Great Black Warrior Queens
[An examination of the gender currents within Rastafari thought and
the adoption of a feminist agenda in the Rasta women’s movement]
Words By Lisa-Anne Julien
As an Afro-Caribbean Rasta woman, there has always been an ancestral longing for my repatriation to Africa. It is my desire to see a true emancipation for woman and so, the question of a harmony between feminism and Rasta has long been my own personal struggle. Armed with my academic knowledge, blessed with opportunity to have engaged with Rastas from the idyllic sands of Trinidad to the politically charged atmosphere of South Africa and inspired by my love for Africa, this paper virtually wrote itself. It is also written with a great deal of trepidation and humility; I realize that I may not be qualified to make statements about Rasta sisters in South Africa since, there, Rasta may be unfolding uniquely due to the political and cultural climate.
I am encouraged, however, by the scarcity of literature on Rasta in South Africa and even more so on Rasta women within the faith and so do hope to contribute to the understanding of Rasta identity. It is with observations and personal experience, discussions with Rasta men and women and theoretical material that I attempt to interrogate the Rasta movement from a gender perspective. I will attempt to position well-known debates around women’s oppression within the ideology of the Rasta movement and if “the cap fits” suggest a radical change to the gender relations within the Rasta movement. Finally my summation endeavor will propose that Rasta women can learn from and positively contribute to the women’s movement in South Africa despite some ideological differences.
Through my child eyes in the Caribbean island of Trinidad, I often wondered about these deadlocked people who seem to have little care in the world and whose constant angry expressions spoke of their displeasure at society in general. Which hair salons did they go to, I wondered curiously? As I grew up, Rasta became even more shrouded in mystery. Who exactly were these people who worshipped a man, smoked marijuana with conviction, always seemed to be self-employed, loved reggae music, wore long-flowing skirts and wrapped their locks in colorful turbans? The unfolding of this mystery in my life has run parallel to the development of my other, cross-cutting identities: the artist, academic, woman and mother in me have all cemented my position within the Rastafari faith, while at the same time serving to continuously question exactly where Rasta, as a political vehicle aims to take Black people, especially Black women.
Rasta as a political and social force has its roots in the lived experiences of the Jamaican working class and rural poor in the 1930s. The coronation of His Imperial Majesty, Haile Sellassie of Ethiopia in 1930, is seen as the physical manifestation of Marcus Garveys’s prophecy that Blacks should look to Africa for the crowning of a Black King. Garvey maintained:
“We Negroes believe in the God of Ethiopia, the everlasting God – God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Ghost, the one God of all ages. That is the God in whom we believe but we shall worship him through the spectacles of Ethiopia.” (Campbell 1985:61)
The presence of colonial Britain and the economic hardships of the working class and rural poor served to ignite the passion for rebellion and revolution. Religiously, biblical interpretation of Haile Sellassie’s coronation was seen as the second coming of Jesus Christ while Garvey’s Black Consciousness message and Back to Africa ideology formed the political backbone of the movement. The revolutionary spirit of Rasta was expressed through the dreadlocks, dress and manner of Rastas, all which spoke of a rebellion to the status quo.
When all Africa free, all Black people free!
Although the Rastafari movement was born in the hills of Jamaica, its tentacles has had far reaching effects as it inflammatory message could be felt and internalized from the favelas in Brazil to the shanty towns of Zimbabwe. Rasta has always and will always speak to the hearts of the underprivileged and oppressed, its prophecy that one day, the last shall be first and the first last, that soon capitalism, exploitation, the oppressor and the ruling class will be turned on their heads. This message has been transmitted mainly via the medium of music and reggae artists such as Bob Marley, Peter Tosh and Burning Spear to name but a few, have certainly taken reggae music and Rasta philosophy to a global level.
The lack of written scholarship on the history of an organized Rasta presence in South Africa is indeed unfortunate as an investigation into the manner in which Rasta ideology, with its focus on Black liberation may have reacted with national struggles against apartheid would make for an interesting read. However, even with this lack of information, I was still made to understand by the young Rastas in Johannesburg, that reggae music was a virulent force in decades gone by and channeled the Rasta message effectively. Bob Marley’s concert in neighboring Zimbabwe in 1980 may have also served to bring home the political message to South African shores, albeit by a process of diffusion. According to Campbell (1985:147), Bob and Rita Marley made this statement regarding his concert in Zimbabwe:
“I and I made our contribution to the Freedom of Zimbabwe. When we say natty going to dub it up in a Zimbabwe, that’s exactly what we mean ‘give the people of Zimbabwe what they want’. Now they got what they want do we want more? ‘Yes”, the freedom of South Africa. So Africa unite, unite, unite. You’re so right and let’s do it. Black women stand firm and keep the faith for you reward shall be great. Zimbabwe now, South Africa next. When all Africa free, all Black people free”
Hence, it is possible to deduce that while the inner-workings of the South African Rasta movement remain unclear to many, even to this day, the idea of Rasta occupied the consciousness of many through the medium of reggae music. Nhlanhla Hlongwane, a Rasta man and long-time friend of mine wrote to me:
“I grew up knowing Rastas back in the early 80s here in South Africa. They intrigued us, my friends and I. Whenever we’d see them we’d greet them ‘Ahoy there Rasta!’ Fist would be clenched in the air and then they’d reply ‘Ahoy!”
In as much as very little is known about the history of Rasta in South Africa, arguably even less is known about Rasta women. Nhlanhla, in the above dialogue also said;
“We didn’t know any woman Rastas because they were none/few. When I saw the I Threes, I feel in love. There was my one image of an African Queen, dreadlocks wrapped in fabric, lengthy garments. I saw the cultural attributes of the future mother of my children. Rita Marley generated an air of confidence, wisdom resilience.”
Rasta women such as Rita Marley and Judy Mowatt were indeed representations of Rasta women but for the many nameless and faceless Rasta women in the many societies of the world who do not have the medium of music to articulate what it means to be Rasta and woman, the mystic and enigma is increased. I ask then, who exactly is the Rasta woman?
Why treat us inhuman / Just because we’re only woman? / Don’t treat us inhuman / Just because we’re only woman / We’re not weak / We are strong / We’ve been held back / For too long... / We’ve got our God-given talents just like you / Open the door and let us through / (Judy Mowatt, Only a woman)
Who can find a virtuous woman?
The most liberating definition of a Rasta woman I have encountered is from Sister Makeda Hannah (1996; 8), a longtime Rasta woman and activist in Jamaica. She posits:
“Rasta woman is the other half of the Creation union that is God Jah. Jah is both male and female, two halves united in one whole as Creation and Creator. In the same way the Man and Woman unite their separate halves in order to make life, so also is neither more equal than the other half.”
This definition goes a long way to place Rasta women onto a firm spiritual grounding but often the lived experience as dictated by the social relations of society make living this definition out rather difficult. The concept of the Rasta woman is even more mystifying than that of the Rasta man simply because the term “Rasta woman” only came into existence fairly recently and I believe, as a result of advancement and increased vocalism of women in the Rastafari faith. Women in Rastafari were often called dawtas or Sistren. During the early days of my journey to Rastafari, my then boyfriend told me that there is no such thing as a Rasta woman. I could be, as it turned out, a Rasta man’s woman but the fact that Ras meant Head in Amharic, a title reserved for men only, denied me the right to be called a Rasta woman. In fact, I was informed outright “Jah is the head of man, man is the head of woman and woman is the head of the home.” The fire and passion with which I argued this point was closely noted by some Rasta men as antagonistic and a clear indication that I had somehow not succumbed to Rastafari completely since I had not assumed this persona of humility. Heads shook and Rasta men exchanged looks of despair as I refused to grasp the simple concept of man as my head. Eventually I was told, “Well, they always say the dawtas take a little longer.” They? Who is they, I wondered? After some investigation I discovered that “they”, the supposed authority on Rasta women, was reggae singer Gregory Isaacs who sang:
“Cause the dawtas always take a little longer / to sight up the Father / ‘Cause the dawtas always take a little longer / to do the works of Jah Jah / Never let her go astray / Try show her the right way.”
These lyrics echoed a central tenet in Rastafari thought from a man’s perspective: that men are possessed with a spiritual wisdom and intelligence than women are not privy to, as well as this need to “guide” a Rasta women. When I questioned the Rasta man’s perceived closeness to God by pointing out the iniquities many Rasta men were engaging in on a daily basis, I was conveniently told “a man is just a man”.
I continued my crusade in my own way and argued that Rasta women, the embodiment of Queen Empress Menen and the ONE wife of Haile Sellassie 1, should be an example of a “good” woman who supported her man but who also spoke on behalf of women on many occasions and who fought tirelessly to end the cultural practice of child-brides in Ethiopia. These arguments more often than not, fell on deaf ears, as did my shouts that the Nyabinghi, the priestly order within the Rastafari faith, stemmed from the Nyabingi legacy in Uganda, essentially a legacy of anti-colonialism and the struggle against the British led by the great Queen Muhumusa. Hence, my declaration claimed women occupying a subordinate position in the Rasta movement is not founded in serious historical investigation but rather born out of a desire for males to lead and control all aspects of the movement.
In an effort to placate my persistent critiques, I was told I could not be head, I could not God but as a woman, I could be God’s mother. Momentarily stunned at the notion of such a prestigious and highly spiritual position, I allowed myself to be seduced into the dream of such an image. God’s Mother! Well, one can’t possibly attain higher heights than that! I began to realize as a Rasta woman, the greatest and most revered responsibility is that of a mother. Chevannes (1994:28) in his study of the Rastafari movement in Jamaica agrees. He notes:
“Motherhood is considered the highest fulfillment of womanhood....women are respected, perhaps even feared for their powers of fertility and command greater allegiance and love from males and females alike than do their male counterparts.”
As I became stronger in the faith, I began to be disheartened by the gulf between theory and practice. Surely God’s mother should be allowed to pursue any aspect of education she chooses, be economically independent and be generally able to control all aspects of her life. On one hand, respectful titles such as “Empress” and “Queen” were upheld in words and never in my life have I been whistled at or been the victim of sexual comments by a Rasta man. On the other hand, the fundamental problem lies with the definition of a “Queen” or “Empress”, which is constructed from a male perspective and too often has meant the Rasta woman is to remain quiet, humble, virtuous (according to the Rasta man’s definition of virtue) and uncritical. In my view, this is a serious bone of contention within the Rasta movement since the title of Queen is revered and aspired to but at what costs? The Rasta woman is then seen as “good” if she is humble and submissive and “bad” if she too vocal within the movement. This dichotomy is not limited to the Rasta movement as the notion of “virtue” and “the good woman” has been used against women from time immemorial.
I have never seen my struggle as a woman any different from my struggle as a Rasta woman and the manner in which the position of women in society serves the interests of the male-dominated ruling class. As, Dahlerup (1987; 96) argues “the subjection of women is not just the last kind of inequality to be removed but is an integral part of present-day society.” I began to realize if the identity of the Rasta woman is developed and allowed to flourish alongside a more feminist thought pattern, the face Rasta as we know it, will definitely be forced to change. How many Rasta men, I wonder, are willing to let that happen? I argued then and continue to argue now that the identity and role of a Rasta woman, is one that a woman simply comes into, one that is non-negotiable, fixed and ultimately one that is molded by Rasta men. I have found the dialogue among Rasta women vibrant and intelligent but the extent to which this dialogue is seriously taken on board by Rasta men to reconfigure the Rasta movement is questionable.
What then, would the Rasta movement look like if Rasta women espoused feminist agendas much like other Black women who seek liberation from male dominance? Is the Rasta man’s identity then fully intertwined with his being able to control certain aspects of his woman’s life, his delegation of the domestic reproduction to the woman and his freedom to engage with many women at one time? I often sit dreamily, thinking of what would happen should the structures and the unequal gender relations, which sustain these behaviors, become dismantled by women who demand more, more from men and more from society.
The Lioness hath prevailed
A change to the Rasta women’s identity is definitely a real possibility in contemporary society. The concept of globalization ushers in a provocative idea that one can analyze race, class, and gender, religious and sexual identities in order to fully problematize the issue around us. Hall (1992; 276) defines identity from a sociological perspective as:
“The gap between the ‘inside and the ‘outside – between the personal and the public worlds. The fact that we project ourselves into these cultural identities, at the same time internalizing their meanings and values, making them ‘part of us’, helps to align our subjective feelings with the objective place we occupy in the social and cultural world.”
I would argue, then, that the above definition hold true for the way in which many Rastas define themselves in the world today. However, I believe the identity we cling to is ultimately tied into the manner in which we analyze our social situations. For example, as a Black, working class woman who has been raped by a poor black man, I might able more inclined to align myself along gender lines and feel more solidarity with other women who have experienced some form of gender oppression. Rasta as an identity is formed through racial and class analyzes but the gender analyses is more often than not left out. In contemporary society I believe the gender lens needed to examine social relations to be the most crucial one of all, even though the focus on Black consciousness According to Hall (1991: 56):
“Has the moment of the struggle organized around the [a] constructed Black identity gone away? It certainly has not. So long as that society remains in its economic, political, cultural and social relations in a racist way to the variety of Black and Third World people in its midst, and it continues to do so, that struggle remains [but]...just as Black was the cutting edge of politics vis-à-vis one kind of enemy, it could also if not understood properly, provide a kind of silencing in relation to another. These are the costs, as well as the strengths, of trying to think of the notion of Black as an essentialism.”
The Rasta movement should not be afraid to introspect and critically look at itself from a gender platform. Said (1993; 217) argues; that “cultures are not impermeable” and hence, rather than assuming a crude Eurocentrism with respect to globalization, the latter can seen as the seasoning needed to ignite a fiery new brand of Rasta that is even more holistic in its solutions for African liberation. Rasta has long been the voice of resistance in the various societies it flourished and in the same manner, a new Rasta identity, with a stronger gender focus, in contemporary society can be viewed as cultural resistance.
The Osisi are Irie!
My personal stories and my academic knowledge began to piece together when I came to Johannesburg, South Africa. I realized Rasta may have developed uniquely due a specific political, social, cultural and gendered structure of a specific society. I discovered Rastafari in South Africa to be of an extremely militant nature, not dissimilar to the strength of politicization engendered during the struggles against apartheid. The uncompromising spirit of Rastas in Johannesburg is expressed through their contempt for alcohol, meat, tobacco, women in trousers and 9-5 employments. It is with some degree is amusement that I reflected on the Rastas in Trinidad, New York and London, all where I have spent many years. Although it is commonplace to condemn these practices, seeing Rastas consuming alcohol, smoking cigarettes, Rasta women in jeans and Rasta men with white women is hardly an uncommon sight for me. In the same way that South African Rastas have budded within the cultural systems of South African society, so the status and position of Rasta women should unfold parallel and be influenced by the struggle, status and role of South African women in general.
I have always admired the strength of South African women, during the days of apartheid and even more so now. In my own opinion, Black South African women have bore the brunt of the oppression of apartheid because the need to perform within the productive and reproductive spheres were intensified amid forced removals, banishment, bloody massacres, imprisonment of male heads of households and starvation. With the backdrop of such advances by women, I became very curious about the issue of women’s oppression within Rastafari and if really, with the history of strong Black women in South Africa, could South African Rasta women accept the patriarchy within the Rasta movement? Sister Nonhlanhla, a Rasta woman in Johannesburg states “Rasta men really do believe that women are Queens but society is highly patriarchal and so there is no attempt to practice the theory.” This strongly suggests then that Rasta women can to a great extent, see themselves as South African woman, with similar struggles based on gender inequalities. Another Gauteng Rasta woman, Sister Natalia, believes a Rasta women’s liberation to be a very personal issue. In her words:
“We cannot generalize about Rasta women being submissive. I know more Rasta women who are independent in mind and spirit than those who are submissive, many of these symbols of oppression, e.g. ways of covering the head, having and raising children are actually embodied and celebrated by Rasta women. The Rasta movement does not oppress women, individuals do, both men and women.”
This last point made by Sister Natalia is echoed by Sister Johanna from Soweto, who, in a discussion with me, revealed she believed the older Rasta women in the movement to be the oppressive force on the younger sisters. She believes younger sisters are intimidated by the older women and so are not empowered to come forward with comments or criticisms for fear of saying “the wrong thing”. This kind of oppression is certainly not restricted to Rasta as in many societies, older women often have a vested interested in maintaining a particular social structure. Once again, this reveals the comparability of the struggles between South African Rasta women and the general population of South African women and hence, there is room for a positive relationship between Rasta women and some women’s organizations in South Africa.
The movement of Jah people!
While a woman’s liberation remains a personal journey, the dynamism of collective human agency cannot be overlooked and the force needed to turn oppressions both within society as well as within the Rasta movement onto its head can be found in women’s collective voices and actions. Angela Davis (1990:31) reminds us “the forward movement of women of color almost always initiates progressive change for all women.” Within this vein, the possibility of Rasta women aligning with other women’s movement, feminist or otherwise should be considered. Sister Nonhlanhla believes that “there is a high need to learn from African and western feminism. It can be used as study, we have to be aware of what is out there.”
There are some serious ideological problems in Rasta women confronting the sexism within society and within Rasta. Any criticism as to the status of Rasta women within the movement is discarded as a white construction of reality unsuitable to Black cultures and any mention of gender liberation berated as western, feminist ideology. While feminist ideology may not provide all the ingredients for a holistic African liberation, for too long there has been little real strategic change for women in Rastafari. In the same way Black men, in negotiating their freedom, reject the patronizing efforts of while liberals in favor of an innate desire to chart one’s own liberation, so too women must design their own path to empowerment. The fundamental hurdle to the solution is that racial oppression is more readily understood and attacked than gender oppression.
Black women’s liberation is often stilted by the time they realize that their oppression is somehow tied into their relations with their own brethren. Black men support their cries and protests as long as they are aimed at the White middle classes. However, when the subject of gender oppression is surfaced and the Black man himself is implicated in this oppression, the tones become hushed. Hall (1991; 56) states “ to operate exclusively through an unreconstructed conception of Black was to reconstitute the authority of Black masculinity over Black women.”
Rastawomen dwell within this unique contradiction – as Black and Rasta they are acutely aware of their roles as support structures to men within the struggle, while remaining mindful of the fact that their own liberation is an end in itself. The Rasta woman is forever mindful of the oppression already experienced by the Black man and she does not risk the disintegration of the Black family and increased alienation of her man. Rasta Nhlanhla asserts “naturally in a society where Rasta men don’t occupy high ranking positions, they can only aspire lowly societal positions for their partners.” This assertion is leveled at a deeper oppression, a more sinister form of exploitation, that of capitalism. bell hooks argues convincingly that although, sexism must be fiercely fought, the real enemy is capitalistic exploitation. In her words;
“Black females must not be duped into supporting shit that hurts us under the guise of standing beside our men. If Black men are betraying us through acts of male violence, we save ourselves and the race by resisting. Yet, our feminist critiques of Black male sexism fail as meaningful political intervention if they seek to demonize Black males and do not recognize that our revolutionary work is to transform white supremacist capitalist patriarchy.” (1994; 29)
Rastas, from an economic standpoint would agree with this assertion and this is expression through the economic philosophy of “doing for self.” Rastas as a rule despise having to within the system and under a boss and so strive as much as possible to be self-employed.
With respect to Rasta women, organization around key issues such as the structural forces of capitalism and globalization as well as gender relations within the domestic sphere, can be enhanced through affiliation with other organizations. It is the degree of feminism purported by the organization that might potentially be a hurdle to a harmony between Rasta women and other women’s movements. Sister Nonhlanhla worked for the Women’s Development Foundation in Johannesburg and within the Rasta movement aimed to extend some of her knowledge of women’s empowerment and leadership to the Rasta women. Her efforts, according to her, were not well received. In her words: “I was seen as a negative influence, causing distrust among the sistren and brethren. The sisters felt it was too much.”
Rasta women need to be respected for the manner in which they analyze their own situation but if the core site of women’s oppression is not boldly founded in the unequal gender relations and the role that patriarchy continues to play in society, exactly how sustainable can this eradication of oppression be? It is impossible to deny the articulation of hierarchies within the private sphere and the manner in which they influence the public sphere. Can a Rastawoman who is responsible for the entire reproduction of the domestic sphere and economically and socially subordinate to her husband expect to sustain equality with men within the public realm? Women can perhaps all agree to a better life and more access to entitlements, however, what structures need to be both broken down and established depends on the economic, social, political, cultural factors at play, all which women effect and which affect women lives.
Forward to Zion
Whether the issue of women’s liberation is a western concept or not, it has been co-opted by many women’s groups in the South as an entry point to seeking a fairer deal for women. Furthermore what remains real is the life and lived experiences of African women on the continent as well as in the Diaspora. There is a general consensus that women form the backbone of many societies, that their work in invaluable but often undervalued. It is within this consensus that the issue of empowerment and liberation can be ushered in, accompanied by a dynamic albeit cautious, critical dialogue among women. The Rasta woman need not remain an enigma. As beautiful, conscious African woman, she does not have to play into the myth of the superwoman, nor compete for virtue with the Virgin Mary. She is a real woman, hardened by society’s injustices, hopeful for Africa’s redemption. She is not unlike her South African counterparts who aim to juggle public and private lives. Rastafari represents a new dawn for the African woman. It is a place where women can express the highest honor that can be given to a women, that of the title of Queen Omega. The African ideals within Rasta, the natural and holistic lifestyle, the respect given by Rastas and non-Rastas to the aesthetics of the Rasta woman as well as the political ideals she stands for, continues to endear a woman to Rastafari. Socially, within the new South Africa and anthems from every conceivable movement worldwide, the Rasta woman can tap into the exciting stream of urban life to reconfigure herself and the Rasta movement onto an ever-changing African landscape.
This article was first published in AGENDA FEMINIST JOURNAL No. 57 2003 “Empowering Women for Gender Equity.”
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