For as long as I can remember, my baby brother has always been interested in the beauty and mystery of martial arts. I specifically remember at age eight, his desire to fly to China and be a Kung-Fu Master. The battlefield is his world. He thrives in it. He lives and breathes it. I thought it was cute. I still do. You should have seen his dramatic entreaties; the determined look on his face as he aimed kicks at imaginary opponents, lacing this with comical heroic battle-field cries. It was purely endearing.
Little boys have, etched deep within their souls, an innate desire to be Heroes of some sort. They engage in fights for the sake of locking muscle against muscle. They thrive in the arena, these gladiators of our time. Men of valor. It is in a man’s DNA. I dare say his birthright, actually. We can all agree that men have championed many great courses in ages past and even in our day. How privileged we are as women to be their mothers and wives, their daughters and sisters. Our greatest desire should be to see the Sons of our Motherland grow into the full promise of the vigor of manhood and the beauty of their virility.
It is therefore no surprise that Cyprian Nyakundi should so magnanimously offer himself as the self-appointed Vi-King, protector to the supposedly ‘under-attack’ manhood. And who are the supposed attackers and emasculators? We, the mothers of our sons. We, the wives of our husbands. We, the daughters of our fathers. We, the sisters to our brothers.
This portrait that Nyakundi has tried to paint to the entirety of the Kenyan Nation, on a rugged and dirty canvas, is pitiable and pathetic. I find it amusing and equally irritating that such a learned man should display the magnitude of his ignorance with such oriental lavishness, and dish it out with large doses of arrogance.
Someone should tell Nyakundi that feminism is the utter and complete belief that men and women should have equal rights and opportunities. The belief in the ideal of men and women being social, political and economic equals.
Someone should tell Nyakundi that feminism does not seek to emasculate men nor look down upon the boy-child. How dare we disrespect our fathers? How do we emasculate our brothers? Haven’t you seen us building up our husbands? How can we look down upon the Sons of our Motherland? The gentleness of the feminine spirit allows us to give men an opportunity to prosper without emasculation.
So, I, like many other Kenyans who did not fall for his Save A Boy-Child Campaign scam, saw right through his mask into his phoniness. The boy child is safe and moving forward, and if any need to save him, I dare say that he cannot succeed by insulting the virtue of womanhood.
Nyakundi has consistently shown a contemptuous discrimination against women in general and kikuyu women in particular.
He has called us out as the daughters of single mothers who were taught materialism and independence. I quote “especially psychic mums who preach materialism to their daughters.”
And I say, PREACH ON. Gone are the days that women were stay-at-home mums and house wives, home keepers whose climax to a day was to welcome their husbands home with outstretched hands, asking for this or that. If our mothers have been there, done that, what is wrong with a mother wanting better for her daughter than she herself had? Gone are the days that women were told that aspiring for money and financial freedom was evil. Yes, our mothers and our fathers have taught us the beauty of independence, and it has grown a generation of women who are self-reliant, work with their husbands to reign in their dreams and contribute to economic growth.
We have been called out as having been encouraged to be Single Mothers. If only he knew the pride etched in a girl’s face at bringing her fiancé home! The pride in a parent’s face, that here is a man, not to complete her, but to complement her! It is a false allegation that our fathers are hostile and ready to turn away ardent admirers. It is also false that feminism is a bandwagon that hates on men and consists of a bunch of women who negate the need for men in their lives for whichever reason whatsoever. Someone should tell Nyakundi that some of us are feminists and hopeless romantics in equal measure.
We have been accused of being social misfits, slay queens and mpango-wa-kandos. Nyakundi should witness the exemplary womanhood of my mother. He should know the secrets to womanhood as learnt at my grandmother’s knee. He has no right to question the morals of an entire tribe, the morals of generations of women who have lived by the true virtue of womanhood. Women who have lived under their husband’s rule and command. Women who have brought up daughters worthy of being ladies. Women who have brought up sons that respect themselves and the women in their lives.
I feel insulted that he should make such nasty comments, in such foul vulgar language, to our generation of women.
What would Nyakundi tell his daughter? That she cannot aspire to be financially stable and independent as this is the aspiration to materialism of the feminazi, as he so contemptuously intones?
That she cannot aspire to be a top executive because backward-thinking people like him would assume and state on social network sites that she slept her way up the Chain of Command? Someone should tell Nyakundi that this is the 21st century, and we have women who have scaled to the helm of their dockets by pure merit.
Will he tell his daughter that, because life is bound to happen and she may find herself a single mother, it is contemptible to be one because she would become a cliché? A mere statistic?
How would he control his foul mouth when she has failed him? Would he resist to call her a bitch? a prostitute? a social misfit?
And should she be a strong and intelligent woman who desires to be empowered, would he call her a crazed fan that has joined the feminazi bandwagon?
How would Nyakundi raise his son? As a hard, unfeeling, cold and insensitive man so that he cannot be clichéd as those men who were “raised like women?” I hate to imagine the damage that he would do to the young man. God forbid that he should succeed in turning him into a misogynist of the Cyprian Nyakundi variety.
I have felt this incessant unrelenting need to call out Nyakundi on his misogyny, his vulgar language, his sole reliance on cheap trolls after riding on the backs of hardworking Kenyans, women to be exact and his misguided and uninformed perception of feminism.
Nyakundi is neither the real and raw deal nor the pioneer of the rights of the boy-child. He is a phoney, a fake Mona Lisa painting on a wall that can be spotted miles away.
I would love to turn the tables on him. I quote Nyakundi “wreaking many in a cheap pursuit of ratings”. It is paradoxical that he cannot see himself etched deep in the heart of his writing, writing exactly what he is.
Describing himself in CAPS to a T, he says, “Cheap narratives peddled by prostitute media, who can write anything when paid a few coins.”
Cyprian Nyakundi, “your hypocrisy is nauseating”.