But Some of Us Are Brave

March 8, 2007

Most people who really know me, or have at least heard one of my angry rants, can tell you that I dislike feminism. When I hear the word, I feel my body go into an extreme lurch and I almost enter a bout of dry heaving. My eyes automatically begin to roll, I suck peppermint (that's some ole Black Southern diction for ya), and start to sigh heavily enough for everyone around to hear and see.

My disdain for feminism started early, I suppose. Although I don't necessarily remember my mother actually having a conversation with me about it, I do seem to remember snippets of conversations that she'd had with other women concerning the matter.

"These feminists…"

Anybody with a Black mama knows how "these" was pronounced, and thus can understand how I came to understand feminism as a bad thing.

The first time I actually heard a Black woman speak against feminism was in eighth grade. My Black female teacher was going over "American history" with us when we encountered the part about the "Women's Movement." Like my mother, the contempt was scribed across her face for all to see. She sucked a bit of peppermint too.

Noticing that this was clearly our cue to ask for her take on feminism, somebody piped up and asked, "what do you think about feminism?" (I believe they mispronounced the word.)
Her eyes brightened, her hand found her hip, and her right leg was assigned to bear the whole of her weight. She leaned in as if she was about to share the secrets of the Nile with us. We leaned in to hear them.

"Feminism," she paused for added drama. "Is for WHITE women."

"White" was pronounced by elongating the "wh," spitting out the "i," and placing so much emphasis on the "t" that you thought she could've probably bruised her tongue saying it. But the overly exaggerated syllables weren't necessary for us to get the point. In my inner-city Chicago magnet school located at the top of Pill Hill, and filled with the children of educated and professional Black men and women, we knew that if something was for "white" people, then it damn sure wasn't for us. Nobody would ever intentionally want to be like white people. (Which is so very sad seeing as I don't remember one Black girl in my class who didn't have a head full of relaxed and bone-straight hair.) In fact, calling someone "white," was an extreme insult.
"Oh, you ackin white," was akin to accusing somebody of "ackin funny," which we all know is the worst crime a Black child can commit.

When pressed further, she explained to us that feminism was simply another tool that white men have used, and were using to further drive a wedge between Black men and women. When I went home that night and reported these new findings to my mother, she neither agreed with nor refuted them, verbally. She pursed her lips and did a quick nodding of her head to the side, which I knew meant, "sho ya right."

So, after that, feminism was off limits to me. Not that I was encountered with it much. I went to a predominantly Black and Hispanic high school and nobody was discussing feminism. Which further proved, to me, that it didn't have anything to do with me.

When I entered college, I was made to take a course called Writing As Critical Thinking (all my
Trumanites know what's up). One day, my tall, lanky, grey-haired, white, female teacher brought up feminism and sing its praises. My eyes instantly started to head to the furthest regions of my head.

But the woman gave it such a glowing review. She made it seem like it was the second coming of the Civil Rights Movement. I decided to check it out a bit more. As I did my research, I found out that feminism had several waves. As I went through each of the most acknowledged three, I saw something. Or I didn't see something.

I didn't see no Black women! Sure, I found them here and there, but they weren't like any of the Black women I knew, loved, or respected. And they were always sidled right up next to a white woman. And then, after reading a synopsis of Betty Friedan's "Feminist Mystique," my sheer disgust was replaced with contempt when I read bell hooks' comments that accused feminism of simply being white women speaking for all women but not knowing a damn thing about, or giving a damn about, anybody but themselves. (Like Ms. Friedan's assumptions about women not being allowed to work out of the house. Ummm, does this sound like the experience of most Black women? Hell, does it sound like the experience of poor WHITE women of her day?) Then I read where Patricia Hill Collins talked about how Black women have often been rejected by feminists and how feminism has often looked very anti-family from many Black women's perspective. And so, there it was. Proof that my teacher was correct.

And I'm sure somebody will read up to this point and think that this is going to become some story about how some glorious thing happened that caused me to see feminism differently and move into the light.

And they would be wrong. I don't see feminism differently. But it's not for a lack of trying. At the disdain and amazement of some of my friends, I opted to take a Women's Studies course. I sat patiently for a whole semester while whole chapters went on and on about the difficult struggles of being a white woman, and all "women of color" were given a couple of paragraphs at the back of each chapter. It became even clearer to me then that there are "women" and then there are "Black women." If you don't believe me, then ask yourself why people constantly use the term "women and minorities" as if some minorities aren't women. Because the only "woman" in this world is the white woman and the rest of us folks with vaginas are hyphenated versions of the sex. Sort of like African-American. Sorta American, but not quite there. "Black women." Sorta women, but not there at all.

And then there was the time when I requested the presence of the "women's" organization on-campus at an event which concerned a serious issue for Black women; AIDS. I didn't get an answer until I marched my Black ass over to the "women's" center stated that this kind of shit is why so many Black women don't like feminism. I was met with claims of incompetency on behalf of the organization.

So, why would any sane Black woman label herself as a feminist? Why would a Black woman volunteer to call herself part of a movement that didn't have a damn thing to do with her? (Oh, except for those convenient abortion clinics they've placed all up and through our neighborhoods for our "convenience," and "reproductive choice." Hmmmm.) I understand that, except for womanism, there isn't really a term that applies to Black women who believe in equality for women, but I'd rather just show people what I believe than use a label doesn't accurately portray who I am.

I have no clue, but since this blog is getting long, let me get down to my most recent encounter.
In December, I was asked if my organization (Sankofa) would like to co-sponsor one of two women:

Inga Muscio. Author of "Cunt." White. Female. Feminist.

Or

Deidre McCalla. Musician. Black. Female. Feminist.

Well, as much as I love to hear the literary Elvis' (white people who make money off of speaking about the pain and suffering of African-Americans) go on and on about the evil "white man," (which I think is just a way to get the blame off of them and make us forget that they too are white), and as attracted as I am to a book named "Cunt," I decided to go with the sista. Even though there was a "feminist" in there, I thought it would be extremely shady for the Black student organization to choose to co-sponsor a white woman who talks about racism from perception when there are so many Black people who can talk about racism from experience.
She performed for about an hour. It was good…if you like that sort of music. For me, Tracy Chapman and India.Arie are about as far as I delve into the acoustic world. (Oh, and John Mayer, but he's more pop, right?)

Then came the lecture, which was actually a discussion. She began to talk about being a lesbian, mother, and feminist. Although I got nothing but love for the first two categories, I was waiting for her to talk about being BLACK. I saw, in that audience, a number of really liberal folks who've said most offensive, outlandish, coonish, and racist bullshit to me without even knowing that they sounded like the exact people they claim to differ from. I thought, "here's their chance to learn. Here's a feminist. They'll listen to her."

But, it never came. Even at the prodding of a professor who spoke of Audre Lorde, (who, for all of her brilliant intelligence, was known to prefer white women. Hmmm.) and her comment about the feminist movement being largely led by white women who have the audacity to speak for all women.

She answered the question by talking about a group she started in Atlanta for the children of gays and lesbians, and how some of the white parents had issues with race that they'd dismiss by saying, "I teach Black kids," or "I have Black friends."

Yes, yes, yes. We know. Everybody in that room should already know that the whole "I'm not racist cause I have a black friend" bullshit is tired. (As Kat Williams would say, "that's nothing but entertainment for n*ggas.") But I was looking for more. Some in-depth speech about how she's had to reconcile her Black self with her feminist self.

But, it never came. Perhaps, for her, she didn't have to reconcile anything. Perhaps feminism comes rather naturally for her. But, at the end of the day, especially after talking to my roommate whom I sat next to, I was even more disenfranchised and tired of feminism than I was before. I understand a Black woman wanting to fight for the rights of women, but I can't say I understand why they choose to align themselves with white women to do that. I mean, historically, white women, with some exceptions, ain't been all that nice to us. Remember Ms. Anne?

But maybe I've got it all wrong. I've read that the co-founder of NOW was a Black woman (although the white woman got to be the first president. Hmmm.) I know that certain suffragettes were also abolitionists, and to them, I'm much obliged. Besides, maybe third wave feminism does include Black women. Maybe the feminists have woken up and gotten a whiff of that good Starbucks. But maybe, just maybe, we're still the tokens that they use so that they can appear to believe in equality.

And so I journey on. Dodging feminism like that inevitable bullet that you know is coming when you have the stupidity to watch a bunch of Black folks fighting. As I have the impudence to have several white liberal and female friends, I know feminism will come up. I dread it each time. I dread any comments about women's rights, or abortion, or anything of the sort. It's not because I don't believe in women's rights. (Not including abortion. I ain't down with that.) It's not that I'm not aware of patriarchy. When you grow up hearing your father say things like, "ain't nobody free in this world but the white man and the black woman," you can't help but see the extreme ignorance that sexism can produce. And I do want to see women treated fairly because I'm a woman. Because my mother is a woman. Because my sister is a woman. Because I know and love more women on this Earth than any other thing.

But I suppose that I have the knowledge, or at least, the belief, that until people my color are free, there really ain't much sense worrying about whether women are free or not. Black women were enslaved because they were Black, not because they were women. Black women were lynched because they were Black, not because they were women. Black women didn't get the right to vote in 1920 because they were Black, not because they were women. When my grandmother was pregnant with my mother, and my great-grandmother was pregnant with her children, they were kept out of certain hospitals because they were Black, not because they were women. Before anybody knew my gender, they knew I was going to be Black cause they knew my mama was Black.

Maybe I'll stick to womanism. Maybe I'll just stick to Shannonism. Besides, I don't need feminism to handle a brotha who hasn't come correct. I just need a pot of hot grits.

So, it must be as Barbara Smith's book title claims:
All the Women Are White, All the Blacks are Men, But some of Us Brave