As I said at the very beginning of this blog, anthropologists spend months (sometimes years) crafting the perfect project. The most fundable project. But, exigencies in the field often mean that these pieces...
Over the past decade, obstetric fistula has been effectively branded as a profoundly stigmatizing illness, usually conjuring images of young girls forced into early marriages, “backwards” cultural and religious practices, and victimization by...
In a recent CNN article ominously (and sensationally) titled “A fate worse than death”, reporter Morgan Windsor describes obstetric fistula as a horrifying condition whereby a sufferer will be “rejected by her husband and...
Fistula is considered a highly stigmatizing condition – creating social pariahs of young, vulnerable girls victimized by their husbands, their families, their cultures, and a system which fails them. Indeed, this portrait of...
I like getting what I want. I demand to get what I deserve. I don’t deal well with injustices. I’m told that I’m not good with authority. If I don’t have confidence in...
Over the past couple of weeks, I’ve heard a lot of chatter about something women call “guriya”. None of my dictionaries are of any use (guriya literally translates as “cotton seed”). Nor are...
What does it mean to be a Muslim? Is it a self-proclaimed title? Is it acting in accordance with Koranic laws? Is it praying five times a day? Is it cultural? For a...
I can’t keep a secret for a minute. I give gifts the day I buy them. When I try to hold something back, my face contorts a little, as if the information is...
I spend so much time with women behind the mud walls of their compounds. Shielded from the male gaze. Protected from strict norms of coverage, silence, and invisibility. Here, behind the bricks, women...
This afternoon, huddled under the shade of a giant neem tree, women gathered for a dress ceremony. In the fistula world, dress ceremonies are held to honor women whose fistulas have been successfully...
For women here, shame (or, kunya) is a way of life. It’s hard for me to keep up with everything that causes it. Saying the name of your husband out loud brings a...
Although there were three of us sitting under the late afternoon sun, none of us made noise. I could hear the sound of a pestle banging spices against a mortar from a...