My own identity as a young white woman has exposed me to a base level of sexism in society that I’ve experienced at school, during my summer job, and even while walking around the streets of New York City. However, my identity also fails me to understand other forms of oppression. I have not experienced racism for example.

As a young white girl, I am not “at the bottom” as written in the Combahee River Collective’s “A Black Feminist Statement.” The Collective writes, “We might use our position at the bottom, however, to make a clear leap into revolutionary action. If Black women were free, it would mean that everyone else would have to be free since our freedom would necessitate the destruction of all the systems of oppression.”  The weight of those three words “at the bottom” causes me to stand still. The Black women in the collective were not afraid to name the place that society had placed them in. They were not afraid to describe how their freedom would liberate us all. Yet, many years later, Black women are still “at the bottom” in so many areas of our society. The discomfort that comes with this realization is naturally paralyzing, but rather than accepting inaction, discomfort must feed change.

My privilege in society protects me in a way that will never be available to my Black female classmates. Initially, I found these concepts abstract and hard to understand. Perhaps I was a little defensive. After the assigned readings and in-class discussions in our feminism class, however, I developed a deeper conceptualization of  intersectionality that has allowed me to open up to what I needed to learn, moving beyond discomfort and into the process of achieving solidarity.

The Collective writes, “One issue that is of major concern to us and that we have begun to publicly address is racism in the white women’s movement.”  This statement reminds me of being placed in affinity groups at my progressive high school. When we first entered affinity groups based on racial identity, I felt like I didn’t belong there. Most of my friends at my school are students of color, so I wanted to be in a multicultural group. However, I soon learned that we as white students were grouped together so we could further research the ugly fact that our country was built on the shoulders of Black individuals who were enslaved and that this history propels a continuation of privilege for white individuals and a continuation of oppression for Black communities. We are still trying to eliminate the racism that is spoon-fed to all of us in this capitalist culture. This begs the question if we will ever meet the expectation that the Combahee River Collective holds for us as white feminists. 

Additionally, this high school class on feminism has opened my eyes to the socio-economic oppression that stems from the reality that capitalism represses certain groups merely for profit. Learning about the direct connection between capitalistic structures’ prioritization of marginalized identities to increase profit margins, rather than creating a remotely equal society, is something I am becoming increasingly aware of.

Throughout history, these marginalized identity groups have experienced immense oppression. With time, it is apparent that such marginalization is at the expense of all, rather than just the targeted group. This oppression of women and people of color, and especially of Black women, is deeply rooted in a capitalistic power structure where profits are valued over human needs and respect for differences. The writings of the Combahee River Collective, which are further explored by Keeanga-Yamahtta Taylor in pieces such as “Until Black Women are Free None of Us will be Free,” highlight how Black women have been marginalized throughout capitalist societies.

I was particularly captivated by the Combahee River Collective’s identification as socialists because of this marginalization by capitalism. While examining my own life, I cannot ignore the fact that I was born in Russia, a former socialist state guided by communist ideology. Instead, I now live in a capitalist country that claims to be democratic. I often wonder about how different my life would be if I had been raised in Russia. Would I have been educated at a progressive school?  Would I have been introduced to feminist theory at such a young age?  

There is a history of feminist movements in Russia. On March 8, 1917, thousands of Russian women met in St. Petersburg to protest for more food, peace, and the end of imperialist rule. It was only four days after these brave feminists gathered that Tsar Nicholas II was removed from his throne. And yet a decade later, the feminist movement in Russia is still fighting the oppressive state. 

I’ll never really know what my life would have been like if I were not adopted by Americans, but I do know that my worldview would be different because my community and exposure would have been the opposite it is now. Just as we’ve learned from this class, feminist movements rise from all walks of life. The Russian feminist punk band Pussy Riot is made up of members who were born and raised in Russia who now are active in anti-war protests and concerts in reaction to Putin’s war in Ukraine. I wonder if I had grown up in Russia would I have had the bravery to risk my freedom and life for the feminist anti-war resistance movement such as members of Pussy Riot. 

It seems we have all grown accustomed to our own place in this capitalistic society, but why do so many people choose not to question the reasons for these assigned places or fight to break from them?

The Combahee River Collective activists were brave enough to not only name their assigned place “at the bottom” but also to challenge it and dedicate their lives to the struggle for freedom from it. I now feel that the rejection of the oppressions that are caused by a capitalist society would benefit us all. 

I now recognize my role in perpetuating this racist and sexist hierarchy. There are transparent examples of oppression in everyday life, at least for those of us who are willing to notice and be brave enough to fight for the freedom of Black women until there is no bottom.