It is tricky at times for me to discuss being a white “ally” (a word I go in and out of having any real grasp on as it is) because, simply put, I am sensitive to white people complaining about where they fit (or don’t) in anti-racist movements. It often comes across to me as a way for white people to get misplaced sympathy. This can be problematic, as I am white, and am constantly negotiating what I can or should do. That being said, studying black feminist/womanist thought as a white feminist aware of the legacy of racism in feminist movements is...trying. And studying black feminist/womanist thought as a white feminist who feels the need to speak in order to learn can be even more so. bell hooks writes in Black Women: Shaping Feminist Thought (1984), “A central tenet of modern feminist thought has been the assertion that “all women are oppressed.” This assertion implies that women share a common lot, that factors like class, race, religion, sexual preferences, etc., do not create a diversity of experience that determines the extent to which sexism will be an oppressive force in the lives of individual women.” Experiencing sexism does not mean that I did not grow up in a racist climate, or that I transcend racism itself, for Petra’s sake. This is a mistake I see still, in 2015. Indeed two days ago a white gender-nonconforming friend commented on a on social media post, “Feminism is feminism regardless of race.” I was shocked, and while the knots twisted in my stomach I thought “why should I be?” This is a common trope of white feminists, to ignore the intersectionality that bell hooks addresses above. And knowing that does not mean I am not guilty of this line of thinking.
In relating to women of color, I am made aware that some parts of the sexism they are forced to endure everyday I too experience, to varying degrees, while others I certainly do not. This makes me think of Barbara Smith’s set of Myths in "Some Home Truths on the Contemporary Black Feminist Movement" (1985), I can loosely identify with two of the myths men have used to keep black women from pursing feminism, “Myth No. 3: Feminism is Nothing but Man-Hating” and “Myth No. 5: Those Feminists are Nothing but Lesbians,” but not the other 3 Myths, and even those 2 have racist overtones and undertones. Relating only partially to 2 of the 5 myths, all laced with sexism, that black women are inundated with, clearly delineates for me what I am up against, and what my sisters who are of color are up against. The fight is not the same. As I typed that I recalled Audre Lorde in her novel Zami: A New Spelling of My Name intimating her experience in the 1950s in a mostly white social circle of lesbians and how they spoke strictly of sexism, heterosexism, homophobia, and made the grave mistake of assuming Audre did not face racism because of this shared oppression. As though sexism trumped racism, and so could bond these women in a mutual cause. And this calls to mind the present-day strife I have seen in my queer communities when white women ignore the racism, and the multifaceted layering of sexism and racism and heterosexism, felt by women of color--in the name of shared oppression, of fighting a common fight.
In relating to women of color, I am made aware that some parts of the sexism they are forced to endure everyday I too experience, to varying degrees, while others I certainly do not. This makes me think of Barbara Smith’s set of Myths in "Some Home Truths on the Contemporary Black Feminist Movement" (1985), I can loosely identify with two of the myths men have used to keep black women from pursing feminism, “Myth No. 3: Feminism is Nothing but Man-Hating” and “Myth No. 5: Those Feminists are Nothing but Lesbians,” but not the other 3 Myths, and even those 2 have racist overtones and undertones. Relating only partially to 2 of the 5 myths, all laced with sexism, that black women are inundated with, clearly delineates for me what I am up against, and what my sisters who are of color are up against. The fight is not the same. As I typed that I recalled Audre Lorde in her novel Zami: A New Spelling of My Name intimating her experience in the 1950s in a mostly white social circle of lesbians and how they spoke strictly of sexism, heterosexism, homophobia, and made the grave mistake of assuming Audre did not face racism because of this shared oppression. As though sexism trumped racism, and so could bond these women in a mutual cause. And this calls to mind the present-day strife I have seen in my queer communities when white women ignore the racism, and the multifaceted layering of sexism and racism and heterosexism, felt by women of color--in the name of shared oppression, of fighting a common fight.