Question Authority...But Not Your Mom

On the back of our old Ford Taurus used to be two bumper stickers. On one side of the license plate read “Question Authority,” on the other “…But Not Your Mom.”  I’m pretty sure these were two completely different stickers (placed at different times?), but they made quite the statement read together. And throughout the years, I think the message stuck with me. It was on the basis of abiding by this patched-together moral code that I got myself into trouble here in Kenya.

I recently attended a meeting with representatives of the Ministry of Fisheries in order to plan this big event, World Fisheries Day. It was supposed to be planned in partnership between IFP and the government. However, as time went on we realized that the ministry was essentially hijacking our event and calling in to question our contribution to the planning and even our very validity as an organization. It was my hope that my boss, who had skipped most the previous meetings, would finally stand up for our organization and defend our position as a valued member of the team.

Instead, the ministry once again walked all over us. The chairman of the meeting was a man I will affectionately call Fat Mike (I normally refrain from rude comments about people’s weight, but here, weight directly corresponds to salary and authority. You will also come to see that my use of “affectionate” is sarcastic, and offending this man is not a top concern of mine). Anyways, Fat Mike had only come to one previous meeting, but since he was the most senior rank in the room, it was protocol that he would run the show. This in itself didn’t really bother me. What bothered me was the fact that based on his position at the head of the table, he found it acceptable to insult, interrupt, or generally belittle whomever he pleased.

I kept it together most of the meeting as Fat Mike dominated the meeting and reversed the decisions the rest of the team had made months ago. My blood did begin to boil when he asked us what IFP was willing to pay the government for the “publicity” we would be getting from the event (the very same event that IFP had spent the last 3 months planning and organizing with little support from the ministry). After I heatedly shot that idea down, Fat Mike then told us we should cancel the workshop IFP had planned so IFP could give the money we raised to fill the gaps the ministry failed to contribute for. My boss was timidly and incompetently explaining the nature of the government/NGO partnership and our financial situation when Fat Mike interrupted him and changed the subject completely. My boss let it slide like nothing had happened, but it was more inconsiderate condescension than I could take. It was somewhere in the midst of this conversation that the Ford Taurus proverb rose to the surface.

A few things I learned from my mom: Everyone deserves respect. Treat others how you want to be treated. Women are more than just disproportionately skinny Disney princesses in need of saving by some man. Being assertive is better than being passive-aggressive or just passive. And of course, by nature of the bumper sticker she stuck on the back of her station wagon, question authority. 

So back to the story. After Mr. Chairman cut off my boss, I stopped Fat Mike and asked him to let my executive director finish. Needless to say, the chairman didn’t appreciate this gesture. Apparently it was ridiculous and inappropriate for me to request the same respect for me and my boss as the ego at the front demanded for himself. From here, it devolved into a spat between the egotistical government man and the improper American bitch (excuse the language). Fat Mike asked me if I was going to respect him. I told him I would respect him if he respected me and my boss. He didn’t respond well to this one. He told me I could either respect the "chairman" or I could leave. I felt like I was a troublemaker in middle-school being sent to the principal's office. Red-faced, I stood up, told him that I was happy to leave because I didn’t care for his hierarchical BS, and rushed out of the room.

I waver between pride and embarrassment for my reaction. In retrospect, storming out of the meeting and leaving my colleagues behind to deal with the wreckage was rather unproductive and a bit immature on my part. I missed the rest of the meeting and I had to wait outside with nothing to do. Yet, it was high time someone stood up to this man.  I doubt he has ever been called on his BS, especially by a woman. I'm glad to have been the one to do it.

I learned later that the standard protocol for dealing with egotistical jerks with superiority complexes in Kenya is to "act like an ostrich" and just keep your head down in the sand (direct quote from a junior staff member). While the picture is amusing, it is sadly descriptive of the national psyche. Reflecting on the excitement of the standoff, I found myself contemplating the impact of this mentality on the functioning of the country.

As I’ve mentioned before, Kenya is rife with corruption. It is also an incredibly male chauvinist society. I can’t help but think that a good deal of this comes from the inability of women to stand up against the word of a man and the unwillingness of the public to question their leaders. The fact that in a meeting as small as ours, we had to address “Mr. Chairman” and ask for the right to speak to our colleagues makes me wonder what sort of pecking order exists at a higher level. In the recent past, Kenyans have made great strides towards fighting for democracy. However, they also suffered tremendous horrors two years ago when the challenging of disputed election results devolved into a blood bath along ethnic lines. What will it mean for this nation to learn to question authority while keeping in mind all those important lessons about respect and dignity we learn from our mothers?