misogynoir

Gender Inequality in Sub Saharan Africa

inequality has maintained the suppression of women worldwide and unfortunately has impacted Sub-Saharan Africa with the greatest magnitude. Everyday in these countries are countless occurrences of physical, emotional, and psychological abuse that must be acknowledged as a primary concern for governments across the world. A prime example of gender inequality is the use of rape as a weapon of war. For women in Darfur, it is a permanent scar of war; a painful reminder which will never go away. Girls as young as eight will never sleep well again or be able to have a normal relationship with a man because of this issue. There are many ways to commit murder, and for these women and girls, they may as well be dead.

Since the early 2000s, the Islamist government in Khartoum, Sudan has given the Janjaweed militia a free hand in putting down a rebellion by Black African tribes in the region and as a result of the conflict, some one million people have fled their homes and 50,000 people have been killed. Women, girls, and babies have been raped with impunity because the Sudanese government will not lift a finger to help these victims because according to them, no one has been raped. Most importantly, they are women and women are unworthy of notice.

However, according to Amnesty International, violence against women is occurring in a context of systematic human rights violations against civilians in Darfur. The grave violations of international human rights and humanitarian law committed by the Janjaweed and the Sudanese army against civilians have targeted men, women and children indiscriminately. Women have been summarily or indiscriminately killed, bombed, raped, tortured, abducted and forcibly displaced. Children have been summarily or indiscriminately killed, tortured, abducted and forcibly displaced; girls have, like women, been the particular target of rapes, abductions and sexual slavery.

Rape victims in Sudan are stigmatized because according to their culture, they are to blame for their attack. Along with health and tribal ramifications, there are also governmental consequences for the victims. Most victims are too afraid to report attacks because it is very hard for the government to hear a rape case. For a woman to prove rape under Sudanese law, she needs four male witnesses; a task which is essentially impossible. In his book Darfur: The Ambiguous Genocide, Gerard Prunier describes the ways women and girls are discriminated against if they admit to being raped. If a single woman is found to be a victim of rape, (or have had sex in the eyes of the government,) she would be sentenced to 100 lashes. If the same were found out about for a married women she would sentenced to be stoned to death. The government has imprisoned pregnant rape victims for adultery. (60-62)

Rape as a weapon of war has been going on for too long in long in Darfur and the end does not seem to be anytime soon. Rape is a universal fear of women all around the world. Women in Darfur are afraid to walk in daylight with other people to look for food and water because they can be snatched, beaten, and raped with a gun. Women and girls are now as likely to be assaulted in periods of calm as during attacks on their villages and towns. Young girls in America wish for tickets to the latest Hannah Montana concert or an iPod, whereas young girls in Darfur wish for security from their own government as they walk miles to search for water. The Sudanese government has said it is committed to stopping the sexual violence, but in practice, little or nothing is being done.

Another example of gender inequality in Sub-Saharan Africa is fistula and young African girls. What is a fistula? According to fistulafoundation.org, fistula is a hole between a woman’s birth passage and one or more of her internal organs. This hole develops over many days of obstructed labor, when the pressure of the baby’s head against the mother’s pelvis cuts off blood supply to delicate tissues in the region. The dead tissue falls away and the woman is left with a hole between her vagina and her bladder (called a vesicovaginal fistula or VVF) and sometimes between her vagina and rectum (rectovaginal fistula, RVF). This hole results in permanent incontinence of urine and/or feces. Women who develop fistulas are often abandoned by their husbands, rejected by their communities, and forced to live an isolated existence (http://www.fistulafoundation.org/aboutfistula/faqs.html). Fistula is also the ultimate symbol of childbirth gone wrong because of poor health care access and the high prevalence of men marrying under-age girls in Sub-Saharan Africa.

In a land where boys are more valued than girls, girls are viewed as nothing more than as bargaining tools for their fathers who covet fat dowries. Their mothers are powerless to intervene and as a result many African girls have been sold into marriage to men old enough to be their grandfathers. At the age of twelve, most little girls bodies are not ready for childbirth and an obstructed labor combined with the narrow hips of child will lead to many occurrences of fistula in Sub-Saharan Africa.

Prevention comes in the form of access to obstetrical care, support from trained health care professionals throughout pregnancy, providing access to family planning, promoting the practice of spacing between births, supporting women in education and most importantly, postponing early marriage (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Obstetric_fistula).

The last example of gender inequality in Sub-Saharan Africa is female genital mutilation. The practice of female genital mutilation, also known as female circumcision, occurs throughout the world, but it is most common in Africa. Female genital mutilation is a tradition and social custom to keep a young girl pure and a married woman faithful. In Sub-Saharan Africa it is practiced in the majority of the continent including Kenya, Nigeria, Mali, Upper Volta, Ivory Coast, Egypt, Mozambique and Sudan. It is a cross-cultural and cross-religious ritual, which is performed by Muslims, Coptic Christians, Protestants, Catholics and members of various indigenous groups (Skaine 15).

Female genital mutilation is usually performed on girls before they reach puberty. It is a procedure where either part or the entire clitoris is surgically removed leaving a reduced or total lack of sexual feeling. This procedure is an attempt to reduce the sex drive of women, making them less likely to be sexually active before marriage or engage in extra-marital affairs. Over eighty million women and girls are living with or somehow affected by female genital mutilation (World Medical Association), but as the world moves forward into an age of women’s rights and global responsibility, it is time to take a stand against this ruthless violation of human rights.

The female is operated on while in a sitting position or lying on her back with her thighs being held apart. The operator uses a cutting instrument, a collection of thorns for suturing the wound, and a powder mixture of sugar, gum, and other herbs, ashes or pulverized animal manure, which is later applied to control excessive hemorrhaging. The child is in so much pain that some have actually bitten their tongues off. If the child faints, powder is blown up her nose to revive her. When the operation is completed, usually within fifteen minutes, the wound is closed and the women present are allowed to inspect the wound to ensure that the procedure was properly completed. Finally, the girl is sutured and the powder mixture is applied. The girl must then remain immobilized for up to three weeks in order to heal properly (Skaine 25).

This practice is both sexist and invasive. The genitals of young boys are not operated on crudely to keep them pure so why should young girls have to submit themselves to such a painful and humiliating act? Because they are females and total control of a woman’s life must be achieved, even at the expense of her mental and physical health.

These are some of the many gender issues that plague the lives of women who reside in Sub-Saharan Africa. These issues must be eradicated in order for African women have total control over their lives, a control that women in the West take for granted. In Sub-Saharan Africa, women have little or no rights. This affects what they can do for work, how their family life is, and what future they have. Until the world’s governments decide to take a stand on these issues, little or nothing will be done to help these women.

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misogynoir

Black Patriarchy: Where Men Rule, but Refuse to Build

Exposing the Black Patriarchy Movement

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Patriarchal cultures throughout the world share commonalities, but they also have distinctions.

One distinction that makes Black Patriarchy different from patriarchy in other cultures is that it is a system where men seek to rule, but refuse to build.

For example, if we look at Black neighborhoods throughout the United States, we notice a pattern that either White men and/or non-Black immigrant men do most of the building and control most, if not all, of the resources (water, electricity, fuel, food, shelter, clothing, medicine, transportation, education, law and order, and communication systems).

What I find so funny about all of this is that Black men do the most talking about “building,” but do the least amount of building in Black neighborhoods. Of course, none of this is the Black man’s fault, “because White supremacy.”

Black patriarchalist men want Black women to submit to them and obey them in a patriarchy…

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American Culture, Beauty, child abuse, child molesters, Dysfunctional Shit, Family, History, misogynoir

Memories of Things Past

school picture

Recently I posted my third grade class photo and I can’t help but be fascinated by the little girl that I used to be in that picture.  I was third from the left with two pigtails parted straight in the middle (my favorite hairstyle) and I had on a red turtleneck sweater and a denim jean skirt on.  I had a huge smile on my face and I looked so happy.

That was in 1978. I was almost eight years old and I was a genuinely happy child during that period in my life.  Although my father only came around sporadically, it didn’t matter to me because I had my ladies or The Matriarchs as I now refer to them. These ladies consisted of my mother, my aunts Rosie, Mary, and Maggie. My grandmother and my cousin Cleo.

I was the youngest child born to my mother and the youngest grandchild of 46. I lived in a building with my ladies and I was spoiled and petted. During school vacations, I would wait for my mother to come home from work and be in her face for a little bit and when my aunts got home from work, I would be in their faces. My grandmother didn’t work so I would spend lazy summer days with her, listening to slave narratives about hants (Southern vernacular for ghosts) and bones who refused to stay still.

Anytime my cousin Cleo would look like she was going anywhere, I was right by her side because where Cleo was, fun times was around. We go visit our other cousins in Bronzeville and sometimes she would take me and the rest of the cousins to to the Museum of Science and Industry or to the beach.

Life was so easy for me in those day before I got molested which would take place three years later and continue for four years. So much of my innocence was stripped away and I can tell when I see other pictures of myself as I grew older. Cynicism and wariness was in my eyes although I still had that big beautiful smile.

Maybe that’s why I absolutely despise child molesters, rapists and their ilk. These monsters strip away the innocence of children and childhood is supposed to be the happiest time of a human’s life. No child should have to worry about what’s going to happen when it gets dark.   Or have to wear their street clothes to bed for fear of being groped.

But I see that little girl in the face of my grandson Karter. The same smile, the happiness, the joy of being alive and carefree. I would kill a motherfucker if I thought someone was trying to take away his joy.karter

 

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misogynoir

Dear Men: Stay The Fuck Out of Women’s Wombs

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We are currently in the Season of the Scorpion, the greatest zodiac of all time. I remember reading a long time ago that  the Scorpion sign governs the pelvis, and reproductive (sexual organs) and I have learned the hard way as a Scorpion woman that this is true because my reproductive organs have been giving me hell my entire life. Three c-sections, a miscarriage, an ectopic pregnancy that almost cost me my life and did cost me a Fallopian tube and now at a stage when I should be in menopause, I have been diagnosed with two uterine fibroids (one the size of a grapefruit and the other the size of an egg, and a benign cyst on my left ovary.

And I am also going through perimenopause which is the period before menopause in which hormonal imbalances causes your brain to turn into mush (brain fog), you are constantly sweating and freezing at the same time (night sweats and chills), and you hate everybody (mood changes). But I am digressing because this article is for men who refuse to stay their asses out of the reproductive health affairs of women.

From the old ass white politicians who are a stroke away from using Viagra (if they are not using it already) to dusty Hoteps who are getting paid off the gullibility of silly ass Black women by telling them to eat nuts and berries to stop their menstrual cycle (starving their dumb asses for dick) and making them pay a fee, these men will not shut the fuck up. I have never seen such men who think that they know more about the bodies of women than actual women.

These men tell women that childbirth is not dangerous although the United States leads in maternal deaths, more than any other Western country in the world. The same men who have not had a physical since high school and think that wiping their asses is “gay” so you know that they are not getting a prostrate gland exam on a yearly basis.

I have been truly trying to become a better person in my online social media interactions with misogynistic men because I know that they have been heavily indoctrinated through religion ideology to believe that they are smarter and superior than women and they are just lost souls but I need these fuckers to hush and stay in their lane. Worry about your own bodies which are falling apart due to being too stubborn, proud, and scared to see a doctor on a regular basis. Stop drinking so damn much after a certain age because it affects your sexual performance and may be a cause of erectile dysfunction. Worry about your own raggedy asses.

I have been trying to be nice but due to my current health issues as a woman, I am dragging arrogant, clueless men to hell and back anytime I see them commenting on women’s reproduction. You don’t have a vagina, uterus, ovaries or Fallopian tubes so you can’t say shit. Nothing. Nada. No Bueno. Learn to stop pissing all over the toilet and wipe your asses properly, you over coddled, clueless grown ass toddlers and remember that having a penis does not give men special, magical powers and a vast abundance of intelligence. Be humble ninnies.

 

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misogynoir

Desperate Heifers or When Being a Basic Chick Goes Terribly Wrong

IMG_2893 (2)According to the standards of American society, I am considered a middle aged, overweight Black woman. Which is the bottom of the barrel according to some. But I cannot tell because this fat, old, black woman has never been desperate for male companionship. Never had a problem getting a man; if anything, the problem was getting rid of the bastard when I got tired. However, it must be be a man shortage in inner cities throughout America with a large black populace because these chicks on Facebook, Twitter and other social media are desperate as fuck.

viola-davis

As a person who is on the social media daily, the antics of black women online desperate for male attention and validation is a sad sight indeed. These women shame other black women for receiving child support (because you are not supposed to bring a black man down. Fuck them kids. Let them starve), for wearing weave (You just want to be a white woman), for wearing your hair natural (You nappy headed bitch you), for being a single mother (You making us look bad and that’s why I can’t find a man), for not having children (Bitch you think you are better than us), for being fat (Go sit down fat bitch and eat some chicken), for having a nice body (Hoe bitch tramp). I mean the list goes on and on.

But I do understand why these women are so parched. We live in a system of patriarchy which conditions women to look at each other as competition. Especially in the black community where dick is God. And if you don’t have a dick in your life and you are a woman, you ain’t shit. A black woman can have a bachelor’s degree, a master’s degree, a juris doctor degree, and a PhD but unless she has a  man attached to the crack of her ass, she is considered useless.

Yeah, these sisters be working real hard to get some dick on Facebook and social media platforms and the sad part is that it’s not working because desperation breeds contempt. The same men who call me everything but a child of God on Facebook threads be in my inbox trying to get their mack on.  But that’s karma for that ass. You are out here shaming other black women for their personal choices in life just to get attention from men and your dumb asses still don’t have what you are searching for: dick. These chicks are still single and parched for the easiest commodity in the world: penis.

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misogynoir

For the Hood-Rats, Bust Downs, Thots, Baby Mommas, Welfare Hoes, and Every Black Woman Who Lives on the Outskirts of Black Respectability

Black Woman in Winter Wheat Field

So much about being a Black woman in America is denial.  Denial of your womanhood because being Black is considered more important than being a woman.  Denial of your sexuality because being chaste and pure is considered more important being sexually free.  Denial of anything that will make the Black male gaze disappear although these men get on the Internet daily and declare to the world how little they respect any Black women, whether she is clothed from head to toe or buck ass naked. Miss. Priss or Hoeletha Jones. No in-betweens because we ain’t that complex and only come in hoe or nice girl.

But there are a group of women who live their lives proudly unaffected by the patriarchal poison that has permeated our culture. These women are considered outcasts, rebels, insubordinates, mutinous because they refused to be tamed. Often paying a high psychological cost for this freedom, these women are unrepentant and are tired of living in the shadows of a male dominant society. These wild women are coming out roaring and it is scaring the shit out of the respectable ones.  They are the hood rats, the bust downs, the women of dubious reputation and their stories need to be told.

They are the women you see daily in inner-city neighborhoods throughout Black America. They are your neighbors, the women who bought a dish over after the death of a family member. The women who don’t have a problem with walking children to school not their own and picking them up. The women who did something strange for a little piece of change to help some bills.  The women who don’t mind sharing her food stamps if it means another child will eat.  Yes the Undesirables of The Black community. Scorned on a daily but they still manage to rise on a daily basis. Beautifully brown in shades of the deepest chocolate, caramel and vanilla latte. Full and voluptuous to willow slim. Powerful and rising. Phoenixes.

But it took a lot of pain for these women to get to this point of not giving a fuck about respectable Black folks and their opinions.  To be able to find their voices in a culture in which Black women are continuously shouted down and silenced. They have literally stared into the fires of hell and managed to survive, dealing with issues of sexual child abuse and beatings, neglect, poverty, a piss poor educational system, and men who did everything in their power to spiritually destroy them.

How do I know all of this? Because these women are me and I am them.  I have been called everything but a child of God in my existence on this planet and as Celie said in The Color Purple, “But dear God! I’m here! I’m here!” To tell my tale and encourage other women to find their voice.  And I am not alone. Many women like me who have thrown off those chains and feel so free sometimes I cry.  For those sisters still living in the shadows, it is okay to come out and shine.  The chains that are enslaving you are not real; just a social construct.   Find some joy and live your lives. Really live. Without fear of judgement. With love.

 

 

 

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misogynoir

Confessions of a Pretty Girl Killer

little_girl_black_african_american_2-e1456799563678-1132x509Everyone thought she was a stupid, uneducated slut. She didn’t finish high school or have a job and her only occupation in life was a different man every night of the week. Not quite good enough for the local boys to bring home to mama, but good enough to screw. Not good enough for the stuck up little broads in the hood to be friends with, but good enough to call over to someone’s porch to find out some local gossip. Yeah, everyone thought she was stupid. But she had them all fooled. No one suspected she was leading a double life.

Normally, she would play the role of the ignorant hood-rat with nothing on her mind but a high and a new man but for the last two weeks, it had been different. She had put on her longest dress, pulled her hair back in a neat bun, and she went to church. The first time, she was there for bible study; this time, revival week. While there, she would allow herself be swept up into the drama of it all and she would stand up in front of the church members to declare her sinfulness to the world, begging for someone to rescue her from her this life of depravity. As always, it would be a righteous man, a god fearing man who saw that beneath the long dress was a body that was full, voluptuous, and needed to be touched. He would pretend that he wanted to help this poor, misguided young woman. There would be the conversation, the sweet nothings in her ear:

“Everything is going to be okay baby. Now that you are here in the house of the Lord, He will make it better. All you need is the love of a good man and everything will be just fine.” She would smile sweetly and look up at him as if he was her reason for being alive. Still looking at him, she would say, “I walked here because I didn’t have any money for carfare; could you give me a ride?” Naturally, he said yes.

How could he resist such a young tender girl with eyes that were so beseeching but yet so inviting? Of course she would have to meet him on the next block, couldn’t have the hens of the church clucking. Always the same behavior, just dressed a little bit nicer. She used the same routine the last time. Amazing how gullible men could be. On the ride home, she would act like it so hot to her. She needed some air and would ask could they go to the beach. It was so emotionally draining, telling all her sordid secrets to all those people and some fresh air would feel good. Naturally, he was down with that. It was in the fall and not too many people would be there.

At the beach, she would talk about the series of disappointments that had been her short life. The mother who showered her with love and affection, until she reached an age in which her mother saw her as a predator looking for the same prey: men. The father who was gone so long she could not remember his face. Her mother’s husband who took away her innocence and left her with filled with self-loathing and sexual knowledge too much for her to understand. She would also talk about the men who made her feel like a queen at night, but would not speak to her in the daytime. The girls with the fake cheerleader smiles and serpent-like personalities. The school system which had no time for disturbed little girls who needed nurturing, not more emphasis on state wide test scores. Then the tears would pour, real tears of pain, over the half-life she had been leading on this planet.

Always the arm going around her shoulder, the accidental, on purpose brushing of her breast, the awkward first kiss. She would let the kiss deepen to get things going. Slowly they would fall into the sand, and by careful maneuvering, she would end up on top. She would make him feel so good, so great for that moment. Then, with a quick, savage movement, she would slash his throat deeply. There wouldn’t be time for a struggle, his basic instinct for survival being thwarted by his sexual need. He never saw the tiny switchblade that she hid in her hair, the hair she had loosened from the bun she wore earlier. He never saw the look of calculation in her eyes because he was too busy looking at her breasts.

Afterwards, she would watch him for a few minutes, making sure he was dead. Then she would drag his body towards her car, the car her victims did not know she had and had hid near the area where she would make her kill. She deliberately went to this part of the beach because it was very secluded. She would take the towels and blanket out of the trunk and with care, cleaned the blood from his body. Unruffled by the night, she rolled his body into the blanket. With a strength most people had grossly underestimated, she put the body in the trunk of her car, closed it, rinsed her hands off, got in her car and drove away. She went to the outskirts of town, and dumped his body there, into a shallow grave she dug earlier. The other time, she used the city dump.

Last week was the first time she had killed someone. She did it the first time just to see if she could actually kill someone in cold blood. Everyone thought she was such a dumb, pathetic, excuse for a human with the intelligence of a slug. To kill, one had to be cold-blooded, methodological, concise, and cunning. No one knew about the deep-rooted resentment and hatred lurking in her heart. No one cared. Of course, her heart was cold. Her own mother pretended to love her until her natural jealousy of other women turned her against her own flesh and blood. She knew dude was screwing her daughter. She just didn’t care; she was too busy getting drunk and trying to hang on to her trifling husband. She felt the girl brought it on herself, walking around with her breasts bouncing everywhere.

The girls in the neighborhood felt the same way. The girl was the first to develop, with a pretty face how they hated her for that. The boys were always skinning and grinning in her face, although they talked about her like a dog to them. What was so special about her anyway? Bitch. And men! From the moment she developed, they wouldn’t leave her alone. Her perverted stepfather who had warped her sexuality before she even had the chance to warp it herself. He even had the audacity to be a deacon at a church! The boys in the hood who pretended they liked her but only wanted some sex, and wouldn’t even acknowledge her if it was daytime. And especially, these last two self-righteous, horny bastards she found in the church. Going around pretending as if they really gave a fuck about her. Just like her stepfather. Ha! What a joke. They deserved to die. All these fuckers deserved to die and she was going to be the one to do it. Going to church with their wives and families, pretending they were so holier than thou and then using the church as a trick stop. It made the decision to kill these type of men so much easier. The ability to kill had given her a thrill and a thirst. The next time, she would have to change her routine. People might catch on. Oh no but of course not. Everyone thought she was so stupid. She had killed twice and hadn’t been caught. They had better watch out. She was out there.

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