Friday, October 28, 2016


The article below is an ancient review about a movie that's now ancient by some standards.

I bring it to you now because
it comes shows feminism in its truest complicated and loving form; because it tells a smidgen of the story of a naturally acquired black feminism and black female history; and because it's written in a Joan Morgan style, in that the author, 
Heidi Lewis asks herself, like Joan Morgan herself in the short book, "When Chickenheads Come Home to Roost: A Hip-Hop Feminist Breaks It Down
  • “Can you be a feminist and admit out loud that there are things you kinda dig about patriarchy?” 

Feeling Rebloggy

I remember reading [Joan Morgan's] book for the first time almost 15 years ago, and it’s still comforting to be reminded that I’m not alone. 

I’m a young black woman in America.  It ain’t often that I get to watch films on the big screen that feature a black man trying to come rescue my ass. 

Yes, brotha—come GET me!

I think I feel this way, in part, because my black feminist foremothers taught me that the black superwoman myth often hurt us more than it helps.  In “Black Man, My Man Listen!,” Gail Stokes writes, “You are dependent, very dependent, upon my proddings, my ideas, my dreams, and at first I am glad that you need me so.  I eagerly and happily feed you from the plate of motivation knowing that it is difficult for you to help yourself. But, then at times you cause my arms to grow weary as I work harder straining myself in order to build you up.”  Yes, brotha—come get ME! 

In Ain’t I a Woman?: Black Women and Feminism, bell hooks writes, “Most black women have not had the opportunity to indulge in the parasitic dependence upon the male that is expected of females and encouraged in patriarchal society […]

The social equality that characterized black sex role patterns in the work sphere under slavery did not create a situation that allowed black women to be passive.”  Yes, brotha—come get ME!

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