Denying The Possibility Of Possibilities: What Women Can Be In The Writings Of Men.
Kenyatta's text was one that sparked a lot of rage when I was reading it. However, accompanying that rage was an uneasy feeling of agreement- one that was quite unsettling. I could see why FGM was "necessary" for the community of Gikuyu. The entire cosmos of the community, their conception of time depended on the circumcision of both boys and girls. The author was stern in how the act was not barbaric and detailed the care that was given to the girls during this initiation process. Moreover, another aspect was that the text assumed that the girls readily consented -that they were fully prepared and accepting of the process.
I was quite unsettled by this idea: the idea that in a community where this practice had apparently been done since eons had little to no variation and was an accepted norm with no contestation whatsoever. Of course, the text was written by a man and hence everything had to be taken with a grain of salt. The women, whose bodies were the literal carriers of culture and tradition, were mere props that the men had to argue for practices that were "traditional" and "essential". That was one way to understand Kenyatta's text. But it raised the question of continuity for me: how do we understand traditions that not only have the justifications for such violent and barbaric practices but consider them the most essential feature of a tradition? How do we see conceptualize their future? If violence on the bodies of women is the essence of a tradition, do we discard it? Do we look at who is missing from the narrative?
The entire reading made me think of Kierkegaard's conception of anxiety. For the existentialist philosopher, the essence of human is not static. For Kierkegaard, a person is always in the process of becoming. An essential feature of existing is anxiety. Anxiety for him is not the way we understand it, but is characterized by his famous poetic sentence: It is the possibility of possibilities. Say for example, a man is standing at the edge of a cliff. He is fully sane and knows that he will not jump. But just the idea, the possibility that he can jump invokes a certain response: he is both excited and fearful. The feeling is to confront the possibility that while a person is bound by certain unchangeable features such as the skin of one's color or where they are born, there are still possibilities, insane or completely nonsensical that one can entertain! The very of thinking of these possibilities is one of the things that makes us human.
What is tradition if it does not allow for a human to be a human, and not just a prop? Kierkegaard's concept of anxiety made me realize the foremost transgression of Kenyatta, one that is not only -frankly- outrageous but also is counterproductive to what he is trying to do. To base the essence of a tradition on a practice is to immortalize its essence. But it also denies the possibility of being human to half or more than half of its people: its women. The same group through which possibility of possibilities opens: what can it mean to be from Gikuyu if FGM is discarded as a practice? What will be the new modes of remembrance? What will the tradition look like? Such considerations is to breathe life in not just the women of the tradition, but also in the tradition itself. That to me, is another task of decolonization. It is to discard the essentialist, stuck in time and relying on unchanged practices sort of idea of tradition for one that is dynamic and able to respond to change. And such response means to have dudes not writing about how important FGM is, but to have the women of that tradition contest, debate on it and see how important it is.
I was quite unsettled by this idea: the idea that in a community where this practice had apparently been done since eons had little to no variation and was an accepted norm with no contestation whatsoever. Of course, the text was written by a man and hence everything had to be taken with a grain of salt. The women, whose bodies were the literal carriers of culture and tradition, were mere props that the men had to argue for practices that were "traditional" and "essential". That was one way to understand Kenyatta's text. But it raised the question of continuity for me: how do we understand traditions that not only have the justifications for such violent and barbaric practices but consider them the most essential feature of a tradition? How do we see conceptualize their future? If violence on the bodies of women is the essence of a tradition, do we discard it? Do we look at who is missing from the narrative?
The entire reading made me think of Kierkegaard's conception of anxiety. For the existentialist philosopher, the essence of human is not static. For Kierkegaard, a person is always in the process of becoming. An essential feature of existing is anxiety. Anxiety for him is not the way we understand it, but is characterized by his famous poetic sentence: It is the possibility of possibilities. Say for example, a man is standing at the edge of a cliff. He is fully sane and knows that he will not jump. But just the idea, the possibility that he can jump invokes a certain response: he is both excited and fearful. The feeling is to confront the possibility that while a person is bound by certain unchangeable features such as the skin of one's color or where they are born, there are still possibilities, insane or completely nonsensical that one can entertain! The very of thinking of these possibilities is one of the things that makes us human.
What is tradition if it does not allow for a human to be a human, and not just a prop? Kierkegaard's concept of anxiety made me realize the foremost transgression of Kenyatta, one that is not only -frankly- outrageous but also is counterproductive to what he is trying to do. To base the essence of a tradition on a practice is to immortalize its essence. But it also denies the possibility of being human to half or more than half of its people: its women. The same group through which possibility of possibilities opens: what can it mean to be from Gikuyu if FGM is discarded as a practice? What will be the new modes of remembrance? What will the tradition look like? Such considerations is to breathe life in not just the women of the tradition, but also in the tradition itself. That to me, is another task of decolonization. It is to discard the essentialist, stuck in time and relying on unchanged practices sort of idea of tradition for one that is dynamic and able to respond to change. And such response means to have dudes not writing about how important FGM is, but to have the women of that tradition contest, debate on it and see how important it is.
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