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“It is like slavery”: Tanzanian bar waitresses speak up on sexual abuse in the industry - Minority Africa
Francis Nyonzo
June 2, 2023
While working as a bar waitress in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania, 25-year-old Ester Steven Mashaka was often touched inappropriately by customers. Then, it was understood that accepting gifts was a sign of willingness to have sex with customers. Talking to Minority Africa, Mashaka recalls a specific incident where a customer offered her beer and later wanted to take her home. She refused. Her manager, however, insisted that she went with the customer to secure her job.
This was not the first time Mashaka was offered this kind of proposition. Often she obeyed and did what the customer wanted, going where he wanted and having sex with him.
“Doing things out of one’s wish is painful, you know, it is more like slavery,” Mashaka says. “It depends on the understanding of the customer, sometimes you may be forced to go and the customer understands that you do not want to and he leaves you.”
One day, when she was working, a brawl broke out. “There was a guy whom I do not know about. [He] punched the other guy in the bar, and I went there to resolve the issue, but then it was said that I bring my people in the bar to cause trouble,” Mashaka says. “I was beaten before being fired from the job. People said I could not report the incident to the police because he [the manager] is known to them; nothing could have been taken against him.”
In Tanzania, women in the informal sector lack access to benefits and social protection programs, putting them at higher economic risk. Women working in bars and clubs are particularly vulnerable to gender-based violence, including unwanted sexual advances and verbal and physical assault from both their employers and customers. This is because their job requires them to provide personal attention and hospitality, which can create a sense of intimacy that some customers may exploit.
The problem is exacerbated by customers who believe they have the right to sexually harass and abuse women working in bars and clubs. This is further aggravated when managers take their side.
Husnat Masoud, another girl in her early twenties with a certificate in secretarial studies, had to take a job as a barmaid in various bars in Dar es Salaam to make a living. Masoud has worked with two different bars. In the first bar, her supervisor protected her whenever customers wanted her to have sex with them. Barmaids were also allowed to report cases of sexual harassment and immediate action was taken against the customer, such as taking him out of the bar or having a discussion. The bar was then closed and she joined another bar where sexual harassment was the norm.
Once, she served a customer who refused the bill presented to him. “It happened that way because I refused to have sex with him,” Masoud says. When a customer refuses to pay the amount required, it will be deducted from the barmaid’s salary. When this happened to Masoud, her manager did not listen to her because he wanted to maintain the customer at her cost. This happened more than once and in all the incidents, the manager supported the customer and refused to listen to her. Masoud eventually quit the job.
‘It is a norm for most of the bar owners to treat barmaids like prostitutes,” says Dismas Massawe, who owns more than four bars in Dar es Salaam.
According to Massawe, to keep the customers coming, some bar owners look at physical beauty when employing a barmaid. “Most jobs adhere to physical beauty, [especially in] banks and airports; you have seen this, only beautiful girls are there,” he says. It has been observed that bars do not retain barmaids for long, as the customers are constantly in need of new women to have sex with. So bar owners keep on employing and firing barmaids to give customers different tastes of the women.
Massawe explains that when registering a bar or club in Tanzania, sexual abuse is not considered a safety issue in the workplace.
“Protecting your workers is your responsibility,” Massawe says, explaining that he had to create his own policy to protect his employees. “The place that respects women attracts respectful customers, and they are always ready to pay any price. People who need peace go to places where no one is mistreated, it is not only five-star hotels that can achieve that, even street bars can.” Sexual harassment is prohibited in all his bars and when it happens, security guards in his clubs are instructed to take out customers who harass workers.
The environment for female bar workers is made worse by the meager wages that they take home. In Tanzania, the minimum wage for civil servants is Tsh 270,000 ($115), and according to the Integrated Labour Survey report of 2021/22, the average monthly income for women is Tsh 318,691 ($136) in Tanzania. But these figures do not apply to informal workers like Mashaka and Masoud.
According to Prosper Ndega, owner of a club in the Shinyanga region, the payments to the barmaids do not exceed 200,000 Tanzanian Shillings, which is equivalent to 86 US dollars per month. The amount is paid to those who have attained certification in courses such as hotel management, receptionist training and customer service.  Due to the poor remuneration, barmaids depend on tips, which customers often consider as a ticket to harass them. Also, it is hard for barmaids to refuse gifts (which can sometimes be food). Unfortunately, these gifts are often assumed to be invitations for sex.
“Buying one a drink does not make [us] become lovers, sometimes I do not ask for a drink, they give an offer and assume to be my lovers and demand sex,” says Mashaka.
Like Massawe, Ndega tries to protect barmaids from sexual assaults in his bar. He tells Minority Africa that he has fired one of his managers for demanding sex in exchange for hiring a barmaid. “I have had to display my phone number for them [barmaids] to report any sexual harassment incidents,” he says.
Today, Mashaka is currently out of a job and living with her mother at Kimara Suka, in Dar es Salaam. She depends on her mother, knowing not what to do after being fired. “I do not have dreams, I just want a job to earn a living,” she says.
Edited/Reviewed by Khadija Sanusi,, PK Cross, Caleb Okereke, and Uzoma Ihejirika.
Features a roundup of fresh MA reports, announcements, events/workshop listings, and minority content curated from across the web.
Francis Nyonzo is an economist and researcher. His experience in the newsroom starts in 2016 when he was a News Reporter at the English newspaper in Tanzania. He is recently a contributor to various news outlets. He is interested in Social Justice.
Esuvath Daniel is a mass communication Student at the University of Dar es Salaam. She has a passion for minority groups, especially children and women. She is an active member of the Empowered Girls Club. She has a deep commitment to social justice and equality.

author: Francis Nyonzo


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Kenya’s 44th tribe - Minority Africa
minorityafrica.co
July 16, 2021
A group of Rwandans in Kenya now want to be recognized as Kenya’s ‘44th’ tribe. They are descendants of Rwandans who forcefully came to Kenya to work as slaves for the British colonial government following a decree in 1930, and currently suffer rejection from both the Kenyan and Rwandan governments.
Features a roundup of fresh MA reports, announcements, events/workshop listings, and minority content curated from across the web.
Editorial.

source: news-minorityafrica

license: Creative Commons - Attribution - https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/


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LGBTQ+ South Africans excluded from ongoing census - Minority Africa
minorityafrica.co
February 19, 2022
While South Africa has some of the most progressive laws on LGBTQ+ rights on the continent, its ongoing census omits crucial information about gender identity and sexual orientation.
Features a roundup of fresh MA reports, announcements, events/workshop listings, and minority content curated from across the web.
Editorial.

created: February 19, 2022


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“Living in constant fear”: PWDs are paying a hefty price in Nigeria’s raging war with bandits - Minority Africa
Abiodun Jamiu
September 19, 2022
Zamfara, Nigeria (Minority Africa) — It is a little past two on a June afternoon. Aisha Muhammed holds her four-year-old son, Ahmad, in her left hand as he assists her to a green plastic chair. She leans against a nearby tree so he can clean the dust on the chair and then she settles.
Every day, Muhammed, who is blind, scours through Gusau, the capital of Nigeria’s northwestern state of Zamfara, for alms. That Saturday afternoon, she had learnt about a nonprofit distributing food item to displaced people. An hour earlier, she was at Tudunwada, another part of the city begging for alms as well.
The mother of three, who currently stays at the camp for internally displaced persons in Tsunami, has been struggling to fend for her family and take care of herself without a source of employment.
“Life has not been easy since we left our village,” she tells Minority Africa. “Although there are times people come here to distribute food and money to us, we mostly go out to look for what to eat.”
Muhammed is one of many other persons with disabilities in the region contending with an uncertain future amid increasing attacks by bandits.
She only moved to Gusau five months ago after heavily armed men, locally known as bandits, sacked her village, Rijiya, in the dead of the night. Before the siege, the armed gangs had written to the village about the impending attack on the farming community.
However, when the date mentioned in the letter passed with no activity, the villagers essentially forgot about it and went about their lives. At the time, the 25-year-old Muhammed, sold Kulikuli, a local snack made from groundnut, for a living as well as kernel oil.
“Life was relatively okay for us. After the notice, the men started protecting the village,” she recalls.
Muhammed’s husband, who originally is a farmer, was also one of the volunteers guarding the community at night. One Thursday night, a few minutes after 10 pm, armed gangs stormed the village. They came riding motorcycles and shooting indiscriminately.
“My sister held my hands as we ran and hid behind one mountain,” she says. “She had to drag me at some point, because I was even pregnant at the time, to ensure we escaped from them.”
No one thought Muhammed would survive the attack but alongside her sister, she fled to Geba, about thirty minutes’ walk away from Rijiyar, where she became unconscious and was taken to a clinic in the town for treatment.
“We later learnt they killed about five people and abducted many,” she says, her voice punctuated by the seams of her grief.
Unlike Nigeria’s northeast where Boko Haram and its faction, ISIL-affiliated armed group (ISWAP), hold sway, banditry is rife in the country’s northwest. Many of the groups are believed to comprise mostly ethnic Fulanis who for decades have endured a simmering herder-farmer crisis amid worsening climate change challenges and grievances rising from a perceived deep-rooted injustice meted against pastoral communities.
Towards the end of 2011, things changed as armed attacks began in Zamfara following the flouting of an armed group called “Kungiyar Gayu” (meaning an association of young boys).
Members of the gang considered it a pro-Fulani group aimed at liberating them from the high-handedness of security agents, traditional rulers and politicians. Other criminal groups have since joined the rank and file of the gang as the conflict rages.
They have sacked villages and imposed levies. They have also attacked an air force fighter jet and a train, and have kidnapped students for ransom on multiple occasions.
An estimated 12,000 people have been killed and hundreds of thousands displaced across the northwestern states of Sokoto, Kebbi, Zamfara and Kaduna, says Abuja-based policy think tank, Centre for Democracy and Development (CDD).
Now in Gusau, Muhammed reunites with her husband and two kids who escaped the attack in their village, Rijiya by hitchhiking. She recalls a moment when her husband suggested the family return to their village.
“[I said], ‘It is still not safe for me. Although I’ve no work, I would prefer to stay here than to live in constant fear of attacks from bandits,’” she tells Minority Africa.
“Humanitarian relief and NGO assistance for IDPs are generally lacking in the bandit-afflicted northwest,” Lagos-based James Barnett, a non-resident fellow at Hudson Institute in Washington DC, says
Most IDPs receive inconsistent support, if any, owing in part to the fact that there is not a concerted federal response to the humanitarian crisis.”
Several international laws such as Article 11 of the United Nations Convention on the Rights of Persons With Disability guarantees the protection of PWDs in situations of risk, including armed conflicts.
Sadly, persons with disabilities remain yet another forgotten group of people in the evolving conflict in the region. They often face barriers to accessing humanitarian support such as food, sanitation, and medical assistance, despite often being highlighted as an at-risk group.
“All to say, the livelihoods of IDPs in the northwest are arguably even more precarious than those of IDPs in other parts of the country,” Barnett adds.
More than one billion people are living with disabilities globally, 16 percent of which are attributable to armed conflict.
Some people, particularly women and girls with disabilities, are physically unable to flee violence and many are vulnerable to violence, including sexual abuse.
Recent data on people with disabilities in Nigeria are hard to come by, but according to a 2018 report from the World Bank, about 29 million Nigerians are living with some form of disability.
Amina Rahma, who lives with a physical disability, saw the condition of people with disabilities souring as a result of the decade-old conflict in Zamfara, the epicentre of insecurity in the Northwest.
According to her, PWDs bear the greatest brunt of most attacks in the region, “It is difficult for everyone, but for the physically disabled; it is much more. They cannot flee during attacks, so [bandits] just shoot them off. Many of them can now be seen in bigger towns because even the government does not have any data or plans to protect them from the hotspots.”
The Nigerian government passed the discrimination against persons with disabilities (prohibition) law, but their needs are not yet prioritized in national plans, leaving them open to widespread discrimination and violence.
In her little corner, through a nonprofit called Rebuilding Hope on Wheels Initiative, Rahma is raising awareness about social inclusion and sexual abuse in the region.
She wheels herself forward, a little away from the dimly lit spot in her sitting room, and says, “Women and girls with disabilities are increasingly becoming victims of war, especially now that it is a situation of the strongest survives because of insecurity.”
“We sensitise and keep discussing sexual violence. We’ve come to understand the overbearing culture of silence among women and girls when they are abused, not to talk of people with disabilities,” she adds.
Irene Patrick-Ogbogu, executive director of Disabilities Rights Advocacy Center (DRAC), explains that PWDs face exclusion, especially in conflict areas, due in part to the absence of “disability disaggregated” data. This, she says, makes it impossible to properly target programs, such as emergency response and Humanitarian relief, for persons with disabilities.
Muhammed’s husband, a farmer, eventually abandoned the family and returned to Rijiyar when she would not budge to his constant appeal. She explains his departure saying, “He wanted to catch the planting season.”
Nonetheless, she nurses a familiar fear.
“I know I cannot rely on begging for the rest of my life,” she says. “I need to have a business to take care of myself and my children. I want a better future for them, and I can’t give them the kind of life I want while still begging on the street with them.”
As we speak, Muhammad stretches her hands forward, and her son, Ahmad, grabs them.
“The little I make every day is used to take care of my kids, and pay my eldest son’s school fee. The younger one is going to Islamiyah (an Islamic school),” her voice came back wounded. “And it is all on me.”
Edited by Caleb Okereke, Uzoma Ihejirika, and Cassandra Roxburgh.
Features a roundup of fresh MA reports, announcements, events/workshop listings, and minority content curated from across the web.
Abiodun Jamiu is a freelance journalist based in Sokoto, Northwest Nigeria. His works which have appeared in Al Jazeera, The Guardian UK, Newlines Mag, and elsewhere, focused on conflict and humanitarian issues.

created: September 19, 2022

author: Abiodun Jamiu


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Loving and hoping in a time of coronavirus - Minority Africa
Uzoma Ihejirika
April 5, 2020
Features a roundup of fresh MA reports, announcements, events/workshop listings, and minority content curated from across the web.
Uzoma Ihejirika is the Copy Editor at Minority Africa. Uzoma is a writer and editor. An alumnus of the 2015 Writivism Creative Writing Workshop and the 2019 Ake Arts and Book Festival Fiction-Writing Workshop, he was on the longlist for the 2019 Awele Creative Trust Award. He served as co-editor on Selves: An Afro Anthology of Creative Nonfiction. His stories have published on Brittle Paper, Afridiaspora, Kalahari Review, and other publications. Contact: u.ihejirika@minorityafrica.org

author: Uzoma Ihejirika


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Mainstream breastfeeding discourse has nothing to do with women. And everything to do with patriarchy - Minority Africa
PK Merge
August 7, 2021
I introduced formula milk to my second son’s diet when he was five months old. I did this because I had a very busy schedule that kept me away from him for many hours during the day.
While I was thrilled that supplementing breast milk with formula kept my son full and happy throughout the day, I was constantly bombarded with questions from people I knew and even strangers.
Why are you not breastfeeding exclusively? Isn’t it too early to introduce the boy to formula? Do you even know what is in the formula?
Many of these people considered it appropriate to probe me in this manner. It left me feeling like a failure and with an ongoing question on my mind: why does society interrogate and scrutinize the actions of mothers and women generally, in a way that it does not do to fathers?
When I had both my children, I looked forward to breastfeeding them and experiencing the joy and fulfillment that the experience brings.
This joy and fulfillment also comes with soreness, cracked nipples and sometimes bleeding with every suck the baby takes. I did not have enough milk, which made the situation even worse. I remember shutting  my eyes and clenching my fist as I took in the pain because, as I was told by more experienced moms who came to visit me, “It will get better.”
And it did.
In time, the soreness passed and cracked nipples healed; the milk kicked in and I was breastfeeding easily. However, I came face to face with another challenge: too much breast milk.
I would steal glances at my breast pads from time to time and in the course of my day to make sure the stains did not leak through.
In time, this too passed and I started to enjoy breastfeeding.
The first time around, I breastfed exclusively for six months and continued for another one year and eight months.
For my second son, however, life got in the way. While I wanted to emulate my first time and breastfeed him exclusively for six months, I had to introduce formula early although I continued breastfeeding him for another year.
All mothers are at a certain point faced with a similar decision as I was, whether to breastfeed or formula feed their little ones. This decision is further complicated by societal expectations, which bestows incompetence on mothers, should they choose the latter.
It is almost as though choosing to formula feed makes you less of a mother.
WHO and UNICEF recommend that children initiate breastfeeding within the first hour of birth and be exclusively breastfed for the first 6 months of life – meaning no other foods or liquids are provided, including water.
They also recommend that breastfeeding be continued for at least the first year, with additional foods being added starting at six months.
Breastfeeding is hailed to be the cheapest, cleanest and readily available source of food for infants in many developing countries. Formula feeding, on the other hand, besides being expensive for many mothers, requires a dependable source of clean water which is not available to some 780 million people.
A 2016 Lancet series on breastfeeding explains that it also presents an increased risk of diarrhea and respiratory infections.
The series also revealed that more than 800,000 formula-fed infants who die each year could be saved by breastfeeding mostly by reducing diarrhea, respiratory infections, and malnutrition from the diluted formula.
Knowing well how important exclusive breastfeeding is in enhancing maternal and infant health, I was overcome with guilt when I decided on formula feeding my son, and the judgment I received after did nothing to lessen my guilt.
I am not against breastfeeding. I do believe that mothers need to be given as much information as possible regarding breastfeeding and why it is important, but they also need to be granted the freedom to choose.
Through generations, many alternatives have been adopted when breastfeeding was not possible.
Some mothers relied on dry-nursing or feeding a baby without the breast, and when a mother died in childbirth or was unable to breastfeed, wet nurses rose to the task to ensure that the baby was fed.
The practice began in 17th century France where many babies were sent by their mothers to live with wet nurses who breastfed them.
By the 18th century, 90% of infants in France were wet nursed and only 1000 of the 21,000 babies born in Paris in 1780 were nursed by their mothers.
In Egypt, wet nurses were renowned and treated with the same reverence as people did royals.
Today, alternatives to breastfeeding like wet-nursing for many millennial women are shrouded in shame and criticism.
None of this is unconnected to patriarchy, a framework that always expects women to give and give even at the expense of their wellbeing.
Breastfeeding the way society dictates may not be possible for all women and the conversation around it blatantly excludes women at the margins for whom many factors come into play, like income, nutrition, besides whether or not they want to breastfeed.
Yet, the design of inequality and a world so compassionless towards women is that it prides itself in dictating, no matter the consequences.
A friend of mine once confessed to me that when she stopped breastfeeding her older child at one and a half years, she was criticized for stopping too early.
I was sorry for her experience but I was not surprised. We must have a more rounded conversation about breastfeeding, one that notes its benefits but also makes allowances for women who exist on the fringes or women who choose to for whatever reason.
Today, my second son is a healthy one-year-and-eight-months-old boy. I recently stopped breastfeeding him and while it wasn’t a popular choice, it was best for my son and me.
This post is published as part of Minority Africa’s Breast Series, a collection of reports, analysis, and opinions aimed towards demystifying and decolonizing the discourse around breasts for African women. To view more in this series, click here.
Features a roundup of fresh MA reports, announcements, events/workshop listings, and minority content curated from across the web.
Journalist at large.

created: August 7, 2021

author: PK Merge


text: The Minority Roundup - Minority Africa


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My friend, Chriton Atuhwera was killed in Kenya’s Kakuma camp for being gay. Don’t “humanize” him - Minority Africa
Lucretia
May 2, 2021
There was no way my friend, Chriton Atuhwera could have known when he walked into the Kakuma refugee camp in Kenya in January 2020 that a little over a year later, he would be a victim of a homophobic arson attack.
There was no way he would have known that this attack would claim his life and that the very place he had come for refuge would in the end kill him instead.
Yet this is exactly what happened. On March 15, 2021, my friend, Chriton, with whom I lived with for a year, was in Kakuma’s Block 13, which is a section of the camp housing mostly LGBTQ+ persons, when it was attacked by homophobes.
Unknown individuals threw a petrol firebomb into the shelter, injuring Chriton, and another gay man, Jordan Ayesigye, both of whom suffered second-degree burns.
I too live in Block 13. I have called the open-air  compound in the semi-desert place  home for the past  one year and I was there that night when the mob came.
Chriton, who was commonly known as “Trinidad Jerry”, died on April 13, nearly a month after the attack . He was just 22 years old.
I think of Chriton a lot. I feel connected to him.
Beyond living with him, like Chriton, I am also a Ugandan who had to flee home because of my sexuality.
There are an estimated 300 LGBTQ+ refugees – from countries like Uganda, Burundi, Ethiopia, and the Democratic Republic of Congo – living in Kakuma, which is home to more than 160,000 people.
I have equally had to reconcile with the knowledge that Kakuma was not the safety I craved and that it would not shelter me in the way that I needed it to.
The fire that claimed Chriton’s life was not the only attack the camp had seen. Since the beginning of the year, there have been more than five attacks on LGBTQ+ residents at the camp from other refugees and host communities.
It is also not the first time LGBTQ+ residents have decried how unsafe the camp is for them but every time, these complaints have been ignored.
In 2015, some LGBTQ+ people who had fled Uganda and were living in Kenya were taken by the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) to a safe house in Nairobi, after they were attacked on a night out. Even the UNHCR – the very agency tasked with protecting us – has admitted its staff is  hostile.
In an interview with the BBC in 2015, Catherine Hamon, the deputy head of protection for UNHCR, revealed that staff has said that as Christians they could not work with, or talk to, a gay man.
“It’s difficult for people to go beyond all the prejudices they have. And this is what we faced with our own colleagues,” she said.
In 2020, some LGBTQ refugees in Kakuma shared a video with a VOA reporter where a crowd of people surrounded them and were thrashing them with stones and sticks.
In January of the same year, an NBC News article quoted gay refugees in Kenya’s Kakuma camp reporting repeated attacks from locals.
Following the attack and Chriton’s death, the UN said it would boost security for LGBTQ+ refugees in Kakuma but Chriton didn’t have to die for this to happen and this kind of reactionary behaviour causes harm.
The reason we’ve been ignored is simply because the world considers queer lives dispensable, more so when you are a queer African, and even more so when you’re a queer African refugee.
Having to constantly navigate these intersections makes me who I am and I recognize that. But these meeting points also expose me to danger, and they exposed Chriton to danger as well.
Yet what is happening in Kenya is not an isolated case. In South Africa, over the last few weeks, gay people have lost their lives in a spate of homophobic attacks including Andile “Lulu” Ntuthela, who was murdered by homophobes and even buried in a shallow grave.
Like Lulu’s death, the many attacks LGBTQ+ refugees have experienced in Kenya, spearheaded by refugees and other locals, is a clear definition of when the oppressed become the oppressors.
There’s a tendency among marginalized people to think that the fact that we are part of an oppressed group exonerates us of the ability to oppress others yet this is not true.
It’s also a pointer. How many queer lives have to be lost for our lives to matter? What is the cost of the life of a queer African refugee? Is the cost your unlooking? Is your allyship reserved only for the queer folks you believe to be elite, deserving, and perhaps not Black?
That Chriton’s death has largely gone without coverage from mainstream media makes me ponder even more how this is true. It could have been me, it could have been anyone in Block 13.
Chriton was an activist in every sense of the word. We would sit down and strategize about the best ways to approach campaigns and what needed to be done for people to realize that we were queer and that we refused to remain hidden.
He approached activism as though he wasn’t mindful of his rights and freedom, and I knew in a way that worried me that he would risk anything, even his life, to see that we are happy.
But why do I have to write this? Why do I have to defend Chriton’s life paragraph upon paragraph as if he had to be an activist to matter? Why is any of this necessary? Do you only realize the humanity of a person when you are confronted with it or do you, as it should be, just realize it anyway?
Why is the disregard of a person’s human right always greeted with a call to humanize that person? As if it is ever possible to bestow humanity on an individual and as though queer people are not already human enough merely be being, breathing, living, and thriving.
The world’s attempt to humanize queer people does nothing but dehumanize them because queer people are human, irrespective of the window or purview we think we have into their personal lives.
Chriton Atuhwera was my friend. He loved life and enjoyed music, especially Mariam Makeba’s “A luta Continua”.
But you didn’t have to know any of this for his life to matter.
Features a roundup of fresh MA reports, announcements, events/workshop listings, and minority content curated from across the web.
Lucretia is a Ugandan trans woman based in Kenya's Kakuma camp.

author: Lucretia


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“My personal secret”: Accessing family planning beyond religious boundaries in Zimbabwe - Minority Africa
Tafadzwa Mwanengureni
October 13, 2023
At 15, Catherine*, a member of the Johanne Marange Apostolic Sect (JMAC), one of an estimated 160 Apostolic sects in Zimbabwe, got married to her husband of the same faith.
Three years later, she welcomed her first child, beginning a pattern of almost yearly pregnancies.  Catherine, now 37 years old, refrained from seeking medical advice due to the gendered inequalities embedded in the doctrines of the JMAC regarding contraception.
The central tenet of the JMAC is encapsulated within their Apostolic text, known as “Umboo Utsva hwa Vapostori” (The New Revelation of the Apostles). The book is revered as a canonical addition to the Bible. According to their Apostolic book, the JMAC maintains a religious culture against the idea of contraception.
“As a person who grew up in church, we only knew that we access antenatal and postnatal care from our church midwives and prophets,” Catherine says.
Members of the Johanne Marange Apostolic sect staunchly reject any form of medical treatment, even in the most critical instances of injury or illness. They firmly hold the belief that divine intervention, rooted in their unwavering faith, is the sole path to healing.
Three of Catherine’s children died before the age of five and she experienced three miscarriages. Some of the children passed away from measles because they were not vaccinated since the church does not allow them to visit health institutions.
Catherine also believes she did not have enough time to nurse and take care of her babies who would need more attention since she had to focus on the newborn.
“My first six children have an age difference of one year and six months,” Catherine says. She never used contraceptives until recently in 2017 when she became weary of labour every two years.
The United Nations Population Fund (UNFPA) reports that worldwide, the utilisation of birth control methods is preventing 2.7 million infant fatalities, 215,000 maternal fatalities, 187 million unplanned pregnancies, and 105 million abortions annually.
To curb the dilemma and protect these apostolic women, local health workers and clinics are offering back-door services to them.
Edith*, a nurse-in-charge at one of the clinics says the demand for contraceptives from apostolic women is increasing as they assure privacy for them.
“We attend to them early in the morning before we open the clinic and at times meet them on their way to gardens and give them secretly so as to protect them from their church,” she tells Minority Africa. “Most of them prefer long-term methods so as to avoid frequent visits to the clinic.”
Some of the methods available are implants like Implanon which lasts for three years,  Jadelle, which is effective up to five years and intrauterine device which lasts up to 12 years.
As for Catherine, she opted for pills, which she says are manageable, unlike implants which leave a mark that will raise questions from her husband and other congregants.
“I pluck my family planning pills from the sachet, enfold them in a paper and put [them] in a container which l hide underground outside the yard,” she explains.
Data from the Zimbabwe National Statistics Agency (ZIMSTAT) shows that in 2022, Manicaland Province had the highest rate of mortality deaths, with under 5 and infant mortality at 50.9 and 23.6 respectively.
“At first l wouldn’t listen to the advice from one of my sisters who is also a member of our church,” Catherine says. “But when other relatives who are from  different Christian denominations talked to me about seeking medical advice after these tragic events, I decided to give [contraceptives] a try.”
The JMAC is one of the African Initiated Churches in  Zimbabwe. It was founded by Muchabaya Momberume (later renamed Johanne Marange) in 1932 in Bocha, Manicaland Province.
Pregnant women are supposed to seek health assistance from female prophetesses who are within the church. So in most cases a pregnant woman can go and stay at the prophetess’s house for some time until she gives birth or when the ‘holy spirit’ instructs her to leave. They call it “chitsidzo.” It also applies to any member of the church; when they fall sick, they seek assistance from church prophets only.
“If my husband discovers that l am [using contraceptives], l will be forced to confess the sin before the priests and the congregation,” Catherine says.
A 2011 UNICEF report indicates that the Johanne Marange sect uses strict disciplinary measures, including public shaming, to control those who veer from the approved practices of prayer and healing rituals.
“It’s my personal secret that I never tell anyone from my church, because it is a sin according to my church doctrine,” Catherine continues.
UNICEF also recommends an ideal child spacing interval of 2 to 3 years between births.
“Ever since I started using contraceptives, l can see that my children are growing healthy and are no longer dying because l am breastfeeding adequately,” says Catherine.
Tendayi Gudo, the National Director of Apostolic Women Empowerment Trust (AWET) calls for women to be given free rein in family planning issues since they are the ones who bear the brunt of pregnancy and take care of children.
“Women should be able to decide when it comes to the family as they are more involved in raising a child than men, therefore, communication is paramount on how many children a family would want to have,” she says.
However, this is not the case. Catherine insists that due to lack of exposure, some JMAC  female congregants, especially those in rural areas, are deprived of this right under the guise of culture and tradition, thereby giving men the power to dominate every decision about the vision of the family.
“Taking contraceptives opened a way for me to sneak off to health institutions for maternal issues especially during and after pregnancy,” says Catherine.
The church’s unwavering stance against contraception is firmly rooted in their interpretation of the Bible verse Genesis 1:28.
The Johane Marange community interprets the phrase “be fruitful and multiply” to mean that women are expected to have as many children as possible and should refrain from any measures to prevent childbirth.
Chaka Ruzvidzo, National Director for Equality 4 Men Trust criticised patrilineal churches for misinterpreting scriptures to suppress women’s sexual and reproductive health rights.
“They put their thoughts which oblige women to provide conjugal rights anytime husbands need them, as if it is an instruction from God,” he says. “Scripture of replenishment is used by men who have selfish ambitions, and it is disobedience if women exercise their sexual and reproductive rights.”
It has been six years since Catherine started using contraceptives. Since then, she has had two children who have an age difference of two and a half years.
“I am also relieved from miscarriages, my body has had enough time to prepare for the next pregnancy, although l am not looking forward to having another child,” the mother of five says.  “It is high time to take full responsibility for my children without hassles of unmet needs of family planning.”
Edited/Reviewed by PK Cross, Uzoma Ihejirika, and Caleb Okereke
Features a roundup of fresh MA reports, announcements, events/workshop listings, and minority content curated from across the web.
Tafadzwa Mwanengureni is a freelance journalist based in Harare ,Zimbabwe. Some of her work has been published by The Continent, Transcontinental Times and She Corresponds Africa among others.

created: October 13, 2023

author: Tafadzwa Mwanengureni


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“My privacy matters”: Tanzania’s new VPN policy leaves LGBTQ+ individuals exposed - Minority Africa
Sexual Minorities
April 22, 2024
Sabel*, a gay man living in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania, uses pseudonyms to engage with other LGBTQ people online. Despite feeling somewhat anonymous, the fear of being arrested is ever-present.
“Online, we are free to express our identities under anonymous names, but people have [still] been arrested, so Virtual Private Network (VPN) provides an extra layer of security,” he says.
Engaging with partners and building relationships within the LGBTQ community through platforms like the Telegram channel provides Sabel with freedom and solidarity. Nonetheless, he remains cautious and expresses worries about the dangers of openly discussing his sexual orientation on various social media sites.
“I do not use other social media platforms to express my sexuality. Telegram is a relatively secure platform.”
However, this avenue of expression for Sabel and other members of the LGBTQ community is under threat.
On October 13, 2023, a shocking announcement occurred in Tanzania’s digital realm. It was when the Tanzania Communications Regulatory Authority (TCRA) released a statement stipulating that Virtual Private Network (VPN) users must register their usage. The announcement carried a pressing deadline of October 30, 2023, serving as the final call for individuals and businesses to discontinue using unregistered VPNs. Intensifying the urgency of the situation, the TCRA also introduced an online form for submitting VPN details.
The statement triggered concerns among various online communities, particularly those who sought privacy for reasons beyond routine cybersecurity.
“My privacy matters. Whether I am online or offline, it is guaranteed by the constitution of Tanzania,” says Sabel.
Sections 13 and 14 of the Cyber Crimes Act 2015 mention pornography as illegal content. According to the then Deputy minister of Constitutional and Legal Affairs, Pauline Gekul, homosexuality is prohibited by section 154 of the Tanzania Penal Code. Addressing the parliament on April 17, 2023, the minister of Information, Communication and Information Technology, Nape Nnaye, said that in the fight against those promoting same-sex relationships, 334 websites, 361 Facebook accounts, 198 Instagram accounts, 12 Twitter accounts, and more than 2,456 domains have been shut down.
VPNs create secure and encrypted Internet connections that enhance online privacy, bypass geographical restrictions, and secure data transmission, making them a valuable tool for individuals and businesses seeking a safe online environment.
Opponents of the TCRA’s new VPN registration requirement argue that it threatens freedom of expression and other rights enshrined in Tanzania’s constitution.
Sabel, who has been using free VPNs, wonders why he must register himself as a user. “I think this is targeted to us (LGBTQ people); it seems like privacy is not for us,” he says.
Under the new rules, unregistered VPN usage may result in a fine of not less than Tsh 5,000,000 (approximately $2,000), imprisonment of not less than two years, or both. At the heart of this matter lie crucial issues surrounding digital rights and LGBTQ people’s ability to access banned content.
“The registration requirement is like a hidden ban, as I do not think any LGBTQ person can go and register,” says Tamba, a gay man who lives in Dar es Salaam. In 2022, Tamba experienced anal health concerns but did not go to the hospital for fear that he would be arrested or mocked for homosexual acts.
“It is on LGBTQ websites that we get to know if such problems are common to bottom gays, but those sites are banned in Tanzania. Only VPNs can make them accessible,” he says.
Sabel also talks about several people who were arrested for what they did online. “It is just people who express themselves that are arrested.” One of the risks that LGBTQ people face online is their security being compromised and their private affairs reaching the public. Sabel explains that many people have been victims of Mange Kimambi, a girl who frequently exposes people’s private affairs, especially the celebrities in her app.
“Not only [from]the state, but [another] risk we are facing [are] these people who are using our identities to make money,” Sabel says, as to get updates from the Mange Kimambi App demands a subscription fee. “So many things leak, from videos to private conversations.”
The Tanzania Digital Rights Coalition (TDRC) strongly condemned the TCRA’s new VPN rules. In a statement issued on October 14, 2023, the Coalition stated that the move poses threats to freedom of expression, privacy, and economic opportunities. “VPNs play a pivotal role in safeguarding users against cyber threats, unauthorized surveillance, and data breaches,” the statement read. “Limiting their use threatens the personal and data security of Tanzanian citizens, making them vulnerable to surveillance and potential cyberattacks.”
TDRC also urged the authorities to respect and protect the rights of Tanzanian citizens to access information, communicate securely, and express themselves freely online. “We remain committed to promoting a free, open, and secure digital environment for all Tanzanian citizens,” their statement said.
“VPN provides us a more secure layer to be free online, following what is done to LGBTQ people in this country; the registration is nothing but a way to identify us,” Sabel says.  According to him, it will not be possible to sue the government to nullify the statement.
“Our hope is on international organisations,” Sabel says. He believes international organisations can make the country stop using specific laws either by limiting the amount of aid or blacklisting the people in power.
ENDS
*Names changed to protect identities
Edited/Reviewed by PK Cross, Caleb Okereke, and Uzoma Ihejirika.
Features a roundup of fresh MA reports, announcements, events/workshop listings, and minority content curated from across the web.
Mzizi Dawa is a human rights defender. He has strong biblical knowledge and he likes discussing contemporary issues from all perspectives including religious perspectives.

author: Sexual Minorities


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Namibia’s efforts at curbing sexual and gender based violence remain ineffective without the inclusion of LGBT persons - Minority Africa
Bayron van Wyk
July 31, 2022
In Namibia, there is a high incidence of sexual- and gender-based violence (SGBV) targeting women. According to official statistics, more than 5,000 GBV and 700 cases of rape were reported in 2020 and 2021 in the country. However, people in same-sex relationships are often not included in these statistics, suggesting that it might even be higher.
These incidents, therefore, go unreported because of the stigma involved around being lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender (LGBT). Just recently, former Mr Gay Namibia, 41-year-old Wendelinus Hamutenya, who was stabbed several times by his husband in November 2021, highlighted how LGBT persons refrain from reporting their abusers to the police for fear of backlash.
There currently exist no constitutional or legal protections for LGBT persons and, therefore, same-sex relationships are not recognized. There is also a sodomy law that criminalizes anal sex between two men, which stems from the South African colonial period (1915 – 1990). This was informed by a misogynistic (and colonial) culture that viewed sexual or romantic relations between men suspiciously. That this law still exists points to existing misogynistic attitudes that prevail even after the end of apartheid and colonialism.
This can be seen in how law enforcement agencies have treated LGBT persons. Recently, Mercedes von Cloete,  a transwoman, won a pioneering court case against the Ministry of Safety and Security. In 2017, a police officer in mufti assaulted and arrested Cloete after an encounter at a KFC restaurant in central Windhoek, Namibia’s capital and largest city. The police officer beat and shamed Cloete, calling her a “fucking moffie,” an Afrikaans term used to refer to men or boys displaying effeminate behaviour.
The police officer’s attitude suggested that the assault and arrest were significantly motivated by Cloete’s status as a transgender woman. Her win however represents an exception in a country where LGBT persons are continuously ostracized for their same-sex desires. Many are still not able to find the justice that they are looking for.
While state-sanctioned abuse against LGBT persons is critical in understanding their experiences as minorities, we should be mindful of other forms of abuse that equally affect them, including SGBV. With the lack of recognition of same-sex relationships and a sodomy law, it is easy to believe that same-sex relationships are non-existent in Namibia. In fact, many Namibian politicians have previously claimed that homosexuality was un-African and that therefore it did not exist in pre-colonial Africa.
Such views have contributed to the social stigma and discrimination against LGBT persons and the promotion of a heteronormative narrative that romantic love can only be expressed through heterosexual and monogamous relationships. It has also led to other consequences, including that abuse against LGBT persons remains unchecked, allowing the perpetrators of abuse to continue with their behaviour and leaving the victims with limited means of dealing with such relationships.
Moreover, such negative views of same-sex relationships have caused many LGBT persons to refrain from openly discussing the different forms of personal abuse that they may be exposed to in their sexual or romantic relationships.
For several years, Namibia has been engaged in a protracted fight against SGBV. However, these efforts remain ineffective without including LGBT persons who are equally affected by such acts. In the recent wake of anti-SGBV and pro-LGBT rights protests, including the Namibian #BlackLivesMatter, #ShutItAllDown#OnsIsMoeg and #BringPaulaAndMayaHome protests that erupted in 2020/1 against police, sexual and gendered violence LGBT persons ensured to illuminate their own experiences of SGBV, in order that they are included in Namibia’s anti-SGBV efforts.
They have particularly called for the inclusion of LGBT persons in recent attempts by the Namibian government to tighten existing legislation, including the Domestic Violence Act 4 (2003) and Combating of Rape Act (2000) to quell the alarming rates of SGBV.
The government’s proposals at changing these laws come after the calls of #ShutItAllDown#OnsIsMoeg protesters for the Namibian government to step up its efforts at curtailing SGBV in the country. In October 2020, amid the devastating COVID-19 pandemic, the protests were held in the aftermath of the tragic murder of the 22-year-old Shannon Wasserfal whose remains were found buried in the Namib Desert at Walvis Bay on the Namibian coastline. She had been missing for several months. The main suspects in the murder were the siblings Junior Mulundu (22) and Azania Madisia (28). The latter was a friend and the ex-lover of Shannon’s former boyfriend.
Disgruntled by the events, young Namibians mobilized in several cities and towns under the social media hashtag #ShutItAllDown#OnsIsMoeg and called for an end to SGBV. In Windhoek, protests were held at key government buildings, including the Ministry of Gender Equality, Poverty Eradication and Social Welfare (MGEPESW) as well as the National Assembly, Namibia’s national parliament. The protesters called for another state of emergency (the first one  was introduced to curb the spread of the COVID-19 virus) and the resignation of the MGEPESW minister Doreen Sioka.
In August 2021, I joined a group of prominent LGBT figures, supporters of LGBT rights and partygoers at Café Prestige, a nightclub popular for its extravagant drag performances in downtown Windhoek. We were there for the launch of the book The Chronicles of a Non-Binary Black Lesbian Namibian….In Love by the writer and LGBT activist Ndiilokelwa Nthengwe.
In her autobiography, Nthengwe, who identifies as lesbian, narrates both her experiences as a child when her gender non-conforming preferences were frowned upon and as an adult when she navigated her insecurities over her sexuality and personal abuse she went through in some of her romantic relationships. That night, as we soaked up the cool Spring breeze, Ndiilokelwa spoke about her feelings of self-doubt around abuse, which gave leeway to her partner to deny their abusive behaviour. Ndiilokelwa attributed this to a heteronormative culture that leaves LGBT persons in a state of self-doubt, keeping them in abusive relationships.
To change this situation, Ndiilokelwa argues in her book that “progressive legislation” is necessary. She has a point. By providing LGBT persons with the same equal rights as heterosexual persons, victims of abuse in same-sex relationships can start speaking out against their abusers. This can go a long way in strengthening our fight against SGBV.
Indeed a more encompassing approach is required against SGBV that recognizes its effects on women, LGBT persons and others who may equally feel neglected by Namibia’s anti-SGBV laws. There is however little chance of this happening when colonial laws like the sodomy law still exist.
In this regard, the recent challenge against the sodomy law by long-time LGBT activist Friedel Dausab (48) in the High Court of Namibia is significant in ensuring that LGBT persons may finally receive more constitutional and legal protections, especially against SGBV. At the root of this, of course, is a deep-seated colonial view on sexuality and gender, which seeks to only foster hate against LGBT persons. That needs to change. Changing colonial laws can, perhaps, support such efforts.
Features a roundup of fresh MA reports, announcements, events/workshop listings, and minority content curated from across the web.
Bayron van Wyk is a 2022 Minority Africa fellow from Namibia. van Wyk’s life journey began in the small town of Rehoboth in southern Namibia where he was born. As a child, he struggled with his sexuality because of the stigma associated with being openly gay. It took him a long while to accept who he was and to be comfortable with his own sexuality. He is a human rights activist, writer and scholar interested in LGBTIQA+, environmental and climate change issues. Currently, van Wyk is studying in Cape Town, South Africa. His work focuses on LGBTIQA+ organizing in Namibia and through his work, he hopes to bring about more social justice for LGBTIQA+ persons living in Namibia.

author: Bayron van Wyk


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2023 in Review: Highs and Lows - Minority Africa
Toluwani Omotesho
March 13, 2024
The curtains finally close on 2023 today, and while it’s a time of celebration, it’s also an opportunity for deep reflection. In this Minority Roundup, I’ll highlight some significant stories from 2023 concerning minorities in Africa and around the world.
Mwathi to a 30-year imprisonment.
Despite the small victories that came with 2023, we were constantly faced with stark reminders of the persistent struggles faced by minority groups. As we enter the new year, we mustn’t forget these stories and continue fighting for a future where fairness and equality win.
We’ve reached the end of this newsletter and I’ll wrap it up by sharing some of the stories we enjoyed reading in 2023.
The Mathematics of Hooking Up
Everyone talks about how good the Amala in Ibadan is, but nobody talks about how horrible the Grindr is. Yes, these two things are on separate ends of the conversation, but if one must praise something about a city, they might as well mention the way it falls short, too.
A Rwandan afro-futurist musical constitutes dreaming as resistance.
Neptune Frost is an Afrofuturist musical film that follows coltan mine workers who escape and meet other outcasts to find a community in an abandoned village named Digitaria.
For marginalized communities, imagination is a solid and suitable tool of resistance against systems of oppression. Stacey A. Gibson explained this best when she wrote, “Often, imagining is an act of liberatory adventure, since it feels borderless, boundaryless, and free of the constructs that bind. To imagine is to transcend. The imaginer can time travel, hover, disappear, and multiple selves can be constructed, observed, and nurtured.”
Features a roundup of fresh MA reports, announcements, events/workshop listings, and minority content curated from across the web.

author: Toluwani Omotesho


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Cameroon’s Armed Conflict Is Asking This Ethnic Group to Pick Sides - Minority Africa
Toluwani Omotesho
March 13, 2024
But first, in Zimbabwe, grandmothers are taking on a crucial role in addressing the country’s mental health crisis.
Zimbabwe is a country of 15 million people with less than 20 psychiatrists. The country has witnessed a rise in its mental health issues over the years due to its faltering economy, high inflation rate, and other socio-economic problems. The World Health Organization (WHO) reports that Zimbabwe has one of the highest suicide rates in Africa. Unfortunately, people struggling with their mental health cannot get the help they need due to high psychiatrist fees.
However, in 2006, Dr. Dixon Chibanda developed a program to train lay health workers to counsel those struggling with mental health. He first had this idea in 2004 after witnessing two tragic, unrelated events: the loss of a patient from suicide and the displacement of 700,000 Zimbabweans left homeless due to a government exercise that demolished thousands of residential properties across the country.
In 2006, Chibanda started work with the Ministry of Health and Child Care and the University of Zimbabwe to train 14 lay health workers in evidence-based problem-solving therapy. The trainees were grandmothers who were at least 50 years of age, and the program improved their empathy, listening skills, and ability to properly counsel patients dealing with common mental health problems such as depression and anxiety.
This transformative initiative was coined the Friendship Bench because the counseling sessions happen on made-for-purpose benches. Starting with 14 grandmothers, the program has grown exponentially and expanded to other African countries like Rwanda, Zambia, Kenya, Tanzania, Malawi, and Botswana. North Africa currently uses a digital version of the Friendship Bench.
What started as an unpaid volunteer position has evolved, with counselor-grandmothers now receiving a $25 monthly allowance, along with stationery and bicycles, particularly benefiting those in rural communities.
The Girls In Rural Nigeria Defying All Odds For An Education
Tunisian group accuses authorities of mass expulsions of migrants from sub-Saharan Africa
Senegal’s African Renaissance Monument, standing at 161 feet, is the tallest statue in Africa. It symbolizes Africa’s freedom from its painful past and its progress towards a brighter future
Cameroon’s armed conflict is asking this ethnic group to pick sides
On a chill afternoon in January 2021, a group of gun-wielding men believed to be separatist fighters besieged Orti, a village on the outskirts of Ndu, a town in the conflict-affected Northwest region of Cameroon. Aissatou, a member of the indigenous Fulani people (Mbororos), a minority and disadvantaged group in Cameroon, had prepared her husband’s favourite meal (okra and cassava paste) and was about to serve it when she heard incessant gunshots.
“We were terrified,” Aissatou, now 24, recalls. “I and my two children laid flat on the floor to escape from stray bullets. We do that whenever we hear gunshots.” Her husband had gone out to look after their cattle and had exceeded the time he would usually come home. Though worried, she was sure her husband would find his way back home amidst the gunshots as he always does.
At about 7 pm, Aissatou received the news of her husband’s whereabouts: he was drowning in his pool of blood at the village square. The separatist militia had shot him.
“Over straight allies”: Sexual Minorities in Nigeria turn to peer-to peer education to access medical care
From individual networks to more organized clinics, here is how sexual and gender minorities in Nigeria receive healthcare.
In 2017, Kolade*, a bisexual man living in Lagos, experienced discrimination in Nigeria’s healthcare system when he needed a doctor’s consultation for what he perceived to be an anal tear. At first, Kolade sought help from a friend, who was a medical student, but the friend started to ask invasive questions about Kolade’s sexuality.
“I was not comfortable answering his questions because he was straight, so I lied and told him I had very bad constipation instead,” Kolade explains. Through a WhatsApp group, he was able to find a seemingly open-minded doctor who worked in a state government hospital to whom he spoke freely about his situation.
However, the doctor quickly told Kolade that his condition was not normal and insisted he paid more money for the consultation.
What will the world do on LGBTQ+ rights in 2024?
There were huge milestones and setbacks for LGBTQ+ rights around the world during 2023.
Same-sex marriage was legalised in nations including Slovenia and Andorra, gay sex was decriminalised in Mauritius and the Cook Islands and self-identification laws for transgender people were passed in Spain, Finland and New Zealand. However, trans rights lost ground in Russia and parts of the United States, while Uganda passed one of the world’s strictest anti-gay laws, imposing the death sentence for certain same-sex acts.
Here is what to watch out for in 2024.
Meet the activist running a shelter in Uganda for people living with HIV
Uganda sparked global outrage last year with the introduction of its Anti-Homosexuality Act, which has forced the country’s LGBTQIA+ community to adjust to a new – and much darker – normal.
The legislation has been recognised as one of the world’s harshest anti-LGBTQIA+ laws and imposes the death penalty for so-called “aggravated” cases of homosexuality, including the transmission of HIV. Uganda has been making steady progress against the virus, with UNAIDS reporting a 39 per cent drop in new infections from 2010 to 2021, but there are now fears that the gains made could be lost because of the Anti-Homosexuality Act.
Muwonge Gerald, the founder of Foaster Foundation for Health Care Uganda, a non-profit organisation working with the LGBTQIA+ community and people living with HIV, has already seen this happening at a grassroots level through the work he does at his community shelter.
‘Nobody sees me’: Photographing displacement in Burkina Faso’s capital
More than 30,000 Burkinabé have made their way down to the capital city, Ouagadougou, over the past few years, escaping a jihadist conflict that has enveloped large parts of the country and displaced more than two million people overall.
Yet despite the city’s safety and employment opportunities, the displaced people have been struggling with high rents and a lack of assistance and recognition from humanitarian organisations and different governments.
“I came here hoping to find help for my kids, but nobody sees me,” said Ramata Amadou, who is 34 and originally from Gorom-Gorom in northern Burkina Faso. “Since I have been here, nobody from the government has ever come to help.”
Otamere Guobadia explores queer catharsis in his provocative debut poetry collection
Unutterable Visions, Perishable Breath is a bold exploration of love, desire and destiny. Here, the writer unpacks the personal and creative inspirations behind his debut.
“These words are my salves. Bandages on damnation,” Guobadia proclaims in the introductory pages of Unutterable Visions, Perishable Breath. In his debut poetry collection, Guobadia’s lyrical sequences and fragmented queer poetry reflect on themes of yearning, destiny and personal history.
A multi-hyphenate writer, Guobadia’s journalistic work has appeared in British Vogue, The Guardian, GQ and much more. In recent years, he has written passionately on topics of queerness, love and creativity. Unutterable Visions, Perishable Breath marks a change of direction in his creative form.
Features a roundup of fresh MA reports, announcements, events/workshop listings, and minority content curated from across the web.


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Celebrating Women: Meet Five Women Trying to Change the World - Minority Africa
Toluwani Omotesho
March 13, 2024
Hi! Especially to all the women, I hope you had an amazing International Women’s Day celebration this year. And while the official day might have passed, it’s never really too late to celebrate women, is it?
So, in the spirit of International Women’s Day, we’re keeping the momentum going by celebrating five remarkable women working tirelessly to break barriers, create positive change, and inspire inclusion💜.
Jaha Dukureh is a Gambian women’s rights activist and the UN Women Ambassador for Africa, who survived female genital mutilation as an infant and forced child marriage at 15.
These experiences played crucial roles in shaping her to be a leading advocate for women’s rights.
She founded the NGO Safe Hands for Girls, which supports FGM survivors and also campaigns for an end to child marriage in Africa. And so far, her efforts have led to the banning of FGM in Gambia.
A survey last year revealed that 75% of LGBTQ startup founders hide their gender orientation and identity due to discrimination. Arlan Hamilton, an African-American lesbian, also faced this problem, so she decided to create a solution with Backstage Capital.
Backstage Capital, founded in 2015, aims to level the playing field and promote inclusion in the tech industry by investing in underrepresented founders, including women, people of color, and the LGBTQ community. So far, Backstage Capital has invested over $12 million in more than 150 companies.
Dow is a prominent lawyer, writer, member of the parliament, and human rights activist who has had an unforgettable impact on Botswana’s legal landscape. She opened the first all-woman law firm in Botswana and became the country’s first female High Court Judge in 1997. Growing up in a patriarchal society under strict traditional values and being one of the few women enrolled in her law program helped her realize the extent of gender inequality in society, even within the law.
In a career-defining moment in 1990, Dow successfully challenged Botswana’s discriminatory nationality laws, which previously prevented women married to non-Botswana citizens from passing citizenship to their children.
Presently, as the Minister of International Affairs and Cooperation, Dow remains committed to creating an inclusive society and advocates for equal rights and opportunities.
Gordon is the first deaf graduate of American University’s law school and the first black female attorney in the United States. Despite facing several challenges from a young age due to her deafness, she has always been committed to advocating for disability rights, now particularly evident throughout her career. She is currently a prominent voice for the rights of individuals with disabilities, working with government and private agencies to promote inclusivity and accessibility.
Angelica Ross is famous for her roles on TV shows like Pose and American Horror Story, but she’s more than just an actress. She’s also a tech entrepreneur and a passionate advocate for transgender rights.
In 2014, she founded TransTech Social Enterprise in Chicago, which provides education and job placement assistance for trans people in the tech industry. Through her efforts with TransTech and advocacy work, Ross continues to be a driving force in advancing transgender rights worldwide.
Did you know that the world’s first computer programmer was a woman? In the 1800s, Ada Lovelace wrote the first algorithm for Charles Babbage’s Analytical Engine, making her a pioneer in computer science before computers as we know them today existed.
Mainstream breastfeeding discourse has nothing to do with women. And everything to do with patriarchy
I introduced formula milk to my second son’s diet when he was five months old. I did this because I had a very busy schedule that kept me away from him for many hours during the day.  While I was thrilled that supplementing breast milk with formula kept my son full and happy throughout the day, I was constantly bombarded with questions from people I knew and even strangers.
Why are you not breastfeeding exclusively? Isn’t it too early to introduce the boy to formula? Do you even know what is in the formula?
Many of these people considered it appropriate to probe me in this manner. It left me feeling like a failure and with an ongoing question on my mind: why does society interrogate and scrutinize the actions of mothers and women generally, in a way that it does not do to fathers? When I had both my children, I looked forward to breastfeeding them and experiencing the joy and fulfillment that the experience brings.
This joy and fulfillment also comes with soreness, cracked nipples and sometimes bleeding with every suck the baby takes. I did not have enough milk, which made the situation even worse. I remember shutting  my eyes and clenching my fist as I took in the pain because, as I was told by more experienced moms who came to visit me, “It will get better.”
And it did.
“I came out to myself,” What visibility means to lesbians across Africa
Collette: “I feel the sadness that comes with namelessness.”
When danger surrounds using your name and your face, you have no other choice than to make yourself invisible. As much as I have grown accustomed to that question – can your name be used for this? As though the name is a danger in itself – I feel the sadness that comes with namelessness.
It is quite sad that we have to be asked for our names to be connected with our words and voice; I watch my back every day of my life. I try to live my life but it is scary. I have been a victim of a homophobic attack by the police. My friends and I were pepper-sprayed for no reason.
In my profession, as a chef, I have been told not to put “my gay hands’’ in their food. My partner and I were supposed to cook for a funeral. We had been contacted by a member of the deceased’s family and negotiation had reached an advanced stage only for a senior member of the family to breeze in and torpedo our hope of getting a job. I went home crying.
From a WhatsApp platform to physical sessions, this Nigerian initiative is helping women affected by conflict navigate their trauma
In 2015, amid the Boko Haram insurgency, Hassana Danyerwa, the founder and creative director of FeelNHeal, was battling a traumatic experience that stayed with her for years. During that time, she had nightmares and would spend the night crying, wallowing in pain, but the next day, she’d wear a big smile and refuse to let her family and friends see she was hurting.
“I was always trying to be in the midst of friends or get myself busy with work or studies to distract myself from my reality,” Hassana tells Minority Africa. “I couldn’t ask for help because I didn’t even think anyone could help me, and I didn’t want people to start feeling sorry for me or make my struggles a topic of discussion.”
In 2019, it dawned on her that she needed to find a way to heal, so she started telling people about what she’d been through on her WhatsApp status. After years of keeping it to herself, it was difficult to do, but she felt healing would be far from her as long as she failed to open up. “There are people who read and judge, but the most incredible thing is that there are more people who relate to the stories I share and even share their own experiences with me,” she says.
France makes abortion a constitutional right
France has become the first country in the world to explicitly include the right to abortion in its constitution.
Parliamentarians voted to revise the country’s 1958 constitution to enshrine women’s “guaranteed freedom” to abort. The overwhelming 780-72 vote saw a standing ovation in the parliament in Versailles when the result was announced.
President Emmanuel Macron described the move as “French pride” that had sent a “universal message”. However anti-abortion groups have strongly criticised the change, as has the Vatican.
Abortion has been legal in France since 1975, but polls show around 85% of the public supported amending the constitution to protect the right to end a pregnancy. And while several other countries include reproductive rights in their constitutions – France is the first to explicitly state that an abortion will be guaranteed.
It becomes the 25th amendment to modern France’s founding document, and the first since 2008. Following the vote, the Eiffel Tower in Paris was lit up in celebration, with the message: “My Body My Choice”.
Features a roundup of fresh MA reports, announcements, events/workshop listings, and minority content curated from across the web.


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Cult Leader in Kenya to Face 191 Charges of Child Murder - Minority Africa
Toluwani Omotesho
March 13, 2024
But first, in the small Tunisian village of El Hencha, protests have begun to break out over the lack of news following the disappearance of 37 migrants crossing the Mediterranean.
On January 11, 2024, around 10 pm, all contact with a small boat carrying 37 migrants and asylum seekers, reported to be about 13 to 35 years old, suddenly stopped. A week after the disappearance, families of the missing migrants staged a protest, erecting roadblocks and burning tires around the village due to a lack of tangible news from the government.
The coasts of Tunisia and Libya are popular departure points for locals and other migrants from sub-Saharan Africa looking to travel to Europe by boat in search of new lives. Some of the primary reasons driving this irregular migration are the poverty levels and lack of employment opportunities. However, this route is one of the world’s deadliest. According to the International Organization for Migration (IOM), 2498 migrants and asylum seekers drowned while crossing the Mediterranean in 2023. The Tunisian National Guard also intercepted about 70,000 irregular migrants and asylum seekers in 2023.
The latest disappearance of the 37 migrants has left the affected family and loved ones in a state of unrest, with some already losing hope. However, the government has assured the public that search efforts will continue. On Tuesday, the Tunisian National Guard released a statement mobilizing all field units, including maritime vessels and helicopters, to assist with the search. Italian and Maltese search units have also been reported to be involved.
While there are hopes that the ongoing search produces concrete information on the migrants’ disappearance, this unfortunate situation highlights the broader impact of the failure by many African governments to prioritize the development of social infrastructure for their citizens.
‘They’re going to kill us’: Sudan’s army targets civilians on ethnic basis
Gender Roles Are Resulting In Lowered Qualities Of Life For Nigerian Women
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In northern Uganda, war survivors and comfort dogs are “healing together.”
Rehabilitated stray dogs and survivors of a decade-long war in Uganda who grapple with trauma have formed a bond geared towards healing.
It’s 11 am on Saturday at the headquarters of Big Fix Uganda, an organization specializing in treating and rehabilitating stray dogs. In the tranquil compound, Evelyne Anena is seated on a mat, tenderly stroking a dog called Peyot. The atmosphere is serene as Peyot, with closed eyes, luxuriates in each soothing stroke. The dog reciprocates the connection by placing its paw in Anena’s hand, creating a touching moment.
Periodically, Peyot lifts its head, acknowledging and cherishing Anena’s comforting touch. In the background, the distant sounds of other dogs echo from inside one of the buildings on the compound.
The bond shared between Peyot and Anena is one of profound interdependency. This connection had its roots in 2021 when Anena sought solace in the organization, looking for counseling to navigate the trauma she endured after losing her husband to the Lord Resistance Movement (LRA) rebels.
“On the night of July 2002, rebels came into our home, grabbed my husband, and killed him in front of me and my children,” the 50-year-old Anena recalls. ”For almost twenty years, I could not sleep because every time I closed my eyes, I re-lived my husband’s murder.”
An assistive speech software hopes to help thousands of Nigerians with visual impairment
Driving a technological innovation was never going to be a task of one person, neither is it a race with one track. It is building an ecosystem where creative minds support one another in making a difference.
For millions of Nigerians who struggle with visual impairment and little to no vision, Visis—a text-to-speech software application—has been designed to enable them to independently and conveniently carry out their activities.
Irrespective of the etiology and forms of visual challenges experienced by people, the Visis App designed by Vinsighte responds to problems of visual loss. Most often, eye conditions are evaluated by primary physicians to know if such conditions are repairable by surgery or management. However, the tech solution is used by all categories of visually-impaired persons. It also helps users read printed materials including the ones that are not available in braille among other various functions.
Kenya femicide: A woman’s murder exposes the country’s toxic online misogyny
The brutal murder of a young Kenyan woman at a short-term rental apartment has sparked outrage and exposed the violent “manosphere” perpetuating misogyny online in the country.
The woman was dismembered, and her remains were stuffed into a plastic bag, according to a police report seen by the BBC. The police are investigating, but the suspect is still at large.
The case has left Amnesty International Kenya executive director Irungu Houghton feeling “shocked and outraged.”
“Another woman in her 20s who will not get to see her 40s,” he said.
Less than two weeks ago, a Kenyan socialite was also murdered in a short-term rental apartment in the capital, Nairobi. The killings have been widely referred to as the Airbnb murders in Kenya, but Airbnb told the BBC it had investigated and the women had not booked accommodation through its site.
Gender-based violence is a primary concern in Kenya. In 2022, at least 34% of women said they had experienced physical violence, according to a national survey.
Rather than looking for scapegoats, Morocco is cashing in on South-South migration
While the rest of the Maghreb is often in the spotlight over its aggressive approach to African migrants and asylum seekers, Morocco has officially chosen a more tolerant path and is reaping political and economic benefits from that more liberal attitude.
Khady Hair, a beauty salon in a neat neighborhood on the outskirts of the southern city of Agadir, welcomes clients of all nationalities and hair types. Its Senegalese owner, 38-year-old Khady Wade Baldé, has worked hard to build a chain of three salons that employ a dozen workers from Morocco, Senegal, and Côte d’Ivoire.
“At the beginning, it wasn’t easy,” said Baldé, who arrived in Morocco in 2008. “At that time, African women used to work only as babysitters or cleaning ladies.” Now, Baldé is planning further business investments in both Morocco and Senegal.
Cult Leader in Kenya to Face 191 Charges of Child Murder
A Kenyan judge on Wednesday said that a doomsday cult leader who the authorities say directed his followers to starve themselves must undergo a mental health evaluation before prosecutors formally charge him with the murders of 191 children.
The charges relate to the discovery last April of mass graves in the Shakahola Forest of southeastern Kenya, where hundreds of people had come to follow the teachings of the cult leader, Paul Nthenge Mackenzie, a former taxi driver turned televangelist. Mr. Mackenzie had marketed Shakahola to his followers as an evangelical Christian sanctuary from what he claimed was the fast-approaching apocalypse. The Kenyan authorities say that he told members of his church to starve themselves to death to meet Jesus; more than 400 bodies were exhumed from the forest.
Mr. Mackenzie — who has denied the allegations — appeared in court on Wednesday in the Kenyan coastal city of Malindi. The judge, Mugure Thande, gave prosecutors until Feb. 6 to ensure he and his co-defendants are fit to stand trial.
Yosha Iglesias Is the First Out Trans Woman to Become an International Chess Master
Yosha Iglesias, the highest-ranking out transgender woman in competitive chess, has officially met all the requirements for the coveted title of International Master — less than half a year after the game’s international governing body passed a set of draconian new anti-trans rules.
Iglesias, 36, met the final criteria at an international women’s chess tournament held in Rouen, France, on December 30, Chess.com reported. To become a Woman International Master (WIM), a player must attain a ranking of at least 2400 points in games sanctioned by the International Chess Federation (FIDE) and attain four “norms,” a term for high-ranking results in different grandmaster-level competitions. Although Iglesias finished second in December’s tournament, her results still qualified as a fourth norm, allowing her to meet the criteria for chess’s second-highest honor.
“I am exhausted but so relieved and happy,” Iglesias told Chess.com.
Features a roundup of fresh MA reports, announcements, events/workshop listings, and minority content curated from across the web.


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Cameroon: How churches are a breeding ground for the exclusion of Persons with Disabilities - Minority Africa
Toluwani Omotesho
March 12, 2024
But first, in Ethiopia, the latest peace talks on November 21, 2023, between the Ethiopian government and the Oromo militants, i.e., the Oromo Liberation Army (OLA), have broken down without an agreement from both sides.
The conflict between the Ethiopian government and OLA is long-standing, going as far back as the 70s. However, the situation has recently escalated, resulting in the deaths and displacement of thousands of people. The major grievance of the insurgent group against the Ethiopian government is the political and economic marginalization faced by the Oromo people (Ethiopia’s largest ethnic group) in the form of lack of representation in Ethiopia’s decision-making process, and limited access to education, healthcare, and employment opportunities.
The government, on the other hand, has accused OLA of mass killings and human rights abuses against ethnic minorities and other civilians, as well as posing a security risk to the country. On May 6, 2021, the Ethiopian government officially listed OLA as a terrorist group to further frustrate their activities.
Despite the promises of the prime minister, Abiy Ahmed, to address the concerns of marginalized groups when he came into power in 2018, things have progressed rather slowly. The recent peace talks ended in a stalemate, with both sides accusing the other of being stubborn and unwilling to compromise. The evident lack of trust between the parties might be a significant hurdle in achieving lasting peace.
The Black Mambas: South Africa’s all-female anti-poaching unit
Social Media Is Helping Nigerian Women Discover A Lesser-Known Premenstrual Disorder
Did you know that in Tunisia, houses are built with fish bones? Many Tunisians believe fish have special powers to protect them from evil spirits, so many houses have fish bones embedded into the walls and floors.
Embracing the Lady and the Boy: How this Kenyan singer is engaging queerness through music
In his debut album, Lady Boy, Kenyan singer-songwriter Jarel Nduba, who is openly queer, offers a poignant account not of oppression nor the promise of liberation but of himself.
There is nothing novel about the concept of art as liberation.
Worldwide, social and cultural groupings have leveraged the power of creation to offer accounts of themselves, their communities, and their aspirations for liberation. In Africa specifically, art has been a central pillar of some of the most consequential movements for social change, from the anti-apartheid struggle in South Africa through musicians such as Abdullah Ibrahim and Miriam Makeba to the End SARS movement in Nigeria through artists such as Burna Boy and Falz. Art has also generated comfort in visibility for many – through writers such as Chinelo Okparanta and Nawal el-Saadawi, a range of communities have found characters and stories in which they have grown to see themselves, experiencing, for the first time in many instances, validation of their identities and experiences.
A third form of social justice is one that, in its intimacy and vulnerability, is easy to overlook. It is a form of art that does not promise answers to the question of liberation or solutions to the problem of oppression. It is a form of art that says one thing: “Here I am. This is me.”
Cameroon: How churches are a breeding ground for the exclusion of Persons with Disabilities
Many church leaders subscribe to the charity model of disability in which PWDs are viewed as victims of their circumstances who should be pitied. This viewpoint casts PWDs as tragic victims of their disabilities who have nothing to offer and need charitable donations to live.
In 2017, a friend invited me to a church in Bamenda, the capital of Cameroon’s Northwest region. I hoped to improve my relationship with God through the pastor’s message. I traveled hundreds of kilometers to attend the program, which I saw as a life-changing opportunity. But I received a shocker, though, when the same pastor chose to castigate me for being blind.
“God has told me that you will transform from a beggar to someone with a purpose in life because your sight will be restored today,” the pastor declared. I was angered by this. I had never been a beggar on the street, but like many other PWDs, I was condemned to this fate because of my disability.
I left the church saddened.
Trans Women with HIV Face Violence, Homelessness, and Discrimination. These Orgs Are Fighting Back.
At the intersection of anti-trans stigma and policy, violence flourishes. But trans and HIV-positive communities are mobilized and thriving.
Tiommi Luckett is full of joy and looks it: Her purple lipstick matches her dress, and marble cat eyeglasses frame her eyes, which light up whenever she sees someone she recognizes. This happens several times as the Arkansan sits in the lobby of a hotel in Atlanta, where she’s attending an advocacy summit; every few minutes, a mentee, mentor, or friend approaches her for a hug. Today, a Senior National Organizer for the Transgender Law Center’s Positively Trans program, she’s a far cry from the isolated and fearful person who was formally diagnosed with HIV in 2012.
Two years before that, an oral swab indicated she had antibodies, but she wasn’t emotionally ready to deal with the possibility of a diagnosis at the time. It took until 2014 for her to be able to speak publicly about her status, and from there, her role as an advocate for the trans and HIV-positive communities flourished.
Despite Bans, Disabled Women Are Still Being Sterilized in Europe
Governments have declared the practice a human rights violation. But they have made exceptions that are divisive among parents, doctors, and social workers.
Anita cannot speak or comprehend complex information. At 28, she communicates mostly with facial expressions and baby-like sounds. When excited, she washes her hands. When her periods cause cramping and pain, she moans and agitates, unable to understand.
To eliminate this monthly discomfort and ease the burden of caring for her, caregivers at an assisted-living home in Reykjavik, Iceland, proposed an unusually aggressive step. The home’s manager recommended that Anita undergo a hysterectomy, a major surgical procedure to remove her uterus and end her periods.
How Queer Filmmakers and Allies Found Joy While Filming 6 Stories On Love
Rainbow Rishta, available on Prime Video, is a docuseries that follows six queer love stories, nay, six stories about love across the length and breadth of India.
The show’s creators and crew wanted to show queer joy in the Indian context like it has never been shown before. And each frame of the show is dripping with vulnerability, deep heartache, and even more triumph. Triumph not only for the stories you see on-screen but also the triumphs for the queer filmmakers behind this show.
In one of the opening montages, wedding card-makers in Khadilkar Road, Mumbai, proudly show off their cards and boast that they work with people from all intersections of society. The conversation slowly builds up to asking the wedding card-makers if they would make cards for LGBT+ couples.
‘I felt that Africans could also be part of this’: Meet the Kenyan stargazer inspiring children to look to the sky
Susan Murabana’s life-changing moment happened at 22 years old, when she looked through a telescope for the first time. Suddenly, Saturn and its yellow-gold rings were more than just an illustration in a textbook; they were real, and the experience was powerful.
The opportunity came while she was a student volunteering with Cosmos Education, a non-profit dedicated to improving science learning in developing countries. By traveling with the organization to schools and villages in her home country of Kenya and helping teach young children, her love for astronomy was sparked.
“I thought I was going to inspire them [the children],” she said. “Instead, I was inspired too.”
In 2006, Murabana joined a teacher training program called Global Hands-On Universe, where she led a space education project. Four years later, she completed an online Master’s degree in astronomy from James Cook University in Australia before being invited to the University of California as a short-term scholar. Here, she realized she wanted children in Africa to be as exposed to opportunities as children in the US were.
Features a roundup of fresh MA reports, announcements, events/workshop listings, and minority content curated from across the web.


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Hijabi Discrimination In Nigeria Makes Navigating The Workplace Difficult for Muslim Women - Minority Africa
Toluwani Omotesho
March 13, 2024
But first, in Afghanistan, there has been an increase in the number of suicides among girls and women who have been restricted from pursuing education due to the Taliban ban.
In May 2021, the Taliban seized rule for the second time in Afghanistan and, four months later, placed stringent bans on the education and freedom of women. They closed down schools and banned girls and women from high school and tertiary education. Women are also prohibited from appearing in places like parks, gyms, or public areas without a male chaperone. Unfortunately, this is a repeat of 1996 when the Taliban first rose to power. Their regime was marked with severe restrictions on human rights and oppression, particularly for women and girls, before being overthrown by US-backed forces in 2001.
The recent restrictions faced by Afghan girls and women are pushing many to suicide using everyday household items such as rat poisons, fertilizers, cleaning fluid, and chemicals. The Taliban, however, has disregarded this growing situation, stating in an official statement by the Taliban’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs that suicide rates in women have fallen since they came into power, contrary to multiple reports from UN experts and doctors.
Presently, many families are seeking ways to continue girls’ education despite the Taliban’s ban, while others are looking for opportunities to flee the country, but this is proving to be particularly difficult with the recent Pakistan clampdown on undocumented Afghan migrants.
Police raid gay venues in Russia after top court bans ‘international LGBTQ movement’
As they prepare to accept her Nobel prize, jailed activist’s children believe they’ll never see her again
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“Despite the barriers”: The Nigerian journalists trying to change an ableist media landscape
In 2018, Gbenga Ogundare, a veteran journalist, started a news media platform, Equality Reporters, following the discrimination he faced after he lost his sight. Before going blind from complications arising from glaucoma in 2009, Ogundare says he used to be treated with respect by his colleagues and the people he encountered along his professional journey. In the end, he had to resign and forge his path.
“Living with a disability in Nigeria often means a sentence to a lifetime of stigma and discrimination, including employment inequality,” he says. “And personally, I suffered from these forms of negative social stereotypes the moment I lost my sight.”
Precarious work environments continue to put journalists living with disabilities in a hard-to-navigate position. Equality Reporters primarily focuses on stories about people with disabilities. The platform also presents a safe space for all reporters, living with or without a disability, to practice their profession without discrimination. For Ogundare, who has been practicing journalism for the last 20 years, barriers are meant to be a leverage to greater exploits.
Hijabi Discrimination In Nigeria Makes Navigating The Workplace Difficult for Muslim Women
The hijabi places Muslim women under scrutiny within the workplace and creates harmful, toxic work environments.
Every Muslim woman who wears a hijab, headscarf, or any form of clothing that covers her hair has, at some point or the other, had to deal with passive-aggressive comments about their headwear. Often, the comments veer into being incredibly cruel and unsavory. Workplaces are meant to be free from personal biases and prejudice. Still, many Muslim women have been stripped of access to jobs or economic opportunities based on their visible dedication to their faith.
The image of a Muslim woman, especially a woman of color, in a hijab, sometimes referred to as ‘hijabis,’ is viewed through the lens of oppression. Harmful stereotypes and lack of proper representation in many media strongly influence the oppression of hijabis.
Professional hijabi Muslim women are wrongfully perceived as subservient and devoid of full agency over their lives and careers. In Nigeria, where women are already a minority, a Muslim woman who devoutly wears her hijab faces double scrutiny and significant discrimination. Hijabis in professional spaces have confessed to the feeling of either being patronized, heavily scrutinized, or a sense of erasure.
Married to my rapist: The Indian women saying no
Behind the closed doors of bedrooms across India, the anachronistic opinions of a 17th-century jurist still guide the rules of sex between husband and wife.
Englishman Matthew Hale famously considered women to become their husband’s possession in marriage, a belief written into English common law, exported to the colonies, and later abandoned over centuries in many countries – but not in India. Here, it’s not a crime for a man to force sex or sexual acts on his wife as long as she is over 18.
It’s almost impossible to know what happens inside marital homes in the world’s most populous country and the intimate discussions that may or may not occur before either party initiates sex. But experts say India’s patriarchal society demands certain behavior from wives, and often that means a wife must comply with her husband’s wishes, whether she’s a willing partner or not.
Campaigners have been trying to change the law for years, but they say they’re up against conservatives who argue that state interference could destroy the tradition of marriage in India.
LGBTQ+ rights in Africa 2023: Progress and setbacks
Across Africa, while court verdicts ensured rights for LGBTQ+ people in Kenya and Namibia, countries such as Uganda and Ghana doubled down on anti-LGBTQ+ legislation. The year began with 32 of 54 African countries criminalizing LGBTQ+ people, according to rights group Human Dignity Trust. Going into 2024, that number is down to 31.
Here are the significant updates from 2023.
The island country’s highest court decriminalized same-sex relations, striking down a colonial-era law dating back to 1898.
: The east African country’s Supreme Court in February affirmed the right of LGBTQ+ advocacy groups to register as NGOs. Following the ruling, opposition member of parliament Peter Kaluma presented a bill to parliament in May that would effectively undo the Supreme Court’s decision by limiting LGBTQ+ people’s rights of assembly, expression, and demonstration. The bill is still in parliament and has not yet been passed.
The Supreme Court recognized same-sex marriages conducted outside the southern African country. In October, arguments were heard by Namibia’s Supreme Court in a case challenging the constitutionality of laws banning sodomy and related offenses. The court will deliver a judgment in May 2024.
“Female stupidity at its best. They all need to die.”: Violent and sexualised hate speech targeting women approved for publication by social media platforms
In an age of the ‘manosphere’ where women are under constant threat from misogynistic attacks online, our investigation shows test adverts containing extreme hate against women are approved for publication by Facebook, TikTok, X/Twitter, and YouTube.
Imagine going to work and being told you “deserve a bullet in the head” or that you are “a thing, a bitch, a lying bitch.” Imagine how you’d feel if these threats targeted those closest to you, including your children. These are real-life examples of hate speech attacks on social media faced by women journalists for simply doing their jobs. This is part of a terrifying global trend, seeing online violence against women journalists spilling offline. Large social media corporations, which are hosts to these horrific incidents, have hate speech policies designed to protect users. In light of this, we set out to test how good they are at enforcing these policies and detecting misogynistic hate speech on their platforms.
Our investigation: Testing social media platforms’ detection of misogynistic hate speech
Families find ways around Taliban restrictions on girls’ education
The Islamic Emirate recently announced that it has managed to open 200 new schools across the country since it returned to power in 2021. Despite this, the fact remains that 1.2 million girls and women are unable to access formal education as a direct result of Taliban policies.
At 22, Mariam* still only holds a high school diploma. Unable to attend university in Afghanistan physically, she is working towards an online degree from the University of the People, a free US-accredited virtual university. This allows her to partly circumvent the limitations the Islamic Emirate has placed upon her, but studying from home has been far from easy.
Every night, around 9pm, as her family settles in, Mariam prepares to begin studying by drinking her first cup of coffee. She spends the next several hours trying to keep up with the university’s 100,000 students across the globe. It’s a tiring process, full of setbacks, but she feels she has no choice.
A full two years since the restrictions were announced, Afghan families are losing hope that the Islamic Emirate will live up to its promises of reopening high schools and universities.
Features a roundup of fresh MA reports, announcements, events/workshop listings, and minority content curated from across the web.