In December 1938 the concert pianist and teacher Eulalie Domingo encouraged Afro-Jamaican women to improve their own and other women’s lives with the words: “You women – I must speak direct to you – mothers, wives, sweethearts, daughters, what do you expect of your men, of your country in which you live? Are you satisfied? If you are then it were better you were dead” (Public Opinion, 31 December 1938: 4). Domingo was one of several middle-class, educated, and professional black women who in the two decades following the First World War used The Daily Gleaner, Jamaica’s leading newspaper, and Public Opinion, a weekly founded in 1937 which advocated self-government, to reflect on the condition of Afro-Jamaican women. Most of these women played an active role in organisations that sought to improve the lives of women of African descent in Jamaican society. This article is not concerned, however, with their activities to change their own lives and that of their less fortunate sisters, but with their discourses about the status of Afro-Jamaican women. It examines besides Eulalie Domingo’s articles, writings by the poet, playwright, journalist, and broadcaster Una Marson; the teacher Amy Bailey; the working-class activist Adina Spencer; the teacher and politician Mary Morris-Knibb; the journalist Aimee Webster; and two anonymous authors. As Marson and Bailey were the most prolific writers, the article is mostly concerned with their views on the place and role of Afro-Jamaican women.[1]

This study’s examination of the discourse of these middle-class Afro-Jamaican women about the legal and socio-economic status of Afro-Jamaican women in the years between the two World Wars, will make a contribution to the scholarship on Afro-Caribbean feminism. This scholarship has not only largely ignored early Afro-Caribbean feminism but has also studied it mainly as ‘activism’. Rhoda Reddock’s work on the early women’s movement in Trinidad and Jamaica, for instance, does not completely ignore ‘ideas’ but concentrates on the organization-building activities of leading Afro-Caribbean women in these islands (“Feminism” and Women). This article will demonstrate that ‘discourse’ was as much part of the early Afro-Caribbean women’s movement as ‘activism’ and suggests that one way scholars can usefully investigate early black feminist thought in the Caribbean is by exploring its contradictions.

Some of the references used in this article can be found in Linnette Vassell‘s document collection entitled Voices of Women in Jamaica, 1898-1939. This collection provides readers with an insight into “the diverse experiences and opinions” of Jamaican women from the beginning of the century as it includes documents that relate to a variety of Jamaican women and address a wide range of issues (Vassell, Voices 1). Vassell’s collection was part of the first phase of Caribbean women’s history, which started in the 1970s and aimed to make women visible. This phase concentrated in particular on the period of slavery (Shepherd, Brereton, and Bailey xii-iv). One of the first to retrieve the history of Caribbean slave women was Lucille Mair whose pioneering works such as The Rebel Woman in the British West Indies during Slavery (1975), laid the groundwork for more ambitious studies on slave women (Brereton 86). The second and ongoing phase, which took off in the early 1990s and was strongly influenced by post-structuralist theory, adopts a more nuanced gender analysis by taking into account the differences between Caribbean women, such as class and colour (Shepherd, Brereton, and Bailey xiii). Although the focus is still very much on the period of slavery, scholars have increasingly begun to explore the lives of Caribbean women during the post-emancipation period and independence.[2] This article is part of the second phase of Caribbean women’s history departing from merely demonstrating, like Vassell’s collection, that there were middle-class, Afro-Caribbean women in the early twentieth century who criticized discriminatory practices. It also tries to explore how these women viewed their status in relation to men, white women, and lower-class women of their own race, and thus how they understood their marginalisation in Jamaican society.

The black feminists whose writings are explored in this article concentrated on three forms of discrimination suffered by Afro-Jamaican women: class, colour, and gender. The first part of the article examines how they defined these forms of discrimination and also describes and explains their proposals to undo or lessen them. The second part poses the question of whether, if put in place, these proposals would have significantly altered the class, race, and gender relations on the island. The last part provides an assessment of the black feminist program and sets out scope for further research.

Before we look at black feminist perceptions of class discrimination, it needs to be stressed that the article uses the term “black feminists” as defined by the African-American scholar Patricia Hill-Collins in her seminal work Black Feminist Thought (1991): “women who theorize the experiences and ideas shared by ordinary black women that provide a unique angle of vision on self, community, and society” (22). It includes, then, under this rubric not only Afro-Jamaican women who identified themselves as feminist, such as Una Marson, but also women who did not adopt this label. The term “black” is furthermore used to denote Jamaican women of African descent. The discussion about colour discrimination, however, invokes the terms “dark-skinned” and “light-skinned” in order to distinguish between women of Afro-Jamaican descent.

Class discrimination

Proposals by black feminists to improve the lives of lower-class women should be read against a background of worsening socio-economic conditions on the island in the two decades after the First World War caused by the world economic depression, the decline of the sugar industry, and population growth. Since the abolition of slavery in 1838, lower-class women had been engaged in forms of labour other than family labour, including low-paid and backbreaking work that ranged from plantation work and domestic service to street vending and stone breaking. In the 1920s and 1930s, these women increasingly experienced difficulties in taking care of their families as they not only had to cope with a steep rise in prices but also with depressed wages, job insecurity, and reduced spending on public services (Shepherd 85-108).

For Amy Bailey and Adina Spencer, active supporters of the Black Nationalist Marcus Garvey who had set up the Universal Negro Improvement Association in Jamaica in 1914, an improvement in the condition of lower-class women was a prerequisite for racial equality. The former argued that low wages and deplorable working conditions led many lower-class women to resort to prostitution, theft, and other actions considered to be vices, which in turn provided white Jamaican society with reasons to withhold full racial equality. The latter, on the other hand, believed that the government’s refusal to improve the lives of lower-class women convinced many Afro-Jamaicans that the only way to achieve racial equality was by migrating to Africa (Vassell, Voices 27; Public Opinion, 15 May 1937: 10). Most black feminists, however, were only concerned with the lot of lower-class women because they deemed it their responsibility to help the less fortunate in society (Vassell, Voices 41; Public Opinion, 12 February: 10 and 1 May 1937: 10). They were all convinced, however, that the uplift of lower-class women required not only a broadening of their employment opportunities but also an improvement in their wages, working conditions, and education.

Unemployment bureaus and (public and private) work schemes were two of the means proposed to increase the employment opportunities of lower-class women. Una Marson welcomed the unemployment bureau for domestic servants that was established in 1929 by the white-led Women’s Social Service Association (WSSA)[3] and suggested that other women’s associations and unions should follow this example and also set up bureaus catering for other categories of women workers. In addition, she called upon the government to provide offices for unemployment bureaus and to financially assist them (Vassell, Voices 24-26). In two articles, Marson reflected on the lack of work schemes for women and also on the ineffectiveness of some existing ones, such as the embroidery centre that was set up in 1937 by the wife of the governor and which employed only 25 girls. Marson was convinced that unless a Labour Department was set up, work schemes for women would remain few and would be ineffective (Public Opinion, 6 March 1937: 10 and 25 September 1937: 6).

In her articles entitled “Sweated Labour” Bailey concentrated on the wages and working conditions of female factory workers, who constituted only a small proportion of the female labour force (Lobdell 212).[4] According to Bailey, the eight to ten shillings a week that these women earned did not cover their basic necessities and she predicted that many would end up “in or pretty near the poor house” (Public Opinion, 15 May 1937: 10 and 5 June 1937: 10). As female factory workers were on average paid more than other lower-class women, it was even more important, according to Bailey and others, that the government enact a minimum wage. Jamaican employers and legislators were, however, strongly opposed to a minimum wage (Greenwood 24). Black feminists mentioned two ways in which better-off Afro-Jamaican women could help to bring about a minimum wage and, more generally, an improvement in the working conditions of lower-class women. First, they could set up an umbrella organization similar to the Women’s Trade Union League in England which could put pressure on employers and on the colonial and imperial governments to address women’s wages and such issues as sickness benefits and shorter working hours (Public Opinion, 6 March: 10). And second, they could help to raise public awareness of the wages and working conditions of lower-class women by addressing these issues in their churches, associations, and clubs (Public Opinion, 15 May 1937: 10).

For some black feminists, education rather than a minimum wage was the key to improving the lives of lower-class women. In the 1920s and 1930s, the colonial government spent only a small proportion of its budget on education. Hence many children were taught in large classes often by under-qualified staff. To allow lower-class girls to get better-paid jobs, it was not only deemed important to raise the quality of elementary education but also to make school attendance compulsory for eight to fourteen years olds, a practice which had been adopted by some urban parishes in 1923 (Shepherd 90; Eisner 332). As planters and other employers would strongly object to such legislation because it would reduce their supply of cheap, unskilled labour, Amy Bailey, Eulalie Domingo, and others suggested that the 3,000 enfranchised Jamaican women should vote only for candidates who were willing to extend compulsory education.

Based on the assumption that well-trained domestics were paid relatively high wages because they were in great demand, the women also stressed the need to include domestic science in the elementary school curriculum and to provide lower-class girls with a training in domestic skills after they left elementary school (Public Opinion, 10 April 1937: 3; 1 May 1937: 10; 2 October 1937: 10; 18 December 1937: 5). The latter was seen less as a task of the government and more as one of local charities. Marson suggested in 1929, for example, that the WSSA could do more to enhance the condition of lower-class women by setting up a training centre for domestic servants (Vassell, Voices 26). Amy Bailey, however, questioned the feasibility of such schemes. According to her, wealthy Jamaican men and women would be unwilling to finance training schemes in domestic skills because of their “utter indifference and greed and selfishness” (Public Opinion, 2 October 1937: 10).

While most of the proposed educational projects focussed on girls, there were also some that aimed at young women, including those with children. Amy Bailey, for example, suggested that the colonial government should follow the example of the Danish government and send welfare workers into the rural parishes to teach wives of small farmers ways to increase the family income. The social workers could, for instance, offer a “thorough training in dairy farming and poultry” (Public Opinion, 11 June 1938: 8). This proposal shows that while Bailey supported women’s right to work, including that of married women with children, she believed that a woman’s work had to match her social status. As wives of small farmers occupied a higher status in rural Jamaica than wives of plantation workers, they should not undertake waged work but unpaid family labour carried out within the confines of their yard.

There are some striking features about the black feminist discussion about the socio-economic position of lower-class women. First, this discourse centred largely on domestic servants which cannot only be explained by the fact that almost one quarter of all women aged 15 to 65 worked as domestic servants but also by the feminists’ class background (Lobdell 213). For most black feminists, domestic servants were the only lower-class women whose conditions they knew well. Although little is known about some of the women whose writings inform this article, it can be assumed, on the basis of their educational and/or professional status, that most had grown up like Una Marson in a household with one or more servants.[5] Second, it was more concerned with the economic than the social conditions of lower-class women. As to the latter, we shall see that black feminists were concerned about the sexual behaviour and mothering skills of some lower-class women. Their focus on the economic conditions of lower-class women stemmed from their assumption that economics determined a woman’s social condition. Or, as one social worker put it: “if we are going to tackle the problems of concubinage, illegitimacy and disease, the first step is to put our women on a sound economic footing” (Public Opinion, 23 September 1939: 6).

And third, the discussion called more upon women’s organizations than upon the colonial government to improve the lives of lower-class women. Considering the involvement of most black feminists in organizations that worked towards Jamaican self-government, it could be argued that their focus on women’s organizations reflects their belief that it would be futile to rely upon the government to bring about a marked change in the condition of Afro-Jamaican women until major constitutional reforms were enacted. An increase in the number of elected members in the Legislative Council - the body that assisted the governor - and the election of women on to the Legislative Council were mentioned as the most important constitutional reforms.[6]

Colour discrimination

By colour discrimination, black feminists meant first of all the overt and covert discrimination of white islanders against Afro-Jamaican men and women, such as the refusal of various clubs and societies to admit people of African descent as members. And second, the colour prejudice within the Afro-Jamaican community, which took a variety of forms, including the practice of appointing light-skinned men and women as leaders of Afro-Jamaican organisations. The origins of both forms of colour discrimination lay in the island’s past of slavery. During slavery a hierarchy was formed in which a small number of whites occupied the highest rung of the social ladder, while the large number of slaves was at the bottom of the ladder. Freedmen, the majority of whom were light-skinned, occupied the middle rung, even though many had an economic status that exceeded that of many white islanders (Heuman 138-68). The social hierarchy changed little after the abolition of slavery and a tripartite structure remained which was based on a closer connection between race and class. Dark-skinned Afro-Jamaicans engaged in unskilled or semi-skilled work were at the bottom of the ladder. The middle rung consisted of light-skinned Afro-Jamaicans who were small planters, professionals, or employed in clerical positions in the commercial sector. White islanders, including large numbers of colonial officials, formed the top of the hierarchy. The light-skinned middle class tried to distance itself from the dark-skinned working class by identifying more with English than Afro-Jamaican culture and by not socialising with or marrying dark-skinned Afro-Jamaicans. Its aspiration to whiteness, however, was blocked by a variety of informal practices adopted by white society to ensure its socio-economic and political dominance, such as employing only whites in the higher ranks of the colonial bureaucracy (Johnson 317-19).

As to the white-on-black discrimination, the feminists concentrated in particular on the practices adopted by white society to limit the opportunities of better-off and educated Afro-Jamaican women. They pointed out that the latter were seldom found on social welfare committees and educational boards and were only rarely appointed as teachers in secondary schools, as clerical workers in government offices, or as nurses because of their skin colour (Public Opinion, 16 October 1937: 10). As there were only few white women on the island at the time, the government had no choice but to appoint at least a small number of Afro-Jamaican women in the lower ranks of the colonial bureaucracy.[7] The Afro-Jamaican women that it appointed, however, were usually light-skinned. Amy Bailey addressed this form of white-on-black discrimination in two articles entitled “Not Wanted” in which she set out the limited occupational opportunities for those girls in secondary schools who had, like herself, “the misfortune of being black,” that is, of being dark-skinned (Public Opinion, 9 October 1937: 10; 16 October: 10).[8]

It was not only the government, however, that discriminated against better off, educated, Afro-Jamaican women but also the leading churches and white-led women’s organizations. In a letter addressed to the president of the Child Welfare Association (CWA), which was published in Plain Talk in November 1938, Mary Morris-Knibb, who was elected to the Kingston and St. Andrew Corporation in 1939 reflected in particular on the reluctance of women’s organizations to appoint black women on to their boards (Shepherd 171). Like Bailey, she regarded this as a major obstacle to the socio-economic improvement of lower-class black women. By not allowing educated black women to play a prominent role these organizations failed to accurately access the needs of their target group, gain its confidence and hence develop effective support strategies. Mary Morris-Knibb illustrated this point by referring to the crèches for lower-class children set up by the CWA in various parts of the island in the late 1930s. While Morris-Knibb deemed this a very useful method to help lower-class black women to take better care of their children, she pointed out that the women would never avail themselves of the crèches unless the CWA made home visits in order to remove the women’s “apprehension and ignorance,” a method which, according to her, had successfully been pioneered by an organization consisting solely of black women (Vassell, Voices 41-43). Morris-Knibb, thus articulated what Patricia Hill-Collins has called an “outsider-within-stance” (11-13). Because of their insider status, derived mainly from their education, women like Morris-Knibb knew of a wide range of uplift methods, while their outsider status as Afro-Jamaicans enabled them to select those methods that were best-suited for lower-class black women and ‘sell’ them to the target audience.

Reports of annual meetings of the leading women’s organizations on the island confirm the argument of black feminists - that white-led women’s organizations failed to develop effective uplift projects because they lacked an insider view into the Afro-Jamaican community. The report of the 1938 annual meeting of the Jamaica Women’s League (JWL) lists, for instance, hospital visiting and classes in embroidery as uplift methods (Daily Gleaner, 14 March 1938: 2). As there was little demand for embroidery works in or outside of the island, the latter method clearly failed to act as a means to enhance the earning capacities of lower-class Afro-Jamaican women and hence improve their lives. Considering the ineffective uplift methods and the colour prejudice of the white-led women’s organizations, it is not surprising that in the 1920s and 1930s educated black women set up their own organizations to help the less fortunate in society, such as the Women’s Liberal Club (WLC), which was founded by Amy Bailey, Eulalie Domingo, and Mary Morris-Knibb in 1936. Its uplift methods display a clear awareness of the needs of the Afro-Jamaican community. In 1938, for instance, it petitioned against a proposed water meter bill and sent a deputy to the mayor of Kingston demanding an improvement in sanitary conditions (Public Opinion, 1 May 1937: 10).[9]

Because white Jamaican society treated light-skinned Afro-Jamaicans more favourably than dark-skinned Afro-Jamaicans, many Afro-Jamaicans tried to lighten the colour of their offspring by marrying somebody with a lighter skin colour than themselves (Johnson, 318-19).[10] This was not the only form of colour prejudice within the Afro-Jamaican community addressed by black feminists. They were equally concerned about the desire of those Afro-Jamaicans who had risen to some level of prominence, to distance themselves from the darker members of their community. Amy Bailey, for instance, mentioned that educated, light-skinned girls who had managed to find a good job generally took pride in the fact they had “few, if any dark friends,” and pointed also out that many Afro-Jamaican employers preferred light-skinned personnel (Public Opinion, 16 July 1938: 8). It was, however, not only the better-off Afro-Jamaicans who suffered from what Bailey called “mental slavery” but also lower-class Afro-Jamaicans. Domestics, for instance, preferred light-skinned over dark-skinned employers (Public Opinion, 9 October 1937: 10).

While black feminists argued that all dark-skinned women were severely affected by the colour prejudice within the Afro-Jamaican community, they concentrated primarily on the impact that it had on the better-off and educated dark-skinned women. Bailey, for instance, showed in her “Not Wanted” articles how the Afro-Jamaican employers’ preference for light-skinned girls limited the ability of educated, dark-skinned girls to get well-paid jobs, while the desire of Afro-Jamaican men for light-skinned wives restricted their chances of becoming respectable women. Bailey believed that unless educated, dark-skinned girls were “very strong,” they would lose self-respect and “get into unwholesome company” (Public Opinion, 16 October 1937: 10). She suggested, in other words, that like class discrimination, the colour hierarchy within the Afro-Jamaican community helped to lower the black race in the eyes of white society and thus hindered the project of racial equality.

One can detect, then, a contradiction in Bailey’s articles on colour discrimination. On the one hand, she presented white islanders as the source of the colour prejudice on the island by describing their attempts to exclude Afro-Jamaicans from their clubs and societies and to prevent them from obtaining prestigious jobs, and also by emphasising the importance that Afro-Jamaicans attached to whiteness. On the other hand, however, she held white society up as the facilitator of the integration of black Jamaicans into society by arguing that Afro-Jamaicans only stood a chance of being accepted as equal citizens if they lived up to white cultural norms. In spite of this contradiction, Bailey managed to convey to her audiences that the light-skinned middle class helped to sustain the colour hierarchy that had been put in place during slavery and which allowed the small number of whites to dominate socially, economically, and politically.

According to black feminists, the colour prejudice within the Afro-Jamaican community formed a major obstacle to the improvement of lower-class Afro-Jamaican women because better-off, light-skinned women who had time for social work refused to do so, because it involved interaction with dark-skinned women (Vassell, Voices 42; Public Opinion, 17 July 1937: 10, 7 August 1937: 10, 31 December 1938: 4). They proposed various means to break down the colour barrier within the Afro-Jamaican community. First is the fostering of race pride. Amy Bailey tried to do this by, for instance, mentioning black heroes from Jamaica’s past and calling upon her readers to develop self-respect. It is likely that she was a major force behind the WLC’s decision to offer classes in “Negro history.” Second, is the promotion of a national spirit. Eulalie Domingo, for example, encouraged better-off, light-skinned women who had plenty of free time to “join those organizations working for the betterment of your people for the future of your children, for Jamaica for the Jamaicans”(Public Opinion, 1 May 1937: 10, emphasis mine), while Mary Morris-Knibb reminded these women that they shared a past of suffering with their darker sisters (Vassell, Voices 41). Third, and more practical, the boycott of shops and other places that refused to employ dark-skinned Afro-Jamaicans, a method that had been successfully tried in some Northern American cities in the early 1930s (Public Opinion, 16 October 1937: 10, 16 July 1938: 8).

Black feminists mentioned another reason besides the colour prejudice in the Afro-Jamaican community why so many better-off Afro-Jamaican women were indifferent about the sufferings of lower-class women: an underdeveloped social consciousness. They saw it as an important task of secondary girls’ schools to develop this and suggested ways in which it could be done. Besides offering courses in civics and citizenship, headmistresses could remind girls in the assembly of their need to serve the wider community, while other staff could set them an example by undertaking voluntary work themselves. They also suggested a method that had been practised for many years at black industrial schools in America, namely sending pupils out into the community, such as visiting prisons. It was argued that the girls should nurture their social conscience after graduation by reading books and taking an active interest in local and national affairs (Public Opinion, 6 March 1937: 6, 10 April 1937: 10, 26 March 1938: 8).

Although black feminists concentrated on the ways in which colour prejudice within the Afro-Jamaican community prevented an improvement in the socio-economic condition of many Afro-Jamaican women, they also pointed out how the divisions that it created hindered the progress of the island as a whole. In one of her calls for racial solidarity, Una Marson mentioned, for instance, that “if by some miracle all the people in Jamaica including those with one drop of coloured blood, could be made to realise that they are a racial entity and all their first loyalties lie within the race, then in the next twenty years Jamaica would make more progress that she had done in the past hundred years” (Public Opinion, 17 July 1937: 10). Hence, it is no surprise that some black feminists regarded the fostering of race pride and the development of a national spirit as two sides of the same coin.

Questioning the colour prejudice on the island was a very radical and daring thing to do at the time. For instance, in one of her articles Bailey mentioned that those who “dared to say that race, colour and shade prejudice do exist were pilloried” (Public Opinion, 16 July 1938: 8). The responses of Public Opinion readers to her’s and Marson’s articles on colour prejudice demonstrate not only how radical black feminists were by addressing this issue but also that their writings helped to open up the debate about colour prejudice on the island. One reader mentioned, for instance, that Bailey’s articles had been “the cause of journalistic argument,” while another suggested that it was time for the government to legislate against colour discrimination because it was worse than described by Bailey and Marson (Public Opinion, 13 November 1937: 14, 20 November 1937: 14).

Gender discrimination

Black feminists focussed on three areas of male dominance, which were also singled out by British feminists at the time: trade unions, the labour market, and the political process.[11] The following discussion of these areas will demonstrate that black feminists regarded gender discrimination as an issue that affected first and foremost better-off, educated black women. Trade unions were formed in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. They were small in membership and usually composed of skilled workers in one particular trade. In the 1920s, trade unions received legal recognition and many new ones were formed including some female unions, such as the Business Women’s Association which was set up in 1929 and catered to clerks, stenographers, cashiers and secretaries (Richards 346-50). By the early 1930s, women who were active in unions became increasingly dissatisfied with the male leadership. To counteract male domination, the female members of the Jamaica Union of Teachers (JUT) formed in 1935 the Women’s Teachers Federation and held a special women’s session at the JUT’s annual conference. This, however, was not enough for some members as a means to tackle women’s inferior position in the JUT and they pressed for a drastic change in leadership. At the 1936 women’s session, for instance, Mary Morris-Knibb called for a woman to be the next Vice-President of the JUT. While some of those present agreed with her that women should occupy the higher ranks in the leadership because they were “equal to men in their ability to do anything,” most argued that the proper place of women within the JUT was that of rank-and-file members (Daily Gleaner, 9 January 1936: 16). Amy Bailey tried to steer a middle course. She reminded the audience that women had only been appointed to the executive committee because some male executive members had supported this change. She therefore argued that a request for a woman as the next vice-president would stand a better chance if it came from these men rather than from the women’s session (Daily Gleaner, 9 January 1936: 16). This discussion about the place of female members in the JUT, which also took place in other unions, shows some of the diversity of opinion amongst black feminists in the 1930s.

As for gender discrimination on the labour market, black feminists mentioned similar issues as British feminists at the time, namely that many trades and occupations were closed to women; that they were paid less than men for similar jobs; and that they were also less often promoted and more easily laid off than men. In 1938, the colonial government discussed a marriage bar for women in state-paid positions. This called forward fierce reactions from some black feminists. Aimee Webster, who had co-edited the magazine New Cosmopolitan with Marson and wrote for various newspapers, argued that a marriage bar would not, as the government argued, improve the economic condition of the island but further deteriorate it. According to her, the work that married, middle-class women carried out provided employment and allowed companies to sustain their profits. She pointed out that the women spent their wages on luxuries and thus put money into circulation and that they also used part of their wages to employ a domestic servant and a gardener (Public Opinion, 12 February 1938: 5).

Organization was seen as an important means to bring about more gender equality on the labour market. Black feminists encouraged women workers to join, or if necessary form, women’s clubs and unions and call within these organizations for equal wages, sickness benefits, greater employment, and promotion opportunities for women workers (Vassell, Voices 25-26). Another method, which was articulated less often, was that of a post-secondary vocational education. Amy Bailey, for example, argued that business training would give women greater access to the commercial world (Public Opinion, 21 may 1938: 12). And finally, most feminists saw equal access to the political process as a necessary precondition for gender equality in the labour market. Marson, for example, believed that as long as there were only men on the Legislative Council, a demand for equal pay would never be realised (Public Opinion, 20 February 1937:10). By equal access to the political process, black feminists did not mean the equalization of the franchise requirements for women and men. Instead, they meant that those women over 25 who paid 2 pounds in taxes per year or earned 50 pounds in salary and had been given the vote in 1919, should also have the right to be elected into office (Vassell, “Movement” 52). The 3,000 enfranchised women on the island were, according to the feminists, not all suitable for politics. They specified a number of traits that were seen as essential for female politicians, such as a strong “social consciousness,” a “trained mind,” and “leadership skills,” and suggested that better-off girls should develop these at an early stage by undertaking social work and courses in such subjects as economics and sociology (Public Opinion, 20 February 1937: 10, 6 March 1937: 10). They were, however, not only concerned to create a pool a potential female politicians but also to ensure that enfranchised women used their vote and used it wisely. Eulalie Domingo, for instance, told her middle-class, female readers: “You have the franchise, (do you really know that?) - use it” (Public Opinion 1 May 1937: 10).

Black feminists presented equal access to the political process as a means to an end. The end was either an improvement in the economic condition of Afro-Jamaican women or, more commonly, the socio-economic development of the island. It was argued that gender prejudices and a focus on high politics had led male politicians to ignore the former end and also issues that were crucial for the latter end, such as sanitation. Or, in the words of Eulalie Domingo: “Let them understand that all these years they have skippered the ship JAMAICA and she has not yet reached the home port – just foundering and foundering” (Public Opinion, 1 May 1937: 10 capitalization original). Black feminists not only pointed out that women were capable of holding public office because they were as intelligent as men, but also that they could exert a beneficial influence on society because of their experiences as housewives and mothers (Public Opinion, 27 February 1937: 10). They singled out several areas of activity for female politicians that were seen to complement those of male politicians: wages and working conditions of women workers, sanitary conditions, child welfare and the morals of men.

The “morals of men” referred to a feature that had plagued Jamaican society since the abolition of slavery: illegitimacy. In the 1920s and 1930s, the illegitimacy rate had reached 70 per cent of all children born and had given rise to a huge public debate which centred largely on the question how it could be brought down and how fathers could be made to take responsibility for their illegitimate children (Roberts 288). Marson and Bailey differed from most participants in this debate in that they focussed more on the fathers than on the mothers of illegitimate children and did not propose the encouragement of marriage as a solution to the problem. In fact, both were very accepting of common-law marriage, the union preferred by some 15 per cent of Jamaican women. To make fathers provide better for their illegitimate children, they proposed a change in the bastardy law, which would allow for the imprisonment of fathers who had twice forsaken their duty to pay maintenance (Public Opinion, 9 July 1938: 10). They also suggested that better-off women should encourage their husbands to support their outside children. Bailey believed that if better-off black men took their responsibility for their outside children more seriously, lower-class men would quickly follow their example and hence the condition of many illegitimate children would improve (Public Opinion 10 June 1939: 10). She and Marson, however, were convinced that the welfare of illegitimate children also depended on their mothers. They proposed some basic training in mothering skills because many women with illegitimate children did not fully understand the “grave responsibility of motherhood,” especially those aged 16 to 21 who often left their children in the care of their mothers (Public Opinion, 13 March 1937: 10).

Bailey also suggested two means to reduce the illegitimacy rate on the island: vocational education for girls aged fourteen and older that would equip them to earn an independent living and raise their aspirations beyond “having babies” and birth control (Public Opinion, 9 July 1938:10 and 10 June 1939:10). Bailey proposed the latter method, which she had learned about during a trip to England, not for young girls but only for women who already had illegitimate children and were likely to have more. She, in fact, deemed it the duty of the government to provide this group with birth control because their children “grew up to be a menace” (Public Opinion, 9 July 1938: 10). For Bailey, then, birth control was not a means to give women control over their own fertility but a eugenic measure. Her proposal, which illustrates how much sexuality was linked in black feminist discourse with gender and class, should be seen in the light of the growth of the Jamaican population. Between 1921 and 1943, the population increased by 1.7 per cent per year, which put an enormous pressure on the island’s resources (Roberts 47). Several prominent Afro-Jamaican men and women saw birth control as a means to counteract this growth and hence encourage the socio-economic development of the island. In 1939, they launched a campaign that consisted, amongst others, of setting up birth control clinics and making house visits to convince lower-class women to use birth control (Mcleary 35). Bailey played a crucial role in this birth control movement, which faced severe opposition from the churches and also from ordinary Afro-Jamaicans who strongly opposed this interference in their private lives (Brown-Mcleary 37).

The foregoing has demonstrated, then, that black feminists realised that the three forms of discrimination -class, race, and gender- faced by Afro-Jamaican women were interconnected and that by preventing black women from being fully integrated into society, they negatively affected the development of the island. Because the three forms of discrimination were so ingrained in Jamaican society, the women believed that an improvement in the condition of Afro-Jamaican women required a drastic change in the behaviour and attitudes of all islanders – black and white. To achieve this, they proposed a comprehensive plan which included, amongst others, legislation and organization. It is not surprising that it was especially dark-skinned, middle-class Afro-Jamaican women who expressed these ideas in the 1920s and 1930s. Their class status had enabled them to gain the necessary qualifications to enter into the professions but because of their skin colour and gender, they were excluded from full participation in the labour market and the political process.

There were four features of the black feminist program to enhance the lives of Afro-Jamaican women and the island as a whole, which can be termed radical. First, the assumption that women could combine the roles of wives, mothers, and workers. The feminists understood how class and race discrimination insured the inadequacy of most black men’s wages and that this had an impact on a couple’s ability to marry and also implied that many married women were forced to undertake paid work. Aimee Webster mentioned, for instance, that many lower-class women “join the daily rush, because they must as the salary of today’s young man is painfully inadequate” (Public Opinion, 12 February 1938: 5). Strikingly absent in their writings is the argument that Afro-Jamaican women could easily combine the three roles because their ancestors had done so successfully for centuries. Barbara Bush has demonstrated in her Slave Women in Caribbean Society, 1650-1838 (1990) that even though slave women worked long hours in the field they managed to take good care of their children, and that in spite of various plantation practices, such as sexual abuse by white men, they were faithful and loving wives. Travel accounts from the early twentieth century suggest that like their enslaved ancestors, Afro-Jamaican women were strong and independent women who managed against all the odds to be good mothers and wives. One Englishwoman, for instance, expressed her admiration for the “hardworking negro woman” who walked “twenty miles to the nearest market town” to sell excess produce and managed on top of that and usually without support of her children’s father to be a caring and loving mother (Pullen-Berry 16-17).[12] The absence of references to centuries of strong and independent black women illustrates, like the idea that married women of their own class should ideally not undertake paid work but do voluntary work, the black feminists’ influence by the metropolitan ideal of womanhood. Their exposure in school and church to the ideal which held up the home as the proper place of women and saw their roles as obedient wives and carers of the family, explains why black feminists argued, like their metropolitan counterparts, that married women should have the right to undertake paid work but only work out of necessity (Caine 189).

Second, and mentioned in the foregoing, the emphasis placed on race pride and race solidarity, which shows most clearly the extent to which the women were influenced by the ideas of Marcus Garvey and other black nationalists (Ford-Smith 30). Their call to break down the colour barrier within the Afro-Jamaican community as a means to unite better-off women behind their cause to uplift lower-class women makes them stand out from Afro-Jamaican leaders of the labour movement at the time who, with the notable exception of Garvey, did not articulate a pronounced racial consciousness (Richards 347). Although the total space allocated in the women’s writings to colour prejudice is less than that on gender or on class discrimination, the fact that it was mainly addressed in separate articles rather than discussed alongside the other two issues, suggests that black feminists saw racism as an extremely pressing issue in the lives of Afro-Jamaican women.

Third, the proposals to improve the lives of lower-class women differed considerably from those put forward by white Jamaican women at the time, in that they were less concerned with the moral than with the economic status of lower-class women and were also more informed by the culture of the lower-class Afro-Jamaican community. And, finally, the assumption that class, colour, and gender discrimination were closely intertwined. This is more pronounced, however, in the writings of some black feminists than others. Amy Bailey, for instance, clearly conveyed the idea that the position that an Afro-Jamaican girl could occupy on the labour market was determined not only by her education and thus class but also by her gender and skin colour.

The program, however, also worked to uphold divisions within Jamaican society, most notably that of gender. It was not only by omitting from their program the demand that women should have the right to enter the male professions that black feminists helped to reinforce traditional assumptions about women, but also by demanding a place for women in politics and on the labour market that firmly left intact the assumption that some areas of life were ‘feminine’ and others ‘masculine’. Amy Bailey, for instance, wanted women to have the right to become sanitary inspectors but was convinced that they should focus on restaurants, milk depots, and markets, leaving other less ‘feminine’ areas to male inspectors (Public Opinion, 13 May 1939: 8). The various justifications that the women gave for their demands to widen women’s sphere, rights, and roles equally served to reproduce the definitions of gender differences that for years had kept Afro-Jamaican women subordinated to men. Most of these expressed a belief in women’s unique qualities. Una Marson, for instance, argued that more office jobs should be opened up for women because these were “delicate jobs that needed much patience, finesse and perseverance, qualities which are rare in men” (Vassell, Voices 25), while a woman who wrote under the pseudonym S.A.D. justified women’s entry into politics on the grounds that as housewives they had developed skills, such as self-denial, tact, patience, and diplomacy that would allow them to exert a beneficial influence on politics (Public Opinion 12 June 1937: 10, 24 July 1937: 10). It was, however, not only proposals to extend the spheres and roles of better-off women that were supported with references to women’s difference. Adina Spencer, for instance, argued that it was the government’s duty to set up relief schemes for lower-class women because women were the “standard bearers and bulwarks of government because they gave birth to kings, princes, governors and soldiers” (Vassell, Voices 27). She, then, referred to the quintessential difference of women: childbearing.

It could be argued that black feminists also helped to sustain the gender status quo by omitting certain forms of gender discrimination, most notably the physical and sexual abuse that black women suffered at the hands of their employers, partners, fathers, and brothers. Domestic violence and rape featured prominently in the island’s newspapers at the time. In June 1932, for instance, The Daily Gleaner reported extensively about a court case involving a young girl who had been raped by a dentist.[13] They did not ask, like British feminists at the time, for legislation to protect women against domestic abuse or for other legislation that would improve their position within the private sphere. This can largely be explained by the fact that they had been socialized in a society that expected women to pay extreme deference to the men in their family (Caine 177, 203).[14] This supports, then, Lizabeth Paravisini-Gebert’s argument that because gender relations in the Caribbean islands were different from those in the metropolitan societies, Caribbean women articulated a feminist consciousness that differed in some notable ways from that of European feminists at the time (5-7).

Black feminists also did little to break down the class status quo. This is most evident in their demands regarding politics and education. While they advocated the right of enfranchised women to hold public office, they did not ask for universal suffrage. Giving the vote to all adult men and women on an equal basis was seen by most as a severe threat to their privileged status in society. The changes that they proposed in the education of lower-class girls and the absence of proposals to increase the number of lower-class girls in secondary schools, illustrate most clearly that these women did not favour the upward mobility of lower-class girls. They must, however, be given some credit for trying to raise the status of female domestics. They not only proposed the training of existing and potential domestics so as to enable them to get better-paid positions but also ways to take away some of prejudices against female domestics. Bailey, for example, suggested that secondary girls’ schools should teach domestic science so as to give girls from the better-class homes, who in the future would employ domestics, an understanding of the hard work that domestics had to carry out (Public Opinion, 10 April 1937: 3).

The black feminist program, then, is not overtly radical but it is rather impressive if we take into account the context in which it was articulated. It was not only the strong patriarchal ideal of Afro-Jamaican society that limited the issues that the women could address but also their involvement in the struggle for self-government; the colonial educational system that they had been exposed to; and various other external factors, including economic distress, the power of the churches, and crown colony government.

It is beyond the scope of this article to explore in detail the extent to which the program was implemented. It suffices here to state that some demands were implemented between the outbreak of the Second World War and 1962, when the island gained independence from Britain, including the right to hold public office, public relief work for women, the inclusion of domestic science for girls in the primary school curriculum, the establishment of a labour department, and the opening up of certain trades to women. This was less the result, however, of pressure put on the colonial government by women’s organisations than of reforms enacted by the Imperial government.[15] It seems that women’s organisations at the time deemed the black feminist program far too radical. The Jamaica Federation of Women, which was founded in 1944, for example, took up the black feminists’ idea of encouraging cottage industry and craft in rural areas and supporting female voluntary work but completely ignored such crucial issues as women’s paid work and the unionization of female workers (French 138-41). Other black feminist demands were only realised after independence. For example, in the 1960s and 1970s the Jamaican government declared seven men and women who had struggled for freedom “National Heroes” in an attempt to foster race pride. And some proposals to improve the lives of Afro-Jamaican women discussed in the foregoing have not yet been fully implemented. Most middle-class Afro-Jamaican women, for instance, are today more inclined to hide knowledge of their husbands’ outside children than to encourage them to financially support these children (Senior 21-23).

What this article has tried to do by examining in detail a small number of writings, is to open up the debate about early Afro-Caribbean feminist thought by pointing out the various interconnected issues addressed by early Afro-Jamaican feminists and by indicating that, as a result of their political persuasion and other factors, the women emphasised different issues and did not always interpret them in the same way. More sources, including speeches and personal papers, need to be examined in order to ascertain whether it is correct, as has been assumed here, that most of the demands for a widening of women’s sphere and roles were based on and helped to sustain a belief in women’s difference, and to explore the extent to which class, skin colour, and other markers of difference interacted with the feminists’ ideas about the condition of women. The foregoing has suggested that early Afro-Caribbean feminists articulated ideas that were very similar to but also different from white feminists at the time. Future research, then, could also examine how these women’s ‘outsider-within-stance’ led them to include and exclude elements of the white European feminist program.