Post 4: The Importance of Intersectionality

     Visiting the Brooklyn Museum was an insightful experience for a young feminist such as myself, and a powerful reminder that the feminist movement, while conspicuously silent in the present decade, is far from depleted. The piece that held its grip on me more than any other was undoubtedly Judy Chicago's The Dinner Party. So accustomed was I to seeing phallic imagery -- festering as an unconscious presence in the back of my mind -- that I was shocked to see, for the first time, vaginas quite literally served to me on a silver platter. Affectionately inscribed under the "vulva-plates" were the names of several (semi-)famous women, most of which I recognized, and most of which I noticed were the names of straight white artists. Indeed, while the unabashed display of "female-ness" had a great affect on me, the fact that the majority of the people included in the piece seemed to be straight white women left me unsatisfied. I began to wonder: How could I make this piece more inclusive?

     The answer, it seemed, was that I couldn't. Chicago's piece, while powerful, is immensely flawed in its assumption that there exists a universal female experience. She and her assistants may have sculpted some unique-looking vaginas (Emily Dickinson's sculpture comes to mind), but ultimately they are all variants of the same thing. Inclusion, however, is important; without intersectionality in feminist art we exclude other marginalized groups and undermine the overall goal of feminism i.e. to achieve equality and dismantle patriarchy. So, with The Dinner Party as my main source of inspiration, I decided to research art made by non-white, non-heterosexual women, uncovering artists like Lenore Chinn, Madeleine Lim, Zanele Muholi, Annie Danger and Kokumo. Illustrating the experiences of these women -- and how they might differ from the experiences of straight white women -- thus became my goal. 

     But why is intersectionality important? Recall the words of Bell Hooks: patriarchy is not only comprised of males -- it is comprised of straight white males. Dismantling patriarchy would mean recognizing that the suffering of one group is the suffering of all groups. Indeed, "forms of oppression are all interwoven within our institutions", since we are not either/or beings (Miles). By fighting against racism, we are simultaneously fighting against sexism, homophobia, cissexism, etc. Art as a form of activism should therefore acknowledge all forms of oppression, because any kind of exclusion is is detrimental to the feminist movement. 

     Lenore Chinn's acrylic portraits are a prime example of intersectionality in art (but not necessarily activism). As an Asian-American lesbian artist, Chinn infuses her experiences and the "small details of life" into her paintings (CherryGRRL.com). Her subjects -- usually lesbians -- are never one race or ethnicity, nor are they objects to be observed. There is nothing sensual or suggestive about Chinn's Break from Pulp; the painting is simply a photorealistic depiction of a heteronormative lesbian couple. The photorealism lends to the almost underwhelming sense of normalcy in the painting, even if the perspective is slightly skewed, and there are an assortment of items scattered on the hardwood floor. There is a quality of human ordinariness in this portrait, even if the romance between these two women -- and indeed, the women themselves -- are not entirely traditional subjects for an entirely traditional medium. It is as if Chinn is trying to normalize what we are often told is abnormal.

Lenore Chinn. Break from Pulp, 1994

     Madeleine Lim's work isn't as subtle. Originally from Singapore, Lim's projects have an explicit focus on the multiple layers of discrimination she faces as a queer woman of color. Her award-winning film Sambal Belacan in San Francisco -- about three Asian lesbians struggling to thrive in America -- is still banned in Singapore today. In 2000, she founded the Queer Women of Color Media Arts Project (QWOCMAP), with "the belief that a community of artist-activist leaders could change the face of filmmaking and the social justice movement" (QWOCMAP.org). It is essentially a program that seeks to train queer women of color and present their creations in the form of annual film festivals. 

Screencap from Sambal Belacan in San Francisco, 1998

     Zanele Muholi's work is closer to home. Her goal as a half-artist, half-activist lesbian photographer is to explore the intimate lives of black lesbian women in South Africa. Her greatest obstacle -- and indeed, the greatest obstacle of all black women -- is overcoming the consequences of patriarchy and white colonialism. The themes discussed in her photos are similar to Wangechi Mutu's work, another African artist exhibited at the Brooklyn Museum. Like Mutu, her work focuses on the exoticization of the black female body. Unlike Mutu, however, she is concerned that her sexual identity will appear "un-African", exactly because black women are traditionally hypersexualized and regarded as heterosexual objects to be controlled by men (again, because of colonialism and patriarchy). She believes that as a visual artist, it is her responsibility to create a "body of meaning that is welcomed by us as a community of queer black women...because it is through capturing the visual pleasures and erotica of my community that our being comes into focus, into community and national consciousness" (Casal-Data). Muholi wishes to cast black lesbians under a more positive light. The human quality, the softness, the lighting and the faces of the women in her photos -- particularly in Katlego Mashiloane and Nosipho Lavuta -- are very real, very hopeful, almost serene. These women are not being commodified or exoticized -- they are being embraced as they are.

Zanele Muholi. Katlego Mashiloane and Nosipho Lavuta, Ext. 2, Lakeside, Johannesburg. 2007

     Annie Danger's work, as her name implies, is quite the opposite of serene. She is a loud and proud trans* woman; an artist-activist hybrid whose theatrical performances scream sex, sex, sex. Last February she performed in The Great Church of the Holy Fuck, a fake Mass that "preaches the gospel of the body and its often-uncomfortable urges" (Janiak). Her performances are often comical, over-the-top and in conversation with the audience. She has also organized and starred in The Fully Functional Cabaret, a piece of community theater written, produced by and starring an all trans* woman cast. Clearly, her gender identity is an important part of her life and her work. 

Scene from The Fully Functional Cabaret

     Kokumo is, likewise, a trans* woman artist-activist amalgamation. Unlike Danger, however, she is also a trans* woman of color who speaks of being "marginalized even within the margins" (Cox). Born into a lower-middle-class family, she was taught at an early age that because she was black and a trans* person, she would never become the musician she wanted so badly to be. This proved to be untrue, of course, but morbid and depressing all the same. The oppression she faced and continues to face is translated into much of her work, particularly in "There Will Come a Day," a song that "forces you to acknowledge your privilege over me" (Cox).  Kokumo believes it is her duty as a trans* artist to educate people about social injustices and the plight of the marginalized black woman. She asserts that she doesn't have the luxury to separate art from activism. The creation of KOKUMOMEDIA was the product of this art-activism interaction. 

Video for "There Will Come a Day" by Kokumo

     Trans* women are of particular significance when discussing the topic of intersectionality because they seem to be the "new" marginalized group: the group most often misunderstood and misrepresented even among people who are supposed to be open-minded. It seems that when these women are not outright shunned, insulted, or in some cases, labeled "pretendbians", they go wholly unacknowledged by the feminist and LGBT community. Trans* misogyny is a persistent and wrongful attribute in the current trend of feminism, and that is why works by Annie Danger and Kokumo -- particularly Kokumo -- are so important. The work by queer women of color, notably trans* women, seem to be the most authentic forms of feminism.

     Clearly, these artists -- Lenore Chinn, Madeleine Lim, Zanele Muholi, Annie Danger and Kokumo -- are not straight and/or cis white women. To talk about all women under the banner of the "One Woman" is to ignore the unique experiences of homosexual and/or trans* women of color. Judy Chicago's The Dinner Party does essentially that -- lump together all these women as if to imply the existence of universal female experience. All of the artists mentioned above infuse pieces of themselves into their work, and to say "we are all women!" is ultimately bad feminism. 

Bibliography

Casal-Data, Victoria. "Zanele Muholi Explores Representation Of Lesbian African Women."BeautifulDecay. N.p., 10 Oct. 2013. Web. 04 Dec. 2013.

Cox, Laverne. "KOKUMỌ: Transgender Recording Artist and Activist Talks About Her New EP and What Empowerment for T.G.I. People of Color Means." The Huffington Post. TheHuffingtonPost.com, 27 Mar. 2013. Web. 04 Dec. 2013. <http://www.huffingtonpost.com/laverne-cox/kokumo-interview_b_2951487.html>.

Janiak, Lily. "Annie Danger: She'll Take Your Body on a Spiritual Journey." SFWeekly. N.p., 27 Feb. 2013. Web. 04 Dec. 2013. <http://www.sfweekly.com/2013-02-27/culture/annie-danger-church-of-the-holy-fuck-interview/>.

"Lenore Chinn: Representing Asian and Lesbian Culture." CherryGRRL. N.p., n.d. Web. 03 Dec. 2013. <http://cherrygrrl.com/lenore-chinn-representing-asian-and-lesbian-culture/>.

Miles, Katrina C. "Tagg Magazine." Tagg Magazine. N.p., 5 Sept. 2013. Web. 03 Dec. 2013. 

"Queer Women of Color Media Arts Project." QWOCMAP. N.p., n.d. Web. 04 Dec. 2013. <http://www.qwocmap.org/staff.html>.