Don’t take my word on women’s issues

I made a big mistake earlier this week. After hearing Liberal Leader Justin Trudeau’s comments about why young men harass and abuse women — namely, that “there’s a lot of misogyny in certain types of music,” and “a lot of communities where fathers are less present” — I took to Twitter to respond to what I viewed as stereotypical remarks, and lost sight of the bigger picture.

I rarely pass a day without reading or hearing that black Canadians are failing to thrive, in large part, because of our absentee fathers and our violent music. Such simplistic explanations of the plight of blacks, and many other marginalized groups, comfort people who are afraid to investigate our suffering.

I was shocked to hear Trudeau use such familiar language to explain violence against women, and although he did not name — and still refuses to name — the specific communities and types of music he was talking about, I couldn’t shake the feeling of déjà vu. After I criticized Trudeau for feeding into the stereotypes I know and despise, I was flooded with tweets, e-mails and media requests. I have no regrets about describing how Trudeau’s comments struck me as a black man.

But the problem Trudeau failed to address, and which I in turn glossed over in challenging him, is the systemic oppression of women in Canada, in every community, every day.

Angela Robertson, executive director of the Central Toronto Community Health Centres, was a panellist at the federal women’s issue debate where Trudeau’s pre-recorded remarks were played.

When asked how he and others had fared in addressing the causes of violence against women. Robertson made it clear how she interpreted Trudeau’s music comment. “We heard about rap music,” she noted with a chuckle.

Then Robertson continued, “but I didn’t hear a commentary about patriarchy and about women’s inequality, and how women’s inequality produces and creates conditions that create violence in our lives.”

She said if federal party leaders addressed systemic inequality for women, they would be more likely to recommend systemic solutions involving women’s roles in the economy, in education and in their communities.

This kind of analysis is light years beyond my own. No surprise, as Robertson is a distinguished community worker, organizer and activist for women who need a larger voice in society.

Tellingly, many newspapers and TV networks that seized on my comments did not cite Robertson, or any other woman, for that matter. It was an argu- ment about women’s well-being, without women’s voices.

Women I am connected with on social media, many of them racialized, noticed Trudeau’s remarks before I did and began speaking out. I could have retweeted and shared all of their posts, and amplified their frustration. Instead, I started my own conversation. A reporter who came to my home to interview me asked if I felt weird answering questions about a women’s debate. I did, and I should have referred her to a dozen women who were speaking out more capably, comprehensively and personally than I ever could.

Despite my feelings about what Trudeau said, I can never truly know how his words affected women who want and need us to have deeper conversations about patriarchy, misogyny, sexism and rape culture. When Elizabeth May, the only female leader of a major Canadian political party, says “there is pervasive sexism in our society,” she speaks with an authority of experience that her male counterparts lack.

However passionately men may feel about women’s issues, we have to learn to step back and let the experts speak.

This does not mean that Trudeau’s arguments have no racial significance. Robertson told the Star that Trudeau chose his words poorly, and added that the language of absent fathers “has often been code word for black communities, for racialized communities, possibly indigenous communities.”

Since the controversy, I have received dozens of messages asking me if I’m “denying that absentee dads are a big problem in black households” or if I will admit that rap music is “the most misogynistic and violent mainstream music.”

Trudeau should have known his ambiguous comments would focus scrutiny on marginalized people. Perhaps he will learn from his mistake. I’ve learned that even though racism and sexism intersect, I am not qualified to speak to that intersection as well as those who experience it.

A federal candidate who was following my Twitter discussion wrote, “I am a woman, I am black . . . I have experienced sexism & racism. Why not ask me?” Next time, I will. Desmond Cole’s column appears every Thursday.