As a matter of movement-building, the repeated refusal to recognize Black women for the electoral force that we are leaves us feeling disconnected. National organizations rely on us to deliver reproductive rights victories, but rarely give us credit for doing so.
As long as stereotypes and racism get in the way of diagnosis and treatment, young women and women of color will continue to receive substandard care.
What is often lost in Black History Month are the contributions of Black women and the present-day concerns of all Black people in the United States.
The virgin-whore dichotomy has been around forever. What’s puzzled me recently, however, is what feels like a sudden upsurge in these very conservative attitudes in pop music. Why is this so?
Breast cancer advocates see the Affordable Care Act as a huge win for Black women, for whom breast cancer is the second most common cancer. But improving access won’t address our fear and the stigma associated with illness and poverty; stories of survival can.
If abortion is like slavery—indeed, if abortion is the most divisive issue since slavery—then what of the women who suffered under slavery? What of the women who performed self-abortions in order to resist slavery? They cease to exist.
What will it take to get people to recognize not just the racial disparity in death rates but the disparity in concern over U.S. Black women’s health and lives?
Even with the Affordable Care Act in place, Black women will still be plagued by the chronic stress that comes with simply being Black in the United States.
OITNB isn’t perfect in its handling of race, class, and gender, but the series does get a lot right about the conversations people of color and white folks have amongst themselves and with each other, and how different identities and experiences shape those interactions.
In an era when people across the country are asking, “Where are the Black women leaders?” activists like Fannie Lou Hamer serve as a reminder of how many rural Black women have always been strong leaders.