http://www.thenation.com/article/163814/black-women-still-defense-ourselves

Black Women Still in Defense of Ourselves 

 <http://www.thenation.com/authors/kimberl%C3%A9-williams-crenshaw> Kimberlé
Williams Crenshaw 
The Nation:  <http://www.thenation.com/issue/october-24-2011> in the October
24, 2011 edition . 
  

 One of the lasting images of the Anita Hill/Clarence Thomas controversy was
the photograph of the “Boxer rebellion,” the all-female Congressional
delegation marching up the steps to the Senate to demand that it investigate
credible claims of sexual harassment. Outside this frame, and perhaps more
compelling, are the stories of when each of these women realized that
intolerably destructive dynamics of power were being normalized or even
defended by colleagues, spouses, friends and elected officials. Every woman
who was prompted into action by Anita Hill has a moment like this.

For me, that moment came after a long day working alongside two
African-American men who had come to the Capitol to defend Hill against
Thomas’s reckless claim that he was a victim of a “high-tech lynching.” We
had hoped that this appeal to African-American racial solidarity would at
least be tempered by the recognition that Hill was no finger-pointing Miss
Ann but an African-American woman whose story of workplace sexual harassment
could not have been a mystery to most African-Americans. Emerging from the
Capitol, we found ourselves surrounded by a group of African-Americans,
mostly women, hands linked in song and praise, seeking God’s help to
vanquish this latest threat to Thomas’s elevation to the Supreme Court.

Shocked, shaken and disturbed, we pushed our way through to a taxi, where
talk radio was blasting another harangue against Anita Hill, and the driver,
an African immigrant, joined the chorus of denunciation. Our experience was
not, as we’d come to learn, isolated. Across the country, black feminists
were spurred into action, no doubt first by the shocking way that a black
woman was being framed, and second by the absence of critical voices seeking
to puncture the race and gender stereotypes in play. That these stereotypes
were not solely the product of the white imagination simply added insult to
injury.

In the days following the hearings, the New York Times printed an op-ed by
Orlando Patterson that speculated that Thomas may well have said the things
Hill described but nonetheless justified Thomas’s denial, arguing that
Hill’s complaints came out of the “white, upper-middle-class work world,”
whereas Thomas’s behavior was really just courtship, if you looked at it
from a “Southern working-class” and especially black perspective.
Frustrated, three black feminists—Elsa Barkley Brown, Deborah King and
Barbara Ransby—gave birth to a manifesto that captured the rage of thousands
of black women. In less than six weeks, nearly 1,600 women joined an effort
to buy their way into the discourse, contributing nearly $50,000 to pay for
a Times ad, published November 17, 1991, called “African American Women in
Defense of Ourselves” (AAWIDO).

That manifesto still stands among black feminists as one of the most
poignant moments of our own truth-speaking against feminist and antiracist
mobilizations that frequently ignored our very existence. In this episode,
the histories of feminism and antiracism were put into opposition, rendering
Anita Hill a raceless figure that could represent either the puritanical
sexlessness of white feminism or the universal figure of female oppression.
Within the African-American community, arguments that sexual harassment was
a product of white sexual discourse and that lynching symbolized the
essential character of racist terror in effect erased black women from the
picture.

But sexual harassment had been a common experience of black women’s work
life since they arrived in America, and it was black women plaintiffs who
first comprehended that sexual abuse at work was discrimination. At the same
time that the image of lynching came to capture racial terror, against which
African-Americans revolted, the unpunished rape and abuse of black women
across the South was in fact the rallying point for advocates like Rosa
Parks, who built an infrastructure that grounded the civil rights movement.
black women’s intersectional experiences of racism and sexism have been a
central but forgotten dynamic in the unfolding of feminist and antiracist
agendas.

While this anniversary brings attention to many positive developments
prompted by Anita Hill’s courageous testimony, the trajectory of the issues
raised by AAWIDO—indeed, even the historical memory that it occurred—is not
nearly as robust. The conditions that prompted these black women to fashion
their own podium twenty years ago have continued to generate new defensive
imperatives. Cast as the “nappy-headed ho’s” of the Imus debacle, the
simple-minded reverse racist of the Shirley Sherrod affair, the
irresponsible defaulters in the subprime scandal, the illegitimate
stay-at-home moms in the welfare debate, the carriers of badly parented
miscreants in crime reports and the mules, enablers and co-conspirators who
make up the fastest growing casualties in America’s endless war on
drugs—black women still find themselves defending their name, often alone,
sometime against friends and usually against predictable foes.

The legacy of AAWIDO today is the attention it draws to the damaging
convergence between the rhetorics of neoconservatism and a non-feminist
antiracism. At the core of conservative social policy about race are old
ideas that link racial inequality to non-traditional family formation and
its attendant culture of poverty. Marginalized in this frame are structural
and historical forces that limit the upward trajectory of scores of
African-Americans no matter how closely they stick to a male-centered script
of family and individual responsibility. And while foundations, legislative
committees, advocacy groups and others rightly address crises facing black
men and boys, their mistaken assumptions that such interventions will simply
trickle down to black women and girls obscures the gendered structures of
race, romance and work that contribute to the inequaiities that stretch
across black communities nationwide.



[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]



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