Leymah Gbowee: A woman's mission to inspire activism

Activism doesn’t have to be a scary and intimidating word. Sometimes, it’s as easy as getting off the couch and speaking up when you don’t agree with something.

That is what Leymah Gbowee believes in, and if you’re going to listen to anyone on the matter, Gbowee is quite possibly your best choice. A Nobel Peace Laureate, recognized in 2011 for her activism work in Liberia, Madame Gbowee knows from experience what it means to stand up for what you believe in, even if it means putting your life on the line. On September 16th, 2015, in an event presented by the Winter Park Institute, she was gracious enough to speak to an eager audience at Rollins College Alfond Sports Center.

After a quick introduction by Rollins President Grant Cornwell, she is ready to take the microphone and inspire the crowd. As she approached the stage to tell the filled room about her journey, what you saw a normal, unassuming woman who carried herself in a calm, yet almost regal manner. Dressed in a typical African dress and head wrap – with blue shoes to match – Ms. Gbowee’s strength was not necessarily obvious to the eye, but simply strongly felt in her demeanor.  

“Imagine you’re 17. One minute you’re a child and the next you’re an adult – through no fault of your own.” This is how she opens her story. In war ravished Liberia, Gbowee had to grow up fast. She saw everything she treasured be taken away at a young age, but the beauty of her story comes not from death and loss, but from what she saw beyond it. She saw an opportunity to rise above and change that which she knew was wrong.

 

Later in life, after enrolling in a social work program in Liberia, she met a group of women from Sierra Leone who would change her life. Having a hard time understanding why these women were so happy, despite having been mutilated and repeatedly raped, she was told by one of them “Women are the ones who will change the community!” From then on Leymah Gbowee made it her life’s mission to empower women and encourage activism to affect change where needed. In her Women in Peace-building Network chapter in Liberia, she saw her original 20 members quickly turn into 900 in just 9 months.

Not many people would maintain a fighting spirit after seeing so much adversity in life, but Gbowee and the Liberian women didn’t have much more to lose, so why not fight for what they could gain? It wasn’t easy, but it was worth it, and she believes everyone has the duty to do the same.

 

Activism is who she is, and she is unapologetically fierce about it. When asked by an audience member what advice she had for the women in Venezuela fighting for democracy, Madame Gbowee showed her no-nonsense approach to the issue. Without hesitation she said “there have to be sacrificial lambs.”

This thought process is exactly what she wanted the audience to take away: activism is not easy, and it’s not quick, and cannot be accomplished through apathy. To the women in Venezuela, and any other country going through a political crisis, she humorously said if everyone is "waiting for Mandela to resurrect and save their countries, that’s not going to work."

 

When another audience member asked how deep a factor fear had been for her, Gbowee admitted to not being fearless, but simply not letting fear stop her. In her quest to encourage activism, she explains that your life does not need to be at risk. All human beings have the ability to be activists, whether it is helping a woman with a stroller up the subway stairs, or giving a flip-flop to man whose shoe just broke.

“Activism for change means stepping into spaces, creating hope for those who’ve lost it. It’s giving back to humanity what humanity has given you,” she says. In her head-to-toe blue outfit, and her unassuming, and many times witty demeanor, Leymah Gbowee demands attention and commands action. She may come across as a nice auntie - a term she herself used -, but she packs a punch. She has done the impossible, and is not afraid to ask you to do the same!

My Prized Possession

Materialism – the cornerstone of the American society! What we have, what we’d like to have, and how much of it we do have (and is it shinier than your neighbor’s?)! The fact is we all own material things, no matter what our culture. It doesn’t even matter how much money we have; most people hang on to items they consider important. Perhaps it was something someone saved for years to be able to afford, or it could be objects passed down to you by a loved one. My prized possession falls under this last category. I typically don’t make emotional connections to material things, but my treasured item was given to me by my mother, and it was something that was so important to her I feel I owe it the same regard. It’s a set of tea cups from Japan, gifted to her as a wedding present. They helped my mother during a crucial time in her life, later they facilitated a special bond between my mother and me, but their most important role is the one they played when my father passed away. Ultimately, they are much more than just a possession.

At the beginning of their life together, my parents didn’t have much. My mom was a teacher, while my father was working full time and going to school to finish his degree. Very shortly after they were married my dad’s job required a move to another state, and my mom had to leave everything she knew behind. She was also pregnant with my brother. Going from a place where one is surrounded by family to another where you know no one can be daunting. Their new apartment was also much smaller, so they downsized. A lot of their wedding gifts stayed behind, but my mom insisted on taking the cups. They were small enough, and, what I’m certain she didn’t tell my dad, they also gave her a sense of the familiar. The tea set had not just simply been purchased for them, but had been owned by a loving aunt who passed it down to them. This was her connection to family.

Ironically, no one in my family since my grandmother has had a habit of drinking tea. Even if we did, I doubt those cups would have made their way out of the hermetically sealed cabinet where they resided to be tainted by a hot substance…I’m sure the little Geisha at the bottom of the cup would feel quite affronted by such a crass act. The point is, they were too beautiful to be used for anything other than longing admiration. Long after my parents moved back to Rio, and when I was little, I would ask my mom if I could see the cups. She would make a big pageant of it, holding each one with such a light touch you’d think they were ethereal. I was fascinated by them and thought they were the loveliest cups in the entire world. It was clear my mom was proud of them and glad to display them to such an adoring audience. It was “our thing.”

Many years after those sessions of adoration sessions, my father passed away from a completely unexpected disease. I had long been living abroad in the United States and it was very hard for me to fathom life without my father. Furthermore, it was hard to imagine my mom alone in Brazil without my father. I went back home to help, and one day my mom called me to her room and handed me the tea cups. She said they had been there for the good and the bad, and they always served as a life-line when she needed one, so they were my life-line now. The tea cups were there when my parents were struggling to build a life together away from what they knew. They were there in my childhood, and now they were here in my hands – those cups I had been forbidden to touch as I was certain to break them – helping me mend my connection to my family. It was an incredibly touching moment and one I’ll never forget.

So the tea cups are my most prized possession because they are so much more than just tea cups – they mean family to me; they represent togetherness. An item that my mom held on to for a great portion of her life and that got her through some tough times, she saw fit to bestow upon me when she felt I needed a connection to family. That tea set was my mother’s prized possession when she was in a strange place. It was a link that bonded us together in my childhood, and at the end of my father’s life, it was one of the most important things she could have given me other than her love. Those cups represent her strength, and as silly as it may sound, they give me that same strength. Maybe they would fetch a pretty penny on Antiques Road Show…but I don’t care, because to me, they’re priceless!

The proud Geisha and the tea set: