#intersectionality

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 As the oppressed, as marginalized, as the erased and silenced we MUST stand in solidarity with each

As the oppressed, as marginalized, as the erased and silenced we MUST stand in solidarity with each other. From #Rojavato#Sudan, from the detention centers of Manus and Christmas Island, to all those incarcerated and imprisoned; we must be the voice of hope, love and humanity. - Hawzhin Azeez


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the official Brown Girls trailer! With music from #JamilaWoods and #LisaMishra. Written by Fatimah Asghar and directed/produced by Sam Bailey. Series premiering early 2017

I’ve been mulling over two really great pieces on animal liberation and the animal rights movement these past couple of weeks.


Aph Ko: Afrofuturism and Black Veganism: Towards a New Citizenship at the Intersectional Justice Conference

Aph’s work on Aphro-ismandBlack Vegans Rock is awesome, and this video is really important. I’ve been wanting to post this ever since it came out. I finally finished captioning it, so now you can view it on Amara in English. I also put the captions into a slightly edited transcript if you’d rather read her talk. Her description: “In my talk, I discuss how intersectionality is a useful tool for navigating current oppressive systems, and how Afrofuturism is a brilliant tool for creating conceptual blueprints for tomorrow.”

Aph touches on a lot of things and the video in itself is impactful, so I recommend just watching it all the way through (content warning for racial violence and imagery), but I’ll try to sum up some main points:

  1. Intersectionality as “social layerism”
  2. Citizenship politics
  3. Racial and animal oppression
  4. Afrofuturism and imagining freedom
  5. Moving from the geocentric to the heliocentric model

Intersectionality as “social layerism”

I think we need to re-evaluate the ways that we think systems of oppression are connecting, because currently, I can tell that some activists are struggling to articulate how and why these issues are entangled, and instead, they try to engage with a type of analysis that I call “social layerism”, […] when activists try to enact a type of intersectional analysis, but they just end up superficially layering these issues on top of one another without any meaningful connection or analysis. So that basically means that a lot of people are saying anti-racism, feminism, speciesism, all in the same sentence, which is a really big deal, but there’s not really a lot of work being done on connecting these things conceptually.

Aph mentions a popular video, On Intersectionality in Feminism and Pizza, where Akilah uses pizza made from animals’ products and animals’ bodies to explain intersectionality, as an extreme example of social layerism. Akilah is literally talking about a pizza with toppings and not making any connections between feminine and animal oppression (see Carol J. Adam’s The Sexual Politics of Meat), or any other type of oppression, instead explaining intersectionality as additional layers of issues that aren’t connected or entangled. Although intersectionality has become mainstream, its meaning hasn’t really translated into our social movements.

Citizenship politics

Aph explains how the compartmentalized, single-issue movements of today – feminism, anti-racism, animal rights, etc. – prevent more meaningful connections between oppression to take place. She brings up the the issue of physical borders as a concrete example of citizenship politics, and also as an analogy to the policing that happens within different types of activist spaces. She gives examples of the vitriolic reaction against Black Vegans Rock that white and non-Black minorities have had.

A lot of vegans who believed that veganism was in their possession, in particular, a part of white citizen identity. A lot of white people felt like they unquestionably had access to, and could be the gatekeepers over, veganism, and that Black people who talked about race in conjunction with veganism were crossing a border […] that white folks created, and our racialized discussions about animal rights were threatening them and their current citizenship to the landscape of animal rights. Our attempts at talking about race and animal at the same time was viewed as deviant, wrong, and barbaric. We had to do it “the right way”. We had to go through the right channels to become a proper animal rights activist, which meant adopting Eurocentric ideas about animal oppression, Black oppression, and more. If you do talk about race as a person of color, or if you create your own project, your citizenship to the animal rights space is interrogated, and you’re viewed as not belonging, and being inhospitable as a guest to their white space. You’re basically told to “go back from where you came from,” which were these, like, weird, Brown, anti-racist spaces, ‘cause white people didn’t talk about race in the vegan world, right? It was, leave your race out of this, this has nothing to do with race.

Aph also talks about the hyperresentation of certain Black folks in veganism and animals rights that are held up as examples of “proper citizens” who’ve been “rehabilitated” and have “transcended race talk”. In essence, “Eurocentric post-racial veganism is being used to superficially show Black bodies in a way where Blackness isn’t even really central or discussed, but used as a tool to facilitate a violent form of diversity that serves as a sedative for Black rage.”

Racial and animal oppression

Aph talks about the documentary film, “Always in Season”, that she’s an associate producer on. This was a really emotional part of her talk, since it demonstrated how normalized lynching was not too long ago, and how Black people were (and sometimes still are) considered sub-human and animal.

As many as 15,000 people would be at one lynching. And you have to multiply that by 5,000 documented lynchings that have taken place. And like I said, those are only the documented ones. Experts say there were 2-3 times as many. And this is an image – luckily, you can’t see it too well – but in the center is a 17 year old Black boy named Jesse Washington, who is being tortured and burned in Waco, Texas in 1916. This form of terrorism was so highly organized that they even had postcards they created. […] So this is the front of a postcard, and there’s a guy right here. He was the one sending the postcard. He marked himself in it. They were not afraid to even show their faces. That’s how normalized this was. And at the back of this postcard, to his father, he wrote, “This is the barbecue we had last night.”

This film is about what Black and white people had to live with then, and what they’re living with now. Lynching was like hunting, however, no licenses were required, which meant that Black folks were always in season, which is why it’s titled that way. So I don’t think Black oppression is “like” animal oppression, I argue that it’s a part of it. If Black people are considered sub-human and animal, then what they’re experiencing is also, I argue, animal oppression. So when animal rights activists from the dominating class keep telling people like me that Black people are “centering” ourselves in an animal rights movements that’s supposed to be about animals, you have to realize that Black people intimately understand what it means to be hunted and terrorized. And as long as Black activists are making the necessary connections to animal oppression, then animal oppression will be a product of our racial liberation movements, considering racism, I argue, is also a speciesist thing.

Aph and her sister Syl have argued for an epistemological revolution (see Why Animal Liberation Requires an Epistemological Revolution). Instead of viewing oppressions as manifesting independently and then connecting with other oppressions in the similarity of their material violations, we need to realize that the root of all oppression is due to citizenship in the territory of “sub-human” or “other” that is inferior to the dominant class (“glorified white humans”).

Afrofuturism and imagining freedom

Part of the power that the dominant society has is being able to take away your imagination such that the way the world is given to you is the only way it can ever be, and the only movement you can ever really do in that system is to get more comfortable. The way white supremacist patriarchy has defined us is seemingly all we can ever be as minorities.

When the system steals your imagination, they have arrested your future. Most of us are so caught up in the fight today, especially in intersectional circles, we’re so caught up in the fight and the language of oppression that we’ve kind of forgotten that this fight is supposed to be temporary. We cannot start building homes in our trenches. We are only here temporarily. Eventually, the goal is, we want to climb out and build a new landscape, because, remember, that’s the goal. It’s not just to stay in the fight just to fight, but it’s to get out and find a space that’s revolutionary.

Aph introduces Afrofuturism as a path forward from becoming a decolonized being to shaping society after liberation has been achieved.

Liberation isn’t the end, it is merely the outcome of revolution. However, we can’t forget to start planning for the day after our liberation comes, because that’s the day when we have to build a new system, and a new society, and we have to start working on that blueprint today. And the day after liberation is the day that we’re most vulnerable, so we need to create some conceptual architecture for tomorrow.

Moving from the geocentric to the heliocentric model

So in a lot of our movements today – even our intersectional movement – we assume that white people are at the center of our solar system, and we orbit them. And so this has produced, in my opinion, a "Dear white people,” type of activism – and that’s a film – where the only way minorities can get any rights or anything done is through white people. And in order for liberation, we have to educate them. This is even why people say “women and people of color”. Where does that leave me? “Women and people of color.” Even in intersectional movements, we say this because these are descriptors for bodies that are not white men. So this is again: they are at the center of our universe. And I’m arguing that we need to move to a model that’s similar to the heliocentric model, which says that we do not orbit whiteness. White supremacy orbits us, and inferior beings, in order to exist, grow, and thrive. There is no white supremacy if there is no anti-Blackness. Just as the earth needs the sun’s light to thrive and grow, systems of oppression need sub-humans in order to feel superior.

I know many in the room would call that intersectional. I’m calling that an Afrofuturistic politic. And what’s interesting about the heliocentric model, again, is that the sun is a conglomeration of all beings that are labeled inferior, sub-human, and animal. And my sister Syl […] says, “Racism, sexism, ableism, speciesism, classism, and so on… These are real phenomena, of course, but as philosopher Sylvia Wynter warned, we should avoid mistaking the 'maps’ for the 'territory’. The territory is the massive domain of Others, whose scope can only be grasped when we dig deeper to go beyond the constraints of the specific -isms and see ourselves as – following Frantz Fanon’s words – damned beings by virtue of lacking of full 'human’ status.” And that’s what connects a lot of us who are labeled oppressed: in addition to non-human animals, we’re viewed as sub-human.

Aph explores the reimagination of citizenship within an Afrofuturistic framework for everyone labeled inferior. With this framework, racial liberation movements will tackle animal oppression – those with citizenship in the same domain of Others, with their intimate knowledge of what it means to be sub-human, will be the authors of change, creating new conceptual architectures for the future.

The power of Afrofuturism is that it’s model-less. There is no model. It’s ambiguous. And its power lies in that ambiguity because there are no structures, there are no leaders, there are no hierarchies, which I would argue are the foundational elements for systems of oppression. It’s about reimagining your citizenship beyond white supremacy and patriarchy.


Animal Liberation: Devastate to Liberate, or Devastatingly Liberal? by Anonymous
By liberating ourselves, from the oppressive chains of causes, identities and ideology of group politics, we may stop walking round towns looking for animal abuse and instead aim for how to rid ourselves of the behaviour which currently reproduces the state and class divided society in our own activity.

27. Of course the idea of a cruelty free product is a carefully crafted illusion. No such thing can exist — all commodities are cruel. Every single thing that can be bought, every service, every item of food, every household good, every house, road or car has been produced with the forced slavery of working class people. The predominance of middle class people who make up the animal rights movement ignore this because they tend not to have to suffer half as much in society themselves. Even if you were only interested in cruelty in regard to animals (a trait with a perplexing popularity amongst the human members of the animal rights movement), how could you avoid using animal in rubber, glues or on photographic film? This isn’t mentioned to make anyone feel bad about taking photos or whatever but merely to show that the notion of being a “true vegan” in this society is an impossible goal. We didn’t choose for it to be that way, we don’t use such things deliberately for that reason — under this economic system we simply have no control over such a thing.

55. It tends to go without saying but there is every reason to combat hierarchy when it rears its ugly head because hierarchy is precisely the trait which keeps humans in a dominating position over animals. The concept of speciesism, like racism and sexism, is nothing other than a specific application of authoritative power. If it were approached as such then perhaps, perhaps, the animal rights movement wouldn’t be so full of the liberal / fascist nonsense it is today.

62. As soon as any movement around a specific cause develops committees, officers, group contacts etc, it starts to develop a division of status and its campaigners begin to behave like governments. As long as the issue is seen to be animal rights then hierarchical tendencies will crop up and be tolerated. As long as individuals refuse to think about what exactly hierarchy is, and recognise that hierarchy is the crucial king-pin holding all of us, and animals into the roles of the oppressed, then the well-meaning efforts of libertarian liberationists will continually be in vain.

This was something that I came across at the Bay Area Anarchist Book Fair a few weeks ago, and I think it speaks a lot to the animal rights movement and social movements in general that this anonymous author’s critique of animal rights in England in the early 1990s is basically the same problem of citizenship politics that Aph critiques in her talk in 2016: “It’s all about where you fit in. Who’s doing it right, who’s doing it wrong, whether you’re an abolitionist or a welfarist, whether you’re intersectional or decolonial. It becomes less about the actual oppression, and more about power. Who is right, and who is wrong? Who belongs, and who doesn’t?”

Our movements reproduce the same power structures that underly the oppression that we’re fighting because we’re operating under the same Eurocentric, capitalist models. Recognizing that the human/animal divide – that hierarchy and power gradients – is the linchpin of oppression is the first step in imagining a future for ourselves.

I am proud of the work I’ve done as part of theWomen’s March policy table – a collection of women and folk engaged in crucial feminist, racial and social justice work across various intersections in our country. I helped draft the visionandI wrote the line “…and we stand in solidarity with sex workers’ rights movements.” It is not a statement that is controversial to me because as a trans woman of color who grew up in low-income communities and who advocates, resists, dreams and writes alongside these communities, I know that underground economies are essential parts of the lived realities of women and folk. I know sex work to be work. It’s not something I need to tiptoe around. It’s not a radical statement. It’s a fact. My work and my feminism rejects respectability politics, whorephobia, slut-shaming and the misconception that sex workers, or folks engaged in the sex trades by choice or circumstance, need to be saved, that they are colluding with the patriarchy by “selling their bodies.” I reject the continual erasure of sex workers from our feminisms because we continue to conflate sex work with the brutal reality of coercion and trafficking. I reject the policing within and outside women’s movements that shames, scapegoats, rejects, erases and shuns sex workers. I cannot speak to the internal conflicts at the Women’s March that have led to the erasure of the line I wrote for our collective vision but I have been assured that the line will remain in OUR document. The conflicts that may have led to its temporary editing will not leave until we, as feminists, respect THE rights of every woman and person to do what they want with their body and their lives. We will not be free until those most marginalized, most policed, most ridiculed, pushed out and judged are centered. There are no throwaway people, and I hope every sex worker who has felt shamed by this momentarily erasure shows up to their local March and holds the collective accountable to our vast, diverse, complicated realities.

Loved being interviewed for this piece! Home girl rocked it out!

My favorite quotes:

“A good ally doesn’t try to steer the narrative for trans people. They just listen. They understand that their role is to support me by hearing me first. Allyship is about how you use information and education and awareness in spaces that don’t have our bodies — spaces where they aren’t present.”

“If you think there’s no risk in being an ally, then maybe you aren’t doing enough. If you think it is going to be a breeze or that you can change your profile picture on Facebook and tackle what we need, that’s not it.“

"Being an ally is hard to talk about because it is, at the same time, both simple and complex. It’s about respecting the other person’s full humanity, but it’s also about understanding how to do that. And how to do that is really difficult because I don’t think most people have ever been fully respected in their humanity. To not know what that feels like and then have the desire to grant that to someone else is a really hard spot to be in.”

Read more.

Janet Mock: The deaths of 6 trans women in the U.S. in 2015February 17, 2015This morning I read abou

Janet Mock: The deaths of 6 trans women in the U.S. in 2015
February 17, 2015

This morning I read about the murder of Bri Golec in Ohio. She was stabbed to death by her father. She was only 22 years old. Her death marks the sixth trans woman to be reported murdered in the U.S. in 2015. It’s not even March.

The other five women are*:
Lamia Beard, 30, Norfolk, VA
Taja DeJeus, 36, San Francisco, CA
Penny Proud, 21, New Orleans, LA
Ty Underwood, 24, North Tyler, TX
Yazmin Vash Payne, 33, Los Angeles, CA

As the New York City Anti-Violence Project noted in their tweet about Golec’s murder, “This time in 2014 we knew of no homicides of Trans women in the US. As of now there are AT LEAST SIX.”

This time in 2014, just a year ago, Laverne Cox and Carmen Carrera had publicly challenged Katie Couric; I sparred about language and identity on CNN; Cox’s Netflix series Orange Is the New Blackwas preparing for its second season; and my memoir had landed on the New York Times bestsellers list. This was the highest media saturation for trans women of color in U.S. history. As a writer and journalist, I had been forecasting the game-changing moment that was soon to come in May: Cox, a black trans woman from Mobile, Alabama, appearing on the cover of Time magazine.

After decades of erasure, trans women of color were finally garnering mainstream attention. Cox used her time in the pop cultural spotlight to not only advance her acting career, but to tell the stories of women like CeCe McDonald. We both stood behind Monica Jones as she resisted police profiling in Phoenix, Arizona, and trans Latina teen Jane Doe as she was unlawfully held in an adult prison.

Personally, I know that my visibility has to be more than just about my own pursuits. When I walk into a space, I am cognizant of the fact that I am bringing communities of people with me, communities that have historically been exiled and silenced. The weight of that responsibility never lightens, even as Inavigate uncharted terrain as a TV host. My show So POPular! explores the intersection of popular culture, representation, politics, identity and community. Though it doesn’t explicitly cover trans issues, it’s a space created and fronted by a trans woman of color, so the lens to which I explore topics on my show is that of a trans person, a black person, a woman of color. My goal is to take the focus away from myself as a subject, and instead be the person asking the questions, shaping the conversation.

I’ve seen folks juxtapose the recent media visibility of trans women of color and these recent murders. I’ve read sentences to the effect of: “At a time when trans women of color have visibility, we still see trans women murdered.” I find this logic to be quite basic.

Yes, trans women are being murdered. Yes, trans women of color have gained mainstream visibility. But trans women, particularly those of color, have always been targeted with violence. The differences now? There are some systems in place that better report violence and there is finally visibility of a select few that helps challenge the media’s framing of these women’s lives.

But cultural representation is just one piece of the social justice pie, and we must be clear about one thing: Trans women of color have had one year of visibility in the media, after decades of erasure (think about how many times historians, archivists, filmmakers or books mention the revolutionary work ofSylvia Rivera, Marsha P. Johnson or Miss Major Griffin-Gracy). It’ll take more than a year of a few trans women in media to transform decades of structural oppression and violence, decades of misinformation, decades of exiling.

We are not existing in a fairytale where the very recent successes of a few individuals — whether that’s Laverne or Carmen or me — could quickly and radically transform the lives of our sisters who are resisting in already struggling communities, who are navigating poverty, homelessness, and joblessness while also facing high medical and educational costs, police profiling and incarceration as well as HIV/AIDS, the risks of underground economies as well as the looming threat and reminders of violence.

WhenI appeared on Real Time with Bill Maher last week, I mentioned the violence that trans women, particularly those from low-income and/or people of color communities face, during the show’s “Overtime” segment.

“There is a lot of violence, right?” Maher asked

I nodded and responded: “So much of it is linked to the idea that women are not valued, people of color are not valued and trans people are often invalidated in our society. So when you throw that all into one person’s body, there’s a lot of targeting that comes into that space. We need to have a national outrage over these bodies that no one is protecting.”

Maher then said, “I thought, and maybe I’m wrong, that the violence came because the transgender person didn’t tell the guy about their past and then the guy kissed her or something and then found out. And he’s like, ‘Oh now, I’m a homo.”

I challenged Maher by telling him that trans women are not being targeted solely because men find themselves attracted to us. No woman deserves violence. Period. We do not exist to “trick” or “deceive” men into sleeping with us. Trans women are targeted because we exist at vulnerable intersections of race, gender and class. My sisters are vulnerable because no one movement has ever centered the bodies, lives and experiences of these women, except for the severely underfunded, largely volunteer-staffed work of organizations run by and for our communities (from TGIJP,Casa Ruby,TransLatina Coalition,Sylvia Rivera Law Project,TWOCC,TransJustice, to name a few).

Trans women of color dangerously fall in between the cracks of racial justice, feminist and LGbt movements.

Our visibility at this particular moment in culture is helping reshape the narrative of trans women’s lives, it’s helping those who may not know a trans person get familiar with the lives and struggles of trans people, it’s helping push media gatekeepers to report on our lives with a more just and true lens (though it still seems to be struggling when it comes to Bruce Jenner’s alleged transition). What we can’t expect this visibility to do is cure our society of its longstanding prejudice, miseducation and myths surrounding trans women.

Even on the most liberal shows, trans women are still often punch lines (see any lazy joke targeting Jenner’s femininity and body). Even in our moment in the media spotlight, one fallen white trans bodygarners mainstream headlines over the consistent murders of those that are black and brown. Even in movements organizing against violence against women or black and brown bodies, trans women of color’s bodies are not prone to mass mobilization and I watch as my sisters and siblings speak with one another about protecting trans bodies with hashtags #blacktranslivesmatterand#translivesmatter.

I point out these disparities in an effort to better frame this moment we’re existing in, as someone who has been privileged with access to visibility, as someone who grew up with little access to mirrors that represented me. I am humbled that I can be one such mirror for girls growing up like I did. Representation is an affirming start, but it’s not everything.

There’s much we should be applauding, yet as we applaud, we must also be aware of those women existing outside of the media’s narrow lens, the women organizing, the women on the streets hustling, the women rejected from shelters and improperly placed in men’s detention and prison facilities, the women volunteering their limited resources to support communities of trans folk who’ve been overwhelming neglected by movements.

The names of our sisters shouldn’t only make headlines when we walk a red carpet or lay in a casket. Our visibility shouldn’t be subject to such extreme circumstances. We’ve grown too accustomed, in the past year, to speaking the names of Laverne Cox and Janet Mock, and giving ourselves social justice cred for doing so. This is dangerously tokenizing and speaks to the hypervisibility of women of color who are expected to not only carry their dreams but the dreams of an entire race and people with them.

It’s part of the reason why I am weary of amplifying these women’s deaths because it often feels like these women’s names are only spoken by the majority of us when they can no longer respond. But I must speak their names and when I do, I am aware that my sisters do not need to be reminded of their vulnerability and the threat of violence that looms over their lives.

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Tremendous amounts of talent are being lost to our society just because that talent wears a skirt.

-Shirley Chisholm, first African-American woman elected to U.S. Congress

star-anise:

myinnerneeeeeeerd:

korrasera:

star-anise:

I’m a feminist, I love women, but I’m really disturbed by stuff I’ve read lately about how women, women’s relationships, women’s spaces, are all magically naturally pure and free of oppression from violence.

The thing about feminist analysis we need to remember is that when we talk about men and women, we’re talking about statistical probability that’s not able to accurately predict life every time.

A randomly-selected man is more likely to be taller than a randomly-selected woman. A randomly-selected man is more likely to earn more money than a randomly-selected woman. That does not mean that any man is taller or richer than any woman, or that every man is richer or taller than every woman.

So many times in debates about sex and gender, these probabilities get hammered out into flat declarative sentences. We know it’s wrong when sexists say, “Men are stronger than women, so women could never play sports against men,” but somehow give it a pass when a feminist says “Women are less violent than men, so it’s not in a woman’s nature to be abusive.”

And as a feminist who’s worked in women’s shelters, I’m beyond disturbed by how feminists twist statistics about violence into the claim that women just don’t have the capacity to be violent or cruel.

Because what that really says is: Women aren’t fully human. We don’t fully exist in the world; our womanhood renders our anger and our aggression invalid. We’re not capable of the kind of moral choices men are.

That isn’t just bullshit, that’s dangerous bullshit. You know who makes that kind of argument?

A woman who wants to hurt other people and get away with it.

Understanding this is also a good way to spot who’s interested in breaking down the social hierarchy that hurts all of us, and who’s just interested in building a new social hierarchy that benefits them instead.

We can’t liberate everyone just by reversing the axis of oppression. If your goal is to hurt other people and get away with it, you aren’t really fighting to end things, you’re just fighting to take control.

All of the above can be directly applied to how white women treat black people, especially black women. White women (including liberals, including feminists,) are some of the worst when it comes to to upholding white supremacist ideas, especially in the face of black women. If you want to know more, go to the sources. Layla F. Saad @laylafsaad talks about this, check out her “Me and White Supremacy Workbook.” Others talk about it as well, but honestly, just google search “how white women uphold white supremacy” and there will be tons of articles.

YESSSSS. White Feminism™: Definitely a thing. White feminists really, really need to read about intersectional feminism andwhite feminism andhow not to be.

There are a lot of ways for humans to be oppressed or hold power over each other. All of us exist in so many overlapping and interlocking social contexts, it just doesn’t make sense to think of ourselves as 100% The Victim All The Time; we usually always have someone who’s smaller or weaker or more marginal than us. We’ve got to understand both sides of the equation, and think critically about how we use the power we have.

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