Our editors decided we would be celebrating women this year by listening to them. We are therefore pleased to share with you this collection of 10 micro essays from 10 women who have shared with us what it feels like to be black women in Africa.
1. Christiana Ifeoma:

Being a woman is good on days when I remember all that I am: my rich heritage, my rich culture, my beauty. But bad on days when I am discriminated against because I am a woman; on days when opportunities deserving of me are offered to underserving people just because they aren’t women. It’s horrible on days when I have to sit still and hold my tongue, rather than lash out because I am afraid. In all, being a woman is interesting. There are opportunities to grow, to explore, and be wild. Free. Sometimes.
2. Fortune Mfon Peter

Many times, being a woman is living for everyone but yourself. Your family, basically. Maintain those perfect grades because your father works hard. Remain chaste because you mustn’t return home with a bulging tummy. Your entire church looks up to you. It’s exhausting. What I want to be, I want to be for me.
3. Sonia Benjamin:

Being a woman is overwhelming. Growing up in a female dominated household that desperately needed a male child, I had to work twice as hard to show that I was strong enough to keep up with boys. I also had to keep to myself and stay away from the male gender most times to keep me from coming home with a stomach that would attract stares and questions. I had to take care of my younger sibling like a mother would. Keep my grades up and make money so tongues wouldn’t wag about how I couldn’t uphold my family’s name like a male child.
4. Deborah George:

Emanating from a place that still impliedly perceives the male counterparts as a ‘must-have’ in every home, having to put in extra efforts to be appreciated even by adult women. The ‘women lifting women’ slogan that ends on the lips of the speaker. In this sphere, reality and theory are parallel lines. Yet, I’ve learnt to appreciate it all. My colour, my hair, my femininity, accent and all of me. For being born an African has bestowed on me an advantage. To value myself, to be resilient and strong, to stand out with my head held high without fear or favour.
5. OluwaFikunayomi Odusola

Being a woman is challenging.
It’s like being a superhero with a closet full of capes, but no idea which one to wear. It’s a never-ending art of balancing between being fierce and fabulous while also being empathetic and nurturing.
I’m constantly juggling a multitude of roles — daughter, sister, friend, partner, career woman — while trying to remember to take care of me too.
I have a whole world of things to deal with — societal expectations, period cramps, body shaming, and the constant battle against the patriarchy.
6. Ikelowha Kafayat

Being a woman feels like different things on different days. On some days, it feels like I am the most gorgeous thing alive and I feel like a queen in all her glory. This mostly happens after I do my skin care routine or get a new hairdo or when I am beautifully dressed in my perfect outfit. On some days, I feel like crap because menstrual pain is trying so hard to stop my buga and I’m almost powerless. Being a woman also makes me feel less human when I’m harassed in market places despite the fact that I am always well dressed and not in anybody’s way. Being a woman annoys me, too, when I have to argue with people about gender roles and inequality and at the end of the day it’s like I have been speaking to rocks. In dark or lonely paths, being a woman is unsafe. Despite all of this, at the end of the day, I’ll still choose to a woman in this era. The era where more women are breaking the barriers and daring to be whatever they want, the era when we’re celebrated and adored, because we too, are worthy.
7. Okonkwo SomtoChukwu

It’s a beautiful morning but I certainly do not feel beautiful. I feel weird. I know something is wrong but I’m not sure what it is. I won’t even greet my roommate. I’d rather stay in bed all day binging Bob hearts Abishola but I’m a medical student and there’s no rest for me. I have a test to write to write this morning so against my will, I drag myself to the bathroom and out and eventually get to the bus stop. I’m seated in the front of the bus by the window and waiting for the bus to get filled. Some minutes later, this man comes along and I try to get down for him to enter inside but he insists on sitting by the window. I refuse and he gets angry. ‘Ashawo!’. I smile because who is not an ashawo here? I plug back my airpods because I’m certainly not in the mood. Got to school, killed my test, got back home and slept off right after. As soon as I wake up, I go to ease myself and I see blood and the mood swings suddenly make sense.
8. Ikwo Johnson

I am happy my “mummy I am hungry” days are over. Well, almost. They still call me to ask for 2k. Being a woman, for me, is being powerful enough to give a thing life, and sustain that life. On days when I doubt my strength, I remember I raised 3 boys. One set of twins, and their older brother. Raising twin boys is not something you do without sheer grit. If I had to choose, I’ll be a woman over and over.
9. Yolanda Vincent:

Omo. Being a woman here is being stereotyped. Challenged. Put in a box. Sexualized. On some days, fierce. Extremely beautiful. Hardworking. Winning. Sexy. Smart.
10. Inimfon Jacob

The weighty expectations of my family first, and then society is one of the things I’ve had to struggle with as a woman in this part of the world.
I’ve been expected to “help” around the house and then have gotten introduced to Motherhood 101 as soon as my younger sister transitioned from being just an egg to a foetus. I moved from walking my siblings, including a toddler through a maze of streets to school each day to resolving marital conflict and being extra thoughtful of my decisions so I wouldn’t bring shame to the family name.
“You’re doing it for your family so you shouldn’t complain!” That line is the ultimate in a long line of emotionally blackmailing sentences that’s supposed to keep you in line. I know this because my mother has been doing the same for years, and while I’m mighty proud of her, I don’t want to follow in her footsteps. Being a guardian, peacekeeper and provider in a dual income household and still being expected to submit to the head of the family is a traditional concept I’d be glad not to adhere to. Shifting away from the responsibilities, as a West African woman, I wish I knew what was going on with my body half of the time. Two lessons on how easier it had just become to get pregnant, followed by sanitary pads on both occasions just doesn’t cut it. But I’ve made my peace with the fact that sex education and the female genitalia are topics that will never be discussed in school or the four walls of my home. Except amongst my peers.
Google came through for me. I hope the women in my generation breakthrough the barriers of shame and myth around these topics so their girls are able to confide in them the first time they get a yeast infection.