Defying cultural taboos – conversations we must have.

It’s the mid-90s in Addis Ababa.
She came from a loving family. She went to a good school. Twice a week her evenings after school were filled with private tutoring in the comfort and safety of her parent’s living room. Her tutor was a young man in his mid-twenties. He worked for one of the largest company’s in the country and held a good job. He was a smart young chap who complemented his monthly earning with work as a private tutor. The family next door recommended him after his tutoring services for their own daughter. For the most part he was a pretty good fellow and she liked him as her tutor.
One day though, things started to change. Or better yet, the way he viewed her began to change. His face would get slightly sweaty and red sitting on her left. His eyes held an uncomfortable gaze as he looks at her. He would sit a little closer to her and explain a mathematical equation and ask her to work through it as his hands lifted to brush away the hair from her face. His left hand would gingerly land on her right thigh every so often. Then the gesture will be replaced with another slow caress across her forehead to brush away her hair. He would repeatedly ask her if she understood the equation. But she couldn’t understand. Not because she did not have the capacity to, but because inside she was scared and confused by what was ensuing. The tutorial hour passes and he leaves. She is relieved. Perhaps when he comes next time, he will have come to his senses and the previous dynamic of tutor and student will be replaced with all the boundaries intact.
The subsequent sessions are fraught with anxiety for her as they bring more of the unwanted caresses. She wants to yell at him ” leave me the heck alone” but she is a shy fourteen year-old and grew within a cultural context requiring politeness towards those older than her. He is a guest in the house. Perhaps she is imagining things. The math does not make sense anymore. The sessions leave her feeling violated and disrespected. And the thought of enduring more of such tutorials with indecent touches is unbearable. That evening she tells her mother that she does not want him back as a tutor. Her mom gently inquires why, but all she is told is ” I’m not learning anything.” Her parents are the listening kind. They’ve always heard her. He is later told that his tutorial services are being discontinued and she never sees him again.
That ” she” was me at fourteen. Had I not had the type of parents that listened without being dismissive, I’m not sure how that episode in my teens would have ended. For many years after, the experience vanished from memory till recently. In reflecting on why I did not paint the full picture for my parents then or for others, I imagine this was tied to not having the vocabulary for sharing. The taboos and silences our culture is plagued with also do not make it conducive for bringing up such issues and discussing constructively without judgment and ridicule. Additionally, in a highly religious society following an Abrahamic tradition where the female is charged as a ” seductress” from birth, shame is ingrained early in the mind-set of women and girls. Ultimately, the fear of ridicule and culture of silence and taboos sweeps such episodes under the rug.
As Ethiopian women – young and old – we need to collectively overhaul the issues we deem taboo. That such experiences are silent does not mean they don’t exist. I am compelled to share my experience as a follow-up to my fellow feminist Sehin’s latest blog entry and her March 6th  session in which she asked many women and men to reflect on how gender inequalities play out in our respective lives. During her session she asked, ” why do inequalities continue to persist?” and I had responded, ” because we allow them to”. Silence is often construed as approval even if that may not be the case. What I was referring to in my response is tied to how  silenced or taboo topics become pillars of support for a continued disparity because no one is saying anything about it. And if no one is speaking of it, we are slowly socialized into accepting it as a given until it becomes part of the norm that we don’t even see it anymore.
In retrospect, my regret is that at fourteen, I was not equipped to challenge my tutor. I now know what I didn’t back then that confronting him would have put across the message that he was taking advantage of his privilege and hopefully make him aware of his hurtful behavior. While his unwanted advances were curbed quickly in my case, who knows where else and to what extent he took his actions. By instilling boldness and courage in our young girls and boys to speak up, we empower them to challenge threats they may encounter. And moving away from a taboo culture entails enabling spaces for such conversations to flourish without shaming and encouraging others to speak up where a culture of silence has prevailed before. A UN statistic indicates that ” up to 7 in 10 women around the world experience physical and/or sexual violence at some point in their lifetime.” Look around you. You or your friend, your sister, your mother could be that 7 in 10. But we can only know and challenge when we ” un-taboo” sharing of such experiences.
So what are your experiences of such silenced and taboo issues? Have you ever discussed such issues among your friends? Family members? If not, why not? If yes, what was  your experience of sharing like?
~  Billene Seyoum Woldeyes
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Love & Light

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  1. When i was in my teens, my uncle repetitively tried to french kiss me and asked inappropriate questions about my virginity. He is dead now and i have never told anyone except my husband. I am angry how family members idolize him but i definitly can’t speak ill of the dead. Another taboo subject perhaps?

      1. A number of factors, he was a very charming man and i did not feel sharing with family members was an option. I still do not. Primarily tho, i felt i handled it well myself because he stooped altogether after some time. However I would not advise for other little girls to do what i did. I would want my little girl to tell me but i wouldn’t have known how to bring up the subject with my mother. I did not know what was wrong, just that i felt uncomfortable. Thanks for bringing this up. I need to start teaching my daughter to tell me no matter what.

    1. Same thing happened to me….the attempted french kisses and the awkward questions about my virginity. Except my father is well and alive. I wish I stood up for myself then, but I was paralyzed with shock and fear. Maybe one day… Until I do, I know a part of me will never heal. I know how it feels to have family that ‘idolizes’ someone who has hurt you, who at times you see as cruel and evil for destroying your childhood, for the painful memories you must endure the rest of your life. I think once I can confront my father, I will finally be able to forgive him. I will be able to find peace. I wish you the best in this healing process and I want you to know you are not alone.

  2. Thanks for sharing this story. You say “In retrospect, my regret is that at fourteen, I was not equipped to challenge my tutor. I now know what I didn’t back then that confronting him would have put across the message that he was taking advantage of his privilege and hopefully make him aware of his hurtful behavior.” Truthfully, I think even adult women are taught not to challenge this kind of thing. Nowadays, I have no problem telling men who do this kind of thing to fuck off, but that doesn’t mean that they listen. Even if a man is aware that you don’t like his behavior through the look on your face, your body language, or your words, (I mean, how much more direct can you get than screaming “stop fucking touching me!!”), that doesn’t mean that they care. If I try to talk to anyone about this, my African relatives think it’s hilarious that I have the audacity to object to being treated with this level of disrespect.

    1. It’s true that adult women are taught not to challenge and essentially we become the norm keepers of our troubles – hence why relatives think it’s hilarious.

  3. When I was 5, my older brother’s friends would repetitively kiss me on the lips while caressing me when ever they came by & asked me “does it feel good”…I recently shared this incident with my older sister who said she had experienced similar things but insisted that “we’re not supposed to talk about it”…Almost 20 years later, it feels raw, traumatizing…so many resentments

  4. Thank you for this article, Billene. I think you have identified a key problem in our culture. A big part of the issue is language. I know in my case even though Amharic is my first language, I would rack my brain all day and still not find a translation for concepts like sexual predation, molestation or even entitlement. And without these words, it’s impossible to have a conversation around such issues. How do the rest of you on here circumvent this problem?

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