Bonnetgate: Black women, Bonnets, and the Politics of Respectability
As a Black woman, I don’t pay particular attention to what people think or say about Black women. I’ve learned early on that chasing the approval and affection of the dominant culture is a losing battle. The exception, however, is the thoughts and opinions of other Black women. That’s why when a Black woman, actress and comedian Monique, raised the criticism of Black women wearing certain items (bonnets, pajamas, slippers, etc) out in public, I had to listen. Over the last few days Bonnetgate became a prominent cultural discussion within our community about what is and isn’t appropriate, or respectable, or attractive. It surprised me to see Black women take exception to how other Black women choose to show up in the world.
Following the lively debate that sprung forth from Monique’s comments, it dawned on me that this conversation isn’t about bonnets at all. At its root, it’s about white supremacy, capitalism, and our disdain for the lower class — even if we don’t realize it. Black women policing other Black women is a trauma response from years of navigating a white supremacist, capitalist culture.
For my argument to connect we have to agree on one thing: We see Black women wearing bonnets in public as ghetto or lower class and as a consequence, we see those women as undeserving of respect.
If a Black woman would go out dressed like that, then clearly she must not have much education, or money, or even home training. We also see it as a signifier of character. A woman who does that likely is trashy and doesn’t value herself — it’s a reflection of her morals, or lack thereof.
The reason Black women are offended by the choices of other Black women is because we see their actions to be a reflection on all Black women. So if one Black woman is seen as ghetto, trashy, or poor then the dominant culture will view me that way as well. And if the dominant culture views me that way then they can use it as a justification to subjugate me, to take things from me, and to harm me. Couple that with a society that tells us constantly that people without money are less deserving of respect, resources, or kindness, then it is reasonable to be scared to be perceived that way.
Once we accept that our knee jerk reaction to Black women in bonnets is more about how we might be viewed collectively by others, then we can start to look at the whole debate differently.
If you are someone who looks down or thinks negatively about Black women who wear bonnets in public, ask yourself: does that woman deserve any less respect, any less kindness or any less consideration because of how she’s dressed? If your answer is no then how she shows up in the world really shouldn’t bother you.
Over the last few days, I’ve seen two arguments that are worth addressing. The first, that this critique is coming from a place of love. The vocal opponents of public bonnet wearing are just trying to put us up on game. I truly believe that women like Monique think that they are protecting us, but projecting your trauma response onto others isn’t love. The second argument I’ve seen is that we are somehow dishonoring our elders and their sacrifices by not heeding this advice. I categorically reject this. Our elders fought so we could be free, not so we could conform to white supremacist standards of respectability.
It can be hard to see how white supremacy affects our thinking. I’m guilty of letting the insidious framework of white supremacy affect how I navigate the world and how I look at other people. When we can be honest and think critically about the why behind our thoughts and opinions, we can arrest those thoughts, change them, and free ourselves from the burden of white supremacist thinking.
After reading this some of you may still be thinking, “Well, I won’t be going out in public with a bonnet on.” And you have the agency to make whatever choice with your body you feel comfortable with. All I ask is that you allow others the space to do the same.
