A MAN WILL NEVER RECOGNIZE A QUEEN IF HE HAS NOT ACKNOWLEDGED HIMSELF AS A KING. THE STANDARD STARTS WITH SELF.
A MAN WILL NEVER RECOGNIZE A QUEEN IF HE HAS NOT ACKNOWLEDGED HIMSELF AS A KING. THE STANDARD STARTS WITH SELF.
After my first semester of teaching I was invited to meet with the department chair, a frumpy, middle aged- white woman who treated me like white retailers have my entire life–as if my presence depreciated the value of the company. She arrived over thirty minutes late for my meeting, a fact she would casually disregard when pushing me out of her office not even ten minutes later. Her actions stated that I did not belong, despite the fake and almost nervous smile worn as an effort to melt my stoic expression. In those ten minutes she’d gloat about what she considered “bad” student reviews— an attempt to break me down into a negro in need of a fictive white brilliance to step into the role of woman. This was the same woman who failed to provide me with the room number for my class and made it so that I received my first check shortly before midterms. I was invisible until something seemingly negative surfaced, then my black female body became a canvass for white shame, a means to bludgeon me until my posture slouched in defeat. For white functionality is solely rooted in black inferiority, no matter how hard the white body must work to make their fictive superiority a reality.
The contemporary black female body exists in the shadow of her ancestors, only seen in instances of negativity, because to acknowledge her in her beauty and brilliance is to threaten the false esteem of her oppressors. Sadly, the same is true for the melanated individuals referenced interchangeably with those black in body and mind. In conversations or simply in the presence of melanated folk, the black woman is ignored if not overtly deficient in one way or another.
In Black Looks, scholar and cultural critic bell hooks says the following of black female visibility:
Objectified in a manner similar to the block female slaves who stood on auction blocks while owners and overseers described their important, salable parts, the black woman whose naked bodies were displayed for whites out social function had no presence. They were reduced to mere spectacles. Their body parts were offered as evidence to support racist notions that black people were more a kin to animals than other humans (hooks 62).
Just like the Saartje Baartmans of the past, the black female body remains a dismembered presence that only becomes visible to prove white superiority. The black woman is commonly shoved, reached over and ignored in quotidian activities from riding the train to grocery shopping. However, if wearing a garment where her protruding backside is visible, or her breasts or legs are exposed, she assumes the hyper visibility of her ancestors cast along the auction block, dismembered by the white male gaze and itemized for white male consumption.
I write this post in hopes of enlightening the black female and even black males to embedded expectations that subconsciously recruit us as soldiers of white supremacy. Namely, many blacks have also grown comfortable with caricatures blackness and downcast their own for failing to embody the necessary imperfection to seem normal in our western setting. This imperfection is commonly conceptualized in labeling the black female body a “bitch” or “whore.”
The Black “Bitch”
A student called me a bitch for the first time this semester. I’m actually pretty sure I, like my sisters throughout the diaspora, have been called worse, but this was the first time a student had rendered an expletive to my face. Following hurling the expletive my way, the student proceeded to talk over me until storming out the classroom and reporting to the dean.
The cause of the altercation you ask? I simply asked the student a question.
Like clockwork the dean shows up a few minutes later asking to see me. An act that festered the very authority challenged by my student. After dismissing my class I went to visit this middle-aged white women with a foreign accent, short haircut and slightly abrasive attitude. She asked me what happens and becomes overtly agitated when I disclose that the student called me a bitch. She then rolls her eyes, sighs and asks me to prepare a written statement. Although I had been disrespected twice that morning, once by the student and again when the director came to remove me from the class like a misbehaved student, it was me who had burdened her. In producing a response to the query she asked me, I cast this poor woman as the victim because she would now have to draft some paperwork.
“You have to be very careful how you address these students.”
I nodded indifferently.
“Be careful.” she said, with her eyes locking intensely with mine, embedding a slew of words she wished to say but could not.
The exchange was a vindictive display of power by a being disinterested in both my and my student’s well being. All the director saw was money. So instead of engaging my comfort in returning a student who blatantly disrespected me, my other students, and most importantly herself, it was without discussion that she would return to the class.To the director I was salt thrown in the would of a battered ego. I, like countless other black bodies cast throughout the diaspora, had become too visible in a space solely desiring my invisibility. To lure students into an invidious state, is to insult the white bodies who wish to be the sole source to evoke green from a black a gaze.
This is an unexpected example of black females being asked to be less of themselves to not fester insecurity in their counterparts, who must remain subjugated for whites domination.
Similar are the conversations that surround the black female body and romance. The black female body is commonly compartmentalized as “intimidating” if failing to exist as the a caricature, or controlling image like the mammy, jezebel, sapphire or tragic mulatto.
The strong black Woman is too independent to appease the male ego. The angry black Women too abrasive for the masculine pride. The beautiful woman is too high maintenance and too tenable, the educated woman too intellectually elevated to have her feet planted firmly on the ground. The black woman can seemingly not win when it comes to possessing attributes that extinguish a caricatured identity and propel her into a state of hyper-visibility.
Just as the directors sought to admonish with the words “be careful” the black woman is often issued a similar warning in being told to re evaluate how she carries herself. She is to exist to make others seem bigger in comparison to her smallness. To other blacks she is to encourage them to aim low and garner some attribute of a subjugated being.
The black body, if not dwarfed by the ax of white supremacy is nurtured to bend in order to fit through doorways–rather than build their own structure to which she can strut through in her prodigious state. The only thing the black Women is, is too stereotyped. If too pretty, too smart or too successful the white and other persons of colors typically aim to discount blackness with other races or ethnicities to eschew diversifying their perspective on black people.
Seemingly a lifetime ago I worked as a customer service representative. I worked alongside a beautiful sun kissed woman, labeled difficult and unprofessional. She was helpful in teaching me the ropes and aiding me with difficult customers. The issue was not that she was difficult, or unprofessional, but that she refused to be invisible in instances of overt racism. I recall an incident where a white “businessman” yelled at us to complete his task because “he had things to do.” He had dropped his item and demanded that I get on my knees in a dress to obtain his item. My coworker came to my defense and we were both reprimanded in consequence. To our oppressors were were not wronged, but in the wrong for refusing the demands of an oppressor. Where oppressors see green, the conscious gaze sees racism.
The black female that escapes being labeled the bitch (or in addition to this label), is often compartmentalizes as a sexualized object. This is not to say that the black female body fully escapes the negative connotation as a difficult being, but that the white gaze conceptualizes her sexually. This may sound complimentary to those who falsely equate a sexual gaze to an appreciation of beauty. A sexualized gaze means black female bodies are seen in correspondence to sex, i.e. concubines or asexual beans. Beyonce, Rihanna, etc, are black women who maintain relevancy because they are seen as sexualized objects. All the hype surrounding Beyonce’s fertility, or Rihanna’a latest partner, both reflect a fascination with black female genitalia. This fascination also functions in the reverse. Black female bodies lacking conventional attributes that would deem them overtly sexual, become demonized. Examples are Serena Williams, Wendy Williams, Gabourey Sidibie, etc, women who because of unconventional features are deemed beasts by the true beasts of the western world. Whether hyper sexual, de-sexualized or a bitch, the black female body continues to surface as a female subjugate by her white male oppressors.
As a female subjugate, the western gaze validates not only murdering or incarcerating the black female body, but resigning her to invisibility by default. By subjugating the black female body to a womanless being, the western gaze seeks to dim the light on a ethereal presence who shines in her sun kissed state– a state withheld from the white experience.
The dark girl is continually required to dim her light to ensure the comfort of the world around her. If the dark girl fails to bow her head in the face of racism she is a “bitch” and “difficult,” If the dark girl’s sensuality proves impossible to ignore in the western terrain, or she bears multiple children in the face of white female infertility she’s a whore, or welfare mother who’s untamable sexuality bills the white collar world. She is not to shine her light too brightly. We are the stage, not the performer, the words not the song, the pedestal not the recipient.
To shrink to western expectation is to forfeit the “stand out” quality that is the black woman. White supremacy is quite similar to how the western world has been nurtured to conceptualize the moonlight– whiteness that illuminates along darkness. Without the dark sky the moon and the stars do not glow. Rather than be a beacon for those who glow against our background, it’s time that the black collective become entranced by our own glow.
Dark women are the true light of the western world. We are the moon, the sun, and the stars. Moreover, we need not look out the window to see the glow of the moon, we must simply look within.
Don’t dim your light black girl. Shine.
Black Power. ❤
Article by CC Saunders
Following her Grammy speech and performance, superstar Beyonce garnered abundant praise. Beyonce’s grammy performance portrayed Queen Bey in a manner that proved as royal as her title. Beyonce’s look seemed reminiscent of the queens of our indigenous homeland— a connection that did not go unnoticed by spectators. However, Beyonce garnered the most praise for something fans are not used to associating with Beyonce—loss.
Beyonce lost to Adele in the “Album of the Year” category. To most, this loss was inevitable due to a racially aware stance accompanying some tracks in her latest studio album Lemonade. Lemonade presented the contemporary world with all that has come to associate with Beyonce while intertwining a “woke” perspective not commonly aligned with the singer. The visual album featured the mothers of slain teens Trayvon Martin and Mike Brown and songs like “Freedom” that sought to paint Beyonce as an ally to the black collective in our time of turbulence. For these reasons, many regard Beyonce’s loss as a win. This is certainly the stance of Myles E. Johnson, author of popular New York Times article “What Beyonce Won Was Bigger than a Grammy.” The article referenced the price blacks who dare to exist outside the parameters of white conventionality pay as being overlooked if not ignored in terms of acknowledgment. For this assertion, Johnson is completely correct. However, does a few tracks on an album largely about relationships, infidelity, and love, place Beyonce in the same category of black activists like Assata Shakur, Angela Davis or singer-activists Nina Simone who unapologetically dedicated themselves to the plight of blackness in America?
Of course not.
The praise following Beyonce’s long overdue “consciousness” demonstrates that the bar for black allies is impossibly low. Beyonce as a black activist demonstrates that one or two acts fulfill the necessary requirements to deem someone a black leader. The black collective witnessed this behavior with former President Obama who would often place a single stream of consciousness in his speeches, a consciousness that he would counter with the following sentence. Yet, the allegiance he had for five seconds, overshadowed lesser deeds carried out in the majority of his actions and behaviors. Beyonce’s praise functions in a similar manner, as her seemingly “overnight” enlightenment supersedes past behavior that aimed to present Beyonce, the black woman as a crossover artist.
Forgiveness is a virtue seemingly exclusive to the black collective. I say this because, despite the depth of systemic oppression, many blacks remain dedicated to looking past this truth in favor of an optimism that borders oblivion. While beautiful and reflective of a humble spirit—forgiveness has proved much more harmful than helpful. I also can’t help but wonder if this behavior is forgiveness at all, or just a desperate attempt to believe something we wish to be true.
Black women want to believe in Beyonce. And to our defense, she does deserve some praise. Superstar Rihanna has yet to say anything pertaining to the contemporary manifestations that mirror traditional treatment of black bodies. This is not accidental, as Rihanna, although a black woman, seems to appeal more to those outside the black diaspora. Beyonce has always led a strong black female following, the same black females who have lost their sons, brothers, and fathers in the fire of white male supremacy. Thus, her contribution, while small, works strategically. The Grammy’s illustrates Beyonce as losing the battle but winning the war. Losing to Adele depicts Beyonce as bearing the necessary sacrifice to not only maintain her fan base but to award her racial credibility and thereby deepen fan affinity for her.
Beyonce, a black woman who gained fame and international stardom for her fair skin, blonde weave, and jezebel-like performances, personifies the height of white male imagination. She embodies what many black women wish they were, conventionally beautiful with full features, fair skin, a curvy yet slim body, an accent that is slight enough to suggest a humble sweetness but a work persona that screams boss. She’s a wife, a mother, businesswoman and all-around superwoman. But she is a fantasy.
While some blacks praise a God who looks like their former slave masters, other praise Beyonce, a woman who while black, portrayals European aesthetics as the height of black female beauty. Many seem to have forgotten that not long ago Beyonce referenced racism as “in her father’s time,” as if it is not racism that fuels her success let alone existence in a still predominately white male industry. It is easy to praise Beyonce for her loss, despite her ability to perform and prove victorious in smaller categories. If we praise Beyonce for her loss, it is easy to overlook that a more dynamic and culturally aware performer would not be afforded Beyonce’s platform, because their authenticity would inspire in a way that Beyonce never could.
Beyonce exists as a means to control the black female demographic. For example, I can not help but notice that weaves became a more versatile and a more prominent tool in black female hair styling as Beyonce’s popularity grew. The desire for long, full, hair personifies what I like to call the “Beyonce effect,” an effect mirrored in every popular black female image from reality stars to singers. Beyonce’s power manifests in her ability to generate styles and standards of beauty, and in her losses and wins.
I feel compelled to mention that I reference Beyonce as a brand and not an individual, as the chief component of Beyonce’s popularity is that she encompasses a larger than life figure– a human canvass of desirability curated by white male imagination. Beyonce becomes a figure of influence due to a black female collective that largely exists vicariously through their blonde-haired heroine. Beyonce personifies what many black females think black female perfection is. As a physical manifestation of black female thought, Beyonce acts as a pawn to dictate what we do. Carter B. Woodson conveyed the following excerpt from The Miseducation of the Negro:
If you can control a man’s thinking you do not have to worry about his action. When you determine what a man shall think you do not have to concern yourself about what he will do. If you make a man feel that he is inferior, you do not have to compel him to accept an inferior status, for he will seek it himself. If you make a man think that he is justly an outcast, you do not have to order him to the back door. He will go without being told; and if there is no back door, his very nature will demand one.
Following Trump’s inauguration a series of Women’s Marches occurred throughout North America. The protests erupted to preserve the female liberties seemingly threatened by a “conservative” president who boasted of sexually assaulting women. As a female, I empathize and even support the initiatives that foment this March. However, although a woman, I know that I am inevitably black first. Thus, I can’t help but feel that by supporting the women’s march is to support the very means of my oppression.
On my a tri-weekly journey to a previous job, I recall seeing a number of protestors outside of Planned Parenthood at the wee hours of the morning seeking to shame female patrons. One protestor stood out from the others—an elderly white man surely north of seventy-five. He stood hunched over, holding an oaktag with a message written in ballpoint pen. I did not bother to read the poster, but judging by the stoic expression on his face, he was there to cast the stones of white male privilege onto the female body. Standing at the intersectionality of race and gender, the black woman knows this gaze all to well. While the literal gaze casts itself onto the black female body countless places throughout North America, the figurative gaze consumes black femininity in its entirety. The women’s march solely speaks to the “woman” component of this gaze, eliminating the most defining characteristic of black female identity.
Reproductive rights in general proves controversial to the black female trajectory. A quick glance at history reveals that the black female endured sheer deprivation in terms of reproductive rights—her body used as means for mayoral economic franchisement. White women too encompassed an existence that also regarded them as property, however their fair skin warranted privileges denied to the black female body. These exclusive liberties afforded to white women illustrate the concept of “woman” as a privilege solely applicable to non-male whites. Consider the phrasing “black” woman. The label “Black woman” illustrates that black female intersectionality separates black females from the term’s initial meaning. For any “woman” of another marginalized faction, their race or ethnicity always precedes the term woman—proving their genitals deem them female but their race and ethnicity is first and foremost. Femininity is also a privilege extended exclusively to non-male whites. This exclusivity persists as the black female body only earns femininity when adopting western aesthetics and behavior.
Given the exclusivity of the term “woman,” I find it quite disturbing that white women ( and other oppressed groups) call on the black women for support in their times of distress, yet alienate the black female body when their children, brothers and fathers lay slain on the streets or untagged in the morgue. How many white women “said her name” after Sandra Bland was murdered? How many white women were overtly outraged after the Trayvon Martin verdict was rendered?
To take a trip down memory lane, how many white female feminists supported Tawana Brawley in her 1988 trial? If autonomy over the female body is right every woman deserves- why was their no feminist congregation when this young, black girl was sexually assaulted by a number of white men? The answer is simple. Issues that engage both blackness and femininity become “black” issues instantaneously. This fact reveals that feminism is simply not built to encompass intersectional identities and thereby is not equipped to extinguish black female disenfranchisement.
It seems that former President Barack Obama’s victory disgruntled feminists, who supported this victory as long as it was a symbol of the feminist victory to follow. It seems feminists felt that history would repeat itself. Namely, black male voting privilege preceded white female voting liberties. Thus, feminists deemed Clinton’s victory inevitable following Obama’s 2008 victory. Dr. Angela Davis expressed a similar sentiment in the following excerpt from her book Women, Race and Class,
“The representative women of the nation have done their uttermost for the last thirty years to secure freedom for the negro; and as long as he was lowest in the scale of being, we were willing to press his claims, but now, as the celestial gate to civil rights is sIowly moving on its hinges, it becomes a serious question whether we had better stand aside and see ‘Sambo’ walk into the kingdom first.” (Davis 70)
Now that it seems that the black collective has something that the white female collective does not, the bells of white privilege right loudly under the veil of feminism.
Feminism functions to afford white women the same liberties as white men. The main component of these liberties is racism—deeming black female participation in any feminist activity injurious. Thus, to participate in a woman’s march as a black woman is to march along to the stagnant beat of white supremacy. For the black woman is a queen, but to the western world she will never truly be a woman.
Article written by C.C. Saunders