Response to McGuire

Dear Ms. McGuire,

Words cannot describe my reaction to your exposé on the hidden history of the sexual violation of black women by white men.

I am horrified.

I am disgusted.

I am disappointed.

There were literally points in the writing where I thought I could not physically keep reading this because I could not stomach anymore. However, I kept reading. I kept reading because I felt that it was my responsible to know; to become more aware of how far society has come from even 70 years--less than a century--ago, to become more aware of what people like me--Black American women--have had to deal with by living here.

It is the hidden secrets of our nation’s past like this, the epidemic of sexually assaulted black women, that need to be acknowledged and for which atoned. When we think and talk about women being sexually assaulted by men, it is the suppression of information like this that makes too many people automatically assume the discussion is about the victimization of some white middle-class girl.

When I heard about the recent rape case involving Stanford students, I immediately assumed the girl was white. Why? Because those are who society has manipulated the general public into thinking are the only ones facing this issue when involving white men. And when we hear that a black woman has been raped, many of us automatically assume it was by a black man, because why on Earth would a white man rape a black girl. *sarcasm* God forbid such a thing. I think it’s hard enough for the general public to truly accept interracial relationships between black women and white men as normal, rather than an anomaly. The thought of a white man raping a black woman, is just not readily accepted in the general public’s perception.

I am honestly saddened and horrified by this article, and by that I mean it--and you--are amazing for bringing this to light.

Sincerely,

Ruthie Lewis

Respectability in the Fight for Rights

Dear Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.,

Claudette Colvin. Nine months prior to Rosa Park’s arrest for refusing to give up her bus seat, an empowered 15-year-old delivered her refusal. Yet, we don’t know her name. At least, I didn’t until this past summer when I visited the Center for Civil and Human Rights in Atlanta. Upon a wall with a collage of photos of Rosa Parks and other key figures in the Montgomery Bus Boycotts, was a small black plaque depicting Colvin and her story. I was shocked as I (squinted and) read how Colvin’s case, similar to Parks’ in refusing to comply with a white bus driver, was swept under the rug. Why? Colvin was from a lower-class family, dark skinned, too young, and months after the bus incident became pregnant. Civil Rights leaders, as McGuire points out, perpetuated the “culture of dissemblance:” faced by black women and engaged in “respectability politics” and decided Colvin was “not fit” to be the face of a campaign that would later spark bus boycotts throughout the South. Colvin would not be fit. Her morals and background were questionable.

Months later, a light-skinned middle aged woman, also a family friend of the Colvin’s, makes headlines. Now, we have found the perfect face for a movement! As you put it, Dr. King, “[no one] can doubt… [Parks’] character...or the depth of her Christian commitment.” It’s great that of all people the bus driver tried, it as Rosa, right? Wrong. Women, young and old, even before Colvin, refused their seats, but were deemed “unfit” to carry a movement. Learning of Colvin’s story opened my eyes to even more of the strategy and politics within Civil Rights Movement. Who deserves to be the face of revolution, of justice, when all face hardship? I understand that clean appearances and strategy are key when appealing to the oppressor, but when can we reach a point when injustice upon an “unfit” person is just as much of an injustice upon someone who is deemed respectable and pure? Will we ever acknowledge injustice as injustice no matter who it is brought upon?

 
Sincerely,

Sydney

Dear Ms. Owens,

I read your story, as explained by Danielle McGuire. I am so sorry for what happened to you. How you responded with courage and composure is incredible. I don't know if I would have had the strength to do the same. I know from my own experience that having to retell a story so traumatic is difficult, to say the least. Plus, you were cross-examined and attacked in so many ways. It must have took immense strength to persevere through the whole process, and I hope you felt at least some satisfaction when they were convicted, especially after how flippantly they treated the charges. Do you think you would have testified if there was not mass outrage and mass support? I can of course understand if you wouldn't have wanted to.

I was also wondering if you experienced backlash after the trial was over. I read that one of your attackers got out of prison after only six years and then four years after that, murdered a Black woman he thought was you. That must have been terrifying for you. Did you experience other threats or attacks, or did you feel relatively supported and protected by the mass support you received? If you had to do everything over again, would you do it the same way?

Finally, I was wondering if you had any advice of how to use your experiences to inform the ways we fight for justice today. Similar to in your day, police lynchings of Black men are much more publicised than violence against Black women, sexual or otherwise. How can we bring Black women and their stories to the forefront of the struggle, especially given the culture of dissemblance and the lack of mass knowledge about what happens. Please let me know if you have any thoughts about my questions or anything else. I really want to learn from you and bring your story and courage to the movement today.

Best,
Emily

Conflicted

Dear Ella Baker,

They raped her not once not twice but seven times. They slapped her and forced her to her knees. She felt the knife pressed to her throat and she felt them turn her into a tool for their own pleasure.They didn't rape her because she was promiscuous but because she was a black women. They raped her to proved their white supremacy. They raped her like she wasn't a human but someone they own. Her name was Betty Jean Owens. Her experience was not just a special but it was one faced by many African-American women then and now. I know one of your most famous quotes was that in  order for poor oppressed people to become a part of society in a meaningful way they must first think radically and change their current system but sometimes I wonder if that way of thinking is to late. I mean like today and before many African-American women started to speak out about this experience of being rape by the white men and even though it did make some progress it did not seem to do much because of deep the culture of dissemblance is within our society. Our silence before allowed for a whole world to ignore our struggles and seemed to silence every Black women in society in some form of way even when we attempt to speak out on these injustices. To me it just seems like there is no hope in a making a huge change for our gender and race unless this history is not only rediscover but talked about to the point where it no longer for African-American women to hide their rapes or sexuality today. I also do not know how I can make that change or the steps. I wish you around today to help with the taking of the steps but I also know that the foundation you have laid out so far for my generation is strong enough that with time we will figure out the right the method to make this change.

A conflicted student,

Tamara 

Letter to Danielle McGuire

Dear Danielle McGuire,

I found your essay interesting and informative, but also, of course, deeply disturbing. Your thorough examination of sexual violence against Black women is vitally important, but this doesn’t make it any more difficult to read.

I was particularly interested in your point that white men’s concern about rape was (is?) nothing but a political tool. White men only cared about protecting white women from rape to the extent that their care helped uphold their social power through white supremacy. They did not care about sexual violence against women of color, particularly Black women. Significantly, they did not care about sexual violence perpetrated by white men against white women. Only sexual violence by men of color (particularly Black men) against white women led to any amount of concern or protection for rape victims. Sexual violence against women of all races is a prevalent and gravely serious issue, and when white men use sexual violence against white women as an excuse to uphold white supremacy, it trivializes this problem.

This is clearly still an issue – whether or not rape victims are “believed” still depends heavily on whether or not it is politically or personally expedient for white men to believe them. And I see a similarly offensive strategy used by conservatives who want to restrict bathroom access to transgender individuals. Once again, sexual assault against women (almost always inherently framed as “nice white ladies”) is used as a tool to restrict the rights of a marginalized group. These same men do not seem to care about sexual assault against, say, trans individuals. When the idea of rape is used as a political tool against minority and marginalized groups, it delegitimizes an extremely serious issue. Until concern about sexual violence crosses racial, class, and gender lines, the fight against assault will be at best skin deep and at worst a tool of oppression.

Thank you for your perspective!

Sincerely,

Molly Culhane

A letter to Mrs. Kellor from a black prostitute

Police me? Institutionalize me? Narrow my educational opportunities to what you think is right? I know that your pedestal allows you to sit high and mighty above my troubles and spit contempt and judgement my way but how, how Mrs. Kellor, are you so damned out of touch? Do you think that I want all the men and the incessant groping and prodding of their grimy hands? If only you knew. If only you knew how I battle through the sweat-drenched night terrors and how I scald my skin with a cocktail of boiling water and brine soap hoping to feel clean again. I am not lazy, I am not a sex-crazed fiend. What I do is the hardest job I will ever do. Waking up day after wretched day, that takes persistence, determination, and grit. Oh! Give me a plow, give me hours of back-breaking scrubbing and toil, give me anything but this life! I've searched high and low but job offerings seem to vanish as soon as a "woman of my background" comes to call. Everywhere I turn, doors slam in my face with a jarring crack. The alley is the only place through which I can tread and tread through it I must. I need the roof over my head, the food in my belly, and the shoes on my feet. I have family depending on me, I cannot let them down. Each morning as the sun rises, I wipe away the dried salt from my cheeks and grit my teeth to face the day. If only you knew, Mrs. Kellor. If only you knew.

6 Tips for Survival for Girls with "Negro Blood"

1. Never say the f word
2. If you do the f word, never admit that you do the f word
3. When you get called “fast-tailed” or “fresh” smile and deny it
4. Don’t dance in front of the church folks
5. Work hard and never admit you do anything else
6. Smile when the old men tell you to smile