CHERJANÉT D. LENZY
I think, us as Black people have so far to go in understanding who we are. I feel we get activism, we understand that we should and deserve to be living a better life than we are, but we truly don’t understand who were are as people … I feel … in my experience of any organization that I have been to, they always fall short. Maybe I have all these different complexities within that, but … I’m not part of really any organization, because of these reasons, I don’t feel a whole complexity when I’m in them. And I feel some parts of me have to be silent because of that.
—Nilta X
Honoring our full selves within activist spaces is uncharted territory. Often, we are required to center one component of our identity to participate in all-encompassing social movements. In turn, situating the complexity of identity within a social justice or activist framework seems to be a minimal occurrence. Founders of the #BlackLivesMatter movement and the corresponding #SayHerName campaign sought to explore these issues (Crenshaw, Ritchie, Anspach, Gilmer, & Harris, 2015; Rickford, 2016). However, media attention has focused the #BlackLivesMatter movement on Black men. In turn, the experience of those with multiple identities engaged in this or similar race-based activism is not entirely understood.
For this chapter, I selected one woman’s story extracted from a larger study that explored the experiences of college-aged Black women engaged in race-based activism. What emerged from the original study were four separate unique experiences of Black women that centered on the overarching theme of the complexity of Black womanhood. Though each participant shared how they felt, activist spaces did not always allow space for their full selves. It became clear that insight on how each participant understood their intersectionality was the most salient discussion in our conversations. Thus, to tell their stories collectively seemed to suggest that their experiences were the same. Though similarities were present, significant experiences seemed important to be highlighted. Therefore, Nilta’s story will be shared here. The dynamic of having more formal education than the other participants may have had an impact on Nilta. Her reflection on her lived experiences seemed to provide strong understanding of her identities, social issues, and interpersonal relationships that clearly emerged from our conversation. This saliency allowed for abstraction from the group to highlight key themes found across participants while providing a seamless narrative.
Black women’s leadership and lived experience are impacted by the intersecting identities of race and gender (King, 1998; Simien, 2003). Together, the interlocking systems of racism and sexism create a compounding oppressive experience (Crenshaw, 1991). Black women navigate the complexity of intersecting identity that in turn impacts their participation and engagement in identity-based activist movements. For instance, past engagement in activism such as the Civil Rights Movement highlights how Black women managed their lived experiences in activist spaces (Simien, 2003).
As demonstrated in the Civil Rights Movement and early feminist movements, Black women have found themselves on the margins of discussions on both racial issues and women’s issues (Evans, 2015; hooks, 2000). Discussion about gender issues within racial justice movements was limited by concerns they would distract from the larger movement’s success (Simien, 2003). In kind, Black women were rendered invisible in the women’s liberation movement as White middle-class women’s concerns were centralized (Evans, 2015). The erasure of Black women’s experiences with oppression is commonplace. Societal perceptions that all who identify as Black have similar experiences, or all women deal with similar issues, have created an assumption that oppression across an identity group looks the same (Purdie-Vaughns & Eibach, 2008; Schug, Alt, & Klauer, 2015).
Interestingly, though, Black women have been integral in racial justice movements (Edwards, 2000; Horsford, 2012; Simien, 2003). During the Civil Rights Movement, many Black women acted as bridge-building leaders by connecting the community to the larger social movement, acting as critical organizers and mobilizers (Alston & McClellan, 2013; Horsford, 2012; Robnett, 1996, 1997). For instance, some members of the Black community were not instantly on board with the racial justice activism during the time. Black women often worked in the community and focused on individuals’ social location to help convince them of the importance of the movement and gain their support (Robnett, 1997).
However, the work Black women did during this time was not applauded in the same ways as Black male leadership. Gender roles of the time put Black men in mainly positional leadership roles. These men held positions such as director, while women mostly filled administrative roles (Robnett, 1996). In essence, Black men were the face of the movement while Black women did the behind-the-scenes work (Barnett, 1993).
It appears the behavior of Black women in race-based activism has taken on a similar role in movements today. For instance, current activism around the #BlackLivesMatter movement has seemed to minimally recognize or completely erase the contributions of Black women, Queer people, and Trans* people in the movement (Lindsey, 2015; Taylor, 2016). Though this was not the original intent of the movement, it seems the media attention and community focus has defaulted to lifting the experiences of Black men over Black women (Garza, 2016; Rickford, 2016).
As of this writing, no studies explore why Black women’s issues that connect to their intersectional identities are not situated in either race-based or gender-based activist platforms. Though there is literature exploring Black women or women of color and activism (Harvell, 2010; Linder & Rodriguez, 2012; Rainey & Johnson, 2009) and discussion of how Black women were involved in activism during the Civil Rights Movement (Barnett, 1993; Edwards, 2000; Horsford, 2012; Millner, 1996; Simien, 2003), no studies look specifically at why activist platforms minimize how Black women are impacted by racism and sexism and how that impact is not centered in activist work. While new literature has begun to address Black women’s marginalization in race-based activism (Lindsey, 2015; Rickford, 2016; Taylor, 2016), accompanying research has yet to appear.
In contemporary activism, a difference in Black women’s and Black men’s experience with police violence highlighted in media can be seen through the activism of the #BlackLivesMatter movement. Though three Black women, two of whom are Queer, started the #BlackLivesMatter movement, there has been little focus on the experience of Black women with police brutality and other violence. Though the #SayHerName (Crenshaw et al., 2015) campaign did ignite a redirection of conversation to acknowledge the ways Black women have suffered police brutality and called attention to the numerous women that died from this violence, focus quickly shifted back toward Black men. This renders the experience of Black women virtually invisible and perhaps creates the assumption that Black women deal with this violence, discrimination, and racism less frequently than their male counterparts.
Despite their many contributions, Black women and their interests remain at the margins of race-based activist movements. Due to the intersecting identities of race and gender, Black women combat both racism and sexism. The multiple oppressive experiences endured by Black women are often left out of activist platforms and general understanding. Additionally, the discussion of sexism centers on the experience of White women, while racism is centered on the Black male experience (Purdie-Vaughn & Eibach, 2008; Schug et al., 2015; Sesko & Biernat, 2010; Thomas, Dovidio & West, 2014).
Four college-aged Black women were selected for this study via purposeful sampling (Jones, Torres, & Arminio, 2014). Participants spanned the locations of the Rocky Mountain Region and a Northeastern state; three were college graduates, and one was a current graduate student at a 4-year public university. Each shared their experiences with intersectionality in race-based activist spaces through semi-structured interviews. Before the interviews, participants were asked to consider their intersecting identities (Carbado, Crenshaw, Mays & Tomlinson, 2013; Crenshaw, 1991) as Black women, and bring with them a list of the most pressing issues they felt Black women faced and that they would be engaged in activism around if possible. The prompt framed our conversations, guiding participants to hone in on specific experiences that illuminated challenges with intersectionality and single-issue activist spaces. Nilta’s story clearly presents the dynamic of wrestling with these issues and communicates themes found throughout other participants’ stories. Focusing on her narrative provides synchronized travel through one person’s journey. Her story is chronicled in the pages that follow.
The interplay of race and gender together impacts the lived experiences of women of color in significant ways (Crenshaw, 1991). The impact of the systems of racism and sexism together bring along with it power dynamics that influence how women of color must navigate the world (Jordan-Zachery, 2007). Specifically, the link among oppressive structures, such as racism, classism, sexism, and heterosexism offer a compounding effect experienced by women of color only. However, activist spaces seem to center one identity in activist platforms, which does not account for the multiplicity of identity that is innate among all persons. Moreover, neither feminist nor anti-racist spaces account for the collective impact of racism and sexism; rather, one or the other is addressed, while women of color are oppressed by both systems (Crenshaw, 1991).
Nilta X’s story highlights how she came to understand her identity through various college experiences. Along her journey, she wrestles with the cultural implications of her multiple identities and how these impact how she shows up as an activist. Her story is followed by implications and suggested future research.
Nilta began the journey to understanding her identity in community college. After realizing her plan to become a nightclub owner was more involved than she anticipated, she decided to attend college to put off “real life” a little bit longer. However, she was thrust into the reality that racism is constant and protruding when she was greeted by hateful signage posted on the property of a townsperson across from her college. Though Nilta did not describe the sign, images of lynchings, beatings, and other racist violence came to mind.
This is a very small, confederate, tiny, little town … didn’t know that, didn’t know it existed … being first generation to this country my mother doesn’t know too much about like the actual American history … I never really knew about things … I knew who the KKK was … but when I got to [college] a former KKK member lived across the street from the school and he loved his history so much that he had a display … [that was] the first thing I drove up to.
Surprised by her new surroundings, Nilta found herself in an environment that was not like previous spaces she had been. Her identity was something she had been very sure of, but now she was forced to process what her identity meant to her in this new place. She began by educating herself about her cultural history, and through this discovery new understanding about her identity materialized.
I had a whole lot of free time to read … Tumblr was like my go to … I loved Tumblr … I was like so fascinated … I started reading, and reading … Brazilian history … because it tells you who you are, where you came [from] … I was like “What do you mean? What’s Afro-Brazilian? Like you mean there’s more Africans in South America?” I was … fascinated … then I started listening to a lot of YouTube videos … everything there just sang about what White supremacy was and things just started clicking …
Through her discovery of information, Nilta began to have a self-awareness that opened her up to new ways of understanding her own experience. She became president of the Black student organization on campus, started a step team, and also worked in admissions. Through each of these experiences she was being shaped as a Black student, but there was still more ahead of her that would require her to delve deeper into her identity.
Nilta’s self-discovery opened up once she completed community college and started attending a 4-year university. She joined her college’s Black women’s organization on campus and expressed this is where she felt she had a voice.
It was like a different type of voice like actually being a Black woman, and I say actually because it was like that identity was super hard to own for the longest time because I didn’t even know what that meant … going to [college] it was like a whole different type of Black woman, so it was like really great … you can be surrounded by beautiful Black women who do or do not share similar identities or similar stories with you but that’s how you build that sisterhood, by understanding how complex our Black sisterhood is.
Connecting with this student organization was significant for Nilta because it began to shape her identity as a Black woman. Nilta’s identity as Brazilian impacted her sense of self and gave her great pride. Still, her understanding of her Blackness was continuously developing.
I feel my mom knew that this country is a little different in how we could walk around but she never was like, “This is what it is,” she would always just say “You are who you are,” … So I never knew what a Black woman was because my mom didn’t identify, she still doesn’t identify because that to her, that to us, is like being American.
Nilta’s relationship with her mother and her mother’s own identity influenced her understanding of herself. Though her mother did not connect with being a Black woman, per se, Nilta’s college life was shifting her understanding and connecting her to a community that embraced her.
I would say college is what made me realize I was a Black woman … being treated like a Black woman in the aspect of being disrespected by other people telling me that … I’m not as pretty as someone because [of] my skin … and that’s when it came to me like, “Oh my gosh I’m really a Black woman, people see me that way!” And do I? I didn’t know what that really meant, and then further on in college I was like “YES, I’m a Black woman!” like own that identity … like I’ve been through so much that has shown me what it is to be a Black woman … my culture is Black … I think it’s just a beautiful thing to be a Black woman … I had to figure out what a Black woman meant to me, not what society says it was supposed to be.
Nilta’s involvement both on campus and in her student organization helped her define her Black identity. Being perceived as Black was significant and solidified her Blackness. This realization shifted her processing and allowed her to begin internalizing her identity and finding ways to express and own this in a personal way.
As Nilta’s identity as a Black woman became more concrete, her two worlds of being Black and Brazilian sometimes seemed as though they were colliding. As Nilta embarked in activism she was faced with the expectation to compartmentalize her identity and pick which aspects of her identities to bring to the forefront.
Race is something that gets juggled around here, everywhere you go in the U.S., I have to talk about it … when I’m in more [of] the U.S. setting and trying to talk about activism [and when I am] also including my Brown brothers and sisters, people [start] looking at me side-eyed … like I’m both, what do you want me to do … just forget about them?
Nilta’s desire to be engaged in activism was strong and continued to be nourished throughout her college experience. However, finding a space that incorporated all of herself in these activist spaces was not happening. From social and leadership organizations to personal affiliations, Nilta felt that her intersecting identities were not being fully embraced. After Nilta became a member of a Latina sorority, others who expected her to join a historically Black sorority questioned her, again not embracing both her racial and ethnic identities. Though Nilta was proud of her choice, she still felt challenged by the confrontation.
The first question was like, “Oh I thought you were Black,” and I was like, “But I am Black and you don’t know your history … because if you knew your history you would know that the bare minimum are in the U.S. and like Brazil is a very large compass of African people.” So like to me I was very shocked … I knew it was coming, I just didn’t know how it was going to come towards me … I constantly have to battle that.
Nilta tried to balance her identities of being Black, Brown, and Brazilian but it seemed the assumption was that since she claimed a Black identity all her connections would also be Black. Her intersectionality was not necessarily honored by Black-specific organizations. Not only were her multiple identities not acknowledged, in some cases it was not recognized at all because she was solely viewed as being a Black woman.
I’ll choose to … be in my [Greek] letters and then when I do, some people question it, like … “You didn’t choose to go to Divine Nine [National Pan-Hellenic Council] … ?” It’s that constant struggle that I have to fight with … Can we as people understand and honor the complexity that people have within their ethnic and racial identities? I bounce back and forth, with the question … is it better to be mixed and have it be noticed or better to be mixed and not have it noticed? For myself, it’s not noticeable. … So it’s like which one? Cause for me … it took a long, long, long, long, time to identify the way I do, because of that constant back and forth, back and forth.
Though Nilta had been reflective and intentional in wrestling with her multiple identities she struggled with others not being as intentional in trying to understand. As she continued on her college journey, she soon discovered that the limiting of her identity was not reserved only for her racial and ethnic identities but others as well.
Another intersectional identity is my spirituality … and how do I see myself as a being of this world. Being Black, you’re supposed to be Christian … I have to walk into places that are singing gospel music, blasting it out loud … I’m just thinking, how many other Black people are not Christian and don’t come into this space because we play this kind of music?
Though Nilta’s Blackness was becoming salient for her, she still felt like somewhat of an outsider. Her spiritual identity intersected with her Black identity and meant something different from how others were expressing their Blackness. The monolithic idea of Blackness did not allow space for multiple ways of being. In thinking about her activism and the activist organizations she participated in—campus student organizations, local chapters of the #BlackLivesMatter movement, and Freedom Riders—Nilta always felt that her whole self was not necessarily recognized in these spaces, which made it difficult to fully embrace these groups.
If activist platforms did not have a single-issue focus perhaps space would be created for intersectional connections to issues. For Nilta her gender, ethnicity, race, and spirituality collectively influenced how she defined herself. In addition, the activist work she was committed to was also influenced by her identity and made her show up in the work differently.
How has my identity shaped the path that I choose for my activism? Or how has it prevented it? Because one of the things I think about a lot is, I find myself having to always explain, how I know so much about Latina culture and how much I know about Black culture.
Nilta was hoping to find ways that her Latina and Black cultures could coexist. Still, it seemed that other intersectional identities also could not fully be central in her activist work. She recalled how her gender was often minimized, if not erased, both in activist spaces and in the Black community in general. In particular, Nilta discussed how patriarchy shows up in these spaces. She suggests that Black men are so overwhelmed by the racism they experience that they forget they can also oppress Black women. In Nilta’s experience Black women do much of the work in activism and the Black community, but that work often goes uncelebrated or even squelched.
We can be the mothers of society, be the mothers of our community, but behind closed doors. Then our sons, our fathers, our uncles, are the ones who get the shine … But it’s like what did I do for you to get you here? Because of the trauma that our Black men also go through … it seems like there’s a big ole wall or something that they can still not get past, that they still have privilege for being a male period … When can we actually have these conversations?
Nilta also felt pressure to allow the cycle of patriarchy that she was experiencing to continue due to cultural standards in the Black community. Though she wanted to discuss the way Black men were participating in oppression, it felt challenging for her to do anything about it. She expressed feelings that were specific to navigating relationships that proved difficult and sometimes overwhelming.
If I could call it an emotion, it’s an emotion that I feel like my Black men, when I speak out that I feel like I’m betraying them in some way … When can we actually have a raw conversation that [Black men] have privilege? It’s not a bad thing, cause [Black men] can use that privilege to help uplift us, but we are not there yet, well some folks are not there yet.
Nilta believed the psychological effects of racism clouded Black men from seeing the intersections of identity that is present for Black women. In some spaces, Black men wanted Black women to support them in their fight against racism; if they did not, this would mean they were against them. However, fighting for racism in some cases may have required Black women to forego fighting against their gender oppression. Further complicating relationship dynamics was the idea that Black women are expected to support Black men in seeking racial equality, but Black men do not seem to have the same sense of responsibility toward Black women in their fight for gender equality. Interestingly, Nilta had experiences in her activism where some organizations were intentional in centering the voices of Black women through leadership tactics and group policy. Still, this was not a perfect place.
Even within that [organization] though we still had issues of what it is to be a Black man [and] how you could still be using patriarchy and not understand that. There were definitely those times, but I feel like those are constant conversations that are always going to be had. But it also tells me that if this Brotha is sitting next to me … we still have that one goal or that common goal … is still there. If you are sitting next to me that means you are still willing to learn. If two people [have a] common goal and … are working hard, there can be change.
Though Nilta felt that understanding patriarchy was challenging for Black men, she was hopeful that there could be growth and change. Still, she wrestled with what the intersections of being Black and a woman looked like in everyday life. Racism and sexism have a unique impact on Black women, and Nilta thought that understanding this complexity was important.
I think … Black folks don’t understand that, that’s where the mishaps of misunderstanding is … We get it; all [our] genders are Black … but what separates [Black women] from all the other genders is … this outstanding fear that we have had created for us … we stay [in] fear of walking, daylight, nighttime, it doesn’t matter, because [in] daylight, we could just look suspicious and [like] we just robbed a bank … [In the] nighttime … you can turn into a sex object.
Nilta’s explanation of the complexity of the multiple identities of being a Black woman showcased how the interplay of racism and sexism is significant. She also believed that in activist spaces little discussion is had about this dynamic, and when she attempted to bring it up, it was often brushed off and the conversation shifted back to Black men.
When can we actually have these conversations? Why is it that I have to sit here and be uncomfortable in this room and vocalize that I am, and I only get ten seconds and then we go right back [to the original conversation]? [The] ten seconds of being talked about I think [is] one of the things that frustrates me. Because it’s like can we have those conversations? Most of the time [it’s] no … [it’s] the same situation [in] talking I fear turns … loud becomes defensive, aggressive … [and] whether or not men are taught how to express their emotions that way … that’s exactly what happens … I think that’s one of the things I’m trying to balance. How can I break that [cycle] of not wanting to talk about those moments? We cannot just talk about women for ten seconds; give her, her little shout out … that’s the problem. That’s been the problem … and it’s not like we want the attention, it’s the fact that this is a real matter; we are dying at the same exact rate. We are getting locked up at the same exact rate. We are not getting paid … the list goes on but all we see is the men taking on that role.
Nilta details her feelings of sometimes being worried and somewhat in fear of Black men when trying to raise issues that specifically affect Black women. If the examples of racism and sexism that impact Black women—incarceration, low pay, and death—are brought up, she is concerned that emotions would heighten to possible uncontrollable levels. This fear itself that her body as a Black woman would be at risk may result in her silence instead of engagement in discussion.
Ultimately, Nilta’s experience with activism coupled with her intersecting identities is one that is tangled, involved, and complicated. However, her experience does begin to showcase why identity is not monolithic and how oppression impacts identity.
Understanding how interlocking systems of oppression impact Black women provides an overarching view of how persons with multiple identities experience oppression differently (Bell, 2016; Crenshaw, 1991). Thus, social justice educators should engage with these concepts to support Black women participating in activist work. Considering the following recommendations can push us to center our commitment to activism while also teaching our values (Morrison & Denard, 2008).
Social justice educators should begin to include ways of supporting those with multiple identities in navigating single-issue activist spaces to advocate for issues that impact them on numerous levels. Black women often have to siphon out pieces of their identity when engaging in activist work. Empowering Black women to situate issues that impact their multiple identities in single-issues spaces acknowledges their lived experiences while encouraging disruption of traditional ideas of race-only activism.
Facilitate conversations on sexism that center Black women’s stories and emphasize the complexity of how racism and sexism are linked. There is often an unspoken expectation to prioritize race over other identities. This may encourage Black women to shelve experiences with sexism for the sake of seeking racial justice. Providing spaces that allow Black women to process their own identities and accompanying oppression will allow them to find ways to incorporate gender issues into their activist work.
Create intentional dialogue and curriculum that teaches activism. Though social justice educators encourage and support activist work, we may rely on “on-the-job-training” to teach the inner-workings of activism. However, creating intentional spaces to dialogue about techniques, provide processing time, and develop action plans could empower more women to be engaged in the process. Creating these spaces allows different ideas of activism to naturally materialize instead of defaulting to an adoption of a cookie-cutter approach.
Focusing on these three ideas will begin to nourish and develop Black women wishing to connect their intersecting identities with justice-seeking. Further, embracing these ideas provides space for collective community thinking and consciousness-raising that aligns with the heart of social justice education (Adams, 2016).
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