Patriarchy and new perspectives

It's been a while since I've written, but nothing much has happened. Well, more like a series of nondescript adventures one-by-one in a row.

My biggest news is that I have a roommate! Her name is Tina, and she is moving into my room from downstairs because her roommate is a medical student who goes to bed very late and wakes up very early. I liked my room all to myself, but I am also happy to have someone who can initiate me into Ghanaian culture. She grew up in Accra and goes home fairly often.

More and more lately, I have been struck by the patriarchal climate of Ghana. No, there are no large men denying me admittance to the university, or commanding me to wear a certain type of clothing, or breathing misogynist rhetoric down my throat. However, there are subtle inflections which have begun to wear on me. Take, for example, the use of male universal pronouns. Virtually every Ghanaian professor (including our one female lecturer) have used "he" as an inclusive word. "Man" refers to all human beings (even in anthropology classes), and cultural traditions refer to male traditions. Our dance professor is a man, and he is teaching us the male versions of dances. We found out yesterday that there is also a female version, but no one is teaching the women how to perform it.

Only this year has there been a law enacted against marital rape, but it was passed with extreme resistance from many members of parliament and the President. Traditionally, there was a taboo against women playing musical instruments. However, my literature professor (a man who goes by Eddy) has been extremely good about opening my mind to the complexities of women's life in Ghana. We will be reading works by women authors, and yesterday we listened to a praise poetry recording that he did of a woman who uses poetry to subvert the system and voice her resistance. Her poetry was a song of sorts that was set to the rhythm of a millstone, where she was grinding millet. I could hear the grinding in the background- this rhythmic whosh-whosh was a substitute for the drum (which women traditionally have not been allowed to play). Also, she used her mouth to make these amazing xylophone noises. She made the same sounds, but did not use the instrument. Her song was fantastic and beautiful and somehow ethereal. I feel very priveledged to have access to these resources. My professor is one of the kindest and most humorous people that I have met since coming here. He is passionate about literature and he loves to laugh at himself and the world. Today he said "I almost became a Catholic priest. Somehow I escaped."

Anyway, this has been the most significant point of culture stress, but I have largely been able to control and/or vent my frustration. When I first got here, I was mean and nasty about broad gender generalizations, etc. Now most of it rolls off my back and I am much happier.