Formerly, "This is Africa/fyeahAfrica".
(Profile Photo by Mama Casset)
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I do not endorse any of the products or opinions shared on this site, nor do I claim any of the work posted here to be my own - except where stated. All posts originally made by me are credited. If no credit is given then the work is either my own/written by me or reblogged from another source.
A LITTLE ABOUT ME:
Student, 24
Based in Cape Town, South Africa
From Lagos, Nigeria
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(since Oct. 21th 2012)
“Blacks are our brothers and friends. They are good luck charms for me, a source of blessing,’’ said Walid Ezzaraa, a Tunisian TV presenter, on Monday’s “Bila Moujamala” program.
Such a statement is perceived by some as treading the slippery slope of racial generalization, deeply ingrained in the Tunisian culture. A black is reduced to a good luck charm that blesses people when their paths cross.
Among the stereotypes foisted upon Tunisian blacks are their societal roles as evil repellents and talismans as well as their sexually potent, lazy, and unmotivated personality.
“I went to a neighbor’s marriage, and during the ceremony one of the white relatives of my neighbor came to me asking if I wanted to ride the horse in the feast (the horse is always present in southern traditional marriages over which they put the dowries of the bride). I refused as I became aware of my mother’s warning,” said Abdul Malek Tayeb, a young man from Gabes.
‘Never say yes to them if they ask you to ride the horse, they will be looking for a black to ride it, this is part of their traditions’ was the admonishment of Tayeb’s mother.
“In fact, they were looking for a black to do that in order to meet their racist traditions,” he stated in regards to the incident.
In southern Tunisian weddings, blacks are considered as part of the decorations of the ceremony. A Black woman is needed to dye the bride’s hands with henna, take care of her, and accompany her in order to cast away and avert evil.
Racism for many Tunisian blacks is a daily routine. Bullying and name-calling with epithets like Wsif, Zombak, Kahla, Shoushen, Guira Guira, and Negrita are recurrent incidents for almost all Blacks.
“I was standing in the street of Kheireddine Pacha in Tunis, waiting for a taxi, and a man came to take a cab too. A taxi came, and the man tried to take it before me, though I had been the first one raising my hand to hail the taxi. The taxi driver told me blatantly that he would prefer having his Tunisian brother in the cab than a black woman,” said Sarah Intitoury. “I couldn’t react. I just let them go,” she added.
Blacks in Tunisia are mostly thought to be former slaves. Yet, according to historians like Habib Larguesh, there are indigenous blacks native to North Africa, who were never displaced or enslaved.
“Slavery is not uniquely related to blacks. There were many white slaves, who were called Mamlouk, but after being freed, those Mamlouk went from being former slaves to acquiring a social category while Black former slaves went to a racial category, which is as freed slaves,” said Salah Trabelsi, a Tunisian historian.
“166 years now since the abolition of slavery, yet still, the Tunisian society is soaked in racism and intolerance,” said Trabelsi.
Today, many Blacks in Tunisia still bear the legacy of slavery in their identity cards. Some have written in their cards “X, emancipated slave of Y,” or, for instance, Ahmed Atig (freed slave of) Ben Yedder.
“Why should this past keep haunting him (the slave) and his grandchildren?” asked Sana Bent Khayat from Djerba. Many blacks in Djerba still shudder at this anachronistic reference in their identity cards.
Marouen Mahroug, a white Tunisian from the island of Djerba, denied any kind of racism in his island. “I think that the issue of racism in our island is approximately absent in general. In terms of color, it proves to be totally absent since we do have a good atmosphere where white and black Djerbians co-exist without any problem. On the contrary, I think we enjoy our life together, especially if we remind ourselves that “black” Djerbians really have a specific sense of humour,” said Mahroug.
Trabelsi traced the problem to a whole social ailment that is due to the lack of freedom of individuals in a country that is still looking for its identity, autonomy, and true self. “Stripped out of its primary sources, Tunisia is still under construction, and now after the revolution people still did not fully grasp the meaning of who they are,” stated Trabelsi.
The racial climate in Tunisia can be summed up in the problem of an identity crisis. Asia Turner, an African-American woman who lived in Tunisia for 4 months, came to the conclusion that it is all about “a singular and close-minded ideal of what it means to be Tunisian.”
In her four month stay, she managed to see how people reduce the richness of their culture to believe that Tunisians are Arab people or they try “to align themselves with a more European identity, but it doesn’t really cross their mind that Tunisians can be black people too or Tunisians can be Asian or anything other than Arab and white.”
“I think that Tunisians are receptive to the idea that other Tunisians may not be Muslim… So in that way, they acknowledge religious diversity in their country, yet I doubt they acknowledge the racial diversity in the same way,” said Turner.
Tunisians, Trabelsi says, are stuck in a mental “ghetto” that fixes both whites and blacks in a certain rank to which a majority of both blacks and whites subscribe. “Many blacks now do not encourage other blacks as they believe that they are not meant for a certain higher class and thus will try to hinder their way,” stated Trabelsi. In such a way, black Tunisians may be doomed to not rise above the social class that is preset for them.
Being black and beautiful, black and smart, or black and rich are controversial combinations that mostly shock white Tunisians. According to some Tunisians, blacks ought to remain inferior to whites. “For blacks to be smarter than them (whites) is an offence in Tunisia. A white person can accept that another white person is better than him, but if this man turns out to be black, that is very offensive and can be very frustrating and insulting in their mind,” said Ali Rahali from Gabes.
Turner recounted that during her 4 months in Tunisia, Tunisians always questioned her, thinking that she must be from Senegal or Nigeria. At first, she thought it was so because she did not speak the language, and therefore people could tell that she was not Tunisian.
“But then in my talks with black Tunisians, they shared with me that even though they speak the local language and some even wear the headscarf, they are still perceived to be foreigners in their own country. So, with this said, I believe the root of the problem is a singular idea of Tunisian identity,” stated Turner.
“I lived with two host families, and they socialized often and brought people to their home, yet I never saw a black person welcomed into their home. Tunisians I spoke with always said they had black friends they went to school with, but honestly I think those black friends were just classmates and they probably don’t engage with them much outside of their classroom, university setting. There’s an issue of denial. Blacks are to a degree well-assimilated into the culture, and I often heard people say that there was no racism because blacks are in the schools and universities,” stated Turner.
Despite her different language and style, which clearly marked her as different, Turner said that being black added another layer to her experience in Tunisia and made her a target to racist remarks in public spaces.
“I can’t necessarily say that every incident was racist (…) I think I had some different experiences as foreigner compared to all my other classmates that were not black,” she said.
According to Trabelsi, instances of racism are used by their perpetrators as a method to affirm their own identity.
“In the struggle of the individual to establish his identity, some Tunisians are creating binary oppositions to establish themselves as individuals,” he concluded.
submitted by http://the13thcatsmeow.tumblr.com/
Not the most politically correct/sensitively worded article but a real eye-opener to the climate of anti-black racism in Tunisia.
Don’t miss two awesome concerts with leading Tunisian singers Ghalia Benali and Emel Mathlouthi, part of French Institute Alliance Française Festival World Nomads Tunisia! Enjoy Ghalia’s soulful melodic songs 5/15 and Emel’s powerful fiery music on 5/22. Get the two ticket package and save!
Details Ghalia: http://bit.ly/11WFsce
Details Emel: http://bit.ly/ZXmZ0J
The ancient El Ghriba Synagogue, also known as the Djerba Synagogue, is located on the Tunisian island of Djerba. It is situated in the Jewish village of Hara Seghira, several kilometres southwest of Houmt Souk, the capital of Djerba.
Built in the Moorish architectural style, it is also Africa’s oldest synagogue. The name “El Ghriba” means “the marvelous”, or “the strange”, in Arabic.
Africans on TIME Magazines 2013 100 Most Influential People in the World List:
Joyce Banda, President of Malawi
Joyce Banda, Malawi’s first and Africa’s second female President, could not have come onto the stage at a better time, particularly since the African Union declared 2010 to 2020 African Women’s Decade. Together, she and I can talk about the situation in Africa and what can be done by all our countries, working together in strong partnership, to build bridges and democracies and get our institutions and economies strong again.
President Banda possesses the traits needed during this period of great challenges in Malawi’s, and Africa’s, history. Before her active career in politics, Joyce Banda established several nongovernmental and charitable foundations, all geared toward improving the lives of her compatriots, particularly women. Today Joyce and I have a collaborative program that focuses on improving the working conditions of market women. There have already been exchange visits between market women of our two countries.
President Banda is committed to using her position to improve the lives of women across the continent, not just in Malawi. She has great strength. I am delighted that I’m not alone in Africa anymore.
Omotola Jalade-Ekeinde, Actor, singer, philanthropist
The world’s most productive English-language film industry is not Hollywood but Nollywood. The teeming Nigerian cinema grinds out some 2,500 movies a year, mostly direct-to-DVD quickies mixing melodrama, music and an evangelical Christian spin. (Think Bollywood via Tyler Perry.) Employing a million Nigerians, Nollywood enthralls millions more who come for the thrills, the uplift and the artful agitations of Omotola Jalade-Ekeinde — the Queen of Nollywood.
Called OmoSexy by her fans, she has made 300 or so features, from the 1996 Mortal Inheritance to the 2010 superproduction Ijé, shot partly on location in Los Angeles. Married to an airline pilot she wed on a flight from Lagos to Benin, Jalade-Ekeinde brings a juggler’s grace to her roles as actress, singer, reality-show star, mother of four and philanthropist (the Omotola Youth Empowerment Programme).
Success hasn’t spoiled Africa’s most renowned leading lady. Rather than going Hollywood, Omotola wants to stay Nollywood.
Moncef Marzouki, President of Tunisia
His power stems not from what he is — his office is ceremonial — but from who and where he is: a leftist liberal President appointed by an Islamist-dominated assembly in the nation where the Arab Spring first flowered. All the countries that followed Tunisia’s lead now face identical challenges. Marzouki recognizes that there are two Tunisias: one religiously conservative and anxious for socioeconomic improvement, the other secular and progressive and terrified of losing its freedoms. Marzouki’s job, he says, is to reassure both that they can coexist, by writing a new constitution that enshrines human rights while respecting Islam and ensuring that both Tunisias have a voice in the political process.
The best reassurance may be Marzouki himself: if he thrives, it will demonstrate that the Arab Spring states can build a pluralistic political environment.
My job is hard. I have to sift through pages of political- and media-themed satirical material from exceptional writers and figure out what amusing face I can make to accompany each jab. Then I must perform them, 22 minutes a day, four days a week, with only our caterer’s spread to sustain me. Bassem Youssef does my job in Egypt. The only real difference between him and me is that he performs his satire in a country still testing the limits of its hard-earned freedom, where those who speak out against the powerful still have much to fear. Yet even under these difficult circumstances, he manages to produce an incredible show: a hilarious blend of mimicry, confusion, outrage and bemusement, highlighting the absurdities and hypocrisies of his country’s rebirth, all wielded with the precision of a scalpel, which, by the way, he should know how to wield because he’s a former heart surgeon. Yeah. And his family is beautiful and he’s a kind and generous friend. I am an American satirist, and Bassem Youssef is my hero.
Tunisian Jewish boxing champion Victor Perez who survived by boxing until 1945, when he died during the death march from Auschwitz.
He was born to Khmaïssa Perez on October 18, 1911, and was raised in the Jewish quarter of Tunis. At age 14, alongside his older brother, he started training to be a boxer after being inspired by Senegalese boxer Battling Siki.
Standing at 5’1” and weighing 110lbs, Perez defeated Kid Oliva from Marseille to win the Flyweight title in Paris in 1930. The following year he won the International Boxing Union’s version of the Flyweight crown after knocking out American champion Frankie Genaro. This victory made him the youngest world boxing champion in history.
In September 1943, following the German Nazi invasion of France during the Second World War, Perez was denounced to the occupation authorities and was arrested and detained at the Drancy internment camp before being transported to Auschwitz in October. There, he was assigned to the Monowitz subcamp to serve as a slave laborer for I.G. Farben at the Buna-Werke.
Perez was killed on January 22, 1945 on the death march from Monowitz to Gleiwitz.
In 1986, Perez was inducted into the International Jewish Sports Hall of Fame.
A Jewish Tunisian bride in her traditional wedding dress | © Magnes Museum
(via fyeahnorthafricanwomen)
I don’t like filling my blog with text posts but as a tunisian female I think it’s important to make my voice clear amongst all these femen discussions. As much as I appreciate muslim women (and some non-muslims) of all backgrounds giving their well-articulated two cents on the Amina ‘Tyler’ scandal (not sure why she needed a white alias but that just says it all), when it comes to actually focusing upon femen or amina in relation to Tunisia many seem to choke up and disassociate Tunisia from your points and pass it off as a country that is also culturally misunderstood. Please, you should really educate yourselves and understand that the premise behind Amina’s actions is one that is incredibly ambiguous. We are in the midst of a slow yet significant change in Tunisia post the fall of Ben Ali in Jan 2011 aka huge reform from an oppressive regime, aka a bored middle class Tunisian girl getting in touch with her franco-social humanitarianism is the last thing we care to pay attention to.
Since the fall of Ben Ali, franco-secularism (um the colonial term for forced liberation) saw many fear-mongering Tunisian secularists igniting a “moral”panic on the future of women’s rights in Tunisia due to the FIRST DEMOCRATICALLY ELECTED PARTY being an Islamist party (Ennahda).
Our colonial legacy has a tumultuous history, we have been colonised since 1881 and although we gained official independence in 1956, we have not yet emancipated our minds from colonial imposition. Which brings me on to my point, that when discrediting the sentiments of femen and general euro-feminist or euro-missionary rhetoric in relation to Amina or Tunisia, why don’t you ask them why no one protested; when up until 2 years ago women were having their hijabs pulled viciously off their heads by male police and subsequently arrested, contracts signed not to wear them again, handing their headscarves in a labeled box at the front of the school gates before class, told to stop wearing the sefsari (a CULTURAL not religious dress worn by tunisians which was depicted by Bourguiba and the french as an obstacle to modernisation and imposed that tunisian women should be wearing jeans instead), any amazigh or amazigh sounding surnames were not allowed to be registered, observance of ramadan was discouraged and banned, illegal to wear a hijab on passport photos, ID cards must be present when praying at a mosque…I mean these are just some of the many oppressive acts that were forced upon us.
Now to the specific issue of women’s rights (in the western context), in Tunisia abortion is not just legal, it is socially accepted…can the same be said for some states in America both socially and legally?
Post-ben ali, around 45% of Members of Parliament in Tunisia are women (both conservative and secular), in comparison to 22% in the UK and 17% in the US (senators)…
When Amina’s actions had reached the media (after ages by the way since it started off as a random photo uploaded on her facebook to which 10 days later a man with no legitimacy made a youtube video in distaste of her nudity), the first to speak of the issue was the tunisian *islamist* government who vowed ‘to protect her’ against any “threat” to her physical well-being.
Ennahda have stated that they will never take away any progressive laws that Tunisian women have become accustomed to. Yes feminists, thats right, divorce laws are still the same, polygamy is not ‘coming back’ (even though I’m really not sure where they think it’s returning from?), women will be protected whether they’re in a bikini or a hijab, women can pass down their surnames to their children, women can pass down their nationality to their children (which I’m pretty sure is unheard of in any arab/north african country), abortion as stated before will always be legal….Nothing is taboo in tunisia, nothing is frowned upon, from the issues of domestic abuse to the role of education.
…Finally my white femen-ist sisters, use your brain, not your tits.
There was a time in 2011, when you couldn’t walk in central London without bumping into sluts. I am of course, referring to the Slutwalk march that took place in the capital that June. Following the example of Canadian women – who in turn were sparked by the throwaway comment of a policeman who advised women to “avoid dressing like sluts” to remain safe from rape – women took to the streets to protest rape culture and slut-shaming. I heartily approved, even as I sat it out. Slutwalk, with a message of genuine goodness and worth at its core, was not something I could whole-heartedly join in with. Because I had to consider an extra element: the fact that I inhabit a black body, and that body and the term “slut”, or variations thereof, have a long and unsavoury joint history. I understood the appeal and value of Slutwalk, but decided that its execution was not for me.
For the last couple of months, I have been watching the rise of Femen, the naked feminist protest group formed in the Ukraine in 2008. 4 April has been named “International Topless Jihad Day” by the group, (“our tits are deadlier than your stones!”) inspired by Tunisian feminist Amina Tyler, who posed topless for the Femen Tunisia Facebook page, with the words ‘fuck your morals” written across her chest. The act triggered a cleric, the chair of the Commission for the Promotion of Virtue and Prevention of Vice, to allegedly call for her death; she apparently “deserves to be stoned to death”. More than 100,000 people have signed a petition to charging the Tunisian government with Tyler’s safety. Richard Dawkins has signed it too – make of that what you will. I watched a clip of the Femen activists disrupting a sex show in Paris, pushing over the performer on stage and disrobing to send their message. Once again, I cannot dismiss the aims of Femen altogether. They are a group of women looking to change society, and make the place of women – at the top table, alongside men, in equality – a reality. But, like the Slutwalks, I fear the execution leaves much to be desired.
During the Women of the World Festival at the Southbank Centre last month, African-American photojournalist Miki Turner gave an anecdote in which she’d asked writer and activist Nikki Giovanni why more black women hadn’t been involved in the ERA movement in the US in the early 70s. Giovanni’s response: “Because that was not our struggle.” Later that weekend, in a Q and A session, author and activist Alice Walker was asked a meandering question about the responsibility of Western feminists to turn their gaze on their sisters in the developing world in particular. Her answer brought forth a spontaneous whoop from the audience: “part of the problem with Western feminists, I find, is that they take after their brothers and their fathers, and that’s a real problem. And that is where, generally speaking, the loyalty is and the solidarity. So, the struggle for many of these women has just been to get what these men have and to share it with them and naturally that means that they don’t connect very much or very deeply with the women in the other cultures of the world. And that’s really a problem.”
Watching the antics of Femen has reinforced this Walker view starkly for me. Founder Inna Shevchenko’s words: “Muslim men shroud their women in black sacks of submissiveness and fear, and dread as they do the devil the moment women break free…” and “topless protests are the battle flags of women’s resistance, a symbol of a woman’s acquisition of rights over her own body!” are filled with a rhetoric very much formed by her Western life. Like much of the feminisms that have been exported from the West, it does not seem to take into account the obstacles to carrying out this form of protest. It rides roughshod over grassroots organisations and the work they may have been quietly and steadfastly engaged in over years, and stipulates that this feminism, the one where you bare your breasts and sloganise your skin, is the feminism. It does not take into account community mores, and, in this case, incorporates more than a little Islamophobia. (Last year, Femen France organised a “better naked than in a burqa” event in front of the Eiffel Tower.)
Naked protest is not new: I grew up partly in Nigeria, where the famous Women’s War in 1929 (an anti-colonial and anti-taxation protest by Igbo women), a culturally specific and sensitive form of protest, was on the school curriculum. Only last year, women in southern Nigeria protested community invasions using the same method. People who are being oppressed are rarely strangers to this fact. Do you have to tell a woman who is forced to drink the water her husband’s corpse was washed in, or the one forced to marry her late husband’s’ brother that she is being oppressed? And furthermore, will a topless Ukrainian with black ink on her chest and back change her condition? As Zanele Muholi said about Africa and ally activism, the key is partnership: “I personally believe in transparent collaborations. Come to my space, respect the people in that space and negotiate their space. Do not come and project.”
Femen’s imperialist “one size fits all” attitude shows a deafening inconsistency in their own ideology: “Women!” they seem to be saying. “Your bodies are your own – do with them what you will! Except you over there in the headscarf. You should be topless.” It can’t work like that. It won’t work like that. It simply doesn’t work like that.
A building in Carthage, a suburb of Tunis, Tunisia.
Tunisie, Carthage, photographie de Christoph Kicherer.
via endilletante