Women and solidarity

Let me tell you a story from a while back. I had the opportunity to visit a coworker’s mother’s home in a village in Central Africa. Her mother and a few other women were chatting, cooking, laughing all very amicably. The home was warm and welcoming, with plenty of laughter and bonhomie.

It seemed as if all the women lived there. I assumed they were sisters. But my coworker did not call them Tatie (aunt). Instead, she referred to them as Maman, (which is mom, or a term used in Africa, to address women in general).

So I gave up efforts at detective work and asked my coworker who the women were.

“My father’s other wives,” she replied nonchalantly.

I tried to instruct my eyes to not widen (in vain, I’m sure), and sputtered words of confusion despite knowing that polygamy was legal in the country. I probably stared some more and commented on how well they all seemed to get along and how much they seemed to enjoy each other’s company.

“Ah yes. Now that my father is dead. They are the best of friends,” my friend said with a laugh. “You should have seen them before – the backbiting and jealousy…”

I was processing the information, trying to imagine the competition and the back stabbing. Trust a guy to come in between a bunch of perfectly compatible women, thought my naïve 20-something-mind. Naïvete’ apart, I knew it was not purely the man in question; it was a choice the women made.

It is a choice all women make.

A choice to choose something/someone else before the solidarity.
A choice to allow personal insecurities to rule before the solidarity.
A choice to put another woman down before the solidarity.
A choice to back bite, and exaggerate and create camps.

A group of women in harmony can bring so much solidarity and strength to one another. Which is exactly what I saw in this house. My friend commented how she was never worried about her mother since the “other wives” lived with her and would look out for her and look after her.  

Agreed this situation was somewhat extreme, and I cringe at the thought of being in their shoes. So given that most women we know don’t share a husband, is there perfect solidarity? You wish... Like it or not, most women have felt a sense of groundlessness when such solidarity is shattered.

I am surprised to encounter it as I get older. It seems so high schoolish. Interestingly, I eshewed such drama in high school itself. So as with everything, can I ascribe it to low energy and low level of socialization and energy to maintain connections. Who knows. I thought it unlikely I was making any of the above "choices". But I did find another: A choice to close up to not get hurt, before trusting the solidarity.

Hmm… more on that later, I suppose. But fact remains that women can be much strength to one another, as they can be their own undoing.

Interesting how I got thinking of this story in the first place. There was an email thread between a group of friends. I sent a reply (and a funny one, mind you). Only I managed to jumble information from three different emails (that I’d probably read in the same breath). It made no sense.

I realized what I’d done and sent another email saying I had been silly. My friends showed support and kindness in their replies. Ready to laugh it off, I replied (copy/pasting part of the note):

So glad for a supportive group that doesn't judge the ahem... somewhat dubious mental state of some of its members :)
Sigh... And this may not be the last time this happens either... :)

Even if I deflected the matter with humor, I truly appreciated the solidarity. I also knew it was a safe enough place for me to send such a note.

And even if this matter was silly and small enough to not take to the grave, it somehow reminded me of the story from long ago in Africa.


And if you’re reading this, hopefully it may remind you of the strength and support women can find in each other, if we choose to.