all women were bigger and stronger than you
and thought they were smarter
women were the ones who started wars
too many of your friends had been raped by women wielding giant dildos
and no K-Y Jelly
the state trooper
who pulled you over on the New Jersey Turnpike
was a woman
and carried a gun
the ability to menstruate
was the prerequisite for most high-paying jobs
your attractiveness to women depended
on the size of your penis
every time women saw you
they’d hoot and make jerking motions with their hands
women were always making jokes
about how ugly penises are
and how bad sperm tastes
you had to explain what’s wrong with your car
to big sweaty women with greasy hands
who stared at your crotch
in a garage where you are surrounded
by posters of naked men with hard-ons
men’s magazines featured cover photos
of 14-year-old boys
tucked into the front of their jeans
and articles like:
“How to tell if your wife is unfaithful”
“What your doctor won’t tell you about your prostate”
“The truth about impotence”
the doctor who examined your prostate
was a woman
and called you “Honey”
you had to inhale your boss’s stale cigar breath
as she insisted that sleeping with her
was part of the job
you couldn’t get away because
the company dress code required
you wear shoes
designed to keep you from running
And what if
after all that
women still wanted you
to love them.
For the Men Who Still Don’t Get It, written 20 years ago by Carol Diehl.
She wrote a post about the history of this poem that is worth reading.
“You are not allowed to uproot me from my love. I am not the type to be set on your table for decoration or momentary admiration. No thanks. I belong where I decide to grow. Leave me there to flourish.”—Alex Elle (via birthofasupervillain)
I get this question all the time because I am a Black feminist. People want to know if this means that I care less about the political realities of being Black. If I am now only concerned with being a woman. Or do I allow my blackness to get in the way of caring about issues impacting women.
It’s not physically possible for me to separate my race from my gender. I cannot choose to one day be Black Danielle who has no gender and the next day be Danielle the Woman who has no race. And yet, socially and politically Black women are expected to split their identities all the time.
Black feminism is the rejection of this.
As a Black feminist, I vow to bring all of my marginalized identities to any political or sociological discussion. I also vow to support marginalized identities which I do not possess because everything we advocate for needs to be mindful to not harm the people it claims to support. This is the application of the concept called “intersectionality” which legal scholar Kimberlé Crenshaw blessed us with in 1989.
Oftentimes, Black women are asked to forget their gender by Black men or forget their race by white women simply because Black womanhood is not valued in many spaces other than explicitly Black woman centered spaces. Black womanhood is a conflation of myriad forms of marginalization and as such our experiences are not often centered.
We’re often told it’s too difficult and complex to consider our experiences. We are told that we hurt the causes of white women and Black men. This is ironic because when the issues of Black women are addressed, or even more specifically, when the issues of low income and LGBT Black women are addressed, everybody wins.