I walked into my Rhetorical Theory class on a Tuesday afternoon and was eager for the lecture, as this course would help me decide my intended major. I sat next to my friend and he looked at my attire, was shocked, and he leans over and says to me, “You know people are going to think you’re f*cking a football player because of what you’re wearing.” I frowned and looked down at the oversized sweatshirt adorned with a spider, my university’s mascot, and the word ‘football’. I mentally facepalmed myself and realized that he was right. People ARE going to think I f*cked a football player. After I left the class, I can sense the eyes on me as I walked around campus. I just knew that people were judging me and making presumptions about me that weren’t true. Being the black woman rhetor that I am, I decided to analyze this and ask myself some questions.
The first question was, “do I even care what others think?”, and while I would so much like to say “no” the answer was a hesitant “yes”. I have anxiety and with my anxiety comes the constant desire of wanting everyone’s approval. The second question I asked myself is “why do I care what others think?”. This question is a loaded one, but, having experience with anxiety, it’s a little easier to understand. As a first year university student, first impressions are everything because how people see you your first year in college could shape your reputation for the next four years. The third question I asked myself is the most important and is the premise of this conversation, “why would they think that about me just because I’m wearing a sweatshirt?”. My first few answers to this question were ones that stemmed from the gender that I identify with, which is a woman. I instantly believed that I was being objectified because of my gender; however, I failed to take into account the analytic framework of intersectionality, a term coined by Kimberlé Crenshaw in 1989. Not only am I a woman but a black woman. In the words of Malcolm X, “black women are the most disrespected woman, the most unprotected person, and the most neglected person” (Who Taught you to Hate Yourself?). For years, black women have been used and abused and rarely anyone has taken a stand for them or protected them in any way. Sexual violence against black women doesn’t begin with what we’re wearing, but it begins with who we are and what are bodies represent. Our bodies are not our own, they have been used by others who fail to value us and we are just beginning to learn how to claim our bodies back.
I had to recognize that the football sweatshirt was more than a sweatshirt; it was a symbol of the white patriarchal dominated America clasping its chains to the stigmas and stereotypes of my sexuality. That sweatshirt is also a symbol of the hypersexualization of the black male body and the exploitation of their athletic abilities that serve the University. I had placed all of those burdens onto myself by placing the sweatshirt onto my already disrespected body. To the public eye, I was having sexual relations with a football player and that was the only explanation. Friendships, platonic relationships, or simply obtaining the sweatshirt from an equipment manager because he had extras, were options that weren’t obtainable for someone like me. But who am I? I’m a black woman bound by the assumptions made from others because of how my body looks. I don’t have the ability to be pure because my body has been seen as a vehicle for the pleasure of men. I’m a black girl who isn’t capable of being sexually assaulted at six years old because I’m “fast” and have a switch in my walk. My value is placed into what I can do for others instead of being placed into who I am.
I am valued for my writing style that is equal part emotion and facts. It is spoken word that is always spoken loud and unapologetic but sometimes spoken with caution hoping not to offend. However, this study will be spoken loudly and unapologetically. It WILL offend and I hope it does. With this study, I will underscore the problem of hypersexuality and misogynoir that plagues black women and in result, I hope to dismantle not only the oppressive practices but oppressive ideologies that perpetuate the disrespect and neglect of black women. I am using my body as a sight of rebellion and resistance in order to highlight the mistreatment of the bodies of black women. I understand the stress I am putting myself through but I’ve been through worse.
This writing is performative as much as it is persuasive. Tressie McMillan Cottom claims in her book THICK, “At every turn, black women have been categorically excluded from being expert performers of persuasive speech acts in the public that adjudicates our humanity”. I am a black woman rhetor. Simple. Although I have been categorically excluded from the conversation does not mean I will stop writing. I will NEVER stop writing. I will write until my hands hurt, until my pen runs out of ink, and until my dying days. I will be heard whether you like it or not.
Post a Comment