Black Women Still Confined in Media Cage

The uproar over Don Imus' terrible comments about black women on the Rutgers basketball team made me remember a column I wrote 10 years ago. So I dusted the cobwebs off and found, sadly, that the gist seems almost as true now as it did in 1997.

Black women were "visible on quite a few commercials," I noted. "And MTV's music videos don't lack for stereotyped black babes dancing to hot tunes. But African-American females have little chance to speak out about their daily lives and deepest concerns."

The column added: "It's still conspicuous when a black woman gets the microphone to talk about what matters to her. And it's rarer still for major media to provide a substantial amount of time and space for black women to talk about the combination of racism, sexism and economic disadvantage that they face in this society.

"In sharp contrast, vehemence from white men isn't just acceptable — it's valued if it lets us in on authoritative outlooks. Strong statements of opinion, uttered with commanding presence in mainstream media outlets, are routine for the punditocracy. ... While the rage of white males is part of the media landscape, the rage of black women — who have plenty to be angry about — gets cut off at the media pass. That's why it's especially meaningful that journalist Jill Nelson is now doing an end run around the usual blockade."

Back in September of 1997, when I interviewed Nelson, she was on a national tour for her then-new book "Straight, No Chaser" — doing her best to help force key issues into the open.

Subtitled "How I Became a Grown-up Black Woman," her book insisted that silence — far from being golden — is corrosive. Urging that unhealthy quiet be shattered, Nelson followed her own advice by mincing no words:

— "The culture that we consume through television, magazines and advertisements confirms our lack of importance."

— Even during February, Black History Month, black men are the preferred race representatives.

March, Women's History Month, is for white women only."

— "When it comes to beauty, the preoccupation of women's magazines and women's programming, we are definitely not up to snuff. We're too dark, big-boned, our features too Negroid, too ethnic-looking, in short, too much black women, to even qualify to enter America's beauty sweepstakes."

— "The result of black women's silence in the face of the verbiage of others is we find ourselves further misrepresented, erased, excluded. Those who demonize us and call for (social program) cuts are usually white men who do not know a single black woman. If they do, she's probably a domestic employee."

— "It's hard to hold on to your humanity, your ability to love, when the national psyche is so profoundly invested in defining black people as always part of the problem, rarely part of the solution."

— "The affirmation, strength, and voice that black women desperately need must initially come from ourselves and other black women, those who share our experiences. ... Those who don't define themselves are doomed to be defined by others, erased, or, as is the case with black women, both."

When I suddenly remembered Jill Nelson's eloquent book the other day, I was watching cable TV news coverage of the outcries over Imus' despicable comments. I was glad to see so much dismay and outright anger. At least the news media were starting to pay attention. But the truth of what Nelson wrote a decade ago is still with us.

Norman Solomon's latest book, "War Made Easy: How Presidents and Pundits Keep Spinning Us to Death," is now available in paperback. To find out more about Norman Solomon and read his past columns, visit the Creators Syndicate Web page at www.creators.com.

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