The context: Sometime during the conversation, @OfficialJMbugua referred to me as an ally in the path towards gender equality, and I felt a little unsettled. I'll explain why in a bit, but it certainly wasn't the first time.
Last year, @ADELLEO and @TheLanji were putting together "Our Broken Silence", a book with voices of survivors of rape, observers, family members, activists, nurses, lawyers and many others, offering a glimpse of the different perceptions of [sexual] violence.
See, in as much as many of us (men and women, mostly the former) may believe that we're blameless beings who've done no wrong, our attitudes and words betray a lot of who we are, what we truly believe in, and - this is crucial - what we tolerate.
So much as you may have never physically assaulted someone, quietly sharing spaces with people who routinely either make light of or actively voice support of people who are violent against others is, in itself, supporting that violence.
And I'm very emphatic about this nowadays: Staying silent when you've clearly seen someone in pain (physical, emotional, or otherwise) as a result of someone else's actions is, in itself, an act in support of the aggressor/perpetrator.
And "we" here covers many brackets of people.
"We" = men.
"We" = women.
"We" = church.
"We" = religious leaders.
"We" = political leaders.
"We" = corporate leaders.
Which brings me back to "ally": Part of why I remain uncomfortable having that term used to describe me is the very fact that I've been in spaces in my past where I've been silent where people were caused pain by others.
The unfortunate reality is, many of us live life without interrogating why we view things the way we do, without interrogating what our attitudes are (both as individuals and as groups).
Why do we hear of a colleague at work being harassed, and only shake our heads and keep plodding on? Why do the abusers in such spaces continue to keep their positions, if not benefitting further from them?
Once we begin to embrace that question - WHY? - then everything starts to unravel. And in most cases, unravelling is a good thing. Certainly in this case too.
And it's a question that we certainly need to be asking a tonne more often.
Because if I, even for the slightest moment, start to believe that I've understood all there is to know, then that very smugness will turn me blind to the different realities that people have to endure across this big blue floating space rock, near and far.
And that, friends, that's definitely not a good place to be in as a human being. Not for myself, not for my loved ones, and not for the idea of a better society that I'd hope my successors would inherit.
Long-ish thread, I know. But if nothing else, remember these three things: 1. To be silent is to be complicit. 2. Always, ALWAYS, interrogate your beliefs and attitudes. 3. Silence = Complicity. (Yes, it's worth repeating.)
I say all this as much to both my present and future self, as much as I share them here with you. All as, also yes, my own work in unlearning and learning continues.
Now me, the Jesus I know is a Jesus that was a firm advocate for treating people with dignity.
This is why he noticed and defended people who were constantly taken advantage of. That's the Jesus me I know.
This is also why when he finished preaching the Sermon on The Mount, he didn't wait for people to come to him and tell him they are hungry - it was simple common sense. People had been there for long, and people were hungry. So he fed them.
The latest episode of #LegallyClueless is probably the most candid I've ever been in front of a camera - and the fact that in the final version of the video, they chose to allow even the uncomfortable pauses to percolate, as well as my (rather visible 😅) thought process... [🪡]
[🪡] ...to thread through the different bits in this story... This feels as much a letter to my future self as it is me sharing parts of myself that I otherwise keep very guarded.
I quite like the caption they've used as part of the video's thumbnail: "Falling in love again." In fact, I love it!
Beloveds, we need to retire this phrase from our lexicon. Kwanza sisi Wakenya.
"At least you have a job..."
"At least una mshahara..."
"At least una bwana/bibi..."
"At least alikuja..."
Bare minimum tu.
At what point did we agree to give into bare minimum so consistently and absolutely? When? Why?
Yes, I know between a church that weaponised scripture, parents whose responses to every question was "Because I told you so", and 8-4-4 that demanded answers to be presented only the way Malkiat Singh's textbooks dictated, our imaginations was beaten into submission.
So, about this #MoreThanBodies conversation happening on the TL right now: I’d like to talk a slightly different bend to it.
Stay with me for a moment. [This is unfiltered, typing as the thoughts come along.]
It’s very easy to downplay or outright ignore how much upbringing influences our choices as adults. I’d mentioned this at some point before: I genuinely believe we underestimate how powerful the element of nurture is in influencing and moulding human behaviour.
My dad used to cook. He used to clean. He used to do the dishes.
He’d sometimes get home from work earlier than my mom. Many times, actually. And I have no memory of ever staying hungry, my brothers and I, simply because mom wasn’t home yet.
I hate that 1824 clip. Hate it. I've been struggling to figure out why all day, and it's just hit me. And with this dawning realisation, it transformed into a melange of pity and revulsion.
PART 1: THE PITY.
We're about to go into the 3rd month since the first confirmed covid-19 case in Kenya. Almost immediately, the self-isolation and WFH advisories came into play.
It was fine in the beginning. People became chefs, teachers, philosophers, health experts and more, all at once. Remember back when tissue paper was our primary concern? Ah, the good old days.
It's a scary time. And I don't think I'm alone in that sentiment. Not by a long shot.
[This will be one of my more stream-of-consciousness threads, so stay with me.]
I've lived off my writing in one form or the other for a majority of my adult existence. My second love, photography, last year became just as important to my livelihood as my writing. My rent, my food, my health... All tied to these two loves of mine.
I had contingency upon contingency, constantly alert, constantly evolving, constantly adapting to the reality around me.