Where Does It All Start
When I first read that Maya Angelou quote about the pride of being a woman, I laughed. Then, I paused. I realized that it perfectly captured exactly how my parents made me feel growing up. In my household, being a woman wasn't a set of limitations; it was a position of strength.
I remember a specific afternoon when a cement mixer truck hit my mother’s car and simply drove off. Most people might have pulled over to assess the damage and cry, but not my mom. She chased him down from 4 Kilo to Shiro Meda! When we finally gave up and went to the police station to report the hit-and-run, the officer kept asking her why she thought the driver took off.
A vivid memory flashed through my mind: I remembered the driver peeking through his window, seeing a mother and a daughter in the car, and deciding “Oh well, let me just go about my day”. I was biting my tongue, thinking, "This wouldn’t have happened if my dad were driving." If you’ve ever had a similar thought, I don’t blame you. The world provides plenty of evidence to support that cynicism.
The Illusion of Equality
As I moved into adulthood, the reality of gender dynamics began to chip away at my sheltered perspective. In university, I met men who underestimated me. When my friends would whisper, "It’s because you’re a woman," I would push back. I’d argue, "No, maybe I’m just disagreeable." Having attended an all-girls school, I wondered if I was perceived as "too feminine," yet I still refused to believe gender was the root of the issue.
That denial shattered during a leadership program where I heard a story about a specific family dynamic. Every weekend, the father would rest. Meanwhile, the mother on Saturdays, woke up early, made breakfast, took the children to church, worked half a day, came home, and cooked lunch. And the husband? He was still in bed. The most shocking part was that the wife accepted this as her natural burden.
My understanding of systemic inequality solidified further while working on development projects. I connected with women "agripreneurs", brilliant women running businesses who were barred from owning their own assets. Some had to put their husbands’ names on their licenses; others needed their husband’s permission just to fill out a form. One woman told me she couldn't get a business license because her landlord wouldn't allow it.
That was the moment I truly understood the difference between access and control. You can have access to an opportunity, but if you don’t have control over the tools to execute it, your wings are merely decorative. Basically, you’re an ostrich.
Roots of Resilience
When I reflect on my mother’s reaction to the car accident, I realize she saw the world through a different lens. The police officer, still asks, “Why do you think he drove off?” She simply said, "I have no idea why he ran, maybe he just thought he could get away with it."
The officer told her, "If you had cried and played the ‘ሴት ስለሆንኩ ነዋ’ (because I am a woman) card, I wouldn’t have helped you." My mom looked puzzled. The thought hadn't even crossed her mind.
Where does that level of internalized equality start? I believe, for my mother, it started in an orphanage. She grew up in a dorm room away from society, where children of all genders had equal chores and equal expectations. They never had the chance to "figure out" the difference because, in their world, there wasn't one.
This philosophy carried into our home. There was no gender-based segregation of work. If we were making injera, my brother was responsible for preparing the absit. My father made the best Dinech Wot of my life, the reason I still love potatoes today. I grew up watching my dad prepare dinner, my brothers wash the dishes (mostly after complaining). I was lucky. I was raised by a woman who chased trucks and didn't need a man to fix the sink. I was raised by a father who understood that leadership and service have no gender. He was never a guest to the kitchen. Because of them, my wings were never clipped.
I spent my youth believing gender inequality was a myth. It gave me a shield; I never felt I had to prove myself "despite" being a woman. I just walked into rooms assuming I belonged there.
The Toastmasters Catalyst
However, not every woman is raised with that invisible shield. This is where communities like Toastmasters become vital. For many women, society has taught them to "fold themselves small" to fit into the spaces left behind by men.
Toastmasters serves as a laboratory for reclaiming that space. It empowers women by providing a safe rig to test the volume of their voices and the weight of their ideas. When a woman stands at the podium, she isn't just practicing a speech; she is practicing control. By building confidence in communication and leadership, we help women move from having "access" to the room to having "control" of the conversation. It is in these clubs that the "decorative wings" of many women finally catch the wind.
A Challenge for the Future
Inequality starts in childhood, in how we speak, what we allow, and what we excuse.
I don't want to just celebrate "strong women" on March 8. I want to challenge the foundation of cultural education and how we are shaped from the start.
- How are we raising our daughters?
- How are we raising our sons?
- What invisible permissions are we still giving men that we deny women?