Black Girl Invisible: When the Political Process Ignores Me Until It’s Convenient

On all sides, the race to the presidency is uncertain, and the Democratic candidates are strategically using Black women to usher themselves into the highest executive office in the land. 

As Sec. Hillary Clinton and Sen. Bernie Sanders battle each other, they have to contend with the larger Black Lives Matter movement. The movement is not monolithic; it involves millions of multi-ethnic people who use the term as a digital affirmation and/or as a guiding principle for activism and community organizing. A decentralized network of activists, organizers, scholars, policymakers, and beyond, the movement is one that shape-shifts depending on personal experiences and theories of change.

In the midst of this fluid dynamic, both campaigns are pandering to the Black community – and are using Black women as political props to do so. We represent a sizable voting bloc, though we lack the same political power. As such, public servants have become skilled at exploiting our cultural capital for political gain.

Hillary Clinton is unabashed in her pandering (never mind nae-naeing on Ellen). In this video featuring “Mothers of the Movement” – the mothers of Black victims of racist police violence – her campaign evokes longstanding and dangerous tropes about Black women.

The video is set in a church, subtly eliciting narratives of Christ-sanctioned forgiveness for and from white supremacist ills. The video evokes Christian interpretations of absolution that have been bastardized to serve racist agendas; in which self defense and righteous rebellion are chastised, while shallow prayers and aspirational calls to heaven are hailed as the pathway to imminent sainthood.

The inclusion of “gun violence” is yet another subtle nod to the Black-on-Black crime myth – upon which both Bill Clinton (with Hillary’s support) based his harmful crime bill  in the 1990’s. Still today, Clinton suggests that we cannot tackle “police reform” without addressing crime within the Black community. The irony here is astounding – as an architect of mass incarceration, she played a crucial role in creating the violent conditions in many marginalized Black neighborhoods.

Given her political herstory, her recent appearance at Black Girls Rock was awkward, inappropriate, and politically expedient. To Clinton, Black girls don’t rock … Black girls vote. Black girls didn’t rock when Ashley Williams directly challenged her at a private high-dollar fundraiser. Then, Black girls were disruptive and aggressive, an obstacle and a nuisance.

Her obvious political ploys work well for older Black voters, but she fails to secure the support of Black millennials. But Bernie Sanders is capitalizing on this void, and is also using Black women to do so.

One of his campaign videos shows Erica Garner, the daughter of Eric Garner (the man who suffocated while being held in a police chokehold). Where Clinton relies on the background of the church, Sanders relies on imagery from the streets and single motherhood; a strategic maneuver that captures the clear generational divide that exists in this current radical pro-Black atmosphere.

Sanders’ video appears more genuine than his adversary, but his motives are still questionable considering how reluctant he was to engage with radical Black issues during the germinal stages of his campaign. Only after being pushed by women members of BLM at Netroots and in Seattle did he finally release a racial justice platform.

Families affected by racist police violence have every right to self-determine how best to heal. However, I fear that these women are pawns in a high-stakes political game. I wonder if these women would be prominently featured in these campaign videos had it not been for the massive upswell of protests lead by the Black Lives Matter movement.

Instead of campaign videos and soundbites, I care more about how these political figures engage with and invigorate the seminal Congressional Caucus for Black Women and Girls. I care more if these candidates will fight against the school-to-prison pipeline and how it criminalizes young Black women.

These candidates are savvy political technicians with decades of communications experience in pursuit of votes. I doubt that they genuinely care about racist police violence and other issues disproportionately affecting the Black community. They – like many presidential hopefuls in the past – are instead political opportunists who view the forceful Black vote as a hindering – though necessary – tool for victory.

As a caricature, The Black Woman is a strategic vehicle for marshaling Black political support. We are caregivers and nurturers supportive to all those around us. Publicly, we stand behind or alongside but never on our own.

Conversely, The Black Women is also demonized in political communication. When we aren’t supporting characters, we are welfare queens. We are fraudulent harlots lacking proper Judeo-Christian moral compasses.

I feel invisible throughout the political process. At best I feel tolerated, at worst I feel chastised. 

Very rarely do my “representatives” look like me or share my experiences. As a queer radical militant, I am disillusioned with this current political infrastructure and my belief in it dwindles with every cheap political gesture.

Current political machinery is ill-equipped to deal with Black Womanhood and the cultural nuances that exemplify our expressions. Our stories are riddled in centuries of extreme oppression that most political contenders do not adequately understand and thus cannot radically solve.

For now, it’s clear to me that politicians prefer us to be invisible until we are useful to their campaigns. 

Header image via Mashable