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Read the articles for Module 10. 1. What is feminism in the Age of Trump? 2. Open Letter to White Feminists 3. Failure of White Feminists 4. About Intersectionality and its Objectives in Trump Era

BE RESPECTFUL OF ONE ANOTHER AND SEEK TO LEARN FROM OPPOSING VIEWS, DO NOT JUDGE. DO NOT TRY TO PERSUADE OR CONVINCE SOMEONE THAT THEIR VIEWPOINT IS WRONG. It's okay to disagree. It's okay to ask clarifying questions but be polite. It's okay to disagree and politely discuss why. Use "I statements." (I believe in this....based on my experience with..... or the reading. .." If you disagree with another's political point of view - 1. Be respectful. 2. Always try to identify what you have in common with the other person (i.e. hope, concern for others, etc.). 3. Ask questions for understanding.

1. How would you define the term "white feminism"?

2. What is meant by the phrase "failure of white feminism?"

3. What is meant by intersectionality? and

4. How could it impact the current feminist movement in the age of Trump?

March 04, 2018 ABOUT INTERSECTIONALITY AND ITS OBJECTIVES IN TRUMP ERA Authors: Thomas Klotz, Carmen Smedts, Damien Pellegrino, Olivier van Baars After almost 30 years since its first appearance, when we talk about discriminations, the term "intersectionality" is still something unclear but, at the same time, it's probably more current than ever. According to professor Kimberlè Creshaw, who coined the term, discrimination experiences have been understood, for a long time, only under a single-axis framework (Crenshaw, 1989). Thus, this is a paradox in which categories that are discriminated under more than just one respect, as black women, are not protected from multiple discriminations. This exclusion is due to the difficulty in acknowledging that discrimination, in fact, is not understandable under this single-axis framework. What is worse, Creshaw says, is that both feminist and black rights movements have accepted this topdown framework. Thus feminism has always been referred to as the white women's experience, and black people struggles for rights have always had the black male at its centre. In order to include categories as black women (and many others) which are excluded from the fight for rights, we need to recast the analytical structure in which we consider discrimination, starting from the idea of Intersectionality, which in the end means that fights for rights must come together (Creshaw, 1989). A complex process such as creating a new framework to classify discriminations is, require long time and not rarely meet resistance. That's why it might be interesting to take a look to the current situation in order to understand why, more than ever, it's so important to talk about Intersectionality. First of all, in a more recent article for Washington Post, Creshaw claimed again that "Intersectionality can't wait", pointing out how it helped and still can help not only black women, but many others invisible minorities (as LGBTQIA+) to come out from darkness (Crenshaw, 2015). Moreover, the election of Donald Trump, who didn't hide his well-known misogyny during the election campaign, possibly brought out with more strength the urgency to bring once again intersectionality at the centre of public debate. In fact, as the data shows, 53% of white women voted for Donald Trump, while 94% of black women voted for Hillary Clinton. This fact has proved to be valid, according to many voices close to the black women movement (Weber, 2018; Harris, 2016) the failure of white feminism, which once again seems to have ignored weaker women's needs. Thus, these data sets have reflected the distance which still exists within white and black women and the difficulty, for white women, to identify in other women's issues and the consequent difficulty for black women to take part to "classical" feminist movements. Another example of this cleavage is reported by the writer S.T. Holloway , who recently explained why she's not going to attend the 2018 women's march: “[I]n a sea of thousands, at an event billed as a means of advancing the causes affecting all women, the first and last time I heard ‘Black Lives Matter’ chanted was when my two girlfriends and I began the chant, about 40 to 50 others joined in, a comparatively pathetic response to the previous chorus given to the other chants." (Holloway, 2018). Therefore, it seems that intersectionality still has a long way to go in order to achieve its objectives. On the other hand, in the last years we have seen radical changes within the feminist movement in direction of a more inclusive policy. With the birth, in 2015 in Argentina, of the movement "Ni una menos" (not one less), and more generally with the so-called "fourth wave of feminism", intersectionality started playing a big role within feminist movements. Born as we said in Argentina, Ni una menos has quickly broadened his scope, becoming a big organization both in Sudamerica and Europe. This group defines itself as an Intersectional movement (nonunadimeno, 2017) and has organized, under the hashtag #Wetoogether, a global women's strike for March 8th which is, as one of the banner shows, clearly under the sign of intersectionality. The main aim of this new wave of feminism is to make people understand that women's struggle is not only white women's or either any women's struggle. For example, an established fact for a long time was that men couldn't or shouldn't be part of feminist movements: but given the existence of ideas such as machismo, which is actually a way to oppress the female part that any man has, the feminist movement has, while maintaining its separatists spaces (only for women – ed.), opened its doors to many men, as it's visible looking at the mixed participation to the marches. In a world in which the President of the United State of America is expression of the white male supremacy, anyone who is oppressed and anyone who does not accept anymore this system of privileges and oppression should take part to the struggle. Bibliography Crenshaw, Kimberle (1989) "Demarginalizing the Intersection of Race and Sex: A Black Feminist Critique of Antidiscrimination Doctrine, Feminist Theory and Antiracist Politics," University of Chicago Legal Forum: Vol. 1989 , Article 8 Crenshaw, Kimberlé. “Opinion | Why intersectionality can't wait.” The Washington Post, WP Company, 24 Sept. 2015, Crenshaw, Kimberlé. “Opinion | Why intersectionality can't wait.” The Washington Post, WP Company, 24 Sept. 2015, Harris, Tamara . “Some of Us are Brave: The Failure of White Feminism.” Bitch Media, nonunadimeno, |. “Femminismo intersezionale o perché questa lotta è anche tua – #Intersezioni 2.” Non una di meno, 28 Nov. 2017, Weber, Shannon. “Why we need black feminism more than ever under Trump.” Salon, 22 Feb. 2018,
SOME OF US ARE BRAVE THE FAILURE OF WHITE FEMINISM by Tamara Winfrey Harris Published on November 16, 2016 at 8:01am Bitch Media Welcome to my monthly column Some Of Us Are Brave. This space is all about the intersected identities and experiences of American women. My focus will be race, but I’ll also tackle age, class and other issues. Ideas for a column? Contact me at A buffoonish reality television star with no governing experience and a history of crass behavior ran a presidential campaign highlighted by flagrant misogyny. He said that women who have abortions should face “some form of punishment” and chose as his running mate an extremist with a history of opposing reproductive rights. He vowed to repeal Obamacare, wiping out its many benefits to women, including the right not to be charged more than men for healthcare. He called a breastfeeding woman “disgusting.” He boasted about grabbing women “by the pussy,” and women came forward with stories of alleged predatory behavior. He derided female opponents for their weight and appearance. He remained silent on equal pay, comprehensive, extended paid family leave, child care and sexual harassment. And 53 percent of white women voted for him. The triumph of President-elect Donald Trump represents the failure of many things. One of them is white feminism. The mainstream gender equality movement that has come to be known as “white feminism” is characterised by cults of personality, capitalism, and the needs of straight, white, middle-class American women. It treats poverty as an afterthought, even as women are 35 percent more likely to live in poverty than men. It ignores the needs of brown, immigrant women and is relentlessly U.S.-centric. It strips Muslimas of their agency and faith in the name of women’s empowerment. It focuses on “mommy wars” more than affordable and accessible childcare. It gives scant attention to violence faced by women of color and trans women. It is centered on the urban coastal experience to the exclusion of suburban and rural women of all races. For these reasons, it is utterly useless in moving us forward. The path ahead begs for intersectional feminisms and the centering of marginalized women, including women of color, queer women, and poor women. There is an assumption in Democratic circles—that group being the closest thing America has to a viable progressive party—that certain communities are natural liberal allies: women; people of color; and gay, lesbian and trans people. It is these groups that stand to lose the most under conservatism and the idea that the country needs to return to “the good old days” with its naked and abundant sexism, racism, and homophobia. As imperfect as the Democratic Party is (and it is very imperfect), it is the only major party that actively works toward equity for marginalized people. It is important to note here that the party often lags on supporting the issues crucial to its most loyal members—issues like mass incarceration, income inequality, police brutality, and trans rights. It is assumed that we will become allies—at least every four years—to ensure folks like Trump and the odious Mike Pence don’t get their hands on all of our rights. In theory, as Hillary Clinton said, we are “stronger together.” This year, 94 percent of Black women voted for Hillary Clinton, the Democratic candidate. More than 68 percent of Latinx women did, too. According to the Asian American Election Eve Poll, 79 percent of Asian American women supported the first female presidential nominee for a major political party. Men of color supported Clinton, too. 80 percent of Black men voted for her, as did 62 percent of Latinx men. Native American leaders stood with Clinton, as did most LGBTQ voters. Not white women, though; they voted for the Republican Party, as they have consistently done in recent elections, and, arguably, against their interests as women. How could this be? Feminism has been mainstreamed. Amy Schumer did “Last Fuckable Day!” Lena Dunham has a newsletter! Thanks, in part, to the internet, many more women know the language and rudimentary tenets of feminist thought. But feminism has also been commodified and, as Bitch founder Andi Zeisler points out in her book We Were Feminists Once, “mediated, decoupled from politics, staunchly focused on individual experience and actualization”—that is, the individual experiences and actualization of a small subset of white women. Women of color have long complained about the ways they are marginalized in feminism—a movement allegedly about us, too. Black women, in particular, are often chastised for how we do women’s empowerment. Many of us won’t take up the label “feminist,” for example. And the days before the election found black women arguing with white feminists on social media, pointing out that the suffragettes many of them were praising were no friends to women of color. Cavorting at Susan B. Anthony’s grave and donning white pantsuits on Election Day may not have spoken to Black women, but we did show up and vote for progressive women’s interests at a rate higher than any other demographic. Mainstream white feminists consistently make the fatal mistake of presuming that their motivations are stimulating to every woman. Self-reverential, non-intersectional feminism doesn’t speak to most women of color, but here’s the real rub, at least when it comes to progressive politics: It doesn’t speak to most white women, either. Think about the women at Trump rallies who not only were not offended by Trump’s claims of pussy grabbing, but donned t-shirts offering their pussies up for the cause. Those women, who defended the candidate’s behavior as “just how men are,” find little appeal in feminism because they like defined gender roles and believe the lie that feminism merely seeks to replace men with women. Understand, I’m not advocating sympathy for the “deplorables.” I’m just pointing out that mainstream feminists damn well better learn to talk to women with different lived experiences, or the supposed liberal coalition will continue to operate without its most powerful voting block—women—because white women as a whole will continue to not show up for us. It is long past time that we dismantle “white feminism” with its focus on posturing instead of equality for all women. Turn down Amy Schumer and Lena Dunham, and turn up feminist folks like Alicia Garza and Moya Bailey. Watch how women of color (and queer women and poor women and women with disabilities) build alliances around women’s interests. The progressive coalition will never be as strong as it needs to be if more white women will not join us.
An Open Letter to White Liberal Feminists By Rhon Manigault-Bryant November 19, 2016 Dear White Liberal Feminists, After Donald J. Trump’s election to the highest and most powerful political office of the United States last week, many of you have approached me, and my black brothers and sisters especially, with tearful eyes and somber faces. In person, in private, in public, and in the digital sphere, you have bemoaned the state of this world and our political landscape. You have lamented the deep-seated divisiveness of this country. You have wept, you have hugged, and you have gingerly asked, “how are you?” And yet, your actions and inquiries are especially loaded, as much for their selfishness as their disingenuous nature. Your hugs and tears are of the self-soothing kind. Your inquiries seldom derive from a true desire to learn about how I, as an African American woman, really feel. Rather, your queries posit, in the most passive aggressive way, “Aren’t you as upset about the election results as I am?” “Aren’t you embarrassed to be who you are?” “Aren’t you sorrowful that your parents, and your in-laws, and your siblings, and your friends in towns and cities and states voted for Donald Trump?” “Aren’t you ashamed to know that the women of your race also voted against so very many of theirs and others’ interests?” “Aren’t you devastated that the first female candidate—our candidate—to earn the Presidential nomination for a major party did not win and allow us to make history for women?” I am none of those things and I share none of these sentiments, in large part because these queries are not my narrative. I am ultimately not surprised by the most recent outcome of the election (and I am familiar enough with history to recall the inimitable, Shirley Chisholm, the queen of the “unbossed and unbought” perspective). I find your overall shock at the role white women voters played in the election curious for its naïveté and annoying for its obtuseness. If there is a sentiment we share, it is disappointment. I am disappointed that it has taken you this long to actually get what black women—and namely black feminists and womanists—have been trying to help you see and feel for a very long time. We now, for example, share fear. But my fear has been tempered by the legacy of slavery and anti-black racism in this country. You now worry for your children, your family, and your brothers and sisters. I have been worrying for mine. And if I am being honest (and we can be honest, right?), I am also a bit delighted. I am delighted that you have received the potential awakening of a lifetime, and that now you might actually get what so many of us have been describing all along. Welcome to that deep perpetual angst. Embrace it, and allow it to motivate you to a deeper form of action. I am also thrilled about how this moment might signal an end to the dangerous, disingenuous version of feminism that so many (though not all) of you embrace, and which promotes white women’s success over and against anyone else. It is the brand and tenor of white feminism that allows for a recapitulation of white male patriarchy (à la white women merely behaving as white men in drag and putting on the farce of gender equity). It has long been your trope and now it is your bane. But what will you do with this newfound dismay? How will you interrogate and sustain your recent enlightened perspective about how white women remain complicit in the oppressions of so many non- white folks, and even themselves? Given your responses this week and the last, I am already seeing a kind of writing on the wall—that of denial. So few of you have commented on the implications of large numbers of white women voting against Hillary Clinton. So few self-proclaimed white liberal feminists interrogate racism, imperialism, capitalism, and sexism because they benefit from it and are too busy being protected by it. What then, is the efficacy of this particular brand of white feminism in our current moment? If this most recent presidential election has revealed nothing else, it has shown that this specific ilk of white feminism must die. In this moment, if I have any regret, it is that you are trying to force me to be complicit in your selfdenial, and that you expect me to do yet another kind of labor. You look, of all places, to me to help you deal with your feelings. Rather than holding up your weeping, weak selves, I have a few questions for you to consider: Who will you be in this hour? What will you do to enact change and with whom will you partner to do it? By all means, use whatever mechanism you require to move through the stages of grief as you bury your false idol of faux feminist solidarity. You must now do the intensive work to heal your troubled soul. And after you have come to terms with your own guilt, embarrassment, and pain, I encourage you to run with your newfound perspective. There is a terrifyingly beautiful lineage of black resilience—seasoned by black suffering—that you might turn to for hope. I especially urge you to read up. A host of syllabi and materials posted here on AAIHS (including #Lemonade: A Black Feminist Resource List) can help you, as can this powerful reminder from The Combahee River Collective’s “A Black Feminist Statement:” The most general statement of our politics at the present time would be that we are actively committed to struggling against racial, sexual, heterosexual, and class oppression and see as our particular task the development of integrated analysis and practice based upon the fact that the major systems of oppression are interlocking. The synthesis of these oppressions creates the conditions of our lives. For more recent commentary, Kali Holloway’s “Stop Asking Me to Empathize with the White Working Class: and a few other tips for white people in this moment” and a current call for a Meeting in the Ladies Room offer important perspectives, as does Yolanda Pierce’s lament about the state of an already-fragile hope for racial and gender justice. Pay attention to brother Van Jones, who is truly out there doing God’s work, and making a sustained, deep effort to get at what really divides us. In the meantime, please stop assuming, listen attentively, and look deeply within yourselves to purge racism and sexism (and a whole litany of other ‘isms). Most significantly, get yourselves together. And in so doing, remember that black bodies have historically been your solace in a myriad of ways. Embrace this opportunity to dismantle oppressions. Ashes to ashes, Dust to white liberal feminism.
What is feminism in the age of Trump? From Pacific Standard by Melissa Gira Grant December 21, 2016 The eulogies, elegies, and requiems for white feminism have been written, and, this time, they've been penned by white women. Time of death would appear to be November 8th, after an election in which 53 percent of white women voters installed a braying patriarch — a self-avowed p--sy grabber who has still yet to explain what he meant when he said of a woman that he "moved on her like a bitch" — at the seat of American power. Liza Featherstone's announcement was the most direct: "Elite, White Feminism Gave Us Trump: It Needs to Die." Without "a watering down of the movement" into "Sheryl Sandberg-lite" feminism, his daughter could never have credibly defended him, argued Jessica Valenti — who, not long ago, defended Sandberg's feminism from her feminist critics like Featherstone. What changed? As Sandberg ended up proving, feminism — or writing about it, anyway — has never been easier to sell. "Many of us were so busy celebrating this superficial saturation as a systemic success," wrote Julie Zeilinger, "that we confused talking about feminism, vocally supporting it, with actually doing the work." Of course, many of these arguments feel familiar. Black feminists and womanists, queer feminists, Arab feminists, disabled feminists, trans feminists, and sex worker feminists, to name just a few, have long called for white feminism's funeral. Their arguments are getting a wider hearing as more white feminists seek answers. To some, understandably, this is all long overdue. "You might actually get what so many of us have been describing all along," wrote LeRhonda S. Manigault-Bryant in An Open Letter to White Liberal Feminists. "Welcome to that deep perpetual angst. Embrace it, and allow it to motivate you to a deeper form of action." There is not much pleasure in being right when this is what right feels like. Not when this election result has placed such a fearsome task before anyone who says they still believe in divorcing the distribution of power and resources from the assignment, expression, regulation, and experience of gender. Which is to say, for anyone who believes in feminism. If anything, the last few weeks have been a fresh reminder that this is not a task that falls more "naturally" to women simply because they are women. In electing over-tanned male supremacy, women were understood to have betrayed feminism, betrayed their gender. What they did, too, is remind us it is long past time to get very precise about what the task of feminism is, and whose interests it has served and must serve. What was "white feminism" — if it was a phenomenon divorced from what's been lately dubbed "mainstream feminism," or previously "liberal feminism," or sometimes "marketplace feminism" — is now forever linked to that 53 percent of white women voters. Whatever feminism means to women who can vote in the United States, it was not enough to turn their votes away from a man accused of serial sexual assault, a man who would seek to punish those who terminate pregnancies — both long understood as unalienable feminist litmus tests. Whatever feminism means, after the election, it was understood as insufficient to elect a powerful, wealthy, perfectly qualified white woman. "Mainstream white feminists consistently make the fatal mistake of presuming that their motivations are stimulating to every woman," wroteTamara Winfrey Harris at Bitch. "Self-reverential, non- intersectional feminism doesn't speak to most women of color, but here's the real rub, at least when it comes to progressive politics: It doesn't speak to most white women, either." For all the rights white women have gained in the last century (highlight reel version: suffrage, divorce, contraception, employment) perhaps, for some of those women, once they got theirs, that was enough? If you, a white woman voter, can afford to travel wherever you need to for an abortion, does a prohibition on Medicaid covering abortion matter to you? If you, a white woman voter, are without a criminal record, does the disenfranchisement of women with felony convictions matter? These are the calculations white women, including white feminists, make across the political spectrum. These restrictions, they can see, largely fall on women of color and women in poverty. What is absent from the lives of too many white women, then, isn't feminism. It is a sense of justice that still fights as if it really believes that, until all women are free, no women will be. As the American project was conceived, this election was no aberration. The next morning, patriarchy and white supremacy were re-inscribed in the rise of an easily wounded grifter. Now, as before, there is no presumed freedom for women, at least not for most women. But as feminism is currently transmitted and mass-marketed in, say, the guise of the president-elect's daughter and her lifestyle brand, white women may still come away thinking they have all the freedom they need. To the extent that mainstream feminism is indistinguishable from such an Insta-ready platform for "successful women" (just like her), many women did vote for just that. The problem isn't just that white feminism was irrelevant. It's that white feminism can dwell comfortably in the narrow space between Ivanka Trump and her old friend Chelsea Clinton. Any obituary for white feminism, especially at this late date, must point to those who survive it: all the women who saw the writing on the wall long before the ninth of November, and, more critically, all the women who had already committed themselves to their own fight. These women are far from hard to find. Lately, Teen Vogue has been putting what we might have a decade ago called "feminist blogging" to shame, highlighting the young women and girls at the forefront of social justice movements: young Native American women at Standing Rock fighting the Dakota Access Pipeline, young black women marching and organizing as part of the Movement for Black Lives in Baton Rouge and Ferguson, young trans women in Ohio and North Carolina challenging their schools for equal rights. If feminism has really gone so mainstream, then pop feminism will remain a media fascination. Perhaps these women and their work, at least, can be its face. Whatever the state of the feminist project is, you can undeniably see feminism — if that's what you want to call it — in all these women. And if you did want to call it that, it would be an incomplete description of their work. But despite the loss of #Her, with or without white women at the lead, what you see in the world after this election are so many young women doing what they were doing before, what they do every day. They are taking their own place in history.

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