“My skin is black
My arms are long
My hair is woolly
My back is strong
Strong enough to take the pain
inflicted again and again
What do they call me
My name is AUNT SARAH”, (or rather, Nokwanda)
When it comes to narrating the struggles and pain of women, no one makes me resonate more with them than Nina Simone. In her song ‘Four Women’, she draws on four types of African American women (particularly based on their stereotypes) and sings about each of their experiences. Yet, although they may differ in some aspects, what all these women share in common are the brutal acts of violence and oppression they face.
Because of ‘Intersectionality’, as coined by Kimberly Crenshaw, I am not allowed the luxury to separate my gender identity from my race. Every part of my being screams ‘woman’ and every part of my being screams ‘black’. My very existence is a political statement. Thus, even in this piece, as personal as I want it to be, it will reflect the thoughts and feelings of a black woman.
Being born a black woman, I was born into oppression, violence and trauma. Before experiencing my own, I inherited the oppression of the women who came before me. From birth I was groomed to be able to withstand the brutality, oppression and violence the women before me endured so as to be able to handle my own when the time came; almost as though it was a warped rite of passage into womanhood.
No amount of preparation, teachings and advice can prepare you for it though; the first time and every other time after that when you experience continuous oppression and violence. It’s as though you’re in a never-ending Hitchcock horror movie, forever living in fear and suspense.
It’s everywhere. In our homes, workspaces, places of worship and places of leisure. You cannot escape it.
“My skin is brown
My manner is tough
I’ll kill the first mother I see
My life has been rough
I’m awfully bitter these days…”
I’m bitter, I’m angry and I am scared. 16 Days of activism? More like 23 years of activism for me. As a woman living in South Africa, every day is a day of activism. Every day I am oppressed, violated or harmed.
More needs to be done, and this “more” cannot come from the victims. You cannot possibly expect women to come up with solutions to problems we did not create. Let the perpetrators speak up. Let them write articles. Let them hold workshops and talks. Let them be held accountable.
In the meantime, as Nina Simone said and did, I’m going to “break down and let it all out”, for “I don’t want to die with my hands up or legs open”-Koleka Putuma.
