Being a Woman

Regarding: April 11 - April 16, 2017

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Hello and Happy Easter!

Easter here is shaping up to be pretty low-key this year. We got Friday and Monday off, but because my knee took me away from site for so long, I decided not to leave again for the holiday. The Best Nile crew went out to dinner on Friday night, relaxed at my place Saturday night, and then had a nice Easter Brunch at our favorite Western café Sunday morning. All in all it's been a very nice holiday.

I've decided to write this week on my experiences being an American woman in Uganda thus far. This post is going to be a pretty honest look into the nitty gritty of femaledom, so if the idea of talking about periods and sexual harassment doesn't appeal to you, this is a judgement free zone, please escort yourself to the door.

For the rest of ye brave (or curious) at heart, you are welcome!

I'll be honest with you: Being a girl in Uganda is hard. But, as many people know, being a woman anywhere is hard -- even in our good old US of A.

I'll concede that the US, in my experience, is pretty good in terms of overt sexual harassment and discrimination, but just because individuals (generally) aren't explicitly sexist that doesn't mean our society isn't sexist.

I won't recite the litany of facts and figures out there that support that women are still paid less for the same work and other metrics of systematic discrimination, but I will touch on some of my experience of being confronted with often conflicting stereotypes and expectations about what it means to be a 21st-century woman.

Let's talk career. I was lucky to grow up in a family that encouraged my sister and me to aggressively chase what we wanted in life. In college though, I found that chasing aggressively what I wanted in the courtroom came with feedback that I was being "too antagonistic" "too bossy" "too loud". I never, and I mean never, saw a male colleague receive that he was being "too bossy".

I repeatedly saw the consequences of a mismatch between expectations and reality in my performance: Judges began with an assumption that I would be a well-meaning but slightly incompetent attorney and were often startled to witness a cross examination kick off with a question that made it clear I had come prepared to take names not prisoners.

Now, of course not all judges started with this assumption, and not all judges reacted negatively -- some loved seeing the "bulldog" cross examination come from a southern blonde girl; but, even as early as freshman year of college, I began to realize the extent to which my career would involve walking, in heels, on a tightrope. And a career, of course, is just one small part of my life.

I've also wrestled with some of the following: I should find my own path, but keep an eye on the "straight and narrow" when it comes to number of sexual encounters, dress, and appearance. I shouldn't care what society thinks of me, but know that it will think less of me if I stray too far -- it's not called trailblazing for nothing. I've struggled with questions I still haven't quite resolved: Does being successful mean pursuing a career until retirement? Or does it mean excelling professionally only until I have kids? Is becoming a stay at home mom lazy? Does hiring a nanny make me a cold (read: bad) mother? Does refusing to take my husband's last name mean I don't love him? What if, heaven forbid, I want my kids to take my name? After all, I'm the one who carried this sucker around for 9 months and popped it out, am I crazy for thinking I deserve some credit here? (Note: Kid can definitely take my husband's last name if we can switch roles.) What, exactly, is the proper balance between being a meaningful advocate for equal rights and inundating the population with too much feminist rhetoric?

I think reading all of this, especially as a man, might be uncomfortable, and maybe it should be, but to my incredibly brave male readers, this is not to blame men or make them feel uncomfortable -- they are no more responsible for the institutional sexism than I am. In fact, if anything, I believe that men are impacted by sexism just as women are: Is a man "not a man" if he wants to be the one to stay at home and be the primary caretaker for his kids? Is that even possible given the American system of maternity / paternity parental leave? Why is expressing emotion a decidedly "female" trait?

Institutionalized sexism is alive and well in America and affects us all. Men can only feel free to be who they want to be once women are free to be who they want to be. I, personally, believe the problem on an institutional level isn't that women are discouraged from pursuing "masculine" interests or careers, it's that men are discouraged from pursuing "feminine" interests or careers. Continuing to perceive interests/careers/life choices as either "masculine" or "feminine" creates a hierarchy where masculine life choices are free to all, but feminine life choices are still discouraged for men. Women can, and maybe should, do everything. Men should do only what is expected of men. By way of example: Is a husband who stays home full time while his wife works less of a man? If men and women are really equal, why is a man in a "woman's place" so rare and even frowned upon?

I hypothesize it is because feminine life choices are "beneath" men; a "woman's place" is less than what is expected of a man. Feminine beneath masculine. Women may dabble in the upper echelons of life choices (though they may need to fight to get there), but men should remain where they belong. I think changing this means encouraging men to pursue interests typically considered "feminine" just as we encourage women to pursue interests considered "masculine" (i.e. - STEM subjects in school). I also think men and women alike need to be allies for each other, especially when the other gender is not present.

Lauraaaaaa. I thought this blog was supposed to be about Ugandaa.

Right.

I bring all of this up, not only because I vehemently believe it and I have a platform with which to voice it (and here are some more articulate arguments to support it), but also to make the point that what I am about to say regarding sexism is not unique to Uganda. The forms of sexism may be different from what I have experienced in America, but I want to make it clear that it is not as though my experience has been a dichotomy with Uganda = sexism and the United States = equality. Both countries need work to empower and elevate their better… sorry, equal, halves. (I make jokes.)

So now let me proceed to being an American woman in Uganda.

I clarify that this has been my experience as an American woman, because although being American in Uganda does come with some disadvantages (to be elaborated on in the "Mundu Complex" post), it also comes with a lot of advantages. Some of which manifest themselves as they relate to my gender. I can, for the most part, pick and choose the gender expectations to which I conform because I'm Western. For example, I only wear a skirt to school, and otherwise I'm loud and proud in trousers. I played football (soccer) like a champ before my knee forced us into early retirement. I don't need to bow or kneel to men. I don't do my own laundry or cleaning (more on that later) or fetch water, so even the chores that would normally dominate my time as a Ugandan woman are not aspects of my service. I'm not expected to marry and have as many kids as possible (6 on average). And I work as a teacher in a female majority work space, so I don't even face many of the professional hurdles a Ugandan woman might encounter.

That being said, being an American woman in Uganda has been one of the biggest challenges of my service. I've found it hard especially because I have to be content with finding a way to cope instead of a way to solve. I cannot end sexism in Uganda. No Peace Corps volunteer can. It's a culture change that needs to come from Ugandans themselves, and I'm hopeful it will in the future.

My challenges really break down into two topics: the logistics of menstruation, and sexual harassment. The first is pretty straightforward, so I'll start there.

Chapter 1: My First Period:

Menstruation. Uterus. Vagina. Alright, if you're still reading I'll assume you're serious about what's up down there. I'm writing this with future female volunteers in mind to give my experience here and what options are available regarding dealing with periods in country.

When I first found out I was coming to country, I think every woman I knew asked me almost immediately what I was going to do about feminine hygiene products, and some offered to send me basically an unlimited supply in care packages. That was generous and I appreciate all the awesome people in my life who were willing to step up to the plate, but now that I've been here for a while, I realize that's not necessary.

Here's what I can tell you from the other side. I would recommend bringing a 3 months' supply of your product of choice to last you while you settle in and get comfortable living in country. One thing to note is that PCMO does not provide feminine hygiene products, so you really are on your own for them. During the first 3 months though, you'll go to Kampala at least once and Kampala has pads and tampons. You could stock up on enough products to last you until your next trip to Kampala. If you're in an urban site (like me!) it may be quite likely you'll have supermarkets close to you where you could buy products just like you might in the States. If you're placed in a site where you don't have a convenient supply, know you'll be in Kampala every 3 - 6 months, so with a little planning you should be totally fine if you plan on using tampons and/or pads while you're in country.

One thing though is disposal of these products. Waste in country either goes in a public trashcan (rare, though West Nile actually has a fair amount around town), down a pit latrine, or in a trash pit for burning . I'd recommend throwing used feminine hygiene products down a pit latrine, but if you don't have one (woo Western toilets!) then you might be burning them, which means you want to use stuff that will burn easily (AKA - no plastic).

This is something you'll find out in country though and you can adapt accordingly. I wouldn't worry about this too much when you're packing, bring whatever makes you comfortable. You can adjust once you know what your site looks like.

If you don't want the hassle of disposable products, you may be interested in exploring a reusable menstrual cup such as the DivaCup. Kind of pricey, but it may give you peace of mind not to have to worry about buying or disposing of more traditional feminine hygiene products. I personally use a DivaCup and I like it for me. It's been nice to know that, even if I get my period in a super remote spot (especially if I'm visiting a guy…), I'm still prepared for the entirety of the week without needing to go shopping. I also like not having to deal with the disposal aspect because getting rid of trash is kind of a hassle and I'm lazy. Cons though, I will say it took some getting used to, and, although I didn't do this, I would recommend trying it out before you come to Uganda to decide if it's right for you. Furthermore, I'm lucky that I have a Western toilet, a sink, a shower, and running water in all 3. This makes cleaning the cup and disposing of its contents really easy because I can do both in the privacy of my own house. Some volunteers though have both their bathing area and their pit latrine outside of their house, and no running water. I just asked one of them and I'm not sure how convenient a reusable menstrual cup would be in that scenario. All this to say, I might wait to get it in a care package once you know what your site looks like and you can decide which option makes the most sense for you.

Another route is to look into getting an I.U.D. that reduces or stops your periods altogether. I opted for this option, and it's been a good call for me (though I still use the DivaCup for the occasional "surprise" weeks). I have the Mirena I.U.D. and I had it put in about 3 months before I came to country. I'd recommend giving yourself and your body 3 - 6 months to adjust -- you need a documented follow-up visit a month after you get it put in for your PC medical clearance anyway. I haven't had any complications with it, and it's worked well to reduce how much I have to even deal having a periods in country.

That's about it regarding my experience with periods, but please feel free to shoot me a message if you have any specific questions about this topic!

Moving along…

Sexual Harassment / Assault:

- Deep breath -

Here we go.

My biggest fear in joining Peace Corps was the possibility of being sexually assaulted. I almost didn't join because of it. But, what ultimately gave me the push I needed to take the plunge, was talking to other women who had down Peace Corps. I spoke to two incredible women who just loved their Peace Corps experience, and I felt that if they could do it, so could I. And I further thought that if these two women served as inspiration for me, maybe I could serve as inspiration for someone else. We stand on the shoulders of those who came before, and I figured it was time for me to take my place.

In PST we went over, ad nauseam, sexual assault and sexual harassment. We discussed what to expect, how to cope with it, how to be allies for each other, and what resources we had available. Any stereotype that Peace Corps doesn't care about sexual harassment/assault has not proved true in my experience. That being said, nothing can really prepare you for what you'll encounter.

Just walking to type this blog, I passed my section of boda drivers that I pass every single day, twice a day. They're great. They know my name and they greet me whenever I go by. But one man was new, and didn't know me, and as I passed I heard:

"American girl, I love you!"

I turned around and said: "Don't be rude, that's bad manners."

He just laughed.

This type of exchange is not uncommon. Walking in town (especially in Kampala), it is not out of the ordinary to hear:

"You're my size!" (a very sexual phrase), or "I love you", or "Marry me".

I've been with a guy friend, and men come up to us and ask him (not me) if they can "have me". "I want your woman" or "I want your woman for a night".

I've been told, multiple times, to help one Ugandan or another get "a white woman". I know a friend who had a Ugandan come up and ask to trade his sister for a white volunteer the friend was with. I walk through the market and I know going in that I might have my arm touched and hear cat calls as I try to get my food. I've been followed across the football pitch by my house, in the middle of broad daylight, by a man who would occasionally yell at me: "American girl, how are you?". I've been passed a note on the bus that asked me to change seats so I could sit near a man who was interested in me. When I ignored the note, one of the staff members on the bus came up to me and reiterated the message, to which I had to respond: "I already have a seat, thank you." A friend in a café was once passed a similar note from a Ugandan man who wanted a "white, God fearing woman". The friend ignored the note and the man showed up at her door.

All this in our first 3 months at site.

Furthermore, I've been told that Ugandan men are supposed to "work" for a woman's affection, which means a woman is expected to reject a man's first interest. So, when I tell men here that I have a boyfriend or am not interested, the man continues undaunted. I have found no easy way to say no. In fact, I've been told the only real way is to just ignore the (multiple) phone calls that follow… assuming I've given my number out. If I do seem disinterested, I've had men accuse me of being rude and ask what they've done that I would reject them so out of hand.

This isn't to say all, or even the majority, of Ugandan men are like this. Far from it. Some of my biggest allies have been Ugandan men who step in on my behalf to stop harassment. I have a distinct memory of being harassed by a man who simply would not accept my "no", and another boda driver stepped in and told the man to leave me alone, that I hadn't done anything to him and that he was being rude. But it is a huge reality of my time here that, in addition to coping with very rigid gender roles (which can be draining psychologically in and of itself), I deal with sexual harassment on a daily to weekly basis.

And a great challenge of each interaction, is that it's always different. There is no magic phrase to stop a harasser. One time a man asked me to cook him dinner, and I responded I was "new to Uganda" and "a bad cook", so he should cook for me. He began laughing, and we both walked away in fine spirits. On the bus I ignored the note and the second attempt to get me to move, and that seemed to end things. One time in the market I told someone who kept touching me that he was being "stubborn" with "bad manners" and that he was "disturbing me". Now he doesn't touch me anymore.

But for each of these 'success' stories, I have 2 or 3 where I feel like a failure. That I didn't handle the situation in the best way. It's like a goalie trying to stop a PK: You've just got to make a decision, commit, and hope it's right. Sometimes it is, but more often than not you guess wrong. I use humor in a situation that just encourages the conversation, or I fire back only to get a laugh and continued rhetoric, or I ignore it and the harassment continues.

An interesting dynamic is that, generally, when I'm with a man, the harassment doesn't occur. This is both a relief and a frustration. It can be infuriating to think how different my service would be if I was a man. It can be tough to walk through Kampala and hear degrading calls, and then make the same walk with a male friend and hear considerably less and feel like I have to insist that my experiences with sexual harassment are real, even when they don't occur when he's with me. Now, I have never had a male friend invalidate my feelings because he didn't see it (and generally they do see it at one point or another). To the contrary, PC men are outstanding in terms of support, and my best male friend here constantly reiterates how much he respects the women in our cohort; but, from my Dad years ago to the men in my cohort today, it's undeniable that men have a different experience from their female counterparts.

Turning this post around into something positive is really difficult. No person should have to experience harassment, especially as frequently as women here do. Sometimes the only way I can cope with it is to know that this is temporary; I feel a flood of relief as I imagine going back to the States where I'm in a culture that I understand and one where harassment, if it occurs, is roundly condemned by men and women alike. I look forward to being able to walk around at night and wear shorts and know that "no" means no. But then I feel guilty, because leaving is a luxury I have that women here do not. I can choose to endure it as long as it's tolerable, and then leave if it becomes too much.

I think my experience here, though, has given me two gifts. First, it has made me more resilient to sexual harassment and sexism in general. I am much better equipped to handle future situations where someone is harassing me or another woman. Even if the sexism does not rise to the level of harassment, remaining career-oriented in a society with such separate spheres has given me practice staying true to myself even when my path is not reflected in the surrounding culture. This will make it easier to cope with the more subtle challenges I will face in America.

Second, it has given me immense appreciation for those who came before me and paved the way for women in America to follow their dreams -- whatever they are. Those who faced ridicule and harassment so I could vote, wear what I want, and be expected to go to college. Those who became the first female lawyers, doctors, investors, consultants, engineers, business women, politicians and more. And an appreciation for the men who stood alongside them then and for those who stand alongside me today.

Even more, living here has given me a new sense of urgency when it comes to protecting and furthering equality for men and women, even if it means conversations that are uncomfortable or unpopular. I guess, to sum up: I know I stand on the shoulders of those who came before.

It is time for me to take my place.

Happy Easter.