Femme Kassaï
COLONIAL PROPAGANDA PHOTOGRAPHY : ANALYSING FEMME DE KASSAÏ BY ALEXANDRE
Portrait of an African woman holding a vase is part of the photographic collection of the Royal Museums of Arts and History. It is preserved as a gelatin dry plate of 8,5 by 10 cm [3.35 × 3.94 in]. An edition of this image is also preserved in Paris (Bibliothèque Nationale de France) and registered as Femme de Kassaï in the collection “45 photographies de types d’indigènes du Congo belge”.
This French occurrence offers valuable contextual insights that aid in interpreting the image, while also highlighting the inherent challenges in studying certain ethnographic photographs. These challenges stem not only from the colonial context in which they were produced but also from the difficulties in identifying the subjects, their customs, and, in some cases, even the photographers themselves.
In this case, the photograph was taken by Alexandre (Albert Edouard Drains, 1855–1925), an amateur and studio photographer, known for producing both photographs and films during the Belgian colonial exhibitions of 1894 and 1897. Contributing to a broader propaganda campaign that sought to promote and justify colonial expansion, he took this picture during the Antwerp World Fair in 1894.
At the time, the Congo Free State—privately owned by King Leopold II—was facing severe financial difficulties. To address these, the Antwerp World Fair was strategically used as a tool to generate public support for the colony, with the implicit aim of attracting investors and legitimising the colonial enterprise. Despite the brutal forced labour system–particularly on rubber plantations which led to the deaths of millions of people–the fair sought to present a positive image of Leopold's rule.
As part of the exhibition, a Congolese village was constructed, where 144 Congolese individuals were forced to perform staged reenactments of their supposed everyday life. This artificial setting was carefully designed to highlight the contrast between the so-called “primitive” Africa and the “superior” Europe. Visitors were introduced to the “mysterious continent” through these performances, reinforcing the colonial narrative that depicted Africa as an exotic and primitive land in need of European civilization.
Within this controlled environment, Congolese people were instructed to engage in activities such as canoeing, metalworking, and music-making. The entire display functioned as a means to reinforce ethno-racial categories and uphold the colonial narrative of African inferiority. Amplifying this imperialist spectacle, photographers like Alexandre played a key role, producing images meant to serve as perfect ethnographic examples. To enhance the illusion of authenticity, they sometimes positioned subjects against painted backdrops resembling African landscapes or decontextualising the figure in an unlocalisable natural environment. These portraits emphasised physical features such as scarification and jewellery, while stripping subjects of individuality, presenting them as specimens rather than people.
Femme de Kassaï exemplifies the exploitative nature of these images. It depicts a woman from Kassaï, a former province of the Belgian Congo, now part of the twenty-one provinces of the Democratic Republic of the Congo following the 2015 territorial reorganisation. Her eyes are cast downward, seemingly avoiding the camera. Her partial nudity emphasises her scarification, reducing her body to an object of anthropological curiosity. This averted gaze suggests a resistance to her imposed role, while her dignified expression, tinged with resignation, conveys a quiet defiance. Yet, for European audiences, such photographs–alongside the staged Congolese villages–were celebrated as authentic representations of African life, reinforcing colonial narratives of racial hierarchy and primitivism.
Some researchers, such as Laetitia-Marie Dujardin, contend that Alexandre, like many of his contemporaries, was primarily driven by a fascination with the so-called “discovery” of the African population (Dujardin, 2001). By the late 19th century, most Belgians had never encountered Congolese people, and this unfamiliarity fuelled a voyeuristic curiosity, often cloaked in the language of scientific inquiry. Yet, despite their seemingly documentary nature, these photographs were anything but neutral. As Olivier Barlet asserts, “Colonialism has been a dispossession of space, a deprivation of identity” (Barlet, 2000). Photography was not merely a passive tool for documentation; it serves as an active instrument of domination. In this sense, Femme de Kassaï is far more than just an ethnographic portrait; it stands as a powerful reminder of how photography was weaponised to construct racial hierarchies, dehumanise colonised subjects, and reinforce the ideological underpinnings of imperial rule.
