The One About Womanism
Alice Walker’s poem "Democratic Womanism" speaks volumes—it's not just poetry, it's a call. A call to stop playing along with systems that were never designed for us. When she speaks, I see ancestors, aunties, and radical dreamers in motion. Walker’s vision—one rooted in the Earth, in maternal wisdom, in fierce love—feels like home to me. And it’s not about electing just any woman to mirror male power; it’s about burning the whole script and writing something new. It echoes Patricia Hill Collins’ "What’s in a Name? Womanism, Black Feminism, and Beyond," where she reminds us that naming ourselves isn’t just semantics—it’s survival.
I’ve felt quite at ease with the word "feminist" but did not understand why so many Black women distanced themselves from such a simple phrase. I now understand that “feminist” and feminism hides the truth of its history under the guise of “sisterhood.” I understand now that the word has so often ignored people like me. People like my grandmother, who never read bell hooks but lived her life fighting for dignity. Collins gets that. She says, "Using the term 'Black feminism' disrupts the racism inherent in presenting feminism as a for-whites-only ideology" (13). That disruption is necessary. But still, the word doesn’t always fit. It’s like trying to wear shoes made for someone else’s journey. Womanism, on the other hand, feels like jazz—it riffs, it contradicts, and it always returns home. That’s why Walker’s poem resonates so deeply with me. When she says she won’t vote for the lesser of two evils, it’s not cynicism. It’s clarity. It’s a refusal to betray the generations who preserved and continue to persist and resist today.
Walker builds a vision that is both spiritual and political. She gathers a circle of women warriors—Tubman, Davis, Wangari Maathai—and sets them at the helm of Earth’s failing ship. But she’s not romanticizing. She’s re-centering. She’s reminding us that power rooted in care, in the lessons of the land and the body, is not weakness—it’s the only way forward. Collins echoes this when she says Black feminist thought must stay accountable to Black women, rooted in our lived experiences. Collins emphasizes that Walker herself suggests that “Black women’s concrete history fosters a womanist worldview accessible primarily and perhaps exclusively to Black women” (10). That means it can’t be sanitized or made comfortable for mainstream consumption.
Still, it’s complicated. Walker’s poem sometimes edges into essentialism, making womanhood sound like a fixed identity. And I’ve wrestled with that, because the communities I love include folks across the gender spectrum. Collins doesn’t shy away from that tension. She acknowledges that womanism has its critiques, especially around queerness. “The relative silence of womanists on this dimension of womanism,” she writes, “speaks to Black women's continued ambivalence in dealing with the links between race, gender and sexuality, in this case, the ‘taboo’ sexuality of lesbianism” (12). Even in our liberatory spaces, silence can be loud. But I also believe that womanism—at its best—is a starting point, not a box. She also says that Black feminism and womanism are not finished products—they’re living practices. We don’t need perfect labels. We need the freedom to name ourselves and the responsibility to live those names out loud.
And honestly, in a world where aesthetics replace action, naming still matters. But action matters more. As Walker says, "Democratic womanism... a system of governance we can dream and imagine and build together." That’s not just a lyric—it’s an invitation. One we don’t need permission to accept.
So whether we call ourselves womanists, Black feminists, or something new we haven’t dreamed up yet, the point isn’t the name. It’s the work. The work of imagining systems where care isn’t a luxury, but a foundation. Where leadership looks like feeding your neighbor, planting a garden, or telling the truth even when your voice shakes. Collins and Walker are both saying the same thing: Don’t get distracted by semantics. Get clear about your vision and act.
Works Cited
Collins, Patricia Hill. "What's in a Name? Womanism, Black Feminism, and Beyond." The Black Scholar, vol. 26, no. 1, Winter/Spring 1996, pp. 9–17. ProQuest Research Library.
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