Misogynoir Transformed
A study guide of Moya Bailey’s 2021 book ‘Misogynoir Transformed: Black Women's Digital Resistance.’
Summary, part 2
Chapter 1: Misogynoir is a Drag
Bailey introduces the chapter with the various definitions of drag: there is a drag, as in to aggressively take away. There is the art of drag, when artists put on clothing more conventionally worn by the opposite sex. There is to drag someone, which can mean to forcefully or roughly admonish someone verbally. Bailey uses these various definitions to center her first chapter.
Dragging in Drag
She covers the long tradition of Black men donning drag for laughs, making them emasculated Sapphire caricatures and the way that Black women and girls are both literally and figuratively “dragged” through digital platforms as misogynoir. This dragging happens on multiple levels which then fuels their mistreatment through multiple institutions.
Bailey uses several examples as a way to prove this theory. The Shit Black Girls Say YouTube channel is one example she gives as misogynoir in the digital space, highlighting the way that the art form drag is used to perpetuate stereotypes of Black women. In addition to the stereotype of a loud, angry Black woman, an essential element to this supposed humor is the obvious masculinity of the straight Black man that lies beneath the wig and makeup; this acts as a critique of Black women’s perceived femininity. The humor of this YouTube channel is also meant to be a projection of universality, as if every Black woman is like the characters and everyone knows a Black woman who acts like the characters.
Not only do these YouTube channels harm Black women, but they directly put nonbinary folks and nonbinary women as the punch line. Cismen playing ciswomen or trans women calls forth the possibility for violence against trans women, as it perpetuates the idea that trans women are not women, but instead men in dresses.
Overall, laughing at Black women through the artifice of drag provides a socially acceptable outlet for misogynoir. These digital stereotypes create one-dimensional images of Black women, erasing the real lives of Black women. Black women are providing exploited labor that leads to comedians’ and entertainers’ success.
#RuinABlackGirlsMonday
For Bailey’s next example, she uses the #RuinABlackGirlsMonday that circulated the internet in July of 2014. The hashtag was used to share images of white women with long hair and big butts, thus perpetuating stereotypes of Black women’s undesirability while promoting white womanhood. While the intent was to upset Black women with these images, Black women enacted defensive digital alchemy, or the active response and recalibration to and of misogynoir, to address the hashtag. Responses of Black women included questioning why this was meant to ruin their day, encouraging other women to ignore it, and expressing their discontent with the hashtag. These responses all showed Black women challenging the narrative that was being portrayed of them, and them, in turn, fighting back against the idea that Black women’s desirability is only tied to their physical traits. While this hashtag was meant to drag Black women down, Bailey uses it as an example of how it encouraged Black women to use the digital sphere to fight back.
Physical and Digital Dragging of Black Girls
Bailey uses two main examples of the physical dragging of Black women and girls on the internet. The first is Dajerria Becton, who was filmed by a white boy being dragged by the hair at a pool party by an officer. The second is Shakara, a Black girl who was filmed being thrown from her desk when there was a dispute where she refused to put away her phone during a class. In the first case, Bailey points out the interesting dynamics that arise as a white boy is filming and there is concrete evidence in the way the officer treats the Black children differently from the white children. Ultimately, Bailey argues that it is her Blackness and her girlness that come together and make her the ultimate target.
Bailey uses the second case as an example of the way Black women and girls have to disproportionately care for one another, as Shakara’s classmate, Niya Kenny, another Black student, is the one who takes out her phone and begins videotaping. You can hear her screaming in the background asking if anyone is going to help her. Bailey points out that in the comment section of Niya Kenny’s video, many (white) viewers argue that if she had only listened to what she was told to do, she wouldn’t have had to be forcefully removed by an officer. She juxtaposes this in Brandon Brook’s video, the white boy that filmed Dajerria Becton’s abuse, where the discourse in the comments is focused on race and police brutality. Bailey points out that these opposing responses may be as a result of Brooks’ video being considered more objective, as he is white and a male.
Either way, both videos pose the question: “How has the violence directed at Black women and girls become a viral sensation” (p. 57)?
Between the physical dragging of Black women and girls, the drag that men put on to act out Black women stereotypes, and the hashtags employed to drag Black women and girls about their appearances, Bailey uses all three examples to showcase how the various dragging of Black women is due to misogynoir. These examples can challenge misogynoir, as in the hashtag, invoke empathy in the videos of Black girls experiencing misogynoir, or they can uphold misogynoir, through stereotypes of Black women through men in drag.