Can a Woman Have It All?

I am a champion of women’s rights and equal opportunities. I have always been. I believe the concept was introduced to me from the very day I was born. My mother often tells me stories of how my father wanted his first child to be a girl, who would attend Wesley Girls’ High School, go to university, become a lawyer and show the world that a woman could do anything and everything a man could do. My mother was 100% in support of everything my father wanted for me. Except that she wanted me to have more. She wanted me to be a woman who would have it all. Where all means a husband, children, a successful career and a fulfilling social life with family and friends. 44 years later, here I am pondering over the question “can a woman really have it all?”. I look back at the progression of my life and have come to the conclusion that the answer to that question is not a “yes” or a “no” but “it depends”. In my opinion, for a woman, unlike a man, the chance of having it all depends on three main factors: one’s parents, one’s partner and the law. Let me illustrate this with my own life story. I was not born with a silver spoon in my mouth. My parents were mature students when I was born. My father, a teaching assistant at the University of Ghana at the time, was completing his master’s degree in law and missed my birth by a few hours as he was sitting an exam when my mother went into labour in Larteh-Akuapem where I was born. My mother had recently completed her studies with flying colours. They had the highest hopes for me despite their lowly beginnings. They set up their first home in Accra in a neighbourhood called Teshie-tiafe3he (loosely translated to mean ‘next to the public toilets’). As you can probably glean from the name of the area, it was not a nice neighbourhood. But my parents were determined to give me and my brother (of blessed memory) the very best foundation to have the best shot at achieving everything they hoped and dreamed for us. I had exceptional parents in that regard. The very best. My mother tells me that the early 80s were not easy for any young couple starting a family. Ghana was going through turbulent times politically and economically. It was against this backdrop that my parents made every sacrifice to give us the best education. I recall my early years with my late brother, starting off in Nigeria where my father had secured lecturing positions in universities in Port Harcourt and Calabar. I recall moving to our Teshie home with my mother and attending the Morning Star School in Cantonments while my father remained in Nigeria for a few more years so they could pay for our education. When my father returned to Ghana because he wanted to be with his family, he joined the Ghana School of Law as a lecturer. I would describe Morning Star School at the time as a school for the new elite in society, alongside schools like Christ the King, Ridge Church and North Ridge Lyceum. It was not cheap for us to attend that school and for my parents who did not earn much, it meant we had to live in Teshie-tiafe3he, and not own a family car. For us, our daily journey to school with my mother was by trotro or tsoloole (wooden mammy truck), depending on her budget for the day, from Teshie to Labadi, then from Labadi to Danquah Circle, and then a long walk from Danquah Circle to Morning Star. If we were lucky, because we were in uniform, we would get a lift from Danquah Circle to school in what was almost always a ‘posh car’, because you know, Morning Star parents were generally quite wealthy. Looking back, I applaud my parents for the way they raised us. I applaud my mother especially for the dignity with which she carried us and herself to and from a school like Morning Star to a home in our neighbourhood and still managed to instil in us a sense of pride, gratitude, and love for who we were as a family. I don’t know how my parents did it but I do know that I always felt comfortable and content with my home, my school and my life in general. In fact, it was not until I was 10 years old, when my parents bought their first car, a second-hand red honda prelude, and we moved into my father’s official residence in Teshie-Nungua Estates, a house with its own garden, wall and gates, which was an absolute dream for us, that it occurred to me that we must have been living a life of hardship up until then. I witnessed my parents’ unrelenting hard work and great entrepreneurial spirit in starting their own businesses and growing them into the household names they became. We had our ups and downs, having to pack up and move house a few times out of necessity. My parents instilled in me the work ethic I have in me today, backed by unshaken resilience, and taught me that I could achieve anything in life if I set my mind to it. My gender was never an issue for them. So with that background, and with having the parents that I had who wanted the best for me, who made me believe that being a girl was irrelevant in determining what I could achieve in life, and that the sky was the limit for me, I made it to Wesley Girls’ High School. Wesley Girls was an absolute blessing to me. A world class school by many standards. I truly believe that there is no better place in Ghana to instil the kind of confidence in a girl child to believe that what a man can do, a woman can do too. Even better in some cases. My parents made even more sacrifices to send me to England to study law. I gained a master’s degree in business administration, and got called to the Bar at Lincoln’s Inn in London. I have never seen happier parents in my life than I did my parents on the day I was called to the Bar in London. In fact, the only time I have ever seen my father tipsy was at my call dinner in London some 20 years ago. I saw how much that achievement meant to them, especially as my darling brother, their only son, had sadly passed away when I was in law school, and I was determined to make them proud. I got called to the Ghana Bar after my call to the English Bar and undertook my pupillage at Bentsi-Enchill & Letsa in Accra. As far as I was concerned at the time, I felt very fulfilled and was well on my way to having it all. I had supportive parents who had encouraged me to set my foot on an amazing career path, I was training at the best law firm in Ghana, and I was preparing to marry the man of my dreams, my now ex-husband. I had no doubt in my mind that a woman could have it all. I married the man of my dreams, moved to live with him in Wales and secured a pupillage at 9 Park Place Chambers, a leading, if not the leading, set of chambers in Wales. I became the first African woman to practise as a barrister on the Wales and Chester circuit of the Bar of England and Wales. Those who know how challenging it is to secure a pupillage and then a tenancy to practise as a barrister in England and Wales will appreciate that my journey to tenancy in chambers was like a camel going through the eye of a needle. All the odds were stacked against me. I did not have the elitist background characteristic of a candidate for the English Bar at the time. To complicate matters further, I fell pregnant with my first daughter towards the end of my pupillage before I secured tenancy. I used to make a nervous joke at the time that I might as well throw in a disability to complete the odds stacked against me. I was a woman. A black woman. A black African woman. A pregnant black African woman. A pregnant black African woman born and bred in Ghana who was not Oxbridge educated. Thankfully, my colleagues in chambers accepted my application for tenancy and welcomed me, I am sure with some hesitation, as one of two new tenants that year, the other a white male with the quintessential characteristics of a barrister. When I joined chambers as a tenant, I was full of confidence that I would have an amazing career at the Bar and progress to the Bench alongside my male colleague who joined chambers the same time as I did. I had no reason to believe that he and I would not have the same degree of progression. After all, I considered that we were both equally competent and we both worked equally hard enough to achieve similar feats. If I’m honest I secretly saw myself as some kind of Ruth Bader Ginsburg (look her up) making her way up to the Supreme Court one day. My parents had raised me to believe that it was not unreasonable for me to aim for the sky anyway. They had made the sacrifices they made so that, unlike them, I could have it all. So that I could have the husband, the children, the successful career and the fulfilling social life. And then my little bundle of joy arrived and my life was turned upside down. In a good way. My daughter became the centre of my life. I immediately understood all the sacrifices my parents had made for me. There was no question in my mind as to what my priority was. My family became my priority and my career took a close second place. Although I had placed my family before my career, I still wanted to have a successful career at the Bar. I had not come this far in my career for nothing. So I told myself “Irene, of course you can still have it all, just at a slower pace than your male colleagues would”. So I slowed it down, worked part time hours, placed my daughter in nursery as soon as she could attend and did my best to juggle a family life and a career. At the time, I did not consider the other factors I alluded to earlier i.e. my partner and the law. I think I took those matters for granted. Given the parents that I had and having ticked the first box of factors, I had taken for granted that like Ruth Bader Ginsburg I would have a Marty Ginsburg by my side cheering me on and supporting me unconditionally to reach for the sky, and that the law would also afford me equal opportunities that would enable me to have it all just like my male colleagues would. Boy was I wrong. Once I began living the reality of life as a wife, mother and career woman, it began to dawn on me that perhaps a woman could not have it all after all and that perhaps the sooner I accepted that reality as a fact of life, the more fulfilled my life would become. It dawned on me that my own mother had sacrificed her promising career to raise her family and that she had accepted wholeheartedly that she could not have it all and chose family over career. Although she has always said she has no regrets, I could appreciate why she wanted for me what she gave up as soon as I was born. My father on the other hand, being male, with the full support of my mother, had a very successful career and despite the sacrifices he made for his family, those sacrifices were mainly financial and did not include slowing down his career or giving it up altogether. I make no criticism of my father, my ex-husband or men in their positions at all. Granted, they are no Marty Ginsburgs but then to be fair to them Marty was a unicorn. Very rare. If we are honest, very few men across the world fully support their partners to truly have it all. Where all means the husband, children, a successful career and a fulfilling social life. And I could not really blame the law either. Because blaming the law without doing anything to change it was pointless. I consider that the law is inherently patriarchal and discriminatory and does not really make room for women to have it all. Unfair but fact. So I made a conscious decision to pose to myself the poignant question “can a woman really have it all?” and to answer that question honestly. It was only then, in the midst of extreme exhaustion in trying to juggle family and work in a far away land where the kind of extended family support and domestic help we take for granted here in Ghana doesn’t exist, that I accepted that I could not have it all and feel fulfilled. It was only upon that acceptance, unfair as it was, that my life took a satisfying turn. By the time I had my second bundle of joy, I knew that I would not be returning to my career at the Bar in England and Wales and like my mother did, I wholeheartedly accepted that as a woman in today’s world, I could not have it all. As sad as that makes me feel for us women, that was the best decision I ever made for myself and my beautiful girls. My current role in higher education as a Rector of a university college and as a law lecturer has been my most fulfilling career-wise. I adore my work colleagues and my students so much that I know I will never regret leaving the Bar of England and Wales and returning home to Ghana to a new career in education. My life with my beautiful daughters gives me the greatest indescribable sense of purpose and I am so proud that I made a conscious decision to put them first above all else. And my social life with my family and my friends is so deeply rewarding that I couldn’t ask for a better circle of family and friends. I do acknowledge though that the world needs more Marty Ginsburgs and better gender equality laws and I am hopeful that my daughters will be able to have it all. For now, I know that although my life has had its fair share of twists and turns, I am content with my life as a woman who doesn’t have it all but will work towards a better future for her daughters to do so. I am full of admiration for women who make certain bold choices in the face of disapproving societal norms. A choice not to marry at all or defer when to marry. A choice not to have children at all or defer when to have them. A choice not to pursue a career at all or defer when to pursue one. A choice to alter a career path to make room for family. A choice to keep going against all odds and strive to have it all. Where all means a husband, children, a successful career and a fulfilling social life. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Irene Ansa-Asare. I am an Educated African Woman. Unapologetically so.