I grew up in a family dominated by women which was
headed by my grandfather who was the stereotypical powerful patriarch.
And while he was far more
than a mere figurehead in this semi-harem nevertheless it was still an atmosphere where the women
were the power behind the throne. My grandmother was a beautiful, educated, extremely brilliant and talented woman. The two of them were larger than life
characters whose reputations always preceded them.
But we were a
family of non-conformists there was the advantage of individuality for all the women which was encouraged and never repressed.
In my family, it was the women who were
particularly creative and assertive. That tradition has certainly been true for Black families in America but it took on a proactive, positive and
distinct trademark in our family minus the oppressive struggle element that
often is the primary cause of Black female character development.
So the grooming of
daughters was a nearly a sacred and very complex task. It was a sort of ritual imbued
with importance, happiness and significantly the passing of secrets as well.
Beauty secrets were
handed down over dinner. While preparing for church. In church, even. "Do
you see that woman? The way she's styled her hair in that french roll? It's
done just right. When we get home I'll show you how to do that."
"Look at how
that woman is behaving." my mother might comment at a party. "She's
acting up because her man keeps on talking to that woman in the red dress and
she's jealous. But she's only making a fool of herself! Never ever let a woman
know you feel threatened in that way! You're only giving her power of you!"
Secrets.
Instructions. Etiquette. Moral Development. Survival Techniques. So many things
that must be handed down to daughters from mothers, grandmothers, aunts and
cousins. And not all of it would be considered feminist I was to learn later.
Certainly I was taught to view other women competitively. And standards that
were set for my brother and the other males of the family were never the same
standards that were applied to my behavior and expectations.
In some ways I may
be un-learning those lessons for the rest of my life. Yet I don't know what
would have happened to me, how I could have survived infancy without the
stringent, constant, all-encompassing instruction that was forever being
whispered in my ear.
In a family of
women there are secrets that are kept from the very men who share the family
house and even the marriage bed.
"Now don't you
tell this, what I'm about to tell you!! This is women's business only!" My
mother still says that to me from time to time “This women's business".
And I suppose in a perfectly feminist world there would never be such a
distinction. It's one reason I've always felt handicapped among my girlfriends,
many whom are committed and thoroughly educated in feminist thought. I learned
late the value of feminism but little by little I learned it and embraced it.
Yet it remains a sort of secret subversion that is always at war with the
women's business as I was taught at home that lies in the back of my brain
guiding my actions subconsciously at times.
I'm not skilled in
the technical vocabulary of feminism. I can't describe to you its evolution from first-wave to second and third-wave ideologies. I haven't read many, many of the most groundbreaking works. I am still learning and have a long way to go before i can claim fluency in the revolution of establishing full human rights for women. I am a still working out what it means to be feminist and how one's behavior should conform to that commitment. I make mistakes though I define myself as feminist. In conversation with my
girlfriends I always find myself making clumsy statements or judgments that
scandalize my friends who then instruct me on the errors of my beliefs. And, so
often I have learned valuable secrets from those feminists, my friends -
women's business that may contradict my familial training but nevertheless
functions with a practicality of its own that differs from what I was taught.
My mother and
grandmother were teaching me what they knew based upon survival in a
patriarchal social model that they weren't attempting to overturn. However they
were deeply concerned with power and their secrets were political in nature
designed to make me a power- wielding woman throughout my life regardless of
the setting.
My feminist theory
is weak and still blossoming and is ever at war with my mother and
grandmother's words. First and foremost they were concerned with the practical
elements of survival and adaption. Yet they were
revolutionary in their outlook. The women of my family were the most
independent and powerful individuals I ever encountered among other friends’
mothers, sisters and assorted womenfolk. They spoke without consideration for
the Rules, never even attempted to appear obedient to pastors or husbands. True
they often conducted their subversive talk and actions behind the backs of the
patriarchs but they still acted in accord with their own beliefs and decisions.
And I spend a great
deal of time weighing the ideas of my feminist idols like bell hooks,
Alice
Walker (I am primarily a Womanist which is related to mainstream feminism as
way “purple is to lavender”, in the words of Alice Walker.) Discovering
Womanism allowed me to embrace a model of feminist exploration that spoke from the
viewpoint of a Black woman’s situation in society, critiquing race, gender and
class simultaneously whereas mainstream white feminism still often lacks true
revolutionary action in these areas. Womanism felt familiar to me and familiar
to those goddesses of my child and young woman-hood who surrounded me in the
kitchen for Woman Talk.
Womanism, for me
combines the practicality and real world perspective that so inextricably laces
Black women into American society and the world in general. When I was in the
midst of those grand beautiful woman as a child listening to women's business I
was invariably in the kitchen, or the hair salon, or at my mother's vanity as
she dressed and made up her face. Not only did their instruction occur
specifically for my female ears but it occurred in gendered spaces too.
It wasn't until my
30s that I began to embrace female relationships with women who were not family.
It was so ingrained within me to view women as rivals –for men, for jobs, for
popularity, for beauty - that I had very few deep female friendships as a young
woman. My goals as a teen and twenty-something revolved around success in the
career world that was dominated by males, and management of my love life with
men. It took a series of deeply dramatic and life changing events to shift my
perspective and open myself to female friendships.
And it is my
girlfriends who now instruct me in much the same way as my mother and
grandmother did before. So often I can think of my friend Ebony saying "No
a man would never be expected to do that!!" And then I think quietly to
myself That is true. But so what? And then I think some more on her always
sophisticated and wise ideas and realize Yes she's right. From there I am led
to the critical question of How to change my outlook to empower myself without
further limiting myself based upon thoughts and ideas which ultimately may handicap
my own ambition and success through outmoded, gendered thought and action.
My feminism, my
womanism, is still practically bound in this stage. I haven't reached a point
of grand world vision yet. I'm in the baby step stages. But you see there must
be allowances for those pre-school, remedial lessons. It takes a great effort
powered by sincere desire to begin training oneself OUT of gendered thought.
And particularly for Black women who encounter deeply complex battles on two
fronts, from racism AND sexism.
I don't say it to
my girlfriends but I often leave conversations with my feminist friends feeling
embarrassed and weak. I was brought up to be a strong, dominant and successful
woman but the ideas of radical, gendered freedom complete with complex vocabulary
like hegemony, agency, patriarchal
oppression, post-modernism take time to digest.
In graduate school
I thought I would run mad from frustration with advanced feminist language. It
was entirely new to me and being deeply entrenched in the women's business I
learned quite literally at my foremothers' knee (probably while having my hair
braided) I was being forced to un-learn
and challenge lessons that were valuable to me in sentimental terms and which I
actively based the way I lived my life.
I became infamous in the department due to my argumentative approach to feminist
theory.* However, it wasn't stubbornness for its own sake, nor was my attitude prompted by a gleeful selling-out with the intention to prop up the Man's phallocentric, patriarchal misogyny do or die. Quite simply, I had a tremendously difficult time grappling with complex theories which were entirely new to me, and whenever I sought clarification from fellow students, from professors, I was never treated with reasonable and serious consideration as a scholar seeking true understanding rather than a mere rote repetition of Ivory Tower principles. In fairness this was very advanced feminist critique which is
challenging even to intellectuals, and I was barely out of pre-school
instruction when it came to feminist theory.
During one class with a famous feminist scholar
I blurted out loudly "This is some nonsense! That has zero relevant
application in the real world and WHY are we talking about it!!"
You could have cut
the silent astonishment with a knife. "Perhaps you need to do some more
reading," the Professor told me quite acidly. I was burning with shame and
embarrassment and I could feel the pity and schadenfreude directed at me by the
rest of the class.
Truthfully the
discussion was nonsense and devoid of
practical value. And as well I was still recovering from serious illness that
day and had been rather too liberal in the pain killer and Xanax dosages that
my doctor had prescribed. In short I was high as hell, or I would never have
said such a thing to such a venerable scholar who was known for her sarcastic
and condescending attitude.
And it was true,
furthermore, that I needed to do more studying, as she said.
In artistic and
academic circles among the intellectual glitterati and poseurs it is assumed
 |
| Artist Angel Hardy |
that every woman is fluent in feminist thought, and women are quick to cut
other women, trumping them in discussion with brilliant wit and ideological dexterity. It's
a skill that is admirable to be so advanced in feminist thought and I do aspire
to greater fluency, but the fact is that not everyone is fluent. I certainly am not, and I know that I am not alone in
this rudimentary, remedial skill set. Many of us are open to the wisdom and
truth from our sisters because we know ourselves to be wallowing in old,
patriarchal principles.
And it is through
my friendships with other women, partnerships that are deeply where I have found the best instruction. But the most
important feminist principle that can ever be practiced, in my opinion, is patience by those with missionary zeal
determined to convert every other ignorant female soul.
The
ideas of throwing off the gendered yokes that hold us back from full humanist
realization are principles that can be parroted easily but take immense
devotion, consideration and time to understand.
Destroying an
opponent in debate is no less gratifying for intellectuals than a gladiator
besting his enemy in blood-sport. But if sisterhood is to be achieved
successfully then we have to be patience and kind and committed to teaching one
another.
Don't immediately destroy another woman who inadvertently
demonstrates her ignorance and advantageously reveals your superiority. Help
guide her. I can tell you that it is utterly humiliating to look into the eyes
of another woman whom you know looks down on you for your lack of skill and knowledge,
and I've felt that humiliation more than once upon witnessing the triumph by
intellectual foes who have bested me on the debate field of honor.
Frankly, it is
rather dishonorable to engage battle to the death with a foe who cannot
properly or adequately defend herself. Yet it is also true that even feminists
have to respect the fact that some women don't want to be feminist. And those
women will always be the most difficult
individuals to convert; they will support patriarchal domination and structural
oppression long after the last male warrior has fallen.
The journey of each
individual woman toward feminist understanding of her own is deeply personal. And,
if we are truthful to one another about that journey, then there is no shame in
admitting how uncomfortable and difficult it is at times to release the old,
familiar ways that maintained the constructive of one's world. Sisterhood, like
the maternally dominated secret world of my growing up, is a powerful force of
intimacy that is essential to every woman's growth; without it there can be no
conversion from the old ways.
Many of us are
still babies on the road to enlightenment and empowerment. And we need our
wiser sisters to be gentle and patient and willing to be guides to the new
ethic of sisterhood, particularly when it deviates from what we have known as
truth before.
This
is true nature of women's business and the most practical application of
all.
________________________________________________________
*After a few years in my grad program, a friend disclosed that I was not the only graduate student who felt in over her head, I was merely the only one honest enough to say so plainly in public. An acquaintance in my cohort admitted that everyone had been in a similar state of utter confusion during one particularly stressful course on theory in which I earned a reputation as the only one brave enough to out herself when I did not understand. Each week, so I was told, my cohort waited for me to become frustrated enough to stop the discussion which resulted in universal enlightenment by the haughty and patronizing female professor. My friend expressed gratitude to me for helping to liberate the whole cohort from the primitive darkness that trapped the whole lot of us.)
