Blackness to me is inherently gender nonconforming largely because we will never fit into binary white supremacist notions of manhood and womanhood.
Angela Davis actually touches on this in her novel Women, Race, and Class.
Essentially, she says that Black women may have been considered genderless because we did all the same work as men but then weren’t considered men when it came to sexual abuse, suddenly being forced into these feminine, submissive roles that we clearly didn’t fit into. Once the Atlantic Slave Trade was banned, Black women were then seen as breeders to provide for slaves since they couldn’t be imported. Despite this, Black women, even if we were pregnant, still had to work in the fields and suffer the same punishment as our male counterparts.
Angela Davis goes on further to say that since Black women were never seen as housewives, Black men were in turn never seen as family providers or heads of households. By this point, Black women had acquired an abundance of traits that didn’t fit into 19th century perception of what it meant to be a woman. Also, with the rise of industrialization, white women never experienced that same intensive labor which further pushed them into the housewife stereotype. Essentially, there was this white feminist movement to erase the housewife stereotype but it didn’t include the struggles of Black women because we were never seen as housewives to begin with.
All of this to say: We were genderless and outside of any gender norm within the white supremacist framework.
I really don’t understand how some people hate Hamilton. Here’s some reasons why I love it:
• it was written by a man of color, Lin Manuel Miranda, to modernize and retell the story of the founding of the US and the overall impact an immigrant faced in an up and coming nation
• the roles were specifically written for people of color to play the characters because of the white washing in the media, but specifically Broadway (there was an entire scandal surrounding this casting choice in 2016)
• it emphasized the roles that immigrants played in the founding of the country but also in the modern day America
• not to mention that Lin Manuel Miranda speaks out about a variety of issues in America and he even went as far as to open Hamilton in Puerto Rico to raise money to rebuild their country after the hurricanes
• The musical gives a voice to people of color and gives them a place in a retelling of history that they were largely not included in, especially in our text books and classrooms
• it empowers women throughout the musical, showing different dynamics and types of powerful women (Angelica compared to Eliza)
• it expresses the duality of each character and while Aaron Burr is the anti-hero, he isn’t a villain. It shows motivation and angle behind each character’s action
• it shows us people of color in powerful positions! It gives THREE presidents of color and the only white person in the musical was King George III
• Hamilton is a relateable character. Specifically his line from Hurricane, “When my prayers to God we’re met with indifference, I picked up a pen, I wrote my own deliverance!” That’s so powerful!!!
• Lin chose the hip hop/R&B style music because he thought it was the sound of America and it represented the country.
These are just a handful from the top of my head. I like Hamilton because I find Alexander Hamilton to be an inspiring, relatable, flawed, and outspoken character. His ability to take a stand and constantly voice his opinions are what I aspire to do as well. He was outspoken and bold in the middle of a revolution, and he went after what he wanted. Despite his flaws and mistakes, he is still one of my favorite fictional (the musical portrayal is fictional imho) characters that still inspires me to this day. I could write an entire essay about the musical, but I’ll spare you.
During these difficult times, I hope you can be like Hamilton: strong in the face of adversity and unafraid to punch the assholes that get in your way. Support those around you and stand with our Black friends. Black Lives Matter!
Blah blah blah and here’s why we hate it:
* It glorifies the founding fathers, European colonizers, and slave owners.
* It’s written by a non-Black man with no connection to slavery and who has no right to make commentary on it in any way.
* It’s true that it might cast non-white people in the main cast…as slave owners and colonizers.
* “Sally, be a lamb darling, won’t you open it?” *vomiting intensifies*
* Miss me with the idea that Hamilton is fucking feminist lmao. There are four women, I repeat, FOUR WOMEN, in the play, only 14 of the 46 songs are sung by women. All of them play a peripheral love interest role to Hamilton, even Angelica, who in real life was already happily married by the time she met Hamilton, and in the musical is supposed to be his intellectual equal, and yet all she gets to do is sing and rap about…her feelings for him and the love triangle between them and her sister. The only exception to this role is Peggy, who…umm, disappears. It doesn’t pass the bare minimum of the Bechdel test. The women of the play are not powerful feminists, they are pawns designed to further Alexander’s journey and exist in relation to him. Them snapping their fingers and saying they’ll include women in the sequel is just a “you go girl!” moment, it’s all for show. We as a society are just so used to the “bare minimum of women is enough or even majority women, just make them give sassy quips and act ‘BADASS’ and boom, you’ve got a feminist narrative!” that we accept stories like these even outside of the colonist propaganda aspect of it all as feminist. Despite there being actual feminist musicals that put women at their center out there that are much, MUCH better and less problematic than Hamilton. Mean Girls? Heathers? SIX? The Color Purple? Hello? But no just focus on the musical with like four women whose only feminist moment is asking to be a part of the narrative.
* Say No to This
* It doesn’t give POC a voice so much as it has them play the role of historically white founding fathers and colonizers who were involved with the slave trade.
* Alexander is not a relatable hero. He’s a racist colonist who married into a family of slaveowners.
Is that enough for you?
Although:
During these difficult times, I hope you can be like Hamilton: strong in the face of adversity and unafraid to punch the assholes that get in your way. Support those around you and stand with our Black friends. Black Lives Matter!
Good God. Some people are unable to be reasoned with.
Hey! So I made this post years ago, and I totally forgot about it and this blog for a while, but I definitely agree with what this person is saying and I think it’s important to read!
I am sorry. I was wrong. My original post is tone deaf, flawed, and wrong on several accounts. Thank you to @thisismisogynoir for their contribution and corrections.
I thought about deleting this post when it came back up, but this person shares a lot of important information that we should know as we consume or engage with this media.
I hope you take the time out of your day to read this, listen to Black voices on this matter, and do your research.
I will do better in the future. Thank you for correcting me and holding me accountable.
I think the worst thing to come out of the #BLM protest was the complete ignorance of black women’s victomhood in terms of police brutality. Conversations of police brutality should ALWAYS include black women in tandem with black men.
Black women are in a very unique situation where even as women, we’re percieved as threats. The safety of “womanhood” isn’t ever guaranteed for black women, not against the police.
Remember intersectionality when talking about police brutality. Black lives matter should always consider black women’s lives as well.
the fact that everyone is going “annabeth was only cast as black for diversity points” literally proves that leah is going to be an amazing annabeth bc thats literally annabeth’s whole problem, that people judge her by her appearance and not by how competent she is
Then these same Black men have the nerve to call us angry and overly emotional, when they’re the ones that shoot, steal, and kill as soon as shit gets hard. Black women are the strongest women I’ve ever seen in my life; yet we’re the most taken advantage of. If a Black man, let alone any man, had to endure what Black women endure on a daily basis from the moment they’re born to the moment they pass over, they wouldn’t last ONE DAY.
Fucking right I’m angry. I’m pissed that young Black women and girls are being killed, raped, molested, dismembered, trafficked, abused, assaulted, and taken advantage of, and not a single sound is being made. Not one protest to stop the rampant sexual abuse in Black homes. Not one peep about missing Black women and children. Not a fucking sound regarding the constant ridicule Black women face on a daily basis not just by society, but by the very same BLACK MEN AND WOMEN WE’RE SUPPOSED TO BE IN COMMUNITY WITH. And since they do it, other communities think it’s okay to perpetuate this same abuse. I’m so fucking sick of it.
Honestly, if it weren’t for Black women society would’ve collapsed on itself and everyone fucking knows it. Yet these Black men keep expecting us to coddle them when they’re getting shot and harrassed by police officers for shit they brought upon themselves. I ain’t marching nor defending anyone if it isn’t Black women and children, you got me fucked up.
With Leah Sava Jeffries taking on the role of Annabeth Chase, I want to remind everyone to give her extra love and support as fans of book-to-screen adaptations have an atrocious history of being cruel to black girls in these stories.
I’d suggest watching this video essay on what happened regarding the Hunger Games trilogy. It’s crucial that Leah feels loved, supported, and encouraged - and that this never ever happens again.
Black men start caring for and supporting Black women challenge.
Sadly, the most primitive need of every human is to put down other humans to make oneself feel better by comparison. It’s like we need to know somebody’s life sucks more than ours to feel remotely good. So many times I’ve read about African and Muslim men in Europe importing wives from their home countries, just to have a bride who doesn’t know the local language and is completely reliant on her husband. A great many women also jump at the chance to put other women down (probably because there aren’t that many men who “rank” lower than women). Anyway, this is sad.
So many times I’ve read about African and Muslim men in Europe importing wives from their home countries, just to have a bride who doesn’t know the local language and is completely reliant on her husband.
Woah, are you for real?! Because that is just saddening and heartbreaking. Do you have any articles where you found this that are proof of that?
We really need to start praying for the well-being of all Black girls and women. Seriously.
I can recall two books – both autobiographical – that addressed this phenomenon (albeit briefly). I do not have them at hand (won’t be back at my apartment until weekend), so I can’t double-check if what I remember is true (it has been almost a decade). I will edit my post if it turns out my memory had failed me.
First – “Infidel” by Ayaan Hirsi Ali, 2007 (a lot of information is on her Wikipedia page, so I’ll be brief here). At one point in her life (after moving between various African countries) she had gone to Germany to visit relatives and subsequently fled to the Netherlands to escape an arranged marriage. Eventually, she became an advocate for asylum seekers. To me, her story is mostly about learning to critically view your own religion and culture, though sexism is very much a strong theme.
Second – “Tränen im Sand” (“Tears in the sand”) by Nura Abdi, 2005. This one does not appear to have an official English translation, although extracts have been translated and quoted in scientific papers on female genital mutilation. Basically, Somali girl immigrates to Germany. Marries another immigrant. Has children. Husband takes second wife. The author, at some point, decides to become independent. She opens own bank account and takes over the government aid her husband had been receiving for their children. Husband is mad. Tries to abduct children, but fails. Woman makes life for herself. I honestly don’t remember this one very well, as it didn’t impress me quite as much as the previous one.
CORRECTION: The second book I had had in mind was “Mutilée“ (“Mutilated”) by Khady (also known as Khady Koita). Apparently, the English language version is called “Blood Stains. A Child of Africa Reclaims her Human Rights”. She was born in Senegal, underwent genital mutilation at 7 and was forced to move to France as a teenager to stay with a cousin, whom she was forced to marry. She has a Wikipedia page, which you can look up. Other points I had mentioned were correct. I apologize for my original mistake.
Besides those books, I have heard bits and snippets here and there, but those were subjective opinions of people in my surroundings (Poland).
@thisismisogynoir I had made a mistake. I had looked through my library and it turned out the second of the books I had named in my post was not the one I had actually read. I have since edited my post to include the correct information. The good news is, the book I had actually read has been translated into English, which means it should be easier to access (the English title is “Blood Stains. A Child of Africa Reclaims her Human Rights” and the author’s name is Khady Koita). I apologize for the original mistake. Have a good day ^_^.
Awesome! Thank you for correcting the mistake. You have a good day, too!
YES! I hate the idea that you have to straighten your hair for a celebratory or professional event, as if straight hair is inherently prettier! Screw that! I am never straightening my hair for any reason at all.
Anyway pointing out how overturning roe will disproportionately affect people of color especially black people does not hurt the cause of feminism or class consciousness or whatever. It is fine & normal & necessary actually to point out how abortion access is often determined by your zip code or your income or your health insurance & how these issues intersect with systemic racism. Use your brains please
||| Publisher’s Blurb ||| Invisible No More is a timely examination of how Black women, Indigenous women, and women of color experience racial profiling, police brutality, and immigration enforcement. Placing stories of individual women—such as Sandra Bland, Rekia Boyd, Dajerria Becton, Monica Jones, and Mya Hall—in the broader context of the twin epidemics of police violence and mass incarceration, it documents the evolution of movements centering women’s experiences of policing and demands a radical rethinking of our visions of safety—and the means we devote to achieving it.
The Story of James “Jim” McHarris, a Black Trans Man from 1954
[Photo ID begins: A color-enhanced photo of James McHarris. He is a Black trans man, with close-cropped natural hair. He is wearing a white button-down shirt, tan pants, and dress shoes. He is standing on a porch, using one hand to strike a match on the bottom of his shoe. In his other hand, he holds a cigarette. He is looking directly at the camera, which is slightly below him. Photo ID ends.]
Note: the following writeup includes discussion of anti-Black racism, misogynoir, police intimidation, transphobia, and misgendering.
In a six-page story heavily framed with advertisements for domestic goods and photographs of the article’s subject, the November 1954 issue of Ebony (a Black-owned American magazine) recounted the “unmasking” of a Kosciusko, Mississippi resident. The story began when a white police officer pulled a 30-year-old Black motorist over for “improper lights”— a common excuse white police officers use to harass and intimidate Black drivers. When he then attempted to search the man, whose driver’s license read James McHarris, he told the cop “Take it easy: I’m a woman.”
“Misogyny is so normalized and not seen as systemic. That’s partially why people reduce any criticism women have about misogyny to interpersonal relationships with men.Can you imagine you’re criticizing racism and ppl are constantly like “what kind of white ppl u be around?” “Maybe you should choose better white people to be around.”
Like?? Can you imagine you’re criticizing systemic oppression that pervades every part of your life, no matter your proximity to said oppressors and ppl reduce it to you just needing to be around “better ppl.” Lol K. What part of this do ppl not understand? I am a woman. No matter what kind of men I choose to be around, I am subjected to misogyny because misogyny is cultural and systemic. I cannot shield myself from it by simply dating “better men.” You understand how asinine you sound?
We do not “choose” the men who sexually harassed us on the street. We did not “choose” the men who prey upon us as little girls. We did not “choose” to be sexually assaulted by men.Women cannot date their way out of misogyny. Women cannot date our way out of violence. Another reason why “date better men” is ppl’s fave response to women criticizing misogyny is bc they cannot fathom a relationship between men and women that is not sexual or romantic.
What happens if I’m not attracted to men? What now? Is it still about me dating better men? So much of women’s existence is made to be for the consumption of men. It’s constantly pushed that we basically exist solely for them that they cannot imagine a relationship with women that is not sexual/rom.
I could be dating the best man in the world and still be victimized by gendered violence and discrimination. I cannot date my way out of systemic oppression. If that’s the case POC who are with white ppl, are shielded from racism. Right?
You see how ridiculous that sounds? “Date better men” is lazy and victim blaming at best because even if i’m abused by a man I chose to be in my space, that’s not my fault. Stop finding ways to cite women for men’s foul behavior. It’s fucking exhausting.”]
There was a TikTok out there that said “Misogyny is our default way of looking at women” that I can’t for the life of me find anywhere. The lady in it was East Asian and I believe wearing a red leather jacket(although I could be wrong, the last time I said something like this I was dead wrong, so don’t count me on this.), so someone please find it for me because this Tweet here reminds me of THAT!
A 15 year old black childwasstrip searched by the police.
A 15 year old black childwas strip searched by the police in her school, during an exam.
A 15 year old black childwas strip searched by the police in her school, during an exam because her teachers thoughtthey smelled weed on her.
A 15 year old black childwas strip searched by the police in her school, during an exam because her teachers thought they smelled weed on her. She was on her period, and she was forced to remove her sanitary pad so that they could perform a cavity check on her; a child.
A 15 year old black childwas strip searched by the police in her school, during an exam because her teachers thought they smelled weed on her. She was on her period, and she was forced to remove her sanitary pad so that they could perform a cavity check on her; a child. No one thought to call her parents, and she was forced to finish sitting the exam.
The police should never have performed such an invasive search on a childover something so inconsequential. They should have never been able to question a child in any capacity without her parents present.
These people felt comfortable doing this because she was a black child. Even though she was literally in a school, they failed to treat her with the care and concern that every child is entitled to. They didn’t see her innocence; they didn’t see her vulnerability; they didn’t see her as someone they had to protect. It didn’t even cross their minds that this was something extremely disturbing and troubling for her and she wasn’t even shown the consideration or humanity of being allowed to call her parents or go home.
Regardless of how much the government try to gaslight us, it’s clear that our institutions are institutionally racist and misogynistic.
I hate that it takes exceptionally horrifying incidents like this for people to care about the deep misogyny and racism embedded in our institutions. I hate the fact that black children are suffering from racist violence at the hands of teachers and police officers who are supposed to be keeping them safe. I hate the fact that the police keep proving that they can’t be trusted to protect women and girls, and that becomes more and more evident every day that women and girls need to be protected fromthe police as well. I hate the fact that I have friends who are scared to go to the police after absolutely awful things have happened to them because they feel like it won’t result in anything, and I hate the fact that the numbers prove them right.
My heart is broken for this child, I don’t even know how we start to fix this.
On Sept 27th, 2017 I received an email from TEDWomen inviting me to share my poetry at their upcoming conference. The conference was themed ‘Bridges’ and featured 6 sessions — Build, Design, Connect, Suspend, Burn and Re-build — with each session featuring a 4–6 minute performance by a poet. As someone whose activism and organizing work is rooted in art and creativity, I decided to share a piece I felt most concretely illustrated my connection to the work on and off the page.
I chose to perform a piece I wrote 3 years ago called “The Joys of Motherhood”, a piece about Black maternity in the United States, and do a brief talk about how writing that poem allowed me to see how necessary art is in creating connections and facilitating understanding in popular education and movement building spaces.
On Nov 2nd, I attended an in-person rehearsal where I read my talk from my phone, then ran my poem in front of a small audience I assumed was with the TED team. And this is where my generally positive TEDWomen experience took a turn.
After finishing, I went backstage only to notice the curator of the conference walk up behind me. She informed me that there had “recently been 2–3 talks on the TED platform about ‘Black Lives Matter’”, and suggested that I “cut the ‘Black Lives Matter’ portion from my talk” to make it “just be about Reproductive Justice”.
I froze momentarily.
People assume that because I am a poet/writer/one who works with words that I always have them at the ready, but her statement caught me off guard.
I spat out that I could not cut ‘Black Lives Matter’ from my talk, since the foundation of the talk was how the Movement for Black Lives and Reproductive Justice were inseparable for me. It made me question whether she had read the draft I had sent to her weeks earlier, or if she had actually listened to the content of the talk I had recited not more than five minutes prior.
I walked back into the green room, a deep feeling of frustration finding a familiar home in my body.
I was frustrated that poets had already been given less that the usual amount of time allotted to TED speakers, only to have it suggested that I remove the flesh of my experience to give a bare bones performance.
I was frustrated that I had been invited to give a talk on an idea I deemed worth sharing, only to be told that it was not worth sharing anymore because something similar had been shared 2–3 times recently. As if that’s anywhere near enough. As if we should be grateful for the sound bites they choose to hear when it is comfortable for them, even though we are hoarse from shouting these truths daily. As if we shouldn’t demand more. As if we are not deserving of more than they offer. I went from frustrated to furious when my body remembered this wasn’t the first time it had felt like this. That before, I’d been invited to perform on other platforms, only to be asked to ‘cut’ or ‘tone down’ my messages or, ‘just do my poetry’ like a human jukebox.
I walked out, unable to breath the same air of camaraderie everyone else seemed to be filling their lungs and laughs with and set to work rewriting my talk.
Fortunately, the moments I feel most isolated and alone are the moments I am reminded I come from communities of care and unapologetic truths. I went back to the hotel and after conversing with some of my people, including the ones who had recommended me to the platform, I expanded my talk to name the interaction I had just had as part of a larger narrative of erasing explicitly Black narratives.
The day of the talk, I heard my bio being read and stepped out nervously. As often as people have the assumption that I always have words at the ready, people also assume sharing these words is easy for me.
It’s not.
I am human and I find I have fear ready to escape my throat just as often as stories and solutions. But, when I make a choice, I move forward and, no matter how shaky my voice is, I know the foundation of truth I stand on is solid.
To my surprise, I was met with a standing ovation. I felt a wave of relief, not at the reception of the talk, but that it was over with. And, I felt a sense of pride that I had managed to get through the talk sharing my whole truth, including the fear that often comes with speaking up for myself.
The moment I left the visible area of the stage, however, that feeling evaporated. I hadn’t even made it back to the green room when I was approached by a woman from TED who wanted to reassure me that TED would NEVER do such a thing, that she couldn’t IMAGINE that what I described happened, and that IF it did, it wasn’t meant in the way I took it…
I work for and organize with Women With A Vision, a group that fundamentally believes that we need to “Trust Black Women.” A group that sees everyday how difficult this phrase is in practice, despite people’s best intentions.
That night, I was reminded of this reality outside of my workplace. I had just given a TED talk that named my experience and the immediate reaction I was met with was disbelief and denial of my reality/experience. I told the woman from TED she didn’t have to ‘imagine something like that could happen,’ because it had already happened and I had described it mere minutes ago to an audience that included her.
At the final speaker gathering, I met with the woman who had suggested I cut my talk in private. The first thing she said to me was that I had ‘really misunderstood the intentions’ of her comments so she wanted to explain them to me because she believed ‘intentions were everything.’ She told me that she’d previously ‘given’ the TED platform to ‘Black Lives Matter’ speakers when ‘no one else would’ because the movement was important to her.
I found myself again momentarily frozen by her words.
I grew up with a mother who liked repeating the oft quoted saying, “the road to hell is paved with good intentions.” Throughout my youth, I would hear her say, “to hell with good intentions” (which is actually the title of a speech I read when I was quite young due to my moms teaching). I couldn’t understand how she could be so dismissive of people’s intentions when she herself was one of the most well-intentioned people I had ever met. But eventually, I began to realize that my mom wasn’t just well-intentioned with respect to her goals, she was also careful in making sure that her intentions aligned with the impact that those who were impacted wanted. And if they did not, then something needed to be changed and reparations made to rectify the state of injury.
When I heard her say this, I was taken aback that someone tasked with coordinating a large-scale event such as TEDWomen had apparently never considered her intentions may not be enough (or even something to take into account). I told her that I didn’t think she said it with ill intentions, and yet, intentions matter less and less when they diverge from the impact and when the impact itself is denied in the name of honoring the purity of intentions.
After some other words, she told me I’d given her something to think about (intent vs. impact), and that she was appreciative that she was able to share her truth and intentions and we left on a cordial note.
In terms of intent vs. impact, I’m not sure what the impact of my talk will be. My intention was and is always to honestly share my story and increasingly, to be honest about the struggles I sometimes have sharing it.
I’m often painted as someone who speaks out ‘naturally’ and unapologetically.
But, unapologetic doesn’t mean unafraid or inherently brave.
Unapologetic doesn’t mean I don’t question myself constantly.
Unapologetic doesn’t erase my shyness and anxiety after I say or do something that unsettles me, then have to follow up with people afterward with no time to check in with myself.
I wish I could say speaking out or up is easy, but it’s not, especially when you find yourself the only one having a particular experience or understanding of an experience. It can be exhausting and often isolating, even (…actually…especially) if people support your message from a distance but do little to nothing to work alongside you; if they want you to be the “first domino” but refuse to ever fall themselves.
Paying homage to Toni Morrison’s call for artists to ‘never choose to remain silent’ I ended my talk the same way I am ending this post. By naming the reality of how I move in the world. That every time I speak out, it is because I am making a conscious choice to do so.
“We have to be maternal, we have to be the savior, we have to make that white character feel better, we don’t have vaginas as black women,” she said. “I got tired of celebrating movies that didn’t have me in it. I don’t mean me as Viola, I mean me as a black woman.
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