A BRIGHTER FUTURE FOR MAASAI GIRLS: HONORING CULTURE WITHOUT HARM
Words and photographs by Matilde Simas
A 14-year-old girl gazes out over the dry landscape of Kenya’s Amboseli region, her thoughts burdened by the trauma of undergoing female genital mutilation (FGM). Now married and expecting her first child, she reflects on the psychological scars left by the ritual.
During my college years at Suffolk University, I enrolled in a Women’s Studies course where I first learned about female genital mutilation (FGM). FGM is a practice that involves the partial or total removal of the external female genitalia or other injuries to the female genital organs for non-medical reasons. It is typically carried out on young girls, often before they reach puberty, and is often justified by cultural, religious, or social norms.
I was horrified by this cruel practice, and the thought of young girls enduring such pain haunted me. The health risks are severe and can include chronic pain, complications during childbirth, increased risk of newborn deaths, and various infections. The psychological effects are equally devastating, leading to anxiety, depression, post-traumatic stress disorder, and a distorted sense of self-worth. I hoped that by the time I entered the working world, FGM would no longer exist. However, over 20 years later, I found myself on assignment in Kenya, documenting the persistence of FGM in Maasai communities with the Big Life Foundation.
Maasai warriors gather as prospective suitors in Makuta, Kenya, preparing for a community celebration marking a traditional female rite of passage. As young men entering adulthood, they participate in this ceremony with hopes of finding a future partner, upholding generational customs deeply rooted in Maasai culture.
While working with the Big Life Foundation, I connected with their educational director, a member of the Maasai community. Upon meeting him, I was struck by his story. A father who had left his home to protect his daughters from undergoing FGM, he shared the painful truth about how his family was ostracized for defying this harmful tradition. He had left his home village with his family after facing immense pressure to have his two daughters undergo FGM as part of their traditional rite of passage. His decision to protect his daughters came with a high personal cost, as their family was essentially ostracized for defying long-standing cultural norms. Listening to him, I felt a deep sadness mixed with admiration for his courage.
Maasai youth, ages 12 to 17, take part in the traditional jumping dance, known as “adumu,” in Kenya. This energetic ritual, a display of strength and agility, is an important part of Maasai culture, marking the passage into adulthood and showcasing the resilience and unity within the community.
It reinforced my belief that change must come from within the community itself. His story deeply moved me and gave me a personal connection to the very issue I had first learned about so many years ago in the classroom.
Initially, I had considered documenting a traditional FGM ceremony. However, after reflecting on the ethical implications, I chose a different path: capturing the growing movement within some Maasai communities that replaced FGM with a safer, alternative rite of passage. These ceremonies honor girls’ transitions into womanhood without the harmful cutting, emphasizing education and community support. I felt a sense of hope in this narrative and was eager to share these stories of resilience.
However, discovering a Maasai community that had adopted this alternative rite proved challenging. After a long, rugged journey through the Amboseli region, accompanied by the educational director of the Big Life Foundation, we finally reached a village. As we arrived, I was left with a surge of excitement mixed with apprehension. The village was vibrant, with children playing and women gathering to share stories. But then the chief delivered the disappointing news: they were preparing for a traditional FGM ceremony instead. He explained that FGM is viewed as a crucial tradition, marking a girl's transition into womanhood and ensuring her acceptance and honor within the community. "The female rite of passage," he stated, "is vital to preserving our identity and way of life, as these customs have been passed down through generations." My heart sank.
Faced with this reality, I was torn: should I bear witness to this traumatic event, or should I walk away? I wrestled with the dilemma of whether it was ethical to document this ritual, knowing the pain it would inflict on the young girl involved. Ultimately, I chose to stay. I believe that my photographs could shed light on the ongoing practice and inspire change.
In a Maasai village, a 12-year-old girl stands on the brink of adulthood, already married and pregnant. She reflects on the weight of responsibilities that come with being a young wife, saying, "I feel too young for all this. I wish I could be in school." With a longing gaze, she adds, "I want to learn about the world beyond my village." Her words capture the struggle between tradition and the desire for education and independence.
As the day unfolded, I immersed myself in the community. I spoke with village members, gaining insight into their beliefs and fears. The Maasai girls I spoke with shared their fears about refusing to undergo the rite of passage. One girl confided, “If I don’t go through with it, my friends will shun me. I’ll be an outcast, and my family will be ashamed.” Another girl echoed her sentiments: “We are told that if we don’t become women in this way, we will never be accepted in our community. It’s terrifying to think about what that means for my future.” Hearing these young girls voice I realized the gravity of the choice they faced, trapped between tradition and their desires for freedom and safety. The emotional weight of their words reminded me of the importance of amplifying their voices.
Throughout my time in the village, I engaged in conversations with both men and women, all of whom shared their perspectives on tradition. While many girls expressed their fears of ostracism, others, like a local elder named Juma, defended their customs: “This is our way of life. Who are outsiders to come in and tell us that we are wrong? Our ancestors practiced this for generations. It’s part of who we are.”
I found myself reflecting on Juma’s words, recognizing the complexity of their culture. However, she also acknowledged the struggle for change within the community, admitting, “We know there are risks, but many of us believe this is the only way to honor our traditions. It’s a complex issue.” The tension between tradition and the desire for a safer future echoed throughout my conversations.
Young people from the village moved around, gathering sacred branches from a nearby tree to prepare for the ritual. There was an unsettling mix of reverence and routine in their actions. As I documented these moments, I found myself almost dissociating, trying to separate the horror of what was about to happen from the task at hand.
Maasai youth in Makuta, Kenya, gather sacred branches essential to the upcoming female rite of passage ceremony. This ceremonial tree collection, a respected tradition within the Maasai community, symbolizes blessing and protection, marking an important step in the preparation for the event.
Then came the moment I had feared most—I was granted permission to enter the hut where the ceremony would take place. Inside, the woman who would perform the circumcision sat solemnly. The young girl, no more than 13 years old, sat quietly beside her mother. In front of them was a bowl of cow’s blood, a traditional offering meant to give strength to the girl before the procedure.
My breath caught in my throat as I documented these final moments before the ritual began. The girl’s face appeared both annoyed and angry. It was impossible not to feel the weight of the trauma she was about to endure. I felt a deep sense of sorrow, knowing that this ancient tradition was about to change her life forever. But I pushed through, knowing that the images I captured might one day catalyze change, that they could help prevent other young girls from facing the same fate.
Every click of my camera felt heavy with responsibility. I wasn’t just documenting an event—I was witnessing a practice that had been carried out for generations, but which, through global efforts and local education, was beginning to be questioned and, in some places, replaced. I knew that, despite the fear and the risk, this story needed to be told.
In Makuta, Kenya, Maasai woman and the circumciser recite prayers over a sacred branch as part of the preparations for a female rite of passage ceremony. This ritual blessing, conducted before entering the hut to perform the procedure, is intended to invoke spiritual protection and reflects the deeply rooted traditions that shape this cultural practice.
What I witnessed during the ceremony was devastating. The fear in the girl’s eyes, and the unbearable tension in the air. I remember feeling a mix of sorrow and anger, grappling with the harsh reality that FGM was still occurring despite the progress I had hoped for. The experience left me profoundly shaken, and the weight of what I had seen lingered with me for over a year.
More than a year later, I found myself profoundly affected by the experience. The trauma of bearing witness to such a devastating ritual left me feeling numb. Every time I thought about showing the photographs, a wave of dread washed over me. I questioned whether I had the strength to use these photographs to make a difference, yet I knew deep down that there had to be a reason I was led there—to create some kind of social change, to raise the voices of these young girls.
In the end, I knew I had a responsibility to share these photographs. FGM is not just a cultural tradition—it’s a violation of human rights. Despite the trauma, I realized that these photographs could spark important conversations and raise awareness about the practice, helping to protect future generations of girls from enduring the same fate. Now, I feel a renewed sense of purpose; I am determined to shine a light on this issue and advocate for change, fueled by the voices and stories of the brave girls I had met.
A Maasai girl sits with her mother for a portrait before undergoing female genital mutilation (FGM), a traditional rite of passage intended to mark her transition from childhood to adulthood. This practice is believed to diminish a woman’s sexual desire, thereby discouraging premarital sex and adultery. The procedure, known as clitoridectomy, can range from the removal of part of the clitoris to the excision of all external genitalia. In a dimly lit mud hut, an elderly woman performs the procedure using an "ormurunya," a customary tool. Afterward, a mixture of cow dung and milk fat is applied to the wound to stem the bleeding.
This journey has shown me the power of sharing stories that are often hidden and the importance of amplifying the voices of those impacted by FGM. By exposing the realities of this harmful tradition, I hope to drive awareness and action. The growing movement toward alternative rites of passage within Maasai communities is an inspiring example of how tradition can evolve to honor girls’ transitions into womanhood safely and meaningfully. These alternative ceremonies, which focus on education, empowerment, and community support, offer a dignified path forward—a way to preserve cultural identity while protecting young girls from harm.
Three adolescent Maasai girls walk back into their village, each bearing the heavy burden of early marriage and pregnancy—a reality imposed upon them before they were ready, leaving them with little say in their futures. Their turned figures embody a quiet resilience, reflecting the profound challenges they face in lives defined by tradition and constrained choices.
With every story told and every image shared, I am committed to advocating for change, building a world where girls in Maasai communities and beyond feel safe, supported, and confident. It’s a long road, but together, through community education, global engagement, and respect for cultural values, we can help make FGM a relic of the past. My hope is that these photographs will not only shed light on this issue but will also inspire a future where each girl’s dignity, health, and rights are fiercely protected, paving the way for a brighter, safer world.
