DISCLAIMER: Should you be a white
woman who reads this and does not identify with any of the actions, situations,
ideology or character traits written about white women referenced in this
piece, please do not personalize the opinions expressed, or, assume that a
'broad brush' is being used to pigeonhole, characterize, or attack all white
women in any way. I offer the advice that my maternal grandmother
often doled out: “If it don’t apply, let it fly.”
95% of the white women I know - whether from my workplace, my childhood, or my gym, haven’t the slightest clue as to what goes on in a Black woman’s neck of the woods. White women I associate with become shocked when I educate them on all the magazines, museums, rituals, television stations (besides BET), styles, protests, candidates, fashion shows, vacation homes, markets, spas, organizations, heroes, culture, trendy restaurants, etc., that cater to Black women exclusively. This awkward separation between white and Black feminists has become an invisible Berlin wall that cuts off any could-be unity. A wall so tall and thick, some white women will announce with pride that they “don’t see color”; a blatant confession that they have no respect for what it means to exist as a Black woman. Because, if you don’t see color, it’s literally impossible for you to be aware – let alone compassionate and empathetic toward any disparity Black women deal with on the daily. Because, you don’t see it. If you can’t see my color, you are likely to question and dismiss the reality that my race plays a much larger part in my fate than that of a white woman’s. Because, you don’t see it.
Nothing in this country is earned or taken without consequence. Black American women are evidence of that. What we have gained in success, education, and Michele Obama, we have lost in the compromise of having to surrender any sense of belonging in America. Do not be fooled by the Thursday night lineup on ABC; Black women are still very much excluded from the spoils that first-class citizens – white men and white women, enjoy in abundance.
There are many white women who are reading this, probably thinking to themselves, “How dare this woman use such a broad brush to say that I’m not supportive of Black women, simply because I’m white? Who is she to assume such? This is an attack!” Well, before you file a formal complaint, ask yourself how familiar you are with the following topics, issues, epidemics, crises, and conversations amongst Black women. Click on every link, read every article and think-piece, and ask yourself again how involved and united white feminists are with Black women. Did you know?...
The truth of the matter is, too many women wake up in the morning, snap on their safety pins, slide into their pussy hats, protest with Black Lives Matter, and think that proclaiming they are ‘for’ us is enough. Being ‘for’ anything is never enough. Just because you are for Black women does not mean that your internal support is in some way strengthening our fight. No, being for Black women is not enough. You must be with Black women. In order to be with Black women, you must identify our problems as the problem of all women, not the problems that only Black women are dealing from. The list above should not be deemed as Black women issues, rather, women’s issues. They must read that red list until they identify with it. White feminists must resolve their estranged relationship with Black women and stand with us. Any actions made towards building unity and authentic sisterhood on behalf of white feminists that exclude tangible change between intersectional relations is as worthless as a foul ball on the sideline.
As I write
these words, I hesitate, fearful that I will be labeled as divisive, off-base,
or just plain wrong. I risk losing the allegiance of more than a few white
women who, before reading this, considered themselves to be my ally, maybe even
my friend (note that the presence of my truth comes with risk). The
truth is that, the bond that should
exist between Black and white feminists does not. Many white feminists have
created a narrative of what feminism is and should be, leaving Black women
outside the storyline.
Before women’s lib, before suffrage, before any of that shit that never happened in Handmaid’s Tale, Black women have been doing the hard work, doling out blood, sweat, tears and results required to expedite change for women. Yet, as the resistance reaches a wider primetime audience, a legion of white feminists have all but forgotten about Black women who have been resisting for survival, not hashtags. Our invites to join the very movement we helped create are perpetually lost in the mail. Black women don’t need to re-create history or fantasize about the future in order to honor our relevance in the advancement of women of all colors and creeds. Our history has spoken for itself since its inception, it’s just that we’re the only ones who care to listen, remember, and learn from it.
Before women’s lib, before suffrage, before any of that shit that never happened in Handmaid’s Tale, Black women have been doing the hard work, doling out blood, sweat, tears and results required to expedite change for women. Yet, as the resistance reaches a wider primetime audience, a legion of white feminists have all but forgotten about Black women who have been resisting for survival, not hashtags. Our invites to join the very movement we helped create are perpetually lost in the mail. Black women don’t need to re-create history or fantasize about the future in order to honor our relevance in the advancement of women of all colors and creeds. Our history has spoken for itself since its inception, it’s just that we’re the only ones who care to listen, remember, and learn from it.
95% of the white women I know - whether from my workplace, my childhood, or my gym, haven’t the slightest clue as to what goes on in a Black woman’s neck of the woods. White women I associate with become shocked when I educate them on all the magazines, museums, rituals, television stations (besides BET), styles, protests, candidates, fashion shows, vacation homes, markets, spas, organizations, heroes, culture, trendy restaurants, etc., that cater to Black women exclusively. This awkward separation between white and Black feminists has become an invisible Berlin wall that cuts off any could-be unity. A wall so tall and thick, some white women will announce with pride that they “don’t see color”; a blatant confession that they have no respect for what it means to exist as a Black woman. Because, if you don’t see color, it’s literally impossible for you to be aware – let alone compassionate and empathetic toward any disparity Black women deal with on the daily. Because, you don’t see it. If you can’t see my color, you are likely to question and dismiss the reality that my race plays a much larger part in my fate than that of a white woman’s. Because, you don’t see it.
In the eyes of many white feminists,
I am merely the modern day Black girl standing on the sidelines, forcing the
white girls to give a nod of respect when I catch a foul ball – A League of
Their Own style. That very same cheap nod white women have been giving sisters
is the same behavior that provoked 53% of white American women to vote for the
former host of the Apprentice as the forty-fifth president of the once-kinda-united
States of America.
Nothing in this country is earned or taken without consequence. Black American women are evidence of that. What we have gained in success, education, and Michele Obama, we have lost in the compromise of having to surrender any sense of belonging in America. Do not be fooled by the Thursday night lineup on ABC; Black women are still very much excluded from the spoils that first-class citizens – white men and white women, enjoy in abundance.
Black women are still reeling from
all the freedom, family, reproductive rights we lost from 1519-1868 (you
know… from all the rapes and forced pregnancies), as well as the violent
riots, lynching’s, unjust imprisonment, and race-related slaughter that took
place during the reconstruction era, followed by fighting for the right to
vote, sit down at any seat on the bus, drink from any fountain, use any
bathroom stall, not get hung, go to and from work and not get beat up, and go
to school during the civil rights movement. Even Especially in
this current climate, we continue to fight off misogynoir from all directions and fend off the
stereotypes, micro-aggressions, and insults that come with being Black. And,
still we rise! With the unconditional support of no one except other Black
women. We've yet to show up at the door of white women, receipts in hand,
demanding to know where they’ve been, and how they intend to make up for lost
time. However, their absence has not gone unnoticed.
Earlier this year, I attended an event hosted by a local political group - the kind that had recently formed after the election and was filled with white women. I showed up with two
women- one was an integral member of the political group – we’ll call her
Becky, and a childhood friend of mine named Sarah. The event was filled with
white women who wanted to talk to me about the Kalief Browder docu-series on
Spike. Or, what my opinion was on Bill Cosby. Or, ask me what I thought Kanye was thinking when he had that meeting with the former host of the Apprentice. Or, any question or comment that
had anything to do with a Black person. On the way home, I told Becky and Sarah
how exhausting it was to constantly be the only Black woman to RSVP. I started
asking Becky what her intentions were to create a diverse , all-inclusive
environment. Both women began defending themselves, and each other. They became
emotional, yet, told me to relax. Before I could see it coming, my direct
questions had engulfed into a sob fest for the other women. They whispered to each other, “Maybe
she had too much to drink.” They both cried for themselves because of something
I was experiencing. This is not uncommon with white women who refuse to
acknowledge the lower-case racism they unknowingly contribute to. A contribution that plays a major role in separating white and Black women.
There are many white women who are reading this, probably thinking to themselves, “How dare this woman use such a broad brush to say that I’m not supportive of Black women, simply because I’m white? Who is she to assume such? This is an attack!” Well, before you file a formal complaint, ask yourself how familiar you are with the following topics, issues, epidemics, crises, and conversations amongst Black women. Click on every link, read every article and think-piece, and ask yourself again how involved and united white feminists are with Black women. Did you know?...
Simply addressing one of these
issues to a white woman can strike a colossal attack on the Black woman who
dares speak on it. Even my closest white friends are likely to draw tears,
defense, and irrational responses should I express a disparity, oversight, or
blatant disrespect that seems to only affect me.
The truth of the matter is, too many women wake up in the morning, snap on their safety pins, slide into their pussy hats, protest with Black Lives Matter, and think that proclaiming they are ‘for’ us is enough. Being ‘for’ anything is never enough. Just because you are for Black women does not mean that your internal support is in some way strengthening our fight. No, being for Black women is not enough. You must be with Black women. In order to be with Black women, you must identify our problems as the problem of all women, not the problems that only Black women are dealing from. The list above should not be deemed as Black women issues, rather, women’s issues. They must read that red list until they identify with it. White feminists must resolve their estranged relationship with Black women and stand with us. Any actions made towards building unity and authentic sisterhood on behalf of white feminists that exclude tangible change between intersectional relations is as worthless as a foul ball on the sideline.
