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what’s in a name?

If you were to ask me to list all of the things I identify as — “black”, “woman”, “queer”, “writer”, etc., I think the word “feminist” would follow sometime after the word “tall”. “Feminist” is not an identifier I readily think of as something that defines me. This is not because I don’t believe in a movement that combats the subjugation and devaluing of women globally. Or because I’m not forced to face the devaluing of my own womanhood on a daily basis. I don’t even think it’s because of the history of feminism as a movement that centers the issues of middle-class straight white women, although that may be a contributing factor.

I think my disconnect from the word “feminism” is that it feels like it forces a singularity. I am “woman and”, rather than both of my identities of blackness and womanhood existing simultaneously. I think in a way, I have “chosen” blackness. This is because when I am around black people, I am black and a woman. When I step outside of my community, I feel like I have to choose. In the eyes of “women of color” I am a woman. In front of “white women”, I am black. It is only in black spaces that I feel like both of these identities can inform and live together, especially in the presence of other black women.  I identify more with the idea that I am a black person who is a woman, than a woman who is black.

That being said, I don’t see blackness as something above my womanhood. The spaces I seek out and participate in are those that center black womanhood. The relationships with women I prioritize are with other black women and femmes, not black men. If I were to identify as something relating to radical work to uplift women, I would identify as a “womanist”, like Alice Walker. In her words explaining womanism, she states that a womanist is someone who is: “A woman who loves other women, sexually and/or nonsexually. Appreciates and prefers women’s culture, women’s emotional flexibility … and women’s strength. … Committed to survival and wholeness of entire people”. Like Walker, I believe in black women’s, and women of color’s, socialization of being a site of care and healing as possessing profound tools to heal the world and ourselves.This is what i would also use for the radical women of the 1970s/80s.

Even so, I feel like my activism is something I live, not something I necessarily have to name. In that, I would identify as a black woman who prioritizes the healing and care of other black women. I don’t find that the naming of “feminism” makes others more visible to me. Instead, it makes those who carry the values and beliefs I do about radical healing invisible to me. The word “Feminist” groups us all together, making it unclear what we all stand for.

 

What’s in a name?

I would describe my identity as a person and as a writer in relationship to feminism with the words Black, queer, Jewish, and woman. Each of these markers is an important qualifier to me because of how exclusionary feminism has been and still can be a tool to exclude and invisiblize women who are not white, cis, and straight. I think I learned to name myself as Black and Jewish and woman from my mom, since I was young my mom showed me that being a Black jewish woman is special and something that made me unique in a way I should cherish and feel proud of. She would tell me that if (this was pre-Obama) I was president I would be the first Black woman and Jewish president. Through learning about feminism in this class and before this class, I have always found myself and empowerment in the writings of Black feminists or feminists who analyze the intersection of identity, especially Kimberley Crenshaw, bell hooks, along with poets and artists who sing and write creatively about Blackness and womanhood like Lucille Clifton, Rita Dove, Jamila Woods, Morgan Parker, and Noname. Many of the Black feminists I’m drawn to show their readers experiences of power and strength and also messiness and pain. If I had to specify my writerly standpoint, I think I would say I write from the standpoint of a messy Black woman.

It’s hard for me to pinpoint a few terms for the all radical feminist in the 70s and 80s because I feel like I would use different terms to describe a feminists like Rich and a feminist like Shange or the feminists in the Combahee River Collective. From our readings, I think a lot of the feminism in the 70s and 80s was or tried to be transnational. While some of the transnationalism was hegemonic, feminist in the 70s made strides to include third world countries in their analysis. While many feminists we read were middle class, they were also anti-capitalist and supporters of workers right. I also think many of the radical feminists in the 70s and 80s that we read about were artists or poets like Shange, Rich, and Lorde. So, if I had to give a title to all of the feminists that we read I would say transnational, anticapitalist, and creative feminists.

 

 

What’s in a name?

by Aissata Ba 1 Comment

Before even understanding the term, I already described myself as a feminist and I easily got upset when people misuse the term. A student from a class I took during my freshmen year stated ” I am not a feminist because feminism only creates a farther gender imbalance. I identify more as an equalist.” Not to invalidate her being an equalist, but I think she had a deep misunderstanding of what feminism is and aims for. For me, feminism was never about women overpowering men or stating “off with their heads,” but it was more about fixing the gap and creating an equal understanding that all humans deserve. Coming from a Senegalese family where patriarchy is still dominant, I had to learn about feminism independently. I have a very strong yet traditional mother who still holds the believes ingrained in gender roles. I have come to consider myself as a learning feminist because I am learning that different women want different things. There are women who want to remain in a patriarchal home and there are those who seek modern reinventions of gender differences and gender roles. Learning that as a form of feminism is where I am in my journey as a so called feminist.

I think there is a great misunderstanding of feminism and a great misuse of the term. For some reason, there are women activists who refused to identify with feminism though their ideas are similar in thought. The radical women who organized around feminist issues are still, to me at least, feminists as they sought to liberate women in whatever form that takes. The works of the women we have discussed mainly pays attention to feminism for women of color.  There is an obvious difference between white feminism and WOC feminism. I like to explain this difference by saying “white feminism concern equal pay but WOC feminism concern more with getting the job first before the equal pay.”

What’s in a Name ?

This course has facilitated my understanding of myself, not just as a student or a feminist, but as a combination of all my identity markers in connection to my studies. As a Women’s, Gender and Sexuality Studies major, the first thing I think about whenever I consider myself in relationship to anything—be that academic or personal, is my feminism. As a result of my personal values and the ways that I have been trained to think as a student of my chosen discipline, my way of thinking revolves around questions of sex and gender. However, despite being a member of the feminism movement, I am also a heavy critic of feminism and its practices and policies. When I discuss my feminism, I feel that it is important to note that I come from an intersectional and transnational perspective. A lack of these two notions are my two biggest issues with the mainstream feminist movement that limit it’s potential for success. To me, intersectional feminism is about the consideration and incorporation of individual identity markers that work together to produce a more informed and inclusive type of feminist practice. Among these include race, gender, socio-economic background, ability status, family makeup, carrier status, etc., each of which functions as a different facet to inform a feminist ideology. Transnational, for me, means incorporating and adapting feminism to fit into the context of a particular physical or geographical location. Our class conversations have, in the past, noted the difference and challenges of acknowledging borders as a marker of physical difference and a way of facilitating the recognition of social and cultural different. Simultaneously, there is a need to disregard borders to unite women across the world under a similar plight. Too much of an emphasis on border risks creating a physical, state-centric model for understanding transnational feminism, but not enough of a border risks essentializing the experiences of women and reducing them to a single narrative. For me, transnational feminism simply implies an understanding of the social and cultural differences that produce variant lived experiences among women around the world. These differences can then be used to formulate new kinds of feminism to fit the particular needs of women located in particular locations and cultures. To me, my feminism an intersectional and transnational feminism, informed by my personal identity.

My personal identity is hinged on my family background and my race. My father is white and has lived in American his whole life. My mother is Japanese and her entire family still resides in Japan. She is the only member of her family to immigrate to another country and one of the few in her family that speak English. As a result, to my mom and the rest of my Japanese family, I am a first-generation, English-speaking, American citizen. On the other side, my father’s family is all deceased, which means growing up and to this day, my largest familial ties are those to my Japanese family. Therefor, my understanding of my family and our background is dominated by my Japanese side, which has largely informed my position in this world. I was younger, it was easier to incorporate my Japanese heritage into my everyday life because it was my experience at home, living with my mom as my primary care-taker, and all my friends at school knew about my family. However in college, I’ve noticed I have to make a much larger effort to continue to identify with my Japanese side, especially as a white-passing individual. At university, the conscious effort I make to celebrate my heritage and incorporate my identity into the world’s understanding of me is a key part of my college experience. This course has allowed me to understand the ways that my personal identity informs my daily lived experience, and the way that I can harness my understanding of myself to further enrich my academic studies. There is a trend in university studies to stray away from using the personal to inform academia, but this course allowed me to realize that my identity is critical to my understanding of the world, and therefor my chosen field of study, and is something to celebrate.

The terms I mentioned that inform my identity and my feminism are all ones that I believe are critical to discussing the work of radical women who fought for feminist issues in the 1970s and 80s. Transnational and intersectional are both terms that were not widely used at the time of this work, but as a scholar looking back on the work of these women, I think it is important to dig through the dominant white, second-wave feminism to understand and share the work of women who embraced ideas of transnational and intersectional feminism before these terms were common place. Similarly, being bi-racial, particularly Japanese, makes me keenly interested in the work of the women of this time who came out of an incredibly hostile environment of Japanese internment, which (on paper) concluded just 25 years prior.

My mother’s experience being denied by customs when she first attempted to immigrate to the United States over 25 years ago on baseless claims that she was “suspicious,” and her struggle to obtain citizenship over the past four years serves as a constant reminder of the work that Japanese and bi-racial activists during the 1970s and 1980s, an idea that my final project will explore. My final project will incorporate details about the Japanese feminist movement in the 1970s, which is called ūman ribu. This movement is critical to understand the work of Japanese feminists at the time, and helps to inform the experiences of Japanese women living in both Japan and the United States at the time. The unique element of Japanese feminism is rooted in the countries historical (and contemporary) deeply patriarchal society. This is where it is important to understand difference through a transnational perspective. Japanese society differs greatly from US society in that ideas of patriarchy, male-dominance, and gender roles are so deeply engrained in society, it is difficult to even notice it among daily life there. Not that in the United States this is not the case, but having spent time in both nations, I firmly believe Japan is a society founded and supported by an incredibly patriarchal system, so much more than is the case in the US. Therefore, in order to understand ūman ribu as a woman whose exposure to feminism has been western-centric, it is key to first understand the underlying difference between our society and that in Japan. Understanding these two terms, intersectional and transnational, will be critical in analyzing the work of Japanese feminist activists in the 1970s and 80s in my final project.