Inspiring Women through Visibility—A Conversation with Prof Booker

By Yemisi Akinbobola

Inspiring Women through Visibility—A Conversation with Prof Booker 

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For Her Media Diary, Episode 21, Dr Yemisi Akinbobola chatted with Professor Nancy Booker, the Associate Professor and the Dean at the Graduate School of Media and Communications, The Aga Khan University, Kenya. Sharing important insights, Prof Booker emphasises the importance of culturally relevant mentorship, male presence in their children’s lives, and consistently showing up in relevant career-related situations. 

Dr Akinbolola’s Chat with Prof Booker 

  • If we Google the name, Nancy Booker, we will see all your profiles and accolades. However, give us a foundational understanding of who you are.

I grew up in Nairobi, the capital city of Kenya. My earliest memory is that I was daddy’s girl. I was born when my mother was just getting ready for college. I was born in November, and my mother attended college in January of the following year. So, it meant that I spent under two months with my mother before she returned to college, and she was a resident student. 

I was in my formative years raised by my father. Then, when my mother was done with college, she came home and had a second baby. So, I clung on to my father even more. 

The critical piece to that information is that having a father figure who was quite involved in my life has shaped the person that I am today. I was told that I was a perfectionist. At some point, my parents even wondered whether I would survive kindergarten and early primary school because I wanted my things done in a particular way from a very young age. 

My mother told me that one time I went to school, somebody stepped on my white socks, and I refused to continue with the class. I cried that they had to call my parents to come and get me from school. From then on, my parents would pack an extra pair of white socks. 

  • Where did your sense of perfectionism stem from, and how did that shape things for you?  

So, my family is rooted in academics. One of my grandfathers was a professor, and my parents were in education. I have lots of aunties and uncles who are academics. I currently have an uncle who’s a dean of medicine, so it’s run in the family. Growing up in a space of academics, with some of them trained abroad, influenced me. It shaped the person that I am today. 

Although, I never thought that I would be in the academy. I loved the media space. I loved the glitz and the glamour of television. When I went to university, I studied communication, but with a heavy leaning on broadcast, and that’s where I started off. 

However, my mother didn’t want me to be in the media. She found it too fast-paced and aggressive for her firstborn child and little girl. So, many times, she would say, “I wish you could do something a lot more sober and contained, like being in the classroom.”

She felt that teaching was the noblest thing that anybody could do. Anyway, I started in the media, and I loved it. I loved the adrenaline rush. 

I admire the uncertainty of what the next hour would look like. Sometimes, you are in the newsroom, and it’s a very quiet day, and then something happens that throws everything off balance. That was really exciting for me. I got to a point where I was thinking, perhaps I could teach some of this. 

  • Tell us a bit more about your childhood. How was being primarily groomed by your father like for you?

I always tell my friends that I didn’t grow up; I was raised. When they asked me what that meant, I said I was nurtured, loved, and had two adorable parents. My mother tried to make up for all the time she was away while studying, and my father was just being a good dad by focusing on grooming me. 

I grew up with parents who were friends of mine before they were parents, which my siblings didn’t have the advantage of. Many of them who have all come after me sort of feel like I was a favoured child. 

My parents were more parents to them than friends. But, my case was the reverse. I see the value in having a father figure actively involved in my life because I come from a family of four girls and one brother. 

The fact that my parent had mainly daughters at a time when the boy child was preferred put some pressure on my mother. She told us many times that she wanted to have more boys at some point because of society’s expectations. But my father brought us up in a way that affirms that what boys do, girls can, too. He always said he never looked at us as girls or boys. He saw us as his children. So, we had all the opportunities that he could provide. 

He also moved out of the ancestral land. He bought a property not far from the ancestral land because he said there’d be a time when he was not alive, and he would want his children, boys and girls, to have access to all his assets and call his home theirs. 

One of the things that I have done, which is way out of what anybody would imagine, is that I built a house in my father’s compound, and it was the talk of the village for a while.

  • Tell us more about you building a house in your father’s compound and being mostly girls in your family. 

So, in my community, if the father dies, the boy child inherits the father’s estate. If you are on ancestral property, it goes without saying that your property gets passed on to the boy child. So my father was looking at a situation where he has four daughters and one son and wants all of us to have access to his property if he’s not there. The only way out for him was to buy a property and move away from the entanglements of ancestral land. So, buying his own property within the same community gave him the freedom to decide what he wanted to do with it without the encumbrances that came with it– this is what is expected of him. 

So with that, it then allows all his children, boys and girls, to have a say in his estate and to put up whatever they want to. He also divided his property among all his children.  

My father died several years back, and I lost my mother right at the height of COVID-19. Just before she died, she said, 

“Your father’s dream was that you people have a stake in his estate. If I’m not there, you have a right to this home, just like your brother does, all of you. So, going by your father’s wishes, it is our dream that you can put up a house here, and this becomes your sanctuary, the place where you can come and rest, recreate and connect with us as much as we are departed.” 

I said, but mum, girls don’t do that here, and she said, “But this was your father’s wish, and he said that many times, and you heard it.”

 So, I went ahead and did that.  

  • I can imagine that wasn’t just as straightforward as you mentioned. Was it?  

It wasn’t as straightforward. It still isn’t as straightforward. Never mind that I have a structure standing there, and it’s a beautiful home. 

First, at some point, I even wondered whether I would be ostracised from the community because that happens. However, it is something that is slowly being adopted in a culture that is hugely patriarchal because the assumption is that girls get married. When you get married, you leave your father’s home and everything there, and you go and set up where you’re married. But my father was very clear. He said marriage will not stop any of us from having access to his estate. 

I guess it was a lot easier for me to do it because I’m not married. I told my uncles, I’m here; I’m not going anywhere just yet. So, I need a place where when I come, I can rest. 

I said my mother’s house was for her grandkids, but my uncle refused that I can’t do it and they might have to think about it.

So, I just went ahead and started the construction. I thought I would not get construction workers because many of them would feel this is not something they want to do. But I had a great team of construction workers. They worked on the house and did everything that they could do.

Today, it has become the place where we all connect as siblings. My brother is also putting up a house, which will be up soon. 

The fact that I am there has created an example of what could be possible, even for my nieces. I remember one time going back to the village, we talked a lot about this. I have one of my neighbours back there who has four daughters say, “I just don’t know how to start, and I don’t know what everybody’s going to say.”

This is one thing that stops a lot of us as women from making the decisions that we want to make. We always think about who’s watching and what it means for everybody else.

The fact that I had solid parents and a father figure helped me a lot. I keep talking about this because it’s important that you have affirmation from male figures such as a father. I say that with a lot of humility because I know that many women do not have that advantage, yet they succeed. But for me, the constant affirmation from a father figure has shaped who I am today. 

So, I remember telling our neighbour, ‘Just start.’ She was reluctant, thinking of what people would say. I said, but do you sleep at night after people talk about you all day? She says yes. I said, you see, it doesn’t matter. You can still sleep at night and have a good night’s sleep. 

When I think about our home in the village, I look at it not just as honouring my parents’ wishes but as an opportunity to showcase to the rest of the community and the young girls there that they are a critical component of society. This is because when culture requires that you need to be married and you need to go away, then it puts undue pressure that oftentimes makes it difficult for women to succeed. 

  • How have you perceived your representation as an academic leader? What steps can organisations take to enhance it? 

I always thought I should just be in the classroom, and that’s what I like. And I must say that that’s where I thrive. It’s just one of those beautiful spaces to be in. So, leaders and supervisors have believed in me and mentored me to be who I am today. 

In terms of representation of women in academia, it is important that there are a significant number of women in academic leadership so that other younger women can see that it is possible. When there is a presence, and women can see somebody like them to point to, that allows them to dream and see what can be possible if they stay the course. 

The reality is that we do not have many examples in the context in which we operate. However, Aga Khan University (AKU) is very different. We’re currently at about 70 per cent of women in East Africa’s academic leadership. For example, we have four deans, and three of them are women. 

So, when I talk to my female students, I encourage them to take on leadership positions. There are instances where when a woman is thinking about whether they should even take up a leadership position in the newsroom, they will call me to seek my advice or guidance. But if I wasn’t in that space, they might not have as many places to go to bounce some of their ideas or express some of the challenges they are facing and get suggestions on how to resolve them.  

  • You taught in Liberia and also set up ABC University’s media and communication departments. Tell us about that.  

I’m a risk taker. I always believe that you will have a very boring life if you don’t take some of those risks. Going to Liberia was an opportunity that was presented to me when I was working at the University, and I was seconded by the leadership then, the vice chancellor, to support this university in post-war Liberia. 

I remember the first time he called me to his office to tell me about it; I said, what have I done? Why are you sending me to this place? Are you trying to get rid of me? And he said, no, it’s because we trust that you will deliver. Those words were important because I was able to go with a lot of confidence, knowing that I had the support and backing of my institution’s leadership. Arriving in Liberia was not anything that I had been prepared for. 

The university at the time that I went to, ABC University, had been receiving many visiting faculty from the US. So they were seeing a lot more male and white faculty coming into Liberia. So, I was the first black woman to go and work in Liberia at that time. That was so powerful for a lot of the female students, many of whom were either my age mates or older because the war that happened at the time had essentially robbed them of time and disrupted their education. 

So beyond just teaching, putting together the communication program and setting up the communication program, I would spend my weekends in the communities, going to social gatherings and speaking to the young women and high schools. It was so important for them because they could see what they could be. 

The first time that I met students, they protested that they were expecting somebody different, a lot older, with a bit more grey hair and some thick glasses, and I was tiny. I didn’t have as much weight as I have now. At least now I have a bit of grey hair, but I didn’t have any grey hair then. 

Also, in one of the first classes that I went to teach, which was an English class for communication students, one of the students raised their hand and said, before you start the class, could you put your credentials on the board? 

I said, very well, I’m happy to do that. I put my credentials on the board. Then, I asked if there was anything else they wanted to know. And they said no. 

So, I didn’t fight back. I said we are here to benefit from each other. There is a lot that I’m going to learn about you. I spoke about what I did not know about their culture, their country, and the gaps that I had. I said I’m relying on them to help me through this journey. I had so much support because I was vulnerable enough to come out and say, I may be the teacher here or the subject matter expert, but this education is taking place in a context I’m unfamiliar with. I need your help to contextualise much of the work we’ll be doing. It was a great time.

  •  Tell us more about the community work you did while in Liberia

I had a lot of speaking engagements with high school senior-year students. I talk to them about different careers, the value of education, and what it does to equalise all people, irrespective of their economic or social standing in the communities. 

That was also where my appreciation of the African dress came from. My students would laugh at me and say, we’re taking you to this event, and you’re speaking, but you cannot show up like that. So they would take me to the market where we would buy African fabrics, and they would make it fast for me.

I have pictures of me in African fabric looking lovely because it was important that I not only represented them in colour and gender but also dressed in a way they could relate to me.  

  •  Regarding your career journey, you spent some time broadcasting and working in the media, itself. How did you get into that? What was your experience?  

I got into the media through my internship as an undergraduate student. They thought I did so well, so they kept me on after that to balance my final year and work. After finishing, I continued working for KBC, a public service broadcaster. I also had a stint at the Nation Media Group, where they set up their broadcasting division. 

Interestingly, I didn’t stay there for too long because when I graduated with my first degree, one of our best lecturers in broadcast journalism was going to the US for his PhD. So, the university tried to recruit somebody to take on his position, but they failed. So they had this brilliant idea of why we don’t develop our talent. So, I got a scholarship to return to the university to pursue my master’s degree and start as a graduate assistant. 

That’s where my academic journey started.  

  •  You mentioned you come from a long line of academics. At this point, did you envision this as a potential career journey?

I took up that opportunity because I thought somebody was paying for my master’s. So why not?  It was because there was a financial incentive. I had thought I would work for a certain period to pay back. Then, I can return to what I love: the media. My mom was a primary school teacher in Nairobi, and I used to see how my mother would sit at home late at night, grading papers and working on lesson plans. I had said this is not the sort of life that I want. 

However, every time I walked into the class, I saw the students’ eyes light up, and we had great conversations. I was talking to them about things that I was passionate about. I would bring real-life examples because I was from a media space and felt so excited. At the end of the semester evaluation, they always had all these wonderful things to say about me. We had an interesting award at Daystar University, where students were awarded the best lecturer of the year. I got awarded, and I thought, at least this is a job where you feel appreciated. Students will tell you thank you for teaching. They will recognise you in the streets and the grocery store and say, “You are my teacher.”

Eventually, I thought, “Wow, this is great.” The newsroom is tough, and I’m just as good as my last story. So, that was how I decided to settle for academia. 

  •  You are now an Associate Professor and Dean at Aga Khan University Graduate School of Media and Communications. How did you make that leadership transition? What was that journey like for you?

In academia, you publish, bring in a couple of grants, and supervise. Then, in January 2012, I got to a point where I thought it had been almost seven years after I had completed my master’s degree, and I needed something different. 

At that point, I’m excited about growing things from the ground up. I had just come back from Liberia, and the experience there was quite rewarding. So, returning to settle the status quo was difficult for me. 

So I left Daystar and went to Multimedia University of Kenya. Although, Daystar was great. It has shaped a lot of who I am today. All my three degrees, my undergraduate, master’s and PhD, are from there. I’ve had great supervisors and mentors throughout my academic journey. A lot of them are local, but very many of them are also from different parts of the world. 

So, I joined Multimedia University in January of 2012. Then, in six months, I was made the department chair. I said, wait a minute, I was not coming here to do administration because I wanted to be in the classroom. I joined them at a time when I had just started my PhD. 

So I had this mindset that because it’s a public university, I have all the freedom to teach my classes and do my PhD. It was a young university, and the faculty of media communications was just launching new programmes. So I thought I could support that and study, stay under the radar, and quietly do what I needed to do. But in six months, I was made the department chair, and all my plans went out of the window. 

I became aggressively involved in developing new programmes, student recruitment, and faculty development. I was there for five years. 

I graduated with my PhD while I was working there. I had great support from the leaders because there were seasons when I would just completely take time off to go and concentrate on my studies. I said I needed something exciting, so the Aga Khan University opportunity came calling. 

At that point, I was tired of administration. I just want to go and sit somewhere quiet, teach my classes, do my research, go home, play with the dogs in the evening, have an easy life, and do some marking. Let’s just say I did that, and the holiday did not last too long. So, in about five months, I became the programme coordinator for the Master of Arts in Digital Journalism. Then, I became the Director of Academic Affairs about one and a half years later. Then I became Associate Dean and Interim Dean, and now I’m the Dean.  

  •  All of those steps seemed like a labour of love and late nights. What was the reality of achieving those milestones like for you?  

It doesn’t come easy. You have to put in the work, and you have to, in whatever role you have, give it your best shot. And I did that with a lot of passion and commitment. 

Some of those things just happen. However, it is important for us to understand that you have to put in the work. The reality is that women put in a lot of work. I have put in a lot of work to get to this point. That work would mean that you’re not only teaching, but you are also supervising students, you are pursuing grants, you are working in the professional development area, you are engaged with the stakeholders and networking with the industry in a big way so that the training and education that you are providing is relevant and address the needs of the community. 

There will be times when you will fail at it. However, recognising that you can improve and learn and improve is also essential. It also means that you’re also serving the community. You can define the community in various ways. For me, that service to the community has been a service to the media profession. I’ve served in the Kenya Editors Guild in very many of the sub-committees. 

I just stopped doing that when I became the dean. I have served in professional associations, which have received no monetary return. Nonetheless, the experience and the networks that it gives me are something that money cannot buy. I served in the Media Complaints Commission for three years, from 2020 to late last year. 

It was a labour of love, and seeing the decisions you make that save media houses huge penalties is very rewarding.

  • It’s one thing to get a seat at the table and another to have your presence at the table respected so you can impact your communities and society. What was your experience as a woman in such spaces?

When I joined the Media Compliance Commission, a quasi-judicial outfit that adjudicates and mediates media-related disputes, I applied for it. At the point of my application, I thought I didn’t have the chance because I had no legal background.

But then I applied anyway, and then I saw that I’d been shortlisted. Before I went in for the interview, I spent a lot of time talking to my brother, who’s a lawyer. I read some of the previous cases that the previous commissions determined and went into the interview. 

And, of course, I understand the journalism landscape. So when I was selected, because I think we were about 280 applicants, they shortlisted 28 and picked the best seven. I was selected among the top seven. 

So the lesson I learned from that is that if you do not take the opportunity or seize the opportunity, who will know that you’re there? I’ve done this myself as well. Sometimes, I will see an opportunity, and I’m like, ah, I don’t think I’m the person for it. I don’t think I have everything. I don’t tick all the boxes. 

Let me tell you, I have learned that men will seize opportunities even when they do not meet half of the criteria. But for us women, we want to make sure we have everything aligned. If we have one shortfall or what we imagine is a shortcoming, then we say, it’s not for me. 

There’ve been instances, again, where I’ve given up and just said, I don’t have the time, I don’t have the energy, I will not do this. What keeps me going is because sometimes people will push me and say, you have to go for it. So, there will be times when I do the things that I do to silence those in my network who are propelling me to those positions or those roles. I said I’ll just do this so that Yemisi can get off my back.  

  • What are some of the things you have done or think need to be done in terms of having adequate structures, policies and support systems for women to take leadership positions in academia? 

Culturally relevant mentorship is a critical piece of it. This is because, for women in the academy, you will be working in various cultures. Part of what I mean by culturally relevant mentorship is that I can provide mentorship in a context where I understand the realities. 

For example, I just concluded a study on the state of women in media in East Africa, which gives me not just the confidence but also the data to support some of the things that I am doing. That’s what cultural relevance is for me. 

So it’s great to be mentored, but it’s also important that some of those within your mentorship journey understand the realities of what it means. So, for instance, putting up a house in my father’s compound is something that somebody in a different context would wonder about, but it is a huge deal in the culture that I’m operating in. 

Another thing that I’ve intentionally done is that I actively seek out women to be involved in the research work that I do to join either as adjuncts or in a full-time capacity and to take on various leadership roles in and out of the academy. 

Also, there are times when the last thing I want is to be invited to a speaking role. So it’s a Twitter space conversation, and it’s happening from 8 p.m. at the end of a long day, where I have been looking at the numbers the entire time. They just don’t add up, and I just want to go home and sleep, but I have to show up because if I don’t show up, then somebody will not see that representation, and it’s gonna disadvantage them.  

  • What’s next for you? Are we going to see Vice-Chancellor Nancy Booker anytime soon?  

I honestly don’t know what’s next. I’ll keep doing what I am doing now, do it to the best of my ability, and wait to see what comes up next.  

 

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