by Ashleigh Shackelford

Karrine “Superhead” Steffans recently made news when she tweeted that both Oprah and Maya Angelou are “sluts.” And it all started when another Black woman slut-shamed Karrine’s pathway to success after she posted, “At 26, I was already a New York Times Best Selling Author, a millionaire, and sitting next to Oprah. Be inspired. You can do it.” The woman responded with, “You sucked dick. Honestly, that ain’t the route I want.”

As the back and forth tweets continued, the dialogue brought up many layered issues of slut-shaming, hoe legacies, anti-Black misogyny, and the politics of success. The problematic and violent commentary continued with one user tweeting: “I look up to Oprah, I want to be a woman like Oprah not you. Everything you do is tasteless.” Eventually, Steffans clap-backed with a powerful series of tweets acknowledging that there is a clear double standard between her and other “successful” women: “Oprah was a hoe. She was promiscuous after her rape, admittedly. Same story. More money doesn’t erase the truth.”

She continued with:

by Ashleigh Shackelford

Blac Chyna and Amber Rose are two Black women that have not only challenged society’s anti-Black misogyny, but have flourished in the wake of the world trying to hoe-ify them into shame. The two women are challenging the misogyny behind the label of “hoe” by reclaiming the term in locution. Their claim for respect in their autonomy and right to merely exist as mothers and sexual beings—worthy of love and relationships—is powerful and necessary. Blac Chyna and Amber Rose are seen as hoes because they do what they want, wear what they want, and do not allow their experiences with men or ex-partners to define them. They exist for themselves. The very public journey of their resilience through the trials and tribulations of heartbreak, friendship, revenge, and their ability to thrive despite it all provides a deep understanding of how Black feminism is given power by Amber and Chyna, and how they’ve used Black feminism as a means of survival.


Amber Rose used the past year to get back on her feet after her marriage with Wiz Khalifa ended, and after feuding with Kanye West over comments she made about rape culture and old men preying on young girls—a reference to Kylie Jenner and Tyga’s relationship. The feud was instigated when Kanye pulled out the Misogynoir Wild Card by attempting to strip Rose of her autonomy, credibility, and worth by saying that her career was successful only because he provided her with opportunities by dating her. In his interview on the Breakfast Club, Kanye went on to say, “She’s just soaking in the moment. If Kim had dated me when I wanted, there would be no Amber Rose.”

Kanye’s intention was to convey that Amber Rose’s career—and thus, validity as a woman—took off solely because of him, and that was merely a stand-in for the woman of his dreams… even though the pair dated for almost two years. Yet, Kim Kardashian’s career was also based off of the misogynistic consumerism of her body resulting from the widespread leak of her sex tape with Ray J. Kim Kardashian’s career evolved largely due to her relationships with (Black) men more famous than her—including the fact that she made a sex tape with Brandy’s little brother. This is how anti-Black misogyny works: We praise women like Kim, because she is not seen through the lens of hoeness. Because she is not read as Black. Amber Rose called this out, and made sure to cultivate conversations around hoe-ness and how women deserve to be respected regardless of what they’ve done, who they’ve dated, and how they survive.

Amber Rose demands due credit for her own trajectory because she’s actually a person outside of her relationships with Kanye West and Wiz Khalifa. In response to the back and forth with Kanye, Amber took it upon herself to not only publicly speak out against his misogyny, but also took on Khloe Kardashian in a Twitter clapback when Khloe tried to shame Amber for being a stripper. In response, Amber Rose decided to create a platform to discuss the autonomy and agency that women and femmes deserve everywhere by hosting the Amber Rose LA Slut Walk. Amber acknowledges how white supremacist patriarchy tries to control, violate, and consume women of color, especially Black women. Amber has also shown up for her best friend, Blac Chyna. Through Blac Chyna’s hardships with her ex Tyga, Amber continuously dragged this nigga whenever it was necessary, using Black feminism to empower both herself and her best friend.

Similar to Amber Rose, Blac Chyna’s year was marked by the continued dissolving of her relationship with Tyga and her former friendships with the Kardashians. Chyna was betrayed in the worst way by her partner and father of her child, Tyga. He not only cheated on her, but also began publicly dating the underage sister of Chyna's best friend, Kim Kardashian, behind her back. (Tyga also knew Kylie Jenner since she was at least 14 years old. Gross.) The relationship between Tyga and Kylie forced Chyna to not only lose her friendship with Kim, but also her relationship with the entire Kardashian family subsequently. Chyna went through—and still goes through—a series of back and forth shade with Tyga publicly that eventually proved Tyga ain’t shit and reaffirmed for the world that he’s anti-Black and a pedophile. But being in the public eye, many onlookers (including other Black femmes) wanted to drag Chyna because she's a Black femme seen through the gaze of hoe-ness and her response to Tyga’s behavior proved "she still cares" or "she's mad that she's not Kylie."

Chyna continuously dealt with the white supremacist gaze that her Black beauty and her Black body will never be more worthy than a thin white girl with a waist trainer and lip shots. Ultimately, the idea that she must be a white girl in order to be praised for her body and sexuality, or to be seen as worthy or loved, is violence that she is continuously surviving.

When Tyga "bought" Kylie a Ferrari for her 18th birthday, it represented that Chyna will always be the baby mama but never the girl you'll go bankrupt for/risk your entire career for. Chyna and Amber Rose channeled their resilience in a powerful Black feminist statement by showing up to the VMA's in custom made gowns adorned in the words often used to shame Black women with their kind of serxual agency: hoe, whore, gold digger, slut, and so forth. This was a powerful statement for all pro-hoe Black femmes who demand sexual agency, body autonomy, and respect.

To recap: Blac Chyna was cheated on by her pedophilic ex-boyfriend, and then dumped for an underaged girl (who was also her former best friend's sister and a part of an anti-black media conglomerate that has major influence in mainstream white media)… and yet, she is dragged for being a “hoe” and “ugly” because she’s a Black woman. But what does she do? Dates Rob Kardashian. She will now be at every family function seeing her ain't-shit baby daddy and his new found “family” created out of betrayal and misogyny. Whether her intent is revenge or true love, her ability to find happiness and means of surviving heartbreak are definitely Black feminist goals.

In looking at both Amber Rose and Blac Chyna’s stories of survival and thriving, there is a structural context of anti-Black misogyny framing them as exploitative gold diggers and attention whores too consumed with their ex’s rather than their own lives. We’ve seen both women compared to their ex-partners’ current love interests (who are also white women). In these comparisons, we see that Kanye West is praised for “upgrading” to Kim, because while she emulates Blackness as cultural currency and relevancy through her body and relationship to Blackness, she cannot be separated her from whiteness. Kardashian is seen as white acceptable—never Black and therefore undesirable—though her perceived racial ambiguity differentiates her from other white women as exotic. Kylie has been put on a beauty standard pedestal for young girls (read: white girls) through her appropriation of Black culture and Black features, while still maintaining whiteness enough to hold all the cultural positioning and power it confers.

These direct comparisons reinforce that Black women will always be the baby mama, but never the wife, and that Black women ain’t shit unless someone else deems them worthy.

The world is afraid of hoes winning. The world is afraid of Black women and femmes who know their worth and demand their agency in a society seeking to destroy and silence them. We fear Black women and femmes obtaining happiness, sexual agency, financial stability, love, and family. The hatred and other-ing of Chyna and Amber is a reflection of racist misogyny that places sexualization, dehumanization, and limitation upon Black women—including our bodies, autonomy, and sexual agency. So when Chyna and Amber not only reclaim their agency as Black women, but challenge the world that seeks to destroy their ability to “win” or love themselves – it’s revolutionary.

We’ve been so ingrained into believing that respectability wins that when we see exceptions to these unspoken cultural rules (re: white supremacist patriarchal violence), we feel like everything we’ve ever worked towards is a waste. We feel like our worthiness, our journey, and our moral compass is questioned. To see Amber Rose and Blac Chyna being carefree, freely sexual, loving parents, and independent women, we feel like something has been stolen from us. Somehow we believe that Black women and femmes who are deemed as “hoes” and who are “winning” (read: succeeding, enjoying financial stability, and remaining happy, unbothered, and unbossed) must mean we’re losing. We’ve internalized ideas of anti-Black misogyny that frames our understanding of Amber Rose as an ain’t-shit stripper that was never worthy of the relationship, love, marriage, or family she acquired. Our internalized ideas of Black women have allowed us to believe that Chyna was always out to get Tyga’s money and that she is nothing more than a bitter stripper solely out to get revenge because she’s jealous of a white girl and wants her ex back.


We have internalized and perpetuated the hegemonic white supremacist patriarchal views that create a hierarchy of worthiness when it comes to women. We reinforce the virgin-whore dichotomy by making sure that we separate ourselves from the hoe-ness of someone else to subsequently uplift ourselves closer to pureness. We distinguish what body types are acceptable, specifying thinness and whiteness as beauty ideals – thus, leaving Black women’s bodies codified as ugly, and yet fascinating and tantalizing enough to recreate our features on non-Black bodies. Our society continues to mark Black women as a problem, regardless of what respectability we attempt to achieve. When we spend our lives navigating and surviving within white supremacist patriarchy as Black women and femmes, we normalize the idea that we must embody a culture of dissemblance.

In her piece “Rape and the Inner Lives of Black Women in the Middle West,” Darlene Clark Hine defines this as rejecting stereotypes used to violently define Black women and femmes to the point that you become the exact opposite of that stereotype. We protect ourselves from being seen as sexual because anti-Black misogyny (including white supremacist patriarchy and “plantation politics”) tells us we’re hoes before we’re born. As Black women and femmes, we’re all codified as hoes under white supremacist patriarchy. When Amber Rose and Blac Chyna demand their autonomy and agency, it pushes mainstream feminism and spaces for body autonomy to new levels for all of us.

Whether they know it or not, Blac Chyna and Amber Rose are challenging anti-Black misogyny and ultimately claiming agency that they and every Black woman or femme deserve. We've seen extensive back and forth shots thrown at Blac Chyna and Amber Rose on Twitter and Instagram. In these exchanges, the power of Black womanhood—through ultimate carefree Black girl clapbacks and the camaraderie of "hoes before everyone else"—has made people question, "How is it possible that these girls don't care? How do they manage to be happy and uplift one another through all the hate?"

Blac Chyna and Amber Rose are nothing short of powerful and resilient. Their challenging of society's standards and misogynistic ideals for women, specifically Black women, within popular culture makes them worthy as role model feminists who are actively being radical in their everyday existence. We need Blac Chyna and Amber Rose because they contribute to our own personal liberation to be free in who we are. They remind us that our agency is imperative and that we have every right to exist how we want.

If they can win, then we all can.

Photo: Tinseltown / Shutterstock

Ashleigh Shackelford is a queer, agender Black fat femme writer, artist, and cultural producer. Ashleigh is a contributing writer at For Harriet, a community organizer at Black Future, and the creator of a body positivity organization Free Figure Revolution. She is a Ratchet Black Feminist dedicated to dismantling anti-Blackness. Read more at BlackFatFemme.com.

Yesterday, I was harassed over ten times.

Not just on the street, and not just in the form of whistling and yelling... I was stopped four times on my way home by folks who just wanted to ask me for the time, talk about the weather, or discuss where I was going while they followed me. Men continued to approach me, draining me of my energy and demanding my attention for small talk.

It's safe (and disheartening) to say that in some way, most women, girls, and femmes have experienced some form of catcalling. Catcalling is an umbrella term for sexual harassment and gender violence that includes sexist remarks/demands, dog whistling, or aggressive intimidation tactics to adhere to someone's advances. Yet, catcalling—often used to describe street harassment—does not encompass the other atrocities of predatory misogyny. Catcalling needs to be expanded upon, as this violence of denying our own agency and humanity based on someone else’s sexualization of us goes beyond just the street, and beyond commentary made in passing.


During Christmas time, someone offered to allow me to cut the line while I was getting on the bus (despite my boarding pass being #25) to travel back home for the holiday. I was also able to merely exist, and subsequently sexualized and ogled by the bus driver, enough for him to load my extra bag in the undercarriage for free. Later, I was given double portions and a free meal because the cashier thought I was pretty. Further into my weekend, a bouncer at a club gave me a pass for not having my ID on me because he wanted my number.

These scenarios speak to how catcalling is often deemed as "favors" predicated on the sexualization and beauty positioning that these men and masculine folks codify upon our bodies. I speak to beauty positioning because I believe that there is a hierarchy created out of the misogyny and violence of oppressive beauty standards (re: presentation and performance) that deems some of us worthy of these "favors.” In fact, we are just being forced to fit into someone else’s dangerously limited idea of sexualized attraction (RE: our proximities to whiteness, thinness, ability, height, and other features and presentations deemed socially acceptable). I would never acknowledge receiving these "favors" as a privilege because they are purely based in sexualization and fetishization.

These “favors” are a vestige of rape culture, and there must be a need to challenge how rape culture manifests within our everyday navigation.

On the opposing spectrum of this kind of misogynistic violence are the times I'm blatantly ignored because I'm seen as too ugly to be paid attention or courteous to. Or disregarded as a person because someone else's humanity is more valuable.

When I was in 7th grade, two boys in my middle school class pulled me into the bathroom, pushed me down, called me fat and ugly, and spit on me. I'll never forget how disgusting I felt. As the school year progressed, I was continuously harassed as a result of them plaguing the other girls in my class with more “acceptable” forms of misogyny—such as harassment disguised as being a “crush.” The reality set in that the particular type of harassment I suffered—being pushed, insulted, and spat on—would never happen to a pretty, thin, white girl.

Years ago, at a house party, I was punched in the face by a guy who felt like I talked too much shit and, thus, deserved to be put in my place. When he hit me, more men laughed with him than those who came to my rescue.Their lack of sympathy still resonates with me as a consequence of living in a beauty-obsessed rape culture. When other men participate in group misogyny and violence against femmes like me—who are often seen as inconveniences—that reaffirms the norm of defiling bodies that are not “worthy” of misogynistic desire.


When I was sexually assaulted, all I could think about was how one of my classmates said, “No one would ever rape someone as ugly as you.” This disgusting comment from my classmate resonated with me in ways that challenged me from coming forward. When I finally opened up about my assault, no one believed me because they couldn't imagine a fat black girl being raped. After the assault, I was even met with the question, "But you're pretty big. Why couldn't you fight him off?" This only reaffirmed that my body and existence are not worthy of such a
“prestigious” form of misogynistic violence. Many people believe that rape, assault, and catcalling only happen to those deemed worthy of this kind of gendered violence. Thus, a violent, misogynistic compliment should be appreciated with silence.

There is a hierarchy of deservingness put on women, girls, femmes, and non-masculine bodies that delegate a culture of misogyny on a violent spectrum. Women who are categorized as beautiful should expect to be sexually harassed, while those who are categorized as ugly should be grateful for the attention and consideration. In addressing this spectrum of violence, we need to complicate our understandings of street harassment and catcalling. Erasure is an equally violent form of misogynistic brutality against our bodies.

We are affected everyday when our safety is based upon someone else's sexualization or beauty positioning of our bodies in order to determine our worthiness and humanity. Let's challenge spaces to include narratives and experiences that speak to being ignored, marginalized, or violated for not being "pretty enough" to be humanized. We must demand that our value as human beings—whether we identify as woman, girl, or femme—exist outside of the dominant scope and gaze of rape culture. Our humanity is not currency for survival. We deserve to exist free from fear, free from expectation, and free from misogynistic violence.

Photo: Shutterstock

Ashleigh Shackelford is a radical queer Black fat femme based in Richmond, VA. Ashleigh is a cultural producer, body positivity advocate, pop culture enthusiast, and a run-on sentence repeat offender. They are a community organizer at Black Action Now and the director of Free Figure Revolution. Find more posts at: BlackFatFemme.com.

by Altheria Gaston

Abortion is a polarizing issue in the U.S. The fighting between those in pro-choice and pro-life camps is nothing new. But encouraging women to proudly reveal on social media that they’ve had abortions is somewhat a novel idea. This is exactly what Lindy West promoted on September 19th when she tweeted the hashtag #ShoutYourAbortion.

By Cinnamon Williams

“What does that liberatory sexuality look like? I mean, let me theorize that it may very well be that celibacy is the face of that liberatory sexuality.” -bell hooks

By Laina Dawes

I learned a very valuable lesson about the power of an image a couple of weeks ago when Twitter handed me my ass on a platter. As the dissenting voice on a panel discussing Janet Jackson (who, after a four-year hiatus and declining record sales, released a new single and is set to embark on an international tour next year), longtime fans came after me for openly questioning her relevancy. Could she remain as important as she was during her heyday (1990-2004) among the current throng of pop stars?

Growing up, influenced by mainstream media and the church, I believed that virginity was important. It was like a medal those of us who had chosen to not have sex, especially in a time where it feels like EVERYBODY is having sex. In movies, there is always a big fuss about a girls first time; it needs to be perfect, it needs to be done with the “right guy” (the church says preferably someone you’re married to) AND it must be a member of the opposite sex.

by Michelle Denise Jackson

Last week, the International Business Times reported that Nigerian President Goodluck Jonathan had signed a bill that criminalizes female "circumcision," or what many have termed female genital mutilation (FGM).

by Anna Gibson

by Raisa Habersham

by Altheria Gaston


The first time I heard of HIV/AIDS was in 1988 as an 8th grade student. All the 8th graders had been summoned to the auditorium for “the talk.” I remember leaving the auditorium with the impression that HIV/AIDS was a gay men’s disease. Never would I have imagined that in 25 years, Black women would lead HIV/AIDS statistics.

by Kesiena Boom

by Tiffanie Drayton


No woman should be ashamed of being honest about her sexual needs or desires. Though I now make that statement with confidence as a 25-year-old woman, I have just truly begun to embrace the idea that I have the right to assert myself in the bedroom by asking for what I want just how I want it—without feeling guilty or burdened by my partner's needs. I have every right to my own pleasure. That realization has allowed me to own my sexuality and learn how to properly love myself.

Tink’s “Ratchet Commandments” has quickly become the latest prescribed respectability anthem for women. Ah, yes, I’m sure a group of New Blacks are nodding their heads in approval.