is there still any room left for compassion in online African feminist discourse?
this week, a section of feminist twitter was set ablaze in wake of a heated debate about apparent deceptive marriages between homosexual people and heterosexual people. this debate was sparked in light of Philip Schofield coming out as gay, although he’d been married to a heterosexual woman (Stephanie Lowe) for 27 years and had two children from this marriage. Philip Schofield who is an English presenter and co-host of This Morning admitted that he knew he was gay before he married Stephanie Lowe.
naturally, the discussion found its way to a part of African feminist twitter dominated largely by West African feminists. questions about whether it is ethical and/or legitimate for gay men to marry straight women without full disclosure of their sexual identity emerged. was this an act of survival given the institutionalized homophobia in many West African countries? or was this an act of misogyny to emotionally abuse straight women? was this a manifestation of male privilege resulting in unsuspecting women being used as collateral damage? or was this a patriarchal manifestation of marriage as an oppressive institution to invalidate and dehumanize people who are not cisgender heterosexual men? was this an issue of individual harms or a systemic problem and who are the victims - gay men or straight women?
as is oft to happen with social media arguments, the debate quickly became polarized with “one side” mostly consisting of feminists identifying as cisgender and heterosexual, and the “other side” mostly consisting of feminists identifying as members/allies of the LGBTQIA+ community. perhaps this is where the first problem surfaces. i watched with mounting anxiety as the engagement became an “us vs them” combat. this othering of ourselves drew an invisible line between both groups with each group pointing menacing fingers at the other. eventually, the discourse deteriorated into incendiary tirades fueled by righteous indignation. so there we were, trapped in a bubble with ableist slurs, misogynistic taunts and dehumanizing language being thrown around in a cacophony of “unimaginative verbal abuse” (as @OhTimehin described a response to her). a brutal severing of ties ensued and bridges were set on fire as people blocked and unfollowed each other with some making declarations for specific people to never speak to them or engage them ever on the twitter app or in real life, a classic case of “if you see me in town, pass”.
i too wasn’t spared from this violence. i earned a fair share of blocks and unfollows from people whose opinions contrasted with views that i had expressed. i took one of such unfollows personally and it has since made me very reflective about several things. the Unfollow was from someone that i volunteer together with as executive members of a feminist organization that aims to facilitate critical feminist discourse and find a middle ground in moments of disagreement on feminist politics. i percieved this Unfollow as an act of hostility and decided to talk to her about it and bare my feelings about what she had done. she acknowledged my feelings and we took time to really hear each other out until we found common points of agreement. i left that interaction feeling lighter and the rawness from the past few days felt more tranquil.
i wondered if there is any room still left for compassion in online African feminist discourse. surely we must recognize that while the internet has been a useful tool for African women’s liberation, it does also take away from how we talk to and hear each other, especially in moments like these. does the fact that we disagree or are slow to evolve in our politics because we struggle to decentre our individual selves make us lesser as feminists and humans? how do we engage each other in ways that do not dehumanize us and make us feel as though we’re enemies? how do we express dissent while still being respectful of other people and showing kindness towards the experiences which inform what we may perceive as subjective views?
if i am coming across as tone policing, i have no apologies (in the context of this reflection). in fact, i think we should re-evaluate what it means for feminist discourse. yes, people are dying and we don’t have time to be nice to our oppressors. except that we aren’t oppressors in this case. we’re humans who are being marginalized by connected systems of oppression and are trying to save ourselves and the ones we love and consider as our people. do we need to envision collective freedom that is beyond our individual experiences? yes. do we need to come up with and engage in critical structural analysis of liberation? absolutely! because regardless of where we exist at the different intersections of power and privilege, we are still being fucked over on a daily by the patriarchy. and so we need to be on each other’s team. we must talk to, hear and engage one another with radical empathy. and we can do this by acknowledging that our understanding of other people’s realities is limited but we must try our absolute best to meet them where they’re at (or as close as we can get ).
collective care in feminist movement building is not always a kumbaya-sit-around-a-fireplace-laughing moment. sometimes it requires that we do the hard work of building emotional bridges to connect to one another. it is also aftercare from the whiplash of these arguments. how do we acknowledge that we have all come out of a warzone and are feeling raw, heavy, vulnerable and afraid? how do we hold one another and say “whew! that was a rough and dark place. i did not like being there and i don’t want to go there again”? moving forward what can we do collectively to check ourselves when we stop listening and start talking at one another?
i for sure don’t have all the answers but i would very much like to see us practice radical empathy in both online and offline spaces. especially, especially in times when we feel strongly about an issue and feel that we are not being heard.
