Sikiliza

Let's be honest. Navigating this world often feels like swimming upstream in a raging river. We're bombarded with information, much of it designed to distract, divide, and keep us questioning our own realities. In this era of rampant capitalism and pervasive patriarchy – systems that seem to put hierarchies on people, worship the bottom line above all else, even at the detriment of the well-being of people and our planet – it's easy to feel flooded and hopelessly lost. But for African feminists, there's a particular sting, a quiet ache for the stories that have been lost, made invisible, or outright erased. These aren't just historical footnotes; they are the very fabric of our resistance, our resilience, and our power. They are the whispers of our grandmothers, the freedom songs of our mothers, the fierce poetry of our sisters – testimonies of survival, of pushing back, of simply being unapologetic in a world that often tries to diminish us. Think about it. How ma...

We navigate a world seemingly alight with crises, demanding urgent feminist action and thought leadership. International convenings become critical nexuses for this work – spaces to connect, strategize, and hopefully, forge pathways forward. Yet, accessing these spaces, even participating fully within them, remains fraught with structural barriers, particularly for many of us connecting from the African continent. It’s a reality that adds layers of complexity to our efforts to engage globally.   Many international meetings see a handful of African feminists, artivists, and thinkers invited. We are often hardly involved in shaping agendas and bringing crucial perspectives. Outside of being invited to this spaces that are other major obstacles we must face. Firstly, there’s the notorious visa gauntlet, especially for events hosted in the global North. While we discuss dismantling oppressive global systems, brilliant and insightful comrades from the global South are frequently barred ...

“Where does it hurt?”  it answered everywhere everywhere everywhere.   This powerful excerpt from Warsan Shire’s poem titled “What They Did Yesterday Afternoon” resonates deeply with how many activists  experiece this unequal, violent and unjust world. As an African feminist, my life has been a relentless journey for liberation and justice, battling against the numerous ways our bodies, minds, and spirits have been scarred by systemic oppression.    Yet, amid the protests, organizing, and the chaotic whirlwind of late nights and early mornings, a disquiet began to swell within me. Burnout loomed like a shadow, whispering that something essential was missing from my life and work.   The realization hit me like a wave: genuine transformative social justice cannot flourish if we neglect self-care and collective healing. We cannot pour from an empty cup, especially when the wounds of injustice run so deep.  The words of Audre Lorde, “Caring for myself is n...