Yup, the dreaded F-word continues to be so weighed down by negative connotations that few people are willing to voluntarily associate with it. Hurled out like an accusation, it is enough to make many sistas start backpedaling faster than the rising stats on violence against women. The reluctance to be identified with something perceived as an internally divisive force inside historically oppressed communities is understandable. Many feminists of color felt it too, which is largely why Black feminist theory and womanism emerged. Unfortunately, much of what Black feminism really stands for has been stereotyped or obscured by school systems that don’t devote time to Black women’s intellectual traditions. A sad consequence has been that in addition to having something designed to advance our people become a tool of division, millions of people have been kept in the dark (so to speak) from a wealth of really important information and support networks.
Because of all the drama surrounding the word “feminism,” there are mad heads who identify with feminist principles but feel conflicted about embracing the term. But let’s examine what it really means. At root, Black feminism is a struggle against the pervasive oppression that defines Western culture. Whether taking aim at gender equity, homophobia or images of women, it functions to resist disempowering ideologies and devaluing institutions. It merges theory and action to reaffirm Black women’s legitimacy as producers of intellectual work and reject assertions that attack our ability to contribute to these traditions. In stark contrast to the popular misconception that Black feminism is a divisive force that pits sisters against brothers, or even feminists against feminists, I view it as an essential part of a larger struggle for all of our liberation. Our fight for freedom has to be inclusive.
Of course, my understanding of Black feminism is rooted in the theoretical texts written decades before I was first introduced to them in college. Many of these theories remain relevant, at the very least as an essential historical base. However, for any movement to maximize its effectiveness, it has to be applicable to the times. It is incumbent upon us as hip hop feminists not to become complacent in the work that has come before us. We have to write our own stories that address the issues that are specific to our time. For example, some people think it’s an oxymoron when I juxtapose a term like feminism alongside a genre of music that has been assailed for its misogyny. It seems obvious to me, however, that just as the shape of what we’re fighting has changed, we need to examine how we as a community of activists have changed as well. Hip hop is the dominant influence on our generation.
Since my birth in 1975 four years before the first rap single achieved mainstream success, I have watched the hip hop movement, culture and music evolve. I mark important events in my life by the hip hop songs that were popular at the time, linking my high-school graduation with the Souls of Mischief’s album
‘93 til Infinify
and my first school dance with the song “It Takes Two” by Rob Bass. My ideas of fashion have often been misled by hip hop artists like Kwamé, whose signature style resulted in the proliferation of polka dots in American schools around 1989. My taste in men has also been molded by hip hop aesthetics. I entered my love life interested in brothers who were rocking gumbies like my first boyfriend. As I got older, I discovered my own poetic voice, and I cannot begin to place a value on the amount of inspiration I got from this musical movement and the culture it birthed. I am a child of the hip hop generation, grounded in the understanding that we enter the world from a hip hop paradigm.
Those of us who embrace feminism can’t act like hip hop hasn’t been an influence on our lives, or vice versa, simply because claiming them both might seem to pose a contradiction. They are two of the basic things that mold us. However, we must not confuse having love for either one with blind defense. We have to love them enough to critique both of them and challenge them to grow—beyond the materialism and misogyny that has come to characterize too much of hip hop, beyond the extremism that feminism sometimes engages in. As women of the hip hop generation we need a feminist consciousness that allows us to examine how representations and images can be simultaneously empowering and problematic.
We have to engage with the rap lyrics about women and the accompanying images found in video scenes. A friend, Adziko Simba, once told me, “It seems bizarre to me that we African women have reached such an ‘enlightened’ point that we are defending our right to portray ourselves in ways that contribute to our degradation.... Did Sojourner Truth walk all those miles and bear her breast in the name of equality so that her heirs could have the right to jiggle their breasts on BET?” I completely feel her, though I don’t think the role of feminism is to construct “proper” femininity, or to place limits on how women are able to define and present themselves. I think doing so is actually antithetical to the movement. Teaching women not to be sensual and erotic beings, or not to show that we are, is diminishing and subverts the locus of our own uniqueness as females. Why shouldn’t we be able to celebrate our beauty, sensuality, sexuality, creative ability or our eroticism? They are all unique sites of women’s power that we should not be taught to hide, or only display when someone else says it’s appropriate. On the flip side we shouldn’t support each other to the point of stupidity. We have to demand accountability from each other, no doubt. We need to be cognizant of the power in this music and of how we are representing ourselves on a global scale and on the historical record. These examples demonstrate how wide open the field is for sisters of the hip hop generation to address the constantly shifting space women occupy. But these areas of concern should not be solely relegated to the Black feminist body of work. Hip hop activists, intellectuals and artists all need to take a leading role in confronting the fragmenting issues our generation deals with.
So, yeah, I used to think I had missed my time. I thought the flame lighting the hearts of activists had been snuffed,
Survivor
-style. But liberating my definitions of activism from the constraints and constructs of the sixties opened up my mind to a whole new world of work and progressive thought. Now I draw strength from the knowledge that people have been actively combating sexism, racism and other intersecting discriminations for a long time. Many of those icons I respect are still on the scene actively doing their thing for us. That knowledge is my ammunition as I join with them and my peers to continue fighting those battles and the other fronts unique to our time. We can’t get complacent. The most important thing we can do as a generation is to see our new positions as power and weapons to be used strategically in the struggle rather than as spoils of war. Because this shit is far from finished.
About the Contributors
Ijeoma A.
was born and raised in West Africa. In 1995 she made her first trip to the United States to attend college in Ohio. As a student, she became acquainted with a multitude of new cultures that allowed her to appreciate her own. Her writing career debuted in 1998 when she became a columnist for one of the popular student publications. In that column she shared her natal culture, placing it alongside American culture so that readers could see America through her African eyes. Since graduation, she has worked in Washington, D.C.
Born in Guyana, South America,
Paula Austin
came up in the subways of New York City and now lives in Durham, North Carolina, with her two cats. For the past ten years she has been a literacy teacher, trainer and advocate and a pupil of the late Brazilian historian, philosopher and education activist Paulo Freire. Currently, she is the director of the North Carolina Lambda Youth Network, which provides leadership and organizing skills to lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender (LGBT) young people. She is a writer, a self-identified femme, a justice worker, a friend, a lover, a sister, an aunt and a daughter. She is practicing yoga, going to therapy and keeping her house clean. She has been published in
The Persistent Desire: A Femme-Butch Reader
(edited by Joan Nestle, Alyson Publications, 1992), and
Jane Sexes it Up: True Confessions of Feminist Desire
(edited by Merri Lisa Johnson, Four Walls Eight Windows, 2002). She is sometimes pursuing a master’s in the history of education at North Carolina Central University in Durham.
Born to migrant farm workers in Northern California,
Cecilia Ballí
was meant to be a
Tejana
and was raised just so, on the U.S.-Mexico border city of Brownsville, Texas. She began writing as a high-school senior for her hometown paper, the
Brownsville Herald.
Graduating from Stanford University with double majors in Spanish and American studies, she now leads a double life as a cultural anthropology graduate student at Rice University in Houston and as the first Latina writer for
Texas Monthly.
She has also written for the
San Antonio Express-News
and contributed to
Latina
magazine. Cecilia is currently writing an essay about the border for a forthcoming book by Cinco Puntos Press of El Paso. Her biggest accomplishment, however, is being born to her mother Antonia—always the most meaningful reason for her work.
Siobhan Brooks
was a union organizer at the Lusty Lady Theater in San Francisco. She is in the documentary
Live Nude Girls Unite!
and is now doing graduate work in sociology at New School University in New York City. Her research is on race, gender and labor relations within the sex industry. Her writings have appeared in
Feminism and Anti-Racism: International Struggles
(edited by France Winddance Twine and Kathleen Blee, NYU Press, 2001) and
Sex and Single Girls
(edited by Lee Damsky, Seal Press, 2000). Siobhan interviewed Angela Davis for the
UC Hastings Law Journal
(winter 1999). In addition to being a writer, she is also a freelance model and is on the cover of the new anthology
On Our Backs: The Best Erotic Fiction
(edited by Lindsay McClune, Alyson Books, 2001).
Susan Muaddi Darraj
is a freelance writer based in Baltimore, Maryland. She earned her M.A. in English literature at Rutgers University and is continuing her studies at the Johns Hopkins University. Her essays, fiction and reviews have appeared in
The Monthly Review, Mizna, Sojourner, Baltimore Magazine, Pages Magazine, New York Stories, Baltimore City Paper,
the
Philadelphia Inquirer
and elsewhere.
Erica González Martínez
lives in El Barrio, New York City, and has written for the
Village Voice, Hispanic
magazine and other publications. She looks forward to continued spiritual growth, running her own full-time business, writing more about the truth and bearing witness to the fortification of the East Harlem community and Puerto Rico’s independence. She is humbled by the blessings of divine power, and grateful for the support of her ancestors, family, friends and compañero.
Kristina Gray
dreams of the day when little black girls want to be rock stars when they grow up. Her writing has appeared in
Ms.
magazine as well as in her own zine
Namaste,
a cut-and-paste affair dedicated to identity politics and obscure pop culture references. She was born and raised in the Washington, D.C., area and received her B.A. in communication from Goucher College in 2001. She hopes to find a real job soon so she can pay back her student loan.
Kahente Horn-Miller
is a member of the Bear clan of the Kanienkehaka Nation at Kahnawake. A mother of two, she is currently completing her M.A. in anthropology at Concordia University in Montreal, Canada. Kahente has used her education as a vehicle for gaining understanding about her culture. This process became especially relevant to her after she had her first child. She believes “our survival as a vibrant and living people depends on young women like myself taking the time to listen, learn and pass on what we know to our future generations. In my research and writing, I present the little-explored perspective of Kanienkehaka traditional women. I hope that my contribution in this anthology will give you a glimpse into our world and one ancient, yet new, solution.”
Rebecca Hurdis
is a graduate student in the Comparative Ethnic Studies Ph.D. program at the University of California, Berkeley. Her work emphasizes the intersectionality of race, gender and the history of women of color feminism in the United States. Born in Korea and adopted at the age of six months, her formative years were spent in New England. She is also interested in interrogating the social, political and personal complexities of transnational and transracial adoption. She has resided in Northern California for the past six years.
Kiini Ibura Salaam
is a writer, painter and traveler from New Orleans. Her short stories have been published in the
African American Review, Dark Matter: A Century of Speculative Fiction from the African Diaspora
(edited by Sheree R. Thomas, Warner Books, 2000), and the collaborative novel
When Butterflies Kiss
(Silver Lion Press, 2001). Her essays have been included in
Men We Cherish: African-American Women Praise the Men in Their Lives
(edited by Brooke M. Stephens, Anchor Books, 1997) and
Father Songs: Testimonies by African-American Sons and Daughters
(edited by Gloria Wade-Gayles, Beacon Press, 1997). She has also written for
Essence
and
Ms.
magazine. Kiini is currently crafting
Bloodlines,
her first novel. She is the author of the
KIS.list,
an e-report on life as a writer. Her work can be found at
www.kiiniibura.com
.
Soyon Im
is a writer and web developer. From 1998 to 2000 she was
Seattle Weekly’s
controversial sex columnist, Cherry Wong.
shani jamila
is a teacher, traveler, hip hoppian and cultural worker. She is a proud graduate of Spelman College and holds a master’s in African Diaspora cultural studies from UCLA. shani has visited or lived in more than twenty countries, including a year spent in Gabon, Central Africa, where she taught more than three hundred students and co-sponsored an intercontinental book drive to found a school library. She is also the recipient of a Fulbright Fellowship that allowed her to spend a year studying women’s activism in Jamaica and Trinidad. Her work on hip hop feminism has been profiled internationally via colloquia, radio, television and extensive newspaper coverage. In addition, she is a poet who has performed in North and South America, Africa and countries throughout the Caribbean. Artist, academic and activist, shani’s drive is to reach and reflect her people.
Darice Jones
is a queer artist of African descent. She resides in Oakland, California, where she grew up. Jones works in many mediums, including writing, spoken-word performance, painting and photography. She uses her art as a vehicle to tell her own story and to expose underrepresented voices to the light. She recently traveled to New Delhi, India, and performed spoken word to open her paper on a panel of women discussing harm reduction. She is currently writing a mystery novel and collaborating on an autobiographical essay/poetry book with her older sister. Other projects include two queer-centered screenplays, one focused on the concept of karma, as well as a one-woman show slated to perform around the Bay Area.
The former managing editor of
Urban Latino
magazine,
Juleyka Lantigua
helped launch a monthly newspaper and a quarterly magazine while on a Fulbright Scholarship in Spain. She is a nationally syndicated columnist with
The Progressive
magazine’s Media Project. In 2001 she published her first book,
Memories of an Immigration,
a collection of essays by Dominican immigrant children (Ediciones Alcance). Also that year, she guest edited the summer edition and an abridged Spanish edition of Harvard University’s
Nieman Reports.
Juleyka serves on the faculty of the Frederick Douglass Creative Arts Center and lives in Brooklyn, New York.
Pandora L. Leong
grew up in Anchorage, Alaska, as the child of first-generation immigrants, where she began to take part in feminist activism. Race and class joined her other interests during her studies in politics and history at university. Leong currently works for a human rights nongovernmental organization and continues to aspire to create a pro-choice, queer-friendly world free of violence and misogyny and the tyranny of chocolate on dessert menus.
Adriana López
is the editor of
Críticas; An English Speaker’s Guide to The Latest Spanish Language Titles,
published by
Publishers Weekly, Library Journal
and the
School Library Journal.
Formerly, she was the arts and culture editor at Soloella.com and the editor of
Latin Scene
and
Latin Teen
magazines. Her features, essays and arts reviews have appeared in
Hopscotch: A Cultural
Review, Lit, El Diario la Prensa, Frontera, Urban Latino, Rhythm and Black Book,
among other publications. Through the Progressive Media Project her op-eds concerning U.S. and Latin American relations have been published in newspapers throughout the country. She is currently finishing her master’s in journalism at Columbia University and is a member of WILL (Women in Literature and Letters), a collective of women of color writers.
Stella Luna
is a proud Chicana and community activist and first and foremost the mother of a wonderful little boy. She holds a bachelor’s degree in Chicano/a studies from Arizona State University. Her degree follows the recognition of being named 2001-2002 Deans Council Scholar for the Arizona State Chicano/a Studies Department. She is also recognized in the HIV-AIDS community as a grassroots organizer and public speaker on behalf of HIV-AIDS infected women. Her short-term goals include securing a prominent position in the service sector of HIV education, advocacy and intervention, concentrating on minority women and children. Long-term goals include completing her master’s in public health, starting her own nonprofit organization, watching her son grow up and living, living, living.
Bhavana Mody
was born in Nashville, Tennessee, and grew up in the town of Glasgow, Kentucky. She attended the College of Wooster in Ohio, where she studied cultural anthropology. Mody now resides in San Francisco, where she develops and coordinates a leadership program for urban high-school students. In her spare time she enjoys exploring the city and ocean, practicing yoga, cooking and biking.
Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha
is the proud granddaughter of mixed femme slut girls who were raising hell against colonialism and genocide in 1930s Sri Lanka. A Toronto-based spoken-word diva and intermittent crisis counselor, she has performed her work at Desh Pardesh, the Desi-Q L/B/G/T South Asian Queer Conference (San Francisco, 2000), Artwallah, rebel girl and many other Toronto spoken word venues. Her writing has been published in the anthologies
Femme, A Girl’s Guide to Taking over the World,
reprinted in My
Dangerous Desires: A Queer Girl Dreaming Her Way Home
(Amber Hollibaugh’s collected essays) and is forthcoming in
Dangerous Families: Queers Surviving Sexual Abuse, Bent on Literature, Brazen: Transgressing Femme Identity,
and
Planting a Tree: mixed queers speak.
She is currently completing her first collection of spoken word and biomythography,
consensual genocide.
She sets mics on fire wherever she goes.