“The Women’s Bakery? What’s that?”

Back in October 2015, I happened to bump into current TWB Director of Impact, Meg North, at a local restaurant in Kigali. I was a newly minted Peace Corps Volunteer, and she was launching a social enterprise focusing on women’s empowerment and education, through baking bread- The Women’s Bakery. The following trajectory felt like fate.

About 10 months later, TWB’s Founder and Co-Founder, Markey and Julie, gave a presentation at my Mid-Service Conference, and I learned they were both Rwanda Returned Peace Corps Volunteers (RPCVs). I was completed moved by their hybrid business model, their focus on women and their successful launch of bakery operations in Kigali. Their approach was innovative, holistic and matched perfectly with my vision for international development and public health solutions. I still had a year left of my Peace Corps service but made it a point to keep in touch and follow TWB’s activities. I even started baking bread at my site!

Then, in March 2017, TWB and The Peace Corps partnered on an event, Let Girls Ride, in honor and support of International Women’s Day. This bike ride began in the lush green hills of Northern Rwanda and ended, 70 km later, in the cityscapes of Kigali. The project had two goals: promoting girl’s empowerment, education and gender equality and fundraising through solidarity rides in the U.S. to help TWB purchase a brand new bike for bread transport.

I was hooked. Not only did I had the incredible opportunity to meet and collaborate with TWB staff during my service, I spent two years in my rural Rwandan community designing and executing food security, nutrition, and hygiene projects through a women’s empowerment lens. I felt that joining the TWB team was the perfect next step after my Peace Corps service and the beginning of a meaningful career.

Now, as the The Women’s Bakery Program Manager, I am looking forward to managing all existing and upcoming bakery projects in Rwanda, including overseeing trainings, problem solving with the wicked smart TWB team, and empowering women through business training, education and health promotion. I feel so lucky to have this role. This week I hit the ground running with bakery visits, team meetings, strategizing solutions and, of course, eating bread!

After one week, I’ve seen the determination, perseverance and grit it takes to operate a bakery, manage a team and balance daily tasks with a broader vision.

I’ve seen the power of bread and the impact it has on women’s lives. I’ve seen joy, and I’ve seen struggle. I’ve witnessed the most passionate people dig deep to find sustainable solutions to complicated issues.

And the thing I’m most excited about? Watching women realize their full potential, autonomy, and not allowing anyone or anything stop them.

What Cows Taught Me About Exclusion

In the wake of discussions centered on inclusion and what it means to be a part of a community that is inclusive, I have been reflecting on one of my own stories from my time living in Southwest Uganda.

From 2013 to 2014 I took a year off of graduate school to work as a Program Coordinator for a malnutrition project in Rukungiri, Uganda. We had a small team made up of nursing staff, nursing students, and volunteers and were tasked with providing inpatient and outpatient malnutrition services for Rukungiri District. As part of the program we inherited, we were managing two cows that were cared for by a herdsman. The cows had been approved to graze on pasture owned by the Catholic hospital that we were working at. The goal of having the cows was to produce milk to help feed severely and moderately malnourished inpatients.

One day one of the Catholic nuns told me they were kicking our cows off the pasture because they needed the land for their cows. An alarming proposition, considering milk from their cows was generating profits that went into their pockets. The Catholic church and the hospital then told us there was no other grazing land available and we would have to leave their land immediately.

As we were in the process of finding an alternative solution for our cows, the hospital administrator called me into his office and accused our herdsman of theft. I assured him that there had been no issues and asked for evidence that might support his accusation. He said it was verbal and the herdsman had to be fired on the spot.

Furious, but aware of my own role as an outsider in this community, I left to speak with the herdsman. Knowing that we had no other place to graze our cows and that we would likely have to sell them, we agreed on a few months severance for him and promised we would help him look for additional work. Alarmed once again, our herdsman told me, “You know I didn’t steal anything. They only want me gone because I am Protestant.” I was in shock. Over the next few months I learned of other similar situations in which the administration had removed staff based on religion.

In communities that hold high standards for equality, how are things like this happening? How will inclusion ever be possible if top leadership teams are sending a different message? Sadly, this has not been the end to stories such as this. We face these kinds of challenges in Rwanda and the U.S. as well.

However, I remain optimistic that TWB women value inclusion in their own bakery communities and are supporting one another despite their differences.

Thank you to our women in Remera who have shown me over the last few weeks how to stand up to those who don’t include others.

We need your strength today and everyday. 

The Story Behind the Logo

Slightly lopsided, with uneven cement grounding the stakes, it was still a rather perfect moment.

Perfect, because a man called Serugendo (coming from the Kinyarwanda word “urugendo”, meaning journey) was the one hammering our sign into the ground. He, with TWB guard, Steve, of course. Stick around TWB Headquarters for a while and you too will see – there’s a lot of hands, minds, and support in every nook and cranny.

In a lovely picture of irony, Meg and I stood back to admire the sign in front of us: “The Women’s Bakery.” After years of planning, learning, and dreaming – this idea of bread and empowerment was really happening. It has been a journey.

The weeks following the placement of our sign were full of interesting questions, calls, and chatter. Passersby were excited to understand more fully what we do – and it gave us an opportunity to explain. Our logo in our signature yellow-gold color was in a prominent place for all to see. The logo features a woman with outstretched arms, fingers held up, conveying the image of traditional Rwandan dance. This is a posture that represents the power of a cow with lengthy long-horns, and also alludes to celebration for harvest for the season of crops. When you see a dance like that, with dirt rising from the pounding of feet to earth, it’s an incredibly moving experience. It stirs a strength from within.

Because it is reminiscent of Rwandan dance, we received interesting inquiries about dancing lessons or performances that would be occurring at our office. These made us laugh and create another entry-point for what the symbol means and how it translates to what we do. We don’t teach dance, we would gently tell our friends, we teach women how to maintain a business, how to incorporate nutrition into her life, and how to bake bread. Rooted in empowerment, the woman in our logo channels all of these things.

And so, because we don’t teach dance, we are excited to share the real story behind the logo. The logo was crafted by Darsey Landoe, a graphic designer in Portland and friend of Markey.

Markey introduced me to so many people and experiences in Rwanda, and blew both my worldview and view of myself wide open. One thing that stood out to me was watching people dance at church one Sunday. Women, men, kids, all dancing and singing and banging a giant drum with an uninhibited enthusiasm. Not self-aware like Americans, but big, loud, clear, honest, true. Dancing for no one but themselves. That image is stamped hard in my memory. I want to live my life like they danced their dance that day. 

When Markey asked me to do the logo for TWB, I thought back to that moment in Rwanda. Markey told me the dance the women did with their arms out was meant to literally represent cows, and metaphorically represent harvest. I didn’t want a cute logo with a loaf of bread. I wanted something with meaning. That was it.