As I continue to survey the damage, I find an growing awkwardness inside me. There’s almost a puddle of disgust next to my computer from writing – again – about the latest feminist bombs. (I’m soooo sick of this.) On the stronger hand, I don’t feel quite right to blog “as usual” yet either. One thing I do know is that the more I reflect on the damage, the more I learn about what kind of activist I want to be. I want to be a person that does not carry on business as usual when “as usual” is not the reality.

And the reality for others is that “feminism” remains an unwelcome place, an impossible dialogue. Whether that is online, in a classroom, conference, community group, or any place that requires a public audience – the function of feminism as public activism is disjointed.
My blog is dedicated to creating a space for anyone battling the front lines of gender equality, liberation, and the truest sense of the word: resistance. This space is built especially for womyn of color and difference who seek a safe space to ponder and wander aloud. In my own wandering aloud, I came up with two pieces of damage control: 1. Language and 2. Goliath

Clean Up Your Language: Grab Your Arrow and Be Specific
Let me cut to the chase. If you blog or write about something that refers to online communities, be specific. BFP, BA, and a lot of other womyn bloggers referenced in the (W)AM and a Seal bombs belong to the Radical Women of Color blogger ring. That is quite different than just saying “women of color.” There’s a lot of WOC bloggers out there who would most definitely NOT agree with what we individually and collectively advocate. Also, PLEASE never write, “Sudy and other women of color say…” Of WHOM are you speaking? Be specific. I do not speak for all women of color. (And contrary to popular opinion, neither does Blackamazon.) I speak for one lone iSelf and, while I most certainly identify as and am a womyn of color, I do, can, will not approve of general labels in references.

Specificity also cuts out a lot of the garbage that takes up thread time. Specificity enables familiar and non-familiar readers to quickly and (more) accurately identify who is involved and being referenced. It’s not about being all PC, it’s about accuracy. When appropriate individuals and communities are correctly identified, it also minimizes identity drama.

Speaking of identity drama, one of my pet peeves is the dismissal of anti-racism arguments and bodies of work because a few comment something like, “You know, I’m a woman of color and I don’t think racism exists.” Careless use of identity as assumed credence neutralizes the reasoning and work done by those who have thoughtfully engaged their own lives and personal experiences that give backbone to their assertions.

Challenge bloggers who either generalize communities (“…those White women….” or “women of color….”) or those who use their “identity” to neutralize the work of others. Ask for specificity in the presence of ambiguity. Do your part and work to clean up the language. We spend more time refuting circular points than we do engaging our actual thoughts.

At the same time, get over yourself. If you know what the writer means, go with it and don’t lose the lesson over a beef tip.

2) The Fight Within Feminism: David (Indie) and Goliath (Mainfemistream)

To not acknowledge the difference between individuals of fem bloggers would be ludicrous. So, who would we not acknowledge the difference in their feminisms? The largest solvent in the feminist cocktail mix is mainstream feminism – the feminism that speaks to the majority of those in the middle – those who have access to feminism due to formal instruction, Barnes and Nobles, blogging, and 3 day women conferences in a secluded resort. This is the feminism that is largely pitched to White college educated heterosexually identified woman who love drinking, hetero sex, and cry in their sociology classes when their profs make them sit in a circle and prompt the students of color to talk about their childhood. This is the feminism that both Fox and CNN feature. This is the feminism that sells books. This is the feminism that enjoys the mic. This is the feminism that raises eyebrows, not consciences.

Is there a space for these women and their feminism? Sure.

But, why has this become of the face of public feminism?

Why is this feminism most staunchly defended?

Because a feminism pitched to a buying audience is a feminism sold.

Sold.

Here’s another catch. Mainfemistream blogs, sites, and publishers take it upon themselves to feature marginalized issues and voices. While I have no problem with that, I don’t believe that sideshow warrants applause or a label of intersectionality. Dude, if you’re appealing to mainstream, you will never fly with intersectionality. The sacred space of difference is an experience of intense joy and immeasureable pain. That grey is too in-depth for cool, “normalcy,” or a dollar. Mainstream feminism is the attempt to, once again, prioritize the needs and concerns of the few, and claim it universal for all. It attempts to water down the rocks so that most people can wash it down. Mainfemistream vocalizes the same objective of candied individualism that refuses to heed caution for others’ well-being. To sell feminism, someone, somewhere usually has to be forfeited in the process.

(That “someone” is usually young(er) woman of color; 13-20 year olds, in my opinion.)

As I take my privilege out for a stroll this week and peruse the public face of feminism on the news, magazines, blogs, and bookstores, I am nauseous with symptoms of a flu-like bug. Steinem, Femwhatever-dotcom, Ground-breaking Press with apologies – I want to vomit over the repetition of themes – love, relationships, jealousy, career, success, motivation, sexual freedom, and equal pay day. Am I anti-mainfemistream? No. Am I angry? No. Do I want to stay far, far away from it? YES. The dearth of radical and indie voice is present, but distant. It needs to be louder. It needs YOU.

Stop expecting mainfemistream voices to be the David (practices of equality) against Goliath (kyriarchal practices). When you’re asking why mainfemistream isn’t what you want it to be – lame accountability, tripping over s-s-s-orrrries, lackluster vision – remember that they themselves don’t even know they, in fact, ARE Goliath.

I feel like it may be too soon to survey the damage in the feminist blogosphere, but I’m ready to look [read] and the way bloggers move on [post other topics], quiet themselves [no posting], take a break, or reflect. Things are quiet after the storm. I think we just experienced our own hurricane, one where many damns that held high emotions in check broke, people vanished, blame is thrown around, and the response to rectify the situation fails miserably.

New Orleans, as I have understood the aftermath, still struggles to rebuild what was lost. The aftermath of the whirling forces of destruction revealed deeply embedded racism that was as aged as the blue jazz of Bourbon Street. It’s not like racism began in the Superdome. Racism, in all of its powerful camouflage, systematically works its oppression for years without much commentary. Then, a tragedy occurs and the flimsy responses and reasoning by folks in power, the rage of those who have been wrong, the aftermath publicly displays what has always been there: racism.

The problems didn’t begin with the tragedy or disaster, it was the years and years prior to the final catalyst; the last candle to be lit before everyone could see the same thing in the once dark room. It was the generations of inherited privilege and blindness, the result of prejudicial hand me downs. It was the generations of unaddressed neglect and indifference that builds the oppressed to outrage and frames the privileged for defense, confusion, and denial. This all became evident when structure and order were broken. During times of confusion and instability, responses, choices, and alliances are made. Things become clear when the dust settles.

Emergencies and crisis are excellent for pulling the blanket off other profoundly problematic issues. One thing presents itself alarmingly clear: no one knows or agrees what the hell feminism is or supposed to be anymore. I don’t think this is anything new, I just think it became more pronounced in the past several weeks with high emotion, impulsive postings, and self-revealing blogging. This imploding has only brought to surface all that was rumbling underneath. Like New Orleans, these problems have always been there, long before you or I were here, long before the internet even existed. It was just timing, chemistry, and history that forced the damn to break.

The racism in the women’s movements, in feminism, in feminists is an issue that needs to be actively addressed at all conferences, organizations, discussions, classrooms, kitchen tables, emails, and phone conversations. This is the only way to address it: consistently. Because until that day is reached where radical equality [not sameness] is reached, if we continue to merely pause, build a substitute damn and rebuild our houses [blogs, sites] as if there will not be another crisis in the future, then there is no point to feminism, only a cyclic waste of words.

Read me clearly: there is no point to feminism if it does not actively address its racism with its agenda. There is no point to feminism if it does not address its racist history, racist matriarchy, racist icons, racist literature, racist imagery, racist publications, racist presence. To claim we’re all female and unite under one cause of gender does. not. work. History never lies. This model has left more marginalized women in the road than we can count. Why the dichotomous split between gender and race, as if we live separately from the strands of our hair to the color of skin to the anatomy of genitalia.

This is the space that I demand for my LIFE, for my voice. Let’s abandon “feminist” dialogue momentarily and ask ourselves what we are saying when we request for gender-only analysis of our own lives. For a few it may be called “race neutral[ity],” but for many others, it’s diluting a proud, loving, and undeniable part of their identity and livelihood. There is no separating the left and the right atrium of the heart and expect it to continue functioning. It is one organ, inseparable. That is gender/ace identity. Two connected pieces, one function. It cannot be understood in parts, people must be handled whole. That was the piece that was missing from previous women’s movements and why they are criticized by modern feminists today. We know better. (Usually…sort of.)

If you prioritize gender first and/or only and have built your feminisms on that foundation, fine. I’m not going to spend my time trying to change your mind. But here’s my question – how or why can/do you acknowledge the lives and voices who advocate from their personhood, not just womanhood? How can you sum up one individual’s parts when lives are understood as, encompass, and are influenced by factors other than gender, and those feminisms are founded upon that complexity? How can unity via the gender lens be effective when so many are crying isolation? Contrary to the opinion that acknowledging race separates and divides, it leads to richness. While the process may be viewed as painful and slow and lead to discussions beyond gender, let’s not confuse depth with irrelevance.

If feminists sit at a table we call feminism and there is only so much room for agenda items and topics to discuss, I would say that we are wasting our time in drafting a criteria of what is a feminist issue. In exploring the potentials of feminism’s power, I often think we limit it and ourselves by asking the wrong questions. (What are the wrong questions, you may ask. My answer: the limiting kind.)

The question is not what makes the issue feminist, but has a feminist perspective been applied to the issue? Many perceive the Iraq war not to be a feminist issue. I don’t give two shits if it’s a “feminist issue,” I care if feminists have applied their analytical skills, intelligence, resources, and insight to the Iraq war. The once “not feminist” issue of the war, weapons of mass destruction, torture, and sovereignty transform after a feminist’s examination – seeing the affect of war on womyn and families, womyn fighting in the war, the gendered language of warring countries, rape used as a tactic of war – when we apply a feminist lens, it then BECOMES a feminist issue. How in the hell does it matter at first glance if it’s a feminist issue? If it affects one womyn, anywhere, it can be examined. Who in the world has the right to dictate what is or is not a feminist issue? It might not be to YOU personally, but get off my carpet, it may be a feminist issue after I’m through with it. It’s not about taking a “general” issue and twisting it all around to “make it a feminist issue.” Our progression should not be measured or dictated by what issues we deem acceptable, but by how insightful and truthful our responses are in accordance to ALL womyn’s experience and gender concerns. It’s not about the issue, it’s about the assessment of kyriarchal forces working in the situation and then dismantling it from a feminist perspective.

Further, I don’t believe we need to make it our goal to “feminize” every issue and apply it to our blogs. Each issue must be turned over in our heads before we engage it or disregard it. That’s not a waste of time, that’s called work. Heaven forbid.

My feminism seeks to be a philosophy of life, not for an organization or a mission statement, or a cute bumper sticker. My feminism strives to exist in my breathing. Ironically, I find myself writing about racism more when I am surrounded by feminists or attending a conference or gathering. It’s as if the air is so potent, nothing else can be done until feminists do their own personal anti-racism work. In that vein, yes, it is distracting. It is distracting that we spend an ungodly amount of time feeding lists of how to help (mostly) White women better address their privilege when I’d rather be addressing something else that speaks to other forms of conflict and kyriarchal oppression. But this wins over because, yes, I believe it’s important, and it consumes me with anger when it is not appropriately handled or addressed. I address it because I believe that if feminists themselves do not realize their own destructive patterns of internalized superiority and inferiority, our daughters will receive our to-do list.

My feminism does not seek to prioritize race (or class, or sexuality, or religion, or citizenship, or mobility) over gender, it seeks to acknowledge the equal co/multi-existence of gende/race experiences and honors the space for womyn who have never known the two to be different. My blog, my activism is dedicated to creating a space to examine the endless negotiations of feminism for womyn of difference and to unwaveringly speak with a rigidity in my spine and a compassionate truth in my rocking soul.

My blog has a new direction and grounded purpose. If it were to pick a title for this purpose, I would choose:

I work with a lot of theater performance students and they never cease to amaze me with their stories.  Through their dance lessons, movement classes, and technique workshops, they moan and agonize over auditions, call backs, and rejection.

Just received this one from the popular Anon:

Anonymous said…
Be sure to thank Jill at Feministe for deleting
all the links to your blog from her comments section. She’s protecting you from
the really bad racists whom only she can handle. You owe her a debt of
gratitude.

Now, let me be clear about a few things:

1) Hi, this is my blog and chose two years ago to make it public to racists and non-racists alike. Therefore, I receive all different kinds of folks stopping in all the time, regardless of who is “protecting” me.

2) “Protection” from Feministe is not something I requested and/or need. That’s what moderation is all about. While I certainly appreciate the gesture to not flood anyone’s blog with unwanted or ill-intentioned readers, you’ve got to be kidding me to write me saying that I am in debt (!) to anyone for protecting me from racism. Check yourself at the comment door, no one is in a position to protect anyone else, especially me, from racist readers. It’s called the reality one assumes as a radical womyn of color blogger.

It was never about one incident, or one blogger, or one site, or one problem.

Most of the following is based from a long phone call with BFP who asked the heaviest of questions, 

I’m married.

This June, Adonis and I will celebrate 3 years of some serious lovin’. He rocks and I adore him.

When we wed, I slipped on a ring that is wavy in cut, original in design. After a while (2 and a half years), I noticed that my skin underneath the band was embedding the ring design. For some reason, it irked me to the bone to have my natural body alter in such a way. So, one night when I drank too much vino, I kissed Adonis in his sleep and pulled off my wedding band to let my skin heal and go back to normal.

That was about 2 months ago and my ring finger is adjusting. When I run my fingers over the imprint, I notice that time and air has breathed life back into the scar.

Interestingly, people notice that my ring is gone and wonder all sorts of wild things. People wonder if we’re in trouble or if this is my new “feminist” thing or if I am contemplating divorce. Such a small piece of my life, a small ring of silver with rubies and diamonds, can go missing and then cause a small flurry. I tell folks, “Nothing’s changed!” My deepening love is still the same as it was before I removed the ring to heal.

I took out “feminist” as a descriptor in my bio description. Something needs to heal there, too. In light of recent observations, identifying as “feminist” causes back of the throat vomit tastings. I’m still me – same writing, same lava. I’m just swimming in uncertainty these days about “feminism,” and hope that time and space will breathe life into my “feminist” scar; this ring that I once proudly wore. The world hasn’t changed much from last week when I was hard core “feminist,” – womyn are still dying and gasping for breath under a brutal global economy. This culture, last time I checked, is still a rape culture. Giving up a descriptor is a brief dusting of my internal shelves of identity. Small impact in the grand picture of life. It’s important to me though and it’s worth writing about.

But, unlike my wedding band, I don’t know if I ‘ll put this one back on in the future.

We’ll see.

Now, before I die I’d like to focus on more important matters.

It’s a pretty simple concept.

Stop stealing.

Cite your ideas, words, and the one who gave you the thought.

Stop stealing.

That echo? That echo I’m hearing in the “feminist” blogosphere is getting a bit too loud for me these days. I’ve been hearing it for years.

You know who you are.

It’s a pretty simple concept, you know. We all learned it at some point in our development:

Give credit where credit is due.

That wasn’t your seed, so cite where it came from. Stop spinning it like it’s your own.

Stop stealing.

Update: 4/11/08
Funny how this post is being perceived and linked for various reasons. Understandably, given the timing of the latest train wreck and the exclusive BFP links I used in it, this post is being framed as if I had one incident in mind.

Let’s back up and do some of my favorite work called Clarifying.

BFP was certainly part of my thought process, but this demand for writers/bloggers to “stop stealing” far exceeds the events (disasters) of this week or just BFP herself. This post vomited on the years of hearing echos in the blogosphere with no visible credit or citation to others’ contributions. My links are specific, but my point is wider. I’m not talking about one singular instance that set me off into a knee-jerk reactionary post, I’m speaking about a maddening phenomenon of disregarding BODIES of work . And I’m tired of something that is so deeply problematic being casually normalized by writers and readers of feminism.