The Black Feminist Vulnerability

In a world where you are told nothing is yours, and all that once was yours was stripped and taken from you, a method of expression that gains back the lost feeling of possession is through African American art. This mega genre is about inclusion, reconstruction, articulation, determination, and the need to create conversation over social and political issues within the black experience in America. As said by Alain Locke, “The American Negro has an emotional temper, a sensitive artistic mind which is the result of “his peculiar experience in America and the emotional upheaval of its trails and ordeals” (254). The taxing journey of enslaved African people throughout this institution was something that couldn’t be expressed safely in any other way that wouldn’t retaliate in physical and emotional traumatic exploitation. African American art is a way for black people to bridge themselves to the indigenous structure of art from their descendants. It was a way to reconnect and build themselves back to their lineage. These efforts were highly reinforced in the community due to them stemming from a past where their ancestors, with each generation, would gradually lose touch of their culture since heavy restrictions were placed on what wasn’t acceptable. These rules defied any consideration of their religions, different cultures and customs; their way of life. Purposefully, white men would have African slaves from different tribes and ethnic groups be separated and mixed together to inhibit communication. It weakened them to be around no one that understood them. Therefore, these emotions that I notice to be passed down in every lineage, there was clearly a lot to pour into their art once it started to take off by the likes of early artists like Edmonia Lewis and Henry Tanner. 

From the abolition of slavery, African American Art became a response to events that came afterwards like the Great Migration, Harlem Renaisaance, and the Jim Crow era to name a few. They also spotlighted shared experiences of discrimination, segregation, and oppression. Under African American art are subgenres that were already established in the art world. They experimented in realism, cubism, classical art, and Black feminism to name a few. But this was to show off capability, displaying that black artists can contribute to the same categories as white artists have done for centuries. It was the conscious separation from the “primitive” expectations that were placed on them and anything they’d pursue.

I use the term “African American” instead of “Black” because I’m only highlighting the history and expedition of black people in America through their art. However, I will say that this label would assign “varying degrees of marginality or invisibility, while their white counterparts have remained unencumbered by such pathologies. (Chambers, xxiii)”. Though it feels exclusive to one group, black Americans, it highlights the atrocities of their particular history of a country that was vainly built on their backs. This isn’t to exclude other diasporas within the black race from African peoples, or Afro-Caribbean and Afro-Hispanic people. I do agree with using “Black art” to umbrella the artistic contributions from people in these demographics that lie outside of the American experience, so that the pattern of exclusion isn’t continued within something made for and by black people.

I chose 5 works of art and a location I’d display them in my home. This wasn’t a simple task because nowhere in my home has a fancy aesthetic that’s worthy of fictitiously showcasing them. However, I settled on a choice that has the correct representation for the overarching theme. For this exhibition the setting is my room. It is heavily saturated with shades of the color pink. My walls, dresser, desk, bedding, lamp, and chairs all have an element of pink in it. I’ve spent my whole life in this space and I’ve grown not only physically but emotionally and mentally as well. It’s a safe haven where I’ve always felt protected, or at least tried to. It's also where a small moment occurred that changed my outlook on life. My room also used to be a computer room when I was around 9 years old. My mom’s friend was using the computer and she was in there too. I just finished showering and made the assumption he was in my mom’s room, so I ran to my room. He was there and my mom tried to cover me up quickly. His head was facing the screen but he quickly glanced at my lower region, as if he needed to see what it looked like. That experience made me very uncomfortable with my body. This was a time where my body was changing rapidly. I was ashamed of the parts of me that grabbed the most attention and always tried my best to hide it. Thereby, I had to push away the bad, in order to make this space somewhere where I can feel protected again. It needed to be a place where I could be all parts of myself with no restrictions of guilt, fear, and shame, and where only I controlled who I wanted to enter it. 

I wanted my exhibition to focus on femininity and pink’s meaning is entirely reflective of it. It speaks to society’s expectation of what women are, as this color is assigned to those who only possess a uterus. The kindness and softness of this color is something that weren’t seen as qualities black women possessed. They were typically seen as unsexed or as sexual objects, aggressive, unattractive women, with no striking attributes that were feminine. Additionally, there’s also a widespread opinion that black women look unflattering in pink lipsticks. They were completely alienated from this color through beauty standards and characteristics. So this exhibition is a redefining of this color that encompasses all of what black women are: strong, beautiful, intelligent, nurturing, compassionate, empathetic, tender, and hard working. 

A recent habit since the start of the pandemic was the desperate craving for a taste of anywhere but my room. I needed to get away and escape. After the first couple of winter months of the pandemic, I was miserable. I had to take my mom into consideration because she’s a nurse and her hospital transformed a lot of the departments for spaces to put COVID patients. The news of hearing so many people in the medical field who were on the frontlines dying just as quickly as their patients, had me very worried for my mother’s health and my own. The only access to freedom that was safe for myself and others, was by crawling through my window. This room has been mine for 17 years and I would frequently and longfully look outside my window in hopes that I could go outside with ease, but my gate was very hard to unlock and there was a mesh screen behind the glass that both prohibited me for a very long time from an experience I would’ve needed many times in my life, some fresh air. My deep appreciation for nature and the sky always lured me to my window. One of my highlights until this day is spotting the moon in all its glory, reaching its shine to meet me. 

As I often create metaphorical connections in life, I was tempted to make one of black femininity and my room. I could’ve easily chosen any of the walls in my room, but I’d rather this exhibition displayed on my window. The protective gate on the outside of it is very symbolic of a black woman’s emotional state. Our feelings may be transparent but it is guarded. Going through racial violence inflicts a pain like no other when you’re excluded out of society over something that’s out of your control. This takes a toll on the most vulnerable parts of one’s self to be exposed to that standard all the time. I wanted to bring attention to this conflicting inner battle that is essential to our survival. My window is the entrance to the soul. Looking at it from the outside, you wouldn’t expect my room to be so “girly” and comforting unless you choose to come through the window and see it for yourself. It's the same science as stereotypes. There’s always a surprise when people realize someone is different from the preconceived ideas they originally had of them. So this speaks to the hard exterior black women have been accused of having and the soft interior of their emotions they’d hide from the world. Ironically, for those who judge first, they never ask the question why or how it's got to be this way. On the left of my window are trophies from academic achievements and pageants I took part in along with a feathered pink lamp. There’s also a miniature sculpture my aunt made of a man behind a woman, both in a suggestive position. On the right is a large pink bag I’ve had since my childhood that has my name embroidered on the pocket flap, along with abstract art pieces on my wall that a friend of mine wanted to give to me. What ties everything together is the adorned pink feather boa around the circumference of my window and the pink butterflies above it. As a whole each part of my decor is flamboyant and proud. I’m secure in my sensuality, I like to show off my successes, and draw the right attention to myself. My confidence simply would not be possible if I wasn't proud of my blackness. I would have no ability to soar if I didn’t have that sense of security in who I am. 

To be fair, black feminism is still an ongoing fight. There’s still a pay gap between them and white men. The Insight Center for Economic and Community Investment noticed that from 2007, Black women earned only 64 cents per dollar earned by a white man. Black women experience an abnormal amount of sexual violence. According to the American Phychological Association, one in five black women are survivors of rape, more than 20 percent of black women are raped during their lifetimes — a higher share than among women overall, and black women also experience significantly higher rates of psychological abuse (humiliation, insults, name-calling and coercive control) than all of women do. Statistics from the Center for American Progress states, Black women are four times more likely to die from pregnancy-related causes than any other demographic of women. And the African American Policy Forum illuminates that the homicide rate among Black girls and women ages 10- 24 was higher than for any other group of females. And as human trafficking becomes more widespread, we are also vanishing at an alarming rate from kidnappings, approximately 64,000-75,000 black women and girls cannot be found. All of this puts into perspective that black women are still not protected. 

It feels as if progress has been stagnant from the 1970s when Black Feminism was established. We are still oversexualized, unrepresented, underappreciated, and ‘not human’ enough to live; these issues are so common that it’s become a rite of passage for a black woman. But Black Feminism is a reflection of the depravity of rights for their race and sex. It’s why art from the past that vocalizes who black women are in the truest light, must continue to circulate. It contains the same metaphors and themes that are applicable today. As our mortality rate increases and goes by being underdressed and unreported, we can’t let it affect us speaking up on things that need to be heard. Injustices that happen to us within our own community (in addition to this unfair institution of a society) have to be alerted to the masses and a revival, an amellioration has to take place. On a final note, I hope the exhibition takes you on an expedition of some of the relatable experiences for a black woman and why some of them contribute to them caging the softest part of themselves, for no singular smile is seen in these works. These experiences are:

1. Working hard to get her job done

2. Beautifying one’s self through self care

3. Sexual and racial violence

4. Becoming a mother, bearing fruit of labour

5. Becoming childless; the fruit that was taken away

William E. Scott The Turkey Market (The Rhythm, no date. Oil painting. Hattian Turkey Vendor), 1932, Oil.

I start off this exhibition with a snapshot of a busy Haitian Market. The first figure we approach within this painting is the black woman with a pipe casually hanging out her mouth as she professionally carries turkeys atop her head and in her arms. She has a nonchalant expression on her face which, including how she’s able to balance live turkeys on her head, speaks to how long she’s been doing this work for. Farther into the scene are two women approaching someone selling oranges. This all gives me the impression that women were very involved in working and convening at the market. I wanted to use this painting to convey a picturesque moment of a commonly underlooked maternal power, hard work. We did achieve to be the most educated group in America somehow. This is an attribute not really in line with stereotyped ideals commonly placed over them, therefore, it shatters the objectification that would attempt to point to each female figure in this work as a Jezebel. As much as it gives off a tiresome energy, the perseverance to do what has to be done is the underlying tone here.

Lorraine O’Grady Rivers, First Draft: The Woman in White eats coconut and looks away from the action 1982/2015 Digital chromogenic print from Kodachrome

This photograph is set in the woods. What’s out of place here is a seated woman and all that’s white within it. This woman is eating coconut (as the title suggests) at a white table, placed on a white rug, with a white tablecloth that has coconut pieces on it. The woman is in a white gown and is seated, with her legs crossed. She has on a headband and earrings that are both white as well. The only splash of color is red on her lips and nails. Lastly, there’s a wooden frame structure that looks like the outline of a house in which her presentation is placed inside of. Overall this photo emanates posh and poise energy and the want to carry that part of herself everywhere because it is who she is. Knowing a sense of Lorraine O’Grady’s background, I see her incorporation of her English and Caribbean lineage- Caribbean with the coconut, grater, and rural background, and English with the elegance I spoke of before. I wanted to use this piece due to its example of female subjectivity of how Lorraine sees herself and her identity combined with the aim to resist and reconstruct. It's of a woman that claims the space she is in, which is not only a daring, dangerous thing for a black woman but also very inspiring.

Guarded Conditions || Lorna Simpson || 1989 || 18 color Polaroid prints, 21 engraved plastic plaques, and plastic letters

Guarded Conditions show 6 women lined up in a loose white dress, arms held behind the back, and wearing black shoes with “skin attacks and sex attacks” repeated underneath. Each woman has 3 panels that have a 3rd of her body in it. Each body has a clenched left fist over the right hand which indicates that internally the woman is restraining something. It definitely is a sign of stress. However, there’s a slight dissonance and discordance with the alignment of the body. The arms seem lighter than the upper body which allude to mutilation, the disregard of it and the piecing of it back together for acceptable presentation. This line up replicates the visual that one would see on the auction block and for a woman in a hospital setting. In these two examples, black woman have witnessed violence because of their race and sex. I selected this photograph because it tells me that there are ways through body language where one unknowingly expresses the effects of traumatizing lacerations. This connects to the tough exterior I mentioned black women are stereotyped to have. 

Mother and Child (c. 1945) || Elizabeth Catlett || Terra cotta

This sculpture by Elizabeth Catlet is a black mother with her baby nestled in her bosom. Her gaze is claimed by her child which shows her pouring full attention into the baby.  She fully supports his comfort by having her feet positioned in a way where he can sink a little into the fabric of the mother’s dress. She is grounded. She also holds him with two hands. The beige of the terracotta creates a nurturing effect. When the shadows form in tiny pockets in this sculpture, it creates a blushing effect with a light coral hue. How she curves into him is protective, private, savoring. I chose this sculpture because it adds to the desire to display black people in a positive way. It focuses on motherhood and how that looks like with her baby, no one else’s. When you think of an image that has the “well-intent” for a subject like her before 1945, none comes to mind. But images of white babies suckling to the breasts or cradled in the arms of an enslaved black woman do; a child not hers but had to treat it as if it was. But this child the mother is holding is certainly hers. Her hold is too tender and cherishing around the small body of innocence to suggest otherwise. 

Analogous Colors, TIME Magazine || Titus Kaphar || June 15, 2020 || Oil Paint

Analogous Colors has such a devastating topic to share. Front and center is a grieving mother in a red hoodie holding the white silhouette of her child, with one of her hands being blue. On the iconic red border of TIME Magazine are 35 names of people who were murdered by police. There’s a connection to the mother wearing a hoodie and the first name we read from the top left is Trayvon Martin. The blues here are the analogous colors which are also seen on the window frame, the window, headband and undershirt the mother is wearing. This painting wants to directly address the traumas of being black and living under white supremacy. The mothers for each victim, lost their child forever over ill intentions, bloodlust, and “misunderstandings” that instantly erase a life from the world. The woman portrayed here is to signify the despair of this loss that’s a pain too common within the black community. I chose this to illuminate how the lack of protection of black women is something unfortunately inherited and passed down into her children. Everyday she has to hope that her child has had a chance to live again. That is such a torturous pattern to live through. So, I wanted to create a timeline of life for black women. Though some figures may seem content in the art that they are in, not a smile is found in any of them. 

“If we don’t amend history by making new images and new representations, we are always going to be excluding ourselves.”

-Kaphar