After years of inattention, in the past month, the mainstream media has suddenly turned its eye toward black women. And the resulting coverage, filtered through a pretty jaundiced lens, is enough to make me wish the world had never "discovered" us. Here are the messages we've heard: 1). Men don't want us. 2). We don't have any money. 3). We're fat and unhealthy.
That about sums up the popular media narrative about African-American women. Over at the Atlantic, Ta-Nehisi Coates writes, "Living as a black male is much easier than listening to other people talk about how hard it is to live as a black male." Indeed, the sad portrait of black womanhood painted by the media bears no resemblance to my lived experience as a black woman. Nor does it reflect the realities of the black women I know. As is often the case when the dominant culture speaks of people of color, we are defined not by the whole of our lives, but by our challenges.
Am I saying these stories are all wrong? That black women, for instance, do marry at the same rates as other women? That my sisters are sitting on mad wealth — stocks, bonds and piles of cash?
Sadly, no. My concern is that existing coverage focuses on selective data and revels in its negative interpretation, advancing a grossly one-dimensional narrative (one that conveniently jibes with common stereotypes about black women). In other words, while I doubt that Nightline has a "Black Women and Small Business: How Do They Do It?" special in the works, the show sure did hop on the "poor, unloved professional black woman" bandwagon.
And let's examine the high-achieving black woman marriage 'crisis,' the narrative that chafes me the most. This narrative harps on the fact that some professional black women have trouble finding partners, which puts a willfully negative spin on what could actually be a positive story. We're talking about high-achieving black women with academic and professional success, who also happen to be single and child-free. We could be wondering what's right with these women that allowed them to find success in a society where the odds are stacked against them. What can we learn from black girls, for instance, that can help us raise black boys to equal rates of education and success? Instead, we devote ink and film to discovering what's wrong with these women that they don't have an Mrs. to go with their PhDs.
Do I know professional black women who would like to be married moms? Of course I do. I also know black women with low savings account balances and high blood pressure. But these women aren't defined by their marriage and mommy status, their 401Ks or their latest blood work-ups. Humans are more complex than that. But race and gender biases tend to create flattened versions of people. And a steady stream of negativity about black women, absent the balance of positive news, distorts reality.
It's harder to maintain prejudices against a person if you "know" them. So, perhaps black women should be happy that the American media is finally noticing us. We have long lamented being invisible. Problem is, you cannot truly know us if you don't see us — all of us — our triumphs and successes, as well as our challenges.
Photo Credit: gagilas
