When women are witches and men are healers
My mum is called a “witch”. Witch is how our patriarchal societies call women who are fearless and deeply connected to their womb. Yes, she is a witch, but she hates being called like this. She rejected everything that could confirm that she is a witch. But she is a witch, just like her mom, her grand-mothers, and all women of her lineage.
Being called and perceived as a witch cost her her marriage, her love, her partner in crime, my dad. But the truth is that my dad was also deeply connected to himself, but since he was a man, he was never called a witcher. He was the first one to introduce to us (as a family) to breathing techniques and meditation. He would stay for hours in his sanctum meditating - mornings and evenings. He would never make any decision without first pausing and taking a deep breath. Friends and acquaintances would come home to take advice from him about their life and health issues and he would even put his hands on them with the intention to calm their pain. And just as mum, dad was born from another so-called witch (my grandmother). No one was afraid of my dad; he was respected for his ability of holding space and was called a “healer” but, his mom and my mom, my aunties, all the women of my blood lineage were called “witches”.
I grew up in this environment, full of mystery, mysticism, and metaphysic. An environment where you are taught that we are constantly co-creating with bigger than us, that the lives in the invisible realm are supporting and sustaining us here in the visible realm. I have been immersed since childhood in the belief that we are energy, and living spirits and that everything around us is also energy. That an object is not a simple object, and that a cat might not be a cat... I admit that all this was very scary, especially as a child we were never allowed to doubt or question a way of life that had already been established for generations, we simply had to respect and believe what our elders said. But in such an environment, you very quickly integrate the fear of the other, the fear of the other's power and of your own power, especially if you are a woman. Being called a witch is not a label that you are proud of in Benin, it is a label that comes with discrimination, hatred, shame, fear, isolation ... so, as a woman there you will do everything to suppress even stifle your innate and natural power. Many women unconsciously distance themselves from their bodies to live in their heads, for fear of being stigmatized and rejected.
But even if my mom does not like to be called and perceived as a witch, she tried to live as her true self. With her being separated from dad, I have witnessed how she would raise her energy on her lower days by just connecting to herself, shaking her body, and saying out loud sentences and prayers passed on to her by her mum. Her love and respect for her mother is undeniable, but her admiration for her father and the work he was doing as a community healer and herbalist overshadowed the soft power and space holder that was my grandmother.
Growing up, I soon found myself listening to and helping people around, which did not seem extraordinary to me, as I had seen my parents and close family do the same. One day in Berlin, after helping a friend, he called me a "healer". I was deeply disturbed to be called that way, because as far as I know only men are healers and women are witches.
Does this mean that I am a witch/healer?
What is a healer? What is a witch?
What if I am not really a woman?
Can I even be a healer without my grandfather's knowledge of plants? Without the healing hands of my father?
Many questions that came with insecurity, fear, and doubt and that led me to take other professional paths, just to escape from my identity and from the heritage that runs in my veins. In all these questions, there is one that has required the most attention and exploration: gender. After understanding that gender was a tool of oppression in the patriarchal society we live in, I broke down the binarity and opened myself up to non-binarity, but this did little to dispel my discomfort with being called a 'healer'. I realized that I needed to assert myself as a woman, because although it is a construct, it was being seen as such in society that led to women in my lineage being excluded from healing spaces and labelled as witches.
Today, working with trauma, I know that the exclusion of a group of people, based on their gender, social class, ethnicity, sexual orientation etc. by society is a systemic trauma and, in this case, an intergenerational trauma. Even if I did trainings in the West on trauma, and that the breathing I discovered through my father is one of my main tools, that like my grandfather, plant medicine also guides me, I know that I am deeply anchored in the softness of the women in my lineage and that I would not have been where I am today without them.
Before sharing this post with you, I asked my mum's permission to share this little piece of her life, and more importantly, permission to call her a witch, as I know she is uncomfortable with this term. She agreed and added:
"I have had time to define for myself what being a witch is, and I have finally made peace with that word and fully embrace it. I hope that my grandchildren and future generations of women will no longer face the fear of men and will be able to embody their power without shame.”
As I listened to these words and especially the word shame, I felt like a knot in my lower abdomen, I took a deep breath and focused all my attention on the knot and very slowly I felt it loosen.... as if I had released something, I had released the shame that has been carried for generations by the women in my lineage. We have just broken a generational trauma. We are free!
Here a poeme I wrote from my mom words as she was giving me her blessings 14 years ago when I was leaving Benin.
Journey -
Directed by Ibra Wane
Poetry & Creative Direction by Tobi Ayé
Narrated by Rhea Ramjohn
Color: The Cinesthetic
Sound: Lorton Paul
2020-2021
