By ANITA LITTLE

“I hope when women see them, they’ll feel less alone in the streets.”

This is what Brooklyn-based artist Tatyana Fazlalizadeh wants her public art series, “Stop Telling Women to Smile,” to do for women in eastern U.S. cities—and then across the country and globe—who daily combat street harassment. Starting in her Bedford-Stuyvesant neighborhood, Fazlalizadeh has peppered walls with black-and-white drawings of brazenfaced women accompanied by bold slogans such as, “Women are not outside for your entertainment.”

When a man tells a woman to smile, says the artist, he’s expecting her to entertain him. “It’s the same as saying, ‘Dance for me; jump for me.’ Smile is never really a question; it’s a command. Street harassment isn’t always the construction worker shouting from across the street…street harassment is about a man forcing himself into a woman’s space.”

Usually an oil painter, Fazlalizadeh first thought to express her frustration at street sexism with paintings, but decided it would be more impactful to place the artwork in the environment where harassment occurs. So she began interviewing friends and colleagues about their experiences in public spaces, and then drawing portraits of them.

“I decided on posters because they’re quick, they’re outside, and they’re not too polished,” she says. “It places the images of women outside in the public space boldly and strongly. It’s about taking agency by using our voices and our images.”

Fazlalizadeh takes the anti-street harassment movement a step further by throwing race into the conversation. She argues that race informs how certain women are disrespected in public spaces, and she wants to reset the dialogue to one that factors in the intersection of race with gender.

“Street harassment happens because of male entitlement, so it’s only natural that all the other types of power and privilege would come into that equation,” she says. “With women of color, our bodies are already hypersexualized, and that is reflected in how men will approach you. Some of the conversations about street harassment seem to glaze over race, but I want to explore it more.”

Fazlalizadeh, who herself is African American and Iranian, focuses on women of color in her posters. “I wanted to portray women of color first and foremost,” she says. “I wanted to inject the voices of women of color standing up for themselves.”

The work seems to have hit a nerve. After garnering attention with her posters in New York and Philadelphia, Fazlalizadeh launched a Kickstarter campaign that would enable her to not only ship posters to those who wish to paste them up in their own communities but to travel herself to about 10 more cities domestically and internationally, interview women there and create more pieces. The Kickstarter successfully raised more than double its goal, nearly $35,000.

“It was amazing how quickly it happened,” she says. “I haven’t really celebrated yet; it’s more about getting organized to make the work as great as I possibly can.”

Finally, something to smile about.

Photos courtesy of Tatyana Fazlalizadeh.

Reprinted from the Fall 2013 issue of Ms. To have this issue delivered straight to your door, Apple, or Android device, join the Ms. Community.

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FEATURE | WINTER/SPRING 2014

A new film reminds us of Wilma Mankiller’s leadership and commitment to community

By MELISSA MCGLENSEY

WILMA MANKILLER, THE first woman chief of the modern Cherokee Nation, died four years ago, but thanks to a determined effort by her family and friends, her legacy lives on in film. The Cherokee Word for Water is a featurelength narrative based on a major project Mankiller took on for the Cherokee Nation.

The film, directed by Mankiller’s husband and longtime communitydevelopment partner, Charlie Soap, follows a young Mankiller as she works to bring water to the rural Cherokee town of Bell, Okla. Mankiller and Soap had to convince the small community, which had limited public funds, to lay 18 miles of waterline by themselves in order to bring running water to their homes. Thanks in large part to Mankiller’s fierce determination, the community was able to complete the project and improve their quality of life.

“The Bell project created a movement within the Cherokee nation for self help,” Soap told Ms. The success of the Bell Waterline Project also vaulted a young Wilma Mankiller into tribal politics, and she ended up serving the tribe as principal chief for 10 years. During that time she made great strides to improve health, education, housing, utilities management and tribal government. She also devoted much of her time to civil rights work, focusing largely on women’s rights.

Soap and the film’s coproducer, Kristina Kiehl, have chosen to forgo the traditional film distribution route and instead opted for a communitydriven model in which people organize their own screenings of the film. Screenings on reservations have evolved into forums for discussion about issues in Indian country, boosting community organizing and activism. In that way, Mankiller’s work continues on through the film.

“Local groups can use a screening as a fundraiser and double the impact,” says Kiehl, a feminist activist and longtime friend of Mankiller’s. The two became close while on the Ms. Foundation for Women board of directors with mutual friend, and Ms. cofounder, Gloria Steinem.

More than three decades after work began on the Bell Waterline Project, native communities across the U.S. are still in need. A disproportionately large percentage of American Indians live below the federal poverty line, and issues such as sexual assault on reservations and inadequate housing still abound. One in three Native women will experience sexual assault in her lifetime, and at least 90,000 Indian families are homeless or under-housed. Despite such obvious needs, the recent federal sequester cut $500 million in federal funding for tribes. As Kim Teehee, a long-standing advocate for Native American issues, told Ms., these cuts have devastated areas of Indian country already suffering from high unemployment.

Much like the Waterline Project, the film was a community effort; shooting was done on tribal lands using Native actors primarily. The Cherokee Word for Water will hopefully inspire similar collective efforts in other communities, and demonstrate the necessity of strong women in positions of power in our society.

“I think that the biggest legacy that Wilma has left us with is leadership,” said Charlie Soap. “She inspired people.”

For more information about the film or to host a screening, please visit www.cw4w.com.

Reprinted from the Winter/Spring issue of Ms. To have this issue delivered straight to your door, Apple, or Android device, join the Ms. Community.

Comments on this piece? We want to hear them! Send to letterstotheeditor@msmagazine.com. To have your letter considered for publication, please include your city and state.