fierce feb 2016
DESCRIPTION
The first edition of Lancaster University feminist society's magazineTRANSCRIPT
Race in Feminism: Directing Our Efforts
As a black feminist who’s passionate
about challenging our scope of race
inside the feminist movement, I feel
I’ve noticed a slight trend in the
behavior of some of the white allies I
speak to. More often than not someone will relay to
me an experience that they recognize to be racist such
as a time when “their black friend was thrown out of a
club just because he’s black” or how “their mates get
stopped by police all the time and its soooo unfair” etc.
etc. Most of the examples are rightfully identified, and
it’s positive that they feel strongly about them. But the
reality is I don’t feel comfortable with white allies
sharing this sort of information with me – it’s not me
you need to be telling.
Overall I don’t feel like you’re any more of an ally just
because you recognize a situation where racism has
occurred because that’s not really enough. When you
share with and show people news about racism you
need to ask yourself why you’re doing it. Are you
sharing this with others because you want to alert them
to the fact racism is a problem? Because you want to
challenge racist views held by others? Or because you
want to prove your comradeship to me as your black
companion? As a black person I’m already aware of
these exist - as disenfranchised groups often have to be
alert towards their treatment on a near continuous
basis (often for the sake of their own safety) you are
not doing anything to stop racism by telling me that it
exists; I already know!
Rather it’s your white friends you should be showing,
that is, the ones who don’t agree. Use this information
to challenge white supremacy where you see it and
show this information to the people who don’t have to
live with it every day.
This is not to criticize people for being aware of racism
in situations, that’s positive and showing solidarity with
black women is clearly a good thing. But to me it comes
across as a method of proving that you’re an ally. It
brings an air of “look at me, I’m sympathetic to your
cause!” to the conversation – it’s great that you
recognize oppression is bad but it doesn’t mean you
deserve to be rewarded for it with my approval. The
same attitude we take with men championing the
feminist movement should be applied here – we are
pleased that you are willing to fight for our cause but
that does not mean you should be congratulated for
doing it; as a person in a position of privilege you are
doing what is required.
Consider the events at last year’s Emmys hosted by Neil
Patrick Harris. In a response to the nearly all-white
nominations Harris remarked “Tonight we celebrate
Hollywood’s best and whitest, sorry … brightest”.
Socially aware? Yes, he clearly brought light to a
problematic situation, but the joke tends to fall flat
when we’re sitting hear a year later with no such
improvement in nomination diversity. Imagine if this
quip was rather a serious address to the Oscars voting
board complaining about their lack of diversity in
nominations. Imagine what kind of ground we can make
when we use our awareness productively rather than
to just let people know we’re aware.
Obviously I cannot and do not attempt to speak for all
black women on this matter, but I feel it’s imperative
that white allies understand the point of what I’m saying
here. It’s not to say that you can’t tell black people
about what’s going on, the point is to direct the effort
towards those that NEED to hear it so we can challenge
white supremacy in all its forms, no matter how difficult
it might be.
Christine Ochefu
Unshrinking
Exactly how many years does it take
to unlearn the ways you have shrunk yourself
To unravel your body, your laughter, your silence
from their habitual residences
and teach them swear words in the back alleys of your happiness.
On my bad days,
when I find myself biting my bleeding lips
in case I laughed too loud four conversations ago
and somebody noticed,
I remember the first women who taught me
that to love yourself
is an act of political defiance.
I remember penny and hooks and angelou and petrie
and the girl in my school who told me, unfaltering,
she wouldn’t change a thing about herself.
On my good days,
I am scorching to the touch,
fiery words flinging into places of bigotry
quicker than any hand that has ever touched me.
I am glowing; unshakeable;
a piecemeal revolution.
Anna Oakes-Monger
Unshrinking
Exactly how many years does it take
to unlearn the ways you have shrunk yourself
To unravel your body, your laughter, your silence
from their habitual residences
and teach them swear words in the back alleys of your happiness.
On my bad days,
when I find myself biting my bleeding lips
in case I laughed too loud four conversations ago
and somebody noticed,
I remember the first women who taught me
that to love yourself
is an act of political defiance.
I remember penny and hooks and angelou and petrie
and the girl in my school who told me, unfaltering,
she wouldn’t change a thing about herself.
On my good days,
I am scorching to the touch,
fiery words flinging into places of bigotry
quicker than any hand that has ever touched me.
I am glowing; unshakeable;
a piecemeal revolution.
Anna Oakes-Monger