Love Letter to Feminism

By: Marianne Mesfin Asfaw

I have many fond memories in my journey with feminism, but one in particular that stands out. It was during my time at graduate school, at a lecture I attended as part of a Feminist Theory course. This lecture was on African feminism and in it the professor talked about the history of Pan Africanism and the ways in which it was patriarchal, male-centric, and how Pan Africanist scholars perpetuated the erasure of African women. She talked about how African women’s contributions to the anti-colonial and decolonial struggles on the continent are rarely, if ever, discussed and given their due credit. We read about the African feminist scholars challenging this erasure and actively unearthing these stories of African women led movements and resistance efforts. It seems so simple but what stood out to me the most was that somebody put the words African and feminist together. Better yet, that there were many more of us out there wrestling with the complicated history, politics and societal norms in the various corners of the continent and we were all using a feminist lens to do this. I came out of that lecture feeling moved and completely mind-blown. After the lecture three of my friends (all African feminists) and I spent some time debriefing outside the classroom. We were all so struck by the brilliance of the lecture and the content but, more than anything, we all felt so seen. That feeling stood out to me. 

Falling in love feminism was thrilling. It felt like finally getting to talk to your longtime crush and finding out that they like you back. I call it my crush because in high school I referred to myself as a feminist but I didn’t feel like I knew enough about it. Was there a right way to be feminist? What if I wasn’t doing it right? Attending my first Women’s Studies lecture answered some of these questions for me. It was thrilling to learn about stories of feminist resistance and dismantling the patriarchy. I felt so affirmed and validated, but I also felt like something was missing.

Deepening my relationship with feminism through academia, at an institution where the students and teaching staff were mostly white meant that, for those first few years, I noticed that we rarely had discussions about how race and anti-blackness show up in mainstream feminist movements. In most courses we had maybe 1 week, or worse 1 lecture, dedicated to race and we would usually read something by bell hooks, Kimberly Crenshaw’s work on intersectionality, and maybe Patricia Hill Collins. The following week we were back to sidelining the topic. I dealt with this by centring race and black feminism in almost all my assignments, by writing about black hair and respectability politics, the hypersexualization of black women’s bodies, and so much more. Over time I realized that I was trying to fill a gap but didn’t quite know what it was. 

Encountering and learning about African feminism was a full circle moment. I realized that there was so much more I had to learn.

Mainly that my Africanness and my feminist politics did not have to be separate. In fact, there was so much that they could learn from each other and there were African feminists out there already doing this work. It was the missing piece that felt so elusive during my exploration of feminism throughout my academic journey.

Feminism to me is the antithesis to social and political apathy. It also means once you adopt a feminist lens, nothing can ever be the same. My friends and I used to talk about how it was like putting on glasses that you can never take off because you now see the world for what it is, mess and all. A mess you can’t simply ignore or walk away from. Therefore my vow to the feminist movement is to never stop learning, to keep stretching the bounds of my empathy and to never live passively. To dedicate more time and space in my life to feminist movements and to continue to amplify, celebrate, document and cite the work of African feminists. I also commit to centring care and prioritizing pleasure in this feminist journey because we can’t sustain our movements without this.
 

General Information

La comunicación del deseo

y otras praxis políticas del cuerpo

Tendemos a pensar en la comunicación del deseo como algo circunscrito a la intimidad de la alcoba y nuestras relaciones personales. Sin embargo, ¿podemos también pensar este tipo de comunicación como una estructura, una práctica que nutre nuestro trabajo, y cómo somos, y cómo actuamos en el mundo?

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Feministas sudanesas: «Una revolución dentro de la revolución»

«Mientras estaba en la primera línea de la protesta, fui sometida a violencia sexual, a lesiones físicas y a otras formas de violencia. Pero no me detendré hasta que logremos pleno gobierno civil en Sudán. Debemos impedir la militarización del Estado. Nuestros cuerpos no deben seguir siendo tratados como campos de batalla»

dijo Amal,¹ una manifestante de 23 años.² 

Durante los últimos cuatro años, las mujeres lideraron la revolución en Sudán. Su liderazgo no fue solo callejero, sino que constituyó el poder que impulsó la resistencia constante en todos los niveles. Las mujeres y las jóvenes feministas se convirtieron en la conciencia alerta del movimiento de cambio y democratización sudanés. Desde la primera protesta del 13 de diciembre de 2018 contra el régimen anterior, en la ciudad de Aldmazein, en el área de conflicto del Nilo Azul, las jóvenes estudiantes fueron las voces que demandaron el fin de la dictadura de los militares y los Hermanos Musulmanes, que ya lleva treinta años en el poder.

El movimiento feminista, liderado por mujeres de entre 16 y 35 años, ha entablado una revolución dentro de la revolución en Sudán durante los últimos cuatro años de lucha ininterrumpida. Las potentes voces de las jóvenes que ocupan espacios en las calles, las redes sociales, la sociedad civil y las organizaciones políticas se elevaron lo suficiente como para reconfigurar la opinión pública y desafiar las normas sociales. Por primera vez en la historia de Sudán, las discusiones sobre violencia sexual y de género y sobre los tabúes de la violencia doméstica y los procesos de toma de decisiones dominados por los hombres se convirtieron en debates generalizados. Los equipos de fútbol de mujeres designaron voceras ante los comités de resistencia, y los sindicatos profesionales liderados por mujeres son parte de la expresión de la nueva ola del movimiento feminista de Sudán. El logro más importante es que las jóvenes se identifican como feministas en forma orgullosa y pública, en un país regido por el fundamentalismo islámico durante tres décadas. Los jóvenes varones que apoyan el activismo feminista -y se identifican como feministas- son otra señal de progreso notable.

Call for Activities

Luz de Plenilunio: Una experiencia BDSM africana

Más que una divertida excentricidad para explorar las sensaciones, el BDSM puede ser una forma de abordar el dolor y el trauma emocionales. Ha sido un medio de sanación sexual para mí, pues me ha permitido una forma radical de liberación. 

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It’s time for the next AWID Forum in 2024!

When thousands of feminists come together, we create a sweeping force of solidarity that has the power to change the world. The AWID Forum will be a moment for us to rest and heal together, connect across borders, and discover brave new strategic directions.

The date and location will be announced next year, as soon as we can. We’re excited and we know you’re excited too. Stay tuned!

Make sure to follow us on social media and subscribe to our mailing list to stay informed!

El Foro de AWID siempre ha sido un espacio que no elude las conversaciones difíciles y muy necesarias. Aceptaremos estas propuestas si lxs organizadorxs pueden garantizar un espacio respetuoso y seguro para quienes participen.

On Wednesday a note arrives
with an address on the back.

    5 pm, tonight.

The handwriting on the invitation—
coily and brusque—
I’ve seen it five times in five years.

My body rouses,
feverish.

I need to fuck myself first.

The tide is high tonight and
I get 
off.

I want to slow everything down,
taste time and space, etch them 
into memory.

*

I’ve never been to this part of town before.
Unknown places excite me,
the way limbs and veins and bones
resist decay, 
their fate uncertain.

At the door, I think twice.
The hallway is pitch black 
and it makes me pause.

On the other side,
a portal of smell and color 
opens like a curse,  
into a sunny afternoon.

The breeze
makes my hair dance,
piques its curiosity,
compels it to move.

I hear the wheelchair whirring, 
shaping the shadows.
Then I see them:
a lynx face
and a body like mine
and I find myself desiring both
again.
 
The creature motions me closer.

Their gestures write a sentence;
as I move toward them,
I notice its details:

    wither, flesh, bliss

On their command, the vine that covers the hallway
hugging warm stones,
snakes up the wall.

It becomes a verb,
“to climb,”
and I’m reorientated when their claws point 
to the vine-bed in the center.

I hear the wheels behind me, 
then that sound. 
It reverberates
like no other.
Their long black wings
elevate toward the ceiling
then they lunge forward.

The feline vision scans every detail,
every change,
every longing.

Can desire liquefy your muscles? 

    Can it act sweeter than the strongest 
of tranquilizers?

A lynx sews the world
across our differences,
weaving lace around my knees.

Can desire crush the distance of the world, 
compressing the seconds?

They come closer still,
lynx eye meeting human eye,
sniffing the air,
turning body into
urgency.

They beat down their wings.
Stirred,
the vines tangle around my waist/waste.

Their tongue thins time,
shifting grounds,
soothes, with their magic,
what stirs beneath.

    I see the world in you, and the 
world is exhausted.

Then they plead:

    Let me feast on you.