Fear of a Feminist

A SYTYCB entry.

If you haven’t yet, mosey on over to The Atlantic to read Ta-Nehisi Coates’s brilliant piece on American racism and the hurdles of integration brought to light by President Obama being the first African American president of the U.S. In a nutshell (It was hard to pick one passage; it’s that good):

Racism is not merely a simplistic hatred. It is, more often, broad sympathy toward some and broader skepticism toward others. Black America ever lives under that skeptical eye. Hence the old admonishments to be “twice as good.” Hence the need for a special “talk” administered to black boys about how to be extra careful when relating to the police. And hence Barack Obama’s insisting that there was no racial component to Katrina’s effects; that name-calling among children somehow has the same import as one of the oldest guiding principles of American policy—white supremacy. The election of an African American to our highest political office was alleged to demonstrate a triumph of integration. But when President Obama addressed the tragedy of Trayvon Martin, he demonstrated integration’s great limitation—that acceptance depends not just on being twice as good but on being half as black. And even then, full acceptance is still withheld. The larger effects of this withholding constrict Obama’s presidential potential in areas affected tangentially—or seemingly not at all—by race. Meanwhile, across the country, the community in which Obama is rooted sees this fraudulent equality, and quietly seethes.

Similar standards apply to women and feminists, in America and the world over. Granted, I am not naïve enough to claim they’re exactly the same, nor do I want to even try to lay claim to the experiences and struggles African Americans have endured. But, from the Madonna-whore dichotomy to the notion that we can’t understand and care for our own bodies, women experience a push to be everything at once and nothing at all; we operate from both ends at a net loss. But if we can search for similarity, our voices grow stronger.

These racist, classist and imperialist social structures came up in lock step with the patriarchy. How else can you explain that nearly one-third of Republicans in the Deep South think interracial marriage should be illegal? On a personal level, how else can I explain to you the anger I feel when an older white man walks up to me while I’m doing my job and calls me “girl”? These are but a few examples of a shrinking demographic trying to exert a power they’ve held for centuries: the power to dictate the rights and parameters around us just being. As a feminist, I have to see how this power grab intersects on a human level.

I would, however, disagree with Coates on the application of “broad sympathy” towards a certain group as an element of racism. If anything, it extends beyond mere sympathy to an unjust and undeserved bolstering of one group over another. It’s a realm nearly devoid of consequence, while neatly heaping the remainder on the backs of those unfortunate enough to fall under “skepticism.” It’s how you can have Glenn Beck literally crying about reverse racism to millions of people over the airways. It’s how students in Toronto are told with a straight face by a sexist police officer that they asked for assault by dressing “like sluts.” Opportunity, equity and consequence exist in equilibrium, and tipping the social scales in favor of one party can inherently put others at a disadvantage.

Ultimately, I see Coates’s essay as a call to action for anyone sick of the standards set for them by the power-that-be. It’s a beautiful narration of how we are who we are, and by the end you relish the chance, and join in the call, to move forward.