On Being Feminism’s “Ms. Nigga”

Second, the idea that any one of us can represent the many is inherently flawed. It doesn’t matter who we’re talking about – no one can fully represent the whole of who we are and our varied thoughts and feelings. The trouble is that our current system requires exactly that – certain groups, in order to access a seat at the table, a representative will be assigned. Some folks would call that an attempt at diversity – but it is a nefarious double bind for those of us who get the nod. To refuse to participate may mean that voice is never represented, that the voices are the underrepresented are once again unvoiced, unheard, and perhaps unknown. Unfortunately, absence can be interpreted as a reinforcement of the status quo – if women of color are not present, then the uniformed interpret this to mean we have nothing to say. Or, even worse, it is a reinforcement that critical feminist theorists of color do not exist.

However, to accept the position also means to be pressed into the token spot. To often be the only person versed in issues pertinent to women of color. To have to change what you want to say or do or talk or think about because someone else on the panel just said something so egregious (and something quietly accepted as truth) that you know have to challenge their fucked up worldview.

So, to that end I wanted to share some stories from my life being sporadically dropped into feminist circles and what I have observed there. My hope is that because I’ve accrued some (read: precious little) currency in mainstream circles, that people will seriously reflect on the feminist status quo and recognize the way in which this space encourages tokenization and exploitation.

A Ms. Nigga VIP Panel Spot, Just for me!

I get asked to be on a lot of panels. Normally, being on a panel is a great way to attend a kick ass conference for free. So when I was first starting out, was thrilled to jump on a panel. Exposure, great networking – what’s not to like?

Now, dozens of panels later, I read every panel invitation as if I were trying to break The Da Vinci code. That practice started when I was on a panel a few years back. I had been invited to sit on a panel about women and media, and I thought they asked me to come to represent the digital sector. And perhaps the organizers did. But one of my co-panelists decided she was going to talk about how women didn’t recognize how good we had it. Everytime a panelist or audience member brought up a barrier to women in the industry, she responded by talking about how many gains women had made.

Finally I spoke up. “You said things are so much better for women- but you are only talking about white women. Outside of Oprah, where’s our progress, on or off screen?”

Not only did this woman not answer my question, she acted as if I had called her a racist. For some reason, she felt the need to inform the room about how she attends vibrant multicultural celebrations in her hometown that “celebrate differences.”

Now, what the fuck did that have to do with me pointing out that she had erased the experiences of women of color in the entertainment industry in all of her responses? Nothing. But I don’t think she was responding to my question – she was responding to my tokenized presence in that environment. It was instant defense mode – “let me prove how not racist I am,” not “let’s examine the disparity that exists when one says women and really means white women.”

Earlier this year, I opted to join a feminist media luncheon. I accepted and planned out my statements – I really wanted to stress the opportunities in the new media space, and encourage the young women to branch out from standard “feminist” conversations and instead go into other types of spaces and apply feminist concepts to the general threads there.

And the beginning of the conversation went well. However the third panelist, who arrived a bit later, started changing the tone of the conversation. It isn’t that this speaker intentionally set out to minimize the experiences of anyone who isn’t in line with the mainstream version of feminism – but her second-wave swagger and broad sweeping statements had the same effect.

Then I found myself at a crossroads – do I start talking about what I intended to and let her statements go unchallenged? Or do I once again have to represent for folks who aren’t in the room, to people who would most likely repeat the mistakes of their fore-mothers because they never learned anything different?

So once again, I swallowed what I wanted to say and instead talked about race, class, and structural injustice.

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