Woman, shut your mouth and know your place— Is there a better way for African men to be 'real'?

WHILE many men profess they adore their mother, and no doubt many do, this seemingly does not always translate into seeing past the traditional maternal role that she plays in his life—as regarding her as an individual.

Many will fight for her honour, but will not defend it, the same way that a father might stand up for a child because they are the weaker one, but not support their self-formed aspirations, as if reiterating the old African saying that a child shall be seen but never heard.

Recently, I asked a male friend: “Do you know what your mother wanted to be when she was a little girl?”

“I don’t know”, he answered. Had he been curious about it? “I’ve never been interested.”

As I told him, my reading of this is that even sons, like their fathers, only see women as one-dimensional and lesser beings whose major role is to bear children and make the home.

They are voiceless, their worth measured by obedience and how happy she keeps her man. She further models subservience for her daughters, and for her sons, of what a good woman “should be”, by being pretty and strong on the outside.

But inside, she is broken up, with no one to turn to in times to internal turmoil. Even her mother turns her back on her, because she too is hiding her own pain. You are a woman, she tells her, and “we women just have to be strong, we have no choice, this is our cross to bear, that’s the way things are.”

It is a near-accurate reflection of the lives lived by many black women across the continent, caught between traditional gender roles, the demands of modern life, and the need to self-actualise and achieve their life goals, yet short of support structures in a world increasingly content to cut loose once-strong familial ties

Renowned author Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie articulates this eloquently: “We teach girls to shrink, to make themselves smaller. We say to girls, ‘You can have ambition, but not too much. You should aim to be successful, but not too successful. Otherwise, you will threaten the man.’ Because I am female I am expected to aspire to marriage. I am expected to make life choices always keeping in mind that marriage is the most important. Now marriage can be a source of joy and love and mutual support. But why do we teach girls to aspire to marriage, and we don’t teach boys the same? We raise girls to see each other as competitors – not for jobs or accomplishments, which can be a good thing, but for the attention of men. We teach girls that they cannot be sexual beings in the way that boys are”.

Thankful, it is not an entirely blanket situation—there are self-assured men out there, men that see no need to subjugate women to validate their masculinity, men that advocate gender equality and push for women’s empowerment. I can say I was proudly raised by such a man, to be not only a human being but also with the essence of woman. It is very liberating.

But such men are still the minority. For those who are not convinced, ask yourself again, do you know what your mother wanted to be when she was a little girl? Do you know what you wife or partner’s aspirations in life are? What does your daughter dream of becoming? Are you man enough to let them be?

Go on, it won’t break you, it will only make you a great black African man worthy of respect and admiration, a force to be reckoned with in a progressive African society—and that does not imply the blind uptake of Western values.

A good architect knows that a building will not hold if its foundation is not strong and its pillars are unequal – would you trust somebody that lacks such knowledge to build your home? Think about it.

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