(This is a collaborative piece I wrote with fal from Document the Silence.)
Last Thursday night I was glued to CNN as Wolf Blitzer and company announced and analyzed the results from the Iowa Caucus. While Obama’s rousing victory speech about “hope” and “change” made me beam with pride, it was that image of Obama’s daughters-two little black girls with puffy, unruly hair-taking the stage with him that made me want to shout. Despite the fact that I’ve yet to decide which of the Democratic candidates will get my vote in my state’s primary, I know that this moment is a historical one. A black man winning the Iowa Caucus? Can America get anymore white than Iowa? If it’s possible to elect a Black man in Iowa then maybe America is r-re-ready for…
Wait a minute. Before I get too far into adding my two cents to the political pundit banter about what Obama’s race means for the presidential election, let me stop myself. Without a doubt, the narrative of race that is unfolding within the presidential race is important. By no means can we dismiss Obama’s struggles with proving to Black people that he is “Black enough” while also having to prove to white people that he is not “too Black” (at least not the Jessie Jackson “Black” of ‘84 or ‘88). Yet my identity as a Black woman, one who often teeters on that tightrope between being Black and woman, means that the racial dynamics are not the only thing I’m watching closely. Hey, Uh, has anyone noticed that Hillary Clinton is a woman? Going by the analysis of most political pundits and journalists, it would seem that this tidbit of information means nothing beyond the question of whether women will vote for Clinton in sweeping numbers. But regardless of what mainstream media would have us to believe, gender, like race, presents something more to this election than the question of whose votes will go where. Clinton’s bid for president opens the floodgate of questions about what is at stake for a woman seeking a leadership position.
To begin, Clinton’s “likability” has often been brought into question over the course of the race. Compared to Obama’s fresh-faced charismatic persona and Edwards’ down-home southern boy drawl, Clinton seems stiff, unapproachable and “too serious.” But given the gendered politics of the country we live in, can she really afford not to be? While inspirational sermonic calls for change that border on the second coming of Martin Luther King, Jr. mean likability for Obama and Edwards, such strong appeals to emotion can mean defeat for Clinton. By virtue of being male, Obama and Edwards can make emotional appeals while their ability to be strong, aggressive, and unwavering (characteristics that Americans want in president) remain in tact. Not so for Clinton. The Hillary Clinton campaign knows that if Clinton were to tout those same sermonic speeches, she would quickly be on the verge of being portrayed as too emotional (read: too feminine), less serious, and a bit irrational, automatically forfeiting her perceived ability to govern as president. This is why “experience” means so much to her campaign. Because she is a woman, Clinton’s campaign must hinge on more than an abstract vision of change and a charming smile.
As I continue to follow the gendered dynamics of the presidential race, there are a couple of other things that bring this conversation about the role of gender in the presidential campaigns to the fore. For instance, isn’t it also interesting that even when some voters are weighing the advantages of having Clinton as president, they somehow bring Bill Clinton into the picture? Am I the only one who finds the idea that, “If we vote for Hillary, we’ll bring Bill back in office” a bit insulting? We are talking about a woman who has shown through her time in the Senate that her politics do not begin-nor do they end-with her husband. And what about all this hoopla surrounding what bloggers and reporters are referring to as Clinton’s “most public display of emotion during her campaign” when she “teared up” during a speech yesterday at a New Hampshire coffee shop? I don’t see anyone measuring John McCain’s level of emotion over the course of his campaign, nor did we see this same rush of news stories about presidential candidates and their tear ducts after Mitt Romney showed the same level of emotion as Clinton during a Meet The Press interview.
But, let’s be real. This post is really not about Hillary Clinton or the presidential elections. At least, not entirely. It’s really about the realities that most women face when in leadership positions, regardless of whether they are in politics, the academy, the church, corporate america or community organizations. Many Black women have more than a few stories about how, as leaders, we have thought twice about coming across as too emotional, too affectionate or too assertive, too bitchy (and too Black ) in order to be taken seriously. But at what cost? Could it be that being a woman in leadership means sacrificing our authentic selves in order to settle for a life of wondering if we are ever good enough, better yet “man enough” to lead.
This post is apart of a larger historical narrative of Black women who have examined how both sexism and racism affect their ability to live their lives. During tumultuous and violent times, women like: Sojourner Truth, Harriett Tubman, Mary Church Terrell, Ida B. Wells, Ruby Doris Smith, Ella Baker, Fannie Lou Hammer, Pauli Murray, Barbara Smith, Audre Lorde all rendered critiques about what it meant to be black, what it meant to be a woman, and what it meant to be a black woman. Given their critiques often they were ostracized and chastised by the Black community for airing what most Black people considered to be the dirty laundry that sexism does exist in the Black community. It’s just not a white woman’s issue. Writing this post concerning the gender dynamics of the current presidential race pays tribute to the women mentioned above who understood all to well what it meant to be seen as a black woman when trying to lead many to freedom.
