From 2009
The authors personal facebook.
http://www.facebook.com/people/Amanda-Kijera/53301081
By Amanda Kijera, civic journalist and activist in Haiti
Two weeks ago, on a Monday morning, I started to write what I
thought was a very clever editorial about violence against women in
Haiti. The case, I believed, was being overstated by women’s
organizations in need of additional resources. Ever committed
to preserving the dignity of Black men in a world which constantly
stereotypes them as violent savages, I viewed this writing as yet one
more opportunity to fight “the man” on behalf of my brothers. That
night, before I could finish the piece, I was held on a rooftop in
Haiti and raped repeatedly by one of the very men who I had spent the
bulk of my life advocating for.
It hurt. The experience was almost more than I could bear. I begged
him to stop. Afraid he would kill me, I pleaded with him to honor my
commitment to Haiti, to him as a brother in the mutual struggle for an
end to our common oppression, but to no avail. He didn’t care
that I was a Malcolm X scholar. He told me to shut up, and then slapped
me in the face. Overpowered, I gave up fighting halfway through
the night.
Accepting the helplessness of my situation, I chucked aside the Haiti
bracelet I had worn so proudly for over a year, along with it, my
dreams of human liberation. Someone, I told myself, would always be
bigger and stronger than me. As a woman, my place in life had been
ascribed from birth. A Chinese proverb says that “women are like the
grass, meant to be stepped on.” The thought comforted me at the same
time that it made me cringe.
A dangerous thought. Others like it have derailed movements,
discouraged consciousness and retarded progress for centuries. To accept
it as truth signals the beginning of the end of a person–or
community’s–life and ability to self-love. Resignation means inertia,
and for the past two weeks I have inhabited its innards. My neighbors
here include women from all over the world, but it’s the women of
African descent, and particularly Haitian women, who move me to write
now.
Truly, I have witnessed as a journalist and human rights advocate the
many injustices inflicted upon Black men in this world. The pain,
trauma and rage born of exploitation are terrors that I have grappled
with every day of my life. They make one want to strike back, to fight
rabidly for what is left of their personal dignity in the wake of such
things. Black men have every right to the anger they feel in response to
their position in the global hierarchy, but their anger is
misdirected.
Women are not the source of their oppression; oppressive policies and
the as-yet unaddressed white patriarchy which still dominates the
global stage are. Because women–and particularly women of color–are
forced to bear the brunt of the Black male response to the Black male
plight, the international community and those nations who have
benefitted from the oppression of colonized peoples have a
responsibility to provide women with the protection that they need.
The United Nations, western women’s organizations and the Haitian
government must immediately provide women in Haiti with the funding that
they need to build domestic violence and rape crisis centers. Stop
dividing Black families by distributing solely to women, which only
exaggerates male resentment and frustration in Haiti. Provide both women
and men with job training programs that would allow for
self-sufficiency as opposed to continued dependency on whites. Lastly,
admit that the issue of racial integration might still need addressing
on an international level, and then find a way to address it!
I went to Haiti after the earthquake to empower Haitians to
self-sufficiency. I went to remind them of the many great contributions
that Afro-descendants have made to this world, and of their amazing
resilience and strength as a people. Not once did I envision
myself becoming a receptacle for a Black man’s rage at the white world,
but that is what I became. While I take issue with my brother’s
behavior, I’m grateful for the experience. It woke me up, made
me understand on a deeper level the terror that my sisters deal with
daily. This in hand, I feel comfortable in speaking for Haitian women,
and for myself, in saying that we will not be your pawns, racially,
politically, economically or otherwise.
We are women, not weapons of war. Thankfully, there are organizations
here in Haiti who continues to fight for women’s human rights like, MADRE, SOFA and Enfofanm.
Rather than allowing myself to be used in such a fashion, and as
opposed to submitting to the frustration and bitterness that can be born
of such an experience, I choose to continue to love and educate
instead. My brothers can be sensitized to women’s realities in
Haiti and the world over if these are presented to them by using their
own clashes with racism and oppression as a starting point.
They must be made to understand the dangerous likelihood of the
oppressed becoming the oppressor if no shift in consciousnesses takes
place and if no end to the cycle of trauma occurs. I intend to see that
it does…by continuing to live and work fearlessly with justice in
mind, through the creation of a safe space for women in Haiti and by
creating programming for Haitian men that considers their needs, too.
Weapons annihilate, dialogue bears fruit.
It’s the fruit I’m interested in now, no matter how strange or bruised it might appear.
Read more at LiveLeak.com - Liberal Activist Goes to Haiti - Gets Raped - Blames White Men




Rispondi Citando

