CIVIL RIGHTS LEADER Ella Baker utilized the strength of her voice at the height of that movement to fundamentally question the notions and ideas of equality and leadership in this nation. In 1969, Baker said, “[T]he system under which we now exist has to be radically changed.” This means “facing a system that does not lend itself to your needs and devising means by which you change that system.”
Black women have long been considered the backbone for civil rights, social justice, church advancement, and animators of democracy in the United States. If this is so, then why are so many still overlooked for advancement in political power as well as the everyday jobs that they are more than qualified for?
While “women” won the right to vote in 1920, Black women fought for about another half century to exercise their right. The inequities of gender, race, and access are still with us — and there is no greater time than now to push hard for political and social advancement. In the 2022 midterm election, for the first time in U.S. history, eight Black women sought to become governors of their state out of the 53 who filed to run for statewide office. But there should be so many more. A look at one Georgia woman’s rise, and new political energy, might educate us on the obstacles and strategies Black women face in pursuing political office and advancements in society.
Stacey Abrams’ career provides insight. As one of six children, Abrams was raised in Gulfport, Miss., but moved to Atlanta when in high school. Both her parents were Methodist clergy steeped in the biblical notion of service and the ethical principles of the United Methodist Church. In college, Abrams worked for the youth services division of Atlanta’s mayor, Maynard Jackson, followed by an internship at the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency. At age 20, while a junior at Spelman College and youth organizer for the AFL-CIO, Abrams delivered a fiery speech at the 30th anniversary of the March on Washington. Speaking for Black youth to an older generation, she said, “Let us come forth with you, not behind you, not in front of you, but together on that road to jobs, justice, and peace.”
In 2002, at the age of 29, Abrams was appointed the deputy city attorney for the City of Atlanta. In 2006, she won the primary election to represent Georgia’s 89th District. In 2018, Abrams became the first Black woman gubernatorial nominee for a major political party in the U.S. After seeing up close the mismanagement of the electoral process in her state, Abrams launched Fair Fight, an organization that has empowered hundreds of thousands of new voters and Black women to use their voice. When Abrams lost her bid for the governor’s office a second time (her first loss was challenged in court amid alleged unconstitutional voting practices), Black women everywhere felt the sting of how Abrams had tirelessly laid a path to victory for others but did not advance herself. This was familiar territory of “doing the work and not reaping the benefits.” Nevertheless, Abrams’ track record is remarkable. Her strategic work on the ground in Georgia serves as a blueprint for candidates and communities everywhere.
BUT WHERE IS the Black church in advancing Black women? Between the establishment of enslavement and the Civil Rights Act of 1964, Black churches were among the few places Black people could gather and take public leadership. All too often, men have been given preferential treatment, continuing patriarchal notions embedded in society. Black women were barred from preaching, membership on certain boards, and serving as senior pastors. Women were left out of critical decision-making processes that directly affected them and their children. They were told to limit their spiritual gifts in order for others to advance their personal agendas, and these struggles remain in several institutions and denominations today.
The hard road to church leadership for Black women has been illuminated by some outstanding innovators. Jarena Lee, the first recorded woman preacher in the African Methodist Episcopal tradition, challenged sexist segregation in the pulpit in 1819 when she strategically demanded (and received) a license to preach. In 1862, when Sojourner Truth was scheduled to preach at a venue in Indiana and white people threatened to burn it down due to her race, gender, and political stance, she remarked, “I’ll preach upon the ashes.” In 1960, Ella Baker stood up to Black male clergy within the Southern Christian Leadership Conference to demand they cede power to the Black youth leading sit-ins around the country.
Spaces that benefit from Black women need to value them even when it’s not popular or goes against rules and procedures. Too often Black women are asked to help everyone else but themselves. In a 2019 interview, Abrams said, “We have to reach a place where either the investment doesn’t have to be driven by narratives that are outside of our control, or where we level the playing field so that candidates can run and win based on their capacity and not on the vicissitudes of a system that doesn’t always recognize their value.” Black women need for barriers to be removed — those barriers include biased policies, oppressive ideas, and identity-shattering constitutions in both church and civic life.
Black women dismantling violent systems often receive praise only after they are at a safe distance or no longer here. As I know all too well, those who are brave enough to tell the truth frequently watch others be praised for the exact thing for which we were vilified, often receiving no acknowledgment or restitution at all.
I don’t think Black women will stop going to church or running for political leadership. If we are to experience spaces that help everyone flourish, then the old rules, practices, and hierarchies will not work. Life-depleting systems with new leadership will only harm others. Theologies, customs, and practices that prevent Black women from leading as deacons and pastors, from being promoted through the ranks, are obstacles to justice. Profiting from dreams and ideas stolen from Black women, ignoring our lived realities, and abusing us spiritually and physically for selfish gain only perpetuates injustice.
Black women are in need of financial as well as communal support; we still only earn 63 cents for every dollar that a white man makes. “One of the largest impediments for women running for office, particularly women of color, is the ability to raise money,” Abrams said. Lack of financial support can have devastating impacts leading to the erasure of work and ideas.
Today, according to the Pew Research Center, only 57 Black women — of a total of 106 women of color — have ever been elected to Congress (and that is counting both voting and nonvoting members). Stacey Abrams revealed the holes in election processes that have led to systemic disenfranchisement and yet America still has not seen a Black woman state governor. Now is the time to protect, center, and invest in the dreams and brilliance of Black women and girls, to remove barriers, and to lift up the work of system-breakers and world-changers such as Stacey Abrams.
There are opportunities for institutions, organizations, and churches to help push Black women forward and not backward. This is a faithful journey to radically disrupt systems that stifle women and our democracy with our powerful words, system-breaking actions, innovative leadership, and money.
Rev. Brittini L. Palmer is a freedom writer, preacher, communications consultant, and graduate of Virginia Union University and the McAfee School of Theology at Mercer University.
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