Mad Girl: Reflections on Race, Class and Gender

By Anissa Danielle Moore

Are Black people naturally mad at the world? Anissa Danielle Moore examines the experience of Blacks in America through a series of “mad” moments in history through the lens of race, class, and gender in this timely work.

mad girl: reflections on race, class and gender is a collection of essays that tell
the personal journey of a Black-American girl making the transition from childhood to adulthood in a working - class Brooklyn neighborhood in New York City. Moore recounts her childhood memories and ushers the reader through experiences which include busing, the significance of hip-hop culture and racial identity, White flight, present- day segregation, gentrification, police harassment and Black male and female relationships. Furthermore, the book powerfully communicates how young black girls are treated within our society.

mad girl: reflections on race, class and gender seeks to transform “mad” moments into an honest dialogue about race, class, and gender to facilitate positive change among everyday people.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Dec 2, 2020
• ISBN: 9781664137721

Anissa Danielle Moore

ANISSA DANIELLE MOORE, a native of Flatbush, Brooklyn, is an educator, social activist, playwright, and poet. Ms. Moore’s creative works include the collaboration with Prof. Marcia McNair: Sistas on Fire! a drama newsical regarding the African - American woman experience. Her poetry book, 11226: Just A Girl From Brooklyn was released in 2018. Anissa is a full-time member of the Communications Faculty and holds the rank of Full Professor at Nassau Community College, State University of New York. She currently resides in Long Beach, New York. Anissa Moore became the first African American woman elected to the Long Beach City Council in 2015. In 2018, she launched the Long Beach STEAM Academy to promote literacy.

Book preview

MAD GIRL

REFLECTIONS

ON RACE, CLASS

AND GENDER

ANISSA DANIELLE MOORE

Copyright © 2020 by Anissa Danielle Moore.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted

in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,

recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,

without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not

necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims

any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 11/20/2020

Xlibris

844-714-8691

www.Xlibris.com

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CONTENTS

Dedication

Acknowledgments

A Mad Girlworld/Introduction

I Should Be A Mad Girl

July 1977

Learning To Skate

$12 .94

Awakenings

Rage (L.A. Uprising style)

L.A. Uprising/N.Y. Style 1992

Nothing But The Ghetto

How Did I Get To Be Your Enemy?

Train Ride

Mississipi Now

And In The End...

Notes

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to my grandmother, Bernice Bell (Mack) whose strength, determination and countless sacrifices have inspired me to fight.

This book is also dedicated to my parents, Roosevelt Moore and Beverly Moore who have always believed in me. My heart is filled with overwhelming love for you both.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I am equally grateful for the love and support from my brother and best friend, Ryan Christopher Moore, my brother Justin Moore, my sister in law (sister) Eren Moore and my beautiful niece, Mikaela Moore.

I want to extend heartfelt thanks to my colleagues and friends at Nassau Community College, State University of New York (SUNY), who have supported my work from the very beginning: the Communications Department, Women’s Studies Seminar, ALANA (African-Latino-Asian-Native-American Faculty & Staff Alliance), Africana Studies Department, the Critical Reading & Academic Advancement Department and the Center for Arts & Humanities.

My heart is filled with gratitude for my brother and precious friend Dr. Rodney Shabazz, my friend Derrick Parker, and my sister-friends, Tracy Hagues, and Prof. Marcia McNair for editing my essays. Lastly, I want to express heartfelt thanks to my friends who patiently listened to the rough drafts: Furo Allison, Patricia Cooper, Ronald McHenry, Runnie Myles, Steven Thompson, Dr. Robert Costello and Dr. Joylette Williams. I want to express my special thanks to the Herstory Writers Workshop organization for inspiring me to tell my story.

A MAD GIRLWORLD/

INTRODUCTION

When Negroes looked for the second phase, the realization of the equality, they found that many of their white allies had quietly disappeared. The word was broken, and the free-running expectations of the Negro crashed into the stone walls of white resistance. The paths of Negro-white unity that had been converging crossed at Selma, and like a giant X began to diverge. Beyond it the unity had to be based on the fulfillment of equality, and in the absence of agreement the paths began inexorably to move apart.

Where Do We Go From Here: Chaos or Community?

Martin Luther King, Jr. 1967

I am no better and neither are you

We’re all the same whatever we do

You love me you hate me

You know men and then

You can’t figure out the bag I’m in

I am everyday people

Sly and the Family Stone, 1969

It was 1967 when Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. penned the book that asked the critical question: Where do we go from here? Despite the political triumphs of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and the Voting Rights Act of 1965, the Civil Rights Movement encountered White resistance. With the Black Power message surging, and so many Black men and women lost to despair and street violence, where could Black America go? As the Movement was clearly reaching its crossroads, one thing was clear: White participation was deemed necessary to make equality a reality for Black folk. Dr. King was assassinated in 1968.1968 will forever remain in the minds of Black Americans. This was the fateful year in which Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated and the Civil Rights movement came to an abrupt end. 1969? There seems to be a pregnant silence between 1968 and 1970. I would like to believe that 1969 was the year of everyday people: the ordinary as well as the extraordinary. When you reflect on 1969, close your eyes and imagine the young men in the killing fields of Vietnam, the Stonewall Riots; and Neil Armstrong walking along the surface of the moon. For Black Americans, this was a year of transition, a time to embark on a new wilderness experience and a quest for survival. Black folks were just passing time, a time filled with anger, disillusionment, frustration, and indifference. I was born on July 28, 1969.

As the last days of my twenty-ninth year were quickly coming to an end, the reality of reaching my thirtieth birthday was beginning to seep in. Reaching the significant year of thirty was not frightening, but it did cause me to reflect on my life and my future. At the young age of thirty, I was fully aware that the world around me had changed in so many ways. I grew up with a rotary telephone, a manual typewriter, a black and white television, and 45 rpm records. The social policies that shaped my early educational experiences had also become obsolete. I participated in the school busing program during the 1970s. Once again, I was forced to examine my reality, and I could not avoid the issue of race and how it had shaped my world.

As an adult, I still wondered how within a span of my thirty-something years, my people have been referred to as Negro, nigger, colored, black, Afro-American, and African-American-- all words that carry various social and political meanings. Historically, Black people have either resisted or accommodated such terms, in their attempt to transform negative labels into positive ones. Although Blacks have made the attempt to name themselves in various ways, words are still used to categorize them based on dominant White thought.

In years past, society was socialized to see Africa as the Dark Continent, an uncivilized place. Many Black people embraced the term colored in an attempt to erase their connection to Africa, the Motherland and remove the negative stigma of Negro or nigger. As the term colored became associated with historical segregation and second class citizenship, the term black became a significant term used during and after the Civil Rights Movement. Blacks began to use phrases such as Black is beautiful and Say it loud, I’m Black and I’m proud! Moreover, Black folk became aware of blackness as a cultural and political state. Black functions as a metaphorical reminder of the historical pendulum movement of denial and affirmation of black skin in White America (Smitherman, 42).

In the face of the long history of the African in America, a great deal of ignorance remains regarding the African-American experience in America and blackness altogether.

Blackness has no meaning outside of a system of race-conscious people and practices. After centuries of racist degradation, exploitation, and oppression in America, being black means being minimally subject to white supremacist abuse and being part of a rich culture and community that has struggled against such abuse… In short, blackness is a political and ethical construct.

(West, 39)

In his article, Racist Stereotyping in the English Language, Robert B. Moore argues that many people may still be unaware of the disdain many Black Americans have for the term colored, but it often appears that whether used intentionally or unintentionally, colored people are good and know their place within the society, whereas Black people are perceived as uppity and threatening to many whites (Moore, 378). Presently, the word black is still commonly used to describe those individuals of African descent that appear threatening to many whites. In contrast, the term African-American is respectfully used to refer to those of class and distinction within society. What is interesting is that many Blacks use the terms interchangeably. In recent times, although controversial, many among the younger generation have replaced the term nigger with the term nigga to signify kinship. Yes, language plays a significant role in shaping attitudes, and I struggled for many years with how individuals and the events around me were defined.

Within our changing society, Blacks are often described as hostile, aggressive, mad, or even angry. The word anger signifies a strong feeling of displeasure, resentment or hostility. Whereas the word mad not only signifies a state of anger or resentment, it implies the inability to reason or execute sound judgment. Individuals who are experiencing madness are usually extremely excited, confused or struggling with anxiety or experiencing serious distress. In extreme situations, they may be suffering from a disorder of the mind classified as insanity.

Thus, when Black people challenge others on issues concerning race, they are generally labeled as angry. It is important to note that when Black people address issues in the workplace, they are often perceived as angry or hostile. Furthermore, when Black people seek social and political power, their actions are usually described by the media as the effects of black rage which suggests an uncontrollable anger on their part. The term black rage has been used to describe events such as the Black Power movement, the Watts riots, the 1977 lootings in New York City, and the L.A. Riots. According to the majority of mainstream media accounts, angry Black people filled the streets during demonstrations led by Al Sharpton in Brooklyn, the Million Man March led by Louis Farrakhan in Washington D. C. In recent times, angry Black people have filled the streets of Washington D. C, New York City and Ferguson, Missouri.

Undeniably, there is a parallel world that exists: Black and White. I have always seemed to live and move in between the two. For the majority of my adult years as a Black educator, I entered into a predominantly White world during the day. However, in the evening, I entered into a predominantly Black and Caribbean American middle class world. In my mad girl world, the two worlds coexisted and often collided.

Driving home from work one day, I realized that for years, I had suppressed some of the painful experiences of being the other. I also realized that I had some unsettled issues that I needed to come to terms with. I guess turning thirty caused me to reflect on my past and consider my future. I began to think – will things ever change? Despite the noteworthy achievements and progress of many African-Americans, I continued to see inequality, racism and discrimination all around me. Why was I still dealing with the same issues that I encountered during my childhood? Furthermore, I kept having meaningful discussions with White and Black Americans, yet I continued to live in these two separate worlds.

For years I struggled with the issue of race. I stacked the memories neatly in the back of my mind. One can suppress the issue of race for a few days or sometimes weeks. However, sooner or later, it returns to the surface, and the same old, unanswered questions remain. As a college professor, I participated in panel discussions and joined small groups to facilitate campus diversity. On one hand, I was glad to see that many Black and White Americans are working toward racial reconciliation. On the other hand, I also discovered many self-proclaimed liberal White Americans were still not willing to integrate their neighborhoods nor give up their privileges.

In 1967, Dr. King pointed out that Whites were willing to help Blacks obtain basic human rights, such as the right to vote and the right to full citizenship. However, when it was time to consider the economic, educational, social, and political rights of Black Americans, the price of losing their privilege became far too costly. In present day America, many White Americans still fail to recognize how they perpetuate racial and social oppression. This only left me with feelings of disappointment and anger.

I read many books and essays concerning the subject of race. Suddenly, I thought who has a voice to speak? Who has the power to name? To name something or someone implies power or authority over the thing that is named. The ability to name a person, place or thing is to exert authority over that entity. The dominant group in our society has possessed the power to not only name and define itself, but to define others. Language plays a significant role in shaping attitudes towards ethnic and racial groups. Despite the contributions of the African to America, African peoples have been labeled as the other. Being labeled other within America denotes different and distinct but implies inferiority. Richard Dyer (1993) points out that the function of those who do not belong to a given society (other, peripheral or outcast) is to allow the dominant group in that society to define themselves as central (Dyer, 14).

Growing up in a Black working class family, I quickly learned things were simply named for me. I began to yearn for my voice, my experience to be represented. I rarely saw images of working class Blacks on television. Furthermore, the Black poor were usually represented as victims or abusers of the system in the news and media accounts. Therefore, the voice of the Black working class was rarely heard. Conversely, the members of the Black middle class were being presented as successful citizens who were tired of carrying the burden for the race. Thus, the Black working class seemed relatively nonexistent.

Today, the Black working class has almost disappeared as the majority of the working class has mobilized into the Black middle class or fallen deeper into the abyss of poverty. I believe this class distinction has only helped to strengthen the stereotypes about Black Americans. These rigid stereotypes have placed the entire African-American population into two categories: the exceptional Black or the lazy, unmotivated Black. However, to present either stereotype is to present a distorted representation of the overall Black community.

I decided to write about my experiences for the past twenty years, to break silence and give voice to issues that many people around me desire to express. Mad Girl is a collection of personal stories that explore my experience of growing up in a Black working class family in New York City. New York City, the capital of the world, is also a place of racial unrest, isolation and inequity for many. I grew up during the turbulent 70s in Flatbush, Brooklyn. Consequently, at an early age, I learned about race, class and gender and their implications within a color conscious world. I now recognize that I grew up during a time of high expectations and broken promises. I experienced what happens to a movement when the expectations are not met and the promises remain broken. I was raised with Black and White adults that witnessed or experienced the evils of second class citizenship first hand. I grew up around adults who were supposed to Keep the Faith and Hold on to The Dream. These are the same people who vociferously proclaimed, We shall overcome. I grew up during a time when many people lost hope and stopped fighting altogether, whereas others yielded their wills to the streets, choosing a life of crime or succumbing to drug addiction. Yes, the world around me just got tired.

Being a member of the first generation of hip-hop motivated me to once again ponder the meaning of being Black American within the dominant White culture. Despite my strong family background, hip-hop moved me to ponder my history and my identity in a powerful new way. I now recognize that I embraced hip-hop because I was old enough to understand and appreciate the rhythmic and didactic gift of The Last Poets in the cultural tradition of my ancestors. At an early age, I read the powerful poetry of Nikki Giovanni. I joined my father in tapping my feet and nodding in agreement with Gil Scott Heron. Now I was Black and strong with RUN-D.M.C—"You know I’m proud to be black y’all and that’s fact y’all and I could never be whack, y’all."

To possess a name or to name yourself is about shaping your identity. The issue of identity is a common struggle for many teenagers, specifically, Black teenage girls who desire to find acceptance and self-worth. But embracing hip-hop also came with many challenges as my friends and I soon discovered that we would be disrespected walking down Brooklyn streets. As a young graduate student, the Clarence Thomas-Anita Hill hearings opened my eyes to the growing tension between Black men and Black women. Looking at the world through the lenses of race, class and gender can be extremely complex as a young Black woman.

These essays capture times in history through my eyes as a young Black-American girl making the transition from childhood to adulthood. This collection of essays is an instrument I have used to cope with the social and political realities within my world. I didn’t know what White flight was at the time, but I knew that my classmates were relocating one by one. The 1977 blackout not only changed my life, but the lives of my entire community. During the 1980s, I encountered numerous racial conflicts while attending all-White schools. As I entered the 1990s, I witnessed the destructive nature of the powerful and devastating crack economy within my community. I saw my community become an all-Black neighborhood, economically and socially torn, beyond repair. I witnessed firsthand how many Black families suffered the loss of drug-addicted family members. Many young men were lost to gang wars; numerous innocent bystanders were slain on city streets, which left many young children orphaned.

These essays represent times in history that I have experienced, and eventually came to name. I now recognize that naming is a powerful ability. Naming the enemy helps mobilize a community, gives voice to its outrage, and provides a rallying point. (Coleman-Burns, 59) In today’s world, a world of haves and have-nots, a world of changing technology, a youth oriented culture living by the pulse of materialism, it seems as if the voice of the everyday people--the ordinary as well as the extraordinary-- has gradually faded from public affairs. It is imperative that everyday people begin to dialogue about issues that directly affect them. In a Mad Girl world, I am addressing everyday experiences with the hopes that these words will mobilize my community and facilitate change.

I SHOULD BE A MAD GIRL

I’ve been mad all my natural life

Sidney Poitier as Noah Cullen in ‘The Defiant Ones’ (1958)

I now know that being a member of a minority