I started writing my last letter: “To African Men and Women in the Diaspora (the last and final letter),” and found myself in a dilemma so I switched thoughts. Now I need some answers. The dilemma is this: I wanted to put my African sisters first. But somehow, “African Men and Women” sounded better in my head: and not “African Women and Men.” Why is that? Is it the natural law of understanding and order, or have I been unconsciously programmed to put men before women in terms of “correctness” and “ranking”? I know. I know. I hear the women-folk saying “I should be ashamed of myself.” And, I am. Unfortunately, this is not the only time I have found myself lacking the “feminist gene.” In an effort to rid my subconscious of the possibility that maybe there is a natural law at work; and that maybe there are some roles in life that are “naturally” played by each, I have often found myself wanting. This has led me to question my “feminist” authenticity several times.

Like the first time I received a wedding invitation in the US. I thought it was a little off that the card read: “Margaret Antwi and Ekow Bentsil,” instead of “Ekow Bentsil and Margaret Antwi.” I thought to myself with sarcasm, “Well, we’re finally making progress. Very soon, we can change it to say ‘Mrs. and Mr.’, instead of ‘Mr. and Mrs.’" I have always wondered (without sarcasm) why a woman must loose herself/identity simply because she got married. I can understand the prestige some women feel with becoming Mrs. so so and so, only if her husband’s name is well-known and recognized. But, when it’s some unpronounceable or unrecognizable name, I just don’t get the point. Some women, if not fortunate enough, even lose their first names as well. Have you ever heard “Mr. and Mrs. Ekow Benstil?” Oh, the price we pay for the weddings and whatnots! Just a thought in digression!

Or, like this one time I was really put to shame. I visited my friend who lives with her boyfriend. They are both educated professionals with the same work schedules, and I am very well aware of this fact. Yet, when I walked into “their” bathroom and noticed the filth in the tub, my first thought was: “ah, Abena too, can’t she clean her bathroom a little?”

Immediately, I caught myself, and switched thoughts, “ah, Kwabena too, can’t he clean his bathroom a little?”

No, that doesn’t sound right! “Ah, they too, can’t they clean their bathroom a little?” Now you got it! It took me three tries to get it, as my subconscious battled itself. You can imagine my frustration. Even after saying it mentally, in my heart of hearts, I was still secretly blaming Abena for not “cleaning the bathroom a little.” I had appeased myself by saying they were both responsible yet somehow I knew I held her totally responsible. How hypocritical of me! Seriously, am I just missing the “feminist gene?”

Or, the fact that I find it odd when a woman openly admits she can’t cook especially, if said woman is African. Is it because I feel she missed out on some kind of training/discipline at home? Or, is it because I’m jealous she skipped being cooped up in the kitchen getting onion juice in her eyes, like my sisters and I were subjected to growing up? Do I believe deep down in my heart of hearts that it is a woman’s natural role to cook and a man’s natural role to eat? I will really hate myself for saying “yes,” so I’m going to leave that one alone!

Is there any logical reason why I feel a man must appreciate my intelligence, as well as my food and home-grooming skills in order to win my heart? Isn’t that backward thinking? Surely, an enlightened woman cannot feel this way! Only women who have self-esteem issues, and are possessed with a need to please, think and feel like this.

Like this past weekend, I put my best foot forward with some yam and nyadua (garden egg) stew. I was aiming to please; and a little nervous it wouldn’t turn out right because I hadn’t made yam and garden-egg stew in over five years. First of all, why should I even care that he could potentially judge me a poor cook should things not turn out right? So, I finish cooking. My man dishes himself a plate. I dish myself a plate. We sit down to eat and I can hear him going “hmmm…oh yummy,” and this broad smile flashes across my face. Immediately, I check myself, straighten myself for composure, I calm my nerves and try to switch into “feminist” mode: “What are you getting all excited about?!” My subconscious admonishes my physical and weak display of feminine traits. He looks at me with such admiration and what I translate to be the: “I can’t believe she is not just beautiful, but she cooks, she’s intelligent, and she is lacking nothing in the “um um” department” look. He smiles, I smile back. He says: “You’re perfect” and my whole world is beautiful. What kind of feminist takes that as a compliment? I am so disappointed and disgusted with myself!

Why does my heart skip a beat, every time he walks away from the dining table with his plate in his hand, asks me if I’m done, and when I say “yes,” he takes mine as well. Or when I hear the water from the kitchen faucet running longer than the time it should take him to wash his hands, I get a little tingle in my spine because it means he is doing the dishes. Why does that turn me on? Why do I feel the need to reward him for doing something he should be doing anyway, because it is no more my responsibility to wash the dishes than it is his? We both enjoyed the food. I did the cooking. Shouldn’t he be doing the dishes anyway? Is it because somehow, I feel he is doing me a favor and favors usually come with some form of returned appreciation? Am I not on the losing end? He gets the food, the finger-licking enjoyment, does the dishes, and gets rewarded with “I appreciate that” loving as well?

Help me out all you self-proclaimed, die-hard feminists. Should I be cast out and lumped in with all the other women who are just so confused about their place in this world? Is it unusual for me to think some things just naturally fall into place and make more sense? Or, have I been totally brainwashed by this scheming male-dominated society? Why do certain roles come naturally to me?

Like when I ask him how he’s doing and the response is: “not good,” why do I immediately go into “nurturing” mode trying to sooth his mood and calm his nerves? Or when he’s sick, why do I feel the need to pamper him with hot pepper soup to sooth his aching throat? Have I been wired to react this way? Why do I jump on impulse anytime I see a child in danger – like falling down, or hitting its head against something? Why does my heart ache when I hear a child crying for attention even though I am yet to experience the “joys” of motherhood? Is it natural, or has society wired me to react this way?

I say I’m a feminist! I believe in equal rights for women, and yet, I am unbending on certain gender roles and traits. Why is that? What is that?

Could it be the extra nurturing gene that is rumored to be passed down from one generation to the next in my paternal family, plus the strong-willed, take no nonsense gene that is rumored to be passed down from my maternal side of the family? My paternal grandmother was known to spend her life in the kitchen. I was named after her. Am I doomed to domestification (I know, I made that up!) for that, even though I am fighting it with every fiber of my being? Or is there even anything to fight? Could it be that I am simply a well-balanced woman who is so secure with myself I don’t need labels to define me? I have all I need to be equipped in life, and the fact that I get giddy when my man compliments my cooking makes me no less intelligent. Or the fact that I feel the need to reward his “good” qualities makes me no less an informed and enlightened woman. Maybe I’m just “too Ghanaian.” Oh well, now that, I know is in my blood. I can’t help it.

PS: For the benefit of those prone to miss underlying messages and sarcasm, please note that the term “feminist” as used in this article refers to radical feminist views, and NOT the feminist ideology that believes in: social, political and economic equality (advancement opportunities) between the sexes.

(N. Amma Twum-Baah is the founder and editor of Afrikan Goddess (AG) Online. You can visit at www.afrikangoddess.com, and she can be reached at ntwumbaah@gmail.com)