By Adeyemi Adekunle
Banjul, Gambia—In the wake of the bustling streets of Gambia’s capital, Banjul, the nation finds itself at the heart of a heated and polarizing debate. The small West African country, with a population of fewer than three million, is on the brink of a historic decision that could set a global precedent.
On July 24, Gambian lawmakers will meet to vote on a controversial bill that seeks to lift the ban on female genital mutilation (FGM), a practice that has long been condemned by international health organizations and human rights advocates.
If passed, Gambia would become the first country in the world to reverse its ban on FGM, a move that has sharply divided families and the nation’s parliament. The proposed legislation has ignited in-depth discussions in markets, mosques, and media outlets, reflecting the deep cultural and religious undercurrents that shape Gambian society.
FGM, which involves the partial or total removal of external female genitalia, is banned in over 70 countries worldwide. Despite this, the practice remains widespread in parts of Africa and among diaspora communities.
The World Health Organization estimates that 144 million women and girls across the continent have undergone FGM, enduring lifelong consequences that include chronic pain, infections, complications during childbirth, and psychological trauma. The WHO has unequivocally stated that FGM offers no health benefits, only harm.
In Gambia, the practice continues to be prevalent despite the official ban, which critics argue has not been effectively enforced. According to a government health survey conducted between 2019 and 2020, nearly three-quarters of Gambian women aged 15 to 49 have been subjected to FGM, with 65% of them undergoing the procedure before the age of five.
The prevalence among girls under 15, however, has dropped to approximately 46%, suggesting a generational shift in attitudes and practices.
Proponents of the bill to repeal the FGM ban argue that the current law represents an imposition of Western values, enforced by international donors and former colonial powers.
This narrative of cultural sovereignty resonates with many Gambians who view the ban as an affront to their traditions and religious beliefs. Approximately 96% of Gambia’s population adheres to Islam, and supporters of the repeal assert that FGM is an Islamic practice, although this claim is disputed by many Islamic scholars and clerics.
At the heart of the debate are deeply personal stories and starkly opposing views. In the bustling Serekunda market, Fatoumata Jallow, a mother of three, passionately defends the practice. “This is part of our culture and our religion,” she says. “The West should not dictate how we live our lives.” Her sentiment is echoed by many who see the ban as a form of cultural imperialism.
Conversely, anti-FGM campaigners and rights advocates fear that lifting the ban would set a dangerous precedent, potentially unraveling hard-won protections for women and girls.
Nafisa Binte Shafique, the UNICEF representative in Gambia, warns of a slippery slope. “If they succeed today, the next day the bill will be on child marriage, then the next on gender-based violence,” she says. “This is not just about FGM; it’s about the broader fight for women’s rights.”
The stakes are high, and the implications of Gambia’s decision could reverberate far beyond its borders. Rights advocates worry that a successful repeal could embolden similar movements in other African countries where FGM is banned. In Kenya, for instance, the high court rejected a petition to reverse its ban on FGM in 2021, but the outcome in Gambia could reinvigorate efforts to challenge such protections.
As the final vote approaches, the streets of Banjul and towns across Gambia are filled with tension and anticipation. Radio shows and social media platforms buzz with debate, while community leaders and activists hold impassioned meetings to sway public opinion and lawmakers.
In rural villages, where traditional practices hold strong sway, the conversation is often more hushed but equally fervent.
For many Gambians, the issue of FGM is not just a legal or health matter but a profound question of identity and autonomy. It touches on the delicate balance between preserving cultural heritage and protecting individual rights. As lawmakers prepare to cast their votes, the nation waits with bated breath, aware that the outcome will not only shape the future of Gambian women and girls but also signal the country’s stance on the global stage.
In the coming days, the voices of both sides will grow louder, and the world will watch closely. The final decision, whether to uphold the ban or repeal it, will mark a pivotal moment in Gambia’s history, with far-reaching consequences for human rights and cultural practices across Africa and beyond.
