Words of Fire

by Beverly Guy-Sheftall

  The question will remain “Is abortion right?” and it is a question that each of us must answer for himself. My beliefs and my experience have led me to conclude that the wisest public policy is to place the responsibility for that decision on the individual. The rightness or wrongness of an abortion depends on the individual case, and it seems to me clearly wrong to pass laws regulating all cases. But there is more to it than that. First, it is my view, and I think the majority’s view, that abortion should always remain a last resort, never a primary method of limiting families. Contraceptive devices are the first choice: devices, because of their established safety compared to the controversial oral contraceptives. The weight of responsible medical opinion, by which I mean the opinions of qualified persons who have never been in the pay of the drug industry, seems to be that the question of the Pill’s safety is not proven and that there are clear warnings that much more study is needed. So Pill research should continue, and meanwhile the emphasis—particularly in a publicly supported family planning program—should be on proven, safe and effective methods. Beyond that, still from the standpoint of public policy, there must be far more stress on providing a full range of family planning services to persons of all economic levels. At present, the full gamut of services, from expert medical advice to, as a last resort, safe “legal” abortions, is available for the rich. Any woman who has the money and the sophistication about how things are done in our society can get an abortion within the law. If she is from a social stratum where such advice is available, she will be sent to a sympathetic psychiatrist, and he will be well paid to believe her when she says she is ready to kill herself if she doesn’t get rid of her pregnancy. But unless a woman has the $700 to $1000 minimum it takes to travel this route, her only safe course in most states is to have the child.

  This means that, whether it was so intended, public policy as expressed in American abortion laws (excepting the handful of states where the repeal effort has succeeded) is to maximize illegitimacy. Illegitimate children have always been born and for the foreseeable future they will continue to be. Their handicap is not some legal blot on their ancestry; few intelligent persons give any thought to that today. The trouble is that illegitimate children are usually the most unwanted of the unwanted. Society has forced a woman to have a child in order to punish her. Our laws were based on the puritan reaction of “You’ve had your pleasure—now pay for it.” But who pays? First, it is the helpless woman, who may be a girl in her early teens forced to assume the responsibility of an adult; young, confused, partially educated, she is likely to be condemned to society’s trash heap as a result. But the child is often a worse loser. If his mother keeps him, she may marry or not (unmarried mothers are even less likely to marry than widows or divorcees). If she does not, she will have to neglect him and work at undesirable jobs to feed him, more often than not. His home life will almost certainly be abnormal; he may survive it and even thrive, depending on his mother’s personal qualities, but the odds have to be against him.

  Of course, there should be no unwanted children. Whether they are legitimate or illegitimate is not of the first importance. But we will not even approach the ideal of having every child wanted, planned for, and cherished, until our methods of contraception are fully reliable and completely safe, and readily available to everyone. Until then, unwanted pregnancies will happen, in marriage and out of it. What is our public policy to be toward them? There are very few more important questions for society to face; this question is one that government has always avoided because it did not dare intrude on the sanctity of the home and marriage. But the catastrophic perils that follow in the train of overpopulation were not well known in the past and those perils were not imminent, so the question could be ducked. It cannot be any longer.

  For all Americans, and especially for the poor, we must put an end to compulsory pregnancy. The well-off have only one problem when an unwanted pregnancy occurs; they must decide what they want to do and what they believe is right. For the poor, there is no such freedom. They started with too little knowledge about contraception, often with none except street lore and other misinformation. When trapped by pregnancy, they have only two choices, both bad—a cheap abortion or an unwanted child to plunge them deeper into poverty. Remember the statistics that show which choice is often taken: forty-nine percent of the deaths of pregnant black women and sixty-five percent of those of Puerto Rican women ... due to criminal, amateur abortions.

  Which is more like genocide, I have asked some of my black brothers—this, the way things are, or the conditions I am fighting for in which the full range of family planning services is freely available to women of all classes and colors, starting with effective contraception and extending to safe, legal termination of undesired pregnancies, at a price they can afford?

  Beth E. Richie

  Beth Richie is one of the earliest and most outspoken black women activists in the domestic violence movement and is presently a faculty member in the program in community health education at Hunter College. Her doctoral dissertation was “An Exploratory Study of the Link between Gender Identity Development, Violence against Women, and Crime among African American Battered Women” (CUNY, 1985). She is former cochair of the Women of Color Task Force of the National Coalition Against Domestic Violence, and founding member of the Women of Color Organizing Project, Leadership Institute for Women.

  This essay, which appeared in the Black Scholar in 1985, admonishes African Americans to break the silence about male violence against black women within our communities, which she analyzes from an explicitly Third-World, feminist perspective. She argues that a narrow racial analysis positing that black men batter their women because they’ve been battered by whites is problematic and overlooks the broader context of institutionalized sexism, which perpetuates violence against women. In a recent essay (coauthored with Valli Kanuhua), “Battered Women of Color in Public Health Care Systems: Racism, Sexism, and Violence” (Wings of Gauze), Richie expands her discussion by critiquing the differential treatment that battered women of color experience in the health care system. She also provides an analysis of the complex dynamics at play within communities of cotor—dynamics that tend to silence women with respect to the abuse they suffer from men of color,—a phenomenon labeled “split loyalties.” She also discusses the problems that activist women of color in the domestic violence movement experience with white feminists who continue to believe that sexism (not racism or classism) is the primary source of women’s oppression.

  See also Evelyn C. White’s Chain, Chain, Change: For Black Women Dealing with Physical and Emotional Abuse (1985) and The Speaking Profits Us: Violence Against Women of Color, edited by Mary Violet Burns for the Center of Domestic and Sexual Violence, in Seattle.

  BATTERED BLACK WOMEN: A CHALLENGE FOR THE BLACK COMMUNITY

  Over the past decade, the question of domestic violence against women —including black women—has emerged as a major concern in the fight against women’s oppression. This is a controversial subject because, unlike other aspects of the subjugation of black women that target racism and economic exploitation, the burgeoning problem of battered women at first appears as an individual problem: a man beating a woman.

  Too many blacks still think this is a divisive issue that should not be aired in public. However, the problem of battered women is a social phenomenon, not an individual one, and combatting this expression of social malaise must be approached with as much vigor as those rooted in the vagaries of a racial and class society.

  The purpose of this article is to trace some of the obstacles I have encountered as a young black woman who calls herself a feminist working in the battered women’s movement. My experiences have led me to some conclusions, which I offer for consideration.

  I was introduced to the battered women’s movement while working in New York City. It is a rare privilege to be associated with a multicultural, Third World-controlled agency with strong roots in the community. I had s
uch a privilege for two years as I joined with dedicated workers in service to a predominantly black and Hispanic population.

  The goal of our multidimensional involvement with community families was empowerment to assist families in the development of skills and the accumulation of resources necessary to overcome the cultural, racial, economic, and political oppression that smothered the community. We saw the family as the only institution truly able to meet and nourish individual needs. The agency was designed to foster independence in the community and to support families fighting back against exploitation, while maintaining their cultural and racial identities. In sharp contrast, most educational, social-service, and health-care systems in the community discourage autonomy and self-determination. Being an enthusiast and sharing the commitment to community and individual empowerment, I joined in the work and began to call the community my home.

  After a period of time, I gradually realized that some of these strong, culturally-identified families, which we had been supporting so vehemently, were dangerous places for some women to live in. Furthermore, the political machine at the forefront of the grassroots community movement was, in fact, subtly exploiting women by denying the reality of sexual oppression. As I began to look closely, the incidences of battering, I have since learned, may have been intentionally set for me. I can now recognize that this “trap” is analogous to the “trap” in which many battered women find themselves. It is the trap of silence. Because of the scarcity of agencies such as mine, I hesitated to disclose my observations. I was immobilized by denial and sadness. Fear of being cast out by the community silenced me in the beginning. Loyalty and devotion are enormous barriers to overcome.

  The world is so hostile to Third World people that it seems much less painful to remain quietly ambivalent. I struggled with how to illuminate this dark secret about our homes and ourselves. Disclosure is so easily confused with treason!

  After a few false starts, I found a way to break the silence. I began to hold regular meetings for women in the community to talk together about positive issues: community strength and survival techniques. Discussions ranged from cultural rituals, such as holidays, to practical skills, such as living on an inadequate income. As the passage of time built trust, so it certified alliances, and women began to talk about problems in the community and finally about incidents of violence in their homes. Survival techniques and community concerns were expanded to include violence against women. The acknowledgement of the problem brought great joy and many tears. Women freed themselves from the trap of silence.

  These triumphant women developed a mighty support network, as all through history black women have done so well. They set out to create an arena in which battered women could meet the community in full voice. A great deal of progress was made in the eighteen months I knew these women. Certainly, there is a long way to go. My point is not to extol their virtues, but rather to relate the message about the trap.

  Black women, be forewarned. It is a painful, unsettling task to call attention to violence in our community. You may find yourselves feeling caught by the trap called loyalty. There is already so much negative information about our families that a need to protect ourselves keeps us quiet. Yet, we must not allow our voices to be silenced. Instead, we must strengthen and speak the truths about our families; we must support each other; but we must hear the cries of our battered sisters and let them be heard by others!

  BATTERED MINORITY WOMEN

  In an effort to verify my experience, I looked to other Third World communities. My quest led me to sixteen vivacious women who refer to themselves as “Battered Minority Women” (BMW). Despite the inaccessibility of mainstream educational systems to members of BMW, these women are extremely well-educated, particularly in terms of political strategies. Their life experiences have afforded them keen insight and expert technique. Their alliance is built upon: (1) a history of being physically battered by men in their homes; (2) the experience of having survived the trauma of a lifetime of poverty; and (3) a strong allegiance to various Third World community groups. Most significantly, however, BMW shares a common analysis of the causes of battering, and they agree about the most appropriate response.

  BMW believes that domestic violence is not a problem in black communities. Its occurrence, like substance abuse, crime, and unwanted adolescent pregnancy, is a symptom of living systematically deprived in a society that is designed to dominate and control Third World people. (On this point, I concur with their analysis.)

  They define battering as the “systematic deprivation inflicted upon Third World men by society, which, in turn, is inflicted upon Third World women.” That is, black women are beaten solely because their men are deprived. The response they advocate lies herein.

  According to the BMW, black women should involve themselves in the struggle for racial justice in order to end battering in their homes. They consider the only real issue to be racial liberation; the concept of sexual oppression does not exist for them. They assert that there is no inequality of power between men and women, and they reject the notion that they are being mistreated by the men who beat them. Complete responsibility lies with white society. (This summary of their analysis has been confirmed by BMW as accurate.)

  BMW members do not consider themselves feminist and negate the need to be part of a larger movement for sexual equality. They provide temporary refuge for the battered women in their community through a safehome model, demonstrating once again stalwart support for one another. Most of the women they protect return home after the violent episode. BMW proudly acknowledges a high return rate of women to the BMW safe-homes.

  BMW is associated with groups in Boston, Los Angeles, Detroit, and Atlanta, who share a similar philosophy. I have heard their sentiments expressed frequently in quite convincing terms, and suspect that many women are lured by their analysis of racial oppression, just as I am.

  I find this disturbing because if the argument is taken one step further, it approaches the theory of the black matriarch. This well-popularized myth suggests the notion of the “strong black woman,” willing and able to accept beating in the support of her man. The implication is that the role of black women in our families is to receive regular whippings in order to alleviate black men’s stress. Clearly, this is a dangerous betrayal.

  Undoubtedly, the stress black men must endure is cruel and often overwhelming. The connection this has to black women’s accepting beatings puzzles me. Who is responsible? And where is the strength in acceptance? It is true that black women have historically been able to secure employment at times when black men could not. Does this make us any less oppressed? Why are we arguing whose oppression is worse?

  We must cease this senseless debate. To be black in this society is bad; it’s bad for men, women, and children. While it remains critical that black people continue actively struggling against racism and discrimination, it must not be done at the physical and psychological expense of black women. We have paid our dues, and black men must be held responsible for every injury they cause. Yes, experience has taught black women to be strong and resilient. We must learn that on occasion we must use our strength for ourselves.

  The position that BMW advocates concerning sexist oppression is problematic. To negate the notion of feminism in our lives is to deny a critical component of our personhood. There is no such thing as partial liberation. We must demand our share of equality, too-long denied.

  CONFRONTING THE ISSUE

  Thus, once we choose to speak out against the violence in our families, we may be confronted with serious challenges to our work based on differences in political understanding of women-battering. To meet these challenges we must take time to carefully talk, to construct and refine our analysis of violence against women, especially against black women. Even more, we must consider how to work side by side with those who disagree with our conclusions.

  THE ROLE OF POLICE ...

  While we study and deliberate about women abuse, it
is important for black women working in the battered women’s movement to address the special problems associated with having to depend upon the criminal justice system as a vehicle for protection and problem resolution. The criminal justice and law enforcement systems have been the worst offenders in perpetuating violence against black people.

  How can blacks in the domestic violence movement reconcile the reality of police brutality and blatant racism in the criminal justice system with the need for police and court intervention on behalf of battered women?

  I cannot offer answers to these questions, but I suggest that black women confront these issues directly. As a movement, we must work within the system to assure that justice is available to our families. All the while, we must remain alert to the fact that the police may not necessarily respond consistently or responsibly. We must cultivate alternative methods of protecting black women in our communities.

  ... AND THE ISSUE OF HOMOPHOBIA

  Black women also need to candidly confront the issue of homophobia in society, particularly within our communities. Hatred of homosexuals and fear of being associated with lesbian women are both commonly expressed reasons that black women do not identify with the feminist movement. We continue to negate the valuable contributions made by black lesbian women to our culture as well as our struggle for racial liberation. By doing so, we have alienated steadfast allies. Black women must assume a leadership role in challenging our communities to put in check institutional and individual homophobic behavior. Currently, it is a decided barrier in our struggle.