Ain’t I a Woman, Too?

Women are angry, and this makes sense. Centuries of subjugation to low wages, attacks-physical, political, and social- on our rights, gender discrimination, and gender roles tend to do that to a person. Women have taken their anger to protests, marches, and organize to resist the patriarchy. Women’s Suffrage Movement. Women’s Liberation Movement. #MeToo. #TimesUp. What do they have in common? Women who are tired and sick of being tired. In learning the history of sexist and cis-sexist oppression and in seeing the movements in films and media, I felt rage and I was scared of it. I couldn’t understand my reaction until I realized I have never seen women who looked like me to be rageful and productive. 

Rage is like ice water- it is an extension of anger. For a long time, I learned being angry, especially being rageful, was nothing to be proud of. Historical images of those who have been angry included prestigious men. When prestigious men are rageful, it results in the destruction and disruption of those around them, especially women. I do not think I had ever seen a Black woman be rageful in a productive manner. If they were, these images were hidden and tucked away in the soft crevices of history textbooks. I didn’t learn about revolutionary Black women until my second year in college where I took a world history class and Black American history class. My world changed. There were these images of Black women who used their anger and rage to engage and resist the patriarchy. When I saw the coverage of the #MeToo and #TimesUp, I was hoping to hear the stories of Black women. There was little to none, and I found myself in a rage that other women could not truly understand. I felt rage for Lupita Nyong’o and other Black women whose stories were not covered. I imagine the rage for my other sisters whose stories were the afterthought of these. 

I wondered to myself why the rage of Black women and other women in the margins were excluded from this narrative. It was as though I was living in two separate worlds. How could we include the voices of some women and not others? What was different? So many questions ran through my mind. As I spoke with my Black women friends and family members, the answer was in how the world saw us as Black women. When Black women have resisted the patriarchy, they are perceived as angry and uncooperative. Black women’s rage with the patriarchy is nothing new. It’s as historical as the feminist movements. Harriet Tubman resisted the subjugation of slavery of woman’s bodies and she freed many. Ida B Wells was excluded from walking in the demonstrations for women’s suffrage, but she walked anyway. Sojourner Truth called upon people to see her for her womanhood in her Ain’t I a Woman? Speech. Phyllis Wheatley wrote on her experiences when prestigious men turned their attention from her. Claudette Colvin and Rosa Parks resisted giving their seats on the bus. Angela Davis did not stand down in her political fight. See my point? Black women have resisted the patriarchy for themselves and other women in the margins, standing in solidarity. 

Feminism is being more inclusive. There is still more work to be done. The inclusion of Black women’s rage would not only add to the inclusivity but further the work. How? It would mean standing in solidarity with Black women and their rage. We listen to the stories of rage towards the patriarchy. When we include the voices of Black women, we include their stories of hope and resistance to the patriarchy. If we want to achieve equity for women, we cannot leave out the stories of women who are left in the shadows. Calling upon equity means calling upon all women to resist. 

*A title inspired by Sojourner Truth’s 1851 speech (Ain’t I a Woman?) delivered at the Woman’s Conference in Akron, Ohio. 

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