Feminist Founders Subscriber-Only Podcast

Welcome to the Feminist Founders audio series event. This is a bonus for paid subscribers of the Feminist Founders newsletter. So if you're here, thank you so much for your support. I'm excited to bring you this series, featuring incredible thought leaders who will share insights about doing business differently in a way that honors equity and social justice. I hope you learn a lot from this. Let's dig in.
Becky Mollenkamp: Hey, today I am joined by Desireé B. Stephens, an educator, counselor, and community builder who I have followed for a long time. I was super nervous to reach out to her because I admire her so much and really wanted her to like me and to feel good about what I put out in the world. She could not have been more wonderful. I'm very in awe of Desireé and grateful for her participating in this. She has a Substack called the Liberation Education newsletter, which I hope you will subscribe to—I will link to it in the show notes. It’s fantastic, with so much incredible information to help you with decolonization, whole self-healing, personal and collective freedom. It’s really thought-provoking and practical too. Desireé is awesome, and I’m thrilled to be talking with her about decolonizing community spaces. It was really helpful for me to hear her perspective on how to decolonize membership or other kinds of communities, especially since I am racialized white. I think for anyone who runs a community or is inside communities, whether that’s a membership or a free space, what she has to share here is really helpful. I think you're going to enjoy it. I hope you love everything Desireé has to share.
Becky Mollenkamp: Desireé, I'm thrilled you're doing this. I've admired your work for quite a while and really respect you, and also, that makes me slightly afraid. But only because I just want to perform well, which is, I’m sure, my own colonized mind at play. I’ll be interested to hear what you think about that as we discuss decolonizing spaces. I’m someone who’s creating a lot of community spaces with a real eye on making sure they are inclusive and decolonized as best I know how. I’m always interested to learn more, and I think a lot of folks listening to this are running memberships or facilitating community in other ways. Talking about how to decolonize these spaces is going to be amazing. But to start, I’m hoping you’ll share with everyone a really basic definition so we get to a shared vocabulary. When we’re talking about decolonizing, what does that mean?
Desireé B. Stephens: This is a really good question. When we're talking about decolonization, what I am saying is that it is a journey back to yourself. When we're talking about supremacy culture, which is the culture we all fall under—whether it's Christian supremacy, cis supremacy, hetero supremacy, white supremacy, able-bodied supremacy, etc.—we're talking about an entire system that is created similar to an MLM or pyramid scheme, right? You have these people that hoard and maintain power at the top, while the majority exists at the bottom being repressed in some form or fashion. So, when you're decolonizing, you are unlearning everything that you've been indoctrinated into via systems of schooling, church, parenting—everything has been created and curated for us to oppress someone in some way. So when I say decolonization is a journey back to self, it is the unlearning and dismantling of everything that told you not to trust yourself. Everything that created biases within you against others, right? When you're decolonizing community and you are a white person trying to lead that initiative, that is something very difficult to do because we often stop where our oppression is. This is why there are so many issues with white feminism, right? They stop at the patriarchy. They do not go any further. I’m like, you have to go further, or you have to stop doing what you're doing and allow someone else to lead. When you're talking about decolonizing communities as a white person, my first thought and call to action is to recognize your racial identity. What that means is recognizing how you show up in the world to the global majority. White people oppressed the entire globe. Coming into a space thinking, "Oh, I can fix this, I can help this," is hubris because you are the problem, because the system made you a problem. Even with your best intention, even with all the heart-centered work that many are doing, not recognizing your racial identity, not showing up in community recognizing, "Hey, me, I’m the problem," is a major barrier to decolonizing community when you are a white person either entering or trying to create community.
Becky Mollenkamp: Thank you so much. There are so many places I want to go with what you shared, but I want to start by talking about where you ended—about a white person leading the initiative to decolonize community. I just want to say that it immediately makes me think of the series you did on Substack about unpacking the 15 pillars of supremacy culture. Specifically, it makes me think about paternalism, "I'm the only one," power hoarding, the right to comfort, and fear of conflict. It also makes me think about a more recent piece you wrote about decentering whiteness. I’m going to link to your Substack and those things so folks can go and read them because they’re really helpful. I’m going to take all of that, and what I’ve learned from it, to try as much as I can to decenter myself and decenter whiteness from this discussion. So, where I’m hoping we can go next is where you talked about that definition of decolonization as being that journey back to yourself. My thought or reaction when I hear that is, "That sounds amazing, and it sounds really challenging." When I think you’ve been conditioned not to trust and know yourself—and I am sure that becomes even more compounded with the more marginalized identities you hold—how do you even begin that journey if you don’t know yourself? How can you journey back to yourself or find yourself if you don’t know yourself? I know this sounds like a really giant question, but is there a logical place for us to start that part of this discussion?
Desireé B. Stephens: This is such a wonderful question. How do you make the journey back to self when you've been conditioned not to trust or know yourself? One, you begin there. The work I do is about teaching you to trust yourself again—getting back into your body, somatic work. What is going on with you? Do you trust yourself? Why are you always questioning? Deconstructing everything you’ve been taught, very specifically if you are a white-bodied person, you know you’ve been taught paternalism through those pillars of supremacy, right? To trust what the men in your life have said, to trust the system—just believe in me, just hold on, you know, “Oh no, that’s not really real, that’s not really happening.” So the web of confusion is spun very young. To start combating that, somatic work is something I use within my own work of decolonization—getting back into yourself, trusting yourself again, practicing simple body stuff. Hmm, where do I feel that today? A lot of the time, what you notice with systems of whiteness is it’s very cerebral, right? Like, "I think" instead of "I feel." "I feel" is a very powerful statement because feelings are true, right? They’re information. If you feel unsafe, that’s information. What is going on around me that has me feeling this way? Checking in with yourself, checking in with others, confirming, do you also feel this way when you’re sad, when you’re angry? Instead of trying to just get over it or "love and light" your way out of it, sit with that emotion, right? Witness it. What does this feel like to me? Why am I going through this? What is happening in my body? What am I responding to? And when you start doing that, you begin to trust yourself. Like, you know, I just know something is not right. So what do I feel? Right? Connecting with nature again. These systems have really separated us, not only from each other but from our land. When you're talking about colonization, white-bodied people are the first to experience the violence of colonization—to be put out of your land, to lose your language, your customs, your tradition, your connection to your ancestors. That is all severed and then it’s replaced with theory, right? "If you live this way, certain things should happen. If you earn a living, you deserve it." So you start feeling like less of a person when certain things are not happening because it’s all supposed to be prescribed, and if you follow this prescription, it will work. That’s not actually true. Nothing in nature works like that. Nothing at all. Everything is about coming back home to self. How do I sit down, and how does this wind feel? How does this water feel? Do I enjoy this? That is a big question. Am I enjoying this moment? Do I like the way this feels? So beginning to question yourself and your body and its responses to the information around it is a good core start.
Becky Mollenkamp: When you talk about decolonization being the journey back to yourself, it sounds like it’s going back to this individualist nature, where we’re exploring everything about ourselves. But you and I are really talking about decolonizing community spaces. So how does the individual journey of decolonization help us inside of decolonizing community spaces? How are those two things related, or why is it necessary to do the journey back to self first for you to then run community spaces that are decolonized? I hope that makes sense.
Desireé B. Stephens: For the idea of decolonization as a journey back to self being self-focused, how I like to do that is the idea of being selfish has been given to us as this awful thing. How I look at it is, when you think of “I,” it just means a little bit. It’s a little bit of self, whereas being selfless is a little less of self each time. As individuals, we show up in community. So we’re beginning that work with self because self begins at home, right? Community begins at home, and you’re your first home. When you're doing that work of deconstructing and seeing yourself, you get to show up more authentically. Then you pass that on to those around you, which gives people permission to also show up authentically—in all of their feelings, in all of their glory, in the very moment they’re in. So then when you step out into larger communities, you emanate that as well, right? So it’s not a selfish journey like “I’m only worried about me.” It is about saying, "I am so deeply invested in community, I want to show up as the best possible version of myself, as the most authentic version of myself, as a continuing growing version of myself." So therefore I can grow and shift and change with community and meet the needs of others in community because I’m meeting my own needs first. Imagine showing up somewhere and serving a meal that you haven’t eaten. You’re hungry. So there’s going to be a bit of you that feels contentious about other people eating, right? We want to pretend that we’re altruistic, “Oh, it brings me joy to see other people eating.” Absolutely, I’m sure it does. I bet it would feel better if you too were eating. I promise you it would feel better, it would feel more communal because now we are sharing in this eating together, and that is how the healing works. Because if you’re doing it and the other person is doing it, wow, we’re doing this together. We are healing communally. We are showing up for ourselves, which allows us to show up deeper for those we share community with. We also then understand when in certain spaces you just can’t be, right? Like, "Oh, they don’t need me here, they don’t feel comfortable with me here, I can bring harm to this space," and that’s OK. You’re not trying to push yourself into that because you’re so deeply invested in healing within. You’re curating the community that you need, and then others are attracted to that same sort of community and show up like, “Oh, look at us being all safe and brave for each other.” My idea on starting with self first comes from that, right? Like, you need to eat before you start serving other people. Otherwise, you’re sitting there hungry, anxious, frustrated, you’re dysregulated, and you really can’t show up communally for this wonderful meal that you’ve done all this hard work for. You’ve done the checklist, you’ve done all the things that you’re supposed to do. Why am I hungry? Well, because you haven’t eaten, friend, it’s time for you to serve yourself so that you can show up better and serve community.
Becky Mollenkamp: What are the mistakes you see happening inside of community spaces that make them feel or make them colonized? What are the things that are happening so frequently inside of community spaces that make them basically unsafe and harmful because of that colonization? I think it would be helpful for people to have some specific ideas—not that those are the only ways that a space can be colonized, but if there are some specific things that people could look at to say, “Ah, I’m understanding how this colonization idea shows up inside of community spaces.”
Desireé B. Stephens: Oh, this is a good one. What are the mistakes you see in community spaces that make it clear they are colonized? One, if white people are there. This is the clearest one, right? Because what white people don’t seem to recognize is their own racial identity, and this is a very core point for the work I do in decolonization and decolonizing community spaces. Recognizing your white racial identity was created for you before it was created for anybody else allows you to see how you show up to the global majority. So if I show up to a space—let’s say it’s predominantly white—and we’re going to go do yoga, I’m like, “Oh, you don’t recognize how you have literally taken one portion from an indigenous practice and made it for your use.” That’s one of the simplest ways. And that’s not to say that white people cannot be in community, but due to the fact that white people have only had community to identify them as in, um, mom groups, right? And the community that white people create is more about exclusion than it is inclusion. “Oh, we’re breastfeeding moms, so non-breastfeeding moms cannot be included in that.” Or, “We’re Southern Baptists, so evangelicals can’t be included in that.” The community that systems of whiteness create are quite exclusive, so I can pretty much show up and know this has not taken into consideration how you look to the global majority, how you show up to everyone else, right? Even within your own community, right? If you have a bunch of, let’s say, white women and femme-presenting people in cardigans and pearls and loafers and khakis, you do not see how this impacts the white person in their Bud Light t-shirt and ripped jeans, right? They already know that you feel a certain way about them. They already know that they are not welcome in that space, because again, whiteness sets up systems and communities that are exclusionary and not inclusive. So you wind up seeing these pockets of white-led spaces that are exclusive. You see it throughout whiteness, throughout those hierarchies, and usually it’s based in classism, right? What do you have access to monetarily? And you don’t see too much mixture within the class. For me, you can recognize how classism impacts whiteness the way racism impacts Blackness. It’s ever-present. It is always looming over spaces that are created within whiteness.
Becky Mollenkamp: Well, and I suppose a logical follow-up to that, hopefully, for people who are running community spaces and are committed to decolonizing them: There’s the internal work, the journey they need to do for themselves to understand the ways they are in a relationship with colonization. But then, once they’ve done some of that internal work, what should be their first steps inside of the community spaces they run to begin that process of analyzing whether they are decolonized or what they need to do to make them more decolonized?
Desireé B. Stephens: I would say for people running community spaces who have started the internal decolonization work, their first step would be recognizing their white racial identity. I'm really heavy on that because this is how you begin to decenter whiteness as a system, and you see how you show up in the world and how people are experiencing you. What white people don’t seem to realize is that we are treated how we're perceived, right? If you are perceived to have money or education, that would show up in the way you dress, walk, talk, even down to the perfume you wear, right? Whiteness is a performance, and life is all a stage. You then begin to be like, “Oh, wow, I can see how this looks to someone who doesn’t have access to this.” When you show up, you can have all the best intentions—let's say white moms with Black children—you show up to the barbecue or whatever, and you think that your partner and your child are an automatic in. It's like you're not recognizing how that could bring harm into that community. So, that racial identity—when you're talking about being in community with Black people and other people of color—recognizing those hierarchies of whiteness is crucial. When you're in community with other white people, how classism impacts, religion impacts—those are important key steps when you're decolonizing your communities. How are you decentering those systems of whiteness in order to actually have other people feel it’s inclusive? You don’t get to self-proclaim that it’s inclusive. If you look around and everyone is the same, then it’s not, because we are all treated the way we are perceived. That is something sorely lacking in decolonization work, very much with white-bodied people, is the recognition that this system of hierarchies of supremacy is based on perception and perception alone. You could be white and queer and disabled and poor, and if you are perceived as something else—if you can mask those things, if you can mask your neurodivergence, if you cannot be clocked for queer, if your disability is not visible, if your poverty is not on display—you are perceived in a different way, therefore treated based on how whiteness as a system states you are deserving because this is a meritocracy. So you have to earn your way to being treated with kindness and respect, instead of it being inherent worth for simply existing.
Becky Mollenkamp: I love that you said you don’t get to self-proclaim a space as inclusive, just like you can’t self-proclaim yourself as an ally. I love that. All of this has been so helpful for white-bodied people like myself who are running community spaces, and I know we have readers who are Black or others from the global majority. So I’m wondering if we can end by having you share any thoughts about decolonization of community spaces and how that might be different or what folks should consider if that space is actually being run by someone who is Black or another person of color.
Desireé B. Stephens: That is a really good question. So what I would like to say to that is if you walk into communal spaces, groups, community, workspaces, etc., that are Black-led, make sure, one, that they're not just centered there for Black people because we do need spaces that are just for us to feel safe, to feel in community with each other, etc. If you find yourself being invited in, take it as that: an invite. You are privileged to be in that community; you are being trusted in that space. When you show up in that space, show up as a guest, because too often white-bodied people have been told that it is a privilege for us who are Black and other people of color to be in spaces and proximity with white-bodied people, and in truth, it just brings us closer to colonial mindsets, colonial violence, and colonial ways of being. So, as a white-bodied person entering a space led by a non-white person, I would say for your own safety, for your own comfortability, to ensure that it’s a liberation-minded space—that they also see your intersecting identities so you can also be safe in that community. But remember first and foremost that you are invited into that space. You are privileged to be in that space because when you come, you bring all of the violence of whiteness and the colonial mindset simply by existing, and that is of no fault of your own. That is the non-consensual ways of systems of whiteness.
Becky Mollenkamp: Thank you so much for being part of this, Desireé. It’s been so incredibly helpful, and I’ve loved all of your thoughts. I appreciate you sharing so freely. How can people learn more about you? I’m going to link to your Substack, but are there other places where you want people to learn more or connect with you?
Desireé B. Stephens: As far as being able to find me, I appreciate that. Substack is my love because it’s where I can put all of my thoughts together for education, for DEIA work, and for liberation-minded thinking and resources. However, my website is my name, Desireé B. Stephens with a PH.com, and all of the things I offer—workshops, trainings, e-books, etc.—are available there. I want to thank you for this opportunity, and this is what it looks like to amplify someone’s voice, right? Not speaking for them, but saying, “Hey, I have this, and I’d like to share it with you.” So I do deeply appreciate you giving me this space and grace and amplification.
Becky Mollenkamp: Thank you, Desireé. I am so grateful again for your participation in this, and I hope everyone enjoyed the conversation. Again, I encourage you to subscribe to the Liberation Education newsletter, most especially if you have overlapping and intersecting privileges because there’s so much to learn, and she gives and shares so generously—it’s amazing. And again, thank you for being a paid subscriber to Feminist Founders. You are awesome. If you know anyone who isn’t, please tell them about this incredible audio series and why they should consider upgrading to pay, because I hope you felt this is worth every bit of $5 and far more. I hope you’ll stick around even after the series is over, and I will be back again with yet another incredible conversation tomorrow.