We met Andaiye at the launch of the Caribbean Association for Research and Action in 1988. Part of us, she was also apart from us. She was questioning. Would we embrace a politics that included class and race analysis? Would we have an understanding of the connections between global capitalist economic systems and Caribbean under-development? While she may not always have described herself as a CAFRA kind of feminist, we certainly claimed her and all her wisdoms. Her frame was our frame. Women’s rights could not be achieved if we did not address the legacies of race and class oppressions and the inequalities wrought by contemporary neoliberalism.
And to do this work well required having women across their diversities in all rooms. When we were planning the regional meeting of social justice and feminist activists in March 2018, although she could not attend, Andaiye kept a close watch. “It have (she asked) any Indigenous women? How you doing for Indo Caribbean women?” “You know me”, she wrote, “I will ask the same questions even after I die”.
Although committed to inclusiveactivism, Andaiye she wasn’t about ‘wash your foot and come’ as the Triniswould say. She cautioned us to work with people with common principles. Sheunderstood, to be effective in organizing there had to be a strong foundationof shared world views on elemental matters.
Andaiye made an entrance just with that way of gliding into aroom. When she spoke, we hushed and waited expectantly. And surely it wouldcome, that piercing and succinct analysis bursting our self-satisfied bubble. Shewas fascinating and enigmatic. She was politically wise. She was alsoemotionally sensible.
Thestory of Andaiye is not complete without the story of the Guyanese sisterhood.They sustain each other, these generous, committed and unpretentious women,including those in Red Thread and Help and Shelter. These women share withAndaiye that hope which she defined as ‘solidly-based expectation (from experience,history and necessity) that we can make change’. And to make change, Andaiye counselled wouldrequire “determination which comes from a reading of history and of the worldaround us which illuminates not just the failures, but the simple fact thatnothing ever just stays the same, that people are always resisting their ownoppression – by whatever visible or invisible, peaceful or violent or otherwiseillegal means.”
Herexpectations of traditional politicians, women or men were not high but herhopes for sustained social justice movements remained constant.
“As you know, I spend very limited time onparty and electoral politics since I believe that the overriding imperative isto build a movement that AT THE VERY LEAST can “hold politicians’ feet to thefire”. I really do think that the job is to transform some people intoseeing ourselves as having potential power and acting on that new perception sothat the power becomes real, and we will AT THE VERY LEAST stand before thepoliticians as a force to which they must respond. For women this would meanrefusing to be the “backbone of the parties” whose votes can be assumed,and for women and men it would mean refusing to hand over your vote to your“race” when you poor and getting poorer and they rich and getting richer.’
In essence she demanded of herself and ofothers, a freedom of the mind, a curiosity about the realities of others and adetermination not to live in sealed pockets of privilege. And she was someonewhose solidarity was practical. For several years, Andaiye, with Hazel Brown, coordinatedmedical support in Trinidad for Guyanese women seeking treatment for cancer.
Herprincipled pragmatism shielded her from pessimism. In an email of 2017 sheadvised against disenchantment. “And it’s not our experience that we winnothing from the advocacy (which as you know means both using conventionalmeans and the street, including, where necessary, civil disobedience). We don’twin enough, but we do win what my colleague Selma would call “downpayments’.”
Andaiye was deeply interested in thepolitics of organising. Although she could not attend our March meeting, shestayed connected by skype throughout the two days. And to Joan French fromJamaica who inadvertently omitted her from an email chain, she scolded withaffection “French, you well fasty. Given my position on unwaged work, you leaveme off your list of who working on this because I elderly and sick? Is only mybody gone, not my head!”
In a world where authenticity is a debased conceit, Andaiye lived true.
For those of you who did not know her, do read her article on Audre Lorde here in CAFRA News.
Long may she remain a voice in our heads with her questions.
As usual Roberta your writing demands that we think long and hard about what we truly believe. I loved Andaiye’s commitment to her authentic self. She truly lived what she believed.
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Roberta, a wonderful tribute that captures the essence of Andaiye. May it serve to buoy us and help find our centre! One love.
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I wish i had met her. We sometimes focus all our energies on limited issues that we feel passionate about. We sometimes don’t consider the intersectionality of oppression. She clearly kept her eye on all.
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Beautiful. This one I will print and keep. I only met Andiaye once or twice, and I felt her strength and courage.
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Beautiful. Thanks Roberta
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