Curtis Flowers: Existing in America While Black

Guest post by Alex Fascilla

Right now, Curtis Flowers sits in solitary confinement waiting for the state of Mississippi to carry out his capital punishment for quadruple homicide. And right now, we still do not know beyond a reasonable doubt—as determined by a jury of his peers—if Curtis Flowers is guilty. Curtis Flowers is black. He has been incarcerated for the last 22 years. And Curtis Flowers has an unfortunate reputation: he’s been tried six times for the same crime by white prosecutor Doug Evans. 

22 years ago four people that worked in a furniture store in Winona, MS were shot to death. Local law enforcement was coming up empty handed at nearly every turn given there were no prints, no gun, and no other physical evidence to attach to a suspect. The prosecution was buckling under mounting desperation. 

As they often do in Mississippi, the crosshairs of racist conviction eventually swung and landed squarely on Curtis Flowers, a man who worked at the furniture store. Curtis Flowers was also a man who no witnesses could identify as having been at the store that day. Add to that Curtis Flowers had no prior criminal record. 

Let’s unpack those six convictions, emphasizing their determination by a jury of his peers. The first two times he was convicted, the Mississippi Supreme Court threw them out, pointing to misconduct on the part of Doug Evans. The third time, they threw it out because the jury contained not a single person of color. Winona is 53% black. The fourth and fifth times: mistrials. Both were hung juries, and both were the first to feature multiple black jurors. The sixth and final trial: a single black person. The justices of the MS Supreme Court called these series of gaffes the worst cases of racial discrimination they had ever seen. 

And they did nothing else but provide that label. 

But how was this possible? From a tactical standpoint, because of something called a “peremptory challenge” of which a prosecutor is granted 41. These challenges give them the authority to eliminate any juror they choose without reason. Jurors are selected from a semifinal pool of 42. Evans fired every bullet in his chamber to remove all but a single black person from his final jury. 

From a strategic standpoint, however, we see what we continue to see every day by law enforcement, the judicial system, the legislative process, and the executive branch: systematic racism that fuels our infinitely profitable prison industrial complex. And people of color are the crude oil, commodities, propelling the whole machine forward with a growing momentum of oppression and greed. Consider the recent changes in the abortion laws in Curtis Flowers’ neighboring Alabama. What better pipeline for growth in prison populations than a generation of:

• Likely poor

• Likely black

men and women—the richest vein available. Burgeoning prison populations means more prisons, but to fill those prisons, the system must grow. That means more officers, more prosecutors, more judges, and more laws intended to oppress people of color. Excuse the plunge into the depths of conjecture, but it’s extremely difficult to believe these southern legislators don’t know exactly why it’s good business to exacerbate the problems that abortion solves.  And if you don’t think our current regime wouldn’t like an excuse to put more officers in the streets, you’re just not paying attention.

Curtis Flowers is a singular casualty in this system of oppression: for every one Curtis Flowers, there are 20 cases like this that escape the national news spotlight. This is happening and Supreme Courts, like the Mississippi Supreme Court, are going so far as to recognize it and yet: Curtis Flowers remains in shackles. Dravon Ames and Iesha Harper of Phoenix get guns shoved into their faces in a video so visceral some of the comments read, irony-free: “seeing this makes me want to die.” 

This is all happening now. And it feels like it’s accelerating. Systematic racism fortified with untold greed is driving us right into an (ostensibly) legal form of enslavement and Curtis Flowers and Doug Evans and Dravon Ames and Iesha Harper and those Phoenix cops are single rivets in the miles-long bridge to get there.

How can one person be tried six times for the same crime? Racism. Still alive and well. Make changes in your thinking. Make your voice heard. Disrupt the construction of that bridge with your action.

Written by me, Alex Fascilla, who became sick with empathy and genuinely angry when I learned the details of Curtis Flowers’ plight. I also wanted to comment on Iesha Harper’s video but the comment I wanted to leave was already there. Thank you, Emily for encouraging me to write this.

Invisible Shackles by: LaMonica Richard

Guest post by LaMonica Richard

If you are here it is because you want to learn how to be an advocate for black women and women of color both in the workplace and in life. But before we can find solutions we must identify the issues, know the history, and understand the differences.

To be an advocate, you need to understand that while we have similarities, shared experiences, the same desires (we want to live a life of happiness and success) we also have an additional set of issues and concerns. The main point I want you to take away from today is this:  black women grow up in America with negative historical and social influences that shape our experiences as women.

This starts when we are very young. Imagine growing up with negative and powerful constructs placed on you simply because you exist in a different color.

Even if we are not formally taught about race we experience it throughout our whole lives and it affects us daily.

Often, people see black women as powerful, unshakeable creatures, who are not allowed to cry or be weak. We are powerful, unshakeable creatures but we are also human women, with deep emotions.

Black girls in America begin our journey into becoming women with the shame of slavery, rape as a way of life, colorism, over-sexualization, institutionalized racism constantly scarring and killing our bodies. When a black girl comes into womanhood there are so many things she experiences that you cannot relate to. As I sat down to put my thoughts to paper I did not realize how deep the wounds of ‘just existing’ cut me. But here is part of my story:

When I was 12 years old I wanted to be white

My idols were Christina Aguilera and Britney Spears

I worshipped them

With their long blonde hair

White flawless skin

Cute button noses

To me to be them was to be right

To be white was to be loved

Because all the characters in rom coms and sitcoms found love in their white and beige worlds of hair highlights and coffee dates

I remember watching my white girl friends brush their hair with ease

Put makeup on their skin

Thinking, I wish I were pretty like them

I wish the boys that liked them liked me

But knew because of the deep complexion of my skin

I was too dark

Too nappy

Too ugly

Too black

Because that is what the mainstream culture of America taught me

Even as I plowed through magazines made for black women

The complexions and hair textures of their white washed interpretation of black made me feel all too familiar

Too dark

Too nappy

Too ugly

Too black

So I struggled

Repulsed by my dark skin

Annoyed with my curves

Hating my lips

Depressed about my wide nose

Saddened that girls who looked like me did not fall in love on tv and in movies and in books

But were video hoes

That girls who looked like me were too dumb to be educated and too quick to act ghetto

That girls who looked like me were disposable

While white girls were precious and pretty and lovable

Growing up I didn’t have

Kerry Washington’s

Viola Davis’s

Taraji P Henson’s

Michelle Obama’s

I had stereotypes of black women who were Mammies, Jezebels, Welfare Queens, and Angry

I rarely saw examples of myself represented and appreciated

During K-12 I was made fun of for my features by kids in the same color family as me

And not fully embraced by those who looked different than me

But college gave me the worst reality check

An uppercut so hard I felt my teeth bleed

I was subjected to Jim Crow racism as a young black woman

In hallways, white men with donation records far surpassing my college tuition

Mistook me for other black girls they heard about

“are you that little Jamaican girl here on scholarship”

“are you the girl from Africa”

“are you on the track team”

“what country are you from”

They wanted to know where their money was going

As if I were an investment they wanted to look over like we were at an auction block

I imagine none of the white students were subjected to this type of torture

But most of the time students were the worst offenders

They were the first ones to call me the N word

They asked me questions with straight faces like

“Do they make deodorant for black people?”

“Is your pubic and leg hair like the hair on your head?”

“And do you actually tan”

“Why is your hair so different?”

White boys who showed interest in me suddenly had issues me

Because I was black

Once I cut myself shaving

The pink and white flesh underneath my thin layer of black skin frightened them

Their frail minds could not comprehend how underneath I was biologically the same

But I was not the same

Because since I was a little girl I’ve been repeatedly told who I am by all sides

That I am too loud

I am too aggressive

I have too much attitude

My butt is too big

My hair is bad

My skin is too dark

I am too intimidating

I am too strong

I am too wild

I am not soft

All boiled down to mean I am a black woman and that is wrong

I’ve been plagued with race, colorism, beauty standards that don’t even include me

Struggling to be desirable in a white landscape

Struggling to be desirable amongst my own people

Sexualized since puberty

Reminded of my place in my community and in this country

Constantly told my black body is not my own but for men & boys by my own culture and that’s the only thing that makes me desirable by white America

All reinforcing that majority of people only see my skin color but do not see my mind and my heart

I once had a white man tap me on the shoulder when I was out with friends to ask me “why do black people like to be victims?”

He went on to tell me how the “Irish were slaves too but he did not see them complaining.”

A white guy I dated told me he thought black women were supposed to be strong and independent (a slave stereotype) when I showed too much emotion for him.

I’ve had several young women tell me they were afraid of me, that I scared them, and they thought I was mean before they ever had a conversation with me.

I CONSTANTLY get questions about my hair

And have become a magnet for white women who’ve adopted black girls from Africa

They come up to me at work and in the grocery store

They express how difficult our hair is

How hard it is to manage

They ask me how I manage my own hair as if it were the most difficult, awful task

Never sharing positive adjectives

Just

Difficult

Nappy, too thick

Hard to manage

A lot to take care of

Otherwise, not white

I’ve been called a black bitch, oh but it was just a joke

Told to go back to Africa countless times

Had my hair compared to pubes

Scared that white men only want to date me for the experience of being with a black woman

Described as white washed

Had my blackness questioned as if the way I speak and carry myself prevents me from being really black

I’ve spit on

Told I couldn’t hang out with friends because their parents didn’t like black people

Dumped because his parents wouldn’t allow him to bring me home

I’ve been verbally assaulted and reduced to less than human

And yet, friends and people tell me to ignore it

As if it is not going to plague me the next day or week

That those people are ignorant

But I’ve been going through this my entire life

It’s not ignorance

It’s not “old people”

It’s not stupidity

It’s not he or she doesn’t know any better

It’s not “I didn’t mean it that way”

It’s RACISM

Racism is not just KKK or burning crosses in people’s yards

It’s not the distinct separation of bathrooms and water fountains and public transportation

It’s so subtle you don’t realize what you are doing and saying is hurtful and hateful because you still think of racism as JIM CROW and slavery

But It has been transformed into something almost unidentifiable, undetectable

Something transmitted through all cultures and ages

In the age of Obama and pop culture we were given a false sense that racism does not exist anymore

We believed having a black man in the white house proved we were no longer a country built on the systematic enslavement and destruction of generations of people purely based on their skin color

Then through pop culture we’ve appropriated black and minority cultures to make it mainstream

I have watched white women popularize big asses and big lips, braids, weaves and corn rows, dreadlocks, and curvy bodies when black women have been rocking most of these since the slave trade

I have seen black women trivialized and criticized for being themselves called

Ghetto

Ratchet

Hoodrat

While white girls who mimic the same are thought of as innovative, funny, and trendy.

But nevertheless, I persist

Then during the 2016 election I was constantly told to stand with her

That Hillary Rodham Clinton just like Obama was the change I needed

After all she is a feminist

And to vote for her was the feminist thing to do

But did everyone forget feminism was created and has been to the full benefit of white, straight women since its creation? Did she forget feminism historically has disenfranchised black women?

Why did she constantly tell this narrative of a woman struggling to make a difference to women who actually struggled just existing?

And then she lost.

And everyone who was with her suddenly was devastated because perhaps for the first time my fellow white feminists got a taste of living in a world where there was blatant discrimination against their bodies and against their existence by the future leader of our country but the American people disregarded their existence for the sake of tax breaks.

See the opposite of white is not black

Just like the opposite of straight is not gay

And sadly the opposite to Donald Trump was not Hillary Clinton

In the minds of many she represented all women but just like the movement – feminism has become this blanket term we use but who does it represent?

It’s never represented me.

It hasn’t looked out for my best interests.

It has not made me feel included.

It has not provided me with the tools to become a spokeswoman because I’m missing one pre-requisite.

I’m not white.

A lot of straight, white women will acknowledge this but they do not always remember because they did not have to grow up and deal with systematic racism as a little girl through womanhood.

They do not always realize their advantage when they strive to become equal with men because they only must fight the straight gender fight.

So if you want to advocate for us know we are created out of a place that is unknown to you

As a perceived straight, white woman, you grew up seeing yourself on tv

You grew up subconsciously knowing you were widely represented

You had authors who wrote about girls and women who looked like you

You saw white girls and white women in strong female lead roles and as leaders

You watched them fall in love with cute white boys and men

You heard stories of them fighting against male dominance

You had simple things like hair products that were widely available in every store

Magazines where you could find yourself

Makeup that was your shade

You never had fears that you did not get a job because you were white

You may have had insecurities about your body and yourself but you were not also tormented for being too dark or tried to bleach your skin to be prettier, or constantly reminded that you were not the majority or that your ancestor's country of origin is a vile place

As a perceived straight, white, woman you are born into an American society who is trained to see you first before black and women of color

To believe you before us

To trust you before us

To hold you on a pedestal 

To desire you

To want you

To praise you

You are actually the biggest recipients of affirmative action.

And while you have these white privileges none of this is to make you feel small because you are not. If you come to ask how you can help you must know and feel a level of discomfort to help you understand what you are trying to help us change: which is history.

And our history has shaped our present. Still, black women and women of color are not helpless or victims. I ask that people try to understand that we have more negative social and historical generational struggles that have been pushed on us since we were young. Despite this, we try to thrive and shine and hope and work for a future where girls of all colors can feel empowered.

And like the words of Maya Angelou, We Still Rise.

You may write me down in history

With your bitter, twisted lies,

You may trod me in the very dirt

But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?

Why are you beset with gloom?

‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells

Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,

With the certainty of tides,

Just like hopes springing high,

Still I’ll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?

Bowed head and lowered eyes?

Shoulders falling down like teardrops,

Weakened by my soulful cries?

Does my haughtiness offend you?

Don’t you take it awful hard

‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines

Diggin’ in my own backyard.

You may shoot me with your words,

You may cut me with your eyes,

You may kill me with your hatefulness,

But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?

Does it come as a surprise

That I dance like I’ve got diamonds

At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame

I rise

Up from a past that’s rooted in pain

I rise

I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,

Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear

I rise

Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear

I rise

Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,

I am the dream and the hope of the slave.

I rise

I rise

I rise.

Feminism As A Trans Man by: Alexander Johnston

Guest post by Alexander Johnston with contributions by Blair Lamoreaux

Intersectional feminism is a topic that is near and dear to my heart, even if it might not get as much love as some other topics in our grand spectrum of human rights. It’s very easy to say you’re a feminist, actually its something that most people say automatically without thinking of the “why” behind the statement. “Do you believe that the sexes should be equal?” Sure! “Do you want equal pay?” Heck yeah! But there’s so much deeper to it than that, and I think that’s where a lot of people get lost when thinking about how feminism influences the queer community.

I was born and raised Alexandria, a name that I haven’t used for almost four years now. In the genetic lottery, I’ve probably won the jackpot, because I was born white and to a family that was mostly accepting despite the few outliers. Even if it might be stereotypical I knew that something was wrong practically my whole life, but not in the way that most sweet coming out stories go. I wasn’t particularly masculine, I didn’t tantrum when put in dresses, but despite this something in my brain was off. From a young age I, like many people, was subjected to the gender norms that we are forced to view in everyday life. Butch, femme, prep, goth, I lived it all as if my life was a puzzle except I was trying to fit a square peg into a round hole. You see, in our society to be a man is a set of tight parameters, and many people consider this an issue for young boys but rarely consider how this influences somebody with a budding transgender identity. Even rarer still is the consideration that somebody of male identity has experienced both ends of the gender spectrum. 

With that said, this isn’t an autobiography or the story of my hardships in a predominantly cis-minded world but rather an introduction to give you some insight on my position as a queer individual living in this world. As we come up on the anniversary of the Women’s March, and calling attention to the inequalities of this world, please be sure to keep in mind the privilege you have and how this might influence the way you see this world.

Here are a few examples:

1. Trans people are not your mascot, your excuse to riot, or your token minority friend. Too often in our current political climate people are looking for any reason to be angry and that includes using minorities in their circle as a source to victimize themselves. Don’t get me wrong, we appreciate the love and we appreciate that you are so passionate but be certain you are doing it for the right reasons. Why are you angry? Why are you passionate? And what are you going to do about it besides ranting on Facebook? Is this about you wanting change or you wanting an excuse to make a topic about yourself?

2. Learn to look below the surface, and expand past what you see. When discussing inequity too often I’ve had cisgender feminists look me up and down, then immediately write off what I have to say. Yes, I look male, I am male, but I grew up in a female world and have seen first hand how the universe changes when you present as a man. After changing genders on my ID, resume, and legal documents it seemed that the universe in which I existed had completely turned on its head. Job callbacks turned from 50%, into almost 90% of places I applied to, as did much of what employers asked me to do. Be open-minded, even below the surface, people might surprise you.

3. Advocate, even out of the spotlight, and because you want to not because its what you think you should do. What not many people know is that we can spot a limelight supporter from a mile away, and unfortunately, this was my big “why” moment behind my reason for needing feminism. When coming out to my family I was met with support from everyone in public, but behind the scenes the story was different. Sat down in my stepmother's office, I was met with the classic “we support you, but” statement followed by an hour of her telling me all the reasons she didn’t believe I presented as male. What followed was an hour of explanation as to why she didn’t believe I identified as a male that left me crying in my car. Two years later, and they only respond to texts when they need something or a holiday comes up that requires public appearances. You support and you advocate, or you don’t. There is no in between. And you do more damage trying to pretend to be something you’re not. Surprising, I know, but it’s better to take a long hard look at yourself and say “You know what, I’m not comfortable,” and come to terms with why. Once again, we can tell, we can tell, we can tell.

4. Know the word TERF, it stands for Trans-Exclusionary Radical Feminist, and its a very dangerous way of thinking. Trans women are still women, as are individuals who identify feminine but don’t want to put a gender to it. What is your definition of feminism? If it doesn’t include trans individuals, then it might be worth some hard thought.

5. Don’t be too hard on yourself. There is a learning curve for understanding and expanding your way of thinking. As long as you are trying that’s more than what we can ask of some people. Whether it's he, she, him, her, or they, them, xe, xer, learn pronouns and use them when asked. Misgendering when first meeting someone is common, apologize once, move on, and make sure you are using the correct identifiers even when the person is out of the room. If a year later you’re still constantly referring to someone by the wrong pronouns, it’s a big tip-off to the fact that we’re being misgendered behind our backs.

6. Finally, we don’t need every day cheerleader when all we’re doing is trying to exist. If you see a trans woman who is just trying to pee and point out how brave they are, it’s like a screaming reminder of how not passing they are. You wouldn’t walk up to another cis woman in the bathroom, pat them on the back, and say “Good for you girl!” At least I hope not.

Now more than ever we need to support each other and stomp out ignorance. The world is a vibrant rainbow of people from all different backgrounds, and views. Keep learning and above all, keep expanding.