永远不要因为“你是女人”去做什么或放弃什么

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编者按：尼日利亚作家奇玛曼达·恩戈兹·阿迪契（Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie）是2015年韦尔斯利毕业典礼的演讲嘉宾，她与即将踏入社会的女生们分享了她对女权主义的独到见解和一些人生建议，她说，“永远不要因为‘你是个女人’而去做什么或放弃什么。”被媒体称之为最佳毕业演讲词！她曾在TED做过《我们都应该是女权主义者》的精彩演讲，点击观看次数超过400万。《半轮黄日》是她为20世纪60年代尼日利亚内战写的一部小说，有评论称赞她是西非的托尔斯泰。她的另一本书《Americanah》被纽约时报评为“The 10 Best Books of 2013”。

2015届的毕业生们，

祝贺你们！

一直以来，我都对韦尔斯利学院充满爱慕之情，我爱她的使命、她的故事和她的成功，感谢你们的邀请。

你们如此幸运，能在这样一所优秀又美丽的学校毕业。而且如果神明有知，你们可能很快会骄傲地成为美国第一任女总统的校友！加油，希拉里！

今天能来到这里我真的非常非常的高兴，当我听说你们这一届的届色是黄色时，我决定要涂上黄色的眼影。但又想一下，即便我很爱韦尔斯利，但这也太夸张了吧，所以我就戴了一条黄头巾。

说起眼影，我在二十多岁之前都对化妆不感兴趣。我之所以开始化妆是因为一个男人——一个聒噪的、令人不快的男人。我们共同参加一个朋友的晚餐聚会。我那时大约23岁，但人们常说我看起来就像12岁。晚餐时，我们讨论的话题是传统伊博文化（译注：伊博人是西非尼日利亚民族之一），我们聊到了伊博只允许男人打开可乐果的风俗，也聊了可乐果在伊博文化的宇宙观中的深层象征意义。

我说，如果能依据成就而不是性别来授予这份荣誉会更好。而那个男人不以为然地看着我说：“你都不知道你在说什么，你只是个小丫头。”

我希望他能针对我的观点来反驳，但我既年轻又是女性，这让他很容易就无视了我所说的话。所以我决定让自己看起来老成一点。我想口红可能有所帮助，眼线也是。感谢那个人，从此以后，我开始喜欢上了化妆和它带来的暂时改变的美妙可能。它能在你们低落时带来一抹阳光。

但我讲这件事并不是为了说明我是怎么发现性别不平等的，因为老早以前我就发现啦。早在我还是个小孩，开始观察这个世界时。

我早发现这个世界对男人有种种照顾，不论巨细，而女人并没有。

我也知道受害不是美德，被歧视也不会让你的道德水准更高。

我还知道，男人不是天生就坏，他们只是拥有特权。而特权令人盲视、失去洞察力，因为这就是特权的本质。

是我的个人经历和优裕的家庭背景让我觉察到这些。阶级的特权有时也会让我看不见很多东西。我并不总是能敏感地觉察那些与我不同之人的细微变化。

而你们，因为从今天起获得了韦尔斯利学院的学位，你们拥有了一份特权，不论你们出身如何。这个学位以及你们在这里的经历，都是一种特权。不要让特权常常蒙蔽你们的双眼。有时你需要把它放在一边，才好看清楚这个世界。

我代我的母亲向你们问好。她也是韦尔斯利学院的忠实粉丝，也希望自己能站到这儿。她昨天给我打电话，问我演讲稿写的怎么样了，还要我记得多在腿上抹点油，别让它们看上去灰朴朴的。

我的母亲73岁了，退休时，她是尼日利亚大学第一位女教务主任，这在当时也是一件大事儿。

她喜欢讲她第一次主持大学会议时的故事。那是在一个大会议室，会议桌上放着“（男）主席”（CHAIRMAN）的牌子。正当她要坐下时，一个工作人员走了进来，想把那个牌子拿走。因为以前所有的会议都是由男性主持的，他们忘了把“（男）主席”（CHAIRMAN）换成“主席”（CHAIRPERSON）。他向我的母亲道歉，承诺会换一个新牌子。

我母亲拒绝了。她说，我就是（男）主席（CHAIRMAN）。她想让这个标识就放在那里，它原来的所在。会议马上就要开始了，她不想让任何人觉得她在那一天所召开的会议与之前任何一个男主席（CHAIRMAN）主持的有任何不同。

我一直喜欢这个故事，并且把它当做彰显我母亲女权主义选择的例子。有次我把这个故事讲给一位朋友，一个标准的女权主义者，并期待她能为我的母亲喝彩。但她为此感到困扰：“为什么你的母亲坚持被称为（男）主席（CHAIRMAN）？就像她需要‘男’来证明她的能力？”

我理解朋友的困惑。因为如果有个“正式女权主义者秘密协会”每年出版一本《标准手册》，那么每本手册里几乎理所当然地会说，女人不想也不应该被叫做（男）主席。

但是理解性别问题离不开语境与环境。如果说能在这件事里能学到什么，那就是：你的标准化意识形态不会总是符合你的生活。因为生活很复杂又很乱。

像每个成绩好的尼日利亚小孩一样，小时候的我被期望去当医生。我明白我真正想做的是写作，但我还是去了医学院。我告诉自己我会努力学习，成为精神科医生，然后把病人的故事当成素材写小说。

但只在医学院待了一年我就逃走了。我意识到自己可能会成为抑郁的医生，我也真的不想因为自己的疏忽危及病人的生命。从医学院退学是一个非同寻常的选择，特别是在尼日利亚，能进医学院实属不易。有人说我这么做真有勇气，但我没这么觉得。

让我敢这样做的不是勇气，而是一种渴望——去做些什么、去尝试。我要么继续学习不适合我的专业，要么试着做些不同的事，我选择了后者。我参加考试，拿了奖学金来到美国，因为我能在这儿学点不是医学的别的东西。这次尝试可能不会成功，我的写作事业可能最终失败，我甚至不一定能拿得到奖学金。但重点是，我试过了。

我们或许没法改变这个世界，但我们可以尝试，合作付出确凿的、真正的努力。而且你们有这样的特权，因为大学教育已经给了你们需要的工具。所以，去尝试吧，你永远不知道结果会是什么。

刚毕业的你们可能有兴奋也有疑惑。我强烈建议你们多去尝试，去创造一个你们想要的世界。帮助这个世界变得更好。根本变化的发生，需要你们切实、积极的努力，并且身体力行。韦尔斯利已经为你打开了大门。穿过这些门，用坚定和稳健的步伐大步走下去：

写电视剧，不再把女性的力量描绘成非比寻常，而是寻常；

教导学生，脆弱是人类共性，而非独属女性；

主编杂志，写文章教男人如何让女人快乐，因为已经有太多文章教女人取悦男人；

采访时，确保男人也会被问到他们是如何平衡家庭和事业的。在这个抚育职责催生罪恶感的时代，将这份荣耀的罪恶感分一半给父亲们，让他们和母亲感觉一样糟糕。

无论在哪儿，支持和倡导带薪产假；

当女性很少的时候，雇佣更多的女性。但是记住，你不必要求一个女性十分卓越才雇她。就像大部分受雇的男人那样，她们只要能胜任工作就够了。

最近一个女权组织善意地表示要在一个重要奖项里提名我。我曾有幸得过几个奖，我也很喜欢得奖，因为会有闪闪发亮的奖杯一起送来。但得这个奖有个要求，就是我得谈论某个欧洲女权主义者对我有着怎样重要的影响。但实际上，我连这位女权主义者的一本书都没读完过。她的作品没有打动我。如果非要说她对我有重要影响，那就是在说谎。事实是我的女权主义启蒙来自观察家乡集市里的女商人们，我从她们身上学到的比读过的任何女权书籍都多。

当然我也可以写很长一段话，来讲这位女权主义者对我多重要，这样我就能得奖。但我没有。因为我开始问自己，公开为自己贴上“女权主义者”的标签到底意味着什么。

▲ 美国歌手碧昂斯曾在单曲《完美无缺》（Flawless）加入了阿迪契TED演讲《我们都应成为女权主义者》中的关于女权主义定义的一段录音。

有位歌手曾在歌里面引用过我在某次女权演讲中说的话，用这种方式把女权主义介绍给年轻人是件非常好的事。但同时，女权主义不是精英的私人聚会，只向少数人颁发入会资格。

女权主义应该是一个包罗万象的集合体，有着各种不同类别的女权主义思想。

所以，2015届的毕业生们，当你们走出校园，请让女权主义变成巨大、喧哗和包容的大派对。

过去的这段时间是我内心最受煎熬的日子。我的父亲是一个退休统计学教授，他已经83岁了，是个可爱和蔼的人，我们关系很好。三周前，他在尼日利亚的家附近被绑架。那些日子，我和家人经历了从未有过的痛苦。我们和打电话威胁的陌生人通话，为我父亲的安全祈求、谈判。我们甚至并不能确定他还活着。在我们付清赎款后，他被放了出来。他很好，体型没变，和往常一样可爱可亲。他努力安抚我们，证明他没事。

我仍睡不好觉，屡屡在梦中惊醒，担心会出什么别的事。我仍在看到父亲时，强忍着泪水。我也不能摆脱因为他还活着而感到的巨大释然与感激，也对他经历了那样的身心折辱而感到愤怒。

这段经历让我重新思考了很多事：什么是真正重要的，什么并不重要，我看重什么，不在意什么。在毕业之际，我也建议你们多想想这个问题。

我知道你们有些可爱的传统：把年长一些的学生称为“姐姐”，年轻一点的称为“妹妹”。你们也有把人扔到池塘里这样奇怪的传统，我也不太懂。但我很高兴今天能成为你们的荣誉“姐姐”。我愿意以姐姐的身份给你们一些建议：

几乎在世界上所有地方，女孩都被教导要让自己惹人爱，勉强自己，满足他人的期待。请不要这样做。如果有人因此喜欢上那个假的、掩藏自我的你，那他们喜欢的只是那个伪装，不是你。但世界很大，多元又丰富，会有人因为真实的你而欣赏你。

我很幸运，写作给了我一个平台去谈论我所关心的事情，我也曾说过让一些人不满的话。他们让我对一些事情闭嘴，比如我对非洲大陆同性恋平权的立场和我的女权信念。我不是为了故意激怒谁而说话，我说是因为生命短暂。每一个我们不做真实自己的瞬间，每一个我们假扮别人的时刻，每一个我们为了满足他人期待而说出口不对心的话的刹那，我们都是在浪费自己的时间。我不是想让自己听起来很娇贵，但是请不要浪费你们的生命，只有一个例外——网上购物。

最后我还是想说说我的母亲。我们对性别的观点很不相同。她认为有些事情是身为女人的本分，比如时常点头、保持微笑，即便不想这样；比如懂得适时妥协示弱，尤其当和男人相处时；比如要结婚生子。做这些事情可以有很多理由，但绝不是“因为你是个女人”。所以，2015届毕业生们，永远、永远不要因为“你是个女人”而去做什么或放弃什么。

最后的最后，我想提醒大家世界上最重要的事——爱。

人们教育女孩只把爱当成奉献，女人会因为无私的爱而被赞颂。但爱既是给予，也是索取。奉献，亦享受别人的奉献。如果你只是无私奉献，你会听到内心微弱而真实的声音在告诉你，我们身为女人是怎样被社会强制沉默的。

不要抑制内心的声音。勇于索取爱。

再次祝贺你们！ 

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英文原文：

Hello class of 2015.

Congratulations! And thank you for that wonderful welcome. And thank you President Bottomly for that wonderful introduction.

I have admired Wellesley—its mission, its story, its successes—for a long time and I thank you very much for inviting me. 

You are ridiculously lucky to be graduating from this bastion of excellence and on these beautiful acres.

And if the goddesses and gods of the universe do the right thing, then you will also very soon be the proud alumnae of the college that produced America’s first female president! Go Hillary!

I’m truly, truly happy to be here today, so happy, in fact, that when I found out your class color was yellow, I decided I would wear yellow eye shadow. But on second thoughts, I realized that as much as I admire Wellesley, even yellow eye-shadow was a bit too much of a gesture. So I dug out this yellow—yellowish—headwrap instead.

Speaking of eye shadow, I wasn’t very interested in makeup until I was in my twenties, which is when I began to wear makeup. Because of a man. A loud, unpleasant man. He was one of the guests at a friend’s dinner party. I was also a guest. I was about 23, but people often told me I looked 12. The conversation at dinner was about traditional Igbo culture, about the custom that allows only men to break the kola nut, and the kola nut is a deeply symbolic part of Igbo cosmology.

I argued that it would be better if that honor were based on achievement rather than gender, and he looked at me and said, dismissively, "You don’t know what you are talking about, you’re a small girl."

I wanted him to disagree with the substance of my argument, but by looking at me, young and female, it was easy for him to dismiss what I said. So I decided to try to look older.

So I thought lipstick might help. And eyeliner.

And I am grateful to that man because I have since come to love makeup, and its wonderful possibilities for temporary transformation. 

So, I have not told you this anecdote as a way to illustrate my discovery of gender injustice. If anything, it’s really just an ode to makeup.

It’s really just to say that this, your graduation, is a good time to buy some lipsticks—if makeup is your sort of thing—because a good shade of lipstick can always put you in a slightly better mood on dark days.

It’s not about my discovering gender injustice because of course I had discovered years before then. From childhood. From watching the world.

I already knew that the world does not extend to women the many small courtesies that it extends to men.

I also knew that victimhood is not a virtue. That being discriminated against does not make you somehow morally better.

And I knew that men were not inherently bad or evil. They were merely privileged. And I knew that privilege blinds because it is the nature of privilege to blind. 

I knew from this personal experience, from the class privilege I had of growing up in an educated family, that it sometimes blinded me, that I was not always as alert to the nuances of people who were different from me. 

And you, because you now have your beautiful Wellesley degree, have become privileged, no matter what your background. That degree, and the experience of being here, is a privilege. Don’t let it blind you too often. Sometimes you will need to push it aside in order to see clearly.

I bring greetings to you from my mother. She's a big admirer of Wellesley, and she wishes she could be here. She called me yesterday to ask how the speech-writing was going and to tell me to remember to use a lot of lotion on my legs today so they would not look ashy. 

My mother is 73 and she retired as the first female registrar of the University of Nigeria—which was quite a big deal at the time.

My mother likes to tell a story of the first university meeting she chaired. It was in a large conference room, and at the head of the table was a sign that said CHAIRMAN. My mother was about to get seated there when a clerk came over and made to remove the sign. All the past meetings had of course been chaired by men, and somebody had forgotten to replace the CHAIRMAN with a new sign that said CHAIRPERSON. The clerk apologized and told her he would find the new sign, since she was not a chairman.

My mother said no. Actually, she said, she WAS a chairman. She wanted the sign left exactly where it was. The meeting was about to begin. She didn’t want anybody to think that what she was doing in that meeting at that time on that day was in any way different from what a CHAIRMAN would have done.

I always liked this story, and admired what I thought of as my mother’s fiercely feminist choice. I once told the story to a friend, a card carrying feminist, and I  expected her to say bravo to my mother, but she was troubled by it.

"Why would your mother want to be called a chairman, as though she needed the MAN part to validate her?" my friend asked.

In some ways, I saw my friend’s point. 

Because if there were a Standard Handbook published annually by the Secret Society of Certified Feminists, then that handbook would certainly say that a woman should not be called, nor want to be called, a CHAIRMAN. 

But gender is always about context and circumstance. 

If there is a lesson in this anecdote, apart from just telling you a story about my mother to make her happy that I spoke about her at Wellesley, then it is this: Your standardized ideologies will not always fit your life. Because life is messy. 

When I was growing up in Nigeria I was expected, as every student who did well was expected, to become a doctor. Deep down I knew that what I really wanted to do was to write stories. But I did what I was supposed to do and I went into medical school. 

I told myself that I would tough it out and become a psychiatrist and that way I could use my patients’ stories for my fiction.

But after one year of medical school I fled. I realized I would be a very unhappy doctor and I really did not want to be responsible for the inadvertent death of my patients. Leaving medical school was a very unusual decision, especially in Nigeria where it is very difficult to get into medical school.

Later, people told me that it had been very courageous of me, but I did not feel courageous at all.

What I felt then was not courage but a desire to make an effort. To try. I could either stay and study something that was not right for me. Or I could try and do something different. I decided to try. I took the American exams and got a scholarship to come to the US where I could study something else that was NOT related to medicine. Now it might not have worked out. I might not have been given an American scholarship. 

My writing might not have ended up being successful. But the point is that I tried. 

We can not always bend the world into the shapes we want but we can try, we can make a concerted and real and true effort. And you are privileged that, because of your education here, you have already been given many of the tools that you will need to try. Always just try. Because you never know.

And so as you graduate, as you deal with your excitement and your doubts today, I urge you to try and create the world you want to live in.

Minister to the world in a way that can change it. Minister radically in a real, active, practical, get your hands dirty way.

Wellesley will open doors for you. Walk through those doors and make your strides long and firm and sure. 

Write television shows in which female strength is not depicted as remarkable but merely normal.

Teach your students to see that vulnerability is a HUMAN rather than a FEMALE trait.

Commission magazine articles that teach men HOW TO KEEP A WOMAN HAPPY. Because there are already too many articles that tell women how to keep a man happy. And in media interviews make sure fathers are asked how they balance family and work. In this age of ‘parenting as guilt,’ please spread the guilt equally. Make fathers feel as bad as mothers. Make fathers share in the glory of guilt.

Campaign and agitate for paid paternity leave everywhere in America.

Hire more women where there are few. But remember that a woman you hire doesn’t have to be exceptionally good. Like a majority of the men who get hired, she just needs to be good enough.

Recently a feminist organization kindly nominated me for an important prize in a country that will remain unnamed. I was very pleased. I’ve been fortunate to have received a few prizes so far and I quite like them especially when they come with shiny presents. To get this prize, I was required to talk about how important a particular European feminist woman writer had been to me. Now the truth was that I had never managed to finish this feminist writer’s book. It did not speak to me. It would have been a lie to claim that she had any major influence on my thinking. The truth is that I learned so much more about feminism from watching the women traders in the market in Nsukka where I grew up, than from reading any seminal feminist text. I could have said that this woman was important to me, and I could have talked the talk, and I could have been given the prize and a shiny present. 

But I didn’t.

Because I had begun to ask myself what it really means to wear this FEMINIST label so publicly.

Just as I asked myself after excerpts of my feminism speech were used in a song by a talented musician whom I think some of you might know. I thought it was a very good thing that the word ‘feminist’ would be introduced to a new generation.

But I was startled by how many people, many of whom were academics, saw something troubling, even menacing, in this.

It was as though feminism was supposed to be an elite little cult, with esoteric rites of membership. 

But it shouldn’t. Feminism should be an inclusive party. Feminism should be a party full of different feminisms.

And so, class of 2015, please go out there and make Feminism a big raucous inclusive party. 

The past three weeks have been the most emotionally difficult of my life. My father is 83 years old, a retired professor of statistics, a lovely kind man. I am an absolute Daddy’s girl. Three weeks ago, he was kidnapped near his home in Nigeria. And for a number of days, my family and I went through the kind of emotional pain that I have never known in my life. We were talking to threatening strangers on the phone, begging and negotiating for my father’s safety and we were not always sure if my father was alive. He was released after we paid a ransom. He is well, in fairly good shape and in his usual lovely way, is very keen to reassure us all that he is fine. 

I am still not sleeping well, I still wake up many times at night, in panic, worried that something else has gone wrong, I still cannot look at my father without fighting tears, without feeling this profound relief and gratitude that he is safe, but also rage that he had to undergo such an indignity to his body and to his spirit. 

And the experience has made me re-think many things, what truly matters, and what doesn’t. What I value, and what I don’t.

And as you graduate today, I urge you to think about that a little more. Think about what really matters to you. Think about what you WANT to really matter to you. 

I read about your rather lovely tradition of referring to older students as “big sisters” and younger ones as “little sisters.” And I read about the rather strange thing about being thrown into the pond—and I didn’t really get that—but I would very much like to be your honorary big sister today.

Which means that I would like to give you bits of advice as your big sister:

All over the world, girls are raised to be make themselves likeable, to twist themselves into shapes that suit other people.

Please do not twist yourself into shapes to please. Don’t do it. If someone likes that version of you, that version of you that is false and holds back, then they actually just like that twisted shape, and not you. And the world is such a gloriously multifaceted, diverse place that there are people in the world who will like you, the real you, as you are.

I am lucky that my writing has given me a platform that I choose to use to talk about things that I care about, and I have said a few things that have not been so popular with a number of people. I have been told to shut up about certain things – such as my position on the equal rights of gay people on the continent of Africa, such as my deeply held belief that men and women are completely equal. I don’t speak to provoke. I speak because I think our time on earth is short and each moment that we are not our truest selves, each moment we pretend to be what we are not, each moment we say what we do not mean because we imagine that is what somebody wants us to say, then we are wasting our time on earth. 

I don’t mean to sound precious but please don’t waste your time on earth, but there is one exception. The only acceptable way of wasting your time on earth is online shopping.

Okay, one last thing about my mother. My mother and I do not agree on many things regarding gender. There are certain things my mother believes a person should do, for the simple reason that said person ‘is a woman.’ Such as nod occasionally and smile even when smiling is the last thing one wants to do. Such as strategically give in to certain arguments, especially when arguing with a non-female. Such as get married and have children. I can think of fairly good reasons for doing any of these. But ‘because you are a woman’ is not one of them. And so, Class of 2015, never ever accept ‘Because You Are A Woman’ as a reason for doing or not doing anything. 

And, finally I would like to end with a final note on the most important thing in the world: love.

Now girls are often raised to see love only as giving. Women are praised for their love when that love is an act of giving. But to love is to give AND to take.

Please love by giving and by taking. Give and be given. If you are only giving and not taking, you'll know. You'll know from that small and true voice inside you that we females are so often socialized to silence. 

Don’t silence that voice. Dare to take.

Congratulations.

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