How revolutionary can a wife beater be?

Remembering Nyambura.

Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o died on the 28th of May. And amidst the celebrations of his life and his life's work, I want us to remember that he was a wife beater.

We know this not from rumour or speculation, but because his son, Mukoma wa Ngũgĩ, said it on Twitter. Publicly.

Any English or Literature student in Africa worth their salt knows who Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o is. You've probably read Decolonising the Mind or Weep Not, Child. Maybe you’ve written essays about how he resisted the West, how he returned to his mother tongue, how he challenged imperialism. But what’s rarely acknowledged is that this “liberator” was abusive to the woman closest to him.

His son came out to say this last year, and of course now that he's dead, no one seems to remember. And you see, this is the problem with how we treat famous people—men in particular.

We say, separate the “literary giant” from the “wife beater.”

We say, separate the art from the artist. As if the fact that he was using his wife as a punching bag doesn’t matter.

And here's what really gets me: Ngũgĩ wrote about freedom while his wife had none. Spoke against violence while being violent at home. Talked about freeing minds while controlling his wife's life.

I remember when Azeezah and I were doing the ‘On Nigerian Music and Misogyny’ correspondence and she talked about how although Fela was an activist, he was also a misogynist. And how his activism never really included women.

I guess you could say that their fight for freedom is never truly for us—women.

And we encourage it. In fact, we are active participants in our own oppression because we choose to remain silent.

But Mukoma wa Ngũgĩ didn't. He could have protected his father's legacy, like most families do. But he didn’t. That takes guts.

And you know the worst part? The fact that men like Fela and Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o are still seen as “revolutionary” despite their misogyny.

When in fact, I would argue that their misogyny makes their liberation incomplete, their revolution, not so revolutionary.

How revolutionary is a man who beats his wife? What revolution is he freeing us into?

No one is free till we are all free. And if almost half of the world is not involved in your activism, in your so-called “revolution,” then what are you even doing?

I refuse to participate in this collective amnesia.

Nyambura was the name of Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o’s wife. According to their son, she was the glue that kept them together during political persecutions.

I choose to remember her through her child. Even if I never knew her.

The next time we say “rest in peace,” let’s remember the woman who never got to live in peace.