L to R: Scott Kurashige, Tiffany Lee, Gloria House, Julia Putnam, Deloris Ann Berrien-Jones,
Aurora Harris, Alice Jennings, and Heidi R. Lewis at the National Conference in Detroit, MI (2024)
Photo Credit: Latasha Stewart
by President Heidi R. Lewis
December 2, 2024
I write this blog from Colorado Springs, CO. Stolen land—the unceded territory of the Ute Peoples, to be precise—developed with stolen and exploited labor. I do so, because as my colleague Dr. Natanya Ann Pulley points out, acknowledgements are “more than identifying or recognizing someone or something. Acknowledging is also an act of honoring, blessing, celebrating, and thanking.”
“Ion’t know what you do for yo’ respect, but I’m a die for mine.”
—T.I., “ASAP” (2004)
“I don’t pick and choose. It’s up wit’ whoever.”
—Glorilla, “Hollon” (2024)
Buckle up. This is another long one.
As I’m exiting the stage after the Friday night plenary, I’m filled with more thoughts and emotions than I think I can manage. I’m thinking about the session running over time, despite Kristian giving me more time checks than she should have had to, and how that could impact the forthcoming convention center invoice. “Why did I even ask that last question?” I’m feeling exhilarated and relieved. “Kristian and I just finished our second full conference day as Executive Director and President, and it’s been so amazing!” I’m thinking about time, space, and relationships. “I’m glad I was nearly everywhere I planned to be without ignoring folks who were by my side long before my presidency.” I’m feeling exhausted. “Am I only gonna be able to snag a few hours of sleep again tonight?” Mainly, though, I’m thinking about our hard work materializing, beautifully and powerfully. Mainly, I’m feeling grateful for the opportunity and honored to be President.
Then, I allow myself to be derailed.
“Excuse me. I want to share some concerns about some vendors.”
“Okay. I definitely want to understand. However, this isn’t the best time. We’ve gone over time, so we really need to leave this room. Let’s do that, then we can figure something out.”
“Two vendors I’ve circled here are problematic where animal rights are concerned.”
“Okay. Let me grab my phone, take a photo of what you have circled, and address it with the National Office when the conference is over and they’re back from a much-needed and much-deserved vacation.”
I can’t find my phone. No one else can find it either, so I’m gettin’ frustrated.
“Well, I guess I’ll just have to stand here and wait while you find your phone.”
“I guess you will. Or you know what? You can email me. Then, I’ll follow-up with you after I’m able to discuss it with the staff. My address is pretty easy to remember. It’s president@…”
“NO! I DON’T DO EMAIL! I DON’T DO EMAIL!”
Oh, so, we gon’ do it like this. Okay, let’s go.
“Look here. First and foremost, you need to watch your tone when you talk to me. I haven’t been rude to you. So, you need not be rude to me. You see I’m busy. You see I just got off this plenary. I told you I’m trying to help usher everybody out this room so members aren’t paying the price for us unnecessarily exceeding our budget. Now, you can either wait outside while I find my phone to take a photo of what you have circled, you can get somebody to help you email me, you can look on the website or in that program book for the office number you can call, or you can rely on my memory. Now, I wouldn’t do that if I were you, because I promise I likely won’t remember these vendors. But if you don’t wanna wait until I get this phone, if you don’t want to email, and if you don’t want to call? That’s exactly what you gon’ do. But no matter what you decide, we need to leave this room right now.”
Thankfully, my sister-in-love finds my phone. I start leaving the room. The woman is following me.
“I’m just so used to people ignoring animal rights. Do you even care about animal rights? Do you know animal rights is a feminist issue, too?”
Here we go again. A member (a white woman in this case) who doesn’t know me, hasn’t been thoroughly engaged with my presidency, and hasn’t sincerely contended with their anti-Black sexism presumes I’m ignorant and incompetent. While it doesn’t happen to me nearly as much as Kristian, it does happen.
“Ma’am, you are not being ignored. You are facing a boundary you clearly cannot understand or accept, which is not my problem. And let me tell you something else. I’m not ignorant about the relationships between feminism and animal rights. I’ve been reading and teaching Carol Adams and other feminists focused on animal rights for 15 years.”
“Who’s Carol Adams?”
Now, ain’t that somethin’?
“Carol Adams is an Animal Rights Hall of Famer, and I suggest you read her book The Sexual Politics of Meat, which she published all the way back in the ‘90s. Now, you’ve raised your concerns. I presented you with options for ensuring they’re addressed. So, I’m going to fellowship and enjoy the rest of the night. I sincerely hope you’re able to do the same.”
I finally get out of the room, and I’m met with so much beauty and warmth. My friends, guests, and our members are showering me with hugs and smiles, telling me how proud they are of the work we’ve done and how thankful they are to be in the space we’ve co-created. I’m thanking them for even taking time out of their busy schedules to come. And yet, I can see the woman out the corner of my eye, staring at me everywhere I go.
Then, here she come again, inches from my body, boldly and rudely interrupting a conversation I’m having with a friend who came all the way from Europe to attend the conference for the first time. Mind you, this friend is a Black woman who’s more like a big sister to me.
“I CAN’T FIND THE DRAG SHOW! SOMEONE HELP ME FIND IT!”
Before? I was annoyed. Now? I’m pissed.
“Yoooooo! What is your problem? The information you lookin’ for is right in that program book in your hands! Furthermore, if you don’t know where the show is, did you even get a ticket?”
“I NEED A TICKET? NO ONE EVEN TOLD ME THAT!”
“Aye look, I’m 'bout sick of you takin’ up all this space like you the only one here! A lot of people want, sometimes need, and deserve my time and attention! We got volunteers all around here helping folks find things despite being extremely short-staffed!”
My friends know exactly what time it is, because they really know me. So, big sis intervenes.
“Ma’am, let me take a look at your book, so I can help you find it.”
“I NEED BOTH OF YOU TO STOP TALKING!”
Yup, you read that right.
“Look, it’s one thing for you to disrespect me. I can handle it, ‘cause I’m not pressed about nobody like you. But what you not gon’ do is disrespect our members, our guests, or my friends. Clearly, you do not know me. I don’t give a fuck about none of this more than I do myself or my loved ones. I don’t know who you been dealin’ wit’ that done told you wrong, but…”
Since I get to talkin’ about outside—IYKYK!—big sis is now gently holding my arm, trying to calm me down.
“Heidi, I got this. Please, let me deal with this. Ma’am, please let me help you.”
“Nah, she not helpin’ you with shit until you apologize to her as loudly as you came over here bein’ rude and disrespectful. You’ll stand here all night wonderin’ where that drag show is until you apologize, and I mean that.”
Eventually, the woman apologizes and heads to the drag ball with support from big sis, another member, and—yup, you guessed it!—me. Then, a bunch of us head to the reception to eat, drink, and be as merry as possible.
But guess what? The next morning, I get to the convention center and see the same woman at the registration desk harassing volunteers, unnecessarily taking time and attention from other members in need of assistance. I won’t detail that conversation in full, but at one point she asks, “Does this mean you’re not gonna address what I shared last night, since you’re angry with me?” I tell her I have no intentions of breaking my promise. I tell her I find it strange she seems to have so much concern for animal rights but seems to have little to none for human rights. I tell her I’m not giving her anyone’s phone number from Feminist For Justice In/For Palestine and that the contact information they provided in their brochure would have to be enough.
Then, guess what? Not long after that, I head to Membership Assembly (MA) and see another friend, another Black woman who’s become more like an auntie to me, carrying the woman’s bag and running around frantically trying to help her find something. I won’t detail that conversation in full either. However, I will note auntie tells me the woman barged into the vendor space screaming and demanding help. I’ll note the woman tries to approach me several times, which I rebuke, resulting in her staring at me from a distance the entire morning. I’ll also note the woman later tries to cut in front of another member at the Q&A microphone during MA, but one of our volunteers and a new member of the Governing Council shut that down, thankfully.
And guess what else? I later hear she was at the drag show actin’ up, too.
Several folks have understandably and compassionately wondered if the woman has mental health conditions. She might, and she might not. In any case, I don’t think any of us have the ability to carefully diagnose her. Even those of us who are mental health professionals have not spent enough time with her professionally to know that. I also think armchair diagnosing her and situating possible mental health conditions as primary catalysts for her rude and disrespectful behavior is dangerous. In fact, I’ve been taught that kind of thinking trafficks in ableism. Are we assuming anyone with any kind of mental health condition can’t understand and respect boundaries? Are we assuming anyone with any kind of mental health condition can’t be held accountable for rudeness and disrespect? Are we assuming anyone with any kind of mental health condition can’t be an anti-Black sexist? Are we assuming anyone with any kind of mental health condition can’t be held accountable for anti-Black sexism? Are we assuming anyone with any kind of mental health condition can’t be thoughtful and respectful?
I also wonder, “Would immediate responses to my rudeness and disrespect be anchored in that kind of understanding and compassion? Would my rudeness and disrespect be followed by armchair diagnoses of my possible mental health conditions?” Maybe. But I doubt it. I’d likely be called rude and disrespectful. And especially because of anti-Black sexism, I’d probably be called ghetto and ratchet, too. Hell, I have been called all those things. And for the sake of transparency, I’ve been all of those things and likely will be again. And when I’m wrong—when I’m rude or disrespectful—I should be held accountable.
Ugh, I’m almost over time…again. So, let me get to my larger point and wrap this up.
It’s important for us to continue thinking carefully about how we show up in the spaces we co-create, especially when those spaces are anchored in feminism, womanism, and other kinds of critical frameworks that are supposed to be attentive to oppression and system(at)ic subjugation. This is uniquely and particularly important for leadership, to be sure, but it shouldn’t be just Kristian and I who are held accountable for our actions. In fact, it won’t be. Because it’s all of us or none of us.
On that note, I don’t want this woman to become our Donald Trump, the person we situate as the bastion of anti-Black sexism, rudeness, and disrespect. While she was certainly egregious, she was not alone. And as I alluded to earlier, the folks whose anti-Black sexism, rudeness, and disrespect were on full display during the conference were not always white. It broke my heart to hear about folks using mine and Kristian’s names without consent to get privileges that are costly to members, especially given what we shared during MA about the fiscal conditions of the Association and especially because members struggle with our membership and conference registration fees despite the rates not being raised in four years. It broke my heart to hear about folks screaming at and bullying volunteers. It broke my heart to hear about folks belittling hotel and convention center staff. I wasn’t at all surprised, but it broke my heart. And I was and remain enraged.
“I just saw footage of them folks walking down the streets of Columbus, OH—which ain’t in the South last I checked—hollerin’, ‘White power!’ Which one of the bullies among us would have that same energy if the Proud Boys walked up in here, strapped and ready to rumble? Which one of the bullies among us would scream at them? Probably not the folks who don’t even speak up about injustice at work, ‘cause they so worried about gettin' tenure! But they got the nerve to bullyfoot a 22-year-old volunteer? Like, let’s please be so for real!”
While Kristian and I would never aim to silence righteous critiques, we will not tolerate rudeness and disrespect. We will name, interrogate, and resist anti-Black sexism just as we do every other form of oppression and system(at)ic subjugation, even—no, especially!—when they show up in us. Accountability must flow all ways, always, if we’re as serious as we say we are about co-creating a just NWSA, let alone a just world. So, let’s please keep working together to co-create the kind of association we all need and deserve. But please know that only works well if we all in. We still in.
Are you?
Per my strategic plan, “Reconnect, Repair, Restore: A More Thoughtful, Transparent, and Trustworthy NWSA,” my President’s blogs aim, in part, to give members a chance to get to know me. This one is exactly and only that.