Somalian fashion model Iman has had an extraordinary life and has always been able to be forthright in an industry in which women are literally there to be seen and not heard. At the time she started out, there were still different rate cards for black models and white models, but she simply refused to accept them. I didnt even understand it. People called me Iman the black model. In my country were all black so nobody called somebody else black. It was foreign to my ears. I was doing the same job as them. Why would I get less money? It didnt even occur to me that it had anything to do with racism. I learned that quite fast. I wasnt a major in political science for nothing, so I understood the politics of beauty and the politics of race when it comes to the fashion industry. Nearly 40 years on, not all that much has changed, it seems. Last year she launched a campaign with Bethann Hardison and Naomi Campbell to urge brands to use black models. They commissioned original research and discovered that some brands, like Chloé, had never used a non-white model, and others like YSL, Versace, Gucci, Donna Karan and Calvin Klein hadnt for years. It sends a message that our girls are not beautiful enough, she says. She had no issue with pointing the finger and calling them racist and urging a boycott until they changed their ways. But then she remembers the magazine editor who exclaimed at her beauty and said she was like a white woman dipped in chocolate. And she didnt even realise it was insulting! I said: Dont take credit for it. I dont have a white drop in me. Iman might have been a black girl freshly arrived from deepest Africa, but she wasnt naive. She spoke four languages, had been at boarding school in Egypt, lived in Tanzania and Kenya, had a spell in Kiev that included learning how to load a Kalashnikov – Somalia had strong links with the Soviet Union at the time – and was studying political science. Before the 1969 coup, her father had been a diplomat, and both her parents had been involved in the Somali independence movement in the 1960s. My mother was an activist, so was my father. They came from a generation of young Somalis who were actively involved in getting independence for Somalia in 1960. So I remember when I was five how busy our house was. People would come in the middle of the night, meetings after meetings, and protests and all that. I grew up in the midst of all of that. And she instilled that in me. The fact that nobody can take your self-worth unless you give your consent. She always said to me that there is nothing that the boys can do – because I had two brothers – that you cant do, if not better. Theres a bit of this that has rubbed off on the choice of the charity she supports, the Hawa Abdi Foundation, a Somalia-based organisation, run by three extraordinary Somali women focused on bringing basic human rights – healthcare, education, agriculture – to vast swathes of the Somali population who currently have none. She was introduced to the charity by the editor of Glamour magazine a couple of years ago, when it was nominated for an award, and its the reason why shes agreed to the interview today. The foundation focuses its efforts on women and children because modern Somalia is not a happy place in all sorts of ways, but its a particularly unhappy place for women. What has happened to women in Somalia? When I was growing up women wore traditional clothes or regular western clothes. We went to school. But the schools dont exist any more. And women are not even allowed to drive any more. Its run by extremists. Somalia was 100% a Muslim country, but it had its own culture before it adopted Islam. So you were a Muslim, but you were a Somali first. Set up by Dr Hawa Abdi, Somalias first female gynaecologist and a nominee for the Nobel Prize, the foundation has fearlessly defended the rights of ordinary Somalis, caring for up to 90,000 people at a time despite attacks on both the compound and the foundations hospital by Somali forces. Last year a documentary was made of its work, Through the Fire. I didnt expect it but I cried my heart out watching it. I dont know if anyone can fathom it but the Somalia I grew up in doesnt exist any more. Whatever money I make, I can never grant the one wish my parents have, which is that they want to be buried there. They live in Washington, but they want to go back. It is their country. Its not quite her country any more, though. Her country is New York. When she first met her now husband, David Bowie, he was living in Switzerland. Did you move there? For a very short bit. I was like: Move everybody out to New York. He knew I wasnt going to stay there. Im a New Yorker. I was like: Lets go home. London was in the frame for a bit, she says. We bought a house and spent two years renovating everything in it, but never moved in. London is now for holidays. We went this summer. And no one knew we were there! We flew in on the jet to Luton and every day we went and did different things and the press never knew! Its absurd this idea that celebrities cant be anonymous. We even went on the London Eye. We queued separately, Lexi [her and Bowies daughter] had a friend with her and they went with the bodyguard and then we all met on board. Did David enjoy showing Lexi his homeland? Yes! He took her to Beckenham. They went and took a photo outside the house he grew up in. It is, it goes without saying, a radically different childhood from her own. Do you think about if youd taken a different street on a different day, I ask, and never met Peter Beard? Absolutely. You think it could have been another street, another girl? I absolutely believe that. It was just my luck. I could be in a refugee camp now. There are people who have been in refugee camps for 20 years, and I could be one of them. Thats one of the reasons Im compelled to help. First because overnight my life changed from a diplomatic daughter to a refugee and my father could not fend for us. The only time Ive ever seen my father cry is when he couldnt pay for us to finish our education. And the NGOs looked after us. They found me a hostel, a job, a university. Theres a genuine humility to the way she views her success. I am the face of a refugee. I was once a refugee. I was with my family in exile. So tell me more about Dr Hawa, I say. She wrote in her book that it was only when she lost her first baby that she realised she had undergone female genital mutilation, aged seven. My concern at the moment is that the country has not had any schools open since 1990. Dr Hawa has built up the first school in the south of Somalia. Dr Hawa Abdi is a remarkable woman and her foundation is doing important work. And if the world could find a way to help her in that work, Somalia would surely be a better place. Excerpts written by Carole Cadwalladr for the Observer 28th June 2014
Posted on: Mon, 30 Jun 2014 14:59:47 +0000
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