Tag Archives: gender equality

“A Suitable Beast”: Towards an Autopsy of Patriarchy

Cover art by Gadzooks Bazooka for the song “A Suitable Beast”

Men cannot change if there are no blueprints for change. Men cannot love if they are not taught the art of loving. – bell hooks1

I held the idea of the song “A Suitable Beast” in my mind for years before I could connect it to my heart. I didn’t want to write an ode or a critique, but an investigation cloaked in curiosity. As I dove deeper I dove into Ernest Hemingway’s life, the song quickly became a mirror where I confronted my own self-inflicted rage, Whiteness, and patriarchy. As noted by Carole Pateman and Charles Mills, this dominator culture is intertwined: “race is gendered and gender is raced.”2 Many authors have critiqued Hemingway on his white supremacy, masculinity, and upholding of colonial thought.3 Toni Morrison notes in Playing in the Dark how Whiteness often hides behind the term “American”:  “The act of enforcing racelessness in literary discourse is itself a racial act. Pouring rhetorical acid on the fingers of a black hand may indeed destroy the prints, but not the hand. Besides, what happens in that violent, self-serving act of erasure to the hands, the fingers, the fingerprints of the one who does the pouring? Do they remain acid-free? The literature itself suggests otherwise.”4

Reflecting on Judith Butler’s concept of gender being a performance I have a bar in the song, “It’s hard to live up to those lies that bloomed in you.”5 As a White male who grew up in a working-class setting, I learned to play the part of masculinity by holding in emotions, appearing stoic, and seeking to intimidate. The gift of art and hip-hop for me was encountering artists such as MC Lyte, Black Thought, Tupac, and Yasiin Bey, particularly Tupac’s song “Dear Mama,” which helped me unlock my emotions with the key of vulnerability. Tupac in “Dear Mama” rapped how he cried with his sister about their family being in poverty and how he made mistakes and opened up vulnerably about how he loved his mother. Along with vulnerability, Yasiin Bey’s song “Rock N Roll” showed my colonial mind a more honest history, exposing appropriation and exploitation of how many White musicians stole and profited from Black musicians. Revisiting Morrison’s extended metaphor, Tupac and Bey expose the crime scene of Whiteness and masculinity showing where and when the acid has been poured.

Masculinity’s Faustian bargain of domination for masking feelings, veiling emotions, and burying love is a deadly deal of disconnection.  In A Farewell to Arms, Hemingway profoundly writes, “If people bring so much courage to this world the world has to kill them to break them, so of course it kills them. The world breaks every one and afterward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills.”6 Harkening back to A Farewell to Arms the last parts of my song say:

His dad shot himself with his father’s revolver
The world breaks everyone the cycle revolves
He was a big game hunter but the last beast was in his head
He piled up the dead animals but could never bury his dread
Did you hit the target or did the target hit you?
You were the bull and the matador that paradox split you

Even though Hemingway became more progressive on race and gender later in his life and had the courage to create and wrote with vulnerability, he too battled with his avatar of masculinity intersecting with traumas and ghosts.  Commenting on Hemingway and masculinity, Diane Herndi writes how “masculinity itself becomes a self-inflicted wound.”7 Art has the ability to communicate on multiple levels, convey massive amounts of information, and make us reflect, beautiful art is gauze for self-inflicted wounds. These paragraphs aren’t panaceas, but if cis men work to break down hierarchies and collaborate to destroy patriarchy by “being disloyal to the dominator model,” countless lives could be saved.8

Reflecting on the extended metaphor I used in the song–that the last beast he had to hunt was in his head–turned the topic into an autopsy on patriarchy. Unfortunately, patriarchy is alive and well in myself, people, culture, and society. My hope is that we can continue to support subcultures where boys, men, and people can continue to diagnose where patriarchy animates them and silences them into a rage so we can stop doing singular autopsies on people (mainly women) who died too soon from patriarchy, and we can one day do a universal autopsy on patriarchy and speak of it in terms of fossils and the past tense. 

chris time steele is a writer, poet, and rapper, and part of the group Calm. with AwareNess. Time has worked with Common, Kool Keith, Xiu Xiu, Ron Miles, Mick Jenkins, Psalm One, Che Noir, Extra Kool, namebuddha, scott crow and more. Time is host of the Time Talks podcast.  He has chapters with Noam Chomsky and Joy James, and in the books Building Power While the Lights Are Out and Trust Kids.  He also has a forthcoming book with Dr. Gerald Horne titled Acknowledging Radical Histories.


bell hooks, The Will to Change: Men Masculinity and Love (New York: Washington Square Press, 2004), xvii.   
Carole Pateman and Charles Mills, Contract and Domination (New York: Polity, 2007), 4
Toni Morrison, Playing in the Dark: Whiteness and the Literary Imagination (New York: Vintage, 1993): Josep M. Armengol, “Performing Manhood through Animal Killings? Revisions of Hunting as a Performance of Masculinity in Ernest Hemingway’s Late Writings,” Men & Masculinities 23, no. 5 (December 2020): 833–51, doi:10.1177/1097184X20965454.: Margaret E. Wright-Cleveland, “Hemingway’s Dialectic with American Whiteness: Oak Park, Edward Said, and the Location of Authority.” Hemingway Review 39, no. 1 (Fall 2019): 40–61. doi:10.1353/hem.2019.0016.
Toni Morrison, Playing in the Dark: Whiteness and the Literary Imagination (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1992) 9, 46
Judith Butler, Gender Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity (New York: Routledge, 1990)
Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1957)
Diane Price Herndl, “Invalid Masculinity: Silence, Hospitals, and Anesthesia in ‘A Farewell to Arms.’” Hemingway Review 21, no. 1 (Fall 2001): 38–52. doi:10.1353/hem.2001.0003.
bell hooks, The Will to Change: Men Masculinity and Love (New York: Washington Square Press, 2004), 59.


This article was originally published on 21 December 2023 on hemingwaysociety.org and written by chris time steele.

Stella Chiweshe: Zimbabwe’s mbira queen, rebel music star and pioneer

This article was originally written by Gibson Ncube and published by Music In Africa and licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercialCC BY-NC licence.


Stella Rambisai Chiweshe, affectionately known in Zimbabwe as ’The Queen of Mbira’ or ‘Ambuya (grandmother) Chiweshe’, passed away on 20 January 2023.

The late Stella Chiweshe. Photo: Frans Schellekens/Redferns via Getty Images

Chiweshe was born in July 1946 in the rural area of Mhondoro in the Mashonaland province of northern Zimbabwe. She began playing the mbira, an ancient thumb piano, in the early 1960s. At the time she was reproached by both men and women because she had dared to play an instrument that was ordinarily played by men.

Chiweshe was not only a singer, songwriter and musician who performed extensively across Africa, Europe and the US. She was also a cultural activist, a pioneering woman and an educator. She founded the Chivanhu Centre in Zimbabwe, home to the preservation of traditional music and culture.

Chivanhu is a Shona word for humanity. One of her goals was to ensure that the mbira continued to be the heartbeat of Zimbabwe’s people. As the African adage goes: “When an old person dies, a library burns to the ground.” Her death is indeed a great loss to the country.

Pioneering force

The mbira, a powerful spiritual instrument used to communicate with the ancestors, was often played at traditional ceremonies by men. Historians trace its origins to 3 000 years ago on the west coast of Africa and to 1 300 years ago in the region that is now Zimbabwe. Chiweshe explained in an interview that: “Men played mbira, and for me to play mbira meant that I had to sit with men on either side of me. It made the women very uncomfortable.”

Not only did the young Chiweshe face criticism from her family and community. She also had to contend with a ban on the instrument by the British colonial administration because the idea of ancestral worship went against their Christian values.

Chiweshe was a rebel by nature. She defied the British and played at underground night ceremonies. She would go on to be a pioneering force in several other ways.

She took mbira music beyond Zimbabwe and did important work in popularising the art form.

She was able to help fight the stigmatisation of this spiritual musical instrument.

She championed, with great pride and reverence, the dominant Shona ethnic group’s tradition and folklore through her music, which evoked a deep spirituality and connection to the ancestors.

Finally, she blazed a trail for other women, especially musicians.

I explain in a book chapter in Victors, Victims and Villains: Women and Musical Arts in Zimbabwe that her performances combined mystery, presence and the use of traditional lyrics to challenge not just patriarchy but also colonial rule.

Her music, like that of other Zimbabwean musicians such as Thomas Mapfumo and Oliver Mtukudzi, was the soundtrack of the Second Chimurenga (the war of liberation against the white minority Rhodesian regime).

Female trailblazer

Although she did not openly call herself a feminist, as a female mbira custodian and practitioner she was one. British music writer Dominic Valvona explains: “Trumpeted in our modern virtue-labelling climate as a ‘feminist’, the outspoken star was certainly strong-willed, even a rebel. Making a name for herself overcoming the obstacles of tradition and a patriarchal-dominated society, her obstinacy soon garnered attention, not only in Zimbabwe but further afield.”

Chiweshe fought for recognition as a talented artist and gave voice to Zimbabwean womanhood, in all its complexity. By making her body visible and her voice heard, she defied musical and cultural rites deeply rooted in ancestral tradition. This defiance challenged the marginalisation of women which denies them autonomy and agency.

Chachimurenga (It’s Time for Revolution) is probably her most famous song. This timeless song is a call to arms. It refers to the liberation war against the Rhodesian regime and highlights the bloodshed and sacrifices made to liberate the country. The song, like most of her songs, features a fusion of mbira and other traditional instruments like marimba, drums and hosho (rattles).

Inspiring musician

Chiweshe inspired many young female mbira players, even though the mbira remains an instrument predominantly played by men. One of the notable musicians she inspired is the late, award-winning singer and mbira player Chiwoniso Maraire. Maraire emerged in the early 1990s and showed that the mbira could still evoke deeply spiritual emotions when combined with western musical instruments. Her songs resonated with people at all levels of society and offered messages of inspiration and hope as well as resistance.

Chiweshe also inspired Hope Masike, affectionately known as the ‘Princess of Mbira’, the contemporary custodian of this mystical instrument. Masike’s bold, urban fusion music shows that the mbira should not only be considered in its traditional role. She has coined the term ‘Gwenyambirakadzi’ to describe female mbira players. Popularising the mbira among young people, Masike has helped debunk the myth that the mbira is an instrument associated with the occult.

Queen of the mbira

Stella Chiweshe refused to bow down to oppression, discouragement or even threats to her musical aspirations. She used her music to comment on and highlight issues relating to tradition and contemporary socio-political and economic issues.

She entered a male-dominated domain and made her mark as one of the first women ever to play the mbira in public. And she showed considerable staying power. In a musical career spanning five decades, she enjoyed the spotlight as the queen of the mbira. Through her music, she cut across social limitations and geopolitics to emerge in a class of her own as spirited, talented and playful – yet always spiritually grounded in her traditional beliefs.

Gibson Ncube is a lecturer at Stellenbosch University. The article first appeared on The Conversation.

Professor Studies Sounds Of Justice

This article was originally published by UVAToday and Anne E. Bromley and republished here with the author’s permission.

What is the power of one human voice, in speech or song?

The sound of a human voice can bring us together or can be ignored.

When Nomi Dave got her dream job with the United Nations, little did she know it would lead to a path very different than she had imagined, one that would range from studying music in authoritarian Guinea, to documenting women speaking out for gender justice, to teaching at the University of Virginia.

Dave, an associate professor of music who just gained tenure, recently won a book prize for best first monograph, “The Revolution’s Echoes: Music, Politics, and Pleasure in Guinea” from the Society for Ethnomusicology.

With ancestral roots in Africa, Dave had known since she was a teenager that she wanted to spend time somewhere on the continent. Her route was circuitous, however.

She and her brother were born in London, where their parents had studied. The family also spent time in Kenya when she was little and moved to the U.S. when she was 11. (Although her family originated in India, they were part of a long-standing Indian diasporic community in East Africa, including Kenya, Tanzania, and Uganda.)

“Those experiences lit a fire in my imagination,” she said.

Dave earned her B.A. at the University of Florida, majoring in French and politics with a minor in African studies. She knew she was interested in international policy, and law school would give her the tools to work in international human rights. She then moved to New York City and worked at the United Nations headquarters – at the time, a dream come true, she said – for two years before applying for a post with the U.N. Refugee Agency.

She spent three years in Conakry, the capital of Guinea, from 2002 to ’05, working with refugees, including those in detention and in prison, and then focusing on women and children caught in armed conflicts. Hundreds of thousands of people had fled to Guinea from civil wars in nearby Sierra Leone, Liberia and Ivory Coast. Dave worked on family reunification cases involving unaccompanied minors, trying to trace and connect them to their families. Cases of sexual violence were not uncommon.

“I felt like I was putting out fires without time to understand what was happening below the surface,” she said.

“It was extraordinary, but I became disillusioned about the huge bureaucracy.” Dave said working in Guinea itself was tangential.

“I felt frustrated I didn’t know about this place where I was living,” she said. She was still interested in law and politics, but also felt drawn to music – an interest that tugged at the edges of her life. She loved Guinean music. She found that people were often hesitant to talk with a foreigner about politics, but opened up talking about music, and she realized they were linked.

After taking a break and thinking about what to do next, she decided to go back to school.

From Lawyer to Sound Researcher

Dave went to Oxford University, completing her Ph.D. in 2012 in anthropology and music, returning to Guinea for field work. She now conducts research and teaches about the role music and sound play in culture and politics, as well as uses of the human voice, literally and figuratively.

Since Guinea gained its independence from France in 1958, several authoritarian rulers led the government and have used music to reflect pride and look back on the country’s history with nostalgia.

Back in Guinea as a doctoral student, she dug into the authoritarian undercurrents and the dynamics of music and politics, looking at what it all might mean for ordinary people.

Alya Camara, a bolon player, shown in 2019 in Conakry, Guinea, in front of a mural of the former president. (Photo by Nomi Dave)

The tradition of praise-singing – paying musical homage to nobles and rulers – evolved to promoting the postcolonial state, with musicians and audiences actively participating.

Political theory, Dave pointed out, has long acknowledged that emotion plays a role in politics – leaders can use their charisma to invoke fear as well as pleasure.

“In fact, authoritarianism works not just through fear or false consciousness, but also through creating a sense of belonging and collectivity for people,” she said.

In her own experiences while doing research, she could feel the palpable sense of public pleasure at concerts, she said, even when the musicians were singing about an authoritarian leader that people disliked. 2010 brought democratic elections, but the shift to a post-authoritarian state has been destabilizing and slow, she said.

“My main argument,” Dave wrote in email about the prize-winning book that resulted from her research, “is that people always love the idea of protest music – especially in Africa, foreigners are always looking for stories of protest musicians – but in fact the vast majority of musicians intentionally don’t engage in protest or politics. That’s true in Guinea, in the U.S., in most places around the world.”

Dave, with her former vocal teacher, Diaryatou Kouyaté, in Guinea in 2009. (Photo by Cheick Kouyaté)

Today as Guinea makes an uneasy transition to democratic rule, such spectacles of public pleasure are becoming increasingly unstable, as new forms of protest and political voice complicate older aesthetic practices, she said.

“There’s been an increasing amount of open, vocal dissent and protest in the country, in which people – journalists, students, street protesters – call out politicians directly,” Dave said. “Musicians are trying to navigate this change – from the old pleasures of musical and poetic shout-outs to a new political culture of calling out. What’s important to note here is that for the most part, musicians aren’t leading the vanguard to protest; instead, they’re really torn between old and new ways.”

Sounds of New Research and Teaching With Community Engagement

Dave’s scholarship has also shifted. She has returned to her earlier work as a lawyer to see how people try to seek justice – with their voices, in the streets and on the radio.

With her background, Dave is bringing together law, anthropology and sound studies, a subdiscipline that looks at what sound means to us.

Beyond metaphor, the way we hear different sounds is filtered through ideas we already have, Dave said. It is still all too common that women’s voices are criticized in stereotypical ways – for being whiny or shrill, for example, but they continue to speak out anyway.

Women activists in Guinea have been protesting against gender-based violence on the radio and in the streets. Before COVID, Dave had planned a radio series with women in Conakry to familiarize listeners with the women’s voices, but that was cut short by the pandemic and not being able to return and interview women there.

With Bremen Donovan, a UVA doctoral student in anthropology, Dave is making a short documentary film about a defamation lawsuit against a Guinean journalist and activist, Moussa Yéro Bah, who covered sexual violence cases – a legal tactic that has been used to silence journalists, she said.

Dave and Donovan presented an early rough cut of the film at the RAI Film Festival, held virtually March 19 to 28. Sponsored by the Royal Anthropological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland, the biennial conference is “the leading forum for exploring the multiple relationships between documentary filmmaking, anthropology, visual culture and the advocacy of cultural diversity and intercultural dialogue through film,” according to its website.

Dave said they’re also organizing a roundtable at UVA, to be held in early May, with “some amazing participants here”: media studies professor Meredith Clark, law professor Anne Coughlin and filmmaker Kevin Everson. 

Donovan, who lived in Sierra Leone, has known Dave for several years and said in email, “This film project has been a wonderful experience of collaboration around our mutual interests in law, justice and creative approaches to research, that live beyond the university. Working with collaborators [in Guinea] for this project has been a highlight of this year.”

In this still from the film Dave is making, Guinean activists hold a press conference after a guilty verdict in a defamation lawsuit. (Photo by Nomi Dave)

Dave has woven some of this research into her teaching as part of the College of Arts & Sciences’ Civic & Community Engagement program. She described her course, “Musical Ethnography,” as “a yearlong course that’s half classroom-based learning on methods and ethics in ethnographic research, and half creative projects and collaborations with local musicians and artists in Charlottesville.”

She said the students have been amazing, reimagining and turning their projects into virtual concerts for an open mic series; a video-recording of a song by a local group of eco-activists, The Green Grannies, produced for Earth Day; and a virtual benefit concert for the Shelter for Help in Emergency, featuring many of their artist-partners. 

This year, Dave’s third and last year of teaching this course for a while, one of the students, Noelle Buice, came up with the idea of making an arts-based time capsule focusing on the COVID pandemic.

“Students are making a short film, a podcast, a photo essay, and a text collage about artists’ thoughts and memories for this past year,” Dave said, adding that the class is partnering with the local organization, the Bridge Progressive Arts Initiative, and WTJU, to host the virtual time capsule on the Bridge’s website. “We’re also creating a physical time capsule with objects collected from artists and community members that represent something from this past year.

Activists at a protest in Guinea, September 2018. (Courtesy of Nomi Dave)

“Despite Zoom life and everything else, the students have been so impressive with all their ideas and engagement,” she said.

Next year, Dave will teach a new civic engagement course, “Amplified Justice,” connected to a collaborative project she’s working on with Coughlin and music professor Bonnie Gordon. The project and the course will explore sound, voice, protest and gender. Students will have an opportunity to work on the collaborative project, she said.

Both “Amplified Justice” and the film on the Guinean journalist are part of an initiative Dave has dubbed the “Sound Justice Lab,” which received initial funding from the UVA Equity Center and aims “to bring together students and faculty bridging law and the humanities at UVA, with a focus on questions of justice in everyday life.”

Sounds like we’ll be hearing more about these projects in the future.

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