Celebrating Black Women’s History Month

By: Felicia Griffin, Deputy Director of the Partnership for Working Families

My heart feels full as I sit down to write this blog in celebration of Black Women’s History Month. I recently joined the staff of the Partnership for Working Families and feel honored to work at an organization that embraces the “whole” me — Black woman, mother, wife and advocate — all the ways in which I define who I am.

For a long time, the face of labor in popular media has been white men. Not anymore. The labor movements of today are more diverse than they have ever been. Women now make up a huge share of workers in unions and worker centers. Women are at the forefront of the high profile strikes and movements that are shifting today’s political landscape — from the teachers’ strikes in LA, Denver, West Virginia and Oakland, to the leaders of the Black Lives Matter movement, to the visionaries behind the Green New Deal.

I feel extremely lucky to work for a network that is in step with these powerful movements and promotes and develops the leadership of women and people of color. The Partnership for Working Families is led by a majority of amazing, creative, strong and powerful women across the country. We work from a transformational vision rooted in our intersectional values of racial, gender, environmental and economic justice. It’s a beautiful vision to be a part of.

And yet, there’s something missing from the movements of today — something that goes way back to the early years of our country. It’s solidarity and seeing the value of our collective liberation.

When the #MeToo movement took off, I was excited for its victories and its potential. I know that the supportive work environment I enjoy is not the professional reality of many women across our country. So many of us, especially women of color, deal with harassment, sexual assault and economic inequality daily while trying to provide for ourselves and our families. With #MeToo and #TimesUp, the injustices that many women have faced have begun to see resolution through consequences to the perpetrators and new policies for workers.

And yet — so many survivors still face a mountain of doubt and inaction from the general public.

We need real and true solidarity when it comes to supporting women who are crying out for help around sexual assault and harassment. True solidarity means being supportive and proactive. A few years ago, custodial workers in California successfully got a state law passed to protect them from rape and harassment. This was a proactive step — and there are more laws and policies like this across the country that need your support.

And this is not only about assault and harassment.

We need true solidarity when women of color are sounding the alarm of racism. We need to remember Sandra Bland’s name and fight until indictments are handed down. We need to show up around the fights for affordable housing, living wages, and pay equity, and the many policies that impact our ability to thrive.

There is a powerful poem that I recited at a speech meet I competed in when I was in high school called “A Black Woman Speaks” by Beah Richards.

This poem shaped my thinking about feminism, womanhood and the importance of understanding the different journeys we as women endure in this life. In this poem Beah Richards points out her role as a Black woman living in slavery compared to the life of the master’s wife. She points out the missed opportunities for sisterhood and sends out an invitation to join her in the fight for equality:

What will you do?

Will you fight with me?

White supremacy is your enemy and mine.

So be careful when you talk with me.

Remind me not of my slavery, I know it well

but rather tell me of your own.

That is my invitation to you today. I call us to a new women’s rights movement that centers equity, that is really inclusive, that works to dismantle racism and violence against women, that works to level the economic playing field for all women. One that celebrates the contributions and beauty of black women and that takes an intentional stand against anti-blackness. I call us to collective liberation — deeply rooting that notion that you cannot have liberation without mine and I cannot have liberation without yours. Let’s get it right this time.