It sounds like a lot of words, black African intersectional feminist, but all these words, in this order are necessary. And, yes, I fully recognise how problematic and limiting labels can be, but this is one label I wear with pride. It lets others know that my every day a feminist life recognises that our social, biological, economic and geographical categorisations, such as race, gender, class, ability, and sexual orientation interact on multiple and simultaneous levels and contribute to systematic injustice and social inequality (Side note 3: Here I am relying on definitions provided by a long line of black intersectional feminists but mainly Kimberlé Crenshaw and Patricia Hill Collins). This label is a warning sign to others that my every day a feminist life resists any and all forms of social justice work that seeks only to address a single form of discrimination or oppression. (Side note 4: This is one example of how I would answer, “what does my every day a feminist life mean for others?”) Most importantly, because this is often overlooked, the label black African intersectional feminist is in direct response to all those who seek to label feminism as un-African. As my mother said, feminism “was not imposed on us [Africans] by the United Nations or by Western feminists, but has an independent history.” That is why this label is necessary – long as it is – it is an abbreviation for the theoretical underpinnings of my feminism and if black African intersectional feminist is the theory then every day a feminist is the practice.

I use the term “every day a feminist” to convey the unbroken and consistent existence of my feminism. (Side note 5: I purposely use “every day” as opposed to “everyday” because there is nothing commonplace or normal about the feminism I practice. Its very existence is to challenge the norm.) It is who I am, it is who I have always been, it is what I do, it is what I have always done, it is what I believe, it is what I have always believed. As Lola Okolosie says of her own identity as a black feminist, the naming happened after the fact. Perhaps this is why my initial reaction was to describe it as exhausting, because 30 something years, every day a feminist can get tiring but it is also something I enjoy. I particularly enjoy the interaction, love and support present within intersectional feminists spaces so yes maybe it is nice too. Both of these words, I guess are ok when it comes to describing this every day a feminist life, but I still think they are not enough. Between nice and exhausting (if this was a spectrum – which I don’t think it is) there is a whole lot more. “Nice” and “exhausting” speak to moments, instances that occur as part of my every day a feminist journey. In thinking of every day a feminist as a lived experience, that has a past, present and future I much prefer Nyaboe Makiya’s conceptualization of feminism as survival. The label is black African intersectional feminist, every day a feminist is how I live this label and I live every day a feminist as an act of survival.

I first came to live in England in 1982 and as a young child the racism I experienced was so unbearable that I would tell my parents I wanted to go back to Kenya because England didn’t like me. Then finally returning to Kenya in 1986 only for my father to be detained without trial by the Kenyan Government. Four years later being back in the UK, this time as asylum seekers/refugees because clearly Kenya didn’t like me either. And we all know how the UK feels about immigrants. This time we lived in a council estate and I attended a failing inner city London school. It was the early 1990s, surrounded by people who looked like me, but just like when I was in Kenya I learned that this was not enough. Other black students would “joke” that I came from Africa on an elephant. A careers advisor, a black woman, told me instead of working towards law school I should, at the end of my GCSEs, consider employment at a supermarket. My good grades be damned because apparently something about me rendered a university education unattainable. Finally attending university and realising that race was not a part of the law curriculum; gender however, was and I was encouraged to think about how the law (according to white feminists) affected me as a woman, because this was apparently the only identity that mattered. Later in life, working in development with white men who insist they cannot be racist because they are helping poor people in Africa. While out at a bar in Lancaster with my siblings a random white woman approaches us and without invitation, conversation or approval on our part takes out her camera and starts to take pictures of us. I confronted her, her response “I thought you were famous”. The list goes on. Initially I couldn’t articulate how I felt about these instances because I was too young. Later on, while at university I would stumble on the works of Collins, Crenshaw, Audre Lorde, bell hooks, Angela P. Harris (to name a few) and it all made sense. I understood now why my parents had insisted I only play with black dolls and why my at home reading consisted of nothing but writers of colour. I thought that every time they had stood in and stood up for me was simply because they were my parents. I understood now that while it was of course motivated by parental love, it was a love rooted in black African intersectional feminism. How could I as an adult reject the practice that had helped me survive? I didn’t know any other way to navigate this world, I still don’t know any other way to do so and even if I did I wouldn’t choose any other way.

I am an every day a feminist because that is how I am able to survive, but black African intersectional feminism reminds me that it is not enough for me to survive; others have to survive too and my every day a feminist life calls on me to  (1) support others so that they can survive and (2) make sure that I am not complicit in the un-survivability of others. This is perhaps the most important answer to the question “what does my every day a feminist life mean for others?” In recognizing the intersectionality of identities and systems of oppressions, I am also acknowledging that I can be both a victim and beneficiary of these power structures. Being an every day feminist means that I too, as a western living/educated, middle class heterosexual cis-gendered and able-bodied person, must check my privilege. My every day a feminist approach makes me suspicious of forms of feminism that are not intersectional. My every day feminist stance is unforgiving of human rights artivism that relies on misogyny. My every day feminist life has no patience for “wait your turn” anti-oppression work that deems the struggles of LGTBQI people as not important right now.  White tears will never dampen my every day a feminist life. For those that come at me with “not all white people” and/or “not all men” my every day a feminist voice will yell back “Shut up your face!” And by now, people really should know the answer to the question “why is everything about patriarchy?” but for those who wonder, every day a feminist means every thing through feminism. Honestly though, I am too busy living this every day a feminist life to educate those who continually un-hear the voices of other intersectional feminists.

I was before; I am now and always will be a black African intersectional feminist. I live every day a feminist because the alternatives make my life and the lives of so many other people un-liveable. Every day a feminist, unapologetically.

If I was to chart a chronology of my education on racism, based on my childhood memories, I would say the racists were my first educators.  Sadly this is not a unique experience.  In my case, it was the National Front who brought the message home – literally.  Within a few days of moving in to our apartment in Hounslow,  we found a Union Jack and the words  “Go home P**i” spray-painted on our door . My parents knew it was the National Front because they initialed the message with the letters “NF and for further clarity, their message was uncensored.

This was not an isolated incident. The harassment continued, it intensified and it metamorphosised into more confrontational and dangerous forms of abuse. I had a sense that what was happening was wrong, not least because my parents would often inform the police but being a child I was more pre-occupied with what was happening at school.

I had just become the new girl at school and one of only two black children. Alison. That was her name; the other black girl. I knew that Alison and I were similar because only Alison and I were referred to as “doo-doo face” by the other children.  Alison and I were the only ones who would stand at the very back of the dinner-time queue, a safe distance apart from all the other children who refused to stand next us because they didn’t want the brown dirt on our skin to rub off on to theirs.

I told my parents about the name calling, not because I knew it to be racist. I just knew name calling was bad. I also told my parents about the children not wanting to stand near us, or wanting to play with us. This was a daily occurrence and my mother’s visits to the school were almost as frequent. In spite of my mother’s involvement the behaviour did not change.

Eventually (though not necessarily because of the racism at home and at school) we moved out of Hounslow, to South London; a new neighbourhood and a new school, both more diverse.

If my telling of all this seems a little disjointed, it is in part to do with my own memory but also a reflection of how, at that young age my mind processed things. I saw no connection between what the National Front’s harassment of my family and the behaviour of my classmate other than that both of these were wrong and that my parents’ did everything they could to tackle both problems. What stuck in my mind, especially in relation to the racism I experienced at school was that my parents insisted that I report every incident to them and my teachers. Even after I told my parents that I was now a “doo-doo faced tell-tale” the message remained the same; don’t put up with it, report it. While my teachers did very little, my parents took action every time I told them.

I do sometimes wonder about the other children who were at my school, the ones who were being racist, what did they learn? What conversations were taking place in their households? While I was learning “don’t put up with it” were they learning “don’t do it”?  Why is it that is often people of colour who have to find ways to deal with and prepare for racism?  I’m not sure what the answer these or to Gunaratnam’s questions are. I am not a parent, and even if I was, I still don’t think I would have an answer.  All I have are the valuable lessons passed on to me from my parents. I should not ignore racism. I do not have to accept racism and even when the act is of resistance is met with further abuse I should not be deterred. Tell someone, challenge it –whatever is in your power to do – but never put up with it.

This means, at least for me, that while the racists may have been my first educators, it is the lessons from my parents that has endured.

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Photocredit: A thumbnail image associated with this post appears on the site’s front page.  The picture is from Dominic Jacques-Bernard‘s  (jacquesy_m) Flickr stream and is published under a Creative Common’s license.

In case you missed it; the first story is about Mary Bale or “Evil Cat Woman” as she is known all over the Internet. She gained this name due to CCTV footage that records her placing a cat in a wheelie bin. It is an act of senseless cruelty that deserves condemnation. Mary Bale received more than condemnation and ended up being placed in protective custody.

The second story involves musician Morrissey, who in response to China’s mistreatment of animals stated,

Absolutely horrific. You can’t help but feel that the Chinese are a subspecies (source: The Guardian)

There is some furore in the papers regarding this racist statement but Morrissey is not in protective custody.

The message that seems to be coming out of these stories is that any violent, malicious, or offensive action is justified if the intended victim has violated the rights of an animal.

This really does not sit well with me but I think at the root of all of this is the fact that we live in a society that seems comfortable with the idea of assigning personhood to animals even it results in our dehumanisation; and I witnessed this first hand last weekend.

Background

It is no secret that I am not a fan of dogs. I don’t hate dogs. I do however have a healthy fear of dogs, especially big dogs. I am not scared of all dogs; in fact once I spend time in the company of a particular dog I find that I can get on quite well with that dog. This makes sense to me because all animals are different; some are friendly, some are not. I have had a hard time explaining this distinction to certain dog lovers and dog owners who seem aghast that I will not join them in their public display of affection for a dog whose owner’s name they do not know.

“Oh but he looks so cute”; they say, as they proceed to ruffle the fur of this stranger’ pet. This is often followed by many questions about why I do not like dogs. I must have had some traumatic experience to explain my irrational fear of an animal that has the capability to maul a person to death.

Disclosure:
Yes as a young child in Kenya, while walking home from school, I was chased by a pack of dogs and the owner stood there and watched. But…even before the dogs chased me, I remember seeing them, feeling very scared and then running for my life. So it wasn’t the dog chasing incident that made me scared of dogs, all it did was prove me right that some dogs are vicious and it is far easier to avoid them all then to risk life or limb trying to work out which ones are not.

Last Weekend
I was at a pub that is a favourite for dog owners and I endured my regular grilling on why I am not a dog lover. I then asked a few questions of my own such as why would anyone take a dog to a bar? The discussion went on for a while until we reached the point that I always dread. The part where someone will argue that owning a dog is no different to being a parent and that children and pets are not only the same thing but interchangeable.

A parent is NOT the same as a pet owner.
I cannot understand how anyone can argue that dog and baby equals the same thing. In my mind babies and by extension human beings are not the same as animals and I often use a simple test.

If I had one plate of food before me and I had a hungry dog and a hungry child I would feed the child. If I had to save a drowning man or a drowning dog, I would save the drowning man.

Why? Because human beings are not comparable to animals.

I am not condoning the abuse of animals. I am also not arguing that every person who cares for an animal will take to attacking the likes of Mary Bale. What I do recognise however is a connection between how easy it is for Morrissey to dehumanise an entire nation and how easy it is for an individual to dehumanise a baby all in the name of animal personhood.

The North West win has not come as a surprise. In the run up to the election nearly every other party tried to convince the electorate that a vote for them would count as an anti-BNP vote. The threat of a BNP win was real. What is unreal is this seeming unwillingness to accept that there are racist people in the UK (at least 132,094 live in the North West) and that on June 4th these racist people exercised their democratic right and duly sent not one but two -Nazis to represent the rest of us in Brussels.

Apparently all this is the fault of the mainstream political parties. It was they who alienated and excluded “regular voters” from the political and democratic process. That the BNP win is a direct result of the frustration that “regular voters” feel and have felt for a long time – they have expressed this frustration by way of a protest vote.

Rubbish. Utter rubbish.

Firstly, if Labour, Conservatives and Liberal Democrats are deemed mainstream political parties, the remaining eight options on the North West ballot paper should have provided sufficient choice for those seeking an alternative view. Failing that, the right to invalidate one’s ballot paper is the ultimate protest vote but it comes as no surprise that BNP voters did not take this course of action. Those who voted in favour of Griffin’s party were not protesting; they were endorsing a hate group that has unfortunately been allowed to masquerade as a political party.

Secondly, to assume that a sense of disillusionment and disenfranchisement is reason enough for a “regular voter” to lend his or her support to a hate group is a leap in a logic that I am unwilling to take. Unless of course regular voters” is code name for “racist, homophobic and xenophobic white voters.”

If the BNP’s relative success in the European Parliamentary Election shall be discussed along the lines of finding fault and apportioning blame then I have no problem in placing all the blame on the BNP voters around the UK but in particular those in the North West and York and Humber region.

Whatever forms the discussion will take; there is no room for those who argue that the BNP supporters are unaware of the party’s racist, homophobic and xenophobic beliefs, or that BNP voter is well meaning but ill educated person who has been duped. If condemnation for the BNP party is (almost) universal then the same should be true of its supporters.

We certainly should not attempt to portray them as victims; they seem to be doing a good job of it themselves. Listening to Nick Griffin citing the Race Relations Act as the basis of potential law suits against employers who sack BNP supporters is reason enough for us to raise the level of the debate surrounding the BNP and its existence as a political party.

One reason why I detest the BNP so much is because I, like so many others, can see through the name change that transformed the National Front into its present form. Comparisons have been made between the BNP and the Ku Klux Klan and I could not agree more with these comparisons. Yet unlike the KKK, the BNP has been granted political party status, which has resulted in what Mshairi describes as a schizophrenic relationship between the rest of the nation and the party and its supporters.

That is why on the one hand the BNP can appear on a ballot paper yet its members are denied the right to openly associate with their party of choice. It is the same flawed logic that saw the other North West MEPs refuse to share a stage with Nick Griffin as he gave his victory speech despite the fact that they will be sharing a forum in Brussels.

I think our leaders and law makers need to decide where they stand on the issue of the BNP and should that day ever come, I hope they are bold enough to place BNP in the same category as all other hate groups and revoke their political party status. Until that time our discussion of the BNP and its increasing support be limited by this rather bizarre cycle of misplaced blame and unwarranted empathy.