In the West African nation of Gambia, a parliamentary move to legalize female genital mutilation (FGM) has ignited a profound societal rift. This proposal, if passed, would mark Gambia as the first nation globally to reintroduce legality to a practice banned in 2015. The final decision, expected soon, has communities and families clashing over cultural traditions and women’s rights.
Mariama Jarjou, a Gambian woman in her fifties, describes her decision to have her daughters undergo FGM as an act rooted in love and cultural necessity. In her community, uncut women face significant social stigma. Jarjou’s support for the ban’s repeal reflects a segment of Gambian society that views FGM as integral to cultural identity and marital eligibility.
The practice, involving partial or complete removal of the external female genitalia, is seen by many as a rite of passage. However, global health authorities like the World Health Organization categorically denounce it as harmful, offering no health benefits and causing issues such as chronic pain, infection, and complications in childbirth.
Despite the ban, enforcement has been lax, allowing the practice to persist. Statistics from a 2019-2020 government survey show a high prevalence of FGM among women aged 15 to 49, with a significant number undergoing the procedure before the age of five.
The recent push to repeal the ban has been spearheaded by Abdoulie Fatty, a prominent Muslim cleric, and Almaneh Gibba, an independent lawmaker. They argue that the ban represents an imposition of Western values and assert that FGM is rooted in Islamic traditions—a claim disputed by many Islamic scholars.
This movement has gained traction amidst broader debates over national identity and autonomy, resonating with those who feel cultural practices are under threat from external influences. The legislative effort has also provided a platform for its proponents, enhancing their political profiles amid the controversy.
However, the potential repeal has alarmed human rights advocates and healthcare professionals, who warn of the dire physical and psychological impacts on women. They fear a successful repeal could pave the way for further erosions of women’s rights, such as relaxed restrictions on child marriage and gender-based violence.
The debate has reached the grassroots level, with public discussions and advocacy efforts intensifying. Activists like Fatou Baldeh lead community dialogues to educate on the harms of FGM, facing deep-seated beliefs about tradition and womanhood. The issue has also caused personal conflicts, as seen in the family of Jainaba Ndure, Jarjou’s daughter. Ndure, influenced by NGO advocacy, opposes FGM, fearing its implications for her future health and well-being—a stark contrast to her mother’s views.
As the bill progresses, its outcome remains uncertain, with strong opinions on both sides. The coming vote will not only determine the legal status of FGM in Gambia but also signal broader implications for cultural preservation and the protection of human rights.
