On Feminism

I am nine years old

I don’t know much about the world, but I know I love to read

The library becomes a safe space,

A space for the inner workings of my brain to come alive

I walk into the library and pick up a graphic novel on Elizabeth Cady Stanton

My fourth grade brain doesn’t know much about feminism, but I know

My mom tells me it’s a good thing

It’s about equality, it’s about uplifting women,

                                                                           She says.

Elizabeth Cady Stanton is a feminist

I think she’s a role model.

Halfway through the book she says

Why should the negro men be allowed to vote before white women?

I’d rather cut my arm off than let them have the right to vote

I am nine years old and I don’t know much about the world but

I know I am Black

The pieces of the puzzle haven’t put themselves together yet,

But something in me tightens,

Feels like Stanton’s feminism displaces me

Where does my Black skin fall in the sphere of her movement?

Where do Black women find a safe space

In white feminism?

I am nineteen years old

I don’t know much about the world, but I know more than I did in my fourth grade library

I know the word intersectionality,

And I know that feminism isn’t feminism without it

But suddenly I’m walking into the room and

All of the women are applauding themselves because they are

Empowered women!

But all of the women are white,

And I

Am suddenly feeling disempowered,

Displaced

In my Blackness,

Their words are welcoming

But the environment is not

What is feminism if not inclusive?

What is white feminism if not oppressive?

I am nineteen years old and I still love to read

After leaving the room, I read about Alice Walker’s Womanism

This brand of feminism makes space for duality

And Blackness

And queerness

And radical politics

And an abundance of love that I’m not used to, but I want more of

Her words become a safe space.

I am nineteen years old and I don’t know much but I know

I will not return to a room that does not save a space for me

And white feminism does not

Feminism is more than just smiling with other women about empowerment

It is more than wearing a vagina hat reading Pussy Power!

Real feminism is intersectional.

It makes space for Black and brown and queer bodies

It deconstructs institutional racism and white privilege

It is aware of capitalism, imperialism, and class privilege

It is measured action

And it holds space for everyone.

Intersectional feminism accepts that we are all still learning

And unlearning

And that there is always room for growth

When you walk into a room of intersectional feminists,

You are not the only one of your race

You are not alone

You are not displaced.

I am nineteen years old

And I still don’t know much but I know

Intersectional feminism empowers me,

And as I learn more about how to truly fight for equity

I find a new safe space,

One that embraces me in my entirety.