Scapegoating and the ‘angry black woman’

Introduction

At any given moment in the matrix of a group there will be innumerable differences at play. As one is being examined, others simmer or lie dormant. Like a camera fixing its gaze upon figure and ground, axes shift between focus and blur. The scales of difference and similarity tip in pursuit of the group analytic task, but left to their own devices are they ever truly balanced?

This article will highlight how women of colour may experience scapegoating within group analytic settings as a result of intersecting, deep-rooted, and malignant socio-political forces operating within the (un)conscious. The intersectional forces examined are racism and sexism, with a primary focus on the former. While it is beyond the scope of this article to explore the issues surrounding language ¹ ; my rationale for using certain terms; or how other social categories ² may relate to this topic, their inclusion would no doubt enrich this work.

I use the term ‘women of colour’ ³ in relation to those who: a) were female at birth; b) have lived experience as a woman; and c) descend from Africa, Asia, Oceania, and the Americas (regardless of current residence), including women of mixed heritage. I use the term ‘white’ to refer to anyone of European descent. ‘Groups’ within the context of this article refers to analytic therapy/training groups, e.g., group analytic psychotherapy, large groups, seminars, supervision, meetings, and working groups. The title ‘conductor’ refers to anyone facilitating one such group.

I examine Foulkes’ Basic Law of Group Dynamics (Foulkes, 1948)—henceforth referred to as ‘Foulkes’ Law’—in order to anchor this piece in group analytic theory and consider its relevance to understanding difference in groups. After providing a full definition of Foulkes’ Law, I critically examine its meaning before concluding with some thoughts on the role of conductor as passive versus active.

Drawing upon historical and contemporary literature from within and outside of group analysis, I explore the trope of the ‘angry black woman’ and provide a combination of personal, social and clinical vignettes to illustrate how this label can be applied to women of colour in order to create a ‘scapegoat’ (Foulkes, 1964). What follows is a critique of analytic theory on this practice. Using an intersectional lens (Crenshaw, 1989), I then consider how women of colour may experience themselves in relation to the group.

Three anti-racist approaches are proffered, positing that it may be helpful for conductors to: a) recognize the potential limitations of group analytic theory; b) increase their awareness of, and attunement to, racism in groups; and c) provide explicit and proactive interventions.

My concluding thoughts submit that if our groups are indeed permeated by the social, the same may be true of our theoretical framework. As such, any limitations or gaps in our training curriculum and academic thinking could be said to represent the opportunity to further engage with other fields of study.

I would also like to acknowledge the important work already undertaken by many within our modality to address issues of power, privilege, and position. Without these beacons of hope providing some much-needed light, I may not have found a voice of my own.

Foulkes’ Basic Law of Group Dynamics

Foulkes’ Basic Law provides a useful starting point for discussions on societal norms, difference, and the constant flux in our group foundation matrices (Hopper and Weinberg, 2011: xlvii). This Law is described as:

The deepest reason why these patients, assuming for simplicity’s sake Psycho-Neurotics, can reinforce each other’s normal reactions and wear down and correct each other’s neurotic reactions, is that collectively they constitute the very Norm, from which individually, they deviate. (Foulkes, 1948: 29, italics in original)

Foulkes (1948: 30) proposes that each therapy group has much more in common than initially realized. Differences may provoke hostility and apprehension but, as the group evolves and commonalities emerge, the conflict between individuality and community subsides (Foulkes, 1948: 30), i.e. ‘The community, of which they are a miniature edition, itself determines what is normal, socially accepted behaviour’ (Foulkes, 1948: 29–30).

At the same point in history, however, Mamie. P. Clark and Kenneth. B. Clark (1947) were conducting the ‘Dolls Test’ to evidence the damage caused by legally endorsed segregation and racism in the US to black children’s sense of self and identity. Similarly, Fanon (1986) was exploring the impact of slavery and colonization on black people’s psyches. I argue that neither segregation, slavery, nor colonization can be described as ‘normal, socially accepted behaviour’ by those experiencing such practices.

Brown advances that Foulkes’ Law represents, ‘the opportunity to engage in reciprocal relationships of mutual empathy and understanding’ (1998: 393) within a normalizing group process. In contrast, Nitsun pronounces that Foulkes’ Law is both ‘limited and essentially misguided’ (1996: 32), as exemplified by Foulkes’ failure to acknowledge that the group or community itself may contain destructive or deviant tendencies: ‘The sound part of Individuality, of character, is firmly rooted in the group and wholly approved by it’ (Foulkes, 1948: 30).

Nitsun also queries the general acceptance and usefulness of Foulkes’ Law as it assumes that: a) social norms remain stable; and b) society is somehow superior to the therapy group (1996: 33).

These assumptions can be easily denounced, as illustrated by the recent upsurge in overt racism, prejudice, discrimination, and hate crime^{4, 5, 6}. Equally, racism is present in less tangible forms via the ‘transgenerational transmission of trauma’ (Volkan, 2001); within the ‘foundation matrix’ (Foulkes, 1971; Hopper and Weinberg, 2011); and through forces operating within the ‘social unconscious’ (Fromm, 1962; Foulkes, 1964).

As ‘the therapy group is a microcosm of society’ (Barwick and Weegmann on Foulkes, 2018: xxi), pernicious forces in society naturally pervade our groups. They resonate across all levels of communication ⁷ and evoke a minefield of complex material. Foulkes’ Law requests that we ‘trust in the group’ to navigate this minefield but it is my experience that unless specifically asked or fought for, the group does not provide. Indeed, by trusting Foulkes’ Law, conductors paradoxically adopt a position of passivity (upholding and benefiting from racism) when I believe a more active approach is required (recognizing and countering racism).

The ‘angry black woman’

I have experienced and observed the emergence of an ‘angry black woman’ in social and clinical groups, regardless of theme (or lack thereof), many times. This is not a title a woman of colour gives herself but one she is ascribed by other members of the group.

The ‘angry black woman’ trope has prevailed since the early 19th-century when blackface minstrels (white men ‘blacked up’ to portray African people) would dress up as black women in unflattering and unfeminine ways for the entertainment of predominantly white audiences (Toll, 1974). Many of the skits would involve women ranting and raving, being angry and unpredictable. While this form of entertainment lost its popularity during the civil rights movement in the US, its legacy lives on as manifest racism and a driving force within the unconscious. Consequently, if a woman of colour is angry, raises her voice, or demonstrates open hostility, she is likely to receive the label of ‘aggressor’, ‘intimidating’, and/or ‘overly sensitive’. As such, group disturbance is located in this woman (Foulkes, 1948: 127) and she may become a receptacle for disavowed projections (Barwick and Weegmann, 2018: 76). The following cases seek to illustrate that, in my opinion, no woman of colour is immune.

In 2018, Serena Williams, one of the world’s top sportspeople, was internationally shamed for being an ‘angry black woman’ after breaking her racquet and shouting at the umpire; something her white counterparts had done many times without forfeiture but for which Williams was fined, given a penalty point, and subjected to much negative publicity, some of which was overtly racist (Prasad, 2018).

In 2020, The Guardian published an article summarising their analysis of how the international media reported on the Duchess of Sussex, Meghan Markle (a woman of colour), and the Duchess of Cambridge, Kate Middleton (a white woman). Findings revealed that between May 2018 and January 2020, 843 headlines featured Markle, of which 43% were categorized as negative. During the same period, Middleton appeared in 144 headlines, of which 8% were negative (Duncan and Bindman, 2020).

Despite the opportunities and protection that hard work, international status, and money might have afforded Williams and Markle, they appear to be no different from women of colour within all strata of society.

The scapegoating experience for women of colour

Myriad processes were also at work for the scapegoat herself. Sensing a futility in cohering with a whole group of white women, Cleo attempted the more attainable goal of joining a sub-group and in doing so became vulnerable to the projections of other group members.

Fanon (1986) deconstructs racism and colonization by ‘bring[ing] psychology into politics . . . and analysing power through a series of psychoanalytic conceptualizations’ (Hook, 2004: 115). Fanon (1986) attests that when black men encounter white culture a psychological fragmentation occurs and, instead of seeing themselves as black, they experience themselves as ‘the Other’: a black self, constructed by—and as a direct result of—‘colonial subjugation’ (1986: 17). What follows is a process of ‘alienation’ (Fanon, 1986: 174) whereby black men are taught to exist only in relation to white people. Specifically, they learn to identify with white culture—a group to which they will never truly belong.

Notably, women of colour are largely absent from Fanon’s work. Bernger observes that,

. . . black women’s attempts to inhabit a whiteness that Fanon consistently defines in masculine terms becomes mimicry ¹¹ , a feminine masquerade both of race and of gender. (Bergner, 1995: 84)

This infers a ‘duality’ of oppressions against black women, perpetrated by white and black men alike. However, this ‘duality’ represents but a fraction of the black women’s experience. For example, Hooks (1982: 1) describes the bind faced by black women in the 1960s; caught between black (male-dominated) suffrage and the (white) women’s liberation movement—neither of which advocated for their rights (Hooks, 1982: 1).

This bind requires a theoretical lens through which intersecting and marginalized characteristics can be viewed, particularly in relation to power. The anti-discrimination framework of ‘intersectionality’ ¹² (Crenshaw, 1989) provides just this, but is seldom called upon in our literature ¹³ . Davis (2013) reinforces the overlapping nature of identity politics when defining feminism as:

‘ . . . so much more than gender equality . . . It has to involve a consciousness of capitalism and racism and colonialism (Davis, 2013).

Women of colour have been ascribed labels and identities by those in power for centuries, denying them the right to self-define. Nayak (2015) aptly outlines why by stating that,

. . . the predetermined criteria of identity categories are a mechanism of regulation and control that limit the choices, resources and experiences of self-definition available to Black women. A pre-determined decision is no decision at all. (Nayak, 2015: 114)

Equally, the poet and civil rights activist, Audre Lorde (1984) affirms that,

For Black women . . . it is axiomatic that if we do not define ourselves for ourselves, we will be defined by others—for their use and to our detriment. (Audre Lorde, 1984: 45)

Using this intersectional prism, the ‘angry black woman’ is paradoxically ascribed power while simultaneously being stripped of it. A common and well documented praxis ¹⁴ (Beauboeuf-Lafontant, 2009). She carries the weight of racist and sexist trauma alone, when in reality it belongs to the group ¹⁵ . Furthermore, she is denied the opportunity to be seen as anything other than a stereotype and so exploration of her personal life is impeded (Dalal, 1993: 282); rendering therapy unhelpful, traumatic, and potentially harmful (Gowrisunkur et al., 2006).

Group analytic approaches and personal reflections

Lyndon proposes that should the scapegoat be able to withstand the projected hostility, the role holds ‘paradoxical centrality as a solution to the group’s predicament’ (1994:103). I find this view unhelpful as it places the onus for survival and resolution on the individual, rather than addressing the dynamics at play in and around the group-as-a-whole. Nitsun recommends that conductors align themselves with the scapegoat and/or direct the aggression towards themselves (1996: 186), thus supporting the group to move communication from the ‘projective level’ (Foulkes, 1964: 115) towards a ‘communal zone of understanding’—a process known as ‘translation’ (Foulkes and Anthony, 1965: 262). Once the material is conscious, members can reflect, listen, digest, and begin to re-own their projections. In the case of the aforementioned clinical vignette, I did just this: I asked the group what it might have felt like to have a therapist who allowed a sub-group to form. This freed Cleo from some of the projections, enabled her to think, and allowed the group to direct their aggression towards me on the ‘current’ and ‘transferential’ levels of communication (Foulkes, 1964: 114). Lucy expressed that I had not done enough to protect her from painful and longstanding feelings of exclusion. After much time and discussion (during which the group informed Cleo that she had been described as ‘aggressive’ and she admitted that this was a familiar experience) the rifts were ostensibly mended, the sub-group dismantled, and a deep sense of compassion emerged.

I ended the closed group feeling pleased that I had addressed the scapegoating: Cleo had been reintegrated and the group had survived. Five months later, however, I held an individual follow-up session with Cleo and referred to this incident. She informed me that, while close to the group, she had not spoken freely about feeling ‘targeted’, ‘misunderstood’, and ‘quite traumatized’ by the events. A re-enactment of racism in a place she thought to be safe.

There are multiple reasons why women of colour may not talk freely in groups. The ability to speak may be buried beneath personal trauma and/or the weight of familial, cultural, and societal expectations and loyalties (Kent, 2019: 280). As ‘being marginalized is sometimes the only power a person has’ (Kent, 2019: 280), women may withhold in order to retain some semblance of power or protect against the projections that inevitably come their way. Kinouani proposes that women may be silenced by the conductor/group in order to disempower, subordinate, and disallow harmful forces within the (un)conscious that may distress the white group members (Kinouani, 2020a: 156). For Cleo, she refrained from speaking to avoid ‘a further onslaught’ and because she ‘was tired of being seen as an instigator’. Instead, support was sought from female friends of colour beyond the group as they ‘just got it’.

I asked Cleo how she had experienced my intervention. She said I had made her feel ‘less targeted, guilty, and alone’ but later asked if I had heard of the term, ‘angry black woman’. It took some eliciting, but she eventually voiced her disappointment at my failure to name what she felt was racism; especially because I am a woman of colour. She had shielded her ‘Jamaican self’ as she was not convinced that I would protect her.

I subsequently reflected upon my actions—or lack thereof. I was in the early stages of my training and quite desperate to ‘get it right’. I thought that by ‘aligning myself with the scapegoat’ and drawing the aggression onto myself I was applying the relevant theory ‘correctly’. I now realize I did not name the racism because, at a pre-conscious level, I was anxious about my ability to hold the group together should any conflict arise. My own experiences of discussing racism with white people, reflected much more articulately by Eddo-Lodge (2017), shaped how I managed the situation. I have seldom engaged in conversations about racism with white people without feeling the need to make the other person feel comfortable about my experiences of racist discrimination, verbal abuse, and physical violence. I carry with me the constant fear of making someone feel ‘personally attacked’; feelings of disappointment, anger, or a confusing mix of pleasure/love (when people engage with the issue in a non-defensive and open way); anxiety about being punished for speaking up ¹⁶ ; and weariness (when asked to educate only to have someone play ‘devil’s advocate’ with my life’s worth of thinking, research, and lived experience). I recognize that I play a role in perpetuating these feelings but as yet, I have never felt able to vocalize them in a group. It seems to me that when confronted with racism in our work and training, we could all do with some help.

Anti-racist approaches

What follows are three different but complementary anti-racist approaches for working with the phenomena examined thus far: a) recognizing potential limits; b) increasing awareness and attunement; c) explicit and active intervention—for those who are not already working as such. I simultaneously recognize that every person/group requires a tailored approach to therapy.

The first approach examines the usefulness of Foulkes’ Basic Law when working with difference in groups, namely the scapegoating of women of colour. I can clearly see the appeal of this concept; there is the reassuring promise of a ‘greater good’ at work, almost religious in its conviction: ‘Trust in the group and the group will provide!’ Brown advances that ‘the opportunity to engage in reciprocal relationships of mutual empathy and understanding’ (1998: 393) within a normalizing group process enables us to better know ourselves and others. I submit, however, that the centuries of systemic subjugation endured by women of colour has resulted in our sense of selves being so severely distorted by those in power that the opportunity to better know ourselves through reciprocal relationships and mutual empathy with white people may be limited. The wounds created by oppression, whether buried deep amid historical and ancestral trauma or openly bleeding with the rawness of re-traumatization ¹⁷ , may leave indelible stains upon our matrices. If we are to remain true to our group analytic roots of recognizing the profoundly social nature of humanity (Foulkes, 1948: 8; Brown and Zinkin, 1994: xi), it feels helpful to acknowledge these limitations. Paradoxically, the very act of doing so may release the potential for dialogue. Alternatively, it may highlight that greater provision of homogenous groups for women of colour is required.

The second approach proposes that conductors hold some responsibility for having an awareness of, and being attuned to, the challenges to speaking freely about racism. Examples may include: undertaking research on marginalized ‘characteristics’ that may carry the weight of historical and contemporary trauma; understanding the context of language and attuning to its usage and potential impact; watching out for the emergence of an ‘angry black woman’ in groups; and holding in mind that silence itself can be used as an ‘instrument of violence’ (Kinouani, 2020b). Without these tools, it is possible that opportunities for cohesion and coherence ¹⁸ , honest and open dialogue, and greater acceptance of difference may be missed.

My third proposal asserts that by taking an even more active ¹⁹ approach, conductors could provide some much-needed support to members by helping them translate somatic and unconscious material in a way that can be tolerated. This includes reflecting upon how our own (un)conscious ‘privileges, intensions and motivations’ (Stevenson, 2020: 512) may manifest. For example, conductors might actively collude in ‘scapegoating a hated member’ (Gans, cited by Nitsun, 1996: 193); seek to avoid evoking feelings of shame (Tantum, 1990: 41); and/or be passively complicit in perpetuating harm by remaining silent (Golz, 2019: 530). Examples may include: explicitly naming racism within the group at the earliest appropriate opportunity, demonstrating that difficult feelings can be talked about; acknowledging that the ‘external world’ pervades the group at every level and encouraging members to consider the impact of politics, history, and transgenerational trauma; and modelling curiosity around experiences of racism and sexism in order to attempt a dialogue that may otherwise be left unsaid. This may be challenging but if support is sought elsewhere, the group is denied experiences that may hold the potential for transformative change.

In summary, I could not have formulated this trio of anti-racist approaches without harnessing theory from beyond our modality. The need to more fully embed intersectionality within our curriculum and theoretical framework has been noted by many over the years, and I find the efforts of the Institute of Group Analysis’ National Diversity Power, Privilege and Position, Working Group (PPP), alongside other local endeavours, particularly hopeful. However, if we are to accept that the social permeates our groups at every level, then the same must be true of our theoretical framework. As such, any conceptual limitations or gaps within our work not only represent areas for development, but also opportunities to further engage with other fields of study.

Concluding thoughts

More than 70 years on from the introduction of Foulkes’ Basic Law the concept continues to generate discourse, withstand analysis, and create new thinking. Less is written about scapegoating within our modality but the socially-conscious contributions of Barwick and Weegmann (2018) and Behr (2018) have been central to this article. I have asserted that Foulkes’ Law and his views on scapegoating fall short of equipping us with the tools required to understand, and work with, the explored phenomena; primarily because both concepts fail to thoroughly consider the socio-political impact of (un)conscious racism in groups. Furthermore, Foulkes’ Law encourages conductors to adopt a position of passivity, thereby upholding racism, whereas I have submitted that active intervention is needed if we are to be truly anti-racist. Finally, I have observed the potential limitations women of colour may face when normalizing through reciprocal relationships with white people, due to being denied the right to self-define and viewed—or forced to perceive themselves—as abstractions of those in power.

It is my belief that owing to Foulkes’ remarkable efforts to ensure that the redistribution of power is at the heart of our work, group analysis is perfectly placed to address the malignant socio-political (un)conscious forces within our groups. By drawing upon the rich contributions of group analysis and other specialist disciplines, I hope we not only succeed in retrieving the scapegoat from the wilderness, but also become better acquainted with the wilderness itself.