Black girls, your magic is just the beginning
First, in light of the discussion of whether Black women should be magical or not, we have to take a moment to reflect on the power of words in this contemporary moment. Neologisms - new words and phrases - made into hashtags, spread like wildfire (for a time) and infect the public imagination with new ways of thinking about reality...yet, we, as black women, should have dialogue about whether these new self-categorizations, be it #carefreeblackgirl, #blackgirlmagic, etc, are not just repackaged problematic stereotypes with shiny exteriors Although the term may come from us, that does not mean that the term is safe, as the debate with n*gga has shown. We have to have these communal conversations to make sure that these terms are adding something of value to our interpretation of the Black experience; So, in short, I appreciate the public debate since it keeps us as the authorities of our own culture, and not a bunch of folks blindly jumping on bandwagons.
Now, #Blackgirlmagic has been bubbling in the internets for the last three years. It was created by CaShawn Thompson and exists as shorthand to acknowledge the contributions and success of Black women, and the beauty (inside and out) of being a Black woman. The hashtag is a term pregnant with history. It stands as a rejection of Black women’s invisibility in both the white cultural environment, as well as in our own patriarchy laden communities. It stands as a form of resistance against Black women’s humanity as Black women use it to publicly demonstrate the unique and amazing things about themselves and their sisters.
Yet, Linda Chavers has a knee-jerk reaction to the popularity of the phrase. She doesn’t want to be considered magical because those with multiple forms of privilege still do not see her humanity. Black women are missing, they are incarcerated, they are underemployed at higher rates when compared to other gender and racial groups. I agree with her that it may become a problem to be seen as magical in this climate for two reasons:
If ALL Black women are “magic,” or can tap into their magic reservoirs, then we can do the impossible without consequence too ourselves. We can be beautiful, successful, and flawless, and others will expect us to be so. When there is an overemphasis on Black women’s ability to do EVERYTHING and be AMAZING all day, every day, there is a chance that we leave ourselves the impossible task of attempting to fill the role of the infallible Black woman.
Individual Black women may fall silent when they aren’t expressing the lighter-side of the magic. Those of us who may be expressing #blackgirldarkmagic such as depression, anger, failure, and other complex emotions and issues that we have as humans may appear not fit into #blackgirlmagic. In the current environment of recognizing Black woman’s accomplishments and being, those other moments do not sound so “magical.”
In framing #blackgirlmagic this way, Chavers sees the hashtag to be just another method of putting Black women in unrealistic terms, just like the strong Black woman stereotype. #Blackgirlmagic is just another denial of Black women’s suffering.
However, I don’t think we are so black and white anymore about how we describe our being. I think we are in a moment where we are attempting to change the strict single categorical nature of what black womanhood is.
Chavers’ response comes from a different tactic of Black woman empowerment, where we acknowledge our struggle first and foremost and we make others see our struggle is valid. This way of demonstrating our humanity has been a powerful method in our history, especially since the early days of Black Feminism in the 1980s. There has been a long fight for Black woman to have to ability to show our scars - that we too bleed when we are hurt, that sometimes we need help. In those moments, Black women can heal from many avenues of trauma when we were able to express our pain without the expectation of someone saying that our show of ‘weakness’ is a rejection of our black womanhood.
On the other hand, Chavers’ logic only allows for people to exist at the extremes of a phenomena. She asserts that if Black women are magic, then they can’t be anything else. In the end of her article, she asks, were black women who were victims of white supremacy, “not magical enough?” This is not a valid question. It is here that Chavers shows that she only defines Black woman’s humanity by one’s show of struggle -that being a Black woman requires us to profess we are the mules of the world. I agree that these atrocities that are happening to us are horrible, and must be fought. However, I cannot accept that my humanity does not include moments (or years) of joy, pleasure, and high self-esteem.
There have so many instances over the last 5 years where Black people were made to show our pain publicly in great number. Yet, that iconic image of the downtrodden Black woman becomes a limitation as well. If the only way people will see the Black woman is during her times of pain, then we are again stuck with an unrealistic black womanhood that we have to embody or reject.
I believe, however, our tactic today has been to be more holistic in our presentation of Black womanhood. We are embracing all our emotions, although the popularity of one hashtag may led some to think otherwise. I think that as much as publicly acknowledging our pain is a demonstration of our humanity, being happy, proud, congratulatory, and in awe of ourselves and our sisters just as radical. Even moreso, our recognition that we can be carefree one day, magical another, strong one day, or in pain the next, is a step towards liberation. #Blackgirlmagic, in tandem with all other hashtags of black womanhood adds to our humanity because we are expressing ourselves as multifaceted beings...and that’s just fantastic.
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