Oof that sounds harsh. Maybe it is harsh. And it's also true (when I wrote that I immediately thought about every English teacher I've ever had telling me not to start sentences with "and" but this is my blog and I will do what I want). This is a topic I've wanted to write about for a while because it's something I think about all the time. In the wake of the election, I have seen many posts from, I assume, well-intentioned white folks about how they went up to a person of color or a woman in a hijab and gave them some indication that "they've got their back," be it with a smile or an encouraging whisper in their ear. In all of these stories, the recipient starts to cry or gives the white hero a hug and thanks him or her for the support. Don't get me wrong, in some ways I think these stories are nice. The idea of people coming together and supporting each other is something I love. However, in other ways, I have to wonder what it's really about. I have yet to have another women come up to me at the grocery store and whisper "you are safe with me" in my ear. Instead, I was actually cat-called by some men in a car yesterday, which has not happened to me in at least 10 years. I am too old to be cat-called so those dudes must have really be grasping at straws with that one but still.
Despite the long, sordid history in this country that started with the systematic mass murdering of most of the human beings that lived on this land beforehand, which left fewer that 300,000 people alive out of an estimated 10 million, and moved forward on the backs and necks of other human beings who were enslaved, all of which was perpetrated almost exclusively by white folks, white people have had this notion that we are the protectors of realm. (Was that seriously the longest sentence ever? Jeez) The message has often been: we will keep you safe, despite the fact that in many ways we are the reason you feel unsafe. And believe me, I get it. I used similar language just two posts ago. I am not immune to this.
As a white woman and a feminist, I am no stranger to the trope of the well-intentioned anti-intersectional female. "White Feminism" is and has been a very real thing. Seriously, I tried to include a link there but if you just google "white feminism" there is SO much stuff to look at. The earliest "feminists," most of whom were suffragettes and are lauded today as being the foremothers of the more popularly known feminist movement, were almost exclusively educated white women who were not considering, or perhaps were not even aware of, the disparate experiences of women in this country. They wanted the vote for white, educated women. Don't get me wrong, I am grateful for the sacrifices and efforts of these women. I look up to many of them. But I'm not kidding myself about reality. Elizabeth Cady Stanton was not inviting women of color or uneducated working class women into her home for tea. These women were not invited into the movement and that trend has continued. Though many great things and great strides were made in the 1970s, women who were not white, not heterosexual, not cisgender and not educated were largely excluded from the mainstream feminist movement. These women were not silent about their anger of being excluded. They formed their own movements and they were powerful as hell. And yet, if you google images for "women's liberation 1970s" almost all of the pictures are of white women.
So what's my point with this? Firstly, it's not to make anyone feel bad. As a white feminist who literally started a blog to talk about her own shit, I am writing this with a heavy dose of self-awareness. A long time ago I wrote a post about intersectionality with the intention of following that up with a post of why it matters. I didn't do that so I will here. Perhaps because of privilege and perhaps because we aren't talking about it enough amongst ourselves, I believe that white people have a tendency to assume universality. All women have the same experiences and issues. The oppression and discrimination of all people who identify as LGBTQ+ are the same and so on. Intersectionality tells us this isn't true and to assume that it is white-washes the experiences and the voices of others. This assumption makes work like activism difficult because, as a result, white people, and all people with a specific privileged identity (read: cisgender, male, heterosexual, educated, higher SES, etc.) tend to swoop in with an "I got this" attitude despite knowing little about the actual issues or listening to the voices of the actual leaders. I have talked before here about how much I LOVE all men who support women's and female empowerment and how much I can not STAND when men, particularly white men, try to tell me what I "need to do" or understand about feminist issues. I know I have done this at points in my life. I might have even done it here on this blog. A lifetime of messaging around racial privilege (and all privilege, for that matter) is powerful and takes effort and vigilance to dismantle. Ultimately, the point I want to make is this: activism in support of groups to which you do not belong is important. It is actually critical. But much of that involves stepping back, centering the voices of others and taking your ego out of it. Activism is not about patting yourself on the back (says the woman who is writing this on a blog, yes, I see it. I know.). I don't have the answers. I'm working on my own stuff, some of which I've already written about. But please, before you go up to a stranger on the street and hold up your fist in solidarity, ask yourself: who am I doing this for?
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