A simple google search containing the words ‘Women’ and ‘Liberia’ relays a multitude of articles contending that women are ‘Liberia’s guardians of peace’ who contributed to, or indeed, entirely ended, Liberia’s civil war.
Such a narrative emerges from the tactics employed by Leymah Gbowee, who unified women of all backgrounds through protests, marches, and a weapon with more impact than any other: sex. Plagued by violence from both Charles Taylors government and the brutal government rebels, these women vowed to abstain from sexual intercourse until peace was achieved, with increased support resulting in the opposing parties agreeing to attend peace talks.
Sex strikes have a long history, dating back to war-torn Athens in 411 BC, where the legendary Lysistrata of Aristophanes’ comedic play encouraged abstinence to end the Peloponnesian war. Despite being fictional, the character of Lysistrata serves as a testament to the power of collective action and female resilience, having had such an impact that real life examples of sex strikes, such as Liberia’s, may be referred to as Lysistratic protests.
The issue with this, however, is that Liberia’s sex strike was not fictional. Whilst it may be easy to draw comparisons between the two as tales of resistance and unity, the desperate act of Liberian women withholding sex is underscored by various gendered implications, both pre-existent and reinforced. With many narratives failing to consider this, the sweeping statement of these protests as ‘empowering’ damages the rhetoric surrounding Liberia’s sex strike and hinders the quest towards true sustainable peace.
Gender in war
Conflict is inherently gendered with increased gender-based violence (GBV) in the form of arbitrary killings, torture, sexual violence and forced marriage heavily increasing for women in conflict and post-conflict zones. Over 70% of women have experienced GBV in some crisis settings.
Demonstratively, the Liberian civil war saw widespread brutalities inflicted on its female citizens. Detailed in the harrowing 2008 documentary, Pray The Devil Back to Hell, approximately 60-70% of the population suffered sexual violence with women being the primary targets.
Once used as an opportunistic form of violence, sexual abuse is now frequently used as deliberate military strategy, primarily as a means of exerting control rather than for sexual gratification. GBV is frequently underscored by hypermasculine attitudes with men striving to gain status through sexual domination. This was demonstrated by the tactical recruitment of impressionable child soldiers, some as young as eight, many of whom later recounted the sense of power they felt when engaging in such aggression.
In contrast, women in conflict are often expected to adopt nurturing roles and care-related tasks, offering emotional support to communities. For this reason, it is important to examine the aforementioned narrative of women as ‘guardians of peace’ as to avoid absolving men of their accountability and framing peace as women’s responsibility.
Reclaiming autonomy?
Considering the disproportionate impact of GBV on women, sex strikes may be considered a way of restoring sexual autonomy, as sex is being initiated on the women’s terms.
The idea of African women as sexually passive permeates the core of much sexual discourse, with explorations of sexuality often being omitted from, or looked down upon in dominant rhetoric. In spite of recent projects aiming to discredit dominant narratives, see The Sex Lives of African Women and Treasure Your Pleasure, dialogue tends to primarily surround family planning, disease and sexual violence, with ideas of female sexual autonomy remaining undiscussed.
Determining sexual terms can therefore be seen as women taking control over their bodies. Responding to strict abortion laws, actress Alyssa Milano demonstrated this ideology by urging women to join her in a sex strike until “[they got] bodily autonomy back”. In challenging prevailing narratives and reclaiming bodily autonomy, women’s engagement in sex strikes can therefore be seen as a powerful challenge to expected gender roles and an assertion of their sexual agency.
Reinforcement of ideals
It is, however, important to recognise that sexual autonomy encompasses more than just control over whether or not sexual acts occur. Though few studies and methods of measuring female sexual autonomy exist, the overarching definition of sexual autonomy as “the human right to protect and maintain an informed decision over one’s body, one’s sexuality, and one’s sexual experience” is demonstrative of how sex strikes may inadvertently undermine female sexual agency.
The concept of sex strikes perpetrates the notion that women’s sexuality is a means of negotiation rather than an expression of desire. By reducing intimate relations to a transactional exchange, the significance of ones “sexual experience”, and therefore autonomy, is diminished. This reinforces the idea of women’s bodies as commodities and women themselves as passive objects of desire rather than active agents of their own sexual experiences.
Given this, Milano’s encouragement of a sex strike, though receiving significant support, was also met by claims that it encouraged women to provide sex “as a reward to the worthy” rather than for their own enjoyment. This underscores the complex dynamics of consent within sex strikes. By hinging women’s consent on their partners agreement with their objectives, critical questions are raised about the authenticity of their consent during subsequent sexual activity, highlighting how women’s autonomy is often disregarded.
The aforementioned understandings of gender dynamics in conflict zones further supports how sex strikes may undermine female sexual autonomy. Given that women face heightened GBV in conflict zones, leading to a loss of agency over their bodies, the idea of withholding sex as a form of protest may inadvertently replicate power dynamics where women’s bodies are still subject to negotiation and control by external forces.
The perception of women as sexually passive may, in turn, be reinforced by societal attitudes. Leymah Gbowee herself attributed the effectiveness of the strikes to the belief that “every man is interested in the act of sex”. While the outcome of the events supports this notion, it unintentionally suggests a disparity in sexual desire between men and women, therefore reinstating stereotypes of African women as sexually passive.
Did the strike achieve peace?
But maybe the obtainment of peace outweighs this regurgitation of outdated falsities, right? Many narratives attest to the sex strike as being “surprisingly effective” given the consequential peace talks, and the eventual end to the conflict. Not only this but further political mobilisation resulted in the instatement of Africa’s first female president. Such social development would imply that the strike was successful in securing peace across Liberia.
An overarching definition of peace, however, is something which has been greatly contested and changing throughout history. John Galtung’s distinguishment between positive and negative peace particularly highlights the complexities within considering sex strikes as a means of obtaining peace. Here, negative peace is defined as the absence of war and violence, a notion which many narratives appear to use in contending that the Liberian sex strikes led to peace. The more sustainable concept of positive peace subscribes to a lasting peace built on the development of societal attitudes which oppose the ‘structures and cultures of violence’. Dissecting these definitions, it is clear that not only did the use of sex strikes in Liberia fail to contribute to the attainment of positive peace but also detracted from the notion entirely.
If positive peace requires the improvement of societal attitudes, the clear reinstatement of limited perceptions of African women and their sexuality only further exacerbates the existing inequitable gender relations, therefore contributing to the culture of GBV. Instating a female president is not enough to ensure a long-lasting development of societal attitudes, as demonstrated by Liberia’s declaration of rape as a national emergency in 2020. Therefore, whilst contributing to the end of the civil war, the strikes were not an effective tool in addressing broader social issues for sustainable peace.
Alternatives for empowerment
Similarly to the Liberian civil war, the 1994 Rwandan genocide saw sexual violence against women on a large scale with assailants claiming to have raped an estimated 250, 000 women.
Following such atrocities, as well as women’s critical role in rebuilding Rwanda, President Paul Kagame opted to make the empowerment of women a priority. Changes to the constitution made it mandatory for 30% of government positions to be occupied by women. Education reforms, such as the 2009 policy to provide free compulsory education to children, were introduced to encourage opportunities for previously excluded girls. The introduction of sex education in schools fostered a positive, open dialogue regarding sexual safety, addressing both health and emotional aspects. Consequently, these initiatives have empowered women politically and socially, leading towards a more gender-equitable society.
Ranking fourth on the 2017 gender gap report, and having the highest share of women in parliament globally (61% in comparison to the global average of 26.4%), adaptations to the frameworks of Rwandan society have shown to be extremely effective. Shifts towards open conversations have also empowered women sexually, with the provision of female pleasure being seen as integral to masculinity. Practices such as Kunyaza (female ejaculation) are commonplace, with men striving to achieve it and women freely requesting it. This investment in female empowerment provides women with a voice, therefore quelling the idea that men need to be negatively affected to get on board with women’s objectives.
Towards a Deeper Understanding
The paradox of female sexual autonomy in conflict is exemplified throughout the sex strike discourse. Women endure sexual violence as a tool of oppression whilst also utilising sex as a survival tactic to navigate these harrowing circumstances. This dual experience serves as a poignant reminder of the dehumanising effects of conflict, often reducing women to objects of sexual exploitation. However, it is imperative to refrain from interpreting this critique as diminishing towards the resilience demonstrated by Liberian women. Instead, it calls for an examination of the societal frameworks that perpetuate and normalise gendered violence. By scrutinising these narratives and structures, we can strive towards a more comprehensive understanding of gender and peacebuilding, that hinges upon efforts to empower rather than exploit.
Written by Chloe Williams, a recent graduate from the University of Sussex with a first class degree in International Development and a passion for exploring gender relations within activism and their impact on development.
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