So I would like to start by telling you about one of my greatest friends, Okoloma Maduewesi. Okoloma lived on my street and looked after me like a big brother. If I liked a boy, I would ask Okoloma's opinion. Okoloma died in the notorious Sosoliso plane crash in Nigeria in December of 2005. Almost exactly seven years ago. Okoloma was a person I could argue with, laugh with and truly talk to. He was also the first person to call me a feminist.
Želela bih da počnem pričom o jednom od mojih najboljih prijatelja, Okolomi Maduevesi. Okoloma je živeo u mojoj ulici i brinuo se o meni kao stariji brat. Ako mi se svidjao neki dečak, pitala bih Okolomu za mišljenje. Okoloma je poginuo u čuvenoj avionskoj nesreći Sosolisa u Nigeriji decembra 2005. godine. Pre skoro tačno sedam godina. Okoloma je bio osoba sa kojom sam mogla da se svađam, smejem i zaista razgovaram. On je bio i prva osoba koja me je nazvala feministkinjom.
I was about fourteen, we were at his house, arguing. Both of us bristling with half bit knowledge from books that we had read. I don't remember what this particular argument was about, but I remember that as I argued and argued, Okoloma looked at me and said, "You know, you're a feminist." It was not a compliment.
Imala sam oko 14 godina, bili smo u njegovoj kući i svađali se. Oboje puni poluznanja iz knjiga koje smo čitali. Ne sećam se o čemu je ova rasprava bila, ali se sećam da me je, dok sam se svađala i svađala, Okoloma pogledao i rekao mi: „Znaš, ti si feministkinja.“ To nije bio kompliment.
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
I could tell from his tone, the same tone that you would use to say something like, "You're a supporter of terrorism."
Mogla sam da zaključim po njegovom tonu, istom onom tonu koji biste koristili da kažete: „Ti podržavaš terorizam.“
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
I did not know exactly what this word "feminist" meant, and I did not want Okoloma to know that I did not know. So I brushed it aside, and I continued to argue. And the first thing I planned to do when I got home was to look up the word "feminist" in the dictionary.
Nisam tačno znala šta znači reč „feministkinja“, a nisam htela da Okoloma zna da ne znam. Zanemarila sam to i nastavila da se svađam. Prvo što sam planirala da uradim kad dođem kući bilo je da potražim reč „feministkinja“ u rečniku.
Now fast forward to some years later, I wrote a novel about a man who among other things beats his wife and whose story doesn't end very well. While I was promoting the novel in Nigeria, a journalist, a nice, well-meaning man, told me he wanted to advise me. And for the Nigerians here, I'm sure we're all familiar with how quick our people are to give unsolicited advice. He told me that people were saying that my novel was feminist and his advice to me -- and he was shaking his head sadly as he spoke -- was that I should never call myself a feminist because feminists are women who are unhappy because they cannot find husbands.
Nekoliko godina kasnije, napisala sam roman o čoveku koji, između ostalog, bije svoju ženu i čija priča se ne završava dobro. Dok sam promovisala roman u Nigeriji, jedan novinar, fini čovek sa dobrim namerama, rekao mi je da želi da me posavetuje. Ko je Nigerijac ovde, sigurna sam da zna koliko su ljudi rado spremni da daju savete koje im niko ne traži. Rekao mi je kako ljudi pričaju da je moj roman feministički i njegov savet meni - a klimao je glavom tužno dok je pričao - bio je da ne treba da nazivam sebe feministkinjom zato što su to žene koje su nesrećne jer ne mogu da nađu muža.
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
So I decided to call myself "a happy feminist." Then an academic, a Nigerian woman told me that feminism was not our culture and that feminism wasn't African, and that I was calling myself a feminist because I had been corrupted by "Western books." Which amused me, because a lot of my early readings were decidedly unfeminist. I think I must have read every single Mills & Boon romance published before I was sixteen. And each time I tried to read those books called "the feminist classics," I'd get bored, and I really struggled to finish them. But anyway, since feminism was un-African, I decided that I would now call myself "a happy African feminist." At some point I was a happy African feminist who does not hate men and who likes lip gloss and who wears high heels for herself but not for men.
Tako da sam rešila da nazovem sebe „srećnom feministkinjom“. Potom mi je jedna školovana Nigerijka rekla da feminizam nije u našoj kulturi, da feminizam nije afrički, i da ja nazivam sebe feministkinjom zato što su me zavele „zapadnjačke knjige“. Što me je zabavljalo, zato što su mnoge od mojih prvih knjiga bile izričito nefeminističke. Mislim da sam pročitala sve romane izdanja Mils i Bun koji su izdati pre nego što sam napunila 16 godina. Svaki put kada sam pokušala da pročitam knjige koje nazivaju „feminističkim klasicima“, bilo mi je dosadno, i mučila bih se da ih dovršim. U svakom slučaju, pošto feminizam nije bio afrički, rešila sam da se sada nazivam „srećnom afričkom feministkinjom“. U nekom trenutku, bila sam srećna afrička feministkinja koja ne mrzi muškarce, koja voli sjaj za usne i koja nosi štikle zbog sebe, a ne zbog muškaraca.
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
Of course a lot of this was tongue-in-cheek, but that word feminist is so heavy with baggage, negative baggage. You hate men, you hate bras, you hate African culture, that sort of thing.
Naravno, sve ovo je bilo šaljivo, ali ta reč feministkinja ide sa toliko tereta, negativnog tereta. Mrziš muškarce, mrziš bruseve, mrziš afričku kulturu, i slično tome.
Now here's a story from my childhood. When I was in primary school, my teacher said at the beginning of term that she would give the class a test and whoever got the highest score would be the class monitor. Now, class monitor was a big deal. If you were a class monitor, you got to write down the names of noisemakers --
A evo moje priče iz detinjstva. Kada sam bila u osnovnoj školi, moja nastavnica je na početku polugodišta rekla da će dati test razredu i onaj ko bude imao najbolji rezultat biće kontrolor razreda. A biti kontrolor razreda je bila velika stvar. Kada si kontrolor razreda, treba da zapisuješ imena onih koji prave nered -
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
which was having enough power of its own. But my teacher would also give you a cane to hold in your hand while you walk around and patrol the class for noisemakers. Now, of course you were not actually allowed to use the cane. But it was an exciting prospect for the nine-year-old me. I very much wanted to be the class monitor. And I got the highest score on the test. Then, to my surprise, my teacher said that the monitor had to be a boy. She had forgotten to make that clear earlier because she assumed it was ... obvious.
što je imalo svojih čari. Ali nastavnica bi ti takođe dala da držiš štap u ruci dok se šetaš okolo i nadgledaš one koji prave nered u razredu. Naravno, nije bilo dozvoljeno koristiti štap. Ali to je bio uzbudljiva prilika za mene sa devet godina. Veoma sam želela da budem kontrolor razreda i dobila sam najbolji rezultat na testu. Tada je, na moje iznenađenje, nastavnica rekla da kontrolor mora da bude dečak. Zaboravila je da to razjasni ranije jer je pretpostavila da je to očigledno.
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
A boy had the second highest score on the test, and he would be monitor. Now, what was even more interesting about this is that the boy was a sweet, gentle soul who had no interest in patrolling the class with the cane, while I was full of ambition to do so. But I was female and he was male, and so he became the class monitor. And I've never forgotten that incident.
Drugi najbolji rezultat na testu je imao dečak, i on bi bio kontrolor. Ono što je bilo još interesantnije je da je dečak bio nežna duša i nije bio zainteresovan da nadgleda razred sa štapom, dok sam ja bila puna ambicije da to radim. Ali bila sam žensko, a on je bio muško, pa je postao kontrolor razreda. Nikad nisam zaboravila ovu situaciju.
I often make the mistake of thinking that something that is obvious to me is just as obvious to everyone else. Now, take my dear friend Louis for example. Louis is a brilliant, progressive man, and we would have conversations and he would tell me, "I don't know what you mean by things being different or harder for women. Maybe in the past, but not now." And I didn't understand how Louis could not see what seems so self-evident. Then one evening, in Lagos, Louis and I went out with friends. And for people here who are not familiar with Lagos, there's that wonderful Lagos' fixture, the sprinkling of energetic men who hang around outside establishments and very dramatically "help" you park your car. I was impressed with the particular theatrics of the man who found us a parking spot that evening. And so as we were leaving, I decided to leave him a tip. I opened my bag, put my hand inside my bag, brought out my money that I had earned from doing my work, and I gave it to the man. And he, this man who was very grateful and very happy, took the money from me, looked across at Louis and said, "Thank you, sir!"
Često grešim kada mislim da je nešto što je očigledno meni isto tako očigledno i drugima. Uzmimo za primer mog dobrog prijatelja Luija. Lui je sjajan čovek naprednih shvatanja, a kada bismo razgovorali, rekao bi mi: „Ne znam šta tačno misliš kada kažeš da je drugačije ili teže ženama. Možda u prošlosti, ali ne sada.“ Nisam razumela kako Lui ne vidi ono što je tako očigledno. Onda smo jedne večeri, u Lagosu, Lui i ja izašli sa prijateljima. Za ljude koji ne znaju puno o Lagosu, postoji ta divna karakteristika Lagosa, razbacani ljudi punih energije koji bleje izvan ustanova i na veoma dramatičan način vam pomažu da parkirate kola. Bila sam impresionirana naročitim teatralnim nastupom čoveka koji nam je našao mesto za parkiranje te večeri. Tako da, kad smo izlazili, odlučila sam da mu dam bakšiš. Otvorila sam torbu, gurnula ruku, izvukla novac koji sam zaradila radeći moj posao, i dala ga tom čoveku. A on, ovaj čovek koji je bio veoma zahvalan i srećan, uzeo je novac od mene, pogledao je u Luija i rekao: „Hvala, gospodine!“
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
Louis looked at me, surprised, and asked, "Why is he thanking me? I didn't give him the money." Then I saw realization dawn on Louis' face. The man believed that whatever money I had had ultimately come from Louis. Because Louis is a man.
Lui me je pogledao iznenađeno i upitao me: „Zašto se meni zahvaljuje? Ja mu nisam dao novac.“ Tada je Lui počeo da shvata. Čovek je mislio da je novac koji sam imala ipak došao od Luija. Zato što je Lui muškarac.
Men and women are different. We have different hormones, we have different sexual organs, we have different biological abilities. Women can have babies, men can't. At least not yet.
Muškarci i žene su različiti. Imamo drugačije hormone, imamo drugačije seksualne organe, imamo drugačije biološke sposobnosti. Žene mogu da rode decu, muškarci ne. Bar ne još uvek.
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
Men have testosterone and are in general physically stronger than women. There's slightly more women than men in the world, about 52 percent of the world's population is female. But most of the positions of power and prestige are occupied by men. The late Kenyan Nobel Peace laureate, Wangari Maathai, put it simply and well when she said: "The higher you go, the fewer women there are." In the recent US elections we kept hearing of the Lilly Ledbetter law, and if we go beyond the nicely alliterative name of that law, it was really about a man and a woman doing the same job, being equally qualified, and the man being paid more because he's a man.
Muškarci imaju testosteron i uopšte su fizički jači od žena. Postoji malo više žena nego muškaraca na svetu, oko 52% svetske populacije su žene. Ali muškarci zauzimaju većinu pozicija moći i statusa. Pokojna kenijska dobitnica Nobelove nagrade za mir, Vangari Matai, je to jednostavno opisala kada je rekla: „Kako se penješ ka vrhu, tamo je sve manje žena.“ U skorašnjim američkim izborima, sve vreme smo slušali o zakonu Lili Ledbeter, i ako zanemarimo lepo, zvučno ime ovog zakona, tu se zapravo radilo o muškarcu i ženi koji rade isti posao, isto su kvalifikovani, a muškarac je plaćen više, zato što je muškarac.
So in the literal way, men rule the world, and this made sense a thousand years ago because human beings lived then in a world in which physical strength was the most important attribute for survival. The physically stronger person was more likely to lead, and men, in general, are physically stronger. Of course there are many exceptions.
Tako da, u bukvalnom smislu, muškarci vladaju svetom, i ovo je imalo smisla pre hiljadu godina jer su ljudska bića tada živela u svetu u kome je fizička snaga bila najvažnija karakteristika za opstanak. Veći izgledi su bili da će fizički jača osoba da bude vođa, a generalno gledano, muškarci su fizički jači. Naravno, ima dosta izuzetaka.
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
But today we live in a vastly different world. The person more likely to lead is not the physically stronger person; it is the more creative person, the more intelligent person, the more innovative person, and there are no hormones for those attributes. A man is as likely as a woman to be intelligent, to be creative, to be innovative. We have evolved; but it seems to me that our ideas of gender had not evolved.
Ali danas živimo u potpuno drugačijem svetu. Veći su izgledi da vođa bude ne fizički jača, već kreativnija, inteligentnija, inovativnija osoba, a ne postoje hormoni za te osobine. Muškarac može biti inteligentan, kreativan i inovativan kao i žena. Evoluirali smo, ali mi se čini da naše ideje o polu nisu.
Some weeks ago, I walked into a lobby of one of the best Nigerian hotels. I thought about naming the hotel, but I thought I probably shouldn't. And a guard at the entrance stopped me and asked me annoying questions, because their automatic assumption is that a Nigerian female walking into a hotel alone is a sex worker. And by the way, why do these hotels focus on the ostensible supply rather than the demand for sex workers? In Lagos I cannot go alone into many "reputable" bars and clubs. They just don't let you in if you're a woman alone, you have to be accompanied by a man. Each time I walk into a Nigerian restaurant with a man, the waiter greets the man and ignores me. The waiters are products --
Pre nekoliko nedelja, ušetala sam u foaje jednog od najboljih nigerijskih hotela. Razmišljala sam da kažem ime hotela, ali shvatila sam da ne treba to da uradim. Stražar na vratima me je zaustavio i postavljao mi neprijatna pitanja, zato što automatski pretpostavljaju da je Nigerijka koja ulazi u hotel sama seksualna radnica. A uzgred, zašto se ovi hoteli usredsređuju na navodnu ponudu, a ne na potražnju za seksualnim radnicama? U Lagosu, ja ne mogu da idem sama u mnoge „ugledne“ barove i klubove. Jednostavno te ne puštaju ako si žena i sama, moraš da budeš u pratnji muškarca. Svaki put kada uđem u nigerijski restoran sa nekim muškarcem, konobar pozdravi njega i ignoriše mene. Konobari su proizvod -
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
At this some women felt like, "Yes! I thought that!" The waiters are products of a society that has taught them that men are more important than women. And I know that waiters don't intend any harm. But it's one thing to know intellectually and quite another to feel it emotionally. Each time they ignore me, I feel invisible. I feel upset. I want to tell them that I am just as human as the man, that I'm just as worthy of acknowledgment. These are little things, but sometimes it's the little things that sting the most.
Na ovo su neke žene pomislile: „Da! To sam mislila!“ Konobari su proizvod društva koje ih uči da su muškarci važniji od žena. Znam da konobari nemaju lošu nameru, ali jedno je znati to intelektualno, a sasvim drugo osećati emocionalno. Svaki put kada me ignorišu, osećam se nevidljivo, osećam se uzrujano. Želim da im kažem da sam ja isto toliko ljudsko biće kao i muškarac, da sam isto toliko vredna priznanja. Ovo su male stvari, ali ponekad male stvari bole najviše.
And not long ago, I wrote an article about what it means to be young and female in Lagos, and the printers told me, "It was so angry." Of course it was angry!
Ne tako davno, napisala sam članak o tome šta znači biti mlada žena u Lagosu, i jedan poznanik mi je rekao: „Toliko je ljutito.“ Naravno da je ljutito.
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
I am angry. Gender as it functions today is a grave injustice. We should all be angry. Anger has a long history of bringing about positive change; but, in addition to being angry, I'm also hopeful. Because I believe deeply in the ability of human beings to make and remake themselves for the better.
Ja jesam ljuta. Pol ovako kako funkcioniše danas je ozbiljna nepravda. Svi bismo trebali da budemo ljuti. Ljutnja ima dugu istoriju donošenja pozitivnih promena; ali, pored toga što sam ljuta, takođe imam i nadu. Zato što duboko verujem u sposobnost ljudskih bića da učine sebe boljim i poprave sebe nabolje.
Gender matters everywhere in the world, but I want to focus on Nigeria and on Africa in general, because it is where I know, and because it is where my heart is. And I would like today to ask that we begin to dream about and plan for a different world, a fairer world, a world of happier men and happier women who are truer to themselves. And this is how to start: we must raise our daughters differently. We must also raise our sons differently. We do a great disservice to boys on how we raise them; we stifle the humanity of boys. We define masculinity in a very narrow way, masculinity becomes this hard, small cage and we put boys inside the cage. We teach boys to be afraid of fear. We teach boys to be afraid of weakness, of vulnerability. We teach them to mask their true selves, because they have to be, in Nigerian speak, "hard man!" In secondary school, a boy and a girl, both of them teenagers, both of them with the same amount of pocket money, would go out and then the boy would be expected always to pay, to prove his masculinity. And yet we wonder why boys are more likely to steal money from their parents.
Pol je važan svuda u svetu, ali želim da se usredsredim na Nigeriju i Afriku uopšteno, zato što je to ono što poznajem, i ono gde je moje srce. Želim da zatražim danas da počnemo da sanjamo i planiramo drugačiji svet, pravedniji svet, svet srećnijih muškaraca i srećnijih žena koji će više biti ono što zapravo jesu. A počećemo ovako: Moramo da vaspitavamo svoje ćerke drugačije. Moramo da vaspitavamo i svoje sinove drugačije. Činimo lošu uslugu dečacima načinom na koji ih vaspitavamo; gušimo humanost dečaka. Definišemo muškost na skučen način. Muškost postaje jedan čvrst, mali kavez, i stavljamo dečake unutar tog kaveza. Učimo dečake da se plaše straha. Učimo dečake da se plaše slabosti, ranjivosti. Učimo ih da maskiraju svoju pravu prirodu, zato što moraju da budu, nigerijski rečeno, „jaki muškarci“. U srednjoj školi, dečak i devojčica, oboje tinejdžeri, sa istim džeparcem, izašli bi i uvek bi se od dečaka očekivalo da plati, da dokaže svoju muškost. A onda se pitamo zašto će dečaci pre da ukradu novac od roditelja.
What if both boys and girls were raised not to link masculinity with money? What if the attitude was not "the boy has to pay" but rather "whoever has more should pay?" Now, of course because of that historical advantage, it is mostly men who will have more today, but if we start raising children differently, then in fifty years, in a hundred years, boys will no longer have the pressure of having to prove this masculinity. But by far the worst thing we do to males, by making them feel that they have to be hard, is that we leave them with very fragile egos. The more "hard man" the man feels compelled to be, the weaker his ego is. And then we do a much greater disservice to girls because we raise them to cater to the fragile egos of men. We teach girls to shrink themselves, to make themselves smaller, we say to girls, "You can have ambition, but not too much."
Šta ako bi i dečaci i devojčice bili vaspitani tako da ne povezuju muškost sa novcem? Šta ako stav ne bi bio „dečak mora da plati“ već „ko god ima više novca treba da plati?“ Naravno, zbog te istorijske prednosti, danas će pre muškarci i imati više, ali ako počnemo da vaspitavamo decu drugačije, onda za pedeset, sto godina, dečaci više neće imati taj pritisak da moraju da dokažu muškost na taj način. Ali ubedljivo najgora stvar koju učinimo muškarcima, primoravajući ih da osećaju da moraju da budu jaki, je to da ih ostavimo sa veoma slabim egom. Što više muškarac oseća da mora da bude „jak muškarac“, njegov ego postaje slabiji. A onda činimo još goru uslugu devojčicama jer ih vaspitavamo da udovoljavaju slabom egu muškarca. Učimo devojčice da se ustežu, da umanjuju sebe. Kažemo devojčicama: „Možeš da imaš ambicije, ali ne previše.“
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
"You should aim to be successful, but not too successful, otherwise you would threaten the man." If you are the breadwinner in your relationship with a man, you have to pretend that you're not, especially in public, otherwise you will emasculate him.
„Treba da težiš tome da budeš uspešna, ali ne previše uspešna, u suprotnom, bićeš pretnja muškarcu.“ Ako ti donosiš novac u vezi sa muškarcem, treba da se pretvaraš da nije tako, posebno u javnosti, u suprotnom, oduzećeš mu muškost.
But what if we question the premise itself? Why should a woman's success be a threat to a man? What if we decide to simply dispose of that word, and I don't think there's an English word I dislike more than "emasculation." A Nigerian acquaintance once asked me if I was worried that men would be intimidated by me. I was not worried at all. In fact, it had not occurred to me to be worried because a man who would be intimidated by me is exactly the kind of man I would have no interest in.
Ali, šta ako preispitamo samu tu pretpostavku? Zašto bi uspeh žene bio pretnja muškarcu? Šta ako odlučimo da jednostavno odbacimo taj izraz, a mislim da ne postoji izraz koji više mrzim od „oduzimanja muškosti“. Jedan nigerijski poznanik me je jednom pitao da li sam zabrinuta da bi muškarci mogli da me se plaše. Nisam uopšte bila zabrinuta. Tačnije, nije mi padalo na pamet da budem zabrinuta zato što muškarac koji bi mogao da me se plaši je upravo onaj muškarac za kog ja nisam zainteresovana.
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
(Applause)
(Aplauz)
But still I was really struck by this. Because I'm female, I'm expected to aspire to marriage; I'm expected to make my life choices always keeping in mind that marriage is the most important. A marriage can be a good thing; it can be a source of joy and love and mutual support. But why do we teach girls to aspire to marriage and we don't teach boys the same?
Ipak, bila sam zatečena ovim. Zato što sam žensko, od mene se očekuje da težim braku. Očekuje se da donosim svoje životne odluke uvek imajući u vidu da je brak najvažniji. Brak može biti dobra stvar; on može biti izvor radosti, ljubavi i uzajamne podrške. Ali zašto učimo devojčice da teže braku, a ne učimo dečake to isto?
I know a woman who decided to sell her house because she didn't want to intimidate a man who might marry her. I know an unmarried woman in Nigeria who, when she goes to conferences, wears a wedding ring because according to her, she wants the other participants in the conference to "give her respect." I know young women who are under so much pressure from family, from friends, even from work to get married, and they're pushed to make terrible choices. A woman at a certain age who is unmarried, our society teaches her to see it as a deep, personal failure. And a man at a certain age who is unmarried, we just think he hasn't come around to making his pick.
Poznajem ženu koja je odlučila da proda kuću jer nije želela da uplaši muškarca koji bi je mogao oženiti. Poznajem neudatu ženu u Nigeriji koja, kada ide na konferencije, nosi burmu jer, kako kaže, želi da joj drugi učesnici konferencije „ukažu poštovanje“. Poznajem mlade žene koje su pod tolikim pritiskom od strane porodice, prijatelja, čak i na poslu, da se udaju, da su primorane da naprave užasne izbore. Ženu u određenim godinama koja je neudata naše društvo uči da to vidi kao veliki, lični neuspeh. A za muškarca u određenim godinama koji je neoženjen jednostavno mislimo da nije stigao da napravi izbor.
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
It's easy for us to say, "Oh, but women can just say no to all of this." But the reality is more difficult and more complex. We're all social beings. We internalize ideas from our socialization. Even the language we use in talking about marriage and relationships illustrates this. The language of marriage is often the language of ownership rather than the language of partnership. We use the word "respect" to mean something a woman shows a man but often not something a man shows a woman.
Lako je reći: „Da, ali žene mogu da kažu 'ne' svemu ovome.“ Ali realnost je teža i komplikovanija. Svi smo mi društvena bića. Usvajamo ideje iz naše socijalizacije. Čak i rečnik koji koristimo kada govorimo o braku i vezama, pokazuje ovo. Rečnik braka je često rečnik posedovanja, pre nego rečnik partnerstva. Koristimo reč „poštovanje“ kada mislimo na nešto što žena ukazuje muškarcu, ali često ne kao nešto što muškarac pokazuje ženi.
Both men and women in Nigeria will say -- this is an expression I'm very amused by -- "I did it for peace in my marriage." Now, when men say it, it is usually about something that they should not be doing anyway.
Muškarci i žene u Nigeriji bi rekli - ovo je izraz koji me veoma zabavlja - „Uradio sam to zbog mira u braku.“ Kada muškarci to kažu, to je obično nešto što ionako ne bi trebali da rade.
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
Sometimes they say it to their friends, it's something to say to their friends in a kind of fondly exasperated way, you know, something that ultimately proves how masculine they are, how needed, how loved. "Oh, my wife said I can't go to the club every night, so for peace in my marriage, I do it only on weekends."
Ponekad to kažu svojim prijateljima, to je nešto što kažu prijateljima na neki nežno ogorčeni način. Znate, nešto što konačno dokazuje koliko su muževni, potrebni, voljeni. „Moja žena kaže da ne mogu da idem u klub svake noći, tako da, zbog mira u braku, idem samo vikendom.“
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
Now, when a woman says, "I did it for peace in my marriage," she's usually talking about giving up a job, a dream, a career. We teach females that in relationships, compromise is what women do. We raise girls to see each other as competitors -- not for jobs or for accomplishments, which I think can be a good thing, but for attention of men. We teach girls that they cannot be sexual beings in the way that boys are. If we have sons, we don't mind knowing about our sons' girlfriends. But our daughters' boyfriends? God forbid.
A kada žena kaže: „Uradila sam to zbog mira u braku“, ona obično priča o odricanju od posla, sna, karijere. Učimo žene da je u vezi kompromis ono što je svojstveno ženama. Podižemo devojčice da gledaju jedna na drugu kao na konkurenciju - ne u poslu ili u dostignućima, što mislim da može da bude dobra stvar, već u pogledu pažnje muškaraca. Učimo devojčice da ne mogu da budu seksualna bića na isti način kao i dečaci. Ako imamo sinove, ne smeta nam da znamo o njegovim devojkama. Ali momci naših ćerki? Bože sačuvaj.
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
But of course when the time is right, we expect those girls to bring back the perfect man to be their husbands. We police girls, we praise girls for virginity, but we don't praise boys for virginity, and it's always made me wonder how exactly this is supposed to work out because ...
Ali, naravno, u pravo vreme, očekujemo od tih devojčica da dovedu pravog muškarca koji će biti njihov muž. Nadgledamo devojčice, veličamo ih zbog nevinosti, ali ne veličamo dečake zbog nevinosti, a uvek sam se pitala kako tačno to treba da funkcioniše zato što...
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
(Applause)
(Aplauz)
I mean, the loss of virginity is usually a process that involves ...
Mislim, gubljenje nevinosti je obično proces koji uključuje...
Recently a young woman was gang raped in a university in Nigeria, I think some of us know about that. And the response of many young Nigerians, both male and female, was something along the lines of this: "Yes, rape is wrong. But what is a girl doing in a room with four boys?" Now, if we can forget the horrible inhumanity of that response, these Nigerians have been raised to think of women as inherently guilty, and they have been raised to expect so little of men that the idea of men as savage beings without any control is somehow acceptable. We teach girls shame. "Close your legs." "Cover yourself." We make them feel as though by being born female they're already guilty of something. And so, girls grow up to be women who cannot see they have desire. They grow up to be women who silence themselves. They grow up to be women who cannot say what they truly think, and they grow up -- and this is the worst thing we did to girls -- they grow up to be women who have turned pretense into an art form.
Skoro je jedna mlada žena višestruko silovana na univerzitetu u Nigeriji; mislim da neki znaju za to. Odgovor mnogih mladih Nigerijaca, i muškaraca i žena, je bio nešto slično ovome: „Da, silovanje je pogrešno. Ali šta jedna devojčica radi u sobi sa četiri dečaka?“ Ukoliko zanemarimo užasnu nehumanost takve reakcije, ovi Nigerijci su podizani tako da misle o ženi kao suštinski krivoj, i podizani su da očekuju toliko malo od muškaraca da je ideja o muškarcima kao divljacima, bez ikakve kontrole, nekako prihvatljiva. Učimo devojčice da se stide. „Skupi noge.“ „Pokrij se.“ Činimo da se osećaju kao da su, samim tim što su ženskog pola, već krive za nešto. Tako da devojčice porastu u žene koje ne vide da imaju želje. Porastu u žene koje ućutkuju same sebe. Porastu u žene koje ne mogu da kažu šta zaista misle, i porastu - to je najgora stvar koju učinimo devojčicama - porastu u žene koje od pretvaranja naprave umetnost.
(Applause)
(Aplauz)
I know a woman who hates domestic work, she just hates it, but she pretends that she likes it, because she's been taught that to be "good wife material" she has to be -- to use that Nigerian word -- very "homely." And then she got married, and after a while her husband's family began to complain that she had changed.
Poznajem ženu koja mrzi kućne poslove, jednostavno ih mrzi, ali se pretvara da ih voli, zato što je naučila da, da bi bila „dobar materijal za udaju“, ona mora da bude - da upotrebim tu nigerijsku reč - dobra „domaćica“. A onda se udala, i nakon nekog vremena porodica njenog muža počela je da se žali kako se promenila.
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
Actually, she had not changed, she just got tired of pretending.
Zapravo, ona se nije promenila, samo se umorila od pretvaranja.
The problem with gender, is that it prescribes how we should be rather than recognizing how we are.
Problem sa polom je da on propisuje kakvi treba da budemo umesto da prepozna kakvi jesmo.
Now imagine how much happier we would be, how much freer to be our true individual selves, if we didn't have the weight of gender expectations. Boys and girls are undeniably different biologically, but socialization exaggerates the differences and then it becomes a self-fulfilling process. Now, take cooking for example. Today women in general are more likely to do the housework than men, the cooking and cleaning. But why is that? Is it because women are born with a cooking gene?
Zamislite koliko bismo bili srećniji, slobodniji da budemo ono što zaista jesmo, kada ne bismo imali taj teret u vidu očekivanja od pola. Dečaci i devojčice se, neosporno, biološki razlikuju, ali socijalizacija preuveličava razlike i onda postaje proces koji se samoostvaruje. Uzmimo za primer kuvanje. Danas, pre će žene raditi kućne poslove nego muškarci - kuvanje i čišćenje. Ali zašto je to tako? Da li je to zato što su se žene rodile sa genom za kuvanje?
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
Or because over years they have been socialized to see cooking as their role? Actually, I was going to say that maybe women are born with a cooking gene, until I remember that the majority of the famous cooks in the world, whom we give the fancy title of "chefs," are men.
Ili zato što su tokom godina prilagođavane tako da vide kuvanje kao njihovu ulogu? U stvari, htela sam da kažem da su žene možda stvarno rođene sa genom za kuvanje dok se nisam setila da je većina poznatih kuvara na svetu, kojima dajemo fensi titulu „glavnog kuvara“, u stvari muškarci.
I used to look up to my grandmother who was a brilliant, brilliant woman, and wonder how she would have been if she had the same opportunities as men when she was growing up.
Nekada sam se ugledala na moju baku, koja je bila sjajna žena, i pitala se kakva bi ona bila da je imala iste prilike kao muškarci u odrastanju.
Now today, there are many more opportunities for women than there were during my grandmother's time because of changes in policy, changes in law, all of which are very important. But what matters even more is our attitude, our mindset, what we believe and what we value about gender. What if in raising children we focus on ability instead of gender? What if in raising children we focus on interest instead of gender?
Danas, postoji mnogo više prilika za žene nego što ih je bilo u vreme moje bake zbog promena u politici, promena u zakonu, što je sve veoma važno. Ali ono što je još važnije je naš stav, naš način razmišljanja, ono u šta verujemo i šta cenimo kod pola. Šta ako bismo se pri podizanju dece fokusirali na sposobnosti umesto na pol? Šta ako bismo se pri podizanju dece fokusirali na interesovanja umesto na pol?
I know a family who have a son and a daughter, both of whom are brilliant at school, who are wonderful, lovely children. When the boy is hungry, the parents say to the girl, "Go and cook Indomie noodles for your brother."
Poznajem porodicu koja ima ćerku i sina, a oboje su sjajni u školi i divna deca. Kada je dečak gladan, roditelji kažu devojčici: „Idi i spremi nudle za svog brata.“
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
Now, the daughter doesn't particularly like to cook Indomie noodles, but she's a girl, and so she has to. Now, what if the parents, from the beginning, taught both the boy and the girl to cook Indomie? Cooking, by the way, is a very useful skill for boys to have. I've never thought it made sense to leave such a crucial thing, the ability to nourish oneself --
Devojčica ne voli nešto preterano da sprema nudle, ali je devojčica, tako da mora da to uradi. Šta ako bi roditelji, od početka, učili i dečaka i devojčicu da spremaju nudle? Kuvanje je inače veoma korisna veština koju bi dečaci trebalo da imaju. Nikad mi nije imalo smisla zašto bi prepustili tako presudnu stvar, sposobnost da nahranimo sebe -
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
in the hands of others.
u rukama drugih.
(Applause)
(Aplauz)
I know a woman who has the same degree and the same job as her husband. When they get back from work, she does most of the housework, which I think is true for many marriages. But what struck me about them was that whenever her husband changed the baby's diaper, she said "thank you" to him. Now, what if she saw this as perfectly normal and natural that he should, in fact, care for his child?
Poznajem ženu koja ima istu diplomu i isti posao kao i njen muž. Kada dođu kući sa posla, ona radi većinu kućnih poslova, što mislim da je tako u većini brakova. Ali što me je začudilo u njihovom slučaju, je da kad god bi muž promenio bebi pelenu, ona bi mu rekla „hvala“. Šta ako bi ona videla ovo kao nešto sasvim normalno i prirodno da on, u stvari, i treba da se stara o svom detetu?
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
I'm trying to unlearn many of the lessons of gender that I internalized when I was growing up. But I sometimes still feel very vulnerable in the face of gender expectations. The first time I taught a writing class in graduate school, I was worried. I wasn't worried about the material I would teach because I was well-prepared, and I was going to teach what I enjoy teaching. Instead, I was worried about what to wear. I wanted to be taken seriously. I knew that because I was female I will automatically have to prove my worth. And I was worried that if I looked too feminine, I would not be taken seriously. I really wanted to wear my shiny lip gloss and my girly skirt, but I decided not to. Instead, I wore a very serious, very manly and very ugly suit.
Pokušavam da se odučim od mnogih lekcija o polu koje sam usvojila dok sam odrastala. Ali ponekad se i dalje osećam ranjivo kada se suočim sa očekivanjima o polu. Prvi put kada sam držala čas pisanja na postdiplomskim studijama, bila sam zabrinuta. Ne zbog materijala koji je trebalo da predajem zato što sam to dobro pripremila, i predavala bih ono što volim da predajem. Umesto toga, brinula sam šta da obučem. Želela sam da me shvate ozbiljno. Znala sam da ću, zato što sam žensko, morati samim tim da dokažem koliko vredim. A bila sam zabrinuta, ako izgledam previše ženstveno, da me neće shvatiti ozbiljno. Zapravo sam želela da stavim sjaj za usne i obučem suknju, ali odlučila sam da to ne uradim. Umesto toga, obukla sam veoma ozbiljno, veoma muškobanjasto i grozno odelo.
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
Because the sad truth is that when it comes to appearance we start off with men as the standard, as the norm. If a man is getting ready for a business meeting, he doesn't worry about looking too masculine and therefore not being taken for granted. If a woman has to get ready for business meeting, she has to worry about looking too feminine and what it says and whether or not she will be taken seriously.
Jer tužna istina je da, kada je u pitanju izgled, muškarci su standard, oni su merilo. Kada se muškarac sprema za poslovni sastanak, on ne brine da li izgleda previše muževno i da li će zbog toga da bude uzet zdravo za gotovo. Kada se žena sprema za poslovni sastanak, ona mora da brine da li izgleda previše ženstveno, šta to govori o njoj i da li će biti shvaćena ozbiljno.
I wish I had not worn that ugly suit that day. I've actually banished it from my closet, by the way. Had I then the confidence that I have now to be myself, my students would have benefited even more from my teaching, because I would have been more comfortable and more fully and more truly myself. I have chosen to no longer be apologetic for my femaleness and for my femininity.
Volela bih da tog dana nisam obukla to odvratno odelo. Zapravo, izbacila sam ga iz ormana. Da sam tada bila ovoliko sigurna u sebe koliko sam sada, da budem ono što jesam, moji studenti bi imali još više koristi od mog predavanja, zato što bih se osećala prijatnije i bila bih ispunjenija i mnogo više ono što zapravo jesam. Izabrala sam da se više ne izvinjavam za svoju ženskost i za svoju ženstvenost.
(Applause)
(Aplauz)
And I want to be respected in all of my femaleness because I deserve to be. Gender is not an easy conversation to have. For both men and women, to bring up gender is sometimes to encounter almost immediate resistance. I can imagine some people here are actually thinking, "Women too do sef." Some of the men here might be thinking, "OK, all of this is interesting, but I don't think like that." And that is part of the problem.
Želim da me cene u celokupnoj mojoj ženskosti zato što to zaslužujem. Razgovor o polu nije lak. Kako za muškarce tako i za žene, pokrenuti priču o polu ponekad znači naići na direktan otpor. Mogu da pretpostavim da neki ljudi ovde sada misle u sebi: „Žene, verne samoj sebi?“ Neki od muškaraca ovde možda sada misle: „Dobro, sve ovo je interesantno, ali ja ne mislim tako.“ A upravo to je deo problema.
That many men do not actively think about gender or notice gender is part of the problem of gender. That many men, say, like my friend Louis, that everything is fine now. And that many men do nothing to change it. If you are a man and you walk into a restaurant with a woman and the waiter greets only you, does it occur to you to ask the waiter, "Why haven't you greeted her?" Because gender can be --
To što mnogi muškarci ne razmišljaju aktivno o polu ili ne primećuju pol, je deo problema o polu. To što mnogi muškarci kažu, kao moj prijatelj Lui, da je sve u redu sada, i mnogi muškarci ne čine ništa da to promene. Ako si muškarac i uđeš u restoran sa ženom i konobar pozdravi samo tebe, zar ti ne pada na pamet da pitaš konobara: „Zašto nisi pozdravio i nju?“ Zato što pol može da bude -
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
Actually, we may repose part of a longer version of this talk. So, because gender can be a very uncomfortable conversation to have, there are very easy ways to close it, to close the conversation. So some people will bring up evolutionary biology and apes, how, you know, female apes bow down to male apes and that sort of thing. But the point is we're not apes.
Zapravo, možda smo zašli u dužu verziju ovog govora. S obzirom na to da razgovor o polu može da bude neprijatan, postoje veoma laki načini da se prekine taj razgovor. Tako će neki ljudi spomenuti evolucionu biologiju i majmune, kako se, znate, ženski majmuni klanjaju muškim majmunima, i slično. Ali poenta je da mi nismo majmuni.
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
(Applause)
(Aplauz)
Apes also live on trees and have earthworms for breakfast, and we don't. Some people will say, "Well, poor men also have a hard time." And this is true. But that is not what this --
Majmuni takođe žive na drvetu i jedu crve za doručak, a mi to ne činimo. Neki ljudi će reći: „Pa, jadni muškarci, i njima je teško.“ To je tačno. Ali to nije ono što -
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
But this is not what this conversation is about. Gender and class are different forms of oppression. I actually learned quite a bit about systems of oppression and how they can be blind to one another by talking to black men.
Ali ovaj razgovor nije o tome. Pol i klasa predstavljaju različite vrste ugnjetavanja. Zapravo, ja sam naučila mnogo toga o sistemima ugnjetavanja i kako oni mogu da budu slepi jedni za druge, razgovarajući sa crncima.
I was once talking to a black man about gender and he said to me, "Why do you have to say 'my experience as a woman'? Why can't it be 'your experience as a human being'?" Now, this was the same man who would often talk about his experience as a black man.
Jednom sam razgovarala sa crncem o polu i on mi je rekao: „Zašto moraš da kažeš 'moje iskustvo kao žena'? Zašto ne može da bude 'tvoje iskustvo kao ljudsko biće'?“ Ovo je bio isti muškarac koji je često govorio o svom iskustvu kao crnac.
Gender matters. Men and women experience the world differently. Gender colors the way we experience the world. But we can change that.
Pol je bitan. Muškarci i žene doživljavaju svet različito. Pol određuje način na koji doživljavamo svet. Ali mi možemo da promenimo to.
Some people will say, "Oh, but women have the real power, bottom power." And for non-Nigerians, bottom power is an expression which I suppose means something like a woman who uses her sexuality to get favors from men. But bottom power is not power at all. Bottom power means that a woman simply has a good root to tap into, from time to time -- somebody else's power. And then, of course, we have to wonder what happens when that somebody else is in a bad mood, or sick or impotent.
Neki ljudi će reći: „Ali žene imaju stvarnu moć, suštinsku moć.“ Za one koji nisu Nigerijci, suštinska moć je izraz koji pretpostavljam da znači nešto slično tome kao žena koja koristi svoju seksualnost da bi dobijala usluge od muškaraca. Ali suštinska moć nije moć uopšte. Suštinska moć znači da žena jednostavno ima dobru osnovu da s vremena na vreme iskoristi tuđu moć. Onda, naravno, moramo da se zapitamo šta kada je taj neko loše volje, bolestan ili impotentan.
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
Some people will say that a woman being subordinate to a man is our culture. But culture is constantly changing. I have beautiful twin nieces who are fifteen and live in Lagos. If they had been born a hundred years ago they would have been taken away and killed. Because it was our culture, it was our culture to kill twins.
Neki ljudi će reći da naša kultura nalaže da žena bude podređena muškarcu. Ali kultura se stalno menja. Imam prelepe nećakinje bliznakinje koje imaju 15 godina i žive u Lagosu. Da su se rodile pre sto godina, bile bi odvedene i ubijene. Zato što je to bila naša kultura, kultura je bila da se blizanci ubijaju.
So what is the point of culture? I mean there's the decorative, the dancing ... but also, culture really is about preservation and continuity of a people. In my family, I am the child who is most interested in the story of who we are, in our traditions, in the knowledge about ancestral lands. My brothers are not as interested as I am. But I cannot participate, I cannot go to umunna meetings, I cannot have a say. Because I'm female. Culture does not make people, people make culture. So if it is in fact true --
Pa šta je onda svrha kulture? Mislim, tu je ono dekorativno - ples... ali kultura je u stvari i u očuvanju i produženju vrste. U mojoj porodici, ja sam dete koje najviše interesuje priča o tome ko smo, naša tradicija, znanje o zemlji naših predaka. Moja braća nisu zainteresovana kao ja. Ali ja ne mogu da učestvujem, ne mogu da idem na plemenske sastanke, ne mogu da imam reč. Zato što sam žensko. Kultura ne čini ljude, ljudi čine kulturu. Tako da ako je stvarno tačno -
(Applause)
(Aplauz)
So if it is in fact true that the full humanity of women is not our culture, then we must make it our culture.
Tako da ako je stvarno tačno da celokupno čovečanstvo žena ne čini našu kulturu, onda treba da ih učinimo našom kulturom.
I think very often of my dear friend, Okoloma Maduewesi. May he and all the others who passed away in that Sosoliso crash continue to rest in peace. He will always be remembered by those of us who loved him. And he was right that day many years ago when he called me a feminist.
Veoma često se setim svog dragog prijatelja, Okolome Maduevesija. Neka on i svi ostali koji su preminuli u toj nesreći Sosolisa, počivaju u miru. Pamtićemo ga svi mi koji smo ga voleli. Bio je u pravu onog dana pre mnogo godina kada me je nazvao feministkinjom.
I am a feminist. And when I looked up the word in the dictionary that day, this is what it said: "Feminist: a person who believes in the social, political and economic equality of the sexes." My great grandmother, from the stories I've heard, was a feminist. She ran away from the house of the man she did not want to marry and ended up marrying the man of her choice. She refused, she protested, she spoke up whenever she felt she was being deprived of access, of land, that sort of thing.
Ja jesam feministkinja. A kada sam tog dana potražila reč u rečniku, ovo je pisalo: „Feminista: osoba koja veruje u socijalnu, političku i ekonomsku jednakost među polovima.“ Moja čukunbaka, iz priča koje sam čula, je bila feministkinja. Pobegla je iz kuće muškarca za kog nije želela da se uda i na kraju se udala za onog koga je izabrala. Odbijala je, bunila se, dizala svoj glas kad god je osećala da joj je uskraćen pristup, zemlja, i tome slično.
My great grandmother did not know that word "feminist," but it doesn't mean that she wasn't one. More of us should reclaim that word. My own definition of feminist is: "A feminist is a man or a woman who says --
Moja čukunbaka nije znala za reč „feministkinja“, ali to ne znači da ona to nije bila. Više nas bi trebalo da povrati pravo na tu reč. Moja definicija feministe je: feminista je muškarac ili žena koji kaže -
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
(Applause)
(Aplauz)
A feminist is a man or a woman who says, "Yes, there's a problem with gender as it is today, and we must fix it. We must do better." The best feminist I know is my brother Kene. He's also a kind, good-looking, lovely man, and he's very masculine.
Feminista je muškarac ili žena koji kaže: „Da, postoji problem sa polom onako kako je to danas, i moramo da ga rešimo. Moramo da učinimo stvari boljim.“ Najbolji feminista kog poznajem je moj brat Kene. On je takođe ljubazan, zgodan, predivan muškarac, i veoma je muževan.
Thank you.
Hvala vam.
(Applause)
(Aplauz)