Boobs!

This is a topic that is near and dear to all of our hearts- breasts. I have been wanting to address this subject primarily due to of all the stigma that is placed around breasts in America and because of the stereotypical image of the African woman being the National Geographic, topless female with a bone through her nose and nothing but a metal necklace to cover herself. Women here are MUCH looser about showing their boobs then Americans, partially due to the fact that breasts are not sexualized like they are in the states, women do not constantly walk around topless.

With that said, I do get saggy boobs in my face all the time. Unfortunately the boobs that you see are the one that you really do not want to see. After daily witnessing breasts the size of cantaloupes that sink bellow a belly button, I am concerned for the future of my bosom.

As soon as a baby has been attached to a breast it is all free game. They can leave those boobs hanging out all the time. I tell women that in the US women often use an elaborate sheet to cover themselves when breast feeding in public. The response is always confusion, bafflement, and then an exclamation of, why?! Women are meant to be proud that their breast is full of milk, it is a rite of passage into the territory of real womanhood. Shamelessly showing off their breasts is one way of saying, I am now a woman, I have children.

Before a woman breastfeeds they are more cautious about showing their breasts. In the privacy of a hut, young women will take off their shirts and fan themselves during the hot season. I am always tempted to join in this stripping. One of my favorite Jaxanke sayings that refers to me is: ‘I sunjiyo xa goleymaa ijewo ti’. Which translates to: 'your boobs are as ‘hard’ as your butt'. Meaning, I am just as shy about my breasts as I am my buttock. Contrary to most Western instinct, in Senegal, the butt is the body part that people are most shy about. Most women avoid wearing tight skirts so as to not expose the buttock.

Along the same topic, the younger women here do usually own a bra. If you consider a one size, triangular piece of cloth with straps a brassiere. While I was in the US for vacation I decided to do a small bra collection to bring back for my Senegalese family. I started out asking my mother and grandmother if they had a few extraneous bras. It quickly grew from there. Before the end of one week, thanks to the generosity of so many of you, I ended up with several trash bags worth of bras. I could have brought back more than 2 suitcases of bras alone. You all went above and beyond, bringing me the cutest, funkiest, and supportive bras, thank you!

While I could not bring back all of the bras you all so graciously donated to me, I still had over 50 bras with me when I arrived in village after being in America. And let me tell you, the women were ecstatic. When my 3 mothers were around my hut I decided to open up my room to them as a Victoria Secret dressing room. And they went crazy. Before I knew it I had 15 half-naked ladies, trying on bras, laughing, fighting over the cute ones, and helping each other figure out how to properly wear them. I helped women find the best size after I examined their naked breast, adjusted straps, hooked and removed numerous brassieres. The larger bras they thought were hilarious and they gossiped about whose boobs were big enough to properly fit into them. 

My favorite part of this was how for the next week I had women come up to me and flash me, showing off their new bra and happily exclaiming that it fits them and their back no longer hurts! Or my sister who is so proud of her new cute pink bra with ribbons on it that she flounces around her hut in her bra just to show it off. A day after the battle for bras, one of my favorite old ladies who didn't get a bra came up to me, lifting up her shirt and flapping her deflated boob in my face (that has fed 6 children), thus demonstrating her need for a bra. I did not attempt to stifle my giggles and neither did she.