It just so happens that recent events [the shooting rampage
in Santa Barbara] make the first part of my blog, sadly, more relevant. Just
one more story where #YesAllWomen have at some point experienced intense fear
in rejecting a man, and have often been reduced to a sexual object, instead of
considered a person with feelings and desires that aren’t required to align
with the males around her. Whatever else you might say, the misogyny the
permeates our society definitely played a part. It’s a reminder of the world of
fear that women live in. A world where men commit acts of violence again women,
small and big, and yet we have little protection. We walk to our cars with keys
clutched in our hands. We heard once that the eye was the most vulnerable part
on the body, and we’re ready to stab it. Or currently, I grip my moto helmet in
a way that it is ready to swing. Where we check the back seats of cars or
behind us when we turn down a street. Society tells men that they are entitled
to our bodies, and women fear a man’s anger if we try to claim our own space.
That is not to say every man is dangerous, but there are enough men to create
this atmosphere of terror, because ALL WOMEN have experienced it at some point.
Maybe not shooting, but those cat calls as you walk down the street detailing
what men want to do to you, then calling you stuck-up when you don’t
immediately respond or submit; the rape threats on the internet just for daring to
disagree with a man’s point of view: men’s constant reminders that this is
their world.
I’m just going to go ahead and link through a few articles I
think are good reads mentioning the #YesAllWomen hashtag.
“I’m not an Angry Feminist. I’m a Furious One.” –
Jezebel.com
“Your Princess Is in Another Castle: Misogyny, Entitlement,
and Nerds” – The Daily Beast
Collection of the best tweets from Thought Catalog &
TIME
#NotAllMen: How Not to Derail Discussions of Women’s Issues –
Slate.com
Why is it so Hard For People to Get That Elliot Rodger Hated
Women? – Gawker
“They follow you home;
they yell in the bar; they grab you. And every once in a while, they kill you.
“Not All Men,” sure, as the joke goes. But the people who live that the risk,
learn to presume the worst. Living you life in preparation for the moment when
a man possibly snaps and tries to kill you can bring on some serious
resentment. Resentment, not just of men, though there is that, but of the way
that even mentioning the risk makes you subject to claims that you are
“oversimplifying” how men behave. That you somehow have a lesser read on human
nature and violence than that more reasonable sort who, not having to deal with
this behavior, claim you must have imagined it. Even when you literally have a
YouTube video proving you aren’t making it up.”
Sunday, 18 May 2014
I am currently barricaded inside my house. I have not opened
my door all day, except once to tell my water-girl that actually my water is
full at the moment, and once to tell my neighbors to call the police if they
saw a strange man around.
I am currently a victim of harassment and stalking. There is
a man in Kérou (though he is from Cotonou), right now, who knows exactly where
I live, despite the fact that I have never invited him to my house. But now he
has invited himself over, because he feels, “true love” for me. Oh, and that is
despite the fact that I have told him multiple times in no uncertain terms that
I want nothing to do with him. I have told him (in French, so that my message
would be perfectly clear), that I hate him, that he
disgusts me, and that I would choose hell over ever loving/sleeping with him.
This is also in spite of the fact that a few days ago, he
approached my friend, Raili, thinking that she was me. I will say that again.
HE CAN’T EVEN TELL THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN ME AND SOME OTHER WHITE GIRL. He and I
talked for maybe a total of an hour almost a year ago. The only reason he ever
acquired my number was because he mentioned to me about his job in exporting
Beninese products, and I thought he would make a great contact for the work I
want to do. Looking back, maybe I should have known that he was bad news when
he and his friend forced their way into Maria’s and my card game, despite our
obvious hesitance and lack of willingness to include them.
But women are taught this. They are taught to be
accommodating. Even in Western culture, we are taught that we must always
strive to be agreeable. Let’s say a man tries to talk to you at a bus stop and
you say, “No thanks, I’m not interested.” Yet he continues to talk to you. If
you, the girl, suddenly shout, “LEAVE ME ALONE I DON’T WANT TO TALK TO YOU,”
then you are labeled as crazy. You’re the one that overreacted.
But then a girl is raped, and you ask why she didn’t fight
back or why she didn’t try harder to escape. Why DIDN’T she yell? Did she
actually want it?
She didn’t fight back, because every day she is told not to.
Until the moment a male's member tries to enter her ladyparts (or perhaps another orifice)
she is told to be willing and “chill”, adaptable and amenable. Then suddenly,
the only space on her body that is left to be her own, that’s the one that
she’s supposed to fight for. But she’s already given up so much when that
moment arrives, that she knows she will be blamed for this. Society tells us
that men are allowed to violate our space, “accidentally” caress our bodies, pressure us beyond where we want to go,
and that’s fine, or at least “boys will be boys”. But if we let that happen,
and then that same man rapes us, that is our fault for not telling him “no” in
the first place. Women deserve more space than some little hole in her body. We
deserve our own spaces in public. We deserve the ability to walk down the
street without everything about our appearance and existence being subject to
judgment and assessment, stares and harassment.
I can sit here and write about Benin, about the fact that
“flirting” often times involves a man grabbing a woman’s wrist and not letting
go. I can tell you that this has happened to me, and I hit that man over his
head with a plastic bottle when he wouldn’t let go, and yet he still believed
that he was entitled to my body. I had a male volunteer share with me that his
colleagues have recounted sex with women in stories that would appear to any
westerner in amounting to nothing less than rape. Specifically, that women kept
saying “no”, but the men justify it as a culture necessity; that women can’t
appear to like sex, or they’ll be labeled a slut. They have to say “no,” but
the man *knows* that she actually really does want it.
But this happens in the Western world. Guys buy you a drink,
and they think they are entitled to have sex with you. Or you where a short
skirt, and suddenly if you are raped you wanted anyway. That when a man thinks
of himself as a “nice guy”, women are the problem when they don’t throw themselves
at him. My sister had a guy follow her through the streets of Paris, wanting to
know why he couldn’t find “friendship” there, and would she please, please help
him? She refused, but he followed her for many more blocks, then came up to her
and said that he had “refound” her, and thus it was fate, and she should
pretty-please help him. I had a guy in Italy watch me for hours as I was
waiting for the train and trying to sleep, move to different spots to slowly
get closer, before finally coming and talking to me. Another, old man offered
to pay me money to come to his house. There is a persistent rape culture and
ongoing harassment in the US and Europe that permeates much of our society. And
there are fringe men that do actively stalk and/or harass women. My current
Beninese stalked is a fringe man as well. But their existence continues because
society doesn’t always outright condemn them. In fact, I showed a string of
texts to a colleague, who told me the guy was “just already treating you like a
Beninese wife. Ha ha ha.” There are plenty of “nice guy” complaints, Men’s
Rights Actitivits, Pick Up Artists, and so on that contribute to this culture
of entitlement for men and fear and belittlement for women.
Yet, I am somewhat thankful that the phrase “NO MEANS NO” is
drilled into all of our minds from a young age nowadays in the US. It hasn’t
eliminated rape or sexual assault/harassment. We still have far to go. But at
least I know for the majority of the time, if I say no, and then I say, “NO
MEANS NO,” the guy, however begrudgingly, will leave me alone. He might say I’m crazy. Go home and post of facebook that I’m “stuck
up”. He might only actually leave me alone if I claim to have a fictitious
boyfriend [sidenote: #MalePrivilege means saying “I have a boyfriend” is the
only way to get guys to leave you alone, because they respect the “claim” of
another male more than they respect your lack of interest in them. Here, even
claiming to be the property of another man isn’t much protection. Here, men
seem simply unable to imagine a world where they don’t always get exactly the
women they want, married or no] But he’ll most of the time leave. And if not, I
can take out a restraining order against him. That’s the beauty of the US. That
at least I have a hope that the justice system will at least attempt to work
for me. And while there are plenty of women who have stories of the police that
ignore them, judge them, or imply that whatever happened was their own fault—or
even police that have raped women when called to handle a domestic dispute—I
still would say it’s better than here.
But what we need is a world—every single country—where YES
MEANS YES. Where boys don’t just stop because they hear “No”, but wait to start
until they hear “YES”. [And then of course, each step, each time, after that
must be met with a confirmation that it’s okay to proceed. Because one “Yes” is
not a carte blanche, thank you.] Where women aren’t thing to be won by pursuit,
wooing, and harassment. Where women are fully functional and autonomous human
beings who have sex because they want to, not because someone pestered them
enough that they let him have an orgasm in or around her body so he’ll shut up.
Where men don’t try to trick women into having sex by claiming to be “friends”,
and then get mad that they were put in the “friendzone” instead of getting that
sex they think they were entitled to for being “nice”. Where women don’t feel
guilty for refusing a man just because he spent a dollar to bring her flowers. Where
even putting a ring on someone’s finger doesn’t forever and always protect from
being found guilty of rape.
On the other hand, in Benin, it’s also saddening knowing that I
have more advantages than any other women here. I have a whole string of people
I could call up to protect me. I know that despite the lack of protections that
exist for Beninese women, I would be safer than the average woman here. I was
recently in an accident involving a man on a moto hitting me while I was on my
bike. Despite the dubious blame (he was traveling far faster than he should
have, but I also made a bad judgment call when turning), even people who
witnessed the accident thought I should have brought him to the police. The
only reason he wasn’t arrested was because I hobbled away, with my pride and
buttocks bruised more than any other real injury.
I could call up the police right now. I have the number of a
policeman (who has also tried to sleep with me, but at least understood the
concept of rejection, and that’s a story for a different day) who would come
and help me. I have warned my neighbors to impede strange men coming to my
house. If Hubert and I had any sort of working relationship, I could call him
up and most likely within the hour, he would have this man under surveillance,
arrested and/or thrown out of town. There is definitely a privilege that comes
with being white and with being American. People here might fear Obama sending a
drone to this little town if they let me acquire one more scratch on my body.
The mayor’s office fears repercussions from the national government; especially
in the shadow of Kate Puzey [Now there’s another #YesAllWomen story. It is
suspected that this girl was killed as retribution for reporting a teacher
raping his students]. While it personally makes me feel a little safer, it
simultaneously disgusts me that not all women have this.
I also have the advantage that this particular person
doesn’t actually seem to be a very adept rapist. In fact, he has no intention
of raping me, at least as he understands it. He has got the crime of harassment
down pat, but claims that he means me exactly zero harm in coming to talk to
me. [Quote: “You don’t HAVE to kiss me.” (emphasis mine)] And he has given me
the advantage of telling me the exact hour in which he expects to call on me.
Many women aren’t afforded such a luxury by men who intend to violate their
wishes, space, and bodies. Furthermore, I have Peace Corps, who can call up the
guy with some more official-ness than myself and tell the guy to back off. I
called the Safety and Security adviser today, and gave him this guy’s number.
He will call the guy, soon hopefully.
Nevertheless, I don’t feel safe. When he met my friend
Raili, she claims all he did was shake her hand multiple times. But there was
one time that he called me on a different number, and seemed to take an unusually
sexual pleasure in just hearing my voice, so much that I felt violated. I don’t
want to give him the pleasure of my voice or my handshake. And I fear the
escalation of his anger at my refusal. If he seems to not at all respect my
boundaries, what are the boundaries that he would respect?
Thursday, 22 May 2014
So the good news, people, is that I’m still here, safe and
sound. I did have the Safety and Security person in Peace Corps [Noel] call
this guy, to tell him to bugger off, and threaten him, or whatever. Noel calls
me back, saying that this guy is perhaps actually a little unhinged. Noel
delivered his spiel about how I’m American, and this guy needs to leave me
alone, or there could be legal problems, etc. And the guy LAUGHS. He actually
laughs. Then he sends me a message immediately, asking me why I have “gotten
thin” like this. Weirdo.
So anyway, he promised to come to my house at 7PM. I told my
neighbors tell people I’m not at home and to call the police if anyone shows
up. All of my doors are firmly dead-bolted.
Then, a little before this chosen hour, it starts to rain.
And I don’t mean just sprinkle, I mean a TORRENTIAL DOWNPOUR. I look up to the skies, and say, “Well played, God”. Here there is this guy who
claims to love me, and claims that God will open my heart [or at least my legs]
to him, that God gave me a good choice, so ultimately I will choose him, the
guy who loves my white skin. Who tells me that I am an ungodly creature if I
don’t talk to him.
But now when he wants to see me, guess what, he can’t,
thanks to nature and the fact that he has a moto. I had this huge inclination
to actually call him up, and be like, “Yeah, whose side is GOD on now?”
But I didn’t. He called me twice more the next day, but I
didn’t answer, obviously, and since then I haven’t heard anything. I’m sure
he’ll call me in a few days, or send me another message, but that’s whatever. I
do live in slight fear as I walk around my village that any guy could be him
[oh, because I don’t actually remember what this guy looks like. I didn’t
really take him in when I met him, because I found him to be an annoying person
who would not play much of a role in my life. After thinking that we could be
work partners and giving him my number, he immediately sent me a message saying
that he loves me. While I was still sitting beside him, and less than an hour
after meeting him. So I wrote him off. And now, I have no idea what he looks
like. Yikes] The fear, however, is less. I know that he was only here for a few
days, doing something related to his business. And Raili said that he mentioned
going to Lagos, Nigeria soon. Since he hasn’t contacted me, I kind of think
this means that he has left. And hopefully that is the very LAST time that he
ever bothers me to this level again.
IN OTHER NEWS, I finally made one decision for my future. I
am no longer staying in Benin. I guess I simply realized that it was time to
move on. [I’m in no way blaming it on this guy. If it were about him, I might
stay just to spite him, prove that he can't keep me in fear forever.] These past to years have been an amazing, life
changing experience, in spite of, or maybe even because of all the drama and
trauma. I know now what I want out of life. I’m still a little unsure of how to
get there, but I’m working on it. But I think that at this point, Benin has
done all that it can for me, and it’s time to take the next step. So,
officially, I will be leaving the country on September 5, 2014. I’m moving back
to my mom’s house, try to avoid gaining too much weight from all the wonderful
food, and figuring life out from there.
In the meantime, I still have plenty going on here. I went
to visit Constant’s school again the other day. Things are going along really,
really well. All of the desks, blackboards, etc are finished. The kids can
actually sit, and keep their books in the desk, and have no risk of falling
off. The blackboard is obviously useful. Constant actually teaches two classes
now, because the other teacher was not getting paid, so he had to stop. So
Constant leaves an exercise on the board for one group of students, and then
moves on to the other one.
 |
| The classroom, with all the children sitting at real desks! |
 |
| Recess: playing football with a deflated ball |
The garden is getting on very nicely as well. The okra has
already grown up, and Constant has sent the kids home with a lot of it. At this
point, the project hasn’t been able to pay for someone to feed the kids at the
school. That comes next year, after the corn has been harvested. But the corn
can’t be planted until the rainy season, which is June. Nevertheless, it is
really good that these kids are getting more nutrients. Almost all of them are
malnourished. Okra has some good vitamins in them. The cucumbers are also
ready, as well as the fake-“spinach” [just some other green, leafy vegetable].
I’m really excited about how everything is coming along.
 |
| Constant, in the Garden |
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| Okra growing. |
There are only two more weeks or so of class, before all the students will be pulled out to work in their families’ fields. Constant has already enlisted the help of parents to till the earth, and then later he has ensured the parents will let the kids go to help plant in the school’s field.
The chickens are also installed. However, this is the season
where livestock often get sick [the beginning of the rainy season, and then the
beginning of the dry season as well]. So, while I was there, Constant pulled a
few kids out of class, and we went to give them medicine. It’s just something
that dissolves in water. The chickens didn’t seem much into drinking it,
however, so the kids caught the chickens one by one and force-fed them the
medicine. It was kind of funny to see them chase the chickens around. But it’s
good the kids obviously are used to chickens. They know how to catch them, and
they can tell them apart, so they know when they’ve given the medicine to each.
I was impressed, because, obviously this is something that I really have no
knowledge of. It does give me more hope for this project, though, knowing that
all of the things this project relies on will be able to be taken care of by
community members. There is not need for outside experts or whatever else.
 |
| Catching chickens to give them medicine |
So in conclusion, the project is going really well. I’m
pretty much finished with all of my contributions [or rather yours]. Now it
just depends on the community taking it from here. I think Raili is going to do
some stuff too. For example, Constant wants to plant Moringa at the school and
in the community. This is a plant that has amazing quantities of vitamins,
protein, etc. And it grows incredibly well. It might really be able to help
with the malnutrition. She also wants to set up hand-washing stations, so that
the kids learn about better hygiene. So I’m also really excited about all the
possibilities, even after I leave.
June is shaping up to be a pretty busy month for me. I have
the Business Club Competition mid-June. I am bringing two students to Parakou,
where they will compete with students of other volunteers with the business
plans they’ve created. So right now I’m helping them finish up writing it. It’s
been kind of a hard process. I gave the students a list of questions that would
be needed in the Business Plan, and told them to find the answers for the
projects they wanted to do. One student is writing a plan to start a beekeeping
operation, and the other to start making shea butter and soap. I have even
given them some resources. But they seem to struggle with completing it. The
form has things like, “Description of Project” and then under in Italics,
something like, “What are the main goals of the project?” But they come to me
and say, “What does this mean, description of project?” I point to the wording
underneath. “Oh, that’s what it means.” Sigh. But we’ve been meeting regularly,
and trying to work through the form. Now we just have to type it up and then
I’m going to work on public speaking with them to prepare them.
Another thing is the girl’s camp that we’re putting on the
weekend after. It is fully funded! Thanks for the support! Now we’re finalizing
to lesson plans and getting the supplies, etc. It’s coming up quickly! Raili is
putting a lot of work into it, I think because she is getting no where with her
other projects. Hubert continues to be unhelpful. She is trying to accomplish
things outside of the mayor’s office, but still needs at least a tiny bit of
help. Hubert keeps making promises, but then backing out. I know it must be so
frustrating for her. But I’m glad we are at least doing some things here that
don’t involve Hubert.
I am also really excited; I am working on getting permission
from my school to do a survey. It’s really low-key, but basically a survey for
my artisans. I’ll be asking them about their businesses, management tools, and
access to credit. I hope this can be enlightening for the opportunities and
realities for small tradesmen and women here.
So, yeah, a bunch of things to do before I’m through. That’s
good, though, at least I have positive things to look forward to up until I
leave.
I also got to meet Maria’s parents. They are visiting Benin
now, and came to Kérou. We met at Sous Les Neems, our favorite bar, to watch
Maria’s team [Atheltico Madrid] in the Championship League finals.
Unfortunately they lost, but I had a nice time getting to know her mom and dad.
Then we also met up the next day; I made lunch, and for dinner we had Yam Pilé
with Maria’s neighbors.
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| Pounding yams! |
Final Note: Sad to say, but I'm actually posting this on a friend's computer. Mine finally kicked the bucket, with only a few months to go. I have been keeping backups, and a Peace Corps worker in Nati has removed my hardrive to make an external hardrive with all of my stuff on it, much like my host brother in Senegal did when my computer died there as well. However, memory can be kind of useless without a screen, motherboard, mouse, keyboard, etc, you know, all the things that make up a successful computer. So blogs may not come again, or if they do, they might be very brief. I will subject to my friend's mercy. But perhaps this will mean
have to learn to function, at least for a bit, without constantly being
on a computer. Just a few more months, and I'll finally be back in Americaland, flush with cash to purchase a new, healthy mac. Sigh.
In my life, I have owned three laptops. Two of them have died in my possession while I was in West Africa. The third I left with my Senegalese host brother, so I'm sure it has also met its end here. RIP, beautiful, brave laptops. May you blend in spectacularly with all the other beaten down and discarded items on this continent.
Okay, fine, here are some obligatory kitten pics:
Okay, fine, here are some obligatory kitten pics:
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| Gino; the cat that Raili will take |
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| "Hold on, you got something on your nose!" "MA! Stop! Leave my nose alone, you're embarrassing me!" |
