Issue No. 839

The Lost Voices of Somali Women

"We still get men walking up to us and telling us that it's against our culture and religion to try and be men. But we are not trying to be men, you see. We are simply standing up for ourselves as women and asking to be allowed rights which already rightfully belong to us." Zainab Hassan, a Somali women's activist.

In the 1970s, Somalia was widely regarded as a kind of cultural Mecca, with 'Swinging Mogadishu' at its heart. Dhaanto music provided a soundtrack to the decade in the country's modern cultural golden age, and one where women were particularly prominent. Plays, music, and art flourished privately and under the state's support, with nightclubs and bars dotted throughout the capital in which men and women mingled freely. The term 'MogaDisco' is sometimes ascribed to the eclectic mix of Somali disco, reggae, soul and funk that was popularised in these years. Tragically, much of this unique Somali cultural identity-- and women's prominent role in it-- has been expunged, a result of the perennial insecurity and hardline Salafist influence in the decades since.

The opening of the National Theatre of Somalia in Mogadishu in 1967 was a particularly seminal moment, a place where women began to perform in public more routinely after Siad Barre seized power in 1969. The National Theatre staged an extraordinary range and fusion of European, African, and Somali plays and music, which were widely enjoyed by the public. Plays by Bertolt Brecht were translated into Somali and performed, while Somali oral poetry was put to music. Female singers were compared to timbir jaban (low-priced dates) for their growing ubiquity and sweet voices. In 2017, the Ostinato record company released a digital collection of Somali songs from the era entitled 'Sweet as Broken Dates: Lost Somali Tapes from the Horn.' Somali's love of radio further amplified this, disseminating the rich and diverse artistic and musical experimentation across the country. 

Part of this reflected an attempt by Barre to consolidate Somali arts behind his flagging regime, but it also represented an extraordinary expansion of the female role in cultural spaces that have never been recovered. Alongside the prominent role of women in Somali cultural life, Barre's landmark 1975 family code was revolutionary, granting women equal rights in marriage, divorce, and inheritance, and even outlawing the traditional diya (blood money) payment, as well as limiting polygamy. But such reforms also provoked a backlash from conservative Islamic leaders at the time, foreshadowing some of the cultural clashes to follow.

The growing authoritarianism of the Barre regime in the 1980s, culminating in the collapse of the state in the early 1990s, put an end to Somalia's cultural experimentation and many freedoms for women. Salafist influence from the Middle East-- alongside an 'Arabisation'-- has dampened the particular Somali interpretation of Islam, sometimes known as 'the veil lightly worn.' The establishment of Saudi and Yemeni madrasas in the 2000s in the absence of a central state has led to Somali folklore and stories about ogres and warriors being replaced by Islamic educational texts, overwhelmingly in Arabic. Individuals affiliated with Al-I'tisaam, the wealthy and secretive Salafist group that shares a jihadist ancestor with Al-Shabaab, now operate the single largest number of primary schools across the Somali-speaking Horn of Africa. 

It is increasingly a younger generation of Somalis who have grown up in this particular conflict-riddled context who often police rigid gender boundaries that exist today, insisting that women fully cover their hair and the like. With Somalia experiencing one of the world's most intense youth bulges-- those under 30 represent more than two-thirds of the population-- memories of 'Swinging Mogadishu' are limited. Organisations in Somaliland, as well, that are intent on preserving such culture, like the Hargeisa Cultural Centre, have routinely come under fire from Islamic conservatives. In turn, many traditional Somali dances and music have evaporated, with imams condemning them as "haram." But it is also hard to divorce the more hardline interpretation of Islam from an Arabisation that has diminished Somalia's pre-war cultural identity.

And in Al-Shabaab-controlled territory, such censorship is ubiquitous, with what passes as 'entertainment' in the jihadist-held territory undeniably grim. Rather than popular jingles or disco, Radio Andalus, an Al-Shabaab-affiliated radio station, for instance, broadcasts weekly interviews with its senior commanders. Public executions of alleged 'spies' in squares offer up another twisted form of recreation. And in one of its latest blasts of propaganda marking Eid al-Adha, the jihadists proudly displayed dozens of images of children carrying imitation guns in extremist garb. Forget MogaDisco; women play virtually no role in public life in towns like Jilib, where they are expected to wear the full niqab when outside their homes.

Such a combination of poverty, insecurity, and the hardline Islamist influence has curtailed entertainment spaces for Somalia's youth in government-controlled areas as well. The National Theatre – the grand building was forced to close in 1991– reopened briefly in 2012 as a symbol of renewal. But just weeks after its re-inauguration, it was bombed by the jihadists. Even playing football is banned by Al-Shabaab, who perversely prohibit the activity under an extremist interpretation of lawh that limits pastimes distracting from religious devotion. The jihadist group has subsequently repeatedly targeted young men and women enjoying their leisure– bombing football fans at a popular cafe watching the England-Spain Euro final in July 2024 and attacking a gathering at Mogadishu's Lido Beach in August that same year, killing dozens. Beyond the 'Mogadishu Rising' narrative and glittery new skyscrapers being erected in the White Pearl of the Indian Ocean, the gender and socio-economic inequalities of the capital remain extreme.

The freedom and leisure Somali women enjoyed in the 1970s art scene were not uniform, nor did they ameliorate issues of gender disparity in the country's clan-based society. But the rolling back of the at-times transgressive plays and radio broadcasts of those years has been wholesale, with Somalia now consistently ranking among the very worst countries for women's rights today. A UNDP Gender Inequality Index score of 0.776-- where 1.0 is the maximum inequality score-- places Somalia fourth-highest globally. Child marriage remains rampant-- over one-third of today's young women were wed before age 18 --and nearly every woman has undergone female genital mutilation/cutting. Rape, domestic violence, and forced marriage continue to be common, but by social convention, they are rarely challenged. Even now, Somalia has no comprehensive law protecting women from sexual violence, mainly because successive parliaments have yielded to conservative pressure.

Despite this, Somali women have not given up. There are bright spots of cultural organisations that work to preserve Somalia's pre-war identity and press for greater gender parity. Grassroots support groups have emerged to help survivors, and educational campaigns about women's health and rights circulate on radio stations and social media. Outbursts of anger towards the egregious gender and sexual-based violence continue as well, including recent demonstrations over the gang-raping of two sisters by 24 men in Laas Aanood in the Sool region earlier this month. 

Those peddling revisionist histories that have successfully suppressed the freedom of women and the cultural expression of pre-war Somali identity should be challenged. The days of MogaDisco and Brecht in the National Theatre are unlikely to be replicated in the near future, but cultural identity and artistic expression remain fundamental to a life worth living —and avoiding the clutches of radical extremist movements. Reconstituting the Somali state must go beyond the confines of discussions of federalism and power-sharing agreements; restoring a cultural life that involves both men and women, too, must play its part.

The Somali Wire Team