White Men Shall Prevail

We are taught to fear black men.

They are barbaric. Violent. Savages. Ignorant. Just taking up space.

We are taught to disrespect black women.

They can handle it. They’re basically asking for it. Promiscuous beings. Don’t deserve to be called “ladies”.

We are taught to love white women.

Such angelic creatures. Caring for everyone. So innocent. So dainty. The beloved housewives of America.

We are taught to idolize white men.

Powerful. Geniuses. We need them to survive. Without them, where would America be?

Honestly,

Without white men, justice would probably exist.

See,

Justice does not exist. The system was to created to help them prevail, with a nice white lady by their side. The system was created for black men to never be able to touch white man’s power; they are feared, and their women disrespected.

White men push for their race to be the superior. And when issues are brought up against them, these issues get flipped around to become a political issue that reinforces how white men are protecting our country and black people, particularly black men, are here to destroy it.

So when a white man rapes a white woman: “justice” is served. This is an individualized case, with individualized circumstances, with individualized consequences, disguised as a way to prove that justice is fair and exists.

So that when a black man “rapes” a white woman: all hell can break loose. Black men can easily be painted as these big scary animals out to pray on the angelic white woman. White men make sure this case does not go unnoticed, because white men will not allow their power to be stripped from them. Because no one will accept someone (a black man, the only sensible creature, to a white man, that could probably challenge his dominance) into a position of power if he is seen as a predator. White men prevail.

And when a white man rapes a black woman: nothing. The only thing that comes out of this is the saying “boys will be boys” … as if this situation is natural. They paint the picture that black woman cannot be raped. She asks for it, because white men are powerful. And what promiscuous women wouldn't love attention from a powerful man? These cases are not heard. They are not accepted. And justice is not served. White men forcing their dominance in probably the most dehumanizing way: stripping someone of the control of their own body.

Concerns About Modern Student Activism for Ms. Ella Baker

Dear Ms. Ella Baker,

First I want to say to thank you, of course. Thank you for everything, for your devotion to freedom and justice and change. You helped make the life I live possible and I only hope our generation will prove that your fight was worth it. A million thank you letters would not be enough, but this is not a thank you letter. Reading about all of your thoughtful and impassioned work within the student movement for civil rights and justice was impressive and inspiring. When learning about organizations like SNCC I never realized how much labor went into just the creation of the group, before it could even begin taking action. I appreciate the care you took in fostering and mentoring activism in the student community. You gave students agency instead of just using them as bodies for the movement. When studying various protest movements in the 50s-70s I am struck by how much impact students had. And now that I am a college student myself I really feel just how much power we have. I can see my generation coming to the forefront of the national conversation, I see our ideas and values being represented and taken seriously. But things now are a lot different than your work with student groups in the 50s and 60s. Information is shared differently.  Just as television helped to bring the violence of protests into people's homes in the 60s, the internet can make a single event known throughout the country in just a few hours. However, we have become bombarded by news and media in our lives- we are never far removed from it and have become desensitized in some ways. People will share social justice articles they have not read, call that activism, and feel they have done their part. With Trump in office "activism" has become popular, teen magazines are offering advice on how to "dismantle the patriarchy." On the one hand this is great, but it also seems to be leading to a more soft or passive activism. If we engage in political dissent within the confines of the system, we are still feeding into that system. We cannot stop at Huffington Post articles shared amongst each other and self congratulatory pats on the back. We need to use the internet and social media to harness our power, particularly the power of young people. But how? The mobilization and effectiveness of student organizations during your time was so successful in part because it was so unprecedented, there was nothing like it before. But now our government, the media and corporations have caught up, they understand activism and how to keep it safe, ineffectual, and in our homes. I think the struggle of our generation will be finding new and innovative ways to subvert the power structure and challenge authority while not buying into the tactics they have learned to appease us. It is our time now, but if you have any suggestions they would be most welcome.

With love and in solidarity,
Gianna

To My Young Activists

To My Young Activists:

I know the charisma surrounding a leader like Dr. King is powerful--his eloquent speech, his ability to captivate and enchant. But you must not let his power strip you of yours. He may have the power of the pen and the press, but you have the power of experience.

I repeat: you have the power of experience. You also have the fresh perspective and youthful idealism that we need. You know your communities thoroughly. You have connections to the people. You know better than any outside leader the woven fibers that compile the complex quilt of your communities--the subtleties and motivations of that fabric. In your fight for justice, you must not underestimate the potential of the seemingly poorest, for they may have the greatest wealth.

It's much too easy to fall into the trap of praying for a messiah indefinitely, all the while time slips through your fingers--fingers that could have been taking meaningful strides at change.
Look at the Fayette County Civic and Welfare League--a group that emerged from the trenches of poverty and injustice. Yet in their steadfast determination and unity, they have triumphed.

I urge you to persevere and not let your age or "status" discourage you. Persevere in your potential, your determination, your strength, and in your leadership.

Sincerely,
Ella Baker

Response to Emily Guthrie's post

Dear Emily,

Your words mean so much me. Although my rape happened almost sixty years ago, it breaks my heart to know that black women are still victims of sexual assault at the hands of police officers and other men, in positions of power and otherwise. However, it was the necessity to create a language for the psychological terrorism white men have afflicted upon black women since we were brought to this country that gave me the courage to testify in the first place. Had I not done so, I fear that this violence would continue to go unrecognized by society at large.

I like to think that I still would have testified even if there had not been a massive outrage supporting me, but I honestly am not sure. Back then, we did not have the understanding your generation does of "re-traumatization" during the cross examination process for sexual assault cases. I often broke down back home with my family or all alone late at night, when the emotional barrier I was able to keep up during the trial shattered. I had the same experience when I heard about that poor woman's murder, and my recurring nightmares came back full force. The mass outrage that I had during the trial had dissipated at that point, which made this point in my life especially difficult. However, I did find moral support in the other black woman and black femme activists I surrounded myself with, who reaffirmed the inherent value of my life.

As far as advice goes, I believe the movement for justice for black women is already in good hands. I was moved to tears the first time I heard about #SayHerName. And that encapsulates so much of how I would answer your question: never forget about black women and the fullness of our humanity.

Sincerely,
Betty Jean Owens

Views from the Balcony

Anybody who saw her could tell she'd been dragged through hell and back. Even from the balcony I couldn't miss the tremble in every limb as she approached the witness stand. When she opened her mouth to state her name for the record, the cadence of her voice carried an unmistakably profound sense of pain and fear. I wanted so badly to hold her shaking hands in mine and tell her she was safe now, that what happened wasn't her fault, that justice would prevail in the face of institutionalized white supremacy.

I have never felt at the same time such intense pride and acute fury as I did during the cross examination of Betty Jean Owens. She remained unbelievably composed under circumstances that would have driven even the most serene women I know into complete hysteria. The questions posed by the defense counsel were illogical at best and unapologetically malicious at worst. These white men are so deluded by their own sense of self-importance that the notion of a nigger woman wanting nothing to do with them is inconceivable.

"Didn't you derive any pleasure from that? Didn't you?" I wanted to reach my bony black fingers into the mouth that spoke these disgusting words and rip Hopkins' tongue from his mouth so as to eliminate the prospect of him ever again uttering such a distasteful sentiment.

What exactly is "that" from which she would have derived pleasure? From being forced at gunpoint to allow these animals entry into her beautiful, black temple of a body? From having a knife held to her throat as she was mercilessly ravaged by one pathetic excuse for a man after another? From being slapped and pushed? Used and discarded as if she were a piece of lifeless flesh rather than a human being?

Never have I realized the extent and depth of racial animosity in the United States as I have in this courtroom today. I cannot imagine the riots that would follow this attempt to protect the interests of self-described assailants had they been negro men. White southerners would burn America as we know it into the ground, which, now that I think about it, may not be such a bad thing.

A Letter from Edna to Betty

Dear Betty,

Why didn't you run that night! Oh how I wished you would have run.

Not a day has gone by where I didn't feel guilty about leaving you there with those white boys that night. It's just, I couldn't allow my body to become a vehicle for continual oppression by the white man. So, when I got the opportunity to run, to run for my virtue, my voice, and my right to exist as a black woman, I ran!

Yet, my sister, I recognize that you didn't have that opportunity. You stood there with a knife to your throat, caught in the clutches of a centuries old war between us and them. After I ran, I didn't know what had become of you. I didn't know whether you were dead or not. All I knew was that the Betty I had ran away from would never be the same Betty again.

And I was right. When we found you, you were bruised, broken and violated. You had been through one of the worst crimes imaginable; yet you had something different than some of our sisters, aunts, mothers, and grandmothers who came before us. You had a fire to break the culture that tries to quell our voice and invalidate us as sexually impure and provocative creatures without dignity.

As I write this letter to you, I don't mean to remind you of the pain you experienced, but I want to tell you how much I admire your strength. From your resilient stance on the witness stand against the attempts to invalidate your character to your mission you break the counterproductive and stifling politics that come from both inside and outside of our community, you represent all that I want future black women to be.

Even though I ran away then, I will never run away from the cause and story that you represent. I will not allow your suffering to become a tool in the argument between white and black patriarchy. I, along with all of my fellow black brothers and sisters, will support you to ensure that you as well as our entire community receives justice.

Love,
Edna

Betty's LIfe

“Go out and get a nigger girl,” is what they said that Friday night. 

“Are you going to believe this nigger wench over these four boys?,” the defense lawyer said in court. 

“You must remember it wasn’t just one Negro girl that was raped—it was all of Negro womanhood in the South,” they petitioned on a national stage.

“It could have been YOUR sister, wife, or mother,” they especially said to the men. 

“Just happy that the jury upheld my daughter’s womanhood,” said momma when the beginning was over.  

***

That night my sister Betty had just had the time of her life.

She looked like a dream in her gold and white, a black beauty like all black beauties that fateful night. She was a college girl representing the family at Florida’s A&M University. Momma taught her how to look presentable, talk sharp, and act like somebody raised her for the world to see.

She might have had a crush or two, I don’t know, she would never tell me. All I know is that she was my big sister, and she was everything I was supposed to be. 

She was smart, liked jokes, loved to dance, and could put you in your place if you got out of line. She got in trouble from time to time for talking to boys, but she never missed Sunday school. She was complicated, full, and my sister.

When those men tried to steal her soul by invading her body that night, I wanted to extinguish them myself. I wanted to show them my rage and their inferiority. I wanted to slice their eyes, and drown the devil out of them. They hurt my sister in a way I will never know, and I wanted to bring pain to their dead lives. 

For Betty.

For Betty’s smile, for Betty’s laugh, for Betty’s lips, for Betty’s chest, for Betty’s thighs, for Betty’s back, for Betty’s entire being.

She existed fully before that night, and it is my hope that she may exist fully after.

***

Some wept for Betty with me. Some wanted to fight for Betty. Some wanted revenge for every Black woman on this soil who had ever been raped, dehumanized, or degraded.  We could see the intimate violence that has declared war on the Black woman’s body. Some of us know it too well.

When the terrible happened, many people came to Betty’s defense. They claimed it was as if they all had been raped, men and women alike. They shouted that Betty’s womanhood should be protected and upheld, just as white womanhood was.

But some just wanted her recognition solely because it was tied to our brothers, fathers, uncles. Said this was an attack on the Black man. My sister became a political symbol as the world watched on. She was the middle-class, respectable, college-educated Black woman whose virginity was stolen by aberrant or standard “white devils.” For some, she became collateral in this fight between patriarchies, and was defended because she was worth saving.