The Third Sex

The third what, you ask? You didn't know that existed, did you? Well, it does. And I'm living proof of it here in Mali.

Being a white American woman in Mali grants me specific priviledges I wouldn't otherwise have as a 24 year old woman in this patriarchal Muslim society. We talk about it a lot amongst ourselves here as PCV's, and it's become almost natural to me, something I didn't even think about mentioning on my blog. But it's a huge part of who I am here, and thus far at least, it's granted me a position of authority amongst men that I wouldn't have otherwise. I think it will have great implications for my future here, especially as I begin working more and more with my village.

I mentioned it to my mom on the phone the other day, and she thought it was fascinating. It started after she saw a photo of me sitting around at a community planning session with a group of Malian men. It hadn't occurred to me that my friend Carissa I were the only women there until my mom mentioned it. She suggested I write a blog on it, and I think it's a subject worth writing about because it explains a lot about Malian culture and society and my place therein.

While I think women are often included in decision making in this country, the amount of sway they have is a far cry from that afforded women in Western societies like the US. It's hard for me to precisely describe the role of women in Malian society, because I think there are a lot of subtle power dynamics that I haven't picked up on, and because I think age factors into these interactions more than I realize. Both gender and age carry significant weight in terms of one's position in society and decision making capabilities here. I'll talk about what I've experienced, because I don't want to make false or over-arching generalizations.

Gender roles are rigid and well-defined in this country. First and foremost, fathers are always the head of the family. No exceptions. Much like in the US, however, the severity and sheer amount of control varies. Women rely on their husbands for the bulk of their spending money for both them and their children, although some have small income-generating activities that they do on the side for added income (like my bean lady that I sit with every night -- I'm pretty sure she gets to keep the small profit she makes). Women always cook, clean and take care of the kids. It sounds like a short list, but when you recall that there is no local supermarket or washers or dryers, the enormity of the tasks at hand becomes a little easier to understand. Men tell me they know how to cook, but I have yet to eat a meal prepared by a Malian man. Women serve men their meals, and some even go so far as to do everything in terms of preparation. For example, my host mother has to put the sauce on my host father's rice before he eats it. That's akin to a woman in the US preparing the plate of food, and then cutting up her husband's steak into bite sized pieces before serving it to him.

It seems to me that men have a lot more leisure time than women, but that doesn't mean they too don't work hard. They are in charge of taking care of the animals (if the family has any), as well as a large portion of the family fields (there seem to be some crops that only women farm -- rice, for example -- but I'm not sure on the specifics of that quite yet). Currently, men and some women in my village are spending their days making bricks, a surprisingly labor intensive process. And women are going into the fields in the afternoon after they've cooked and eaten lunch to collect firewoood. But that's neither here nor there. On the worst end of the spectrum, domestic violence is socially acceptable in many villages, although fortunately, I've never seen it myself. But I have had conversations with Malian men about how they wouldn't hesitate to physically reprimand their wives if they disobeyed.

Men always hold positions of authority in the village and typically make up the majority of any organization. The chief of the village, imam (Islamic religious leader), and even the tailors in town are men, which I thought was a bit bizarre. There are elder women who seem to occupy an important part of my town's hierarchy (they're at every meeting, and have their own organization), but they're still women.

So where do I fit into this? The fact that I'm white, American and female makes me neither man nor woman in Mali. I'm not expected to spend all my time cooking and cleaning, and while they do think it's weird that I'm 24 and not married yet, they seem to accept that fact. I'm invited to all meetings, including those where Malian women are not. I'm never sent to fetch water, or sweep after meals like other Malian women (although that might have more to do with the fact that I'm a guest). Villagers often ask my opinion, and I voice my opinion perhaps more openly than a woman my age normally would. My hope is that this status as a member of the third sex will help me be a productive volunteer in my community. Because I'm neither here nor there, I can use my newfound freedom to move around in society in a way that nobody else can. It's like being in another realm and being able to watch and interact with them at the same time or watching everyone from the outside of the fishbowl they're in. How's that for a flip-flop of roles? I'm typically the one being watched, poked and prodded because I'm so different. But now, my outsider staus might have the potential to work in my favor.