In their willingness to use such methods, black nationalist women leaders made a number of political missteps and errors in judgment and often pursued questionable alliances with individuals who did not share their vision. For instance, because black nationalist women generally embraced a biologically based understanding of race, they were willing to form political collaborations with well-known white supremacists in hopes of advancing their political goals. In the short term, these alliances proved somewhat advantageous—on several occasions, the white supremacists with whom these women collaborated used their political influence and material resources to support black emigration efforts. In the long term, however, these controversial alliances hindered black nationalist women’s political goals. By forging these unusual alliances—however practical they appeared to them to be at the time—black nationalist women undermined their credibility in the eyes of many of their contemporaries. Yet understanding why they would take such measures—what, in their ideological makeup, gave them license to do so—is one of the fundamental goals of this book.
Perhaps the most important aspect of black nationalist women’s political life was their interest in and commitment to black internationalism. Building upon a long and rich tradition and history dating back to the Age of Revolution, black nationalist women maintained a global racial consciousness and commitment to universal emancipation.18 These women understood that the struggle for black rights in the United States as well as the fight for black political self-determination could not be divorced from the global struggles for freedom in Asia, Africa, Latin America and the Caribbean, and other parts of the globe. Using a variety of avenues, including journalism, print media, and overseas travel, black nationalist women articulated and disseminated global visions of freedom and sought to build transnational and transracial alliances with other people of color in order to secure civil and human rights.
While much of the scholarship on black internationalism centers on the ideas and political activities of towering individuals such as W. E. B. Du Bois, Paul Robeson, and C. L. R. James, this book emphasizes the significant yet largely underappreciated contributions of a diverse group of women activists and intellectuals. Set the World on Fire foregrounds the writings, speeches, and activism of black women leaders of all walks of life and explores how gender and gender relations shaped internationalist movements and discourses.19 Moreover, this book highlights the interplay between national and geopolitical issues and makes visible the diverse and creative ways black nationalist women leaders built transnational networks with a diverse group of activists across the globe.
Whereas conventional historical narratives tend to privilege the political activities of the black middle class and elite, this book pays particular attention to the internationalist activities of working-poor women activists. It foregrounds the ideas and activism of impoverished black women activists and intellectuals with limited financial resources and, as a consequence, limited mobility. Amid the social and political upheavals of the twentieth century, impoverished black women activists and intellectuals devised a range of creative strategies to advance their internationalist agenda. These women often engaged in grassroots internationalism, articulating global visions of freedom and practicing black internationalist politics on the local level. Although many of the women in this book could not afford overseas travel, they sought to advance internationalism through their writings, community work, and local collaborations with men and women from various parts of the globe. By centering these women’s grassroots internationalist politics, this book sheds new light on the crucial role working-poor women played in black internationalist movements of the twentieth century.
Similar to other black women internationalists of the period, the women in this book often articulated a proto-feminist consciousness—an opposition to gender inequality that predated the feminist movements of the 1960s and 1970s. Scholars often disagree on the precise terminology appropriate for describing black nationalist women’s positions on women and gender issues. Yet, one thing is certain: black nationalist women during the early to mid-twentieth century often exhibited feminist beliefs and employed strategies that foreshadowed modern feminist movements of the 1960s and 1970s.20 These women sought to empower other women in the African diaspora and rejected sexist perceptions of women as intellectually inferior to men.21 They articulated a critique of male supremacy and attempted to change the patriarchal structures of the organizations in which they were active.22
Despite these overt expressions of feminism, black nationalist women’s gender and sexual politics were far more complex. As black feminist theorist Joy James reminds us, black women activists and intellectuals were “not uniformly progressive.” Indeed, black women’s articulations of what James describes as “radical or revolutionary black feminism” stood side by side with “liberal and conservative feminisms and antiracism.”23 Not surprisingly, the women in this book critiqued male chauvinism and patriarchy, on one hand, and embraced traditionally conservative perspectives on gender and sexuality, on the other. In many ways, black nationalist women’s ideological complexity mirrors the ideas and experiences of nationalist women in postcolonial Middle Eastern and South Asian societies.24 While women in black nationalist movements during the early to mid-twentieth century found ways to challenge male patriarchy and even attempted to expand opportunities for women, their activities were still circumscribed by the masculinist traditions of nationalist discourses and movements in which black men were fighting to prove their manhood—often at the expense of women’s rights and autonomy.25
At the heart of this book is an exploration of how black nationalist women “on the margins” struggled to make their way to the center—that is, the forefront of political movements for global black liberation.26 These women, representing a subordinate group within the global racial and gender hierarchies, advocated immediate social changes and in so doing laid the political groundwork for a new generation of black activists and intellectuals engaged in struggles for freedom during the modern Civil Rights–Black Power era of the 1960s and 1970s. In their efforts to eradicate the global color line, the women profiled in this book adopted a practical and pragmatic approach to local, national, and global politics.27 From the early twentieth century to the 1950s, these women devised a range of strategies and tactics, drew on an array of religious and political ideologies, and collaborated with activists and politicians of various political persuasions. Often with limited material resources and in the face of much opposition, these women attempted to transform American society and sought to improve conditions for people of color all across the globe.
Their stories capture the depth and complexities of the global black freedom struggle. Indeed, they illustrate the range of protest strategies and tactics individuals have employed in their efforts to resist domination, degradation, and exploitation. In addition, they enrich our understandings of how black nationalist women, particularly members of the working poor and individuals with limited formal education, have functioned as key leaders, theorists, and strategists at the grassroots, national, and international levels. What follows is an account of these women’s stories in all their quirkiness, complexities, and paradoxes—filled with moments of tragedy and defeat but also filled with moments of triumph and hope.
CHAPTER 1
Women Pioneers in the Garvey Movement
ON APRIL 19, 1924, Eunice Lewis’s editorial, “The Black Woman’s Part in Race Leadership,” appeared on the women’s page of the Negro World—“Our Women and What They Think.” A member of Marcus Garvey’s Universal Negro Improvement Association (UNIA) residing in Chicago, Lewis crafted a succinct yet powerful article that embodied the spirit of the “New Negro Woman.” “There are many people who think that a woman’s place is only in the home—to raise children, cook, wash, and attend to the domestic affairs of the house,” Lewis noted. “This idea, however, does not hold true to the New Negro Woman,” she continued. The “New Negro Woman,” Lewis i
nsisted, was intelligent, worked equally with men, was business savvy, and, most significantly, was committed to “revolutionizing the old type of male leadership” in the UNIA and in the community at large.1 Her comments, which coincided with the Harlem, or “New Negro,” Renaissance of the period, signified a key shift that was taking place within the Garvey movement.2
Founded by Marcus Garvey, with the assistance of Amy Ashwood, in Kingston, Jamaica, in 1914, the UNIA (originally the Universal Negro Improvement Association and African Communities League) was the largest and most influential Pan-Africanist movement of the twentieth century. Emphasizing racial pride, black political self-determination, racial separatism, African heritage, economic self-sufficiency, and African redemption from European colonization, Garvey envisioned the UNIA as a vehicle for improving the social, political, and economic conditions of black people everywhere. From Kingston, Jamaica, Garvey oversaw UNIA affairs before relocating to Harlem, where he incorporated the organization in 1918. At its peak, from 1919 to 1924, the organization attracted millions of followers in more than forty countries around the world.
Like many black nationalists before and after him, Garvey maintained a masculinist vision of black liberation and thus believed that black men would ultimately lead the fight to improve conditions for black people in the diaspora.3 Although he was not necessarily opposed to female leaders, Garvey sought to maintain a patriarchal model of leadership in the UNIA, which allowed women to serve as leaders only under the watchful eye of Garveyite men. Moreover, Garvey, as many other black men during the early twentieth century, endorsed Victorian ideals and exhibited the “spirit of manliness,” a masculine sensibility that emphasized black men’s respectability and ability to produce and provide.4 Along these lines, Garvey not only upheld the belief that men were the vigilant protectors of black women and children but also embraced the view that women’s natural place was in the home as wife and mother.5
Eunice Lewis’s call for “revolutionizing the old type of male leadership” was therefore a direct challenge to the prevailing ethos of black patriarchy in the Garvey movement. Along with a cadre of women during this period, including Amy Jacques Garvey, Maymie De Mena, and Henrietta Vinton Davis, Lewis articulated a new and expansive vision of black women’s leadership in the UNIA and in the community as a whole. These women, from a variety of socioeconomic backgrounds and social positions, adopted a proto-feminist stance in which they directly challenged male supremacy and attempted to change the UNIA’s patriarchal leadership structure. In their efforts to “revolution[ize] the old type of male leadership,” black nationalist women pioneers created opportunities for women to have greater visibility and autonomy than Garvey originally envisioned. Moreover, they devoted significant attention to women’s issues and often defied prevailing gender conventions. In doing so, they articulated many of the same arguments and employed some of the strategies that were fundamental to feminist movements that emerged during the 1960s and 1970s.6
In addition to adopting a proto-feminist stance, women in the UNIA articulated several strands of black nationalism, drawing upon a rich and long tradition of black nationalist thought in the United States and across the diaspora. For example, they envisioned Africa as the homeland for black people and maintained the belief that black emigration would provide a means for black men and women to escape their second-class citizenship status and increase their political and economic power on a global scale. For many black nationalist women, Liberia represented the ideal location because of its ties to African Americans and its position as one of only two independent African nations during this period. Maintaining a cultural and racial bond with Africans on the continent and throughout the diaspora, women in the Garvey movement during the 1920s promoted Pan-Africanism and attempted to mobilize black men and women against racial discrimination, colonialism, and imperialism. They also advocated black economic self-sufficiency but did so within the framework of existing capitalist structures. To that end, they endorsed black capitalism, attempting to control the marketplace through the creation of black businesses and independent black institutions. By promoting all of these ideals, women in the Garvey movement played a pioneering role in twentieth-century black nationalism, laying the groundwork and theoretical foundations for the vanguard of nationalist women leaders who emerged in the three decades after Garvey’s 1927 deportation.
Amy Ashwood and the Birth of the UNIA
Marcus Garvey’s UNIA rose to prominence amid the social and political upheavals in the wake of World War I. A pivotal turning point in the history of the modern African diaspora, World War I, which began in 1914 and ended in 1918, mobilized thousands of black men to fight for the same democratic rights and privileges they were being denied at home.7 The war also created a labor shortage in the United States, which provided a crucial opportunity for black men and women from various parts of the globe to gain employment in northern cities. Perhaps most significantly, the war dramatically altered the political consciousness of peoples of African descent in profound ways. In the war’s aftermath, black men and women unequivocally rejected the racial discrimination that persisted in the United States and colonial territories in Africa, Latin America, and the Caribbean. When the war ended in 1918, Afro-Caribbean migrants, for example, who had served in the British West Indies Regiment, openly revolted against the British in a series of uprisings that swept the region.8
These political uprisings, combined with a number of historical developments of the era, including the Bolshevik Revolution in Russia (1917) and race riots in the United States referred to as the “Red Summer” (1919), created an atmosphere in which the UNIA emerged as the largest and most influential Pan-Africanist movement of the twentieth century.9 Reflecting the rhetoric of self-determination, which gained increasing currency in mainstream political discourse after World War I, Garvey called on black men and women across the diaspora to help establish an autonomous black nation-state.10 In Garvey’s teachings, black men and women across the globe found the strategies and tactics to counter racial oppression and to advance universal black liberation.11
From the outset, black women were integral to the UNIA’s growth and success. In 1914, when Garvey launched the organization, Amy Ashwood, who later became his first wife, served as its cofounder and first secretary.12 Born in 1897 in Port Antonio, on the northeastern coast of Jamaica, Ashwood was one of three children and the only girl born of wealthy businessman Michael Delbert Ashwood and his wife, Maudriana (Maud) Ashwood (née Thompson). Shortly after Amy’s birth, the Ashwood family relocated to Panama City, where Amy’s father opened a bakery and restaurant during the construction of the Panama Canal. Concerned about the quality of education their children were receiving in Panama, Michael and Maud decided to bring the family back to Jamaica in 1904.
At age eleven, Amy began attending Westwood High School, a prestigious private school for girls that had been established by Reverend William Webb, a Baptist minister, in 1882. The first of its kind in Jamaica, Westwood provided an opportunity for all girls, regardless of class or race, to obtain quality educational training. There Ashwood was exposed to a diverse curriculum, which included courses in homemaking, biblical scripture, typing, and shorthand, as well as history, English, geography, mathematics, and science. Despite the first-rate education Westwood offered, the school’s curriculum was, in many ways, a reflection of the British colonial system. When she began attending the school, Jamaica, the largest of the English-speaking Caribbean islands, had been under British colonial rule for more than two hundred years. Similar to other students who attended schools in British colonies during this period, Ashwood was primarily taught British history and, as result, had very little knowledge about black history and culture.13
Later in life, Amy credited her ninety-three-year-old great-grandmother, Boahimaa Dabas—“Grannie Dabas” as she was called—for making her aware of her African heritage and igniting her race consciousness and growing sense of Pan-Africanism. At a
ge twelve, Ashwood began to ask Grannie Dabas about her ancestors after an incident at school sometime in 1909. Recounting the event years later, Ashwood explained that teachers at Westwood had organized a mission fund that year to aid those in need. During a visit with Mrs. Webb, the wife of the school’s founder, Ashwood disclosed the amount of money she managed to raise for the mission fund and was startled when Mrs. Webb expressed disappointment that the money would not be sent to Ashwood’s “people” in Africa. “Being so young,” Ashwood explained, “I was very puzzled by this bit of news and naturally asked the lady many more questions about Africa.”14
Intrigued yet horrified by the information Mrs. Webb provided—about how black people had been captured by English slave traders on the shores of Africa and brought to Jamaica—Ashwood set out to find out more information about her ancestors. When her father became overwhelmed by the line of questioning, he took Ashwood to Grannie Dabas, who carefully recounted the difficult story of her capture on the Gold Coast at age sixteen and her life under slavery. According to Ashwood, her great-grandmother also described the “virility of her people and their prowess in war,” informing the girl that her great-great uncle was an accomplished military general of the Ashanti (Asante), one of the dominant ethnic groups in West Africa. This newfound knowledge of her family’s history awakened Ashwood’s racial consciousness and bolstered her confidence. “I was proud of myself [and] proud of my ancestry,” she recounted years later. “I went back to school with a feeling of innate pride. I had a country, I had a name. I could hark back to my genealogy.”15
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