“In 1995, I decided to talk about FGM with my parents because I returned to Senegal with my youngest daughter, born in Belgium. She was only 6 months old and could not yet walk. I arrived at night, and the next morning I called my whole family together. I had started to work on excision in Belgium as part of my language courses, and I was in the process of launching an association to fight against the practice [GAMS Belgium]. I said to myself, ‘This is the moment, you’ll see if you have the courage to talk about this with your parents. Because if I couldn’t talk about it with my family, how could I create an association and talk about it in public? I had to start with my family.”
Khadia had already had three daughters while still living in Senegal. Two of them were cut without her consent. She had managed to protect the third, but no one knew that she had not been cut. Before that famous day in 1995, she had never discussed the subject openly with her parents.
The meeting was not easy. “I had to be very clear with my family that I would not allow my daughter to be cut and that I even wanted it to stop for all the other girls in my family. I was called ‘crazy’ and ‘European’, but for me that moment was decisive, it confirmed that I would continue my fight. I am proud that as a result, several girls in my family have been protected.”
Another step in her journey was to talk to her grandfather, a person Khadia particularly respected and who had knowledge of Islam because he translated the Quran into Fulani.
“The question that concerned me was whether or not female circumcision was a religious obligation. I said to myself that culture and tradition can be abandoned, but religion is more difficult. For this I turned to my grandfather. I said to him ‘I have a delicate question to ask you, delicate for me and for you, because it touches the intimacy of women’. My grandfather confirmed that excision is not a religious obligation and wished me well with my struggle.”