Zimbabwe has been in the news for weeks, and the world—particularly ex-colonial power Britain, with its large Zimbabwean population—has been watching. Today, the political situation is somewhat resolved: the southern African country is coming to terms with Robert Mugabe resigning from the Presidency after almost four decades, and ex-Vice President Emmerson Mnangawa taking his place.
It says a lot about the events we’ve witnessed in 2017 that Mugabe - one of the world’s most controversial and longest serving Heads of State - leaving office is just one more in a long line of examples of global political turbulence. Donald Trumpsurprised many when he was elected to the White House, various forms of neo-Nazism has been rearing its head across Europe and the ongoing fallout from Brexit here at home has been destabilising.
When it comes to America or Europe, it’s easy to find multiple accounts and media exploration about what it’s like to be a young person, or a woman, or an artist making work in today’s changeable world. But why do we not give the same attention to people in and from places like Zimbabwe? The short answer is racism and a preoccupation with the West, but perhaps now is the time to change that.
Being a young woman of colour in the creative industries can be difficult no matter who you are, where you are, or what exactly you do. Here in the UK, women of colour creatives from musicians to filmmakers find themselves reflecting the world we live in through their art—both the good and the bad. Sitting at the intersection of misogyny and racism, the unique perspective young women of colour have on the world often results in creative work that showcases our backgrounds and life experiences, as well as our personal politics. When it comes to women of African heritage, being a part of the wider African Diaspora is not something we can just put to one side. For young female artists in countries like Zimbabwe, that have long been ignored or misrepresented in the Western media, art will continue to be a way to showcase the best of us—regardless of who is President.
One such artist is 27-year-old Ammara Brown, one of the most well-known young female singers in Zimbabwe. Ammara has found herself sharing links to her recently released debut album alongside Instagram posts of her marching at rallies for peace in Harare, the capital city. Speaking to her in September, as she promoted a British Council funded project called Mix The Citythat aimed to showcase Zimbabwean musicians, it was clear she had long found herself frustrated with the global media perception of the country she is proud to call home. ‘I believe that Zimbabwe’s face is blurry internationally, and [so] the people are constantly trying to redefine and explain themselves’.
‘Blurry’ is perhaps an understatement. Type ‘Zimbabwe’ into the search box at any major news publication and the conversation about the country has long been dominated by the now ex-President. While it’s important to recognise his impact, it’s equally important to see the country, and all countries, as more than just their leaders. How would we feel if all the world knew of young British women was Theresa May’s austerity policies? Like many developing nations, Zimbabwe is a country of the young, with 62% of the population under the age of 25. Young people all over the world are making moves in their communities, but young female artists also deserve platforms to lead conversations on a global scale. Mix The City, Ammara continued, was ‘perfect’ because ‘as an artist, it is my responsibility to speak on behalf of the people, [and give you] a face, a feel of who we are. I am grateful to be able to do that— of being able to showcase who we are to a different market’.
The fact that she is a Zimbabwean artist is something Ammara admits is always at the forefront of her mind. ‘I don’t think I was aware of how patriotic I was until I was 23 or so. I was based in Johannesburg for about six years, I have been in and out of the country, and lived in the States. My dad [Zimbabwean singer Andy Brown] was a musician—a very powerful one—and he said to me when I was 17 “if your own people don’t appreciate you, how is the rest of the world going to appreciate you?”. I didn’t understand at the time because Zimbabwean’s music industry is barely an industry. It really lies heavily on the artist. So while we have a really healthy culture of live music and appreciating local artistry, when the economy plummeted? The artist feels it the most, because we are the luxury. It fell apart. The artist took a heavy blow, and people were complaining about the quality of music’. That said, Ammara became sure she wanted to come back to Zimbabwe when she got pregnant in her early-20s. ‘I wanted my son to grow up in this environment. I love home, I loved how I was raised and the people. I love the essence of my city. I am Harare all the way’.
For female artists in the large Zimbabwean Diaspora outside the country, ‘home’ is something that is also important, but often in a different way. 25-year-old Eva Bor is a South London-based filmmaker whose Zimbabwean father left the country as a teenager. She tells me that ‘part of the reason photography and film resonates with me is because of how I’ve constructed an imagination around my family and their history. My relationship with Zimbabwe is very fragmented, it’s based on memory—family photos and relatives’ anecdotes. I also didn’t grow up in the same household as my father, so that added to a disconnect. But as I get older I try and see that fragmentation as a whole experience in itself’.
While collaboration between artists in the diaspora is something that is important for so many creatives of African heritage, so too is surrounding yourself with other Zimbabwean women to fight your corner. For Ammara, one such woman was her manager. ‘I never pictured myself having a male manager. We have a very balanced friendship as well as working relationship, I couldn’t have done it without her. When you are in Africa, [with] men, we are still battling with a chauvinistic mindset. So many times in the industry if a women says something it is one thing, but if a man says something its more credible. It is more than what she said, even if she said it better. And the dynamics of the relationships, even having platonic relationships with men, are almost just idealistic [and] I never wanted to be taken advantage of in that sort of way. I didn’t want those lines to be blurry. She also understands my priorities, and I am very blessed in that respect’.
Ammara talks about creating the music on her new album to work through the grief of losing her parents while also exploring and celebrating her connection to her home country, Eva’s work seems to be more outward-facing. ‘The film I’ve recently written and directed explored the relationship between a Zimbabwean woman, who moved to the UK post independence, and her son who was born here’ Eva says. ‘It speaks to the dynamics between first and second-generation relatives, for instance the feeling of a parent who sees their child having a very different life to the one they had. Even in terms of different cultural references, or when traditional values are viewed differently, what impact does that have on a sense of identity for everyone involved?. I wanted to represent that feeling of distance and curiosity you feel as Diaspora’.
Eva continued ‘what’s happening in Zimbabwe economically and politically, in very simplified terms, is the legacy of colonialism. But that history isn’t common knowledge. We’re distracted from it by examples of “diversity”, meanwhile thousands of immigrants from commonwealth countries are facing disgusting conditions in detention centres around the UK. Considering that, it’s clear why self-representation is so important'. She added that the Internet has allowed us 'to go beyond the social environment we occupy physically. We connect to a collective consciousness that transcends borders, as Diaspora connecting with young creatives in other parts of the world. We all face some similar and some different forms of oppression and feel united by a shared understanding of histories of colonialism, and how they effect our identities, and our lives now.’
Like Eva, Ammara also comes from a mixed-race background and the politics around exploring self-identity are similarly pertinent. Ammara admits that when it comes to the legacies of colonialism in Zimbabwe, ‘people of mixed race are yet to have this conversation. That is the thing I was trying to [do] in the middle of the year: I took the time off to just really do a lot of centering. Part of it was grieving, part of it is an identity crisis, part of it was just really grounding myself and just figuring who I am and which parts I want people to see, and redefining those lines, because it takes a lot of energy out of you. When you are on the stage, day-to-day, it’s people, people, people, energy, energy, energy. You give, and people don’t see how much you are giving. That was part and parcel of me just saying, you know what yes I am black, yes I am part European, yes I am part Asian. What are the things of these cultures that make me. And it doesn’t mean I have to feel like I have to give one side more credit than the other. Maybe I am just the bridge between them’.
For Eva, separating the different parts of her identity from her work is something she just isn’t interested in. ‘Whatever medium you choose, expressing creatively is a process of self-identification through a combination of research and gut instinct. Any work I make is going to be inherently informed by who I am, I can’t make work objectively—it’s impossible. I don't want to be limited to only making work that speaks to issues of race specifically, but obviously I can't detach my experiences as a woman of colour from the way I engage with topics I want to explore through film whether or not the content is overtly tackling an issue of race or gender. On both sides of my family the migration is very recent and I don't have a lineage in Britain that stretches beyond my parents besides one British grandparent: my father came here from Zimbabwe just before independence from British rule, and my Czech-Jewish grandfather (my Mum’s Dad) fled Nazi persecution, so in many ways my relationship to Britishness is informed by a familial history of marginalisation. For me, film is a tool to embrace and validate multiple aspects of my identity and to represent a unique viewpoint. Whether it is through music, film, literature, from afar you construct your own ways of understanding. With friendships and collaboration, that disconnect can become a really strong point of connection creatively and that can be affirming’.
Many feminists say they care about the ways young women are thriving and surviving as artists, no matter where they are or what they are doing. In the West, whether we are part of the African Diaspora or not, we have a responsibility to look outwards to the art and stories of young women around the world. Politics may feel more turbulent than ever, but perhaps some semblance of unity can come from recognizing that our voices do not need to be the loudest.
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This article originally appeared on The Debrief.