An important work on an essential subject, Fierce Angels explores and explodes the idea of the “strong black woman” as never before. Authoritative yet deeply personal and daringly confessional, Sheri Parks’s bold new study of the black female’s role as communal savior and martyr will challenge and change anyone who reads it.
Fierce Angels exposes the overwhelming emotional costs—as well as the benefits—attached to this role. Parks, an esteemed scholar and popular media personality, provides exclusive interviews and astute analysis, as well as accounts of her own searing and inspiring experiences, to highlight the myths and the realities of black women’s lives. Beginning with the oldest ongoing archetype, the Dark Feminine, Parks reveals the layered significance of the fertility of darkness—the abyss out of which the world was spoken into existence, the primordial creator in ancient Greek, Sumerian, and West African cultures, and the essence of Mother Earth herself. As these myths matured, they played critical parts in the assignment of maternal roles to women of African descent, the Dark Feminine acquiring a particularly acrid scent once she crossed the Atlantic Ocean in shackles, bound for a life of slavery.
Parks traces the development of the “strong black woman” throughout her life on Southern plantations and New York streets and in countless kitchens in between. From the Black Madonna celebrated by Italian Americans to the nurturing and selfless “Mammy” forced to nurse her master’s child before her own, these abiding symbols of fortitude and dependability only solidified the mold into which the powerful dark woman was cast and paved a path that her descendants would have no choice but to follow.
Fierce Angels follows the inheritors of this legacy of power, compassion, and familial devotion into today’s world, seeing her in Coretta Scott King, who relinquished her dreams for those of her husband, and in Angela Dawson, a mother in East Baltimore whose home was fire-bombed when she tried to save her community from drug dealers. Parks also shares important examples from entertainment, cogently reexamined and in some cases surprisingly reclaimed, from Hattie McDaniel in Gone with the Wind to the no-nonsense Lieutenant Anita Van Buren played by S. Epatha Merkerson on Law & Order .
Bringing it all home, Parks recalls the personal costs she’s paid for her own identity and fascinatingly captures those moments when she is expected to be all and know all, whether for her students at work or for strangers in the produce aisle in the supermarket. She investigates the support systems holding these stereotypes in place—latched onto by those both within and outside the traditional black community—and challenges readers, mothers, and daughters alike to examine how damaging and rewarding the assignment of this role can be and to take control of it within their lives.
Credible and cathartic, piercing and provocative, Fierce Angels is a book born of pain and introspection, a work sure to stir debate and become the primary source on this vital topic.
I discovered archetypes right after Jung did (so sadly he gets all the credit) and they never cease to fascinate me. You learn about an archetype, first you are a bit incredulous but soon you see it everywhere you turn your head.
Sheri Parks discusses the Strong Black Woman archetype in its different incarnations throughout the centuries focusing mostly on American culture and society. At first I thought the whole idea was too far-fetched - to go from prehistorical times to Michelle Obama over 150 pages and claim it's all one thing.
I wasn't always sure the archetype is owned solely by black women as it reminded me a lot of my country's beloved archetype - the so called Matka Polka (Polish Mother) that asks Polish women to save their children, husbands, community and preferably the whole country as well. Eventually though, I had to agree that white women (especially in Western countries) have more archetypes/roles to choose from than black women.
The first four chapters were an insightful piece of acedemical work but Parks lost me (and consequently one star) with the fifth chapter which read more like Chicken Soup for the African-American woman's soul rather than serious non fiction literature. It was all stories about some women who were selfless, selfsacrifacing and extremely hardworking. I just don't believe that black women have a monopoly on that attitude. I see women like that all the time, they come in all skin colours and nationalities. This particular thing has a lot more to do with gender.
The last chapter, which I am guessing was supposed to offer a summary and conclusion, was just all over the place. I couldn't tell where it was coming from nor where it was going. It also made Sheila Johnson sound absolutely obnoxious (unwillingly I suppose).
Oh, just go ahead and read the first four chapters and then return the book to the library.
The cover an title are the most appealing aspect of this work. I was expecting a great expose on the nature of Black female image and identity from a scholarly perspective - written for a common audience. What I ended up with was a semi-autobiographical rant from a woman jaded by unfair life experiences - which have colored her sense of self and the larger community of Black women. The best part of the entire work was the first chapter on the sacred Black feminine - which can get murky - however, she clarified the omnipresence of the sacred and the important role blackness, fertility and femininity contributed to ancient practices.
MIchelle Obama's embattled ascent to the position of first lady has reinvigorated a range of historical discourses about the nature of black womanhood in the U.S. Are all black women irremediably angry? Can black women be ladies? Can strong women be feminine?
The Strong Black Woman (SBW) has been a persistent and enduring stereotype since black women arrived on our shores. However, Sheri Parks, associate professor of American Studies at the University of Maryland, argues that this image is merely an American version of the Sacred Dark Feminine: a mythically strong, God- like, undeniably female force, often embodied in brown skin, and found across cultures and religions. Examples include the Black Madonna figure in Catholicism, the “black but comely” bride in the biblical book Song of Solomon, and the Greek and Roman goddess Night. Even the theoretical psychologist Carl Jung understood the Sacred Dark Feminine to be a central human archetype.
In the American context, Parks finds recurring representations of the Sacred Dark Feminine in self-sacrificing lave mothers and doting mammy figures who “serve[d:] the collective emotional needs of the country” by offering “comfort, forgiveness, and transformation” in periods of national upheaval. Tracing representations of mammy figures from slavery to the present, however, Parks provides a compelling account of the creative ways that black women subverted this inaccurate and demeaning stereotype. She describes actress Hattie McDaniel—the first African American woman to win an Oscar, for her role in Gone with the Wind—who often played maids and routinely infused her characters with “angry, sarcastic, snide” remarks.
Although the SBW has existed to salve America’s racially inflicted emotional scars, it is the Angry Black Woman (ABW) who has emerged as a source of national fear and discomfort. Where the SBW heals wounds, the ABW creates them. The media commonly misrepresent this angerin ways that render black women as dangerous, out-of-control and in need of discipline; examples include the misguided, satiric New Yorker cover depicting a fist-bumping Michelle Obama dressedin military fatigues or Tyler Perry’s comedic character Madea, the gun-toting, sassy grandmother in drag. Parks, however, says black women’s anger can be a force for social justice. In her chapter “You Say ‘Angry Black Woman’ like its a Bad Thing,” she characterizes it as “a strategy and a style, a modus operandi used to spark change.”
It’s been more than 30 years since feminist Michele Wallace’s Black Macho and the Myth of the Superwoman exposed the manner in which black men deployed the myth of the SBW to obscure the needs and vulnerabilities of real black women. Parks’ book goes much further. Though there are many indomitable black women who possess formidable levels of strength, she argues, they are not superhuman, and it is detrimental to all of us to remain invested in such problematic stereotypes. These women are change agents in American life, fiercely human angels, whose stories deserve the kind of complex and nuanced analysis that Parks’ book delivers
I'm sure the author had noble intentions. It's no easy feat to examaine the black woman as viewed through pop culture representations, American culture, and black culture. Unfortunately, this book attempts to do this in a way that conveys a sense of stoic matyrdom.
Nowhere does the author offer any kind of examination of just how detrimental these social assumptions are. It felt as if I was expected to rejoice in the "strong black woman" archetype while beint told, simultaneously, that the archetype was flawed.
The author gives lots of details and often times repeats herself. She goes on forever about the Mammy character. Then she takes you on a trip down African American TV memory lane, which was very enlightening. I was a little turned off by her using Mrs. Obama as an example in her chapter on "you say 'strong black women' like it's a bad thing". Overall I think the book is a good resource with an index in the back. That will be kept on my book shelf as a reference book.
This book takes on a really important subject, and has some moments of real insight. But I found much of it written a little sloppily, with neither an adherence to scholarly norms and sourcing, nor the pizzazz of a popular book.
Awesome insight and research. Recommended for anyone who wonders why Black women are treated a certain way, and why Black women respond to that treatment that way that they do.