Do you have a question for a feminist? Please send 'em to askafeminist@portlandmercury.com. For more on why I'm doing this, scroll to the bottom of the post.
Dear Feminist,
So, I was watching Desus and Mero the other night... Their "guest" was two women who do a podcast. I apologize for not going to find that episode right now to find out who they were. I am not one of the cool kids, I had never heard of them. One of the women had hair that I was very jealous of, so I immediately wanted to be her friend. I'm being as honest as possible here, I hope you appreciate that. This is real talk. The question was asked, something analogous to "What's your beef with the Women's March?"
I am sure if the woman on the TV was able to see me, she'd have thought I looked like a confused pug. Full head tilt. Backspin hardfade. I was shocked. She was really irritated by the whole gig, and here I am thinking, "This beautiful, strong woman is on my team," right? Like "We'd go to bat for each other"? No.
Apparently: "Feminism, with a capital F... is for white women." Then she explained her stance: People are being killed in her community, and people like me don't care. Why should she show up for "women's rights" if white women don't show up when her community needs them?
Is my privilege showing that this shocked me? I was offended at first. It hurt my feelings, that she thinks my default setting is not giving a shit about her struggles. Then it hit me. You know, if I didn't feel welcome or supported, I wouldn't show up. Not a chance.
My question is: How do we fix this? How do we keep up our end of the deal? How do we take the bleach out of feminism? Especially when the women who can see the problems from a first-person view don't feel it's even in their interest to be a part of it?
We need to do better.
Hey there.
I've been thinking a lot about your question since I read your email, and I think you know as well as I do what the answer is. The discomfort you're experiencing right now is of course directly related to your privilege. I'm not saying that to shame you or be mean, but because I've experienced the exact same feeling, and it's something that we have to get comfortable with if we're going to make our feminism as inclusive as it needs to be.
Allow me to share a story I'm not remotely proud of.
Back in my "Should I be a poet or what" phase of young adulthood, I spent a year at a job that wasn't journalism, maybe to see if I truly have no other skills. I worked for a small reproductive rights nonprofit that was then and had historically been staffed almost exclusively by white women. I was in charge of writing a lot of emails. One day, sick of how many times I'd typed the words "reproductive rights," I suggested we use a different phrase: "reproductive justice."
My more enlightened colleagues stopped me.
They patiently explained that the term "reproductive justice" is rooted in a history of intersectional reproductive rights activism pioneered by women of color. Our work could certainly be informed by values of reproductive justice, but it wasn't really our language to use. I was embarrassed. I corrected course. I stuck to our previous messaging. I read up on orgs like SisterSong and realized I had a lot of work to do. I had gone to a very progressive women's college and taken gender studies. I had previously done news reporting on women's issues for an alt-weekly. I should have known better, but I didn't, and even if I had, I would still need to reckon with my own privilege and inherent biases. It wasn't my fault I didn't know what I didn't know, but it WAS my responsibility to educate myself. Making sure I didn't erase an entire swath of feminist history out of ignorance was in fact a crucial piece of the advocacy I was doing, not merely a secondary concern.
I share this with you because I want you to know that you're not alone. And you're right: As white women, we simply must do better. That doesn't mean avoiding uncomfortable conversations or running from our mistakes. It means listening actively to uncomfortable truths about our privilege and understanding that combating racism is a key piece of intersectional feminism. By actively listening, I mean listening to listen, not to talk. This can be difficult if you're one of those people who has to physically restrain herself from jumping in with an opinion mid-conversation—no shame if you're that person; I am, too—but the fact is more often than not our listening is what's needed. Sylvia Plath once wrote a poem called "The Courage of Shutting Up." She didn't mean it in the context I'm describing—and god knows Plath herself was not unproblematic—but I like that idea of reframing listening as an act of bravery. Be courageous enough to be quiet.
Finally: It's really not the job of women of color to go to bat for white ladies. Remember: More than half of white women voters went for Donald Trump, and the majority of women of color supported Hillary Clinton, regardless of Clinton's questionable record on mass incarceration and her campaign's occasionally pandering attempts to reach people of color.
So our job as white feminists isn't to "welcome" women of color into "our" movement. It's to realize that they're already here and have been doing the work from the beginning. It's our job to see that, to acknowledge that work, and to sometimes get out of the way completely. It's our job to show up for causes like Black Lives Matter and not act like history didn't happen because we're all united as women, or whatever the fuck.
I can tell from your letter that you're ready to do this. Good! It's time!
So let's get back to the woman you saw on Desus and Mero. I had a feeling when I read your letter that you were talking about Buzzfeed's Tracy Clayton, who co-hosts the podcast Another Round with Heben Nigatu, and sure enough, when I looked it up, I was right. One of the things that struck me about your letter was that you seemed shocked by Clayton's words, but not shocked enough to remember her name or look into her work further. That was a missed opportunity, because if you'd done that small bit of research, you would have likely discovered that on the most recent episode of Another Round, Clayton and Nigatu describe Clayton's reasons for skipping the Women's March in greater depth. That shit's archived, though, so here's your mission, should you choose to accept it: I want you to download that episode and I want you to listen to what she says.
Really listen. Because that small, quiet decision is the first step in doing better. We can't make any greater change without starting there.
Good luck!
With kindness and encouragement,
A Feminist
A note on why this column is written by a white/straight/cis person: I believe it is the responsibility of white, straight, cisgender people to "collect their friends" when they're being racist and/or exclusionary of trans, nonbinary, and LGBTQ-identifying people or are just generally being deeply clueless and need to have basic concepts explained to them. Attending to our own ignorance, white guilt, and white fragility should not be the responsibility of people of color, and if you think it is, we need to talk. So I'm offering up a space for you to get your shit together and pose whatever burning questions you have about intersectional feminism to a fellow ignorant white person with her own implicit bias who is trying to do better. I'll do my very best to answer them, or find someone else who can.
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