Female Genital Mutilation
We are tied together
Once we are tied together
There is no breaking this trust.
Alina, 14 years old
As this blog develops you will read accounts of some of the 18 masterclasses I am leading with women and girls across the UK, from as diverse a collection of communities as I can find, and who are willing to speak and work with me. The blog will take you into women’s prisons, into refugee projects, on to traveller sites, into domestic violence prevention organisations, into extraordinary advocacy projects working with Afghan women landay writers, into the care system, survivor’s groups and white working class areas of extreme economic hardship. If you work with a women’s group who would like to develop their stories through the use of poetry and spoken word, then please do contact me here.
As a part of the project I wanted to work with women and girls affected by female genital mutilation (FGM). I wanted to explore those stories, give the girls the tools with which to tell their own stories and to consider the meaning and symbolism of FGM globally.
FACTS ABOUT FGM from World Health Organisation
- Female genital mutilation (FGM) includes procedures that intentionally alter or cause injury to the female genital organs for non-medical reasons.
- The procedure has no health benefits for girls and women.
- Procedures can cause severe bleeding and problems urinating, and later cysts, infections, as well as complications in childbirth and increased risk of new-born deaths.
- More than 200 million girls and women alive today have been cut in 30 countries in Africa, the Middle East and Asia where FGM is concentrated.
- FGM is mostly carried out on young girls between infancy and age 15.
- FGM is a violation of the human rights of girls and women.
There are 4 types of FGM (defined by WHO)
- Cliterodectomy – partial or total removal of the clitoris.
- Excision – partial or total removal of clitoris and labia minora.
- Infibulation – the narrowing of vaginal entrance often through stitching. Can also include removal of clitoris.
- All other types of FGM- piercing, cutting, cauterizing, scraping and other procedures.
According to NSPCC there are approximately 137,000 girls by FGM in the UK. Typically these girls are faced with the horrific procedure – which can cause a life time of pain, discomfort, loss of sexual pleasure, complications during labour and multiple infection as well as numerous emotional and mental health issues – eat any time between birth and the age of 15/16. Many of the UK girls affected will be forced into FGM by close or distant family members when they return to the countries of their parent’s birth. Many believe they are going on holiday.
In July 2016 a group of extraordinary brave women and girls took to the streets of Bristol to protest against FGM and to raise awareness of the long term damage it creates, in both their own communities and the wider world. The march was met with derision, shaming and anger. But still they marched, like women have always done. Heads high. Truth in their hearts.
I wanted to return to Bristol, and to work with girls from a local secondary school to explore the issues around FGM, to continue the conversation around it, and to help ease the pain of those affected. In other words, I wanted to meet the daughters of those women who marched. I was not disappointed.
I won’t give the name of the school here, but I would like to thank the incredible teaching staff who made the 2-day workshop possible and who provided me with a room full of outspoken, chest thumping, glorious girls. I would also like to offer my sincere thanks to Stuart Wood of Boomsatsuma, a Bristol based creative consultancy who arranged the masterclasses.
The group was made up of around 15 young women between the ages of 13 -15. Some were known to each other, others came alone. Some were directly affected by FGM, others by issues relating to the female body. Indeed, it is difficult to find a young woman not deeply affected by dominant perceptions of feminine, and whatever that means in the world. Women grow to become afraid of our own bodies. Our body is the silent enemy that skips into bed with us at night, and is there again waiting for us in the bathroom mirror in the morning. We are all, to some extent, followed by ourselves.
As the first session begins it is clear to me that the girls are a little anxious. That’s okay. So am I. How do you begin to speak about something which is by definition about silence – in this case, the silencing of sexuality and the ownership of body?
But there is something about girls. There is something about the way in which they are able to listen to one another, and to absorb each other’s grief, something about the way they take suffering and turn it into poetry.
We took a deep breath and began. We shared our understanding of FGM and how it affects the female sense of self. We wrote poetry inspired by first lines, by ideas and characters of women worldwide. We made connections between isolated villages in East Africa and the suburbs of Bristol. We wrote letters to unknown girls in unspecified countries. Examples of these are published on this blog, including films of some of the girls reading or performing.
You cannot teach poetry without teaching empathy. If poetry is humanity’s attempt to understand itself, then empathy is humanity’s attempt at listening. Listen to what they say.
On the second day we asked ourselves an important question: do we need knives and thread to silence the female body; what correlations are there between survivors of female genital mutilation and other communities of women globally?
As always, the Songs My Enemy Taught Me blog is open to submission to women identified* writers globally. If you are a poet or artist and wish to contribute then please email me infoATjoelletaylor.co.uk along with the poems/ work you want to submit, a brief biography and photograph (non essential – anonymity will be respected).
*Women, trans women, non-binary, gender fluid.
POEMS
EMPATHY POETRY – poetry inspired by becoming a character, like method writing.
Character: 6 year old girl, Somalia, on the morning of the cutting.
(i)
Her eyes are the night sky as it slips into dawn
Her skin is the dusty plains they drag her across
Her hair, the chains they use to drag her from her loved ones
Her teeth like the abandoned building where kids like her once lived
Her legs trembling, a baobab tree
Her mind as dull as their hearts
Wondering why the world could be so cruel
Her sex
A quiet girl on the edge of the village
Who no longer speaks.
(ii)
Here eyes were the circle of strangers that surrounded her
Her lips like the dusty cracked floor beneath her
Her hands, snapped branches that were sprawled across the hut
Her skin as red and irritated as her mind
Her womb empty, it may stay that way forever
Cut and wrapped
Ready for whoever may take her.
Alina and Marta
Character: LGBTI+ 15 year old girl in Iran
Her eyes were the tunnels they chased her down
Her smile the mask she used to conceal her secret
Her skin was the cage the law forced her in
He hair used as ropes to drag her away
Her womb, a panic room, a safe space
Her sex
A love letter hidden between the mattress and bed base.
Ella and Elizabeth
Character: a 14 year old friend of Malala Yousefzi who was also in the van the morning the Taliban opened fire on girls attempting to go to school
Her eyes were the barrel of the gun that was aimed at the van that morning
Her fingers were the rope holding on to the hope that was still inside her
Her skin was the school book that she was forbidden to read
Her teeth the grave stones waiting to be filled
Her whole body, a target
Not belonging to her.
Character: LGBTI+ plus teen woman in Afghanistan
Her long dark hair is black like the night she slipped into/ as she ran to the house of the girl that looked the same/ yearning for each other’s touch/ Her gleaming brown eyes catching the street light as she tried to avoid the fight/ Her soft lips that speak only words of truth/ and whispers gentle things to her love/ under the cover of a safe place/ But when she’s alone and the beasts prowl/ her lips won’t back down/ and they’ll curl into a frown/ and her voice will shake the ground/ but the beasts won’t back down. Her ears are radars that pick up homophobic slurs that break her down/ but she cannot scream/ her parents will hate her/ and her friends will back away/ and her lover will deny her/ until she is not really sure of who she is/ or why she is there/
And so her feet climb the stairs of an office block/ and slowly she will stand at the top/ until her world stops.
Ella and Martha
THE WOMEN – POETRY INSPIRED BY A RANDOM FIRST LINE
There are women strung from washing lines
Swinging in the breeze
Chains wrapped around the wrists
Restricted from all other movements
People walk by and stare
Watching the washing hanging limply on the line
A teardrop falls
But the pegs hold strong.
Christella Cosba
Alina Ahmed
There are women strung from washing lines
Hung
To be observed, for the men that they ‘deserve’
Beautiful laughter lines representing fond memory
Vanquished
It is not what people want to see
Scars on your knees created by childhood dreams
Cover it, with Photoshop and foundation cream
Imperfections are what make your complexion
Cut and paste
Until she is peaked at perfection
Each freckle
Each mole
Each line
And each hair
‘Get rid of that, we don’t need it there’.
Millie and Emily
There are women strung from washing lines
Pegged up like clothes
No feeling of sunshine
Locked up in their homes
Swaying in polluted air
Held up tightly by their hair
Struggling ot break free
Away from this reality
Yet still they are there
Stuck on washing lines
As straight as their smiles.
Sholmiat and Izzy
There are women strong from washing lines
As their husbands watch from behind darkened blinds
The pegs that hold them are like knives
Scarring and damaging their gentle lives
Their bodies flapping in the wind
As they look out on their next of kin
But when the sun comes out the pegs will drop
And in that moment
The world will stop.
Ella and Martha
Fight
Fight for the girl whose brain contains more than permitted
The girl whose hair is the lines she is forbidden to read
She reads is pitch black darkness
She writes with shadows
The ink she holds is contraband
Listen
Listen for the girl silenced by screams
The girl whose lips are padlocked shut by the punches of her owner
Her master
Her father
She –
Look
Look for the girl whose protruding ribs are her empty cage
The girl who guiltily stares toward the cleared plate
Images of media blind her
She sees what’s is not there
She sees nothing.
Ella Wiltshire
She stands in front of the brick wall
The rough, harsh brick wall
She stands
In front of her reflection
So big yet feels so small
She stands in front of everyone
But looks down at the wet floor
She stands in front of the puddle
Hoping to drown
She stands in front of her self
And she is not enough
She stands in front of crowds
To compare herself to other people
She stands
But inside she is curled up
with her head hidden
and her
hands damp.
Alina
Make an image in your mind
Picture a rope
Then tie a knot
A strong knot;
This s our trust.
Women stick together is the phrase
But something stuck
Can become unstuck.
But not like us.
We are tied together
Once we are tied together
There is no breaking this trust.
So take my hand
You will survive
Walk through this burning pain.
Alina
Secret Message for Urdu Speaking Girls
Azab
Aap a2ab hai
Aap akeleh nhe hai.
Hamna, Alina, Hessa
Prayer for Girls
This is for the girl whose mental disorders swallow her best memories whole
The girl who overthinks the smallest of ideas
The girl who has panic attacks every day
Yet nobody tried to empathise with her pain.
Her school makes her feel like a danios fish
In a giant pond
Her screams aren’t heard through the hundreds
For it’s all in her head
As she lays in bed
Hoping that all of this would end.
This is for
The boy who is trapped inside a girl’s body
Who cuts along limbs that leave scars
Which look like his arms are trapped in bars
The boy who wonders if one day this will change for the better
Like how the rain changes into brighter weather
The boy who is trapped in a cage
And cannot be free no matter how many times he tries to escape
This is for
The people who think it won’t get better
Who feel they cannot fit in with the trendsetters
Those who feel they aren’t as beautiful as
The nature that surrounds them
Who feel they are deserted on a desert island
Those who feel as blue as sky
Who feel the only solution is suicide.
Emily Heath
Is it true that pain is beauty,
Tweaked and moved until she is acceptable to see?
Trapped on a runway stage
Like animals, caged
Baby soft skin that turns to leather
Get a nose job, it will all be better
Girls that start to grow into their mother’s face
But society taught them to cut and paste
A couple of thousand pounds on compliments
Turning soft light hearts into cement
Appealing to society. Filled with enmity
When she looks in the mirror, the mirror is empty
She takea a knife
Slice after slice
this baby doll ends her life.
Mille May Holcombe
Sholmiat Sarfaraz
Izzy Serenity
This is for the abandoned beds with blankets withdrawn
And toys scattered like leaves
This is for the drawings of little mountain flowers covering the floor
A blanket of innocence
This is for the mothers whose babies were ripped from their clutch
And watch
As their husbands are killed and girls snatched
This is for the girls who were hit, sold, raped
And resold
To men who have no names
Just a voice and a fist
This is for those girls who dream of freedom
For her, for them
for the girls.
Ella
This is for the girls
Who when they look in the mirror think they are not enough
The girls who wish they had a perfect body
The girls who are not happy
The girls who hate themselves
The girls who cry whenever they are alone
The girls who don’t have anyone to count on
The girls who thinks they will never be loved for who they really are
The girl whose false smile melts into tears
Desperate heart thinking ‘why am I still alive?’
This. Is. For. You.
You don’t know you are beautiful
You don’t know you are amazing
You don’t know you are friendly
You don’t know you can make a difference
You don’t know others count on you
You don’t know you have a beautiful smile
You don’t know you have a nice body
You don’t know you are smart
You don’t know you are funny
This is for you all
Go out there
Be proud
Be lovely
Be you.
Sylvia