I advocated for Palestine. I got called out for anti-Black racism.
Here's why they were right. And why it matters for our kids.
On an everydayisjuneteenth post about racist rhetoric used about Beyonce, I commented about her genocide silence. It was, after all, a class criticism. I’m angry at the wealthy and famous for their complicity.
People like Beyonce will never worry about having a roof over their head or putting food on their table – even if they never got another professional opportunity again. They have so little to lose in the grand scheme of things that their silence feels inexcusable.
But then an onslaught of angry comments came. Many questioned whether I was speaking up about other genocides, for example, speaking up for Black people in Congo. The majority took issue with my criticizing a Black woman because, where is my so-called advocacy when it comes to anti-black racism?
Look, I’m like anyone else. I see comments like that roll in and I get that adrenaline hit. That fight or flight. That fear response. The impulse to be defensive. But when that many people are saying something, as a white woman, I have to regulate myself and take time to reflect.
So, have I shared enough about all the other atrocities? Honestly, not really. What’s happening in Gaza feels (and is) so pressing. It’s being live-streamed to our phones and we’re all aware of the ways in which our tax-dollars make us complicit. It’s a ‘war against children’ and it’s an absolute vile travesty.
But what it has also done is peel back the curtain. It’s dropped masks. It’s exposed the ways in which fascism has already seeped into our every day lives; the policies that rule us, the language that we are – and are not – allowed to use.
The utter silence of so many when tears were cried and funds were raised for Ukraine, well, it speaks volumes to how free any of us really is.
But what use is pulling back the veneer if we don’t go deeper? If we don’t use this as an opportunity to critically evaluate the system that gaslights us through a genocide.
Why go halfway… Only to not bother to connect the dots between this system, this atrocity, and the atrocities befalling, say, Congo or Sudan or the anti-Black and Indigenous racism (among others) that defines North American culture, or the anti-Trans policies we are seeing roll out?
Advocacy, necessarily, must highlight the liberation of all. As a white women, especially, I obviously need to work harder to be clear and focused on my ally-ship to all of these causes, at the expense of any white privilege this system may bestow upon me.
So yeah, it isn’t enough on its own for me, or any advocate, to speak about Palestine. But what about my class criticism of Beyonce? Don’t I have a right to that? I’m right, right? Billionaires, no matter how much we may think we have in common with them, are not our friends.
But I think the better question is, was it my place? Was it my place as a white woman to make a class criticism about a Black American entertainer… On a Black online space… During Black History Month, no less?
Oh god. With the facts laid bare like that, well, it’s actually rather mortifying.
As a white woman, I don’t have to absorb the pain and humiliation of racist, dehumanizing comments being made about Beyonce. Comments that, while they may not ultimately hurt her in any material way, do have a ripple effect upon the community maligned with that kind of vile, racist commentary.
Even if Beyonce doesn’t need (or arguably deserve) saving, there are millions of people who stand to benefit by speaking out against that kind of outward racism.
But I wasn’t thinking with an intersectional lens when I made that comment. I was thinking solely from the perspective of a white woman rightfully angry about a genocide being committed against Palestinians. And it is unfortunately myopic.
So why do I tell you this story instead of crawling into a hole and dying?
My content typically relates to motherhood and parenting in some way. In this case, I want to be the type of parent who actively raises anti-racist children, and if you’re reading this, you probably do, too.
How can we be anti-racist parents if we’re unwilling to acknowledge our own blindspots (especially if you’re also a white woman)? Yes, even “well-meaning” and educated white women have moments like the above.
Our privilege means we have the capacity to drop our intersectional lens because we’re not forced to see the world through it.
It means we’re going to, inevitably, make mistakes if we truly commit to a path of anti-racism and advocacy. Which brings me to the second reason I share this with you instead of deleting my initial comment and pretending to be perfect.
We need to be willing to make mistakes, say the wrong thing, and then hear the feedback. Just as we’re teaching our own children to self-regulate, we in turn have to regulate ourselves and manage feelings of discomfort if we’re called out.
Look, I’m not saying that every single criticism ever received is always valid. But it’s highly worth considering the insight that those who live with less privilege will always have about our shared system – and about us.
Ultimately, it’s worth considering because it’s the only way we’re going to be able to truly raise the kind of conscientious, anti-racist, loving and empathetic children that the world needs now, more desperately than ever.
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White Women
If reading any part of this felt a bit triggering, and even if it didn’t, I highly recommend to all the white women in my life to read this book:
And in fact, I’ve decided I want to send a copy to someone. There will be details on how to be chosen on my Instagram, on the post for this issue.
Millennial Parenting Series
I swear I’m almost done the third article in this series. I need to get it done because the fourth and final piece is amazing!!! It features someone in the parenting education realm who I (and a lot of other people!) greatly admire.
Her insights, the connections she makes between parenting and capitalism… Oh man, it’s going to be such an amazing article. So here’s your homework to prepare:
Issue 8. Vol. I: Millennial Parents – Why are we the way we are?