The second stereotype
of an African woman is the wild and erotic “Josephine Baker”.* Her whole being is mystical and sexual, and since
sexuality is scary it must be contained.
One of the first things the colonising Europeans did in the 19th
century in many parts of this continent was to impose western, puritan
dresscode on semi-naked tribeswomen.
Nowadays this seems so ridiculous.
The Himba
women, for example, in their traditional outfits are beautiful, but not
particularly erotic. Most modern
Europeans (the same can’t be said for Americans … the nation of the “boobgate”) can tell the difference
between nudity and sexuality.
I began to get an idea
of the power and scariness of the Josephine Baker, though, when I spent just
over a month frequenting a Windhoek gym.
Again, this is not “Africa”, it is just Windhoek, but there were women
from different tribes, of different ages, shapes and sizes there. They all appeared to have one thing in common,
though: they were admirably at ease with themselves. The whole atmosphere in the changing room was
just very different to what I have seen and experienced in any part of
Europe. The self-consciousness that a
white woman does not seem to be able to escape was almost entirely lacking. So I began to think that the power of
Josephine Baker has nothing to do with sex and everything to do with self-confidence.
I wondered why that
was. We are supposed to be more
emancipated and aware of our rights in the North. Yet the bombardment of images of how we
should look like – and do not look like – is so relentless that it it nearly
impossible not to be self-aware, and consequently ashamed of our imperfect
bodies.
The tabloid press is a
lot less developed in the parts of Africa I’ve been to. The images of perfect women that ARE
portrayed are likely to come from Hollywood, where the pictures are either
those of white women or of black women whose beauty adheres very closely to
white standards (think Beyoncé or Halle Berry).
Maybe this has less of an impact on the self-confidence of a woman who
just looks very different. Recently the
standards of beauty have been ever so slightly relaxing, when women like Lupita
Nyong’o have entered the common consciousness.
Ms Nyong’o is strikingly beautiful.
However, her beauty is of such different kind to what I could ever be
that I can just admire it, without her images on some sub-conscious level
chipping away at my confidence.
So maybe that is
partly it. While women in many African
cultures are traditionally supposed to be less assertive, and subject to male
authority, once they can break away from that and enter the public sphere, they
do so with confidence in themselves that is not constantly being undermined by
a bombardment of insidious messages of how inadequate they are physically, and
how important it is to be physically more adequate. Hence they are less held back, less
apologetic of who they are and what they are capable of.
I therefore have come
to think, tentatively, that Josephine Baker is in fact Mama Africa. They are the two sides of the same confident
coin. I have also come to appreciate my
time at the gym changing room. Comments
about time spent looking at other people at the gym changing room can come out
the wrong way, but even at the risk of that I must conclude that I hope some of
the chuzpah those ladies had rubbed off on me!
*Yes, I know Ms Baker
was not from any part of Africa, but French-American. Her “brand” is fitting for this post, though.
