Hoosa, kap 'n bart// What is Hood Feminism?
In 2018, I fell down a YouTube rabbit hole. What should have just been an evening of watching old Hip-hop and R&B music videos of songs I did not have on my music streaming platform Spotify at the time became a feminist expedition. YouTube started suggesting video essays on Hip-hop feminism, which led me to a video essay on hood feminism that had only sixty-eight views and fourteen likes. At the time, I was still confused about how Hip-hop was a feminist movement. When I typed in Hip-hop feminism into JSTOR’s search bar, to my surprise, almost twenty-one pages filled with sources popped up. I spent that week doing copious research on Hip-hop feminism and the little I could find on Hood Feminism, so much so that I forgot to attend many lectures in the upcoming weeks. The idea that there was a feminist movement dedicated to the concerns of womxn in the hood, me included, monopolised my mind. The next day, I changed my Instagram handle from @fatfeminist to @fatghettofeminist.
This research endeavour is inspired by author and activist Mikki Kendall’s collection of essays, Hood Feminism Notes From The Women A Movement Forgot (2020). Discovering Kendall’s work created a moment of exhale and affect: it resonated with my experiences, experiences I did not fully grasp and lacked the tools to process. Hood Feminism called attention to my values, which were slowly being re-constructed and built from the ground up. Kendall (2020) gives a poignant account of womxn left behind, unacknowledged, misunderstood and forgotten by the mainstream feminist discourse. She asserts that the hood encompasses a distinct type of feminism, a feminism rooted in survival, a feminism that acknowledges that access to medical care, food insecurity, producing three meals a day, and access to housing are indeed feminist issues. Hood Feminism advocates for the notion that womxn have had to make chaotic and often sloppy decisions to ensure economic empowerment. Most importantly, Hood Feminism acknowledges the fact that it is hard to identify and 'act' as a feminist when there are womxn who are struggling to survive.
Kendall (2020) provides an account of navigating life in the ghetto, what it means to survive in the ghetto, and sheds light on the forgotten feminism in the ghetto. She addresses why womxn in the ghetto have specifically struggled to contribute to mainstream feminist conversations and what we as a society need to do to ensure that the most marginalised womxn are being heard, seen, and protected, essentially opening the conversation around how we as a collective can activate space in mainstream feminist discourses. Hood Feminism (2020) acknowledges that despite important advancements in the fight for gender equality, mainstream feminism frequently overlooks the particular problems faced by womxn from underrepresented groups: poverty, racial discrimination, police violence, inadequate healthcare, educational inequality, and more. In general, Hood Feminism (2020) opposes conventional feminist narratives and advocates for a more inclusive, intersectional strategy that prioritises the issues and perspectives of womxn from underrepresented groups. With Hood Feminism, Kendall aspires to develop a feminism that is pertinent and attentive to the concerns of all womxn (Kendall, 2020).
Ko ôs Dala//Motivation
This thesis (like a good friend of mine said about his own master's thesis on the stoep of Bohemia) was not a topic I chose, but a topic that chose me. As a former mainstream feminist myself, I had a warped idea that feminism was doing what you want whenever you wanted. Of course, womxn have the right to choose and should have full autonomy over their lives. As I found out, though, this is not entirely realistic in contexts where feminism has hurt or has failed to acknowledge womxn in your immediate community or when you have seemingly forgotten that you did not learn feminism from outside the home. I did do whatever I wanted to, yet I felt disconnected from my community and the womxn occupying that community. I failed to acknowledge that these womxn were not ignorant or complicit: they were merely doing the best they could with what they had. The womxn in this study, the womxn I grew up with and the womxn in my immediate community simply had to dala what they must, and that meant they had to survive and provide with often little to no empathy, understanding or care – even from so-called feminists like myself.
I often get asked, what ‘dala’ means, and I always chuckle and reply, “It means do”. Do what you have to. Do the uncomfortable. Do the thing you fear most. Do what needs to be done, by all means. Do what ensures joy. Do the mundane. Do what brings excitement and wonder.
Often, to dala what you must is to think about the consequences at a later stage. Dala can be superficial. It can be a way to uphold status with the ouens. To go against the ouens. To fulfil consumerist and capitalist behaviour.
But on the flipside, to dala what you must is also a form of motivation and a word that makes survival less daunting.
It starts with a complaint of what needs to be done. A few bodily sighs, maybe a prayer. And a friend on the other end responding ‘just dala’.
To dala is by no means an easy feat. It often signifies the things we have the minste lus for, the things we do because if you don’t do it, no one will. Dala is a responsibility you did not always sign up for, and even if you did, it does not make it any easier. Dala is chaotic, but it holds krag. The beauty and the terror that comes with to dala what you must is something that we have all experienced.
We all need to dala, have dala’ed, found peace in the dala, had sleepless nights because we dala’ed, and have found immense passion and strength in dala-ing. Dala as philosophy, dala as romanticism, dala as political, dala as psychological – dala, what you must to ensure you have the opportunity to come out on the other end. But first we must, dala.
The word dala was not only a way to bring the title of this thesis home; home to the ghetto, where dala what you must has uplifted the marginalised and eradicated guilt for not always making the best decisions or the most wilful.[1] The ghetto is where to dala what you must live, breathes, and is empowered, dala what you must as cultural and traditional solidarity.
This thesis takes shape around interactions and interviews with participants in the Winelands,[2] who live in what may be described as 'ghetto contexts'[3 and engage in 'ghetto feminist work'. What I have gathered from Kendall’s (2020) work is that many womxn in the hood are doing the work of organising, protecting and caring without being labelled 'feminists; womxn' who are not actively working through their experiences by framing it through feminist theory, but are undeniably living feminist lives and realities.
I am personally acquainted with many of my collaborators who (mostly unwittingly) served as figures of inspiration, mentors, and creators of fabulous first-hand ghetto accounts of what it means to dala one's way through a society that has done very little in terms of upliftment. These womxn's stories are not monolithic, and I refused to put the burden of role model status onto their narratives. Instead, this thesis investigates ways to situate American Hood Feminism in a broader South African context. I argue that no matter where you are in the world as a womxn 4] of colour, we share a similar experience of oppression and a need for recognition that has gone unnoticed. The deeper we go within ourselves as womxn of colour, the deeper we go into society. We must disrupt ourselves before we can disrupt others (Minh & Chen, 2000:317).
Kendall (2020:10) highlights that hood feminism is based on an understanding of how race, gender, and class all impact access to education, healthcare, and employment, and how those factors can influence how authority figures treat us. This is true for the majority of marginalised womxn, if not all of them, who act as feminist actors in their communities even if they do not use the language. In this project, I am interested in providing and acquiring a deeper understanding of how feminism is utilised and foregrounded when there are no pre-existing ideologies of what feminism is ‘supposed’ to be.
My collaborators - Winay, Wilma, Judith, Samantha and Moerieda - give in-depth personal retellings of their life stories. Winay, an actress, performer and trans womxn from Cloetesville, refuses to leave the hood. She believes her visibility is pivotal to instil hope in her community, even as she continues to establish her own identity. Wilma, a full-time community worker and writer, keeps her community’s youth at the heart of it all. She also works to uplift womxn who have lost their sense of belonging. Samantha, a writer, small business owner, and tour guide, shares an integral moment from her twenties that made her question her self-worth. Judith, who has faced discrimination in the workplace, finds solace in her outspoken nature. She has created a haven for the undergraduates who live in her home. Moerieda set out to create her own rules, which meant parting ways with her Islamic upbringing. Yet she still upholds the core values fostered by her parents, especially combating food insecurity within her community.
I chose these womxn because each of them embodies a sense of complexity along with a compelling sense of agency within their respective communities. Collectively, they represent a portrait of womxn shaped by resilience, defiance and community-building. My collaborators do the work despite the challenges, validation and support. They own their voices boldly, fearlessly and imperfectly, yet they are committed and present.
Ghetto Feminism, in this context, is positioned through a post-Apartheid and Coloured lens, offering new perspectives on how culture, tradition, and growing up in the era of Apartheid have influenced my collaborators’ roles within their respective communities and personal lives, shedding light on and contributing to Kendall’s (2020) and various South African feminist scholars existing body of work in this field. I wanted to learn and unlearn from the voices I myself have silenced and failed to give agency to, yet these are the voices through which I absorbed feminism. Feminism comes with the responsibility to not only be an ally but an accomplice (Taylor, 2020). Feminism is the responsibility to start over when you get it wrong (Ahmed, 2022) and to always find connection, even when you cannot relate or even when you disagree.
Ek is yttie mag yt//Where does my study fit into the larger scope?
In this study, I use feminist theory as a creative practice and conversation starter rather than as a way to substantiate my collaborators' claims or contributions. Thus, the feminist voices I examine in this section are ones that I have found to be joyful, empathetic, and communal. I wish to add to their exploration and speak alongside them as a sign of respect and in acknowledgement of their work and efforts.
Apart from my exploration of the concept in my honour's thesis,[5] nothing has been written on ghetto feminism in a South African setting. The goal of this thesis is to reproduce visual representations and narratives of various South African ghetto feminists, thereby creating space to explore alternative understandings of feminism. The purpose of this work is to connect the work of Kendall (2020) and several South African feminist scholars through visual ethnography.
The contrast between bell hooks’ and Kendall’s work is notable. While both authors share a focus on intersectional feminism and the lived experiences of Black womxn, they differ both in context and in style. Time plays a significant role in understanding their respective contributions. hooks work came to prominence during the 1970s and 1980s, a time period where Black feminist theory was not a well-established framework, and many Black womxn were fighting to be heard. hooks work is predominantly found in scholarly settings (Hsu, 2021). In contrast, Kendall (2020) began her public engagement through social media. This is vital to consider, as Kendall’s (2020) work was more concerned with who was getting the space to speak and raise concerns that were not being addressed by the mainstream feminist discourse. What I have gathered from hooks writing is that she was often tasked with laying the foundation; therefore, her writing often feels theory-heavy. Kendall, in contrast, adopts a more conversational tone. She is crass and more critical of the failures of mainstream feminism. Kendall is more concerned with survival strategies and issues, like housing, food insecurity and healthcare, whereas hooks’ work is centred on education, transformative politics, and love (Hsu, 2021).
In her book Feminism is for Everybody: Passionate Politics by hooks (2000) provides an attainable and succinct introduction to feminist theory and practice. hooks (2000) argues that feminism is a movement to coda oppression, sexism and sexist exploitation and is not a movement to make women superior to men. hooks (2000, 6-10) advocates that feminism should be viewed as indispensable and inclusive for everyone. What stood out to me about this specific text is hooks (2000:40) critique of academic elitism. Feminism is a widely known theoretical framework within academia, and hooks (2000, 2000:40) claims that although it is necessary for feminism to be discussed, studied, and utilised in academic spaces, it equally excludes everyday people. hooks states, “Feminist thinking and theory were no longer tied to the feminist movement. Academic politics and careerism overshadowed feminist politics. Feminist theory began to be housed in an academic ghetto with little connection to a world outside” (hooks, 2000:44). Furthermore, hooks (2000:19) highlights that, “Feminist politics is losing momentum because the feminist movement has lost clear definitions. We have those definitions. Let’s reclaim them. Let’s share them. Let’s start over. Let’s have T-shirts and bumper stickers and postcards and hip-hop music, television and radio commercials, ads everywhere and billboards, and all manner of printed material that tells the world about feminism”. Afterall, feminism seeks, “to end sexism, sexist exploitation, and oppression” (hooks, 2000:7) to those who are the most impacted and imposed with expectations by patriarchy. hooks (2000:20) emphasises that beginning again means to locate how patriarchy became “A system of domination” and how it became institutionalised", and maintained in everyday life, and this created apprehension in womxn in how they were suppressed, victimised and shamed.
Hood feminism and feminism in South Africa differ in terms of cultural, historical and social context. Hood feminism, as popularised by Mikki Kendall, lies in the neglect of Black womxns’ struggles in the United States, especially in urban areas that have been overlooked by mainstream feminism. Whereas feminism in South Africa is engaged in navigating a post-Apartheid feminist framework that responds to cultural identity. However, there are also many commonalities on issues like marginalisation, race and class (Kendall, 2020). Hood Feminism and feminism in South African are both rooted in the critique of white mainstream feminism and its lack of inclusivity and foreground the need for a feminist movement that encompasses social justice and survival as feminist concerns (Bester, 2015:86). While demanding that feminism is not merely about academic theory and identity politics, that there are grass roots work and material- realities that must be more foregrounded within feminist movements (Motlafi, 2015). Additionally, current feminism in South Africa arises from an economically and racially disjointed society seen through a post-apartheid lens that is deeply governed by ongoing struggles against capitalism and colonialism (Moothoo-Padayachi, 2008:16). These ongoing struggles centre poverty, gender-based violence, tradition and land reform, which is not to say that feminism in America does not have to deal with these issues, but that there is a stronger insistence on decolonisation, combatting Eurocentric ideologies and redeeming indigenous knowledge (Motlafi, 2015). Unlike Kendall’s (2020) reliance on personal narratives in which she centres her work, feminism in South Africa considers multilingualism, traditional roles (while examining sexism and misogyny within various cultures) and multiethnic narratives that draw on protest art, poetry and oral storytelling (Moothoo-Padayachi, 2008:33).
A New Agenda: Restructuring Feminism In South Africa by Melissa Steyn (1998) Steyn claims that, “A feminist agenda is being constructed that is authentically South African” (Steyn, 1998:43). In the article there are mainly two key themes that arises, the importance of integrating individual cultures and not excluding cultural thinking within feminist spaces (Steyn, 1998:44). Particularly in South Africa most womxn of colour have a cultural identity and this identity is often not spoken or taken into account through a white heterosexual middle class feminist lens. In one of the main research questions, I enquire: How does the participants' Coloured identity influence their ideals and expectations of feminism? As I, too, had questions and my own predisposed ideas of how culture intersects with feminism. In both Kendall's (2020) and Steyn’s (1998) exploration, there is a rift between culture and feminism, where womxn of colour have felt like they could not partake in their cultural traditions and be a feminist. Steyn (1998:45) substantiates, “The different cultures in South Africa have impacted on women in different ways, and the right to practice one’s culture and the right to equality are often in direct conflict”. I agree with Steyn (1998:47) that this is not merely a white heterosexual middle-class feminist issue, but that even womxn of colour from different cultural backgrounds need to be educated on all the different cultural aspects of one another’s identities.
Siphokazi Vuso writes to Independent in an article titled Cape Flats women against poverty, patriarchy (2022)in Steyn’s work they are seeking a reconstruction of feminism by embracing diverse forms of cultural and traditional practices, while Vuso showcased how fifty womxn from various organisations in and around the Cape Flats have protested for an end to poverty, unemployment, and food insecurity at the Constantia Circle. From the images taken that day, it was evident that the people working for and with the organisations present were not solely womxn with a Coloured identity. These womxn refer to patriarchy as “Patrick” and state, “Patrick also ensures we are not able to eat or feed our families,” they said (Vuso, 2022). These womxn venture into an array of issues that “Patrick” has exposed them to and how it directly impacts womxn and their role in their community. 1) the cost of living is too high, 2) there is no nutritious food available that fits their pockets, and 3) the effects of COVID-19 on their bodies (Vuso, 2022). They collectively proclaim, “At this picket, we raise our voices to the struggles we face and the need for equality, justice and access to dignity.”
Against White Feminism by Rafia Zakaria (2021), like Kendall (2020), Zakaria (2021) gives a more personal account of the effects of white mainstream feminism on her life as a Pakistani Muslim woman and lawyer. Zakaria (2021:7) highlights that white feminism is an ideology that can be adopted by anyone; it is not a racial category, but admits that in her own personal experience, the majority of white feminists are indeed white. This brought me back to hooks (2000:7), who said that the first patriarchal voice she was ever exposed to was her mother’s. Here, I am not insinuating that hook’s mother was a white patriarchal figure, but that patriarchy is embedded and can transcend gender and race. Zakaria (2022:22) sheds light on the feminist qualities she saw from her mother, her grandmother and her aunts, she says; “They experienced migrations, devastating business losses, inept husbands, lost relations, legal discrimination and so much more, without ever giving in to despair, without ever abandoning those who relied on them, without ever failing to show up. Their resilience, their sense of responsibility, their empathy and their capacity for hope are also feminist qualities, but not ones that the current feminist arithmetic will permit”. She elaborates that as a Pakistani feminist it often feels as if nothing, she does feels revolutionary under the guise of white feminism, she states, “No attention can be garnered by Pakistani feminists unless they do something recognisable within the white feminist sphere of experience – skateboard while wearing their headscarves, march with placards, write a book about sex, run away to the West” (Zakaria, 2021:22). Moreover, Zakaria (2021) does a fine job at taking intersectionality further, for instance, she does not just speak on how race, class, and gender affect marginalised womxn, but that religion, nationality, disability, texturism and sexuality can too contribute to feeling alienated in feminist discourse. Furthermore, Zakaria (2021:23) notes that, “The erasure of non-white women’s experiences has meant the erasure of their politics from mainstream feminist conversation”, and that their personal life stories and their trauma matters and affects their humanity and how they relate to broader feminist conversations and concerns.
Despite the extensive research on feminism in both the United States and South Africa, there remains room to write a new wave of feminism into existence within a South African context. For one, a feminism that acknowledges the existence of Coloured womxn in the Winelands doing grassroots feminist work, confronting stereotypical depictions of Coloured womxn, as well as bridging the gaps between local and global feminist thoughts, concerns, and realities through Hood Feminism. These sources fulfil the function of feminism as an adjective and not a noun, meaning, feminism is not solely a belief system or ideology, but a means to unravel, engage, and see the world through feminist practices and perspectives. In deviating from mainstream feminist ideals, they demonstrate that positionality theory and feminist theory are constantly evolving and open to critique, and confirm that it matters from where and from whom we acquire feminism. We cannot mindlessly use Western theories to dissect intersectional feminist needs and requirements, and collaborative effort is needed to bring new and aspiring voices into the discourse that have previously been unheard and silenced.
Moeti nog vi jou uitgie nie//Relevance
Winay, Wilma, Judith, Samantha, and Moerieda were not merely participants, but collaborators. The aim was to continuously check in with them as my thesis progresses. As I retell their stories, I wanted them to serve as editors and collaborators and ultimately be in control or cede control consensually as they saw fit. This serves as a more credible and trustworthy approach, which enhances comfort and agency. Carla Wilson (Smith, 2001:216) vocalises that, “Indigenous peoples’ research agenda is something “real” that is evolving and currently developing amongst indigenous peoples, and is not simply an abstract or theoretical “wish list”. In addition to, reminding the researcher whose stories are “being privileged” and whose is “being marginalised” (Smith, 2001:217).
Notably, feminist discourse in South Africa has gained momentum in recent years. Nonetheless, the lived experiences of marginalised Coloured womxn who live in ghetto context in the Winelands remain underexplored. Governing feminist narratives have often overlooked the specific ways gender, race, and class shape the lives of Coloured womxn. My collaborators, like many other self-identifying Coloured womxn who try to sustain their role within their communities, often deal with backlash, economic precarity, and misogyny (or rather the misogynoir). This study aims to centre the lived realities of womxn who, through their own voices, actively try to challenge, redefine, and resist traditional ideas of gender and womxnhood. Specifically, the study asks: How do marginalised womxn in the Winelands confront and redefine traditional ideas of gender and womxnhood, and how do their ideas resonate with or depart from American Hood Feminism? It also examines how their Coloured identity influences their ideals and expectations of feminism. Furthermore, secondary questions convey how my collaborators use visual media, such as photography, videos, social media platforms, to express and share their experiences, activism, and viewpoints, their perception of feminism and if it is relevant in their lives, how they facilitate alliance-building and camaraderie among womxn from marginalised backgrounds, and the particular challenges they face in the Winelands and within their respective communities.
Hou gou vas da//Notes
[1] Here, I mean willful in the way that feminist scholar Sarah Ahmed uses the term, “asserting or disposed to assert one’s own will against persuasion, instruction, or command; governed by will without regard to reason; determined to take one’s own way; obstinately self-willed or perverse” (Ahmed, 65:2017).
[2] This is demographic specific as I am structuring my thesis within the Winelands (also known as the Boland), which factors in all communities and neighbourhoods that are a part of the Stellenbosch region.
[3] Often refers to the Group Areas Act of 1950, which enabled the separation and segregation of minority groups under the apartheid regime and established the ghetto. The ghetto is most commonly known as lower-income to poverty-stricken communities (Jürgens, Gnad & Bähr, 2014:62).
[4] 'Womxn' instead of 'woman/women' to showcase the inclusivity of non-cis hetero identities.
[5] The word 'Coloured' in this thesis is used conscientiously, with full awareness of its contentious socio-political and historical associations. In a South African context, the term surfaces from a legally enforced Apartheid racial category and is sustained by practices of classification, cultural erasure and segregation (Adhikari, 2009:x). It is inextricably bound to narratives of misrepresentation, marginalisation, and the denial of enslaved and indigenous ancestries, denoting it as a category shaped not by self-definition but by state supervision (Wicomb, 1998:92). At the same time, Coloured is also mobilised by many as a cultural identity rooted in shared linguistic practices, histories, community networks, and creative forms of expression (Erasmus, 2017:32). I use the term in a way that acknowledges both its harrowing origins and its contemporary resonance, without endorsing or reifying the racial logic that produced it.
[6] In my honours thesis, Freedom on a Curfew: The Investigation of a South African Ghetto Feminist: In conversation with Dr Diana Ferrus, I aimed to create a narrative as well as a visual representation of a South African ghetto feminist. Through ethnography, I sought to connect Kendall's Hood Feminism (2020) to Diana Ferrus's inclination to ghetto feminism. My findings were that Ferrus had unintentionally promoted the values and philosophies that Kendall (2020) had established through her collection of essays. Ferrus, a former mainstream feminist herself, claims that she no longer believes in one singular feminism and states that there should be multiple streams of feminism. Still, those multiple streams, first and foremost, must be intersectional.