I am trying so hard to respect the Ghanaian culture.
It is, after all, a distinctive, colourful, life-affirming culture rooted in faith, hard work and years of tradition.
Since arriving here however I have come across certain dimensions of that culture that I am finding it hard to grapple with. I am caught in a clash between reverence and disbelief: a desire to please and respect that which I do not know but at the same time a growing awareness of the injustices it can present.
It is, after all, a distinctive, colourful, life-affirming culture rooted in faith, hard work and years of tradition.
Since arriving here however I have come across certain dimensions of that culture that I am finding it hard to grapple with. I am caught in a clash between reverence and disbelief: a desire to please and respect that which I do not know but at the same time a growing awareness of the injustices it can present.
I am not a feminist.
I have never had to be. I went to a school famed for producing feminists but I do not think that is true. Instead it taught me never to see my gender as a barrier and I never have; I have felt equal to every man I have known. My parents gave me the model of a partnership between the sexes. Yes, my mother cooks the dinner and my father changes the lightbulbs, but no decision is ever taken alone. Over the course of their marriage they have- in equal measure- stood back to allow the other to take the limelight. They are the greatest allies: partners in every respect.
I was recently engaged in a rigorous debate about sexual rights. The context was a training day for new peer educators as part of the National Strategic Plan tackling HIV/AIDS in Ghana: trained men and women will go into their communities and educate them on sexual health in a series of one-to-one and group sessions. Theatre for a Change is working with the Ghana Aids Commission on the implementation and coordination of this project. During the debate several inflammatory opinions were expressed: short skirts encourage a woman's chances of getting HIV, men have the right to practice polygamy, if a woman does not want to have sex with her husband then it is an offence. And then, the bombshell: marital rape does not exist.
I should note that these were not the opinions of the individual peer educators but rather more expressions of the society in which they work. At an interactive theatre performance in Jamestown this week, most, if not all, of the questions revolved around infidelity. The women did not understand how they could be sure their husbands were STI-free given their multiple sexual partners. The man sitting next to me was hugely entertained by these comments. Almost all of the women were pregnant.
Similarly, at an outreach session a few weeks ago, I was accompanying peer educators as they dispensed door-to door family planning advice. Several women, most of whom were expectant or recent mothers, told us that they would have to seek their husband's permission to use contraception. One woman was even too afraid to talk to us and her husband soon came and spoke for her: he has two wives and will not let them use contraception until he has ten children. She sat at his feet on the steps of their shanty, eyes on the floor.
These snapshots of gender inequality do not represent Ghanaian culture as a whole but certainly a dominant part of it. Theatre for a Change promotes a Gender Equality Campaign with a simple premise: 'More Equality = Less HIV'. With such extreme imbalances between the sexes, safe sex is hard to negotiate. And if it is hard to negotiate (but equally as essential) within the sanctity of marriage then just imagine the challenges that lie outside of it. Especially for those women we work with who sell sex for money.
On the training course I asked several peer educators why they do the work they do: 'for Mother Ghana' was the collective response. But, if Ghana is a woman, then why do her women have to put up with so much?
For the first time in my life the feminist in me has stirred. I never knew how good I had it. I never knew how much there was left to fight for.
I have never had to be. I went to a school famed for producing feminists but I do not think that is true. Instead it taught me never to see my gender as a barrier and I never have; I have felt equal to every man I have known. My parents gave me the model of a partnership between the sexes. Yes, my mother cooks the dinner and my father changes the lightbulbs, but no decision is ever taken alone. Over the course of their marriage they have- in equal measure- stood back to allow the other to take the limelight. They are the greatest allies: partners in every respect.
I was recently engaged in a rigorous debate about sexual rights. The context was a training day for new peer educators as part of the National Strategic Plan tackling HIV/AIDS in Ghana: trained men and women will go into their communities and educate them on sexual health in a series of one-to-one and group sessions. Theatre for a Change is working with the Ghana Aids Commission on the implementation and coordination of this project. During the debate several inflammatory opinions were expressed: short skirts encourage a woman's chances of getting HIV, men have the right to practice polygamy, if a woman does not want to have sex with her husband then it is an offence. And then, the bombshell: marital rape does not exist.
I should note that these were not the opinions of the individual peer educators but rather more expressions of the society in which they work. At an interactive theatre performance in Jamestown this week, most, if not all, of the questions revolved around infidelity. The women did not understand how they could be sure their husbands were STI-free given their multiple sexual partners. The man sitting next to me was hugely entertained by these comments. Almost all of the women were pregnant.
Similarly, at an outreach session a few weeks ago, I was accompanying peer educators as they dispensed door-to door family planning advice. Several women, most of whom were expectant or recent mothers, told us that they would have to seek their husband's permission to use contraception. One woman was even too afraid to talk to us and her husband soon came and spoke for her: he has two wives and will not let them use contraception until he has ten children. She sat at his feet on the steps of their shanty, eyes on the floor.
These snapshots of gender inequality do not represent Ghanaian culture as a whole but certainly a dominant part of it. Theatre for a Change promotes a Gender Equality Campaign with a simple premise: 'More Equality = Less HIV'. With such extreme imbalances between the sexes, safe sex is hard to negotiate. And if it is hard to negotiate (but equally as essential) within the sanctity of marriage then just imagine the challenges that lie outside of it. Especially for those women we work with who sell sex for money.
On the training course I asked several peer educators why they do the work they do: 'for Mother Ghana' was the collective response. But, if Ghana is a woman, then why do her women have to put up with so much?
For the first time in my life the feminist in me has stirred. I never knew how good I had it. I never knew how much there was left to fight for.