We cannot talk about the violence that Dylann Roof perpetrated at Emanuel AME last Wednesday night without talking about whiteness, and specifically, about white womanhood and its role in racist violence. We have to talk about those things, because Roof himself did. Per a witness account, we know that he said: “You rape our women and you’re taking over our country.” “Our” women, by whom he meant white women.

There is a centuries-old notion that white men must defend, with lethal violence at times, the sexual purity of white women from allegedly predatory black men. And, as we saw yet again after this shooting, it is not merely a relic of America’s hideous racial past. American racism is always gendered; racism and sexism are mutually dependent, and cannot be unstitched.

As Jessie Daniels writes at Racism Review, white womanhood has been and remains essential to the logic of American white supremacy. In anti-black racism, and particularly in the south, the defense of white womanhood was, in the recent past, used as a justification for the most horrific violence against black people, and particularly black men. Daniels quotes Photography on the Color Line, Shawn Michelle Smith’s book about photographs of public lynchings, in which the 1935 lynching of a black Fort Lauderdale man named Rubin Stacy is described. Stacy, described as “a homeless tenant farmer,” approached the home of a white woman named Marion Jones to ask her for food.

“On seeing Stacy,” Smith writes, “Jones screamed. Stacy was then arrested, and as six deputies were transporting him to a Miami jail, a mob of over one hundred masked men seized and murdered him. Finally, Stacy’s corpse was hung in sight of Jones’ home.” Stacy, Daniels argues, was murdered because he supposedly represented a threat to the sexual purity of a white woman, a perception that also depends on the centuries-old belief that black men are more sexually powerful, and more sexually predatory, than white men. And white men were all too ready to enact that racist violence in the name of protecting Jones’s fragile and immensely valuable white womanhood. “All an individual white woman like Marion Jones had to do to activate the network of white fathers, brothers, uncles and cousins who would come to her ‘defense’ and murder a black man who was asking for help was scream,” Daniels writes.

That lynching happened in 1935. If you have a parent or grandparent who is 80 or older, it happened in his or her lifetime. Daniels notes that contemporary examples of the defense of white womanhood look horribly similar to the murder of Rubin Stacy. She points to the 2013 shooting of Jonathan Ferrell in Charlotte, North Carolina as an example. After crashing his car, Ferrell extricated himself, and knocked on the door of the first house he came upon, to ask for help—as any of us might do in such a situation. “A white woman, thinking it was her husband knocking, answered,” Daniels writes. “When she saw Ferrell she shut the door, hit her alarm and called the police. Ferrell, who was unarmed, was shot ten times by a Charlotte police officer.”