Coming into our own: the story of modern black (female) activism

Hayley Headley

Between the emergence of cancel-culture and the well-intentioned liberal, racism has had to get real quiet. It’s had to abandon its outdated and outspoken nature from the 60s and seep into the fabric of modern polite society. Today, racism can look like your white friend who cares about ‘the issues,’ but doesn't want to make too many people uncomfortable.

The most insidious form of covert racism is the ‘angry black woman’ trope. Since the era of slavery, black women were mythologised as violent, overtly sexual and loud. Throughout the years, this stereotype has continued to be perpetuated through different mediums such as film and literature, all deeming black women to be sassy, impolite, and always angry. From television to real life, this trope has shoved black women into the background for decades.

Today, however, the ‘angry black woman’ stereotype is different - it’s so subtle, almost imperceptible. It culminates in the everyday actions, the unspoken, the unbreakable barely-there rules.

We live in a society that not only demonises the anger of black women, but their expression of that anger both in the real and virtual world. We all have this image of anger so readily preprogrammed in our minds, so thoroughly embedded into our collective consciousness. The image of a woman with melanated skin, red undertones in her cheeks, fists clutching a switch or a belt, flailing as she angrily gesticulates. It's a caricature, but for many black women this is an all too real problem, especially when our activism relies on crucial, nuanced expressions of anger to create real change.

We live in a society that not only demonises the anger of black women, but their expression of that anger both in the real and virtual world.

This stereotype isn’t always so always overt. It looks like Shirley from Community, who isn’t fuming constantly, but her anger is shown as severe and swift. Abed even predicts her frustrations, biting sass and trademark tonal shifts. The signalling is subtle, subliminal, but it reinforces that not only does a black woman’s anger command fear and the odd form of respect that often accompanies it, but it is erratic and frenzied in nature.

Sometimes she is too relegated to her image. She only gets to be angry, like Cookie in Empire. She is two-faced, disingenuous and calculating. Her family sees her in the same way the audience does: almost constantly, angry, rude and petty. All too often, this is the representation of successful black women we see being spread on social media.

Not even to speak of the ‘ghetto angry black girl,’ with broken English and the overbearing accent, adorned in cheap golden hoops and cut-off shorts. This is the type of girl we should never sympathise with - no, she has never been worthy of our pity. She is either too sexual or too angry, like Candice in Chewing Gum. These characters don't get to be just characters, normal people who just happen to be black. We don’t get Monica or Rachel, characters that are fun and light-hearted. Our characters directly reflect how society sees us.

Art: ‘PREVAIL’, by Michelle Robinson (@mister_michelle)

Over the past month, we have found ourselves in the midst of an almost unprecedented social revolution: in-person demonstrations in Louisville continued for 45 consecutive days, and further so-called virtual protests have emerged. After the brutal murder of George Floyd, the dam of latent fury broke. It started with posts and petitions, but soon reached the streets. All over the world, people came together to recognise what black people have always known - that the world is failing us.

Historically, we couldn’t be at the forefront of the slave revolt. We couldn’t stand up during the rise of Rastafarianism, with dreadlocks and dissatisfaction painted on our faces. We couldn’t stand out on the streets in protests, fierce and unforgiving, demanding our civil rights. We had to be strong and silent, in the background of the revolution.

Now, organising this movement are a myriad of black women, that are speaking out despite the danger and risk because they’ve had enough. Major news outlets have featured black women at the forefront of this new wave of activism, such as Alicia Garza or Patricia Coullers. While we all rally behind the deaths of a few like Breonna Taylor and Ahmaud Arbery on social media, there are hundreds more whose names never got to be hashtags.

How many like Her have died, all because they were too vocal on Twitter or too prominent at protests?

All of this coverage begs the question of how many Oluwatoyin Salau’s there were. How many like her have died, all because they were too vocal on Twitter or too prominent at protests? What a burden it is to think of all of these lives and voices that have been laid out in hopes of change - voices and lives that have all been overlooked and underrepresented.

To put it bluntly, the ‘angry black woman’ is a severe misrepresentation that impacts us on an everyday level, beyond what we see on television. Because the image of black female activism is all too often solely represented by the extreme: strong women dressed all in black standing up to the police and dogs and water hoses. But usually, it's just a girl in the middle of her all non-black friend group, or one woman in her workplace trying to speak up.

At the end of the day, we all look the same to our peers, to the unforgiving eye of a society that seeks to disregard us. We are all just another ‘angry black woman,’ no matter our where we come from or how ‘good’ our lives were, we have all heard:

"This just isn't the place to talk about this."

"Honestly it's so exhausting to talk to you when you get like this."

"Yeah, but could you not only talk about this."

It's after years of trying to not be a stereotype that you start to second guess yourself, bite your tongue, look away. Hold back tears and remain wilfully ignorant. You laugh at the jokes, and nod along as they denounce that image of a woman who is all too familiar. You even smile at their praises when they call you a ‘good one,’ when they assure you they see you as one of them, when they cling to colour blindness in their hopes to wash you white. You accept it all in hopes that one day you will be in a position to listen to, and empower, the next black woman that will secede you.

This stereotype, and all the frustration that has come with it, pushes us to the sidelines, because it's easier - more lucrative even, to stay quiet and play the game. In the midst of all this radical change and civil unrest, there emerges and nearly unstoppable force. Black women are relearning how to reclaim their voice, in all their justified, effervescent fury.

I am angry - we all are. We have no other option, and while our anger is part of our activism, it doesn’t define our identity. Today, black women have stopped hiding away their frustrations out of fear of rejection. We have realised that our anger doesn’t determine who we get to be outside of our activism. Moreover, we understand that the anger we feel is central to the change we are trying to create. Everyday, more and more black women choose to stay angry, to stop code-switching for a white audience, and to be authentic and visible in their anger.

Black women are relearning how to reclaim their voice, in all their justified, effervescent fury.

I no longer see my black friends just responding to the stories and liking the Instagram posts, now they put their names beside it. They are reposting, commenting and arguing vehemently against the ignorance in their DMs. As a black woman myself, it is nothing short of electrifying.

The trope has silenced and oppressed us for so long is finally losing its power. A new generation of activists have thrown out the rule book and abandoned all convention. They no longer hold themselves to the oppressors standards or seek out their approval. They make the movement more aware, now than ever before, that the polite and kind liberal world owes us more than their 'allyship.’

We can’t simply ask for what they never wanted to give us. We must take it from them with the same fury they have shunned us for.

People-3jfa28 July 2020FeaturedComment