When I first began this comparative work, I was worried that my project was too “obvious” or that, by now, the critiques of the anti-violence movement launched by radical women of color activists were practically axiomatic. However, the Brazilian context brings new life to this critique. My work stems from an old critique: that utilizing police apparatuses and positioning the state as ‘protector’ of women will not save women from violence. Because various arms of the state consistently and disproportionately commit violence against communities of color (for example, rampant police brutality, mass incarceration, racism, colonialism, economic exploitation) and because sexual violence has always been a tool of patriarchy, colonialism and racism, the state, through the criminal justice system, cannot effectively thwart violence against women of color because it simultaneously enacts it (Incite 2006). Instead, organizers and advocates must put forth intersectional remedies that assure safety for women yet do not expand the scope of repressive policing apparatuses. The Brazilian context is an appropriate site from which to begin envisioning possibilities for such remedies. How do we actually do this work, epistemologically, methodologically, and practically or “on the ground”?
Rather than address violence against women of color by adding a ‘multicultural component’ to the traditional sexual and domestic violence prevention model that was built with the interests of white women, radical women of color have called for an epistemological reframing of the movement’s central questions. They demand that we look to women of color’s experiences with violence as the starting point (or stand point) from which to imagine anti-violence strategies. By looking at the central articulations of violence that affect women of color, one is forced to examine state-sponsored violence – the type of violence inflicted upon them by state institutions. Although some of the most obvious institutions that sponsor violence are police, prison, and immigration officials, violence is also perpetuated by the welfare, health, economic, and education systems. Thus, INCITE!, the largest, multi-racial, grassroots feminist organization in the
[T]his perspective… benefits not only women of color, but all peoples, because it is becoming increasingly clear that the criminal justice system is not effectively ending violence for anyone. In fact, The New York Times recently reported that the effect of strengthened anti-domestic violence legislation is that battered women kill their husbands less frequently; however, batterers do not kill their partners less frequently. Thus, ironically, laws passed to protect battered women are actually protecting their batterers.
By starting from the standpoint of women of color we can build more comprehensive analyses and strategies that address the myriad and intersecting forms of violence facing women, as INCITE! suggests. What if, rather than asking, “what should an anti-violence program look like?” feminists and anti-violence organizers asked, “what would it take to END violence against women?” What would our strategies look like, even if they shared none of the features of the current movement (Incite 2006)? What is possible if we have no rules to adhere to?
This, I believe, is one site where the comparative US-Brazil project is especially productive. When I asked a Brazilian Fulbright scholar how the anti-violence against women movement has dealt with the tension [regarding relying on a repressive system to address violence], she said that she didn’t think that this issue was “on the table at all.” She suggests that the anti-violence movement has not looked beyond the single-pronged strategy of encouraging women to go the women’s police stations in search of safety and does she not believe that a professional network of shelters exists. Before this conversation I thought that these critiques had been put forth in
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