It’s a cold Tuesday morning when I first meet her but 27-year-old Tiff is bright and bubbly. Underneath her heavy sweater, she’s wearing a stretchy lemon yellow dress. Her hair and nails are freshly done. She’s also wearing a full face of makeup.
“I’m a self-proclaimed soft life ambassador,” she chuckles.
Tiff works as an assistant procurement officer at a mid-sized enterprise in the city. She admits that her job doesn’t pay her even nearly enough to sustain her lifestyle. She can’t on her own pay for the car she drives, the three-bedroomed maisonette she rents in an estate along Mombasa Road, the woman who cooks and cleans after or the trips she takes almost every month outside the country. For this, she has an older man who she refers to as a “mubaba”.
The mubaba is a wealthy 55-year-old man who has been mentoring her in her career and financing her lifestyle. In exchange, she shares her company and his bed whenever he wants it.
“The days of women suffering in the name of being strong are over. I am going to enjoy the soft life. At whatever cost,” she says.
Then there is Achie (short form of Achieng). The 25-year-old is living life on the fast lane. Looking at her Instagram account, which has 14,000 followers, shows a life of luxury trips, shopping and fine dining. On Instagram, she is known as a lifestyle blogger.
“Not all of it is true. You don’t have to believe everything you see on social media. Lifestyle blogging doesn’t finance my lifestyle,” she says.
She’s living a life that is way out of her league for a woman who is just starting a wig business in downtown Nairobi.
“I don’t want hardship or struggle. I want softness and good things so I am trying to build that life for myself,” she says.
Because she doesn’t have the resources to buy the things she wants to enjoy right now, she takes from anyone who can give. This means that she has a string of inappropriate relationships and superficial friendships for the cash, material things and experiences she could get from them.
“I know I am going to afford the soft life by myself someday. It’s the ultimate goal,” she says.
Welcome to the era of the soft life where the goal is to go through life with as little struggle and hardship as possible. While there are women like Tiff who will do anything including getting into relationships with men they consider unpleasant, there are others working hard at their jobs and businesses with the sole goal of being able to enjoy the finer things in life and to pay people to do things for them in the other areas of their lives so they can be strife-free.
What is the allure of the soft life?
“I saw my mother do the whole strong black woman thing. She was married but our father spent most of his time and money at the bar,” Tiff recalls.
When she was younger, says, she looked up to her mother, admiring how she always found solutions for problems. When she got to teenage, though, she began seeing the cracks.
She remembers her mother’s stress and anxiety, her angry outbursts usually directed at her and her sister and the fact that she hardly had the time or the resources for some self-care.
“That is not going to be my story,” she says.
“If I ever have children then their father and I part ways, I will sue for every shilling my children will need. Life should not be hard,” she says after some thought.
This soft life agenda is becoming increasingly popular. Social media has played a big role in it over the last decade with socialites like Huddah Monroe, Amber Ray and Vera Sidika glorifying the kind of life where there is so much money available that they can delegate all the other aspects of their lives and all that is left to do is party and enjoy life. It’s called the baby girl life.
A quick Google search reveals tonnes of material written for the African woman on how to be a baby girl. The basic principle of it is to get access to a tonne of money, put yourself above all else, delegate as much of your life as you can and enjoy yourself to the fullest investing in self-care and travel experiences. In Kenyan-speak, it’s eating life with a big spoon.
This strife-free life of little stress is a sharp contrast from the lives of the Kenyan women living here two or three decades ago.
For a long time, the African woman has been the embodiment of strength. She was taught to be strong, which was interpreted to mean never asking for or needing help.
Perhaps because they knew from experience just how harsh life could get for the African woman, mothers from that generation raised their daughters to never rest — as a survival mechanism. For the Kenyan woman from two generations ago, rest was a foreign concept. Not just physical rest but mental and emotional strength. There was no time for relaxation or self-care.
Stories of Kenyan women from past generations are stories of courage, tenacity and resilience. They say that literature is a true reflection of society. Kenyan literature from two or three generations ago was written around strong female characters. A good example is literature by Margaret Ogola who was also a medical doctor and educationist. In her first and arguably most popular novel, The River and the Source, the late Dr Ogola clearly illustrates the strength of the traditional African woman. We see Akoko — a character in this book which was first published in 1994 — struggling with the customs that put women in second place.
Kenyan women played a pivotal role in the fight for Kenya’s independence so much so that the British built prison camps just for women. There were a group of 162 women who the colonial government described as witches for their support for the Mau Mau. They were led by one Muthoni wa Kirima, a woman of steel who was the only one of her gender to rise through the Mau Mau ranks to become a field marshal.
This strength had some reward. Then it was passed through generations, during which it changed into a situation where being tireless is the only way to be a Kenyan woman. Even if this strength is detrimental.
They say television is a true mirror of society. We see examples of women being super women, always being strong even to their detriment in mainstream entertainment and even on our televisions.
A good example is popular local television series Maria and Selina which aired on Citizen TV and Maisha Magic East respectively. Both series follow the lives of young women stricken with so much adversity but who carry through with so much strength that all around them lean on them for strength. For these young women, life means stress, and strife and carrying the weight of the whole community on your shoulders.
Does being a super-woman pay?
The official diagnosis for the life of the Kenyan woman of past generations and even today is “superwoman schema”, a term coined by Amani Allen — a professor at Berkeley University in the US. “Superwoman schema” is described as the perceived obligation by a Black woman to suppress emotions, present an image of strength, resist help or being vulnerable to others, and have a motivation to succeed despite limited resources and prioritising caregiving.
“Superwoman schema reflects radical socialisation that African women receive throughout their lives,” says Nicholas Nasombi, a Nairobi-based counselling psychologist.
According to the psychologist, when it is taught, it is well-intended as parents are subconsciously trying to prepare their daughters for a biased world. Unfortunately, this strong woman coat becomes both an armour and a liability.
“When you put up a front of being tireless and invincible, then you have to suppress what you really feel. That can’t be healthy. Constant unprocessed stress also comes with chronic disease risk. Women trying to uphold the strong African woman image will also have to deal with high rates of depression, high blood pressure and stomach cancer for which stress is a risk factor,” he says.
It is no wonder we have an entire generation of Kenyan women trying to break away from the notion of the strong woman who must always struggle.
A better solution than baby girl life
“The Kenyan woman is still working in an environment where she is required to zip up her emotions, never complain and in fact be grateful to just get a seat at the table,” says Ivy Nyawira, a recruitment manager with Recruitment Plus Kenya — a Nairobi-based agency.
Ms Nyawira reckons that gender-based bias at work places that are unfriendly for women are unlikely to transform overnight.
“The bias is still there but you can prioritise your mental health. Speak up about your struggles at the workplace, stop taking on all the extra work if it’s bad for your mental health and take those leave days and sick days if you need to,” she advises.
“I’m not so sure about shouting from the rooftops about your mental health struggles,” shares Violet, 35, a print journalist with a local media house. She draws from experience.
“I was having mental health issues a few years ago. The workplace I was in was quite high-pressure; so I thought it prudent to share my diagnosis with my boss. It ended up being what got me fired,” she says.
Perhaps knowing that you’re not alone in your struggles with wanting a life with less struggle could help.
American psychologist Dr Patrice Berry, in her book Turning Crisis into Clarity, writes that it’s okay not to be okay; that when you are not okay, it doesn’t mean you’re crazy or broken or that there’s something wrong with you.
According to Dr Patrice, dealing with stress is not just self-care; it’s saying “no” more often, putting up boundaries around you and prioritising your mental wellbeing.
Dr Patrice reckons that breaking away from the pattern of thinking that being a woman equates struggle is integrating many behaviour patterns into your everyday life. He advocates for small habits that help you put yourself first, delegating aspects of your life and taking time off to rest and reset without feeling guilty.
It’s evident that we are redefining what strength means for the African woman. Moving away from the era of taking on the world all alone and embracing help. But is the pursuit of the soft life at all costs the way to go for the Kenyan woman?
