Me. As a feminist. 

A few years ago, I was hanging out with a friend after happy hour. Somehow, we got on the topic of feminism. She identified as a feminist. I did not. I viewed feminists as anti-male, and I couldn’t see why I would advocate for the antithesis of my identity. My friend tried to explain to me that my view of feminism greatly differed from what it is. She explained that feminism was about equality. That made sense. I support equality. The problem was that I didn’t see inequalities. I still resisted the term, “feminist”. My friend was patient with me. 

The following year, I moved to Swaziland to begin my service in the Peace Corps. I was reminded throughout my first year in Swaziland that part of privilege is being able to not notice (or not pay attention to) something because it doesn’t adversely affect you. I have no doubt that parts of my experience are correlated to me being a man. During my time here, there have been several instances of gender inequality. Some have been shared or pointed out to me. Others have been blatant. There’s a point when not noticing becomes negligence. It’s possible that the point for me was explaining to various men that I cannot give you any of my women colleagues or friends. Sometimes, discussions ensue regarding me wanting to “keep all the women for myself”. I try to explain that women are not property or rewards, and that women aren’t owned. At some point during my service, something from the past finally made sense. Years ago, a different friend described feminism as “the radical idea that women are human beings.” 

During my service, I’ve had the opportunity to read some of Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s books. Most recently, I finished “We Should All Be Feminists”, which was an expanded version of a TED talk by the same name. I saw myself in some of the stories she told. I heard pieces of my story in her descriptive tales of folks with singular viewpoints on feminism, or the ‘single story’, as Adichie calls it. I was reminded of those micro-aggressions toward women that I’ve seen at home and abroad. I was reminded of many earlier conversations explaining that Black people in America are savages, and that not all Americans have great financial wealth. I still refer to myself as a Black American despite the negative images conjured in the minds of some people. For years, I’ve understood that Blackness eschews monoculturalism and the single story. There’s no definitive way to be Black. Letting go of some old thoughts has pushed me to the idea that feminism isn’t a single story. It is many things to many people. For me, it’s “the radical idea that women are human beings”. 

Be kind to yourself. 
Onward. 

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​Everyone has a part of the story 

During our first three months in Swaziland, we had all kinds of training. There was technical training and language training. There was training about the history and culture of Swaziland. There was probably more training that I have since forgotten. 
One of the things that I haven’t forgotten is a session in which we watched Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s TED talk about the danger of a single story

My story is, indeed, a single story. It is one of many. A single, personal view of a complex world. During this session, our training manager advised us not to perpetuate the single story of Africa being a singular, homogenous experience, culture, and people. After all, Swaziland is only a piece of Africa. And even in the kingdom of Swaziland, there are varied cultures and experiences among 1.2 million Swazis. In the spirit of promoting multiple varied stories and viewpoints, I would like to share some of my favorite blog posts from PCVs around the globe. 

This post was inspired by Nicole, also in Swaziland, who also wrote about the danger of a single story. I have been inspired by Alexa discussing the gifts from the garden in Uganda. Alison captured the magic and mystery of Swazi greetings and praise names. There is Abbie’s insightful look into things that are uniquely Moroccan. Ally listed common phrases that are heard throughout Swaziland, but would be unusual in America. I read about April’s language challenges in Kosovo, and was comforted by a shared struggle. Recently, Nate explored what the first day of school looks like in Swaziland. Nathalie shared the things that she’s learned in her first six months as a PCV in Swaziland. Faith, in Tanzania, compiled many memes about serving as a volunteer of color

Feel free to link to some of your favorite PCV blog posts in the comments.

Be kind to yourself. 
Onward. 

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