Reproductively Privileged: Critical White Feminism and Reproductive Justice Theory
The 2016 election of President Donald J. Trump energized a new wave of feminist activism in the United States as the fear of rollbacks to reproductive freedom became increasingly concrete and dire. The widely publicized and heavily attended 2017 Women’s March in Washington, DC, illuminated this powerful display of dissent. However, the march was sharply criticized for being dominated by white women and its omission of women of color, indicating that despite the explosion of nonwhite feminist theories and critiques of mainstream white liberal feminism, the long-standing problems within feminist organizing across difference continue.
The Women’s March is just one of many examples of white women’s failure to recognize white supremacy and privilege—including reproductive privilege. Reproductive justice theory (RJT) is a necessary framework for understanding what the Women’s March missed. Born out of the intersectional lived experiences of women of color, RJT offers a more comprehensive and powerful vision for the future. RJT is grounded in an understanding of realities that white women simply do not and cannot live. White women are unable to fully understand the multifaceted and intersectional racialized marginalization experienced by women of color because we do not embody it. If RJT is the lens, privilege is the fog.
Because I am a white feminist myself, I am attempting to fully understand the implications of my own whiteness and my own reproductive privilege. White women have reproductive privilege in relationship to women of color, and despite myths to the contrary, privileges are not something to be dismissed or ignored, but used to ensure that everyone enjoys them. For example, as a sexually active cisgender white woman, I am unlikely to be racially profiled when using birth control, nor am I viewed as a racial stereotype if I seek social services or go to a public health facility. Nor do I especially risk deportation or incarceration, or a coerced sterilization. If I have a problem with illicit drugs, it will be viewed as a public health rather than a criminal justice matter.
While these are just a few examples of reproductive privilege, I also recognize that white women are cast in the role of breeders for white supremacy, and I’m likely to be severely criticized if I remain childless by choice, seek a voluntary sterilization, or if I’m a lesbian or a trans man. White children are commodified in the global marketplace, so my presumed fertility may be especially vulnerable to egg harvesting, adoption exploitation, or medical coercion during childbirth. Any gender nonconformity will be criticized and punished by a white supremacist society, yet those oppressions do not erase the unearned advantages of my whiteness. Sexuality, pregnancy, and motherhood are deeply racialized experiences understated by many white feminist activists and theorists. The reproductive privilege of white women depends on the disenfranchisement of others.
Yet, what was once seemingly invisible to women of privilege is made visible by the voices of reproductive justice activists. That production of knowledge—their political and emotional labor—laid down the road that the Women’s March attendees and every feminist activist walks upon. Because of this human-rights-based theory, white women can study and learn these realities and interrogate the ways they interlock with our own lives.
White people are racially challenged through contrived ignorance about white supremacy. We don’t notice whiteness because we don’t have to, except in encounters with the racialized “other.” Along with the benefits it affords to those in power, the structural, cultural, and economic impacts of whiteness are intentionally euphemistic and engineered to be disguised. It may seem as though whites are disadvantaged due to racism and white supremacy, psychological dysfunction, and moral distortion; but on the contrary, whites receive immeasurable benefits simply because of our whiteness regardless whether we are aware of it.
Black women used their hearts and minds and bodies and histories to create an RJ theoretical lens that helps us understand reproductive injustices. White women, too, can use our own hearts and minds and bodies and histories to theorize—but carefully. White women can analyze the particular reproductive challenges we face, but we must not generalize our experiences as the norm. We must grapple seriously with the ways that our stories intertwine with women of color, including how we are situated within a global framework. Those interconnections are not always pretty or palatable, but often laden with racism, colonialism, imperialism, and privilege, which is why we must be vigilant in our examination of ourselves and our communities. We must truly care, even when our experiences aren’t at the center of a theory or a praxis. Otherwise, our scholarship isn’t comprehensive, our activism isn’t inclusive, and our feminism is violent.
RJ theory has much to offer white feminism because anyone can use it to examine various social locations. Every human being has identical human rights, but an array of intersectional positionalities determine whether these rights are protected or violated. RJT provides an unparalleled approach to the full achievement of universal reproductive justice for all.
However, I fear the historical trend of white feminists co-opting the work of feminists of color. Our past behavior indicates a pattern of using nonwhite feminist frameworks and language to replicate oppressive behaviors in new ways. For instance, the original Million Woman March in Philadelphia led by black women in 1997 focused on rebuilding and uniting black communities. Twenty years later, white organizers of the Women’s March on Washington first chose the title “Million Women March” without researching this history. Initially, they failed to incorporate the same anti-sexist and anti-racist frameworks of the black women’s march in 1997.
RJT offers invaluable insight into the fight for social justice that white feminists must seek out, listen to, and learn from, but I do not believe that RJT is all white women need because of our particular privileges and social locations. Instead, I suggest we use a similar but different lens to magnify, deconstruct, and dismantle white supremacy. In doing so, we can theorize about reproductive justice from a place that recognizes our racial and imperial privilege, and focuses on the ways white organizations, individuals, and communities are entangled in and buttressed by the racial, social, and economic oppression of women of color. This might better provide a more effective role for white allies and, not so incidentally, save the soul of the feminist movement that is mired in stagnation and innumerable policy losses.
I propose that white allies adopt the lens of critical white feminism (CWF). CWF can be generally defined by its name, that is, feminism that is critical of whiteness, emanating from previous critical race and critical feminist theories developed by people of color. While the term “critical white feminism” is my own, the ideas that I present are neither new nor original. In reality, feminists of color have been making these arguments for decades without recognition from white feminists. CWF is an approach that I believe is necessary for an anti-racist transformation of white feminist theory to expand the scope of feminist thought to critically consider whiteness and its privileges by blending aspects of critical white studies and feminist theory to examine power relationships through an intersectional lens.
Both critical white studies and feminist studies are often limited in their ability to adequately address the complex interconnectivity of racial and gender privilege and oppression. Feminist theorists strive to provide a framework for understanding oppression, imagining liberation, inciting societal change, and achieving social justice. However, most feminist theory written by white middle-class women is unsuccessful in this mission of understanding the oppression of all women and conceptualizing comprehensive solutions. In general, feminist scholarship produced by white feminists largely neglects the impact of white supremacy on reproductive politics and is therefore inadequate, while assuming a white norm that is a false narrative. Two major flaws of mainstream feminist theory are its assumption that whiteness has minimal significance in delineating gender oppression, and the reluctance to critically interrogate whiteness.
White identities allow white feminists to have a sense of ownership, legitimacy, and belonging to the feminist movement. I refer to this problem as “white feminist racism” and argue that white feminists understate the ways in which whiteness and privilege facilitate problematic theorizing that assumes a hubristic universality, while at the same time criticizing cisgender white men for doing the same. While several white feminists do prioritize interrogating whiteness—such as theorists Ruth Frankenberg, Martha Mahoney, Peggy McIntosh, Rickie Solinger, Ann Russo, and Chris Cuomo, and artists Lucy Lippard and Arlene Raven—I argue that more white feminists should follow their lead.
Although the feminist movement loudly rejects instances of overt racism, the movement reflects the dominance of whiteness by normalizing it. That is, whites regard themselves and their experiences as common, standard, and conventional. All things related to whiteness, including culture, experiences, and beliefs are considered by white people to be normal. They believe that their race and its implications need not be investigated because there is nothing about whiteness to investigate.
Unlike white feminist theories, the field of critical white studies provides a foundation for exploring whiteness in a racist society to address conceptions and implications of whiteness. Critical white studies are a result of critical race theory, which was formulated by the contributions of people of color such as Mari Matsuda and Kimberlé Crenshaw. Crenshaw coined the term “intersectionality” to analyze disparities in power, not differences in identity. Critical race theory was developed to convey how the legal system supports inequalities of all kinds.
Critical white scholars define whiteness in a variety of ways and continue to contest its meaning. Whiteness should be understood here as an invisible and influential racial category, with implications for power, dominance, and normativity. It is important to use the term “white supremacy” to signify the system that enforces and maintains the racial hierarchy. Black philosopher Charles W. Mills defines white supremacy in The Racial Contract as the system of domination by which white people of Anglo descent have historically ruled over and, in certain important ways, continue to oppress people of color.1 The system of white supremacy upholds the superiority of whiteness in several ways, including white normativity and invisibility, which facilitate racism. Constructed as universal truths through perspectivism, white norms are imposed on society in general. The standards for all people, then, are determined by whiteness. Whereas whites are regarded in this paradigm, nonwhites are disregarded, and, as we know, disregard is an implicit form of racism. As an implicit process, all of this happens as though whiteness were not involved. So, similar to the invisibility of whiteness, the racialized structure of society goes unrecognized and white supremacy operates covertly, allowing whites to act in racist ways unknowingly and knowingly.
Because the causes and effects of whiteness are rarely explored, the works of critical white theorists are necessary for understanding the hidden mechanisms and dynamics of our racialized society. However, critical white theories often examine racism and whiteness without attention to gender, and are therefore inadequate, as well. As I envision it, CWF has the potential to breathe new life into the movement by encouraging white allies to express the best of their humanity. The purpose of CWF is to conceptualize an inclusive and transformative anti-racist feminist framework and agenda; challenge white feminist racism and white feminist hegemony; encourage open and honest communication between feminists across differences; and facilitate feminist solidarity and mobilization. Specifically, CWF has several objectives: to establish racism as a priority feminist issue; to expose whiteness as an invisible, normalized, hegemonic, and privileged racial identity; to explore the interconnectivity of white supremacy, patriarchy, capitalism, and other systems; to address hierarchical power structures that exist within feminism; and to decenter white women and demarginalize women of color.
A main pillar of CWF is the intentional exploration of the experiences of women of color along with the intensive examination of the white feminist racism that may exist in daily interactions, unconscious perceptions, and theoretical discourse. CWF examines how engagement with other people upholds or interrupts oppression, and if the manner of the interaction becomes oppressive itself.
A mirror is a useful metaphor. Noted anti-racist trainer Shakti Butler says, “People are either mirrors or windows. If you’re a mirror, you’re saying ‘there’s only one of us here.’”2 That is one use of a mirror, only to see oneself when looking at another person, while remaining oblivious to their humanity. Seeing others as a utilitarian way of reflecting only on oneself is objectifying and dehumanizing. This erasure of others does not produce qualitative self-reflection, but instead is a narcissist and unfortunately frequent feature of white supremacy. For example, exaggerated white fears of African Americans walking, jogging, driving, or merely existing in situations that trigger white fragility can lead to deadly consequences for black people. Whites perpetuate racism and maintain the system of white supremacy through ignorance, along with moral and cognitive dysfunctions, which allow white people to think and act in oppressive ways while they believe that they are, in fact, thinking and acting in fair and reasonable ways. Through the veil of white supremacy, whites people’s perceptions of others and themselves are not always consistent with reality.
In contrast, María Lugones uses Elizabeth Spelman’s phrase “boomerang perception” to illustrate how white women should interactively recognize women’s differences and plurality.3 According to Spelman boomerang perception happens when “I look at you and come right back to myself.” Boomerang perception is a self-reflective process that happens when one thinks about oneself after perceiving the difference between oneself and another. This approach can counteract and reverse the problematic tendency of inactively acknowledging women’s differences: to consider another without reflecting on ourselves. In this way, white women and women of color are “faithful mirrors” who are able to reveal their true selves to each other.4 A true self is not an isolated self that engages in self-reflection without cognition of others; instead, a true self interprets itself in relation to others by comparing and contrasting similarities and differences, not as a stimulant for fear and uncertainty, but as an act of human solidarity. Thus, between white and women of color feminists, reciprocal reflection and genuine critical regard for each other provides the opportunity for a clearer image of self, much like faithful mirrors can reveal painful realities.
Therefore, as Lugones argues, many white feminists avoid perceiving women of color as “faithful mirrors” because they wish to “block identification with that self ” they see reflected back at them. According to Lugones, this blockage occurs because the reality of the white self enmeshed in white supremacy is inconsistent with the white perception of self as a postracial being. In order to truly understand whiteness and truly understand their own racism, white feminists must actively and reflexively regard all people as situated in a white supremacist construct. Critical white feminist anti-racist transformation, then, requires critical self-interaction and critical interaction with feminist women of color to collaborate to deconstruct white supremacy, much of which is missing thus far in most white feminist theory and action.
Critical white feminism allows white women to perceive how white normativity invisibly shapes their lives, leads them to assume that their experiences as women are universal as opposed to race-specific, and blinds them to the realities of people of color. Furthermore, white feminists can better recognize that whiteness facilitates racist and exclusionary tendencies because CWF provides the foundations for an interrogation of racial privilege. When white feminists subscribe to white normativity and universalize womanhood, they fail to take into account the power differences between women, even when women of color are included in feminist discourse.
RJT inspires us to blast open the hegemonic discourse of reproductive rights and excavate white supremacy’s role in reproductive injustices locally and globally to create a transformation of white feminist theory. As an example, integrating RJT and CWF enables a critique of population bomb theories that demonize the fertility of populations in the Global South while underexamining imbalances in global resource distribution. White feminists are part of the chorus of voices seeking to impose fertility-directed population controls on vulnerable women around the world, masking these goals with problematic feminist rhetoric. A CWF/RJT approach would counter these assumptions by interrogating why half of the world’s wealth is controlled by 1 percent of the population, creating systematic and intentional underdevelopment, and how Western policies, militaries, and corporations reproduce such inequitable relationships.
In the US, critical white feminist theory demands more from white communities than individual disavowing of racial privilege and overt racism. White women generally do not speak about racism because they do not consider it to be their problem, while women of color are expected to bear the burden of educating white women about white supremacy, but please do so without getting too angry! Without an interrogation of their own racial identities as white women, there will be no substantial change within feminist theory and practice.
It is important, also, for feminists to seriously consider the emotional responses to the realization of critical white feminism. As Audre Lorde reminds us, any discussion among women about racism must include the recognition and use of anger. Feminists must regard the emotions within themselves and each other. According to Lorde, we cannot allow our fear of anger to deflect us nor seduce us into settling for anything less than the hard work of honestly excavating unjust power relationships.5 Furthermore, white feminists must recognize the fear, denial, guilt, blame, and shame associated with the process of exploring whiteness and privilege.6 Because emotions are a part of the human condition, it is impossible to separate them from feminist theorizing and organizing. Instead, feminists must be aware of them and prepare for the painful process of responding to their own and others’ emotions.
Of course, white supremacy harms marginalized communities, but it also degrades the integrity and dignity of white folks by persuading many white people to act and vote against their own interests. Rather than allowing white nationalists to speak for all white people, critical white feminism requests that white allies speak against injustices on behalf of our communities and in support all of humanity.
For example, rather than dismissing the Confederate flag as synonymous with white heritage and identity, it should be recognized as a gateway drug into the netherworld of fascism, as illustrated by Dylann Roof ’s 2015 murder of nine black people in Charleston, South Carolina. CWF encourages white feminists to grapple with their own positionality within a problematic web of power by emphasizing human interdependence rather than social hierarchies by promoting principles of human dignity and human rights to become dominant values in the white community.
This includes not only the theoretical ponderings of academics but practical applications for all social justice activists. For feminist activists operating at the legislative level, in education, social work, healthcare, business, or at home, I ask: How does whiteness and white supremacy proliferate in your field? In what ways does your privilege fog your reproductive justice lens?
Critical white feminism might also help with feminist collaboration. White feminist racism thwarts cross-racial feminist relationships and organizing. Successful feminist organizing requires open and honest dialogue across all identities, a conversation that should not be distorted by unacknowledged power dynamics between members. White feminists continuously meet women of color unequally in their attempts to organize and dialogue, by oppressing women of color through disregard, disrespect, and ignorance, and an insistence on invading boundaries. While feminists of color have demanded that an anti-racist feminist agenda is needed for solidarity and community, most white feminists fail to implement anti-racism in theory and practice. An interrogation of whiteness unearths the racialized power structures and hierarchies that white feminists do not readily perceive. It is through this process that white women can resist their authoritative inclinations and dialogue with women of color in an egalitarian discourse that analyzes power structures. CWF is a beneficial approach to understanding and resisting obstructions to feminist solidarity and action.
One common tactic used by anti-racist white women who wish to be allies is to attempt to affect change in communities of color, both at home and abroad, instead of focusing on white communities. This tendency is problematic because members of our privileged communities are more likely to hold positions of power in government and business. I encourage white feminists to ask themselves: How are your families and communities contributing to oppressive structures? Do the men, women, LGBTQ people, and children you love think and act like oppressors, allies, or false allies? How does your community influence those surrounding you? What about you? What leaders are you following? Who are you volunteering with? Who are you donating money to? Where do you live? What schools do your children attend and why? What businesses and financial institutions do you use, and what projects do they fund? Ultimately, all people participate in the social and economic forces that affect reproductive politics. We must ask ourselves if our participation protects our privileges as white women in the US. We must ask ourselves whether we deploy our unearned resources—such as media attention, leadership opportunities, and funding—to support women of color and challenge white supremacy.
In an era when our political leaders make it easy for us to turn on and fight each other for the dwindling resources available to us, it is all the more important that we no longer construct, participate in, or comply with white supremacy. White feminists must take responsibility for ourselves and our mistakes, demolish and rebuild our current conceptualization of reproductive oppression, and use our shared power to move forward toward a world of infinite possibilities achieved through reproductive justice.
Notes
1. Charles W. Mills, The Racial Contract (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1997), 1–2.
2. Mirrors of Privilege: Making Whiteness Visible, directed by Shakti Butler (Oakland, CA: World Trust), streaming online, https://world-trust.org/mirrors-of-privilege-making-whiteness-visible/.
3. María Lugones, “On the Logic of Pluralist Feminism,” in Feminist Ethics, ed. Claudia Card (Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 1991), 41.
4. Ibid., 42.
5. Audre Lorde, “The Uses of Anger,” in Sister Outsider: Essay and Speeches (Berkeley, CA: Crossing Press, 1984), 128.
6. For more on the emotional responses to whiteness, see Allison Brimmer, “Investigating Affective Dimensions of Whiteness in the Cultural Studies Writing Classroom: Toward a Critical, Feminist, Anti-Racist Pedagogy” (PhD diss., University of South Florida, 2005); and Diane Gillespie, Leslie Ashbaugh, and JoAnn DeFiore, “White Women Teaching White Women about White Privilege, Race Cognizance and Social Action: Toward a Pedagogical Pragmatics,” Race Ethnicity and Education 5, no. 3 (2002): 237–53.