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From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Leymah Gbowee
Gbowee in 2013
Born
Leymah Roberta Gbowee

(1972-02-01) 1 February 1972 (age 52)
Central Liberia
NationalityLiberian
EducationAA degree in social work, Mother Patern College of Health Sciences, Monrovia, Liberia; MA in conflict transformation, Eastern Mennonite University, Harrisonburg, Virginia, USA
OccupationPeace activist
Known forWomen of Liberia Mass Action for Peace and Pray the Devil Back to Hell
AwardsNobel Peace Prize (2011)

Leymah Roberta Gbowee (born 1 February 1972) is a Liberian peace activist responsible for leading a women's nonviolent peace movement, Women of Liberia Mass Action for Peace that helped bring an end to the Second Liberian Civil War in 2003. Her efforts to end the war, along with her collaborator Ellen Johnson Sirleaf, helped usher in a period of peace and enabled a free election in 2005 that Sirleaf won.[1] Gbowee and Sirleaf, along with Tawakkul Karman, were awarded the 2011 Nobel Peace Prize "for their non-violent struggle for the safety of women and for women's rights to full participation in peace-building work."[2][3]

YouTube Encyclopedic

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  • Transforming Conflict through Nonviolent Coalitions with Nobel Peace Laureate Leymah Gbowee
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  • Nobel Peace Prize Laureate Leymah Gbowee
  • World Leaders Forum presents Leymah Gbowee
  • A Conversation with Nobel Laureate Leymah Gbowee | April 8, 2022

Transcription

This UCSD-TV program is presented by University of California Television. Like what you learn? Visit our website or follow us on Facebook and Twitter to keep up with the latest programs. [Music] 00:52 Good evening, everybody. Uh, welcome to the Joan B. Kroc School of Peace Studies. Uh, in this school, uh, we believe that you don't have very much peace, and it's not very sustainable without justice, and we don't think you have much justice without peace. So we think the two go together inext--inextricably. We also believe that studies ought to be combined with practice, and so our Institute for Peace & Justice and our Trans-Border Institute are very involved in the practice, in various places around the world, of peace and justice issues. We also believe that peace and justice shouldn't be an abstraction. It should be a challenge of public policy. So we are developing the school as the first school of public policy devoted to the questions of peace and justice. Now... [applause] Uh, this is going to be an inspiring evening. First because I'm going to leave the podium very shortly, [laughter] uh, and secondly in Leymah we have someone who has inspired people throughout the world and we've already had the benefit of her twice today and we appreciate her patience to have her for a third time. Now I've only been dean of this school for a little over six months, but you learn a few things. One of the things you learn very quickly is, whenever possible, delegate. And so tonight I am very pleased to delegate, uh, to Dee Akers, who is known as the woman peacemaker, uh [applause] and as someone who's known, uh, Leymah for many years, in fact welcomed her here five years ago. Uh, so Dee is going to engage in a conversation, uh, with Leymah. And with that let me exit the stage and thank you all very much for coming. We appreciate having you. Thank you. [applause] Well, good evening and let me add my welcome to our dean's. And thank you for joining us here at the Kroc School of Peace Studies at the University of San Diego, for the Joan B. Kroc Institute for Peace & Justice's Distinguished Lecture, "Transforming Conflict through Nonviolent Coalitions," with a truly brave and, above all, transparent and honest woman. Um, it's my privilege and pleasure to share an evening with the 2011 Nobel Peace Laureate, Leymah Gbowee, and you, uh, because it takes all of us, as she often points out. And our evening is designed to let us step into her world briefly and the revelations there. This Liberian mom of six, domestic violence survivor, peace activist, social worker, women's rights advocate who speaks truth to power, who founded a number of organizations including most recently the Gbowee Peace Foundation Africa, and along the way got the Nobel Peace Prize — all before she was 40 years old. [applause] A slightly longer bio is in your program. And the book "Mighty Be Our Powers," uh, which tells intimately her story is available out in the rotunda, um and it's really her story on how this came to pass, but there's also some people that would love for you to, uh, or be thrilled, if you went back and found the film, "Pray the Devil Back to Hell." Netflix would be happy if you'd rent it and, uh, Abigail Disney would be glad if you bought it. Um, and we're actually really happy to see how... in that film... how this happened with the diverse community. And those of you who have met her here before five years ago saw the film when she joined us for a conference that we did called "Crafting Human Security in an Insecure World." Um, there's so much to talk about, but we want you to have time to do it. I'm going to ask just a few questions and we'll have a little bit of discussion up here. But I want you to know that we were encouraged and engaged on the promise that she made and was living when she came here before. And, uh, it appears, however, that I have to say something that I really believe that her nonviolent transformation activities are sometimes not a passive, quiet, nonviolent, [laughter] uh, style but very vocal, direct and shall we say risky, uh, in which way she, uh, leads, uh, the way to peace in Liberia and elsewhere now around the world. So, welcome, Leymah. Thank you, Dee. Thank you so much. [applause] Well, one thing...we'll start a little towards the beginning, not the very beginning, we only have an hour, um, when you were 17 years old the Liberian civil war had just started. And you, uh, said that you turned from being a child into an adult in a matter of hours. Um, can you give us a feeling for what it was like, what that—that moment was like, that journey was like from then on and what changed? Alright. Thank you and thank you all for coming. It's truly an honor to be back here, uh, five years later. I do then, since 2008, I now have a 3-year-old going on 40, so since I left I've been really busy. [laughter] But, um, I grew up in a very sheltered, not rich community, but very sheltered. Um, where we grew up was the typical, um, example of "ubuntu" — you know—you are because I am; we all exist because of the other. Liberia has 16 tribes. The community we grew up in, maybe 10 of those tribes lived there. Everyone practiced their culture, but we were children of the community. So at 5 o'clock, if you went to the next neighbor's house, you took your bath there and put on someone else's clothes, and they took you home sleeping. We would stand on our porch and shout, "What did you cook today?" And someone would say, "We cooked rice with cassava leaves and rice with...Can we share?" So those were the kinds of things that we did. And when lights went off, we sang and danced our cultural, sang different traditional songs. Everyone came out so all of the parents were sitting on their porch. There was that feeling of you're sheltered. And then we'd go to town to the very plush high schools, but also sheltered because all of the kids in those schools' parents...or in our school...parents knew each other. We were still children at 17. You could go to your dad and say, "I need this." Your mom. There was guidance. And then we wake up and we were hearing all these stories about war. And we wake up one morning, my mother is gone, my father is gone, and I'm waiting for a few hours to go to school. And then there's shooting. Real loud shooting. This old man says, "I—I know this sound. The rebels have come." And my sister's three kids are at home, and my two younger siblings are there. And I'm the only child of my parents at home at that moment. And my niece is running to the door and one of our relatives is coming with another child and she takes her out of the way. Standing and observing that interaction at that moment, it was like, "You have to take charge." So I took all of those kids in, and that night people were coming and asking me, "What are we eating?" This is a question I ask people, you know, and then my aunt was saying to me, "You have to take control of your parent's bedroom." By morning we had over 50 people internally displaced in our home. I had to be saying, "Let's cook this, let's do this, let's do that." So you wake up at 8 in the morning and you're a 17-year-old. And by 10 p.m. you're 20-something or 30-something because you have the burden and the responsibility of a whole group of people on your shoulder. And people are already beginning to tell you, "Look around and find those important documents of your parents to keep. Do this, do that." Those are not things that ordinary 17-year-olds think about. But in a matter of weeks I mastered all of it. One thing that you had with your family, um, and in your community, uh, was a sense of faith. You became a person or you were a person of faith. But it seems that you came to know and live your convictions so much more than simply being church dogma. Um, in today's world, institutionalized religions can seem separate from people and you went through, uh, the way they live. But in your transition and during those times, from that point on, what was it like for you, how did you go beyond or include your sense of faith? In who you became. Well, when you live in a world where you see a lot of injustice happening and people who profess to be true believers of whichever religion, or people are committing atrocities in the name of all of those religions, you—you have to come to the place where you understand what your faith truly is. And most times when you read different accounts...I read different accounts in the Bible, I'm not just looking at, um, "eye for an eye." You have to rationalize the meaning of "eye for an eye" into this world. And—and one old lady said, "If you practice eye-for-an-eye now, we're going to have a group of damned blind people all over the world." [laughter] So you have to think about that, but for me one thing that I picked from the life of Jesus was compassion. And there is no way that you can live and interact with people and don't feel a sense of compassion when something has gone wrong or something is going wrong. So, over time, different things led me. I had been writing a little book for so long and I paused on that book. But my desire is to publish that book and just give it out for free. It's a tiny book that I've titled "Giving." And in that book, it will be... if you read it you'll get to understand how my faith grew so strong. Because in my life's journey, it hasn't been just Christians that have reached out to me. It hasn't been just Muslims. It's been people of different faiths and they are reading different things and just trying to make sense of this world that we all know that God...or believe that a God created. If he created this world, how did he intend for us to live? How can you say I'm a person of faith and you see a child suffering and not offer that person food? How can you be a person of faith and see a young girl with so much potential and you have the resources to send her to school, and turn a blind eye? So you have all of those things in play. But again, I tell people my life journey has been one that I track. I'll give you a quick story. My kids and I had been very, very poor, um, for a long time. And then my sister moved back to Monrovia from exile, and we lived in a tiny—in a tiny apartment. I think the entire apartment was the size of this stage. And I had four kids. She had one daughter, then I had a brother I took, and a niece came to live. So in this space...then a girl was thrown out, we took her in to help her finish high school. Every morning we would make food, breakfast and put it on the porch, and the kids in the neighborhood would cross over and come to eat. And I would say, "Make way for others to come and eat." And my sister would glare at me and say, "You are so going to call armed robbers in this house tonight," because it was a rough neighborhood. And one of the days I took... I just sat and looked even though we were poor, there were poor people, people poorer than we were. And so all of these old pairs of shoes under the bed, and it was getting close to Christmas and I said to her, "Mommy, Let's give these shoes out to the kids in the neighborhood." So we took everything out and children came, and not a single pair left over. My niece had made a list...we had made a list, but I had I think less than a hundred dollars for that Christmas. And that money would not deal with anything. The kids were upset because it's two days 'til Christmas and mama can't seem to be filling this list. I had this friend who was a Catholic priest who used to just come and sit in my house, to laugh, he said. The kids were just crazy because every night we did a thing called peacebuilding. And every night my son Arthur who is 16 now was the only culprit, apologizing to everyone, "I'm very sorry. I'm very sorry." So if you came to my house for 30 days Arthur was the one apologizing. So this man used to come and just sit sometimes and pray with us. He had gone to England and he came that evening at 12 midnight. A Catholic priest knocking at the window of a single woman at 12 midnight? Of course, I was shocked! [laughter] And I was like, "What do you want?" and he said, "Just open your door." "No, no, no, no, why...you should be in London." He said, "Just open the door. It's a long story. I'm tired. My flight came in late. I want..." So he...when I opened the front door, he put two huge suitcases in my living room. And then he said, "I'm too sleepy. We'll talk about it tomorrow. I'll come in." So the kids woke up and said, "What's in the suitcase?" the next morning. I said, "Well, brother David brought these—these two suitcases." By 12 he came. And then he said when he was leaving England, there was this woman who came running to the priest's house and said, "You are going to Africa. It's Christmas. I have these two suitcases. Go and give it to any single mother." He brought those suitcases and said...he used to call me "Leymuth" that's how they call me in the community that's my rough gangster name. [laughter] So he-he-he brought these...so he said, "So I brought these two suitcases." We sat down and opened up those suitcases. And everything we had on our list was in those suitcases, including shoes for the kids and clothes for the kids. And I turned and looked at my sister, and she looked back at me. When you've lived a life of lack, and when God has stepped in mysteriously on many occasions — and that's just one — and provided in such an awesome way, sometimes you don't need the Bible to give you an understanding of who God is. [applause] I want to stay with that whole issue of faith just for a little bit longer. When you started working, uh, on the issue that concerned...with organizing women to stand up against Charles Taylor...who was the first...how did it happen that the Muslim, um, your Muslim associate, the lead woman from that group, crossed that boundary or you crossed it because that wasn't the case at the time? Well, when...first of all the Christian Women's Peace Initiative and...I went to bed. I used to live with my computer, my kids were in exile so I lived in this house all by myself and uh...no I did not go on the computer at that time, I take that back. But I had a notebook that I wrote everything in. And I remember that night laying next to the window and having this notebook. And I woke up shivering. But, in that dream, real dream, "Gather the women to pray for peace." The next morning — my boss was a pastor — and I went to him and said, BB, I had this dream." And Vaiba, who's been here, was also one of my bosses then. And this person was saying to me, "Gather the women." So, "Reverend," --that's how we called our boss -- "since you are a pastor, call the women of the church and give them this dream." And he looked at me and said, "Leymah, the dream bearer is always the carrier of the dream." I said, "No, no, no, no, no, no Reverend. I am in a relationship and I'm not married to the man. Oh, am I fornicating! No, Jesus could not be talking to me." [laughter] And then he said, "No." And so we started the whole Christian Women's Peace Initiative. And the first time we went to meet a delegation of the World Council of Churches, Asatu was the Mus—only Muslim woman who stood up and say she was going to take it back to her Muslim sisters. She went and threw the idea at them. And the first question they asked was, "Who organized the Christian women?" And she said, "Leymah." So technically they baptized me a Muslim to come and organize the Muslim women. We started working with them because the first thing we needed to know what time they were...all of those things. But what happened, very interesting in all of this faith conversation most times when I'm having interfaith dialogue with people I ask, "In this work that we did, who do you think were the most problematic group?" And because of the impression of the-the-the-the-the, um, myth of Muslim fun--fundamentalism, everyone will say instantly, "The Muslim women were the most difficult." No. All those Christian women would come with scripture references every morning [laughter] on reasons why we should not interact with the Muslim women. Sometimes it got so bad that we had to take these women aside and really just talk to them to apologize. And so it got to the place where one group of Christian women actually left us because they felt we were not fulfilling the work of God. But the Muslim women were the most easy to deal with than the Christian women. Strangely. This... that brings up another question about...when you think about standing up, I mean you did it there, you do it now, you help women around the world. You're really interested in this transformation of conflict. Do you think about going alone first to see what needs to be done, or do you begin organizing coalitions? Because this is about the coalitions coming together like these groups first. I mean because they're challenging. One seems like it's going to take a lot more time, one seems like you're testing the waters. What...when you think about going out, what do you do first? I think the first thing to do is identify not one but several thematic concerns in different communities. Where people miss the mark is to think that once you see women you mobilize. That's not it. Or once you see people you mobilize. People have to feel connected to something. So you look into...say this community...and maybe rape, um...domestic violence - like wife beating, um...wayward children are the key issues. And you have to really go around and kind of test the waters with...if you're trying to mobilize parents, to see which is the top of the list. And then you use that as your rallying call. So when you go into conflict areas you want to really start by finding something...even though...for example, in the Congo DRC, when we went there two, three years ago, two-and-a-half years ago, I knew we still had a lot of work to do. There was no way that what happened in Liberia would happen in Congo any time soon. Why? Because everyone sees the conflict from the lens of their ethnic group or their political ideology or, um, some leader. They haven't seen it from the standpoint of, "Yes, I'm from this party and I'm from this ethnic group, but rape is an issue and it's affecting us as women." We went to Bukavu and we sat in that place, had a very beautiful meeting where the women had all of the answers. And then we said, "OK, if we are to form a coalition, we need to get one person who will become the face of this movement. The person would be the voice, and when they're not around no one can speak, because then the message is simple, concise and clear. No one is giving, um, mixed messages." The meeting broke down there. In the Ivory Coast in 2004 before their war got hot we went to a meeting, same thing. They spoke the same language. When it came time to fin—find the leader, the meeting broke down — the reason being, people still see that leadership within that women's group from the perspective of the political group, the ethnic group or the rebel faction that they support. And that's a really interesting point because it—it creates a vision of how you would have to get people to buy in to the whole idea of these coalitions that you want to create. On the other hand, certainly you're going to have to find the leaders who are willing, who are acceptable beyond that point. Well—well, one of the things that we didn't talk about it in "Pray the Devil Back to Hell" but which I think was a very important part of the work that we did in Liberia, was when we started something called the Peace Outreach Project. It was something called... we used to call it the POP. We trained 20 women from the Christian and Muslim groups, and those 20 women sat down and said, "We want to do something collectively." After we had formed the Christian and Muslim women. And the first thing they said they wanted to tackle was HIV and AIDS. In two weeks the problem with the war started. April 2nd actually would be 10 years when we started the mass action. So when we—we—we—we decided, "OK, let's work on the war issue." But the POP was something that they said, "We want to be able to go out and tell local women that they too have a stake in the peace process." So the Peace Outreach Project was predominantly a time of awareness and mobilization, a rallying call. We did that for nine months. After nine months we called the group back to evaluate the work that we had done. And we realized that there were issues that were coming up that was very unhealthy for the group that we are trying to build—Muslim/Christian women's rela—uh, relationships. So we—we did something—a consultation that was paid for by Catholic Relief Services. The first thing we brought the Christian women in the room. And we were looking at peace and nonviolence from the perspective of the Bible, something that they were quite familiar with, very comfortable with. And we talk about...because most times when you talk to the Christian women, they would be like, "Oh, my religion tells me to pray, so I'm not supposed to be out there. I'm not supposed to be on the forefront of protests. I'm just supposed to pray." So then we went back to the Bible, sat down and studied women in the Bible. And we gave them Deborah, we gave them Esther, we gave them all of those powerful women and said, "Did they just pray? No. Did they take action? Yes. So can you be a Deborah for your country? Of course!" [laughter] So those were the first things we did. Then we went into the Quran and into all of the different readings that were Islam that we could find. The next day we brought the Muslim women. Both two things we did to demystify all of the myths and negative perceptions and positives, stereotypes they had, was to do something with the Christian women on the day. What is it that you like about the Muslim women? And they made their long list. What is it that you do not like about them? And they made their long list. What do you admire about Islam? They made their long list, kept it, next day worked with the Muslim women. The third day we brought both groups together and the room was divided by religion. Every group was...what was amazing was that two women drove in the same car, one a Christian, one a Muslim. As soon as they enter that room everyone was across the table. So we—we started by asking them to do the gallery walk. Christian women one side Muslim women...and you could just hear it, "What! Did they say this about us as Christians? What? Did they say this?" "Oh, that is so nice." [laughter] "Oh, oh, no but is a lie. We are not like this." "Oh that is so nice." "Well that's not true. Oh..." and then after a while we said we don't want to talk about it. We brought two old ladies who had been friends for over 60-something years. One a Christian, one a Muslim. That was the turning point for us. Because one of the women...the Muslim woman was as talkative as I am. [laughter] And the Christian woman was so quiet and reserved. It was a total contrast from what those women...the perception that they held. And then this Muslim woman, in her talking about their friendship said, "My friend here's husband used to abuse her. And I took money and took her to the courts and she divorced him." Of course the Christian women almost fainted. [laughter] A Muslim taking a Christian woman to divorce her husband? "And I made sure she got away with all of the property." But afterward [laughter] someone asked, "How has your religion influenced your friendship?" And those two old ladies had a blank look on their faces. "What are you talking about?" And then this Muslim woman, who's deceased now, turned and said, "Marta, when you look at me do you see a Muslim?" And the Christian woman said, "No, I see a sister, a woman with many children, same problems that I have, unfortunately, cheating husbands." And they just went on and on and on. And they said faith has never ever played a role. Those two women in their communities, because of the intensity of their friendship, were called witches by community members. They suffered the worst together, but nothing ever took their friendship away. So that became the rallying call. So when you hear in the movie, "Does the bullet know a Christian from a Muslim? Can a bullet pick and choose?" Cause those women said...the two old ladies said, "Go in the bathroom, take off your clothes, one Muslim woman, one Christian woman. And look at each other and see whether you see a Muslim on your bodies or you see a Christian written on your bodies." So when you're trying to mobilize, it's so important that you spend time. Today, because of the horrific kind of violence that we see in communities, people expect that movements will just wake up. It needs to be nurtured like you're building a garden. Take trash out, all of the weeds and all of the different things and that's what we did with those women for over...almost two years before we launched the mass action. Very impressive. [applause] I've—I am checking the time...I—I have one more question I really want to ask because I've been watching and looking at a number of... statements that you've made in recent times and I've seen you take to the podium to confront leaders of Africa and the Western world the northern communities. Um, speak about their role in the continuing conflicts. I mean, to take them on and say what role they're playing. And I think that—that those moments when I see you doing that I'm wondering... I'm thinking about your work with your women, companionship, etc. But what gives you this power? What are you really saying to these people who are you believe continuing the conflicts at some level—who are heads of state, etc. And does anybody ever listen to you? Does anybody respond when you—when you speak out? Well, when you don't get invited to some country high-level meeting, [laughter] you take it that they heard. You know, and it's upsetting to them. But the point, um, Dee, is that in this work that we do we should not be afraid of anyone. There shouldn't be an office that we cannot touch. There shouldn't be an individual that we cannot face. And most times when I sit and form my opinion and do my research and do my analysis about certain things, the first thing that comes to mind is that people expect that you be quiet because you're a girl. You know, how dare you talk to those male leaders! But when Archbishop Tutu says, "I cannot share a stage with Tony Blair because he's a war criminal," he's applauded and I respect him for that. You know? And I think that is what should be. We should be able to say...because Dee, who do we represent? Who is your constituent? Who do I represent? A vast majority of those women that I say I speak for may never make it to San Diego. And if I'm afraid and ashamed to speak about their issues, I've failed them and I've failed them miserably. You know they—they had the misfortune of putting me on a high-level task force on reproductive health and rights beyond 2015. And I asked someone, "Do you really think you want me on this task force?" [laughter] Because it's not going to be about politics. Like I said this morning, it's not going to be about statistics. It's going to be about individuals. So how do you live in a country where you can...women die in the hundreds from maternal-related issues? They're going to give birth and they're dying. And then you have the children of some of the leaders riding the best cars. And it's simple things like an ultrasound machine you can't find in some of the health centers. And I'll say...you know, I'll say it doesn't take a lot. And so when you—you—you say to yourself...most times I tell myself, if Dr. King was going to be afraid, there would be no civil rights movement in this country. And I don't think, I don't think it's fair for any of us who God has given a space to dominate, to be afraid to speak our minds — especially if it has to do with people who cannot speak for themselves. [applause] I'm going to ask one final question. In the meantime why don't people head over to the mikes so we can hear your questions. And that's because I'm sure that we have students here and I know that a number of people, um, have an interest in media and that you've been interviewed by people in media who are the alternative news media and, um, found them somewhat responsive, I think. And I think the role of media, as we've talked about earlier today and in the past, is profound and it's essential that we have responsible media. So when you go on someone's show like Jon Stewart or Stephen Colbert, um, what's the sense...I mean, are they in their own way trying to get the real word out there? Are they...um... [Gbowee]: I think... I—I will speak for both Colbert and Jon Stewart and I will not speak about some of the other people that interviewed me. [Aker]: I'll only ask you about those two. [laughter] [Gbowee]: But those two, especially Jon Stewart, came into the green room, sat with me for almost 30 minutes. And it wasn't like calming my nerves; because look at me I didn't need him to calm my nerves. [laughter] But it was like genuinely engaging: "I've read your book. I have kids. I'm concerned about the state of the world." And he came to me with a lot of respect. There was not this white male supremacy thing. It was like two equals having a conversation: You have something to say, I'm interested in listening to it. And I—I've been to many places and it's not just for North America. Even in Africa you get the vibe when people are not interested and they just see you as...okay this is going to be a...I—I tell my kids with this prize I'm not an ornament. You know because it's easy for..."oh, we got this Nobel Laureate to come to this event. And this Nobel Laureate to come to that event." No. I will be an ornament when I'm 70. [laughter] [Aker]: Oh shoot. [Gbowee]: At 41 there is work to be done and you can't afford to but...you...I mean...you... sometimes you get the sense and with Jon I really got the sense that first things first, he had read my book. It speaks volumes about someone interviewing you who has read, but beyond reading has gone and done different research. And—and talk about do...I've done this, I've done that, I've done the other. So and—and...when we had that conversation, the people in that audience, if they had never thought about civil wars or women's rights issues, it brought it to them because he drove it home. And we, you know, at one point during the interview, he said, "Wow, you're being interviewed by the most popular—one of the most popular journalists in America." And I said, "Well, you...we're in good company because you are interviewing the most popular African woman." [laughter and applause] Yeah, I couldn't resist asking the question because I know it's hard when we talk about media to feel that we're getting an honest, uh, sense of...from media about what's going on in the world and—and what they have to do. And I think that we really need to take it more into those kinds of spaces if we want the world to take women's issues seriously, because it...those people have followings. They have people who want to hear them. They're like little gods to people. So if some of them stand up and say, "Women's rights is the in thing," some people will be listening, others who have never stopped to think about it. So when you talk about breaking new ground and going into different spaces and new places, I think those are the kinds of people that we need to engage with. Find the good men in the media because for too long and especially for me...one of the things I constantly say to myself as I go to be interviewed or go to some part of the world, there's so much misconception about the African woman — saggy breasts, begging bowl, many children hanging on them. You know, and sometimes I tell people, that even if... in Africa a woman has been raped, the one question you need to ask yourself , "How is she still caring for 10, 20 children? How is she still caring even after that horrifying rape, how is she still standing up with her shoulders high and providing for her family?" You need to move beyond the act of the rape and look deep into that strength. The strength that is coming out. So most times there...one thing that I would never ever hope to do is to come out here because again, I'm not representing myself. I'm representing a lot of those women in communities who you cannot mess with. You know, I was...we went...when the Nobel women came, we took them to a group of women in Totota. The women, when they were introducing themselves to the Nobel women, and I just sat there smiling, because these were women I met decades ago who could not even find their voices. And this woman stands and says, "I have my lieutenants. Where are my lieutenants?" And these women stand up. And these are the people who community people would come to and say, "My daughter got raped and the culprit lives in that house." Those women walk to that house, arrest the man, and take him to the police station. You dare not resist arrest. [laughter and applause] So if you have these things happen in community, how do you come off portraying those women you represent as weak? As...and then you find...we have a whole new generation of young women who have formed their—their voices also, so they are nothing like weak. And previously when things used to happen, they would be so shy about talking about it. But we've come...seriously come to the place where African women are now saying, "If you rape me, I have nothing to be ashamed of. You should be ashamed of yourself!" You know, so...we need to constantly portray that. Even in this country I constant... I will alw...I always say, "Women, you have so much: the platform, the resources." Um, someone said to me, "You know there was this thing going and we—I won a million dollars for my organization." I said, "Gosh. Give me one million dollars [laughter] and I know what I will do with it!" So much resources and then sometimes when you hear some of the things going on you ask yourself, "These women are strong, they're smart, they're intelligent, but what happened to their legs? Why can't they stand up?" Because you see there is so much that you have to offer us in Africa. You...people mirror what happens in this part of the world. If—if women's rights is not respected here, and our leaders are wining and dining with your leaders, they go back and say, "Even in the... even in the U.S. is not working there. Why should we give it to you here?" Okay, let me shut up, Dee. [laughter and applause] No, here's a microphone, there's an empty microphone for Leymah. [Female voice from off stage] I want to ask you about the horrific violence, not only in Liberia, but in so many places in Africa. Eastern Congo you talked about and other places. [clears throat] At the beginning you talked about this wonderful spirit in Africa of sharing, of taking care of each other. I think you say "ubuntu." Is that right? And [clears throat] I wonder how we restore that. What—what were the dark forces that changed things, that brought this about, and how do we reverse it? You know I don't think the spirit of togetherness and oneness ever left Africa, or else people like us wouldn't be on the continent still. The spirit is still there. What we've seen happen to our world is something that we cannot explain. When people...I—I—I tell most of the young men who fought in the war that you are a victim of, um, trying to live in an urban world, not fitting, and trying to live in your rural community and not fitting there anymore. So mod—modern—modernity or whatever we want to call it, but it's—it's a sad... I—I cannot pinpoint what has happened to the spirit in our communities. What I can say to you is that in some parts of the community those spirits are still there. It's the spirit that will cause women to rally around each other. It's that same spirit that will get some men to come around. And most times when I speak to a community of African men, I say to them the reason why you all are now demonized is because a lot of you good men have stepped in the back, and the evil ones have taken over your space. And the evil men, the men who perpetrate evil, are not many. The ones who are the good ones, they're very many, but somehow they've lost their spines and they're not doing enough to protect those women. I don't understand what is happening. But when I look at my own dad, who as we grew up, no woman cried from her husband's house that he did not walk to and pull that man out and say, "If you want to fight someone, let's fight." But today you see men, you see boys really most times they just don't want to get involved. And so how do we get them to be like the women again, you know, bring back that spirit of community? But I also think a lot of the violence that they too have seen has affected them in ways that we are not talking about. And because...I mean the good men now, the handful of the evil ones have affected them in ways that... there's something about their pride that has been wounded. If you could not protect your wife from rape, who are you in this time of peace to stand up and say you want to be an advocate for rape? And I think it's up to us women and those of the other men who are doing this work to really now start saying what happened happened, and it's time for us to take back our communities. Yeah. [A different female voice from offstage] Thanks so much for sharing your stories and as I've been hearing them, um, I've just been thinking a lot about the grassroots movements and the organizing efforts. And wondering in your... because not everyone is Leymah Gbowee. Not everybody is going to end up with a Nobel Prize. So, who are your teammates? Who are the people who have walked with you in this journey? And what kind of group do you like to surround yourself with to make a movement sustainable and possible and powerful? Crazy women. [laughter] Risk-takers. People who are not concerned about anything, who will do anything, who are not concerned about, "What do I stand to gain from this?" One of the things that, um, I say to people when we did this work and constantly I never claim the glory, to say I—I did this by myself. It was group of women. Every time that I try to tell people, "This one is more powerful than I am; all I did was to be the talkative one in the group." But, the...some of the women...the—the work that we've done has been a work of sacrifice. And those are the people that you want to...if you're building a movement, build a movement around. You don't want to build your movement around those who are thinking, "Wow, how much money are we going to get out of this?" When we started the—the protests, and when we did all of the work that we had done in the past, I tell people I could not keep a dime in my handbag. Because it wasn't just building a movement, it was building a community of women. We were building sisterhood to the point that we all knew each other's problems. Vaiba, who came here to do the Women PeaceMakers Program, lost her husband in 2006. And that afternoon when he got really sick, they called me. I went and saw him taking his last breath. And they asked the women, they took us and we went so I had to leave with her. When he died, because he was a Muslim, his family came and immediately said, "You killed him. So you have to explain to us how he died." One phone call, 25 women were in that house. The men said, "We changed our mind. You didn't do anything to him. [laughter] He died a natural death." But I saw us sleep in that tiny house, the next morning trek to the gravesite, stayed with her for two weeks. When they finally were doing their official mourning, we did the women's mourning, which is not common in the Muslim faith. We did everything together. And that was what we did from one community to the other. Sometimes as someone gave birth we were all there. So it wasn't just about peace. It was reaffirming ourselves as women, telling people that we've got your back. The personal is political. There is no way any of us can say, "I'm a peace activist and I'm doing such a great job," but the people you work with you don't interact or engage with them in that way. My sisters tell me if I live in Africa I'm not going to be rich. And I don't think I will be rich, because whatever you own has to be shared. So the kind of people that you'll find me hanging out with would be those women who when one person cries everyone will appear. And when they come together, even when you're crying, they will do something to wipe that tears away from your eyes. When my sister died in 2006, by the time I landed with the body at the airport, the WIPNET women were lined up. Some of them were so drunk they didn't know what they were doing there. [laughter] But that evening when my parents were grieving, I remember my dad was so sad. Those women decided to put up a fashion show for him. [laughter] And I just saw him looking like, "What kind of trouble is this, Leymah? Get these women out of this house." And I said, "No," and you know, just... afterwards you would not hear crying in that house. That was the spirit. And that is the spirit of any movement that will survive. [applause] I'll take two more—you and one more, and then I saw a little pretty girl come up there. Oh sorry, go ahead go ahead oh. [off screen—nervous male laugh] Standing here as a man. [nervous male laugh] And we're happy you're here. [off screen] Thank you. I'm happy um to be here and I want to thank you madam for your courage. You invoked Rev. Martin Luther King, who we may agree was a prophet and a courageous one. Who was also a man who we understand that he had some the failings that all men and women have. But he stood up. And my question is: we're all sitting here listening to you and feeling very good about what you're saying. It's—it's encouraging to sit here. Would you encourage us to stand up and participate in civil disobedience in this country now? And in what way would you encourage us to do that? And that's my question. Thank you. Thank you. I...when the Newtown shooting took place, um, the Africa columnist for Daily Beast... I stayed in my room and sent a thing—a rallying call to the mothers of America, um, to rise up against gun violence in this country. Um, I like the way...the trend the debate is taking, but I think there is a need for, um, and this is my naïve African perspective, but I think there's a need for more grassroots organizing around the whole issue of gun violence in this country because after Newtown, what has happened to that conversation is that it has gotten very political. So it's a Joe Biden issue. But when the shooters go on the rampage, it's not a Joe Biden's...even though he feels it and I'm not saying your leaders are not compassionate. But the people who feel it the most are the community people. And I think when you talk about civil disobedience or—or—or protests against certain things, I think those are the kind of things that people need to really start standing up to. But if a community feels passionate about something, and that's how we started the conversation, a thematic concern, an issue of concern, and if the community feels like they are not being heard about that particular issue, I don't think anyone can...as long as you are not going to be throwing stones and throwing petrol bombs at people. I think it's important for people to be able to express themselves, express the way they feel about a particular thing. I am all for protests, peaceful protests, nonviolent, um, protests and nonviolent engagement on issues that are dissatisfactory to a...for a group of people. So I think there are many things in this country that women, men, boys and girls can decide we're going to stand up to. Um, when we were in Chicago a few days ago, one of the things that I told them there because of course, Hafeeza, would make me—Hafeeza, my assistant there, read all of these briefing books—about Dee what year she was born, which school she went to, the dean and everyone else, but in that briefing book there was all of these statistics and different things about Chicago and the strategies of the police. And when we met with the mayor that's what he constantly talked about: "Oh, my police chief is doing well." And then I said to him, "Sir, with all due respect, and I'm sure you are doing a great job, this is not just a police issue. It is a community issue. You should elicit the support of, uh, elicit the support of religious leaders, schoolteachers, parents, community people. Organize a different group of people so that this issue starts from the...is—is tackled from the grassroots to the top level. So everyone has a role to play in making communities straight. My theory: the world is upside down. We need many hands to turn it upright. And many strategies. One last question. [Young girl's voice off screen] Um, I know what you went through because my parents ran away from Somalia when I was a young kid. And I came with the IRC Peacemakers and I was wondering, how did you overcame all this? It—it's something that never goes away. You know, you see all of this, sometimes you see all of this strength and you see all of this um...everything you see, it's easy to have a flashback. It's easy to walk into a space and just black out. It's easy to cry. It's easy to be upset and angry. And because you have all of these emotions happening every time, what is not easy is for you to keep going. And for me that's where I find myself. Um, some days I have this tough thing going on about me, trying to be the girl, but inside I'm like Jell-O. You know, it—it's so much happening. And you—you're just so emotional about things you see happen. And once you've gone through it, my dear, it—it's—it's internal. And it is not—it's not about where you come from anymore. So when I hear the stories of women in Mali, it's my story. When I hear the stories of women in Sudan, it's my story. When I hear the stories of women even here in the U.S., who...single mothers who have gone through many different things, refugee women, it's my story. So trust me. It never goes away. And one of the things I tell young people, old people, there is no way we can do this work that we're doing if we don't believe there's a high—higher power responsible for some of the things happening. Now, I'm not saying be a good Christian, be a good Muslim, be a Judist—uh, a Jewish, uh, be a Hindu. What I'm saying is you have to have a kind of faith to be able to negotiate this world if you're a peacebuilder or peace activist or a change agent, because you'll see so many things that will make you angry. I— [whistle sound] I always ask this question, "What similar traits does Hitler and Martin Luther King have? Dee? Some of the traits? Yes, one characteristics that Hitler and King has or share or... Desmond Tutu and Charles Taylor?" [Gbowee]:Trait. [Aker]: Traits? [laughs] [Gbowee]: One characteristics or traits or whatever or one—one thing they share. And the mayor of Chicago says, "Well, besides humanity I don't see anything they share." I said, "Well, anger." Hitler was an angry man. Dr. King was angry. Mandela was angry. Charles Taylor was angry. I've been angry. Other women are angry. What distinguish us from the other is how we put...where we put our anger. So, pardon me. I have this thing that I say, I go like this. Fluid. Has no shape or size. So this is the peace container and this is the war container. And anger is not in any of this here. And you can decide, "OK, I'm really angry right now. But I'm going to pour my anger into the peace container." And what you see is someone who is building peace and doing something positive with their anger. Anger is what keeps me going. Anger is something that...it's like the fuel that I need to do something. But I never ever think that I'm going to pour my anger into a violent container. And so when you do—when you—when you say, "Does it ever go away? No, no mama, it never goes away. All you have to do is, where do I pour my anger? Where do I pour all of those emotions so that will make sense to the world, and that will leave a—that will leave a legacy? And most times when you've gone through war, you've through a situation the question you need to ask yourself is, "Do I want to put this in this violent container and end up in the Hague or end up a villain? Or do I want to put it in this peace container and end up leaving a perfect legacy, like someone like King or Mandela or Tutu or Mother Theresa?" Because all of these people like all of the people we consider villains had one common thing, and that thing was anger. Tonight as you to go home, think about it, teach your children that anger is neither good nor bad, but how you pour your anger is what your life story end will be. Thank you all very much. [applause]

Early life

Leymah Gbowee was born in central Liberia on 1 February 1972. At the age of 17, she was living with her parents and two of her three sisters in Monrovia while planning on continuing her education,[4] when the First Liberian Civil War erupted in 1989,[5] throwing the country into chaos until 1996.[6]: 15–25, 50  "As the war subsided she learned about a program run by UNICEF,... training people to be social workers who would then counsel those traumatized by war," wrote Gbowee in her 2011 memoir, Mighty Be Our Powers.[6]: 50  She did a three-month training, which led her to be aware of her own abuse at the hands of the father of her two young children, son Joshua "Nuku" and daughter Amber.[6]: 50  Searching for peace and sustenance for her family, Gbowee followed her partner, called Daniel in her memoir, to Ghana where she and her growing family (her second son, Arthur, was born) lived as virtually homeless refugees and almost starved.[6]: 59–68  She fled with her three children, riding a bus on credit for over a week "because I didn't have a cent," back to the chaos of Liberia, where her parents and other family members still lived.[6]: 69 

In 1998, in an effort to gain admission to an associate of arts degree program in social work at Mother Patern College of Health Sciences, Gbowee became a volunteer within a program of the Lutheran Church in Liberia operating out of St. Peter's Lutheran Church in Monrovia, where her mother was a women's leader and Gbowee had passed her teenage years. It was called the Trauma Healing and Reconciliation Program (THRP), and it marked the beginning of Gbowee's journey toward being a peace activist:[6]: 80–82 

The THRP's offices were new, but the program had a history. Liberia's churches had been active in peace efforts ever since the civil war started, and in 1991, Lutheran pastors, lay leaders, teachers and health workers joined with the Christian Health Association of Liberia to try to repair the psychic and social damage left by the war.[6]: 81  Gbowee studied and worked her way toward her associate of art degree, conferred in 2001,[6]: 111  while applying her training in trauma healing and reconciliation to try to rehabilitate some of the ex-child soldiers of Charles Taylor's army.[7] Surrounded by the images of war, she realized that "if any changes were to be made in society it had to be by the mothers".[8] Gbowee gave birth to a second daughter Nicole "Pudu", making her the mother of four, as she engaged in the next chapter of her life's journey – rallying the women of Liberia to stop the violence that was destroying their children.[9]

Education and training

Gbowee obtained an Associate of Arts degree in social work (2001) from Mother Patern College of Health Sciences in Monrovia, Liberia, and subsequently graduated with a Master of Arts in Conflict Transformation (2007) from Eastern Mennonite University in Harrisonburg, Virginia.[10] She also received a certificate in Conflict Prevention and Peacebuilding Training from the United Nations Institute for Training, the Healing Victims of War Trauma Center in Cameroon, and Non-Violent Peace Education in Liberia[11]

Career

Gbowee is the founder and president of Gbowee Peace Foundation Africa, founded in 2012[12] and based in Monrovia, which provides educational and leadership opportunities to girls, women and the youth in Liberia.

In addition, Gbowee is the former executive director of the Women Peace and Security Network Africa, based in Accra, Ghana,[13] which builds relationships across the West African sub-region in support of women's capacity to prevent, avert, and end conflicts. She is a founding member and former coordinator of the Women in Peacebuilding Program/West African Network for Peacebuilding (WIPNET/WANEP).[6] She also served as the commissioner-designate for the Liberia Truth and Reconciliation Commission. For the 2013–2015 academic years, she was a Distinguished Fellow in Social Justice at Barnard College of Columbia University.[14]

From 2012 to 2014, Gbowee served on the High-Level Task Force for the International Conference on Population and Development, co-chaired by Joaquim Chissano and Tarja Halonen.[15] In 2013, she became an Oxfam Global Ambassador.[16]

Gbowee speaks internationally to advance women's rights, and peace and security. In 2016, Gbowee spoke at a protest march organized by Women Wage Peace, a political grassroots group working to advance a peace agreement between Israel and Palestine.[17]

Gbowee is also an outspoken supporter of fellow Liberian Ebenezer Norman's non-profit organization A New Dimension of Hope, a foundation which builds schools in Liberia. In May 2015, she wrote personal letters to the contributors of NDhope's crowd-funding campaign on Indiegogo and has spoken at their events.[18][19][20][21]

As of April 2017, Gbowee is also Executive Director of the Women of Peace and Security Program at AC4, Earth Institute, Columbia University.[22]

Gbowee is also a contributor at The Daily Beast.[23][24]

Involvement in trauma healing

In the spring of 1999, after Gbowee had been at the Trauma Healing project for a year,[6]: 95  her supervisor, Reverend Bartholomew Bioh "BB" Colley, a pastor of the Lutheran Church in Liberia, introduced her to Samuel Gbaydee Doe (no relation to the former Liberian president by the same first and last name),[6]: 98  a "passionate and intelligent"[6]: 107  Liberian who had just earned a master's degree from a Christian university in the U.S. that specialized in peace-building studies.[25] Doe was the executive director of Africa's first regional peace organization, the West Africa Network for Peacebuilding (WANEP),[26] which he had co-founded in 1998 in Ghana.[27][28] Encouraged by the Lutheran reverend she calls "BB", Gbowee began reading widely in the field of peacebuilding, notably reading The Politics of Jesus by Mennonite theologian John Howard Yoder, and works by "Martin Luther King Jr. and Gandhi and the Kenyan author and conflict and reconciliation expert Hizkias Assefa."[6]: 88 

By late 1999, "WANEP was actively seeking to involve women in its work and I was invited to a conference in Ghana," wrote Gbowee.[6]: 101  At a follow-up WANEP conference in October 2000, Gbowee met Thelma Ekiyor of Nigeria, who was "well educated, a lawyer who specialized in alternative dispute resolution."[6]: 107–108  Ekiyor told Gbowee of her idea of approaching WANEP to start a women's organization. "Thelma was a thinker, a visionary, like BB and Sam. But she was a woman, like me."[6]: 109 

Within a year, Ekiyor had secured funding from WANEP and had organized the first meeting of the Women in Peacebuilding Network (WIPNET) in Accra, Ghana, which Gbowee attended:

How to describe the excitement of that first meeting...? There were women from Sierra Leone, Guinea, Nigeria, Senegal, Burkina Faso, Togo – almost all the sixteen West African nations. In her quietly brilliant way, Thelma had handwritten an organizer's training manual with exercises that would draw women out, engage them, teach them about conflict and conflict resolution, and even help them understand why they should be involved in addressing these issues at all.[6]: 112 

In the sympathetic setting of other women hungry for peace, Gbowee told the painful parts of her life story for the first time, including sleeping on the floor of a hospital corridor with her newborn baby for a week because she had no money to pay the bill and nobody to help her.[6]: 113  "No one else in Africa was doing this: focusing only on women and only on building peace."[6]: 113  Ekiyor became Gbowee's trainer and friend. She also was the one who announced the launch of WIPNET in Liberia and named Gbowee as coordinator of Liberian Women's Initiative.[6]: 114–115  Gbowee's "peace-church" philosophical orientation likely can be traced to this era – Thelma Ekiyor, Rev. "BB" Colley, Samuel Gbaydee Doe, and Hizkias Assefa are all connected to Eastern Mennonite University in the United States, either as former students or (in Assefa's case) as an ongoing professor.[29]

Leading a mass women's movement

In the spring of 2002, Gbowee was spending her days employed in trauma-healing work and her evenings as the unpaid leader of WIPNET in Liberia. Her children, now including an adopted daughter named Lucia "Malou" (bringing the number of children to five), were living in Ghana under her sister's care.[6]: 148  Falling asleep in the WIPNET office one night, she awoke from a dream where she says God had told her, "Gather the women and pray for peace!"[6]: 122  Some friends helped her to understand that the dream was not meant for others, as Gbowee thought; instead, she realized that it was a necessary for her to act upon it herself.[6]: 122 [30]

Following a WIPNET training session in Liberia,[6]: 124  Gbowee and her allies, including a Mandingo-Muslim woman named Asatu, began by "going to the mosques on Friday at noon after prayers, to the markets on Saturday morning, to two churches every Sunday."[6]: 126  Their flyers read: "We are tired! We are tired of our children being killed! We are tired of being abused!! Women, wake up – you have a voice in the peace process!" They also handed out simple drawings explaining their purpose to the many women who couldn't read.[6]: 127 

By the summer of 2002, Gbowee was recognized as the spokeswoman and inspirational leader of the Women of Liberia Mass Action for Peace, described as a peace movement that started with local women praying and singing in a fish market.[31] Women would also oppose the war by fasting and going to government buildings to picket.[4] Working across religious and ethnic lines, Gbowee led thousands of Christian and Muslim women to gather in Monrovia for months. They prayed for peace, using Muslim and Christian prayers, and eventually held daily nonviolent demonstrations and sit-ins in defiance of orders from the tyrannical president at that time, Charles Taylor.[6]: 128, 135 

They staged protests that included the threat of a curse and a sex strike. Of the strike, Gbowee says, "The [sex] strike lasted, on and off, for a few months. It had little or no practical effect, but it was extremely valuable in getting us media attention."[6]: 147  In a highly risky move, the women finally occupied a field that had been used for soccer; it was beside Tubman Boulevard, the route Charles Taylor traveled twice a day, to and from Capitol Hill.[6]: 136  To make themselves more recognizable as a group, all of the women wore T-shirts that were white, signifying peace, with the WIPNET logo and white hair ties.[6]: 136  Taylor finally granted a hearing for the women on 23 April 2003. With more than 2,000 women amassed outside his executive mansion, Gbowee was the person designated to make their case to him.[6]: 140  Gbowee positioned her face to be seen by Taylor but directed her words to Grace Minor, the president of the senate and the only female government official present:

We are tired of war. We are tired of running. We are tired of begging for bulgur wheat. We are tired of our children being raped. We are now taking this stand, to secure the future of our children. Because we believe, as custodians of society, tomorrow our children will ask us, "Mama, what was your role during the crisis?"[6]: 141 

In her book, Gbowee reveals that Grace Minor quietly "gave a great deal of her own money... at enormous personal risk" to the women's protest movement.[6]: 149  The protesting women extracted a promise from President Charles Taylor to attend peace talks in Ghana to negotiate with the rebels from Liberians United for Reconciliation and Democracy[32][33] and another newer rebel group, MODEL.[6]: 155 

In June 2003, Gbowee led a delegation of Liberian women to Ghana to put pressure on the warring factions during the peace-talk process.[34] At first the women sat in a daily demonstration outside the posh hotels where the negotiators met, pressuring for progress in the talks.[6]: 154–156  When the talks dragged from early June through late July, with no progress made and violence continuing in Liberia, Gbowee led dozens of women, eventually swelling to a couple hundred, inside the hotel, where they simply "dropped down, in front of the glass door that was the main entrance to the meeting room."[6]: 161  They held signs that said: "Butchers and murderers of the Liberian people -- STOP!"[6]: 161  Gbowee passed a message to the lead mediator, General Abubakar (a former president of Nigeria), that the women would interlock their arms and remain seated in the hallway, holding the delegates "hostage" until a peace agreement was reached. Abubakar, who proved to be sympathetic to the women, announced with some amusement: "The peace hall has been seized by General Leymah and her troops." When the men tried to leave the hall, Leymah and her allies threatened to rip their clothes off: "In Africa, it's a terrible curse to see a married or elderly woman deliberately bare herself."[6]: 162  With Abubakar's support, the women remained sitting outside the negotiating room during the following days, ensuring that the "atmosphere at the peace talks changed from circuslike to somber."[6]: 163 

The Liberian war ended officially weeks later, with the signing of the Accra Comprehensive Peace Agreement on 18 August 2003.[6]: 164 [35] "But what we [women] did marked the beginning of the end."[6]: 163 

In addition to helping bring an end to 14 years of warfare in Liberia, this women's movement led to the 2005 election of Ellen Johnson Sirleaf as president of Liberia, the first elected woman leader of a country in Africa. Sirleaf is co-recipient of the 2011 Nobel Peace Prize along with Gbowee and Tawakel Karman. The three were awarded the prize "for their non-violent struggle for the safety of women and for women's rights to full participation in peace-building work."[2] In Sirleaf's re-election campaign of 2011, Gbowee endorsed her.[36]

Consolidating the peace

Recognizable in their white WIPNET T-shirts, Gbowee and the other Liberian women activists were treated as national heroines by Liberians in the streets for weeks following the signing of the Accra Comprehensive Peace Agreement.[6]: 167  Yet Gbowee wrote of their unceasing nervousness about the fragility of the peace they had helped birth:

A war of fourteen years doesn't just go away. In the moments we were calm enough to look around, we had to confront the magnitude of what had happened in Liberia. Two hundred and fifty thousand people were dead, a quarter of them children. One in three were displaced, with 350,000 living in internally displaced persons camps and the rest anywhere they could find shelter. One million people, mostly women and children, were at risk of malnutrition, diarrhea, measles and cholera because of contamination in the wells. More than 75 percent of the country's physical infrastructure, our roads, hospitals and schools, had been destroyed.[6]: 167 

Gbowee expressed particular concern for the "psychic damage" borne by Liberians:

A whole generation of young men had no idea who they were without a gun in their hands. Several generations of women were widowed, had been raped, seen their daughters and mothers raped, and their children kill and be killed. Neighbors had turned against neighbors; young people had lost hope, and old people, everything they had painstakingly earned. To a person, we were traumatized.[6]: 168 

In an interview for the International Women's Day, Gbowee also expressed:

The Liberian women peace movement demonstrated to the world that grassroots movements are essential to sustaining peace; that women in leadership positions are effective brokers for peace; and the importance of culturally relevant social justice movements. Liberia's experience is a good example to the world that women—especially African women—can be drivers of peace[37]

Amid the destruction and unending needs, Gbowee was appalled by the arrogance, ignorance and overall cultural insensitivity of the United Nations agencies dispatched to help disarm the country, keep the peace, establish procedures for democratic governance, and initiate rebuilding efforts. "People who have lived through a terrible conflict may be hungry and desperate, but they're not stupid (Gbowee's emphasis). They often have very good ideas about how peace can evolve, and they need to be asked."[6]: 171  Gbowee advocated for involving Liberian civil society, especially women's organizations, in restoring the country. She grew frustrated with the way the "UN was spending many millions of dollars in Liberia, but most of it was on [their own] staffing resources.... If they had just given some of that money to the local people, it would have made a real difference."[6]: 173 

By the late fall and winter of 2003-04, "the world of conflict resolution, peace-building and the global women's movement" was calling Gbowee to write papers, come to conferences and otherwise explain the experience and views of WIPNET. Thelma Ekiyor encouraged Gbowee to overcome her lack of self-esteem among "highly intelligent people who held master's degrees and represented powerful institutions" by reading and studying further to understand the theories circulating in the world of peacebuilding.[6]: 177  She read The Peace Book by Louise Diamond, known for advocating multi-track diplomacy, and The Journey Toward Reconciliation and The Little Book of Conflict Transformation, both written by John Paul Lederach, the founding director of the Center for Justice and Peacebuilding at Eastern Mennonite University.[6]: 177  She went to a USAID conference in New York, her first trip out of Africa,[6]: 174–175  to a conference in South Africa, and to Switzerland where she dealt with the Nigerian in charge of UN programs in Liberia.[6]: 174–176 

Master's degree in peacebuilding

In the late spring of 2004, about eight months after the Ghana-Accra Comprehensive Peace Agreement was signed, Gbowee made a decision to take college-level courses in the field in which she had been working: "I'd heard about Eastern Mennonite University (EMU), an American college with a well-known program in peace-building and conflict resolution. It was a Christian school that emphasized community and service; it had a long-standing relationship with WANEP and a history of recruiting Africans to study there."[6]: 178  Her first stint at EMU – four weeks at its annual Summer Peacebuilding Institute – were "a transformative time for me."[6]: 178 

Gbowee studied with Hizkias Assefa, whose writings she had read five years earlier when she first began working for St. Peter's Lutheran Church on trauma healing. She also studied with Howard Zehr, "who taught me the concept of restorative justice," whereby healing occurred through the joint efforts of victims and offenders to repair the harms done.[6]: 178  She thought restorative justice was particularly applicable to Africa: "Restorative justice was...something we could see as ours and not artificially imposed by Westerners. And we needed it, needed that return to tradition. A culture of impunity flourished throughout Africa. People, officials, governments did evil but were never held accountable. More than we needed to punish them, we needed to undo the damage they had done.... When I left EMU, I knew there was more here for me. Somehow I would find a way to come back."[6]: 178–179 

Gbowee returned for a round-table called Strategies for Trauma Healing and Resilience in the summer of 2005 and then enrolled as a residential, full-time master's degree student in "conflict transformation and peacebuilding" at EMU's Center for Justice and Peacebuilding in 2006-07:[29]

At graduate school, I could feel my mind expand, my comprehension deepen. I realized I now could put a formal name, "strategic peacebuilding," to what I'd done instinctively in Liberia.... Many of the other students at EMU had lived through conflict, and there was relief in being among them.... In Harrisonburg, a small old city in the Shenandoah Valley, far from Liberia and its sorrows and people who expected something from me, I didn't have to be strong. Every now and then – for instance, when I saw a mother with her children – I would burst into tears. No one at EMU thought that was strange. I met an old man who'd lost his entire family in the Rwandan genocide.[6]: 179 

In September 2006, just as Gbowee was embarking on her first full semester of graduate school, she went to New York City to address the UN on the occasion of the fifth anniversary of the passage of Resolution 1325, which dealt with protecting women from gender-based violence and involving them in UN-linked peace efforts.[6]: 179  While in New York, she received a call from Abigail Disney, a descendant of the founders of the Walt Disney Company, a feminist, and a philanthropist. Disney and a collaborator, Gini Reticker, wanted to talk with Gbowee about their desire to make a documentary about how the women of Liberia rallied themselves to force the men to stop battling.[6]: 212 

Women in Peace and Security Network (WIPSEN)

During 2006-07 Gbowee also began talking with Ekiyor and Ecoma Alaga (a Nigerian, like Ekiyor) about splitting WIPNET from WANEP, believing the parent organization to be controlled financially by men and wanting the three of them to be fully in charge.[6]: 187  The founding director of WANEP, Gbowee's old friend Sam Gbaydee Doe, was sympathetic to the three women's desire for structural independence, but he had left WANEP to pursue a PhD in England.[6]: 189  WANEP was now led by another graduate of the MA in conflict transformation program at EMU, Emmanuel Bombande of Ghana,[38] who did not agree that the three women owned the WIPNET branch of WANEP and thus would not let it spin off.[6]: 188–189  As a result, Gbowee and her two colleagues started a new organization, Women in Peace and Security Network (WIPSEN), also based in Accra, Ghana."[6]: 189 [39] Abigail Disney stepped up to help Gbowee raise funds for launching WIPSEN among philanthropists in New York, enabling her to secure $50,000 in seed money.[6]: 202 

Personal life and struggles

By the time Gbowee finished her coursework at EMU on 30 April 2007, and returned to her children in Liberia in May 2007 – where her parents had been caring for them – she realized that her nine months away "nearly broke all of us."[6]: 194  In Virginia, she had lived with "a cold that never went away" and she "felt panic, sadness, and cold, swirling blackness" as she faced "being sued by former friends at WANEP over our desire to move in a new direction."[6]: 200–201  Her impending graduate degree (conferred at the end of 2007), growing fame, and other changes in her life strained the relationship she had with a Liberian man named Tunde, an employee of international agencies who had functioned as a father figure for her children for a decade, from the early period of the Liberian women's peace movement through Gbowee's graduate studies at EMU[6]: 203–204  (for which he had paid the tuition[6]: 198 ). They broke up and by early 2008 Gbowee was in a relationship with a Liberian information technology expert whom she identifies as James.[6]: 205–205  He is the father of her sixth child, a daughter named Jaydyn Thelma Abigail, born in New York City on 2 June 2009.[6]: 223 

In April 2008, when Gbowee's family and friends gathered to celebrate the 14th birthday of her eldest daughter, Amber, it was clear that Gbowee had developed a serious alcohol problem. In her memoir, Gbowee explains that she had turned to alcohol for about a decade to cope with the loneliness of constant separations from her family, the strain of poverty and war-engendered trauma she suffered from, and the stress of never-ending demands on her time. During Amber's birthday party, Gbowee's children noted that she drank 14 glasses of wine. The next day, she passed out. When again conscious, suffering from an ulcer, she begged James to take her to the doctor: "Then I saw the kids gathered around us, their terrified, helpless faces. After all their losses, this would be the final one. No. Not possible. It might sound too easy, but that was the end for me. I still don't sleep easily and I still wake up too early, but I don't drink anymore."[6]: 208–209 

Religious views

Gbowee, during the Liberian Civil War used religion and spirituality as part of their techniques that helped ended the war. She expressed her usage of religious songs, traditional songs, and other songs that was sung by her women counterparts, Muslim women. After her Nobel Prize winning in 2011, she did multiple interviews, specifying the importance of her inclusion and determination in using religion as the stepping stone for achieving peace in Liberia. On October 6, 2016, Gbowee did an interview with Harvard Divinity Schools, speaking on her topic "Women as Catalysts for Local and Global Spiritually-Engaged Movements for Sustainable Peace."

Gbowee used religion and spirituality as strategies to rally women for ending Liberia’s two civil wars . Tactics that she used such as religious and traditional songs to help create a bonding community with her women. Throughout her memoir, Mighty Be Our Powers: How Sisterhood, Prayer, and Sex Changed a Nation at War; a Memoir, One can perceive the influence of her religious beliefs on initiatives for restoring peace in Liberia. After the second civil war broke out in 1999, increasing the already existing problem of rape and systematic brutality in Liberia, Gbowee felt the need for an inter-religious call for action.[40] In response to this second wave of deadly conflict, Gbowee formed an inter-religious peace building coalition of Christian and Muslim women, which lead to the uproar of the Liberia Mass Action for Peace Movement.[41] With her involvement in these powerful settings, Gbowee gained a great amount of leadership skills in which she combined with her religious background. During the LMAPM, she along with other women activists, formed multiple pray-ins, using it as a form of nonviolent protest. These pray-ins called for reconciliation and demanded concrete actions to end the war during peace talks around West Africa.[41] Gbowee, along with many other women, such as Thelma Ekiyor, combined religion and traditional practices to define their approach to conflict transformation, peace building, and security.[42]

Gbowee’s faith has had a tremendous impact on her personal and professional life.  Prayer is a recurrent theme in her memoir and talks. Although her memoir depicts instances of loss, pain, grief, and disappointment that made her question her faith, she indicates that prayer has been an intrinsic part of her journey in  peace building. She writes, “God is ever faithful, ever loving; he listens to our prayers.”[6] She used prayer as a source of protection,  hope, and guidance in her activist work. Gbowee perceive Christianity to be very self-serving and crucial to the social and cultural realities of the Liberian people . Gbowee believes that for adequate results to be seen in conflict situations, especially the ones in which she was involved in, prayer had to occupy center stage. This is a central characteristic of her identity as a global activist as it is an important part of her work. Being involved in groups such as the Christian Women’s Peace Initiative (CWI), helped her to embody this part of her faith into bringing peace and teaching peace to others over the past year.[41]

Religion influenced Gbowee's approach to peace building as a type of mothering. In fact, she engages the often marginalized voices of women and young men who bear the brunt of war. Gbowee has used religion to achieve many of her activist roles throughout her traveling career and teaching in healing spaces. An important role that she and other powerful women such as Ekiyor, used religion as a support tool to mother those who have been traumatized, searching for peace within their communities, their homes, and their country.[6] Praying had always been a part of Gbowee’s life, especially in her romantic life. Using prayer for her was a healing tool that helped her overcome her abusive relationships and protect her children. One aspect of Gbowee using religion and faith as a form of mothering is by using it as a resource to help whoever she is helping feel connected. She used her faith and beliefs, especially the bible to help them understand their shared experiences and trauma.  In September 2016, Gbowee did an interview at the Harvard Divinity School on “Religion and The Practice of Peace.” She points out that Religion and spirituality were common aspects in the lives of the women who participated in the Liberian Women’s Mass Action for Peace. These spiritual encounters are what she used in her community to mobilize and empower women to take action in all aspects of their lives, whether personal, spiritual, or political.  In the Harvard interview, she states:

“In our group the first thing we did was to hold three days of consultative meetings. The first day we brought only Christian women, and we went back into the Bible to find those things in the Bible that women did. We wanted to really show them (Christian women) that God had a way of using women and that there’s a place for women in turning around the history of their nations. So, we took them to the Bible, and we used women of faith as examples—Esther, Deborah, Rahab the Prostitute—who had done great things to turn the tide. We used those women as the springboard for really mobilizing women.”[43]

Religion and the bible enabled Gbowee to convey her vision to Liberian women with different creeds. In order to build stronger communities for peace-building and promoting activism included the containment of other religious groups, which is a big part of the Women’s movement’s success. However, for Gbowee, building a stronger community amongst women that will put them at the forefront of such a major movement for the end of wars and not limiting her beliefs to just Christianity, is a tactic she encouraged. In the Harvard interview again, she states that: “The second thing we did was to bring the Muslim women together and go through the same process, but with the Qur’an...We would talk and read some of the descriptions that talk about how to treat women better and live a nonviolent life…”[43]

Using faith as a common denominator amongst all women, helped them to create a closer leadership bond. Gbowee came from a mixed religious and spiritual community where her parents were Christians, but their close friends and neighbors were Muslims. Using religion to bring young people together, especially for young girls and women, became a motive and a goal for Gbowee to help breed leadership and women empowerment skills through her activism, creating new leaders for the future.

Gbowee had worked in multiple healing spaces, for example, the Trauma Healing Office, where she traveled around Liberia to different communities, trying to educate people on how to deal with their traumas. She felt as if this is her calling from God.[6] Because of the severity of the war and her trying to provide for her family, keeping a strong faith is used to help provide comfort through her work, especially since her target is towards weakened women and young boys who have been a part of the destructive process against their wills. Through her activism work in her communities in Liberia, it is fueled by her experiences at home. She is not able to mother her children the way she wanted, and to her, apart from her children, not losing faith is most important for her. People whom she had helped in both Liberia and Ghana referred to her as being “Big Mama” or “Mother of Peace.”[6]

Religion and spirituality for Gbowee are considered essential in the peace coalition and the healing of everyone and everywhere. She believes that to overcome injustices that take over people's livelihood and the way they live their day to day lives, it calls for true believers.[44] Being a religious person in these settings, for Gbowee, revenge is not the way to go. She recounts reading the bible and searching for different accounts that encourage peace and not an “eye for an eye.”[44] For Gbowee, religion and its relevance helps to teach compassion and practice forgiveness which had also contributed to the success of her activism work.[44][45] Working with angered people who had dealt with social and political trauma, forgiveness became a part of the healing process and education for her intended audiences. To Gbowee, forgiveness does not have a specific religious practice attached to it, but multiple. She mentions at a peace conference that, “In my life’s journey, it hasn’t been just Christians who have reached out to me. It hasn’t been just Muslims. It has been people of different faiths.”[44]

In terms of her contributions to the conceptions of violence, Gbowee also used her faith to emphasize the importance of non-violence approaches. This is especially prominent in the Women’s movement and her involvement while working with the Women in Peace-building Network (WIPNET).[46] She used women who are also strong in faith and who have struggles with close contact with acts of violence although all were in a larger sense. Many of the women that were active with Gbowee, faced violence such as sexual, physical, emotional, mental, and physical forces. Traditional religious songs and dances were used in the non-violent, healing, and peace. These dances and songs are used as a form of storytelling.

Gbowee expresses devotion to her Christian faith. She opened the acknowledgment section of her memoir with these words: "All praise, glory and honor to God for His unfailing love and favor toward me."[6]: 245  She told students attending an EMU chapel in 2009:

I didn't get there by myself... or anything I did as an individual, but it was by the grace and mercy of God.... He has held my hands. In the most difficult of times, he has been there. They have this song, "Order my steps in your ways, dear Lord," and every day as I wake up, that is my prayer, because there's no way that anyone can take this journey as a peace builder, as an agent of change in your community, without having a sense of faith.... As I continue this journey in this life, I remind myself: All that I am, all that I hope to be, is because of God.[30]

Gbowee told the EMU students that she went from being an angry, broke, virtually homeless, 25-year-old mother of four children with no idea of what her future might be, to listening to the voice of God in 1997. She said God spoke to her through a five-year-old boy, a son whom she had nicknamed Nuku. Comments made by Nuku made her realize that she had succumbed to "crippling hopelessness", and that her low self-esteem and sense of helplessness were destroying her family, which was already under assault from Liberia's brutal warfare. Gbowee said she began taking one tiny step at a time, asking for God's help with each step. And that God sent her angels in the form of human beings who reached out a hand at just the moment when she was most desperate.[30]

As suggested by the interfaith character of the Liberian women's movement, Gbowee noted that others may derive the same support from religious faiths different from hers:

It could be Jesus, it could be Mohammed, it could be Buddha, but there is no way that you can effect change in people's lives if there is not someone that you can rely on as the "divine intervenor" or the "divine one" that you can call on every day.... God is faithful, whoever you know him to me.... Take a step of faith and God will see to the rest.[30]

In an interview with Odyssey Networks, Gbowee said that God could also be referred to as a "Higher Power." She stressed that with a Higher Power accompanying you, you can "rise up and do something to change your situation." She advised: "Don't wait for a Gandhi, don't wait for a King, don't wait for a Mandela. You are your own Mandela, you are your own Gandhi, you are your own King."[47]

Documentary film

Gbowee is the narrator and central character in the 2008 documentary film Pray the Devil Back to Hell, which consists of scores of film and audio clips from the war period. It took Best Documentary Feature in the 2008 Tribeca Film Festival in New York. It has been broadcast across the United States as part of the "Women, War & Peace" series, which aired over five successive Tuesdays in October and early November 2011 on public television stations.[48] Pray has been used as an advocacy tool in conflict and post-conflict zones, such as Bosnia, Afghanistan, Iraq, South Africa, Rwanda, Mexico, Kenya, Cambodia, Russia, Sudan, the Democratic Republic of the Congo, and the West Bank: "The reaction was remarkably similar: no matter how different the country and the society, women recognized themselves and started talking about how they could unite to solve their own problems."[49][6]: 214 

In the documentary, Gbowee emerges as someone able to laugh and enjoy life, despite what she has lived through: "Gbowee comes across as a sharply strategic, scrappy, political maestro interfaith mobilizer of merriment. Not the balloons-confetti-cupcakes-clown-type fun, but rather solidarity-inspiring conviviality. You see women dancing, singing, smiling, wearing beautiful, white-as-doves clothing, and you even see laughter during sit-ins and protests."[50]

Awards and recognitions

From left to right:Tawakkul Karman, Leymah Gbowee, and Ellen Johnson Sirleaf display their awards during the presentation of the Nobel Peace Prize, 10 December 2011.

Gbowee's exposure to the New York philanthropic social set, facilitated by Disney (who had become a close friend),[3] opened the door for a series of awards. The first, from the John F. Kennedy School of Government at Harvard, came in early 2006, and then they began to arrive in accelerated fashion: recognition by Women's eNews, the Gruber Prize for Women's Rights, the John F. Kennedy Profile in Courage Award, the Living Legends Award for Service to Humanity, and several more. In July 2011, EMU announced that Gbowee had been named its "Alumna of the Year".[51] (Gbowee's eldest son, Joshua "Nuku" Mensah, entered EMU as a freshman in 2010, overlapping by one year with Sam Gbaydee Doe's eldest daughter, Samfee Doe, then a senior.)[29] The crowning honor came in October 2011 when the Norwegian Nobel Committee made Gbowee one of three female recipients of the 2011 Nobel Peace Prize. In 2022, Gbowee was a Bartels World Affairs Fellows at Cornell University, giving the annual Bartels World Affairs Lecture.

Awards

Honorary degrees

Other activities

Works

  • (with Carol Mithers) (2011). Mighty Be Our Powers: How Sisterhood, Prayer and Sex Changed a Nation at War: A Memoir. New York: Beast Books. ISBN 978-0-9842951-5-9. OCLC 751747258.

See also

References

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External links

Awards and achievements
Preceded by Laureate of the Nobel Peace Prize
2011
With: Tawakel Karman and Ellen Johnson Sirleaf
Succeeded by
This page was last edited on 9 April 2024, at 07:46
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