A QPOC’s thoughts on “Free The Nipple”

written by Kai Song (xie/xyr/xem): a 15 year old, nonbinary intersectional feminist and queer person of color (QPOC)

While it is a feminist issue, we shouldn't be discounting the trans erasure and the implications behind some of the ideas spurred on by this movement that have been widely accepted.

First things first- I'm all for free the nipple. Breasts— regardless of fat composition, should be able to be exposed if the people who were assigned male at birth can freely take their shirt off in public, while a parent breast feeding in public is looked down on to the point where they're shamed or escorted out. The double standards are clear in terms of nipple censorship.

However, there is a definite reinforcement of the toxic binary in this conversation. Sometimes women have breasts. However- sometimes women don't. This idea that breasts = women not only erases trans people, but invalidates them. There is no denying the fact that the sexualization of (perceived) women's breasts is definitely an issue in the U.S.

While this constant shame towards people who are perceived as female, being remotely sexual is only evidence for the objectification and sexualization of them— it's important to acknowledge the people who fall outside of the binary and even trans people who identify on it.

Body traits such as breasts and genitalia do not determine what gender you are. The idea and identification of "male" and "female" is forced onto you from birth and is most certainly a social construct. Corresponding breasts with "female" and "women" only reinforces the gender binary and ends in negative results.

You alienate the trans men with breasts who are comfortable with them and the trans women without them who end up feeling vaguely guilty and 'not trans enough'. You alienate all the trans people with breasts who are completely off the gender binary. By reinforcing the society's definition of gender, you invalidate trans bodies and trans people.

There are no "female" or "male bodies" unless you identify that way, but no body is inherently a certain gender. We need to be able to not only exercise our freedom in gender, but also our right to claim and label (or not) our OWN bodies however we choose— and we can not do that if we're constantly restraining it to the point it is not longer an option. Freeing the nipple is crucial, but we only inhibit ourselves in the long run by constantly labeling breasts as female. The idea of certain bodies being inherently female only contributes to reducing women to their bodies.

This notion is detrimental to the future of intersectional feminism. Instead of supporting/reinforcing the gender binary: Call out the restrictions and acceptability of certain chests. Call out the sexualization of breasts. Call out the constant invalidation of binary trans people with bodies that don't match society's perception of gender and the erasure of trans people who aren't on the binary. Call out the focus on white women in the movement and how there is no comment on the sexualization of women of color. Call out how it's only truly revolutionary and acceptable when it's a white woman promoting these ideas.

By all means, support the movement and stand up to give voice to society's double standards, sexism, erasure of trans people, and sexualization/objectification of women (especially women of color). But in order to truly create change, we must be critical of the movements we are a part of.

To Be An American

written by Camille Ollivierre

To be an American do I have to be white

Should my hair be as straight as you hoped your son would be

My eyes, as round as the world you hoped would be yours

Should my nose be as small as your knowledge of morals

My lips, as red as your face when I say nigga

Should my back be as broad as the land you stole from its natives

My arms and legs, as long as your damage to my people will last

Should my hands and feet be as large as the amount of racists in this country

My nails, as short as your apology for killing off my ancestors

Should my reflexes be as quick as you are to accuse my brother of stealing

My mind, as brilliant as your four fathers who believed it okay to treat people like animals

Is that what it means to be an American?

Dear White Parent: What You Need to Tell Your Son About Tamir Rice

written by Ellis Maxwell

Tell him. You have to tell him.

Your instinct is to protect him, just like every parent wants to protect their child, but to protect is, in this case, to promote ignorance. Don’t protect him from injustice; alert him to it. If you are worried that he is too young to hear this story, remember that he, like you, has the privilege of ignorance. If you are worried about introducing race to a 12-year-old white boy, remember that you are privileged to be able to choose when and how to introduce your child to race. Remember that the black children he goes to school with have been dealing with racism since day one. If today, he has never heard Tamir Rice’s story, that is a minor failure. If he still doesn’t know Tamir’s name tomorrow, that is a major failure.

So, you’re going to tell him. What are you going to say? There is one thing you absolutely cannot tell him. You cannot say, “It could have been you,” because that is a lie. It could not have been your son. Your son is safe from Tamir’s fate because he is white. Because he is white, he is allowed to be a child, which Tamir was not. This is the central point you must get across to your son: There is a reason that Tamir Rice was killed and you will not be. You must be clear about this. Don’t go all abstract and say, “Sometimes people treat other people unfairly because they don’t look the same.” Don’t do it. Be more specific. Now is a good time to talk about the toy police car you got him for his sixth birthday. Tell your son that police officers serve and protect him, but they didn’t serve or protect Tamir. They killed him.

Here is a good place to start. You are a 12-year-old boy, and Tamir was a 12-year-old boy, and you are not dead, but Tamir is. Tell him that this is a great tragedy, because it is. Weep with him. Encourage him to weep with you. Tell him how much Tamir’s life mattered. Tell him that it mattered every bit as much as his does, but a police officer didn’t think so, and he killed him. Weep with him more. Tell him that you are weeping for Tamir, who loved basketball the same way he does.

Tell your son that Tamir’s story is not and will never be his own story. Your son will not be killed by a police officer. Challenge yourself and your son to weep nonetheless. Identify with the humanity of Tamir’s story without claiming it as your own. This is empathy. Tell your son that he will never know how it feels to be Tamir Rice. Tell yourself that you will never know how it feels to be Tamir’s mother. Still, weep. Weep because your son is safe and Tamir was not.

Your son just got an airsoft gun. He is happy about this. You are scared, but you are scared that he will accidentally hurt someone or himself; you are not scared that his toy gun will provoke a police officer to kill him. Make sure he knows the difference between the way you fear for him and the way Tamir Rice’s mother feared for her son.

Your son just got an airsoft gun, and he plays with it outside. Tamir Rice had an airsoft gun, too, and he played with it outside. He was killed by a police officer who forgot that Tamir was a child, and that police officer wasn’t punished because we all forgot that Tamir was a child, and now you are here with your son, and you need to tell him that Tamir was a child. Tamir Rice was a child like your son is a child, and now he’s dead, and your son is not dead. Tell him all of this, and weep. Always remember to weep.

On Being a Black Woman

by Hailey Manuel | Black | 18 years

*based on a picture I saw yesterday that said "Dear white people, listen up. especially gay white boys. You do not have an inner black woman. Never have and never will."*

You have no idea what it feels like to be a black woman.

To not be wanted by men of other races, but also of your own because they hate the reflection of their black features in you. because they want “cute, mixed” babies.
as if black kids can’t be cute. 
as if they think they and all their relatives were ugly children. 
as if you were an ugly child, which you most certainly were not.

To constantly fear that others think you’re only successful in the tech industry because you're a black woman, 
as if you aren’t smart or qualified enough.
as if you don't study hard for your interviews and aren’t passionate about your work.
as if it can’t be possible to get a job just because you’re good, but because of your race and gender.

To be told that being black has “come in handy” during college application time in high school. just like it came in handy when you were a little girl on the school bus being called the n-word and would instead walk home rather than face the boy who mocked you on that bus. 
as if you didn’t get into your colleges because you were smart enough or had enough extra curriculars.

To fear for the lives of your male relatives because they might get harassed by a rogue police officer, but
to also fear for your own safety as a rogue officer might try to take advantage of you because a “jury would never believe a black woman”.

To constantly try to be better than everyone else, because if you don’t do well in a class you might poorly represent black people.

To never fully be able to let go, just to make sure that if anything does ever unfairly happen to you, there would be nothing for the media to say except that you were a good girl with a bright future because you kept a squeaky clean image.

so no, you don’t have an inner black woman.
and you never will.

-h.m.

Violet

by Arron Luo