The Significance of Black Women

“Your silence will not protect you.” –Audre Lorde, who was born February 18, 1934.

Photo: Elsa Dorfman

Via National Women’s History Museum

Audre Lorde (via stories-yet-to-be-written)

I don’t want to hear another person say that suicide is “selfish”.

I am absolutely fed up and done with this idea that because someone took his or her own life, that someone acted selfishly and without consideration of the feelings of others and the impact such an act would have on the lives of others. Many of us were heartbroken after learning that Karyn Washington, blogger and founder of “For Brown Girls”, passed away in what appears to have been suicide. Those who were close acknowledged that she battled depression and was having some personal struggles. None of us will ever truly know what pain she was in, however, and that is why no one should refer to what she did as “selfish”.  As a Black woman, I understand a lot of the unique burdens that we bear and have had to carry for generations. I have written about how we absorb so much pain, silently, because we’re expected to be “strong” and to endure everything and be the sources of strength for everyone.

In the days following the news of her passing, social media was, unfortunately, dominated by conversations about how selfish it was of her (and others) to commit suicide, and I admit that I was stunned at how careless and shameful the commentary has been in this time of grieving and reflection. The myth of the Black Superwoman plagues us to the point when any indication of hurt or pain is shamed, shunned, ridiculed, and belittled. Trudy, of Gradient Lair, facilitated an engaging discussion several months ago on how calling suicide “selfish” is victim-blaming. She and others explored how, for Black women, experiences with depression and trauma are often directly related to our being women and being Black and carrying the weight of this duality in a society that “others” both identities. Factor in religious expectations that require “more faith”, intraracial expectations of loyalty and secrecy (when experiencing abuse), and the persistent disconnect between Black people and mental health care, there are so many things to consider when a Black woman takes her own life.

When Black women hurt, openly, we challenge others’ notions of what Black womanhood is—strong, fierce, unabashed, sassy, no-nonsense, caretaking, healing, saving, nurturing— and that makes many people uncomfortable. When we dare show “weakness”, we are blamed for being unable to be the mules everyone has come to expect us to be. We hurt. We feel pain. We struggle. And yes, sometimes in an act nothing short of revolution, we even put ourselves first. It’s a shame that too many find it hard to accept that we have the right to make decisions about our minds, bodies, and lives.

Karyn, I’m sorry for all that you endured that pushed you to the point of ending your life. I say, with great empathy, that I wish you eternal peace and hope that your suffering has ended, once and for all. My wish for you is that you’re enveloped in the loving embrace of our ancestors, many of whom made the same decisions and took the same actions. What you gave to us, purely of yourself, was more than you could ever imagine. You believed in the beauty of Black women and you did what you could to make us believe it too. Thank you.

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Losing a loved one hurts. Most of us can relate to the feeling of losing someone who means the world to us, especially when it happens before we are ready to accept and process the loss. Are we ever truly ready, though? On April 19, 2007, I lost my mother to pancreatic cancer. She was only 51 at the time. While I knew the end was near, and had been preparing for her departure for several months, the loss still rocked me to my core and the shock and pain of losing her lingers with me still. There are always those “What if I had done more?” and “How could I have saved her?” thoughts that plague me from time-to-time, and I imagine that many people who lose loved ones experience similar moments of reflection and wondering.

There is something different about a person committing suicide, though, which elicits a different, almost angry feeling of betrayal. Many people think it is selfish to end your life when so many people love you, rely on you, need and want you around, and can’t imagine their lives without you. The angry feelings are often centered on what people need from you… for themselves. Some people make your life, your whole being, and your entire purpose more about what works to make their own lives better. People are concerned more about what they can no longer take from you and less about whether or not you were living your life happily for yourself. When someone takes his/her own life, that person is posthumously blamed for causing so many other people pain with little recognition or empathy for the pain that likely led to the suicide itself.

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Mars Colony 39 Dark art 5

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TazioBettin

Hey everybody. The kickstarter campaign for Tim Koppang’s Mars Colony: 39 Dark roleplaying game has begun! And the game features color art by yours truly, see above. So what are you waiting for? Join the kickstarter campaign and give your backing to this wonderful game here! Click here for the Kickstarter

Mars Colony: 39 Dark is a roleplaying game for two players set in a future colony on the red planet, and focuses on politics, struggle and the weight of choices. It plays very quickly and it’s extremely intense and enjoyable, one of my favorite roleplaying games out there (and not because it has my art: I did the art because I love the game!)

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This is a poster I’m currently working on for my class. Its centered specifically on how men, specifically White men, eroticize and fetishize women of color. I tried to focus on four common tropes or stereotypes created by society that focus on Black, Latina, Asian, and Arab women.

Make subtle strong. I WILL

But we are more than our bodies.

Alice Walker

Quote is from her film Alice Walker: Beauty In Truth, which I live tweeted and you can see those tweets in my Storify: Alice Walker: Beauty In Truth (Film). I love this quote since people immediately associate this with cishet Black male dominance in heterosexual relationships for Black women when she means shrinking herself in general. Not being a full person. She rejects the notion of that submission.

Her early life, writing life, activism, romantic relationships (with multiple genders), pleasures and pains of motherhood (though Rebecca isn’t in the film; I think her perspective on their difficult relationship in adulthood should’ve been there) and her perspectives on life were included. It’s really a poetic and interesting portrait of a remarkable and of course imperfect person, a full human being, a Southern Black American woman. Some of the most difficult areas discussed were how she moved into “fame” after The Color Purple (which is not her only book or first book; just most known) but faced intraracial backlash, her role as an oppressed person in the West but with a Western gaze on FGM and her early warmth but adulthood difficulties with her daughter. And visually? The film is really beautiful. Great mix of iconic images and motion. Music? Some Nina played so it was all good. 

(via gradientlair)

Talk Africa: “Afro-reality: Ain’t I A Woman”

“African women are so domestic, they know how to treat a man. They are so sweet and soft-spoken.” This is what an elderly white man told me after learning that I am a Nigerian immigrant. I gathered from his tone, and soft smile that he intended the words to be a compliment, that I should take heart that I was desired for my exceptionally feminine features. Little did he know that I am my mother’s daughter: opinionated, and outspoken, passionate, and unrelenting, dogged, with a boisterous deep-bellied laugh.

I grew up in a family where my mother, not my father, always worked at least two jobs. In our household my mother was quite literally our super hero. She began life as a midwife, in a little hospital in Owerri, Nigeria. Then immigrated, with my father, to the US and became a registered nurse. My mother has gone back to school to finish her Bachelors of Science in Nursing (BSN), and is now, in her fifties, pursuing her Masters in Nursing. My mother has always made more than my father and spent many hours out of the house working, but at the end of the day, if you ask this woman who the head of the household is, she will tell you that it is my father.

When you ask my father why he married my mother, he will tell you two things: 1) she has beautiful hands (which she does) and 2) she had a very neat desk (which is a bald faced lie, my mother is the messiest person I know).  My mother married my father because she loved the conversations they had, and he treated her like an equal. Every time he would get his paycheck he would bring it back to my mother and ask her what they would do with the money. This was all before the ring, the vows, and children.

After immigrating to the US, however, my father discovered just how messy my mother is and assumed all household chores. I learned to clean the house, do laundry, and organize my room from my father. I learned to cook from my mother, and I learned to treat all people with dignity from them both. There was never a time that I questioned my mother’s autonomy, or my father’s power. I knew that together they were my parents, and together they were raising me. Neither was necessarily superior, but inhabited different spaces.

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Women in Africa and the Diaspora: “Stop Telling Women to Smile”

“Hey baby, can I get your number?”

“Why you gotta play hard to get, sweetheart?”

“You got a man boo?”

“You too pretty to look so mad. Smile for me.”

These are some catcalls heard by women on city streets every day.

Until recently, I never experienced severe street harassment and could not relate to my friends who complained about it. One day as I was walking to work, a man approached me and complimented me. I smiled, said “thank you” and continued walking. He continued to follow me and call me “sweetheart” as he pulled out his phone and waved it in my face. I politely turned him down again and began walking faster. The faster I walked, the faster he walked. When I realized that this man would not take no for an answer, I panicked. Here I am in an unfamiliar environment, with a stranger closely following me, persisting that I give him my number. In fear of my life, I hurried across the street searching for anyone. I spotted an officer. Relieved, I walked towards him, hoping to scare away the guy which I did. I was lucky to find help, but what if I hadn’t?

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Civil Rights Protest prep. Hair pulling and blowing smoke in her face to prepare her for the experience of sitting in restaurants that were not willing to serve people of color.  We’re celebrating how far we’ve come all month long! Join us in Detroit on FEB 22 and all over the world for empowerment events. Go to: www.prettybrowngirl.com to register! INTERNATIONAL PRETTY BROWN GIRL DAY!  FEB 22 FEB 22 FEB 22

Audre Lorde