Cultural Explorations of Gender Beyond Western Thought

In modern African culture, generally speaking, gender and gender roles are westernized. So, there are two genders— woman and man. One is the main breadwinner, the other focuses on tending the home. I’m sure you can guess who’s in charge of what. The western gender spectrum is barely one. It's highly restrictive. We're fed many ideas on how we should act and like according to our assigned gender, including what we should be looking for in a mate. I’m curious whether there were more than two genders in at least some African cultures. 

African thought melded with conservative western views over time. This is due to abrahamic religions brought by missionaries, particularly when children were taken from their tribal homes and forced into catholic boarding schools. I imagine a pre-colonial Africa that accepted the energies with which people were predominantly born, despite physical anatomy— male, female, a balance of both, or somewhere else in the spectrum. Maybe certain genders were revered as great healers, such as the androgynous or intersex Bissu of the Bugis society of Indonesia. 

So, I began digging deeper into the past. I found an article referencing information from white writers or anthropologists. Because none of them are from the cultures they preach about, their understandings are limited. It’s important to keep that in mind because translation of language and ideas into English only goes so far. But according to that article, the Lugbara tribe from the Democratic Republic of Congo have transgender shamans. Okule for male-to-female shamans, and agule for female-to-male. Upon further research, I found a UN report mentioning this as well. I reserve the fact this may be true. Congo is my motherland, but I'm from two different tribes. I know being part of the LGBTQ+ community there is life threatening.

The same can be said for non-heteronormative folk across the globe, such as in Hawaii. Traditional Hawaiian culture acknowledges that some are born somewhere between female and male. They’re known as Mahu, a term for transgender, according to John Letman in Aljazeera. Today, Mahu face discrimination because modern laws and morals have been affected by colonization, says Letman: “Before Hawaiians’ contact with outsiders, for example, Wong-Kalu says mahu individuals were respected, but faced increasing intolerance as native Hawaiians were supplanted by colonial settlers.”

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In the West, when talking about same-sex couples, we tend to mean they’re the same gender as well. But in pre-colonial societies, couples could have the same genitalia but different genders. They also played different societal roles. Hence, gender roles are nothing new. In the western world and in postcolonial societies today, gender is assigned at birth according to genitalia. My quest for knowledge about gender roles in Africa led me to a personal essay published by Gal-dem. The author talks about the lack of gender specific pronouns in Igbo language, which is something I can relate to. In Lingala, one of Congo’s main languages, all pronouns are gender neutral. The author discusses learning about gender roles in Igbo culture through a book called Male Daughters, Female Husbands: Gender and Sex in an African Society. It’s by a female African scholar of the same tribe. The author writes, of her discoveries, that :

“I discovered a pre-colonial society where strict sexual dualism did exist in a form. However, this was weakened by the flexible gender system of traditional Igbo culture and language. As Ifi explained, a major component of this gender framework was that “male roles were open to certain categories of women through such practices as “nhanye”- “male daughters” and “igba ohu” – “female husbands”. She laid out how this allowed “certain women [to] occupy roles and positions usually monopolised by men, and thereby exercise considerable power and authority over both men and women”.”

Statue of Hatshepsut on display at the Metropolitan Museum of Art

This reminded me of Hatchepsut, the first female pharaoh of Ancient Egypt (respectfully called Kemet by Afrocentric communities). She took on a male role after the passing of her husband because her stepson was too young. Even after he was old enough, she stayed in her position. Hatchepsut chose to be depicted with a fake beard and in pharaoh garb. Being a pharaoh gave her responsibilities and power a queen didn’t have. 

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In Otherwise Christian: A Transgender Guidebook,  Mx.Chris Paige and Nick Manchester state in the Diné tradition, commonly referred to as Navajo, there are four genders: woman, man, dilbaa (similar to transgender woman or butch), and then Nadleehi (transgender, sometimes broken down into three subgroups). Unfortunately, Nadleehi face violence due to lack of acceptance as a result of colonialism. It’s important to note that “two-spirit” as it’s used today, is an umbrella term that doesn’t necessarily correlate with every Native American culture's classification of gender. Here, we witness again the limitations of translation.  For a deeper dive into Native American gender diversity, I suggest reading Not a Man, Not a Woman: Crow Bote Life And Resistance In The Late 1800s, as well as The Two-Spirits of Montana. 

We’wha (left), Osh-Tisch (Finds Them and Kills Them) (center) and Dahteste (right). (John K. Hillers, Image Courtesy of: Smithsonian Institute/John H. Fouch/F.A. Rinehart, Image Courtsey of Omaha Public Library and NPR KQED)

Perhaps pre-colonial Congo had a gender spectrum as well, and maybe it does still thrive in the Lugbara society (I hope so, at least). Despite being brought up with strict conservative, and often sexist views that never fit me, I see gender diversity as sacred. I love people as they are, and it isn't hard for me to accept how they wish to identify. I want to know about gender diversity before the African person strived for flawless assimilation into western body and mind— because I want to better understand myself. I love my femininity, but I've always had a touch of androgyny (mainly for clothing choices). As a teen, my desire to relax into how I was tensed when rules and opinions were served to me. For example, women didn’t spread their legs. My baggy jeans were distasteful, but mini skirts and shorts were too much. It doesn’t matter now what anyone thinks of me. I'm reclaiming myself. I don’t see femininity in as strictly of a lens as I was told to. And I like it like that.

Written By: Joséphine Mwanvua