Safe in Her Arms : The Black Female Burden to be Your Moral Litmus Test.
Imagine how tired we are.
A self-fulfilling prophecy
And this story begins within the walls of a secondary school classroom. Today’s history lesson, written in a way just detailed enough to satisfy the curriculum whilst barely skimming the surface of its topic, is centred around the Trans-Atlantic slave trade. My eyes, fixated on the screen in front of me, and the lips of my history teacher as he (very quickly) runs through hundreds of years of brutalisation against a population unwilling, initially missed the pairs of eyes looking in my direction. Instead of observing the facts being presented to them about racism’s devastating past, observing me, or one of the only other black children at the time, seemed like an education far more useful. Through the well-refined practice of…staring, it was as if they sought to absorb centuries of experience through my skin into their minds. Whether or not I was more intellectually aware of geo-political tensions at the ripe age of 10 or 11 when it came to race was inevitable, because my assumed sensitivity to the topic predicated my knowledge of it, in some unspoken way. In a similar way to black children across the world in what would become a cannon event, my newly assumed authority would both stoke the fires of a future interest in black history and would frustrate me all the way into my adulthood, where we sit writing today’s piece, even after both me (Asisa), and Onyi have built platforms dedicated to inspiring critical thought in subjects; feminism, capitalism, culture, pop-culture and of course, race.
Whilst the former outlines a universal experience for black children of all intersecting identifies, the experiences of black women and men diverged slightly at some point along the way in the business of being deemed ‘educator’, ‘mentor’, ‘sociology professor’ and yardstick for all issues pertaining to social justice and political correctness, even those that did not explicitly concern race. Gender is the big divider in this way, in the sense that women are adultified long before they reach adulthood, whilst boys are infantilised even after they shed the skins of childish incompetence. As a result, black women everywhere have become positioned within their circles (both online and in real life) as being more wise, the one to look to concerning all the questions that might live in the minds of white, and non-black peers, all of which were definitely google-able.
In the context of the virtual reality that we so closely interact with now, these questions have found their way into the comment sections of black female creators who don’t claim to be the keepers to information about racial injustice, but are simply trying to exist. Below a video of a black girl getting ready for her day, user23072003 writes
‘I think braids are so pretty and I really want to get some done, but I don’t want to culturally appropriate, can I still get them?’
(And she’s not the only one).
A quick search would’ve clearly outlined the many reasons as to why this wouldn’t be a good idea (with context).
But the problem is that oftentimes people aren’t looking for the truth of the matter, but more so what they would prefer to hear. This explains why non-black people everywhere will hound black female content creators about questions they know the answer to, which typically have very little nuance and require very little thought. The idea is to be validated by someone they’ve mistaken for a symbol of knowledge and influence, even if just by one person online, who might actually go against the collective understanding of what is ‘acceptable’.
But of course, the extent of this behaviour doesn’t end here. When crises arise, many withdraw from commenting on issues of significance, under the assumption that their favourite black female creators might lay out the analysis perfectly for them. There’s an incredible laziness present, even in the most clear of circumstances…
The Judge and Jury
You may remember the semi-recent controversy involving Leo Skepi and his fatphobic comments on TikTok. In a now-deleted video, he argued brands should be “allowed to want a certain image” and only design clothes for those people. It’s essentially the same argument Victoria's Secret made before they were subsequently shown the errors in their ways. Of course, the backlash against Leo’s comments was immediate, leading to his inevitable apology video - though its sincerity is dubious at best, as he later took to Snapchat to mock the entire situation.
But the drama didn’t end there. Fans congregated in Fannita’s comment section to demand her opinion. She had previously hosted Leo Skepi on her podcast “Bottoms Up with Fannita”, an association that was proving more trouble than it was initially worth. Whereas other TikTok creators and influencers had volunteered their opinions, Fannita was strong-armed into reaffirming her stance on fatphobia. For those familiar with her, it should be more than apparent what her response would be. She has openly discussed her recent weight loss and experience with fatphobia, candidly sharing how her audience and the industry treated her differently afterwards. It was clear she wouldn’t support Leo Skepi’s views.
The truth of the matter is that, what the viewers wanted was for Fannita to reaffirm to them that she was a “good person” under the guise of denouncing fatphobia. That way, they could continue enjoying her content, satisfied that their own morals weren’t compromised by backing the wrong horse. In this context, hosting a podcast or sharing the screen with Leo shouldn’t be taken as “damning evidence” or the nail in the coffin, but for Fannita it was. This double standard typically doesn’t always hold for popular white creators who have been forming and breaking questionable connections since the dawn of Social Media. When Grace Beverely had Caroline Calloway on her podcast, I saw no one demand for Grace clarify her stance on fraud, only the disappointment in Grace for giving Caroline yet another platform to spin fairytales. Perhaps it’s because Fanita and Leo both had experiences with being considered fat but I would argue it has more to do with the politicisation of the black identity.
Black women, in particular, are often thrown into a position of cultural authority and leadership and society has no qualms using them as the scapegoat. In the TikTok world, Fannita sitting down with Leo Skepi was like Vice President Kamala Harris sitting down with a disliked political figure. Why couldn’t they trust Fannita would be true to her values?
What’s Past is Prologue
The situation can’t be separated from its historical context for The Mammy1 Caricature2, reborn in the 21st century, plays a significant role. The Mammy myth, created in the antebellum era, depicted black women as happy servants to white households. This image, immortalised by characters like Hattie McDaniel’s in "Gone With the Wind," was a campaign to rebuttal the calls for the abolition of slavery, aiming to convince America that black women were content in their servitude. In reality, the Mammy character was a fabrication; most slaves were young, fair-skinned girls who rarely lived long enough to become the stereotypical Mammy. The mammy is portrayed as having unfaltering adoration for her white employers whilst harbouring disdain for her own family. She longs for her days in the kitchen and secretly dreads having to leave. It is here, in the 1830’s, that black women become irrevocably linked to servitude with a smile. Reinforced by Aunt Jemimas and Dinahs, the narrative shifted from black women working because they had to them working because they wanted to.
Today, black women are still seen through this lens of servitude and enduring hard labour isn’t the only way this is being expressed. Remember the black best friend trope? It’s today’s modern example. Consider Cher and Dionne in Clueless, Kerry Washington’s character in Save The Last Dance, Jennifer Hudson’s in Sex in The City, and Viola Davis’s in Eat Pray Love. The list goes on. These characters may not have been scrubbing floors or serving hot plates but they were tasked with the emotional labour of carrying the main character, making them seem funny, relatable, and ‘woke’ in some instances. Their efforts are always almost carried out with wittingly delivered lines and half-jokes, with no regard for their own storyline or character progression. At one point in Sex and the City, Julie (JH’s character) was the primary catalyst for her to move on from Big, and later a symbol of hope, only for her to be written out of the show once she had fulfilled her purpose. These characters rarely complain, it’s part of the charm and appeal to white audiences.
Unfortunately, this characterisation of black women is pervasive and it warps our perception of young black girls. Marquise White, a middle school teacher, was recently fired after posting a video in which he had his hair taken down by a group of his young black students, because he wouldn’t have time before his hair appointment. His viral video sparked what seemed like hours of discourse on TikTok highlighting the various issues we’ve discussed. The act of taking out their teacher’s hair during the school day places these girls in a caregiving position, a practice that some consider a very intimate thing. There is an inherent power imbalance and by engaging his students in this personal task, he is exploiting this dynamic. Not to mention, as a grown man, he is perfectly capable of caring for his hair himself and working on his time management. The classroom should be a space for learning and personal development yet these girls are having to dedicate time to this. There is an element of self sacrifice occurring. When they should be focusing on themselves, school work or their own self-fulfilment, they have to shift their focus elsewhere, pushing them towards a model of self-actualization that centres on serving others. When criticised for his inappropriate conduct, White’s initial response was that the girls were happy to help him. I would argue they wouldn’t know any better and his flippant dismissal of the stereotypes he’s enforcing shows how little attention is shown to the wider societal issues at play here.
Whilst for some of these situations it may take analysis or further conversation to unearth the deeper concerns, explicit examples of this stereotype do exist. On “The Drew Barrymore Show,” Drew asked Vice President Kamala Harris to be the ‘Mamala’ of the nation, a nickname reserved for her family. Drew said, “We all need a tremendous hug right now. In our country, we need you to be the ‘Momala’.” She asked arguably the most powerful woman in America, a black woman, to baby America and for all her idiosyncrasies, it was impressive that Harris’ kept her cool. Drew could have asked her about important policies, and pressing concerns America is facing, all within her job description. Instead, she felt comfortable asking Harris to take on a motherly role.
And yet this role also has a hidden precariousness. In the event that black women in positions of power decide to speak more radically, their demotion from mother, and teacher all the way back down would be all too swift, reminding them of how low on the totem pole black women are actually supposed to be, particularly if they are not serving their presumed purpose.
Candace Owens serves as an example of this harsh reality. Despite being hated by black people everywhere, she had long been revered amongst white Americans for her right-wing and regressive politics, acting as a spokesperson for the black vote for all-american conservatism. In this role, she managed to validate racist and bigoted notions that existed in the heads of white and non-black people everywhere, and so she had been deemed an authority figure too, even if she had a far less progressive agenda.
However, her decision to publicly advocate for the fight against Israel’s occupation of Palestine put temporal limitations on her position at The Daily Wire, where even she was aware of the likelihood of her dismissal, long before it even happened.
As previously mentioned, non-black people in search of validation in the way described are more on a quest to satisfy their confirmation-bias, rather than any kind of actual education, or being able to contribute to the conversation in a way that would assist or liberate any truly oppressed group of people. Despite being designated ‘mammy’, and ‘educator’, the practice of challenging the ‘status-quo’ is still a dangerous one, and one mustn't step too far out of line. In this way, we aren’t designated as authority figures at all, but instead are objectified, reduced to being the physical manifestation of a textbook (to be used when necessary and discarded when necessary)....
And so in a way it feels as though we were doomed before we even got a chance. It’s that time of year again, when Snapchat serves up reminders of the rage I displayed all over social media, disgusted at the apathy towards the murder of George Floyd. But there is one that stands out in particular, a post I (Onyi) posted on my private story: a call out to my friends and acquaintances to stop using me as their formal encyclopaedia on all things black. What I really wanted to say was, to stop using me as an encyclopaedia for all things black and tricky to understand. Outsourcing opinions and stances to others may be the easy way through a tough discussion or moral panic but the burden of this responsibility is unfairly placed.
There needs to be a space in which Black women can exist fully and not just in whatever role is needed of them that day, whether this be on social media or in the classroom. If the work feels like a heavy undertaking, imagine how tired we are.
Asisa & Onyi
Pilgrim, D. D., 2000. The Mammy Caricature. [Online] Available at: “The most disrespected person in America is the Black woman. The most unprotected person in America is the Black woman. The most neglected person in America is the Black woman
Clinton, C., 1982. The plantation mistress: Woman's world in the old South. New York : Pantheon Books.
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This is a fantastic essay, but there is something I would like to correct/add. Female house slaves were a mix of young dark-skinned African-descended girls as well as young light-skinned mixed-race girls. The white master would prey on these girls and the white mistress would take out her frustrations on these girls, instead of their husbands. The Mammy archetype was created both to reassure the white majority that Black women were happy to serve as well as to reasurre white women that Black women were undesirable to white men, even though this absolutely was not the case. It is a sexist-racist archetype.
Absolutely brilliant 👏👏