Beyond Barbie: Africa's Real-Life Matriarchy and Economic Empowerment
Exploring the Forgotten Traditions of Female Solidarity in Africa
“Thanks to Barbie, all the problems of feminism and equal rights have been solved…or at least that’s what the Barbies think.”
We’re clued into this mindset by Helen Mirren, the narrator of the Barbie movie, and looking around the pink perfection of Barbie Land, I can see how the Barbies might believe that. Every woman has her own DreamHouse, a supportive network of other Barbies, and a tailor-made career. Meanwhile, Kens are “Just Ken,” there to bask in Barbie’s attention and hold down dubious skills like “Beach.”
It’s humorous because it’s so outlandish. Everyone in the audience knows that the Real World is far more complicated for women. Or, as Gloria (played by America Ferrera) puts it so beautifully, “It’s literally impossible to be a woman…. You have to have money, but you can't ask for money because that's crass. You have to be a boss, but you can't be mean. You have to lead, but you can't squash other people's ideas.”
That monologue may ring true for women today, but I have to tell you:
It hasn’t always been this way.
Women haven’t always had to tie themselves into knots to hold economic and social power. Especially not in Africa.
In a recent Substack article, Dr. Alice Evans observes:
The female solidarity portrayed in Barbieland is reminiscent of the Gulf of Guinea in earlier centuries. Igbo and Bakweri women harassed men for mistreating their wives, violating market rules or harming their crops. In 19th century Congo-Brazzaville, a husband would not take even ‘an egg from her chicken coop’ without permission from his wife. Asante, Igbo and Yoruba women had independent networks. They controlled the markets, set the rules and punished wrongdoers. Banding together, women reprimanded abusive men and traversed great distances as traders. Independently wealthy women marshaled their networks, commercial acumen and linguistic skills to thrive in coastal exports.
As Dr. Evans points out, Africa has some of the most pro-women empowerment indigenous cultures in the world.
And as these examples crucially show, women have long been the heart, not only of African families, but also of African businesses.
They knew how to ask for money, be bosses, and lead without caving to paradoxical social pressures. In these societies, as opposed to Barbie’s Real World, being a woman was empowering, not impossible.
Ruth Handler, the creator of Barbie, invented the doll so little girls would know that they could be anything they wanted to be. They didn’t have to be “mothers” to baby dolls. They could pretend to be Doctor Barbie, President Barbie, and Lawyer Barbie, thereby extending their sense of possibility.
But we Africans have an advantage: We don’t need an imaginary doll to show us true female power. We can follow our own, real-life ancestors.
In his book Africa Unchained, my beloved mentor Dr. George Ayittey showed that, before any colonists stepped foot on the African continent, African market women ruled our economies.
Every African village has a marketplace, and all the sellers are women.
Moreover, at the height of their flourishing, these women had complete control over their own businesses. They became Matriarch Barbie, Entrepreneur Barbie, and Self-Made Woman Barbie, without needing a doll to show them the way. (The Dahomey Amazons, an all female fighting force in pre-colonial Benin, even exemplified the Warrior Barbie, so to speak.)
Unfortunately, though, we’ve forgotten many of the lessons these women taught us. Or, to be more exact, we’ve allowed politicians, socialist ideas, and self-interested “philanthropists” to put us back in “The Box.” We’ve been trapped by bad laws and government regulations, all while being told that free trade and capitalism—our indigenous heritage—are evil.
In the same way that the Kens’ imported patriarchy temporarily erased Barbie Land’s matriarchal lineage, socialism has erased the financial independence that lies at the core of our economic heritage. In Africa, “I’m just Ken!” might as well be, “I’m just a Marxist!”
And these Marxist Kens have caused unspeakable devastation. For example, the Ghanaian leader Jerry Rawlings set up strict price control rules with tribunals for market women who violated the controls. A woman baker in Dr. Ayittey’s family was jailed for three years with hard labor for making an illegal profit of $1.50 on a loaf of bread. This, after eons of free market activity in indigenous African markets, in which women could charge whatever they liked!
Today, the plight of rural women in poor countries is a hard and heavy one. Most of us would not survive a fraction of what they have to endure.
But, contrary to the narrative we’ve been told by decades of Socialist Kens and Foreign NGO Kens, we don’t have to look to the “aid” of Western countries to “save” us. In fact, more than $3 trillion has been pumped into Africa—with little to show for it.
If we want to improve the lives of African women today, we should instead look to our ancestors and embrace the economic principles they taught us.
—Magatte Wade
African women don’t need Kens—or even Barbies—to liberate us. We need economic freedom to realize our power.
We need to return to the female solidarity of traditional African societies and support African women entrepreneurs—women who can create thousands of jobs for other African women.
That’s exactly what our African mothers, grandmothers, and great-grandmothers knew. Job creation lifts people out of poverty.
Women with job opportunities also have more independence, economic freedom, and options. It’s easier for them to ensure they and their children do not die in childbirth, that their children survive to adulthood, that they are respected for bringing income to their households, and to find satisfying outlets for their own talent and creativity.
Improving the lives of African women won’t be as easy as adding a dash of Barbie pink and some sparkle. It will require grit, perseverance, and targeted action.
But we have good role models to light the way: the generations of African women who forged economic ties, built trade networks, and created jobs for the other women around them.
We don’t need a toy to represent our potential; we can achieve Africa’s Bright Future as soon as the government gets out of our way and lets us follow the examples of our ancestors.