Kimberly Nicole Foster

Black Feminist Contradictions: We All Got 'Em

Wed, 15 Feb 2012 20:28:00 -0500

There will always be debate about what defines a feminist. While conservative women like Sarah Palin and Michelle Bachmann attempt to misappropriate the term and negate its progressive origins, Black women struggle to embrace it and see our place within the movement.

Feminism (or Womanisn if you please) is a Black woman’s birthright. We had no choice but to question the racist, sexist power structures that define Western culture. Black feminism has enabled Black women to define ourselves for ourselves in a world that would have us reduced to caricature. For this reason—and many more— I embrace Feminism fully. Its messy history of exclusion has not deterred me from recognizing the importance of feminist ideals in the quest for the equality of all people.

A feminist life is supposed to be a liberated one. A transcendent existence free of the constraints foisted upon us but a society that cares not for our best interest. Yet sometimes I feel constricted in trying to live up to the expectations I set for “good feminists.” I often feel guilty for not living my life in complete accordance with feminist principles. (I’ve written about this before)

This tension is most acute in my personal life. My desire to dismantle the structures of oppression that limit the life chances and opportunities of marginalized groups often comes second to my longing to have a good time and enjoy my youth.

The entertainment I consume is particularly questionable by Black Feminist standards. It’s violent, it’s sexist, and often homophobic. I do not say this with pride, but I’m an avid listener of the most degrading type of rap music and loyal viewer of the most exploitative television. The irony (hypocrisy) of my media choices is not lost on me.

I worry often that partaking in the corrosive culture of hip hop in particular delegitimates my voice as an activist. Of course I could just give up my unhealthy habits, but it’s not that simple. (Joan Morgan explains the pull more eloquently than I ever could.) The desire to remain connected to cultural elements that actively oppress you is damn near a sickness, but I have not yet decide if this illness necessitates a cure.

Perhaps my mistake is not enjoying but doing so publicly. If I laughed at the absurdity of Atlanta’s Real Housewives in private, at the very least it would spare me the sanctimonious finger wagging of uber feminists. These are the womyn who wouldn’t dare use the b-word. The women who spend all their free time listening to neo-soul and reading bell hooks. I am not one of those women, nor do I desire to be. My life is layered. The contradictions evidence the fullness of my womanhood.

My journey with feminism mirrors my personal faith in that I struggle daily to figure out the right balance for my life. Feminist theory remains a useful guide in helping me to understand myself and the world around me, but it is just that: theory. (Word to Patricia Hill Collins.)

The Christianity comparison is not meant to blaspheme but to illustrate that navigating personal belief systems is arduous because life is complex. Being a perfect feminist is impossible. Even icons stumble. (Alice Walker and Gloria Steinem immediately come to mind.) And I don’t condemn them for their missteps because we’re doing the best with what we know.

Maya Angelou famously mused, “When you know better, you do better.” Those who seek to leave the world better than they found it must engage in self reflection. But spiritual survival requires that we make sure that self examination doesn’t devolve into self flagellation. I can no l longer beat myself up over my feminist shortcomings. My Black Feminist contradictions will have to do.

A Message to Black Folks: Don't Get Mad, Get GLAAD

Wed, 15 Feb 2012 20:25:50 -0500

The past week has been an important one for digital advocacy. In a matter of days, two major organizations, Susan G. Komen for the Cure and CNN, were forced into decisive action by the feminist and LGBT communities respectively. Supporters used Twitter, Facebook, blogs and message boards to rally their proverbial troops. Proving, once again, that the power lies with the people, and when we choose to lift our voices, we can prevail.

They make it look easy. Under duress Komen reversed its decision to indefinitely defund Planned Parenthood, and CNN placed commentator Roland Martin on suspension for homophobic tweets. Each of these results were achieved within days of a concerted outcry.

It seems as though Black folks are the only interest group who can’t coordinate digitally to effect change. When black communities are attacked—which happens daily—why do we have so much difficulty spreading an effective, unified message? We rarely wield the power to force anyone’s hand.

These social media successes were not flukes, they were facilitated by existing structures embedded within the communities. Structures that African Americans simply do not have. Or perhaps we have them, but we have not yet figured out how to use them to our best advantage.

Much discussed has been the digital divide which explains disparate access to the internet’s wealth of resources in communities of color, but we have yet failed to address how men and women of African descent have not fully tapped into the power of digital spaces and social media to address malicious media misrepresentation and corrosive public policy.

Yes, there exist startups like ColorofChange.org, but Black communities lag behind in response to offensive onslaughts. We’re in a new age, where those who cannot make their voices heard quickly will be swept under the rug just as we’ve always been.

When Susan G. Komen for the Cure announced it would no longer provide over $600,000 in funding to Planned Parenthood for breast cancer screenings, the feminist blogosphere swooped down with its unmistakable fury. Pro-choice bloggers and tweeters quickly organized a well-coordinated assault, overwhelming the organization’s official social media pages with calls to action. All the while, top feminist blogs were continually updated with the mission’s progress.

These actions worked because top Komen officials did a terrible job of handling the controversy in the first day, and the furor shook the organization to the core, prompting the resignation of one of its conservative VP of Public Policy.

To be certain, this was a groundswell. The Planned Parenthood cohort crosscut many groups. There was no Feminist Boule gathered in a dark room plotting strategy. The amorphous feminist blogosphere occupies enough territory to disseminate the message quickly. Supporters know when to act and how to do so with speed and fervency because they had a single goal.

The Komen case should be a model for African American reaction to policy decisions that negatively impact our communities. The trouble, it seems, it that we are so diverse in opinion that we cannot decide on a single goal.

The Gay & Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation (GLAAD) spearheaded suspension of Roland Martin provides another example of coordinated, effectual digital activism. After Martin’s controversial tweets, the group responded to him from their official account almost immediately. In contrast to the previous case, this was a top down operation. When GLAAD strikes, a community follows.

With remarkable speed, they drafted a petition for Martin’s firing and a press release about the incident which resulted in several media hits and sparked discussion.

Unsurprisingly, many African Americans rushed to Martin’s defense insisting that he had been unfairly targeted. Whether you agree or not, at the end the day GLAAD did its job. I’m sure the next time a moderately successful social commentator gets the urge to spew homophobia, they’ll think twice.

Time is of the essence in the 24 hour news culture, and Black America’s national clearinghouses always seem to be a step behind. Though the bounds of Blackness are far too expansive for a single agenda, there are boundless opportunities for us to strike back because everyday there are policies passed that adversely affect the lives of Blacks in America and abroad.

Communities of color must use both grass roots and organizational responses to counter the constant attacks on our rights and persons. Instead of being critical of “gay mafia” or “feminazis” who can pull together a digital demonstration effectively, we need to be build our own organizations and networks that can do the same.

UnPretty: My Personal Battle With Vanity and Insecurity

Wed, 08 Feb 2012 18:59:15 -0500

At what point does something you enjoy become a source of your own imprisonment? We classify many things as addictions, but not until recently did I ever consider I might be battling one of my own.

I am a daughter of consumerism. As a quintessential girly girl, I love clothes, makeup, and hair. (Yep, I buy my hair, and I whip it back and forth with pleasure.)

Hoarding these things has been a key component of my identity since I was a kid. As I grow into my feminism, however, I have begun to recognize the pitfalls of how closely I’m bound to my physical appearance.

I am a feminist. I consider myself an advocate for the basic right of women to exist with dignity in the world, but lately I question if my personal embrace of the Beauty Industrial Complex, that is the cultural systems and practices used to craft a singular, unattainable notion of beauty, seriously negates the messages I espouse. The personal is political, and I consistently feel twinges of guilt about the ways in which my choices contribute to the oppression of women.

I understand that I alone could never dismantle the oppression matrix that keeps women crawling back to makeup counters, nail shops, and clothing stores in order to look their “best.” After all, my addictions are yet another byproduct of our patriarchal culture. But by purposely tailoring my appearance to the most accessible beauty standards, I fear that I am further marginalizing the women who cannot or choose not to conform to these norms.

The notion struck me as I was playing with a group of 7 and 8 year old girls earlier this summer. One of them named Anna beamed up at me with a bright smile.

“You’re pretty,” she said. “How did you get so pretty?”

It was an innocent moment. One I’m sure most women would shrug off, but the little girl’s simple question brought back a flood of memories.

The women in my immediate family are connected by our humor and our vanity. As the youngest child, I grew up watching my mom and older sister fuss and fret over makeup application and outfit selection. Seeing the confidence ooze once they were all done up left a mark: worthy women were well dressed and well mannered. I followed suit, and by 6 or 7 had fully adopted their ways. But that turned into, what I will admit, is an unhealthy obsession with my looks. I started wearing lipgloss and press-on nails at 9, foundation and heels at 12, and by the time I entered high school, I had graduated to full drag. Nails done. Hair Done. Everything did.

And I’ve been that way ever since. I enjoy being ultra-femme, and I take pride in walking out the door knowing I will probably be the best dressed person in the room. I often consider slowly dialing it back: shorter weave, less makeup, flats maybe. But I’m still not ready to give up the lifestyle.

I know I’m overcompensating. From the time I was in school, I rarely felt physically attractive, but I regularly garnered praise for how I was perfectly put together. The boys ignored my existence except to point out the size of my behind while the girls fawned over my styles. That still sticks (as most of our childhood baggage does).

Now I’m wedded to the glam. My makeup is my war paint. Once I put it on, I am instantly empowered to step into the role of a cool, self-assured woman.

I will never be the pretty girl, and that’s ok. Thankfully I have other talents, but It feels good to be noticed. Would Anna have made that comment without my accoutrements? Probably not. For me that’s a scary thought.

Black women are no strangers to invisibility. We all want to be acknowledged, and constantly getting overlooked is hurtful and demoralizing. Pushing back against the forces that tell us we are unworthy with outlets like this is my life’s goal. But I’m still working on me.

I’ll be the first to jump on anyone who comes at the gorgeous natural hair sistas, but I always get confused stares after my rants. A single glance at my waist-length weave seems to betray my true allegiances. The fact is that in many ways my own idea of aesthetic perfection ignores Black beauty and my West African heritage. That is difficult to admit, but that is the space I currently occupy.

In my perfect world, no woman would feel tethered to the superficial. My biggest fear for my future daughters is that they will inherit their mother’s curse.

I am a young woman, and I continue to grow and learn. I have time to shed this skin, but right now I’m a willing prisoner.

Invisible Chains: Unlearning My Mother's Wisdom

Tue, 07 Feb 2012 21:20:00 -0500

Through the years it has been corporatized and commodified, but Black History Month is a time for self-reflection and meditation. A time to remember those men and women whose boldness and bravery left a mark on our collective consciousness. A time where individually each of us must take stock of our talents and think about what we will do to lift as we climb.

While we celebrate the trailblazers, the holiday exposes one of the most maddening contradictions of the Black female experience: African American women derive strength and pride from the fearlessness of our foremothers, but our own mothers and surrogates direct us to lead our lives with a spirit of caution.

From childhood, little black girls are taught to survive not to soar. A young black women who dares to dream in color should expect that the women closest to her will, without hesitation, douse her heart in a sensible beige.

Black mothers are no different from anyone else. They love completely, give unselfishly and fight relentlessly. They do so, however, with the looming specter of white supremacy. That legacy has left behind a trail of pain and frustration. We often forget the humanity of our mothers, but their eyes have seen what ours have not. They harbor sadness over missed opportunities and perpetual disappointments.

So when our spiritual guides tell us: think big but don’t overreach or keep your head down and follow the rules. They do so not out of malice but of necessity. They mean to insure we thrive financially and psychically.

Black Mothers kill dreams, but only because they care.

This is why I cannot fault my mom for her reluctance to accept my embrace of an atypical life. She is the one who taught me black women’s multiple oppressions make us more vulnerable in the wake of missteps. Her carefully constructed plans of action do not, however, provide an opportunity for freedom or fulfillment.

Melissa Harris- Perry’s latest book, Sister Citizen , explores the ways in which Black women attempt to “move forward in our authentic selves” in spite of the stereotype-laden muck we wade through daily.

We try to cleanse ourselves with overachievement and respectability, but we can never seem to erase the stain of misrecognition. And perhaps it’s time we stop trying. The dance is exhausting and prevents us from living fully.

Because if I had one wish for all of Black womanhood, it would be to loose the chains that tie us to notions of our inevitable defeat. Unfortunately, I don’t have a magic wand to heal the heartache that hundreds of years of maneuvering the confines of racist structures has caused.

The conservatism of our mothers, passed down through generations, causes us to look askance at the black woman who veers left. Whether it’s her behavior, aesthetic or career choice that causes discomfort, we would be better served to enshroud her in revolutionary love, a love that fortifies and inspires.

If our ultimate goal is to cultivate greatness in our sisters and our daughters, we must recognize that it comes in all forms. A point I hope we can remember as we continue to contemplate how to build on the foundations the women who came before us laid.

cross-posted on For Harriet

Does BET's 'The Game' Hate Black Women?

Fri, 03 Feb 2012 19:03:00 -0500

It’s been over a year since The Game returned to television, and the comeback has been rocky. The story arcs lack depth and the dialogue lacks wit. But those missteps might have been forgiven had the show preserved the integrity of the characters we grew to love so much that we, the viewers, petitioned for months to revive. Not only did that not happen, but since it’s return, The Game took a nasty misogynistic turn that has left many members of its Black, female viewership frustrated and confused.

A show that once centered around the fraught yet loving relationships of a trio of unlikely friends, has devolved into a replication of the same tired stereotypes Black women are fed at every turn. What spurred that creative decision? I doubt The Game’s audience has changed since its days on network TV, and the team behind-the-scenes has remained largely intact. But the BET production now lives up to the network’s reputation as a haven for Black woman bashing.

The women on the show are now merely plot devices. None of the characters are fully developed but the definition of the female characters seems malicious. Melanie’s bizarre transformation this season provides a prime example.

The show’s writers made some questionable choices with Mel in the past, but she was a woman whose eyebrow raising decisions were dictated by her complex and often messy circumstances. (Some of which she controlled, but many she did not.)That Melanie was relatable. This one is unredeemable. She’s shallow and materialistic. The woman who worked her way through medical school is now ceaselessly vapid.

The infertility story line, however, concerns me more than anything. The show took some jabs at name brand religion this week, but the framing of Mel’s struggle to conceive relies on the Gospel of slut-shaming taught by patriarchy and conservative religion. It is more than implied that her infertility is a punishment for past promiscuity. Despite the fact that one in three women will have an abortion in her lifetime, The Game’s writers seem intent to perpetuate the negative stigma associated with, what is, a common medical procedure.

The Chardonnay storyline, meant to evolve Jason Pitts, provides even more cringe-inducing moments. Chardonnay couldn’t simply be Jason Pitts’ love interest; she has to be the link to his forgotten heritage. She’s Chardonnay the Magic Negress ushering him to the Proud Black Man Promised Land. The character would be less maddening if heterosexual Black women were not expected to subvert personal work to become our fullest, freest selves in order to guide the maturation of our partners.

And then there’s Tasha Mack. Not even her immaculate head scarf could distract from the offensiveness of her lonely black woman spiel to Jason in which she calls Steve Harvey a prophet. A prophet? The man who made millions exploiting the real pain and imagined deficiency of Black women. Tasha’s grounded moments come in interactions with her son, but I deeply resent her overall coonification.

The frustration with which I watched last night’s episode of The Game makes me wonder why I bother. Then I remember television and I have a dysfunctional relationship that borders on the abusive. The more shows I once loved hurt me, the more invested I become in their success. The Game, once a light comedy, is now a heavy handed dramedy that halfheartedly attempts to tackle deep issues within black communities without an ounce of nuance.

This is an official plea to flesh out the The Game’s female characters. It’s time for show to explore the fullness of their womanhood. Let them be women not caricatures.

There's Nothing Wrong With Being A 'Foul-Mouthed Female'

Mon, 30 Jan 2012 17:28:00 -0500

I am a foul-mouthed woman. Despite the fact that I did not grow up in a home where swearing was encouraged—or even tolerated—once I got to be about 13, my friends would be hard pressed to hear me in conversation without dropping the f-bomb or the s-word. (I say friends because I was diligent about refraining from the language in front of my elders lest my mom come down on me with her unmistakable fury. She didn’t play that. Ours was a Christian household.)

Now, a decade later, an encounter with me without a vulgarity is rare. For the moment, I’m off the sauce, drugs are bad, and I don’t fornicate with nearly enough regularity, so the questionable language provides my release. It’s good, not-so-clean fun.

I’ve contemplated giving it up. But why? Is my propensity for cuss words a poor reflection of my character? Fuck no.

According to some, women like me are a scourge on society. Our crude language and racy humor are corroding the moral fabric of America, a fabric which women are expected to mend.

Georgea Kovanis of the Detroit Free Press finds the rising acceptance of potty humor among the fairer sex offensive. She writes:

It’s not that women are new to swearing or telling off-color jokes or repeating brutal gossip or engaging in bad behavior…It’s just that now, many of us are loud and proud of it.

Natural biological functions and anatomy are apparently off limits too.

The piece opens with a series of recent scenarios meant to elucidate the depth of the problem. Joan Rivers mentions tampons on a morning show! Isn’t that disgusting? Tina Fey and Jane Lynch make a dick joke at the Globes! How dare they? Miley Cyrus takes a picture with a penis cake! What about the children?

Women did not, as Kovanis concedes, just discover swear words and dick jokes. We have delighted in them privately since the dawn of time, but only recently has popular culture reached a point wherein women can indulge publicly and avoid life or career ruining social stigma. That’s a good thing. With each generation, it gets better.

The dismantling of Victorian ideals provides cause for concern.

Being ladylike, it seems, is a thing of the past.

Oh, Georgea. How laughably anachronistic of you. The author and others of similar ilk conjure up an idyllic, imagined past where women provided the panacea for bad taste.

Yes, let’s go back to the good old days when the broads knew their place, and all was right in the world.*sigh* I blame The Help.

We can move beyond the desire to be “ladylike.” Hopefully, we’re approaching an age of female self-definition. In which women feel free to define their womanhood for themselves and not by antiquated dictates of acceptable behavior.

Comedians like Kristen Wiig, Margaret Cho, and Mo’Nique do not relinquish their rights to womanhood because they dare to be lewd. Asserting such is sexist and ridiculous.

In truth, I’m not a huge fan of that particular brand of humor, ( That’s why I’ve avoided watching Bridesmaids despite the effusive reviews. Watching someone move their bowels in the middle of the street is precisely what I don’t need in my life.) but I loathe shallow, restrictive gender norms even more.

Not simply because they’re largely nonsensical but because they’re so unevenly applied. Is it a coincidence Kovanis’ disappointment resides with the misdeeds of white women?

As a black woman, I could have surmised that screed wasn’t directed toward me. Women of color have not historically been expected to adhere to the same standards of decency as white women. (Though, for better or worse, the Age of Michelle Obama may be changing that.)

Handwringing over the declining morals of society reveals an indictment of the increasing agency of formerly oppressed classes. Women are stepping out of the culture of shame. Misogynists find this to be problematic.

The question isn’t why so many women are now comfortable using coarse language, but why are so many men and women intent to maintain the status quo that diminishes our liberty?

Women who express themselves in an “unbecoming” manner are not “following in the footsteps of men” as Kovanis writes. They are embracing their fullest, freest selves.

It’s time to stop perpetuating faux concern about the dissolution of feminine morals. Women are getting fouler because we are getting freer. Deal with it.

Note: I do not ever refer to myself, or other women, as females in everyday conversation, but in this case it alliterates *shrugs*

A Domestic Dream: Re-imagining Black Motherhood

Fri, 06 Jan 2012 02:01:10 -0500

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

Lemme Hold $5: Why Black Women Continually Come Up Short

Sat, 31 Dec 2011 10:05:00 -0500

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

Please! Black Men Are Not Marginalized On The Internet

Mon, 26 Dec 2011 01:26:50 -0500

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

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year?

Sat, 24 Dec 2011 00:27:00 -0500

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

Oh na na vivalafashi0n: <3

Tue, 18 Jan 2011 16:03:49 -0500

Oh na na

vivalafashi0n:

<3

#blackgirlsaresoeffingpretty

Tue, 18 Jan 2011 15:58:02 -0500

#blackgirlsaresoeffingpretty

Does this outfit make sense to you? saucyfbaby: Angela Simmons...

Mon, 17 Jan 2011 15:28:13 -0500

Does this outfit make sense to you?

saucyfbaby:

Angela Simmons in Alexander Wang Dress & Giuseppe Zanotti High Top Python Sneakers from Spring 2011

Love Gwen.

Mon, 17 Jan 2011 14:30:03 -0500

Love Gwen.

#blackgirlsaresoeffingpretty

Fri, 14 Jan 2011 13:00:27 -0500

#blackgirlsaresoeffingpretty

Another song I was listening to way too young. And um can we get...

Fri, 14 Jan 2011 12:00:30 -0500

Another song I was listening to way too young. And um can we get another dope girl group please?

3 stacks. And shoutout to the women who appreciate his talent...

Fri, 14 Jan 2011 11:00:24 -0500

3 stacks. And shoutout to the women who appreciate his talent but now his “sexy.” #pass

I am neither ride nor die, but this movie is everything.

Thu, 13 Jan 2011 12:00:06 -0500

I am neither ride nor die, but this movie is everything.

Vionnet Spring 2011

Thu, 13 Jan 2011 11:00:07 -0500

Vionnet Spring 2011

Free Huey!

Fri, 07 Jan 2011 12:02:49 -0500

Free Huey!