An article in The Nation, Feminism's Toxic Twitter Wars [February 17, 2014] reminded one black man of his first attempt to become a partner in the white feminist movement. In the late 1970s a group of white female teachers at a Suburban Southern College formed a committee to study and propose solutions to women's issues at the college. To help validate their committee, they requested the campus President to appoint someone from his administrative council to serve as a liaison for their committee.
In his appeal to the council, the president asked for a volunteer. After a long awkward silence, neither male nor one of the few female council members volunteered. Finally a thirty-something black man (one of only two) who by some admissions was intellligent, good looking, and blessed or cursed with what some perceived as an imposing presence, said he would do it.
His attendance at his first meeting was met with an atmosphere of obvious discomfort from what were only white women--teachers and members of the college's suport staff--in the room. Eventually a teacher from a "Social Studies" Department admitted that she was "uncomfortable" with his presence on the committee because "he doesn't know what it's like to buy tampons and sanitary pads from a vending machine in the ladies restroom".
He remembers thinking "But, I have purchased those things from supermarkets and pharmacies for some of the women in my life." However, receiving no supportive response from the "other white women" in the room, he elected to not defend his presence with that argument. Whether he had or had not ever purchased tampons were obviously not the issue. Consequently, that first meeting was his last meeting. The committee, not long afterwards, suffered a quiet death.
In the end, he did not obsess over whether their objection to his presence was because he was a man or because he was a Black man. Since most of the members on the president's administrative council were white men, they knew that if the president appointed someone, a white man was at least a possible choice as they did not specifically request a female.
In retrospect, he did consider that maybe they questioned his benefits to what they likely perceived as a white woman's cause. After all, Black Americans and black educators had enough issues of their own if any black man wanted a cause to support. Still, he wondered what would have been the reaction to a female volunteer. Would she have encountered any distrust? After all, even though she was an administrator she was still one of them. And like them, she suffered from the same lack of power and influence most other white women suffered at the time.
Many scenarios are possible. More than thirty-five years later, as The Nation's article illustrates, white feminists exhibit distrust and dissension with feminists who are not white as well as with feminists within their own ranks. So it is not surprising that some feminists see men who want to partner in the movement as interlopers who have no idea of what it means to be a woman and therefore are incapable of making valid contributions to the feminist cause. In the 1970s, A black man in the company of feminist white women would have only made it worse, wouldn't it?
Though the social dynamics are diferent, the perspective is similar to that in which some Black Americans in the 1960s objected to the active voice and presence of whites in the civil rights movement. Without the voice and presence of the many white men and white women and college age white boys and girls who risked and lost their lives in places like Selma Alabama, the civil rights advancement of Black Americans would have been a much longer and much harsher trial than it has been.
Unfortunately, much of human existence has been fraught with failed attempts at partnerships for what otherwise was a common cause. Perhaps it's just one of the curses that come with being human.
