brown black and queer

Speech: Violence Against Women
by Mia Mingus

Violence against women is something I think about everyday. It is something I analyze until my thoughts go round in circles; something I agonize over, sometimes crying for myself, my friends, women and girls around the world, and women and girls who have not yet entered the world. It is what I try to inform others about even when it is not aimed directly at me. It is what I fight everyday, what I fear every night. It is why we are all here at this vigil.

In writing this talk, I did not know where to begin. How does one convince a crowd full of people that what we normally associate with violence against women, domestic violence, rape, and molestation/incest, is only one part of a broader continuum of violence that also encompasses seemingly small things such as cat calls and harassment, and that all must be fought? How do I show that violence against women is motivated by sexism? That it creates a world in which it is acceptable to use violence against women in order to oppress them, a world in which you become a target because you are a woman, and a world where women and girls live with the possibility of that violence every day. But it is not just physical abuse and rape that I am talking about, violence against women is all of the seemingly “small” acts of violence that take place everyday that contribute to an atmosphere and culture that degrades and dis-empowers girls and women.

I grew up being aware of violence against women from a very young age, my mother helped to co-found and is the co-director of the Women’s Coalition of St. Croix, an organization that helps victims of domestic violence, rape and families in crisis. So, the knowledge of women abuse was very close to me. I knew that every minute women were being beaten, and every night women and children were afraid in their homes. I knew that girls my age and of all ages were raped, being raped or would be raped. And I knew that I was LUCKY, at having survived childhood and adolescence without being the victim of incest or consistent sexual abuse. Only LUCKY.

I knew that when I was five years old and my neighbor and her children were staying at my house, in order to escape from her abusive husband at 3am the next morning on a plane off the island that the reason why they were leaving was scary and dangerous, but the fact that they were able to leave was at once revolutionary and hopeful.

I knew that violence against women was a societal problem, not just a few random acts here and there. That it was not just a few girls and women who were being violated in small and large ways, not just young girls, not just US girls and women, not just white women, but all women and girls no matter where they were.

Why was it that I didn’t know one girl or woman who was not taken advantage of, harassed or abused?

I had stories. My friends had stories, their friends had stories, their mothers had stories, their sisters had stories, and I’m sure every woman and girl here does as well. Hundreds and thousands of stories. Stories of men crossing the line, making them feel uncomfortable, strangers commenting on their bodies, times when they were silenced, times when they could not even find their own voice.

But it was more than that, it was the violence of oppression on a broader scale. It wasn’t just that women were being silenced through sexism and still are, but it was also that people of color were being silenced through racism. the queer community was being silenced through homophobia, poor people were being silenced through classism. disabled people were being silenced through abelism, people from other countries were being silenced through our ethnocenricism, and so on. The thinking behind all of the many different forms that the violence or oppression took on was the same. Not only that, but violence against women and sexism, can be made up of all these things as well: racism, homophobia, classism.

For my self, like many other women and girls, violence against women aimed at me can, for instance, take the form of my race or (dis)ability being sexualized, the harassment I face is one where sexism and racism often times go hand in hand and to fight only one would still leave me violated. Because sexism and racism are made up of the ordinary and extraordinary violence, the everyday and extreme violence, and that violence, no matter what form it takes, is used to serve the same purpose: to silence, to disadvantage, to disempower, to oppress. This is not just a war against violence against women, it is a war against all violence. For indeed, just as there is violence within rape, there is violence with in privilege, violence within self hatred, violence within hate.

Violence against women is a form of sexism and we cannot end it until we can end sexism. Sexism is a form of oppression and we cannot end it until we end oppression—in all forms.

So what does real equality look like? Equality where any form of oppression and the violence within it are not tolerated and challenged? Where all women and all girls are free from all violence whether it is based on their sex, their race, their culture, class.

But in order to do this we must commit ourselves to forging a better world and a better community. One where we read and educate ourselves about violence against women and violence against any group of people. One where we learn to speak when small acts of injustice are committed, when small comments are made, knowing that they are profoundly connected to larger and more tangible acts of injustice. One where we support our local businesses and local bookstores that help to keep those silenced voices alive (and independent business are also one of the many voices that are being silenced by big corporations and chains). One where we make an effort to understand what is going on in women’s lives out side of the United States, are our clothes being made by young women working for pennies in sweat shops? One where we teach our girls that it is okay to say no and where we teach our boys that it is okay to ask. One where we do not stop until we all can feel safe in our own homes. But most importantly, let us commit ourselves to a world where women’s voices are heard, their words are validated, and the necessity for community and freedom become more important than self advancement and tradition.

I would like to close with a quote from June Jordan’s Affirmative Acts:

And I wanted to say
that’s how I see change happening:
First and finally
it must happen
in my own heart and my own mind
that I recognize my needs and my
desires
as needs and desires that necessarily
connect me with more and
more diverse, other human
beings,
on the grounds of a shared
political value system;
a shared, passionate perspective
that offers beautiful benefit
to every single one of us
if we will only join
together
equally acknowledging our
needs and desires
as equally valid
and then,
together,
commit to freedom
commit to equality
as the fundamentals
of a universal human rights agenda
none of us
dares strive toward
without a whole gang
of principled comrades
hanging out
close,
solid,
clear,
invincible.

Mingus is a 22-year-old recent women’s studies graduate from Agnes Scott College in Decatur, GA. She currently works at the local feminist bookstore in Atlanta, Charis Books & More.

Speech: Violence Against Women by Mia Mingus