Liberal arts institutions typically praise critical thinking as their foundation, exalting the commitment to free expression as a core value and an ethical responsibility. However, intimidation and malice persist despite their promises to protect diversity and inclusion. The language and actions of these tactics often reflect misogynoir: “the specific hatred, dislike, distrust, and prejudice directed toward Black women.” In the early fall semester, I faced vitriolic hatred following my letter to the editor in The Amherst Student, critiquing the pretense of civility in politics. Misogynoir manifested through scrutiny and policing of my character and deep collective animosity.

My experience is part of a legacy of black women who endured retaliation for standing firmly in their leftist beliefs; the targeted actions against me were not merely trivial interpersonal drama or campus gossip. Instead, the harassment I endured must be understood honestly for what it truly is: a willful attempt to portray me in harmful and violent stereotypes. The insidious treatment of black women who challenge privileged narratives has a prevailing history that affirms the popular slogan: “The personal is political.” Collective animosity is merely a reminder of how black women who resist conformity and respectability politics are deeply disrespected and unprotected.

The retaliation to my article began the day it was published when my peers disparaged me on Fizz using my full name. I recall the first post alleged that I “must” be infatuated with the person I critiqued, which received 64 upvotes. Someone refizzed that post, stating that the same individual “is living in a rent-free mansion” in my head, which received 54 upvotes. These assumptions are absurd at best and insidious at worst. Framing a woman exercising her intellectual capacity as childish infatuation is not just invalidating; it is dehumanizing because it posits that women’s behavior must always be interpreted with regard to men. By playing into heteronormativity, they assert that women’s behavior is primarily driven by the pursuit of male attention and validation rather than our complex motivations and values. It is severely regressive to postulate that all women prefer men since some can not accept that we can express different orientations. Such attitudes insist that we are not nuanced beings with personal and political convictions but eager pawns yearning to be picked and moved by skillful saviors.

Following the vitriol and a malicious pattern of intimidation, I began to fear for my safety. I worried sorely about the potential physical threat to my well-being and my life, given the well-documented historical relationship between violence and misogynoir. Still, I woke up and responded to those posts the day after because I needed to stand my ground. I am still disconcerted by the dozens of people who sympathized with those posts, and they leave me incredibly anxious about who they could be and what harm they could cause me. As James Baldwin said, “I don’t care what [they] think of me, but they have the power to destroy my life.” The reality that most people refuse to reckon with is that women are assaulted for less, and an institution like Amherst is no exception. I shouldn’t have to regurgitate campus violence and rape culture statistics to convince anyone to acknowledge that reality and to provide sufficient justification for my fear. It is profoundly concerning how devoid of empathy people become when they witness a concerted effort to attack a black woman. I deserved to take proactive measures to protect my safety by requesting several No-Communication and Restricted Proximity Orders (NCRPOs), three of which were approved and upheld by Community Standards and Title IX. Yet I was publicly accused of being a moral authoritarian, seeking to punish others over mere political differences. This dedication to maliciously castigating my words and actions, regardless of how justified they were, reflects prejudice and callousness.

After I defended myself, the posts that flooded pressured me to conform. One post stated, “People hate on you for simply being a [expletive] person and having a [expletive] attitude. No one here mentioned your article. Stop playing the victim.” This sentiment is representative of the hostility thrust upon black women who stand firm in their convictions and refuse to be docile when met with targeted aggression. To demand that I not only accept animosity but also remain silent amid intense scrutiny is a racial gaslighting tactic meant to portray me as hysterical. In another post describing me as unfriendly, someone commented, “Facts. This chick has nothing nice to say and always walks around with a stink [expletive] face. Keep that [expletive] somewhere else.” My persistent vilification reflects a systemic pattern of misogynoir: black women are demanded to contain themselves in palatable packages, all for the sake of satisfying white and other fragile psyches. The resentment toward me isn’t about pursuing friendship or camaraderie; it’s about access to humble a black woman on their own terms.

No one came to my defense except me, albeit one post on Fizz said that people might need to read my article carefully. Still, someone re-fizzed that post, saying, “Who gives a [expletive] We all know that she loves to be problematic and […] confrontational for no reason. No point of engaging in anything with her,” which received 57 upvotes. The malice I endured acutely reveals the crucial point in my letter to the editor: lamenting the lack of civility in this political climate is often an insincere performance. Those who insist upon civility at the same time retaliate against dissent that threatens their privilege and power, particularly when articulated by black women. Time and again, retaliation proves that invoking civility is a cry for complicity and coercion into silence.

Complicity remains disconcerting for me: from the spineless upvotes, culpable moderators, and peer consensus to the neglect of the President’s Office, The Amherst Student, and the Black Student Union. Remaining silent after witnessing public racial and gendered harassment is a tacit endorsement of misogynoir. The actions taken to disparage me reek of cowardice, but even more does the inaction from

Moving forward, I am learning to accept and expect disappointment from the institution and marginalized people, whether because of their selective advocacy, inconsistent guidelines, or intersectional neglect. I hope my presence is a reminder that “Black women do not owe society likability [and] humility.” I will always strive to be clever and critical. I am a brilliant writer, and I will dignify no less. If that makes me arrogant, then so be it. ■

— Sarria Joe