Author: Former Student

“Blk Girl Soldier” by Jamila Woods

Posted on by Former Student

Few artists are able to capture the strength, beauty, and struggle of being a Black woman in America as well as Jamila Woods does on her track “Blk Girl Soldier”. Woods, a Chicago-based singer/songwriter, released “Blk Girl Soldier” as the 9th track on her debut studio album HEAVN, a project with themes ranging from loss and police brutality to black womanhood and beauty. While HEAVN (2017) predates the emphatic resurgence of the Black Lives Matter movement following the 2020 murders of George Floyd, Ahmaud Arbery, and Breonna Taylor, many of its themes are still, if not even more, applicable today than during HEAVN’s initial release. “Blk Girl Soldier” focuses specifically on the strength and beauty of being a Black woman while acknowledging the historical struggles they have faced in America.

In just the first forty-five seconds, Jamila Woods provides a basic framework for the understanding of her song. She sings,

“See she’s telepathic

Call it black girl magic

Yeah scares the government

Déjà vu of Tubman

We go missing by the hundreds

Ain’t nobody checking for us

Ain’t nobody checking for us

The camera loves us, Oscar doesn’t

Ain’t nobody checking for us

Ain’t nobody checking for us

They want us in the kitchens

Kill our sons with lynching’s

We get loud about it

Oh, now we’re the bitches” (Woods, lines 1-14)

With proud declarations of being “telepathic” and possessing a “black girl magic” that “scares the government”, it is clear that Woods celebrates being a Black woman. However, the depiction of conflict and struggle is not far behind, with Woods quickly identifying the hypocrisy and bigotry of larger society. In 10 swift lines, Woods touches on contemporary discrimination towards Black women in the entertainment industry (Woods, line 8) and historically racist views of Black women as servants (Woods, line 11), all while attacking the heartless and dismissive nature of a society where “Ain’t nobody checking for us” (Woods, lines 6-10).

With her focus on the experience and liberation of Black women, Jamila Woods is undoubtedly womanist. Looking back to Alice Walker’s original definition of womanist in In Search of Our Mother’s Gardens, Woods definitely fits the bill of a “feminist of color” with “courageous…willful behavior” who is “responsible”, “in charge”, and, most of all, “serious.” (Walker). In addition, I believe “Blk Girl Magic” is great representation of second-wave feminism, especially in regard to the ideas of bell hooks. In Black Women Shaping Feminist Theory, hooks writes “There is much evidence substantiating the reality that race and class identity create differences in quality of life, social status, and lifestyle that take precedence over the common experience women share” (hooks, 4). Woods echoes these beliefs by directly focusing the song on Black women as opposed to women in general, a more general idea that fails to address these significant “differences” that bell hooks mentions.

Finally, I’d like to address the role of “Blk Girl Magic” as a sort of “fight song” empowering Black women to persevere in the struggle against oppression. Beyond “scaring the government”, Jamila Woods also writes Black women as “freedom fighters” that don’t and won’t “give up” (Woods, lines 40-60). Woods namedrops multiple iconic civil rights activists like Rosa Parks and Sojourner Truth, as well as famous  Black feminists such as Angela Davis and Audre Lorde, both of which we read in class as well. Overall, “Blk Girl Soldier” is a testament to the complex reality of Black women, especially in America. Jamila Woods touches on Black women’s strength, and beauty, and struggles, all while reminding us that “she don’t give up.”

Book Review: *Medical Bondage* and the Mothers of Gynecology

Posted on by Former Student

Now, more than ever, we are being called to trust in science. Modern discoveries have led to historic advances, and contemporary society is begging us all to “listen to the experts.” Whether in regard to the safety or efficacy of a vaccine, the analysis of big data, or even the impending doom of our planet, scientific experts, researchers, and doctors are constantly studying, informing, and warning us. In the end, it comes down to the public, to those who choose to believe or not, to those who trust or don’t, to those who heed the warning and to those who brush it off. However, this trust, this faith in scientific authority, is not one-size-fits-all. Our society is scattered with pillars of systemic discrimination and webs of complex realities, and science is no different. Many inequalities still exist today, especially in medicine, where POC have drastically different outcomes than their white counterparts. For example, in just 2015, the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services found that POC experienced lower life expectancy rates, lower vaccination rates, higher blood pressures, and increased strains on mental health (Rees). Moreover, this discrimination is longstanding and historic, with many well-documented atrocities against POC being disguised as medical advancement. In her monograph Medical Bondage, Dr. Deirdre Cooper Owens investigates this medical racism by uncovering the history of gynecology, highlighting the synergistic relationship between slavery, medicine, and science, all while humanizing and retrieving the lives of the enslaved women who propelled the rise of American gynecology.

Although Cooper Owens expertly delineates the synergistic relationship between slavery, medicine, and science, she explains that Medical Bondage is more about uncovering and crediting the lost “mothers” of American gynecology, the enslaved women essential the revolution of women’s medicine. She explains, “this book highlights the complicated relationship between slavery and medicine…but a common theme runs throughout it: the importance of enslaved women to the development of American gynecology” (Cooper Owens, 12). Specifically, Cooper Owens focuses on two expanding arguments. First, that reproductive medicine was “essential to the maintenance and success of southern slavery.” Second, that southern doctors knew that the labor of enslaved women assisted in the revolution of gynecology (Cooper Owens, 4). Together, these two arguments provide the foundation for the synergistic relationship that Cooper Owens emphasizes. With developed women’s medicine amplifying the success of slavery came an increase in the labor provided by enslaved women, producing a positive feedback loop. This relationship, alongside the expansion of scientific racism through false beliefs of difference and inferiority, contributed to the complex and cooperative web of racism, slavery, medicine, science, and capitalism, especially during the antebellum era.

Dr. Deirdre Cooper Owens is the Charles and Linda Wilson Professor in the History of Medicine and Director of the Humanities in Medicine Program at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln, one of two Black women in the U.S. running such a program. A popular speaker and award-winning historian, Dr. Cooper Owens is also the Director of the Program in African American History at the Library Company of Philadelphia, America’s oldest cultural institution with one of the most significant collections of printed material in the U.S.. After attending two HBCUs, Cooper Owens attainted her Ph.D. in history from UCLA, gathering a number of prestigious fellowships along the way. Described by Time Magazine as one of America’s most “acclaimed experts in U.S. history”, Cooper Owens is also a Distinguished Lecturer in the Organization of American Historians (OAH). Medical Bondage is the first book written by Cooper Owens, winning the 2018 Darlene Clark Hine Book Award from the OAH for the best book written in African American women’s and gender history. Currently working on a second book focusing on mental health during the era of slavery, Dr. Cooper Owens brings fresh and compelling analyses of historical inequalities in American medicine, especially in the context of the complex relationships between slavery and science in the United States.

Medical Bondage employs the use of multitudes of primary sources in an effort to best portray the perceptions, attitudes, and relationships between the contributors to American gynecology, each with their own advantages. For example, case narratives and written descriptions of patient histories display that “black women experienced both antebellum professional medical care and racism” (Cooper Owens, 8). Medical and slave management journals also make up a large portion of Cooper Owens’s sources, with strong archival evidence providing detailed information on the treatment by and of enslaved women laboring in maternal and women’s health. However, in line with the goal of reclaiming the lives of these women, Dr. Cooper Owens draws more on these direct accounts of life, citing the oral histories of several former slaves, medical case narratives, the personal papers of slave owners, and judicial cases (Cooper Owens, 73). On a similar note, Cooper Owens utilizes plantation records, ledgers, and interviews to disclose the objectifying attitude of doctors towards slaves and poor immigrants (Cooper Owens, 8), building on this objectification in her later identification of black women as “medical superbodies”, explicitly “inferior” to white counterparts yet capable of enormous feats of strength, providing medical assistance, and serving as both the experimental subjects and esteemed models for the development of American gynecology (Cooper Owens, 109). In addition to the focus on enslaved Black women, Dr. Cooper Owens also analyzes medical experiences of poor Irish immigrant women in the antebellum era, accentuating and condemning the use of vulnerable female populations for exploratory and experimental gynecological surgeries. While previous scholarly works identified enslaved women and Irish immigrants are subjects of interest, Medical Bondage sets itself apart by illuminating the effects of medicine and science on the lives of oppressed women, ultimately highlighting the synergistic relationship Cooper Owens emphasizes so adamantly (Cooper Owens, 3-4). By comparing the experiences of Black enslaved women, Irish women, and white men, specific attention is provided to “antebellum-era racial formation theories” about blackness and how this both complicated and contributed to the development of American gynecology. Through this comparison, Cooper Owens successfully “retrieves the lives” of owned women beyond the hospital bed, honoring them alongside the doctors that experimented on them.

When reading Medical Bondage, a clear strength is just how well Dr. Cooper Owens is able to humanize the lives of enslaved women. By clearly defining and explaining the “synergistic relationship” of science and racism, and with the logic behind the term “medical superbodies”, the reader quickly visualizes the situations described by Cooper Owens. Whether through the quoting of enslaved women like Marriah Hines or Mary Reynolds, the close readings of case narratives and surgical procedures, or through the analysis of archived records from slave hospitals, it is remarkable just how much Dr. Cooper Owens is able to paint the picture of historical and inescapable oppression. The sheer scale of information, especially in the form of genuine primary sources, is exceptional and a clear strength of Medical Bondage. Moreover, this information is provided in a very accessible way, explaining baseline truths before exploring more complex concepts such as the hypocritical and binary notion of sameness and difference intrinsic to the “medical superbodies” of enslaved Black women. On the other hand, amplified analysis into metanarratives of “medical superbodies” and the experiences of the enslaved women can lead to issues regarding interpretation. Cooper Owens herself acknowledges this, encouraging further examination of these metanarratives while cautioning that many sources cannot fully capture or exhibit these elusive racial and medical metanarratives, as they are authored solely by white men (Cooper Owens, 85). Nevertheless, with her meticulous examination of firsthand accounts of enslaved women, Dr. Cooper Owens is careful in her characterizations of the reproductive realities experienced by enslaved Black women.

All things considered, Deirdre Cooper Owens masterfully explores the intertwining nature of slavery, medicine, and science in the antebellum-era United States. Medical Bondage provides both harrowing, groundbreaking accounts of medical racism and abuse in the development of American gynecology. While this book sheds light on the nature of medical racism, and provides the framework for understanding aspects of systemic racism still present in our society today, Medical Bondage might hold a higher value for those pursuing further education in medicine. As mentioned, medical racism is still present in our society today, and the notions of “medical superbodies” and treatment of enslaved women described in Medical Bondage begin to decode the evolution of medical oppression of POC in the United States. For those pursuing healthcare, understanding this history and being aware of its impacts can often be overlooked. However, healthcare is about much more medicine and science. Without the understanding of historical realities and the courage to acknowledge history’s impact on contemporary situations, the distrust of science and medicine will continue.  Through Medical Bondage, one can begin to understand just how complex the relationship between science and self can be, and how important it is to interrogate it.

Works Cited

Cooper Owens, Deirdre. Medical Bondage: Race, Gender, and the Origins of American Gynecology. University of Georgia Press, 2017.

Dr. Deirdre Cooper Owens. “Bio.” Accessed November 7, 2021. https://www.deirdrecooperowens.com/bio

Rees, Mathieu. “Racism in Healthcare: Statistics and Examples,” September 17, 2020. https://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/racism-in-healthcare.

Old Spice: Perpetuating Genderism Through Advertising

Posted on by Former Student

Written by Billy Schoel for Autostraddle

Who would’ve guessed?! We all know Old Spice: the pinnacle of male hygiene and every straight man’s best friend. The American-based men’s hygiene company has produced multitudes of popular commercials over the years, now laying claim to the largest share of the men’s grooming product industry. Even with the over-the-top, absurdist style of advertising that they’ve become known for, their commercials still perpetuate the heteronormative worldviews present in most contemporary advertising. In the recent commercial titled “The Man Your Man Could Smell Like”, Old Spice makes assumptions that support and perpetuate unrealistic expectations, heteronormative approaches to society, and the gender binary.

While this absolute gem of heteronormative marketing is only a mere thirty seconds, its featured fast-paced monologue is where the meat of this advertisement lies. For those who don’t have the pleasure of watching our knight in shining armor, I would be honored to transcribe: “Hello ladies. Look at your man. Now back at me. Now back at your man. Now back at me. Sadly, he isn’t me. But if he stopped using lady scented body wash and switched to Old Spice, he could smell like he’s me. Look down. Back up. Where are you? You’re on a boat with the man your man could smell like. What’s in your hand? Back at me. I have it. It’s an oyster with two tickets to that thing you love. Look again. The tickets are now diamonds. Anything is possible when your man smells like Old Spice and not a lady. I’m on a horse.” Visuals aside, see any problems? I sure do. Let’s talk about it.

Within the opening five seconds, the commercial establishes its audience and general premise. A well-defined, half-naked man nearly bursting with masculine energy exclaims “Hello ladies…look at your man…sadly, he isn’t me.” From the get-go, the commercial sets unrealistic expectations for men by comparing them to a representation of perfect masculinity. Despite the delivery’s fast-paced and absurdist nature, the commercial still establishes the inferiority of men who don’t meet the society’s standards of masculinity. The man continues, “if he stopped using lady-scented body wash and switched to Old Spice, he could smell like he’s me.” Not only does this disparage identities outside heteronormative masculinity by implying the inferiority of “lady-scented” body washes, but it also enforces unrealistic expectations for men. Additionally, by stating “he could smell like he’s me” instead of “he could smell like me”, the commercial continues its degradation of imperfect masculinity by clearly defining the ideal man and the other, forcing their separation and inequality.

The public dragging of the “imperfect man” quickly proceeds with the progression of the scene, painting a beautiful, idyllic picture of the life of the “perfect man.” He states, “you’re on a boat with a man your man could smell like.” Of course, this broadens the disparity between the perfect and imperfect men, implying that the lady would prefer the more masculine alternative over other men, even if they represented normal men in society. The precedence given to overly-masculine men concludes with the final moments of the commercial, the man stating, “Anything is possible when your man smells like Old Spice and not a lady.” Not only does it appear that Old Spice doesn’t know “ladies” smell good, too, but the quote places direct preference towards the ideal of overly-masculine men smelling unquestionably overly-masculine (talk about a tongue-twister), perpetuating, and ultimately strengthening, heteronormative conventions such as the gender binary.

Speaking of the oh-so-popular topic, this post would be quite incomplete without mentioning the commercial’s shameless defense of society’s gender binary. For starters, let’s address the assumed heterosexual relationship that the commercial stamps down as its starting point. Old Spice confines the audience into normality. Who is being addressed? A woman! Who must she love? A man—of course! What else could it be?! You mean to tell me that people have non-heterosexual relationships?! Nope, not never. Moreover, Old Spice expands the binary’s gap by implying that girls not only want just men, but the most masculine men life can offer. Men should not be wearing Old Spice to be hygienic—why would they? Men should wear Old Spice to be masculine, to attract women, to be men. Duh! Why would any woman ever be attracted to anything but the most masculine of men?! Despite my flippancy, the assumptions that this commercial makes are significant. In a world where gender/identity equality was reality, the heteronormative structures of society that enable this commercial’s marketability and ultimate efficacy would be relics of the past. Truly, the marketing of deodorant as a way to enhance heteronormative validation for men, even among their own partners, is almost as absurd as a deodorant commercial abruptly ending with “I’m on a horse.”

Also—newsflash—Old Spice works on everyone! While I’ve yet to find a man who doesn’t like Old Spice, I know plenty of other people who wear Old Spice too. Just because it is marketed to men doesn’t mean that only men use it! It’s deodorant, not a walking beacon of unapologetic masculinity. No matter how hard Old Spice tries to be the lodestar of manliness, at the end of the day, it’s a hygiene company. I could go on—but the point is that they shouldn’t be the deciding factor on what’s masculine, what’s attractive, or even what’s normal in our society. Old Spice may be a great deodorant company, but their marketing clearly needs some tweaks. Don’t even get me started on the fact that the tone of the whole commercial is rather belittling—I have to save something to write about next week.