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The cult of pornography – a black feminist perspective

March 12, 2013 in beauty and race, black feminism, black women, exoticism, racism, Slider, white feminism

sarah bartmann

By Chitra Nagarajan

I was asked to speak at a panel discussion at the Women of the World festival on Sunday 10th March. I want to thank Aurella, Camille, Charmaine, Chatura, Inti, Lola, Nydia, rashne, Sapna and zohra for sharing their thoughts ahead of the panel – what I said was influenced greatly by their contributions (in some cases, copied and pasted directly).

This is what I prepared beforehand – I cut some of it out (notably the paragraph on Sarah Baartman) in the interests of giving time for a full discussion with the audience but am publishing it in full here:

In order to prepare ahead of this session, I asked fellow black feminists about their thoughts on pornography and what I will say reflects a distillation of the thoughts of about a dozen of us – although I do want to stress that I do not speak for all black women on this!

Mainstream feminist discourse often talks about depictions of women and the impact that has but this rarely includes race analysis. In conventional pornography for the heterosexual male gaze, we have the following gender, race and sexuality stereotypes that are inscribed on every ‘body’ depicted:

  • the buck: the black man (of African ancestry) who is a bit menacing and aggressive and is always interested in (young / vulnerable) white women.
  • the mandingo: the black man (of African ancestry) who is valuable solely because of the size of his penis and whose face is never the focal point. He is interested in ‘gagging’ or otherwise hurting the women in his scene.
  • the dumb blond: the white woman who plays up just how young or naive she is. She is always in the wrong place at the wrong time and thus has to face the buck, the mandingo or preferably the friendly white man next door.
  • the white man next door: he loves a ‘slut’, any one will do. His size or his physical features doesn’t really matter. He’s really just a prop and thus a representation of white male privilege and power
  • the nymph: she can be of African ancestry, white, or Latina. She says all sorts of wild and outlandish things during the sex act, and is up for anything.
  • the jezebel: the black woman (of African ancestry) who has a ‘ghetto booty’, loves black men and white men in any form or fashion as long as she can show off how hot and sexy she is and how much her body fits the trope of the ideal black woman.
  • the oriental scene: the black woman of Asian ancestry – either the timid Asian woman who is docile and has a frightened look in her eyes, a young girl who is into BDSM, the woman of mystery who lures you in with her secrets or the East Asian trans woman who is depicted as having no physical integrity or boundaries, with whom nothing is not possible. The Asian man? Oh, he’s virtually absent. He’s too asexual to be present.
  • the bisexual woman / lesbian: It’s either her ‘first time’ or she is experienced and taking advantage of someone much younger. They are into each other, but they are mostly into the man (imagined or actually there) who’s watching and their acts of pleasure are for his enjoyment.

It should not surprise you to hear that black women in the industry are paid less than their white counterparts. They tend to be marginalised in films that ‘authenticate’ black sexuality – films like South Central Hookers, Ghetto Booty and Pimpformation. The mainly white male producers, directors, publishers and distributors who run the industry rationalise paying black women half to three quarters of their white counterparts because black women are less desirable than white women. There are also fewer black women who work or have worked in the industry speaking and writing about their experiences in mainstream discourse. How many black women have you seen talking on documentaries on pornography or writing about it?

I want to also talk about the impact of pornography.

One of my black feminist friends is a teacher. She was telling me of an A-Level English language class which she was teaching on gender and language. Students were discussing substitutes for ‘girl’ – good and bad – that they used. One word that came up was ‘pussy potential’ – used positively by boys to describe girls they might consider going out with. The girls were shocked. The boys, when encouraged to reflect on what that meant, were also shocked. She believes that this language is something that the normalization of pornography has created.

There was interesting research done a couple of years ago asking communities in eastern Congo about the causes of sexual violence. One of the points people raised was the impact of pornography, especially given community methods of sex education had fractured due to the conflict. Porn – a lot of it produced in America – was the primary way young people learned about sex. We need to look beyond where we live and see the impact that this Euro-American capitalist exploitative industry has in other countries.

As a movement, we need to be thinking and talking about how the industry reinforces gendered, racialised and sexualised stereotypes and the impact this has on what young people think sex and black women are really like. It brings to mind what happened to Sarah Baartman; a woman from southern Africa who was enslaved by a Dutch farmer and displayed as a ‘freak show’ attraction in Europe in the eighteenth century as the ‘Hottentot Venus’ because of her ‘unusual body features’ i.e. her large buttocks and elongated labia. She was then sold to a French man and after she died, her preserved genitals were placed on display in a Paris museum until 1974. Her remains were repatriated after a sixty year long campaign on President Mandela’s request to South Africa in 2002. I would like to think that a black women’s genitals would not be in a museum today but I go into so much detail because I want to stress that black women’s bodies have always been ‘on display’ in a way that is different.

We need to go beyond just saying that porn is oppressive to women. We need to nuance and problematise the discussion a bit more and talk about the industry – how it really operates and the stereotypes it perpetuates.

We need to find a way of talking about pornography that does not play into moralistic arguments about porn and sex. After all, feminists have been fighting against moralistic ideas about women and sexual pleasure for generations! We need to separate morality (enforced by religious and state institutions) from ethics (societal implications).

We need to not play into disrespecting women in pornography – let us recognise the links with women’s economic marginalisation here – and find a way to support the women while being against the companies that make profit from this.

Pornography is a topic that fractures the feminist movement – we really need to move past the ‘porn is good’/ ‘porn is bad’ or the  ‘you’re with us or you’re against us’ way of thinking and find ways of talking together.

I was invited to come and speak today because the voices of black women are not often in the debate on pornography so I want to end with talking about why. I wonder whether it is because we do not believe pornography is as important as white feminists do.  That is not to say that we do not think that pornography is not important – we do – but the realities of our lives are different.

We have so much that we need to fight against – the sexist, racist, heteronormative immigration and asylum system, negotiating that line between not playing into racist assumptions of black communities and violence while speaking out about violence against women and girls in our communities, police brutality, the racism and sexism our children experience and trying to find ways to build their sense of possibility while reflecting the reality of British society, the hyper visibility of black women in the public sphere as objects for discussion and debate – by black men, by white men, by white women but not by black women and of course the poverty that black women continue to disproportionately experience.

Now there are black women working on gender, race, sexuality and pornography but they are rarely contacted when events on pornography are organised. If a black feminist is asked to speak, she is usually an afterthought when organisers realise they need a black woman on the panel. Now, this is not limited to pornography of course. The mainstream feminist movement is improving in terms of inclusion and reflection of a range of women’s realities but so much more needs to be done to ensure the perspectives and realities of not just black women, but also disabled women, trans women, asylum seeking women and others are placed at the centre of mainstream feminist organising.

 

For a post on the panel, please see Is there another way to talk about porn?  by @jester.

Photo is of Sarah Baartman and is from here. It is one of the very few images of her online to show her clothed.

Dear Vagenda Editors…

October 23, 2012 in white feminism

By Lianne

Dear Vagenda Editors,

You might be surprised to know that a number of us here at Black Feminists were amazed to hear you declare in your latest New Statesman blog that “feminism is, and to an extent always has been, a white, middle class movement”.

We’re not sure the feminists of the Indian Chipko movement in the 1970s or the Southall Black Sisters would agree either.

It seems that you’re most worried about the “issues of race, class, religion, sexuality, politics and privilege…fracturing feminist dialogue,” even if your fantasy universal feminism actively marginalises the experience of anyone who isn’t you.

You play into the damaging myth that feminism is for an elite and narrow group. In reality many people who don’t actively identify as or even distance themselves from the F-word still have feminist views. Similarly many people know how intersectionality affects them and others around them, even if they don’t consider themselves to be intersectional.

In recent weeks intersectionality – or whatever you want to call it – has been deemed irrelevant and literally not worth giving a shit about. Now you’ve kindly told us it’s too academic. If we’re being honest, both come across as excuses to avoid talking about intersectionality itself and dealing with how it affects people. Given recent events, perhaps you can see why many black feminists and others are angry.

Intersectionality may be an academic term that has spilled into common usage among many feminists, but that doesn’t mean that the concept it refers to isn’t real and worthy of discussion. It’s merely shorthand for experiences that many people recognise and talk about – those points where race, gender, sexuality, ability, class and so on come together. And while language is important, most feminists only really use that kind terminology with others who know what it mean.

In obsessing over the use of one word, you not only miss the point (intersectionality could also refer to education), and imply that a vast swathe of people are stupid, but worse still you actively dismiss the views of people of colour and others.

In many respects, intersectionality actually tries to address accessibility, so it’s dishonest to impose a false hierarchy of accessible language first, then maybe followed by dealing with those minor fringe issues of racism, ableism and classism (you know, if we have the time after we’re done having a go at mythical “educated women [who] to want to keep feminism for themselves”).

Being called out isn’t nice, and pretty much everyone experiences it. Most sensitive and aware people would say ‘thanks for your opinions, we’ll take it on board’ or ‘I wasn’t aware that was an issue, I’ll bear it mind in the future’. But not Vagenda, or Caitlin Moran. What we’re seeing is childish foot-stamping and privileged feminists closing ranks to protect each other from criticism from those they are marginalising.

The real accessibility problem is not the use of one word among perhaps more academically-minded feminists, but the closing down of debate by so-called ‘big name feminists’.

We Need To Talk About Privilege

October 22, 2012 in white feminism

Image courtesy of The Feminist Wire

By Natalie Ntim

So there have a been a couple of articles and ‘Twitterstorms’ about issues affecting feminism over the past few weeks – Caitlin Moran “literally couldn’t give a shit” about Black women’s representation and Medhi Hasan waded into the abortion debate, claiming that pro-choicers “fetishise ‘choice’, selfishness and unbridled individualism”.  Now that the anger has died down, these debates have left me thinking about privilege and conversations about it – why is it so volatile and difficult for people to face up to when they’re called out on it? Why is it that sometimes, calling yourself a ‘feminist’ or ‘left-wing’ or being part of a marginalised group is seen as a get-out-of-jail-free card when you ignore your own privilege and make sweeping statements like Moran and Hasan have?

Privilege clouds people’s judgement on issues like abortion, women’s representation and violence against women. In Caitlin Moran’s case, as a white woman, her privilege means she simply can’t see why a huge group of women not being represented on TV is that big of a deal. Actually, I think that she’s smart enough to recognise her own privilege, but she won’t do anything about it. When she’s brought up on it, she won’t admit it and becomes really defensive. How can we deal with this when other women and men react in a similar way to Moran? How can we deal with this without it turning into a huge row (which is what usually happens to me!)?

The more we talk about how one person can be discriminated against for multiple reasons (e.g. being a Black lesbian disabled woman), the more slippery privilege gets – there are hierarchies within marginalised groups, where privilege is intertwined with marginalisation on a person by person basis. Would it be ok for a white atheist/secularist woman to be critical of Hasan’s Muslim faith during a debate on abortion because as a man, he is arguing about it from a position of privilege?

I know that as an educated, middle-class, straight, able-bodied Black woman who grew up in Greater London I am already in a position of privilege over others, but I am also still discriminated against and my voice, although heard more loudly than others, is still ignored  by some.  So I have lots of questions, but not many answers.  All I know is that being aware of your own position of privilege isn’t enough. We have to act to tackle how privilege changes our own perception and call out others who aren’t doing the same, whether we are lefties, black feminists or activists in other movements for equality.

Caitlin Moran and Lena Dunham – ‘Girls’ I’m all too familiar with

October 12, 2012 in media representation of black women, white feminism

By Leslie O’Neil

Everyone now knows about the brouhaha regarding celebrity feminist and cultural commentator Caitlin Moran’s tweet regarding Lena Dunham’s “groundbreaking” television show Girls.

If you are unfamiliar with the show, it’s like every other “groundbreaking” television show about women– they are white, live in New York and are wealthy. They have problems that Every Woman In Their Age Group has. No ethnic minority women exist as main characters or indeed as supporting characters other than the most crude of stereotypes. Black men are hot sex partners, scary looking hip teens who turn out to be nice, or grandfatherly old men.

Caitlin Moran’s frankly crass tweet pissed me off, but it didn’t surprise me. Feminism has always excluded black women. I remember when I started going to feminist groups 15 years ago that my issues and struggles weren’t important to them. (When I think about it, they were the most cartoony feminists I’d ever seen. Seriously, it was all lumberjack shirts, Ani DiFranco albums and cats. There was also the requisite feminist man there with his vegan food and sensitive ponytail.)

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How To Be A RESPONSIBLE Woman

October 9, 2012 in media representation of black women, white feminism

By Stephanie Phillips

So every feminist and her mother have been talking about the Caitlin Moran / Lena Dunham furore. If you haven’t heard Dunham has come under fire for the lack of diversity in her new show Girls, which is set in New York and has be sold as a representation of modern young womens lives. A Twitter user asked Moran if she asked Dunham about the lack of diversity in Dunham’s show when she interviewed her for a piece in The Times. Moran, somewhat unprofessionally replied “I literally couldn’t give a shit about it”.

Before we move on I’ll just say now that I haven’t seen Girls. I don’t know if it is what people say and I won’t be arguing that in the piece. What I will say that as a journalist if I knew that people were concerned about issues of visibility with other races in the show I would research it and bring it up in the interview, not just dismiss it as a non-issue.

Note to the white women reading this that may think they’re liberal and open minded and listen to Bob Marley ’cause they’re cultured; if someone tells you that they are concerned that some shit is racist then believe that some shit is racist. Why would they lie? At least open your mind to the concept that this thing you may enjoy watching, saying, doing could offend another human being and then, here’s the tricky part, ask them what you can do to not offend them. Simple innit but its true. Studies have shown that the most effective way to stop people constantly being offended by things you do is to not do them anymore.

The accusations made about Girls needed to at least be acknowledged by Moran but instead she, like many people when confronted with race, became defensive and suggested people were over reacting. The whole ‘political correctness gone mad’ and ‘we’re all one race the human race’ argument is the same that is used in the liberal community by men when women start pointing out that sexism still exists in the left.

No one is asking Girls to represent all of womenhood. The question that was directed at Moran was to ask whether she asked Lena Dunham about the lack of diversity on the show. That was an apt question and white feminists can’t just go straight to defensive when the ‘R’ word pops up in the conversation. The reality is that there is a HUGE problem with diversity and representation in media. You can’t expect black women to be quiet about our concerns because white women don’t want to talk about the issue.

You don’t need a “token” woman of colour on the show. Is it that hard to believe that a black person could be a best friend, love interest, friendly teacher. We exist in many forms in the real world so it shouldn’t take a leap of faith to recreate us in the fictional world.

Moran’s dismissive comment blew up because it represented how women of colour felt mainstream feminists thought and we’ve had enough of it.

I’ve decided that I’m tired of this whole pretense that issues of race in the feminist community don’t matter any more because “we’re over that”. No. We’re not. Me and you are not on the same path and until a whole lot of privilege on everyone’s part is recognised we never will be.

To start I believe that white feminists have to understand just what kind of racism black women deal with on a daily basis and how we feel about our position in the movement. I’m opening up the floor if you want to know what it’s like to be a black woman in society today ask in the comments section and I will reply honestly.

I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes or startle anyone that was comfortable with their views but I’m tired of the dismissive remarks, the constant lack of recognition, the lack of focus on issues that affect black women and every feminist conference that claim the only reason they always have all white panels and workshops is just because they couldn’t find anyone who knew about that stuff. I’m tired of it all, so let’s sort it out now, honestly, respectfully and peacefully.

Feminism is not All White

April 10, 2012 in Alexandra Topping, black feminism, black women, invisible, Naomi Campbell, the guardian, white feminism, white journalism

By Adunni Adams

Lexy Topping’s article in yesterday’s Guardian declared the advance of the feminist movement towards a world in which people are not ashamed of identifying themselves as feminists. According to the article, this advance has resulted largely from the activism of young people fighting back against the sexual objectification of women, leading to a growing coalition of ‘feminists who do not fit easily into stereotypical moulds’. Furthermore, UK Feminista is cited as the source of information about ‘dozens of new feminist organisations springing up around the UK’.

I assumed the inclusion of the phrase ‘feminists who do not fit easily into stereotypical moulds’ would lead to some mention of those organisations which do not fit into the white, middle-class heterosexual stronghold which has come to typify the feminist movement. As I continued reading, I assumed the scope of the article would include the Black, Working-Class, Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender feminist organisations, most of which are not new, and most of which have so far managed to escape the attention of commentators on feminism.

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