forca de mulheres

I woke up early to play soccer on Sunday. I was exhausted and played poorly and without enthusiasm. Attendance was low due to the entirely disappointing festa the night before and none of the players were particularly “fired up.” We kicked the ball around between the six of us, scored a few goals, laughed a bit, complained a bit more, then retired the field to the crowd of anxious boys pouring over the sidelines in hushed expectation.

The first Sunday that I played, I was told that we would begin around 6 am. I have lived in Cape Verde long enough to know that would not be the moment of kickoff, so I left the house around 6:15 set off at a leisurely pace. I arrived at the polivalente within 15 minutes. Almost an hour later the ball showed up. I was too tired to be frustrated, and after an invigorating hour and a half of running around and playing a game that I had dismissed as uninteresting and mildly tedious more than 10 years ago, I was certainly not frustrated and completely in love.

For the past couple of months, soccer has become a big part of my life here. There are two fields within equal walking distance from my house and I have somehow become a member of both teams that grace each field with their athletic prowess. In a culture of such machismo, the sight, sound and feel of a group of women taking over a typically male environment is absolutely intoxicating. Sure, it takes about 20 minutes before we are able to clear the boys off the field and they are always quick with their commentary, but for a few hours a day, we are champions, queens, goddesses.

Cape Verde is known for machismo. Though it is a time of change, it takes time for things to change. I have had more female students than male in almost all of my classes, but almost all of my female friends are not educated past 6th grade. I speak with my students and friends, both male and female, about their thoughts on the treatment of women. The responses range, on both sides, anywhere from that of the most outspoken feminist to that of the most closed minded and oppressive male. I have incredible female students that are determined to become doctors and engineers. I also have friends that have told me it is Cape Verde’s tradition for men to have multiple girlfriends/wives. I have had men tell me that they believe women are entitled to equal rights, then have seen them mistreating their wives and cheating on them. I have heard both men and women say that women are both capable and entitled to professions and lives of their own. I have also heard both men and women say that a woman’s job is to stay in the house and take care of her husband.

I was at a festa a couple of weeks ago when I found myself in the middle of a heated conversation between a group of men and a woman about the rights and roles of women. The men clearly disagreed with the woman and, as she was clearly outnumbered by men, they ganged up on her and made a mockery of her arguments. I knew very little about the people with whom I was speaking, but my voice was clearly given more respect and consideration than that of my compatriot. After she was done speaking and they were done laughing, I took my turn to speak. I basically delivered the same thoughts and ideas as the woman before me, except mine were probably not worded quite as well and were delivered from the lips of a white woman (read: visa). Instantly I was surrounded by a group of “reformed” Cape Verdean men. The specific target of the woman’s argument swore up and down that he was not only a changed man, but also not married and entirely devoted to treating women (read: me) in the way that I felt women should be treated. He lives with the mother of his two children. She was at home cleaning and preparing dinner for whenever he felt he was done partying for the weekend and ready to return home. To this day he swears he is not married, and though he may legally not be married, he is certainly not unattached.

The constant unwanted attention is easy to get used to, but will always be annoying. The pathetic attempts at wooing are often laughable and rarely threatening. The desire to go to America is always shining in the eyes of admirers and makes it entirely too easy to smile and walk away. It is the treatment of my female friends that hurts the most. Watching an intelligent, capable, caring, funny and beautiful woman wilt from the neglect and infidelity of her boyfriend/husband is heartbreaking. Seeing that boyfriend/husband with his arms around another woman and knowing that your friend knows, but doesn’t want to, boils a rage that I have never known. I feel sometimes that I am surrounded by a fleet of remarkable women drowning in a sea of completely unremarkable men.

I am not saying that all women are abused and locked away and the men are lording over them with cracking whips and booming orders. The repression is quiet and often mild, but it is there. I remind myself every day that I am looking through the eyes of a different culture, but there are many women here that speak as if with the same mouth. However, like I said, it is a time of change. I feel it each time the ball hits the back of the net. I hear it in the laughter of my team mates and in the responses of my students. I see it on all of their faces. I work for it every day.