“Feminism is for everybody!” that’s what bell hooks insisted in her book by the same title. Men and women, young and old, regardless of race. Everybody. But I am not a feminist. It is not that I eschew the feminist ideal as much as the label itself. Still, I was a little more than irked when I read that single moms of color need to be more “feminine” in order to date and, presumably, “complete their families.” If such an ideal had been written anywhere else, loud Palin-esque cries of racism and sexism would’ve radiated throughout the internet. These words, though, were written by a mothering, single Black woman on a blog for moms, single and married, of color. And that alone is painful.
The mother who typed those words is a mother of a son. She insisted that, prior to having a son, she thought the ability to run a household, to make her own decisions and be in charge was admirable. In fact, she chided the men who wanted women to be “more feminine in conduct and action.” Having a son changed all that for her. Not because she realized, in raising a son, that being able to decide is a quality of life that is not gender-bound. Neither did she conclude, in rearing a boy, that relationships should be mutual, with neither partner “in charge.” Instead, this sista, in charge of her own household, being the mama and the daddy, looked at her son and worried that he may just choose someone like her. She concluded she needed to be more feminine. (Don't believe me? Here's the link: http://www.momsofhue.com/2009/09/single-moms-embrace-your-femininity/)
I have a friend who has been a single mother for less than a year, though her son is almost school age. She has devoted at least half of that year to finding a partner, a replacement for her ex-husband. Recently, I spotted her in the grocery store with a teenager who had given birth to her own son less than a month ago. My friend was trying to convince the teenager to let her introduce her to a man. “He’s not that much older than you!” The teenager gave birth halfway through her senior year in high school, and dropped out. She’ll never attend prom. She’ll never have a chance to enjoy senior skip-day or walk across the stage for graduation. Fully in the midst of post-partum baby daddy mess, the last thing this child needed was to be introduced to a man. But there she was, standing in the check-out line, being prodded by an older, shoulda-been-wiser, mom to find herself a man.
Both of these situations perplex me equally. I thought, at first, that I couldn’t understand because I did not conceive my son lying beneath a quivering, sweaty body. Or, perhaps, I was confused because I wasn’t simultaneously trying to teach a child and heal a broken heart. Being a single mom by choice affords me a few privileges. But I’m still a single mom. And I’m still raising a son. And I’m still a Black woman. Superficially, then, I am in the same predicament as all three of the women with whom I could not disagree more. What gives?
Maybe I’m a feminist after all. See, I thought long and hard about it. I concluded that being able to handle my own business, take care of my own family and concede the decisions to no one is not a masculine trait. It is a myth, to be sure, that a strong, independent Black woman is masculine in character. Back in the day, Eldridge Cleaver wrote about the Self-Reliant Amazon. She was so strong, mentally, that she had no use for the Super-Masculine Menial, the strong body. Cleaver, and the Black Panther Party that picked up on this ideal, identified Black women with the Self-Reliant Amazon and Black men with the Super-Masculine Menial. The self-reliance, the mental fortitude of the Amazon, they rationalized, was at the heart of the oppression and was counter to the revolution. Having a body, to be more explicit, was to be feminine; having a mind masculine. (I, quite obviously, venerate the Self-Reliant Amazon. Not just because of her iconic status as mental strength, but because of her resilience, her determination, her history as vanguard for freedom, justice, peace and her role as giver and protector of life. It goes without saying that I think Cleaver, (my beloved!) Huey Newton and the Black Panthers were misogynists. But I came into womanhood reading and loving them – with the exception of Cleaver – precisely because of their ideas about personhood and revolution. The day I realized that I was not included in their rhetoric for freedom was a sad day, indeed!)
This dualism is typical of Western society but, in the Black community, it turned into a call for women to abandon their strength for the sake of liberty. Boo.
Not only do I reject that dualism, I reject the notion that women who think too much are assisting in the oppression of their communities. Moreover, I fully refuse to accept the false dichotomy between thinking, deciding, choosing and being a woman. Not to mention what this says about being a man. To paraphrase President Obama, I reject that choice as false! No, I will not give up my agency – my personhood – for the sake of a partner in the sack. Not a chance. And neither will I teach my son that being a man means he expects that of a woman. Not a chance.
But what, then, do I teach my son of manhood, of maleness? And how do I, as single mom of color, deal with men and dating?
It is my considerable estimation that I will not raise my son to “be a man”. I’m teaching my son to be comfortable in his own skin. I’m teaching my son to think for himself. I’m teaching my son to stand on his own two feet. I’m teaching my son to speak the truth, to work for justice, to serve the people. I’m teaching my son to do right by people – even if they’re different from him, even if he disagrees with them. I’m teaching my son to walk gently upon the earth, to be careful of his footprint. I’m teaching him to treat those in his life with care – both physically and emotionally. I’m teaching my son to be compassionate and full of empathy. I’m teaching him to value himself. I have to teach my son to use the bathroom, one day standing up, and how to not get a girl pregnant. Those are the only sex specific lessons I’ll teach him. Not a single one of these ideals are reserved for men. Moreover, if my son chooses, as his life progresses, that he is in fact, genetically male but an engendered woman, none of these lessons will be lost to him. I’m raising a person not a stereotype.
Nothing about the way I’m raising my son, the values I pray he’s getting from me, or our family structure causes me to worry about the type of woman he’d choose (assuming his sexual orientation is such). Entreating single moms to rid themselves of their “masculinity”, their self-reliance, for the sake of their sons’ future relationships, I think, is proof positive for self-hate. Why wouldn’t you want your son to end up with someone just like you: strong, independent with a mind of their own? The alternative is far more frightening. But, then, maybe I am a feminist. Is feminism for single moms?