issue no. 2: Jaimee Swift
On doing politics differently while rockin’ out to No Doubt.
Dr. Jaimee Swift (she/her) is the creator, founder, and Executive Director at Black Women Radicals & The School for Black Feminist Politics. A political scientist and Assistant Professor of Black Politics, Jaimee is dedicated to uncovering and restoring Black women and gender expansive people’s experiences from a global perspective. She works with Black feminist activists, organizers, scholars, and educators around the globe to explore and expand on the pluralities of Black feminisms.
Here’s how Jaimee, a woman with a laundry list of writings, projects, endeavors, and more, navigates being a custodian for Black feminisms for the long haul.
This interview has been edited for length and clarity — Feb 2024.
On routines, reciprocity, and “no” as a revolution:
I drastically changed how I operate, and I'll tell you why later, but let's just say “old” Jaimee’s day last year was waking up, saying, “Thank you God for another day,” but being frantic in the sense of I know I have so many things to do. So I’m waking up, sometimes not even eating breakfast or allowing myself to situate, shower, get myself together and then go immediately through my to-do list. Sometimes I was waking up at 4am or 5am to make sure my classes were prepped, but I was also doing Black Women Radicals work. I would teach a course or two, come back and have four meetings back-to-back-to-back, then I’d advise some of my students. Then, I’d get on two to three other calls, and finally make myself something to eat, probably watch Powerpuff Girls, then say, “Thank God for this day,” and go to bed.
But after last year, and in the past few years actually, I was noticing my body was giving away, my mind was giving away, and I was not focusing on myself at all. I was giving so much to other people. I recognized it wasn’t reciprocal, and that if something ever happened to me, people would be like, “Oh, Jaimee Swift was a nice person, but we're on to the next.” And that's a very typical experience of a Black woman and the stereotype of a superhero or a superwoman. I can name several Black women who've died early because of the amount of stress, the amount of responsibility, and the amount of care work that we do that is not reciprocal.
And so now - Jaimee wakes up in the morning slowly. I pray for an hour. I make my hot cocoa (I gave up coffee for a bit) or some tea. I fix myself a nice breakfast, and I sit and read. Then my day progresses, but I stop working at 6:30pm in the evening. I chose me — you see everyone else choosing them, and it's not a retaliatory reactionary thing, but it's knowing that I need to choose myself. I need to establish boundaries and I need to say “no.” If people have a problem with that, if people have a problem with your boundaries or requests, that means that they never really respected you or cared about you from the beginning.
We're supposed to be these radical feminists who are deconstructing or decolonizing these systems of racial capitalism and amongst other things like state sanctioned violence, carcerality, etc — and if I tell you “no” and you get mad, then you're just looking at this in the abstract and not applying it to our day-to-day. A lot of people have to wrestle with that and I've had to do that, too. But for me, it's definitely choosing me, saying “no,” establishing boundaries and knowing that the work will be there another day. Granted, there's a lot of things in our world that require urgency as we see what's going on in Palestine, Congo, Sudan and Haiti — state violence genocide that's going on that requires urgency — but other things, they do not require me to sacrifice my mental, emotional, and physical health. So that's what I decided to do. It's an everyday challenge, but I'm much happier with my decision, and I'm alive, and I think that's what is important.
On routines for unwinding:
There are several [practices of rest] that I started noticing. I love lighting candles. There’s something about quietly sitting in the dark, lighting candles and reflecting on my day — what I may have done right in the sense of, “I did this today. I accomplished this today,” or what I could have done better, “How was my interaction with this person?” or “Could there be a better way to articulate myself?”
I also love to dance. I was obsessed with No Doubt as a teenager — Oh, it's my Life. Don't you forget. Recently, it was the 20th or 25th anniversary of the song, so I literally had a jam session. I wish someone could have seen this — I was rock and roll. I was flipping all around having a great time, just being in my inner girl child.
So, I play my vinyl records. I go to the gym and listen to music. I step out on my balcony sometimes and take a breath. I've started cooking more for myself. I think those things actually sustain me and remind me I can have joy in my life and it's the small things. The slowness and stillness is what I need instead of moving so swiftly (no pun intended to my last name).
On navigating the spectrum of urgency:
As a Black feminist, as a Black woman, to me everything is urgent. We have always lived in a world where folks wanted to keep Black people and people of color subordinated in our lives. We're in a precarious position. So many things happen all the time and it's something as mundane as going to the gas station or going to the store can cost you your life. So, I always feel like it's a state of emergency.
In the context of what's going on in our world - particularly with Palestine, Congo, Haiti - there's a level of urgency that is required because we need people on the ground. We need to be doing as many events, raising as much awareness as we possibly can, and I will continue to do that. But if it's other things like “I contacted you two days ago about an internship or to be my mentor and you didn't get back to me by the end of the week,” I can't do that for you right now to be honest. As much as I'm so humbled by that, people sometimes don't think of folks who are in movement as people.
As a Black person, Black woman, Black feminist, we already know that Black people have never been rendered human anyway and are considered to be fungible, but I'm a person and I have things going on in my life — my family, friends and colleagues who need my support. So, when I say “choosing me,” I will get back to you as soon as I can but right now I have to do what's best for me, because there are also a lot of other people who are relying on me and require a lot of my attention.
On being a custodian for Black feminisms:
I have never likened what I do as activism or organizing —I think “activist” is such a loaded term. I recognize that we all contribute to activism and organizing differently, and there's different modalities to it. I have likened myself to a “political and cultural custodian,” a “political scientist,” and just a lover of people who does this work.
I also found, as a transnational or internationalist Black feminist, that when we say activism or Black feminist activism, we sometimes look to English-speaking, Global North, light skin, able-bodied, with a PhD. My goal with Black Women Radicals and the School for Black Feminist Politics has always been “Who are these other voices that are doing activism but doing activism in a different way?” I cite Marielle Franco, who is a Black Brazilian bisexual feminist, who is a politician and organizer that said she's interested in doing politics in a different way. And so for me, I save the term “activist” for those who I feel like are really, really doing the work. I'm just a custodian here to uplift others and the amazing work that they're doing.
On disruption to current events:
There are a lot of things firing me up — the movement for a ceasefire, the movement for a free Palestine, the movement for Congo, Haiti, Sudan… like I have never seen…I think that what we saw in Summer 2020 for the movement for Black lives for George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, and many others was crucial, and I can't even put the words to it. It was amazing to see the way people stood in solidarity.
This right here, what we're seeing is that we're really disrupting. We were disrupting before, but we're disrupting this propaganda that says that if you speak out against the state of Israel, you are antisemitic. Not to say that antisemitism does not exist - it does and it's a problem. Barbara Smith has written several pieces about racism and antisemitism in the feminist movement. But, what we're really seeing is this dismantling of the historical and contemporary state violence that was occurring before October 7th, and that has me fired up.
I'm also fired up about the future of Black feminist politics. I'm glad to see that younger people are disrupting business as usual within Black feminist politics and are really invested in this internationalist approach to Black feminist politics. I'm thinking about groups like Black Feminist Fund and also individuals, like Dr. Angela Davis, who have always had this internationalist approach.
On passing the baton:
I’m “choosing me” to really focus on my health and also to pass the baton eventually. Another thing about this work is [the assumption] that we are supposed to be leaders of these movements or organizations until we're in our 70’s or 80’s. No, we need to pass the baton and share our wisdom with younger folks, so that they can keep the work moving and transform the work.
There is a West African concept called Sankofa. It's from the Akan ethnic group in West Africa and the term Sankofa loosely translates to “go back and fetch” or “go back and get it” or “it is not taboo to fetch what is at risk of being left behind.” A lot of my work deals with archives and also creating collective memories of Black feminists, Black feminist movements, and Black feminisms — and I say Black feminisms in its plurality.
For me passing the baton looks like creating these archives of Black women and gender expansive people who are doing this amazing work who may not get to shine, or may not always get to be on TV or get interviews, but they're doing the work and they've been crucial to movement building.
Another way I see passing the baton is working with young people and speaking with young people. So much of this work is thankless and can be daunting at times, but whenever a young person wants to speak with me, I speak with them. I make it a point to pour into them and offer them advice because they're the ones that are going to be leading the work.
I’m also thinking about what I can put in place for Black Women Radicals and the School for Black Feminist Politics in terms of its history and organizational structure. How can I make that as simple as possible to pass off to the next person where they don't have to scramble or figure out “Oh my gosh. What is this?” I think that a lot of folks don't do that because they want to hold on to leadership so much. My biggest way to pass the baton is to give encouragement and to give people the real deal about what this means to lead an organization, work with others, have empathy, have a fire to transform, but also knowing that we're not just trying to transform the world — we need to transform ourselves. What we are trying to apply in the world is what we need to apply for ourselves.
Lastly, my faith as a Christian and my faith in Black feminisms are intertwined. I see Jesus Christ as a revolutionary and I also see Fanny Lou Hamer, Ella Baker, Benedita da Silva, Marsha P. Johnson as revolutionaries, too. They did the work with the love of people and so that is what encapsulates the work that I do and that is what I want to pass off as well.
On not seeing “eye to eye:”
Like Marielle Franco said, I'm interested in doing politics in a different way. I'm not interested in the same modalities, techniques, or traditions. Yes, they're important, but what are we doing differently?
I'm actually interested in exploring the ruptures, the disconnects, the misunderstandings, even the hatred that many of us have for each other in movement — the cliques, the lack of citational praxis, and so forth. I’m thinking about Audre Lorde's piece “Eye to Eye” talking about anger, Black women, and mistrust between Black women. I'm interested in really getting at the root of things that are too taboo to talk about or seen as oh, you are taking it too far. I got a critique years ago saying: “You're too internationalist. Why aren't you focusing on this here?” If we're well read and understand our Black feminist history, it's always been internationalist. The United States is in the diaspora - we're just in the belly of the beast of an empire.
I'm not interested in this top-down approach to Black feminism either. I have a PhD, yes, but I don't believe that PhDs or academics are the holders or gatekeepers of Black feminisms. I'm interested in working class, poor perspectives. I'm interested in people who are not degreed elders, young people, middle aged, disabled, trans, queer… I'm interested in it all.
What I found sometimes in doing this work is that we're not always going to get along and that is completely fine. I can still respect your humanity and you, and recognize that our lives and liberation are bound up with each other — but that doesn't mean we have to be friends. I'm interested in getting more at the root of things that are not necessarily always talked about. People can say we're sisters and we're siblings, but are we really? That requires us to have a relationship and to get to know each other. People mistake being on social media or digital publics as relationships, and they can be, but not really. So when a rupture happens, are we going to throw people away? Or are we going to talk about it? Or should we establish a boundary? Or can this person no longer be in our camp? Those are things I'm interested in talking about.
On growing and (patiently) building new tables:
I'm growing in the fact that I don't need to prove myself to anyone. I don't have to do what others do to be taken seriously. Like I said before, there's different modalities of how we come into this work. I use my talents in this way and other people have their different talents and skills, recognizing that we can each bring something to the table to actually dismantle the table and create a new one. I think that's important. I’m growing in confidence in what I do - not just with Black Women Radicals but in everything that I do - recognizing that it may not look like somebody else's work, but it's still valuable because these are the skill sets that I bring to the table.
I'm also growing in being patient — a lot of this work requires patience. I was recently telling my students, “Could you imagine, in 2024, how we are regressing in terms of progressive legislation, education, attacks on critical race theory, Black feminist theory, queer and trans studies, etc?” We're seeing the firing of folks across academia and other sectors for speaking out about Palestine. We have an upcoming election, and we're seeing the rise of White supremacist, right-wing conservatism in every facet that we can see. I would have expected this world to be a little bit different by 2024, but I'm growing in patience and recognizing that the work that we are doing is not for not.
If I ever have children and they want to look back on this time, they’ll know that their mother or their friend or their professor or their sibling was on the right side of history. I'm being patient with that knowing that we will get to the right side, the transformative, transformational side. That's what I'm patient with.
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