Sojourner Truth. Harriet Tubman. Ida B. Wells. Fannie Lou Hamer. Shirley Chisholm. Kamala Harris.
I celebrate you — Black women — by invoking these “she-roes” sisters who’ve made enduring freedom strides over the centuries. In that spirit, the November Presidential election starkly shined light on our lineage: loyal, relentless, overperformers who refuse to abandon the quest to shape our destiny.
The first Donald Trump presidential victory in 2016 left us in a state of shock. This time we’re raw and unvarnished. With an oozing wound, we face corrupt autocracy and unabated white nationalism. Dangerous times — but we will resist. Though you’re weary, the challenges will deepen our resolve to fight back, survive, and thrive.
After November 5, “radical self-care” has become the call to arms. We draw from writer/activist Audre Lorde who described it as “a radical act of political warfare and self-preservation.”
To sisters who are angry and dismayed — especially younger women — please don’t bail. Now is not the time to leave or give up. We must play the long game. Though horrific, this moment is another chapter in our unbroken march to freedom. Use history as a guiding light in these dark days.
Black women have never wavered in our quest to be seen, heard, and unerased.
From the Middle Passages forward, the onslaught endured by our ancestors has been formidable. Yet, they confronted each assault with courage because that’s all they knew. Audaciously unfettered, our clarity and sensibilities are gifts passed down over generations.
Through the ages, our contributions have been invisible but indelible. Stalwarts of the abolitionist movement. Militants in the women’s suffrage movement. Foot soldiers in the civil rights and Black Power movements. Our toil and service exact a massive imprint in this nation’s demand for democratic rights. Despite marginalization, Black women have never wavered in our quest to be seen, heard, and unerased.
Unlike white women, privileged and pedestaled, ours was never a relationship of compliance or reverence with the patriarchy. They were not our fathers or husbands. They were our enslavers. And our resistance to patriarchy remains rooted in a visceral rejection of bondage.
While other women who are not Black have also fought for race and gender equity, we unapologetically command the stage. Witness the cohesive response from our ranks over the last three presidential elections: 94% for Hillary Clinton, 90% for Joe Biden, and 92% for Kamala Harris.
Our spillover influence illuminates why Black men — vilified early on as sexist and anti-Harris — constituted her second largest voting bloc, at 77%.
Equally instructive, the largest segment of the electorate — white women — are the most divided across class, education, marital status, and religion. It seems progressive women activists have some heavy lifting to do in their community.
Hence, many of us are wondering why a Women’s March on Washington, dubbed “Our Bodies. Our Futures,” is slated for January 18 — two days before the Trump inauguration. What’s the goal? To demonstrate resistance to Trump? Or solidarity with the democratic values he eschews? Though herculean, would resources be better placed educating and organizing convertible white women?
The 53% of white women backing Trump speaks volumes about the reach of allies. At the very least they fall short in reaching their constituencies with an empowerment message. At worst, they give a pass to their MAGA counterparts who betray their own best interests on the altar of whiteness.
As we Black women approach the new year, we must redefine democracy through the prism of triumphs and tragedies that have made us stronger and battle-tested.
Trust Black women must be more than a cliché. Let this mantra be a mirror and badge of honor to confront cliques and divisions among us, fomented by classism and ageism.
Let us create brave spaces in alliance with Black institutions including our media, businesses and civic organizations.
Let us unfurl frank conversations about sexism, elitism, colorism, and adverse power dynamics within our families and community, in dialogues with our men and our youth.
And finally, turn our ears to our beating heart of resistance, resilience, and activism. It’s a resonant sound for daughters of the enslaved, descendants of warriors, mentors, teachers, patriots and democrats. We all have a voice in our democracy.
Mary Ann Shadd. Frances Ellen Watkins Harper. Anna Julia Cooper. Callie House. Charlotta Bass. Ella Baker. Dorothy Cotton.
These women, not immediately recognized in the roll-call of change agents, have stories of noble pathfinders we should study and celebrate. Like legions of us, they affirm our greatness throughout this American journey.
Then and now, we claim ownership of our bodies, voices and choices. We build on our truths by redefining democracy beyond the limited act of casting a ballot. For Black women, our narrative is rooted in unerasing our achievements of yesterday, realities of today and possibilities for the future.
Gwen McKinney, a Washington, DC based communications strategist, is the creator and campaign director of Unerased| Black Women Speak.
