Isinangananga versus imbobo: negotiation of intimacy in South African female correctional centres

ABSTRACT

Isinangananga (same-sex relationships) an abomination to some but a source of pleasure to others, is a word I heard throughout my prison journeys. Imbobo refers to heterosexual relationships between males and female inmates in a correctional centre. This paper explores both the narratives of women's involvement in both forms of relationships.

KEYWORDS:

• Isinangananga
• imbobo
• female offenders
• sexual intimacy

‘No. No, as a lesbian I don’t do that at all .’  – Nombuso. ‘Oh I hate it  …  yhaakkk, I hear they do it.’ – Mary. ‘You know we stand there kwimbobo.’ – Matlou. ‘I am in love with a woman and will never love a man again.’ – Rita

Introduction

Numerous discourses in the African and South African context often produce hegemonic explanations of sexual relationships and tales of violation among incarcerated males (Booyens & Bezuidenhout, 2014; Booyens, Hesselink-Louw, & Mashabela, 2004; Gear, 2001; Jan-Louise, 2017; Shayi, 2008). The subjective experiences of incarcerated women’s negotiation of intimacy are swept under the carpet and not written about. In colonial times and under apartheid, women’s sexual experiences and sexualities were stifled. Today, criminological discourses in South Africa do the same. Currier and Migraine-George (2017, p. 133) decry the ‘silences and secrecy, oppression and repression, uncertain definitions and varying situational practices’ of female same sex and sexual relationships of women in Africa. These authors note the importance of unveiling these secrecies in order to allow for an understanding of the ‘fluid and changing expressions’ of these relationships in Africa and South Africa.

When I began to speak to women incarcerated in four correctional centres, I occupied the position of being an African feminist and a mother of two kids. I would define my sexuality as heterosexual though I was involved in a mummy-baby relationship at a boarding school during my high-school years. I was introduced to same-sex relationships in correctional centres when I had my first encounter with Martha, a 32-year-old Coloured female, who admonished those who engaged in isinangananga. She described them as ‘izitabane’ (a slang term for women with two sexual organs) (Swarr, 2009), those who are abnormal and whose behaviour is abhorrent. Upon interrogating the embedded meaning of isinangananga, it became clear that it is not only a same-sex relationship between two women. Rather it is a sexual act commonly known as ‘fisting’. Martha said, ‘Aggggh they touch each other in the vagina; they start by inserting one finger, two fingers, three fingers and the vagina stretches until the whole hand can be inserted into the vagina’. Her facial expression was that of disdain. I further enquired how, if she was not involved in isinangananga, was she able to describe it. Her response was: ‘They don’t necessarily hide it, they do it in full view sometimes and moss, as women, we talk among ourselves and we share these stories … . Sometimes when they have cat fights that’s when all these secrets are exposed.’ Since the discussion was on sexualities among women, she intimated that she is involved in a relationship with an incarcerated male offender in a centre adjacent to the female one. Thus, my introduction to imbobo (peephole) relationships, which are heterosexual relationships, maintained and facilitated through the exchange of letters and clothing (mostly underwear with semen) between males and female incarcerated inmates. In some correctional centres, imbobo relationships are maintained through writing letters inserted into food containers.

As a result of these preliminary interactions with Martha, I aim to accomplish two things in this paper. First, I will sketch the historical background of same-sex relationships in Africa. Second, I will examine both isinangananga and imbobo through the narratives of women. Lastly, I will identify some challenges and gaps, and propose some future directions for researching female sexualities in South African correctional facilities. The aim of this paper is to move incarcerated women’s sexualities from the margin to the mainstream. The paper further aims to end the neglect of the subject by theorizing on incarcerated women’s sexualities.

Methodological framework

This paper draws on qualitative interview data collected as part of a larger study. Narrative interviews were conducted with incarcerated young black women from three correctional centres namely East London, Thohoyandou as well as Johannesburg female correctional centres. Narratives allowed women to tell their stories and trajectories from childhood. The sample comprised of fifteen women aged between 18 and 25 years old. The focus on black women was not deliberate. Instead, in the three correctional facilities, black women formed a majority of sentenced offenders who volunteered to participate in the study. Permission to conduct the study as well as ethical clearance were obtained from the Department of Correctional Services as well as the institution where the researcher was registered for a Doctoral qualification.

The sample comprised of women from four indigenous groups, Xhosa, Zulu, Pedi, and Venda. The dominant language of communication was Zulu and because one of the researchers is a Xhosa speaking woman, there were no language barriers. The implication of the varied ethnic representations presented an opportunity for the nuances related to traditional, ethnic, and cultural practices to emerge. Due to this, it became clear that black woman’s standpoint, a black feminist methodological which explains the specific experiences of black women would best fit the study. Feminist standpoint is not only a theory, but a methodological approach and an analytical tool to bring subjugated or suppressed knowledges about certain groups into the forefront of knowledge (Harding, 2000). Thus, Black women’s standpoint was necessary to contextualize the experiences of young women in order to ‘disrupt the valorization of young girls incarcerated for offences as ‘nasty little madams’ (Gelsthorpe, 1997). Hill-Collins (1996, p. 518) further explains that the use of black feminist standpoint methodological frameworks is predicated on the premise that the ‘ …  role for Black female intellectuals is to produce facts and theories about the Black female experience that will clarify a Black woman’s standpoint for Black women’.

As narratives facilitated an illumination of both individual and collective life stories, a thematic narrative analysis was used as a data analysis tool. According to Bamberg and McCabe (1998, p. 3) narratives ‘create themes, plots and drama. In so doing narratives makes sense of themselves, social situations and history’. Based on this, the themes from the narratives were categorized to demonstrate areas where there were shared experiences. Though the experiences remained complex and fluid there were intersecting and common themes which influenced the choice of a thematic narrative analytical tool. These shared experiences necessitate the reading of black women’s lives in ways that rupture the silences and misconceptions of who these women are. The emphasis on standpoint crystallizes into a methodological tool that identifies ‘connections between experiencing oppression, developing a self-defined standpoint on that experience, and resistance’ (Hill-Collins, 1998, p. 745). Hooks (1984, p. vii) describes this process as examining women’s lives ‘both from the outside and from the inside’. This implies understanding both worlds in order to reveal aspects of women’s lives that would otherwise be ‘obscured from reality’ and from existing knowledge (Hill-Collins, 1996, p. 517). All ethical considerations such as confidentiality of the information shared with the researchers were observed.

Historical account of same-sex relationships in Africa

With the exception of Agboola’s article (2015), there is no literature on how imbobo relationships are formed and practiced by women in correctional centres. Owing to the lack of literature on pre- and post-colonial practices, it is difficult to provide a background of these relationships. This section thus will focus on same-sex relationships among women. McFadden (1994) affirms that, on the African continent, sexuality and sexual pleasure among women is discouraged through socialization from early childhood on. The repression of sexual desire among women leads to an abhorrence of same-sex desire in general. Public declarations by prominent political figures such as Robert Mugabe, who considers same-sex relationships as ‘Un-African and foreign’ (Lurink, 1998; Msibi, 2014; Tamale, 2014; Vera, 2011) escalated the condemnation of homoerotic desire.

Some ascribe it to evil forces, others associate it with mental illness or disease (Dlamini, 2006). Despite their abhorrence, numerous scholars brought marginalized sexualities out in the open as far back as colonial times. Tamale (2013, p. 35) argues that same-sex sexuality was practiced in precolonial Africa. Same-sex couples are portrayed in Bushmen paintings. However, there were sophisticated ways of dealing with it. The Shona of Southern Africa simply avoided same-sex couples as they were believed to be bewitched or unstable. Staying away from homosexuals was supposed to protect anyone who condemned their practice from harm (Tamale, 2013). When colonialists arrived in the nineteenth century, the shape and contours of African sexuality shifted particularly in its formal aspects. For instance, the sexualities of Africans were represented in natural, heterosexual, and reproductive terms. It is the arrival and pronouncements of people like Sir Richard Burton who described women he encountered in the Kingdom of Dahomey as ‘hideous’ and taken in adultery as too shrewish to live with their husbands’. He further described their physical appearance as ‘male-like, with muscular development of the frame and femininity that could be detected only by the bosom’ (Blair, 2010, p. 98 cited in Tamale, 2013, p. 36). According to Tamale (2013, p. 40), the public declarations that homosexuality is un-African are simply ‘reductionist oversimplifications of sexuality of extremely complex phenomena that are impossible to bind in racialized or ethicized bodies’ (Tamale, 2013, p. 40). She argues that sexual orientation transcends racial and ethnic identity. It is clear from the above that sexuality in Africa was constructed by colonialists and African presidents (Arnfred, 2015, p. 162).

In contrast to other African countries, the South African Constitution forbids discrimination based on sexual orientation (Gorpal, 2015). This has resulted in a growing scholarly interest in female same-sex relationships and a growing number of personal narratives ‘confirming the diversity and humanity of same sex loving women’s experiences without necessarily reverting to lurid images depicting African lesbians only as victims of homophobic violence’ (Currier & Migraine-George, 2017, p. 135). Kendall’s research on same-sex relationships in Lesotho is ground-breaking. According to Kendall (1997) eroticism between women are not necessarily defined as lesbian sexual relations, but rather as friendships which involve some intimacy. Such women are sometimes married women and these relationships are not seen as a threat to heterosexual marriages.

There is a growing body of scholarship which focuses on the subjective experiences of black female lesbian women in Africa. According to Matebeni’s (2009) findings, the representation of these women depicts their agency as they resist brutality they experience particularly in black townships. Gqola (2011, p. 622) observes that Muholi’s work names and classify these experiences, and depicts new ways of knowing and being. Elsewhere in Africa, woman-to-woman marriages are seen as expressions of freedom. It is within the confines of incarceration that these relationships are practiced in South Africa settings. Incarcerated women may also be asserting their agency by traversing boundaries imposed by confinement especially those women engaged in imbobo. Women engage in these relationships to ‘elude male authority’ and exercise their agency (Lorde, 1984, p. 50). In this study, the majority of the women who engaged in isinangananga were black. White, Indian and Coloured females engaged mainly in imbobo. Some women within the correctional centres, particularly one white woman, characterized and stigmatized black women as ‘sexual beings who couldn’t resist being without sex for over extended periods of time and that they were prostitutes’ (Marina, a 42-year-old white female). While this historicization of female same-sex relationships in Africa reveals the numerous ways women are portrayed who act out their sexuality in correctional centres, there are barely any new discussions about love and sexualities among women in correctional centres. The only studies available are replete with explanations of women within the butch/femme dichotomies or as victims in coerced sexual relationships (Agboola, 2014, 2015). Women in this study as will be shown in the ensuing section defy the logic of apparatus of control and power exercised by correctional personnel and rules and regulations in correctional centres. They do this by forming their own sexual relationships and albeit, find ways to circumvent correctional restrictions by engaging in heterosexual relationships with men on the other side of the correctional facility.

Negotiation of intimacy in correctional facilities: findings and analysis

My data on sexuality in correctional centres in South Africa was gathered from incarcerated women. Women incarcerated in four correctional centres were interviewed between 2015 and 2016. Nothing in my data indicated that none of the women yearned for their men outside, particularly those who did not regard themselves as lesbian prior to incarceration. Further, nothing demonstrated female subordination to male pleasure in imbobo as women and men exchanged gifts and clothing items. On the contrary, women were proud of their roles as masters and initiators of sex and enjoyed sexual encounters. Women emerged as sexual agents, men as the ones being seduced. The approach is different from that of other scholars which is often an attitude of ‘othering gaze which describes unfamiliar sexual practices as exotic at best and or repugnant at worst and the development practitioner who focuses on helping the less fortunate and suffering sisters’ (Kolawole, 2004). I was impressed by the sexual self-confidence displayed by women like Mandisa, 32 years old, who, unlike older women, was quite willing to blurt out sex stories in graphic detail.

Lesbian relationships versus Isinangananga among incarcerated women

I had conversations with five women in four correctional facilities who had lesbian relationships and engaged in isinangananga. Their motivation for having same-sex relationships ranged from regarding themselves as lesbian prior to incarceration to prison turnouts. Sexuality prior to incarceration was important as it determined whether women were turn outs who engaged in homosexual relationships only because they were incarcerated. A conversation with 32-year-old Mandisa, who was incarcerated for the murder of her lover, illustrates how she was a lesbian before incarceration.

Before, I was never a lesbian. I never even knew what it was having grown up in a rural area where these relationships never existed. I had a boyfriend and we have two children. In 2008, I went for a routine test for HIV and I discovered that I was HIV positive. I was so angry that he cheated on me and now I found myself at this disease. I was so loyal to him. I decided never to be involved with a man again. However, I did not know that I could be with a woman until I moved to town. I was introduced to it by a roommate. I liked it, I felt safe with her. Since then I have never looked back … . I have been in lesbian relationships with multiple partners before my arrest and, in fact, I am here in prison because I killed my partner. Tjo, it was a huge thing and, worse, my parents did not know that I was a lesbian and when they found out from newspapers, my father nearly died.

Int: Are you engaged in any sexual relationships here?

Mandisa: Yes, many … .it was worse when I came in. It’s like women were waiting for me. Because my case was in the newspapers, many of them knew I was coming and they were very excited. I had many relationships; at some point, I even had five women. I am the butch in the relationships because my girls would do anything for me. I also do a lot for them. I provide for them … I get money from my parents.

Mandisa described several homosexual relationships prior to her incarceration. First, it is important to understand her sexual orientation shifted from a heterosexual relationship to the realization that she is lesbian. Mandisa was aware that her family knows that she prefers women but they have not confronted her with it since she has been in prison. To protect herself from further disease, she asserts her agency by resolving to engage in same-sex relationships because the possibility of disease is reduced. Enquiring about how she protects herself from exchanging vaginal secretion she says, ‘I practice safe sex by ensuring that no semen is exchanged … I mostly use fingering until a woman comes and I make sure there are no cuts on my fingers.’ The HIV/Aids epidemic in South Africa has largely been a post-apartheid issue emphasizing the need to talk about sex and sexualities and encouraging conversations about risk and protection. No studies in South Africa have focused on this aspect where women in correctional facilities are concerned. Thus, women like Mandisa exercise their own agency in the absence of concern and debates around this issue in correctional centres. Her narrative also revealed that she felt safe with being with a woman. Mandisa engaged in multiple sexual relationships while incarcerated where she continued to practise safe sex. According to Matebeni (2009), there are self-reported cases of HIV/Aids infections among lesbian couples. Hence Mandisa spoke of self-protective means of expressing her love in ways that are safe and displayed an understanding of the risks if safe sex is not practised. Homosexuality is seen as a rational strategy to protect participants from sexually transmitted disease. This is similar to the colonial era made in Zimbabwe where in 1976 it was documented in Small Matters of a Horse, a study done in 1984, by Van Onselen that same-sex practices was a provocative and ground-breaking way for male mineworkers to avoid disease.

Marinda, 45, incarcerated for the murder of a child she shared with her lesbian partner, on the other hand, had this to say about her sexuality.

I have been a lesbian my whole life … My parents knew that I hated men. I do not even have children and the only child who was in my life is the one my partner got before she met me … I do not like men and my parents know this. Even while I am in prison nothing has changed … I am in a relationship here and it is so satisfying. I am the male in the relationship because my partner who we were both found guilty of the crime has been placed in another prison.

To elicit expressions of self-identity and with the knowledge of isinangananga, I was now equipped to ask Marinda about her sexual practices. She regarded herself as lesbian and like Mandisa and other inmates, knew her sexual orientation prior to her incarceration. Both Marinda’s and Mandisa’s cases were publicized in the media. What is clear from Marinda’s narrative is that she sees herself as butch. Marinda prefers to talk about sex as a positive experience, something that she enjoys, that is pleasurable and intimate.

One question to answer is how women spot potential same-sex partners in the first place. The implicit concern here, the question of identifying, certainly is a reflection of the challenge of a researcher grappling with a practice that is not verbalized. When asked how she identifies potential girlfriends, Mandisa asserts that there is no way of knowing whether a woman is willing or not, but any girl can be taught if approached appropriately. Thus, rather than proposing, she approaches or seduces inexperienced girls she is attracted to. She intimated that ‘I pursue her, I tell her I love her and I want her, I sometimes touch her, but only if she agrees … if she doesn’t want to be touched, I leave her.’ This strategy points to two things according to Dankwa (2009, p. 194):

the casualness of physical touch among women within homosocial spaces enables a continuum of social and erotic intimacy. It allows girls to explore and test the readiness of a woman to engage erotically. Secondly, bearing on the norm of discretion, the unspeakability of same sex.

As Mandisa states, ‘if the woman does not approve, I move away’. Both women did not define themselves as being involved in isinangananga but rather regard themselves as lesbians because the term isinangananga is a prison construct which is not synonymous with how these relationships are described in the outside world. Both Mandisa and Marinda held that naming, and the name isinangananga in particular, is responsible for the practice’s bad reputation. This is important, especially when they position themselves as experts in same-sex relationships and practices. While the idea is that it is inappropriate to broach ambiguous subjects such as isinangananga and imbobo, it is also true that ‘a secret can mask immoral conduct but it equally binds together those who share it’ (Pierre, 2007, p. 552).

Modiegi, 26, incarcerated for fraud, intimates that she was not lesbian prior to incarceration.

When I learnt that there could be such relationships here, which do not involve any abuse, I decided to be involved in one and it is so fulfilling. I never want any man in my life. Men can be very abusive and women are so soft and caring.

The previous narratives reiterated pre-incarceration lesbian identities. Modiegi, a penitentiary turnout, was introduced to same-sex sexuality during incarceration. Lungelwa’s (26) and Mathabi’s (22) intimate relationships were always transitory as they were mostly incarcerated for shorter periods and were frequently in and out of prison. For them, there were no long-term relationships and their involvement was fluid. When they were in prison, they had relationships with older women who were incarcerated for serious offences. While they were out of prison, they became involved in heterosexual relationships with partners who were shoplifters. Interestingly, these women were involved in what could be described as isinangananga. As Mathabi (22) who was incarcerated for shoplifting, explained:

My mom (referring to her sexual partner) starts with a finger … .then we move maybe the next week depending on how long I will be in here, to two fingers … you know moss … 

Int: Is it painful?

Mathabi: No, not at all, when you are used to it, it becomes better and easier.

Int: Do you practise safe sex?

Mathabi: No, we don’t have condoms. Sometimes we get them from outside but we hardly use them. Besides, a condom doesn’t fit a hand.

Her narrative is confirmed by a male correctional officer who observed the following:

You know, sometimes when these women are released from prison, their husbands come in here shouting and accusing us of having slept with their women.

Int: Why?

Because of what these women do. They have sexual intercourse and can insert even cucumbers in their vaginas. That way, their parts become so enlarged that their husbands think we’re having sex with them. In some cases, their husbands divorce them.

Lungelwa, on the other hand, preferred not to talk about sexual practices in these relationships. She became secretive and refused to say ‘we touch and we have sexual pleasure’. Lungelwa went on to say: ‘it is not important to know how we do it, what is important is that it’s like having a man  …  we are happy’. Indeed, the silences around isinangananga may describe the set of sexual practices that intersect with derogatory representations. Women who engage in imbobo declare that an increase in homophobia has an impact on such female intimacies, such as the one described by the male correctional officer. Regardless of the covertness of female same-sex intimacy, there seem to be spaces where women voice and practise their passions and desires during incarceration.

While isinangananga is explained by only one participant, other participants do not allude to the sexual acts or practices. This is synonymous with the culture of silence that marks sexual matters and same-sex practices throughout the African continent (Arnfred, 2004). There are different types of silences as noted by Arnfred (2004, p. 73) and chief among these is discretion as opposed to oppressive silences. Discretion prevents explicit talk about one’s own or other people’s sexual lives. Likewise, intergenerational communication about sexual matters is considered shameful on both sides (Dankwa, 2009, p. 193). Despite the silence and indiscretion, women were able to address isinangananga without naming it. Despite this, there are these observed silences around isinangananga hence an array of questions, which could not be addressed in this paper. These include how secret is this knowledge on the phenomena and how does it affect women’s sexual lives after incarceration? Older women chose not to talk about their intimate lives but had much to say about generational changes in women’s friendships and sexual lives. The richest conversations arose from social interactions with women of the same age group and younger women who were involved in imbobo.

Imbobo: heterosexual relationships through peepholes

According to Beyala (2003), ‘achievement of pleasure by whatever means is a radical and a necessary political act for women in particular in the contemporary context’. Many women indicated their involvement in imbobo and believed that these relationships would be maintained after incarceration. Imbobo is experienced and practised differently in various correctional centres. In the Johannesburg prison letters, goods and undergarments are exchanged through the peepholes. A rope made of wool and female stockings has to be long enough to reach the other side of the prison. In the East London, Pretoria and Thohoyandou correctional centres, the distance between the facilities means that letters are the only form of communication.

Mary, a 32-year-old white female, incarcerated for fraud, observed:

I met Marius while we were outside taking out trash. It was love at first sight, we started exchanging letters, and in fact, we are planning to get married. He is the love of my life. I have never encountered a man who sends me so many love letters. Some letters are drawn with pictures and I even know his family. They also visit me and are full of praises for how his behaviour has changed since he met me.

Nomsa (33), incarcerated for robbery, said:

… oh I love Dumisani. I would not be looking forward to getting out of prison if it were not for him. I mean, here I make so much money through other means (she does not disclose what these are). (She laughs). We make money, my sister, and I support my family. Dumi also sends me money, KFC, and he supports me fully. We are planning to get married when we both leave prison.

Int: How do you receive food?

Nomsa: Through imbobo and sometimes he sends money to my loved ones and when they come to visit, I get it. But mostly through imbobo. We can send anything as long as it is not a big parcel, eish, Streetwise Two gets in so easily. In addition, I do nothing when I am expecting something from him; I stand there until my parcel arrives. No man has ever taken care of me as he does. I love him so much; he is the one for me.

Similarly, 42-year-old Wizi, incarcerated for murder, noted:

My life would have been nothing in this prison without him. Besides, we are better than the ones besinangananga. Sies, I hate it when these women moan and groan as if they are man. I hate it when they cry for each other and mostly fight for a pussy. I don’t understand it. With us, all we do is love another man that is normal. You know my man sends me his underwear and I can smell him. I also masturbate and send him my dirty underwear. He goes nuts and he loves it.

Maureen (35), incarcerated for drug trafficking, had this to say regarding the exchange of undergarments:

We often get satisfied with just the smell of a man … .you know I have been here for 10 years and I prefer this to sinangananga … it’s all too much for these ladies. I do not like what they do. I mean licking another woman and all that. You know once I heard that some raped each other and they used a condom, which had maize meal inserted in it. The condom burst inside a woman and that woman died after she left prison. I saw the rape with my own eyes.

Int: is there nothing you could do to stop it?

Nothing we all looked at each other and that woman was so big and used to have a male voice. She was scary so who are we to intervene. We sometimes feel maybe that the woman deserved it because she was also in a relationship with too many women and because they are always jealous of another, then they are raped. Therefore, I am better with my man. I do not know what else to do with myself and I know that no man who is outside will want an ex-convict.

In the East London and Thohoyandou correctional centres, imbobo is practised differently. The distance between the prison buildings makes smuggling food and other gifts impossible. Male and female inmates maintain their relationships by exchanging letters hidden in lunch boxes. In Thohoyandou, twenty-nine-year-old Mashudu, incarcerated for murder, had this to say about her relationship:

We met outside while we were working in the garden. Though we were watched, we still managed to talk to each other briefly and we knew each other’s names. He said he would write to me and he did.

Int: How did you know the letter was for you?

Mashudu: He wrote my name and surname on it and we talk almost every week.

What was also confirmed in the East London correctional centre was the exchange of letters via the mail, which is a legitimate method to exchange letters. In this correctional facility letters are exchanged through relatives as divulged by Nomsebenzi, 44:

My sister knows about my relationship with Mthandeni. Therefore, what he does is to send a letter to my sister and my sister sends it to me. This is the only way we can communicate. I am in love with him. He promises to take care of me as soon as I am released and we are going to be released a month from each other.

Int: How well do you know him?

Nomsebenzi: I know him, he tells me everything. He is better than my husband is. My husband used to beat me a lot and I am in jail because I hired people to kill him.

Int: You haven’t stayed with him. Would you say you trust that he will not do the same thing?

Nomsebenzi: Yes, I trust him, he is in prison because his wife cheated on him and he killed the boyfriend. My husband also used to cheat on me and bring women into the house. Therefore, we have some things in common. I love him and I do not care what people will say.

Female correctional centres are under constant surveillance, inmates follow strict a schedule and have to suppress their individuality. Thus doing time in prison is a creative and dynamic process requiring female prisoners to adapt their tactics and develop coping mechanisms. Because of the loss of freedom and liberty, and the deprivation of heterosexual relationships, female offenders turn to alternatives to find sexual gratification. Some inmates see such relations as ways to lessen the pain of imprisonment. Short-term inmates engage in them for economic reasons, whereas long-term inmates see them as natural outcome of love and caring. Inmates participate in pseudo-families for security, affection, friendship and access to institutional goods and services not readily available to individual inmates. Members of pseudo-families adopt family-like roles and experienced or long-term inmates act as mothers or mentors, and younger inmates as daughters. Dominant women adopt the roles of fathers or brothers. The data presented in this study reflect the participants’ attitudes and experiences of consensual same-sex sexual relationships in prison. Each interview started with an open-ended question.

Discussion

In recent years there has been an increased scholarly interest in and writing about sex as pleasure and the role of sex in maintaining social networks (Arnfred, 2015, p. 163). Some of the research focuses on female sexual agency and power as employed by young women in urban contexts. Even in patriarchal societies there are nuances and inferences on female assertiveness (Nyamnjoh, 2002, p. 103). What is important in the narratives above is the sexual agency that is demonstrated by women which symbolizes the normalization of the lesbian sexual appetite.

Incarcerated women see a fulfilling sexual life as an important aspect of their identities. It is thus important to open theoretical landscapes that are able to embrace incarcerated female sexuality and assume universal female sexual agency or practices in the form of butch/femme identities. It is clear from the above that the study of female sexuality in correctional centres is in need of a conceptual reframing and a move away from outdated notions of butch/femme dichotomies and women as sexual objects. Placing female sexual pleasure, agency and power centre stage as a point of departure for analysis changes the entire picture. This requires the unlearning and relearning and a conceptual paradigm of female sexuality as capacity, agency and power and not the familiar male dominance/female subordination paradigm (Tamale, 2011). Regarding unlearning, Sylvia Tamale (2011, p. 3) says that unlearning requires us to ‘discard our old eyes and acquire a new set with which to see the world. It requires us to jettison assumptions and prejudices that are so deeply seated and internalized that they have become normal and appear to be natural’.

Tamale (2004, np) also notes that sexuality presents not only positive empowering possibilities but also constraints for women in Africa. While no word is spoken about isinangananga and imbobo, they can be seen as a sign of resistance and struggle, especially by the marginalized. This is more so for women who have lost their liberty due to incarceration. In fact, in many African cultures while speech is necessary and empowering with regard to sexuality, silence can be equally powerful. People should have the right to keep their sexuality secret. Silence may serve as a powerful tool for rejection and imposed views of our sexuality as African women (Tamale, 2004).

Challenges, gaps and future directions

Almost all my work, while anchored in African feminist analysis, centres around the subject of sexuality in correctional centres. I omitted asking some key questions that remain pertinent for African feminists such as what women involved in imbobo regard as sexuality. I was amused and frustrated at the same time when I asked interviewees to start afresh every time they uttered racial and other obscenities. Marinda, a 52-year-old white female involved in a lesbian relationship, said

 …  black girls touching my breasts in the shower. I don’t mean to be racist, but these black girls do nothing but stand there, they are not educated and they still stand there the whole day waiting and sending letters  …  they use the stationery meant for class and education to write letters … .

Rebecca, a3 3-year-old white female involved in imbobo, also said,

These black girls are so uneducated, and all they do is play around and with each other making these sexual noises. But when it comes to filling in forms they can’t even do that … . This is the time for them to study.

There was a pattern in the comments of the few white females I encountered. Could it be that their responses tell us how white people talk about black sexualities and about their attitudes towards the black body, sex and the nature of black desires? In what way are their answers tied to power and the race discourse? These are questions that are not answered in this paper, which renders it too narrow to capture the nuances of sexuality among incarcerated women. More studies should document female sex intimacies in these spaces.

One of the lessons I learned during this study is that researching sexuality in correctional centres is not a linear process and that there is not a one-way modus operandi. A researcher has to be flexible in her methodologies and language before participants open up about what they perceive to be taboo topics. I was often left wondering whether it would have been easier for white women to speak freely had they been questioned by another white woman. Would it be easier for elderly black women to speak to someone their own age? Mantuli (65) kept on referring to ‘it’ when she meant ‘penis’. Throughout our conversation she never used the word ‘penis’ and never called intercourse ‘sex’. Instead, she would refer to ‘what a man and woman does in the bedroom’. Would it have been easier for this research to be done by someone who regards herself as a lesbian when speaking about isinangananga?

A further challenge noted by Musisi (2014, p. 311) regards the quality and quantity of collected data. Most women in correctional centres do not write about their experiences and observations. This is particularly true for uneducated women who may not have the ability to write nor the language to name their experiences. Hence this paper relies heavily on narratives about women’s intimate lives in order to allow the voices of women to illuminate their experiences. However, more studies with quantitative data could provide more measurable evidence. It is thus important to examine same-sex sexuality as desire among women in both urban and rural correctional centres. Arnfred (2015) argues for an approach to studies on sexuality in Africa that considers the subject of female sexuality from the perspective of capacity and power. This is important as issues of discrimination against women engaged in same-sex relationships are reported in some correctional facilities (Gorpal, 2015, p. 107).

Conclusion

In conclusion, sexuality is a complex, multi-layered phenomenon. The nuances around imbobo and isingananga not only are considered as private by women who declined to share their experiences, but also are repressed knowledge which need further research and analysis. Researchers need to recognize that there is no uniform or monolithic way of experiencing sexualities in one culture or community, or even among individuals. Therefore, the premise of multiple sexualities provides a starting point for any study. The important aspect this paper has highlighted is the issue of language. Except for the loose translations I had to use in this paper, there are no English definitions of both these terms and other aspects of sexualities. However, due to the fact that Eurocentric discourses have dominated sexuality studies and that data for this study was collected in local languages, ‘rich cultural connotations, ambiguities and multiple meanings’ may have been lost in translation (Tamale, 2014, pp. 17–18). It is imperative for scholars to move beyond concepts to action. Researchers should use data and theoretical knowledge to move African women beyond the culture of silence and to transcend naming. Despite this, it is hoped that this paper has contributed to knowledge of sexualities in female correctional centres in South Africa. More studies employing quantitative methodologies need to be conducted to influence policy changes and to discover how sexualities are controlled and regulated in female correctional centres. Where there are concerns about non-consensual sex, a human rights intervention should be sought.

Attitudes towards same-sex relationships in prison are ambivalent. These relationships are accepted and favoured by inmates. Some, however, had reservations about consensual same-sex relationships. They perceived such conduct as an indication of mental and physical weakness, and they stigmatized those who participated in them in derogatory and negative terms. Many inmates share these views and perceive lesbian girls who participate in isinangananga as morally reprehensible and their behaviour as shameful. The sexual awareness of the public, policy makers, social research scientists and practitioners is deficient in respect of women in prison.

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Notes on contributors

Nontyatyambo Pearl Dastile

Nontyatyambo Pearl Dastile is a Chair of Department in Criminology & Security Science. Her research interests include gender and crime, African criminology, decoloniality.