The seeds of my feminism were planted early. Women predominate my childhood memories. And not just any women: strong, Black women. Sisters who did it for themselves. The kind of women Lil Boosie writes songs about (I-N-D-E-P-E-N-D-E-N-T). These women instilled in me the value of self-sufficiency and hard work. They taught me what it meant to navigate the world as a Black woman in a racist, sexist society.
My most immediate female role models, my mom and my Aunt Helen, managed households and careers without a partner. They negotiated their multiple roles as head-of-household, mother, and career woman with relative success, but they never made it look easy. They struggled greatly and sacrificed much.
As a child, it was difficult to reconcile my own mother’s overburdened existence with the cushy lives that the mothers of my primarily white, suburban peers led. Their moms didn’t have to work. They attended every field trip, performance, and PTA meeting. They brought cupcakes to school just because. I remember a couple of the most active moms vividly. They were the Hall of Famers.
The Superstar Moms were almost always white. I never wondered why; I simply reasoned that these were just not things Black women did. (My nonexistent understanding of the structures of oppression that limit the agency of women of color as well as poor women shaped that logic.)
My mother regularly engaged my teachers—making sure we felt her presence, but I suspect she would not have been fulfilled by the life of a PTA MVP. She embodies a relentless determination that facilitated her professional success, and she did it with far fewer resources than many of her colleagues. Her existence was rooted in resistance. The balancing act was a tribute to her foremothers.
At 22, I’m just beginning to imagine my own future as a multi-hyphenate woman. I share my mother’s ambition, but I cannot see myself following the same path. Black women have long taken pride in our ability to be masters of all domains, but younger generations of women, myself included, seem to be rethinking that legacy. Perhaps “mom” is the only title that interests me.
Escaping The System
The global economic system relies on the exploitation of women’s labor, particularly that of minority women; thus, many Sisters face economic instability that prevents them from dropping out of the workforce for any period of time to focus exclusively on childcare. These women are, of course, vilified and painted as the stereotypical Matriarch Patricia Hill Collins outlines.
Questioning your predetermined societal roles requires power. We derive power from capital, so options for women with little access remain limited. As Black women have made gains up the socioeconomic ladder, we are provided more freedom to choose our roles. My mother, with her education and income, chose career woman. However, women like me are contemplating alternate courses.
Would I be willing to forgo creature comforts for a life of diapers and Disney? Perhaps. Natasha Smith, an Ivy-league educated former attorney, made the sacrifice. After an unexpected pregnancy, she rearranged her life:
I ate through my savings, and eventually moved in with family so that I could be the kind of mother I wanted. I worked (coaching figure skating) part-time. I’ve witnessed all of Nate’s firsts. This is what life is about. I’m shaping who he is as a person. This is more important to me than having material things.At the moment*, I have a deep desire to be a hands-on-mom of 4 (yes, 4) kids. I know better than to internalize the myth of the Working Mom Who Did It All With Ease perpetuated in 80s TV sitcoms. Clair Huxtable, though near and dear to us all, was a fictional character. Oprah, who has no children, once said, “You can have it all. Just not all at once.” As usual, Oprah is right.
Embracing motherhood and domesticity requires mediating career ambitions. This thought, however, fills me with angst.
The (Michelle) Obama Effect
African American women have opted for child-rearing over work for generations, but the choice has yet to be normalized in our community. We celebrate the women who break barriers of industry with tributes like Black Girls Rock, but what about the women who define themselves by their role as a mother. They don’t even get romanticized, fictional portrayals. Black stay-at-home mothers have a single, highly visible role model: Michelle Obama.
The First Lady has taken her licks from feminists for touting her role as “Mom In Chief,” but her self-definition is cause for celebration. Embracing the beauty of domesticity requires a rejection of the patriarchal/capitalist tendency to diminish the value of motherhood.
Despite the fact that it produces no tangible goods, motherhood is work. Seeing Michelle Obama devote her sweat equity to her children presents a major shift in the way the general public perceives Black womanhood. Mammy is out. Mommy is in.
The Double Standard
In order to pursue motherhood full time, one needs the support of their partner and/or community. There exists within Black America significant opposition to employable Black women taking to the home. Jolene Ivey is a co-founder of Mocha Moms, a community for Black mothers who stay at-home. She laments, “Devoting full time to motherhood is considered a waste of education by many in the black community.”
Women who make the choice are explicitly told they are lazy. Detractors echo my sentiments from my childhood they say, “Staying at home is for white women.” According to Ivey:
The fact that, historically, black women have rarely had the luxury to choose not to work has helped to enforce an expectation that we must work. Black mothers who choose to stay home sometimes face particularly harsh judgment, as if stepping away from our professional degrees and careers is a thoughtless slap at our ancestors, who endured back-breaking, knuckle-skinning work for us to have the opportunities that we have today.Conversely, white stay-at-home moms are lionized. It is an unfair double standard that restricts our potential for self-actualization.
African American women are doing what we have done time and again: re-imagining Black womanhood. By accepting more possibilities, we deconstruct racist stereotypes. We need be neither welfare queens nor domestic goddesses. What we desperately need is the opportunity to mold our family lives to suit our individual needs and desires without cultural constraints or societal judgements.
cross-posted @ ForHarriet.com
Black women do not save. That is, of course, unsurprising considering the American culture of consumption has transformed into a culture of debt [1]. But it just so happens that structural racism has made partaking in this culture all the more costly for Black communities.
A few weeks ago, the Post Gazette featured a study that explored into the racial wealth gap in the United States. This time, researchers analyzed the fiscal divisions through a gendered lens. The findings told what we already knew: Whites (this time women) control the overwhelming majority of wealth in the United States.
The writeup, titled “Study Finds Median Wealth for Single Black Women at $5” (an obvious attempt to capitalize off of the mainstream media’s obsession with the pathology of Black women.), wasn’t perfect [2]. But the fact remains: the economic structure of this country combined with the financial illiteracy of Black women promise us certain financial doom.
Countless blogger and armchair economist questioned the study as well as the motives behind it, but these findings should inspire some serious self-reflection. As a 21 year-old, my negative net worth is typical for a woman of any racial background [3]. These studies, however, do force me contemplate the ways in which my current risky fiscal behaviors may be setting me up for a shaky financial future despite my middle-class upbringing and world-class education.
And that box of economic dysfunction is not too difficult to unpack. Why spend spend the money in the first place? What prompts women like you and me to live life on the edge of financial ruin?
Not to ignore the very real structural impediments to the development of wealth in black communities, but according to KK Charles (2007) blacks could shrink the wealth gap by as much as 50% if we eliminated what he calls “visible consumption.”
This is an issue that cuts to the very heart of Black womanhood. Black women literally wear their insecurities. An oppressive economic structure cannot be blamed completely. Continued attacks on black women produce consumer culture that has an especially devastating affect on the emotional and financial well-being of all Black women.
As the media has been so quick to point out, it’s hard being a black woman. We’re continually told we’re too fat or too thin, too dark or too light, too picky or too easy. Black women have yet to succumb to the victimology that MSM tries to map onto us, but it is time that Black women grabbed the reigns of our economic destiny.
Changing The Channel
Black women cannot afford to be passive consumers of the media we are presented. Constant critical analysis of the way we’re represented in MSM is essential to developing a sense of self-worth in an unsympthathetic society. BET is an easy target; however, the brazen materialism and misogyny that many young women have become keen to consume provide examples of the ways that we’ve internalized the negative images that we have been force fed since birth.
However, reprogramming requires more than a rejection of the degrading music, videos, and film we encounter daily. It demands a new understanding of how we view the problem.
It’s time that we realize the repercussions of conspicuous consumption don’t confine themselves to innercity housing projects. Much maligned is the black woman who will spend $500 on her weave but can’t pay her light bill. We ridicule these women. We scorn them for their unrespectable behavior, but at the end of the day, we are these women. No matter how we may justify our spending sprees, few of us can afford to throw our money away. But old habits are hard to break.
What Are We Teaching Our Daughters?
I resist the temptation to blame entirely the designer-clad booty shakers on BET for our financial peril. These are issues that began long before Bob Johnson’s Frankenstein hit the airwaves. Studies show that bad financial behaviors are learned [4], so I’d venture to say that the majority of us who can’t balance a checkbook grew up with parent’s whose bank accounts, for one reason or another, were consistently overdrawn.
I am proud of most of the things I’ve received from my mom: her sense of humor, her love of music, her good genes that will keep me looking 35 when I am well into my 50s. But from her I also learned that worthwhile women pay meticulous attention to their appearance. That same voice that has me reaching for a mirror 10 times a day also has me reaching for my debit card as soon as I see a pair of shoes that would match perfectly with my new dress.
Before young girls are able to set priorites for themselves, we determine them. So let’s teach eachother that we don’t have to wait for a man to acknowledge our beauty. Everyday should be a celebration of Black womanhood. That includes abstaining from participation in a celebrity culture which delights in dissecting the flaws of female celebrities.
Mental stability and health are inextricable linked to that of our bank accounts. We as black women will never be able to close the dreaded wealth gap if we don’t first take time to learn about ourselves as well as the costs and consequences of reckless spending. Not only for ourselves but for our communities.
1. “Why can’t Americans save a dime? - MSN Money.” Personal Finance and Investing - MSN Money. http://moneycentral.msn.com/content/savinganddebt/savemoney/p145775.asp.
2. Ta-nehisi Coates does a characteristically brilliant job problematizing the Post’s presentation here.
3. The most stunning findings measure the wealth of single women between the ages of 36 and 45.
4. “Parents Offer Key to Children’s Financial Well-being.” http://uanews.org/node/25529
This was originally published in April 2010 on The FreshXpress
Let’s be honest, Women run the Black blogosphere. Though the overall ratio of men to women who read and write blogs is roughly the same, these demographic trends don’t seem to hold for black writers and readership. And I wouldn’t call that a bad thing. The Digital Sisterhood demonstrates that after centuries of being relegated to the margins, Black women are eager to explore ourselves and learn from each other in public.
The pervasiveness of Black female voices has expectedly riled resentment. Relationship blogger Dr. J writes:
“So how do some popular female bloggers who aren’t interested in talking about sex keep large readerships entertained? If you asked me, it seems as though they are constantly bringing men down, also known as blanketed hate for men, or Misandry.”
He goes on to explain a phenomena he unfortunately calls the “Domestic Violence Effect”:
“…because every man knows that you cannot simply go around bashing women and get away with it. I’ve titled it, the Domestic Violence Effect, men can never attack women, but when a woman does it, the man should grow thicker skin and never, under any circumstances, respond to an attack with a counterattack.”
I would be remiss to not point out how the domestic violence analogy, in this context, is ill-conceived. 85% of domestic violence victims are women; 1 in 4 women will experience abuse in her lifetime. Why would one take issue with men being encouraged to exercise good judgment in confrontations with women? But I digress…
In his myopia, the author neglects the fact that men routinely “get away with it.” Take a quick look at SBM’s recent posts, and you’ll find titles like “Ten Things Men Find Unattractive in Women But Probably Won’t Tell You,” “8 Signs That Girl Might Be Hoe …,” and “8 Things Women Just Don’t Get.” These are not exactly complimentary pieces. The success of pseudo-relationship gurus on and offline depends on women being just as eager to receive the lashings as men are to dole them out.
Dr. J’s musings struck me because this isn’t the first time I’ve seen a black man on the Internet use the term. There seems to be a perception that men are somehow marginalized in the digital arena; when in reality, Black men’s voices are elevated and amplified online just as they are offline.
Widespread misandry in digital spaces which cater to Black women is a myth. Perhaps the author is so used to Black women falling over themselves to avoid bruising the Black Male Ego that he perceives the absence of this behavior as “misandry.”
I am an infrequent visitor of the Black big love blogs. I do love Max Fab’s take, but beyond that I’m out of the loop. This piece caught my eye because it exemplifies how easy it is to latch on to a narrative of imagined dominance. It’s not just for delusional Tea Partiers.
Much like reverse racism, reverse sexism is an attempt to obfuscate real privilege and oppression. These men are emboldened by pseudo-intellectual piffle that gets printed by “reputable” publications like Psychology Today. (Yes, the very same people who brought us the “Black Women, You Shole Is Ugly” article.) According to Professor Anthony Synnott:
Alice Walker’s “The Color Purple” won the Pulitzer and is totally misandric, as are the best-sellers by Terry MacMillan. The movies were also were also very popular among women. Misandry sells. Why these black women should demonize black men, compounding sexism and racism, I don’t know. It just reinforces racism.
Do you hear that? Forget structural oppression and global white supremacy. Black women are to blame for compounding the sexism and racism perpetuated against Black men.
Cries of male-bashing are based on the patently-wrong assertion that misandry is somehow comparable to misogyny, thus we have to take the complaint seriously. It is not; therefore, we do not.
Yes, there are individual women who hate men. Men do even suffer discrete acts of discrimination; however, men were not bred in a society that devalues their worth in virtually all contexts. Unlike misogyny, misandry isn’t tied to a deeply-rooted system of institutional constraints. Call it a double standard if you wish. That is the truth.
As I mentioned before, Black women spend an inordinate amount of time reassuring men of their value in our communities. Even while we discuss our own unique set of issues and challenges, we must constantly check in to make sure our brothers know they are not under attack. The cycle is counterproductive as it further insures that men remain at the center of discussion; furthermore, the constant back-rubbing is exhausting and detracts from our ability to get to work.
The ongoing Black Male Privilege debate provides a prime example. The dispute has reached a number of platforms, and the response has been predictably divided along gender lines. Professor L’heureux Lewis defines BMP as, “a system of built in and often overlooked systematic advantages that center the experience and concerns of Black men while minimizing the power that Black males hold.”
While women confirm BMP’s existence with observations and experiences, men deny culpability while dismissing the idea as simply an attempt to “pile on.” Check the blog comments; a cadre of sistas waiting to jump to defend their mates can always be found.
Misogyny is real. Misandry, however, is an anti-feminist buzzword trotted out to silence women. Many Black men refuse to see themselves as having any privilege, and it is that denial which tears our community apart not angry Black women who can’t wait to slander good brothers in blog posts and comments.
Women are drawn to blogs and blogging in large part because they provide safe spaces to discuss pertinent issues. Women should not and will be shamed for speaking our unfiltered truths.
cross-posted @ ForHarriet.com
Every morning it gets more difficult. Crawling out of bed to prepare myself for eight hours of tedious, unfulfilling work saps me of my emotional energy before the day has really begun. With eyes still heavy from the previous night’s cry-fest, I attempt to make myself presentable. The routine has not changed in months, but on this day, something is different. I’ve relied on faith and determination to propel myself through the spiritual haze in the past, but I am yet stuck. I know this feeling. I am depressed.
The holidays are not particularly joyous for me. Each Winter I pray the Christmas spirit will consume me. It never does. The “most wonderful time of the year” ain’t so great for us black sheep. This is a difficult season for many with less than picture perfect family ties. We are left feeling empty with no choice but to watch as everyone around partakes in the fun. As I hear stories of traditions, celebrations, and reunions, I feel lonely as ever. Wake me up when December ends.
The realization that I‘m depressed came suddenly - my past episodes have made the signs clear; however, the sadness builds slowly. I was prepared to contend with the third anniversary of my father’s death, but I hadn’t expected to endure exhausting battles with my emotionally unavailable mother, crumbling associations with a group of malicious women, or dissolving relations with a captivating yet indifferent man. When your entire house of cards begins to fall, the weight becomes unbearable. Moreover the drear winter weather has not helped. We are a tropical people, and by “we” I mean those of us bred below the Mason-Dixon line.
I feel like an asthmatic gasping for air. Elementary tasks become laborious. I struggle to breathe, to shower, to laugh, to smile, and eat. My demeanor has changed. On my best day, I am a vibrant 20-something woman, but at the moment I can suck the life out of a room in an instant with my unstable energy. The loneliness and alienation that spur my depression also perpetuate it. It is a vicious cycle. As I withdraw, I sink deeper.
Divulging my turmoil goes against my secretive, Piscean nature, but silence kills. Audre Lorde spoke directly to me when she wrote “your silence will not protect you.” So I will continue to discuss my pain with candor in the hope that these words may serve to liberate someone because I have so benefitted from the openness of women like Bassey Ikpi and the many sisters who have shared their stories here.
Depression has been that family member with boundary issues who routinely shows up at your door unannounced. It’s been coming around since I was a kid, and we are well acquainted.
For now, the cloud continues to cast a shadow over my disposition, but I am beginning to see my way out. I have concerns about anti-depressants — though I have not ruled them out, so under the advisement of my therapist I opt for non-chemical remedies. Self-care — namely therapy, diet, and exercise — has been my successful treatment. I’ll also have to make efforts to reconnect with those I’ve pulled away from over the past few weeks. Thankfully, I have incredible friends, and I know they’ll understand my absence.
This is a hectic season, but set aside some time for reflection and self-care. Cast off the fear and shame that so often accompany suffering. Reach out.
crossposted @ ForHarriet.com
