Black Feminist Me: Answering the Question ‘Who Do I Think I Am’

I. Introduction

Black feminism if studied closely really doesn’t exist … during the feminist movement black women were used to build numbers…but most of it didn’t relate to the women of color…

My name is Kristie Dotson and one way to describe me is as a US black feminist, professional philosopher. ¹ I will not haggle over my existence. I often encounter explicit and implicit denials of my existence. Whether a denial of black feminists and/or black feminism (Christian, 1994), or black women professional philosophers, or black women intellectuals as such (McFadden, 2002), the denials all amount to the same thing – an existential foreclosure. It is as if, at some point, I fell behind on my existential mortgage payments and my right to existing as a US black feminist, professional philosopher was summarily revoked. Tired of paying identity rent or suffering under predatory, recognition-based mortgages, I will simply buy my space with this pronouncement. I am a US black feminist, professional philosopher; and I will not haggle over my existence.

Instead, I will offer an admittedly incomplete sketch of my answer to the question ‘who do I think I am’, by explaining my conceptual location as a black feminist, professional philosopher in the US. However, as I do so, I do not make pretensions that I am speaking for an entire population, i.e., the very small population of black feminist, professional philosophers in the US. And I am not offering a model of ‘Black Feminist Philosophy’ as such. Rather, I am simply stating what being a US black feminist, professional philosopher means to me and how such an articulation can shed light on one of the ways Africana philosophy is being shaped and engaged. So though what is offered here is ultimately a story about Africana philosophy and a black feminist praxis, it is also a story from someone, located somewhere, with certain political commitments. That is, it is a story about a particular kind of engagement within Africana philosophy. In telling this story, I will start with describing my mother’s rejection of professional philosophy, then, I will move on to highlight lessons I learned from some black feminist examinations of theory, which aided my understanding of my mother’s stance. And, finally, I will identify a value shared by some anti-theory black feminists and some Africana professional philosophers in the US that ultimately recommends, to my mind, consistent engagement in black feminist/philosophical praxis.

This paper will proceed in two sections. First, using my mother’s reservations concerning a career in philosophy as a guide, I turn a critical eye to the impetus to philosophically theorize by articulating two possible limitations of ‘high’ theorizing found in some black feminist writings. Second, I articulate a value that rests at the base of these black feminist examinations of theorizing that shift the focus away from the ‘ways philosophers make sense’ to the ‘sense philosophers make.’ This shift highlights a value placed on conceptual transparency. Conceptual transparency follows from communicatively determining the conceptual commitments one’s actions, practices, and/or positions entail. Pursuing conceptual transparency is a mainstay practice in philosophical engagement. And, as many black feminists demand that one speak, act, and write with an eye to one’s social location within networks of privilege and power, gaining conceptual transparency is a mainstay practice for many black feminists as well. The demand for this kind of transparency only scratches the surface of what makes some anti-theory black feminists work an invaluable part of Africana philosophy as a whole.

II. Now, why you wanna go and do that?

Survival and struggle for the future is not a theoretical issue.

When I told my mother I was going to pursue a career in professional philosophy, I distinctly remember her response. She tilted her head to the side, raised her right eyebrow, and said, ‘huh?’ Let me be clear, she did not utter a ‘huh’ that translated to some variation of a ‘what-question’. Rather, it was a ‘huh’ that expressed a deeply skeptical ‘why-question,’ complete with a full dose of incredulity. With one look and one sound she asked me, ‘Now, why in the world would you want to pursue a career in philosophy?’ It is not as if she were particularly overbearing with her obvious doubts at my educational and career choices. In fact, her attitude towards my graduate work can probably best be described as a kind of proud indifference. Although my mother has always been openly proud of me, it was as if the mere mention of pursuing an advanced degree in philosophy somehow made me incomprehensible.

In our ensuing conversations, it became clear that my mother could not conceive of a legitimate relationship between real life and philosophy. Specifically, she seemed to be skeptical about the connection between philosophy as abstract theorizing and community activism. The more I learned about what passes as professional philosophy currently, the clearer her skepticism became for me. My mother was and still is very suspicious of theorizing about life, not because it is a useless activity, but because it may not be useful for producing actions. Undoubtedly, an activity can be useful for other reasons than producing further action. However, for my mother, who believes that simply living as a black woman in the US is a call to activism, an activity that does not produce some kind of directed action is, to be blunt, a waste of time. And though wasting time is part of being human, devoting a large portion of one’s life to an activity that amounts to a waste of time is just plain lazy. The far worse implication of my decision to pursue philosophy, to my mind, followed from the assumption that my career choice indicated that my mother did not raise a black woman with ties to the cultures and lives of black people, but, rather, a Western philosopher. Either I could be a black feminist, an activist, or I could be a professional philosopher, but it was not clear I could be both. The fact that she could not reconcile the two ‘ways of being’ was disturbing. Her assumptions exposed a strict dichotomy between activism and philosophy. Mere theorizing about life, which is what philosophy amounted to for her, was not compatible with being a black woman who cares deeply about her community.

Not too long into my graduate studies of philosophy, my mother’s initial reservations would be shown valid. After realizing that the expectations for academic, professional philosophers within the US included studying a certain cadre of privileged, (often white) male philosophers on a very select range of acceptable topics, it dawned on me what impressions my mother might have had about philosophy that informed her initial skepticism. It is true that many professional philosophers labor in the US believing that a narrow range of questions constitutes all of the important questions. The implication of such narrow ranges is, of course, that if a question is not currently accepted within some standard conception of philosophical investigations, then that question is not an important one. At times, narrow understandings of philosophical engagement can make a choice to pursue a career in academic, professional philosophy appear superfluous. Thinking I had stumbled upon the source of my mother’s less than positive attitude concerning a career in philosophy, I inquired further into her skepticism concerning professional philosophy. Her response was simple. Instead of the ready agreement I expected, she just shook her head and expressed a legitimate acceptance of the practices within philosophy. In my mother’s words, ‘whatever they [philosophers] thought they were doing’ was just fine with her, but that did not mean she held fewer suspicions concerning those who decided to engage in such activities. And that is when it struck me. My mother’s reservations about philosophy did not concern the practices of philosophy specifically. Rather, she was suspicious of professional philosophers as such. It would seem that, for my mother, the desire to engage in professional philosophy simultaneously indicated the possible possession of a suspicious character.

I immediately wondered if there were other black feminists who shared her reservations concerning philosophy and philosophers. It was in investigating my mother’s suspicions that I stumbled upon a number of black feminist anti-theories. An anti-theory is a position that puts into question ‘the exclusions of Theory when it assumes its own primacy above other theories or other ways of knowing culture and marginality – for example, through scientific, homogenizing, or totalizing abstractions’ (Rimstead, 1995: 200). I began to read writings by black feminists who were also deeply suspicious of broad ‘theorizing’. I looked to Barbara Christian and her notorious suspicion of the ‘race for theory’ (1988: 68–69) and of the impetus to philosophical theorizing as such (2007: 227); to June Jordan who pronounced a deep suspicion of abstraction (1998: 367); to Beverley Guy-Sheftall who criticizes ‘white’ feminist reliance upon ‘Western’ epistemology (2003: 29); and even to Audre Lorde who wrote eloquently about the aimlessness of conceptual thinking and the limitations of theorizing when left to its own devices (1984). I began to realize that there were two limitations to abstract theorizing outlined by some black feminists that mirrored my mother’s sentiments. They concerned 1) the instituted ignorance that is authorized by privileging theory and theorizing and 2) the agential inertia that the act of theorizing might both require and produce. In the following two subsections I will detail these two proposed shortcomings of ‘high’ theory and theorizing so as to begin situating my mother’s attitude towards professional philosophy. In doing so, I provide the ground for articulating a value that I claim is shared between black feminist anti-theorists and many Africana philosophers. ²

III. The sense philosophers make

My fear is that when theory is not rooted in practice, it becomes prescriptive, exclusive, eilitist

As a child my mother gave many cues when my behavior was courting some kind of response for affecting other people negatively. For example, I knew when my mother asked the question, ‘now, what sense did that make’, I needed to give her my full attention. This question indicated that one of my actions and/or statements was under examination. I knew that when the question, ‘what sense did that make’, was leveled, my mother had two ideas in mind. First, she wanted me to begin speculating as to what I intended when I performed a specific action or set of actions. And second, she used the question to begin a dialogue aimed at determining what I actually did when I performed the action(s). I always had a chance to defend myself. I had a chance to present what I intended to do, while my mother and I haggled over what I actually did. Sometimes I would have clear intentions, other times I would be acting unthinkingly, still other times I would actively look for the best possible interpretation of my actions to determine my intentions. It became clear to me that the best explanations for my actions laid not in explanations of my intentions, but in the determinations of the intersubjective ‘sense’ my actions made. That is, I had to work with my mother to ‘read’ my actions. Through these conversations with my mother of the ‘sense’ my actions made, I learned to value ‘readings’ of the world around me in order to determine the ‘sense’ things made, realizing this sense was never solely up to me and was very much tied to a given context, a given moment, a given set of conditions, etc. and, yet, the ‘sense made’ was never far removed from me, as I was always already a part of that context, moment, and set of conditions, etc.

The positions of Barbara Christian and Audre Lorde outlined here ‘read’ the sense ‘theorizing and theory’ make. Drawing on work by Geneva Smitherman (1986), Henry Louis Gates (1988), and Charles Nero (1991), Carole Bryce Davies (1994: 43) defines ‘reading’ as the practice of interpreting ‘other’s behaviors and practices … often directed at dismantling dominant or pretentious discourse’. In aiming to dismantle epistemic practices and engagement involved in theory and theorizing, Lorde and Christian both effectively ask the question of theorizers and philosophers alike, ‘now, what sense does that make?’ And in asking this question, they both ‘read’ the behavior and practices of theorizing to dismantle the authority of theory. Christian and Lorde both draw attention not only to the practice of privileging theorizing, but they also call for a dialogue concerning the sense such privileging makes. This mode of analysis separates one’s intentions, should they exist, from the intersubjectively determined meaning and effects of one’s actions. In ‘reading’ the privileging of theory and theorizing, Lorde and Christian call attention to the epistemic practices inherent in theorizing, thereby separating what one intends to do from interpretations of what one actually does. In like vein, Barbara Smith ‘read’ Deborah Chay’s analysis of Smith’s own work. My mother’s skepticism concerning my career choice in philosophy eventually led to discussions where she ‘read’ my pursuit of a career in philosophy and I ‘read’ her obvious suspicions toward such a pursuit. What I am gesturing to here is a common understanding, no matter our persisting differences, to the importance of interpreting practices and actions intersubjectively for the sake of understanding the sense actions make, beyond intention. That is to say, Lorde, Christian, Smith, Chay, my mother, and I all hold a value for conceptual transparency, even though we all hold differing stances on the usefulness and importance of theory and theorizing.

I take conceptual transparency to indicate the result of a process by which the cognitive inheritances implied by specific acts, practices, and/or suppositions are intersubjectively ‘read’. The act of ‘reading’ another’s practices and behavior is often aimed at conceptual transparency. Cognitive inheritances, here, are indicative commitments that are revealed in one’s acts, practices, and/or suppositions. To say that cognitive inheritances are composed of ‘indicative commitments’ is to gesture to the reality that what conceptual transparency tracks is not the commitments and/or intention of a given agent, but rather the commitments and/or intentions indicated by one’s actions. A ‘cognitive inheritance’ is itself a social phenomenon. As Leonard Harris explains, in his essay, ‘The Horror of Tradition,’ a cognitive inheritance is composed of ‘inherited and privileged structures, forms, assumptions and codes that remain unstated’ (1997: 97). These inheritances are built within contexts within which one is situated with relation to a totality of traditions. For example, it is common for a given person to be situated, at times, as an outsider to certain traditions, while simultaneously situated as an insider to other traditions. These relations to/within traditions aid in shaping our cognitive orientations in complex ways. Cognitive inheritances are socially articulated positions within complex social landscapes that mark the way one’s actions, practices, and positions are interpreted amidst a range of contextual factors. Building on Harris’ metaphorical account, I identify cognitive inheritances as socially influenced and socially arbitrated commitments that are indicated by one’s actions, practices, and positions.

It is important to stop at this point and clarify a possible confusion. A cognitive inheritance, as I understand it, is not an internal intention or even a structure of cognition. Rather, on my reading, a cognitive inheritance is a set of possible attitudes that are socially ‘readable.’ As such, cognitive inheritances do not have a ‘truth-value’ per se, where truth-value refers to some truth of the matter about a given person’s internal cognitive make-up. Rather, cognitive inheritances serve as evidence for social interpretations. When my mother asked me what ‘sense my actions made’, she pressed me to make clear my cognitive inheritances, where given the context of my actions I needed to provide some story of the social interpretation of my actions (i.e., how my actions will be perceived and the actual effects of my actions). It was in haggling with her on the action I actually performed, where actual is determined intersubjectively, that my cognitive inheritances become known via the commitments my actions indicate.

Cognitive inheritances, then, are ‘read’ within complex epistemic, social, political, and economic contexts, which influence the ‘sense we make’. And because they are intersubjectively determined, they are never static. The ‘sense one makes’ will depend heavily upon the cognitive inheritances of one’s interlocutors. That is, how one’s behavior gains uptake to another will be largely influenced by the cognitive inheritances of both agent and observer. No one has a God’s eye view. We are all ‘read’ in ways that, at times, we get a hand in determining and, at other times, we do not. However, valuing ‘reading’ is tantamount to valuing conceptual transparency. Again, conceptual transparency is the social interpretations of the cognitive inheritances indicated by one’s actions, positions, and/or practices. Gaining conceptual transparency concerns constructing accounts of one’s actions, practices, and/or positions, that do not mark the ‘truth’ of the matter, but the ‘sense one is making’ or the ways one’s actions are open to interpretation.

Barbara Christian, in her article ‘The Race for Theory’, ‘reads’ theory and theorizing by pointing to conditions where the ‘sense theories seek to make’ are being outstripped by the ‘sense they make’, i.e., the production of ignorance by virtue of privileging a narrow set of epistemic practices. Audre Lorde, in her work, ‘reads’ theorizing by dismantling a worldview that may inform the impetus to theorize and pointing to a possible negative outcome of relying solely upon such an orientation, i.e., agential inertia. And, of course, these black feminists place high value on ‘reading’ and its resulting conceptual transparency. These black feminists are not the only ones to ‘read’ theory and philosophizing. Cornel West in his pursuit to reconcile his ‘blackness’ and his study of philosophy raised two questions, namely ‘What does it mean to be a philosopher of African descent in the American empire?’ (1995: 356) and ‘How does philosophy relate to the Afro-American experience?’ (1977–1978: 117). He ‘read’ philosophy. Williams Jones argued for the legitimacy of ‘black philosophy’ by making claims on the practice and products of all philosophical activity (1977–1978). That is to say, he focused on the nature of philosophy in order to show the legitimacy of himself as a Black philosopher and his product, Black philosophy. He ‘read’ philosophy. ‘Reading,’ as I have used the term, is a routine engagement in Africana philosophy. ⁵

Professional philosophers ‘read.’ It is a staple activity. And it is certainly a routine engagement in black feminist scholarship. When Razia Aziz charges white feminism to learn to account for difference instead of gesturing to it (Aziz, 1992), she calls for conceptual transparency. When Audre Lorde claims that to truly understand the significance of our own differences, a steady amount of ‘scrutiny’ is required (1984; 2009a: 204; 2009b: 183; 2009c: 185; 2009d: 209), she calls for conceptual transparency. When Ann DuCille calls for more introspection, which she defines as ‘seeing both inside and outside one’s own assumptions’, she calls for conceptual transparency. In all of these cases, these black women are calling for conceptual transparency even as they are engaged in the practice of providing fodder for conceptual transparency concerning their own cognitive inheritances. I see a great deal of my black feminist praxis, learned at my mother’s knee and refined through surviving, learning, and ‘reading’, in the practices of philosophy. I also see a great deal of philosophizing weaving itself throughout the work of many black feminists. These affinities emerge not by privileging philosophy, but by ‘reading’ a shared cognitive inheritance between a black feminist praxis and US professional philosophy, i.e., a commitment to conceptual transparency. In this way, I see nothing problematic about my black feminist/philosophy praxis, even though I am willing to concede the dangers of privileging theory and theorizing highlighted by Lorde and Christian (i.e., production of ignorance and agential inertia). If one takes ‘reading’ to be a core aspect of Africana philosophy and philosophy as such, then black feminists, like Lorde and Christian, are engaging in an important part of philosophical praxis. Philosophy, here, is not privileged. The reverse statement is also true, those philosophers who engage in ‘reading’ the world engage in an important part of black feminist praxis. This meeting ground I am pointing to does not refer to an unproblematic sameness. Rather a position where the differences in the cognitive inheritances that lead one to pursue conceptual transparency within a black feminist praxis and/or philosophical praxis can be seen. This contested meeting ground is the beginning of a black feminist/philosophical praxis. It speaks to my way of taking up Africana philosophy right now.

IV. Epilogue

I/i am compelled by the will to say/unsay, to resort to the entire gamut of personal pronouns to stay near this fleeing and static essence of Not-I. Whether I accept it or not, the natures of I, i you, s/he, We, we, they and wo/man constantly overlap. They all display a necessary ambivalence, for the line dividing I and Not-I, us and them, or him and her is not (cannot) always (be) as clear as we would like it to be.

I am not the first black professional philosopher, US-based or otherwise, to offer a ‘reading’ of my engagement with philosophy. So do not mistake me for making the claim that I represent some new kind of philosopher. My project in this essay is also not to ‘paint myself thick with authenticity’ by affirming some imaginary credentials as a black feminist (Minh-Ha, 1986: 22). I am also not seeking to demonstrate for you a possible difference between you and I. Nor am I attempting to institute yet another ‘planned authenticity’ in the name of black feminism (Minh-Ha, 1986: 23). I am quite happy with the belief that there are no two black feminists alike. So I dare not speak for them. I know, for example, that sharing the value of pursuing conceptual transparency does not, in any way, lessen the genuine differences between my mother, Barbara Christian, Audre Lorde, Barbara Smith, and myself on the value of theorizing. Christian and Lorde may still accuse me of engaging too often in practices that institute ignorance and produce agential inertia; and I have done nothing, here, to address these concerns beyond putting them on display as positions that are quite possibly anti-theory, but never anti-intellectual.

I suppose I should confess this much. To some degree, I see Christian and Lorde’s observations as extremely accurate. Privileging abstract theory is a bad idea. A by-product of hierarchically privileging any set of epistemic practices will most likely be instituted ignorance. It is a bad idea not only because it institutes ignorance, but because it institutes ignorance that is most likely going to affect the most vulnerable members of a given society. ⁶ Also too, there are many US professional philosophers that take the problem/solution worldview Lorde describes as indicative of philosophical engagement, usually in the form of producing an infinite amount of criticisms and rival theories (Priest, 2006), but not necessarily ‘tangible action.’ I find it difficult to disregard the often insightful ‘readings’ offered by Lorde and Christian of theory and theorizing, even as I believe they reinforce the importance of careful, philosophical praxis and black feminist engagements, not lessen it. So I will end as I began, but differently. ‘Who do I think I am?’ My name is Kristie Dotson and one way to describe me is as a US black feminist, professional philosopher.