Venus Williams taps into fears of black female sexuality

Venus Williams' lacy outfit at the French Open last week has ignited a firestorm of media coverage. Many of the responses to Williams' black lace outfit (see image) have been negative, or at least hardly favorable: The New York Daily News criticized the athlete's "flagrant disregard for traditional tennis attire," which the paper said, "harked back to a 19th century chorus line," while the Boston Herald referred to the outfit as "hooker couture."

Others recognized Williams' skill as a tennis player, her win over Swiss opponent Patty Schnyder and yes, her rock-solid physique. ESPN.com's Jemele Hill argues in an editorial that it is America's obsession with the body--and athletes' bodies in particular--that has fueled this controversy. Hill goes on to say that when we see images like those of Williams on the court, we cannot help but wonder how we measure up. And, as media comparisons go, we don't come out on top. Williams' outfit, says Hill, taps into our sense of inadequacy, which then breeds curiosity and resentment.

I think that the outcry and attention to Williams' outfit was not a product of our fascination with athletes nor our own bodily insecurities. Instead, her choice of dress ignited white fears of black female sexuality. Black women have been stereotyped throughout history as hypersexual and without control of their sexual urges (black men have also suffered this stereotype). Black lace, fire-engine red piping and shorts that match Williams' skin tone remind us of lingerie, which then brings us to sex. And for a black woman to display such sexually connotative clothing on national television only "proves" that black women cannot stifle their overflowing desire.

Why do I think this? Look at white female athletes in other sports. Do gymnasts, many of whom are white, get flak for their high-cut leotards? Do figure skaters get called out for their flesh-toned undergarments that are oh-so visible on those triple axels? While these wardrobes go unnoticed, Williams gets skewered for her choice. I smell a rat.

I am glad she wore the lace. I'm glad she wore it twice. Williams is the epitome of a strong woman: physically powerful and business savvy. (If you think she didn't know what she was doing when she donned that outfit, think again). When the media daily decry the poverty and devastation among single black women, why would they then turn around and scorn a successful black woman? Fear. Downright fear.

We may be in awe of athletes and we may compare their glutes to ours, but the attack on Williams proves that our ideas about sex and race, rather than the color of her shorts, must be more closely scrutinized.


Photo Credit: StarPulse.com

Georgia's new pro-life campaign preys on black fears

A new ad campaign sponsored by Georgia Right to Life and the Radiance Foundation declares black children an "endangered species."

As Plain Dealer columnist Connie Schultz explains, the eighty some billboards feature the face of a scared black child, the slogan "BLACK CHILDREN ARE AN ENDANGERED SPECIES, and the website address toomanyaborted.com.

Pro-choice advocates nationwide have rallied against the campaign, arguing it is both inaccurate and dehumanizing. As Schultz reports, Planned Parenthood's Vice President for Medical Affairs Vanessa Cullins believes "endangered species" makes African Americans "less than human." Outraged by references to black women's abortions as "womb lynchings," Cullins argues the billboards are an attempt to revoke black women's control over their bodies and their lives.

Caroline Davis, minority outreach coordinator for Georgia Right to Life, remains adamant that Planned Parenthood wants to get rid of black babies. Citing evidence that black women have more abortions than white women, Davis says she is just providing the information necessary to help black women make sound decisions.

Sound decisions for whom I wonder. If Cullins is correct in her assertion that black women have less access to affordable health care and birth control, we can reasonably assume these women have less access to health information as well. How can a 15 X 7 foot billboard provide the well-rounded information needed to make an educated decision on abortion? It can't.

If black women seek out more abortions than white women, telling them black babies are endangered isn't going to solve the larger problem. It might make women ashamed to get an abortion, but it won't stop unplanned pregnancy. It might make women less likely to discuss sexuality with their families or doctors, a problem Cullins cites as detrimental to the health of the black community, but it won't make women better prepared to handle the challenges of pregnancy or the decision to abort.

And if the billboards do cause black women to avoid abortion, are these women any better prepared to care for their children? I think not.

These ads feed off inequality. Without equal access to information and resources, black women are left looking to propaganda to make life-altering decisions. If Georgia Right to Life and the Radiance Foundation really wanted to help black families, they would offer sex education, parental training courses and emotional support for pregnant black women. Instead, they push their agenda on those most at risk for accepting it.

Photo Credit: The Associated Press

Light, dark, half naked and objectified

If music videos are emblematic of our popular culture, as Andre Sanchez of SoJones online magazine asserts, there may be a hard lesson to be learned for black females: Being dark skinned is undesirable and unattractive, but if you're a light-skinned black woman, you can be sexy and dripping in jewelry.

Sanchez examines the argument of JoyDailytv.com host Joy Daily, who says that music video producers cast light-skinned black women in music videos and avoid dark-skinned models. The reasons for this, Daily says, range from an emphasis on multiculturalism and racial mixing, to the greater visibility of light-skinned blacks' facial features and expressions on screen.

While Sanchez agrees that the music industry endorses and perpetuates a "truly ridiculous standard set for the definition of beauty," he also criticizes the sensitivity of Daily and those in her camp. Will we need to see darker girls in every video now? Will media coverage of this supposed "light-skin bias" just make women angrier and ignite other criticisms? Sanchez concludes that women need to remember that they are beautiful, regardless of the media's images.

Pardon me, Mr. Sanchez, but if self-esteem and confidence were that easy--if we could just convince ourselves that we are beautiful and intelligent and worthy--no one would even be able to make music videos! These "cultural snapshots" depend on a steady flow of women willing to take their clothes off and parade around as the playthings of men, wooed by big houses, fast cars and expensive clothes. If we let women--black women in this case--believe that they are capable of more and that security lies within themselves--the music video industry as we know it would cease to exist.

That is not to say there aren't black women who are empowered by their sexuality and performance in these videos. Absolutely there are. And that is not to say many of these women don't find huge financial success in the music video industry. I'm sure there are women who carve out a pretty good living on these productions. But looking at the image above (which was embedded in Sanchez' article), women aren't doing themselves any favors in the broader sense. With her backside spilling out of her bikini and her hair up, this woman looks ready to "service" popular rapper Ne-yo. Sure, maybe this is a doctored image, but it speaks volumes about gender portrayals in music videos.

While I think Sanchez' "Just-remember-beauty-comes-from-within-and-forget-that-women-like-you-aren't-on-screen" argument is weak, if not null and void, the man has a point. Color--light or dark or black or white--isn't the issue. Rather, I argue it's the portrayals of women of all colors in these videos. It's the need to change the depictions on screen and the values in society, to applaud and honor strong, independent women with a sense of self-worth and dignity.

Click here to see Joy Daily's documentary feature on this topic.

Photo Credit: SoJones.com

Mayer's not the only one who thinks he has a 'hood pass'

I wanted to steer away from pop culture this week, but this one was too big to miss. The now infamous John Mayer Playboy interview has been a burning hot topic on news sites and blogs since it broke last week.

For anyone who isn't familiar with this story, John Mayer said in a Playboy magazine interview:

"Someone asked me the other day, 'What does it feel like now to have a hood pass?' And by the way, it’s sort of a contradiction in terms, because if you really had a hood pass, you could call it a nigger pass. Why are you pulling a punch and calling it a hood pass if you really have a hood pass? But I said, 'I can’t really have a hood pass. I’ve never walked into a restaurant, asked for a table and been told, ‘We’re full.''"

He later elaborated on his racial preferences when it comes to sexual encounters. When asked if black women throw themselves at him, Mayer replied:

"I don’t think I open myself to it. My dick is sort of like a white supremacist. I’ve got a Benetton heart and a fuckin’ David Duke cock. I’m going to start dating separately from my dick."

From writer and filmmaker Molly Secours to rapper Talib Kweli, everyone had a slightly different take on Mayer's words. As I looked through these comments, ranging from outright fury to lighthearted "he was just kidding," I found The Boston Globe's commentary to be the most thought-provoking.

Author Adam Mansbach laments the two-dimensionality of America's discussion of race issues, which he says lack thorough analysis and critique. Mansbach argues that Mayer's gaffe will soon be a thing of the past, a transgression added to a shelf alongside those of Chris Matthews, Harry Reid and Don Imus.

Mansbach enumerates the ways in which society and the mainstream media will overlook Mayer's faux pas and fail to examine the implications of his words. From Mayer's allusions to white-supremacy to his use of a racial slur, Mansbach says we will sweep it all under the carpet. The dismissal of the "hood pass," he argues, will be the most detrimental.

Mansbach defines a "hood pass" as a widely accepted symbol of white acceptance by the black community. Although Mansbach says the term itself places power in the hands of blacks to decide whether or not to accept a white person, it also makes it easier for whites to deny racism exists, at least in themselves. Whites can buy into an often marketed and exploited black culture and say they have a "hood pass," and therefore understand or appreciate the struggles of the black community.

To add to Mansbach's critique of the term, I argue that "hood pass" perpetuates the individualistic fallacy, which says racism is a product of individual beliefs and prejudices. Crucial to this fallacy is the notion of intention: If we do not intend to keep blacks down, we cannot be racist. This ignores the fact that racism, the culture of whiteness and white privilege all permeate our society's social, economic, political and cultural structures.

The idea that a white man like Mayer can somehow be granted access to "blackness" is an endorsement of white privilege in the worst way. Not only does white privilege grant whites "natural" or "expected" superiority in all social spheres, but it is so ingrained in our society that we often overlook it. According to Peggy McIntosh, associate director of the Wellesley College Center for Research on Women, white privilege grants whites a sort of internalized comfort that they will not be discriminated against in the workplace, that they can have their voices heard (even when in the racial minority), and that they can dress or speak as they choose without attributions to their race. Mayer's "hood pass" comment, a seemingly casual blurb in a men's magazine interview, reveals our subconscious internalization of white privilege, and the "right" bestowed on whites to exercise their advantages in all spheres, including the black community.

A "hood pass" is not a get out of jail free card for whites to say, "See, I'm not racist!" Rather, it is a way to hide, to deny involvement and to run from the problem. And while we may decry Mayer's comments, only to shove them on the shelf by March 1st, his interview is yet another opportunity to start a broader dialogue. Like Matthews' "post-racial" America and Imus' "nappy-headed hoes," we must focus on the larger issue. Mayer is one man. "Hood pass" is two words. But both prove the perpetuation of racism, whether overt or covert, begs investigation.

Photo Credit: GlobalGrind.com