The Indignity of Access: Are We 'Enough'?

Let's be frank: the world of international collaboration, particularly for those of us in the Global South, is often a treacherous terrain of indignity. We talk about breaking down barriers, fostering inclusivity, and building global movements, yet for many, the very act of getting there is a humiliating process. Beyond that, even once present, the fight for recognition and genuine participation continues.

For too long, I have navigated this experience, enduring all kinds of bureaucratic hoops and often unsubtle microaggressions that come with applying for visas to attend vital meetings and convenings. I have explained over and over again the unique challenges feminists and activists face in simply crossing borders. And while I had resigned to these realities, a recent experience trying to attend a global convening in Europe has propelled me firmly onto the 'enough is enough' bandwagon, echoing the powerful stance of Professor Sylvia Tamale.

Professor Tamale, a mentor and beacon of African feminist thought, once shared in a meeting I attended how she chose to forgo invitations that necessitated the demeaning visa application process. Now, more than ever, I truly understand her frustration. The energy, the emotional toll, the sheer frustration of proving your worthiness and guarantees that you aim return to your own country is a burden many in the Global North simply cannot begin to comprehend.

And this is not just about visas; it is about a pervasive attitude that expects gratitude for even the bare minimum. For instance, only providing partial support or a basic visa invitation letter but letting you navigate all the other hoops on your own is a pattern that echoes across various global professional and activist spaces.

To put this into perspective. While some passports open doors with ease, a Kenyan passport, despite our nation's significant contributions to global discourse, faces considerable limitations. My brief Google search indicates that roughly 120 countries globally require a traditional visa for Kenyan passport holders. This includes major hubs for international conferences and academic institutions like the United States, United Kingdom, Canada, China, and much of the Schengen Area in Europe. Beyond the sheer number, the process itself is truly taxing and humiliating. The demands for bank statements, flight itineraries, accommodation bookings, and travel insurance proof required before visa approval, create a Catch-22 for applicants. For childless, unmarried adult women, the experience is particularly challenging as they need to doubly prove they have 'social ties'. They ask for details about your parents, family migration status, occupation, and family's finances—and all this feels like a constant interrogation and a tacit assumption of ill intent. The arbitrary denial of visas, the lack of transparent reasoning, and the sheer power imbalance serve as constant reminders of a system designed to limit, rather than facilitate, global engagement for many.

This resonates deeply with the experiences of Black professionals whose immense contributions are often overlooked or undervalued. I was reminded reading about Shonda Rhimes, the mastermind behind groundbreaking television series like Grey's Anatomy and Scandal, who generated millions for ABC. Her breaking point came not over a grand financial dispute, but an apparently petty denial of a Disneyland pass for her sister. Despite her monumental success, an executive had the audacity to question her, allegedly asking, "Don't you have enough?" This seemingly small slight underscored a profound lack of respect and a patronizing attitude, implying she should simply be 'grateful' for what she already had, regardless of her unparalleled value.

This sentiment, 'Don't you have enough?', rings eerily similar to the unspoken expectations placed upon civil rights and feminist activists from the Global South—that our participation, often hard-won and essential, is a favour or privilege and should be met with humble appreciation, regardless of the hurdles we overcome. Our representation is deemed necessary, yet the conditions for our full participation are treated as a 'nuisance' or an 'additional burden,' and any support accorded by the hosts is perceived as something we should be 'grateful for.'

Yet, believe it or not, the visa application struggle is but one layer of the complex marginalization faced by many African feminists, especially sexual and gender identity minorities, rural-based individuals, and those living with disabilities. While the African feminist movement strives for equality, it is not immune to internal biases that perpetuate discrimination and tokenism.

Despite the intersectional nature of feminist struggles, LBTI+ individuals often face overt and covert discrimination within African feminist spaces. Issues specific to them are sometimes ignored or excluded, leading to a lack of safe spaces, misgendering, and a prioritization of 'cisgender women's issues.' Their voices are underrepresented in leadership, and their unique struggles, particularly when compounded by other marginalized identities, are often overlooked.

Current organizing reflects a significant urban bias, making it logistically and financially prohibitive for rural activists to meaningfully participate. Limited access to information, prohibitive travel costs, and the digital divide all contribute to their exclusion from mainstream discussions. This often leads to urban-based agendas failing to grasp or prioritize the unique realities of rural women, reducing their participation to ticking boxes with no genuine power. Unchecked unconscious biases like ableism and linguistic discrimination lead so many organizers to perceive the necessary provisions as an 'extra cost' rather than a fundamental requirement for inclusion and true representation.

These unjust practices only serve to weaken our movements as a whole, making our advocacy efforts less comprehensive and perpetuating the very marginalization feminism aims to dismantle.

And let me not even start on the logistical blind spots that many organizers have. While best practices in the sector offer those traveling for work a Daily Subsistence Allowance (DSA), also known as per diem, to cover costs incurred by employees when traveling for work to maintain their dignity and ensure they are not financially disadvantaged by undertaking official duties. Offering reasonable accommodation to cover costs while traveling for work seems like common sense for organizers who are committed to inclusion and intersectionality. And so the assumption of readily available Uber receipts during travel to the nearest airport in remote locations is a laughable fantasy for countless activists who start their journeys before the crack of dawn on boda-bodas (motorcycle taxi) or commute to venues using matatus (minibus). The idea of a 'taxi' might very well be a neighbor's car, fueled and ready to go with advance notice. These are some of our realities—and they are definitely not minor inconveniences; they are fundamental barriers to participation for those whose lived realities are far removed from metropolitan comforts.

This experience of being constantly questioned, of having to prove one's legitimacy simply to exist in global spaces, resonates with the deeper indignity often faced by people from the African continent. The cumulative effect of these small indignities chips away at dignity, at a sense of equality, and at the very desire to participate in such spaces.

A Call to Action

And so, this is not just a rant but a heartfelt plea and a call to action. I want to implore all organizers, particularly those working with experts and participants from the Global South, to consider the following:

Go Beyond the Checklist: Understand that for many, visa applications are not mere checklists; they are deeply personal, often humiliating processes. Consider the emotional and financial toll involved.

Exercise Compassion & Understanding in Logistics: Think beyond the obvious. When asking for 'airport transfers,' remember that the journey to that airport might be long, arduous, and unconventional. Be open to diverse modes of transport and payment proof, and needs for breaks and meals while in transit.

Reflect True Intersectionality and Radical Care: Critically examine and actively dismantle internal biases within organizing spaces that marginalize LBTI, rural, and disability rights activists within our own movements. Move beyond performative inclusivity to genuine radical care, acknowledging the lived realities and challenges faced by representatives from diverse backgrounds and constituencies.

Solidarity in Advocacy for Better Inclusion: For fellow comrades experiencing these indignities, it is time to speak out. We simply cannot allow these systemic barriers to silence crucial voices and perspectives.

We must collectively challenge the demeaning and pervasive 'don't you have enough?' mentality and demand genuine equity.

Life goes on, but the burden of constantly justifying one's existence to cross a border, or to be truly heard within one's own movement, is a heavy one.

It is time we collectively challenge these invisible walls and truly build the equitable and inclusive global spaces we so often profess to champion.