We may use the entire lexicon of Amnesty International, white privilege, colorism, systemic racism, racial charge, unconscious bias, micro-aggressions, internalized racism, white fragility, racial colorblindness, cultural appropriation, racial profiling, safe spacewhiteness, code switching, etc., becoming woke involves first and foremost being quiet and listening. BLM, Black Lives Matter.
And the voice of Afro-descendant women is one of those that is gaining momentum at the moment. These little sisters of Rosa Park, Maya Angelou and Angela Davis may want to exist in the public square without having to justify their presence beyond the color of their skin, it seems that we still have to explain their reality under the yoke of multiple discrimination.
The documentary The myth of the black woman, by Ayana O’Shun, has already opened a window on the prejudices they face on a daily basis. First women, then blacks, Jezebel or nannies, whores or substitute mothers. The writer of Haitian origin Dany Laferrière places them at the very bottom of the social ladder. At the top, the white man, under the sun exactly.
I found in Judith Lussier’s essay (We can’t say anything more) these words from the poet Audre Lorde, in the spirit “ not here to teach you » (not here to educate you), taken from his book Sister Outsider: Essays and Speeches, a bible for some Afro-descendants: “Black and third world people are expected to educate white people about their reality. Women are expected to educate men. Lesbians and gays are expected to educate heterosexuals. The oppressor thus maintains his position and evades his responsibilities for his own behavior. There is a constant drain of energy that would be better spent redefining ourselves and imagining realistic scenarios to change the present and build the future. »
Yet it is in friendship that the vast majority of us first glimpse the redemptive possibility of love and community where we care for each other.
Black card
While waiting to imagine these scenarios, we must show the trauma without pouring into the “ trauma porn » criticized by certain media.
The show Black card named desire was part of the FTA programming last weekend; it stirred up air in France last year, and features eight French Afro-descendant women who captivate us for three hours. (Éric Zemmour even spoke about anti-white racism without having seen it, but he also declared that he had never met a woman more intelligent than him…)
The piece written by Rébecca Chaillon is both poetic and militant. It smells of cannabis and cocoa, provocation and nauseating. She breaks the fourth wall between spectators and actresses, also invites all Afro-descendant spectators to place themselves in reserved seats facing the stage, creating a mirror effect for the audience (white and/or male) and a safe space for the actresses.
The tension slowly rises in front of these representations of the black woman, sometimes “surface technician”, sometimes nanny, constantly objectified, reduced to her mute role, naked or not. When actresses – in a scene where the audience is invited to find the word to describe their mimed actions – come to grab the personal effects of the spectators in the room, there is resistance, there is symbolic violence. The word: colonialism. The actresses navigate between demonstration and denunciation. The anger is palpable in the subtext. Fed up too.
If you meet him at BLM, you already know that there is woke and feminist and everything
The intention is not at all the same in the piece Get excited (“Partying” in Ivory Coast), recently performed at the Théâtre d’Aujourd’hui, produced by Sophie Cadieux, and which I loved. The sorority of these four young Afro-descendant roommates is protected by the fourth wall. We witness their conversations, in intimacy, about the issues that taunt them as marginalized women of diversity. We also understand that a world separates us from their language, their culture, their family dynamics, their sorority, their Black joy.
Live in joy
I met the author of Get excited, Stephie Mazunya, and two of the actresses, Naïla Louidort and Malube Uhindu-Gingala, last week. I wanted to hear them about love and sisterhood. Eventually, the conversation took a political turn. They don’t want to be part of quotas, to be hired to fill a slot, they don’t want to explain their accent, their hair, their skin color. They just want to be seen and heard.
Stephie wrote this joyful piece, but which carries several messages. They can exhibit themselves in groups, a fairly rare occurrence, as if Michel Tremblay’s “sisters-in-law” were Afro-descendants in 2024. “In fiction, we can only exist alone, surrounded by white people,” Stephie emphasizes, 31 years. We are taken in small doses. I also wanted to show black women who are not in competition. »
When I ask them if it takes a village to support them, they light up in chorus: “Ah yes!! The people who pick you up are your friends, especially when your family isn’t there. » This was the case for Malube, who arrived alone in Montreal during the pandemic. “Friendship is the basis,” she says. Stephie adds: “You can not have a romantic partner, but not friends, it’s rare. »
They would make a voice heard on the theater stage where the silence reigned for the stories of black and Asian women. They would found a theater in their own way. This became the motto of the company À Notre Façon Ou Rien.
More and more, we notice them everywhere, on the small screen, in advertising: there is progress, one would say. “There is not enough change. Is it now that you validate my existence? » says Malube.
“We are accepted within a very tight framework. We cannot deviate from the norm. We want a Barbie dipped in chocolate. We are more digestible through art. We are not here just to entertain,” says Naïla, 22 years old.
I felt the need to emphasize that my approach was caring; I showed my credentials, raised the white flag. My questions from Blanche.tte, my white guiltTHE triggers unintentional, I left with it. All the lexicons in the world, translated or not, will not be able to erase the transgenerational heritage, the need to be recognized and the anger. You’ll have to listen carefully before getting carried away. Finally.
Instagram: josee.blanchette