Lamentations of Lips that Keep Moving, 2022 | Sculpture, 120cm x 120cm
Materials (Àdìrẹ kampala textile fabric, metal wire, beads, synthetic foam, acetate sheet, wood)
Through fabric drawing techniques the textile material Àdìrẹ Kampala is manipulated to depict moving lips in conversation over shared and nuanced experiences of oppression, belittlement, archaic and maladapted ideas of life for women and girls in Nigerian society.
'Lamentations of lips that keep moving' and the reflective notes 'A few things my country has taught me,' collectively seek to advocate an urgency for the rights and lives of Nigerian women and girls, by provoking internal conversations with viewers on the ideas and standards of social equity, value, purpose, integrity and welfare.
A few things my country has taught me | Reflective notes
It tells us at times that our successes and brilliance will never amount to much because we’ll be wives someday and mothers too, so businesses, ambitions, educational aspirations, and professional accreditations are just hobbies.
It threatens us to like the hurt and says that if we tell our stories we will never be believed.
It makes us aware that sometimes the ones we love the most just don’t get it and can’t protect us from what hurts us, because long before we existed they were inducted into the broken domes and weren’t able to fight like we can and are trying to.
It makes us know that sometimes there are few spaces to exhale.
It’s allowed me to not believe in myself when I started driving because ‘Na woman!’, and on the better days that I get my steering right, I just must have some testosterone in me doing the job, because I’m killing it. Vroom! Vroom!
It tells me that I have no value and that no matter anything I must submit to what is expected of me just because I am a female human. My agency and self-identity are immeasurable and insignificant to that of a man.
It shows me that sometimes if I compliment a beautiful lady maybe even a stranger, she most likely will give glory and praise to her husband or boyfriend for her ‘maintenance’ instead of accepting that she’s just simply beautiful.
It shows that rape is not rape, and being raped by your husband is not rape but just an expression of love since you are ‘married’ it automatically equates to consent. It shows me that you can be tired and want to just be still but your husband has a right to your body and therefore can have you for his sexual pleasure whenever and however he wants.
It shows me that rape is not a violation and you might have been asking for it because of what you wore, your physique, your hair, your shoes, your eye shadow, the bag you held, the way you crossed the street, your smile, the colour of the red sea, the pigeons flying across Eko bridge, the time of day, the humidity.
It shows me that sexual violence isn’t taken seriously and people aren’t held accountable for their actions.
It shows me that you can be a man with 10 children from so many mothers and be regarded as a powerful and well-endowed man, but you cannot do that as a woman because you’ll be regarded as the community pool and judged more harshly to the point of violence, societal neglect and shaming.
It shows me that as a young professional, unmarried, single woman I will likely not be allowed to rent a home.
It shows me that older female relatives will talk to me mostly about settling down and will not encourage me to explore the world, enjoy my youth, or leverage my social network and educational aspirations towards a more productive expansion of multiple income streams and a luxurious life. Instead, they will ask me ‘who is in the garden?’ and end most conversations with sentences like ‘but when you start having kids.........
To escape this waste of time I’ll simply nod and say yes Ma just so they’ll stop talking. The more you say yes Ma is the key to getting out of the meetings. This works with older male relatives too though you say 'Yes Sa' for fathers, uncles, and cousins.