I get this thing travelling to work in the morning. It’s like I know I’m about to spend the next eight hours immersed in institutionalised whiteness, and right up to the moment I walk through those revolving glass doors I just won’t take no mess. I’m sure it’s why I have altercations on the tube/train. It’s the same reason I don’t like white people to give me attitude when I am socialising in Brixton. That’s a whole other essay. To the point, I get a little precious about my civil rights and my dignity.

It so happens that these transport altercations have always been with white women. I don’t want to get too far into the details of my tube experience. If I were American I’d say something about my Fifth Amendment right not to incriminate myself (education a la The Good Wife), I don’t know the British equivalent. That too is a whole other essay. The basic points of the incident are that a white woman deliberately pushes me in my back after cutting her eye at me, and I respond with such seriousness that she literally runs to the other side of the station and sarcastically tells me to have a good day. The ordeal irks me because I have repugnance for rudeness but also because these clashes unsettle my feminist politics and make me question whether the ally relationship is only theoretical.

My morning experiences en route to work are interesting to me because they encourage me to recall the challenges expressed by Black Feminist and Womanists who paved the way for me. (I say that as though it were with me in mind specifically. But such is the capacity of some women’s hearts that if it were possible I’m sure it would be true). These women faced the important task of nurturing and being committed to Black men and families, whilst speaking to the challenges and abuses of this. And in the context of white supremacist capitalist patriarchy (bell hooks) vocalising these experiences, developing critical perspectives with their womanhood at the centre, was seen as a betrayal of Blackness and collective anti-racist (that term I suppose is a little anachronistic), anti-imperialist efforts. This is in addition to grappling with the feminist movement and attempting to find solidarity with white women, from whom they often experienced racism and marginalisation.

Owing so much to their work I don’t have the same conundrum to contend with. Where Black men are concerned I am very content to discuss their full humanity especially in respect of heterosexual relationships – soul restoring tenderness and bone breaking flaws and all. My feminism/womanism is mature enough to include that.

I have shaped my feminism to be a consciousness of my gendered experience in this world and the limitations it places on me; as well as the set of practices, structures and strategies that help me express, demand the space for, and carve out the fullness of my humanity everywhere: work, home, in prayer, in sex, my psyche, etc. Black men have threatened and fostered this interchangeably at different stages. I can be open about this.

There is however, an aspect of my feminist practice in which I am often closeted: my relations with white women. There are two impeding forces – my desire for allegiance with white women particularly in the face of the open and targeted misogyny expressed by some Black men – (I imagine said in my presence it is supposed to be received as an adulation of my greater virtue, purity and worth by way of my lesser humanity. Ironic.) The second is that I have often – I would like to say always but am cautioning myself against hyperbole – felt policed by white women. When I have attempted to be vocal about my difficulties in forging relationships with white women it has been met with a vulnerability performance that I have been loathe to push beyond. Dare I say more?

This was such an important issue to me at one point that I considered trying to co-write an essay on the topic with a white classmate I was trying to befriend. I met her when undertaking my masters degree in Race and Resistance. I had admired her because she was the sole intellectual challenge and combatant in the class. As the only person of colour taking the course with not a single Black tutor I decided it was time to grapple with some of these differences. After one of our classes we had a candid conversation in which I expressed my frustrations about engaging with young white women. I told her I felt that in the past individuals had been too quick to turn to tears, feeling injured, and displaying other issue distracting tactics. Her response has stayed with me. She said, (and I paraphrase), as a white woman at times being challenged about privilege and complicity was both new and overwhelming, and could leave her (that’s a plural ‘her’ since I do not want to say ‘them’) at a loss, hence the tears. Her perspective provided some balance to what I imagined had been sabotage. It was a step in the right direction. Nevertheless, our friendship failed.

I invited a budding acquaintance to lunch with us, a Nigerian-Lebanese girl who was in my ‘Race and Identity in the Black Atlantic’ class. I particularly enjoyed her company as having lived in a Black majority country her position on race was quite disparate to my own. Whilst the three of us sat together and discussed Beyonce primarily as I recall, I sensed (let’s call her Jemima so I don’t have to continue to use the impersonal ‘white girl’), Jemima felt uncomfortable with this dynamic. At some point in the conversation she then said she felt I had a chip on my shoulder. Well, what she actually said was that I felt everyone was against me, which I interpreted as a chip. Chioma, we shall call the other girl, having only known me a few weeks, disagreed and defended my position on race and politics, which she herself did not share. Jemima went onto say that I made her feel white. And that was a wrap. I knew at that moment, other troublesome incidences overlooked, that statement rendered a genuine friendship improbable. Sceptical, I have since parked all white woman bonding attempts.

There is no white woman I call friend. (I’m frantically searching my mind trying to see if there is someone I have forgotten and may offend). Is that a problem? Perhaps not. “It’s not by force” as my best friend would say. What is a concern for me – albeit quite minor if I keep it real – is that this estrangement is an obvious barrier to any meaningful engagement. More importantly, it undermines the strength of my anti-racist practices/values. I would like to think that my feminism isn’t just theory. But hey, isn’t that what us academic lot are good for?  

 © Nichole Black, 2013

I am working on asking for what I need, which is an especially difficult task for me.

I have been clinging to my self-reliance, wanting to live my life free of the guilt song plucked on my heart strings; not wanting to owe anybody anything. Especially not money. And if needs must, not for long, not for more than a week. Not long enough for that person to charge me interest in favours. For the exchange to build momentum into a debt of any kind – and worst of all my time, which I am scarily territorial about. I am in the crevice of my mid-twenties wanting to finally get a chance to do me, (and yes, still hoping some smart, driven, kind, Jesus doppelgänger will do me too).  

I am working on asking for what I need because I have taught myself a curious lesson over the years: not to accept anything. New friends; love; gifts even. I have let them all settle near me. Close enough to enjoy a little but on the outer side of my caution ready to relinquish at a moment’s notice. If it ever looks like you are stretching out with strings attached to curtail me, hold me too tight, stay too long, speak too loudly in my quiet, then I axe you and I’m gone. With or without the wind. Because I am self-reliant and I don’t like to owe anybody anything. 

I am learning that what I need is more of me. And the space to unfold and inspect myself. Lick wounds. Grow a little bigger, be better. Alone. Alone. Alone. And I can’t love the together without more of the solitary. I’m introverted like that. The world happens in my mind and the rest is fantasy.

This is a fancy way to say I’ve been hurt and I have trust issues. But I learnt that those requests, those furtive questions about my needs, a lot of them should be directed at me. Self-reliance is lonely and sad underneath. I need to let myself have what I need. And that’s you. Walking flaws covered in flesh. I need so much to let you in.

All the while I was not asking for what I needed I had not dared to think about what I want. Disappointment is bitter. But I know now that not reaching doesn’t make me any happier. And knowing for sure that you will do me wrong – I got 5 on it – doesn’t make it any easier. So I said it out loud that night. Slender fingers clutching my pillow: “I am so disappointed.” And I let it wash up and sit on my chest. Then I knew that the disappointment was better than fear. Had more life in it. Had a dusty residue of hope around the edges. So much better than the fear that I could not, would not, be able to have more. That startling road (because you disbelieve even while you believe it) to doom a la depression.  And then life has no meaning left.

So I get out of the depression into the disappointment and it isn’t the rescue you [plural] hope for. But it’s something. It leaves you in need. You ask. You get. And it brings healing. Maybe you do it again. Someone says yes. You heal some more. And you get a no somewhere. But you carry on. And then you start to think about what you want. Tentative. You move a little closer to it. And then you find conviction and it becomes what you feel you deserve.

Deserve is the gatekeeper. And it’s infectious. You stand up at work and your courage grows. You start to think maybe you can stand up at home too. You get audacious. You think about how much you had needed heaven’s touch in that single bed, how it softened you. But you want the earth the sun and the moon too, and you start to feel  it’s what you deserve. And deserve is the gatekeeper so you say no to anything else and hope gravity doesn’t crush you before love comes.

I am learning to ask for what I need: Love me. Please.

© Nichole Black, 2013

M Scott Peck’s best selling texts seems to me the perfect accompaniment to the Easter story as accounted in Christian tradition. His opening declaration ‘Life is difficult’ is a contemporary expression of the precept of suffering in Christianity. It is so revolutionary that it has become one of my only fundamental truths:

It is a great truth because once we truly see this truth, we transcend it. Once we truly know that life is difficult—once we truly understand and accept it—then life is no longer difficult. Because once it is accepted, the fact that life is difficult no longer matters.

Responding to life’s difficulties causes us pain and in this context the resurrection of Jesus has more to teach than I had previously allowed for. Whilst Jesus’ life exemplifies the preeminent social contract, it is his overcoming death – his passage through pain – that inspires our own commitment to the problem solving that makes it possible to adopt the principles of Christ.

Peck explains, “Since life poses an endless series of problems, life is always difficult and is full of pain as well as joy,” and “problems, depending on their nature, evoke in us frustration or grief or sadness or loneliness or guilt or regret or anger or fear or anxiety or anguish or despair.” What then motivates us to endure these things over our tendency to avoid them? [Spiritual] growth. Which has nothing to do with religiousity, and everything to do with the practice of discipline that expands our capacity to give and receive love.

That is what Christ’s resurrection means to me on this Easter Sunday morning. It is the peace I have felt for two days because I confronted the frustration, fear and anxiety attached to my problems for long enough to deal with them. That has meant saying no, to those close to me, but also to my own voice of loneliness. The resurrection is about freedom from death; from all the things that threaten to crush our spirits. And let’s be honest, sometimes they do. We lose. But without conclusion. Easter is a promise of renewal. There is hope. There is spring. There is always something more than the present pain.

The resurrection gives me the courage to know I can overcome my great difficulties. I can escape the tomb of depression once, twice, and as many times as it returns to me. That process creates growth and expands me, and the purpose is love, the means is love, and the end is love. God is love.

Happy Easter.

© Nichole Black, 2013

Last night I attended the inaugural event of the anonymous foursome successfully branded ‘Brothers With No Game’. The story goes that having no dates for Valentines day the guys took off on an ‘irrelevant scale of our nation’s capital,’ which turned into an ‘exchange of analysis, anecdotes and advice on miscellaneous topics’. Fast forward a few years on and they’ve established their ragingly popular blog site (http://brotherswithnogame.com) and are a few episodes into a web series by the same name.

The comedy night was hosted at Jewel club, bar and lounge. Conveniently located opposite Piccadilly underground station, and decorated with drapes and dim amber lights I would give the simulated love den four stars. I confess that it was especially daunting to walk into an environment that had an emphasis on coupling and relationships. I felt a little as though I had a bull’s eye on my head and laughed nervously with the girlfriend I had brought with me. I was pleasantly surprised however by the amiability and effort made by guests. Point in case: a bartender knocked over and spilt the complimentary glass of wine she had been pouring for a young man. Whilst I – next in line – had been thinking ‘not on my silk shirt’, he impressively took it in his stride and reassured her.

Most people came in suits and other ‘post work’ attire. My outfit was a bit of a modification – I don’t wear knee shy skirts to the office. So without buying into any class/respectability politics it was genuinely nice to see guys polished up; and clearly other women felt the same when the room survey showed that the women were most turned on by men in good suits, over a fresh hair cut or a six pack.

Wine in hand the night kicked off with host and comedian Travis Jay. It was the first time I had heard him but was glad he did not offend my sensibilities with any played out African vs Caribbean jokes, or the like. Jay performed incredibly well at engaging and managing an animated crowd. There were a series of games throughout the night. My favourite was the room dividing agree/disagree on a statement. It was great opportunity to informally find out people’s views on controversial topics. E.g would you date an unemployed person? Whilst I was in the no corner most of the young graduate crowd were more forgiving. Some of the other topics got quite heated with people sharing their personal experiences of love and betrayal in literal defence of their corner.

To summarise ‘You’ve Got Game’ is a one of a kind entertainment night and has been a long time coming for young London. The biggest strength of the event was the multiple opportunities to speak to desirable people and the deliberate interactive focus of the night. The ratio of men to women (40:60 in my view) was also surprisingly good for an event of this nature.

As a young single woman I would say that it is one of very few offline safe spaces to be positive and open to new prospects. I would be interested to hear the experience of a coupled person as I suspect some changes could (and probably should) be made to neutralise the environment. The music during the breaks was a little on the quiet side, most likely to facilitate conversation. Having spoken to a number of people who had never watched the web series or read the blog I felt the guys missed the opportunity to really plug their brand. Nevertheless, at £15 a ticket it was great value for a well organised and entertaining night. See you next time.

Mixing my passion for good music and cultural criticism I present my first Podcast: Race and Pop Culture Episode 01. Join me for a breakdown of my hot topic, music from some of hip-hop’s finest and a feature ‘theory’ segment: 

‘A group of Caribbean’s arriv[ing] unannounced on a boat’ is how Samuel Kasumu, social entrepreneur and political commentator, summarises the Black presence in Britain and the beginning of the immigration debate in the UK. In a poorly written article series titled ‘The Origins of Race Policy‘ Kasumu presents a counterfeit history showing no evidence of research above the level of hearsay. His work is careless, dubious and makes a mockery of the legacy of race relations in this country.

After a rather arbitrary breakdown of the demography of the UK in series one Kasumu turns his attention to the ‘so called Empire Windrush’. In his derision and emphasis that this was ‘an event that happened on one day’ he fails to show any critical awareness of this being the beginning of post war mass migration.

Kasumu distastefully plays to the stereotype of Britain being swamped by ‘Blacks on a boat’, crediting the then Prime Minister Clement Attlee with having called it an invasion. If he had any comprehension at all of the history of the The Windrush he would not imagine that Caribbean’s apprehended this boat from their resting place on a beach, with an impromptu decision to sail to Britain. He would know that the ship was the property of British armed forces, transporting Caribbean ex-servicemen and other skilled workers (granted British citizenship in the 1948 Nationality Act), who had responded to the invitations for work in the post war reconstruction period – effectively an act of recruitment. It was hardly unannounced.

What Kasumu has presented as a reflection on race policy is a short sighted caricature of Black British history which is subject to the trappings of uncritical race relations work: where is the close analysis of Britain’s Caucasian population? Or is this another project on the Black and ethnic minority ‘others’? It was an easy mistake to make considering he erased the eighteenth century when he suggested ‘there was no appetite to publicly differentiate any racial groups’ prior to 1945. He clearly has no knowledge of European history, specifically the Enlightenment Period where we find some of the earliest ideas on race. It was at this time that Arthur De Gobineau began to differentiate between ‘races’ and is credited with modern day racial demography. He developed the theory of the Aryan master race and often referred to ‘negroes’ as the lowest race in the world. I presented a condensed explanation of the conceptual development of race for Ceasefire Magazine which Kasumu is most welcome to read. There is of course Social Darwinism, eugenics, The French Revolution 1789 all of which are critical to an understanding of the history of race. I would recommend Kenan Malik’s The Meaning of Race to any beginner in its historical and political roots.

How could Kasumu attempt to write a history of race policy without understanding the development of the theory of race and its contingent relationship with slavery and colonialism under the British empire? It makes him unqualified – and quite frankly unable – to interpret the relationship between Britain and its colonies as the determinant for present day cross racial interactions. 

After the dismissal of two centuries of history Kasumu drafts a chronology of race policy which is a complete train wreck of ideas:

No, it is not adequate to cite Enoch Powell’s ‘River of Blood’ speech in 1968 as the reason for Conservative election victory in 1970 because it preceded that vote. It is a simple principle in the discipline of history that sequence does not resolve cause.

No, the 1971 Immigration Act was not ‘the first time there was officially policy designed to limit immigration’. There was the Commonwealth Immigrants Act 1962, and a second in 1968; both of which are recognised by scholars as laws devised principally to prevent non-white immigration into Britain.

No, the 1940s and 50s did not see an influx of ‘wealthy, highly educated Asian’s, who would go on to own many small businesses and take on highly respectable professions’. Stereotype much? South Asian immigration to Britain during this period was primarily by manual workers who – like their Caribbean counterparts – did the jobs white workers did not want: the unskilled jobs with poor conditions, low wages and unsociable hours, sharing decrepit living conditions. I suggest Peter Fryer’s Staying Power for a comprehensive history of Black people in Britain.

No, Samuel Kasumu cannot write such a ghastly piece of propaganda and expect to retain credibility. It is true, race policy [is] quite complex’ and there are resources available to help us make sense of it, but Kasumu’s article is not one of them. If indeed part three of his series will assess the legacy of the Stephen Lawrence case then may this come as a severe caution against any further presumptuous, cavalier or disreputable work he is planning.

Nichole Black.

 Published by Sisters of Resistance December 2011

“You are doing racism wrong” – I think this has been the overwhelming British response to #MyTramExperience which was uploaded to Youtube this week. We denounced this woman emphatically; Croydon MP Gavin Barwell told The Voice “Frankly it is people like this woman that the country would be better off without” and journalist Piers Morgan tweeted that the woman should be deported, (what is with this archaic British territorialism?) The reality is the protesting was far more concerned about maintaining the British culture of – well, lets call it diplomacy shall we – than an allegiance to anti-racism.

Emma West was arrested. Order was restored. And we have congratulated ourselves on how civilised we are about these things. Might I remind you it is only just over forty years since Conservative MP Enoch Powell, (a member of the gang governing us now), gave his ‘River of Blood’ speech, in which he addressed the nation with the exact same message as the Croydon perpetrator above. The same year as the 1968 Immigration Act which essentially made this racism a part of government policy. Racism plays a more prominent role in our society than many of us are willing to accept.

The relentless commitment to the personification of racism – that is, conceptualising racism as a single person/action – makes it almost impossible to recognise the complex ways it informs our social reality. We – or you really – are apathetic about race/ism in this country. ‘My Tram Experience’ was trending worldwide. However when there were successive revelations of fraudulence and belligerence in the Mark Duggan case – the man whose murder was the catalyst of rioting across the country this summer – metropolitan police corruption was not trending.

I have not witnessed the same level of national outrage at the unjustifiable deaths of Black men in police custody; or that over the last six years in Haringey, for the 10300 job seekers there have been 352 vacancies¹. People lets get serious. I am not impressed that we arrested a woman with visibly poor mental health for her racist ranting. This is all a part of state performance. Emma West was not doing racism right. Our government agencies have shown us there are more efficient and quite frankly less noisy ways of denigrating Black and Ethnic Minority citizens in Britain. Underemployment, housing overcrowding and incarceration have all been working fine so far. Perhaps we would turn our attention to these areas if we were not so caught up in racism through drama.

Nichole Black

I brace myself whenever race dominates our media headlines because the following public discussions are often dysfunctional. The latest of these has been the claim that there is no racism in football by FIFA president Sepp Blatter, hot on his heels is Deputy Prime Minister Nick Clegg attempting to rise from the ashes of his cowardice by tackling race inequality in enterprise.

Unfortunately, although Clegg explains that ’individuals of black African origin have been four times more likely than so-called ‘white firms’ to be denied loans outright’, his office insists that he is not making claims of institutional racism in banking. Well then what is it that we are talking about Clegg? A few bank managers here and there who don’t feel like loaning to Blacks? Or four times as many ineligible Black entrepreneurs as whites? Clegg’s anecdotal approach to tackling racism is demonstrative of how – despite all the self-congratulation – the government agenda in British race-relations remains unprogressive. We’ve only to look at the definitive absence of Black and Asian MP’s in Clegg’s own party. Perhaps like Boris, he too should get a grip.

This aversion to progression will continue unless we shift the public imagination away from perceiving racism as a single thought/act/person, towards a comprehension of its existence as a system and important part of British networking. It is not productive to label people racist. Individuals engage and disengage with the structure of racism with a view as to how they can be benefited. I am not denying that racism can be visceral or learnt behaviour. I am rather stating that racist practice in Britain is more complex than ‘I do not like this Brown person’. Racism is attractive to a large extent because of the foundation of economic inequality in this country. It has served in our history to theorise and sustain this imbalance, and to provide a release valve for the working classes whose consciousness threatens this structure – please note I was specific in not stating ‘white working classes’; the impact of racism on this level more complex than that. Our best (might I add collaborative) efforts are served in directing our attentions toward disrupting the ‘network of racism’ and it is here – not in the private lives of individuals, or Clegg’s story telling – that the remit of our power lies.

Nichole Black

In my previous article ‘Thou Shall Not Submit – Christianity, Marriage and Dissent‘ I talked about the way that Biblical texts authorise the subjugation of women through the theology of submission. In this extended commentary I would like to answer to some objections and then focus on the idea of submission independent from Paul’s teachings in Ephesians 5, paying more attention to the meaningful ways we can practice submission to achieve love.

I don’t believe that there are no Christians participating and working hard on thriving marriages, of course there are. My true concern is how feminist Christians position themselves in marriage, and in this respect, I do not think that the ‘success’ of marriage between gender conscious partners is as a result of the teachings in the theology of Christian marriage. To the contrary, I think the New Testament teachings are rather threatening to this type of union. One of the first objections Christians have is that there is a ‘complimentary’ command:

Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her to make her holy, cleansing her by the washing with water through the word, and to present her to himself as a radiant church, without stain or wrinkle or any other blemish, but holy and blameless. In this same way, husbands ought to love their wives as their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself.
Ephesians 5:25-28 NIV

 The reality of this text is that the dominance of man over woman is preserved in the command that he love her as Christ loves the church; the church symbolically undeserving objects of God’s love and subject to his obvious deity in Christian doctrine. This scripture does not pretend to assert any equality into the marriage contract. The identity of the wife is subsumed into that of her husband as the comparison relies on his love for his body and himself. Theologian Albert Barnes in arguing for the validity of this passage in Christian marriage states: ‘While Christianity is designed to elevate the character of the wife, and to make her a fit companion of an intelligent and pious husband, it did not intend to destroy all subordination and authority.’ I am glad that we can have consensus on this from either side of the religious camp.

The second most popular retort is that there is a Greek root word that would transform our understanding of the Biblical text. I have two responses to this, the first being that the sensible thing for us to do is accept that we are engaging with the ideas produced by a patriarchal society. This is an absolute. Secondly, it is problematic for adherents of Christian thought to engage with the faith in a language and culture dissimilar to their own. As Frantz Fanon wrote ‘To speak means to be in a position to use a certain syntax, to grasp the morphology of this or that language, but it means above all to assume a culture, to support the weight of a civilization‘. Therefore when we engage with this question of Greek root words we are attempting to revive the Jewish culture of classical antiquity. Christianity then becomes much less than a spiritually transforming faith but a tool of cultural imperialism. Since marriage has been practised in every culture and pre-dates our own recording of history why are we essentialist about framing marriage within mock-Judaism? Surely in the history of the world there have been accounts, ideas and experiences of marriage that can rival (if not make obsolete) the writings of the highly educated social elite apostle Paul, and there will continue to be. 

The most valuable Christian teachings are not about marriage but about the supremacy of love. If we are going to start to think about the vitality of marriage outside of Christianity then we should consider how love transcends (hetero)sexual relationships and what implications this has for submission. As far as popular discussion goes loving practice – as opposed to feeling good which usually culminates in the politics of sex – is very low on the agenda. We are very interested in the euphoria and romanticism of love but little is said of its work and spirit.

My (Christian) belief that God is love (1 John 4) gives me peace about its mysticism. There are many things I do not know about love but I do know that love is work and the job is commitment. The notion of commitment transcends the boundaries of our emotions so that we practise love – that is, we act lovingly – even when our personal will objects selfishly. Without digressing too far into a philosophy of love I think it is important to state that love of others should not prevent love (and I mean love here not indulgence) of self – those are conditions for abuse. My focus is on inter-personal relationships which are dependent on commitment and sustained by submission.

Out of my study of love and relationships I developed an understanding of the ‘image of God’ in humanity which is creativity. I am not speaking of the arts though they are important but a particular spiritual expression. Being of African descent and raised in the pentecostal tradition I was spiritually comprehensive quite early, but religion aside it was my experience of sex (especially seeing a man ejaculate) that made me think about spiritual paradigms. In Christian culture there is a concept of soul ties which in summary describes the spiritual fixation of one person to another, but the focus on binding stops short.

I believe when two people share themselves intimately (whether between one friend to another, parent and child, or two lovers) not only do they join themselves (sometimes publicly, through titles, in marriage, or such as ‘best friend’) but their communion gives life to something outside of themselves. I first began to contemplate this when I read somewhere (I can’t quite recall where but I would like to give intellectual credit where it is due) that marriage is an end in itself. That as well as being a tool for the betterment of two individuals it is something sacred which they create outside themselves. I noticed the motifs of grief and death when myself or my peers went through relationship (sexual and platonic) break downs. Of course there was no physical death all parties were alive and free to love. But it was then I came to understand that the mysterious creation is something typical of all intimate relationships and this was the death we were all speaking of. The death of the ‘thing’ we had jointly given life.

It is to this creation of communion that I believe we are to submit to. Not one human to another, but to the sanctity of what we jointly create – this can be love, or a shade of it in loyalty, trust etc. This means that when I disagree with a friend to whom I am committed to loving, I do not submit to them. I do not yield myself to their will or relinquish my power or agency to them. Rather I submit to the creation, the friendship, the experience that I believe is worth saving. I put pride aside, I seek reconciliation or resolution without regard to hierarchy. I submit to my belief in love which becomes God between us.

Nichole Black

Perhaps black folks’ ambivalence about marriage signals problems with the institution itself and not with black people. – CrunkFeministCollective

For months now our media has flooded us with arguments that large groups of Black women are single because they are degenerate and/or undesirable. This is really little more than an inconspicuous expression of contemporary racism; as Professor and novelist Toni Morrison said: “Racism is a pathway to power and profit.” A fact that Black male relationship pimps like Steve Harvey or Hill Harper are very aware of in this context. Scooting aside the inexpert activities of these wanna-be pundits, thus far it has only been Black feminists (Jamilah Lemieux and Susanna Morris as two examples) who have entered the discussion vocalising the idea that there are Black women who do not want to get married, or are at least (re)viewing it as a complicated and difficult institution. There are further women who choose to withhold themselves from relationships that can be threatening spaces for them and are therefore experiencing singleness. To enrich our understanding of Black women’s experience of love and relationships I think it useful to also consider the complications of practising marriage for educated heterosexual Christian women in the evangelical tradition.

When I was sixteen and in love I dreamt of being married to the church drummer by the time I was nineteen. Having minimal control of my affairs then I did not imagine I would grow up to want solitude, sorority, or the single-minded pursuit of my ambitions and the option to live in whichever city they lead me to. I did not imagine I would want anything that was not complete service to him, this Miami born baller who wrote me poems. I did not fully understand that my aspired ‘ascension into the sainthood of the married church community’ would mean that my desires would be mediated by husbands will, under which I would submit.

Submit: verb:- To yield or surrender (oneself) to the will or authority of another.

I would like to be explicit that my consideration of marriage here is as a means of creating and sustaining love (property, security etc are secondary). To this end all Christian women are solicited with euphemisms about submission. One of my favourites is ‘you get to choose who to submit to’. Whichever way we look at it, submission is about an exchange of power and pre-empting love or communion by shaping our personal relationships around power, (who can and cannot have it and how much) is a sinister activity. It is the foundation for – though not necessarily the promise of – subordination, exploitation and violence. Love is predicated upon surrender. The Biblical ‘headship’ of husbands assumes a unilateral direction of power and his lack of mutual surrender and submission is preparation for unloving practice in marriage. The scriptures state:

Wives, submit yourselves to your own husbands as you do to the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church, his body, of which he is the Saviour. Now as the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit to their husbands in everything. Ephesians 5:22-27 NIV emphasis added.

This gendered submission is an extension of the patriarchal state. Barnes’ Biblical commentary explains ‘In everything, except that which relates to “conscience and religion,” he has authority. But there his authority ceases.’ and Gills scholars write, ‘this subjection is only to her husband; not to any other […] and this consideration should render the subjection more easy, voluntary, and cheerful’ – how very insightful of them. I’m sure that some would argue that this is Christian fundamentalism and an extreme interpretation of the scripture, but even our desire to believe that Paul was an egalitarian does not remove the central obscenity of his words: the redundancy of women’s (free) will. These are hardly attractive conditions for marriage. Unless potentially, you are a man.

As women develop educationally one of the most important tools we acquire is the ability to critically assess our world. In turn we often form spaces of resistance that can polarise our position in the Christian faith. As we experience Platonist awakening to the cave of our experiences we are instantly incompatible with many of our male peers – who remain seduced by the privilege of headship (ceremonially endorsed by biopower) – and so whilst ‘unequally yoked’ is usually a denunciation of romantic relationships with non-Christians, Christian women (myself included) may actually find that it is relationships with Christian men to whom this term is most applicable. As Black men are often disenfranchised from social power as a result of racism, its expression in this space is all the more important. The challenge then is to find a gender conscious partner who is open to practising a revised model of marriage and a radical form of Christianity. It is the same tools that make a woman aware of social condition that also empower her to resist damaging models of relationship as an act of self love – or as my best friend puts it: “Not just to say I have a man.” Singleness for Black women then is not an exclusive story of spinsterhood but often a courageous demonstration of self-love.

Regrettably under the hegemony of patriarchy the ideology of submission extends itself beyond the confines of marriage further distorting personal relationships between men and women. The structure of the Black church allows power to amass for a single figure head and in many cases it is corrupting. He wields his power in varying degrees of repression, exploitation and abuse. It may be in forms of sexual violence as in the case of Eddie Long, monetary extortion by the likes of the Creflo Dollar camp, or in the case of the church I belonged to for ever a decade, cultural effacement where women were banned from wearing trousers in order to prevent our figures (bums in particular) from arousing the men. Though the Black church operates its own counter-culture this is largely a dialectical relationship with colonial tradition. In this space both patriarchy and colonial ideology serve to control, possess and police women’s bodies. There is therefore as I observe a culture of power and this also corrupts the character of young Christian men – who largely unaccountable to anyone – tend to be heady (sexual) consumers of the commodified young Christian women saturating the church market. All of whom have been readily socialised into the pursuit of status via marriage. As a space that polices sexuality in a heteronormative way I have been unable to conclude how this structure informs the experiences of LBGT Christians who are precluded. 

The true power of submission is this context is to silence dissent and critique against the order, most simply achieved by ‘God said’. Where relationships are concerned it means that married women who suffer any form of abuse, neglect or adultery are taught to stay no matter what as an act of submission to God. The focus on the supernatural as supremely more important than the practical in the Black church encourages women desiring of partnership into perennial patience in lieu of the husband that God will miraculously supply. In the meantime – sometimes decades – these women remain unshakeably devoted to the church and its male leader, a ‘reserve army of labour’. Young Black Christian women are underdeveloped in this space through gender biased abstinence messages and a fear of education as an instigator of critical consciousness. Often young women experience depression, low self-esteem, sexual abuse and repression, poor body image and more under this regime. The church fears that they are increasingly losing young people to higher education, people who do not return, or are ostracised when they do by communities who believe in revival through evangelism and transformation as conversion; in the great (and true) potential of Christianity to change the outside world, but remain essential and dogmatic about the value of the inner world of Christian church life. There are Black women practising dissent against this, and these are women open to negotiating and testing the boundaries of love and safety outside of subordination. We are exploring alternative ways of organising relationships, a vital part of the Black experience that is not reflected in the statistics of Black spinsterhood.

Nichole Black