Jenji Kohan Is Making Television\'s \'New Normal\' Even where women and girls are present in the data, narratives framing police profiling and lethal force as exclusively male experiences lead researchers, the media, and advocates to exclude them."
In the Say Her Name report, Crenshaw and co-author Andrea Ritchie wrote that they were actively filling a media gap: "The erasure of Black women is not purely a matter of missing facts. Legal scholar Kimberlé Crenshaw created the hashtag #SayHerName in 2015 to bring attention to the police brutality that black women and girls face. This is a problem that black women themselves are fixing. Not one of these women's stories was covered with the same intensity that JonBenét Ramsey's or Natalee Holloway's were-and still are today. Just think about the 13 women who accused former police officer Daniel Holtzclaw of sexual assault and harassment, the nine women and teenage girl Lonnie Franklin was convicted of killing, and the 11 women Anthony Sowell was convicted of killing. We've seen over and over again that crimes against one black woman, let alone several, don't get the police and media attention they deserve. The absence of black women's stories in the media sends a message about their worth, and can have serious consequences. She needs to take our stories out of her mouth." But what would the people actually hear if King were the mouthpiece: a soulless, whitewashed version of the inmates' experience? Janae pleads with Taystee to not allow King to "karaoke our song," just like the "white Effie" had: "You can't let this white woman speak for us. But if the tale were to come from the rich, white, all-American grandmother figure? "They'll hear more of what we saying if it comes from her mouth," Taystee suggests. King presenting a sanitized version of prison life and a black woman's wrongful death was a kind of ventriloquism she would not allow to happen again, especially with the stakes so high.Īt first, Taystee recognizes that King's elevated social power could help their message travel further, and notes that people outside Litchfield aren't concerned about incarcerated women of color. We see these memories of "white Effie" after Janae (played as an adult by Vicky Jeudy) tries to persuade Taystee (Danielle Brooks) not to let Paula Deen-esque Southern celebrity chef Judy King (Blair Brown) publicly tell the story of the beloved Poussey Washington (Samira Wiley), whose death sparked an uprising by Litchfield's diverse population against the prison guards. (Some characters interact with Freedom For Immigrants, a real-life nonprofit that supports ICE detainees.The erasure of black women, the distortion and repurposing of their image to make it palatable for the masses and profitable for the powerful, are as old as bantu knots and baby hair, but the sting is always precise and sharp. It’s a risky move, introducing a new main character this late in the series, but the depiction of Carla’s struggles with an unyielding immigration system is undeniably powerful and in keeping with OITNB’s history of narrative activism. While the ICE facility factors into several returning characters’ arcs this season, it also allows the show to focus on a new prisoner, Carla (Karina Arroyave), a widow who’s about to be deported to El Salvador without her two kids. “It’s like the ‘It’s a Small World’ ride minus the joy and the singing - and the line is just as long,” notes Fig (Alysia Reiner) wryly. A good portion of the action takes place at an ICE detention center, where women from a variety of countries - Mexico, El Salvador, Haiti, Jamaica, China, Egypt, and more - languish without access to lawyers or the outside world in general. This season, Orange turns its focus to our country’s newest disenfranchised population: Undocumented immigrants.
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