I am a Black American woman, in case you weren’t aware. This is an identity that has two parts that are intricately and inextricably intertwined. It is also an identity that allows me to see holes in both feminism and the fight for racial equality. Let me explain.
When I found out Mike Brown’s family would never have a chance at justice, I cried for my future black sons.
When I was assaulted on a train and realized my femaleness makes me more vulnerable, I cried for my future daughters.
I am sad for my future children. Not just because they will be black. Not just because some may be female. But because they may not see a day when either of those descriptors stops being a source of vulnerability.
Neither feminism nor the fight for racial equality is a cause for me. They are my life. My fight for gender equality and racial equality is my fight to stop being made to feel that I am vulnerable just because of who I am.
So I have one question for both non-black feminists and non-female protestors of racial inequality: when will you realize that your battles are the same?
Non-female protestors: don’t open your mouth to say Mike Brown’s death is a human issue if you’re not willing to say that the rape of at least 300,000 (low DOJ estimate) victims each year is a human issue as well.
Non-black feminists: don’t talk about the patriarchy if you’re not willing to admit that systematic racism has the same amount of power over societal norms. If you think that men should be concerned about gender inequality but you don’t concern yourself with racial inequality, then your version of feminism has no place for people like me.
I am no more black than I am female. I wake up every day in this skin, just as I wake up every day with a female sex organ between my legs. I have been afraid to walk down a dark road alone because I am a woman. I have felt eyes watching me as I shop in a store because I am black.
And as a caution to non-black feminists who think your claims of color-blindness will make me see you as an ally in the fight for racial equality: telling me you don’t see me as black is much like a man telling you he hadn’t noticed you even had breasts. My skin is a part of my identity, a part I wouldn’t trade for anything in the world. I don’t want you to pretend you didn’t know it was different than yours – I want you to say that you realize it makes me both valuable and vulnerable.
As a caution to non-female protestors of Mike Brown’s death and so many others: do not criticize people for not standing with you to say #BlackLivesMatter if you turned a blind eye to #YesAllWomen stories of misogyny and abuse against women.
I ask you again: when will you see that your battles are the same? When will you realize that if you listen to the other group like you want them to listen to you, we will be much closer to the equality we are all fighting for?
Hopefully this post has helped you to see this more clearly. Don’t say #BlackLivesMatter if you lurk in the shadows, looking for a vulnerable lady to prey on. And don’t say #YesAllWomen if you are the shopkeeper following a black customer around the store. Those contradictions are versions of racial equality and feminism that do not include me. They are feminism without racial equality, and racial equality without feminism. Neither of those outcomes works for me because I don’t get to be just a woman or just black – I am both. So if for no other reason, do me a favor – when you see a black woman standing with you to fight for equality that will benefit your life, ask yourself if you are doing all you can to stand with her as she fights for the other kinds of equality that will benefit hers.
When I was assaulted on a train and realized my femaleness makes me more vulnerable, I cried for my future daughters.
I am sad for my future children. Not just because they will be black. Not just because some may be female. But because they may not see a day when either of those descriptors stops being a source of vulnerability.
Neither feminism nor the fight for racial equality is a cause for me. They are my life. My fight for gender equality and racial equality is my fight to stop being made to feel that I am vulnerable just because of who I am.
So I have one question for both non-black feminists and non-female protestors of racial inequality: when will you realize that your battles are the same?
Non-female protestors: don’t open your mouth to say Mike Brown’s death is a human issue if you’re not willing to say that the rape of at least 300,000 (low DOJ estimate) victims each year is a human issue as well.
Non-black feminists: don’t talk about the patriarchy if you’re not willing to admit that systematic racism has the same amount of power over societal norms. If you think that men should be concerned about gender inequality but you don’t concern yourself with racial inequality, then your version of feminism has no place for people like me.
I am no more black than I am female. I wake up every day in this skin, just as I wake up every day with a female sex organ between my legs. I have been afraid to walk down a dark road alone because I am a woman. I have felt eyes watching me as I shop in a store because I am black.
And as a caution to non-black feminists who think your claims of color-blindness will make me see you as an ally in the fight for racial equality: telling me you don’t see me as black is much like a man telling you he hadn’t noticed you even had breasts. My skin is a part of my identity, a part I wouldn’t trade for anything in the world. I don’t want you to pretend you didn’t know it was different than yours – I want you to say that you realize it makes me both valuable and vulnerable.
As a caution to non-female protestors of Mike Brown’s death and so many others: do not criticize people for not standing with you to say #BlackLivesMatter if you turned a blind eye to #YesAllWomen stories of misogyny and abuse against women.
I ask you again: when will you see that your battles are the same? When will you realize that if you listen to the other group like you want them to listen to you, we will be much closer to the equality we are all fighting for?
Hopefully this post has helped you to see this more clearly. Don’t say #BlackLivesMatter if you lurk in the shadows, looking for a vulnerable lady to prey on. And don’t say #YesAllWomen if you are the shopkeeper following a black customer around the store. Those contradictions are versions of racial equality and feminism that do not include me. They are feminism without racial equality, and racial equality without feminism. Neither of those outcomes works for me because I don’t get to be just a woman or just black – I am both. So if for no other reason, do me a favor – when you see a black woman standing with you to fight for equality that will benefit your life, ask yourself if you are doing all you can to stand with her as she fights for the other kinds of equality that will benefit hers.