were absorbed by the colonial labor market in the cities), women became the main agents of reproduction and production. Their involvement in education was seen as a move to further destabilize peasant family structures and an abdication of family duties. This resistance did not stop determined Namibian women from acquiring missionary education and becoming teachers, nurses, and clerks. The first girl schools in Namibia were founded in Oshigambo and Engela in 1924 (Helander 2006, p. 67). The demand for female teachers in the early twentieth century compelled the missionaries to establish more female teachers’ training

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institutions. Helander (2006) observes that Johanna Kristof was the first woman in Ovamboland to be accepted as a trainee teacher in 1925. This marked the genesis of a new breed of financially independent career women in Namibia. Onganjera Training School (opened in 1947) in northern Namibia produced more female teachers who later became shining stars in the teaching profession. Between 1925 and 1970, the training school had 21 Finnish and 18 African female teachers and produced more than 500 female teachers (Helander 2006; Mpanda 1996; Lehtonen 1999). Teaching and nursing in colonial Ovamboland became professions mostly for women. Perhaps this explains why in the present-day Namibia women play a major role in the education field. Black women in colonial Namibia responded positively to socioeconomic change brought by Christian education. This education allowed them to free themselves from the patriarchal stigma and control of their bodies and destiny, at the same time contributing to positive social change within their communities and country in general. In Swaziland, South Africa, Zimbabwe, Botswana, and other Southern African countries, missionary-educated women also went into teaching, nursing, and other clerical professions (Walker 1990; Sunseri 1997). Countries such Lesotho, Swaziland, Botswana, Malawi, and Mozambique served as catchment areas for the South African mining industry’s labor demands. The number of Swati women who migrated to South Africa was above 7000 between 1960 and 1970 (Simelane 2004, p. 107). He further notes that the majority of them were employed as domestic workers and a few in factories and industries. In the early colonial era in Southern Africa, urban centers only accommodated male migrant laborers. It is in the late colonial period that women started mass migration and being accepted in urban centers. Women and men were involved in railroad construction. Sometimes they participated as forced laborers in menial labor. In Mozambique, South Africa, Zimbabwe, Zambia, and other Southern African countries, they were compelled to do penal labor in public works. While heavy manual labor is stereotyped to be a labor sphere for men, the colonial administration forcefully assigned it to women when it best suited their labor needs. Women regardless of being forced to ply into this domain proved that they could migrate to the male-typed labor spaces with great ease. The colonial labor market was littered with exploitation, long working hours, and poor wages. These conditions were conducive for political agitation and the rise of African nationalism. Women from different occupations felt the pressure of colonial repressive rule and were politically agitated and joined the liberation movements to fight for their freedom.

Women in Traditional Leadership and Liberation Struggles Colonialism eroded African traditional power structures and established direct or indirect colonial rule. Colonial rule led to the exploitation of Blacks across gender, economic, social, and political divides. This suffering of Africans in the hands of the colonists, especially in urban centers, created a conducive environment for political agitation and eventually the rise of Black nationalism. The rise of African nationalism began in the early colonial cities. At the beginning, men were at the forefront not

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because women were not politically agitated but because men were the majority of the Black population in these cities where African nationalism began. While much has been written on the rise and growth of Black nationalism, the scholarship focused more on men as the agents of Black nationalism. Little attention was given to women and their roles in the liberation struggles. This section is devoted to unsung Black Southern African heroines whose great contribution in the liberation struggles is consciously or unconsciously tucked in oblivion. It examines the roles played by women as traditional leaders and in the struggles for independence in Southern Africa, arguing that women, like their male counterparts, played imperishable roles in the politics of independence.

Women in Traditional Leadership In many precolonial Southern African societies, women were visible in politics (Strobel 1982, p. 515). They served as chiefs and queens or queen mothers, sometimes as senior members of the lineage council who had a great political influence. Colonialism led to women’s loss of political rights coupled with economic problems. Strobel (1982, p. 515) asserts that while men also lost political economy, male leaders fared better than their female counterparts. In some areas, the colonial governments put male leaders on their payroll and consciously excluded female leaders. All these colonial practices, which excluded women from mainstream politics, speak to the system of patriarchy, which was deeply entrenched in colonialism. Regardless of the extent of patriarchy and paternalism ingrained in colonialism, some women continued to shine bright as traditional leaders especially under British rule that practiced indirect rule. There is limited historical literature on the active involvement of women in traditional leadership in colonial Southern Africa. This must not be interpreted to mean that women in precolonial Southern Africa were not involved in traditional leadership systems. The limited literature on women in traditional leadership in the colonial era reveals that they were visible and occupied positions of influence and honor. In colonial Botswana, the most popular female regents were found among the Bangwaketse people (Matemba 2005, p. 7). The death of Bangwato King Khama II in 1834 created a leadership vacuum that was filled by regent Bojwale (mother to Khama II). Her half-brother Sekgoma I and his supporters were disappointed and broke away, with his followers refusing to recognize Bojwale (Matemba 2005, p. 7). Breaking away of princes and their supporters from their chiefdoms/kingdoms was common in Batswana communities because some men did not want to recognize female leaders. Women leaders were common in BaPedi or the Transvaal Basotho, in South Africa. Midambuze, daughter of Dambuze, was one of the notable female leaders of the region in the early nineteenth century (Weir 2006, p. 8). Kuper (1982) argues that while chiefly women were common in Venda and BaPedi communities, they were more common among the Lovedu people. Among the Lovedu people, chieftaincy was passed from one female ruler to the queen’s daughter or one of her wives (Kuper

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1982, p. 59). Stayt (1931, p. 215) observes that among Venda people (in Limpopo, South Africa), a woman became a regent for a minor son. However, Makhadzi (the aunt) played a pivotal role in the day-to-day running of the chiefdom/kingdom. She was active in the royal court and the religious space. Among the Zulu people of South Africa and the Bakgatla ba ga Kgafela of Mochudi, Botswana, the queen mother was revered and had a great political and religious influence. According to Matemba (2005, p. 7), regent Ntebogang is described as one of the most progressive Batswana leaders in the twentieth century, who stabilized the chiefdom after years of political upheavals. Ntebogang restored order and disciplines in the chiefdom and further built her people schools, hospitals, roads, and bridges. Her progressive projects coupled with her good governance earned her a seat in the Native Advisory Council as the first woman to sit therein (Morton and Ramsay 1987; Matemba 2005, p. 7). Queen Mother Seingwaeng (1883–1967) of the Bakgatla was one of the most powerful queen mothers in the history of the Kgafela (Matemba 2005, p. 7). In the onslaught of colonialism, women continued occupying positions of both political and religious influences in Southern Africa. The Ndebele kingdom queens (in Zimbabwe) possessed large heads of cattle and were influential in the political and religious spheres (Clarke et al. 2010, pp. 56–58). Queen Lozikeyi Dlodlo was in charge of the Imbizo age-set, which was Lobengula’s first and trusted regiment (Clarke et al. 2010, p. 67). According to Clarke et al. (2010), MaKhumalo (King Mzilikazi’s daughter) received annually ten cattle from Lobengula. Queen Lozikeyi of the Ndebele kingdom accumulated large heads of cattle. Cattle in the colonial era continued as a symbol of wealth, and women with large heads were respected in their communities. These heads came with political and economic authority, which cut across the gender divide. In colonial Swaziland, famous and revered traditional healers were women. Nutose Lukele was the most popular among ritual specialists in Swaziland (Booth 1992, p. 254). The sangoma (diviner) Makubata Second was a woman of a rare gift. According to Booth (1992, p. 254), female sangomas outnumbered males in colonial Swaziland. Queen Regent Labotsibeni’s rule during the British takeover of Swaziland, from 1899 to 1921, signified the presence of women in mainstream Swaziland politics. Booth (1992) argues that ritual specialization was one of the few avenues, which women could use to attain independence and upward mobility (see also, Kuper 1947; Kuper 1961, pp. 165–166; Kuper 1998, pp. 66–67). At the apex of traditional law in colonial Swaziland were two courts, one led by a king and one by a queen mother. This depicts the influence of the queen mother in Swaziland politics. She had authority almost equivalent to the king’s and presided over the traditional courts. However, with intensification of colonialism, in 1907, Swaziland Administration Proclamation No. 3 was passed which stripped the king and queen mother’s judiciary powers and replaced it with colonial courts (Booth 1992, p. 257). As Queen Labotsibeni realized the extent and impact of the replacement of traditional courts with colonial courts, she fought in vain for its reversal. In the colonial era, women were active in the traditional leadership domain. However, the advent of colonialism served to limit their access to authority. This is because colonialism was all about power and control, and for the system to operate

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effectively and efficiently, traditional authority was destroyed. In some cases, especially in British colonies, traditional authority was allowed to exist under supervision of colonial authorities. In such cases, precolonial traditional leadership was allowed to continue, though stripped of its essence and influence. Female traditional leaders also benefited from British indirect rule as they continued with their leadership roles as regents, queen mothers, princesses, and chiefs. However, their continued diminishing roles, forced labor, oppressive rules, and loss of land compelled them to join their male counterparts in the liberation struggle.

Women in the Liberation Struggle There is limited archival and written literature on the active participation of Southern African women in the liberation struggles. This omission creates an impression that political agitation is a male preserve. It further infers that nationalism is a domain beyond the reach of women. However, a few recent studies on women history in colonial Southern Africa reveal that women actively participated in the liberation struggles. They participated as soldiers, cooks, clerks, or informers. Their participation dispels the widely held notion by the gender oppression school of historical analysis, which posits that women in precolonial and colonial eras were mere tools of production and reproduction in the ruthless hands of their male counterparts. African men and women were instead in the harsh hands of the colonists; hence, both sexes cooperated to free themselves from the colonial yoke of oppression. In Zimbabwe, male nationalists revered women for nurturing and providing the maternal foundations for the liberation struggle. South African women were called “titans in the struggle” for birthing and giving their sons to the struggle and supporting the struggle as mothers and wives of the soldiers (Israel et al. 2002, p. 197). Liberation movements tended to praise the role of women in the struggle, which was equal to that of men. South African women of Pan-Africanist Congress (PAC) and African National Congress (ANC) in exile were given the same extensive training given to their male counterparts. They were also given assignments to reenter the country and perform some dangerous missions (Israel et al. 2002, p. 198). Strobel (1982, p. 520) remarks that the participation of African women in revolutionary movements was not a new phenomenon, but has been continuous. They fought alongside their male counterparts in the liberation struggles, not as mere assistants but equals. Mozambique Women’s Organisation (OMM) was an active female military wing that operated in northern Mozambique (Arnfred 1988, p. 5). It was a powerful military wing that was recognized and revered by Samora Machel, the president of Frelimo. In his opening address at the first conference of OMM, in 1973, the president emphasized the value of women in the liberation struggle and the need for their emancipation (Arnfred 1988, p. 5). In different forms, women in colonial Mozambique and Southern Africa in general participated in the struggles for independence. Arnfred (1988, p. 5) maintains that:

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Most had grown food for the army or had transported goods and weapons. Viewed in isolation, as concrete tasks, these do not seem very different from what peasant women normally do in their everyday lives: growing food and carrying burdens on their heads. But during the war it had been different: women were travelling long distances, staying away from home for many days, and they were doing so on equal footing with men! That was really new, corresponding to the equally new ideas of gender equality introduced by Frelimo.

In Zimbabwe, women provided food, clothing, and shelter to the guerrillas, in most cases risking being caught and killed by the colonial security forces (Israel et al. 2002, p. 197). Young women and men were recruited as chimbwidos and mujibas (messengers and carriers) who provided the guerrillas vital information on the whereabouts of the Rhodesian soldiers. When the liberation struggle started and intensified in 1972, thousands of women (both from rural and urban areas) joined Zimbabwe African People’s Union (ZAPU) and Zimbabwe African National Union (ZANU) liberation armies to get military training. The liberation struggle bridged the rural-urban divide and united Black Africans to fight for their independence. This explains why there were limited isolated populist rebellions against the colonial regimes (O’Laughlin 2001, p. 4). Men and women from both the rural and the urban areas organized themselves into ZAPU and ZANU. In South Africa, the Bantu Women’s League (later known as the African National Congress Women’s League) of the African National Congress was established in 1918, led by a small group of educated women. A close look at women’s political activism and agency in colonial Southern Africa reveals that women independently joined the armed struggle and were promoted based on their capabilities. The formation of the Bantu Women’s League was not an accident, neither was it a favor from their male counterparts but a sign that women were politically active like their male counterparts. The quest for freedom was therefore not gendered; it was a quest that cut across the gender and economic divides. Men in the ANC and other African political formations realized the need for active participation of women in the struggle for independence. McClintock (1991, p. 115) writes: As President Seme said: “No national movement can be strong unless the women volunteers come forward and offer their services to the nation.” After the Second World War, however, the ANC adopted a new constitution in recognition of the need to expand the movement and organize a mass base. At women’s own insistence, the ANC granted women full membership and voting rights in 1943.

Women played pivotal roles in strikes in colonial Southern Africa. They led the strikes, especially when the political parties were banned. In the Katanga mines, Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), there were a series of strikes in the 1930s and 1940s in which women actively participated (Higginson 1992, p. 66). The African National Congress Women’s League (ANCWL) in South Africa thrived during the turbulent sixties, which was a time of active defiance to the apartheid regime (McClintock 1991, p. 115). In 1956, thousands of South African women marched to the capital city, Pretoria, protesting pass laws for women, leading to the formation of the Women’s Charter. The Charter called for land redistribution,

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right to vote, equal rights to all citizens, and universal education. According to McClintock (1991, p. 115), the Women’s Charter preceded the Freedom Charter and informed much of its substance. It is in this sense that the turbulent sixties is called the watershed period in South African history. This period witnessed growth and intensification of women’s political agitation, which marked the turning point in the struggle for independence. Women continued embarking on militant activism through bus boycotts and strikes of various forms. McClintock (1991, p. 115) posits that: Even under the state of emergency, women have everywhere enlarged their militancy, insisting not only on their right to political agency, but also on their right of access to the technologies of violence. On August 9, 1985, the twenty- ninth anniversary of South African Woman’s Day, the ANC’s Women Section called on women to “take up arms against the enemy.”

State control of women’s mobility in South Africa proved to be ineffective because of their determined resistance. In the midst of the ruthless state security means of controlling women activism, women continued to create a place for themselves in the struggle for independence. Some earned respect from their male counterparts for confronting the apartheid system with great and ceaseless determination. Winnie Madikizela-Mandela is revered in South Africa as the mother of the nation for the great role she played in the fight against the apartheid regime. However, it is worth noting that although she was a pillar of hope for ANC, in the absence of Mandela, historians did not write her much into history. She is one of the less-celebrated heroines whose contribution in the liberation struggle was diminished and tucked into oblivion by historians. Miriam Makeba (the late South African musician) was called “Ma Africa” (Mother Africa) for the role of her revolutionary music played in liberating Africa. Albertina Sisulu, Ruth Mompati, Thandi Modise, and many others were images of militant and revolutionary mothers. They endured many hardships perpetrated upon them by the apartheid regime. McClintock (1991, p. 116) concurs that Black African women faced on a daily basis tear gas and sjambok attacks, police dogs, water cannon, bullets, and torture. The notion that nationalist revolutions were patriarchal revolutions (Chadya 2003, p. 156; McClintock 1991, p. 117; Van Hook 1994, p. 189; Geiger 1990, p. 326; Erlank 2003) is farfetched. The active involvement of women in traditional leadership and the liberation struggles discredits Guy’s (1990) argument that the history of Southern African women is a history of their oppression. Guy’s argument is deficient of objectivity and casts Southern African women as people who were wholly oppressed and restricted to the domestic sphere. The domestic domain according to Guy (1990) was the epicenter of women’s oppression in Southern Africa. Harris (1981, p. 50) posits that gender oppression was produced and reproduced in the domestic sphere. On the contrary, in Southern Africa, women forced their way into the politics of anti-colonial movements (Geisler 2006, p. 72). Women were not restricted to the domestic space, but were free to explore other spheres. The concept of mother in Black communities extends beyond biological

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motherhood and other domestic duties. Glorification and glamourizing motherhood profession by Guy (1990) and other gender oppression historians have a danger of limiting women to the domestic sphere and failing to understand their life outside the domestic sphere.

Conclusion In conclusion, the tools used for production of history and analysis in the colonial era were gender-blind; they failed to provide a functionalist account for women’s experiences. This chapter, taking into cognizance the deficiencies of these tools, has discounted the widely held notion by the gender oppression school of historical analysis that women in precolonial Africa were oppressed by their male counterparts and colonialism saved them. While in the precolonial African societies gender division of labor was present, the division lines were faint and were later magnified and intensified by the colonists. Colonialism destroyed family structures, thereby isolating women in rural areas, reducing them to mere instruments of reproduction and production. It separated women from their husbands and confined them in the production and reproduction spheres. However, in the later stage of colonialism, women created inroads into colonial education and the colonial labor market; they worked with great distinction and changed the socioeconomic dynamics in urban centers. Although the colonial administration assigned to them the rural sphere, their male counterparts viewed them as “mothers of the nation” endowed with noble qualities such as family nurturing and concern, qualities vital for the struggle for independence. Women defied the gender roles prescribed to them by the colonial system and became active in the colonial labor market, in traditional leadership, and in liberation struggle politics. In colonial Southern Africa, women were not passive objects in history, nor did events act upon them; they were active agents of social, political, and economic change.

References Arnfred, S. (1988). Women in Mozambique: Gender struggle and gender politics. Review of African Political Economy, 15(41), 5–16. Beall, J. D. (1982). Class, race and gender: The political economy of women in colonial Natal. Masters thesis, University of Natal, Durban. Bonner, P. (1928). ‘Desirable or undesirable women?’: Coplan, ‘emergence.’ They were, as such, ‘a nuisance and a danger to the community’, Assistant Commissioner to Government Secretary, (Lesotho National Archives S3/5/1/22 [henceforth LNA]). Booth, A. R. (1992). ‘European courts protect women and witches’: Colonial law courts as redistributors of power in Swaziland 1920–1950. Journal of Southern African Studies, 18(2), 253–275. Brown, B. B. (1983). The impact of male labour migration on women in Botswana. African Affairs, 82(328), 367–388. Chadya, J. M. (2003). Mother politics: Anti-colonial nationalism and the woman question in Africa. Journal of Women’s History, 15(3), 153–157.

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Clarke, M., Clarke, M. F., & Nyathi, P. (2010). Lozikeyi Dlodlo: Queen of the Ndebele: “A very dangerous and intriguing woman”. Bulawayo: Amagugu Publishers. Epprecht, M. (1993). Domesticity and piety in colonial Lesotho: The private politics of Basotho women’s pious associations. Journal of Southern African Studies, 19(2), 202–224. Erlank, N. (2003). Gender and masculinity in South African nationalist discourse, 1912–1950. Feminist Studies, 29(3), 653–671. Ferguson, J. (2013). Declarations of dependence: Labour, personhood, and welfare in Southern Africa. Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute (N.S.), 19, 223–242. Geiger, S. (1990). Women and African nationalism. Journal of Women’s History, 2(1), 227–244. Geisler, G. (2006). ‘A second liberation’: Lobbying for women’s political representation in Zambia, Botswana and Namibia. Journal of Southern African Studies, 32(1), 69–84. Guy, J. (1987). Analysing pre-capitalist societies in Southern Africa. Journal of Southern African Studies, 14(1), 18–37. Guy, J. (1990). Gender oppression in Southern Africa’s Precapitalist Societies in C. Walker (Ed.) Women and Gender in Southern Africa to 1945. Cape Town: David Philip. Guy, J. (1997). An accommodation of patriarchs: Theophilus Shepstone and the foundations of the system of native administration in Natal. Paper presented at the International Colloquium on Masculinities, University of Natal, Durban. Harris, O. (1981). ‘Households as natural units’, in K, Young, C, Wolkowits and R, McCullagh (eds), Of marriage and the market. London: CSE Books. Helander, E. (2006). Women teaching women: The impact of gender and religion on training teachers in colonial Africa. Temenos, 42(2), 65–78. Hemmings-Gapihan, G. S. (1982). International development and the evolution of women’s economic roles: A case study from northern Gulma, Upper Volta. In E. G. Bay (Ed.), Women and work in Africa. Boulder: Westview. Henn, J. K. (1983a). Women in the rural economy: Past, present and future. In J. Hay & S. Stichter (Eds.), African women south of the Sahara. London: Longman. Henn, J. K. (1983b). Feeding the cities and feeding the peasants: What role for Africa’s women farmers? World Development, 11(12), 1043–1055. Higginson, J. (1992). Liberating the captives: Independent watchtower as an avatar of colonial revolt in Southern Africa and Katanga, 1908–1941. Journal of Social History, 26(1), 55–80. Israel, M., Lyons, T., & Mason, C. (2002). Women, resistance and Africa: Armed struggles in Zimbabwe, South Africa and Eritrea. Humanity and Society, 26(3), 196–213. Kuper, H. (1947). An African aristocracy. London: Oxford University Press. Kuper, H. (1961). An African aristocracy: Rank among the Swazi. London: Routledge. Kuper, A. (1982). Wives for cattle. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul. Kuper, A. (1998). Anthropology in South Africa: An Inside Job. Boston: African Studies Centre, Boston University. Lehtonen, L. (1999). Schools in Ovamboland from 1870 to 1970. Helsinki/London: The Finnish Evangelical Lutheran Mission/C. Hurst & Company. Matemba, Y. H. (2005). A chief called ‘woman’: Historical perspective on the changing face of bogosi (Chieftainship) in Botswana, 1834–2004. JENDA: A Journal of Culture and African Women Studies, 7, 18–29. McClintock, A. (1991). “No longer in a future heaven”: Women and nationalism in South Africa. Transition, 51, 104–123. Molutsi, P. (1991). Development and social change. Gaborone: University of Botswana. Morton, F & Ramsay, J. (1987). The Birth of Botswana. Gaborone: Longman. Mpanda, L. (1996). Ondjokonona yoseminali yaakadhona mokahao (1947–1970). Oniipa: Eloc Printing Press. Nelson, H. (1983). Zimbabwe: A country study. Washington, DC: American University, Foreign Areas Study. O’Laughlin, B. (2001). Proletaianisation, agency and changing rural livelihoods: Forced labour and resistance in colonial Mozambique (Working paper 354). The Hague: ORPAS – Institute of Social Studies.

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Rich, P. B. (1978). Ministering to the white man’s needs: the developmentof urban segregation in South Africa 1913–1923. African Studies, 37(2), 177–192. Schapera, I. (1971). Married life in an African tribe. Harmondsworth: Penguin. Schmidt, E. (1988). Farmers, hunters, and gold-washers: A reevaluation of women’s roles in precolonial and colonial Zimbabwe. African Economic History, 17, 45–80. Schmidt, E. (1991). Patriarchy, capitalism, and the colonial state in Zimbabwe. Signs, 16, 732–756. Sheldon, K. (2003). Markets and gardens: Placing women in the history of urban Mozambique. Canadian Journal of African Studies/La Revue Canadienne des études africaines, 37(2–3), 358–395. Simelane, H. S. (2004). The state, chiefs, and control of female migration in colonial Swaziland. Journal of African History, 45, 103–124. Stayt, H. A. (1931). The BaVenda. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Stewart, J., Ncube, W., Mabroeke, M., & Armstrong, A. (1990). The legal situation of women in Zimbabwe. In J. Stewart & A. Armstrong (Eds.), The legal situation of women in Southern Africa (pp. 165–222). Harare: University of Zimbabwe Publications. Strobel, M. (1982). African women’s history. The History Teacher, 15(4), 509–522. Sunseri, T. (1996). Labour migration in colonial Tanzania and the hegemony of South African historiography. African Affairs, 95(381), 581–598. Sunseri, T. (1997). Famine and wild pigs: Gender struggles and the outbreak of the Majimaji war in Uzarano (Tanzania). The Journal of African History, 38(2), 235–259. Van Hook, M. P. (1994). The impact of economic and social changes on the roles of women in Botswana and Zimbabwe. Affilia, 9(3), 288–307. Walker, C. (Ed.). (1990). Women and gender in Southern Africa to 1945. Cape Town: David Phillips Publishers. Walker, C. (1991). Women and resistance in South Africa. Cape Town: David Phillips Publishers. Weir, J. (2006). Chiefly women and women's leadership in pre-colonial southern Africa. In: Gasa, Nomboniso, (ed.) Women in South African history: they remove boulders and cross river. Cape Town: HSRC Press, pp. 3–20.

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Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Colonial Rule: The African Woman and the Challenges of Change . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Women, Colonialism, and the Ideas of Empire in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Women and the Politics of Public Life . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . African Women and the Mechanics of Colonial Social and Economic Growth . . . . . . . . . . . . . . African Women and Anti-Colonial Struggles: The Nationalist Phase . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Radical Womanhood: Women and Armed Resistance to Colonial Rule in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Cross-References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

Colonial encounters of African women strongly affected and influenced their thoughts, actions, and livelihoods. However, these encounters varied in context, significance, and impact. The responses by African women to the encounters over time encompassed the ideas of empire, public life, social and economic change, anti-colonial struggles, and armed resistance. The political economy of colonialism had shaped the forms of relationships of African women’s existence in the process of struggle, cooperation, and contestation. This chapter focuses on how colonialism affected and altered the traditional realities of the African woman and conditioned their existence in a world of colonial domination. It highlights the legacies of colonialism in women’s lived experiences and gender inequalities across the different regions of Africa. These are thematically analyzed based on the forces of colonialism that women had to confront in different spheres of existence.

O. A. Adesina (*) Department of History and International Studies, College of Humanities, Redeemer’s University, Ede, Nigeria e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_170

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Keywords

Women · Colonialism · Africa · Women’s struggles · Gender inequalities

Introduction In the aftermath of the scramble for and the partition of Africa by Europeans, the colonial states established by Britain, France, Germany, Spain, Belgium, and Portugal (Laumann 2013) began to reinforce their hold on their African territories in incredibly diverse ways. One of the groups at the receiving end of the new political structures and ideologies created by the colonialists was the African women. Colonial rule affected them in very complex and diverse ways and according to distinct variables ranging from colonial administrative styles to social statuses, religion, and cultural contexts. The encounter, therefore, had multiple and sometimes contradictory effects on their status and livelihoods. Since these women were forced to submit to new social, economic, and political realities unceasingly, they, like their male counterparts, had to struggle against both economic and psychological enslavement (M’Bow 1985). Before colonial infiltration, women in various African cultures were conspicuous in high and low places. “They were queen-mothers, queen-sisters, princesses, chiefs, and holders of other offices in towns and villages; occasional warriors; and, in one well-known case, that of the Lovedu [of South Africa], the supreme monarch” (Sudarkasa 1986). There are records of female figures who also wielded political and mystical powers such as the Mwari and Mbuya Nehanda of Zimbabwe (Kaoma 2016), Queen Amina of Zaria, Queen Idia of Benin [Nigeria], and a host of others spread across Africa. In the economic life of the people, some astute traders and producers were involved in farming and craft production. Several others were compelling entrepreneurs and power brokers. Two of these women were very prominent in Yorubaland of Nigeria. These were Madam Tinubu and Efunsetan Aniwura in the nineteenth century (See Awe 1992). These two women owned hundreds of slaves who worked on their farms. Both women also were long-distance traders and served as patron to military warlords. From the foregoing, it is clear that pre-colonial African women were not passive in the political, economic, cultural, and social lives of pre-colonial Africans. The political economy of colonialism shaped the forms of relationships or resistance in the process of struggle and contestation (Bouilly et al. 2016). With the advent of the Europeans in Africa in the nineteenth century, colonial rule began to create women who either cooperated with or resisted the activities of imperial forces on the continent. African women were sucked into the vortex of the colonial intrusion very early in the days of colonial rule. This chapter focuses on how colonialism affected and altered the traditional realities of the African woman. The legacies of colonialism in women’s lived experiences are not a new topic. Indeed, several of the classic works on women in Africa have documented the effects of colonialism on the African woman such as

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Catherine Coquery-Vidrovitch’s (1997) African Women: A Modern History, Jean Allman et al.’s (2002) Women in African Colonial Histories, and McIntosh’s (2009) Yoruba Women, Work, and Social Change. In addition, this chapter aims at articulating the colonial experiences of women across the different regions of Africa into a coherent whole. Furthermore, this will be thematically analyzed based on the forces of colonialism that women had to confront. With the advent of colonial rule, the social fabric of society became altered significantly. Men and women then began to play essential roles in the social, political, and economic dynamics of colonial Africa. However, it is important to note that the process of colonization and the effects across the African continent varied according to the colonizing power and the pre-existing economic interests of the European powers in the colonized territory (Gilbert and Reynolds 2004). The pattern of colonial rule in each of the states necessitated variegated responses from the colonized peoples.

Colonial Rule: The African Woman and the Challenges of Change Colonialism affected the social, political, and economic landscapes of Africa. Women’s colonial experiences varied across the regions due to diversity in culture, colonial idiosyncracies, and historical experiences. With over 800 recognizable cultures and languages, scholars are confronted with various values, dialects, philosophies, and worldviews (Falola 2003). According to LaRay Denzer (1994), three fundamental theses have been identified in respect of the impact of colonialism on African women’s roles and status. These were that it was beneficial to African women; that it led to the deterioration in the status of women; and that it sets in motion a complex cultural interaction that produced both beneficial and adverse results. Nevertheless, colonialism significantly affected and altered African women’s lives. Hence, like men and other things in African society, women had to adjust to the social, political, and economic conditions and realities of existence in the new colonial states. African women had since the advent of colonial rule during the early phase provided the ideological and religious framework for social revolt. Initially, their demands were based on the need for the restoration of the pre-colonial order and rejection of foreign intrusion. This was because the colonizing states had adopted violently repressive tactics in beating their colonies into shape. Women at the inception of colonial rule began to react violently to official colonial policies such as colonial administration, taxation, trade restrictions, and price control. Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe) was in 1898 chartered to the British South Africa Company. This was resisted by the indigenous people. Among the Ndebele and Shona of Rhodesia, the n’anga (women spirit mediums) such as Mukwati, Mbuya Nehanda, and Sekuru Kaguvi became iconic figures who recruited masses into a violent rebellion against colonialism in what has been celebrated in history as the first Chimurenga (war of liberation) of 1896–1897. “These spirit mediums used traditional cultural symbols and the Mwari cult to mobilize, and direct rebellion against colonial authorities. . .”

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(Kaoma 2016). A courageous woman, Nehanda Nyasikana, took up arms against the imperial agents. She was arrested for the killing of Native Commissioner Pollard and was hanged. The series of revolt that became known in Tanzania history as the Maji Maji rebellion from 1905–1907 against oppressive German colonial rule followed the changes recorded in the social fabric of society. The German colonial government had levied heavy head taxes, relied on forced labor to build roads, and forced communities to plant cotton for export (IIiffe 1967). The German colonial policies were harsh and unpopular, most notably when the social roles of women as homekeepers and traders were reversed to satisfy the needs of the colonial state in the cotton production processes. Women were forced to assume traditional male roles of planting and generally working on the cotton plantations as laborers and farm workers. Subsequently, this bred ill-feeling that coalesced into the blood bath witnessed in the area. In Namibia, Southern Africa, women played an influential role in the resistance against German rule. After the occupation of Namibia, first by Germans, and later by South Africans, the traditional authorities and people were forced to collaborate with the colonial regimes. The people after that engaged in a series of resistance activities against the occupying forces. Although women were not directly engaged in confronting the colonial forces, the work they accomplished was as important as the military actions taken by men against the German occupation forces. Women held symbolic power in securing victory in war: “After the Herero genocide of 1904–05, Herero women decided not to bear children while German rule lasted in the territory. A little later, Herero women refused to abase themselves to become “nannies” for white families” (Soiri 1996). An important turning point in the lives of the Ovambo women of Namibia was the colonial ban placed on brewing the local beer “tombo.” This act impinged on the livelihood of Ovambo women; it was the first significant action from the authorities that restricted the economic activities of women. The restriction availed Ovambo women of the need for joint actions to defend their rights and engage with the male folk in the nationalist movement. However, these women were also not engaged in the resistance movement on ideological but on traditional platforms (Soiri 1996). Women’s contribution in Namibia was limited in supporting the first guerillas and providing safety for men who were wanted by the police. There was no organized resistance by women. Instead, they got involved through their families and traditional communities. For the majority of Ovambo women, the resistance became something connected with their community. Women identified with the resistance not so much because of its ideological basis but because it was another community. Ovambo women did not yet communicate a lot with other communities in Namibia but lived according to their traditional beliefs. They identified themselves first and foremost as Ovambos and supported the initial national resistance from that point of view. Although the resistance movement employed the rhetoric of nationalism, for many women, it was of little importance. They wanted to defend their community, and the national liberation movement offered a proper and “familiar” channel for that (Soiri 1996).

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In the Cross River Area of the Protectorate of Southern Nigeria established in 1900, women reacted against colonial policies that affected their interests. They spearheaded a war against the colonial authorities over the control of the local market. The colonial administration had enacted the 1924 Market Ordinance, by which means it sought to take over the administration of markets. The sum of one shilling, sixpence per month, was fixed for the use of market stalls erected by the local authority, while the sum of one penny per month was to be paid by casual traders. But the women rejected this. On April 1, 1925, over 3000 women belonging to different organizations, which had come together under the Calabar Market Women’s Organization, boycotted the markets, smashed windows, and attempted to snatch police rifles. This crisis provoked acute food scarcity in the area (Erim and Imbua 2012). In 1925, “another large movement led by elderly women in Owerri, Onitsha, and the Tiv provinces [of Nigeria] protested changes in society and sought to restore traditional customs” (Falola and Paddock 2011). The so-called Aba Women’s War of 1929, now more accurately termed the Women’s War of 1929, has remained a remarkable example of women’s reaction to colonial rule. This became a regionwide movement of Igbo and Ibibio women against colonial high-handedness. Some historians have even asserted that the episode represented the beginning of Nigerian nationalism (Falola and Paddock 2011).

Women, Colonialism, and the Ideas of Empire in Africa Significant linkages have been established between European women and colonial rule in Africa. The diversity of women involved was not in doubt. Many of the European women who arrived in Africa with their male counterparts or came later arrived as wives, missionaries, representatives of international organizations, scholars, and colonial administrators. However, white women appeared to have been highly significant in two roles to aid colonialism in Africa: “women in the professions” and “wives in supporting roles.” They offered strategic partnerships and strategies for change and adaptation in the colonial situation. In other words, the main structural features of colonialism will be incomplete without understanding how European women contributed to colonialism and the ideas of Empire. Some of these women gave fillip to colonial doctrines, polices, and values (Martin 1988). More often than not, these women helped colonial institutions and peoples into new roles in tune with European values and culture. In Nigeria, the role of Flora Shaw, the colonial editor of The Times of London in naming Nigeria, has been well acknowledged in the literature. In an article published in The Times of January 8, 1897, she suggested the name “Nigeria” for the territory that now bears that name. In 1902, she got married to Sir Frederick Lugard, the then High Commissioner of the Northern Nigerian Protectorate. Another Briton, Dame Margery Freda Perham, has been well noted for her role in producing books, reports, and papers which have in several ways helped document the history of colonial rule in Africa. Her books included Native Administration in Nigeria (1937) and the two-volume official biography of

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Lord Lugard (1956 & 1960). The activities of these colonial women were replicated in other places in Africa. Christian women missions and international organizations also played significant roles in the reorientation of society toward the desired goals. The work of the Young Women’s Christian Association (YWCA) in Africa has been well-documented in this regard. It was very active in Nigeria since the early days of colonial rule. In Rhodesia (Zimbabwe) the British Wesleyan Methodist Missionary Society (WMMS) was an organization created to help African women to help themselves and their communities. In several respects, African women not only deployed the skills learnt under these agencies to take care of their homes but also in support of their societies. However, it is essential to note that some of these women became part of the cultural Renaissance that accompanied the nationalist ferment of the 1950s and the early 1960s. Through the activities of some of these women, rather than helping to diffuse domestic ideologies, they helped Africans in identifying and taking pride in being African. This received powerful expressions in contemporary art, intellectual dispositions and ideas, music, drama, and so on. All of these helped African women and men to discover their own identities and path. One of those who worked hard in this regard was Suzanne Wenger, an Austrian who later naturalized as a Nigerian. Her artistic and conservation work at the Osun Oshogbo grove in Osogbo, Nigeria, was remarkable. When she arrived in Nigeria in 1950, she adopted the African worldview and religion in its total ramifications, thus becoming a symbol of African authenticity. Her artistic and spiritual depth set her apart from the colonial women who sought to control the minds of African women (Maclean 1984). Her devotion to the grove turned it into a tourist attraction that eventually led to its recognition as a world heritage center by the United Nations Educational, Scientific, and Cultural Organization (UNESCO).

Women and the Politics of Public Life Colonial policies not only spread notions of domesticity but also in several cases, narrowed the space available for African women to participate in public life (Adams 2006). As colonialism altered African lives, it politicized gendered lived experiences and realities in African communities. This became associated with anti-colonial struggles and anxieties arising from the role and position of women in the scheme of things. While some scholars hold the view that colonialism liberated African women, some others believe women were subjugated, and the structures of “Europeanized ideals of gender inequity” (Jabbar-Gyambar 2009) were erected under colonial rule in most African societies. The gendering of African lives began with the compartmentalization of vocations. From inception, colonialism created vocational stereotypes as women were trained to be homemakers, stenographers, receptionists, teachers, nurses, etc. Generally, it is believed that colonialism heightened the relegation of African women by “reinforcing and extending some of the worst elements of African patriarchy” (Lihamba et al. 2007). The women organizations

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that developed in the diverse countries of Africa strengthened their links with the political sphere. The social clubs and groups that emerged began to define the emerging women elites, their attitudes, orientations, and social mores. One of the earliest social clubs to emerge in Lagos, Nigeria, in the twentieth century was the Lagos Women’s League founded in 1901 as the Ladies Social Club. In 1923 when a delegation from the Lagos Women’s League visited the Chief Secretary of Nigeria to appeal to him to employ women into the civil service, he responded that “it was doubtful whether the time has arrived when women could be employed generally in the clerical service in substitution for men. In future, they may be employed as telephone operators, counter clerks or bookbinders” (Mba 1997). The challenges and opportunities arising from colonialism also bred social circles in other countries in Africa. Some of these even began to identify with similar organizations beyond their borders. Shortly after Egypt’s independence from Britain in 1922, Egyptian women on March 6, 1923 established one of the oldest women organizations in North Africa. This was the Egyptian Feminist Union founded by Huda Sha’arawi. A significant focus of the body was the quest for education reforms. The women desired to rebrand education away from what subsisted under colonial rule. One of the most effective tools for the women was the L’Egyptienne magazine published fortnightly from 1925. Before it was dissolved in the 1950s, it had increasingly become successful in its demands. Its demands for educational reforms met with success in 1925 when the government also accepted to make primary education compulsory for girls. Later in the decade, women were admitted to the national university for the first time. However, before its dissolution in the 1950s, it had started to identify more with the feminists bringing together 1500 women from two feminist leaning groupings – the Union and Bint al-Nil. The group then became more radicalized.

African Women and the Mechanics of Colonial Social and Economic Growth The colonial states induced several encounters, which had complex and multiple effects on African women. New opportunities were opened for women in public life in the spheres of commerce, diffusion of new social ideologies, social clubs, education, and salaried employment. They also became active agents, rejecting and transforming colonial ideologies that did not meet their needs (Adams 2006). This was because they also identified some constraints imposed by the colonial structures. In several instances, women recognized new opportunities in the new colonial arena. Avenues were created for them to expand their horizons and opportunities through socializing them into gender norms, social organizations, and acquisition of new knowledge and skills. In the Belgian Congo, the foyers sociaux (social homes) created by missionaries, social services agencies, and colonial women’s association, with the support of the Belgian colonial officials, became a tool for refashioning gender roles and instilling a Western ideology into African urban life: “Within the

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foyers sociaux women participated in classes on sewing, cooking, housekeeping, and maternal hygiene. They also took part in home visits, decorating contests, graduation ceremonies, and other public rituals. . .” (Adams 2006). Some of the practices and skills gained enabled some African women to enter new spheres of work and service during and after colonial rule. In Mozambique, a similar outlook occurred. Mission schools were established, and these were attended by girls “who later found success as workers and professionals” (Sheldon 1998). Germany colonized Cameroon in 1884. In 1922 the British Southern Cameroons came under British rule as a League of Nations mandate territory. It remained so until 1961. There, the British strove to instil Western gender norms in African women. Colonial women established the Women’s Corona Society. It was “an association of women of all races connected in some way – either directly or indirectly – with Britain’s overseas service.” The Women’s Corona Society established clubs all over Britain’s colonial territories. Members of this society engaged in philanthropic and social welfare work. Two branches of the society existed in Cameroon, one in Victoria and the other one in Buea. These were linked to the headquarters in London and branches in Nigeria. The focus of the society in Cameroon was for “service and friendship between members and from members to the community as a whole” (Adams 2006). In Nigeria, the Women’s Corona Society existed as an essential organization where women undertook voluntary work. By 1953, the society had a school, a nursery, and regular activities in Lagos (Callaway 1987). Nevertheless, there was also an insidious development in which women became a tool in the colonial policy on taxation. In colonial Nigeria, when the tax system was created, women were not directly taxed. However, according to Byfield, “Typically, women did not pay an income tax or poll tax. In many instances, the colonial state used women as a measure of men’s wealth, for the number of wives had determined his tax rate. However, when colonial officials imposed taxes in Abeokuta in 1918, they taxed women independently of men because officials perceived Egba women as wealthy traders” (Byfield 2016). Nevertheless, African women began to adapt the new culture of the British to their needs through the instrumentalities of education, religion, and social ethos. It was the triumph of cultural imperialism. Thus, while several African women became known for their daily struggles to preserve indigenous values or throwing off the yoke of imperialism, many others also began to define the creeping elitism foisted on society by colonialism. Western values and ideas began to determine and define many aspects of society. As more areas became controlled by the colonial officials, it became apparent that changes to existence were imperative. One of the people granted scholarships for training in the United Kingdom in 1945 was Alison Izzet who was appointed the first female welfare officer in Lagos in 1946. Her inclusion in the administration of Lagos signalled the beginning of a commitment to addressing welfare issues concerning girls, most notably in the areas of venereal diseases, juvenile prostitution, and the girl-hawker phenomenon (Adesina 2018). Women traders who took advantage of the early trade by Europeans were plentiful. The cocoa region of the forest zone of West Africa became significant in this respect. The women in the region were willing and able to supply innovations to

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participate in the trade to make money. The same could be said of women’s participation in the food and cash crops economy. Women became central to the sustainability of the agricultural economy as essential components of the thriving rural communities and the supply chains. They invested time and money in the cocoa industry where they were pan-loaders moving from community to community buying and head-loading cocoa beans in pans for sale to the middlemen. They contributed immensely to the successes recorded in that sector. In the domestic, commercial sector, African women also became hugely successful entrepreneurs. One of these was Felicia Ifeoma Ekejiuba (known in history books as Omu Okwei) of Osomari near Onitsha in Nigeria who may stand as an example of how African women in the age of colonialism developed the capacity to innovate and contribute to the growth of the economy in modern Africa. Okwei distinguished herself in the trade and politics of the Onitsha area in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries (Awe 1992). Her successes were brought about partly by the presence of European traders and companies and partly by the diversification of the consumption in the period. She invested in enterprises that retailed goods such as fruits, vegetables, yams, and poultry and later expanded her merchandise to include pans, lamps, pots, and clothes. Omu Okwei was a trader who was popular with Africans and Europeans. She travelled with her wares along the River Niger where she exchanged manufactured goods for foodstuffs from Nigerians and sold them to Europeans at a profit.

African Women and Anti-Colonial Struggles: The Nationalist Phase Nationalist women leaders in diverse social formations were crucial to the decolonization process in Africa. They surfaced in politics, economics, and protests. The reproduction of privileges, social dominance, and lack of opportunities bred its grievances among women in Africa. The voicelessness of the oppressed bred avenues for voicing their anger or opinions. Groups began to develop what has been regarded as discursive arenas that developed in parallel to the official public spheres and, according to Nancy Fraser, were “formed in response to the dominant publics and that their existence better promotes the ideal of participatory parity” (cited in Kampourakis 2016). Thus, some women as subordinated social groups began to invent and disseminate counter-discourses based on their interest and identities. This led to the creation of groups beyond the purview of officialdom. Thus, after colonial rule also put in place policies, doctrines, values and ideas that began to change the social orientation and consumption patterns, and status of women in Africa, the search for women’s rights began to underpin women status and identity. In Abeokuta, Nigeria, Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti created the Abeokuta Women’s Union (AWU). In 1947, she became the central figure in the tax revolt as a fallout of the gendered dimensions of colonial policy. In South Africa, where Dutch and later, British colonization had put African polities under white settler control, women became actively involved in anti-colonial struggles. The participation of African women in anti-colonial struggles after the

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creation of the Union of South Africa under Afrikaner rule in 1910 became more frenetic. Thus, in the aftermath of growing Afrikaner nationalism, women were encouraged to organize at subaltern levels. They began to challenge the white settler administration through agitations and strikes. These bodies included the Native and Coloured Women’s Association created in 1912 and the Bantu Women’s League (BWL) formed in 1913. The BWL survived until the early 1930s as a branch of the African National Congress (ANC) (SA History Online 2011). However, the continued exploitation and oppression of Africans further encouraged women in raising basic issues and organizing themselves against white oppression at several levels. This desire spread into church groups and trade unions. Women started in the 1920s to organize strikes in the laundary, clothing, mattress, furniture, and baking industries. With the ascension to power of the National Party in 1948 and the institution of apartheid policy, women’s agitations became more pronounced. Other women groups beyond the labor sector began to participate in politics at distinctive levels. They became a potent force in propelling agitations against the system. When apartheid became a strong force in the subordination of women, many African women located in the reserves and virtually restricted to the home had found existence there nasty and tough. Harsh and discriminatory restrictions had been placed on their paths by official policies and doctrines. Their men had moved away into the mines and urban jobs for extended periods, and many of the women did not have the much sought-after emotional and economic security. In their attempts to keep the family together, they began to seek movement into locations near the towns. Not only that, women were merely expected to help feed the family to undertake domestic and agricultural works. Even when the nationalist African National Congress (ANC) was set up in 1912, women were not accepted as members. Their acceptance into the body only occurred in 1943 when it was realized that there was a need to unite politically against white oppression. However, from 1913, women began demonstrating against the pass law that required them to carry passes with them. The 1913 demonstration at Bloemfontein became the earliest phase of women’s resistance to colonialism. This was repeated in 1930 at Potchefstroom and in Johannesburg from 1954 to 1956 (SA History Online 2011). African women’s struggle for freedom from oppression, for community rights and gender equality, became the markers of anti-colonial struggles in that country. In the mid-1940s with the increase in rural-urban migrations into Alexandria Township, the need for urban housing also grew. The government, however, prevented the people from gaining permanent residency in the cities. People then began to create squatter settlements on the outskirts of the city. The government reacted negatively to this by clamping down on the settlements and by forcefully removing the settlers. The women reacted to this move by creating the Alexandria Women’s Council (AWC). This organization demonstrated against the government’s Native Affairs Commission that tried to embark on the removal of squatters from the Alexandria Township. Similar issues were fought in the Western Cape by the Women of Crossroads squatter camp who then established the Women Crossroads Movement. In both cases, women resisted the attempts to remove them because it affected their livelihoods, such as their beer brewing and selling shebeens.

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Other organizations began to surface in defence of women’s rights in South Africa. Some of these started as prayer groups that met every Thursday. These gradually also began to take care of microfinance and economic support. The women who did not belong to any political organizations congregated around such bodies. However, in the 1950s, a more politically active organization was started by two women. This was the Zenzele club formed by Josie Palmer (Mpama) and Madie Hall Xuma. Although it was initially formed as a club to attend to survivalist issues, it began to rally women for more political issues. Many women began to participate in further agitations through their activisms, speeches, and writings.

Radical Womanhood: Women and Armed Resistance to Colonial Rule in Africa Women’s participation in liberation struggles and wars of independence had a significant impact in shaping African women’s role and identities as nationalists and patriots. Women were often in the middle of combat. In this position, they paid a high price for helping their countries in achieving independent statehood. In many cases and in respect of the revolution, female guerillas were expected to perform heroic acts and exhibit sacrifice, loyalty – just like their male counerparts. Women’s participation in revolutionary combats had taken place in South Africa, Algeria, Zimbabwe, Angola, Mozambique, and Guinea Bissau. The historical analysis of how women risked their lives projected an image of chivalry. It helped to show women as symbols of higher ideals of freedom through their social and political roles in defeating colonial rule on the continent. These wars stretched from the northern to the southern and from the western to eastern parts of Africa. Students of Frantz Fanon and Amilcar Cabral have remained fascinated by the history of liberation struggles in Africa. Thus, the history of armed resistance to colonial rule in Africa will remain incomplete without a critical analysis of the massive participation of women in armed liberation struggles in different parts of Africa to free the continent from the yoke of imperial rule. In 1948, the ANC Women’s League was formed, and Albertina Sisulu assumed leadership roles in the league. This was in place until the ANC itself was banned on April 8, 1960. After that, it went ahead to form the uMkhonto we Sizwe (Spear of the Nation) to fight against the apartheid state using sabotage and guerilla warfare and then sought refuge overseas. In the late 1960s, a separate women’s section was created as part of the external mission. The women’s section became responsible for organizing South African women “in the liberation struggle and organizing international support for this struggle, especially among women” (Ginwala 1986). In South Africa, the background for direct women involvement in nationalist struggles was prepared by events of the 1950s. In 1954, the apartheid system was instituted, and this made that period turbulent in South Africa as the system became extremely repressive. Mass actions by blacks began to ravage the country as the black population began to agitate for their rights. The declaration by the South African government that Black women would be required to carry the official

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documents known as passes had angered the women. Thus, on the August 9, 1956, more than 20,000 women took active part in the march on the Union Buildings in Pretoria, the country’s capital. The Federation of South African Women organized the protest. This was to present a petition to the Prime Minister J.G. Strijdom in their desire to repudiate the passes – the identity documents required by blacks for easy identification by apartheid security officials. The women at the forefront of the protest were Helen Joseph, an anti-apartheid activist born in England; Albertina Sisulu, an anti-apartheid activist from the Transkei Region; Rahima Moosa, a factory worker and activist; Lillian Ngoyi, a trained nurse; Helen Suzman, a parliamentarian and human rights activist; Ruth First, an academic and activist; Charlotte Maxeke; Sophie Williams-De Bruyn; Florence Matomela; and Bertha Gxowa (Mashaba) (Matsego 2018). Magadla (2015) identified three categories of female combatants in the South African guerilla movements to underscore the diverse ways in which women partook in combat. These were “the guerilla girls, combative mothers and the inbetweeners. . . in this regard, different periods of struggle, physical location, as well as age” determined their levels and methods of activism. The struggle for independence that led to South African independence in 1994 recognized the roles of several women and girls in the fight for independence. While many cadres were unknown and unsung, several others died or lived as heroes. Winnie Mandela would later become the icon of the women’s struggle against oppression. The involvement of women cadres in the Zimbabwean war of independence was also remarkable. Nationalist political parties came into existence in the 1960s. They included the National Democratic Party (NDP), the Zimbabwe African People’s Union (ZAPU) 1962, and the Zimbabwe African National Union (ZANU) in 1963. In 1960, the NDP women organized a demonstration against the Rhodesian government. The action by the women seemed to move the nationalist struggle to a more militant phase. The government had ruled that only 15 of the 65 parliamentary seats be allocated to Africans. The government promptly banned the NDP (Chogugudza 1997). In the 1960s and 1970s, Zimbabwean girls flocked to the liberation armies to fight side by side with men (see Chogugudza). Women’s active participation helped in sustaining the revolutionary struggles and war of liberation against colonialism. They worked side by side with men to prosecute the guerilla warfare. The women involved were considered extremely resourceful and energetic. Despite the participation of women in guerilla activities, such women were not free from inequity (Nhongo-Simbanegavi 2000). In North Africa, the Algerian war of independence provided women a great opportunity to participate actively in throwing off the yoke of nearly 130 years of colonial rule and also helped in recreating the boundaries between the frontlines and the domestic front. After the colonization of Algeria in 1830, French settlers took over Algeria’s land, government, and culture. Algerians commenced their armed struggle for independence in 1954 (Leonhardt 2013). The war has been described as a “moment in which gendered, religious, and ethnic identities were challenged” (Vince 2010). The role of Mujahidat (women fighters) in Algeria’s anti-colonial armed struggle has been well-documented (Ali 2016). In fact, by the time the war

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had escalated in the late 1950s, the French Army and government had become alarmed at reports of female involvement in the activities of Algeria’s National Liberation Front (FLN). “While the FLN recruited a small number of women as fighters, they encouraged women to support their struggle through what they called “patriotic motherhood”: being good wives and mothers who could teach their sons to value religion and “preserve traditional moral standards” as a way of molding the next generation of Algerians” (Leonhardt 2013). Veiled women were also able to smuggle weapons and bombs to guerilla fighters during the liberation struggle. More importantly, stories depicting women fighters and the sacrifices helped in changing the image of the Algerian war from the activities of religious fanatics to a romanticized version of the anti-colonial struggles. That brought sympathy and support for the FLN. Also, in the case of Angola, the liberation movements harbored women cadres who played military and nonmilitary roles. Three major nationalist groups played significant roles in this regard. These were the Popular Movement for the Liberation of Angola (MPLA), the National Front for the Liberation of Angola (FNLA), and UNITA. All the movements had women’s wing attached to their leaderships. The Organization of Angolan Women (OMA), the women’s wing of MPLA, was one of such organizations. The war began as early as 1961 when the MPLA launched its attack against the Portuguese colonial forces. The war did not end until 1975 when the country attained independence. Women took active parts in the nationalist war. They actively “participated in the food production for the guerilla army, organized literacy campaigns and basic health care, and carried arms and food over long distance” (Akesson 1992). They were also involved as fighters, nurses, political educators, and as backups for the guerilla forces. In addition, they became well-known for mobilizing international humanitarian aid for the people in the liberated areas, especially the women and children (Ducados 2000). In Namibia, the resistance of the people against apartheid South Africa that had taken control of the country and the refusal of that country to accept the international decisions to grant independence to Namibia turned the country into a military operational area. This inspired the people to start an armed struggle. Thus, by the early 1960s, women in the country were living under conditions of war. For instance, areas of Ovamboland were placed under curfew, and anyone found outside was automatically shot. This caused severe inconveniences for pregnant women. The high-handedness of the South Africans led to the establishment of two national liberation organizations, the Southwest African National Union in 1959 and the Southwest African Peoples Organization (SWAPO) in 1960. This was the turning point in the national liberation struggle in the country (Soiri 1996). Although both organizations were started outside the Namibian territory, they nevertheless had a great following among the people. Most of the supporters initially were men. Namibian women had become involved in anti-colonial agitations and confrontations since 1959 after they organized a protest march against the colonial regime for harassment of the local beer brewers. The protest march took place in September 1959. Another protest march took place on December 8, 1959. A more difficult protest took place on December 10, 1959, when the protest ended with fatal

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consequences. It was obvious that the regime was prepared to use brutal violence, even against women. However, women’s contributions to the initial guerilla activities were limited to providing safety for men who were wanted by the police. In 1962, SWAPO, with the assistance of some independent African governments, began military training for its cadres. SWAPO activists began to leave the country due to the harassment of its leaders. Among those who crossed the borders into exile, according to Soiri, were three women (whose names were not mentioned), one of whom received military training alongside men at a SWAPO military training camp in Tanzania. SWAPO launched an armed struggle in 1966, and despite its harassment by the state, it managed to mobilize support for its activities (Soiri 1996).

Conclusion The countdown to independence in many countries in Africa was accompanied by a tremendous sense of optimism and hope. African women had, in several instances, concluded that their existence could not continue to be defined by extraneous ideologies and influences. They, therefore, played a significant role in the selfassertion that contributed to the search for African identity after years of colonial rule. Although African women were active players in the search for statehood, there is no gainsaying that the structures for the marginalization of the African woman that was established under colonialism continued to create avenues for their subordination and subjugation on the eve of independence in their different countries.

Cross-References ▶ African Women’s Movements and the African Union ▶ Colonialism and Gender in Africa: A Critical History ▶ Women and Colonialism Across Africa ▶ Women, Colonial Resistance, and Decolonization: Challenging African Histories ▶ Women in Political Parties in Africa ▶ Women’s Roles and Positions in African Wars

References Adams, M. (2006). Colonial policies and women’s participation in public life: The case of British Southern Cameroons. African Studies Quarterly, Spring, 8(3), 1–22. Adesina, O. A. (2018). The ‘girl-hawking war’ in colonial Lagos. In M. O’Dowd & J. Purvis (Eds.), A history of the girl: Formation, education, and identity. Cham: Palgrave Macmillan. Akesson, L. (1992). ‘Angola country gender analysis’, prepared for the Swedish International Development Authority (SIDA), Luanda, Angola, as cited by Ducados, H. (2000). Agenda: Empowering women for gender fquity, No. 43, women and the aftermath. Ali, N. (2016). Feminisms: North Africa. In N. Naples et al. (Eds.), The Wiley-Blackwell encyclopedia of gender and sexualities studies. Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell Press.

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Allman, J., et al. (2002). Women in African colonial histories. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Awe, B. (Ed.). (1992). The Nigerian woman in historical perspective. Lagos/Ibadan: Sankore Publishers and Bookcraft. Bouilly, E., Rillon, O., & Cross, H. (2016). African women’s struggles in a gender perspective. Review of African Political Economy, 43(149), 338–349. Byfield, J. A. (2016). In her own words: Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti and the auto/biography of an archive. Palimpsest: A Journal on Women, Gender, and the Black International, 5(2), 107–127. Callaway, H. (1987). Gender, culture and empire: European women in colonial Nigeria. Urbana/ Chicago: University of Illinois Press. Chogugudza, P. (1997). Gender and war: Zimbabwean women and the liberation struggle. https://www.brunel.ac.uk/creative-writing/research/entertext/documents/entertext062/ET62 ChogugudzaED.pdf Coquery-Vidrovitch, C. (1997). African women: A modern history. Boulder: Westview of Harper Collins. Denzer, L. (1994). Yoruba women: A historiographical study. The International Journal of African Historical Studies, 27(1), 1–39. Ducados, H. (2000). Agenda: Empowering women for gender equity. Women and the Aftermath, 43, 11–22. Erim, O. P., & Imbua, D. L. (2012). ‘Women in the cross-river area of Nigeria 1900–1950’: KamlaRaj. Journal of Social Sciences, 30(2), 171–181. Falola, T. (2003). The power of African cultures. New York: University of Rochester Press. Falola, T., & Paddock, A. (2011). The women’s war of 1929: A history of anti-colonial resistance in eastern Nigeria. Durham: Carolina Academic Press. Gilbert, E., & Reynolds, J. T. (2004). Africa in world history: From prehistory to the present. New Jersey: Pearson Prentice Hall. Ginwala, F. (1986). ANC women: Their strength in the struggle. Work in progress number 45. IIiffe, J. (1967). The organization of the Maji Maji rebellion. The Journal of African History, 3(3), 495–512. Jabbar-Gyambar, T. (2009). Gender and culture: The shaping of British colonial educational policy in West Africa. In Z. Williams (Ed.), Africana cultures and policy studies: Scholarship and the transformation of public policy. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Kampourakis, J. (2016). Nancy Fraser: Subaltern counterpublics. http://criticallegalthinking.com/ 2016/11/06/nancy-fraser-subaltern-counterpublics/ Kaoma, K. J. (2016). African religion and colonial rebellion: The contestation of power on colonial Zimbabwe’s Chimurenga of 1896–1897. Journal for the Study of Religion, 29(1), 57–84. Laumann, D. (2013). African world histories: Colonial Africa, 1884–1994. Oxford/New York: Oxford University Press. Leonhardt, A. (2013). Between two jailers: Women’s experience during colonialism, war, and independence in Algeria. Anthos, 5(1), Article 5. https://www.pdx.edu/honors/sites/www.pdx. edu.honors/files/6.%20Leonhardt%20Essay.pdf Lihamba, A., et al. (2007). Women writing Africa volume 3: The eastern region. New York: Feminist Press. M’Bow, A. (1985). Preface. In A. A. Boahen (Ed.), General history of Africa VII: Africa under colonial domination 1880–1935. Paris/London: United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization/Heinemann Educational Books Limited. Maclean, U. (1984). Nigeria 1956–65: A medical memoir. African Affairs, 83(333), 543–566. Magadla, S. (2015). Women combatants and the liberation movements in South Africa. African Security Review, 24(4), 390–402. Martin, S. (1988). ‘Gender, culture and empire: European women in colonial Nigeria’ – A book review of Helen Callaway’s Gender, culture, and Empire: European women in colonial Nigeria in African Affairs. 87(348), 467. Matsego, L. (2018). Remembering South Africa’s struggle heroines on women’s day. Wednesday, 8 August. SANGONeT. http://www.ngopulse.org/article/2018/08/08%E2%80%Brememberingsouth-africa’s-struggle-heroines-women’s-day

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Writing Nigerian Women’s Political History

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Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Political History of Nigerian Women . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Gaps and Recommendations for Further Studies on Nigerian Women . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

The woman as an entity has garnered a lot of sociopolitical, cultural, economic, and literary discourses. This study aims at evaluating research and scholarly opinions on the existence and status of the Nigerian woman, past and present. It will interrogate Nigerian women’s inclusion in precolonial, colonial, and current political affairs in the country, while exploring the various responses and agitations instigated and championed by women in relation to policies that affect women favorably and otherwise. This will illuminate women’s political history as well as their relationship with traditional Nigerian men and colonialists. The work further argues that a greater number of the scholars appraised believe that women enjoyed more autonomy and authority during precolonial times, and that surprisingly, colonialism diversified and expanded women’s economic ventures in Nigeria culminating in the start of women’s financial independence in some regions. Further studies also reveal that Nigerian women engaged in physical protests and movements like the Women’s War of 1929 and the Egba tax revolt, both responses to political and economic policies that were not in the women’s best interests.

T. Falola (*) Department of History, University of Texas at Austin, Austin, TX, USA e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_168

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Keywords

Women · Nigeria · Politics · Policy · Colonialism · Movements

Introduction The delicate position of the woman in society has initiated many discourses on the topic across the globe. Having been marginalized and idealized, the woman is herself an entity with a history and narrative that best describes her unique experiences. From the inception of society, these peculiar experiences and her reactions to them have over the years been documented and recreated orally and in print, supplying a body of works that address the woman and the intricacies of her existence. Therefore, defining the woman will clarify the qualities that set her apart as a subject of discourse and provide an insight on society’s perception of the woman. The Merriam Webster dictionary defines the woman as an adult female human being; following that thought, a female human being relatively differs from the male because she possesses the female genitalia as well as other feminine features. However, the state of being a woman in recent times has gone beyond the physical appearance to include psychological perceptions, hence the increasing rate of sex changes around the world. Gender is today regarded to be a social construct, a system that groups human beings into two separate groups where they are expected to conform to the behavioral patterns considered acceptable for their groups. At some point, as inferred by Simone Beauvoir, the definition of the woman was clear-cut and not burdened with the modern day ambiguities surrounding sex and gender (Beauvoir 2011). Therefore, for the purpose of this study and with reference to the Nigerian focus, the woman remains a natural female human with physical and reproductive indications that bear witness of her femaleness. To provide insight on her place and possibly her experiences in society, Simone Beauvoir acknowledges that some persons define the woman as just a womb (Beauvoir 2011). This definition alludes to the woman’s natural ability to bear children; it also reduces the woman to the utilitarian value of an incubator, excluding other women who have parted with their wombs. However, the ability to procreate is a definitive aspect of the woman’s biological makeup and has inspired so many cultural and social philosophies that try to make meaning of her journey. This gives credence to Catherine Acholonu’s theory of motherism, which finds impetus in the woman’s ability to procreate and nurture (Acholonu 1995). That notwithstanding, a woman cannot be defined by a part, but rather by a sum of all her parts. Also, for Aristotle as cited in Beauvoir, the woman is suffering from a “natural defectiveness” while Saint Thomas regards the woman as an “incomplete man an incidental being” (Acholonu 1995, p. 25). The man in this case is privileged over the woman, while her definition is dependent on him. These definitions are sentimental, exposing the nature of male and female coexistence as well as the perception of the woman by a certain part of human society during the time of Aristotle, Saint Thomas, and even Beauvoir.

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However, within the traditional African space, the woman as described by Florence Ebila is located within the context of a family (Ebila 2015). She is subject to the sociocultural realities of Africa, favorable or otherwise. The concept of womanhood in Nigeria is characterized by the relationship and social dynamics of the three major ethnicities of the country (Ogbole et al. 2017). However, irrespective of ethnicity or region, she is seen as a mother and a wife, leading her life with an expected moderation and silence in her relationship with men. She creates the idea of a nurturer, a life source, and a docile caretaker whose life ambition is to care for her husband’s and children’s interests, sometimes at the expense of hers. However, several research materials argue that the above picture of the African (Nigerian) woman is erroneous and a product of Africa’s contact with colonialism. Therefore, with reference to Nigeria and a thorough review of relevant literature, the controversies of the Nigerian woman’s image will be subsequently analyzed and reflected upon. As marginalized as the Nigerian woman is believed to be, there is a commendable amount of research conducted on her. Cited in Korieh and Nnaemeka, as far back as in 1868, J.A. Horton described the Yoruba woman as “very litigious. . .. Very good looking, nicely shaped and formed although marked.” Also cited is Rev. Johnson, who describes the twentieth century Igbo woman as “very industrious and hardworking . . .far superior to men in this and are said to have few more character in them than men” (Nnaemeka and Korieh 2010, p. 8). Lord Frederick Lugard, cited in Leith Ross (1939), further describes the Igbo woman as “ambitious, self reliant, hard working and independent. . . she claims full equality with the opposite sex and would seem indeed to be the dominant partner” (Leith-Ross 1939, p. 2). These are earlier observations from the contact with Nigerian women. The narrative of the woman changes with time, place, society’s experiences, and the resultant ideological evolution. What is today known as the Nigerian society has undergone several phases since its inception. The precolonial Nigerian woman tells a story; having experienced the incursion of colonialism, the colonial and postcolonial Nigerian woman also tell different stories. These stories form the basis of so many written research works and activisms that have arisen over the years, substantiating and supplementing the oral narratives of women’s realities in the country. Literature in the basic sense of the word has to do with a lot of written works: fictional, nonfictional, essays, articles, written historical materials, and the entirety of an existing written matter. Therefore, written material on the Nigerian woman provides a near accurate contextual report of events (present and past) as they happen (ed). The generation of data on women in Nigeria was earlier carried out by anthropologists in early 1914 and was used to facilitate colonial activities (Awe and Mba 1991). The creation of written materials about women at the time accelerated the process of colonialism by providing background information and data on the women, giving the colonizers a detailed report of the lifestyle and position of the woman as well as the behavioral patterns to be expected, which provided them the much-needed edge for dominance. With that in mind, literature and the process of documentation provide data on sociocultural issues in society which can equip and assist in the exertion of control and influence, as in the case of the colonial

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masters. However, in the later part of the 1960s to 1975, a number of academic materials on Nigerian women sprung up, contributing to data on the women’s survival, economy, demography, and a lot more, and generating information on women for indigenous purposes and inciting further research on women (Awe and Mba 1991). In academia, it provides a basis for postulations and theories, concretizing abstract thinking and providing a platform for ideological bantering and intellectual reflections. This study, therefore, aims at exploring and reflecting on the various scholarly opinions and reports on Nigerian women, past and present.

The Political History of Nigerian Women Numerous scholarly materials extensively explore the history of women in Nigerian politics. Judith Van Allen examines the political connotations of the southeastern practice of “sitting on a man” while also looking into the implications of women’s uprisings and solidarity (Van Allen 1972). These critical opinions and contributions will be interrogated and understood with the progression of this section. Nigeria as a country was not officially recognized as such until Lord Lugard’s amalgamation of the Northern and Southern protectorates in 1914 (Matera et al. 2012). In that case, the ethnicities that make up Nigeria were not officially part of Nigeria at the time. That notwithstanding, in the succeeding discourse and commencing from the precolonial era, opinions on women involvement in Nigerian politics will be explored. These different ethnicities will also be examined to identify scholarly positions on the status of the Nigerian woman in politics. Resistance made up a huge part of women’s participation in politics pre-independence. In this context, resistance refers to deliberate actions, passive and active, initiated by Nigerian women in opposition to several issues, political and otherwise, in the history of Nigerian society. Nancy Hunt delineates some of the tendencies for women’s rebellions to be based on a lingering gender conflict, an equation of male and colonial powers, economic as well as political demands (Hunt 1989). Van Allen’s (1972) account of the eastern Nigerian women’s practice of “sitting on a man” is an appropriate starting and reference point in exploring the resistance practices by Nigerian women. Van Allen appraises the participation of southeastern women in the political affairs of their group, as well as the disciplinary measures taken by these women to check external actions against their activities. She opines that the current underrepresentation of the Nigerian woman in political affairs, as well as the ongoing relegation of the woman in national affairs, is a product of Nigeria’s contact with colonialism. Increasing studies on Nigerian women champions the idea of the woman’s autonomy during precolonial times (Van Allen 1972). In her work, she writes about the “diffuse nature of political power” in eastern Nigeria; in other words, the non-concentrated political practices at the time did not produce specific political offices for women, but rather women affected the political affairs of their communities as an autonomous group. These women’s groups such as the Umuada were recognized and respected, while their opinions were valued in the council

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of the elders which often were constituted of men. They were inclusive in this diffuse government that placed a premium on achievement, irrespective of gender (Afigbo 2010). To corroborate Van Allen’s assertion, Odionye and Ofoego (2016) equally express that although there were no specific women political leaders among the precolonial Igbo community, women exercised political authority through their groups and affected decision-making through the use of “strikes, boycotts and force” (p. 212). Van Allen (1972) accuses the Victorian values and experiences of the colonizers as a factor that prevented them from understanding the traditional woman’s role in the politics of her society, leading to the religious and political enforcements that have kept the contemporary Nigerian woman in her present position of fighting for emancipation and representation. In much clearer terms, she states the following: The experience of Igbo women under British colonialism shows that Western influence can sometimes weaken or destroy women’s traditional autonomy and power without providing modern forms of autonomy or power in exchange. Igbo women had a significant role in traditional political life. As individuals, they participated in village meetings with men. . .Socialized in Victorian England, they (colonizers) had internalized a set of values and attitudes about what they considered to be the natural and proper role of women that supported this belief. (Van Allen 1972, p. 165)

However, the practice of “sitting on a man” is a remarkable aspect of women’s assertion of authority in eastern Nigeria; little wonder, it has garnered many opinions from scholars across the globe. The act of sitting on a man as described by Van Allen usually involved the assemblage of a group of women, which cements the earlier suggestion that the women’s authority emanated from the strength of their groups. These women usually gathered together, singing songs that bore witness of their aggression, with mortars and pestles that are used in hassling the man into understanding these grievances and giving in to their demands. It must have been a very unpleasant experience for the men in question, but the women were usually within their legitimate rights to do so, providing proof of the Igbo woman’s precolonial jurisdiction. For Matera et al. (2012), the practice of “sitting on a man” went through a process of transformation during the colonial period into a movement known as “Ohandum,” which to him means “the big council of wives.” For him, the movement was more inclusive of other parts of Nigeria. It included the women from the southern part of Nigeria who spoke languages such as Efik, Ijo, Annang, Ogoni, and Ibibio. This movement and its membership helped the women to extend their efforts past the boundaries of their locale. However, with the current situation of things and the dominant patriarchal system in Nigeria, it is hard to believe that it was ever within the jurisdiction of women to exert over their personal affairs the extent of authority that Van Allen captures. IfekaMoller (1973) contradicts this connotation of women’s autonomy and expansive authority by interrogating Van Allen’s idea in a bid to prove that the Igbo woman was not privy to the level of authority that Van Allen portrays. In Ifeka-Moller’s response, she cites Meek, who states that, “It is not an Igbo custom . . . to confer authority in public matters on women” (Meek, as cited in Ifeka-Moller 1973, p. 317).

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This she uses to validate her opinion that women were not active members of the precolonial political system. In her own essay, she refers to the practice of “sitting on a man” as a sexual method of protesting the nonexistence of female power. However, Gloria Chuku takes a diplomatic approach that includes both Van Allen’s and IfekaMoller’s opinions by observing that “Pre-twentieth century Igbo society, though predominantly patrilineal, had matrilineal and dual-descent subgroups as in Ohafia and Afikpo” (Chuku 2015). She goes ahead to suggest that gender was not the sole determinant of political positions and recognition at the time but rather personal achievements which were not gender-specific. Nina Mba also corroborates Chuku’s opinion by expressing that though women did not enjoy as much political presence as the men, they were actively involved in the political systems of the time (Mba 1982). However, with respect to Van Allen, Ifeka-Moller, and Matera, there is one constant in their various opinions, which is an acknowledgement of the womancentered practice of “sitting on a man” among the people of southeastern Nigeria. Irrespective of their differing opinions, the common enemies of these women were usually the men. This practice is indicative of a solidarity and unity among the women, contradicting the popular opinions of a natural internal struggle. The narratives show the spirit of unity between the women in the country which, however, fuels the ideology of sisterhood on which most African feminist theories are laid. Even if the authorities of the women at the time were exaggerated, Van Allen, Matera, and even Ifeka-Moller recognize the practice of “sitting on a man.” Therefore, it is proof of the presence of women’s authority birthed from an alliance among the women. In the southwestern part of Nigeria, Afigbo opines that the women were also actively involved in the society’s political institutions (Afigbo 2010). Denzer strengthens this opinion by asserting that women occupied significant positions in the political scene; they founded kingdoms, held regal offices, and participated in the making and unmaking of a king (Denzer 1994). Sandy Onor also gives credence to these opinions by admitting that women performed in various capacities in the administration and politics of the Yoruba people (Onor 2017). In the Oyo kingdom, Adediran and Ogen (2010) believed, the women were “inextricably linked with state politics” (p. 147). They identify a special group of women, relegated to the palace, who constituted a strong force in the affairs of the kingdom. According to archaeological reports by John Clarke, cited in Adediran and Ogen, women occupied a very large section of the palace, while some reports state that the women involved in palace affairs outnumbered the men. As described by Afigbo (2010), in the king’s palace, there was provisional authority for the women known as the “ladies of the palace or the king’s wives” (p. 7). These women included an official mother of the king, known as the Iya Oba, who played the role of the king’s mother. There was the Iyakere, whose duty was to protect the king’s valuables and treasures. There was also the Are Orite and the Iya Mode, whose respective responsibilities were to cook the king’s meals and offer spiritual guidance. The latter is said to have been so venerated that the king would kneel in respect to her, Afigbo describes her as the only mortal the king accorded

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such an honor. The responsibilities as well as the position of women in the politics of the Yoruba people cannot be understated. The entirety of Adediran and Ogen’s (2010) paper deal with the various capacities in which women served politically; it extensively indulges the importance of every role and the political responsibilities of these women. It explores the kingdoms of Oyo, Idaisa, Ondo, and Ikale, delineating the women’s roles and political offices at the time. Several scholars like Nina Mba, Biodun Adediran, Olukoya Ogen, Bolanle Awe, and Adiele Afigbo infer that Yoruba women’s participation in politics was not given to them as compensation but was earned, as well as the respect and honor accorded to them. They also suggest that the entirety of the woman’s role in the economy, religion, and motherhood conferred on her the political authority that she enjoyed. However, as much as these scholars recognize the invaluable positions of Yoruba women in the precolonial political systems of their time, they also admit that the Yoruba society was majorly patrilineal and therefore, the men still controlled a larger portion of the state politics. In a much more diplomatic approach to the topic, these scholars believe that the men’s and women’s roles were rather complementary (Awe 1992). This, however, espouses the African claims of complementarity in gender relations in Africa. Women in the precolonial northern part of Nigeria are also said to have played significant political roles. Politics in that region was not considered only for men but rather a level ground where both sexes were opportuned to play very useful roles in the region’s government. According to Ingyoroko et al. (2017): Historical records show active involvement of women with political title designations as Magajiya (queen) Iya (queen mother), with as much power as the male ruling counterparts. Notable female historical names in Hausa land included Bazoa Turrunku, Daurama of Daura and queen Amina of Zazzua, a renowned political and military leader who expanded her territory. (p. 3)

According to Afigbo (2010), the exploits of Daurama of Daura are rather legendary, with possibilities of embellishments. That notwithstanding, the presence of such a female authority, even if it is within the legends of the time, shows that there is nothing anti-feminist of the precolonial Hausa culture. He goes ahead to write about the political and war exploits of Queen Amina of Zaria, which suggests a key presence of women in politics and how being female did not deter a woman’s political ambitions and social mobility among the Hausa people. However, it is important to note that this assertion strongly applies to times before the introduction of Islam through the Jihad of 1804, which brought about the practice of purdah that has more or less silenced the northern Muslim woman in Nigeria (Ekpenyong et al. 2015). Examining the political participation of the precolonial northern and southern woman covers, though not completely, the major regions of Nigerian geography. The multiplicity of languages, diversity of culture, and ethnicities in Nigeria makes it difficult to truly present an accurate report of the political participation of women in precolonial Nigeria. For Nnaemeka and Korieh (2010), this choking diversity problematizes any attempt at generalizing the findings.

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However, the general perception from the exploration of these regions is that the African woman exhibited to a large extent, an autonomy and active participation in the affairs of her environment. This contradicts the conception of marginalization, or the image of predominantly domestic women. In a study conducted by Gloria Chuku (2015), she explores two “opposing paradigms” in the study of women in precolonial politics. The first has to do with a school of thought with the firm belief that women were adequately involved in politics before the advent of colonialism while the other focuses on women subordination and marginalization. To the former, Chuku views it as a romanticization of the precolonial Africa where there is presumably an active participation of women in the affairs of their societies. Afigbo (1966) supports this notion by stating that “nostalgic views of the past such as this one tend to lead to romanticism in and falsification of history” (p. 539). For the second, Chuku presupposes that their opinion stems from the conception that the underrepresentation of women in political institutions in Nigeria is as a result of the preexisting patriarchal and cultural practices that tend to subdue the woman’s free expression, and which have been embedded in the African value system even before colonialism (Chuku 2015). In Chuku’s personal opinion, these perceptions of women’s involvement in politics are not entirely wrong or right. In other words, one school of thought does not enjoy a complete monopoly of the situation, but rather “the answer, lies somewhere between them, irrespective of the particular society one focuses on” (p. 82). Therefore, the political systems were inclusive of both men and women, except for scholars like Ekpenyong et al. (2015) who believe that the men still controlled a greater percentage of the political offices and women have never enjoyed parity with the men. To a large extent, findings reveal possible complementarity between men and women. However, Nnaemeka and Korieh (2010) believe that the writings about women started within the colonial period, while the precolonial women narratives were documented from oral accounts and archeological reports. Therefore, just like any other historical account, the accounts of the precolonial Nigerian woman might not be without embellishments. Colonialism, as recognized by Afigbo (2010), carved out novel political situations in Nigeria and elicited several responses and adjustments from the women in society. These women in his account successfully responded to the various challenges posed by the political system at the time. In Yusuf and Yusufu’s (2014) opinion, the period of colonialism was a period of inactivity for the Nigerian woman. Olatunde (2010) corroborates this assumption by stating that the “colonial period was the most uneventful period in the areas of women’s participation and representation in politics” (p. 23). Moreover, Ingyoroko et al. (2017) espouse the idea that the commencement of colonialism in the early parts of the 1900s brought about a major setback in women’s involvement in politics, robbing women of the rights and privileges they enjoyed before colonialism. Several scholars believe that women’s participation in government dwindled at the time. Olatunde champions the notion that colonialism was biased against women; in his reports, women were denied political privileges. Therefore, with no power, they made no contributions to the political system until the 1950s (Olatunde 2010). According to Mba’s (1982)

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account, “women were considered unsuitable for the rigor of public life; hence they were not allowed to vote, to contest elections, to sit in parliament or to be employed in the civil service” (p. 39). Between these scholars, there is therefore an unvarying ideology that Nigerian women in colonial times were excluded from political activities. This period witnessed a lot of agitation and restiveness among women which were direct responses to the colonial attempts at alienating and silencing them. At the same time, it validates Afigbo’s claims of women’s response to the colonial government. However, the question of how successful these responses were will be answered gradually. In reaction to the conceptions of the scholars earlier discussed and the incursion of colonialism with its divergent ideologies, one can agree with the idea of the colonizer alienating the Nigerian woman from the political system. It is also not difficult to recognize the systemic infusion of a value system of male centrality, while trivializing the natural involvement of the African woman in politics. The colonial administration in Nigeria employed the use of indirect rule which, as described by Matera et al. (2012), implied the use of local rulers, a system regarded by the British as a form of pacification for the Nigerian people. This was a system that was clearly male dominated, excluding the input and participation of women. Matera et al. (2012) put it succinctly when they state that: As colonial officials saw it, the process of pacification of the “Nigerian” people had now been concluded. What these British administrators failed to perceive—partially because women. . . had not entered their field of vision as actors requiring their notice—was that the policies and practices they had imposed on the colony significantly disrupted and threatened the worldviews and quotidian lives of Igbo and other southeastern women, a significant proportion of the “pacified” population who regarded themselves as responsible for ensuring the wellbeing and continuity not only of their families but of human existence itself. (p. 32)

The above excerpt provides insight and context to the cause of the southeastern women’s war of 1929; in other words, the disruption of the worldviews of the southeastern women was instrumental to the war. With reference to the womencentered altercation of 1929, Ahuruonye’s paper tries to interrogate the use of “war” to describe the event of 1929; it also tries to expose the role the women from Ibibio, Andoni, Ogoni, and Opobo played in the situation, while asserting that the altercation was not an all-Igbo-women’s affair. However, Ahuruonye’s critical exposition informs this study’s use of the southeastern women’s war instead of the Aba Women’s riot (Ahuruonye 1998). Van Allen views the war as a stretch on the practice of “sitting on a man.” In other words, a natural reaction to the alienation of women and the eventual extortion of the warrant chief, who were no doubt predominantly men (Van Allen 1972). Ifeka-Moller contradicts this conception by exhaustively painting a picture of an unhinged group of women who were not triggered by immediate factors, some of which Umoren identifies as fear of taxation or anger towards the abuse of power by the warrant chiefs (Umoren 1995). Rather, IfekaMoller believes that women’s agitations were the result of a long-term issue. For her, they had long become deviants to the ethos of the male-dominated political systems,

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and for Matera et al. (2012), “they were trying to set their world aright by shifting the balance of all men’s relations to women” (p. 236). Umoren (1995) believes that the women’s war of 1929 shook the foundations of colonial rule, attracting major research on southeastern women, in an attempt to avoid the repeat of such a scenario. Matera et al. and Umoren give a full account of the cause and activities of the women’s war which involved a full-blown demonstration with actions that Matera et al. (2012) consider symbolic indigenous religious practices. Also, they believe the war to be the women’s direct reaction to the gradual changes taking place in the political and social systems of their community. This perception of the cause of the women’s war might not fully align with Ifeka-Moller’s anti-male conception, but it clearly believes that the women’s restiveness was a result of a built-up resentment towards the British political methods. However, in the context of the 1929 women’s war, irrespective of whatever reasons are proffered by critics and scholars, it does not eliminate the idea that women of the southeastern part of Nigeria seemed to resort to a vocal as well as physical reaction against unfavorable societal issues and practices. It paints the picture of strong independent women, against an earlier picture of docile subservient women with little or no influence over their affairs. The women’s war in the southeastern part of Nigeria was not the first of its kind in that region to be documented by scholars but was arguably the most impressive and aggressive. Nwando Achebe’s study brings to the fore the 1914 market women’s protest, which she views as one of the many ways the women from southeastern Nigeria handled their interests in the precolonial Nigerian society (Achebe 2010a, b). In reference to women’s involvement and influence in politics and colonial resistance, Denzer’s work reveals that the Yoruba women of the southwestern part of Nigeria had the advantage of the cultural practice of inheritance, which made it possible for them to inherit their families’ wealth and own properties. This provided them authority within their homes and granted their involvement in the decisionmaking process of their communities (Denzer 1994). With that head start, Nancy Hunt asserts that the Yoruba women began organizations that were geared towards promoting women’s welfare, as well as the struggle against colonial taxation. These groups include the “Lagos Market Women’s Association in the mid-1920s, the Nigerian Women’s Party and the Abeokuta Women’s Union in the 1940s” (Hunt 1989, p. 363). To corroborate Hunt’s report, Denzer notes that market women associations, especially the one in Lagos, aligned with the emergent political parties at the time as well as the educated women’s organization of the 1920s (Denzer 1994). These women, as related by Denzer, took advantage of these alliances to protest favorable political and economic policies that took off after the Second World War. Cheryl Johnson also extensively explores the various associations and political parties engineered by these women. The formation of these organizations was an indication that the women were well aware of the implication of the colonial policies on their social status in the society. It was also proof that the women could successfully organize themselves to fight any threat to their political, economic, and social autonomy. Johnson goes further to infer that the Yoruba women at the

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time understood the relevance of western techniques, which they merged with the homegrown tactics of organization in their fight against colonialism (Johnson 1982). Furthermore, Afigbo and Okoh denote that colonialism created some notable women, some of which they identify as Mrs. Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti, who headed the Abeokuta women’s union. This organization sought for the dissolution of the native authority installed by the colonizers which was abusing their authority and exploiting the women (Afigbo 2010; Okoh 2002). Mrs. Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti also kicked back against separate taxation on women, stating that if women were not to be included in governance, then they should not be taxed (Okoh 2002). Also, Madam Tinubu of Lagos and Abeokuta was a key player in the colonial politics of both Lagos and Egbaland. Her far-reaching political influence infuriated the men and the colonizers, causing her exile, which was spearheaded by Consul Campbell from Lagos (Afigbo 2010). The tenacity of some of the women present during the colonial period is seen in Tinubu’s successes in exile, which brought her recognition and titles. Denzer recognizes the presence of women chiefs in the colonial era. In his paper, he states that a report from the research on the women’s war in 1929 with the aim of providing guidance on the leadership of Yoruba land proffers evidence that women leaders were not entirely invisible to the colonizers at the time. However, this information negates Ingyoroko et al.’s (2017) claims that women were rendered invisible and not taken into consideration in the political affairs of the colonial period. According to Denzer, the district officers at the time included reports on the roles and responsibilities of women chiefs in their district, and even though the system differed in various regions, the ruling chiefs sought the input of women chiefs on matters pertaining to women. Infewtowns, some women were included in the governing councils. He goes ahead to explore the political positions and influence of women in Ekiti, Ijebu Ode, Osogbo, and Ondo, revealing that the de facto political influence of women chiefs remained strong within local communities well into the middle colonial period (Denzer 1994). For him, this is proof that the political acuity of indigenous Yoruba women in the colonial era did not slip past the colonizers. Denzer’s account might be right but still gives no room for generalizations in respect to other regions in Nigeria. The practice of Islam in the north and the introduction of purdah silenced the women in that region, making it easy for the northern women to fit into the systemic processes employed by colonialism to shut women out from political activities. Therefore, the process of women’s marginalization is seen by Ingyoroko et al. as an aftermath of the incursion of colonialism in the country, supported up by their Victorian and Edwardian ideology of women’s domestication and male domination (Ingyoroko et al. 2017). The permeation of this ideology though not without resistance is seen as instrumental to the position of women in Nigeria today. Johnson does not entirely heap all the blame on colonialism. From a holistic exploration of her paper, she recognizes women’s attempts to fight the political system that favored patriarchy, as well as their role in the struggle for the

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nation’s independence. In her assessment, women joined forces with the nationalist movement with the aim of achieving a communal independence for the Nigerian society without necessarily fighting separately for women’s political space and authority. This is understandable because the era was frenzied with the dire need for independence. However, Johnson wonders if the women’s inability to launch a more personal struggle for their participation in politics at the time is responsible for the status of women in modern day politics (Johnson 1982). Having sown the seed of patriarchy in the Nigerian political scene, it is no surprise that Okafor and Akokuwebe’s paper conclude that the Nigerian political scene continued to be male dominated even through a military dictatorship as well as the eventual democratic system manned by a civilian government (Okafor and Akokuwebe 2015). The disparity in gender relations and opportunities in government continues to exempt women from full representation in government. As stated in Mama’s (1995) work, “no woman has ever ascended to the top echelons of the Nigerian army; it comes as no surprise to find that women have played no significant role in central government during the seven military regimes” (p. 42). The postcolonial era as underscored in Mama’s work saw the introduction of what she described as femocracy, an ideology that espouses an: anti-democratic female power structure which claims to exist for the advancement of ordinary women, but is unable to do so because it is dominated by a small clique of women whose authority derives from their being married to powerful men rather than from any actions or ideas of their own”. In short femocracy is a feminine autocracy running in parallel to the patriarchal oligarchy upon which it relies for its authority and which it supports completely. (p. 41)

In Mama’s point of view, these women cliques have contributed little or nothing to questioning the existing gender inequalities. Rather, they tend to take advantage of the global women’s movement for gender equality to undermine the female majority in favor of their personal interests (Mama 1995). The wives of these men in power arrogated the authority of women’s interests to themselves but lacked the authority to perform any real functions; rather, they gained a media presence that placed them in the public eye. Mama concludes by stating that femocracy has no real impact on the status of women in Nigerian government. To her, it only succeeds in creating more media space for the women of the elite to garner support in furtherance of a male dominated totalitarian government. This therefore implies that the Nigerian male has taken advantage of the superiority granted him by colonialism and has continued to further operations against women’s involvement in politics. Femocracy, as pointed out by Mama, shows the erosion of women’s values of communality and selflessness, as well as their earlier explored tendencies towards advocating for collective rights (Mama 1995). On a much different note, so many scholars tend to agree that agitations for more involvement of women in politics seemed to improve with the final transition from a military to civilian government. From Agbalajobi’s assessment, the 1979 Nigerian constitution made provisions for the active participation of women in

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politics (Agbalajobi 2010). While some scholars like Agbalajobi think women’s involvement has improved, some others believe that the level of involvement and support is still low compared to their population and significance in society. Ugwuegede (2014) is of the opinion that their involvement in Nigerian politics is not proportionate to the 50% which they represent and has not translated into equal representation in political leadership positions. Ntunde also expands the ideology that there is a very low representation of women in electoral commissions and political conferences (Ntunde 1997). However, so many factors have been identified as the reason behind the underrepresentation and poor women participation in the country’s present politics. Ugwuegede (2014) further blames the sociocultural and religious realities of the country as equally responsible for the low participation of women in the nation’s politics. Ngara and Ayabam see the underrepresentation of Nigerian women as a problem of perception. In order words, women view the political scenery as exclusively for men, having grown up to aspire for a home and domestic lifestyle, as well as the conception that they are not made for political offices (Ngara and Ayabam 2013). The religions introduced by the missionaries placed the woman within a secondary space in her relationship with men. However, these religions have thrived in the country even after the exit of these missionaries. Therefore, with the religious conditioning of subordination, Nwankwo and Surma’s (2008) work accuse the religious activities and beliefs with reference to Christianity and Islam as factors that have deterred the woman from active participation in Nigerian politics. Ugwuegede and Chukwu also identify poverty as one of the factors affecting the participation of women in Nigerian politics. The former is of the opinion that politics in Nigeria is a rather expensive enterprise; in other words, too expensive for Nigerian women, whom he describes as “pathetically poor” (Ugwuegede 2014). The latter sees poverty as a major causative factor to the marginalization of women in politics (Chuku 2009), while Fapohunda describes poverty as “having a woman’s face” (Fapohunda 2012, p. 87). Ngara and Ayabam harbor the perception that about 90% of women in Nigeria are extremely poor. Agbalajobi’s work supports their claim by stating that there is a gender disparity in the formal employment opportunities in the society, presenting men with a whopping 75% of involvement and indeed making women the face of Nigerian poverty (Ngara and Ayabam 2013; Agbalajobi 2010). Agbalajobi further examines some customary laws and customs as one of the factors limiting women’s involvement in politics. In his opinion, some customs and laws encourage gender bias, stereotyping women as weak, while some families even go as far as sending only the males to school further engineering the prevalence of illiteracy among women and leaving them majorly to vulnerable jobs with little pay (Agbalajobi 2010). However, in favor of the scholars who believe that women’s participation and representation has improved, Agbalajobi believes that the implementation of women empowerment programs, the improving access to tertiary education by women, and the activities of international organizations are responsible for these seeming improvements (Agbalajobi 2010).

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The Gaps and Recommendations for Further Studies on Nigerian Women There has been a lot of writing on Nigerian women that glosses over the women’s sociopolitical and economic situations in the country. These studies admit a low percentage of female involvement in politics, management, and education as well as the high rate of poverty among women. They often associate this with the nation’s cultural ideologies and an inherent patriarchy, which is correct but lacking in depth and understanding. This is so because further research reveals the role of colonialism in changing the views about women, as well as their alienation in the nation’s politics and other spheres of Nigerian society. Therefore, studies with real understanding of the sources of women’s current situation in Nigeria should be further pursued in order to equip women with information and help them see that taking a secondary position is not the legacy of their ancestors. Furthermore, contemporary researches about the Nigerian woman are not holistic, as they either focus on the Nigerian woman’s past where she was supposedly autonomous and independent, or on present challenges with a focus on the urban Nigerian woman. Statistics on women who are at the margins of civilization are considerably lower and limited compared to the coverage on the urban woman. This is however not judicious since the Nigerian women’s demography falls within both the rural and urban areas. In other words, the unequal statistics and attention do not provide an accurate report on the contemporary status of the Nigerian woman. Further studies on the Nigerian woman should, therefore, strive to provide a balanced account of the conditions and realities of the women both rural and urban.

Conclusion Critical discourses on the Nigerian woman have explored her position and reaction in all the phases of Nigeria’s development, as well as in the various spheres of society. The work traces the socioeconomic and political activities of these women in the precolonial, colonial, and postcolonial eras of the nation, identifying several agitations and wars instigated and championed by women to promote women’s welfare in the various communities and groups examined. This critical appraisal, however, concludes that the Nigerian woman was more expressive, significant, and self-aware pre-independence, taking charge of several weighty responsibilities which often included politics and administration. Arguably, she is said to have possessed as much power as the man in precolonial times. This study considers this opinion a stretch on the notion of women’s inclusion but would rather go with the idea that men and women played complementary roles and knew the boundaries to their authorities. However, in politics, economy, education, and literature, studies show that the Nigerian woman has fallen far from a supposed state of self-awareness to an unconscious contentment with a subsidiary status brought about by the nation’s contact with colonialism and the assimilation of the

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Victorian ethos of the colonial masters. Also, scholars delineate the challenges facing the Nigerian woman in the twenty-first century as well as the influence of feminist movements on women’s personal ideologies and portrayals in literature. This critical essay further identifies some of the gaps in studies on Nigerian women and recommends solutions.

References Achebe, C. (2010a). Igbo women in the Nigerian Biafran War 1967–1970: An interplay of control. Journal of Black Studies, 40(5), 785–811. Achebe, N. (2010b). “Ogidi Palaver”: The 1914 women’s market protest. In O. Nnaemeka & C. Korieh (Eds.), Shaping our struggles: Nigerian women in history, culture and social change. Trenton: African World Press. Acholonu, C. O. (1995). Motherism: The Afrocentric alternative to feminism. Owerri: Afa Publications. Adediran, B., & Ogen, O. (2010). Women, ritual, politics of precolonial Yorubaland. In O. Nnaemeka & C. Korieh (Eds.), Shaping our struggles: Nigerian women in history, culture and social change. Trenton: African World Press. Afigbo, A. E. (1966). Revolution and reaction in eastern Nigeria: 1900–1929 (The background to the women’s riot). Journal of the Historical Society of Nigeria, 3(3), 539–557. Afigbo, A. (2010). Women in Nigerian history. In O. Nnaemeka & C. Korieh (Eds.), Shaping our struggles: Nigerian women in history, culture and social change. Trenton: African World Press. Agbalajobi, D. T. (2010). Women’s participation and the political process in Nigeria: Problems and prospects. African Journal of Political Science and International Relations, 4(2), 75–82. Ahuruonye, F. I. (1998). The women’s war of 1929 in southeastern Nigeria. In M. J. Diamond (Ed.), Women and revolution: Global expressions. Dordrecht: Kluwer. Awe, B. (Ed.). (1992). Nigerian women in historical perspective. Lagos: SankorePublishers Ltd. Awe, B., & Mba, N. (1991). Women’s research and documentation center (Nigeria). Chicago Journals, Signs, 16(4), 859–864. Beauvoir, S. (2011). The second sex. New York: Vintage Books. Chuku, G. (2009). Igbo women and political participation in Nigeria, 1800–2005. The International Journal of African Historical Studies, 42(1), 81–103. Chuku, G. (2015). Igbo women and economic transformation in southeastern Nigeria, 1900–1960. In M. Asante (Ed.), African studies: History, politics, economy and culture. London: Routledge. Denzer, L. (1994). Yoruba women: A historiographical study. The International Journal of African Historical Studies, 27(1), 1–39. Ebila, F. (2015). A proper woman, in the African tradition: The construction of gender and nationalism in Wangari Maathai’s autobiography Unbowed. Tydskrif Vir Letterunde, 52(2), 144–154. Ekpenyong, O., Ibiam, O. E., & Agha, E. O. (2015). Politics in Nigeria: To what extent has the gender agenda gained momentum? Journal of Humanities and Social Sciences, 20(5), 1–10. Fapohunda, T. (2012). Women and poverty alleviation in Lagos, Nigeria. British Journal of Humanities and Social Sciences, 3(2), 87–99. Ifeka-Moller, C. (1973). Sitting on a man: Colonialism and the lost political institutions of igbo women: A reply to Judith Van Allen. Canadian Journal of African Studies, 7(2), 317–318. Ingyoroko, M., Sugh, E. T., & Terfa, A. (2017). The Nigerian woman and the reformation of the political system: A historical perspective. Journal of Socialomics, 6(2), 2–8. Johnson, C. P. (1982). Grassroots organizing: Women in anti-colonial activity in southwestern Nigeria. African Studies Review, 25(2/3), 137–157. Leith-Ross, S. (1939). African women: A study of the Ibo of Nigeria. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul.

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Mama, A. (1995). Feminism orfemocracy? State feminism and democratisation in Nigeria. African Development, 20(1), 37–58. Matera, M., Bastian, M. L., & Kent, S. K. (2012). The women’s war of 1929: Gender and violence in colonial Nigeria. London: Palgrave Macmillan. Mba, N. (1982). Nigerian women mobilized: Women’s political activity in southern Nigeria, 1900–1965. Berkeley: Institute of International Studies, UC-Berkeley. Meek, C. K. (1937). Law and authority in a Nigerian tribe: A study in indirect rule. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Ngara, C. O., & Ayabam, A. T. (2013). Women in politics and decision making in Nigeria: Challenges and prospects. European Journal of Business and Social Sciences, 2(8), 47–58. Nnaemeka, O., & Korieh, C. (2010). Long journeys of impediments and triumphs. In O. Nnaemeka & C. Korieh (Eds.), Shaping our struggles: Nigerian women in history, culture and social change. Trenton: African World Press. Ntunde, F. (1997). Women contribution to the transition process: Issues and strategies. Enugu: Auto Century Publishers. Nwankwo, O., & Surma, N. (2008). Affirmative action for women in politics: From projects to policy change. Enugu, Nigeria: Civil Resource Development and Documentation Centre. Odionye, A., & Ofoego, C. (2016). Education as a panacea to women active participation in Nigerian politics. Journal of Education and Practice, 7(30), 212–217. Ogbole, O., Blessing, E., & Audu, E. (2017). Women and political participation in Nigeria: A discourse. International Journal of Social Sciences and Conflict Management, 2(2), 75–84. Okafor, E. E., & Akokuwebe, M. E. (2015). Women and leadership in Nigeria: Challenges and prospects. Developing Country Studies, 5(4), 1–10. Okoh, J. (2002). Theatre and women rights in Nigeria. Port-Harcourt: Peal Publishers. Olatunde, D. (2010). Women’s participation and Representation in Nigeria’s politics in the last decade (1999–2009). (PhD thesis). Department of Development Studies, University of the Witwatersrand, Johannesburg, South Africa. Onor, S. O. (2017). Decolonizing Nigerian women: A historical necessity. International Journal of History and Philosophical Research, 5(3), 24–35. Ugwuegede, P. N. (2014). Challenges to women active participation in politics in Nigeria. Sociology and Anthropology, 2(7), 284–290. Umoren, U. E. (1995). The symbolism of the Nigerian women’s war of 1929: An anthropological study of an anti-colonial struggle. African Study Monographs, 16(2), 61–72. Van Allen, J. (1972). Sitting on a man: Colonialism and the lost political institutions of Igbo women. Canadian Journal of African Studies, 6(2), 165–181. Yusuf, H. E., & Yusufu, A. A. (2014). Entrenched patriarchy, women social movement and women participation in politics. American International Journal of Contemporary Research, 4(7), 149–162.

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Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Nigerian Women and the Nation’s Economy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Nigerian Women in Education and Academia . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Nigerian Women in Literature . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Gaps and Recommendations for Further Studies on Nigerian Women . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

This study aims at evaluating the various researches and scholarly opinions on the existence and status of the Nigerian woman, past and present. The study will also explore the women’s past and present economic ventures that accelerated and sustained their community’s economy, and by extension the nation’s. It will identify the position of women in education and academia, to understand the current progress or setbacks the Nigerian woman is experiencing in education and its management. Furthermore, it will explore the representation of the Nigerian woman in oral and written literary texts from Nigeria. This will enable the study to understand the perception of Nigerian woman by society, while also identifying the gaps in Nigerian women studies and recommending areas for more extensive and exhaustive research. The work further argues that a greater number of the scholars appraised believe that women enjoyed more autonomy and authority during precolonial times, and that surprisingly, colonialism diversified and expanded women’s economic ventures in Nigeria culminating in the start of women’s financial independence in some regions. Further studies also reveal that Nigerian women engaged in T. Falola (*) Department of History, University of Texas at Austin, Austin, TX, USA e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_169

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physical protests and movements like the Women’s War of 1929 and the Egba tax revolt, both responses to political and economic policies that were not in the women’s best interests. Also, in literature, scholarly opinions and literary analysis show a consistent negative portrayal of women as well as a growing collection of correctional literatures by many writers. Keywords

Women · Nigeria · Politics · Economy · Education · Literature

Introduction The delicate position of the woman in society has initiated many discourses on the topic across the globe. Having been marginalized and idealized, the woman is herself an entity with a history and narrative that best describes her unique experiences. From the inception of society, these peculiar experiences and her reactions to them have over the years been documented and recreated orally and in print, supplying a body of works that address the woman and the intricacies of her existence. Therefore, defining the woman will clarify the qualities that set her apart as a subject of discourse and provide an insight on society’s perception of the woman. The Merriam Webster dictionary defines the woman as an adult female human being; following that thought, a female human being relatively differs from the male because she possesses the female genitalia as well as other feminine features. However, the state of being a woman in recent times has gone beyond the physical appearance to include psychological perceptions, hence the increasing rate of sex changes around the world. Gender is today regarded to be a social construct, a system that groups human beings into two separate groups where they are expected to conform to the behavioral patterns considered acceptable for their groups. At some point, as inferred by Simone Beauvoir, the definition of the woman was clear-cut and not burdened with the modern day ambiguities surrounding sex and gender (Beauvoir 2011). Therefore, for the purpose of this study and with reference to the Nigerian focus, the woman remains a natural female human with physical and reproductive indications that bear witness of her femaleness. To provide insight on her place and possibly her experiences in society, Simone Beauvoir acknowledges that some persons define the woman as just a womb (Beauvoir 2011). This definition alludes to the woman’s natural ability to bear children; it also reduces the woman to the utilitarian value of an incubator, excluding other women who have parted with their wombs. However, the ability to procreate is a definitive aspect of the woman’s biological makeup and has inspired so many cultural and social philosophies that try to make meaning of her journey. This gives credence to Catherine Acholonu’s theory of motherism, which finds impetus in the woman’s ability to procreate and nurture (Acholonu 1995). That notwithstanding, a woman cannot be defined by a part, but rather by a sum of all her parts. Also, for Aristotle as cited in Beauvoir, the woman is suffering from a “natural defectiveness,”

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while Saint Thomas regards the woman as an “incomplete man an incidental being” (Acholonu 1995, p. 25). The man in this case is privileged over the woman, while her definition is dependent on him. These definitions are sentimental, exposing the nature of male and female coexistence as well as the perception of the woman by a certain part of human society during the time of Aristotle, Saint Thomas, and even Beauvoir. However, within the traditional African space, the woman as described by Florence Ebila is located within the context of a family (Ebila 2015). She is subject to the sociocultural realities of Africa, favorable or otherwise. The concept of womanhood in Nigeria is characterized by the relationship and social dynamics of the three major ethnicities of the country (Ogbole et al. 2017). However, irrespective of ethnicity or region, she is seen as a mother and a wife, leading her life with an expected moderation and silence in her relationship with men. She creates the idea of a nurturer, a life source, and a docile caretaker whose life ambition is to care for her husband’s and children’s interests, sometimes at the expense of hers. However, several research materials argue that the above picture of the African (Nigerian) woman is erroneous and a product of Africa’s contact with colonialism. Therefore, with reference to Nigeria and a thorough review of relevant literature, the controversies of the Nigerian woman’s image will be subsequently analyzed and reflected upon. As marginalized as the Nigerian woman is believed to be, there is a commendable amount of research conducted on her. Cited in Nnaemeka and Korieh, as far back as in 1868, J.A. Horton described the Yoruba woman as “very litigious. . .. Very good looking, nicely shaped and formed although marked.” Also cited is Rev. Johnson, who describes the twentieth century Igbo woman as “very industrious and hardworking . . .far superior to men in this and are said to have few more character in them than men” (Nnaemeka and Korieh 2010, p. 8). Lord Frederick Lugard, cited in Leith-Ross (1939), further describes the Igbo woman as “ambitious, self reliant, hard working and independent. . . she claims full equality with the opposite sex and would seem indeed to be the dominant partner” (Leith-Ross 1939, p. 2). These are earlier observations from the contact with Nigerian women. The narrative of the woman changes with time, place, society’s experiences and the resultant ideological evolution. What is today known as the Nigerian society has undergone several phases since its inception. The precolonial Nigerian woman tells a story; having experienced the incursion of colonialism, the colonial and postcolonial Nigerian woman also tell different stories. These stories form the basis of so many written research works and activisms that have arisen over the years, substantiating and supplementing the oral narratives of women’s realities in the country. Literature in the basic sense of the word has to do with a lot of written works: fictional, nonfictional, essays, articles, written historical materials, and the entirety of an existing written matter. Therefore, written material on the Nigerian woman provides a near accurate contextual report of events (present and past) as they happen (ed). The generation of data on women in Nigeria was earlier carried out by anthropologists in early 1914 and was used to facilitate colonial activities (Awe and Mba 1991). The creation of written materials about women at the time

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accelerated the process of colonialism by providing background information and data on the women, giving the colonizers a detailed report of the lifestyle and position of the woman as well as the behavioral patterns to be expected, which provided them the much-needed edge for dominance. With that in mind, literature and the process of documentation provide data on sociocultural issues in society which can equip and assist in the exertion of control and influence, as in the case of the colonial masters. However, in the later part of the 1960s to 1975, a number of academic materials on Nigerian women sprung up, contributing to data on the women’s survival, economy, demography, and a lot more, and generating information on women for indigenous purposes and inciting further research on women (Awe and Mba 1991). In academia, it provides a basis for postulations and theories, concretizing abstract thinking and providing a platform for ideological bantering and intellectual reflections. The first part of this study addressed women in Nigeria’s political history, whereas the current chapter aims at exploring and reflecting on the various scholarly opinions and reports on Nigerian women’s economic roles, access to education and representation in academia and the literature, past and present.

Nigerian Women and the Nation’s Economy Nigerian women today are regarded to be the face of poverty in the country. As earlier stated, more than half of the female population live in abject poverty. However, it has not always been so; scholars like Afigbo, Aina, and Denzer assert that the precolonial Nigerian woman was once a key player in the nation’s economy (Aina 1993; Denzer 1994; Afigbo 2010). In the assessment of the participation of Yoruba women in the economic development of their communities, Denzer is of the opinion that they “occupied a pivotal place in the local and the state economy, organizing household industries, operating the local market system and establishing long distance trade networks” (Denzer 1994, p. 3). Afigbo substantiates Denzer’s opinion by stating that in all the areas of the nation’s economy such as agriculture, trade, and manufacturing, women played very crucial roles (Afigbo 2010). In the families, Aina affirms the woman’s invaluable economic role; she describes their homes as the primary economic units and therefore, the first points of practice in production and consumption (Aina 1993). Corroborating Denzer’s appraisal of the Yoruba women, Aina states that irrespective of Yoruba women’s engagement in trading activities, they were also involved in food farming and often doubled as sources of manual labor to their husbands (Aina 1993). In the southeastern part of the country, Afigbo (2010) opines that economic activities influenced some of the people’s cultural philosophies, some of which contributed to women exploitation while encouraging patriarchy. In his assessment, the southeastern woman served as an immense source of manual labor for the men’s farming activities. Aina’s essay recognizes her involvement in strenuous tasks like bush clearing, planting, and food processing, hence the growth in polygamy for the purposes of human labor (Aina 1993). This also influenced the ideology of bearing

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more children which in turn put more psychological and physical strain on women who were unable to bear many children. This systemic exploitation notwithstanding, the input of the woman in the economic survival of her community cannot be understated. Ifi Amadiume’s paper underscores how the woman was denied political rights and properties, yet with her economic influence and control of trade and the family, she wielded a considerable amount of power (Amadiume 2000). Voluntarily, Igbo women were also involved in petty trading, sewing, pottery, weaving, and farming, all of which were beneficial to their community’s economy. In the Hausa and Fulani communities, with respect to the extent of seclusion practices in the region, Aina (1993) posits that women were also actively involved in subsistence farming, pastoral farming, and food processing. In other words, from a holistic view point, the Nigerian woman understood and as the case might be, still understands the rudimentary laws and practices of survival and economic development. Unlike the many other spheres of Nigerian society, many scholars like Denzer and Levine believe that women made some substantive strides in economic opportunities and legal rights in the era of colonialism. In Denzer’s opinion, the colonial courts interpreted the Yoruba inheritance practices in such a way that it permitted the women to inherit properties from their fathers, paving way for the ownership of properties and lands. This provided the women with an economic edge that gave them a sense of worth and relevance (Denzer 1994). Along that same thought, Mba asserts that “the position of the Nigerian woman was both diminished and enhanced under colonialism” (Mba 1982, p. 67). Several changes and opportunities in trade and food production seemed to open up for women during colonialism. As stated by Levine, during the period of Pax Britannica, the British government opened up the previously curtailed mobility of Afikpo women in eastern Nigeria and increased their dominance in trading. With the introduction of new crops from her travels, the woman farmed and kept the profits for herself, providing her with the capability to cater for her needs as well as the economic ability to walk away from abusive marriages (Levine 1966). This gives credence to the African feminist ideology of self-sufficiency and financial independence. Furthermore, in Ottenberg’s paper, the Afikpo woman has been increasingly divorced from a subservient and a subordinate role in her family (Ottenberg 1959). As much as colonialism seemed to have accelerated women’s economic activities, this critical essay will agree with Mba’s assertion that the position of the woman was both enhanced and diminished. Several scholarly expositions show that the imposition of taxes, the resultant capitalism and patriarchy, industrialization, and formal education played a huge role in the eventual low economic status of the Nigerian woman today. The development of trading and export activities of raw materials like cocoa, kolanut, and palm oil is documented by Byfield (2003) to have provided the Abeokuta women and men with an increase in income, expanding their employment base to producers, wage laborers, and buyers. In his assessment, women were key players in the processing of raw materials as well as the trade of cloth and food stuffs. Obviously, these expansive economic avenues provided women with much needed financial independence at the time (Byfield 2003). However, the voluntary trading and processing activities, as noted by Ajisafe, became forced. This led to the increase

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in polygamy for the purposes of manual labor, making it difficult for women to indulge in new economic activities (Ajisafe 1948). Ajisafe also acknowledges that the Abeokuta women in southwestern Nigeria experienced the imposition of sanitation taxes, which are said to have affected the women badly and led to the closing of principal rural markets. In his opinion, the Egba women were taxed independently of their husbands because it was within the cultural provisions of the Yoruba people for women to be financially independent of their husbands. The taxation on women guaranteed the women’s involvement in economic sectors that provided them with cash for their tax payments. In one way, the imposition of taxes encouraged and strengthened women’s economic independence, giving them the opportunity to find themselves outside the confines of domesticity. On a different note, the taxes were also increasingly overbearing and the women’s interests and rights were discarded, leading to the Egba women’s tax revolt in 1947. In Byfield’s (2003) essay, he states that “the 1947 revolt was just one moment in a longer historical debate between women and the colonial state about the exercise of power and women’s expectations of the state” (p. 271). Therefore, in the context of the relationship between the women, the economy, and the colonizers, Byfield further states that: The 1947 revolt was not only about taxation. It was also an effort to force the colonial state to recognize women’s economic and social condition as well as their contribution to the state. . .In Abeokuta, taxes reinforced women’s economic independence and their reliance on the cash sectors of the economy. As a result women were central to the expansion of capitalism in Yorubaland. The process and trade cash crops, and disseminate imports through the vast network of rural and urban market. (p. 270)

The Egba women’s tax revolt was not the only revolution that Nigerian women embarked on for economic and political reasons. The 1929 “Aba women’s riot,” as it is popularly known in the official record, was also instigated by the fear of taxation, which the women believed was going to be an avenue to exploit them and rob them of the profits they made from their petty trades, further crippling their economic ventures. Many other scholars like Korieh, Afigbo, Chuku, and Amadiume tend to only see the 1929 women’s war from a political and cultural angle with a bare glance at how economic factors could have also contributed to it (Nnaemeka and Korieh 2010; Afigbo 2010; Chuku 2009; Amadiume 2000). On a different note, Yeseibo (2013) opines that the creation of a colonial economy repositioned the Nigerian woman in terms of the economy. The men, in his opinion, were nominated to dominate the international market, while the women were relegated to the growing of crops, which generated “lower returns” (p. 78). The advent of colonialism had several implications on women’s economic activities in the country; to corroborate Mba (1982), it was neither good nor bad. In one way, Chuku believes that it gave women an economic edge due to the many employment avenues created, while in another, she denotes that it also robbed the women of their political authority which could have been very useful in advancing the women’s economic interests (Chuku 2009).

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The civil war happens to be a very important part of Nigerian history and reality; Achebe’s (2010a) work explores the strategies employed by southeastern women to cope with the realities of the Biafran war. For her, the women played a significant economic role by employing some survival tactics which she termed as the “Affia attack” and “cross-border farming.” In order to ensure the survival of Biafra at the time, she implies that women engaged in some form of economic mobilization. More extensively, her work describes the woman as traditionally “a nurturer, trader and peacemaker in the society” (Achebe 2010a, p. 794). Therefore, the food shortages and the calculated attempt of their opponents to further shrink food sources are as Achebe described them, “a direct assault on the women’s capability to carry out their traditional roles” (p. 794). Therefore, the women ventured into the risky practice of camouflaging as the opponent and acquiring food from the enemy side while also farming on their abandoned farmlands and selling on the enemy side to procure food and sustenance. More women engaged in this, disregarding the risks, to ensure the survival of their children and the entire community. Concerning the women’s activities, in Nzegwu’s essay he implies that the women helped to temper the loss of lives as a result of starvation (Nzegwu 2001). The Nigerian woman, irrespective of circumstances, has always played a huge role in the nation’s economic and daily survival. The introduction and reinforcement of a patriarchal society in Nigeria denied the woman an early opportunity to profit from the economic empowerment of education. Some families preferred to send their sons to schools while the women continued their training in domestic lifestyles, and soon education became the major parameter for economic dominance in Nigerian society. Fast forwarding to post-independence, we cannot neglect the gradual yet growing access of women to formal education and trainings; this accounts for Okoyeuzu et al.’s (2012) observations of the growing presence of women in more managerial positions in various industries. However, women still dominate the vulnerable informal employment sector in the country due to a gross lack of requisite education and skills. In Fapohunda’s critical essay, the 2006 census estimates that Nigeria has a population of 150 million, and 50% are women; about 70% of this female population reside and work in rural areas. For her, the implication is that a larger portion of Nigerian women live in poverty, lack access to basic health care, education, and social services (Fapohunda 2012a). In support of this estimation, Okoyeuzu et al. (2012) observe that most Nigerian women lack the formal education needed to rise in the economic scale as compared to their male counterparts. The study delineates the challenges facing girl children’s education in the country to include the inability to enforce the constitutional educational laws for the girl child as well as effective monitoring mechanisms. Also, Fapohunda’s work recognizes the contributions of the informal sector dominated by women to the nation’s economy. For her, the women in the informal sector tend to make use of the resources that are not regarded by the formal sectors dominated by the men. In her opinion, the informal sector has come to stay, and therefore women will continue to be a part of it. Favorable policies should therefore be put in place to regulate productivity and income for the women who make up a large percent of this sector (Fapohunda 2012b).

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In the agricultural sector, Ogunlela and Mukhtar record that, according to the UNDP, “women makeup 60–80% of the agricultural labor force in Nigeria” (Ogunlela and Mukhtar 2009, p. 20). They further state that the Nigerian women who are key contributors to the nation’s agriculture and economy are voiceless and have little or no space in influencing agricultural policies. In their opinion, several scholarly materials record the role and contributions of women to agriculture, but their input in decision-making has been nonexistent or at best minimal. Tigwareyi (1987) blames the traditional biases against women as a motivational factor accounting for the near absence of female representation and influence on agricultural policies on the continent. This, however, applies to the Nigerian scene; for the northern woman, Bello Abubakar links the religious values of Islam to the underrepresentation of women’s voices in agricultural and economic policy-making platforms in those regions (Abubakar 2017). Moreover, the marginalization of women in the access of lands for economic purposes is one of the many factors affecting the financial growth and stability of the Nigerian woman. Scholars like George, Olokoyo, Efobi, Osabuohien, and Beecroft, in a study on the effect of limited women’s access to land and land rights, opine that these factors tend to compromise women’s economic empowerment and credit facilities in the country. They identify the absence of land as collateral as one of the factors limiting the access of women to income generating opportunities. With this in mind, these scholars imply that women are deterred from making valuable investments and miss out on useful opportunities (George et al. 2015). Therefore, it is safe to say that the Nigerian woman has played a very crucial role in the nation’s economy, past and present, and is still currently battling the challenges facing her personal development and recognition in terms of economy.

Nigerian Women in Education and Academia There is no doubt that amidst several challenges, women have made substantial advancements in many spheres of society. The improving access of women to formal education in the country has led to their involvement and positions in education and academia, both at the tertiary and secondary levels. Ogbogu (2011b) corroborates the above assertion by observing the difficulties these Nigerian women experience in gaining positions in Nigerian universities, as well as keeping those positions. For her, “gaining an academic position in Nigerian universities is challenging for women and maintaining it is more difficult. Although some of them have made impressive achievements, they remain a marginalized identity” (p. 2). Eboiyehi et al. (2016) consolidate Ogbogu’s assertion by observing that in Nigerian universities, women occupy 35% of academic posts as well as the majority of the lower academic cadre and administrative positions. Ogbogu (2011b) identifies several factors as contributory to the low representation and slow advancement of women in the academia. In her opinion, women do not have access to information as much as the men do on how to attain successful levels in academia (Ogbogu 2011b). Akinsanya (2012) corroborates Ogbogu’s opinion by

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listing a lack of strong women’s networks since women constitute the minority in many departments, which could help provide them with much needed information on opportunities for growth and success. However, viewing women’s track records in forming organizations and groups, Akinsanya’s observation might be slightly skewed. Also, Ogbogu is of the opinion that Nigerian women readily sacrifice in their homes, doubling as mothers and caregivers sometimes at the detriment of their academic careers. This situation is, however, championed by cultural barriers and gender roles imposed by the society on women. Eboiyehi et al. (2016) give credence to Ogbogu’s assertion by stating that “there is a natural gender role distinction around the world, which has created gaps and opportunities between men and women” (p. 185). Their study further argues that Nigerian women are affected by the patriarchal traditions dominant in the Nigerian cultural space, which plays out in every sector in the Nigerian society. In women’s advancement in the academic and administrative cadre, Aina and Ogbogu support Eboiyehi et al.’s claims of gender gaps and opportunities by asserting that women’s abilities and productivity are usually questioned, while the patriarchal basis of the nation’s cultural existence tends to reserve higher management positions for the men. Little wonder, Poole describes how women vice chancellors are a rarity, while women as deans and other notable administrative posts in Nigerian universities make up a minority population (Poole 2005). More extensively, Eboiyehi et al. (2016) collate the following information on the women Vice Chancellors Nigeria has had since 1948: Since the establishment of the first university in Nigeria in 1948, only 12 women have so far occupied the position of Vice Chancellor in over 138 federal, state and private universities. . . they include, Grace Alele Williams (University of Benin); Jadesola Akande (Lagos State University); Aize Imouokhome Obayan (Covenant University); Comfort Memfin Ekpo (University of Uyo); Oluyemisi Oluremi Obilade (Tai Solarin University of Education); Ekanem Ikpi Braide (Federal University of Lafia) Rosemund Dienye Green Osahogulu (Ignatius Ajuru University of Education); Margee M. Ensign (American University of Nigeria); Charity Anya (Benue State University); Cordelia Ainenehi Agbebaku (Ambrose Ali University); Juliet Elu (Gregory University); and Sidi Osho (Afe Babalola University). (p. 183)

Ogbogu (2011b) further affirms that the low output of women’s research and publications is responsible for their sluggish advancement in the academic ladder. In her report, some Nigerian women publish an average of one or two papers in a year while some others do not publish at all (Ogbogu 2011a). Akinsanya implies that the domestic demands of the home contribute to Ogbogu’s discovery. In her opinion, aside from home keeping, the average young female lecturer arguably deals with three pregnancies in the 10 years of her career, culminating in the additional responsibility of nursing babies, and therefore her career might not grow as astronomically as that of her male counterparts (Akinsanya 2012). There is very little doubt that the domestic expectations endorsed by culture and patriarchy are partly responsible for the low productivity of these women, as compared to their male counterparts in academia. Ogbogu (2011a) goes further to argue that women’s scanty academic credentials are also responsible. In her opinion,

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“women on average are less likely to have doctorates and those who have it in the system are underrepresented as full professors” (p. 3). Consolidating this claim, Eboiyehi et al.’s (2016) research attests that the number of women possessing PhDs in Nigerian universities is relatively low compared to men. However, to achieve higher management positions in tertiary institutions, postgraduate degrees are necessary. Therefore, a low participation of women in higher management positions can be credited to the limited number of women qualified for those positions. Eboiyehi et al.’s study therefore calls for an appraisal of Nigerian women’s access to higher education in the country. Several scholars like Akinsanya, George, Fagbohun, Olonade, and Aderoju tend to agree that the twenty-first century has improved women’s access to basic and tertiary education in the country; however, their necessary attendance to tertiary education in Nigeria is still estimated by Offorma and Obiefuna (n.d.) to be about 41%, disclosing the persistent disparity between the genders in the country. In their opinion, women are still underrepresented in higher education in Nigeria. To support Offorma and Obiefuna’s perception, Akinsanya (2012) identifies an inequality still in the enrolment of women into secondary and tertiary education in the country. In her opinion, cultural factors like early marriage and the idea that irrespective of a woman’s educational attainment she still ends up in the kitchen are majorly responsible for the scantiness of very high educational attainments among Nigerian women. In her opinion, the above reasons are responsible for the limited number of qualified women for high management positions in tertiary institutions.

Nigerian Women in Literature Literature does not exist in isolation; it is usually reflexive of the society from which it is produced. It also tends to present diachronic details of the society, as well as the metamorphosis of its ideologies. Therefore, literature, whether oral or written, is a holistic representation of the artist’s environment. However, with an in-depth analysis of the oral and written literature from Nigeria, scholarly opinions on the perception and representation of Nigerian women over time will be presented. The oral narratives will provide a rich cultural and traditional perspective to the perception of Nigerian women in the various cultures and ethnic groups across the country. From the southeast, Azuonye (1992) explores the two categories of Igbo oral narratives: akukoifo and akukoala. In his account, the Nigerian Igbo woman in both narratives is presented from two opposing angles. Akukoifo, which is the umbrella term for Igbo folk tales, tends to present the Igbo woman in a very negative light, most times as powerless or dimwitted. More extensively, Azuonye’s analysis of the Igbo folktales reveals women to be featured in the following manner: As completely unable to control their passions and as embodying a whole range of vices and foibles (stupidity, lack of discretion, inability to keep secrets, an extraordinary penchant for envy and willingness to sacrifice their own best interests in pursuit of the little sweet things

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of life) this set of images includes the figures of the hated wife, the jealous co-wife, the pregnant woman who pawns her unborn child as bride to a smelly spotted beast in exchange for some sweet fruits which to desire to eat, the proud beautiful girl who rejects all suitors and ends up marrying a monster, the foolish wife who leaks her husband’s secret to spite him and brings home ruin to her family, and many others. (p. 19)

This analysis of imagined nighttime tales provides a deeper perception to the dominant patriarchal ideology of the Igbo woman. In Azuonye’s opinion, these tales could be realistic representations of gender relationships within the nation and could also be a reflection of the image of the woman desired by the dominant powers. Therefore, Azuonye is implying against several scholarly opinions that Igbo society was predominantly patriarchal, and the patriarchal ideologies of the nation influenced the folk narratives of the people. Not surprisingly, the oral narratives of southwestern Nigeria is replete with images of women as treacherous and evil. In Bola Ogunsina’s (1996) analysis of the portrayal of women in the hunter’s chant Ijala, she describes these chants as containing masculine bias. Little wonder, she is of the opinion that women are presented as “perfidious and deceitful, which epitomizes the patriarchal ideology of women in Yoruba society” (p. 85). On the other hand, Akukoala as explored by Azuonye comprises the legends and myths as well as other narratives that shed light on the cultures and traditions of the Igbo people. These tales usually emphasize the centrality of power and prominence accorded to the woman figure; he identifies the motif of the earth goddess in Igbo, which symbolizes the woman as an all-powerful mother who creates and nurtures (Azuonye 1992). Azuonye further identifies some epics of the Ohafia people of Igbo land which appropriate the women with military prowess and competence. The story of Nne Mgbafo, who dresses as a male warrior that goes off to enemy territory to retrieve her husband who has not returned from battle, portrays the Igbo woman as brave and daring. Azuonye further makes a connection between Nne Mgbafo’s tale and the epic of Inyan Olugu, whose husband is irresponsible and unable to fulfill the necessary feat of winning human heads in a battle to accrue for himself and his family acceptability and respect from the society. In the tale, Inyan Olugu devises several means to instill bravery in her husband so as to gain the society’s respect. In the long run, she kills five enemies, chops off their heads and hands them over to her husband, thereby attracting the regard and respect from the other members of their community. In this epic, the woman is portrayed as resourceful, brave, and smart, contrasting with popular pictures of women as weaklings and simpletons. Also in the epic of Egbele, Azuonye is of the opinion that the songs of war are attributed to Nne Ucha Aruodo, who is said to have burst into a song when her only son returned victorious in battle (Azuonye 1992). Azuonye further opines that other legends of the Igbo woman depict her as successful in business and politics, where she is portrayed to work and distinguish herself in the world of men. Also, the figure of the mermaid plays a huge role in expressing the power and centrality of the woman in the legends of the Igbo people of Nigeria. Azuonye (1992) describes the mermaid in Igbo legends as:

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A collective anima: a dominant female image which is both feared and desired by men. Representing female beauty in its ideal form, the water woman symbolizes the power of womankind to dominate and direct the passions, hopes, aspirations and achievements of men. (p. 17)

Stressing her powers over the men, the literary Igbo text Ala Bingo written by Achara in 1933, cited in Azuonye (1992), examines the story of the mermaid who humbles to a state of ordinariness a very powerful king said to have the “power over all living things” (p. 17). Following Ogunsina’s (1996) studies on the representation of women in the hunter’s chant Ijala, she recognizes other studies like Ogunsina (1982, 1984) and Oyesakin (1989) of women in Yoruba oral literature. In her analysis, Ogunsina’s work shows that women are usually the lead characters in Yoruba prose narratives; they are usually portrayed as envious and jealous, embodiments of physical beauty, fertility, and capable of rearing and loving children. In another work by Ogunsina, she reveals that proverbs are laden with knowledge about the mental, physical, moral, and behavioral attributes of the Yoruba women (Ogunsina 1996). Oyesakin (1989) therefore explores the mysteries, behaviors, and the moral and physical imageries of women in the Ifa literary corpus. According to Ogunsina, in a chant titled “Omowumiwolenile” which she translates as “Omowunmi buries himself alive at Ile Ife,” the woman is portrayed as deceitful, serving her husband his meal with her left hand and expressly ignoring his pleas not to do so, as a result of a particular charm he was using at the time. The king disappears into the ground, taking his wife with him (Ogunsina 1982). In the chant of “Iyawoalaigboran,” the stubborn bride, Ogunsina is of the opinion that the Yoruba woman in that text is portrayed as stubborn and hardheaded. She is said to have defied all warnings from her husband’s family not to fetch water from the river Gbingbin and is eventually robbed of her clothes by a mysterious tree that keeps getting taller with every attempt to retrieve her clothes. She walks back into the village, bringing shame on herself and her family. As stated by Ogunsina, the woman in Yoruba society is portrayed as obstinate using this chant (Ogunsina 1982). However, on a much different note, in the legend of Moremi of Ife in Yoruba oral literature, the woman is described by Bodunrin, Ajasoro, and Olafisayo as a symbol of bravery, loyalty, strength, commitment, and patriotism. She is said to have saved the kingdom of Ife from their neighboring invaders by letting herself be captured in order to find the secrets of their assailants. When her village was rid of these raiders, she sacrificed her only son as demanded by the river god (Bodunrin and Ajasoro n.d.; Olafisayo 2015). This legend provides a more positive angle to the perception of the Yoruba woman in oral literature. Ogunsina’s study further analyses the chant of Kunuwen and reveals that the woman is yet portrayed as proud and self-absorbed, especially when she is considered beautiful. Kunuwen, the only daughter of the Alaafin of Oyo, is described as very beautiful; however, against the counsel of her family, she asks Aroni to marry her and is burnt to death in one of his magical demonstrations, causing war between the Alaafin of Oyo and the Onikoyi – the man in whose jurisdiction Kunuwen was

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killed. In Ogunsina’s opinion, the narrative implies that the beautiful Yoruba woman may be a nuisance and the cause of trouble (Ogunsina 1982). This narrative is however a variant of several folktales from the different ethnic groups in Nigeria. In the Urhobo variant, the girl is called Oyeghe (Unuajohwofia 2018). The folktale presents a very beautiful and obnoxious girl that refuses all the human suitors that come her way but eventually ends up with a monster. From Azuonye’s (1992) analysis of the Igbo variant, the Igbo woman is portrayed to be thoughtless and proud, bound to bring disaster to herself and her family; “She is seen as a symbol of vanity and stupidity.” He further consolidates this assumption, by invoking the Igbo proverb that states “If a woman is given a new garment, she would set out to attend the funeral of the living” (p. 20). In other words, she will embark on an exhibition of the beauty and fineries of the outfit. This proverb presents the Nigerian Igbo woman as shallow and preoccupied with life’s frivolities. The rest of the folktales analyzed in Azuonye’s study extensively present the woman negatively, emphasizing a perceived weakness and powerlessness in the face of adversity. She is always presented to single-handedly cause her very own undoing. Having stated earlier that literature is reflexive of the society from which it is produced, studies of the oral literary texts tend to proffer the two sides of the subtle argument various scholars in this study have presented so far. Azuonye’s analysis of the Igbo legends and myths presents the Nigerian women, similar to the opinions and interpretations of Adediran, Ogen, Afigbo, Denzer, and many others, as independent and integral aspects of the Nigerian economy and politics (Adediran and Ogen 2010; Afigbo 1966; Denzer 1994). However, the folktales presented, as well as Ogunsina’s analysis of the Yoruba’s hunters’ chant, paints a rather dismal picture of women. It validates patriarchal notions and practices which trivialize the place of the woman and alienates her from important societal decisions on the basis of a perceived incompetence or incapability to handle “important” issues. This goes on to involve and substantiate Meek’s opinion that “It is not an Igbo custom . . . to confer authority in public matters on women” (Meek 1937, p. 158) and also Ekpenyong et al.’s opinion that Nigerian women have never enjoyed parity with men in Nigerian society and therefore have been subject to patriarchal underpinnings from the inception of time (Ekpenyong et al. 2015). Contemporary written Nigerian literature constitutes an important aspect of the myriad literary discourses on Nigerian women. The portrayal of women in these literary texts has been analyzed by several scholars to reveal the perceptions and opinions of Nigerian women in literature. An assessment of Yeseibo’s (2013) study on the portrayal of women in male-authored plays in Nigeria reveals that women in these texts are poorly represented. Ogunleye corroborates Yeseibo’s assertion by stating that the image of the Nigerian woman in literature is mainly stereotypical (Ogunleye 2004). Tobrise goes ahead to state that women are usually depicted as “weak, choiceless, defeminized, invisible or incestuous” creatures (Tobrise 1998, p. 1). In Yeseibo’s (2013) opinion, “Nigerian male writers rarely paint positive images of women in their fiction. If they are not depicted as docile wives whose identities are recognized through their husbands, they gain identity through motherhood” (p. 77). This image does not stray far from the African (Nigerian) conception

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of women, which the Nigerian male writer is only replicating. However, the question remains of how true is this depiction of the woman in Nigerian male-authored works? After all, according to Chiluwa and Akujobi, literature does not only reflect the society and its ideologies, literature creates and reconstructs these ideologies, some of which society tends to emulate (Chiluwa and Akujobi 2011). In Yeseibo’s study, he explores the image of women in dramas by Wole Soyinka and Femi Osofisan, among a list of many others. In his assessment of Soyinka’s plays, he reveals that Soyinka’s women are quite stereotypical; they are either temptresses, gullible victims, weak, quarrelsome or just flat out evil (Yeseibo 2013). In Soyinka’s The Strong Breed, Yeseibo is of the opinion that Sunma is portrayed as weak and helpless, while in Death and the King’s Horseman, the bride’s image remains the same. In Dance of the Forests, Rola is a callous woman who leads her male lovers to their deaths. Segi in Kongi’s Harvest is described as a cannibal who sucks the very essence of the men away and leaves them dry and shriveled. In the Trials of Brother Jero, Amope is portrayed as bad tempered and argumentative, almost driving her husband to a state of insanity, while another young woman in the text is portrayed as a seductress who brings about a prophet’s undoing. Also, Lion and the Jewel conjures the picture of a vain, self-absorbed yet gullible Sidi. These images of Nigerian women in contemporary written literature is not very different from the images conjured in the Igbo folktales and the Yoruba hunter’s chant of Nigerian oral literature. In other words, a recurring female image of negativity has survived in Nigerian literature. Furthermore, as observed by Yeseibo, Soyinka’s works do not stop at these petty images; the Nigerian woman is also portrayed as an advocate of Nigerian cultures and traditions, including the ones that are oppressive to the women folk (Yeseibo 2013). Using Iyaloja in Death and the King’s Horsemen and the group of young women in her wake, they see to it that the Elesin Oba commits the cultural suicide that is assigned to him. However, not all portrayals of women by Soyinka are negative. For starters, Yeseibo notes that Soyinka does not place his women within a domestic space. As much as one cannot deny the role of the Nigerian woman in the domestic home front, Soyinka’s strategy is, however, commendable because it gives the impression that the Nigerian woman belongs to places other than the home and kitchen. Also, Segi in Kongi’s Harvest is not just cruel; she also plays a role in sociopolitical activism and helps in the overthrow of the dictator Kongi. In The Beautification of Area Boy, Yeseibo equally denotes that Soyinka casts the Nigerian women in a more positive light; Mama Put is portrayed as hardworking and resilient, and actively involved in revolutions against oppression. Miseye abandons her bourgeois class status to imbibe some of the values that Sanda embodies (Yeseibo 2013). Soyinka’s works, though predominantly portraying women as passive, also tend to admit the active role of the Nigerian woman irrespective of cultural challenges she experiences in all spheres of the Nigerian society. Adedina, Adinku, and Bolaji have described the portrayal of women in Femi Osofisan’s plays as revolutionary. His women characters have been said to be strong, indispensable, opinionated, and active in their roles for societal changes and the

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elimination of oppression. In their opinion, these women are portrayed as earning their roles (Adedina et al. 2013). Osofisan’s projection does not come off as compensation or an afterthought but rather as a recognition of the role of the African woman in activism, politics, and the economy. For Yeseibo (2013), the character Altine in Altine’s Wrath gains her freedom by standing up against men like Lawal who have been conditioned to perceive themselves as superior to the women. Titubi in Morountodun is portrayed to evince very strong views and opinions and stands by them; Yeseibo further describes the character as a “social reformer, who is bold and daring” (p. 81). In the text, she lives among the society’s rebels in a bid to identify their leader and to have him arrested. However, in the course of their coexistence, Titubi comes to terms with the oppressive realities of the people and in turn seeks a civil reconciliation between the state and the rebels. This act alone is, to Yeseibo, Osofisan’s way of showing and reaffirming the Nigerian woman’s commitment to social revolution and elimination of oppression (Yeseibo 2013). Delineating Osofisan’s female characters like Iyabo in A Restless Run of Locusts, Altine in Altine’s Wrath, Tegonn in An African Antigone, Titubi in Morountundun, Ibidun in Red is the Freedom Road, and Alhaja in Fires Burn and Die Hard, Adedina et al. affirm that Osofisan tries to channel and project the strength, bravery, intelligence, and leadership qualities of the Nigerian woman. Furthermore, as stated in their work, Adedina et al. (2013) are of the opinion that Nigerian women’s tenderness, love, and domestic roles are attended to in Osofisan’s work; but, however contrary to popular portrayal, the woman plays this role not out of weakness but rather as a necessary and unique requirement that makes for effective living. His works tend to eliminate all the negative stereotypes of women in Nigerian literature. For Adedina et al., the portrayal of women as weak and unreliable is contradicted using the character of Alhaja in Once Upon Four Robbers, who assumes the position of a leader and disguises herself to extract valuable information from the military while maintaining an attachment and loyalty to a group formed by her husband (Adedina et al. 2013). Osofisan’s work thereby represents a more plausible nature of the Nigerian woman given her record of activities in legends, both in the precolonial and colonial era of Nigerian history. In other literary works written by men, Charles (2009) opines that writers like Achebe and Ekwensi tend to portray Nigerian women as helpless, weak, dependent, and sexualized creatures always attached to men to find relevance. Chinade also shares Charles’s opinion; he describes the Nigerian woman in Cyprian Ekwensi’s Jagua Nana as sexualized, while in Achebe’s Things Fall Apart, they are docile house wives (Chinade 2015). However, scholars like Nwagbara consider women in Achebe’s works to have gradually left the periphery to a state of political consciousness and leadership which clearly represents the postcolonial Nigerian situation, mostly as a result of the advent of feminism in literature and feminist movements across the country. Nwagbara uses the character of Beatrice in Anthills of the Savannah to interrogate the Nigerian practice of the alienation and subjugation of women in politics. Her character also gauges the transformations and the gradual inclusion and assertion of the Nigerian woman in the post-independence political scene of the country (Nwagbara 2009).

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Therefore, with Achebe’s last-minute transformation, one would think that most contemporary male Nigerian writers would have caught on with the ideological train of feminist values and, to a certain extent, a good portion of the Nigerian woman’s reality. Surprisingly, recent Nigerian writers still portray Nigerian women in very stereotypical images that undermine twenty-first century feminist campaigns and women’s agitations for equality. Helon Habila is a contemporary Nigerian writer; Chiluwa and Akujobi assert that the presentation of the Lagos women in his work is a representation of the entirety of Nigerian women “in their discursive socio-cultural roles as “the other”” (Chiluwa and Akujobi 2011, p. 312). In his work, Chiluwa and Akujobi observe that women are painted as: Debased. . .. Who is pushed into unwholesome and unethical activities in order to sustain herself and family. Expectedly the Lagos women in the novel like Alice, Hagar, Auntie Racheal, Nancy etc. are either, a girlfriend, a free woman, or a prostitute. Significantly, Habila attributes the Lagos women’s moral lapses as direct consequences of underdevelopment and harsh socio-economic condition in Nigeria. Hagar and Nancy drop out of school, drink, smoke and prostitute. (p. 314)

However, as commendable as Habila’s work is in portraying the deplorable conditions of the country’s economy, Chiluwa and Akujobi did not fail to notice that the women’s male counterparts in the text seemed to engage in more productive and change inspiring activities like political activism. The writer inadvertently draws parallels in portraying Nigerian women and men’s reaction when faced with the similar socioeconomic and political challenges (Chiluwa and Akujobi 2011). However, given the Nigerian woman’s history and familiarity with political activism and movements, Habila’s work is clearly erroneous in its portraiture of the Nigerian woman. This assertion is not a denial of the implications of underdevelopment on women in developing countries like Nigeria, but it is rather a protestation against the marginalization of active images of women in most Nigerian literature. As earlier stated in this study, the Nigerian civil war is a very important part of the nation’s history; little wonder, there are several literary texts replicating the realities of the war and the roles of women during that period and by doing so are painting an image of Nigerian women during the civil war. Awogu-Maduagwu conducts an extensive study on the representation of Nigerian women during the war with special reference to Akachi Ezeigbo’s Roses and Bullets and Festus Iyayi’s Heroes. In her assessment of both literary works, she concludes that the Nigerian woman in these literary works is both a heroine and a victim; she is also passive, docile, evil, motherly, and rebellious (Awogu-Maduagwu 2018). Following her analysis, Ozioma in Ezeigbo’s Roses and Bullets is described as “muted” and “defeated,” Njide is described as “selfless and eager” to serve, and Eunice is portrayed as brave and fearless. Aunty Chito embodies motherly attributes, while Aunty Lizzy is described as evil. However, in Iyayi’s Heroes, Salome embodies the female stereotype of selfish seductress, while Ezeigbo’s Ginika is a rebel whose rebellion brings about her downfall. In Awogu-Maduagwu’s opinion, the war also provided a new order of women taking the helm of society’s affairs in their hands while trying to maintain social order (Awogu-Maduagwu 2018). The latter presentation of women as problem

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solvers mirrors Achebe’s account of women’s activities focused on survival and containing the damages of the war in the state of Biafra. With reference to the dominant stereotypical images, feminist uprisings and women’s movements across the nation have led Nigerian women writers to use their works in correcting and responding to the negative image of Nigerian women in the nation’s literature. As observed by Methuselah, these opposite images present women as “audacious, intrepid and militant” or sometimes “cold, calculating and vicious” (Methuselah 2010, p. 152). In his study, he tries to examine the various images of women in some works by Nigerian female playwrights. He analyses the works of Tess Onwueme to reveal the domination of women characters and a subversion of the traditional negative stereotypes for empowered roles. Using the characters of Gladys in A Hen Too Soon, Ona in The Broken Calabash, Wazobia in The Reign of Wazobia, Rufina in The Artist’s Homecoming, [and] the women of Idu in Tell it to Women, Methuselah (2010) opines that Onwueme’s works capture the centrality of a woman’s place in the country by portraying her as resilient, smart, and strong in the face of obstacles. In his exact words, “Onwueme served to showcase the courage and fortitude of women” (p. 156). Furthermore, Olufunwa considers these images of Nigerian women’s assertiveness and empowerment as reflexive of Nigerian society. Using the works of Adichie and Atta, Olunfunwa admits that the creation of a superwoman image using the characters of Kambili, Olanna, Kainene, Enitan, and Tolani in both texts provides a guide to the expected Nigerian woman’s emotional and behavioral responses to several issues most likely to befall them (Olufunwa 2012). With the consciousness of the marginalization of women in Nigerian society and the gradual interrogation of the forces of patriarchy that made it so, this study might see the women’s “superwoman” representation in some Nigerian literature as neither right nor wrong, but somewhere in between. This is mostly because the message of feminist agitations are beginning to sink in, which can account for women’s assertiveness and growing independence around the country. However, it does not eliminate the larger portion of Nigerian women that are still subjugated by patriarchal injunctions of culture and traditions. To women like this, feminine assertion is still a foreign concept. Therefore, the different representations of women as provided by several scholars have succeeded in presenting a rather complicated image of the Nigerian woman. For some scholars, she is docile and inactive; to others, she is assertive and independent. This, therefore, proves that some women in Nigeria are still battling with the patriarchal conditionings of culture while some others – mostly the urban woman – seem to be embracing the tenets of feminist movements across the globe.

The Gaps and Recommendations for Further Studies on Nigerian Women There has been a lot of writing on Nigerian women that glosses over the women’s sociopolitical and economic situations in the country. These studies admit a low percentage of female involvement in politics, management, and education, as well as the high rate of poverty among women. They often associate this with the nation’s

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cultural ideologies and an inherent patriarchy, which is correct but lacking in depth and understanding. This is so because further research reveals the role of colonialism in changing the views about women, as well as their alienation in the nation’s politics and other spheres of Nigerian society. Therefore, studies with real understanding of the sources of women’s current situation in Nigeria should be further pursued in order to equip women with information and help them see that taking a secondary position is not the legacy of their ancestors. Furthermore, contemporary researches about the Nigerian woman are not holistic, as they either focus on the Nigerian woman’s past where she was supposedly autonomous and independent or on present challenges with a focus on the urban Nigerian woman. Statistics on women who are at the margins of civilization are considerably lower and limited compared to the coverage on the urban woman. This is however not judicious since the Nigerian women’s demography falls within both the rural and urban areas. In other words, the unequal statistics and attention do not provide an accurate report on the contemporary status of the Nigerian woman. Further studies on the Nigerian woman should, therefore, strive to provide a balanced account of the conditions and realities of the women both rural and urban. An appraisal of literary materials reveals that a higher number of Nigerian literature present very negative and stereotypical images of women that tend to undermine the purpose of feminist movements across the nation. However, this is not to say that all Nigerian literature portray women negatively; rather, more literary works should eliminate these stereotypical images and provide a balanced view of the Nigerian woman. The minority of literary works promoting a positive image of the Nigerian woman image tends to defeminize her and transform her into a manwoman, thereby implying that the woman has to act like a man for her opinions to be taken seriously. In light of that discovery, there should be more literary works in Nigeria that do not portray women as self-inflicted victims with mental laziness but rather as independent, reliable, smart, and feminine figures. Also, further research in oral literature should explore the oral narratives of the cultures of northern Nigeria; this is mostly because this study could find little or no resources on the oral literature from that region.

Conclusion Critical discourses on the Nigerian woman have explored her position and reaction in all the phases of Nigeria’s development, as well as in the various spheres of society. The work traces the socioeconomic and political activities of these women in the precolonial, colonial, and postcolonial eras of the nation, identifying several agitations and wars instigated and championed by women to promote women’s welfare in the various communities and groups examined. This critical appraisal, however, concludes that the Nigerian woman was more expressive, significant, and self-aware pre-independence, taking charge of several weighty responsibilities which often included politics and administration. Arguably, she is said to have possessed as much power as the man in precolonial times.

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This study considers this opinion a stretch on the notion of women’s inclusion but would rather go with the idea that men and women played complementary roles and knew the boundaries to their authorities. However, in politics, economy, education, and literature, studies show that the Nigerian woman has fallen far from a supposed state of self-awareness to an unconscious contentment with a subsidiary status brought about by the nation’s contact with colonialism and the assimilation of the Victorian ethos of the colonial masters. Also, scholars delineate the challenges facing the Nigerian woman in the twenty-first century as well as the influence of feminist movements on women’s personal ideologies and portrayals in literature. This critical essay further identifies some of the gaps in studies on Nigerian women and recommends solutions.

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Gender, Authority, and Identity in African History: Heterarchy, Cosmic Families and Lifestages

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Christine Saidi, Catherine Cymone Fourshey, and Rhonda M. Gonzales

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Heterarchy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Cosmic Family . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Processual Lifestages . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion: Future Research . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

This chapter covers categories that have historically shaped authority, responsibility, and identity among Bantu-speaking communities in Africa’s Bantu Matrilineal Belt from the precolonial to the contemporary era. The societies that contribute to this analysis were primarily matrilineal. In such societies, women were hardly excluded from positions of authority, but rather maintained considerable authority even where and when patrilineal models or even patriarchy crept into the social system. Through practices of heterarchy, familial relations, and lifestages, women wielded authority equal to and often greater than men.

C. Saidi (*) History Department, Kutztown University of Pennsylvania, Kutztown, PA, USA e-mail: [email protected] C. C. Fourshey History and International Relations, Bucknell University, Lewisburg, PA, USA e-mail: [email protected] R. M. Gonzales The University of Texas at San Antonio, San Antonio, TX, USA e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_151

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Keywords

African feminism · Bantu · Cosmic family · Heterarchy · Lifestage · Matrilineal · Precolonial · Gender

Introduction This handbook aims to summarize and analyze the corpus of research and writings to date on African Women’s Studies. The goal of this chapter within the handbook is to use seminal works as a platform for proposing new ways of analyzing relevant identities and markers of authority specifically within Bantu-speaking communities, with an emphasis on the shifting role of gender in the periods prior to enduring contact with the west – the pre-1500s. Historical eras prior to 1500 are best understood through multimethod approaches to history. Thus, this chapter draws upon and models the kinds of historical evidence that provides meaningful insight into categories that led one to paths of authority and responsibility as well as shaped people’s identities in early history. This examination of a breadth of case studies from pioneering works along with a growing body of African feminist scholarship raises the question–does gender matter in how people identify everywhere in Africa – or anywhere – prior to the nineteenth century? Has gender historically or contemporarily been an avenue to achieve or grant positions of authority or status broadly in Africa? As historians of precolonial times, the authors contend that before colonial regimes imposed a hegemonic, gender-based system in occupied lands, categories other than gender determined identity, power, authority, and influence in all realms of life. In their efforts to understand identities and gender in precolonial Africa, historians face a dual challenge of few written sources expressly by or about women and few written documents in most regions of the continent for historical eras prior to 1800. Fortunately, there are multiple approaches to historical research. While many historians examine written sources collected in archives, this chapter employs studies that go beyond the written word. It models best practices in social history of early precolonial Africa, drawing on works that employ spoken vocabularies, oral traditions, and material culture to reconstruct and understand power flows in the deep past. Reflecting on studies that use the abovementioned methodologies, this chapter reclaims significant categories centered on epistemologies and vocabularies used, redefined, and adapted over historical time by people in many different Bantu speech communities. In its deconstruction of gender as a critical category, this chapter presents new lenses for focusing on the positionality of people vis-a-vis authority and status among speakers of Bantu languages. Conceptually, the way Bantuspeaking people have spoken, contemplated, and understood relationships among people and people’s obligations to responsibility, authority, and hierarchies within their worlds 500, 1000, and even as far back as 2000 years ago did not privilege gender. People speaking one or more of the approximate 450 Bantu languages live in two/thirds of Sub-Saharan Africa. These languages are spoken across a geographical

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space that stretches from southern Cameroon to South Africa as well as further north and east across central and eastern Africa as far north as Somalia. Many Bantuspeaking communities have maintained elements of matrilineal institutions into contemporary times that are rooted in histories dating to 3500 BCE. With more communities and families resting on matrilineal principles than any other world region, the Bantu Matrilineal Belt provides an illustration of societies that operate outside the hegemonic paradigm introduced in coastal regions of Africa during slave trade and solidified in interior regions under colonial rule. This region with a deep history of matrilineal institutions and matrilocal practices exhibits social, political, and economic organization and thinking where authority and responsibility have long been held most commonly by elders and specialists irrespective of gender. Two major issues this chapter grapples with are the ways in which African feminist scholarship has suggested the historical past informs modern concepts of authority and status within various societies and the methodologies scholars employ to recover histories of whole communities – women and men, elders, and youth – all critical in worldviews centered on multivalent authorities, extended families, and generational cycles. There has been robust debate about feminism in Africa and whether or not it is an appropriate paradigm for examining what occurs on the continent, and yet despite the debates, there is African feminist scholarship. Drawing on the larger body of work that followed American anthropologist Sacks' path-breaking 1979 work Sisters and Wives, this chapter asks readers to consider both the value of excavating the history of African feminisms but also the importance of using African perspectives in scholarship to pose questions and to build new knowledge about women, men, and gender as categories in people’s thinking and lived daily experiences specifically in Africa. By the late 1980s, a number of African-descended feminists began to pose entirely new questions that interrogated both gender and its universal significance in people’s self-identity and societal authority. Some of these scholars pointed to the ways in which colonial and postcolonial male-dominated politics negatively impacted women’s aspirations for the futures of their own communities. Though male and female divisions had long been accepted and remained largely unchallenged in Africanist scholarship, the works of Nigerian-born anthropologist Ifi Amadiume, African American anthropologist of Ghana Gwendolyn Mikell, and Nigerian-born sociologist of knowledge Oyèrónkẹ Oyěwùmí, and several other scholars – in the decade between the late-1980s and the late-1990s – marked a shift in thinking about social categories of identity, power, and privilege as a hierarchy of lifestages and family relations (Mikell 1997; Oyěwùmí 1997; Ongundipe-Leslie 1994; Amadiume 1987). Amadiume was the first of this group to contest Western gender categories in her 1987 book, Male Daughters, Female Husbands: Gender and Sex in an African Society. Amadiume used examples from Southeastern Nigeria to demonstrate that “roles were not rigidly masculinized or feminized.” Under certain circumstances, in precolonial and pre-Christian hegemony in the nineteenth century, a woman could be classified a husband but still be biologically a woman, because sex and gender were not conflated in this region. Following Amadiume, Mikell challenged biosocial

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determinism, with her edited volume African Feminism. She noted the considerable variation in gender roles (Mikell 1997). Mikell pushed readers to look beyond gender as a category of consequence in the longer trajectory of African history (Mikell 1997; Oyěwùmí 1997). She pointed out that indigenous cultural patterns provide important models for postcolonial African women to draw upon and reassert their rightful place in societal decision-making (Mikell 1997). Around the same time, Oyěwùmí, in The Invention of Women, raised fundamental questions about whether “woman” and implicitly “man” were valued categories, above others such as mother, sister, daughter, etc. (and likewise, father, brother, son, etc...), among Yoruba speakers historically. Amadiume, Mikell, and Oyewumi opened the door for scholars to rethink the many assumptions about social categories related to gender, sexuality, and identity. Ostensibly those very questions about gender, identity, and power are valid for asking in research all over the world. From anthropologists to sociologists to historians, feminist scholars of Africa have pointed to precolonial and contemporary indigenous practice rooted less in gender binaries and far more in the importance of family relationships and culturally linked forms of public participation that cut across gender categories in determining power, privilege, and status. Both western and African-based scholars looked to feminist theory and action to challenge gender oppression and binary categories. In demonstrating the diversity of African feminist work, Maxwell Shamase (2017) turns back to early feminist scholar activists on the continent such as Molara Ogundipe-Leslie, the late Nigerian nationalist and feminist icons Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti, and Egyptian Nawal El Saadawi. Shamase then moves forward in time toward contemporary African feminists like Molara Ogundipe-Leslie and Sierra Leonean feminist scholar and critic Filomena Steady, who contend that precolonial and even colonial African societies had strategies for correcting imbalances, including those that arose from shifting distribution of authority across gender (Shamase 2017; Ogundipe-Leslie 1994). Even in postcolonial times, when, according to predominant narratives, women are supposedly highly oppressed, African women have continued to be authorities with or without the permission of patriarchs. Shamase pointedly noted in 2017. In short, feminism is a struggle to end sexist oppression. Its aim is not to benefit any specific group of women, or any particular race or class of women. It does not privilege women over men. On the contrary, it is a movement that has the power to transform the whole of society in a meaningful way. Feminism challenges the ‘patriarchal’ conception of male and female roles in the society. It also draws a distinction between sex and gender in order to redefine male and female roles. The movement also confronts sex oppression in domains such as reproduction, production, sexuality and socialization (9211).

The feminist critique of patriarchy and women’s oppression being universal or indigenous in Africa has been challenged also by literary scholars indicating how widespread the discussion is across disciplines. In tracing this African feminist history, it is important to recognize the diversity of perspectives and positions that have developed in the last four decades.

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As seen from the above examples, African feminist scholars have consistently contended that gender is not the most critical marker of identity in Africa, yet there is a need for more research across Africa on gender in light of the erosion of rights – particularly rights of people gendered female – during the twentieth century (Mikell 1997). With an edited volume of essays authored by scholars from various fields (anthropology, history, law, political science, and sociology), Mikell demonstrates that in different parts of Africa across time, social and political structures forged primarily around family institutions created spaces and opportunities for women in a variety of professions and positions. Though her volume focuses on the postcolonial nation-state, not deep history, Mikell’s edited volume challenges rigid categories and makes a case, more broadly across Africa, that various forms of female authority or gendered activism enacted by women has long existed on the continent. As such Mikell’s work as well as those written in the 1980s and 1990s serves as an excellent foundation for rethinking gender and women’s histories. Prior to the nineteenth century, women across Africa held positions of authority that were regulated by professions, age groups, kinship relations, and secret or religious societies. Women from Tswana in Southern Africa to the Dogon and Soninke in Northwestern Africa to rural women in Ethiopia have long employed various networks to mobilize resources, produce knowledge, and spread information widely, a fact that challenges the false notion that all women globally, and particularly women of Africa, have never been power brokers or wielders of authority. A detailed example existed among Makhuwa of Mozambique, a Bantu speech community, where the pyamwene, a senior woman of each matriclan, was crucial to societal functions, she represented the original womb of the matriclan, protected the ancestors, and performed religious ceremonies for deceased chiefs (Declich 2015, 640). She was a pivotal power broker and liaison from one generation to the next and was the head of the lineage. The authority and responsibility of the pyamwene had less to do with biological gender and far more to do with relationships to members of matrilineages within the matriclan. No ruler, male or female, in Makhuwa society was granted authority without the consent of the pyamwene. Despite popular belief, what becomes clear from feminist scholarship on Africa is that power, influence, and authority dynamics were complex and often transcended gender. One result of the increasingly patriarchal nature of political and religious institutions was the weakening of local cultural models that historically afforded women greater participation and central roles in processes of decision-making. Since the rise of colonial rule in the late 1800s, African women have maintained less authority over and within the wider society economically, politically, and socially, as evidenced by the many late twentieth and early twenty-first century projects to empower, or more appropriately re-empower, women. Considering the propensity for change over time within human communities, precolonial Bantu speech communities must have ascribed authority and responsibility along very different lines than present day patriarchal nation-states do. This is because as a concept patriarchy was absent or rare within Bantu languages in precolonial eras. In fact, language evidence and oral traditions as well as ethnographic studies reveal that in Bantu-speaking communities, family relationships

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were more salient than biosocial gender, and people in many of these societies saw the flow of power and authority as outgrowths of knowledge specialization and elderhood/age seniority. Gender in Africa is an ambiguous category when examined over the long-term in regions where Bantu languages are spoken because lineages communally held power and biological sex alone was not a means of deciding who could make decisions or wield authority. People certainly recognized biological distinctions expressed in people’s bodies; they just did not ascribe authority based on gender difference, but rather they based it on generational differences and valued knowledge and influence accumulated. Moreover, gender balance and even discussions of intersected attributes predominated, and reference to sex or gender in Bantu speech communities around power- imbued events like iron production, installation of leaders, and honoring ancestors. Clearly, power and authority are not inherently mono-gendered, but rather they unfold and are expressed in multiple sites within any given society. These multivalent and multi-sited pockets of power and authority reflect heterarchical (complimentary, competing, and overlapping centers of authority) rather than simple vertical hierarchical systems. With a geographic and topical focus on what several scholars have referred to as the Bantu Matrilineal Belt of Africa, this chapter argues for the ambiguity and problematic nature of gender as a sole or primary concept to understand social history. This chapter takes the position that common frameworks of analysis that center on power, family, and lifestages in the study of history are incomplete, because they rest on an assumption that gender and women and men’s roles were primary to determining relative authority and status. The categories that have greater relevance include heterarchy as a model of power, cosmic family as a representation of social power and connections, and processual lifestages as transformational processes that shape access to authority and status in a Bantu historical context (Fourshey, Gonzales, and Saidi 2017). We suggest that elaborating these common concepts helps to better illuminate social and cultural history in Bantu Africa. The following sections examine some ways – beyond gender – that people conceptualized their world creating categories, social connections, and iterative ceremonies to assess status, authority, and responsibility in regions and locations where matrilineages held a great deal of influence over social, economic, and political decisions (Smythe 2015). The focus is on the culturally relevant categories of heterarchy, cosmic families, and processual lifestages, which are evidenced more relevant than gender in determining power and authority in the Bantu Matrilineal Belt.

Heterarchy Authority and power come in many forms and are found in multiple loci in any given community. While historians and other social scientists often assume hierarchies and concentrated power as typical, another organizational structure exists – heterarchy. In eastern and central Africa, power and authority are differentially held and

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distributed across families and generations in ways illustrative of heterarchy. Heterarchical organization can include hierarchy but is also more complex than hierarchy because it reflects multiple interdependent systems functioning simultaneously. A heterarchy is a system of organization where the elements of the organization can be unranked (non-hierarchical) or where they possess the potential to be ranked a number of different ways. Much of African feminist scholarship combined with the research that has employed multidisciplinary methods to excavate deep early history reveal that societies were organized in ways that brought balance to the distribution of power; virtually all privileged age seniority and specialized knowledge (Stephens 2015; Smythe 2015; de Luna 2013; Kodesh 2010; Klieman 2003; Schoenbrun 1998; Ogbomo 1997; Sacks 1979). The connections and interactions of individuals fashion between the units that constitute the heterarchical system represent multiple intricate linkages that create non-linear paths rather than tiered, hierarchical ones with direct lines of authority. Those with the greatest authority in one unit of the heterarchy may hold little or no authority in another powerful unit of the heterarchy. Heterarchies consist of flexible structures that can shift over time and as circumstances change. Because they are constituted of interdependent bodies that individuals direct and manage, authority and decision-making can circulate within a heterarchy in ways not always welcome in hierarchies. Heterarchy did not begin as a concept applied to humanity but as a concept in computer programming (Cumming 2016). Forty years ago, Carole Crumley applied the term heterarchy to a historical case study, in her archaeological work on the Iron Age (Celtic) hill fort at Mont Dardon in Burgundy, France. Prior to Crumley, heterarchy was used exclusively to describe and explain biological systems and corporate environments (Crumley, Plieninger, and Bieling 2012). In 1999, Susan Keech McIntosh took up heterarchy in Africa in her book, Beyond Chiefdoms. With a few exceptions, such as Holly Hanson’s Landed Obligation (2003) and her more pointed exploration in “Mapping Conflict” (2009), Kathleen Smyth’s Africa’s Past, Our Future (2015), and Shadrek Chirikure et al. in “No Big Brother Here” (2017), scholars of African history have hardly pursued this line of analysis in explaining authority and power across Africa (Chirikure et al. 2017; Fourshey et al. 2017; Smythe 2015; Hanson 2003). Yet heterarchical organization seems to be widespread across the continent, in studies of ritual power, and perhaps it is endemic in societies that historically embraced non-centralized systems of political and economic organization. Heterarchy may capture (1) what Kairn Klieman referred to as tripartite power between ancestors, Batwa firstcomers, and Bantu lineage heads; (2) the power of Bacwezi religious institutions that counterbalanced the political centers of power Bjerke explored; as well as (3) what David Lee Schoenbrun noted as instrumental or creative power of bajinji, basámbwa, and kubándwa (Klieman 2003; Schoenbrun 1998; Chrétien 1985; Bjerke 1981). Each of these studies employs methodologies that incorporated oral traditions, historical linguistics, and/or archaeological data to dig into the deep past well before colonial rule. They each reveal that authority was neither hierarchical nor the domain of a single gender. Likewise, McIntosh, Hanson, and Chirikure et al. each contend in

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their studies that even in highly centralized societies like Western Africa’s urban Niger River trade circuit, Eastern Africa’s powerful Great Lake kingdoms, and Southern Africa’s hilltop stone enclosed power centers such as Great Zimbabwe and its neighboring hilltop states, distinct practices of heterarchy are exhibited. The analytical framework heterarchy offers helps to explain a great deal about unseen sites of power and the internal and external relationships that communities build through overlapping interlocking systems of authority. Heterarchy may mediate the ill effects of concentration of power in the hands of very few, when people employ it to create multiple sites of authority that are interdependent for society to function well. Though in many cases they are interlocking and intersect, these institutions of power can fiercely compete for loyalties. In this chapter, heterarchy is a critical analytical framework to explore the historical nature of gender and its proper place as a category in studies of Africa and particularly in regions where matrilineal values have had some influence in people’s worldviews. The framework of heterarchy helps to explain relationships and categories meaningful in these regions. Heterarchy also decenters notions that men are always in power and that patriarchy is natural and reaches every corner of society. The case this chapter makes by thinking about pioneering historical methodologies and African feminist scholarship is that there are key sites of power both hidden and in plain view that suggest heterarchical authority was a norm, authority rotated, and people of all generations – regardless of gender – were afforded spaces of authority and domains of responsibility. With a lens focused on the complex heterarchical practices and ways of thinking in deep history and contemporary times, one can ask new historical questions about gender and look for new answers to old queries: How primary was gender to identity and authority in different precolonial eras and different regions of Africa? To what extent were politics and economy shaped by gender if at all? What social roles did men and women have rigidly assigned to them based on biology? Applying heterarchy as a lens of analysis allows the historian to challenge widely accepted generalizations and understandings of precolonial history regarding authority, political maneuvering, and gendered roles. Multiple forms of authority that have each challenged other competing and complementary forms and certainly sites and purposes of authority have overlapped in different spheres, yet all have been critical in shaping history. The competing, overlapping, and complementary forms of authority have certainly shifted in importance, meaning, and uses over several centuries. For example, matrilineal and patrilineal forms of organization, management of generational ceremonies, and control over labor are all arenas in which common ideas about gendered roles and women’s disempowerment and secondary status are notably challenged by multiple examples of critical social, political, and economic authority possessed, embodied, and enacted by women. G. S. Cumming contends, in an analysis of the history and application of “heterarchy” in neuroscience, ecology, archaeology, multiagent control systems, business and organizational studies, and politics, that a great deal is missed by scholars analyzing societies without a consideration of heterarchies. Cumming states:

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Social-ecological systems research suffers from a disconnect between hierarchical (topdown or bottom-up) and network (peer-to-peer) analyses. The concept of the heterarchy unifies these perspectives in a single framework. . .Recognizing complex system architecture as a continuum along vertical and lateral axes (‘flat versus hierarchical’ and ‘individual versus networked’) suggests four basic types of heterarchy: reticulated, polycentric, pyramidal, and individualistic. Each has different implications for system functioning and resilience. Systems can also shift predictably and abruptly between architectures. Heterarchies suggest new ways of contextualizing and generalizing from case studies and new methods for analyzing complex structure-function relations (Cummings 2016, 622) .

Cumming’s theory applies as well to historical studies of human communities, particularly in terms of gender – where ignoring both the nuances of ascribed authority and people’s actual understandings of identity – reinforces not only misunderstandings of who the many key historical actors were but also perpetuates the idea of unbalanced power. Scholars of Africa and feminist scholarship must continue to work with innovative methods to reveal women’s roles, not because gender is at the forefront of identity in all societies but because relying on the standard methods means privileging male voices in the colonial and postcolonial era. Ultimately, ascribing all achievements, change, and power to those gendered males misses a large segment of the historical picture.

Cosmic Family In the early twentieth century, anthropologists, sociologists, and philosophers examined the concept of family as a site of importance in the context of community, responsibility, and power. After 1950, sociologists focused on the organization of families and urbanization in the postindustrial eras. In 1955, sociologist Gideon Sjoberg noted the lack of attention to preindustrial cities, suggesting that sociologists must understand pre-industrial cities to understand and analyze the acculturation processes that they claim occurred in postindustrial times. Though Sjoberg is on point in the need to understand the social forms of family, his presumptions about the important variables, even with regard to family, in pre-industrial contexts fall short of deep consideration of families not definable when using European assumptions and measures. He offers brief examples or mention of Korea, Japan, and North Africa family types but ultimately concludes “. . . extensive industrialization requires a rational, centralized, extra-community economic organization in which recruitment is based more upon universalism than on particularism, a class system which stresses achievement rather than ascription, a small and flexible kinship system. . .(444).” Sjoberg notes that families are based on vertical and hierarchical power rooted in patriarchy, where women become true women after marriage. Sjoberg’s premise negates and ascribes these attributes to pre-industrial cities versus industrial cities, which, in his view, embody a progress construct and are the way toward progress. For Sjoberg, cities evolve from a nebulous peasantry who comprise the lowest strata of society in early cities. He argues that peasants and their kin-based families and culture are steeped in primordial and unsophisticated histories whose rationale,

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worldview, and outlook are focused on magic, divination, and nonscientific medicine, lacking mass communication and education. In 2012, historians Mary Jo Maynes and Ann Walter’s The Family: A World History brought an ambitious historical lens and scope to the concept of family, viewing it as a historical subject using a big history approach. It accepts that “people have always lived in families, but what that means has changed dramatically over time. The family is a historical institution, not a natural one.” There is general agreement with their intent to frame family as a historical and varied institution, yet they ultimately proclaim a universal definition of family that is limiting: Families are small groups of people linked by culturally recognized ties of marriage or similar forms of partnership, descent, and/or adoption, who typically share a household for some period of time. This co-residence is necessarily temporary and varies over the stages of the family cycle (x).

An important point to critically analyze is whether family is always synonymous with household. Though relationships might change, ties are not broken when people do not co-reside. They highlight, too, that living in the same household does not define kinship. Turning to research in LGBTQ scholarship, there have been efforts to note the ways the family construct has morphed to fit changing social expression and law, showing that non-heterosexual nuclear families can simultaneously reproduce and transgress traditional family values. Folgerø writes, “In different ways and to a variable extent the accounts contribute to destabilizing the notion of seemingly stable, constant, consistent, and homogeneous categories like “man” and “woman,” “heterosexual” and “homosexual (176).” The focus on urban history and family forms subsequently and throughout the twentieth century centered on a similar approach to define and understand structure using the pre-industrial and postindustrial family as one way to prove progress. In centering on the family within that context, the focus remained on defining the evolving, modern, nuclear family as a symbol of progress. The notion of the nuclear family and its relevance continued to be a point of contention. How was it defined? Who was included or excluded? What comprised the nuclear family? What was its connection to tenets of religion? What function did it serve for bloodrelated folks? Was the nuclear family designed in service of labor and law? The assumption that the construct of the nuclear family, which assumed a relationship built on a male and female parent and their biological offspring, was questioned as valid or generalizable across time and place. Others asked about the implications for the rights of extended family or of family across generations – wondering if grandparents have rights over grandchildren. While the interrogation of family as a construct continues, rarely are questions about family definitions or members examined at an epistemological level. Because the notion of the nuclear family is tied to ideas of modernity, to interrogate its altered forms challenges core assumptions about progress. But in fact, the construct of family is one with a history, and assumption about form purpose, composition, and more must be understood in time and place.

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The current authors suggest an alternative way to examine family that has application for deep historical time and broad geographical contexts. The idea of the cosmic family closely conveys the dynamic and important elements of a most significant social institution within Bantu-speaking Africa. The phrase cosmic family helps researchers show that the family consists of people alive today, people who have become ancestors, and people not yet born – all three parts of the family are entwined spiritually and shape the past and potential of future generations. Moreover, they form the foundations for lineal affiliation, status, responsibility, and reverence throughout society. This understanding of family is in part exemplified in the Tonga word, nkunkunyenze, which means both an unborn child and a group of elders (Mukanzubo Kalinda Institute 2011, N-1232). Tonga people of Southern Zambia are matrilineal, cattle keeping/agricultural people, located centrally within the Bantu Matrilineal Belt. Tonga, in using one word to indicate two lifestages that seem quite different, suggest that within their communities, elders, who are the closest to the ancestors, and unborn people, who are gifts from ancestors, are conceptualized with one word, embodying one dimension of the cosmic family.

Processual Lifestages As previously discussed, Bantu-speaking societies believed in and practiced different forms of heterarchy; thus no one section of society had exclusive power or total influence over everyone. This chapter argues that within these heterarchical structured communities, gender was not a primary determinant of status and authority but processual lifestages were. The research, based on linguistic data, ethnographic studies, and oral traditions, argues that control and prestige were attained as individuals proceeded in life from one socially marked lifestage to another. The crucial social institution that nurtured each individual through these lifestages was the cosmic family. Few historians of early African history have used “lifestage,” as a central theme of research, thus the scholarly work of anthropologists and sociologists tends to be more informative. The first anthropologist to write about lifestages was van Gennep who in 1909 published Les Rites de Passage, in which he proposed using a classification of this ritual as a basis for the study of various institutions within each community. His work was based primarily on his readings of ethnographic studies of European peasants and the writings of colonial anthropologists on the peoples of Asia and Africa. He writes in an era where social evolution or the evolving of social institutions was how scholars studied the societies of the “other.” Since then anthropologists and sociologists have debated the significance of lifestages in studying human activities. In one recent study on Bantu-speaking women, Jennifer Johnson-Hanks, a sociologist who studies educated mothers among the Beti in Cameroon, argues that lifestages are “rarely coherent, clear in direction, or fixed in outcome [and this] dramatically limits the usefulness of the life cycle model.” She is basing her argument on the current social environment among

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the Beti and singling out educated mothers, who are often caught between vying ideologies – one more based on African-centered understandings and the other on the Western worldview. The discussion of lifestages in this chapter is based on a historical period prior to the arrival of the West; thus the example of post-independence educated Beti women raises quite different issues. But Johnson-Hanks does suggest an important point that there is not only flexibility within lifestages, as not everyone moves from one stage to the other in the same manner. One classic anthropological study of lifestages that has had a major impact on current research is that of Karen Sacks’ Sisters and Wives. Through studying and deconstructing ethnographic studies of several patrilineal Bantu societies, she was able to note that a young woman had two distinct and different lifestages within patrilineal Bantu societies. She was a young wife with little authority in her husband’s village since she was living away from her family, though her position improved once she started having children. Significantly when she returned to her home, she became a sister and a daughter and had status over some people within her community. Sacks’ work is crucial to current understandings that lifestages are fluid, and within one specific period of life, there are roles that give one status and authority as well as roles that require a person to submit to others’ authority. Some historians of early African history have focused on male life cycles and rituals but rarely on those of female lifestages as a major theme of their research. A notable exception is A History of African Motherhood: The Case of Uganda, 700–1900, in which historian Rhiannon Stevens has employed historical linguistics to research the institutions of motherhood and how this lifestage has changed over time in the precolonial kingdoms of Buganda and Bunyoro. This significant study of the early Bantu social institutions of motherhood focused on one particular lifestage and how the institutions of motherhood transformed as the social institutions changed, rather than the entire life cycle of the women or how the community viewed the process of their moves from one lifestage to another. Stephen’s work demonstrates the immense authority of motherhood as a position in life and as a social role, an argument that challenges both the notion that gender was a primary identity and the idea that those who were women did not possess authority in centralized African societies. Language evidence, so far, has been the best source for understanding processual lifestages within the Bantu Matrilineal Belt. In societies where linguistic terms for various lifestages have been gathered and analyzed, an interesting pattern has begun to materialize. The vocabulary used to describe the life cycles from birth to puberty are often non-gendered words, while the life cycles named during the reproductive years from puberty to parenthood often represent both the social and the biological role of the person such as mother and father. As a person ages beyond the reproductive years, again the words used for lifestages are non-gendered. This does not mean that there are not gendered terms for young children or the elderly. This evidence raises interesting questions about role of parenthood, since terms referring to a particular gender seem to predominate when describing lifestages in which a major focus is producing and nurturing children. The cosmic family is in charge of honoring members who have passed, but equally important is their role in creating

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new members. While most Bantu-speaking societies can create family members socially, usually the main way to increase their numbers involves the very biological act of conception, then pregnancy, and finally birth. Birth and the nurturing of young children are considered a crucial element of the life cycle and that biological gender was recognized as significant for communities historically. Conversely, as an individual moves toward elder and ancestor status, one’s gender seems to be less important. Elders are usually the ones making the community decisions, and since gender seems irrelevant in the attainment of elder status and power, authority was gendered heterarchical. Ethnographic studies on this region have shown that women past menopause would often rise to important positions or even chiefhood status (Gonzales 2008; Saidi 2010); thus these societies honored women’s biological roles as mothers but also their status as elders and leaders. For the cosmic family as well as the community as a whole, producing a new generation is a fundamental goal. And this goal is honored and celebrated in initiation ceremonies that record the transition from childhood to potential parenthood. For Bantu-speaking matrilineal people, lifestages themselves were not viewed as a personal achievement in a person’s life; rather the processes or movements, commonly referred to as rituals, from one crucial life marker to another throughout a lifetime were essential to identities of both the individual and the community. Each transformation of a person into a new lifestage was a social act, organized by the cosmic family, but also members of the community participated in various ways. The transitions involved teaching the younger generations certain ideological tenets of that society that were observed and respected. For many, female initiation was the major religious ceremony. It was a necessary transition period to prepare a young woman for motherhood and was presided over by the entire community as well as by initiation experts. These initiation experts often made crucial decisions for the community on issues of birth and could, under certain circumstances, control the political ruler, thus one branch of the hierarchal power structure. In addition to the private ceremonies supervised by experts, there were also public events. The entire community celebrated key moments in the lifestage transition event with feasts, music, and dancing. A young woman would pass into physical puberty on her own, yet her transition to potential motherhood would involve her family and the entire village or society. Female initiation ceremonies were so crucial that it was believed in many societies that if a young woman got pregnant before completing the rituals, it would cause misfortune to the entire community. There is linguistic and comparative ethnographic evidence that there was a specific lifestage that includes female initiation and can be traced back to protoBantu times, 5500 years ago, *- yadi (Saidi 2010). Yadi is a lifestage from the first menstrual period to the first pregnancy or the birth of the first child. From a geographically diverse group of matrilineal Bantu-speaking people, this yadi lifestage is celebrated by two or three initiation ceremonies that start at the first menstrual cycle and ends at first successful pregnancy. Marriage and associated ceremonies would take place during the Yadi lifestage, but would not signify a lifestage transition. Until about a thousand years ago this widely distributed

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lifestage, among almost all Bantu-speaking peoples, indicated that while initiation was crucial to progression in one’s life, marriage was of less importance. Around 1000 to 500 years ago, some Bantu-speaking communities began to develop strong patriclans which created conflict with powerful matriclans. These contradictions were resolved in many different ways: some societies became patrilineal; some remained matrilineal with strong patriclans, and still others worked out forms of heterarchy to maintain status within the community. Among some of the societies where patriclans begin to dominate, there is a loss of both female and male initiation. Among the Nyamwezi of Central Western Tanzania, at least since the midtwentieth century, there is no longer a female initiation ceremony. Instead young girls move into a dormitory, the maji house, and are instructed informally (Allen 2000). While there is no longer any formal initiation ceremony, linguistic evidence hints that in earlier times, a young girl’s first menses may have been celebrated, since in Nyamwezi the word for family and lineage is igongo and the word for a young girl’s first menstrual period is ngongo, both concepts from the same word root *-gongo, thus indicating at some period these people linked a young woman’s first menses with the family – a decidedly matrilineal ideology since it is the women who produce a new generation for the family, lineage, and clan. Thus, the yadi lifestage concept remains even if it is just a faint specter. Bantu-speaking societies have long organized people within their communities into a number of lifestages that have varied to differing degrees across time. Each shift in lifestage was marked by a processual transition. Lifestages that have shaped peoples’ status and authority were primarily socially created; it was rare that biology or gender were privileged. In order to understand these lifestages, life cycles, and ceremonies of transition in the African past, scholars need to examine, analyze, and deconstruct various ethnographies written about colonized Africans prior to independence. For historians it is very useful that colonial ethnographers recorded everything they saw and heard. For example, comparing various ethnographies written about Bantu-speaking people comprising the Ruvu subgroup of languages in Tanzania suggests that infants and young children held a liminal state between the realm of the ancestors and personhood. Similarly, the above Nyamwezi example of the Bantu word root *-gongo shows elders and unborn are similarly conceptualized and are part of a continuing regeneration of cosmic families. Thus, continuing the cosmic family was the goal of a person’s lifestages and transitions. Even though the cosmic family saw lifestages as continuous, for those alive at any given time, lifestages played a significant role in determining positions. As a person went from a parent to a grandparent to an elder, they gained more status and authority. A simple example of this is found in many Bantu languages where siblings are identified by their birth order not their gender. The older siblings were given respect by the younger ones, regardless of gender. Since lifestages represented a person becoming older and reaching life milestones, seniority, which is an aspect of lifestages, also tended to be more important in achieving status than gender was. Many scholars of African social history have remarked on the significance of one’s seniority within particular communities. A few have argued that age is a more relevant indicator of status and authority, than gender. One root that may well

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indicate that this is true for these societies back thousands of years is the reconstructed root -ku´dù, (also attested over time and space as -ku´lù) meaning big, person of high status, adult, old person, old age and the prefix ku´d- to modify a noun meaning grown-up. In the Bantu Matrilineal Belt, this same root appears as “kulu,” with the common phonetic shift of /d/ to /l/, and has various meanings such as grandparents, older siblings, puberty, joking relationships, and to be old or barren. While some of the terms could overlap with biological gender as understood in contemporary times, in fact they all represent positions of authority in these societies for all genders. There is ethnographic and oral evidence indicating that age is more significant than gender in determining status – -kulu is one piece of evidence indicating this was an ancient belief among Bantu-speaking peoples. The root word -kulu may be a clue that this was an ancient belief, possibly dating back over 5000 years, among Bantu-speaking peoples. Using the study of lifestages and transitions as a major focus for determining authority, status or even responsibility raises fundamental questions about Bantuspeaking peoples’ worldviews. What was the purpose of individual lives and their roles within their communities among Bantu-speaking peoples? Does this research into the lifestages, life cycles, and transitional stages of Bantu-speaking people over the longue durée of Bantu history offer a new approach to understanding social history especially among the many societies within the Bantu Matrilineal Belt? How was gender used to categorize people and what impact did that have on Bantu speaking societies over long term history? And finally, will an understanding of the role of lifestages and lifestage transitions furnish a more Afrocentric and deeper understandings of Bantu African women’s history?

Conclusion: Future Research The intersections of identity that might hold great personal and social weight in various communities have been masked in unidimensional patriarchal paradigms. Understanding this helps shed light on contentions made by African feminists including Oyěwùmí (1997, 2005) and historians like Onaiwu Ogbomo (1997), about categories that mattered most. For Oyěwùmí, motherhood was more salient than womanhood as a category among nineteenth and twentieth century Yoruba in Nigeria. For Ogbomo, present-day gender power does not reflect historical realities, in his words, “contemporary gender relations in Africa is not a true reflection of women’s exercise of power and influence on the continent in the past.” Both men and women in Owan communities of Southern Nigeria played critical roles and had political, social, and economic standing dating back at least to the fourteenth century. While feminist scholars have often focused on debates about womanhood, wifehood, and motherhood, it is problematic to essentialize these as the only categories any individual or society privileges. Challenging established norms and suggesting alternative ways of thinking about categories do open up new possibilities to see what has mattered historically to people in different communities not only in Nigeria or the Bantu Matrilineal Belt but also potentially other parts of Africa and the world.

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Binary gender (female-woman or male-man) has become central to how people self-define and identify within Western societies (though that too is currently in flux). This hegemonic perspective has long dominated much of the world since the nineteenth century, yet one must ask how such an approach limits understanding of the past. This handbook chapter aimed to challenge readers to question constructions of gender, power, and responsibility both by presenting feminist scholarship from several Africa specialists along with several examples from Bantu-speaking communities. Readers hopefully have been able to reimagine how historically people may have prioritized identities differently. It is challenging to develop an effective way to present communities of people who do not use gender as a major concept for power to people who do. To date much of the groundbreaking research on the validity of gender within precolonial Africa has focused on non-Bantu societies in Western Africa. The authors of this chapter have researched gender and gender roles within Bantuspeaking societies for over 20 years and have concluded that historically gender was not a major construct for determining who attained status and authority within Bantu-speaking societies prior to 1900. Instead, researching the networks and structures of heterarchy, cosmic family, and processual lifestages are key to understanding how Bantu-speaking peoples conceptualized authority, status, and responsibility over the longue durée of history. An important area for future research is to examine many other societies through non-binary gender paradigms and explain – in qualitative and quantitative ways – the complexity and nuances of power, authority, responsibility, and identity.

References Allen, D. R. (2000). Learning the facts of life: Past and present experiences in a rural Tanzanian community. Africa Today, 47(3), 3–27. Amadiume, I. (1987). Male daughters, female husbands: Gender and sex in an African society. London: Zed Books. Bjerke, S. (1981). Religion and misfortune: The Bacwezi complex and the other spirit cults of the Zinza of Northwestern Tanzania. Oslo: Universitetsforlaget. Chirikure, S., Mukwende, T., Moffett, A. J., Nyamushosho, R. T., Bandama, F., & House, M. (2017). No big brother Here: Heterarchy, Shona political succession and the relationship between great Zimbabwe and Khami, Southern Africa. Cambridge Archaeological Journal 28(1), 1–22. Chrétien, J.-P. (1985). L’empire Des Bacwezi La Construction D’un Imaginaire Géopolitique. Annales Histoire Sciences Sociales 40(6), 1335–1377. Crumley, Carole L. (2012). A Heterarchy of Knowledge: Tools for the Study of Landscape Histories and Futures (303–14). In Tobias Plieninger and Claudia Bieling (eds.), Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Cumming, G. S. (2016). Heterarchies: Reconciling networks and hierarchies. Trends in Ecology & Evolution, 31(8), 622–632. Declich, F. (2015). Domesticity as socio-cultural construction: Domestic slavery, home and the quintal in Cabo Delgado (Mozambique). Gender and History, 3(27), 628–648. De Luna, K. (2013) Affect and Society in Precolonial Africa. Journal of African Historical Studies, 46(1), 123–150

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Folgerø, Tor. (2008). “Queer Nuclear Families? Reproducing and Transgressing Heteronormativity”. Journal of Homosexuality, 54(1–2), 124–49. Fourshey, C. C. (2012). Karibu stranger, come heal thy host: Hospitality in southwestern tanzania 1000-1900 18-54. African Historical Review 44(2), 18–54. Fourshey, C. C., Gonzales, R. M., & Saidi, C. (2017). Bantu Africa. New York: Oxford University Press. Gonzales, R. M. (2008). Societies, Religion, and History: Central east Tanzanians and the world they created, c. 200 BCE to 1800 CE. New York: Columbia University Press. Hanson, H. E. (2003). Landed Obligation: The practice of power in Buganda. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann. Johnson-Hanks, J. (2005). When the Future Decides Uncertainty and Internal Action in Contemporary Cameroon, Current Anthropology, 46(3), 363–385. Hanson, H. E. (2009). Mapping conflict: Heterarchy and accountability in the ancient Capital of Buganda. The Journal of African History, 50(2), 179–202. Klieman, K. A. (2003). “The Pygmies Were Our Compass”: Bantu and Batwa in the history of West Central Africa, early times to C. 1900 C.E. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann. Kodesh, N. (2010). Beyond the Royal Gaze: Clanship and public healing in Buganda. Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press. Maynes, M. J., & Waltner, A. B. (2012). The Family: A world history. New York: Oxford University Press. McIntosh, S. K. (1999). Beyond Chiefdoms: Pathways to complexity in Africa. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Mikell, Gwendolyn. (1997). African Feminism: The Politics of Survival in Sub-Saharan Africa. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Mukanzubo Kalinda Institute (2011). Chitonga-English Dictionary Ogbomo, O. W. (1997). When Men and Women Mattered: A history of gender relations among the Owan of Nigeria. Rochester, NY: University of Rochester Press. Ongundipe-Leslie, M. (1994). Recreating Ourselves: African women and critical transformations. New Jersey: Africa World Press. Oyěwùmí, Oyèrónkẹ. (1997). The invention of Women: Making an African sense of Western gender discourses. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota. ——. (2005). Visualizing the Body: Western Theories and African Subjects. In O. Oyěwùmí (ed.), African Gender Studies: A Reader. New York: Palgrave Macmillian, 3–22. Sacks, K. (1979). Sisters and Wives: The past and future of sexual equality. Westport, Conn: Greenwood Press. Saidi, C. (2010). Women’s Authority and Society in Early East-Central Africa. Rochester: University of Rochester. Schoenbrun, D. L. (1998). A Green Place, A Good Place: Agrarian change, gender, and social identity in the Great Lakes region to the 15th century. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann. Shamase, M. Z. (2017). A theoretical exposition of feminism and Womanism in African context. Gender & Behaviour, 15(2), 9210–9222. Sjoberg, G. (1955). The Preindustrial City. American Journal of Sociology, 60(5), 438–445. Smythe, K. R. (2015). Africa’s Past, Our Future. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Stephens, R. (2015). A History of African Motherhood: The case of Uganda, 700–1900. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Van Gennep, A. (1909). Les Rites de Passage. Paris: Emile Nourry.

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Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . From the Distant Past to the More Recent Past . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Colonialism and the Gender Paradigm in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Emerging Trends in African Gender Narratives . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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This chapter offers a critical account of the history of colonialism and gender on the African continent, paying attention to the diversities and complexities which these two social and political processes produced in their interaction with one another across space and time. While historians and feminist writers have elucidated the complementary roles of men and women in pre-colonial African periods, the process of pacification and establishment of colonial administration had profound implications on existing intergroup structures. Colonial institutions gave more recognition to men than were given to women. Colonialism thus affected different aspects of African females’ lives in relation to their male counterparts in the society. This chapter thus examines the import of the colonial enterprise for gender identification, gender roles, and gender stratification in Africa using historical lens. While it is acknowledged that gender is not just a synonym for women, but also applies to men and masculinity, emphasis is placed on women in the discussion of how power is shaped by gender relations and resistance to colonial rule and the ways in which the colonialists specifically ignored women in Africa, serving as a precursor to current inequities in gender F. I. Agbaje (*) Department of Peace, Security and Humanitarian Studies, Faculty of Multidisciplinary Studies, Institute for Peace and Strategic Studies, University of Ibadan, Ibadan, Nigeria © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2021 O. Yacob-Haliso, T. Falola (eds.), The Palgrave Handbook of African Women's Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-28099-4_3

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relations. The chapter utilizes examples from within African communities in Africa to illustrate its points in respect of the complex interfaces of colonialism and gender in historical and contemporary perspective. Keywords

Colonialism · Gender · History · Africa

Introduction This chapter offers a critical account of the history of colonialism and gender in Africa. To be sure, the chapter’s mandate is a broad one, prone to charges of setting out on an essentialist enterprise, given that Africa is in fact complex in terms of its past, present, and future. What is attempted here, therefore, is an examination of Africa’s complexities over time for insights into similar and contrastive experiences in regard to the topic under consideration. Such complexity is, for instance, reflected in the uses (and abuses?) of gender over time (Keller 1990). It has been used in sociological analysis to draw attention to the socially constructed aspects of differences between women and men, which in contemporary usage has been extended to include cultural ideas regarding masculinity and femininity. It also includes specialized roles assigned to groups, based on sex, and popular perceptions which vary among groups, institutions, organizations, and cultures (Marshall and Arnot 2007). The concept of gender is, of course, not alien to Africa, where it refers to roles and functions in the society and reflects perceptions of what a female or male should be and do in society based on available opportunities. However, contemporary analysis of gender embraces a profound intellectual effort to interrogate diverse ways in which both African women and men have been represented through western lens. Furthermore, gender research in Africa entails an attempt to highlight the effects of biases in western gender conversations in Africa and how western prejudices about Africans could be addressed and challenged (Kisiang’ani 1995). Consequently, gender studies include but are not synonymous with women studies. According to the World Health Organization (WHO 2017), gender refers to the socially constructed characteristics of women and men such as norms, roles, and relationships of and between groups of women and men. This description, however, varies in its authoritativeness from one African society to another. While people are born either male or female, they are taught appropriate norms and behaviors including how they should interact with others of the same or opposite sex within households, communities, and work places. In several pre-colonial African societies, the expected roles conferred on women and men might be different in some aspects, but there were also similarities and significant levels of complementarity aimed at the development of the society. Historically, the women in pre-colonial Africa enjoyed a lot of respect and prestige. They were conferred with series of responsibilities from the homestead to

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the wider African society. These women were educators, farmers, wives, regents, priestesses, chiefs, elders, and mothers (Amadiume 1998). A lot of changes occurred in African cultures under colonial rule in such fields as education, politics, governance, social activities, religion, as well as economics which had consequences for gender roles within the continent (Awe 1992). These changes affected some of the rights available to women in the pre-colonial period. True to the postulation of Mba (1982, p. 38), that “the British administrators did not give traditional African women the opportunity to be active in the scheme of governance on their arrival to the continent,” this period marked the beginning of women’s relative neglect in the society. Colonialism has been described (cf. Tignor 2005; Osterhammel 2005) as the policy and practice by which a polity seeks to extend or retain its authority over other peoples or territories, generally with the aim of developing or exploiting them to the benefit of the colonizing country and of charting a path to the future for the colonies along lines and on terms defined by the colonizers. It, therefore, involves the domination by a nation of other territories and their peoples. Thus, colonialism is the practice of a stronger power extending its control over weaker ones, including economic exploitation of natural resources, creation of new markets for the colonizing nation, and the geographical expansion of the colonizing nation’s ideas, language, and way of life. Especially from the 1870s through 1900s, Africa faced European imperialist aggression, diplomatic pressures, military invasions, and eventual conquest and colonization (Iweriebor 2002). Despite the fact that many African societies put up various forms of resistance against this attempt to colonize their territories and impose foreign domination, much of Africa, except Ethiopia and Liberia, had been colonized by European powers by the early twentieth century. For many African states, therefore, the establishment of colonial rule marked the start of a new phase in the development of their societies. The emergence of a westernized Africa through colonialism did not exempt the gender paradigm. Colonial parliaments gave more recognition to men than were given to women, with changes affecting gender roles and relations emerging (Longmore 1959; Irukwu 1994). The ever-ranging debate about the pains and gains of colonialism continue to underscore the extent to which colonialism was at best a double-edged sword for Africa in its political, economic, and cultural dimensions, especially as all this related to gender issues and values (Weir 1933). Colonialism thus affected different aspects of African females’ lives in relation to their male counterparts in the society. The process of pacification and establishment of colonial administration, while being aimed at maintaining order such that colonial policies and programs could be implemented, had profound implications on existing intergroup structures, with the new realities largely robbing women of much of the important responsibility of active participation in the evolving order (Sudarkasa 2005). Given that African men, presented by European explorers as thoughtlessly cruel and savage (Baker 1866; Reade 1864), also experienced their own share of colonial oppression, the focus in this chapter as indicated above is understandably to historicize the role of colonialism in the construction and reconstruction of gender in

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Africa in its interconnections across time, space, and social categories, and not necessarily in the disparate terms of its constituents of African male and African female even though more attention is paid to the latter to address historical neglect of the place and space of the female gender in Africa. Thus, the chapter takes on the task to examine gender and the colonial enterprise in Africa in historical perspective, tracing the state of affairs in this regard to the present and making projections into the future. As indicated above, it emphasizes that gender is not just a synonym for “women,” but it also applies to men and masculinity, even as it places emphasis on women in its discussion of how power is shaped by gender relations and resistance to colonial rule and the ways in which the colonial enterprise specifically ignored women in Africa, serving as background to current inequities in gender relations. Finally, again as indicated earlier, the chapter is conscious of the fact that generally and in regard to gender issues, the African continent is huge and there are significant differences among and within the 54 countries that currently make up the continent. Also, a critical challenge in Africa also surrounds the need to rethink dominant contemporary conceptions of gender (Butler 1990; Wittig 1992). Given all this, this chapter uses examples within African communities in Africa to illustrate its points in respect of the complex interfaces of colonialism and gender in historical and contemporary perspective.

From the Distant Past to the More Recent Past The (often contentious) debate surrounding the effect of colonialism on gender in Africa, especially in regard to highlighting gender images in pre-colonial and colonial Africa, demands a critical look at the past (Bvukutwa 2014; Sofola 1998; Biko 1998). Indeed, in the historiography of colonialism in Africa, many authors have tended to dichotomize the colonial experience of two monolithic groups, namely, the Arabs and the European, in the unfolding interfaces of the colonial state and its African subjects. In so doing, they obscure the contradictions from each side, thus denying the agency of people whose status did not fit within the normative boundaries of this distinction (Peel 1977; Villalon and Huxtable 1997; Olademo 2009). Perhaps the greatest injustice of this colonial historiography is its negation of the experiences of African women. By taking the generalized experience of certain African men as a normative reference point, many historians have effectively written African women out of history (Emecheta 1974; Falola and Amponsah 2012). Though they present themselves as universal histories of colonialism, these accounts deal exclusively with men’s experiences, overlooking or underreporting women’s unique strengths in forming coalitions across gender divides before the arrival of the colonialists, the fact that they have always played an integral role in society and that they have consistently shaped the cultures and societies in which they live for hundreds and thousands of years. This spilled over into the marginalization of the role of women in the contemporary decision-making process and in many of the

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relatively new political institutions that were created after colonization in theory and practice. Suffice to say at this point that an examination of the effects of various cultural, religious, and political movements on women of African society in the colonial era provides insights into elements of change and continuity in such spheres of life. The values that surfaced with colonization with regard to western education and religious practices obstructed cultural gender roles in the society and brought with them traumatic influences on the status of women especially. Many of the approaches used to analyze African colonial politics, economies, societies, and cultures were often gender-blind and tended to ignore women’s experiences, contributions, voices, perceptions, representations, and gender struggles. African nations inherited European myths about Africa, often reflected in scholarship (Kang’ethe and Nomngcoyiya 2017), and these have to be properly addressed. Thus, contemporary African scholarship is in an intellectual crisis manifested through a study and understanding of the African man and woman mainly through and from western perspectives. Moreover, one of the major challenges facing some historians who want to work on pre-colonial and colonial Africa has been the scarcity of indigenous written sources, which the Ibadan School of History, the Makerere and Dar es Salaam Schools of History, and similar tendencies on and outside of the continent during and after colonialism have sought to address to an extent. Such history has been passed down orally rather than in written forms, with indigenous archives destroyed, lost, or repatriated and dispersed by the colonial powers by independence. Consequently, as noted before, the current African intelligentsia has been heavily socialized in the western scholarly tradition, with little understanding of the historical complexities of gender experiences and narratives in Africa (Tripp 1991). Western-based discourses on gender in Africa have also created forms of knowledge that have profoundly contributed to an increase rather than a decrease in this problem. The rest of this chapter examines this issue by taking a look at the literature on gender and colonialism in Africa, the dominant gender paradigm crafted under colonial rule, as well as emerging trends in the African gender narrative on the continent in the period after colonial rule. The last part concludes the chapter and offers certain recommendations on the subject matter.

Colonialism and the Gender Paradigm in Africa According to Mahmood Mamdani’s observation, Africa remains entrapped in “history by analogy,” whereby Africa is either eroticized or simply represented as part of European history (Mamdani 1996, pp. 8–11). This is perhaps not surprising, since colonialism contributed significantly to the reconstruction of gender relations in Africa. A complicating factor in this regard was that Africa was not colonized by a single but by a variety of European states, with each having its own unique features

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and histories – thus impacting differently on their colonial holdings on the African continent. Europeans began arriving in Africa in the fifteenth century (Sheldon 2017). Although some areas came under European sway from those early years, it was not until the late nineteenth century that the European nations of Britain, France, Germany, Belgium, and Portugal met in the infamous conference in Berlin in 1884–1885 and carved out Africa according to areas of influence among themselves. Years of most intense colonialization then followed, with increased warfare when the Europeans attempted, and in most areas succeeded, in enforcing their own political control over African communities (Ekechi 2002). Africans resisted these incursions from the beginning, and the first nationalist movements arose in the early twentieth century, culminating in successful transfers to independent status for most African nations in the 1950s and early 1960s (Oyebade 2002; Stilwell 2002). Women were involved in these activities in a variety of ways. As noted by Mcfadden, “We participated in anticolonial struggles as trade unionism, political leaders, wives and mothers” (Mcfadden 1997, pp. 1–2). However, studies of women’s work during the colonial period often show that they lost power and economic autonomy with the arrival of cash crops and women’s exclusion from the global marketplace. Between 1992 and 2018, a period significant for the rise in African gender scholarships, a number of important studies synthesizing scholarship on gender and colonialism have been published, providing complex and multilayered insights into power relations between men and women (Vince et al. 2007; Awe 1992; Bradford 1996; Harris 1975; Hodgson and Sheryl 2001). Colonial rule in Africa was fundamentally predicated upon the Western mythical pictures of Africa. The points of stress in the fable were that Africa was backward and African women and men were largely perceived to be subhumans (Kisiang’ani 1995), with the women even more inferior to their men. In Stuart Cloete’s words, “they were in a sense without souls. They were bold and without innocence. They said with their dark eyes; we are women. You are a man. We know what you want” (1958, p. 51). This kind of writing depicts the African woman as irrational and only guided by instincts. It also presents the African woman as a sex object ready to satisfy the needs of man. The meaning of gender often tends to be presumed rather than questioned for its ideological role. Gender is defined as a matrix of performed identities, behaviors, and power relations that are associated with one sex (Cole et al. 2007). The social construction of masculinity and femininity has varied among societies; their meaning has constantly shifted. Gender is hence both socially constructed and reconstructed through time. It is presented as a neutral concept although it is crucial to situate its historicity and to highlight its temporal location As authors such as Oyěwùmí (1997) and Amadiume (1998) suggest, it is crucial to rethink critically where gendered categories come from and to examine how gender is sustained by its own histories, connotations, and conceptual roles (Newland 1991). In the course of time, challenges surfaced in the African nations with adverse effects on gender relations, leading to the point highlighted by Longmore (1959) on

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the dangers of wholesale exporting of western practices outside the context of supporting western values to Africa in the colonial era. Such introduction of western education and religion equally facilitated the erosion of the various African cultures and values, further compounding the contours of silences to which women in the contemporary African societies have been subjected. This is the same reason given by Irukwu (1994) as being responsible for the gradual erosion of women’s power in traditional African societies. In regard to women, it was easy to move from an argument that women were generally inferior to men to another level of putting limitations on women’s role in society and then to proceed to treat women who persist in talking when the society does not wish to listen as a threat to societal structure (Ardener 1977, 1993). The need to erase the perception that women are inferior to men is thus considered to be very important. According to Ardener (1977, p. 23), “the right to be addressed and the way you are addressed are important determinations of a person’s place in the structure of any society.” The blame for female relegation is generally heaped on colonialism, which is accused of having created hierarchical as opposed to complementarity and cooperation between women and men (Denzer 1998; Cornwall 2005). Similarly, Fadipe (1970, p. 103) agrees that the current general erosion of women’s political power on the continent was caused by the intrusion of foreign systems with different gender orientations and new paradigms of power and organization. Such orientations, including emphasis on sexuality and individualism, conflict with the status of men (Nwakawo 1997). The traditional role of women and men in Africa differed from their European counterparts. In West Africa, for instance, women in pre-colonial society occupied a larger space within agriculture and the local market as well as in the running of their families and communities (Fadipe 1970). Women dominated the labor pool and were responsible for maintaining the family and a large part of the family’s financial well-being (Carney 1988). Their social influence was largely uncontested until colonization. While there were similarities in terms of gender roles between Africa and Europe, the undercurrents, however, differed. African women were, like European women, responsible for the home. However, as African women maintained a heavy role in both production and the home, their domain in society was more flexible. For example, a Zimbabwean woman was responsible for her home, the field, harvest, pottery-making, and many other activities that she learned from childhood (Schmidt 1998). She held a strong position in the family as a mother, sister, aunt, grandmother, or cousin. In spiritual terms, the Zimbabwean woman could be a spirit medium or svikiro, midwife, traditional healer, or a powerful elder and leader of the family group (Magirosa 2015). African society placed fewer limitations on women, with less-binding gender roles, and, therefore, African women were active members of the public and held rights in the public domain be it the right to property and inheritance, the right to representation, or the right to discuss political policies (Johnson 1982). Once colonialism was installed, rigid binaries, including those around gender perceptions, were imposed. One of the early sociopolitical effects of colonialism on gender in parts of Africa colonized by the British, for instance, was the concept of the Victorian woman which the colonial masters brought with them. The colonialists

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reportedly came with the belief that women were to remain in the private domain. As noted by scholars (Agatha 2006; Irukwu 1994; Denzer 1998; Fadipe 1970; Oguntuyi 1979), African women were meant to preoccupy themselves with domestic issues and leave the work of ruling and running the society in terms of politics and economics in particular to the men. Most of the complimentary roles played by women alongside their men were denigrated and dismissed when colonialism came. Rather than acknowledge these roles, what they saw were African women and men who were in need of civilization and who were expected to be submissive. This idea resonated very well with Victorian values, by which women were seen as the weaker sex waiting for men to marry them and protect them (Magirosa 2015). The initial complementary roles played by both men and women in pre-colonial society gave way to entrenched patriarchy in African societies. In peculiar, the western notions of gender difference and equality were in sharp contrast to how women were viewed in African culture. One of the aspects of the fight for gender equality in Africa that has been particularly frustrating for women activists is that much of the inequality being witnessed in contemporary times is largely the legacy of colonialism, which altered the empowered role that African women once had in traditional African societies. For example, women activists in Swaziland have lamented the loss of traditional Swazi society which once respected women (Dwayne 2017). The colonialists came with several policies aimed at subjugating the Africans. An example of colonial aggressive pressures and domination was the ways by which many African traditional stools hitherto considered very powerful were delineated by foreigners. Powerful rulers such as the Asantehene of Ashanti, Ghana (Kimble 1963), and Shaka kaSenzangakhona Zulu (Edgerton 1988) were conquered by the British. In addition, new policies bordering on trade, payment of tax, legal structures, as well as social frameworks were introduced across African nations (Ibhawoh 2010). These policies affected the general aspects of the people’s lives. In fact, Adubi War of 1918, popularly referred to as Ogun Adubi in Egba land, Abeokuta of southwestern Nigeria, was fought ostensibly to resist the imposition of taxation by colonialists (Falola and Genova 2009). Women, however, were not fully included in this plan and were at that period relegated to the background. One of the negative legacies of colonialism in Africa is that it upended many traditional African practices (Gordon and Gordon 1996). In the case of women, they lost much of the traditional powers that they once had such as the position of kingship in many Yoruba kingdoms (Oyo Empire, Ijesa, Ondo, and some Ekiti Kingdoms) (Davidson 2014). Before that time, women were kings, regents, warriors, and powerful chiefs, whose voices were heard at the municipals. Other examples are the Dahomey Amazons also known as Mino. They were all female warriors defeated by the French during the second Franco-Dahomean War (Alpern 1998). The traditions in African society that allowed women to wield significant political power or to protect themselves against certain abuses by men were largely erased (Weekes-Vagliani 1985). In Uganda, for instance, it was women farmers who first started cotton cultivation. Yet in 1923, the British administrator in charge of agriculture declared that “cotton growing cannot be left to the women” (Freeman 2014, p. 21). Thus, new technologies that were introduced for cotton growing were

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given only to men, ultimately driving women out of the occupation (Adeniji 2007 and Agu et al. 2015). After independence, a similar pattern continued in most of Africa. For instance, Selhausen and Weisdorf (2015) used occupational statistics from Protestant marriage registers of historical Kampala to investigate the hypothesis that African gender inequality and female disempowerment are rooted in colonial times. They discovered that the arrival of Europeans in Uganda ignited a century-long transformation of Kampala involving a gender Kuznets curve. Men rapidly acquired literacy and quickly found their way into white-collar (high-status) employment in the wage economy built by the Europeans. Women, on the other hand, took somewhat longer to obtain literacy and considerably longer to enter into white-collar and waged work. This led to increased gender inequality during the first half of the colonial period in Uganda. The second half of the colonial rule from 1880 to 1945 witnessed a slight shift in gender paradigm. However, there was no significant positive change in gender subjugation that hitherto existed (Meier zu Selhausen 2014). Furthermore, African societies were forcibly integrated into the expanding global capitalist economy dominated by the European powers during the colonial period. In order to “extract the mineral and commodity wealth of Africa and to ensure a cheap labour supply, radical changes were imposed” (Anunobi 1992, 1994). The commercialization of agriculture through the introduction of cash crops altered the customary gender division of labor in ways that were mostly disadvantageous to women (Anunobi 1988, 1997). Men were taught to grow new cash crops such as cocoa and coffee for export, while women continued to grow food crops for the family and local consumption (Gladwin and Due 1991; Lima 1994; Mbilinyi 1990). One of the most damaging colonial land policies for women involved efforts to introduce private ownership of land. In Kenya in the 1950s, the Swynnerton Act provided deeds to male heads of households, replacing the African land tenure system that ensured everyone’s access to land (Lovett 1989). Frequently, European officials did not want women in the towns; they wanted only the labor of African men. Therefore, many restrictions were placed on the movement of women (Longwe 1990). Zambia (then Northern Rhodesia) is a good example of colonial regulation of migratory labor in southern Africa. In this part of the region, rural tribal authorities were given the right to prevent unmarried women and children from moving to the towns, and urban authorities had the power to send those who defied such restrictions back to the villages (Langley 1983). In addition, prior to the arrival of the colonialists, African sexuality was sacred and existed mostly for procreation and strengthening of ancestry lineage (Caldwell and Caldwell 1987). Sex education was inculcated into young minds using traditional mechanisms such as songs, proverbs, and maxims; hence the assumption that Africans do not discuss sexuality is, more or less, a myth. The colonialists erroneously sexualized the bodies of men and women in Africa as primitive. As a result, policies were put in place to change and control gendered norms and sexual cultures of the Africans. There were heavy proscriptions on sexual rituals and practices such as initiation ceremonies, polygamy, circumcision, and sexual hygiene with the aim of controlling and managing sexual interactions

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between settlers and indigenous people. (Charmaine 2005; Philips 2005). In fact, sexuality was spiritual and hence treated as such. For example, in pre-colonial Zambia, a girl’s puberty was celebrated among the Bemba of Zambia (Richards 1982). This is also related to Chinamwali girls’ initiation in Malawi (Rowley 1867) where virginity was held in high esteem as a symbol of chastity. Nevertheless, sexuality in Africa is dynamic with culture and spirituality at the center. Africans are predominantly heterosexual, but there were instances where women assumed the roles of men by marrying other women as wives. This was a common traditional practice in the Eastern part of Nigeria (Ukaegbu 1976). There were women in the traditional religious spheres forbidden from marriage because they were considered as wives to a particular deity, while others were forbidden from sexual intercourse due to their ascension to a traditional stool such as the position of regency among some of the Yoruba ethnic groups (Agbaje 2017). In essence, it will take selective studies of each African community to fully understand the dynamism of sexuality in Africa. Similarly, the traditional marital system, which enhanced communality, was considered inferior to the western marital system which encouraged individuality. Consequently, there was a decline in the prestigious status of womanhood under the traditional system, and the western marriage of individuals compared to the old style of marriage of communities deprived women of their original status in the society. Thus, African women became relegated to the background in the family affairs and thus could not contribute as much as they used to in the precolonial times (Agbaje 2017). In addition, by the time outright colonial domination of Africa began in the 1800s, some loss of autonomy for African women had already occurred, no thanks in part to disease, warfare, and dislocations of slavery introduced in earlier centuries that put more pressure on women to reproduce and perform maternal functions in order to offset the ensuing population losses (Nelson 1988). Moreover, the colonialists began to interpret African traditions in ways that favored men’s control over women, putting men at advantage at women’s expense (Brown 1988). As men were provided new commercial opportunities in cash crop agriculture, they began to assert customary rights to land and to the labor of their wives in order to accumulate income for themselves. They were also not obligated to share this income with their wives. In some cases, this resulted in great wealth for enterprising men. Among the Beti of Cameroon, for instance, as in many other groups, some men married many women in order to get virtually free labor from them on their cash crop farms. In the Zambian Copperbelt, wives were required to perform their customary domestic services for their husbands in town, although they were unable to claim any share of their husbands’ income (Bujra 1986; Morna et al. 1998). Women themselves became another form of property to be controlled as they lost effective control over their own labor. They had to work for their husbands in order to survive because they had no rights to own wealth-producing property of their own. Compounding her economic vulnerability, a woman, if divorced, had no right to the wealth she helped her husband acquire through her labor (Pankhurst and Jacobs 1988).

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Christianity and western education were major tools in the hands of the colonialists in this regard. Unlike in the indigenous religions, Christianity introduced by missionaries around 1842 helped to introduce beliefs, values, and practices that essentially facilitated the subjugation of women in society. Christianity promoted the view that the Almighty Creator ordained inequality between men and women. It posited that women should largely play a subservient role in church. The core of the Christian tradition was the good news of Jesus’ death, resurrection, and ascension, while the core of most African religious traditions focused on the total wellbeing of the community comprising the dead, the living, and the yet unborn. At the same time, the equally foreign Islamic religion preached the inferiority and weak status of women and presented the image of women as deceivers through whom sin entered into the whole world – a position alien to the culture of Africans who held their women folks in high esteem (Idowu 1973). The British brought with them the picture of an ideal woman via the Christian scripture as one that should be subject to men, a cursed identity, the author of evil, not expected to be active in spiritual matters and in whom dwell (or is vulnerable to) the spirit of witchcraft. These further heightened the disparities between African men and women, with those men that had hitherto respected women beginning to be wary of them. An example was the reported accusation that women practicing witchcraft were behind the influenza epidemic which swept across Nigeria in the early part of the twentieth century between 1918 and 1948, along with lùku´lùku´ (stroke) leading to many deaths (Oguntuyi 1979) especially among children, and it was clear that people had little idea of how to treat the disease. The high mortality rate at this period led to the exposure of women to the use of sasswood ordeal (Ọbọ, a traditional herb meant to punish a witch). It was a common belief among many traditional worshippers in Nigeria to place an ordeal on a suspected evil doer in a society. Moreover, it was believed that sasswood (Erythrophleum guineense) is repulsive and poisonous to an individual possessed with the spirit of witchcraft, and hence its administration in liquid form to a suspected witch will lead to exposure. However, the stereotyped instigations that women are prone to witchcraft reinforced its frequent administration on innocent women at the slightest suspicion or opportunity. Noteworthy is that sasswood is poisonous to human beings irrespective of being evil or not. When in 2018, over half a century after 1918 which marked the end of resistance of colonial rule for many African kingdoms (Osuntokun 1977), the Nigerian Senate voted against a gender equality bill. The Bible and Quran were cited in the Senate by some Senators against the passage of the bill (1Timothy, 2:8–14; 1Corinthianns, 14:34). This latter fact was even more disturbing than the fact that such a bill could be defeated in a country in dire need of gender equality (Kazeem 2016). There is a hint of irony in the fact that the Bible and Quran were used to justify denying African women equal rights. Two of the most powerful women in the Bible are African women, namely, the Queen of Sheba and the Kandake of Kush (Dwayne 2017). The only other queens mentioned in the Bible are queens arising from marriage to the ruling king, but the Queen of Sheba and the Kandake of Kush are mentioned independently of any male ruler.

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The idea of a unified African identity, changes in administrative structure, and the arrival of the Christian churches in the continent provided areas of historical, attitudinal, and structural changes that, as stated earlier, downgraded women’s contributions to the welfare of their communities at that time and led to a decline in the extent to which women were seen and heard in colonial society by colonial officials. Missionaries actively infused into public and not-so-public discourses gendered stereotypes that portrayed women as victims in need of protection, “primitives” in need of civilization, and potential deviants in need of containment. It is interesting to note that many women at this period were converting from African traditional religions to either Christianity or Islam. More importantly, the constructed nature of gender binarism that became the dominant perspective at this period is in contradiction to the fact that other African peoples at other times had had very different gender configurations (Bloch and Bloch 1980). Among the Yao and Makua of Tanzania, the husband would go and live with his wife’s parents (Aseka 2001). In Kenya, the Kikuyu community has been matrilineal, carrying a strong allegiance to women rather than to men, and women have traditionally combined feminine and masculine characteristics without any problems, giving women enormous powers. The foregoing examples demonstrate that rigid binaries in the study of gender in Africa are untenable. This also reinforces the fact that the colonial autocratic rule of traditional African societies was worsened by the ways they were marginalized. The colonial society, therefore, was highly gender discriminating in nature. As it stands today, gender discussion in Africa has been a fertile platform for the western-inspired modernist project that, in seeking to privilege men over women as has been the case in western society, has resulted in pitting the African man against the African woman and in ultimately marginalizing not only the African woman but also the African man too (Parpart 1989). Now African women are being told that the African men are the ones marginalizing the women. African women are also being informed that both the Western men and women are the actual friends of the African women who are suffering under the brutality of the men continuously (Kisiang’ani 1995). The arrival of Europeans in Africa ignited a century-long transformation, and there is no doubt that colonialism presented African women with a variety of challenges and negative effects (Morma 1994). As a display of their resilience, these women responded, in many cases, by learning to protest and stand up for their rights. They adapted as they needed to and were determined to preserve their identities (Safilios-Rothchild 1990; Anunobi 2002). This area of women’s resistance to colonial rule has attracted utmost attention through studies ranging from those that examined specific activists and events to general analyses of women’s involvement in nationalist struggles in various countries that demonstrated conclusively women’s political engagements and contributions (Ahluwalia 1999). The women of the period continued to struggle in the open or otherwise to ensure they were not absolutely sidetracked in the decision-making process, and it was often in the context or aftermath of such protests that the little progress recorded in women’s political engagement was made (Staudt 1987; Agbaje 2016).

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Considering the historical abilities of pre-colonial African women (Awe 1992; Sudarkasa 2005; Denzer 1994; Mbiti 2007; Olademo 2009), it is tempting to argue that the colonial regime’s efforts to deny women their right to social and political participation were deliberate. Alongside this suspicion has also been an evident imbalance in the gender paradigm in the African historiography of the period. This was, to an extent, a consequence of conscious efforts on the part of colonial male historians to politicize every source of information about female traditional institutions in order to entrench patriarchy. King (1995), for example, has shown that under customary law, which was actually codified by the colonial officials, women were generally defined as what could best be described as beasts of burden, hewers of wood, carriers of water, and baby-making machines. Such exploitative gender relations were imposed during the colonial rule with many unfavorable consequences for women’s roles (Mba 1982). Colonial rulers engaged in divide-and-rule tactics, by implementing policies that intentionally weakened indigenous gender power networks and institutions. This is the kernel of Denzer’s opinion (Denzer 1998, p. 13) that the changes that occurred with the onset of colonialism created hierarchical as opposed to complementary cooperation between women and men. As hinted above, a common response of women to such obnoxious colonial policies was to oppose the colonial order (Johnson 1982; Shepard 2015; Santoru 1996; Agbaje 2016). Examples of women taking the initiative to regain their “voice” were the British West African Ladies Club, established in 1929 in Nigeria, Mau-Mau war rituals (Kabira and Nzioki 1993; Nzomo and Kibwana 1993) and women rebels in Kirinyaga county of Kenya (1952–1960), Ìwọde Gbọnyànsóde (naked procession by women), Ìwọde Pasódι (women tying their wrappers in an unusual manner), Móróku´nsọlẹ (kneeling procession by old women), and several other traditional forms of protests accompanied with satirical songs, curses, and dirge bemoaning the fate of tradition in the hands of the colonial masters, carried out in Nigeria, Burundi, South Africa, Somalia, and other African societies (Strobel 1982; Awe 2001; Agbaje 2016). The organizations and activities were designed to encourage women to express themselves and to give them a platform upon which to do so (Munyakho 1994). Such responses to colonialism demonstrate the resilience and determinati