Swinging back and forth in the wind, the fuzzy tennis ball taunted them from 15 feet above. Each girl craned her neck and stared disbelievingly at the ball hanging from the tree. Meanwhile, the coordinator explained their group objective, grinning mischievously at each girl who let out an exasperated snort in return. They were supposed to do what? Kiss the ball? What type of camp was this anyhow? But when the whistle was blown, each girl began to examine the situation and each other anew. How could they, a group of 12 teenage Rwandan girls, facilitate success of this mission? After a short consultation, they selected Peace, a petite girl with a short haircut and sassy fashion sense, to be their first guinea pig, slowly lifting her above their heads. She yelped and closed her eyes in mock terror while a handful of girls from below shouted instructions. Trying to rise out of her squat position in the air, Peace suddenly became airborne as the support from below disintegrated, and the girls crumbled into a heap of winces and limbs akimbo.
There was some grumbling. Peace stepped back warily as Grace, a taller teen of similar sassy disposition, stepped forward. This time, those girls who before had contributed half-heartedly with one hand on their hips, sturdily planted their feet and reached up with both hands to support the girl who hovered nearer and nearer the elusive tennis ball. They were so close. Peace shouted advice, and other girls relayed words of encouragement as they pushed forward and Grace lengthened her torso, reaching toward the ball. SMACK. Grace grinned and lifted her arms in triumph while the girls screamed excitedly below. And then they were all the on the ground again, but, this time, as victors. Their smiles broke their faces, and carefully constructed cool posteriors vanished. They had won.
To my mind, this was the turning point of Camp GLOW [Girls Leading Our World]. Randomly assembled girls from all over Rwanda - of different religions, ethnicities, backgrounds, and talents - began to dissolve previously constructed conceptions and view each other anew for their inherent potential and worth. They also conquered a physical representation of the challenges which they will very likely encounter in their journey to become leaders and confident, self-assured women. Throughout the weeklong camp facilitated by myself and other health volunteers, we worked with the 70+ girls to develop communication, team-building, goal-setting, and negotiation skills. We also sought to increase their knowledge with regards to entrepreneurship, career development, and various health topics like nutrition, hygiene, and HIV/AIDS.
It is difficult to quantitatively measure the success of projects like Camp GLOW. Sure, by its conclusion, 70+ girls knew how to properly use a condom and negotiate for its use. This knowledge is wonderful and not to be undervalued; however, I count success in other ways as well. I found it in the desire of one young girl to become a pilot; in the close camaraderie of girls of Hutu and Tutsi decent; in the marked change from whisper to strong, confident speech in one girl; and in the general realization that the glass ceiling in Rwanda needs shattering, and they are the group to do it.
Some might say that women have already broken through the glass ceiling in Rwanda, especially those who measure gender equality by legal rights and political representation. If women divorce their husbands in Rwanda, they are automatically entitled to 50% of their joint assets. This economic safety net provides women with some security and independence if they find themselves in an abusive relationship. But this assumes that all women are aware of this right, which is not always the case. Also, some of you may know that an awesome fifty-six percent of the Rwandan parliament is currently comprised of female MP’s, one of whom came to speak to the girls at Camp GLOW. Moreover, several women occupy positions of authority as cabinet members, and President Kagame has openly committed himself to the issue of girls and women’s empowerment in the country. But, as most women and men admit, this is mostly rhetoric aimed at making the country appear progressive for the benefit of foreign aid. In reality, the vast majority of women in Rwanda remain boxed in, stifled in speech, action, and dream.
Of course, the degree of burden and discrimination varies depending on several factors, including socio-economic class, education, age, location, and even religion. Women of little means in rural areas are taxed the most, charged with a multitude of responsibilities from general cooking, cleaning, and raising of children to production of marketable goods and support of extended family. Often, their husbands “contribute” by spending all available money on beer at the neighborhood bar. I don’t want to say that this situation is the rule, but is not the exception either. Unfortunately, this group of women often has the lowest level of education and is, thus, ill placed to argue for a change in their situation. There are associations and NGO’s aimed at helping and educating women about their legal rights, but they are often located in the larger cities where rural women do not know they exist and, in any case, rarely venture.
Women in urban areas are situated a bit differently. More often than not, they have a higher degree of education. Some have finished secondary school and may have continued their education at one of the colleges in Rwanda or in a neighboring country. At the very least, this grants them a bit more independence and authority in negotiating relationships in addition to aiding them in their employment search. But society does not will them to continue indefinitely in these ventures. Regardless of ambition or potential, marriage is the end goal in this hetero-normative society (homosexuality does not exist according to Rwandans). To be complete, you must have a husband or, conversely, a wife. I have only met a handful of women for whom marriage is not a box on some checklist. Sandrine, a close friend, is engaged to be married, but she has no illusions about her relationship with her fiancée, Patrick. “I know he’s frightened by my independence. He worries that I won’t cook for him once we marry. Maybe I won’t. But I love myself as much as I love him, and he knows that too.”
I stand in awe of Rwandan women most days – their physical and emotional strength. As I huff up a steep hill, they jog past me with a full jerry can on their heads, smiling and greeting the tired muzungu. Which is why I am so frustrated by the situation of most Rwandan women. Their brilliant strength and potential cut off at the knees by the legacies (and present-day realities) of gender-based violence, HIV/AIDS (3.6% women, 2.9% men in Rwanda), and general discrimination. They receive little to no actual encouragement despite the lip service which the government continues to give to the issue of gender parity. I am reminded of two Rwandan beer advertisements which I recently saw. One features a giant beer bottle surging up through concrete and the message, “Turbo King: The mark of a man.” Another advertisement features a suited Rwandan gentleman holding a beer with “The taste of la reussité (success)” next to him. Of course, the underlying message of both ads is that power and success are the domain of men, not women.
It is against this backdrop of such overt misogyny and favoritism that Rwandan women live and fight each day. The government is progressively loosening those ties which keep women strapped down, but it is happening without any concurrent shift in mindset in the general population. Of course, Camp GLOW is a step in the right direction. We must expand the bounds of what is possible for future generations. In this way, we will be able to change Rwandan society’s conception and valuation of women not only as mothers and wives, but also as innovators and sources of novel perspective and strength. However, it is not enough to cheerlead from the sidelines. If Rwanda truly desires parity between men and women, then they must engage and provide women with the tools to do so – employment centers, maternity leave, girl’s education campaigns centered on awareness-raising, college counseling, and halting harassment by teachers.
On the last night of camp, one of the girls in my group approached and asked to speak with me. Diana was one of the more reticent girls in my group, hesitant to offer her opinion and self-conscious about her English vocabulary and accent. But her smart eyes and slow, expansive smile belied a wisdom earned only through experience and the trials of emotion. Sheltering ourselves in a corner, she quickly launched into a mixed French and English account of her specific troubles. She revealed to me that she was an orphan of the genocide and now resided with a catholic nun who was supportive, but could not help her financially. While she had finished secondary school and scored well on exams, she feared her dream of becoming a doctor would never come to fruition because of her financial situation. She understood the necessity of working her way through college; however, she was unsure where to begin her employment search. “I do not want to do prostitution,” she emphasized, but opening her hands and gazing at me searchingly, I knew that the possibility had crossed her mind.
