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Feminism began as a political
movement in which women challenged the status quo "in a world that
acknowledged and valued only male experiences" (Dentith, 2002, p.
163). Feminists explore the ways that gender is used as a social construct
that affects access to power and social capital (Ferree & Hess, 2000;
Naples, 1998; Orleck, 1995). Feminists also expose how particular constructions
organize people into categories that privilege some and not others (Davies,
1989; Lorber & Farrell, 1991; Lorber & Farrell, 1991). Feminist
pedagogies support social action through critical inquiry among students
and teachers. Such social action publicly challenges the assumed limitations
of marginalized people by cultivating awareness of their inherent power.
It ultimately leads to conscious citizenship and amendment of social injustices
(Dentith, 2002). Furthermore, Black feminist pedagogies provide useful
ways to explore how the intersections of race, class, and gender inform
and influence the lives and actions of people of color (Dixon, 2003; Collins,
1990). There are multiple ways to interpret Black feminist theories; they
encompass a variety of perspectives on life and experience (Barton-Calabrese,
1998; Brady, 1995; Brady & Dentith, 2001; Fisher, 2001). The work
of many Black feminist pedagogues brings to light the multiple ways that
race and gender influence and are influenced by African Americans and
other people of the Diaspora (Luke, 1996; Nicholson, 1990, 1997; Ropers-Huilman,
1998). I argue that it is helpful to address the ways that African American
women teachers understand and use the intersection of race and gender,
not because these aspects of identity represent the totality of experience
or identity, but rather "in response to the limited ways in which
most social science research, particularly educational research, has cast
them" (Dixon, 2003, p. 219). Additionally, I suggest that scholars
in the fields of literacy education and teacher education should explore
the ways in which race and gender work synergistically for people of color,
specifically African American people (Dixon, 2003). As an urban practitioner committed to the education of adolescents of color and the teachers who take "responsibility" for them (Dillard, 2002), I am conscientious of representations of Black womanhood in popular culture. Specifically, I am interested in the particular ways femininity is portrayed among African American characters in media texts my students might engage outside of school. While feminism forefronts the prevalence and posture of race and gender, I find that it is equally important to understand how femininity is storied in the public domain. This is true because conceptions of femininity are parts of the structural forces (e.g. slavery, discrimination, segregation, economic exclusion, artistic expression, political activism) that shape women's lives. Durr & Hill (2002) explain:
These transcendences
should be explored for the sake of young women and men in schools who
are in the processes of determining their roles in human relationships
and as individuated beings with agency. Femininity encompasses the gendered
ways that women identify themselves as social, sexual, spiritual, and
intellectual beings. The transgression of many widely accepted descriptions
of femininity has enunciated experiences of Black women and informed the
ways that teachers of African American adolescents might support their
students' development as whole beings. Because media harbor a multitude
of the identity constructs consumed by adolescents, I frequently turn
my analytic eye to them as I prepare literacy instruction for my teenaged
students and pre-service teachers of middle and high school students.
Examining
media texts as sites of intellectual and social stimulation that affect
adolescents' literacy practices (Barton & Hamilton, 2000) is prudent
for 21st century educators. Adolescents are on the cusp of childhood and
adulthood (Klein, et. al., 1993); they engage media not only to be entertained,
but also to be informed about ways of being. Television shows, films,
music videos, and Internet websites depict images of male/female relationships
and construct representations of womanhood and manhood in myriad ways.
So, to scholars of English literature, Social Studies, Art History, and
other disciplines, wondering how students read the world and the word
(Freire & Macedo, 1987) through television and film is often very
provocative. It is also very sensible. According to the Federal Trade
Commission (1999) 98% of Americans own or have immediate access to a television
set. Ninety-seven percent own or have access to a VCR, 90% have a CD or
DVD player, and 89% have either a personal computer or other video-game-capable
equipment. Another recent national study reported that consuming media
is a full-time job for the average adolescent because he or she spends
approximately 40 hours a week doing it (Roberts, Foehr, Rideout, Broadie,
1999). These young people are not lone investors in media texts. Many
teachers are also regular consumers of popular culture. From experience,
we know that nearly all of the stories spun by media interplay gender,
race, and sexuality. Reality shows subjectify Black women. Music videos
objectify Black women. Movies often spin stories of Black womanhood into
salacious, tough tales. Such tale-telling offers multiple points of entry
for the adolescent reader. When I teach adolescents I wonder what sense they make of the African American women characters they see perpetuated in media texts. I think deeply about the connections my students may discover between and among media characters and real people in their everyday lives. Such connections usually parallel students' understanding of their own respective attributes - such as race and femininity. Garner, Sterk, & Adams, (1998) state "media stories provide the symbols, myths, and resources through which we constitute a common culture and through the appropriation of which we insert ourselves into this culture" (p. 59). My students' cultural self-insertion depends on whatever human depictions they subscribe to or reject, and whatever ways of being they emulate or criticize. In effect, one of my responsibilities as an "inquiring practitioner" is to be proactive in my reflection of media depictions in order to support and inform my students' reading experiences and understanding (Newman, 1991; 1992). Because media are ubiquitous storytellers that are arguably hyper-utilized by youth, understanding their representations of the attribute assigned to African American womanhood, something I call "Black femininity", is critical. Black Femininity Like all social constructs, Black femininity is a contrived notion in the minds of societal participants. I understand Blackness as a social identity trait that is informed by historical, cultural, political and linguistic variation (Collins, 1990; Dyson, 1993; Mama, 1995). It cannot be isolated and narrowly defined to accommodate general ideologies. It inspires different meanings for different people and is realized in numerous ways because the spectrum of humanity is vast among African peoples of the Diaspora. Blackness is a loaded characteristic that is endowed with passions, spiritual awareness, and intellectual/emotional sensibilities acquired through familial and communal awareness. Community members, kin, and strangers assign Blackness to the individual. In turn, it is either accepted or denied, as relatively determined by the assigner and assignee. Blackness is often considered both admirable and threatening to those who are centered in American society (read: White, middle class, heterosexual males) because it contains social power that is conjured by the imagination, enacted in experience, and sustained by the documented evolution of Black people (Zinn, 1995). Femininity is an assumed quality or condition of being female; further, it is a collection of attributes that can be performed. It is ascribed to womanhood, which is a state of humanity, but it is not necessarily generic or inclusive. The construct of femininity is standardized in the U.S. by the illusion of a "reputable, sweet, white woman" and is the point of measurement by which othered women are gauged. Generally, it is typified as docile, lovely, but dispassionate, compliant, and decidedly unthreatening. Black femininity is a particular, composite way of being because it merges the puissance of Blackness with typical notions of femininity. This merger radically changes femininity. Blackness, by virtue of its dynamism, constitutes a femininity that is long acquired, wildly beautiful, critical, spiritual, and resistant. This acquisition is nurtured and constructed internally by many African American women, supported in social strata, and occasionally re-presented externally by media. What's
Love Got to Do With It?
Unfortunately,
the strength in her voice obviously disturbs the choir director, who scolds
her and eventually drags her by the ear and banishes her from the sanctuary.
While I watched these scenes I found it ironic that little Anna was rejected
from a refuge just as she discovered the impact and moving presence of
her own sound. Later, Anna
makes her way home along a winding, dusty country road. As she approaches
her home she witnesses her mother and older sister carrying suitcases
and running from the house toward a waiting automobile. Anna's grandmother
stands on the porch begging the mother to stay. Undeterred, the mother
and sister speed off after beseeching the grandmother to "take care
of Anna Mae." Anna runs to the house and surveys a haphazard, upturned
living room and kitchen. In addition to being ostracized from church,
she realizes that she has been abandoned and suffers feelings of terrible
insecurity. However, her grandmother is benevolent; she cares for Anna
Mae until her death some ten years later. Upon hearing news of the old
woman's demise, Anna Mae's mother sends for her and the young girl arrives
in St. Louis as a thriving adolescent. While settling into her new life
in the big city, Anna Mae is resigned to the monitoring of her sister
Alline, a stylish bartender, who works as in a local nightclub. At the
club, Ike Turner, the star act and resident philanderer, is affected by
the power of Anna's voice. He seduces her and convinces her to sing in
his band. Over the next 25 years, Anna Mae Bullock becomes Tina Turner.
As she develops into womanhood Ike abuses her painfully. He belittles
her with demeaning epithets, intimidation, physical torture, rape, and
emotional blackmail. Ike knows that Anna will not leave him because she
fears transformation into the type of person who has hurt her most, the
type she despises: a deserter. Realizing that Anna Mae's childhood trauma
revolved around rejection and abandonment, Ike reifies himself as a victim
of neglect and loneliness in a ploy to control her. Despite her
circumstances Anna Mae Bullock continued to sing as Tina Turner. As Tina,
Anna fulfilled her heart's desire by using her voice and cultivating songs.
On stage, as a powerful performer, she was not the victim, rather, she
was the victor. Regardless of her physical bruises and wounded pride she
developed, over time, into a aggressive entertainer who won the hearts
of millions. This portrayal mimics the lives of many African American
women I know. Amid awesome societal pressures induced by racism, sexism,
and maltreatment, numerous African American women manage to maintain incredible
successes as mothers, friends, sisters, daughters, and professionals.
This success is often due to spirituality - a cultural anchor of Black
femininity that so many African American women subscribe to. Recognition
of the Higher Power and submission to the Love and Peace that can exist
in our hearts and minds according to our own beliefs, choices, and subsequent
actions, empowers many African American women as they construct their
femininity. Over thousands of years, spiritual beliefs have been shown
to influence African women's understandings of forgiveness, liberation,
hope, justice, salvation, the meaning and purpose of life, and responses
to oppression (Dillard, 2002; Cone, 1997; Mattis, 1997; Lincoln &
Mamiya, 1990). Tina Turner
found her spiritual footing in What's Love Got to Do With It? after
a bought with Ike that landed her in the hospital for an extended stay.
She turned to prayer and meditation and began to recognize a source of
Power that was beyond her yet had the capacity to work through her. Tina's
decision to access that Power and meld it with the substance of her Blackness
nurtured the development of her femininity. It evolved over time and was
constructed in response to years of inquiry into herself and a quest for
peace beyond what she could conceive in her immediate situation. She used
what gifts she had, her voice and her determination, and embodied Black
femininity where she was. Then, she broke free. At the end of the film,
Tina Turner outflanked Ike Turner by eschewing his ploy to control her
heart and mind, and reconfiguring her worst nightmare. Instead of seeing
herself as a deserter, she saw herself as a survivor and advanced to a
critical and resistant stance in personhood. She took command of her body,
her mind, and her career and purged herself of outward domination and
coercion. She left Ike Turner, continued to entertain and enjoyed the
best years of her career as a middle-aged woman. Her Black femininity
reached its pinnacle after years of struggle. Her womanhood was not inscribed
with a femininity rooted in the pristine, soft, agreeable one endorsed
by the mainstream. Hers emerged slowly and was stamped with pain, defiance,
deep analysis, and spiritual attunement. The idea
that "Love" had anything to do with the depiction of Black femininity
in Tina Turner's character representation is important. The title of the
film was taken from a hit song recorded by Tina Turner in the mid-1980s.
The question "what's love got to do with it?" is ironic given
the main character's tumultuous life course. Yet it is worthy of inquiry.
In my initial reading of the film, I considered the question figuratively.
I watched the movie and read the scenes and representations of personhood.
I thought of the absence of Love, and understood the film as a sardonic
text. In a second read, I considered the literal impact of the question
and actively searched for the spiritual component of Tina Turner's journey,
using the film's title as an essential question (Lambert & McCombs,
1998). By drawing in the character's journey of internal struggle - which
manifested as a spiritual affront to emotional destruction - and outward
triumph - which manifested as the acquisition of physical strength and
intellectual rebellion - I learned that Ms. Turner's Black femininity
was full of Love. Her femininity was cut into her muscular frame and resounded
in her rich alto inflections. It was attractive and ripe with its own
spiritual, intellectual, physical, and sexual potency. It was depicted
as solidified, not soft. It was thick with joy, assertion and revolution,
not thin with niceties and false complacencies. It was self-contained
and self-reliant by virtue of her personal choice to submit to a Higher
Authority and, in so doing, released her inner power on her own terms.
These images and their messages are cogent. They push me to consider the conditions that support Black femininity. I teach African American adolescent girls and boys. I care for them all equally and deeply respect their gendered contributions to our work and classroom dynamics. I do not wish to unwittingly condone gender stratification through my reading experience and consequential facilitation of inquiry. As I engage in the work of reading media texts I caution myself to reflect critically on an underlying inference that Black femininity might somehow be dependent on harassment and tribulation, or unwittingly indicate that perpetrators have power over women and the development of Black femininity. While I consider my own femininity to be intimately connected with the tenderness of struggle, this connection does not empower adversaries or strife. Instead, I read Black femininity in this text and in my life as something that is emergent, resulting, and effectual - a kind of response to life's work. I understand intuitively and experientially that it is not incited or designated by the agitator or oppressor, or manufactured by him (or her). Rather, it is assembled and organized according to the determination of the girl-to-woman human being who cultivates her self and her world. The work of the girl-to-woman human being points to the influence Love has on Black femininity (Staples, in preparation). Black femininity is designed within the individual with respect to the Power that ultimately loves, is joyful, peaceful, strong, undivided, faithful, temperate, and longsuffering. It is then commingled with the world's harsh reality, melding a distinctive feature of womanhood that should not be underestimated. Practitioner Inquiry and Literacy Education Considering
Black femininity is one way to spark various reading experiences, critical
inquiry, and literacy practices among adolescents. My research shows that
students co-orchestrate rigorous intellectual work with communities of
peers when they engage media texts in out-of-school contexts. Students
practice literacy, that is, they discover ways to interpret, manipulate,
and utilize ideas, words, representations, images, and stories they encounter,
when reading media. When teachers use different kinds of texts in the
classroom the methods used to engage them are crucial. For instance, when
reading What's Love Got to Do With It? with my students, I might consider
the story's construction of Black femininity and assist them in developing
their own ideas of what it means to be a feminine African American woman.
This assistance most constructively emerges in relationship to other texts
like printed articles from popular periodicals, excerpts from textbooks,
written vignettes, poetry from well-known and obscure authors, and my
own personal reflections. Invitations to construct deep talk, write responsively,
and collaborate in a community are necessary for this type of complex
literacy development (Staples, in preparation). Such teaching/learning environments are necessary for both struggling and adept readers because studies show that learning to decode print is intimately tied to learning to think critically (Barton & Hamilton, 2000; Barton & Hamilton, 1998; Newman, 1991; Newman, 1992). Reading intricate representations of personhood is one way that pre-service and in-service teachers can initiate a diversity of reading experiences and literacy practices among adolescents. These sustained inquires possess multiple opportunities to scaffold perceptions and awarenesses among all teaching/learning participants. These opportunities become apparent through the web of interactions that take place between and among students, texts, and teachers in literate rich communities. The opportunities become viable when couched in ongoing questions about race and gender. They are positioned to affect change in the ways adolescents use texts, negotiate literacy, and consider their own personhood. Constructing and maintaining such teaching/learning spaces - ones that support inquiry and complex literacy development - is imperative. Raphael, Florio-Ruane, Kehus, George, Hasty, and Highfield (2000) are members of the Michigan Teachers Learning Collaborative (TLC). They are a feminist group of teachers and university-based teacher educators who recognize the value of practitioner inquiry and literacy education, particularly for "readers who may conceivably go through school never engaging challenging texts that require higher order thinking and interpretation skills or enjoy the chances to talk with peers about such materials and the ideas they contain" (p. 1). Under such conditions, classrooms where reading should happen and literacies should flourish, become stratified, stagnant, and dangerously predictable. Such settings make it difficult, if not impossible, "for readers to join in or for the teacher to create a functioning community of learners" (p. 1). Rather, students' literacies should be supported and developed in several ways. Raphael et. al. suggest that professional development should foster teachers who:
I submit that an inquiring practitioner committed to Black feminist pedagogies should add to this list of tasks and incorporate social and political consciousness into reading experiences that take place in and outside of schools. In such a framework, students' literacies would be pushed and challenged in several ways. Teachers concerned about students' awareness of race and gender should:
Reading Black femininity in What's Love Got to Do With It? is an exercise of practitioner inquiry within a Black feminist pedagogical framework. By critically considering representations of personhood within a media text my students might engage outside of school and considering ways it might be interrogated inside of school, I inform my own teaching/learning ideals and nurture the scholarship of my practice. Wondering about the nature of femininity as it is redefined by Blackness in one woman's story helps to broaden the terrain that my African American urban adolescents, both boys and girls, navigate as they determine the definitive nature of their own personhood. Pawelczyk (2003) argues that "individuals negotiate identity by negotiating their participation in multiple communities of practice" (p. 416). As an African American woman teacher I understand the intersections of race and gender in my own person and know the value of developing communities of practice to explore them. These aspects of identity are transgressive and not subject to mainstream dynamics. Black femininity is storied in What's Love Got to Do With It? as a synergistic aspect of identity that develops over time and is distinct from traditional conceptions of femininity. The depiction is helpful because it demonstrates the complexity of some African American women's experiences in the development of the self. As an inquiring practitioner, I plan to re-read this text and this aspect of gender with my students and see the world and the word through their eyes. My students' reading experiences will undoubtedly inform my own professional development for years to come, and conversely, they will spark the cycle of intercommunication necessary for full literate lives. References Barton-Calabrese, A. (1998). Feminist science education. New York: Teachers College Press. Barton, D.
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