Why I Choose Womanism and Allyship Over The Feminist Label

Introduction: A Question of Framing

When we talk about gender equity, we often find ourselves stepping into conversations already framed by dominant narratives. One of those recurring frames is feminism—but which feminism? Whose feminism? And does it serve us all equally?

I often get asked, in a surprised tone: “Did I hear you say that you are not a feminist?” particularly when people know me as Antonia Lee-Wilmot aka Amja the artist and public speaker who advocates for the end of domestic abuse and other forms of (V.A.W.G) violence against women and girls. My answer is rooted in my lived experience, my values, and a deeper understanding of the traditions that inform how we address justice, equity, and collective liberation. My perspective is shaped by the social theroy of womanism and intersectionality, approaches that refuse to flatten the realities of race or should I say the social construct of race, gender, sex, class, disability, and cultural identity into one-size-fits-all solutions

Naming the Gap: Feminism’s Blind Spots

Mainstream feminism, particularly in its liberal and white-dominated forms, has historically privileged the voices and concerns of white, middle-class women. While it has made progress on many fronts, it often falls short when it comes to recognising the layered struggles faced by Black women, Indigenous women, and women of colour.

Feminism that ignores race is not justice. Feminism that centres white experiences while asking others to “wait their turn” or “be silent” is not liberation. This is why womanism resonates with me, because it emerged from the margins as a response to this very erasure.

What Is Womanism?

Coined by writer and activist Alice Walker, womanism is a social theory deeply rooted in the experiences of Black women. It centres community, spirituality, love, and healing. Unlike feminism, which often prioritises individual liberation, womanism embraces a collective ethic of care and survival; something that I learnt from spending time with both my grandmothers, aunties and their friends. It acknowledges that we do not live single-issue lives. I only have to spend time speaking with my sisters of 100% Ah Crew or have a Sunday L.A.B.Y.B. dinner with Tamika and Bella Bell’s aka Carmy Love, to know that solutions must be just as complex as our identities.

Postmodern Feminism: A Brief Overview

Postmodern feminism critiques the idea that there is a universal female experience. It questions traditional categories like “woman” and challenges how power and knowledge are constructed. Postmodern feminists argue that identity is fluid, shaped by multiple, intersecting systems—a valuable insight. However, even within postmodern frameworks, Black and Indigenous voices are often sidelined or tokenised.

Why I Prefer to Be Me

Photo: Lewis Patrick. Art: Swim,Swam, Swum by  interdisciplinary artist Antonia Lee aka Amja 

I do not reject feminism out of opposition. I reject the narrowness of labels that erase my fullness. I am woman, (a woman who has been racialised as black. Maybe another time I will go into that, but for now I will say, a black woman) I am a woman born to a Caribbean African Diaspran woman. I am a daughter to a Black and Chinese man. I am a sister. I am a friend. I am a mother to four amazing humans I refer to as Womb Gems. I am an artist. I am a survivor thriving. I am a storyteller. I am a community-builder. These identities do not always fit neatly into mainstream feminist boxes. And I shouldn’t have to trim the truth of who I am to fit a label that was never made with me in mind.

Instead, I choose to move through the world with an intersectional lens that honours the complexity of my lived experience, including being a mother to a child who identifies as queer. I believe in the power of creativity, compassion, and cultural memory to heal and transform. I believe in justice that is rooted in love, not just critique.

On Men, Allyship, and Accountability

And yes, I believe that men must be part of the solution. But not just as defenders or rescuers. As allies. As disruptors of patriarchy in their own circles. Too often, when we raise issues like gender-based violence, someone chimes in: “What about men?” And while men’s issues matter, this deflection dilutes the urgent realities women and girls face every day.

We don’t interrupt prostate cancer awareness by shouting out what about breast cancer in the same breath, or visa versa. We trust that one issue can be spotlighted without negating the importance of the other. We need that same clarity when talking about violence against women and girls, the gender pay gap and equitable opportunities. Let us speak the truth. Let men listen, learn, and lead other men.

Conclusion: Let Art Be Your Becoming

My work as an artist, speaker, and workshop facilitator is rooted in creating spaces where healing, truth-telling, and collective growth are possible. I believe that art can be a powerful tool for becoming. For shifting from silence to storytelling, from pain to empowerment.

So no, I don’t call myself a feminist. I call myself me. Intersectional. Unabashedly committed to liberation in all its forms. And I invite others, including men willing to stand up, not stand by, to join me.

Let art be your becoming.