In today’s society, particularly in the United States, people of color face numerous challenges. Conversations around immigration, police violence against unarmed Black and Native individuals, and the resurgence of bigotry have become commonplace. The rise in hate crimes globally, especially in America, has forced many to confront overt racism more than ever.
As we navigate these turbulent times, it’s crucial to accurately label racism and hold accountable those who perpetuate domestic terrorism. We’re in a period of awakening, where individuals from diverse backgrounds strive to unlearn the damaging ideologies that have been ingrained in a society rooted in racism and prejudice. The potential for meaningful change is vast, though my faith in achieving a truly equitable society fluctuates.
However, if we aim to begin mending the wounds of marginalized communities, we must acknowledge that not all forms of oppression manifest in the same way. One glaring example of this issue is our tendency to generalize discussions about race and racism in America. There’s a reluctance to specifically address the experiences of Black individuals, particularly Black women.
When discussing issues of oppression, we often adopt a vague approach, lumping diverse groups into a generalized category. While the intention might be to include everyone, this method can obscure the unique challenges that different identities face, particularly those at the intersection of several marginalized identities.
It can be uncomfortable to confront, but the fact is that racism impacts individuals differently; it disproportionately affects Black people, and particularly Black women, in distinct and alarming ways.
It frustrates me how frequently the phrase “women of color” is used when discussing issues that primarily affect Black women, such as the alarming maternal mortality rates. If we fail to specify whose experiences we are talking about, we hinder our ability to enact the significant changes necessary to protect Black women’s lives.
Currently, Black women are experiencing childbirth-related deaths at rates three to four times higher than the national average. These shocking statistics often mirror those found in developing nations. The trauma and abuse surrounding childbirth for Black women are even more severe.
So, why do we often refer to these statistics using the term “women of color” instead of directly naming “Black women”?
I have my theories. America has a historical reluctance to center Black experiences, especially those of Black women, because addressing these disparities forces a reckoning with our country’s legacy of anti-Black racism, slavery, and misogyny. Acknowledging that Black women’s bodies have been controlled for the benefit of others since their arrival in this country, and that this control persists today, is a difficult truth for many to accept.
For some, the word “Black” carries a stigma, leading to more comfortable alternatives like “African American.” The term “people of color” further distances us from the specific historical context of racism that positions Blackness as a significant threat to white supremacy.
Originally, the term “women of color” was intended to foster solidarity among nonwhite women facing racism. However, it was never meant to overshadow the specific needs of Black women. While all people of color experience racism, the degree and manner in which it affects their communities can vary widely. Some may find it easier to assimilate into a society that upholds whiteness, albeit at a cost.
The historical discomfort surrounding Blackness infiltrates our approaches to addressing disparities, leading to inadequate solutions. This discomfort has dire consequences for Black women, who often navigate the perilous intersection of racism and sexism. We won’t resolve the maternal mortality crisis by merely targeting factors like income, education, or insurance coverage. While these elements are important for general improvements, genuine progress requires us to speak candidly about the specific challenges faced by Black women.
This means embracing movements like #Blacklivesmatter and #Blackgirlsrock, and recognizing that initiatives like #freeblackmotherhood are essential steps toward aiding all mothers in crisis. We’ve made strides that our ancestors would be proud of, but there is still much work to be done.
Using vague language complicates our ability to devise creative solutions tailored to the needs of Black women. To truly make progress, we must become comfortable acknowledging our differences. Not all oppression is experienced equally. The targeted efforts to undermine the Black community have been deliberate, and addressing these issues demands similar intentionality.
If something is detrimental to Black women, we must say so. Otherwise, we risk perpetuating harm.
This article was first published on Oct. 25, 2023. For more insights on related topics, check out this post on homeinsemination.gay, which provides valuable perspectives. Additionally, for further reading on pregnancy-related issues, visit the CDC, an excellent resource, or explore Intracervical Insemination for expert information on self-insemination.
Summary
It’s essential to specifically acknowledge the unique challenges faced by Black women rather than generalizing their experiences under broader terms like “women of color” or “people of color.” Doing so is crucial for addressing systemic racism and crafting effective solutions to pressing issues, such as maternal mortality.