“What does it mean for a Black feminist to think about, consider, or concede to the concept of futurity?” This was the question that framed Professor Campt’s talk, “Black Feminist Futures and the Practice of Fugitivity.” She urged the audience to consider the future not just in terms of hope, but in terms of tense, focusing on the grammar of the “future real conditional” tense, that is, “that that which will have had to happen.” What is central to this Black feminist grammar that she proposes is the idea of “living the future now,” or imagining what must be and embodying that idea in the present. Also central to the concept of futurity for Professor Campt is looking and listening for futurity not just in large, vocal political or revolutionary movements, but in less obvious places as well.
How does it feel to be a stranger in your own home? To be told that you don’t belong in the place you grew up? Activist and law student Altagracia Jean Joseph addressed these questions in her lecture “How Does It Feel to Be Stateless,” hosted by BCRW on October 1. Altagracia, of Haitian descent, was born in Batey Esperanza, a “company town” in the Dominican Republic constructed to keep Haitian workers close to the sugar plantations where they worked. She, along with other Dominicans of Haitian descent, must deal with the consequences of TC168/13, passed in September 2013. The law permanently annulled the citizenship of children born to “undocumented parents” going back to as far as 1929. Clearly aimed at Haitians in the Dominican Republic, who have historically been looked down upon by Dominicans as inferior, the law invalidates the identity of people of Haitian descent who were raised in the Dominican Republic and consider themselves Dominicans.
Altagracia described how even before the passing of TC168/13, sympathy towards the Haitians in the Dominican Republic was nonexistent. She recalled the difficulty she faced in obtaining a copy of her birth certificate; her request was constantly denied. She was told she could not get a copy of the birth certificate because her “last name was weird,” a “ridiculous excuse.” After the first time she was denied her birth certificate, Altagracia cried for three days. Then she made a decision: “I knew I had to do something.” She contacted people, went to the press, and organized other Dominicans of Haitian descent who had been denied—they began to hold public demonstrations, in order to protest their treatment as second-class citizens (or for many, not as citizens at all). In these demonstrations, she said, the use of dance and drums show how “we are Dominicans and we have rights.” Unfortunately, it may take a while for these protests to make an impact. The government has gone so far as to overlook its own constitution in favor of persecuting those of Haitian descent. Altagracia mentioned a provision in the constitution that views those born before 2010 as citizens. Yet, with the passing of TC168/13, it is evident that the government is more interested in pursuing their agenda than in upholding past legislation.
BCRW is excited to welcome Che Gossett to our staff as Community Archivist and Student Coordinator. Che is a Black genderqueer independent scholar and activist who works to excavate queer of color AIDS activist and trans archives. They hold an MA in history from the University of Pennsylvania and an MA in education from Brown. They have received a research grant from the Radcliffe Institute for Advanced Study at Harvard University for their project on legacies of queer Black solidarity with Palestinian struggle, have been selected as a Martin Duberman Visiting Scholar with the New York Public Library, and recently received the Sylvia Rivera Award in Transgender Studies from the Center for Gay and Lesbian Studies at the City University of New York.
As Community Archivist and Student Coordinator, Che will help BCRW digitize our ephemera collection, which is currently archived in the BCRW Library. They will help develop a plan to make the materials accessible to a wider audience. In addition to working on the archive, Che will also be working with our student research assistants to engage them in activism and research at BCRW.
BCRW would like welcome Tami Navarro as our Associate Director. Tami holds a Ph.D. in cultural anthropology from Duke University and is also a proud graduate of Wesleyan University (’03). She is currently at work on a manuscript entitled Virgin Capital: Financial Services as Development in the US Virgin Islands, which engages with a local program (the Economic Development Commission, or EDC) to explore the ways that neoliberal initiatives are often built upon existing inequalities, particularly those related to gender and race. This project is based on 16 months of fieldwork Tami conducted in the US Virgin Islands, a time during which she worked closely in the newly-formed banking sector with a number of local women and one billionaire who was later convicted of using the EDC program to run a multi-million dollar fraud.
Before joining BCRW, Tami worked at the Women’s Coalition of St. Croix, a direct-service organization co-founded by Audre Lorde, an experience that solidified her commitment to feminist organizing. Just before coming to Barnard, Tami was a Visiting Scholar at the Institute for Research on Women, Gender, and Sexuality (IRWGS) at Columbia University where she shared her work on contemporary development policies in the Caribbean in a talk entitled “Easy Money and Respectable Girls: Neoliberalism and Expectation in the US Virgin Islands” as part of IRWGS’s Embodiments of Science series. In this talk, she outlines the features and gendered effects of neoliberal policies in the Anglophone Caribbean.
At this year’s For the Public Good Conference, which took place at Barnard College in April, participants in the morning panel on “Exploring the Public Good in New York City” addressed a range of issues from LGBTQ youth rights to gentrification. The panel provided a rare space in which activists, advocates, and academics alike came together to speak about inequality in New York City—a subject that affects each panelist in different ways but one which they were all able to address in this unique setting. Individuals on the panel included John Blasco and Nico Fonseca of FIERCE; Ede Fox, active in local politics and president of the Prospect Heights Democrats for Reform; Robert Hawkins of the NYU Silver School of Social Work; and Amanda Geller of the Columbia Mailman School of Public Health.
The panelists first responded to a question posed by moderator Gail Cooper, who asked what the public good signifies for the City today. Blasco and Fonseca addressed the issue of LGBTQ youth of color leadership and pointed out that New York will not be a safe space if there are no safe spaces for LGBTQ youth. Many LGBTQ youth—particularly those who lack familial support—face difficulties in finding affordable housing and securing employment that pays a living wage. In addition, issues such as homelessness, policing, the lack of gender-neutral bathrooms in public schools and parks, and the lack of documented history and awareness of LGBTQ history in New York—including the historic gathering space at the Christopher Street Pier—contribute to the displacement and marginalization of LGBTQ youth. Fonseca stated, “in order to survive we have to continue moving because every space we have claimed as ours has been taken, and that sucks so much.” LGBTQ youth activists are attempting to reclaim the Pier and reverse its status as a sundown town (there is even a curfew in place now).
Gentrification, occurring in neighborhoods throughout the city, pushes people to the margins around growing wealth in the communities in which they once lived. “Gentrification looks a lot like takeover,” one panelist poignantly said. Professor Hawkins referred to his research and his analysis of US Census data that showed that although New York’s population has decreased overall in the last 20 years, it has suddenly increased in the last two years. This is directly linked to one consequence of gentrification, which includes the departure of the middle class from gentrified neighborhoods, a phenomenon, he stressed, that only exacerbates poverty in those areas. Fox noted that the areas in the City where affordable housing is needed most are also the most heavily policed places. This, in turn, establishes a dynamic between community members and law enforcement or public officials that is devoid of trust.
For the full conversation, see the video above.
Emilie is a senior studying sociology at Barnard College and a research assistant at the BCRW.
BCRW’s annual Women’s History Month Lecture this year featured renowned historian Joan Wallach Scott. However, as she herself admitted, Scott is often considered to be a political philosopher; more “traditional” historians (read: old university men), as she put it, categorize her as such with the intention of criticizing her and perhaps de-legitimizing her approach to history. As a feminist studies student and enamored attendee of her lecture, I’d grant her the label out of admiration for her work in women’s histories and her use of gender as a productive lens for historical analysis. Her lecture was as dense in information as any history lecture I’d ever attended–I don’t think I stopped taking notes at any point while she spoke, but Scott’s approach to history is one of self-conscious (hyper?)criticism. By this I mean she is not only critical of the more traditional historical narratives (in her 1986 article “Gender: A Useful Category of Historical Analysis” she established a methodological framework for using gender theories in historical analysis, opening up a space for alternative narratives) but also of feminist studies and feminist narratives, particularly when “feminism is produced as a kind of politics.”
Much of her lecture asked us to examine and critically interrogate feminist politics and assumptions. For example, the assumption that secularism and feminism are inevitably aligned due to their mutual “progressiveness.” She questions the notion that secularism is the necessary “common sense” prerequisite for a proliferation of feminist thought and feminist policies, when historically secular ideologies and policies have been working against moves made toward equality and inclusiveness. In the sections of her lecture that really had an impact on me, she urged us to question these increasingly “awkward alignments” between feminism and “narrow strands” of liberal secularists’ ideology; take, for example, the Democratic party’s re-branding as the “political party fighting the war on women.” This assumed solidarity between “secular” and “feminist,” Scott warned, stifles the radical activism or progressiveness of feminist groups as they struggle to maintain their coalitions with established “liberal” and “progressive” institutions.
At the end of two years at the BCRW as a research assistant, I am sad to leave such an incredible organization. As I reflect on my time here, I’ve realized that what has been the most exciting and formative part of working at the BCRW has been having the experience to work in a truly feminist space. The BCRW is a feminist space not just because of its initiatives and events, or the way feminism informs every discussion, formal and informal, in 101 Barnard Hall. To me, the BCRW enacts feminism most profoundly in the way it fosters a place where every voice is valued, heard, and appreciated.
I have always remembered that during one of my first days working at the BCRW, my hours happened to overlap with the weekly staff meeting. I was immediately invited to join the discussion, and my opinion was sought at every turn and by every member of the team, despite what a new addition I was. More than this, I was impressed by how quickly other research assistants jumped in to offer their own opinion, confident of how genuinely their voice was valued. New to the research assistant position, and hesitant in my own contributions, this meeting was a first and powerful indication of how deeply the BCRW cultivates a rare and special feminist work environment, a commitment to horizontal organization, and leadership that nurtures rather than demands.
This has only continued and deepened during my time at the BCRW. My projects have almost always been ones that, first and foremost, support my own edification. My first responsibility was to archive ephemeral materials from the women’s movement. I was excited as I discovered a magazine from the 1970s describing a female sexuality discussion group like the one I was part of on campus. Were the questions and struggles discussed then really so similar to those that I planned our curriculum around at Barnard now?
In anticipation of an upcoming volume of New Feminist Solutions (NFS), last month, executive director of Sakhi for South Asian Women Tiloma Jayasinghe and her colleagues came together to discuss ways to broaden and transform the anti-domestic violence movement so that it brings the needs of communities of color to the center.
For April’s episode of Dare to Use the F-Word, the BCRW’s monthly podcast, Amrita Doshi and I wanted to focus on a fellow young feminist working at Sakhi. Her work may not seem obviously related to Sakhi’s mission, but it is in fact crucial to the organization’s overall goals. Caritas Doha is a fellow at Sakhi working on an initiative surrounding Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals, or DACA. DACA is an immigration-related Executive Order that targets undocumented immigrants who came to the United States when they were children and who have lived in the US most of their lives. If applicants are approved they receive a two year protection from deportation and the right to work.
Both Amrita and I have previous connections to Sakhi: Amrita has been interning with Sakhi since January, while last semester I worked with the organization through a class (co-taught by Barnard’s Professors Bernstein and Jakobsen) called Theorizing Activism. As a part of this class, students were split into five groups which then were partnered with local activist groups in New York City. Three of my classmates and I were partnered with Sakhi and, under Tiloma’s supervision, researched the “state of the field” of South Asian women’s organizations across the country.
The 19th century was an unforgiving period for Irish immigrants living in the United States. They faced persecution, poor job prospects, and unfavorable living conditions. Because Irish immigrants often came to industrial cities from rural, uneducated areas, they were only able to work low-skill jobs, which usually involved manual labor. The nature of these jobs caused them to suffer severe injuries, dramatically lowering their employability and furthering their ostracization. Meredith Linn, Assistant Professor of Urban Studies, is interested in investigating the link between the persecution, labor, and injuries that these immigrants experienced. On April 2, in a lunchtime lecture titled “Gender, Labor, Healing: Irish Immigrant Experiences in 19th Century NYC,” Linn shared her research examining common injuries among 19th century Irish immigrant workers in New York City, and described how these lead to increased discrimination. Furthermore, she discussed how the types of injuries and their consequences varied as a result of the gendered division of labor. Linn’s research works to gain a better understanding of how xenophobia, gender inequality, and socioeconomic difference led to the injuries that pushed Irish immigrants further into the margins.
There are many records that indicate that 19th century Irish immigrant workers in New York City were at a especially high risk of facing injury. According to Linn, “historians have long noted that rates of injury among Irish immigrants were much higher than their native [American] counterparts.” Hospital records from 1845 to 1952 show that although the Irish made up 30 percent of NYC’s population, they accounted for over 60 percent of injured patients in the hospitals. The dangerous careers Irish held most likely played a big role in this disproportion. As Linn stated, “about 85 percent of Irish men … were employed in jobs that would have employed hard manual labor … literally back breaking labor.” This ‘back breaking’ labor put the Irish at a high risk of injury and as a consequence, limited their ability to find employment.
Not only did these injuries physically disable Irish immigrants, but also they resulted in social injury. Linn argued that the immigrant’s physical injuries caused them to become further stereotyped and marginalized. The back injuries Irish men sustained from manual labor exacerbated the idea that not being able to stand up straight meant that Irish men were not fully human. This physical and social discrimination was also detrimental to the immigrant’s mental health; by 1908, Irish made up the most common nationality in mental hospitals. Irish women were at an especially high risk of mental illness. Since the type of labor differed according to gender, Irish women experienced their own set of physical injuries and repercussions in addition to their greater disposition to psychological injury. For example, because of the domestic nature of their work, Irish women often worked near open flames like stoves, which by design were hazardous, and as a result they were susceptible to burns. Since an injury such as a burn would mark a woman as further from the feminine ideal, it would be more difficult for her to get work outside of her home.
Even without these work-related injuries, Irish women were judged for other aspects of their physical appearance, such as their weight. Irish women were thought of as having thicker bones, giving them a larger appearance, which contrasted the idealized slim female body. As a result, Irish women’s bodies were constantly under scrutiny. The necessity of work exacerbated this scrutiny: the more they labored, the more they inured themselves, “again modifying their bodies and setting them a part from the norm.” Potential unemployment was not only damaging to women; often Irish men could not make enough to support the family by themselves. Furthermore, some households lacked any sort of male figure, due to the male deserting the family, leaving to look for work, or dying of disease. This created an even greater necessity for Irish women to work, and as a consequence, to alter their physical appearance to find employment.
Although discrimination against Irish immigrants took place mostly during the 19th century, Linn said that much of their experience is still relevant today. Many immigrants in the United States, even in relatively progressive areas such as New York City, face marginalization and discrimination similar to the Irish immigrants. While today Irish immigrants have blended in with mainstream society, newer immigrant groups are now the recipients of poor employment prospects and healthcare. Linn described how, like with 19th century Irish immigrants, society judges new immigrants by their appearances. Like Irish immigrants, they have been categorized and placed in boxes, therefore limiting their employment opportunities. Linn shared a quote from the 19th century that she said represents the common view of Irish laborers: “Irish means to us a class of human beings whose house is their work, and their men dig the railroads.” Similar jobs can now be seen with immigrants working as domestic workers or in physically demanding fields such as construction. Linn’s lecture, which looked at the gendered division of labor, the relationship between discrimination and employment, and the conditions which lead to further marginalization, was both an intriguing look to the past and a necessary examination of the present.
Emily is a sophomore at Barnard College majoring in Sociology and is a BCRW Research Assistant.
- “Next Steps in the Struggle for Citizenship in the Dominican Republic,” by Miriam Neptune
- “Global Cinderellas: Migrant Domestic Workers in Asia,” by Pei-Chia Lan, from Scholar & Feminist Online Issue 8.1
- “Work and Respect,” by Third World Newsreel [VIDEO]
Along with a cohort of BCRW-affiliated students, I had the pleasure of attending Civil Liberties and Public Policy’s 2014 Conference. Since 1981, CLPP has inspired, educated, trained, and supported new activists and leadership to secure reproductive freedom, justice, and sexual rights for all. This year’s conference was packed with workshops on topics ranging from immigrant rights to environmental justice that connected the all-too-important (and often forgotten) dots between reproductive justice and other social issues.
— CLPP (@CLPPtweets) April 18, 2014
One of the workshops I attended at CLPP was “Crunk Feminism: Digital Activism for the Real World,” hosted by Crunk Feminist Collective members Susana Morris and Eesha Pandit. With an eye for cultural commentary, the CFC aims to articulate a crunk feminist consciousness for people of color who came of age in the Hip Hop Generation. Crunk feminism, as the term suggests, connects crunkness and feminism. ‘Crunk’ here is not just a style of U.S. Southern black rap music or a contraction of “crazy drunk,” but a mode of resistance that finds expression in the rhetorical, cultural, and intellectual practices of a contemporary generation. In the words of CFC’s mission: “what others may call audacious and crazy, we call CRUNK because we are drunk off the heady theory of feminism that proclaims that another world is possible.”