The Woman BossThe Woman BossIt took me several weeks to decide whether or not to write this article.This is a deeply personal experience, and I had never spoken about it so openly before—at least not outside of my inner circle. However, something changed when I read my colleague Maimouna Mbacke’s article on body shaming. In her words, I found the push I needed. I realized that sharing my experience could not only help me release something I’ve been silently carrying for years, but also extend a hand to thousands of girls and women who have gone through the same thing so they know they’re not alone. So that maybe, one day, they too can break their own silence.
I was born in Mauritania. I moved away when I was between 8 and 10 years old.
I barely remember my childhood, but there’s one memory that never left me. For a long time, I thought maybe I had imagined it. Until years later, I heard my mother speaking to a friend. She said how much she regretted letting it happen to me… but that she had no choice. She claimed that it was what was expected of her; that that’s how things worked. To this day, I haven’t found the courage to talk to her directly. To tell her, “Mom, I remember it perfectly.” Not because I expect an apology—I know she was also a victim of immense social pressure—but because, just once, I need to say it out loud.
I need to talk about it.
I was “lucky” that my procedure was the least invasive. I put that in quotes because—how do you measure harm when the integrity of your body is violated as a child? I know most cases haven’t had that “luck.” I’m talking about Female Genital Mutilation (FGM).
The World Health Organization (WHO) defines it as “all procedures involving partial or total removal of the external female genitalia, or other injury to the female genital organs for non-medical reasons.” There are four main types, the most extreme being infibulation, which involves cutting and sewing almost the entire vaginal opening shut. None of these practices have any medical benefits.
On the contrary, they can cause everything from chronic infections and childbirth complications to persistent pain and lifelong psychological trauma. In my case, no one ever explained what had been done to me. Words like “cutting” or “mutilation” were never used. All that remained was a confusing memory: a sharp pain, a heartbreaking scream, a sense of fear, of not understanding what was happening…and then, silence.
That same pattern repeats itself in millions of girls. UNICEF estimates that over 200 million women and girls alive today have undergone FGM, many before the age of 15.
In The Gambia, the country I now live in, 73% of women aged 15 to 49 have been subjected to this practice, according to the Gambia Bureau of Statistics and UNICEF.
Why does it continue?
The answer is as complex as it is painful: tradition, social pressure, misinformation, misguided ideas about purity, femininity, and “honor.” In many contexts, it’s seen as a requirement—to be accepted, to get married, to be “a good woman.” My mother didn’t do it out of cruelty. She did it because she thought it was the right thing to do. Perhaps that’s the hardest part to accept: that sometimes, the love we receive is shaped by inherited trauma.
Today, thanks to my work at The Woman Boss, I’ve had the opportunity to meet women who are changing this narrative. Community leaders, young activists, brave women who have chosen not to stay silent. They’ve given me the inspiration and strength to write these words. It has been proven that community education and grassroots activism are the most effective tools to end this practice sustainably.
Not through external condemnation, but through dialogue and internal transformation.
My story is not unique, but it is urgent. I’m not writing this to blame. I’m writing to heal—to tell every girl, teenager, or woman who has gone through this: you are not alone.
Your body is yours.
Even if it was once taken from you, you can reclaim it, through self-love, through knowledge, and through the power of community. And you, what can you do?
Educate yourself. Don’t let silence continue to shield violence. Read. Ask. Listen.
Support. Support the girls. The doubting mothers. The organizations working on the ground. Speak. Use your voice. Your story. Your language.
Every testimony that comes to light opens the door for another.
