Student Submission CUNY Hunter College Spring 2025

India Haywood
21 May 2025

This project transformed the way I understand misogynoir and how deeply it is embedded
in digital spaces. Before diving in, I knew misogynoir was a combination of racism and sexism
targeting Black women, but I hadn’t realized how constant and normalized it is online. As I
researched, reflected, and created, I began to see how platforms, users, and algorithms all work
together to reinforce anti-Black, anti-woman bias—often in ways that are subtle, accepted, or
even celebrated.

I came into this project wanting to highlight these patterns but left with a much deeper
emotional and intellectual understanding. Misogynoir online doesn’t just come from trolls or hate
groups. It’s in the viral tweets that mock dark-skinned girls, in the stolen trends that go viral on
white creators’ pages, and in the way, platforms fail to protect Black women from harassment. It
shows up in who gets called “pretty” or “aggressive,” and in which voices get heard versus
ignored. The most unsettling part is how often this happens without anyone noticing or speaking
up, because it’s been normalized.

To bring visibility to these patterns, I created three visual pieces that each captured a
different aspect of misogynoir. In the first, titled “Same Voice, Different Volume?”, I portrayed
two women saying the same thing—but only the white woman was called brave, while the Black
woman was labeled aggressive. This visual was inspired by the tone policing many Black
women face online. We’re told we’re too loud, too passionate, too emotional—when really, we’re
just being honest.

The second visual, “Who Gets the Credit When the Creativity Goes Viral?” focused on the
erasure of Black women’s contributions. Time and time again, Black women create styles, slang,
or movements that shape digital culture—only to see them go viral on someone else’s account.
This image reflects how Black creativity is constantly exploited while Black creators are
overlooked.

The final piece, “Same Look, Different Treatment,” showed two girls with the same style,
the same outfit, hair, and pose—but only one was celebrated. The other was criticized. This piece
tackled how beauty standards online still center on whiteness, even when Black girls are the
blueprint. It was a personal reflection of something I—and so many other Black women—have
felt: being copied but never credited.
Throughout the process, my understanding of misogynoir evolved from abstract to urgent
and personal. I realized this isn’t just about representation, it’s about safety, credit, voice, and
visibility.And since online areas mirror society, their users have to take upon themselves the task of remaking them.

To address these issues, action has to happen on multiple levels. Platforms must hire
culturally competent moderators, make algorithmic decisions transparent, and prioritize Black
women’s safety. But everyday users have power too. That includes giving proper credit, calling
out bias, supporting Black women creators, and refusing to engage in content that harms us. It’s
not enough to “not be part of the problem” we must actively be part of the solution.

This project made me realize that Black women are not just victims of digital violence—
we’re also architects of digital brilliance. We are the culture-makers, trendsetters, and the voices
that push conversations forward. This project reminded me that being a Black woman online is
powerful, even when the world tries to convince us otherwise.

So, if I could conclude this project with one truth, it’s this: Black women deserve to take
up space boldly, creatively, and unapologetically—online and everywhere.