At A Rally Against Female ‘Circumcision’

FGM does not exist just because of male dominance and cultural practices, including child marriage. It continues because of women. Women are the cutters. It doesn’t make sense in my brain.

It’s hard to fully grasp, but the horrors of Female Genital Mutilation (FGM) exist in the Pokot region of Kenya for two reasons: men and women. FGM does not exist just because of male dominance and cultural practices, including child marriage. It continues because of women. Women are the cutters.

It doesn’t make sense in my brain. I do not comprehend how, under any circumstances, another woman could cut a young girl to be “circumcised.” I understand that this is a profession for those cutters, it’s their way to make money, but why on earth did they make that choice?

I know that there are reasons that are cultural – expectation and status within their tribe – and experiences that likely led these women into this profession. But it still doesn’t make sense to me. Hearing stories of women getting drunk – just to bear the horror of cutting a girl – reveals the pain and heartache that underlines this act.

IMAGE: Sharpened metal used in cutting; these “knives” were thrown down as a promise to discontinue FGM. 

This day was hopeful though. Here I was observing and supporting a community-wide anti-FGM march and ceremony in the village of Kolowa, East Pokot, Kenya.

The sun was beating down as the marching began. Large banners carried by youth led the way on the dirt road. A crowd followed behind singing and chanting. Onlookers gazed as we passed by, intrigued by the amount of people, the singing, and probably the three Americans that stood out. We made our way to a designated area within the village that had been set up with a speaker and microphone. Chairs lined a few tables under a couple of large trees creating pockets of shade. There I sat on a wobbly plastic chair with others from our team and different officials and dignitaries of the village.

A host welcomed everyone, and then the program began with a group of elementary school boys. They marched in a single-file line towards us singing, “We are marching, marching. We are marching, marching. We are marching in the light of God.” Another group of elementary aged boys followed singing songs declaring “no to FGM!”

It was lively and joyful but conveyed so much more than that. It was the future generation of Pokot men declaring change. Young boys were taking a stand against the horrific tribal practice against girls.

As I sat soaking in the atmosphere and the traditions of the Pokot, I was suddenly pulled into the center of the barren ground that was the makeshift stage. As the sounds of celebration rang, our American team began to receive traditional Pokot attire. It was crowded and chaotic, but humbling as they placed skirt, cape, beaded necklace, and headpiece on each of us. I looked around, trying to let the moment sink in, overcome with emotion. Tears welled in my eyes at the honor of being welcomed, included, accepted, and loved by strangers who in that instant became my global family.

A local pastor proceeded with an impassioned message. He proudly introduced his wife, and shared how in their family not one single woman is circumcised. Cheers erupted: seeds of redemption, peace, forgiveness, hope, and the extravagant, never-ending love of Christ were dropped into the hearts of all who were listening.

Then the beautiful Pokot woman who was leading the rally stepped forward to share her heart. She asked the local women to bring change, to change the future of the Pokot, and to make a declaration to stop FGM. 

There in that tiny village, surrounded by people, six brave women stepped forward. They had their cutting tools in hand. Most were elderly, wearing the hardships of life in their lined faces, and they heroically stepped into change. They held their tools to the sky, firmly declared to no longer cut, and laid down their knives.

I would hardly call their cutting tools “knives.” These scraps of tin, in no way sanitary, were the tools of harm. Tools of pain and suffering – both physical and emotional. Tools of death as not all girls survive being cut. Time seemed to stand still for a moment as a new future for the Pokot hung in the air.

I left a piece of my heart in the Pokot tribe that day, but I was also filled with a new and deep love from them. And as change slowly sweeps across Kenya, I too am forever changed. And for that, I am grateful.

Learn more about the UN’s Zero Tolerance Day for FGM:
https://www.un.org/en/observances/female-genital-mutilation-day

Learn more about our Global Partner in Kenya:
https://kensingtonchurch.org/kenya/

Learn more about our Short-Term Trips to Kenya (and more!):
https://kensingtonchurch.org/go