With Dirty Laundry, Wana Udobang seeks catharsis for traumatised women

In the three-city exhibition, the multidisciplinary artist examines abuse, gender-based violence and other indignities women tend to keep quiet about.

NOTHING can ever be too much to save young girls and women from abuse and violence, which appears to be increasing in the country. Despite interventions to address the malaise, more strategic action is needed to protect girls and women, serve justice to perpetrators and provide therapy for victims to heal wholesomely.

Catharsis is crucial, but it is doubtful if victims ever get it because most perpetrators are usually known to them; uncles, cousins and even fathers. How many victims would disclose their abuser is their uncle, cousin, friend or even father?

Sadly, Nigerian women and girls have learnt to bottle up the abuses, exploitation and indignities they suffer in a patriarchal society. They are supposed to move on because such issues are hardly ever discussed. These unsavoury experiences, memories of which some carry to their graves without ever telling a soul, are what the writer, poet and performer Wana Udobang showcase in her first mixed media installation titled ‘Dirty Laundry’.

Curated by Naomi Edobor, the first leg of the exhibition happened from April 28 to 30 at Whitespace, Ikoyi, Lagos and will still show in Abuja and Port Harcourt with the support of the Ford Foundation.

Apart from the searing poems screen printed on canvas hanging from laundry lines to physically represent the metaphor “hanging your dirty laundry in public”, there were also women doing the laundry in big basins in the exhibition space. To help troubled viewers heal, they were requested, if they so wished, to write out their experiences on pieces of cloth that the women then washed. Thought-provoking performances by the poet and some other dancers also played in the space’s corner.

Some of the poems in the exhibition, which explored issues around womanhood, sexual and gender violence, feminine agency, healing, and reimagination, were troubling. They underscored why parents must look out for their female children, even with relatives. A part of the poem ‘Thick Skin’ reads: “…Or the time when my uncle would ask me to cream his back before placing his fingers between my legs or the time that a boy sedated me with champagne, laid on top thrusting as my head was shaking furiously, but my body was betraying me, and I thought who would want to rape a fat girl,”

In ‘Family Portrait’, the performance poet popularly called WanaWana, touches on the abuses women suffer in marriages because of their children and to avoid being called ‘ashawo’ for leaving their husbands. “I ask our mother why she never took the portrait down/She tells me in our language/ Eyaibo ka mmeyunnoidesekelsa/ So that they don’t say I was impregnated by the ground,” it read in part.

As if that situation of a loveless union endured for the children’s sake was not bad enough, there’s the case of ‘Dorathy’ in a same-titled poem. “This is the story of a woman who was taught that you must behave well/That you do not leave the warmth of your home/Even if the heat will kill you/You stay till it singes your bone.”

But the cheerful poet didn’t just dwell on abusive issues; she also celebrates women/motherhood, hailing their resilience in raising children under extreme circumstances. In ‘A toast to my women’, she croons “So here is a toast to the women/ Who sat us around the moon/ And gave us the secrets to the galaxy/Who chanted poems to squeeze rain out of the clouds/ Invented coding from divination/Disorted the lines between juju and technology/Cooked black magic in cauldrons/and spawned brown girls who could fly.”

She does the same in ‘We made it’, recalling: “When I was a little girl/My mother would mix a bucket of dough into the night/ Rising to twice the size of her forgotten dreams /She would squeeze each ball into the searing heat/This was what it took to put clothes on our backs and books in our bags/ My mother would never let her children out with an empty stomach.”

Viewing the installation, one notices that some of the stories appear personal and that it’s a conscious effort to discuss things we otherwise avoid. They are to stir discussion and seek help for the trauma of rape, gender-based violence and others. The artist confirmed this observation in a chat, disclosing that the show had been over 10 years in the making and that Ford Foundation’s support made it possible eventually.

“I like to call it documenting my personal history and other people’s history. It’s an invitation for us to remove shame from our lives and speak about the things that we always hide, especially as women, because a lot of my work is around women and the lives of women.,

“I hope that in sharing these experiences in poetry, more people feel courage. Silence thrives in loneliness and isolation. Many things happened to women, and we are encouraged not to talk about them. Everyone is going through the same things in their homes, and they are quiet. The violence and assault continue to thrive because we are not talking. Nothing is changing. If we can all put our dirty laundry out there, something can start to shift.”

Hopefully, with initiatives like Wana’s and others, more girls and women will break free from abuse and gender-based violence. They will learn to speak above whispers so that perpetrators can get their just desserts.