A few years ago, I started this blog because I was frustrated. I was frustrated because it felt like Black girls and women were being left out of so many critical conversations. As much as I care about bringing Black girls and women from the margin to the center, I had to take a bit of a hiatus. In other words, I was tired and I needed a moment to recover (but that’s another post).
Part of my struggle involved me contemplating the question: What do I have to say? I was unsure of my “blogging voice” in a market place that is filled with a myriad of bloggers. I still don’t have an answer. However, I feel compelled to enter this space. There is a story that feels like it’s waiting to be birthed in this space. And so I honor that.
While I was off-line I spent sometime organizing the first ever Black Women and Girls Symposium. I also spent some time working on a few writing projects—including a special issue of NPSR that looks at ‘#BlackGirlMagic’ and an anthology on Black girls and women’s self-articulation (both forthcoming).
Needless to say, these past few months have been intense. But it’s all about creating space for Black girls and women’s voices. In the spaces in between this labor, I’ve given a lot of thought to healing Black girls and women’s pain—the type of pain that results from race-gender (and other) oppressive forces.
This seems to be the story that’s calling me. But for some reason, I can’t put my thoughts together. I don’t know if I’m just too caught up with needing to get this “right”. Or could it be that my own pain is holding me back? On top it all; there is the current political climate…
Over the months, I contemplated simply giving it all up. Walking away from blogging, just walking away…but there was a desire to tell this story.
As chance would have it, I re-read bell hook’s book “Sisters of the Yam”. There, in this quote, I found a reason to continue blogging
I have to warn you, I’m a tad angry. I’m angry about how some choose to talk about the poor. You know, people like Chaffetz who seem to think that the poor have bad money management skills.
I’ve been going to the doctor a lot of late—a tear in my labrum. And let’s just say the only reason I can keep up to 4 appointments some weeks is because I have insurance. And even with medical insurance it’s expensive. Simply put the poor cannot afford to be sick in this country, so telling them not to buy iPhones does not a solution make.
And don’t get me started on the notion that enslaved individuals came to the Americas in search of a good life and for the opportunities afforded to future generations. Clearly Ben Carson forgot what he learned in History courses.
But wait… Please don’t get me started on what’s going on in the White House. My mother use to tell me, “If you don’t have anything nice to say, then say nothing”. It’s hard not to say anything given the utter “nonsense” (me being polite). I’m an immigrant Black woman who is raising a young Black woman. Needles to say, there is a lot for me to say given the that’s going on.
As a Black feminist how do I even begin to engage all that’s going on? And how do I do it in a way that is honest to the larger goals of liberation, justice, and healing? I truly don’t know
What I know for sure is that we need each other.
Here’s what I committed myself to doing given the current climate:
I hope you will join me in this fight for truth and humanity. Tell me, what’s your strategy to resist and thrive in this current political climate?