Editor’s Note: Tamara Gurley is a doctoral student in ethics at Vrije Universiteit- Amsterdam in conjunction with the International Baptist Theological Studies Center (IBTS). The mission of IBTS is to serve the European Baptist Federation and the broader Baptist community as a theological research community and training network.
“Must I be a womanist?”
An inquiry that has prompted intimate, personal reflection has, paradoxically, emerged as the prevailing reaction among those familiar and unfamiliar with womanist theology.
As I begin my dissertation project at IBTS, I have grappled with whether I personally align with womanist theology. At the same time, I am confronted with the question of whether those familiar with womanism expect me to adopt this identity, while those unacquainted with womanism ask why I must be womanist at all.
As Monica A. Coleman points out in her profound reflections on womanist theology, “The assumption is that all black women in the academic study of religion are womanists. Sadly, it is almost a marketable necessity.”
In the North American context, this verdict holds. Whatever my academic proficiencies, as I have navigated the particular waters of higher education, I am consistently faced with the assumption that I must be womanist, teach womanism, and write womanist work.
As an emerging theologian, I grappled deeply with whether the womanist designation placed on me served to appease those who deem centering the experiences of Black women as invalid. That is, has womanism been co-opted to create a container to place the work of black women scholars, categorizing theology that is not aligned with “traditional” hegemonic, Western-centric, male perspectives from woman-centric interpretation?
In positioning my work in a broader European and Central Asian context, I faced a much different question. It was a question that shored up my commitments to womanism and the importance of womanism as a framework to challenge conventional theological narratives that align with hegemonic assumptions.
As my colleagues encountered my research project, which is grounded in centering the experiences of black women to foster their flourishing, I was met with the opposite reaction: “Must you be womanist?” These inquiries were rooted in questions such as: What is womanism? Why is centering the experiences of black women important? Is this not divisive in its exclusion of dominant voices?
While there was a certain level of comfort among my European and Central Asian colleagues with elevating the experiences and voices of women, as feminism is widely acknowledged and to some extent accepted, there was a notable absence of understanding of the intersectional nature of the Black woman’s experience. In particular, there was limited recognition of the enduring impacts of colonial practices in shaping the lived experiences of Black women today.
This experience propelled me to delve more deeply into my alignment with womanist theology. The more I grappled with my role as a researcher, the more womanism not only resonated with me, but became an imperative.
This affinity stems from the reality that womanism was built by black women and for black women. It is a familiar home, a loving black mother, and a liberative space to be fully woman and fully black while, simultaneously, welcoming all to feast and to be nourished at the table.
Despite the attempted commodification or erasure of its relevance, womanism endures as a platform to reclaim indigenous knowledge and challenge colonial legacies that perpetuate racial and gender oppression, particularly in the U.S. and the Global South.
Yet, womanism transcends geographical boundaries, standing as a tapestry of voices and experiences from different cultures and backgrounds. It encapsulates a broad spectrum of stories, acknowledging the interconnectedness of gender, race, ethnicity, socioeconomic status and more.
It provides a platform for women to voice their struggles and triumphs, fostering solidarity across borders. Furthermore, womanism is inherently communal, committed to seeking the common good. That is, by centering the experiences of the most marginalized, womanism seeks to dismantle systems of oppression and foster liberative realities on a global scale.
So, to answer the prevailing question, “Must I be womanist,” I say, “Must not we all?”
Doctoral student in ethics at Vrije Universiteit- Amsterdam in conjunction with the International Baptist Theological Studies Center. Tamara holds a Master of Theology from Emory’s Candler School of Theology and a Master of Arts in Ministry Leadership from Grand Rapids Theological Seminary.
