The Power of Human Agency

I have to admit that I haven't always been an active American citizen. In fact, I haven't always been an active world citizen. Before reading Half the Sky, I had little concept of what was going on in the world, and if I did, I felt that I had too little knowledge to contribute to any conversation meaningfully. So in turn, I remained silent, and I put all my trust in world leaders that they would lead my life accordingly.

I distinctly remember the time I stood in the back of a small crowd of university students fighting for lower tuition in front of our campus library. I stumbled upon the procession and listened to a student speak about the calamity of high tuition. I lingered in the back watching the scene. Coming from a privileged family, I never worried about my tuition. I didn't track how money for books or classes were increasing each year because I deferred that responsibility to my parents who were always there with financial support. I was uninformed and felt like a phony in the gathering of people. The crowd began to chant a demand for lower tuition, and I slowly shrunk away and returned home, too embarrassed to join in.

I never followed up with the movement for lower tuition on my campus, mostly because I didn't imagine anything would come from it.

Until I had spent a good four-and-a-half months in South Africa did I come to realize civil society's place in the world. I learned more about the drive for human agency and the ability of a unified movement to bring about change.

South Africa spent decades under an apartheid regime, which divided the country based on race. The white minority ruled over Coloureds, Africans, and Indians. People of "inferior" races were forcibly removed from their homes, forced to carry passes around detailing their identity; they were pushed to the outskirts of society and denied their basic human rights. Nelson Mandela became an international hero as he brought worldwide attention to the injustices of the apartheid regime and organized a non-violent movement for justice among Africans, Indians and Coloureds. He became the first black president of the country and stepped down after one term to give others the chance to lead and follow in his footsteps.

Unfortunately, South Africa's government today, in certain parts of the country, remains corrupt, and the nation is left with many problems. The government-promised houses for shack dwellers in townships have taken years to manifest. One girl I met seemed hopeful despite the 16-year-period her family has been waiting for a house. In other parts of the country, the environment has felt the brunt of mining development in regions rich with indigenous vegetation and wildlife. However, South Africans understand the importance of human agency, considering it was only a few decades ago when community action successfully ousted the oppressive apartheid regime. South Africans strike for higher wages, organize to protect the environment and challenge legislation to bring about positive change.

A South African friend of mine's little sister was singing the South African National Anthem at home when she got to the line "let us live and strive for freedom". In her ten-year-old naivety, Michal sang out "let us live and STRIKE for freedom". We all laughed, though her South African parents laughed the most because they knew it was true. Striking, as a tool for justice, was and remains a part of South African culture. My last three weeks of volunteering in Cape Town were cancelled due to bus strikes. Although, I was upset to no longer be volunteering in the townships, bus drivers' wages increased, and I saw firsthand the power of collective human agency.

Upon returning home to America, I realized how naive I was to be absent from the decision-making processes in my home country. I realized how irresponsible it is to believe my country would always act in my best interest and that of humanity's. I began to see the danger of ignorance and how by remaining silent, I could potentially be supporting an oppressive regime.

As I read more and learn more, I have discovered how unified action to fight for civil rights, women rights, LGBT rights, and even action to reduce school tuition or increase wages can change our world. Without human agency, segregation could still exist, people with disabilities could still be ostracized, women could still be excluded from politics (not to say these issues have been perfectly fixed either).

Recently, a hospital in Zimbabwe decided to charge women five dollars for every time they screamed during labor. Why? Because their scream signaled a "false alarm". This decision enraged me, disgusted me, but I left it for what it was. Thankfully, others didn't. Transparency International, a non-profit fighting against corruption in governments around the world, talked with Zimbabwe's National Health Industry. About a week after I heard about the five dollar charge, I learned of its removal from hospital policy. This unfair charge seemed easily overturned and I realized I could potentially have done exactly what Transparency International had succeeded to do. This small success made towards justice strengthens my conviction that I have the ability to provoke change as well.

From protests on campus to strikes in South Africa to international intervention in Zimbabwe, I have seen how speaking up and standing up can make an impact. I see that we all have power as human beings to bring about change. Yet, we forfeit that power when we forfeit our belief that, as an individual, we matter. It is imperative we realize our worth; there is no time for so much human potential to go untapped.

Highlight: Girl Rising

If you ever questioned the value of girls' education, ponder no more. 10x10's "Girl Rising", a new documentary depicting the lives of 9 impoverished girls from across the world, reveals how educating girls can ultimately change "everything". From helping the economy to decreasing the chances of disease, educating girls has immeasurable impact on a global scale.

The documentary illustrates the personal stories of Ruksana, Suma, Yasmin, Senna, Azmera, Amina, Wadley, Mariama and Sokha and the struggles they face in their communities to achieve an education. Challenging cultural norms, tradition and poverty, these girls rise above it all to create better lives for themselves.

The movie is filled with interesting and important facts regarding girls' education. 10x10's "10 Facts About Girl's Education" is just a sample of some of the startling statistics about girls and education that are featured in the documentary.

I highly recommend attending a screening of "Girl Rising" to learn more about the power of education as a tool in bettering our world.

Aid in Action

We so often hear about development initiatives and projects launched abroad to help end poverty, eradicate disease, or reduce violence, but rarely do we get to see those projects in action in the countries they have reached and in the hands of those they have impacted. I was lucky enough to witness the use and benefit of Unicef's Sara Communication Initiative. While volunteering at Ons Plek girl's home in Woodstock, South Africa, a student of mine picked up one of the "Sara" books from a stack of about 20 available in the home. In comic book format, the books delve into issues such as HIV/AIDS, genital cutting, early marriage and violence against women. The dense topics explored are complimented with simple story lines centered around Sara, her friends and the issues at hand that are relatable and easy to follow.

My student handed me one of Sara's stories to read after she professed that they were some of her favorite books in the home. When I read about the Sara Communication Initiative on the inside cover, I was in awe of being at the receiving end of international aid. The books had reached their proper destination and were welcomed by the girls in need of their message. Watching my student relax in her seat with Sara's story open before her eyes was a surreal sight. In that moment, I could feel the smallness of the world and how connected we all truly are. Our efforts are going places and actually reaching people. Thank you Unicef for following through on your efforts and inspiring me that we can truly reach those in need.

Woman of the Week: Farnaz Seifi

Farnaz Seifi

I was drawn to Farnaz Seifi's story because much like me, she is a blogger. However, while my blog serves as a form of advocacy, her blog is a form of resistance. Seifi formally lived in Iran before fleeing the country in 2007. Her blog, "Amshaspandan", that advocated for women's rights in Iranian society was shut down by the government shortly after it began. Her progressive ideas were met with death threats and harassment. Despite the government's opposition, Seifi managed to create an online magazine that addressed issues regarding women in Iran. She refused to stunt the magazine's production against government orders ultimately leading to her arrest and later fleeing of the country.

Farnaz Seifi has since worked in Holland on the "Deutsche Welle Persian" program as a producer as well as in Paris with "Reporters Without Borders". She continues to blog anonymously in order to protect her family still living in Iran.

I find it amazing that after threat upon threat, after being forced to flee her home country, Seifi still persists in fighting for women's rights. She has never faltered in what she believes in.

Blogging for me is easy. I'm not worried that the government is going to show up at my door, kidnap me and throw me in jail. I am pretty sure the government would give me a thumbs up for effort and go on with their day. Reading a story like Seifi's makes me realize how lucky I am to be able to write what I feel and become an agent for change in a democratic country. Seifi is risking everything to blog and expose the injustices of women in her country. She is the epitome of brave and serves as an inspirational leader paving the way towards change.

Don't let her story become a number, and don't let numbers discourage your fight.

I vaguely remember the classroom. I remember Eva being there, but I can't quite remember the other girls. We played with one of those miniature plastic kitchen sets they place in all preschool classrooms. I couldn't say who played with what or even how I felt about our imaginary games; all I have is a faint picture of pastel yellows, blues and pinks, faceless silhouettes, and an open door leading to a dark hallway. For now, this is my first memory I can recall. Me, at 4 years old.

My five year old self is not so hard to place. I remember the halls of Woodland Elementary; I remember pooping my pants, waddling to the bathroom, and then putting my underwear in the hamper when I got home believing my mom wouldn't notice (she never did say anything); I remember receiving an honorable mention in the school art contest and having my picture hang on the wall; I remember Tommy who taught me how to braid my hair and wrote my name all over his notebooks. I could go on about having my school picture taken, almost accidentally stealing a book from the library, playing with Kristen's hair during story time, but I won't get carried away.  

When I read online that a four-year-old girl was raped in India and had passed away this week, I thought the article made a typo and miscalculated her age. Only a few weeks earlier had a five-year-old girl been raped and was in critical condition. Surely, this article must be referring to the same girl. But as I read on, I realized this was not true. Here was another girl, another name, another family, another heartbreak, another protest, another day in India. Rape. Rape. Rape. Multiplying like fruit flies. 

The gang rape and brutal murder of a 23-year-old female medical student in India shook the world in outrage just a few months ago. Protesters were rampant across India crying for justice and safety for women. Did these cries fall on deaf ears? Did they fall on the wrong ears? Because here we are, months later, in the same predicament. 

I can't help but think about my earliest childhood memory and wonder if that four-year-old girl ever had a chance to store one of her own before she was erased from the earth. And the five-year-old girl, what memories had she been holding onto before her murderer suffocated any chance of future reminiscence. 

I am not yet 23, but can only imagine the 18 good years of memories that were shut out for that medical student. Gone like a smothered flame. 

What's the point here? I'm not so sure myself. I sit halfway across the world, typing a blog post in order to attempt to process the grotesque actions of certain individuals on this earth. I guess what I want to say to you is this: don't let her story become a number and don't let numbers discourage your fight. 

Today is the story of a four-year-old girl. Tomorrow's story is out of our control. Another rape does not mean we have lost, it means this war is not yet over. 

Woman of the Week: Eliza Maganga Nsese

Eliza Maganga Nsese

Her name is Eliza. It is unlikely anyone really knows about her, except for the pilot’s that used her and the producers and viewers of the documentary, “Darwin’s Nightmare”. She is just another face forgotten, another woman lost in the sex industry. She was only in three short scenes in the documentary I watched in my “Poverty, Development and Globalisation” class. In the first scene, Eliza is singing a song about her home country Tanzania; she is sitting before a Ukrainian pilot who used her as his girlfriend while away from home. The next scene is of her alone, sharing her desire to go back to school, if she had the means. The last scene is the same as the first scene. However, this time, Eliza is seen singing on a handheld video camera rather than in person. The people holding the camera are Eliza’s friends; they are mourning her death. Eliza was murdered by one of her foreign clients.

I can't imagine Eliza's story being unique in Tanzania. If the makers of "Darwin's Nightmare" hadn't captured her on film, she would be forgotten alongside other women used and thrown away like commodities. Her friends would have mourned, but perhaps never challenged her fate. The documentary proves that Eliza exists. That her story will not be lost; her story will live on and change us. I still struggle to get the song she sang in the video out of my head. She had a beautiful voice and a playful air. And then she was gone with no repercussions for her murderer. I wrote the poem below to commemorate Eliza:

"Dear Eliza"

You endured

The grimy slug who flies to receive but never to give

With drunken breaths and tipsy words

Thrown upon your lean shoulders

Ukrainian Fat

You resist with your body, but not with your heart

You are nothing to him

But a pilot whore

Truth you hide behind laugh and smiles

As you sway on singing

“Tanzania Tanzania

Nakupenda kwa moyo wote (I love you with all my heart)

Nchi yangu Tanzania (My country Tanzania)

Jina lako ni tamu sana (Your name is very sweet)”

In a raspy tone

Like sandpaper dipped in honey

The Australian one did not love your song

Nor your country

He took from your seas and left your people hungry

Invasive like the Nile Perch

Destroying others to feed himself

 You were but a small fish

For him to eat for one night’s pleasure

Leaving no remains but bones

Your song an epithet written upon your grave

 “Nilalapo nakuota wewe (When I sleep I dream of you)

Niamkapo ni heri mama wee (When I wake I am at peace)

Tanzania Tanzania

Nakupenda kwa moyo wote (I love you with all my heart)”

Woman of the Week: Louise Shelley

Louise Shelley

The past few weeks have been busy here in South Africa. I have slowly but surely been getting through Louise Shelley's book, Human Trafficking: A Global Perspective. I wouldn't consider it necessarily a light read and people often look concerned when they see me cuddled up on the couch reading about one of the biggest injustices performed against humanity in our lifetime. However, Shelley's book is necessary in understanding human trafficking as a whole. She takes readers through every region of the world and the tactics and business methods used by those regions as well as the after effects and consequences of human trafficking on individuals and the world as a whole. One of her most poignant points that has resonated with me, is that we cannot assume human trafficking is the same everywhere. In order to stop human trafficking, we must understand the business models behind the trade specific to each location. Russian trafficking is different than Asian trafficking, which is different than American trafficking.

Louise Shelly has worked tirelessly to stop transnational crime and terrorism. It is clear,  by even glancing at her book, that she has spent immense time researching human trafficking in its full capacity. Her book not only serves as a source of detailed information about the trade, but also is a call to action: human trafficking needs to be on our agenda. I strongly suggest reading this book if you would like to get a more in depth view into the world of human trafficking. Thank you Louise Shelley for your hard work and dedication!