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Twitter was recently ablaze following a story about a 70-year-old woman who was celebrating umemulo.
This is a traditional coming-of-age ritual in Zulu culture. It is usually done when a woman turns 21. Traditionally, women at that age were still virgins.
Umemulo marked that time when parents were thanking the woman for preserving her chastity, and also giving her permission to bow to the vagaries of nature.
Against this background, I therefore had mixed emotions about the story. As the shock of a 70-year-old virgin subsided, I asked myself:
In Africa and elsewhere in the world, virginity has historically been a virtue. But as society progressed, values started to change.
A sexual revolution that swept across the US as far back as the years just after World War 2 prepared the stage for women who were independent and in charge of their sexuality.
Somehow, this revolution has not really caught on in societies in the Middle East and Africa, where views on sexuality are still intractably conservative.
For instance, in most African societies, when a woman finds a husband, the man is expected to pay a dowry, known in South Africa as lobola.
This creates a breeding ground for women’s subordination and repression.
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In 2006, author Maureen Kambarami did a study on patriarchy, gender subordination and repression for the Africa Regional Sexuality Resource Centre.
In her study, Kambarami showed how women in Zimbabwe were groomed from birth to follow patriarchal systems and believe that, among other things, virginity is a virtue.
The problem is that the virginity-as-virtue construct applies only to women.
As a woman who recently found sexual liberation, I sometimes find myself thinking about my younger years, when my father would tell me to “sit like a lady”.
The school system also failed me, convincing me that my sexuality and sexual desires were shameful.
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The trauma that this mode of thinking inflicts on young women is unimaginable. Is that the legacy we want to leave for future generations? For them to suppress their sexuality to “fit in” within society?
One has to wonder why that woman, at the age of 70, felt that she needed to celebrate umemulo. To prove that she has been “good”?
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