This one is all about the women. The day you received your drivers’ license, the night you crammed your toes into high heels and wobbled into the world four inches taller—these are typical milestones in the march to womanhood. But in parts of Liberia and Sierra Leone, a mask like this one is a major marker. Elder women wear them during the initiation of girls into womanhood, when they are instructed in ethics, marriage, childcare, personal finance, and traditional songs and dances. The mask reflects their shared aspirations: the carefully ordered hair, high forehead, downcast eyes, and dark skin are all Mende ideals of feminine beauty.
Strong enough for a man, made for a woman. In Africa, masks are generally worn by men, but Sande masks are strictly for women to wear during performances.
One local name for the Sande mask—nowo—also refers to the chrysalis of a butterfly. Both are shiny, black, and lozenge-shaped, and the horizontal bands on the chrysalis mirror those on the neck of the mask. More importantly, Sande initiation is transformative, like the metamorphosis of a caterpillar into a butterfly.
You’ll know a woman initiated into Sande by her hair: elaborate, braided hairstyles like this are the calling cards of sophisticated, cultured women. (It’s said that Mende men prefer a plain woman who is well-coiffed over a beautiful woman with disheveled locks.) And you’ll know the skill of Mende artists by how carefully they carved these hairstyles on masks.
The bird on the crown of this mask is most likely a hen, a metaphor for Sande initiation, which nurtures and protects women but also disciplines and monitors them. As a Mende proverb describes the relationship, “The hen sits on her brood but does not crush them.”
The neck rings found on Sande masks represent creases that are considered attractive on both men and women. Some women attempt to create these creases by tying threads around their necks.