When I was little, I had a very clear image of what it meant to be a grown woman. I imagined owning my own apartment, driving my own car, the ability to do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted, and an unlimited supply of midriff blouses. This was the epitome of what being a grown, free woman meant to me. So, when I saw Lady Jaydee on the CD cover of her sophomore album, Binti, clad in a black two-piece that showed off her belly button, it immediately resonated with me.

This year marks the 25th anniversary of the career of Tanzanian singer-songwriter Judith Wambura, popularly known as Lady Jaydee. In her 2001 debut album, Machozi, she began carving a lane for herself, building a discography almost exclusively about love and romantic relationships. But the release of her second album in 2003 would firmly situate her as Bongo Flava’s leading lady for years to come.

Binti, as its title suggests, is an ode to young Tanzanian women. The 11-track project of just under 52 minutes, is a compilation of lyrical content that cautioned, encouraged, and confided in an audience of young women working through the growing pains of romantic experiences with men.

Binti’s release coincided with an era of negotiation of sorts when it came to conceptions of womanhood and gender in Tanzania. The early 2000s saw women taking up more space in public spheres, as evidenced by the rise of women in the labour market. There were also more women stars in the art industries, including Jaydee’s peer Rehema Chalamila, popularly known as Ray C, who would release her album Mapenzi Yangu in the same year. The influx of women into public spheres seemed to be a subtle rejection of traditional gender roles that situated them within the private sphere of the home as wives and caretakers. Instead, women, particularly those in urban centres, started pushing against heteronormative boundaries.

Culture productions that acted as a mirror for young people in urban centres reflected this shift in dynamics; newspapers, music and film started to demonstrate the growing tension in romantic relationships between men and women. “Agony Aunt”—figures emerged in newspapers to offer advice to women who had had enough of romantic betrayal or dissatisfaction in their love lives. More films started to portray women—albeit imperfectly—with the romantic agency to start and end relationships as they pleased. And in music, particularly in Bongo Flava, women were publicly declaring their frustration with men through their art.

Jaydee’s Binti joined this chorus of women. The album opener Usiusemee Moyo is a warning to women against feeling too certain of their partner’s intentions, and offers a firm wakeup call to those making excuses for romantic mistreatment as she sings: “Angeujali moyo wako, asingekuumiza huyo” (If he cared about your heart, he would not hurt you). In Siri Yangu (My Secret), the listener becomes her confidant as she sings about her own heartache at the hands of past partners. In line with the song title the singer-songwriter refuses to carry the shame of heartbreak and instead makes public emotions often considered to belong in the private sphere.

In the album’s namesake, Binti, she sings, “Binti amka acha sikitika/ binti amka jikaze anza mwendo,” (Young woman wake up, stop being sad/ young woman wake up, brace yourself and move forward). Jaydee uses lexical repetition, a technique common in Swahili poetry, such that the track mimics a chant. She encourages women to work toward building a life beyond depending on men: “kama uko shule vitabu ni juhudi ongeza/ kama mwajiriwa hakikisha cheo umepanda”(if you are in school, increase your effort/ if you are employed, make sure you rise up the ranks).

Siwema, arguably the most successful song on the album, has all the aforementioned themes but instead of addressing women, she directs her lyrics to her love interest. She scornfully confronts him for mistreating her and sardonically declares that his good looks no longer phase her: “kwahiyo nielewe brother/ sibabaishwi na sura, napenda tabia njema” (Understand me brother, I’m not rattled by looks, I like good behaviour). She is authoritative and audacious in her tone. A pair of adlibs towards the end of the song, “usifikiri mimi limbukeni sana” (don’t think I am very naïve) and “ukaniona mimi sugamami wako” (you thought I was your sugar mummy), hint at the man’s financial dependency as one of a list of infractions.

The closing track, Wanaume kama Mabinti, is a collaboration with rapper turned politician Hamis Mwinjuma, formerly known as Mwana FA. It is a five-minute chiding, framing men’s inability to financially provide and subsequently depend on their partners as not only a failure, but also, womanly. The third verse of Wanaume kama Mabinti is especially illuminating. Jaydee sings; “hawatoi hata senti, ‘yao kulipa bill/ ikifika zamu yao huenda msalani” (they don’t contribute a cent to the bill/ when it’s their turn they go to the toilet). A few lines later she mocks; “shoga zangu ebu leteni magauni tuwavishe/ hijabu tuwafunge na vimini, vitopu tuwaazime” (my friends bring dresses to dress them in/ let’s tie hijabs on them and lend them mini-skirts and tops). The verse reveals that there are consequences for deviating from the gender norm i.e. not being a financially independent man. In the case of the song, the consequence is ridicule.

In her book Borderlands: The New Mestiza/La Frontera, Mexican writer Gloria Anzaldùa suggests that while men make up what constitutes gender roles, it is women who transmit these roles. They do so by consistently and continuously performing womanhood following  the rules set by men such that they become engrained and remain intact. If we use this framework to think about Lady Jaydee’s Binti, we see that there was a clear push and pull between women and gender norms in the early 2000s. While clearly frustrated by men’s treatment of them, women in urban centres were not interested in shifting the gender norms that maintained this imbalanced power dynamic. Some norms, like men being financially independent, were far too essentialist to manhood. Being mocked as “womanly” is saying the quiet part out loud: that financial dependency is essential to womanhood.

Ironically,  the song was met with mostly agreement from audiences and fellow artists alike. Singer-songwriter Bushoke released Mume Bwege, a lament of being mistreated by a woman. Bushoke raises concerns about the woman’s infidelity and her abusive temperament, as well as having to perform household chores. He protests, “Mwenzenu naosha vyombo, mwenzenu napiga deki/ Mzee mzima napika, jamani nafua nguo.” (I wash dishes, I mop the floor/ A grown man like me, I cook and wash clothes). The shame in the tone turns the song into a confession. Mume Bwege reinforces the idea that household labour is women’s responsibility and that men should feel ashamed at having to do it. It follows the same logic as Lady Jaydee’s Wanaume kama Mabinti.

By forging her own path in the male-dominated Bongo Flava scene Lady Jaydee was challenging the status quo. However, she was often criticized for straying too far from Tanzanian norms and values. In his paper “Music and the Regulatory Regimes of Gender and Sexuality in Tanzania,” Imani Sanga discusses an article released in 2004 in the independent tabloid newspaper Ijumaa, titled “Lady Jaydee, Ray C kufungiwa kupiga mziki.” The article suggested that the National Arts Council of Tanzania (BASATA) would ban the two women artists from performing their music as their on-stage style of dress was deemed “half-naked.” Sanga reminds us that the term “half-naked” is gendered; “…most often in Tanzania when a woman puts on a miniskirt or a blouse that does not cover the whole of her stomach she is considered to be “half naked.” This concept is not used when a man, for example, puts on only shorts or takes off his shirt during rap and hip-hop music performance (which is normally the case).”

Lady Jaydee, posing on her CD cover in that black two-piece with her midriff and belly button exposed, was already pushing against gender roles. This norm was (and still is) maintained through state policing of public bodily expression including style of dress. But despite her experiencing the consequence of challenging Tanzanian gender norms, she would go on to use the same language to chide men who did not strictly adhere to their traditionally assigned roles.

Art productions like music, which serve as a cultural mirror of sorts, can play the role of challenging or maintaining the rules we live by. Lady Jaydee exposed the tension that women felt between attitudinal changes around gender on one hand, and the deeply entrenched ideas of what was considered inherent to gender on the other. Binti acted as a mirror, reflecting a key point of contention: despite the desire for a more dignified dynamic between men and women, many young Tanzanians view certain gender norms in a far too essentialist manner to be subverted. Despite the discomfort, Binti reveals that many women were not interested in challenging the heteronormative dynamics that were at the root of their frustration.