Sunday, December 4, 2011

SISTER CITIZEN: SHAME, STEREOTYPES AND BLACK WOMEN IN AMERICA by Melissa V. Harris-Perry

First of all, you’ve got to love a scholarly book that opens with a poem to set the tone, Kate Rushin’s “Bridge Poem.” I haven’t been in academia for a long while, so maybe this is how they roll now, but still I’m impressed!

This sister can write! Melissa Harris-Perry has written a textbook-worthy tome that is an engaging and compelling read. Sister Citizen has all the footnotes, tables and graphs you’d expect from an academician, but they don’t get in the way of the story.

I thought I knew all about the stereotypes of black women Harris-Perry covers, but then I’d never read a thoroughly researched documentation of them. I also thought at my age I was beyond being shocked, but Sister Citizen describes some atrocities that actually stunned me. Along with other works on black life by young scholars, this kind of research on a neglected topic exonerates my long-ago decision. I dropped out of graduate studies decades ago because my dissertation topic on African American literature was deemed “academically invalid.” This was near the beginning of the bitter struggle to get universities to accept Black/African American Studies as credible. Apparently, however, according to an incident at Duke University that Harris-Perry writes about, that legitimacy is still being questioned in some places.

If anything makes reading this work difficult, it is the subject matter, especially for a black woman. As I read the chapter on “Myths” discussing the prevailing images that have been cultivated about black women, I relived painful memories of my own experiences. I escaped being expected to be a Mammy, but many times I’ve been perceived as the Angry Black Woman, usually because I refused to submit to someone else’s idea of who I should be. Admittedly, there have also been occasions I’ve relished the role and played it for all it was worth to clear space for myself in antagonistic environments. My mother was so frightened by the myth of promiscuity that she verbally shoved me into marriage long before I was ready. She was terrified that her twenty-something daughter would be seen as a “loose” woman.

As Harris-Perry says, “These myths make black women feel ashamed—and shame has sweeping consequences for black women’s lives and politics.” (“Shame” deserves and gets a whole chapter.) It is disappointing to learn just how debilitating these stereotypes remain for black women fifty years after the civil rights movement. At the time we were involved in that struggle, I thought we were unraveling the misinformation. Of course, it was naïve of me to think a few years of passionate activism would repeal hundreds of years of profitable (for some) American traditions. Harris-Perry doesn’t just reiterate and document the impact of these myths on black women, but also shows how the myths work to shape public policy.

What I possibly love most about this book is how the author uses classic literature like Their Eyes Were Watching God and The Bluest Eye (two of my favorite novels) to explicate her narrative. And the motif of the crooked room is a brilliant and efficient description of black women’s effort to be themselves in American society.

Harris-Perry presents splendid examples of times when black women did not find a soft place to fall within the African American community. She also examines the depictions and roles of women in Katrina and other disasters. And she explains how Tyler Perry’s film interpretation of For Colored Girls Who Considered Suicide When the Rainbow Is Enuf subverted Ntozake Shange’s original message. Sister Citizen closes with stories of well-known black women who battled powerful forces to stand firmly straight in the crooked room, including the country’s highest profile black woman, Michelle Obama.

This is a nutritive book including so much more than I’ve indicated here. Sister Citizen would be instructive for every American, but in particular, I wish every black woman would read it. This book examines and reveals reflexive behaviors we’ve engaged in and accepted for a long time, but that do not always serve us well. In particular, I saw myself in the chapter on “Strength.” It took many years for me to understand that being the proverbial “strong black woman” was draining me physically and emotionally. I had crafted such an impervious self-image that I felt deep shame when I needed to ask for help. Harris-Perry delineates the ways in which the laudable characteristic of strength can be counter-productive; something I had to learn the hard way.

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