THE OTHER F-WORD
Author is reclaiming the word ‘feminism’ from those who would abuse it,
Two weeks ago, at a panel discussion at the Tribeca Film Festival, the cast of the new television series The Handmaid’s Tale was asked a question that set social media on fire: Did they think the show was feminist?
The actors’ answers ranged from dodging to denial, but ultimately it seemed that no one on stage wanted their show — about a dystopian society where women have been stripped of their rights and are treated like breeding chattel — associated with the “F-word.”
Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie has not yet watched The Handmaid’s Tale — though Margaret Atwood’s novel upon which the series was adapted is on her reading list — but as one of the world’s most high-profile feminists, she is not surprised by the actors’ reactions or their attempts to distance themselves from the word, especially following the Trump election in the U.S.
“I’ve experienced my share of hostility,” she says, since what she refers to with a laugh as her “coming out” as a feminist.
The Nigerian-American author of several critically successful novels, including Half Of A Yellow Sun and Americanah, Adichie’s name has become synonymous with that divisive F-word.
Publicly, it started with her 2013 viral TEDx talk, We Should All Be Feminists.
Two years later, a bestselling essay version was published in book form, a copy of which is now given to every 16-yearold in Sweden by the country’s government.
Later, a sample from her talk made its way into Beyoncé’s song “Flawless.”
And that is how a feminist star is born. Adichie’s latest book, Dear Ijeawele, or A Feminist Manifesto in Fifteen Suggestions, started as a personal project for a friend seeking advice on how to raise her infant daughter. The slim book reads more like an intimate letter than a rigid manifesto, but Adichie, who admits she has always played counsellor to friends and family, had another purpose in mind while writing: “to reclaim the word femi- nism” from those who try to use it as a weapon against women, and for those who believe they don’t fit into a prescribed version of what a feminist looks or acts like. As the mother of an 18month-old girl, Adichie believes the most difficult and important suggestion is the book’s first, addressed to Ijeawele: “Be a full person.” Add to that the pervasiveness of “baby bump” culture and the pressure for postpartum body perfection, which can be particularly unrelenting in its demands on mothers to strive for perfection and to “do it all.”
While Adichie considers herself a lifelong feminist, which she traces back in part to the influence of a strong grandmother and auntie in Nigeria, she didn’t learn the meaning of the word until she was a teenager and a boy dismissively called her one. But since she was a young child, she did know she wanted to be a storyteller, always seeking out quiet places to write. For her many fans, Adichie represents a new generation of activists, one who unabashedly loves fashion and can become the face of a cosmetic line. One who fights against the exclusiveness of traditionally white Western feminism that dismisses anyone who hasn’t read the right academic texts. “It leaves no room,” says Adichie, who splits her time between the U.S. and Nigeria. “It doesn’t speak to feminists in Africa or Asia who haven’t read those books.”
Declaring yourself a feminist publicly can take its toll in other ways, as Adichie learned.
She purposely limits her exposure to social media and clickbait content. And there are the physical demands: “I get invited to every bloody feminist conference,” she jokes.
She doesn’t resent her new role, but rather the fact that it’s necessary, and that it takes time away from her daughter and her much-needed writing time.
“I’m still a storyteller primarily,” Adichie says. “I know it sounds naive, but I want to change the world. I want to make the word ‘feminism’ redundant, and the movement no longer needed.” Sue Carter is the editor of Quill & Quire.