Rush Limbaugh’s hateful comments toward Georgetown law student, Sandra Fluke, and the ensuing digital shitstorm that resulted in over twelve advertisers and two radio stations pulling their support has proven many things. One of which is that women are using the internet to combat sexism and intolerance– and we’re winning.
Fluke, who was barred from giving her testimony at the House Committee on Oversight & Government Reform on the ObamaCare contraception mandate and its implications for religious liberty, has dealt diplomatically with both the good and the bad press she’s received. But there are underlying issues that are being dangerously overlooked, one of which is the fact that Sandra Fluke is White.
When a white woman gets called a slut, America is up in arms, tearing through their closets for their shiniest white knight armor and suiting up for a battle to reclaim her dignity. But the living and breathing stereotype about Black women’s sexual prowess and the lascivious nature by which we supposedly live our lives is as pervasive as ever. No one is suiting up to fight for us, no armies of people are showing up on our behalf making threats for us, and no one is fighting to reclaim our dignity.
TheBlack Feminist Working Group [Iresha Picot, Kimberly Murray, Tiamba Wilkerson, Nuala Cabral, Darasia Selby, & Ladi’Sasha Jones] created this phenomenally poignant platform in an effort to identify the importance of the unique needs of Black women within the struggle for liberation of the Black community. It highlights a need for Black women to be free of reproductive oppression and sexual violence to have access essential human dignities like affordable housing and healthcare.
Take a minute to read this, digest it and share it.
“I am a Black Feminist. I mean I recognize that my power as well as my primary oppressions come as a result of my blackness as well as my womaness, and therefore my struggles on both of these fronts are inseparable.”
-Audre Lorde
Black Feminist Twelve Point Plan
We are a collective of black feminists/womanists activists who are committed to the liberation of the black community. As black women the conditions of our lives are created by interlocking systems of oppression. As a collective we oppose all forms of oppression and are continuously working to develop our analysis to be effective allies with other marginalized communities. We created this platform to address the misconceptions about what black feminists/womanists believe, where our allegiances lie and what we want for the black community. We recognize that the problems that exists within the black community are connected to larger systems of oppression and domination. However, this document addresses those issues that disportionately affect the black community because this is the community that we as black feminists identify as our homebase and foundation. We developed this statement from a place of love and not divisiveness, as we struggle along with our brothas and black people of all genders for the safety, security, and liberation of our community. We believe that the liberation of black women is necessary and integral to the liberation of the black community and not separate from it.
1.WE WANT FREEDOM.
We believe that freedom is only possible through individual and community self-determination. In order for the black community to achieve self-determination all systems of oppression must be dismantled.
2. We want a reformation of the criminal justice system, the abolition of the prison industrial complex and the implementation of community based models of justice and accountability.
This system has routinely targeted Black folks in the form of police brutality and covert corruption in the penal system that has led to the mass incarceration of Black people. The prison system violates human rights, causes the separation of families and capitalizes off the neo-slave labor of Black and Brown bodies that has been the basis of a profitable prison industrial complex.
3. We want control over our reproductive health and believe it is essential to building and maintaining strong black communities.
The United States government has, from its inception, consistently attempted to regulate, scapegoat and profit from the reproductive capabilities of black people. The denial of reproductive justice and autonomy began during slavery and continues today in the form of sterilization abuses, purposeful prescription of harmful contraceptives, and the targeting of black women as eugenicists for demanding access to safe and legal abortions. We demand an end to the pathology and criminalization of black motherhood and families the right to affordable and safe reproductive health care for all.
Black Women Writers– a timeless book that lays perched on my teeming bookshelf, tattered pages strewn with notes, insignificant to the naked eye. This critical evaluation of Black literary brilliance, that assesses the works of women like Toni Cade Bambara, Audre Lorde, Sonia Sanchez, Alice Walker, and Gwendolyn Brooks, is my Black history. I carry this history with me everywhere I go, indulging in the fictional genius and immeasurable talent of women who look like me and with whom I share the passion for the art of literature. This history fuels my creative prose and for it I am infinitely grateful because without it, I can’t be sure of where I would find my inspiration. But this is my Black history – not yours.
Black history month is proof of America’s obsession with pacifist behavior. A sweet cyclic muse that we court each February, exploiting the notion that Black history is a subgenre of American history and therefore can be relegated to a month filled with partial truths — one short, concentrated heritage month spent divulging stories that have been diluted due to an overwhelming feeling of White guilt. This guilt urges historians to hide the truth and tell only those heroic tales of Blackness suitable for their grandchildren’s ears. This is not my Black history.
Each of us enters February anew. A month that begins and ends just like the others, with affixed holidays, anniversaries, and birthdays. Guilt, tradition, and a fear of discriminatory reprisal will lead teachers and the media to communicate misbegotten lessons that highlight the importance and relevance of Black people and our contributions, but we don’t have to bite. We don’t have to agree to learning only the lessons that post-racialists deem relevant to teach — a watery, fetishized skeleton of what is one of the most potent and vital legacies in American history.
My Black history, the one I celebrate every day, is intoxicating. It’s too vast, too compelling, and too detailed to fit into my pocket or yours. My Black history is shiny. It sparkles with glitter and gold. It’s feminine, mysterious, and integral. My Black history has many names: Baldwin, Carver, Chisholm, Hamer, Baker, and Douglas. It has been recorded and retold in many voices, through many narratives, and doesn’t consent to being muddled under the pretext of comfort. My Black history is tall, dashing, and poised. My Black history is not easily oppressed because it is fundamentally weaved into the foundational fabric of America.
Today, history is being strategically decontextualized. States like Texas and Tennessee are fighting to ensure that children learn only what’s easy to digest – only what feels comfortable and nothing more. This certainly isn’t my Black history because in addition to all of the above-mentioned qualities, my Black history is rooted in suffering and sorrow. It can be a sad, heartbreaking tale of death and destruction that weeps angrily. Its unembellished, uncovered body bares deep scars of a long, unforgiving, and vicious experience– an experience that cannot be denied no matter the amount of discomfort it causes, and an experience that cannot be commercially highjacked or co-opted and then slanted into agreeable information.
We are each responsible for our own awareness of history. The vitality of it is subjective. Black history isn’t an impartial regurgitation of facts and ideas; it is a cultural experience that has shaped the lives of not just Blacks but everyone born in this country. It is no less culturally important than other histories. In fact, it is the collective struggle that helps us transcend the idea that our cultural legacies be confined to heritage months.
My Black history is my own. It is the lessons I know to be true despite the constant denial. I will tell this history to anyone who asks, anytime of the year because my history isn’t a small compliant space. It is shiny and glittery and it sparkles, everyday.
Originally posted at: http://www.reproductivejusticeblog.org/
By Shanelle Matthews
Last week SisterSong Women of Color Reproductive Justice Collective held their second Let’s Talk About Sex conference in Miami Beach at the swanky Eden Roc Hotel on South Beach. The Eden Roc, considered a luxury resort hotel, seemed a distant fantasy for me and the atmospheric energy told me I wasn’t alone. My personal class identification is working which doesn’t provide for much wiggle room for anything termed luxury or resort-like. Upon arrival I was met with 90 degree weather, ocean views and four different pools to choose from. Immediately I began milling around in my head for what karmatic opportunities I’d propelled forward to deserve this. Gratuitous banter filled the air as we roved the marble floors, pillared entry ways and sculpted architecture. Oakland seemed galaxies away. With upwards of 600 participants, conference administrators were met with a challenge to meet the emotional, intellectual, professional and scholarly needs of a variety of women of color. Attendees varied from youth to seasoned experts in the fields of reproductive health, rights and justice providing a rage of experience and familiarity. Participants were offered workshops around birthing justice, sex & spirituality, white allyship, queer and trans politic and more. There were spaces for youth, artists, birth workers and Spanish only speakers. Both sexual health and sexual encouragement workshops were offered providing a spectrum of sexual edification. Really, who could ask for more? Continue reading
Dear CBS Outdoors, Please do Better by Shanelle Matthews on Jul 6, 2011Originally posted on Ella’s Voice
Dear CBS Outdoors:
The last few weeks have been trying for me. Taking public transportation around the city I call home has become a depressing and irritating experience. I’ve been forced to look at billboards that are shaming me and women who look like me about our reproductive choices. Each time I am overwhelmed with anger and frustration that deepening your pockets comes at the expense of leaving me feeling targeted and polarized and risks my reproductive autonomy.
I used to walk the streets of Oakland with my head held high; proud to be a member of this glowing community where I felt included and accepted. Thanks to you, and the anti-choice advocates who strategically placed these billboards so my family and I would see them every day, I no longer feel that sense of pride. It has been replaced with a feeling of betrayal.
CBS Outdoors may not recognize it but your decision to aid anti-choice advocates in making me feel bad about myself and my choices is hurtful to my family and other families in Oakland. If anti-choice advocates were not also impeding Black women’s access to comprehensive reproductive health care, maybe our options would be more wide-ranging. Women from all kinds of backgrounds have to make tough decisions regarding their reproductive health including women of means, religious identified women and yes, even Black women. I’d like to proudly walk these streets again and see signage that positively reflects the feelings and livelihoods of Oaklanders.
I’d like for CBS Outdoors to take more responsibility for how your decisions affect the community and how making better choices on who you allow to purchase ad space can reveal a better more prosperous Oakland. I make the best choices I can for me and my family with the resources I have available to me. Please take a proactive approach in respecting and appreciating my decisions.
Sincerely,
Self-determined Black woman
Please visit Ella’s Voice for timely and refreshing perspectives on human rights issues.
You can also donate to the Ella Baker Center for Human Rights HERE
Since February I’ve been working diligently with a few other Bay area women on a collective for expecting Black women.
Black Women Birthing Justice is a collective of African-American, African, Caribbean and multiracial women who are committed to transforming birthing experiences for Black women. Our vision is that that every woman should have an empowering birthing experience free of unnecessary medical interventions. Our goals are to educate women to advocate for themselves, to document birth stories and to raise awareness about birthing alternatives. We aim to challenge medical violence, rebuild women’s confidence in giving birth naturally and decrease disproportionate maternal mortality.
We are currently doing a call for stories. If you would like to give your birth story please contact me at matthews.shanelle@gmail.com
There’s nothing more inspiring, challenging, motivating and downright f”ing fabulous than having some dope feminine energy in your chakra. Self-fulfilled women offer a taste of life that infuses your mental palate with sweet & savory sauciness.
I am blessed to have some righteous women in my life including my twin sister @for_revoltuion who rocks my world everyday with her resilience, dedication to things and people she loves and her unequivocal badassness. I also have a short list of friends, close and far who engage me regularly and pick me up when others in life “drop me off.” I firmly believe that the women in your life are a direct reflection of you.
In addition to the women I know personally there are some women whose energies inspire me via their music, personalities, written word or visual stimulation. I am always in the process of defining myself and these women have been staples in aiding me through that process through their strength, meditative energy and allegiance to sisterhood. I believe that we all stand in solidarity with one another via conduits of sisterhood and while I consciously recognize all women-identified people do not feel this way – it is an extremely important aspect of my life. I may not know them personally in this life but they’re my sisters.
#TeamSisterhood
Erykah Badu:
Why she inspires me: EB is self-aware woman of purpose. She exists in this world on her own terms. She reclaims herself every day, inspiring women to embrace their femininity adding a splash of quirkiness and consciousness. She embodies all of the elements of the awkward black girl. We share beliefs in holistic eating practices and healthy maternal lives for women of color. I hope to hear her speak at the Black midwives conference this July in L.A.
Lilakoi Moon formerly/aka Lisa Bonet
Why she inspires me: Her idiosyncratic role as Denise Huxtable on The Cosby Show drew me to her years ago. Liilakoi is staple in black “indie” girl society giving eccentric girls of color everywhere the preverbal okay to express themselves with viscous tenacity. She’s rooted in powerful indigenous circles & expresses admirable layers of autonomist freedom.
Jill Scott
Why she inspires me: Jill’s music has sustained my conscious belief in Black love. Her dedication to representing the multi-faceted aspects of neo-soul music and the many diverse issues she sings about are constant reminders that we are ever evolving creatures – especially people of color and people on the margins. I also share an affinity for respecting women with curvature. Thanks, Jill for all of your continued effort in exploring value in full figured women.
Cree Summer
Why she inspires me: Some of you may not know that post A Different World, Cree Summer aka “Freddie”, engaged in a phenomenal musical career. I appreciate her frankness in songs like “Soul Sister” and “Curious White Boy” and her roots to the indigenous communities. She exists in a sphere of earthiness, sisterhood and creativity. I hope she resurfaces soon with a fabulous book, maybe titled after her song “womb amnesia?”
India Arie
Why she inspires me: Anybody whose heard India’s music knows the infectious joy she brings to the world. The innovative intimacy she expresses about feminine appreciation that hits both mainstream and niche markets hypnotizes me. I admire her resilience and reach, her balance and consciousness and mostly her ability to make you feel like every song she makes has a point of reference in your life journey.
Zoe Kravitz
Why She inspires me: Born into a legacy of musical and artistic genius Zoe’s fierce, sovereign feminine energy is genetic. She is a rebel by choice and exudes sustained, youthful energy with a dash of eccentricity. She is defining the next generation of non-conforming women in the arts.
Goapele
Why she Inspires me: What can’t be said about this soulfully stunning Bay area native? She’s captivating to listen to and to look at. Her music propels me into a space of balance and retreat forcing me to reflect on my life & love decisions. Her afro -entricity fills a familiar void for me some days. She’s powerfully driven and that we share in common.
Admittedly, I am not the ‘hippest’ when it comes to pop-culture. I don’t read the gossip magazines or have cable and as far as I know RHOA is an abbreviation from the periodic table. However, as a fan of alternative documentaries, I pay my $9.99/mo to Netflix for some nerdy late Friday night educational cinema. Feeling slighted by some tumultuous shit in my life over the last few months I have taken to a few lazy Sundays in bed watching shows that I promised to never subject myself to … Weeds … Grey’s Anatomy and this past weekend Season one of Glee.
Just like anyone else I love good show tunes. *insert spirit fingers* Glee made me feel like I was back in high school; I got sucked into the characters, remembering the emotional rollercoaster that was my teen years. Toward mid-season I started feeling something, something familiar and begrudging, and something uncomfortably frustrating. It hit me that the one Black female character, Mercedes was stereotypically casted as an overweight, threatening, neck-rolling, weave slinging back up singer.
I know what you’re thinking *que the violins* because everyone on this show is an “outcast” but if you think critically about the functions of Black women in pop-culture and how we’ve been isolated to the same kind of roles for years you’ll find that this particular role confirms a stereotype that we often fear. We’ve had this discussion time and time again – about how the image of black women is being misconstrued at the expense of entertaining television but how legitimate were my feelings? Were they warranted or was I just jumping on the bandwagon of critics who didn’t think decisively about what’s being depicted and the reality that depiction portrays?
This conversation could extend to a number of discussions dissecting the validity of a several characteristics but I will stick to just one. Over the last year I’ve had the opportunity to learn about a lot about movements I haven’t had a lot of experience in like the Fat Acceptance Movement (FA). This movement started in the 1960s and encourages a societal thought shift to end size discrimination. Knowing more about this movement I am less concerned with Mercedes image as it pertains to her weight but still wondering why two thirds of Black women on TV are depicted as what we would call obese. It’s because according to the Office of Minority Health, a division of the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, 78 percent of Black women twenty years and older are obese with a BMI of 25 and above. If this is correct, if we accept that this organization is giving us accurate information, we could consciously accept that the number of Black women depicted on TV as obese, is as it should be – so why all the fuss?
Well, that depends on how you feel about your body and the labeling of your personal being as something that you may or may not accept. If you begrudge being called fat, overweight or obese and you identify with those words/ideas, personally not just because society says that’s what you are {though I fear the lines have become irreversibly blurred} then sure, you may feel vulnerable and angry when images of Black women who look like you appear time and time again on TV. However if you dismiss the irresponsible and careless way culture has put moral value {good/bad} on weight and size then the images of these women are not so bothersome.
Personally, I am learning to care less and less. Being self-aware to me means not taking it personal when it isn’t but it has the potential to be – if that makes sense. I recognize that Black women in America are sizably larger than their white counterparts and I recognize that pop-culture seems to accurately represent that. I don’t agree that that’s the only role Black women should play but we should appreciate that it’s not always a false depiction and it doesn’t have to be offensive because if we took more time to love ourselves as we exist we’d know that those images do not define us.
“Wild tongues can’t be tamed, they can only be cut out.”
— Gloria E. Anzaldúa (Borderlands/La Frontera: The New Mestiza)
NOTE: Due to my 2 month hiatus this post is delayed, however I think the contents are relevant so, READ IT
In February I attended the 26th annual Empowering Women of Color conference held at UC Berkeley’s MLK Student Union. With hundreds of registrants, conference administrators were met with a challenge to meet the emotional, intellectual and scholarly needs of a variety of women of color. Attendees were made up of youth of all ages, collegiate women from undergraduate freshman to doctoral candidates and seasoned women with decades of experience in the departments of social justice and education.
The schedule of events was diverse, intriguing and exciting. I wanted to attend all of the forums as they ranged from pop-culture’s impact on teenage girls of color to male feminist of color to white allyship and even a class on how to learn to be a DJ. But only having the option to choose three I chose:
1. What would happen if one woman told the truth about her life?
This workshop focused on empowering women of color through reproductive justice and filmmaking. The founders of ImMEDIAte Justice, a summer program that empowers young women from Los Angeles to share their experiences of reproductive justice through film, showed us two of their shorts and
My Critique: When I read through the forums offered for the first session of workshops I was moved by thedescription of this class. My deep-seated interest and work in the RJ movement pressed me to choose this class over others. I found the concept of introducing young women of color to issues of reproductive justice through film interesting and a formative and visionary way of teaching girls at the high school level about issues relevant to their reproductive health – unfortunately the actual workshop proved to be lackluster. The leaders of the forum showed us two of the films the girls they mentor created which were informative and creative but afterward, instead of a discussion on how to further introduce them to issues surrounding RJ or expressing their experiences with teaching the youth they passed out pieces of paper and encouraged us to write on them “if you could tell the media one thing what would it be?” which I thought was less interesting and stimulating than a discussion.
Dylcia Pagan
Dylcia Pagan
If you’re unfamiliar with Dylcia Pagan, she is a Puerto Rican political prisoner who was captured April 4, 1980 along with other comrades, for participating in the underground wing of the Puerto Rican independence movement. She served 8-years of a 55-years sentence on charges of seditious conspiracy, among others. Learn more about Dylcia here.
2. Birthing Justice: Mothering & Childbirth as a Liberation Praxis
Birthing Justice: Mothering & Childbirth as a Liberation Praxis
My next workshop was Birthing Justice: Mothering and Childbirth as a liberating praxis. As most of you know I am passionate about issues surrounding Black women’s maternal health and I am so grateful I tool the time to participate in this workshop. The women on the panel told their birth stories and their narratives moved half the room to tears.
Their experiences were diverse in nature. Some women faced extreme ageism in wanting to procreate later in life, deemed irresponsible and selfish they were disregarded by medical professionals. Some found that their interests in holistic home birth practices were not widely accepted by their loved ones and they were encouraged to seek medicalized, western birthing practices in order to “have a healthy birth.” Other stories detailed giving birth while imprisoned and having their baby taken away from them just 48 hours after delivery.
I would feel uncomfortable retelling these stories in detail, the way these women expressed their intimate experiences with birthing cannot be recounted and I would be doing them a grave injustice. However I am please to announce that we have since created a collective surrounding birthing justice called the Black Women’s Birthing Justice Project that will be up and running in the next month. Each of these women will be giving their personal narrative on our website. I will keep you all abreast of upcoming features and events. {{YAY!!!}}
Linda Jones-Mixon, Harriet Davis, Cherisse Harper & Julia Oparah
The politics of birthing justice is complex and I will be dedicating a full post to it in the coming weeks.
Erika Huggins
Erika Huggins
Erika Huggins, former Black Panther and political prisoner spoke to us next. Huggins participated heavily in the Black power movement of the 60s and 70s and she was the first Black woman appointed to the Alameda County Board of Education here in Oakland. She currently teaches in the Women & Gender Studies Department at Cal State East Bay. Read more about Erika here
3.Building Community for Women of Color in a Predominately White Academic Institution: The Making of the Women of Color Creative Collective {WOC3}
Women of Color Collective
Workshop number three was interesting and very informative. Women of color staff from UC Davis came to discuss how to feel comfortable and at home when you {and people who look like you} make up a small presence on a large campus or organization. In their case, they are mainly Black identified women who are on staff at a predominately White University. Their isolation encouraged them to create the Women of Color Creative Collective where they could meet once a week and discuss pressing issues they didn’t feel comfortable discussing in mixed company. Some issues that came up were:
Alienation of white identified women
How they chose the women who would be a part of the collective
If this was feasible at a private organization
Their group processes
Having went to a predominately white academic institution {LSU} I know first hand what it means to be surrounded by people who do not share your world view. We created orgs like this {not as formal} but often it seemed like self-segregration and isolated groups by race and gender, I think my institution would have benefited from a program like this. Maybe I’ll shoot them an email and encourage it
ARTIVIST (ARTIST + ACTIVIST) PANEL
Goapele, Ka'ra Kersey, Favi, Hannah Moore
This panel, for me, was just okay. I was expecting to be enlightened by local artist on how they juggle being both an activist and an artist in mainstream America but it turned into an awkward {{no disrespect to the panelists}} back & forth passing of the microphone. Goapele shed some light on she and her families community & coalition building – probably the highlight of the panel.
Angela Davis
The keynote speaker was none other than former Black panther, political prisoner, current distinguished professor emerita and founder of Critical Resistance, Angela Davis. As she always does, she impressed with seasoned words of wisdom imparting profound quotes and advice on eager listening ears. She answered questions from the audience about the non-profit industrial complex, the injustices in foster care and of course the prison industrial complex but more specifically geared toward women in prison. She quoted Gloria Anzaldúa from the famous “This Bridge Called My Back: Writings by Radical Women of Color (1981) and she disclosed personal narratives of struggle and sacrifice. Read more about Angela Davis here.
Talent:
The conference administrators did a pretty a-maz-ing job at snagging talent for the event.
This group is called Aguacero – they were Fantastic!
Last but not least Goapele performed at a post conference concert shedding all of her beautiful light on the crowd.
Goapele
Overall I’d say the conference was a great success. I walked away enlightened, stimulated and having met a host of phenomenal women of color with whom I’ve stayed in contact with. I am looking forward to next year’s conference and encourage you , if you’re a woman of color in California to attend
East Side Arts Alliance: 2277 International Blvd. Oakland, CA 94606
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iBelieve …
I’m an idealist, a liberal, a free thinker and an analyst. I read, write, research and question. I speak, protest, shout and criticize but what I do not do is pretend to know something that I don’t and make irresponsible assertions and judgments based on that ignorance. There seems to be a lot of that going around. An opinion is only as good as the facts you base it on. {{in my opinion}} ;)
Too often are services in the name of social reform performed in some clandestine search for monetary or materialistic gratification. With all of the technology and expertise offered, today’s society has lost touch with the mental and collective rewards community service and advocacy has to offer.
We live in a society that has failed to acknowledge the full extent of our debt to women. Ending the use of cutting hate language could be the foundation for this revolution.
“There are inherent dangers in building an identity based on the prejudices of one's oppressor; eventually the line between myth and morality becomes dangerously irreversibly blurred.
-Joan Morgan
"I am a Black Feminist. I mean I recognize that my power as well as my primary oppressions come as a result of my blackness as well as my womaness, and therefore my struggles on both of these fronts are inseparable."
