As we learn to bear the intimacy of scrutiny and to flourish within it, as we learn to use the products of that scrutiny for power within our living, those fears which rule our lives and form our silences begin to lose their control over us.
Here, Lorde posits that poetry can have an illuminating effect on everyday life, allowing those who engage with it to look more closely at their habits, relationships, feelings, and the structures under which they live. This process can be frightening, since it necessitates coming face-to-face with uncomfortable truths. However, once these truths are faced honestly, they no longer hold power over the individual. Therefore, a person who reads or writes poetry gains control and power over her own life as a result.
When we view living in the European mode as a problem to be solved, we rely solely upon our ideas to make us free, for these were what the white fathers told us were precious. But as we come more into touch with our own ancient, non-European consciousness of living as a situation to be experienced and interacted with, we learn more and more to cherish our feelings, and to respect those hidden sources of our power from where true knowledge and, therefore, lasting actions come.
Here, Lorde challenges a series of generally-accepted ideas, arguing that they are not universal but merely European, distributed via imperialism and colonialism. This European approach splits reality arbitrarily, categorizing some processes or actions as inferior and feminine, and others as superior and masculine. Poetry, for instance, is arbitrarily classed as inferior, ignoring its true power in an attempt to rob women and other subjugated peoples of that power. These binaries hobble any attempt at liberation from European patriarchy, Lorde writes, and must be carefully dismantled.
All too often the message comes loud and clear to Black women from Black men: “I am the only prize worth having and there are not too many of me, and remember, I can always go elsewhere. So if you want me, you’d better stay in your place which is away from one another, or I will call you ‘lesbian’ and wipe you out.
Here, Lorde argues that the hostility many Black men display towards Black feminist movements comes from a desire for dominance, which merely echoes and reinforces the gendered and racialized power dynamics of the broader white patriarchy. By expressing disgust or anger towards Black women's solidarity, including in the form of lesbian relationships, men suggest to the women around them that heterosexual relationships in which women are subjugated are the only way for women to achieve safety and fulfillment.
I was going to die, if not sooner then later, whether or not I had ever spoken myself. My silences had not protected me. Your silence will not protect you.
Here, Lorde reflects on her own emotional transformation during a frightening medical crisis. She argues that most people stay silent and avoid sharing their feelings, ideas, and desires out of an impulse to protect themselves—in essence, an impulse to stay safe and alive. A brush with death, however, has the ability to remind a person that death is inevitable and universal. Therefore, protecting oneself from death is futile. The only thing that can be changed is how much a person regrets when they reach the end of their life. Lorde urges her listeners to speak rather than remain silent, arguing that they are far likelier to regret silence than they are to regret speech.
As a Black lesbian feminist comfortable with the many different ingredients of my identity, and a woman committed to racial and sexual freedom from oppression, I find I am constantly being encouraged to pluck out some one aspect of myself and present this as the meaningful whole, eclipsing or denying the other parts of self.
One of the most consistent ideas in Sister, Outsider is that every person should be able to present their entire, complex self to their community and be embraced, listened to, and protected. Here, Lorde uses her own experience as a person with many oppressed identities to critique arenas that fail to live up to this ideal. Both feminist circles and racial-justice ones often censor, ignore, and tokenize Black women, asking them to sacrifice one part of their identities. Here, Lorde argues that this tendency is not only hurtful but counterproductive, since it keeps community members from learning about one another and supporting one another as fully-fledged humans.
Women of today are still being called upon to stretch across the gap of male ignorance and to educate men as to our existence and our needs. This is an old and primary tool of all oppressors to keep the oppressed occupied with the master's concerns. Now we hear that is is the task of women of Color to educate white women—in the face of tremendous resistance—as to our existence, our differences, our relative roles in our joint survival. This is a diversion of energies and a tragic repetition of racist patriarchal thought.
Lorde often identifies ways in which activists and progressives engage in activities that ultimately reinforce the values of their oppressors. Here, she argues that men and white women routinely feign stupidity and cynically ask Black women to do the work of educating them about racism and sexism. By implying that a victim of racism and sexism is responsible for educating its beneficiaries, these men and women both avoid taking responsibility for their own displays of bigotry, and keep Black women from making progress. Indeed, Lorde reminds her readers, Black women are capable of simply moving ahead with their own political goals independently of men or white women. To do so, they need only reject this imposed role of educator. If they do choose not to educate their oppressors about life under racism and patriarchy, those oppressors will have to take responsibility for educating themselves, or else be left behind.
For the master's tools will never dismantle the master's house. They may allow us temporarily to beat him at his own game, but they will never enable us to bring about genuine change.
This sentence is a neat and memorable summary of Lorde's conviction that people on the outskirts of society—women, People of Color, and others—must seek support in one another rather than expect to find it in powerful and oppressive institutions. In order to truly dismantle the "master's house," a symbolic representation of an oppressive society, these people must find strength and tactics within themselves and one another. The language of this quote harkens back to American slavery, reminding readers that true change throughout history has always come at a cost to those in power, and therefore cannot rely upon the kindness or goodwill of the powerful.
My anger is a response to racist attitudes and to the actions and presumptions that arise out of those attitudes. If your dealings with other women reflect those attitudes, then my anger and your attendant fears are spotlights that can be used for growth in the same way I have used learning to express anger for my growth.
Here, recalling the occasions on which white women have expressed irritation or even fear of Black women's anger, Lorde points out that anger does not come into being irrationally or randomly. Rather, it is a logical response to unfair treatment and racism. Not only that, but anger is actually a useful tool, and should be greeted with gratitude rather than fear. Since anger appears in response to injustice, its presence becomes a reliable way to discern the presence of injustice and then stamp it out. In fact, expressing anger can be even more frightening and unpleasant than receiving it. Yet, because expressing anger and maturely responding to it both lead to growth and betterment, anger should be acknowledged, expressed, heard, and used.
In order to work together we do not have to become a mix of indistinguishable particles resembling a vat of homogenized chocolate milk. Unity implies the coming together of elements which are, to begin with, varied and diverse in their particular natures.
Here, Lorde carefully articulates her own vision of unity among Black Americans, and pushes back against the idea that unity requires sameness. In fact, sameness requires individuals to repress parts of themselves, creating a unified facade that is false and weak. True unity involves accepting and celebrating those different from oneself in the service of shared values and goals. Diversity is a strength rather than a weakness, and should be acknowledged as such.
Nothing I accept about myself can be used against me to diminish me. I am who I am, doing what I came to do, acting upon you like a drug or a chisel to remind you of your me-ness, as I discover you in myself.
In an essay focusing on the dangerous effects of self-hatred and hatred between Black women, Lorde begins by assuring her audience that she refuses to be weakened through self-hatred. It is impossible to weaponize a person's insecurities or internalized self-disgust if that person has achieved self-acceptance. By explaining this, Lorde both wards off audience critiques that rely on an assumption of the author's own self-hatred, and models radical self-acceptance for her audience. Furthermore, she implies, she cannot be fully separated from her audience of Black women: they possess "me-ness," and exist within Lorde herself. Lorde will go on to argue that Black women feel anger towards one another because they wish to avoid acknowledging their fundamental similarities. By acknowledging and insisting upon these similarities immediately, she warns readers not to shy away from them.
