This has never been a topic of discussion in my life or culture. Growing up, you sort of blend into the norms without questioning because you don’t see anyone else questioning. So you grow up believing things like, boys don’t cry, girls should perfect the art of domestication..meaning cook well, clean well, dress well, and say very little.
In a culture where some truths” no matter how scathing are unhidden, you learn to brace yourself and hide behind the mask of acceptance. So when I gained a ton of weight after the birth of my Son, it came as no surprise when my aunt remarked “wow, you have really become fat, you look like a real mother now” as she slapped my thigh and giggled with the rest, who agreed wholly as they remarked how my thighs looked and how I could barely keep up with my 90 year old grandmother. And so I laughed too, all the while wishing I could disappear and wondering when I became so “sensitive ”
You see, initially, weight wasn’t really a sensitive issue in my culture. A thick, curvy woman who gained weight after marriage and kids was a woman who was, in everyone’s opinion, “well taken care of” by her husband. It was a sign of good living and a source of pride for most women.
So you can imagine my life as a stick-thin-girl -turned-woman trying to convince everyone that I was happy and healthy. I tried everything to gain weight(I’m sure you’ve heard it all before) but my tiny physique wouldn’t budge. So I spent my young adulthood longing for bigger hips and thicker thighs thinking that if I was to ever have them, I would be happier.
Post-baby, I had what I wanted all along, so why wasn’t I happy?I finally had the body I thought would be easier to work with, I no longer looked like a 13 year old girl.
When I came back from Africa from one such trip, I enrolled in the gym and made up my mind to work my butt off, literally…and I did, and it worked…for a while at least.
I lost some weight, not back to pre-baby but enough to where I should’ve been happy. I had my energy back and my previous clothes finally fit…so why wasn’t I content? Why was I still struggling to love the person I saw in the mirror every morning.
The truth is, I felt like a failure. I couldn’t figure out why, but I had my suspicions. There were parts of my life I refused to examine for fear that they would confirm my suspicions.
I prayed , talked to my church friends who encouraged me to “pray more”, which I did…all the while afraid to tell anyone that praying and fasting wasn’t helping because I didn’t want to look like a “bad Christian”…or be told I didn’t believe enough.
Others that I spoke to said they were sorry and that was the end of the conversation.
Truth be told, fixing your inner issues is a heavy burden to bestow on a friend or relative. Unless they’ve learned another way or are trained differently, oftentimes you’ll get the generic answer that is not only not helpful but also rehearsed.
I wasn’t willing to live out the rest of my life feeling doubtful, resentful and depleted. Not for anyone, not for my kids, my partner or family. I wanted to feel whole for me.
So I started talking to a spiritual teacher I met through a coworker (long story for another post). When I told him what I felt was wrong in my life and how my life didn’t depict what I thought it should as an african woman, my teacher, who was african, bluntly asked me the kind of picture I was trying to emulate..I didn’t understand..”what do you mean whose picture?..”whose picture don’t you fit in?,who do you owe this certain picture?”. So naively I replied..”everyone, my people “. Bewildered he asked me “you mean the whole culture is relying on your conduct for survival? If that’s how important your life is to others?”..How important is it to you?”.
This opened up issues I didn’t know I had. I have never regarded myself as a people pleaser..I prided myself as an independent thinker, but it turns out I was still hostage to norms that even I didn’t understand.
It’s hard to question culture when that’s what you’ve always known is expected of you. Most of us would rather not ruffle any feathers..we prefer to glide through life quietly so we can fit in. Because we confuse “fitting in ” with acceptance and belonging. Standing out means facing criticism, ridicule and most of the time, loss of family, friends and the security of company.

We throw around the words love yourself and believe in yourself..but we don’t really talk about what that entails. We don’t realize that we have to divorce ourselves from some of the ideas that have guided us all our lives and embrace the possibility that there could be other ways of life that fit into ours. We’re afraid to examine some of our cultural practices that may not be practical in this day and age. And so we suffer trying to live up to an impossible reality incompatible with our circumstances.

p.s ..My weight is just one of the issues I chose to use to depict some harmful norms women have had to deal with that diminishes our sense of worth.
I am now raising a beautiful african girl child. And everyday, we affirm things that make her feel empowered rather than victimized or weakened. I don’t want her to turn out to be a 30something year old woman with kids still struggling with the questions of who she is. And maybe she still might..but at least she won’t have to start from scratch….

Afromomma says.