International Women's Day

We crowded around the table to see the list we had written so far of “Reasons to Celebrate International Women’s Day.” I leaned back to make room for the other students and twisted my Holton ring, thinking about how this conversation would go differently in a classroom at my alma mater.

One of the girls tapped my shoulder to bring me back to the crowded and boisterous room at the public Senegalese high school.

“How do I say faire le ménage in English?”

“Umm, you could say ‘take care of the house,’” I responded halfheartedly.

The boy holding the paper leaned over. “How do I say donne la naissance?”

“Give birth. But, what about we talk about why we need a Women’s Day? There’s no day for men but we have an international day for women. Why?”

They looked at each other and smiled sheepishly, confusion written across their faces. I repeated my question in French and they nodded in understanding and then fell silent. In the last 15 minutes of brainstorming we had focused only on the classical role of women in society. They believed women needed to be honored because they are always busy doing the cooking, taking care of the house, and educating their children. I couldn’t disagree with how hard women work for their families, but I also was frustrated with how this conversation only skimmed the surface of women’s undeniable potential and power.

One of the boys started in French and I nodded to encourage him to keep going. Even though I was sitting in on an English class, I just wanted to hear what we had to say. “Well, we need to honor women because there are some men who treat their wives like objects.”

His peers nodded slowly in agreement, but then another boy hurriedly added, “But there are men who treat their wives like gods and worship them.”

Well, it was a start. I wanted to explain that the fact we still were describing women in relation to their husbands was part of the very reason that women are not equally respected in the world, but after two months here I understood the culture well enough to tread carefully.

As I helped them translate their sentences to English I thought back on the conversation I had in my home last night on the importance of International Women’s Day. My host brother sat back after polishing off his dinner and his wife reminded him that tomorrow he would have to cook and clear the table for Women’s Day. He joked that we had no need for a day to celebrate women because we don’t have a similar day for men. He raised his eyebrows at me looking for agreement but I just rolled my eyes. I said that women in the world hardly have the same rights as men, and that our goal should be to eventually not have to dedicate a day to remind people to respect women because it would just be a part of life.

Our dinner guest agreed with me and said it is very important to have a day for women, because, as he said, “there are some countries” where women are not treated fairly. I thought back on all the catcalls I face in Senegal when walking down the street and all the anger I receive when I refuse to give someone my number, and wondered how bad things are in those vague “some countries” he referenced.

A few minutes after the conversation ended the guest asked me whether or not I had found a Senegalese husband yet. If I had a dollar for every time I have been asked this question I would be making money on this semester abroad. For some reason a common conversation starter with a female stranger is always their relationship status, or lack thereof, which is then followed up with a string of questions and, quite possibly, a proposal.

He asked how I was liking his country and when I said how much I love Senegal, he let me know that I “must find a husband so that I can come back and live here.”

“Yes, but I also might come here myself and teach for a year if I want to after college.” The table fell silent. My host sister responded with a slow “OK” and looked down at her food.

At first I kicked myself for committing a cultural faux pas. Of course the thought of a woman moving out of her home, voyaging across the ocean and living independently would not be well received. But then I remembered that cross-cultural communication means listening and sharing your own opinion, patiently. It was good on the eve of International Women’s Day to share my potential future that involved leaving home before marriage and supporting myself financially while traveling and living independently.

I looked at my host sister as she gathered the plates and thought of the squabbles in my home in America when my father always trie to clear the plates after my mom has cooked dinner. I was a young girl raised in a family that never told me my future involved dependence on a spouse, and I was surrounded by strong women who showed me the myriad of paths a woman’s life can take. Unlike me, my host sister does not have a mother who raises a family while dedicating her days to educating some of our neediest children. She does not have a father who spends his days supporting young girls in the classroom while introducing her to music by empowered female artists. She does not have a sister who shows grit and determination on the soccer field, and if asked why Women’s Day is needed would most likely exclaim it is because “girls are awesome.” She does not have an aunt who has lived independently in some of the world’s busiest cities while working with the fervor of ten men.

Instead, her view of a woman’s role in society is shaped by a culture who view men and women quite differently. When my International Development class invited a woman who used to perform female circumcises in her village to speak with us, the class of young feminists persistently questioned why this dangerous practice was ever desirable. Even though she defended her position that when done properly female genital mutilation poses no threats to a woman’s health, we wondered why a woman was only considered ‘clean’ after enduring this painful ordeal. Why inflict suffering on young girls and remove future pleasure for no reason other than tradition? To that question, she was almost perplexed by our own naiveté and innocence.

“Well, it is always a woman’s job to carry pain,” she said in Wolof, her words translated by our teacher. “It is our lot in life to bear children and care for our husbands and wake up early to prepare the food. Cutting is a part of a girl’s journey into womanhood, preparing her for her life ahead.”

I have become even more of a feminist in Senegal because I have endured uncomfortable conversations where I feel lesser because I am a woman. My cheeks redden and I feel guilty for unwanted attention I receive not only on street corners but also in supposedly safe spaces like shops and classrooms. And these moments are so sharply at odds with the empowerment I am experiencing on a personal level during my time here. My study abroad group is all girls. Girls who have the guts to leave the safe bubble of American college for four months to live, learn, and grow in West Africa. I am surrounded by these inspirational, fellow badass women and I grow angry at the lack of respect we seem to command. How can everyone else not see our undeniable power?

Sitting in the Senegalese high school English class I wanted my young peers to understand that even though women have carried the burden of suffering for so many years they have still accomplished the impossible. They have remained silent while being the cornerstone in the home, offering vital support to their husbands, their parents, their children. But now there are women all over the world, Senegal included, who are speaking out and effecting change. They are founding schools, empowering girls, and raising daughters and sons who respect men and women as equals.

I looked over the shoulder of the boy writing down a new idea and he proudly turned the paper so I could proofread his English. His neat cursive rested perfectly on the orderly lines of the graph paper and I read “Everyday should be woman’s day.” I broke into a smile and exclaimed “Parfait!” but he grabbed the notebook back and took out his white-out to carefully fix some part of the sentence. I worried as to what he might be changing, thinking my enthusiasm had scared him into believing his idea was too novel to share with the rest of the class. When he turned his notebook back to me with an expectant smile, I saw he had changed the period to an emphatic exclamation mark.

Happy International Women’s Day, everyone!