CONTENT 3 Feature | 4
Letter from the Editors Mistress Marley, founder and leader of the Black Dommes Sorority “It’s so exciting to be able to start something meaningful:” State Representative Nika Elugardo shares her approach to life and legislation Meet Sheena Collier: Founder and CEO of Boston While Black
Culture | 10 The double standards between women and men in hip-hop The history, culture, and tradition of soul food Afro-Latine students speak up about the anti-Blackness within the Latine culture at Emerson Identity |
Am I Black Enough? America, your self-care doesn’t work for Black women What Black History Month Means to The Intersectionalist Staff
The Intersectionalist Mel Curry
Eryn McCallum
Ziqi Wang
Shruti Rajkumar
Emily Cardona
Eliana Flores-Barber
Co-Chair
Features Chair
Culture Co-Chair
Co-Chair
Identity Chair
Culture Co-Chair
Charlotte Drummond Tivara Tanudjaja Copy Editor
Copy Editor
Jilly Towson
Christine Park
Ricky Kalayci
Sonali Anand
Social Media Chair
Head Photographer
Graphic Design Chair
Magazine Designer
Liza Xiao
Althea Champion
Maura Cowan
Damica Feliciano
Magazine Designer
Staff Writer
Staff Writer
Staff Writer
Caroline Hurley
Alexa Maddi
Jordan Owens
Gabriella Perez
Staff Writer
Staff Writer
Adelaide Taylor Staff Writer
Staff Writer
Staff Writer
Sydney Taylor Staff Writer
ISSUE NO.3
Letter from the Editors Happy Black History Month! For us, there is ‘no’ Black History Month. Black History is every month at The Intersectionalist because we are dedicated to telling Black stories and bringing attention to Blackness. We’ve been told to uphold white supremacy in journalism by “acquiring” objectivity. But our souls are seen in every waking moment: white gazes scrutinizing and criticizing our voice, tone, hair, language — our evolving Blackness. There is no unbiasedness in being Black for Black is beautiful, prideful, light, energy, love, and hope. We see our Blackness, and that is okay. Being Black women in journalism has led us to become disillusioned about this field. Time and time again, journalists refuse to understand, report, and uplift diverse Black stories. Typically, or at least to most white people, being Black means being onedimensional. Suffering police brutality, high rates of incarceration, victims of hate crimes, dying from childbirth, and other atrocities are not what define us. We are more than just pain and suffering; we are more than just tools in the game of white supremacy. This issue is dedicated solely to Blackness because we are redefining the definition of “newsworthy.” From exploring the history and cultural significance of soul food (pg.12) to embracing the voices of Afro-Latine students on campus (pg.14), we‘ve centered the beauty of Blackness. And we couldn’t be happier. We are excited to see more Black stories in the future, for we are Black not only in February but every day. Stay tuned, Mel & Eryn
Feature Mistress Marley, Founder and Leader of the Black Dommes Sorority By Damica Feliciano When Mistress Marley first became a professional Dominatrix, a role dedicated to leading and controlling sessions with clients involving erotic acts, in 2017, the field was filled with predominantly white dominatrixes who refused to support or build networks with others, especially towards people of color. It was then that Mistress Marley realized that there were very few spaces for Black and Brown dominatrixes in the Bondage, Dominance, Submission/Sadism, and Masochism (BDSM) community. “When I first started out, I had no one to help me,” she said in Google Meets interview with The Intersectionalist. “I would reach out to other Doms who were mostly white or non-POC. They would be very rude to me, wouldn’t want to help me, would ignore me even when I was tipping them.” Mistress Marley learned everything on her own without the guidance or help from others. And now that she’s approaching four years as a Dominatrix from New York City, skilled in sex work education and mentorship, she’s sharing
her experiences with others. Her knowledge is creating spaces for Black and Brown Doms and sex workers in an effort to advocate for their rights and protection. “Starting out, it was really hard. There were times where I logged off my computer and felt like shit for the rest of the day,” she said. “That’s why now I’m so big on mentoring now and trying to let people know or at least try to warn them that ‘Hey, this is something you’ll possibly face.’” In July 2019, Mistress Marley created the Black Domme Sorority, a space on Facebook for Black and Brown Dom newbies and veterans alike, a community that can feel empowered by their dominance. The small group quickly grew from a couple of her close friends to 1,000 members and 70 inductees as of December 2020. The rapid growth moved the group from Facebook to Patreon as a way to introduce genuine membership. Part of what Mistress Marley emphasizes in her mentorships is taking up space unapologetically. “It means putting my foot down, protecting those that can’t protect themselves, and having a voice
for those that don’t have their own. Dominance doesn’t always mean being mean or angry or controlling—it could be positive and showing up for people in ways you want them to show up for you,” she said. “My thing was always I never want another Black or AfroLatinx Dom to have to go through being alone.” For Mistress Marley, Black Domme Sorority is a sibling-hood because they also have trans-identifying and non-binary identifying members. They also offer an emergency fund for members in need and a close knit community. “You can come to any hour of the day and ask a question—someone will be there for you,” Mistress Marley said. “A lot of people come into this work with no confidence or things in their past that may have made them feel a way about themselves—just hearing them say they now have confidence is the most rewarding thing to me.” On top of being a professional findom and founder of the Black Domme Sorority, Mistress Marley also leads a series of sex education courses on Patreon called
The Intersectionalist Sexcademy, aimed at educating students on BDSM, sex work, vanilla sex, or being a sugar baby. She is also a kink educator, mentor, a sex worker activist, and a “play party” host for Black and AfroLatinx communities interested in engaging in sexual activities in group settings. Needless to say, Mistress Marley has a lot on her plate, but to her, it’s all worth it if she can normalize sex positivity in Black, Indigenous, and communities of color.
“Sex positivity to me is owning your sexuality, owning your sexual desires, providing environments for other people to feel safe, and providing education for people that don’t know,” she said. “I’m always thinking, ‘How can I bring different experiences to people that they may never had before,’ or ‘How can I open up someone’s mind to something?’” The New York City-based dominatrix’s biggest aspirations is not only to instill more sex positivity in Black spaces, but to also provide mutual aid and facilitate support for sex workers. Last summer, Mistress Marley raised money for people who had been criminalized through sex work by participating in the Black Sex Worker Liberation March—one of the biggest sex worker marches in New York City. She also led a toy drive with the Black Domme Sorority for their families alongside this effort.
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“I notice a lot Mistress Marley is of people use a visionary in the sex work as an BDSM community aesthetic and for her continuous aren’t there, efforts to open up full on for us,” more spaces for she said. “We, Black and Brown sex workers, Doms and empower are really a sense of dominance vulnerable so in everyone. it’s just trying to make sure that people don’t use us for their own gain. People are looking to us to take Graphic by Ricki Kalayci. our aesthetic but they’re be protected and more likely to be not looking to scrutinized, said she realized that help us.” her mentorship needed to be rooted in community efforts and education. Her passion for providing spaces for Black and Brown Doms is This realization is a major reason fueled from her own experience why Mistress Marley is constantly with microagression and racism in coming up with new, innovative sex work. She’s experienced many ways to foster more spaces for Black Subs, clients who indulge in erotic acts by submitting to a Dom, trying and Brown sex workers by listening to their needs and what she thinks to lower wages. the community could benefit from. She jokes that her assistant often “[Subs] will try to say that your has to keep up with her constant rates are too high to be a Black flow of ideas and projects, but woman, or try to compare you to behind each initiative Mistress this white Sub charging this much Marley starts, she keeps one thing so you should charge this much,” in mind. she said. “I also notice that a lot of them try to push their insecurities “There are so many people that off on Black women so it’s really just a thing of having to deal with a look up to me and that I can help day-in and day-out” she said. “The lot of microaggressions.” Black Domme Sorority is more than a community to me but a big These experiences informed her sense of activism and inclusivity in part of my life. I’m just so glad I got to create a community like I had the sex work community. Mistress and to know that there’s not really Marley, upon recognizing that another community out there.” Black sex workers are less likely to
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The Intersectionalist
“It’s so exciting to be able to start something meaningful:” State Representative Nika Elugardo shares her approach to life and legislation By Adelaide Taylor It’s no surprise that public schools in low-income areas have limited amounts of resources. But when Massachusetts State Representative Nika Elugardo switched from public school to private school in the seventh grade, she was angered by how much the public school system wasn’t investing in their students, especially those who are Black and Brown. “These girls had already written term papers and had a year of Latin,” Rep. Elugardo said in a Zoom interview with The Intersectionalist. “In my family, we were worried about our lights getting turned off, and whether I have to go to my grandmother's to eat because we don't have any food and getting evicted all the time, which is why I moved to different schools and why housing is a big deal to me and part of my platform.” Rep. Elugardo, a self-described “systematic thinker,” was elected in 2019 after winning a highly-
publicized race against a highranking incumbent Democrat Jeffery Sanchez. She represents areas of Boston including Brookline, Mission Hill, Jamaica Plain and Roslindale. In January 2021, Rep. Elugardo passed her first bill titled “Flag and Seal,” which established a committee to redesign the Massachusetts flag. The flag depicts a sword held over the head of an Indigenous person, a racist image that celebrates genocide. The Intersectionalist spoke with Rep. Elugardo over Zoom discussing legislative tactics, the importance of collaboration and her commitment to progressive policies. The interview has been edited for style and clarity. The Intersectionalist: Do you consider yourself an idealistic or realistic person? How do you approach work in the State House against centuries-old systems?
Rep. Elugardo: I try to be systemic, which means that I try to work with groups and leaders who have influence that is bigger than themselves personally. I also try to stay connected and grounded with people that share my leftist political values. I am a part of three caucuses, including the Black and Latino Caucus, where we tend to have very similar and often identical values around anti-racism and ending structural racism in all kinds of policy areas from housing to healthcare to criminal justice. I am also in the Women’s Caucus and the Progressive Caucus, whose members I work often with on strategizing. This year, I'm going to be trying to build a stronger relationship with the rural caucus. I want to try and have more of a shared understanding of where we have common ground around antipoverty. The Intersectionalist: What are you currently working on? Rep. Elugardo: I'd like to spend
The Intersectionalist this session — starting February — really educating myself, advocates, supporters and constituents about the nuts and bolts of how you really move things in the building, helping people understand how to strategically target your legislation so that over the years, it has the best opportunity to get passed. Obviously, being a second-term representative, I am a learner in that, I'm not an expert. I'm learning as I go. And I want to make sure anyone connected to me is also learning as I go. That's what it means to bring the power and the voice to the people to the State House. I am representing you, and therefore you should understand what I'm doing and how I'm doing it — the nerdy nuts and bolts of how I'm doing it. The Intersectionalist: What is your favorite part of your job? Rep. Elugardo: What I like most is the ability to build meaningful, both professional and personal relationships with people that think very differently from me, and people that think really similarly to me. One of my bills that I’m the most proud of — my public housing expansion bill — kind of reflects that. It gives municipalities and public housing authorities the opportunity to get free land from the state for the purposes of either developing or funding affordable housing. And that housing can serve middle-class communities as well as impoverished communities. And it treats that whole range of people as investors versus a charity. So, it's a shift in mindset. It’s so exciting to be able to start
something meaningful that has a chance [of] passing — that can change so many lives, but to do it in a way where it's not just my product. So many voices in and outside of the State House really made it a very strong piece of legislation. The Intersectionalist: Do you ever feel like you have to compromise your politics to get things done? Rep. Elugardo: I’ve never had to compromise my values, on the contrary, working with other people as a way of living aligns my political and personal values. Sometimes my political values are opposite of the constituents of another politician, but they’re willing to work with me on the merits of something else that's of deeper value to them. I do have to compromise all the time on legislative language. No one presents a bill, and then everyone agrees on it. We debate, and then make changes and debate some more.
7. is a local activist and the person I've known in Boston the longest, besides my husband. He was the first person to tell me to run for office when I was not even 25. At that point, I was completely disgusted by the idea of running for office. I was a boycotter, not a joiner when it came to politics. But he kept meeting with me and became like family. And he was the first person to come out and support me when I decided to finally run. I have a lot of conversations with God, a lot of conversations with Jesus in particular, so he feels like a mentor to me. Being able to find godly moments in each person is really critical to me, not only as a woman and as a Black woman, but as somebody that fights for justice, to be able to see both the humanity and the divinity in each person.
The Intersectionalist: When did you decide to run for office? Did you have any mentors? Rep. Elugardo: I've been really lucky to have mentors. From my aunts and uncles growing up, and my grandparents, a few teachers, who bribed me into applying to the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, for example. In college, I was just Photo Courtesy of Rep. Nika Elugardo really adamant about Nika Elugardo speaks about her role in state asking people to be government and her goals for progressive policy. my mentor. Mel King
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Meet Sheena Collier: Founder and CEO of Boston While Black By Alexa Maddi In 2004, Sheena Collier moved to the Boston area to attend the Harvard Graduate School of Education. However, as a Black woman at a predominately white institution, she struggled to feel a sense of belonging and finding her community. She lacked a guide on how to navigate Boston and build connections with other Black people. As a result, she created Boston While Black, the first membership network for Black professionals, entrepreneurs, and students who are seeking connection and community in the Boston area. The program officially launched in July 2020 with 100 founding members. As of January 2021, Boston While Black has curated 275 members. Through virtual events and programs, Boston While Black guides members in finding mentors whom they can relate to, resources on how to navigate the city, and ways to expand their network.
“We have a co-working event every Friday, where we hop on Zoom, play music, and folks do their work together and connect in the chat,” Collier said in a phone interview with The Intersectionalist from Boston, Massachusetts. “[On Jan. 17] we [had] a cooking event where everyone [went] grocery shopping, and we [had] a chef who [came] in virtually to show us how to make a meal.” Erica, who requested to exclude her last name, became a Boston While Black member in December 2020. She said she loves the variety of events she can find on the Boston While Black platform and learning new things about the Boston community. “I’ve been in the process of building a life here in Boston but was missing connection with the broader black community here,” Erica said in an interview with The Intersectionalist. “Now, as a member of Boston While Black, I have an easy way to connect with those in my area.” A Boston While Black membership costs $39 a month or $399 a year. Memberships can be acquired independently or through participating workplaces,
where companies can offer membership packages. Collier said one reason she was inspired to develop Boston While Black was because she noticed that Black students often leave Boston after receiving their degree since they failed to build a connection to the city. “I think, like at many predominantly white institutions, the Black students [at Harvard] kinda gravitated together,” she said. “But as soon as we graduated, if there were 35 Black master’s students, then like 32 of them left. This is what I’m trying to solve now through Boston While Black.” Wayfair Inc., one of the largest employers in Massachusetts, officially became a founding partner for Boston While Black Jan. 26. Through this partnership, Wayfair will sponsor future programs and events and include memberships in their recruitment package. "Building a thriving network that connects Black changemakers across industries in Boston is just the first step,” Collier said in a statement with Wayfair. “We are tapping Boston's broader business community to join our
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The Intersectionalist dynamic founding partners to take public action, invest in both Black businesses and Black talent, and serve as catalysts for the long-overdue shift toward a more inclusive society.” Collier said the next step with Boston While Black is to begin working with universities. “In the next month or so, we’re gonna start to focus on universities and how to support not just the students, but Black faculty and staff as well,” she said. “Like how do we not have people have the experience that I had as a grad student where I didn’t feel like anyone really made an effort to try to engage me.”
“I want to show individuals, organizations, and companies how to build networks and create community,” Collier learned the importance of creating authentic relationships within groups because of The Collier Connection, an agency she created in 2016 that focuses on producing inclusive physical spaces, events, and programming for people of color by talking to other companies. Collier said. “I speak, host events, and consult with companies to design strategic events and programming.” Before coming to Boston, Collier attended Spelman College, a historically black college in
Atlanta, Georgia, and received her Bachelors of Arts in psychology/
So, [moving to Boston] was the first time I had to really seek out other Black people.” child development. She said that even while growing up in Albany, New York, there was never a time when she was not surrounded by predominantly Black communities.
otherwise. She also said Black students need to continuously remind themselves that they are worthy of attending their universities. “It’s important to seek out folks that are a part of your tribe and join things that already exist and really creating them if they don’t,” Collier said. “I’m big on people creating the city they wanna live in, and I think in Boston in particular, you do better if you’re willing to create.”
“It was definitely a huge adjustment for me, particularly coming from an HBCU,” she said. “Obviously in Spelman, there was no Black student union and none of those kinds of groups. Living in Boston for the long term was not something Collier said she originally had planned due to her internal struggles as a Black woman at a PWI. But, she said it's important to find other individuals who share similar identities, whether that is racerelated or Photo Courtesy of Nikki Monet. Sheena Collier, the Founder and CEO of Boston While Black, created a membership network for Black professionals to find a community, both professionally and socially.
Culture
The Double Standards Between Women And Men In Hip-hop By Sydney Taylor The Hip-Hop industry continues to see an insurgence of Black women in rap in recent years. Rappers such as Lil’ Kim, Salt-N-Pepa, Missy Elliott, Nicki Minaj and more paved the way for multiple aspiring women artists. Now, the music industry is starting to take notice. “I remember [ten] years ago, there was always this discussion about where the female rappers went and because I was involved in so many communities, I’m like, ‘They’re right here,’” Shalayah Washington, a Boston Hip-Hop artist known professionally as Red Shaydez, said in a Zoom Interview with The Intersectionalist. “In the mainstream...there was only like one or two. Now there are so many because the masses do like it.” What was once considered a maledominated industry is slowly turning into a space for women to express themselves as artists. Within the last few years, women rappers have showcased their different styles and produced music that topped the Billboard Hot 100. For example, in May 2020, the remixes of “Say So” and “Savage” claimed the top two spots on the Billboard charts. This transition toward women
rappers is partly owed to TikTok, which has popularized many songs written by Black women rappers, according to XXL Magazine. At its original release in March, Megan Thee Stallion’s song “Savage” debuted at No. 98 on Billboard Hot 100. However, after TikToker Keara Wilson’s dance of “Savage” became popularized, Megan Thee Stallion’s song jumped to No. 20. “Social media has created a scenario where people can choose what becomes popular and what does not and what rises to the top and what does not,” Ademir Monteiro, a junior at Emerson College and president of the Hip-Hop Society, said in a Zoom interview with The Intersectionalist. “You see a whole lot of artists from underrepresented groups starting to rise to prominence, [which] is a huge sign that the people who need to listen to their music are listening.” However, despite this resurgence of popularity, the double standards of women rappers remain the same. While the Hip-Hop industry has been scrutinized as a whole for its vulgar lyrics and language, women rappers receive harsher criticism and are more sexualized than their male counterparts due to gender discrimination.
Julissa Pinckney, a woman rapper known as MALiA The Model from Boston, said it is important to understand society’s gender discrimination and double standards because they are also pervasive in the Hip-Hop industry as well. However, despite the ongoing gender discrimination and misogyny in the music industry, she urges other women artists to keep going. “You just need to just adapt,” Pinckney said in a Zoom interview with The Intersectionalist. “When you are an artist, you just have to have tough skin. If you believe in yourself, that’s all that matters.” An example of this double standard is the criticism of sexual music from Black women rappers. In August 2020, Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion released WAP and faced severe backlash because of the sexual lyrics, according to All Things Considered on WYPR. While women rappers are scrutinized for embracing their sexualities, men rappers who make music about the same topics are deemed more “socially acceptable.”
“Women can’t be hard, or women can’t be angry, or women can’t be as extreme as men can be,”
Dani Jean-Baptiste, a senior at
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The Intersectionalist Emerson College and vice president of the Hip-Hop Society, said in a Zoom interview with The Intersectionalist. “I think that’s a really frustrating double standard that like the extremities of emotion are limited to gender, as opposed to, you know, just what you’ve experienced or how you feel.” Rappers such as Lil’ Kim and Nicki Minaj have sexualized themselves to reclaim the objectification and sexualization imposed on them from other male rappers, according to Paper Magazine. However, Lil’ Kim and Nicki Minaj are even further scrutinized for showing confidence in their sexualities, even though men rappers and the media hypersexualize women regardless of the image they present. “Men want women to be this specific thing, and when they are not that thing, they get rejected, or the women are told that they’re trash or their music is not good. But, in reality, they can, a lot of the time, rap better than a lot of men,” Monteiro said.
are branching out into avenues in which they are not used to seeing women explore. To break away from these molds, artist Leikeli47 said she uses bandanas as face covers during her performance. Not only does it help her overcome her stage fright, but it also ensures the focus on her music instead of her appearance. “We all know that I wear the mask to keep the focus strictly and directly on the art,” Leikeli47 said in an interview with Complex Magazine. For Leikeli47, she believes if anyone is still focusing on her mask instead of her art, they are missing the point. Jalyse Ware, a woman rapper from Roxbury,
known under her stage name Cakeswagg, said it’s important to support Black women in Hip Hop in their fight against gender discrimination. She said to stop comparing women rappers to one another and using the phrase “for a woman” when describing their accomplishments because it diminishes the value of the work. She also said supporting can mean attending their concerts, buying their merchandise and holding women rappers to the same standards as their male counterparts. “We can all be great artists, be completely different, and it’s not a scale of who’s better or who’s worse,” Ware said in a Zoom Interview with The Intersectionalist. “We can be our different selves and still all be great.” Pinckney said women rappers continue to uplift several women artists and showcase women empowerment to their fans. She said society wants women to be careful with their words in order to please others and fit within certain standards.
Monterio said this hypersexualization of But in 2021, women Black women rappers artists need to please no has hindered many from one but themselves. exploring other subgenres of Hip-Hop. He said the Hip“We are coming together, joining Hop industry wants women forces, and that’s what’s really to be sexual but not talk about making a difference,” Pinckney sex in a way that empowers said. “They want us to fight, them. Audiences cannot but we don’t want to do see past the fact that that. We want to come these Graphic by Christine Park together and women Despite the gender discriminations and double standards in the Hip-Hop industry, women make dope artists artists continue to push the envelope and showcase their individuality with their music. music.”
The Intersectionalist
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The History, Culture and Tradition of Soul Food By Jordan Owens Juicy collard greens, baked macaroni and cheese, sweetened candy yams and crispy fried chicken are just a few dishes that make up soul food cuisine, a significant aspect of African American’s culture, history and tradition. Soul food was created in the southern region of the United States during slavery when enslaved African Americans would have to use what little food they were given to make meals for themselves, according to First We Feast. They would combine the poor quality and non nutritional foods with the knowledge of traditional African recipes. It was through celebrations of Emancipation and Christianity that the cuisine became popular amongst African Americans. Though there is a limited history of soul food in other regions besides the American South — caused by the Great Migration
— soul food spread to northern cities like Boston beginning in the 1930s. One of the first known soul food restaurants in Boston is Bob the Chef ’s, which is now named Darryl’s Corner Bar and Kitchen. It wasn’t until the Civil Rights Movement when Black empowerment was at a peak that soul food was coined by activist and poet Amiri Baraka in 1962, according to The Spruce Eats. The term “soul food” came at a time when the word “soul” was pertaining to anything that described Black culture. Within Boston, there are a few soul food restaurants that uphold this tradition: The Coast Cafe, located in Cambridge, and Slade’s Bar & Grill, located in the South End. “I think a lot of folks that come in want just to get something good that you can depend on,” Britney Kyle Papile, owner of Slade’s Bar & Grill, said in a phone interview with The Intersectionalist.
“You know [food] that reminds you of your grandmother, whether they're with you or not.” Anthony Brooks, the co-owner of The Coast Cafe, said the definition of soul food is cooking from your soul. And, soul food restaurants are a reminder of home, family and the meals one grew up eating, he said. Slade’s Bar & Grill was established in 1935 by Mr. Slade, and it has been a prime spot for the African American community in Boston for over 80 years. Papile said Slade’s is a safe space for not only African Americans but also for the Black and Brown community in Boston. The restaurant hosts multicultural events such as comedy night, jazz night, Caribbean nights and step shows to embrace diversity within the Black community.
The Intersectionalist “I would like everyone that comes into Slade’s to step out feeling loved,” Papile said.
“Whether it's the service, the food, the music, I want them to leave having felt that warm, loving feeling.”
For people in Cambridge, The Coast Cafe is the go-to place for soul food. The Coast Cafe was established in 1999 by Brooks and his sister Julie because of their shared love for cooking and their realization that there are few soul food places in Cambridge. Brooks said The Coast Cafe’s food connects the entire Black community in Boston. He explained that when Black people dine at the restaurant, they experience feelings of nostalgia and reminisce about home-cooked foods they grew up eating. “I think it touches everyone,” Brooks said in a phone interview with The Intersectionalist. “It’s not the same exact [taste] cause everyone has a little different flavor, but it's close enough where people love it and enjoy it. They definitely can feel that it's cooked from the heart.”
Collard greens and fried chicken are two iconic soul food dishes featured on The Coast Cafe’s menu. Instead of the traditional fried chicken and collard greens recipe, the cooks at The Coast Cafe put their own twist into it. For example, Brooks said The Coast Cafe cooks all of their fried food in corn oil, whic h makes the food cholesterol and trans fat-free. They also include smoked turkey instead of pork for the collard greens, a healthier alternative. These techniques are part of a nowpopular version of soul food called “vegan soul food,” according to an article in Epicurious. While still keeping aspects of traditional soul food, today restaurants like The Coast Cafe are trying to highlight the healthier side of the cuisine. “Even though we're soul food, we try to be as healthy as possible,” Brooks said. “So, I think it does represent healthy, good homecooked comfort food.” Due to the COVID-19 pandemic, small businesses such as The Coast Cafe are trying to survive. Since March, this soul food restaurant has changed from full-time to parttime by cutting back on the number
13. of days and hours that they are open. Additionally, Brooks said the pandemic required the cafe to take out a small loan. Though this pandemic has changed how many people live their daily lives, soul food restaurants are able to maintain one sense of the past by serving quality food. “We're trying to give people the great food that we're serving here,” Brooks said. “Hopefully that, you know, brings a little bit of comfort during these [wild] times.” Soul food has provided the Black community an essential part of their culture, and it has united African Americans across the country since before the Civil Rights Movement. Soul food restaurants like The Coast Cafe and Slade’s Bar & Grill continue to hold a safe space for all Black people and embrace the tradition and culture of African Americans in the United States. “We are really, really grateful for the community and the support of all our customers because without them, we wouldn't have made it through this,” Brooks said.
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Afro-Latine Students Speak Up About The AntiBlackness Within The Latine Culture At Emerson
By Emily Cardona
Now more than ever, the concept of the Latine identity is being deconstructed and rejected within the Latine community due to its racist, colorist and exclusionary history of Black and Indigenous cultures. Afro-Latine people are demanding acknowledgment through the social media hashtag #Latindadiscanceled due to the anti-Black and anti-Indigenous erasure they experienced from the Latinidad identity. This pushback has created spaces for Afro-Latine students at Emerson to speak out against the antiBlackness in white Latine groups. “I used to view Latindad as a moniker for shared histories and cultures, however, it’s important to recognize that it is also deeply embedded with antiBlackness, sexism and denial,” Brittany Adames, a self-identified Dominican-American and 2020 graduate from Emerson College, said in an interview with The Intersectionalist.
“Latinidad creates a monolithic narrative that simultaneously excludes Afro and Indigenous Latinx people. Latinidad doesn’t get to the core of these struggles. In the United States, race is often funneled into a binary conversation.”
“I can be both Black and Latino because I always feel like I can't be both. They don't coexist. People don't talk about being Black and proud. In Dominican culture, if anything, we shut down our Blackness,” Basora said in a Zoom interview with The Intersectionalist. “If I say that in race I'm Black, I feel like I'm denying the Latino, or if I'm saying I'm Latino, I feel like I'm denying the Black. I can't be both.”
The blunt anti-Blackness that circulates within the culture creates a white-centric representation of what it means to be Latin American, ultimately making it challenging for Afro-Latine people to embrace their races that coexist within their ethnic identity.
Freshman Beyoncé Martinez, who also identifies as Black and Dominican, came to Emerson from high Black and Latine populated areas. Immediately once they arrived on campus, they noticed the cultural differences.
Sophomore Amuary Basora, a first-generation DominicanAmerican Afro-Latino who grew up in a Dominican enclave in New York City, said he struggled with accepting his Blackness.
“I live in South Boston, where there are people who look like me,
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Graphic by Ricki Kalayci
Afro-Latine people have been erased from the imagination of what it means to be Latine but now more than ever the Latine identity is being challenged due to its racist history. and then I come to a university where the majority of students are white. It's a very big culture shock,” Martinez said during a Zoom interview with The Intersectionalist. “There would just be a lot of microaggressions in conversations about race and the Black Lives Matter movement. I felt uncomfortable, and I didn't feel as if I would be able to fit in at Emerson.”
Martinez, Adames and Basora all had similar understandings of the anti-Blackness embedded in the Latine community. Internal racism continuously makes it difficult for individuals to come to terms with their Afro and Black identities. “A lot of Dominicans say they don't have any African heritage or ancestry and that they're not Black,” Martinez said. “I think that the reason why a lot of Dominicans specifically struggle with acknowledging their race is because Black was painted as ugly and being Black was a bad thing.”
Prior to arriving at Emerson in fall 2018, junior Melanie Shepard, who now self-identifies as Latina and African American, struggled with coming to terms with her AfroLatina identity. “I wasn't ever dismissive of my [Hispanic] side, I guess it was because of my emotional aspect of losing my mother when I was 18 months old,” she said during a Zoom interview with The Intersectionalist. “But the [Latine community] thinks that there’s only one certain look to being Latina, which is not my skin color and not my features, and with the fact that I
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don’t know Spanish makes it harder.” welcomed me into the organization.” On Emerson’s campus, the antiBlackness that is embedded On top of systemic racial Adames said she also noticed the within the Latine organizations is oppression, predominantly white white centrism and experienced being called out, and white Latine institutions like Emerson College anti-Blackness within the Latine students are being continuously bring many social barriers for organizations on campus. challenged for their contributions Black, Indigenous and students to the oppression of other Afro-Latine of color to be able to create “When I tried to join Amigos and people. friendships and have healthy Raíz at Emerson, it felt exclusive social lives. Afro-Latine students largely in part due to many Latinx Even though there is anti-Blackness, at the college have expressed students’ statuses as upper-class colorism and racism in the Latine their frustrations with the lack of and white,” she said. “The more culture, Basora said Afro-Latine acceptance in Latine spaces, which proximity you had to whiteness, the people should find pride in their contributes to the overall struggle more attention they would pay to roots and culture. He said Afroin navigating through a PWI. you. I had never been exposed to Latine people need to unlearn that the multitudes of this, so it came as being Black is not a negative thing. “I don’t feel welcomed in my Latinx a sudden shock.” community nor the Emerson “It took those low points of not [Latinx] community,” senior Naomi The Afro-Latine students at really knowing my identity to Jones said in an interview with Emerson gravitated toward Black immerse myself more with the The Internationalist. cultural organizations on campus Hispanic community,” he said. rather than the Latine organizations “I have had to push my way because they were more accepted in “I’m really just proud of [my the Black communities.
through to make space for myself because I do not present with socially normal Latina features, nor do I speak Spanish all the time.”
For Jones, the Latine organizations on campus have very exclusionary behavior toward Afro-Latine people and non-Spanish speaking Latine people. “Within the community, I have had a mix of experiences because I could speak Spanish. I always knew when people were talking bad about me and when they didn’t feel I belonged there,” she said. “I met a close friend who was higher up in the Latinx organization on campus, and when she discovered I could speak and communicate back to her in Spanish or Spanglish, she
“I feel like I'm not judged by the Black community. I feel in terms of Emerson, I'm more accepted by [the Black community],” Shepard said. “Whereas my personal experience with certain Latinx groups was just really a slap in the face.”
Hispanic heritage]. I delved in deeper, and I found that all of my traits that other people in the community can relate to are amazing.”
Identity
Am I Black Enough? By Jordan Owens In the fall of 2019, I was applying for colleges. And, anyone who has applied for college knows how stressful applications can be with the constant worrying about SAT scores, scholarship applications and acceptance or rejection letters. But for some Black students — myself included — most of this stress came from trying to decide whether to attend a historically Black university or a predominantly white institution. Growing up, I always took pride in that both of my parents were the first in their families to attend college. I saw firsthand how hard they worked to live their version of the American dream and become successful business owners. And, since part of their success came from going to historically Black colleges, I felt that it was one of the only options for me as well. Additionally, I wanted to go to an HBCU because I felt that I had lost my identity as a Black woman after moving from a predominantly
These experiences made me believe that going to a Black university would erase all my insecurities about my identity. Black city in Georgia, Rex, to a majority white city, Peachtree City, in 2013. I hated being one of few African Americans, let alone students of color, at my middle and high school. I was always questioned on my Blackness by others and grew insecure about my identity — I was seen as either too Black or not Black enough. Whenever I was ridiculed for speaking because I sounded “white,” I just didn’t want to speak at all. I hated having to deal with the racist remarks and microaggressions that were targeted toward me. There were too many times in classes where I had to stay quiet or not say what I wanted for the fear of being labeled as “the angry Black woman.”
While my friends were a safety net, shielding me from the onslaught of racism, sometimes it felt like I did not have a place where I could safely express my feelings. These moments strengthened my desire to attend a historically Black college because I would no longer have to search for the community I longed for. I wanted to go to a school where I did not feel instantly judged on the fact that I am Black, an environment where Black excellence in classes is not surprising but celebrated. This, along with my parents’ positive experiences at HBCUs, shaped my perspective. I believed attending an HBCU school was the ideal college experience. I saw something I could not miss out on, something I had waited too long for.
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Initially, during the college application process, my mind was made up. I never planned on including PWIs in my college search until my parents decided that applying only to HBCUs was limiting my options for schools and where I could be in the future. So, I decided I would apply to one predominantly white institution for every historically Black college. I searched for top journalism schools and best overall universities, and after applying to my long list of 14 choices, Emerson College and Howard University were my two dream schools.
started to get over being rejected. I decided that my next choice was North Carolina A&T University. And, while I had gotten accepted to Emerson, it would still be second on my list because it is a PWI. For two months, I contemplated which school to attend, and at first, I
The email from Howard arrived on Dec. 14, 2019. And, once the notification popped up in my inbox, I immediately sensed I was rejected. Still, it was a surprise reading the rejection email. Reading the words, “We regret to inform you that we are unable to offer you admission to Howard University,” felt like a huge blow to my confidence because it reaffirmed my insecurity, this deep-seated fear that I was not Black enough. It took me some time to come to terms with not going to Howard, and it wasn’t until I started looking more into North Carolina A&T University and Emerson that I
Graphic by Ricki Kalayci
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believed North Carolina A&T was the final decision until I visited Emerson last February. Emerson College’s tour sold my decision — it was now my home for the next four years. And, the reasons for attending this predominantly white institution
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were solely based on academics. For example, their journalism program was unlike other schools; it had more opportunities for working in the field and diverse class options. I saw what I could gain from Emerson and knew I had to choose it. Emerson’s small Black community
means the environment is challenging for Black and other students of color. Luckily, I found friends of color who understand the challenges of being a minority at a PWI. I also found white friends who, despite never knowing my struggles, support and help me through them.
In addition to my friends of color, I discovered safe spaces for Black students with Emerson’s Black Organization With Natural Interest and Flawless Brown. There, I can express my emotions and not feel like I am an outsider or judged in any way. I do not regret my decision to attend Emerson College. I am able to delve into my passion for journalism without stressing over prerequisite classes in topics that do not interest me. I’ve also grown as a person by expanding my knowledge on the inequities of other communities outside of my own. I did not need to go to an HBCU like my parents to have a wellrounded college experience.
“Attending a historically Black college does not prove my worth or my Blackness.” Only I can do that.
Deciding who is Black enough and who is not is absurd, a person’s self-worth is not determined by how they choose to live their life.
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As Black women, we must take care of ourselves for if we don’t, the suffocating feeling we all know so well can engulf us.
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When I first started therapy in late 2018, my therapist asked me how I took care of myself or what I did to make myself feel better. But, I didn’t have answers for her questions because I didn’t know myself outside of who I was told to be. I always took care of other people, so I had never been concerned about myself. It took a mental and emotional journey to understand that this way of thinking was unhealthy and, unfortunately, common. Black women constantly carry not only ourselves but other people as well, and we need to know that taking care of ourselves is essential to our health. Self-care was once just a buzzword to me, something I would maybe get around to learning about one day. I had never really taken time to care for myself and figure out my own needs, but therapy taught me I wouldn’t live a fulfilling life unless I began caring for my mental health. So, I turned to reading articles, browsing Pinterest for ideas and buying cheap self-care books.
Unfortunately, during this initial self-care journey, I realized there was no substance to the content I read. The articles repeatedly told me I had to buy so-and-so products or that everything would be okay if I just took a bath and paid for a Netflix subscription. Self-care has been commodified in America. Companies are profiting off of selling self-care guides that do not acknowledge the complexities of Black mental health. Of course, Black women can indulge in selfcare by taking baths and binge watching TV.
“But we also must acknowledge that the versions of self-care often advertised are not speaking to us because our unique experiences with racism, gender discrimination, and other forms of marginalization make our mental health look different.”
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We are expected to be everyone’s “mother,” a stereotype derived from slavery and the Jim Crow era that was meant to serve as proof that Black women were content being enslaved and taken advantage of, according to Ferris State University’s Jim Crow Museum. We have been in the front lines at hospitals during the pandemic and working ourselves to death to serve a country that does not serve us. Self-care is important, because the world can easily suffocate us through discrimination and disrespect. But, for Black women, self-care is often viewed as an option, a check off of a mental to-do list, instead of a necessity for our mental and emotional well-being. It doesn’t help that the Black community has historically repressed mental health, making it harder for us to understand the importance of taking care of ourselves. According to the McLean Hospital, the mental health stigma in the Black community can be traced back to slavery. White
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The Intersectionalist people believed enslaved people weren’t sophisticated enough to develop mental health disorders, so they were taught to ignore mental health issues and refer to them with euphemisms, such as just being stressed or tired. I did not fully understand the repression of Black mental health until I interned for the African American Policy Forum’s Young Scholars Program in the summer of 2020. Every day, we began with check-ins, where we had the opportunity to talk about our emotional states and what we were doing to take care of ourselves physically, mentally or spiritually. This was something I had never done before, and it led me to discover the importance of taking care of myself every single day. And by doing so, I could also be there for the Black women in my life, pouring from my cup into theirs. In September 2020, I started Black Girl
Mentality, a blog dedicated to exploring self care resources aimed at Black women and what I learned from studying those resources and their creators. Blogging helped me understand there’s a whole community out there specifically catering to Black women’s holistic well-being. Black Girl Mentality reinforced that I am allowed to take time out of my day for myself, and to do so is a way of teaching myself that I am worthy of the love I give to others. So for me, self care looks like a few things: it includes drawing and coloring mythical beings as Black women, listening to music (mainly R&B) from my childhood to connect with my inner child, reading memoirs by Black women, meditating and journaling. As I explore these activities and practices, I learn more about myself and continue to add to the list of things that bring me pleasure. However, just because self-care looks a specific way for me doesn’t mean that it will look the
same for all Black women.
“Black women are so beautifully diverse, which means every one of us gets to determine our own self-care routines and practices.”
To feel safe within my own skin has not been easy for me. This feeling of safety is still difficult to achieve, but I recognize that moments where I truly feel happy are when I’ve prioritized myself. I’ve learned I cannot be there for other people or be present in my work when I’m not there for myself. As Black women, people will try to take advantage of us or treat us as less than, but it’s time to tap into our power and direct our love and positive energy into ourselves. Many of us are so much more than we give ourselves credit for, and we deserve to look in the mirror every morning and feel genuine love and adoration for the beautiful being we see. My value is not equal to the amount of work I do or how much I sacrifice myself for others. My value is already undebatable. I exist, therefore, I am of value.
What Black History Month Means to The Intersectionalist Staff
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Mel: To me, there is ‘no’ Black History Month. Every day, every moment, every second is Black history. I am always Black, and that identity — culture and history — doesn’t disappear March 1. So, every February, I do what I always do: uplight, highlight and share Black stories. Our voices are important every month, so I urge every non-Black person to keep this Black History Month energy and apply it at every waking moment. That, to me, is what Black History Month means: always supporting, advocating, learning, listening,and loving Black people. Eryn: Black History Month is every month for me. I constantly am exploring Blackness, whether that be through conducting interviews for stories, expressing gratitude for my ancestors and all their friends and loved ones, or learning about my people through books and videos. Black History Month in February is when I see a lot more non-Black people reminding one another of the pure beauty and creativity that is the Black community. This month serves a reminder to me to keep doing what I’m doing year-round, because it’s what is right. Uplifting Black people
all the time is the right thing to do. Advocating for Black people does not stop on Feb. 28. Jilly: To me, Black history, Black art, Black culture, Black love, and Black beauty is everything. So Black History Month holds a special place in my heart. I show love for Black people year-round, because that’s what I love to do, and so when it comes to Black History Month, it means finding new and innovative ways to uplift my community. Ziqi: As an international student coming from a monoethnic country, I only started to see myself as a part of the POC community after three years of studying in the U.S. To me, the Black community made me feel welcomed, and I can finally connect with people through some of our shared experiences. Black History Month for me is a time to learn from Black people and to educate myself so I can be an ally. Through their journey, I hope someday I can find my own path through the world. Emily: To me, as a white ally, Black
History Month means a time to reflect and further educate yourself about the history and culture of all Black people around the globe. White folx should always be amplifying Black voices in all months of the year, but during Black History Month, we as white people need to step back, listen, and learn from the voices of the Black community. Eliana: Black History Month is a chance to honor the Black community but also educate other communities about the struggles and joy the Black community has faced over the years. It is, as well, pivotal to point out that Black history is something that should constantly be taught in American education. This month should be about learning how to be a proper ally to the Black community. Shruti: To me, Black History Month means reflecting on and appreciating the wonderful and resilient Black women, Black disabled women and Black transgender women who have paved the way and fought for my own rights as well as the rights of communites that I am not a part of. Although the Black community should be celebrated,
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respected, and appreciated yearround, Black History Month — especially as a non-Black ally — means finding ways to amplify intersectional voices within the Black community, and reflecting, listening and learning from the work and art that they create. Tivara: As an international student and woman of color who only recently arrived in the U.S. to study, understanding and seeing the many impacts that the Black community has had in the country is simply eye-opening. Black History Month, and any other month for that matter, is a time to truly acknowledge these voices and identities that have paved the way for many milestones throughout history. It’s a time to celebrate the Black community. Charlotte: As a non-Black woman of color, Black History Month means for me to step back and allow for Black people of color the opportunity to share their stories. What I can do is to amplify those voices and use the platforms that I am a part of to make those stories heard on their terms. It’s a way of bringing light to intersectional issues involving Black history, and how they’re applicable
today more than ever. It’s also a time to remind non-Black folks that these stories should garner attention all year-round and to not let them slip away unheard or unappreciated. Sonali: To me, Black History Month means to celebrate the Black community and all of the things that they have contributed to our society. It is also about bringing attention to the severe injustices that the community still faces in this country and standing up to a racist police force and a prison system that profits off of their bodies. It is about calling those around us to action and holding our country accountable for its past. Black History Month is about lifting up and protecting Black voices and making it apparent that they are loved and valued. As an ally, this month is also a time to reflect on the ways I can do better — not just this one month, but every month and day, 365 days a year. Liza: The very existence of Black history month to me, and no matter where I physically reside, will always be a time to remind me of who I am, what my position is in the society and how I should move forward
in this ongoing fight for racial justice. It will always be a time for me to learn more about the culture, the history of African Americans. And perhaps, a time to educate those around me (since I’ve been home for almost a year now and have only been around raciallyinsensitive Asians) and listen to their opinions. Debate with them when I should and also evaluate how valid their opinions are coming from their different cultural backgrounds. Ricki: Black History Month is important to me because as a white person I must understand and learn Black history. Acknowledging the progress and seeing the pain. To remember, advocate and celebrate Black people and showcase their artwork, voices and businesses. Christine: Black History Month is an opportunity for us to continue educating ourselves on Black history, and how we can be better allies for our Black companions. It’s an opportunity for us to grow, to listen and to continue raising our voices.
