When I was a teenager, I was obsessed with stories. I still am, but back then I was acutely aware of their power and effect on me.
Stories reveal our desires, our passions, our fears, our triumphs. They are able to humanize us, dispensing knowledge and entertainment at the same time. Narrative is a powerful tool that can be used to influence or persuade, or it could be used to subjugate and force others to reject their traditions and their notions of self.
So my teenage self wanted to tell a story of when my papa came here from Ghana, how he dealt with the struggles of moving to the U.S. and how he managed culture shock and the snow and other such novelties. I had read books like Angela’s Ashes that told a personal story about Irish culture and heritage and the author, Frank McCourt, was universally heralded and praised. I wanted to do the same for my papa. But a question that I wasn’t as concerned with back then as I am now is: why wasn’t I as excited to do that for my mother?
By most metrics, my mom had a much more difficult time moving and living in the U.S. than my papa did. Misogynoir is a global pestilence of varying degrees, but it is especially virulent and pervasive in the U.S. Now, of course, difficulty does not a good story make, but it certainly can lend to making certain narratives, certain stories, more compelling.
But in my younger years, I fed into a lie that is delivered to boys and men of all ages everyday by the patriarchy: that stories of girls and women are not as important and if they must be told, they should be told from the perspective of men. This particular school of thought is shown in how some people will talk about romantic comedies, derisively also known as “chick flicks,” or to further emphasize how pernicious misogynoir is, the Oscars, which have been around for nearly a century, has awarded only one Black woman for Best actress.
So how does one combat an ideology that is entrenched by systems and institutions who wish to keep that power imbalance? Obviously, there have been powerful movements led by women that have fought against these bigoted and dangerous sensibilities through protest, and institutions of their own to fight back. But within all of this, it is important to tell the stories of women, women that are marginalized, women that are denied their agency from their own perspective. And that is why Women’s History Month is paramount.
Women have been at the forefront of social justice struggles for as long as America has existed. Women-led movements have secured landmark victories for reproductive freedom, voting rights, equal pay, education equity,and racial and gender justice. And look at any of our mass actions today – from Black Lives Matter to the renewed fight for abortion rights to #MeToo – and you will find women as the engines driving change. But for as much progress that has been made, the threats to women’s rights are intensifying.
Look no further than the so-called SAVE America Act, which is legislation that would require passports or birth certificates just to register to vote or update voter registration – information an estimated 21 million people do not have easy access to. Approximately 69 million women who have changed their names due to marriage would have to deal with these discriminatory, unnecessary obstacles if this legislation came to pass. Under this ceaseless onslaught, we can clearly see the parallels between the struggles of the past and present, and the way those attacking our rights update their tactics to achieve decades-old goals.
So let this Women’s History Month be a reminder to educate yourself, and commit to learn from the past so we’re prepared to get involved and fight for our future. . Read the books of Toni Morrison, Sandra Cisneros and Amy Tan. Learn about the presidential campaign of Shirley Chisholm, the revolt of Carlota and Fermina and the vibrancy of Marsha P. Johnson. Even the stories of those that were regressive in causes especially important to women, like Phyllis Schlafly, must be told – so as not to turn away and stand still, but to look back and move forward. Those are stories that I want to hear and share, like that of those who are known all over the world, or to those I hold dear in my heart, like my mother.
