It sounds like a lot of words, black African intersectional feminist, but all these words, in this order are necessary. And, yes, I fully recognise how problematic and limiting labels can be, but this is one label I wear with pride. It lets others know that my every day a feminist life recognises that our social, biological, economic and geographical categorisations, such as race, gender, class, ability, and sexual orientation interact on multiple and simultaneous levels and contribute to systematic injustice and social inequality (Side note 3: Here I am relying on definitions provided by a long line of black intersectional feminists but mainly Kimberlé Crenshaw and Patricia Hill Collins). This label is a warning sign to others that my every day a feminist life resists any and all forms of social justice work that seeks only to address a single form of discrimination or oppression. (Side note 4: This is one example of how I would answer, “what does my every day a feminist life mean for others?”) Most importantly, because this is often overlooked, the label black African intersectional feminist is in direct response to all those who seek to label feminism as un-African. As my mother said, feminism “was not imposed on us [Africans] by the United Nations or by Western feminists, but has an independent history.” That is why this label is necessary – long as it is – it is an abbreviation for the theoretical underpinnings of my feminism and if black African intersectional feminist is the theory then every day a feminist is the practice.

I use the term “every day a feminist” to convey the unbroken and consistent existence of my feminism. (Side note 5: I purposely use “every day” as opposed to “everyday” because there is nothing commonplace or normal about the feminism I practice. Its very existence is to challenge the norm.) It is who I am, it is who I have always been, it is what I do, it is what I have always done, it is what I believe, it is what I have always believed. As Lola Okolosie says of her own identity as a black feminist, the naming happened after the fact. Perhaps this is why my initial reaction was to describe it as exhausting, because 30 something years, every day a feminist can get tiring but it is also something I enjoy. I particularly enjoy the interaction, love and support present within intersectional feminists spaces so yes maybe it is nice too. Both of these words, I guess are ok when it comes to describing this every day a feminist life, but I still think they are not enough. Between nice and exhausting (if this was a spectrum – which I don’t think it is) there is a whole lot more. “Nice” and “exhausting” speak to moments, instances that occur as part of my every day a feminist journey. In thinking of every day a feminist as a lived experience, that has a past, present and future I much prefer Nyaboe Makiya’s conceptualization of feminism as survival. The label is black African intersectional feminist, every day a feminist is how I live this label and I live every day a feminist as an act of survival.

I first came to live in England in 1982 and as a young child the racism I experienced was so unbearable that I would tell my parents I wanted to go back to Kenya because England didn’t like me. Then finally returning to Kenya in 1986 only for my father to be detained without trial by the Kenyan Government. Four years later being back in the UK, this time as asylum seekers/refugees because clearly Kenya didn’t like me either. And we all know how the UK feels about immigrants. This time we lived in a council estate and I attended a failing inner city London school. It was the early 1990s, surrounded by people who looked like me, but just like when I was in Kenya I learned that this was not enough. Other black students would “joke” that I came from Africa on an elephant. A careers advisor, a black woman, told me instead of working towards law school I should, at the end of my GCSEs, consider employment at a supermarket. My good grades be damned because apparently something about me rendered a university education unattainable. Finally attending university and realising that race was not a part of the law curriculum; gender however, was and I was encouraged to think about how the law (according to white feminists) affected me as a woman, because this was apparently the only identity that mattered. Later in life, working in development with white men who insist they cannot be racist because they are helping poor people in Africa. While out at a bar in Lancaster with my siblings a random white woman approaches us and without invitation, conversation or approval on our part takes out her camera and starts to take pictures of us. I confronted her, her response “I thought you were famous”. The list goes on. Initially I couldn’t articulate how I felt about these instances because I was too young. Later on, while at university I would stumble on the works of Collins, Crenshaw, Audre Lorde, bell hooks, Angela P. Harris (to name a few) and it all made sense. I understood now why my parents had insisted I only play with black dolls and why my at home reading consisted of nothing but writers of colour. I thought that every time they had stood in and stood up for me was simply because they were my parents. I understood now that while it was of course motivated by parental love, it was a love rooted in black African intersectional feminism. How could I as an adult reject the practice that had helped me survive? I didn’t know any other way to navigate this world, I still don’t know any other way to do so and even if I did I wouldn’t choose any other way.

I am an every day a feminist because that is how I am able to survive, but black African intersectional feminism reminds me that it is not enough for me to survive; others have to survive too and my every day a feminist life calls on me to  (1) support others so that they can survive and (2) make sure that I am not complicit in the un-survivability of others. This is perhaps the most important answer to the question “what does my every day a feminist life mean for others?” In recognizing the intersectionality of identities and systems of oppressions, I am also acknowledging that I can be both a victim and beneficiary of these power structures. Being an every day feminist means that I too, as a western living/educated, middle class heterosexual cis-gendered and able-bodied person, must check my privilege. My every day a feminist approach makes me suspicious of forms of feminism that are not intersectional. My every day feminist stance is unforgiving of human rights artivism that relies on misogyny. My every day feminist life has no patience for “wait your turn” anti-oppression work that deems the struggles of LGTBQI people as not important right now.  White tears will never dampen my every day a feminist life. For those that come at me with “not all white people” and/or “not all men” my every day a feminist voice will yell back “Shut up your face!” And by now, people really should know the answer to the question “why is everything about patriarchy?” but for those who wonder, every day a feminist means every thing through feminism. Honestly though, I am too busy living this every day a feminist life to educate those who continually un-hear the voices of other intersectional feminists.

I was before; I am now and always will be a black African intersectional feminist. I live every day a feminist because the alternatives make my life and the lives of so many other people un-liveable. Every day a feminist, unapologetically.

Sometimes, you can just hop in the back of someone’s cab and tell them what they’re supposed to do. Other times, you have to let him look out at the ocean for a while.

– Jacob, Lost Season 6

Zuqka’s feature on MamaJunkYard is the literal equivalent of hopping into my cab and telling me I need to get back to blogging. This is what Kamau Mutunga wrote:

Her relationship status is “not on the market.” Unless you’re Thierry Henry. She likes Tia Maria, coffee, purple, travel, family and God, though not necessarily in that order. She hates balloons, pumpkins and prejudices. Her interests are race, gender, sexuality and critical legal theories. Her first pets were rabbits, and she has two tattoos and six body piercings. Bloggers rarely describe themselves with much detail, but there you have a bio peek at Kui, Mrs Cooper or to her blog fans, Mama Junk Yard.

Indeed, Mama Junk Yard’s rants about anything under and over the sun. Kui has lived abroad, but works in Nigeria. From how foreigners talk and silly questions about one’s country. So, her entries are observations of a footloose, uprooted Kenyan. You will learn that “Kubwa” might be Kiswahili for “big” and “Nyanya” is grandmother, but why does it also mean tomato? Well those two are names of places in Naija too. And “well done” doesn’t connote congratulations. It is a greeting. When feeling unwell don’t be shocked when asked “how you body de?” “How far” is not about distance, but “how is it going.” And when someone flashes your phone, don’t call back. They were “just de greet you O!” Mrs Cooper hasn’t been blogging actively, and her archives might give a better impression of Mama JunkYard.

There are few things there that need updating, e.g. I am no longer in Nigeria….but that’s even more reason for me to get back to blogging!

As someone who loves to talk it is only natural that I find myself engaged in the all sorts of conversations. This in turn has exposed me to weird questions, annoying phrases, and strange words most of which I let slip by. There are however a few things that people have said/asked that have had me vowing never to speak again. These are my top three.

1. ‘So, how do you know so-and-so?’
This question can be heard at parties, especially birthday/house parties with the host’s name replacing ‘so-and-so’. The guest who asks this question is usually one who feels that they have known the host that much longer than you and by extension have more right to be there than you have. In the same way one will observe a dog lifting up its leg at every other lamppost as it goes about its daily walk on a familiar route; the guest who asks this question can be seen moving from person to person marking out those faces he or she does not recognise. If this guest stops at you and this is the first question they ask; you are the lamppost.

2. Use of terms of endearments by total strangers
I miss the days when Routemasters filled the streets of London and bus -conductors would struggle to keep their balance as they churned out tickets from what looked like a rather old cash register dangling from their necks. What I don’t miss is how every conductor would conclude their sentence with the words such as ‘love’, ‘sweetheart’ or ‘darling’. I could never understand what it was about asking for a single to Covent Garden that would inspire such affection from someone I did not know. This behaviour is not just limited to bus conductors. I had a Design and Technology teacher who would say things like ‘Alright sweet-pea?’ or ‘How are you doing my sweet and sour?’

As if this is not enough, the use of these phrases is not standardised. So for instance in Yorkshire one can be called ‘love’ by a stranger, in the West Country do not be surprised if someone refers to you as ‘my lover’. Here in Nigeria it is ‘baby’ or ‘babygirl’

What I dislike most about this sort of talk is that it is contagious. I have noticed that I now refer to anyone and everyone as ‘my dear’. Why I do it, I do not know. What I do know is that 99% of the people I use it on are not dear to me. It disturbs me greatly to know that I am part of the problem.

3. Archaic words/Big grammar* used in everyday conversation
I know exactly when my hatred for this behaviour began. It was when a security guard at work said to me;

‘Kui, are you ok? You look ee-MASH-EE-ated’

After he wrote it down for me I discovered the word was emaciated, which according to Mshairi is pronounced ee-may-see-ated. Whatever! The guard meant to that I had lost weight yet what he said to me was that I looked “thin or haggard, especially from hunger or disease.” Was there ever a greater conversation killer?

Since I have been in Nigeria I have heard people speak of ‘paucity of funds’ when what they mean is that they are broke, or ‘my peculiarities’ when everyone knows that is a nice way of saying ‘ I have issues’

While these sorts of words may have a place in written texts or even speeches delivered to a particular audience, in everyday conversation I find it breaks the flow. I end up focusing on the word itself and not what the person is saying. Lord help both of us if t is a word I have never heard of before because whatever story was being told shall have to be interrupted while I ask endless questions about the words meaning and origin.

*Baba Willy’s Pidgin dictionary defines big grammar as ‘long and difficult English words’

———–
Thanks to the Dr for his input on regional variations of the use of the word ‘love’.
Thanks to JKE too for helping me organise my thoughts.

In the wake of what can only be described as one of my country’s darkest moments I have found that being a Kenyan abroad has generated a series of deeply troubling questions from non-Kenyans such as:

Oh you are Kenyan? So what tribe are you/What ethnic group do you belong to?

Or

You are from Kenya? So are you Kikuyu or Luo?

On the surface it is easy to view these questions as innocent enquiries from a non-Kenyan who wants to know more about where I am from. Given the manner in which ethnic differences crept into the dispute over the government’s claim to power I know all to well that these questions are anything but innocent.

The first question, in my view is a personal question and should have no place in a discussion between people who barely know each other. Furthermore it rests on the assumption that there is a simple response. For instance, there are many Kenyans who do not belong to one ethnic group or tribe and the question suggests that a single tribe response is the desired answer.

In the case of the second question, it is equally personal but it is more offensive than the first because it reduces my country to a two-tribe nation. It ignores the existence of every other Kenyan who does not fall into either the Kikuyu or Luo ethnic group. It also assumes that one can not fit neatly into both ethnic groups.

That said, what really angers me about both questions is that most people who ask will then use whatever response I give as a basis to project their own limited knowledge of the political and ethnic situation in Kenya.

When I opt to answer these sorts of questions I simply state ‘Kikuyu.’ Each time I have done so my response has been met with statements like:

You must be happy with the result then

or

Ah! It is your man/brother who is in power

even this:

You guys really rigged this election

In single sentence a person has taken my cultural/ethnic identity and formed an opinion about my political allegiance, placed blame upon me for the outcome of the election and worst of all suggested that despite the fact that my country is in turmoil…I am pleased.

The most frustrating part for me is, I am still not sure who/what I should be angry at:

Should I be angry at those individuals who believe that I, who can not speak a word of Kikuyu, would place such importance on my ethnic identity to the extent that I would not only stake my right to vote upon it but forsake my national identity because of it?

Is it fair to direct my anger at the Western media who oftentimes spoke of and wrote about Kenya and Rwanda in one breath/sentence thereby blurring the distinction between a nation disappointed in the outcome of a flawed election and a group of people who value ethnicity more than nationality?

What about those who willingly took part in the destruction of our people, our country, our lives and our homes, maybe I should be angry at them?

Perhaps those who made a mockery of our democratic right to be governed by the leaders we elect, who betrayed the trust we placed in our electoral system…maybe this should be the root of my anger?

I am not content with directing my anger, in equal measure, at all of the above because it is not that simple. I am not content with being angry because it is not productive.

I will have to work something out because when people who can not find Kenya on a map, who do not know the difference and distance between Ghana and Kenya, who can’t accept that we too can fly from our country to over 40 destinations worldwide on Kenya Airways…. when these people start telling me about my ethnic identity and what it means…I get really angry…

Nyanya is the Kiswahili word for grandmother and tomato ( I have never known why the two share the same word in Kiswahili – any takers?)

Kubwa in Kiswahili means big.

The security guard at work has kindly agreed to teach me a phrase a day. It is going well and I am further encouraged by two things. Firstly, there is no greater honour that can be extended to a visitor than treating him/her as if he/she was not a visitor. The least I can do to show my gratitude is to take steps to integrate with the people of my host nation and though there are over 200 hundred languages spoken in Nigeria I should not let this deter me from learning at least one before I leave. Secondly it has been brought to my attention that there are Hausa words that are similar to those that I am already familiar with as a result of my knowledge of (dare I say fluency in) Kiswahili. I feel like the battle is half won so why not go all the way?

So for anyone else who wants to join me in quest to become a Kano donkey; here is a list of English words with their Hausa and Kiswahili translations and who knows maybe there shall be an all Hausa blog soon.

• Twenty = Ashirin (Hausa); Ishirini (Kiswahili)
• Thirty = Talatin (Hausa); Thelathini (Kiswahili)
• Forty = Arbain (Hausa); Arbaini (Kiswahili)
• Fifty = Hamsin (Hausa); Hamsini (Kiswahili)
• Sixty= Sittin (Hausa); Sitini (Kiswahili)
• Thursday = Alhamis (Hausa); Alhamisi (Kiswahili)

*Learn to count and days of the week in Hausa.

My internet access at the moment, while being 100% free and 100% unlimited is also 100% unreliable. Hopefully that will change very soon as there is so much I want to blog about.

So far everyone I have met has been incredibly friendly and hospitable. Nigeria is the only country I have been to where an Immigration officer has said to me, ‘I hope you extend your stay to three years’. Not sure I will take him up on his offer but so far all is going well.

The only downside being that I, along with about fifty other passengers had some or all of our luggage left behind. Thankfully for me two of my three suitcases that made it across were the ones that had my important stuff – my underwear, eight boxes of Jaffa Cakes and my flashlights (thanks Remi I have experienced 4 power outages in 24 hours and I have had to rely on my torch for the two minutes of darkness before the generator kicks in!). The one suitcase that has all my shoes, Ketepa tea, Royco and java coffee shall apparently be with me tomorrow!

Last night while driving around Abuja I noticed a few street names that reminded me of Kenya such as Eldoret Close and Embu Close (or Road…can’t remember) which are both towns in Kenya. Eldoret for many years was home to most of my family including Mshairi, Uaridi and Nyakehu.

I know this blog post is rather disjointed but it is my attempt to cram everything in before my internet connection dies again.

‘Wetin dey happen’ is Nigerian Pidgin English for ‘What is going on’ and is used as a greeting in the same way as one would say ‘What’s up?’.

Today the Kenyan Blogs Webring is two years old!

Happy Birthday KBW.

We, the admin team, are grateful for your continued support, for your dedication, for your inspiration, for your ideas and for your community spirit. The Kenyan Blogs Webring is a positive force for our nation, our continent and our people, long may it prosper! If you are not yet a member, join us. If you have any questions, contact us.

Here are a few quick interesting facts on KBW:

Membership numbers

We currently have 240 active members*
In our first year we signed up 69 active members*
In our second year we signed up 171 active members*

* “Active members” refers to bloggers who joined KBW and are still members today. It does not include those who have left the webring.

Gender balance

100 female bloggers
123 male bloggers
12 group blogs

(Please note some bloggers author more than one blog).

Rate of growth

The rate of growth continues to rise rapidly. Our two busiest months for signing new members have been April 2006 and May 2006.

In April 2006 we signed up 34 new members
In May 2006 we signed up 33 new members

More than one blogger per day

KenyaUnlimited

The permanent home for the Kenyan Blogs Webring is KenyaUnlimited.

The KBW aggregator displays the latest posts from our members’ blogs. The aggregator gets just under 3000 unique visitors per day. This means that each KBW member has at least 3000 people reading their posts each day they blog.

The community

Although we are called the Kenyan Blogs Webring we currently have members from Tanzania, Nigeria, Uganda, Germany, United Kingdom, and the United States (this excludes our Kenyan members living abroad).

Our members blog in at least 8 different languages.

Join us

Membership is open to Kenyans, residents of Kenya and friends of Kenya aged 14 years and older who maintain a weblog, photolog, online journal or online diary. We are inclusive rather than exclusive. If you would like to join KBW you most probably can! Sign up here.

In response to Girl Next Door and Valedon who asked if they could ‘borrow’ the doodle, I have uploaded it to my Flickr page. I have no objections to you (or anyone else) using it. All I ask is that you credit it and link back to its original home.

While working on the first part of my Kenyan Bloggers’ Day contribution I came across Doodle 4 Google: my Britain.

[This is] a nationwide design competition open to the UK’s 10 million school children. Young people are being invited to design a Google doodle explaining what it means to be British today. The winning doodle, which will be displayed on the Google UK homepage for 24 hours, will be seen by around 18 million people.

[read more the full article]

Doodle for Google began in 2005 and the winner of last year’s competition was 11 year old London student, Lisa Wainaina (pictured below with Dennis Hwang and her wining doodle)

She designed a doodle titled ‘Day of the child’. Lisa’s creative theme and clever incorporation of childhood images into the Google logo contributed to her being named the winner of the London competition. Lisa’s doodle was hosted on the Google homepage for 24 hours for millions of people to see, including her very proud parents and schoolmates.

[Read more here]

As I read the 2005 Winner’s name, I felt in me an emotion similar to (but stronger than) the feeling I get when I first notice a stranger wearing a Kenyan T-shirt or carrying a kiondo. It matters not that I do not know the person, or they may not be Kenyan. All I see is a person carrying an aspect of my identity and often they do so with such pride that it makes me want to stop them and say,

“Because you chose to wear/carry X, every person you meet will be exposed to a part of my culture and identity. They will admire the beautiful X you wear/carry. They may even want to find out more. In short you are representing and for that I am grateful’

I have never had the courage to say all the above to a total stranger. Sometimes I wish I did have that courage. Especially since these happy thoughts are often eroded cynicism.

I begin to question the carrier’s/wearer’s identity,
‘hmmm….I bet he/she is not even Kenyan’.

I speculate on their motives,
‘hmm…I bet they wore X, carried X because the “Ethnic” look is in.’

I conclude that the stranger pronounces Kenya as Kee.ni.a, they have only visited Kenya once on a 10 day package holiday/safari. Based on this I convince myself that the stranger has no to right to lay claim to my heritage. It may be days later before I remember how upset I get when others attempt to redefine my identity and the ways I choose to display it.

Nobody has the right to decide the cultural signifiers that others may use to define their identity and I certainly do not have the right to define another persons’ cultural/national identity.

With this in mind I approach the issue of Ms Wainaina and her outstanding achievement with a certain degree of caution.

I do not know Ms Wainaina and the articles that document her win make no reference to her national identity. I do know however that Wainaina is a Kenyan name.

Actually, that is all I need to know.

Through her name, Ms Wainaina carries an aspect of my cultural/national identity. Through her success she has exposed an aspect of my identity to millions of people. People all around the world will admire her work and will congratulate her on her win. They may even ask about her name. In short she is representing. And for this I am grateful.

As I think of Lisa Wainaina and her online achievements I am reminded of something the Acrobat said in his Kenyan Bloggers’ Day post.

Kenya was not a house we moved into, it was a house which they started building, which we will complete and which our children will furnish. In that sense we mould it in our character. It is a reflection of us. The good and the bad. But it is us.

While his remarks are in reference to the building of a nation, I feel it can also be applied to the building of a nation’s online identity.

A short while back, it was almost impossible to find news, opinions, gossip, facts and stories on Kenya written by Kenyans/friends of Kenya. In the recent months, through the proliferation of Kenyan/Kenyan friendly blogs we have started to shape Kenya’s presence on the net.

The Kenyan Blogsphere was not a house we moved into, it is a house which we are still building, the Lisa Wainana’s are already working on the interior design and by the time her children move in they will be adding loft conversions for our ever growing family.

In this sense, through our blogs, we are moulding the Kenyan Blogsphere and in turn Kenya’s identity on the internet. It is a reflection of us. The good and the bad, but it is us.

And damn! Am I proud of us!

Happy Madaraka Day

——————–
Lisa Wainana image from Doodle 4 Google’s publicity page.