You're Unlearning, Not Fickle
I started consciously reading about rape in my second year in university. We were given this journal from the public law department and the first essay was about rape and it’s legal framework. I remember very little about the essay, except that it piqued my interest in societal attitudes towards rape (like it or not, it’s due to the beliefs of a few i.e legislature that our rape laws/definition are still behind). I started to write stories about rape, especially about unpopular themes like marital rape. This was 2012. My characters were modest — virgins; they dressed “well” and got raped in the most violent circumstances (as opposed to situations where this persistent stereotype of “real rape” did not occur like this story on Zikoko, or this on BBC, and my story). My friend, Lekan challenged me to write a story where the character that was raped didn’t fit this trope. I did. Even though I grew up under modesty culture, “wokeness” was already lacing itself in my fingers. It was around this time I started challenging everything I’d been taught: beliefs, status quo, choices etc.
It didn’t all happen at the same time or in one seamless, robotic unlearning process, but it happened and things changed. Not just for me, but for you and a lot of other people. I’ve said here and elsewhere that we’re in the middle of a sexual revolution — a social movement that challenges traditional codes of behavior related to sex, sexuality and interpersonal relationships, one that liberates (and will liberate) women, bring justice and end modesty culture.
In a manner of speaking, we haven’t fought for as much as our counterparts in other cultures and nationalities. We’ve never had a Suffragist movement, a Myra Bradwell occupational struggle or the 60s to 90s activism under waves of feminism. We have had a lot - Aba Women’s Riot, legal struggles over women’s rights to inherit property (e.g 2014, in the case of Anekwe v. Nweke, the Supreme Court of Nigeria found that any custom that denies women, particularly widows, their inheritance, is repugnant to natural justice) - just not as much.
Now, it’s a different story. To use a popular mantra, Nigerian women are shouting, “Enough is enough.” Think #MarketMarch and #ChurchMeToo. It’s not just with women’s rights, there’s mental health activism, there’s LGTBQ activism and the activism of other like marginalised groups. With mental health, the narrative and shame around it is being spoken against and deconstructed. This was possibly impossible (oxymoron?!) at least 20 years ago when our parents, set in their ways, believed mental health issues to be spiritual attacks and religious problems. Largely they still do, and at some point, we probably did. Not anymore.
There's a lot to unpack when you think about the root causes of the different shifts in attitude. But you know one thing you can't take out of the equation? An allowance for change. You’re allowed to change your mind. It’s your opinion right now, but it doesn’t mean it will or should be your opinion tomorrow (based on a new set of facts). That’s where a few of us miss the mark. Half of the women at the forefront of this revolution probably thought dressing indecently caused rape a decade or two ago.
So often we feel compelled to be a certain way, to do certain things and to say certain words. And maybe once, or twice, we did. And maybe then it was who we were. It might come off as hard, and it’s been written that facts don’t change our minds, that it’s surprisingly easy to change our political opinions and that our brain invents morality [insert shrug emoji] etc. Let me give you an example you may relate to: In 2015, you probably supported Buhari, and that's fine; you carried him on top of your head like he was the best thing since sliced bread - still fine. At the end of his first term, you knew better and that’s why you (probably) didn’t vote for him earlier this year.
It’s important to train your mind to think critically and form opinions (not based on herd mentality). I’ve been thinking about this a lot this week: What if what we know now as truth turns out to be a lie, does accepting that it’s a lie and changing our mind make us fickle? Where do we draw the line with being liberal? etc. I don’t have the answers, but here's another truth:
We're humans, we're never going to stop learning and unlearning.
Apart from these, I’ve been thinking about starting a love column on Zikoko. I’m a shameless lover of love stories. It’s hard to pick, but If I absolutely had to, I’d say Leo Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina is my favourite novel ever. It’s the only novel I’ve read more than twice; I recommend it for its unadulterated telling of the harsh reality and beauty of love. I intend to model my column after New York Times’ Modern Love. If you have good ideas for a name, let me know. And if you have love stories you’d like to share, feel free, let’s make this happen.
This article by Nana reminded me of love lost (again, in a manner of speaking) to genotype — not exclusively and not as jarring as most people experience. This was the kind that dissolved, disappeared but still hurt because I had to speculate on the reasons. We hadn’t exactly dated, but we spoke every day. Imagine how I felt when that suddenly stopped. No fight, nothing. Ghosting?
You know what would be lit? A Palmwine Drinkard or My Life in the Bush of Ghosts game.
I hope you had a good week. Keep reading and being kind. Catch me in Abuja doing big girl things! (and in the Mcsweeney Issue 56 journal introduced by Chimamanda).