Master’s Thesis
Reimagining Blackness Amidst Color-Blindness
Exploring global flows of race consciousness and overlooked forms of
political engagement in the Netherlands
Ariana Rose
11578963
roseariana823@gmail.com
MSc Sociology: Social Problems and Social Policy
Thesis Advisor: Pamela Prickett
Second Reader: Marci Cottingham
Submitted July 9, 2018
TABLE OF CONTENTS
i. ABSTRACT ... 3
ii. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS ... 4
1. INTRODUCTION ... 5
2. LITERATURE REVIEW ... 8
2.1 Racism in a color-blind society ... 8
2.2 Resisting racial and cultural homogeneity ... 11
2.3 Global flows of race consciousness ... 16
3. RESEARCH DESIGN AND METHODOLOGY ... 17
3.1 Sampling and gathering of data ... 17
3.2 Design of research tools ... 19
Table 1: Participant information ... 20
3.3 Analytical approach ... 21
4. ANALYSIS ... 21
4.1 The birth of Amsterdam Black Women ... 21
4.2 Dutch society’s impermeability and its outsiders ... 22
4.3 A separate “micro-society” ... 32
4.4 Experimentation, reconfiguration, and the future ... 42
5. DISCUSSION & CONCLUSION ... 45
6. REFERENCES . ………. 48
ABSTRACT
This thesis examines how Black expat women living in the Netherlands experience racism in a color-blind society. Using intersections of nationality, race, gender, and class, it describes how Dutch expectations of racial and cultural homogeneity force these women into the margins of society. This research uses a social group called Amsterdam Black Women to understand how women organize in light of this exclusion and how they find community and belonging with similar others. Within this space, women are free to be unapologetically Black, and members find the freedom to critique Dutch society through mundane moments of truth-telling, venting, and joking. By talking about social realities and politics with others, individual problems rise to a community level.
An outcome of the globalization process is that as people and cultures move, so do their ideas about race. Hybridizing local Dutch racialized knowledge with global perspectives produces new understandings of misogynoir. Previous research on the diffusion of race consciousness has siloed the Netherlands and its colonies from other parts of the world. Little consideration has been given to non-Dutch perspectives situated in the Netherlands that fall outside of dominant white non-Dutch views. This analysis explores the impact of foreign race consciousness in Black spaces and how it is being incorporated into Dutch consciousness. Amsterdam Black Women suggests there is room to extend notions of political engagement to more subtle configurations. ABW is a site where new forms of (gendered) race consciousness and new modes of Black feminist politics are developed.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I want to thank the founders of Amsterdam Black Women – Tracian, Marly, Lené, and Dana - who openly invited my research and constantly made me feel at home. Thank you for creating this group and for speaking with me about its evolution. To the women I spoke with during research; thank you for your time, your openness, and your experiences. Without you, this research would not have been possible. Keep being brilliant, hilarious, and fabulously you.
To my thesis advisor Pamela; thank you for your guidance, optimism, and thesis group therapy sessions. The positive energy and feedback throughout this process have been invaluable. Thank you for challenging me to do my best work. And thank you to my second reader Marci for keeping me critical and self-reflexive.
To Gloria Wekker, Philomena Essed, Kwame Nimako, and others whose research on the contradictions and nuances of Dutch racism that made this research possible. To Megan Raschig for her dissertation on Las Mujeres in Salinas that offered a new interpretation of what happens in the margins. Your research provided a framework for me to better understand the important work being done within Amsterdam Black Women.
And finally, a thank you to Sylvana Simons, Anousha Nzume, Naomi Balentien, Angela Davis, Maya Angelou, Nina Simone, Josephine Baker, Lena Horne, Alicia Garza, Bree Newsome, Sarah Parker Redmond, Ruby Dee, June Jordan, Michaela DePrince, Jessica Byrd, Gabrielle Richardson, Moya Barley, Ariell Johnson, and Yara Shahidi, whose names I used to anonymize my participants.
1. INTRODUCTION
It was a Friday afternoon and I was seated at a conference table in a workspace owned by Amsterdam Black Women (ABW), a group that brings women together in a digital safe space and organizes offline social events. There were three other women with me including one of the founders of the group, and it was late enough in the day we acknowledged we were not being productive anymore. At some point we collectively focused on the ABW Facebook group because a member named Bree1, a woman from the UK, posted about a racist experience she had at Schipol, the Dutch international airport located in Amsterdam. The post started: “Today in Dutch racism” and detailed an incident where Bree was physically attacked.
The post explained she had been waiting in a line to get a travel card. A white woman in front of her had a luggage cart loaded with suitcases and a child sitting on top. As the woman started to use the machine, she turned around to ask Bree to step back to give her more room. Bree took a step back and continued to wait her turn. The woman asked her to move back some more, which Bree did not do, stating there was already plenty of space between them and that she did not want to lose her place in line. In response, the woman “screamed” at Bree to move back. She said, “If you don’t give me space I’ll make you give me space” and rammed her luggage cart into Bree repeatedly, yelling at her to go back to her own country. The woman’s husband came to the scene along with a few of the transportation company’s employees. Someone who had seen the incident told the men that Bree had done nothing wrong. The train employees told Bree there was nothing they could do about the incident, and the post ended with a sarcastic “welcome to the Netherlands.”
All four of us sitting in the conference room were stunned. We had heard of Black women being mistreated through stories of other group members, but most of the racist encounters shared were microaggressions2. Very rarely were they this blatant and rarely were they physical.
We live watched the post as comments started to come in. The first few said things like, “I’m so sorry! You must have felt awful!”, “A big hug to you!!! <3”, and “I’m sorry this happened to you [Bree]. Way to keep your cool!” Others offered practical advice letting her know she could file a complaint with the travel company for the way they handled the situation. Then Anousha, a Dutch woman replied, “Ok? So?” Members asked Anousha what she meant by her response. Bree also asked Anousha directly why she went out of her way to be dismissive of her experience when she could have scrolled past the post. Anousha replied, “How do you want us to react? ABW must be a place of upliftment.”
1 All participant names have been changed.
2 A microaggression is “a comment or action that subtly and often unconsciously or unintentionally expresses a
prejudiced attitude toward a member of a marginalized group (such as a racial minority)” (Merriam-Webster, 2018).
The founder sitting in the room with us instantly went into moderator mode. She began drafting a reply to Anousha. She was going to let her know what ABW stood for and the importance of not belittling each other’s experiences. But before she could post her response, women jumped in to defend Bree. One posted a screenshot of the ABW group summary underlining the part that read “to connect and support each other.” Women commented things like “the beauty of this group is that we can vent about such events” and “this is a space for us to feel safe to share experiences (good or bad) and be supportive of each other.”
Anousha replied to these comments, “Today is such a beautiful day, why bother yourself with what that woman did? Shake it off, enjoy the Netherlands.” Bree responded, “We’re giving too much attention to racism… Kanye West is that uuuu? Believe it or not racist people are still racist even when the sun’s out.” People continued to let Anousha know the group was a place where women could vent and find support, and many explained why her dismissive comments were harmful. Then they went back to supporting Bree, asking if she was ok, commenting on how others who saw the incident should have reacted, and commending her for being strong and handling the situation well.
Bree’s post captures the spirit of ABW well. It is an example of the way women in ABW uphold the group’s core values and enforce a safe space without the need for formal moderation. Mainstream society does not afford Black women the sympathy (Essed, 1991) Bree found by sharing her story in ABW. In doing this, ABW functioned as an Otherwise, or form of politics born from existing social conditions that frame how a different type of reality might be possible (Raschig, 2016). ABW created a world Black women wished existed in mainstream society; one where misogynoir3 (Bailey, 2010)
does not exist and one where Black women have voices that are acknowledged, understood, and validated. Women stood up for Bree when her experiences were trivialized. They embraced her struggle as something worthy of being spoken about.
It also speaks to ABW’s experimental nature in that it often does not operate the way it was designed to operate. There are occasionally individuals who compromise the dynamics of the space. In this example, there was tension between Dutch and foreign understandings of racism. Anousha dismissed the event and suggested Bree ignore it and go about her day. To Bree, this was a ridiculous and angering suggestion. As an expat, she was confronted with what one respondent described as “complacency” to racism. And Anousha encountered women who did not normalize what happened to Bree. The post exposes the complexity of the group. The formation of a primarily expat group means global understandings of race are being implanted in the Netherlands and interacting with Dutch perspectives in new ways.
Shortly after moving to Amsterdam I discovered ABW. As a Black American woman, I came with the understanding that the Netherlands was a tolerant and progressive country. But ABW’s existence suggested racial and gender inequalities in the Netherlands were not of the past. It became evident during the weeks leading up to Saint Nicholas's feast when Zwarte Piet4 protests were regular
topics of conversation that the Dutch majority did not acknowledge the voices of Black communities as valid. I assumed this was true by the ways the Dutch refused to listen to minorities who said the traidion was racist. This comes down to epistemologies – whose knowledge is prioritized, whose worldviews are universal and “correct”, and who is institutionally protected against psychological and emotional harm from society.
This thesis focuses on the mechanisms that push Black women into the margins of society and motivate the need for safe spaces like ABW. Zenzele Isoke defines spaces like these as “physical, symbolic, and relational space[s] that Black women create to politicize and transform communities plagued by social alienation and highly destructive racial-gender ideologies that routinely constrict the political empowerment of their inhabitants” (Isoke, 2013). Understanding how Black expat women experience the Netherlands is a way to link their feelings to harmful social structures and “histories that hurt” (Ahmed, 2014). This analysis discusses the significance of having a community help carry the emotional baggage of being a Black woman around. It also examines the importance of speaking critically about society, dealing with those emotions, and returning to the world post-processing. The women participating in these activities are unique in that many come from outside of the Netherlands and offer fresh perspectives on both structural and everyday manifestations of misogynoir. And although ABW was not created to resist misogynoir or strive for social change, the site imagines a future where Black women are treated as equals in society. This is political in itself (Raschig, 2016).
This conceptualization of politics does not align with traditional understandings of activism. My data suggests more subtle and experimental forms of politics are being created and have the potential to champion social change for marginalized groups. To make this argument, I first outline the Dutch landscape using an exclusion framework to analyze how Black women are marginalized on the basis of gender, race, and nationality (and then how their class privilege exacerbates these feelings of exclusion). I then describe anti-racist efforts that push back against Dutch homogeneity and where an otherwise is situated within this landscape. Here, I describe what an otherwise encompasses from a Black feminist perspective where one of the outcomes is a global transfer of race consciousness5. This
part of the analysis considers the way global racialized knowledge interacts with local perspectives to make sense of the lasting effects of Dutch colonial history.Finally, I link an otherwise to more explicit
4 Dutch people dress up as Zwarte Piet (Black Piet) with Blackface, red lipstick, Afro wigs, and hoop earrings.
Piet is portrayed as cartoonish, simpleminded, and subservient to the white Saint Nicholas (Esajas, 2014).
5 I am defining “race consciousness” as an understanding of how race and whiteness affect daily life. This
forms of politics to determine the political and social impact of ABW. How are Black women being alienated by Dutch society? How does the group go beyond existing as a social project? Is there space to reconceptualize what political action looks like in a Dutch context? Are new configurations of Black feminist politics being created in response to Dutch society?
2. LITERATURE REVIEW 2.1 Racism in a color-blind society
This section describes an exclusion framework using the concept of cultural homogeneity as a foundation. It details mechanisms at play in mainstream Dutch society where minorities deviate from expectations of racial, ethnic, and gendered homogeneity. Using these intersections, this framework is applied to Black (expat) women living in the Netherlands.
Gloria Wekker highlights a fundamental paradox in Dutch culture, asserting that racial color-blindness is at the core of Dutch identity and that there is a “forcefulness, and even aggression” in the refusal to acknowledge race or racial inequalities (Wekker, 2016, p. 1). Like other countries, the Netherlands has “an unacknowledged reservoir of knowledge and feelings based on four hundred years of imperial rule [that] have played a vital part in dominant meaning-making processes” (p. 3). This colonial history has left “imperial debris” (Stoler, 2008) embedded within social structures and everyday interactions – from microaggressions to more egregious forms of racial discrimination. But “the violence of the Dutch colonial past is framed as hidden, veiled by silence or stored in some collective Dutch unconscious where it lies unmourned” (Bijl, 2012).
Ironically, the Dutch language points to inconsistencies in this color-blind narrative. Referring to white Dutch natives as autochtonen (“those who are from here”) and racialized others regardless of nationality as allochtonen (“those who come from elsewhere”) (Essed, 2016; Wekker, 2016), language serves as a reminder that the two groups are not the same and this categorization is based on color, not country of origin. This creates racial stratification within Dutch society. Compared to ethnic Others, whiteness is constructed as unspectacular and ordinary, so normaal6 that it positively conveys a standard
or goal (Wekker, 2016, p. 2). An influx of Afro-Surinamese and Moluccan migrants in the 1970s and 1980s were juxtaposed with whiteness. Assumptions that they were unable to assimilate precipitated a need to differentiate the two groups. In distinguishing between autochtoon and allochtoon, a hierarchy was created granting power and dominance to white Dutch people in society (Wekker, 2016).
Racist ideologies in the Netherlands existed long before this influx of migrants, however. In the early 17th century, the West India Company forced indigenous Africans to work on plantations under
oppression, rape, and other violent traumas with the argument that Europeans were superior to Black populations (Afterlives of Slavery, 2018). Science and research continued to justify colonial mistreatment of African populations into the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Physical differences
called “racial characteristics” were assessed through measurements of the body. These created hierarchical classifications of character and intelligence. The findings were used as “proof” that Africans were inferior to Europeans and excused their horrific treatment (Afterlives of Slavery, 2018). In the mid-1800s, Dutch elites made racism more prominent by discussing these racist views in public arenas. During this time, assumptions about the inferiority of Black people informed school systems designed for mass education, and these sentiments crept into more widespread literature and children’s books (Essed, 1991; Redmond, 1980). These pervasive understandings of Black people became expectations and were used to assess the Surinamese who began to migrate to the Netherlands. For the first time, white Dutch people came into contact with people who had only been known abstractly, as they were previously located in the Dutch colonies (Essed, 2016). During this time, biologically determined understandings of Black people fuelled stereotypes and became more densely situated within Dutch consciousness. After their arrival to the Netherlands, the Surinamese were perceived as aggressive, lazy, and rejected Dutch culture while abusing the welfare system (Essed, 2016; Teun A. van Dijk, 1984). Race-neutral language was used to convey this “deviance” and rarely was Blackness mentioned explicitly (Essed, 1991).
Racism is a social process that implicates social structures, ideologies, and culture. Through mindsets, behavior, prejudice, and discrimination, racism is supported in the Netherlands and globally (Essed, 1991). This process is propagated through preferences for cultural homogeneity and is a specific mechanism through which POC7 are excluded in Dutch society. Essed describes this phenomenon as
“normative preferences for clones of imagined perfections of the same type and profile: masculine, white, and European” (Essed, 2002, p. 2). This unspoken norm prioritizing whiteness, maleness, and Dutchness excludes minorities for not aligning with expectations around competency and cultural fit. These assumptions are largely made from physical appearances (Essed, 2002).
Despite the long-held belief that the Netherlands has never had a problem with discrimination, quantitative research supports a different narrative. Black and other migrant populations are “excluded and marginalized in all sectors of society” and are in more precarious social and economic positions (Essed, 1991, p. 6) than whites. According to a 2007 study on the Netherlands, Turks and Moroccans had the lowest rates of labor market participation and unemployment of alloctoon groups. In 2006, only 38.7% of Moroccans and 43.9% of Turks between the ages of 15 and 64 had a job. Unemployment for Moroccans was 17.2% and 15.1% for Turks. These figures are roughly quadruple the unemployment rates of white Dutch people. 30% of Turks and Moroccans receive Dutch welfare which
is more than double the 13% of white Dutch that do. 10% of Moroccan and Antillean men and teens have been suspected of criminal activity compared to 2% of white Dutch men and teens. Racial profiling by police and harsher sentences are more commonplace for minority groups than those committed by white Dutch people (Hamburg Institute of International Economics, 2007). And Turkish, Surinamese, Antillean, and Aruban males are 25% more at risk of dying than white Dutch men, correlated with socioeconomic status. Immigrant women are also at higher risk of death than white Dutch women for the same reason (Bos et al. 2004).
Within the educational system, Black people are undervalued and institutionally kept out of higher education. Compared to autochtoon children, second-generation non-Western allochtoon children have dropout rates double that of white Dutch children (Hamburg Institute of International Economics, 2007). Black groups experience racism in the housing market. They experience criminalization in everyday life, and many can recount a time they were followed while shopping or were harassed while using public transportation (Essed, 1991).
Wekker identifies another paradox in Dutch consciousness in the mainstream’s refusal to be associated with migrants despite almost one-sixth of the population having a migrant background (Wekker, 2016). The Netherlands has seen a rise in cultural citizenship which is “a process [where] emotions, feelings, norms and values, symbols and traditions come to play a pivotal role in defining what can be expected of a Dutch citizen” (Duyvendak, 2011, p. 92). This demand for cultural loyalty puts pressure on those relocating to the Netherlands to erase signs of being from elsewhere. Although some cultural markers can be left behind, skin color and other racial markers bear permanent signs of foreignness. Despite diversity within the Dutch population, Holland is represented as a white and Christian country (Wekker, 2016, p. 7) and those who “phenotypically pass” as Dutch have privilege in a society, regardless of nationality. This highlights the hegemony of the homogenous majority both racially and ethnically.
The Dutch government has linked minority “problems” to the embracing of foreign cultures and values. Since 2000, this notion of a “minority problem” has been normalized and associates
allochtonen with “crime, fraud, ghettoization and societal decay – without feeling the need to support
claims by facts” (Siebers, 2010, p. 480). Outsiders are told that to be treated as equals they cannot talk about differences, racial or otherwise. They are simultaneously told that if they are different (evident by visual markers) they are not equal (Prins, 2002; Wekker, 2016). Tolerance parades as an acceptance of multi-ethnic equality, but there remains a hierarchy that manages minority groups through cultural control (Essed, 1991). This is done through the guise of egalitarianism promoting equality despite cultural plurality. But this cultural pluralism is based on assimilation. The internalization of dominant
Dutch mores is a requirement for minority groups. They can “keep” their cultural identities if and only if they conform to Dutch norms (Essed, 1991)8.
Research on race and ethnicity rarely frames Black women in ways other than as “problem minorities.” It is characterized by an “us vs. them” model that represents researchers as white Europeans and ethnic Others as the research subjects. This “about them, but without them” framing puts mainstream and oppositional epistemologies into “competition.” This means of knowledge production reproduces existing power asymmetries (Nimako, 2012). Dutch institutions that have undertaken this type of research have reproduced ideological links between Blackness and lower class status. In studying Black (expat) women, I step out of this problematic framing. To avoid misrepresenting the women, (Nimako, 2012) I discuss their own perceptions of the racism they encounter. In prioritizing their perspectives, this research presents subjugated knowledge.
Black women have nuanced experiences with anti-Blackness in the Netherlands and are marginalized for being Black, foreign, and women. This reality motivated some research sub-questions. How are Black expat women being alienated by Dutch society? What is it like for them to experience Dutch color-blindness and racism? What impact does it have on their personal lives? Are these processes motivators to join an all-Black social group?
2.2 Resisting racial and cultural homogeneity
There have been both large-scale and smaller-scale efforts around the Netherlands to oppose the Dutch mainstream’s push for homogeneity and minority exclusion. Anti-racist activism, intersectional approaches, and expat in-groups are a few instances of the types of resistance that have/are taking place. These efforts inform a creative imagining of what an Otherwise might look like for Black women in a Dutch context, as ABW is a blend of these efforts.
Bear in mind, the Netherland’s race-neutral dialogue has delegitimized resistance against racism. Ignoring racial differences gaslights9 Black people and their experiences (Essed, 1991). This
denial of race reproduces the racism it claims does not exist. In silencing those who openly speak about racism and fight it, dominant groups are supported over marginalized groups (Essed, 1991). Many Dutch people have detached from anti-racist efforts, denouncing them as erroneous and misguided (Essed & Nimako, 2006). Despite this, groups actively fight against Dutch homogeneity.
8 For example, Dutch integration policies did not aim to “accommodate, celebrate or preserve distinct practices
and preferences of cultural minorities” but to prevent certain groups from being segregated and stagnant. These groups were perceived to be radical, criminal, and resistant to Dutch norms. Government officials feared this would make tensions worse with citizens’ calls for immigrants to assimilate in the early 1990s (Duyvendak, van Reekum, El-Hajjari, & Bertossi, 2013, p. 605).
9 Gaslighting is an “obfuscation technique” that avoids or undermines arguments that expose systemic and
The largest, most globally visible anti-racist movement in the Netherlands is the anti-Zwarte Piet movement. Activists say the fight against Piet is not just about the “racist caricature” but about the “structural inequality, microaggressions, racism, and discrimination which have been normalized in daily routines, dominant discourse and traditions” (Esajas, 2014). The movement became widely visible after a group of activists filed a lawsuit against the city of Amsterdam in 2013. Since then, annual parades have attracted thousands of protesters. This gained the attention of “masses” of people on television, in newspapers, and on social media and generated a wave of aggression from white Dutch people. The rise in publicity for this movement has encouraged “ordinary” people to get involved and learn more about how Piet is a product of the Dutch imagination and colonial nostalgia (Esajas, 2014).
Other organizations are also fighting. New Urban Collective is a network of groups that strives to support the self-awareness, education, and labor market positions of Afro-Dutch people (New Urban Collective, 2018). The Black Archives houses numerous collections of books and artifacts detailing the legacy of Black Dutch writers and scientists. The archives focus on slavery, colonization, and feminism in Suriname, the Netherlands Antilles, South American, and Africa. They foster conversation around literature not discussed within Dutch educational institutions (Black Archives, 2018). The University of Color was established to protest the policies of the University of Amsterdam. Students and staff push for voices of color to be considered in institutional decisions. They also demand a more diverse student body, faculty, and curriculum to make room for non-Eurocentric perspectives (Afterlives of Slavery, 2018). The Black Heritage Tour was founded by Jennifer Tosch to confront the lack of “positive narratives about the presence and contributions of the African Diaspora in the Netherlands.” Her tour unburies Black histories around Amsterdam (Tosch, 2018).
As seen in this snapshot of anti-racist activism taking place in the Netherlands, priority is given to making Black perspectives visible. This speaks to the erasure the Black community faces in a homogenous Dutch society. Although there is a considerable amount of anti-racist work happening in the Netherlands, many Black Dutch people still subscribe to understandings of race imparted to them by the Dutch education system. Wekker and Lutz conducted a study comparing Black women’s perceptions of gender and ethnicity in the Netherlands and in the United States. They argue that Black women from the United States have had centuries of knowledge to draw from in their understanding of structural racism. This includes living under conditions of racial segregation, attending predominantly white institutions, family knowledge being passed down, exposure to Black studies, and the media (Wekker & Lutz, 2001). In contrast, Black Dutch women have only started becoming “aware” of the impact of racism on their lives since the 1980s.
“A result of colonial education [was that] hardly any of the Surinamese-Dutch women developed critical knowledge of Dutch colonialism. The women were socialized with
paternalistic dominant definitions of race and ethnic relations… which emphasizes admiration for the dominant group and the powerlessness of the dominated group” (Essed, 2016, p. 209).
This marks a considerable difference in race consciousness between Black Dutch and non-Dutch Black women. Foreigners are more likely to have been socialized to perceive whiteness as an oppressive force which impacts their approaches to organized and everyday resistance (Essed, 2016).
Despite the relative newness of racial critiques in the Netherlands, the way Black, migrant, and refugee women have approached issues of gender and ethnicity have been shifting. Since the mid-1970s, they have been developing theoretical frameworks to understand their lives (Wekker & Lutz, 2001). In academia, white women have assumed the “normative and superior position” while other women are placed relationally beneath them (Wekker, 2016, p. 63). And, given allochthonous refers to all non-white women, diversity within marginalized groups is homogenized which preserves colonial hierarchies. Prior academic work did not sufficiently describe the positions of ethnic minority women in terms of policy or everyday life. Women of color have challenged previous explanations of their lower status using intersectionality theory, a more inclusive framework that considers all women (Wekker & Lutz, 2001). Intersectionality theory confronts the belief that gender is the only factor impacting how women are treated. It also challenges the idea that ‘women’ is a homogenous group (Essed, 1991; hooks, 1984). Like mainstream feminism, it pushes back against epistemological frameworks centering male viewpoints as universal (Oakley, 1998; Sprague, 1997) but also against social movements that prioritize the Black male experience (Crenshaw, 1989). Essed argues that racism and sexism “intertwine and combine into one hybrid phenomenon.” Thus, when speaking about the experiences of Black women or other women of color, it is most accurate to discuss “gendered racism” (1991, p. 31).
Intersections of race and gender are also informed by immigrant status and class background (Wekker, 2016). This is relevant to the analysis on members of ABW because the majority are expats. Expats are defined as “individuals who travel voluntarily to a new culture, usually for specific objectives such as educational and occupational opportunities, who view their residence in the new culture as fixed and finite, and who usually have expectations of returning to their country of origin” (Ward & Kennedy, 1994, p. 331). Upon arriving to the Netherlands, expats typically deal with culture shock and undergo sociocultural and psychological adjustments. This involves coping with the stress of being in a new environment to increase well-being and emotional satisfaction (Ward et al., 1998). However, research on expat experiences in the Netherlands found it was easier for expats to form friendships with non-Dutch others who understood the problems they faced as foreigners (van der Knaap, 2017). These bonds with similar others formed “expatriate enclaves” (Beaverstock, 2002) that formed a separate culture that provided support during difficult times. For expats of color, having friends with similar backgrounds made them feel more secure in their identities when faced with discrimination. These connections
allowed them to take a critical stance on current events. This freedom facilitated meaningful connections that were not made in local Dutch circles (van der Knaap, 2017).
Expat enclaves closely embody the idea of an otherwise. According to Raschig, an otherwise is an “emergent, uncertain, and experimental form of political engagement” (Raschig, 2016, p. 14). It is “in line with burgeoning activist techniques and tactics associated with ‘the new Civil Rights’ period of lives mattering, among those who feel the world was built against their survival, [and] that very survival constitutes a radical contestation of the social order” (Raschig, 2016). Raschig describes an otherwise as a configuration that:
“[Arises] in overlooked sites and makeshift configurations, without intention or purpose per se, that which is otherwise (rather than being ‘other’) maintains a fundamental provisionality that echoes in its conventional usage of ‘what might be’ in different circumstances, or ‘what may happen’ if something else does or doesn’t. This uncertainty is the fount of its productivity, in terms of possibility. To seek and name an otherwise is to provide a minimal framing for conditions that are changing without those involved having a clear sense of what might ensue”
(Raschig, 2016, p. 18).
What makes ABW qualify as more than just an expat enclave is its adherence to this definition. The group is a place that allows participants to just be. Privilege is an “energy saving device” that is rarely possible for minority groups in inequitable societies. Ahmed claims there is a “politics to exhaustion” as it indicates adversity facing a group (2013). When dealing with ever-present racism, women experience a drainage of energy that eventually leads to the breakdown of bodies (Coates, 2015, p. 90). This exhaustion reveals the “disposability and ungrievability of Black life” (Day, 2015; Raschig, 2016, p. 22). To deal with this exhaustion, those with similar racial and/or ethnic backgrounds are likely to form havens to conserve energy and not be brought down (Ahmed, 2014). Instead of responding to prejudice with defeat or detachment, an otherwise represents an active search for alternative configurations to combat this exhaustion (Raschig, 2016).
In coming together in non-exhausting ways, women found openings to critique society. Isoke describes how Black women “expose the sociopathy of the normal political subject (rational, self-interested) by making space for caring, impassioned, affective, volatile, and socially unfettered subjects whose motivations are otherworldly” (2013, p. 4). In what bell hooks calls “homeplaces” (1991), Black women are free to expose society in this way when they are silenced in other spaces (Isoke, 2013). In an American context, these critiques may be truths about poorly organized public schools, greedy politicians, government incompetence, or criminal negligence. This truth-telling is an example of resistance that differs from traditional anti-racist efforts like protests, boycotts, and marches. It represents an “impasse” (Raschig, 2016) or site of “potentiality” (Zigon, 2014) because participants
often do not understand how their critiques align with justice in the future. Gatherings appear as a state of limbo because “the social relevance of [what is being done] is not clear” (Cvetkovich, 2012, p. 22). Raschig conducted research on Mexican-American women in Salinas, California amidst tension between marginal communities and state law enforcement after a string of police shootings. She examined the link between gendered and racial oppressions, the acknowledgment of flawed societies, and the creation of substitute outlets. Her respondents participated in healing circles to fight the weariness of existing in an oppressive society. An otherwise was formed because real-world conditions were transformed into something more equitable for them. Angela Davis has argued for otherwise spaces: “We have to imagine the kind of society we want to inhabit. We can’t simply assume that somehow, magically, we’re going to create a new society in which there will be new human beings. No, we have to begin that process of creating the society we want to inhabit right now” (Gelder, 2016).
She has also argued that attention to the self, body, and spirituality are critical elements of activism (Gelder, 2016). This is an opportunity to rethink what constitutes political action and how an otherwise fits into this theoretical reconstruction (Raschig, 2016). In being a Black and female-only group, ABW prioritizes Black female perspectives over dominant ways of knowing which is anti-racist, anti-sexist, and intersectional. It also bears a resemblance to expat enclaves which notes the importance of nationality in this analysis. Given that this research applies the framework of an otherwise to a new demographic, geographic location, and time, the configuration of ABW may take on slightly different forms than what is outlined by Raschig’s work. What is happening within the ABW community? What do interactions and activities look like? How do these events communicate the desire for an alternative reality that is spoken of and potentially worked toward?
Even if Black women come together to heal from wounds inflicted by society is subtle and unintentional, it constitutes an act of resistance (Raschig, 2016). According to Foucault, “Where there is power, there is resistance” (1978, p. 95). These acts challenge inequalities that follow power asymmetry and accomplish “momentary reversal[s] of power” (Ewick & Silbey, 2003, p. 1331). Reversals of power signal marginalized groups’ consciousness of their position in society, how power structures affect their day-to-day, and the ways in which these structures are taken for granted (Ewick & Silbey, 2003). Non-traditional forms of resistance represent “symbolic or ideological” resistance that connects individual self-interested acts to larger sociological organizing. These instances “rarely make headlines” but when happening in myriad constellations, have the potential to influence social change (Scott, 1989, p. 49). When individuals find a need to connect to a healing circle or social group like ABW, a larger body is formed: a counterpublic. Counterpublics allow horizons of exchange and can challenge the larger public in more visible realms of politics (Warner, 2002).
Missing from dialogues about Dutch activism are activities more subtle than protests, boycotts, or marches. ABW is situated within a larger landscape of efforts pushing back against Dutch expectations of homogeneity. But it occupies a place on the spectrum not included in conversations
despite the similarities to these efforts. Given the politically charged nature of race and anti-racist discourse in the Netherlands, where does ABW fit into resistance efforts against homogeneity? Does ABW go beyond existing as a social project? Is there space to reconceptualize what political action looks like in a Dutch context? And in response to Dutch society, are there new configurations of Black feminist politics being created?
2.3 Global flows of race consciousness
To make claims about the paradoxes and dominant modes of thinking in the Netherlands, Wekker examined historical processes. She discussed the exchange of racialized knowledge and this exchange’s impact on the Dutch cultural archive, the source from which her research drew.
“My objects of study pertain to dominant white self-representation, to policies, principles, and practices, and to feelings. The transmitting of racialized knowledge and affect between the colonial and the metropolitan parts of the empire took place within what can be conceptualized as one prolonged and intense contact zone. It helps to conceptualize the cultural archive… as a way of acting that people have been socialized into, that becomes natural, escaping consciousness” (Wekker, 2016).
This cultural archive consisted of Dutch knowledge, attitudes, and feelings (p. 19). In examining these artifacts, she put into conversation the histories of the Netherlands and its colonies and detailed the way race consciousness flowed between them (p. 25). These histories had been previously treated as separate, so her work linked knowledge diffusion to processes of colonialism and migration. But she treats the Dutch kingdom and the rest of the world as two discrete entities. Foreign critiques of the Netherlands are framed as far away and apart from Dutch life. Racialized knowledge of other countries is treated as if it does not influence Dutch race consciousness. Little research on how foreign critiques are situated within the Netherlands has been done and their effects on the way race is conceptualized. As foreigners live in the Netherlands in increasing numbers, it is inevitable that they will influence the cultural archive as they bring new knowledge, new attitudes, and new feelings to the Netherlands. Wekker argued that Dutch’s “imperial cultural figurations” have been ignored for so long (2016, p. 21), but ABW is an example where expats critique these figurations in seeing Dutch racism with fresh eyes.
Wekker’s work with Lutz (2001) similarly treats perceptions of racism in the Netherlands as separate from perceptions elsewhere. In comparing Dutch understandings of race with American women’s understandings, the two groups are treated as detached and little consideration is given to interactions between these groups. Essed’s work, Understanding Everyday Racism, studied African-American women and Black-Surinamese immigrants living in the Netherlands. By taking a
comparative approach, she also does not consider the mixing of these groups and the interactions of their differing racialized knowledges.
This thesis complicates the idea of racialized knowledge transfer and opens a dialogue about the processes taking place when expats live in the Netherlands and bring external views. It considers expats who experience the effects of a colonial history other than their own and how they use prior knowledge of their colonial histories to make sense of a Dutch context. The interaction of their global perspectives with Dutch histories creates a hybrid understanding of misogynoir in Dutch society and adds nuance to Wekker, Essed, and Lutz’s macro level claims.
3. RESEARCH DESIGN AND METHODOLOGY
Sociology has typically overlooked ways of knowing generated outside of inner academic circles which have been traditionally white and male (Collins, 2015). These perspectives have been historically buried or “disqualified as nonconceptual, incoherent, or naïve from the perspective of scientific knowledge” (Povinelli, 2012, p. 455). By focusing on a group in the margin of mainstream society, this research examines subjugated knowledge that remains invisible to Dutch academics. These alternative ways of knowing disrupt cycles of hegemonic and “objective” knowledge production that reproduce inequalities (Collins, 2015).
This research took a qualitative approach to understand the activities and processes happening within ABW and the women’s understandings of these events. A Facebook analysis was conducted to determine what happens within ABW’s digital space and how that compares with happenings offline. What were the women using the group to accomplish? What did they talk about? How were they interacting? How was the space moderated? Participant interviews were conducted to understand the ways ABW functions more than just a social project. What has living in the Netherlands been like for group members? Why are they joining the group? How are they benefitting from being a part of the group? What experiences do they have within the group and what impact do these experiences have on their lives? I also conducted observations to see in practice what respondents talked about. What did group members talk about and how were they talking about it? What were the dynamics of the group as they discussed what was happening in their lives? What about these gatherings can be interpreted as political action using the framework of an otherwise?
3.1 Sampling and gathering of data
Qualitative methods included interviews with n=16 members of ABW and a focus group with n=4 of the group’s founders. Of the women I spoke with (n=20 total), n=14 identified as expats or migrants and represented the United States, France, Belgium, Ghana, the UK, Jamaica, and Bermuda. N=6
identified as Dutch or as being from a Dutch colony (n=3 Dutch women10, n=2 from Suriname, and n=1
from Sint Maarten). I tried to get a mixed sample of both expats and Dutch women. This was for insight on both perspectives given differing views on race and experiences living versus migrating to the Netherlands. But I deliberately kept the numbers of expats higher as it more closely reflects the makeup of ABW.
The women I interviewed ranged from age 24 to 47 years old and have lived in the Netherlands for as little as 1 month to 27 years (and for n=2 Dutch women, their whole lives). N=4 respondents were queer; n=2 identified as bisexual and n=2 as lesbians. The women were employed in a variety of industries and had varying educational levels, but more highly educated women are disproportionally represented and come from occupations that imply socioeconomic advantage. It is possible women with this background are more strongly represented in this analysis because those with less traditional 9-5 professional jobs may work unconventional hours were less likely to attend events or have time to participate in an interview.
I recruited participants primarily by posting openly in the Facebook group asking for women who were willing to participate in research (at the time of recruitment, there were approximately n=930 members). As I got to know more women at events, I reached out to Dutch women and other subgroups specifically to diversify my sample in terms of nationality, sexuality, age, and time living in Amsterdam. I did this to avoid over-representing the viewpoints of particular sub-groups.
In addition to interviews, I conducted participant observations. I attended a book club, an administrative planning meeting, two brunches, a film screening, two activist events, a Black Feminist reading group, a twerk class, a King’s Day event, and worked in the ABW workspace with other members. I attended these gatherings to observe offline interactions while informally interviewing more women. I took a participative role rather than a passive and purely observational one because according to Fine, this method is useful when doing community-based work “with a commitment to understand, document, or evaluate the impact that social programs or social movements bear on individuals and communities” (Fine et al., 2003). Critical race theory and decolonized methodologies emphasize the importance of engaging with communities and not for communities (Fine et al., 2003; Smith, 2013).
As a researcher, identifying as a Black woman gave me insider privileges. It gave me access to the group, allowed me to attend events, and kept my presence unquestioned and ordinary. I was able to participate in conversations, share my own experiences without compromising group dynamics, and form meaningful relationships with the women. I think this was immensely helpful when discussing sensitive topics, as respondents were quick to open up to me (likely based on the assumption that I had similar worldviews). It was through this participation that I saw up close how the women in ABW were dealing with uncertainty and how they spoke of events and race in the Netherlands. I was interested in
processes rather than outcomes, so I paid attention to what the women were doing at group meetings, what those things accomplished, the strategies they were using, and how they understood what was happening in their lives (Emerson, Fretz, & Shaw, 2011). I also paid attention to the way they perceived ABW’s role in these processes.
Finally, to supplement the in-person data collection methods, I coded and analyzed archived Facebook content as this broadened the context of the lives of the target women (Hammersley & Atkinson, 2007). It gave me a sense of the types of conversations that were happening online. In understanding what was shared in the digital ABW space, I was able to identify the “spirit” of the group and which discussion topics were important.
3.2 Design of research tools
Field notes were taken at events in a notebook or on my phone so as not to be intrusive. I wanted to encourage gatherings to remain as natural as possible by making members feel comfortable. More detailed notes were written once I was out of the field. I attended nearly all events sponsored by the group during the time period allocated for data collection. Participant interviews and the focus group were also conducted during this time.
Semi-structured interviews were conducted. The first 5-10 minutes were spent getting to know respondents, ensuring they felt comfortable. Our discussions covered motivation for joining the group, group participation, Dutch culture, feelings of belonging, impacts on identity, and visions of the future11. Interviews lasted about 60 minutes each. I conducted interviews at cafes and restaurants or in participant’s homes. A few were conducted by video chat if meeting in person was not possible or too inconvenient for respondents. The founder focus group focused more on the motivation for creating the group, its goals, challenges, and evolution. The interviews and focus group were recorded on my phone or laptop and transcribed within a few days of being completed. A password-protected document with participant names and pseudonyms was used to keep participants organized, and members were never referred to by their real names in file names or transcription documents.
For the Facebook analysis, I pulled all posts for the months of February and March 2018 (n=311). These posts were coded by topic and grouped according to themes.
Table 1. Participant information
# Name Nationality Age Occupation Time in the Netherlands
Part
ici
pa
nts
1 Alicia French 24 Ph.D. candidate 2 years
2 Lena Dutch-Ghanaian 25 Researcher
10 years (no longer living in the Netherlands)
3 June American 26 Master's Student 8 months
4 Jessica
Belgian-Ghanaian 26 Master's Student 2 years
5 Naomi Dutch-Ghanaian 26 Master's Student Whole life
6 Moya
Nigerian-American 26 Diversity Officer 1 month
7 Michaela American 28 Tech Designer 3.5 years
8 Nina British 33 Copywriter 2 years
9 Gabrielle Sint Maartenese 34 Tech Designer 14 years
10 Sarah American 35 Writer 1.5 years
11 Ariell Surinamese 37 Management
assistant / activist 27 years
12 Sylvana Dutch 41 Lawyer Whole life
13 Yara American 41 Student Affairs
Officer 2 years
14 Josephine American 44 Communications /
Personal brand coach 13 years
15 Maya American 45 Writer / Teacher 2 years
16 Angela Surinamese-American 47 Hairstylist / beautician 6 years Fou nd er s
1 Tracian Jamaican 33 Ph.D. candidate 4 years
2 Marly
Haitian-American 35 Tech Copywriter 5 years
3 Lené Bermudian 30 Manager /
Entrepreneur 3.5 years
4 Dana American 39 Founder of
non-profit 7 years
5 Uloma Nigerian 32 Project manager No longer living in the
3.3 Analytical approach
Interviews, focus groups, and observations were coded line by line. During the coding process, I focused on actions to maintain the integrity of the data and to avoid “conceptual leaps” (Charmaz, 2014). In vitro codes were made (key words and phrases from respondents) to capture members’ dialogue, and interpretive codes were differentiated (although keeping data separate from personal reactions entirely is impossible (Emerson et al., 2011)). I still attempted to limit my subjectivity as a researcher by remaining transparent. To more accurately represent what I observed in the group, I limited the interpretation of actions and attempted to preserve native meanings. This allowed me to avoid implanting preconceptions about my own experiences as a Black woman onto my respondents and the group more generally (Emerson et al., 2011).
An abductive approach was used to analyze the data. I grouped codes into broader themes and aligned them with the theoretical frameworks outlined in the literature review (Timmermans & Tavory, 2012). This allowed respondents’ indication of important themes to come through organically, ensuring data and theoretical concepts informed each other mutually (Snow, Morrill, & Anderson, 2003). This was important especially for the otherwise framework since my analysis extends parts of Raschig’s framework to a new group, geographical space, and temporal location. Transferring the framework to a new context made the go-between of data and theory crucial.
The findings from all three methodologies were compared and similarities were noted. The convergence of findings was used to form overall themes (Golafshani, 2003).
4. ANALYSIS
This analysis uncovers motivators behind the creation of ABW and what the group accomplishes for Black women in the Netherlands. It then examines how the group embodies a different way of existing in the world and how it is an example of how race consciousness is transferred. The women’s own perceptions about whether the group is political are examined followed by challenges facing the group that highlight its creative and experimental nature.
4.1 The birth of Amsterdam Black Women
Amsterdam Black Women was created by five expats - Tracian Meikle, Marly Pierre-Louis, Lené Hypolite, Dana Saxon, and Uloma Ogba12. These women are respectively of Jamaican,
Haitian-American, Bermudian, Haitian-American, and Nigerian backgrounds. They experienced similar feelings of being out of place in Dutch society after moving to Amsterdam. After meeting each other, they decided
12 The founders gave permission for their real names to be used. Uloma is no longer living in Amsterdam or
to get together for social outings. They became friends and quickly formed a network among themselves. In coming together, they realized the importance of having a support system of Black women. This was support they did not find in Dutch social circles. Although they met each other organically, they decided to make it easier for other Black women to find them.
ABW’s Facebook description is, “We are a group for Black Womxn13 who want to connect and
support each other. We do this through an online presence, but mainly offline through brunches, discussions, book clubs and other get-togethers! Join us!" (About ABW, 2018). On this platform, the group is categorized as a support group and has over 930 members. On Meetup.com, the description is more detailed. It says, “This group is for Black women to come together, have fun and support each other. It is foremost a community focused on providing a safe space for Black women to be themselves
and not feel self-conscious [emphasis added]. The plan is to have a series of different activities that are
held in small groups so that everyone will feel welcome. Anyone can suggest an event to go to or an activity to plan - book clubs, movie nights, album listening nights, support group discussions... anything our community needs” (ABW Meetup, 2018).
The group came together to talk, laugh, and do happy hours, but meetings always turned to conversations about deeper problems in Dutch society and what it was like to experience that as a Black expat. They discussed whiteness and microaggressions, topics that were off limits at work and in other social spaces. ABW felt like a place where women could “take their hair down” or where they “didn’t have to have armor on” or “a place to disrobe.” Tracian stated the importance of feeling at ease: “We felt the need to have support, comradery, and to breathe easy and relax around other people and know they know what you are going through. And to just be yourself really” (ABW Meetup, 2017).
4.2 Dutch society’s impermeability and its outsiders
My hypothesis when starting this research was that Black women in ABW were feeling alienated by Dutch whiteness, which they are. But after speaking with both founders and members, I learned that the women found themselves alienated by Dutchness more generally. The exclusion framework outlined in the literature review is used here to parse out the ways nationality, gender, and race influence feelings of exclusion on a micro-level. ABW occupies a particular niche to address this exclusion. Dana’s quote highlights numerous intersections of identity and their impact on her in different Dutch spaces.
“My experience prior to [the creation of] ABW was that Amsterdam was super cliquey, and even trying to find a community of Black people always felt like you're reminded about how new you are, or why you don't fit in with an existing group, and all these social politics that exist. It felt very challenging to plug into a social group as a newcomer. I think that is an experience that a lot of people who move to Amsterdam were having but weren't necessarily talking about or finding a way to rise above. So I do feel
like there was something specific about Amsterdam that created this need to resolve this challenge for Black women in particular. Because I feel like Black men can get around the social politics and fit in with white communities in a way that Black women don't necessarily want to, and we were just left out there, to fend for ourselves.” -Dana, 39, founder, United States, living in Amsterdam for 7 years First, Dana talked about feeling separate from Dutch social circles because of race and nationality. As a newcomer, it is typical to feel lonely (van der Knaap, 2017). But being Black intensifies this experience. In white spaces, respondents felt alienated for being Black. But they were alienated for being foreign in both white and Black spaces. Expats often assumed Black Dutch people would relate to what it was like living in the Netherlands as a Black person, but found they avoided topics of race similarly to the way white Dutch people did (Essed, 2016). In these spaces, members often could not relate to people who were seemingly “unbothered” by racism which put them in a strange “middle ground.” This middle ground refers to a state of in-between where meaningful relationships were not being made in either white or Black (or POC) spaces. This puts members in an odd social limbo.
Over time, they started to feel incompatible with Dutch culture and unable to integrate into society fully. Of the n=16 members I interviewed, n=12 were asked whether they felt like they were a part of Dutch society. N=2 said they did feel like a part of Dutch society while n=10 said they did not. One respondent felt like she was a part of Dutch society because her mother is white Dutch, grew up in the Netherlands, and spoke the language. The other respondent who felt similarly grew up in Belgium and spoke Dutch. Being from a nearby country, she did not feel too out of place in the Netherlands culturally. She felt somewhat more connected to those in the city as well as politically “plugged in.” This suggests proximity to Dutchness, whether language, country of origin, or culture facilitates feelings of being integrated.
For the others who did not feel like a part of Dutch society, not speaking Dutch was the major reason for feeling like an outsider. This made them vulnerable to being left out of Dutch social circles. Respondents noticed the Dutch did not have many expat friends and were difficult to relate to. This motivated them to form expat bubbles with people they had more in common with. This further isolated them, and they interacted with local Dutch people even less. This segregation made it more difficult for them to break into already-existing social networks. One of my respondents, Sarah, talked about living on a social street in Amsterdam but only connecting with other expats. She said her Dutch neighbors had Facebook and WhatsApp groups where they communicated with each other in Dutch. She talked about the divide between local Dutch residents and expat residents, and that although living in close proximity, expats were not included in Dutch conversations. To her, being foreign felt like a significant entrance barrier to Dutch society.
Beyond this, respondents discussed Dutch quirks they found uninviting. As foreigners, they said the Dutch lack of warmth (characterized by emotional distance, bluntness, and lack of empathy) was something that made them feel even more out of place. They also talked about the “infamous Dutch
way” of doing things. This refers to the perception that the Dutch pay little attention to ways being in the world outside of Dutch cultural norms. In other words, the Dutch way is the “correct” way. They felt that the Dutch majority did not give consideration to foreign cultural values or opinions that deviated from Dutch perspectives.
“It's something they call 'the Dutch way' where they think that everything they do is right. You shouldn't be an individual. Don't do anything special, don't step off the sidewalk, and I really just hate that and it's really pretentious. I had a situation once where I had a painter come over to give me a quote for [my apartment]. And I said to him, ‘Yeah, I think I might go through with this.’ And he was like, ‘Oh great, I’ll go get the paint.’ And I said, ‘What paint?’ Because I hadn't told him a color. And he was like, ‘Oh, everyone gets the same paint’ and to me that's just so ridiculous that he would assume that I would get what everyone else gets.” -Michaela, 28, United States, 3.5 years in the Netherlands
Michaela’s quote is a profound metaphor for Dutch preferences for cultural homogeneity. It echoes the previously discussed preference for other Dutch people that dismisses and excludes foreigners from social circles. When Dutch people hold an expectation of homogeneity, anyone who does not fit the mold is perceived as out of place. This is in line with Philomena Essed’s work on cultural cloning. She discussed the ways the Dutch hold normative preferences for whites and those who are Dutch. They hold biases toward those without these characteristics for not aligning with expectations around cultural fit (Essed, 2002). But it is also an analogy for color-blind claims. In not “seeing” color or desiring multiple color options, it is as if to say that only one color matters. This means only one color is expected by the Dutch, and wanting something different is not in line with the “Dutch way.” The denial of different colors describes the Dutch’s rejection of racial differences. If everyone in Amsterdam gets the same colored paint, how would they appreciate the differences of the women in ABW? Other respondents noted the homogeneity of Dutch culture and found it difficult to navigate. At a film screening, the women joked about it. One respondent spoke of her experiences using dating apps in Amsterdam. She laughed as she said, “Everyone is the same! Blond hair, blue eyes, and tall. I saw a man online who had in his bio ‘dark hair and dark eyes only.’ I guess he’s tired of the same thing too!”
In falling outside of Dutch expectations of normaal, respondents felt simultaneously invisible and hyper-visible (McTighe & Haywood, 2017). Yara remembered feeling this hyper-visibility when she first moved to the Netherlands and was stared at in grocery stores. Marly, one of the founders, explained moving to Amsterdam and feeling “crazy” because she was stared at often as well. She didn’t know if it was the bright color of her clothing, her hair, or her bamboo earrings that were attracting attention. She remembered feeling uncomfortable in her skin and not being able to articulate why. Others also felt hyper-visible when they were asked where they were from (“no, where are you really from?”) or in other instances that focused on their Blackness. In contrast, Alicia recounted a time she was running late for lunch at work. When she arrived, her colleagues were already seated. As she walked
for us all Black people look alike!” Everyone at the table laughed. In this instance, she felt invisible, uncomfortable, and angry that her colleagues would make a racist joke in her presence. At a book club, a conversation centered on this invisibility as well. Women talked about feeling more unseen in Amsterdam than they had in other cities. They said people never made eye contact when walking down the street and they felt like wearing makeup was irrelevant since no one was looking anyway. They said men looked past them and chose non-Black women instead. They said it felt like living in a vacuum.
Sylvana, a Dutch respondent, gave an example of feeling simultaneously invisible and visible that highlights the way racism takes subtle forms. She was having dinner with her husband (white Dutch), his parents, his two brothers, and the girlfriends of the two brothers. The girlfriends were Belgian and Russian, both white. She remembered her husband’s in-laws joking about how there were three foreign girls in the family. She felt frustrated that other Dutch people did not consider her Dutch just because she was not white (“I might not be blond, but I’m Dutch!”). She felt visible in the sense that her Blackness was seen enough to erase the possibility of being Dutch to others, but simultaneously invisible for being erased at all. This illustrates how expat women in ABW are alienated for being foreign, but even native Dutch women are seen as “different” and fall outside of expectations of Dutchness.
Respondents also experienced subtle exclusions by the lack of Black representation. Nina mentioned cultural appropriation as an example of hostility she felt from Dutch people. She talked about how different venues and events consume Black culture yet exclude Black people. She remembered eating at a pancake restaurant in Amsterdam that had pictures of Biggie and other Black rappers but was full of white people who she assumed were there to feel “hip and cool and Black.” To her this was strange since she felt like people in Amsterdam were not often friends with Black people. She also talked about hip-hop and club nights with all Black music, but never any Black DJs or promoters. She said these events also made her feel “weird”; not because she did not want others to appreciate Black culture and music, but because she did not understand why Black people were so absent from these “so-called Black spaces.” This exclusion felt hostile to her, like “it’s your culture, but it’s not for you.”
In addition to this passive form of exclusion, respondents felt alienated by the microaggressions they experienced on a daily basis. Moya remembered her first week of work vividly because one of her co-workers played with her hair. This was embarrassing for her because her other co-workers gathered around and stared. No one noticed the inappropriateness of the situation and that made her feel like an animal at a zoo or a science experiment. She said she wished Dutch people had been more aware of how she felt in that moment. To her, she did not deserve to be treated differently than the white people in her office just because her hair was a different texture and her skin a different color than everyone else’s. I overheard another example of a white person making a member feel like she didn’t belong at a brunch. The women were talking about the ways they experienced white people “doing everything in their power to make them feel like they didn’t belong.” One member told a story about a time she went
