Misogynoir in Digital Spaces
Student Submission CUNY Hunter College Spring 2025
Moya Bailey explains that Misogynoir is not just the racism experienced by Black women, nor is it the misogyny they face. Rather, Misogynoir refers to the specific and intertwined racial and sexist violence directed at Black women due to their interconnected and overlapping oppression at the crossroads of racial and gender marginalization. In the scene from Steven Spielberg’s The Color Purple (1995) exemplifies the concept of misogynoir, the specific intersection of racism and misogyny directed toward Black women. Celie, a dark-skinned, non-ambiguous Black woman, endures particularly harsh treatment at the hands of her abusive husband. The dinner table scene underscores the way he systematically belittles and dehumanizes her, illustrating the compounded violence faced by women who, like Celie, embody marginalized racial and gender identities. This portrayal reflects a broader pattern in both film and society, where Black women with similar features and complexions often face disproportionate mistreatment. In film, Black women are frequently portrayed through harmful stereotypes, often depicted as combative, unsupportive, or excessively independent partners. In digital and popular media, these portrayals are further reinforced by framing Black women as overly masculine and resistant to traditional gender roles. Such representations contribute to a narrative in which violence, particularly domestic violence, against Black women is normalized or even justified. A compelling example of this appears in Albert and Allen Hughes’ Dead Presidents (1995), which follows a Black man struggling to reintegrate into society after returning from war. His inability to financially support his growing family ultimately manifests as misplaced anger toward his partner, culminating in physical abuse. The film reflects how systemic and interpersonal violence against Black women is often obscured or rationalized within dominant cultural narratives.
According to The Institute For Women’s Policy Research The data show that:
More than four in ten Black women experience physical violence from an intimate partner during their lifetimes. White women, Latinas, and Asian/Pacific Islander women report lower rates.
Black women also experience significantly higher rates of psychological abuse including humiliation, insults, name-calling, and coercive control—than do women overall.
The music industry perpetuates both the hyper-sexualization of Black women and a distinct preference for lighter-skinned Black women, reflecting a broader societal adherence to whiteness as the dominant beauty standard, one reinforced by patriarchal and racial hierarchies. Echoing the historical exploitation of Sarah Baartman, the bodies of Black women are often framed as sites of sexual deviance, with desirability closely tied to skin tone. This dynamic is evident in the music video for Lil Baby and Gloria’s “Redbone,” where Black women are not only objectified but also ranked in attractiveness based on the lightness of their skin. The designation of a “bad bitch,” in this context, becomes accessible primarily to those whose features align more closely with Eurocentric standards.
According to the Black Burn Center, a profoundly damaging myth developed during slavery in the United States, claiming that Black women had uncontrollable sexual urges. This racist stereotype was utilized to justify the rampant sexual violence that enslaved women faced from slave owners. The elevated instances of pregnancy among enslaved women and girls were often mischaracterized as proof of their alleged hypersexuality, disregarding the coercive and abusive systems imposed to grow the enslaved population. On plantations, pregnancy was often encouraged, yet the resulting fragility of these women was manipulated to bolster dehumanizing narratives.
Enslaved women were regularly compelled to be displayed naked or nearly naked on auction blocks, a public exhibition that starkly contrasted with the heavily clothed appearances of white women. This visual difference reinforced discriminatory and sexist beliefs: while white women were portrayed as pure and virtuous, Black women were depicted as fundamentally immodest and sexually deviant.
These harmful representations did not vanish with slavery. Throughout the 20th century, and continuing to this day, the “Jezebel” stereotype remains prevalent, illustrating Black women and girls as inherently promiscuous. Early 20th-century memorabilia frequently caricatured Black women with exaggerated physical traits, reducing them to hypersexualized figures and perpetuating a legacy of objectification and dehumanization.
Combating misogynoir in film, music, and digital spaces requires a multifaceted approach rooted in representation, accountability, and education. First, increasing the presence of Black women, particularly those with darker skin tones and those who are unambiguously Black, in positions of creative control, such as writers, directors, producers, and executives, is essential for disrupting harmful narratives and ensuring authentic storytelling. Media creators need to actively confront stereotypes by presenting Black women as intricate, multifaceted individuals instead of limiting them to common tropes. Audiences also have an important role to play by supporting content that honors and uplifts Black women, while also calling out instances of misogynoir when they arise. In online environments, platform moderators and algorithms must be held responsible for the proliferation of misogynistic and racist material, and users should be equipped with media literacy skills to identify and counter these harmful trends.
Ultimately, breaking down misogynoir demands a united commitment to equity, truth-telling, and prioritizing the voices and experiences of Black women. One of the most effective methods to address misogynoir is through unity among Black women. We cannot afford to turn against each other while hoping that a society built on racism and patriarchy will protect or elevate us. While the effects of misogynoir may not impact all Black women in the same way, as Mikki Kendall wisely points out in her book Hood Feminism, “none of us are immune to the environment that surrounds us. We are part of the society we are striving to change, and we cannot absolve ourselves of our responsibility.” Her statement serves as a reminder that shared accountability and solidarity are crucial in dismantling the systems that harm us all
References
Bailey, M. (2021). Misogynoir transformed: black women’s digital resistance. New York University Press.
Kendall, M. (2021). Hood feminism. Bloomsbury Publishing PLC.
