Increasingly I’ve been noticing that the term “activist” does not have a neat and simple place here in Zimbabwe. Spaces for overt, take to the streets with placards activism can end up quickly (and forcefully) closed while the term “activist” also seems to rest in a contested space. For some the term rolls off the tongue as fast and as often as a gecko’s tongue takes in insects. Many take actions as “activists” around gender, HIV/AIDS, sexuality, women’s rights, governance, and most broadly, human rights. Others see the term as not exactly their cup of tea and might feel association with the term puts them in danger. For sure, to identify as an “activist” makes one a target. The most obvious targeting carries legal and safety ramifications. Also, “activists” are targets for short-sighted criticism. Women’s rights or gender activism does not equate to man-hating. No form of activism is ever about hate. There’s risk of viewing hesitancies individuals might have to embrace “activist” as a cowardly or lazy stance; that one is leaving activism to others. But really… is that one little term and only that term what’s actually noteworthy?

Some years ago, the Nordic Africa Institute in Uppsala, Sweden undertook a project to examine how the political and economic situation in Zimbabwe is influencing the arts. Recently, Professor Patricia Alden from St. Lawrence University in New York conducted further research along these lines, and wrote an essay entitled Days of Wrath, Days of Crisis.

In both cases, the research makes evident the ways artistic endeavors serve as lenses to compel us to think about issues in new ways. Alden describes Zimbabwean writing as an “on-going power struggle with the state.” She highlights that writers tend to “eschew dealing with ‘politics’ or the government directly, while remaining fully absorbed in the task of recording the present moment, particularly the human consequences of governmental policies and the marked development of class differences among black Zimbabweans.” And I’ve also had writers tell me they feel strongly that fiction has the power to tell truths. Does this mean an evening of reading by candlelight due to power cuts involves soaking in the work of “activist” novelists? Or maybe more that dissent, protest, and transgression represent long term and varied engagements focused on pivoting the center (to borrow Chandra Mohanty’s term). Exposing truths as a way to mark that which unjustly dominates; thus, developing strategies to build peaceful and equitable futures.

I’ve been fortunate to have the opportunity to learn more about three arts-related initiatives: The Zimbabwe Poets for Human Rights forum run by CADET (Confronting Artists Development Trust), the Toyi Toyi Artz Kollektive, and Magamba!, a cultural activist network where the word is the weapon. Each of these initiatives record the present moments in powerful ways; they represent civil disobedience.

Personally, I don’t jump at the chance to call myself an activist, and I’m a bit uncomfortable with the use of war metaphors. But that’s me. What matters most is the content of engagements. Specifically, dedication to address and dismantle injustices in ways that tap into ones own strengths and as a result work to educate, probe, and break through.