The Magical Land of Sisterhood
There’s Oprah. There’s Angela Davis – and then there’s Condoleeza Rice. On a recent visit to Washington, a colleague and soldier commented that Oprah is someone to ‘look up to’ Condoleeza ‘doesn’t speak to us’. By this I interpreted that there is some understanding of a ‘Sisterhood’ among women who recognize and acknowledge themselves as Black. I don’t know if there are actual eligibility requirements (giggle) – but once this sisterhood is recognized, certain protocol is expected.
Like let’s say you identify yourself as a part of this group, and while visiting a neighbourhood (ahem –Guelph) where there is not a drop of tan to be found – you happen to spot another black woman. The first reaction is surprise, followed by an anxious desperation to make contact. Mental. Physical. Anything. Eye contact – yes. She spots you and just as you cross paths on the sidewalk you are about to say hello – when she turns her face away from you and directs her glance elsewhere.
You swallow your words – you move on and convince yourself that she just didn’t see you.
Right. You know better, though. That feeling in the pit of your stomach would almost have you think she avoided you purposefully. She relished the opportunity to do what everyone else does – and that is to ignore you.
So does this ‘sisterhood’ exist? And if so what does it look like? And how are we initiated? Certainly there is no legal birthright or assumed privilege as many of our cultural counterparts share. The idea of a kind of exclusive intrinsic belonging aims to nestle warmth into the cold bed of ‘burdened’ Blackness. So where can we find the brethren of this assembly? If not on the sidewalk in a strange city – where is she? Where do we come to know her – to know we are apart of this larger invisible movement for the visible?
It might start when you are quite young. An extra packed box of fries in your meal – with a grin. When you shopped – you look for her to answer your questions, assuming she will know exactly what you need and give the most honest and truthful answer about everything. She does not pledge allegiance to the almighty dollar, and knows that nary a cent of profit will land in paycheque– so you ask her what’s really good about a product and she will tell you without hesitation, “Don’t buy that. Trust me – it ain’t for us. Your hair will fall right out of your head.” Even at the check out counter – she will scan your items and pick out the bar soap saying “ You know there’s a sale on Dove, right? And toilet paper too. You go ahead and grab it – I’ll put this Irish Spring back and keep scanning your things.” And regardless of how much you looove Irish Spring, you will go back and get the Dove on sale and you will pick up that toilet paper – why? Because she took the time to look out for you. For you – and nobody else. Is it right? Perhaps not in theory – but the real question is – is it necessary? Is this an elitist mentality? If your head is not buried in the sand – one would recognize this behaviour occurs all the time. Everywhere. In the broader spectrum of things we all choose whom we communicate with – whether it be a similarity in age, language or other traits with which we feel comfortable. In a casual setting there is no harm done in reaching out to someone whom you know will appreciate the acknowledgement of their presence. We know it won’t happen at work, in the hospital or at school . So a little sisterhood in the grocery store, on the sidewalk … don’t hurt one bit.
