The Undercover Introvert

Racism 101: White Tears

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Ever notice the way the temperature drops whenever a person of color brings up the issue of racism around a group of white folks? Things can be going great, the conversation rolling along, but then someone says something racially insensitive, and a POC holds them accountable, throwing open the gates and inviting all hell to break loose. White tears start flowing, washing the POC’s original point away in a turbulent, exhausting current of sympathy-seeking bullshit.

Non-POC readers, y’all might be tightening your alabaster brows right now, wondering what in the hell white tears are. The way I use and understand the term, it represents any situation in which a white person responds less than gracefully to a real or perceived accusation of casual or overt racism.

Still not picking up what I’m putting down? Let’s use an example to shed some clarity, shall we?

White person: You must be really happy that Amendment 4 passed. Now so many black people will be able to vote again!

Person of color: Actually, most of the former felons who are getting their voting rights back are white.

WP: I just figured you’d be excited about this since most of the people in jail are black.

POC: Wow, that’s a really racist statement. It’s also untrue.

WP: Oh my god! I can’t believe you just called me racist! I collected so many petitions for Amendment 4, and I voted for it! It’s so messed up that you would think that I could even be a little bit racist!

POC: *bangs head against wall until the white tears stop*

See? White tears don’t have to be literal tears, but they are akin to the shrill wailing of a security system that begins whenever a POC has triggered a white person’s inherent brittleness when it comes to conversations about race. Even a little pressure, applied during a conversation like the one above, can cause a white person to snap, thus soaking the POCs around them with angry, wounded, or self righteous white tears.

Think of these tears as a gentle way of reasserting the silent power of white supremacy, which underpins every institution in American society and poisons every social interaction. When you resort to sobbing white tears, the narrative undergoes an immediate shift. The old narrative involved you saying something racist. But the new narrative is this: I’m attacking you, unprovoked, with my mean words about racism, which is unfair for whatever reasons you will present, rapid fire, to everyone around us — you have friends who are black, you voted for Obama, Oprah is your favorite celebrity, etcetera.

White tears are a pretty handy tool to have in one’s arsenal if the goal is to avoid any kind of conversation about a subject as touchy as racism. You get to upset the narrative, recentering the conversation on you, your feelings, and what a terrible person I am for attacking you so unnecessarily. It’s a good trick, and it has withstood the test of time.

I can’t count the amount of times in the last year that I’ve reversed the hell out of a conversation I thought might actually reap real results because of that kind of recentering. It’s a bit like feeling the earth rearrange underneath your feet, leaving you in unsteady, sometimes dangerous territory. And because black people — and especially black women — are so often typecast as angry, we have to be doubly careful to remain calm, no matter what kind of bullshit gets slung our way. For a POC, the best response to white tears is to disengage immediately, which leaves the racist fuckery untouched to fester with time, instead of being dealt with, which was the original intention behind calling it out. This is yet another example of how racism continues to thrive in our society.

Look, racism is a heavy subject, maybe even the heaviest subject to take on in this country. Our history is filled with examples of brutal oppression, and though things have improved, we are a long way from the kind of equality the founding fathers wrote about when they were envisioning breaking free of their own, more privileged form of bondage.

To talk about systemic racism and white supremacy is to accept the discomfort that goes along with it. There will be emotions like anger, shame, and guilt. Let them come. Marinate in that discomfort until you find some internal clarity. Don’t take the easy way out by turning on the literal or figurative waterworks. If you really want things to change in this country, if you truly desire for the promise of American to match its brute reality, then it starts with being willing to see your biases for what they are. Own them, and then own the process of changing them with daily, deliberate self-reflection and action. And, mostly importantly, receive the words of the POCs around you with openness and grace instead of hostility and tragic martyrdom.

POCs don’t have a choice when it comes to facing the harsh realities of institutional racism. It affects us every day in ways that cannot be ignored. But what’s even more demoralizing is when a so-called ally can’t bear the weight of a single conversation about racism in which we imply that she could do better. If you truly want to stand with us, that means accepting criticism without lashing out and ‘putting us back in our place’ for the sake of your own emotional comfort. The world changes when we first change ourselves. It’s the only form of creation that we possess. You have the power to create change or to create a barrier keeping a better world from being realized. Choose wisely.

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Whiteness is Not Americanism

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Throughout history, protest has paved the way for change, both the incremental and radical varieties. We’re all raised to revere the gumption of the Founding Fathers, with their “Live Free or Die” swagger. They stood up for their inalienable rights and, in so doing, led to the creation of this great nation. But not all forms of protest are equally revered.

A perfect example of protest that is nonviolent in nature, yet reviled, is the practice of kneeling for the National Anthem in order to bring attention to the disproportionate number of black lives ended by police officers. The act itself couldn’t be more nonviolent. The black athletes kneel when the anthem is played, and then the game goes on as planned, no disruption of regularly scheduled programming. But the backlash against this simple act was swift and immediate, with many outraged by what they called the blatant disrespect of the troops, the flag, and the nation itself.

But is that what this protest represents? Disrespect? And, if not, why is it so often framed that way?

The answer is pretty simple. In our culture, being an American is synonymous with being white. Therefore, white folks are the only ones both allowed to protest, and encouraged to do so.

Now before anyone jumps to the tired conclusion that, as a black woman, I’m just another ungrateful rabble rouser who hates this country, the flag that stands as its symbol, and the uniformed men and women who volunteer to fight and die for it, kindly slow your proverbial roll. I’m actually much more patriotic than you might assume, and there are many reasons why this is the case.

I grew up on military bases, meaning we said the pledge every morning, learned the words to every patriotic song ever created, and flew the flag 365 days a year, well before the sudden, nationwide popularization of the practice in response to the attack on September 11th. July 4th festivities brought the base to a screeching halt. Memorial Day was no joke, and it was spent honoring those who gave the ultimate sacrifice in defense of this nation and its ideals. Veterans’ Day was yet another opportunity to honor those who fought to secure the rights we take for granted on a daily basis. To say I grew up bathed in the red, white, and blue would be to utter a monumental understatement.

Growing up, I understood patriotism to mean a deep love of country, but not a blind love. Because love that isn’t paired with honest awareness of shortcomings isn’t really love. It’s a sweet form of denial that hurts the object of your affection only slightly less than it hurts you. I also understood that servicemen and women were to be honored for their willingness to put themselves in dangerous situations in order to uphold and protect the Constitution of the United States. But they are not the United States, and criticism of the government in no way equates to criticism of those who are prepared to lay down their lives for said government.

In light of all this, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that I consider myself a deeply patriotic individual. I love this country and, because I love it, I know how deeply flawed it is, and how much it needs to change if it’s to offer life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness to all its citizens. This country can be better, and I want to help it become so, lovingly but firmly. I don’t see this love of country as mutually exclusive from the right to point out its flaws. I actually think that blind love is akin to no love at all. And I categorically refuse the popular idea that you can’t honor our troops if you critique the country they’re serving.

The response to black athletes kneeling during the National Anthem is really no different from white folks criticizing the nonviolent protests led by Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Or their disdain for Muhammad Ali’s unwillingness to fight in Vietnam wearing the uniform of a country that refused to afford him the same dignity that it gave its white citizens. These men are heroes now, because they are no longer a threat to the status quo, unlike Colin Kaepernick.

If you are black in this country, there is no correct way to protest, because this country is not yours to protest to begin with. It wasn’t built for you, though it was built by you. You were never meant to possess life and liberty, nor were you to pursue happiness. This country was created to belong to white people. It’s why a common response to a black person protesting is to tell him or her to return to Africa. The subtext is clear: this country is for white folks. If you don’t like the rules in our house, go back to your own.

And because this country was made for and belongs to white people, the natural conclusion is that whiteness equates to Americanism. So, it makes sense that when a person of color criticizes the hypocrisy of a nation that purports to stand for liberty and justice for all, yet doesn’t actually extend it to everyone, so many white folks are instantly apoplectic. Here is this uppity, anti-American negro messing up things in a white person’s house! How ungrateful, amirite?! That negro should be happy to even be allowed to set foot in a house that doesn’t belong to him.

The underlying message is very clear: black folks aren’t to speak up about the injustice built into the very foundation of this country. We’re lucky to be here, and we should be grateful. Period.

Well, actually, I am grateful. I live in a country that eventually did extend the right to free speech and peaceful protest to people who look like me. White folks protest daily, and it’s often seen as deeply patriotic and worthy of widespread applause. But this country was only built to revere protest when the folks doing it are white. It’s literally America’s origin story. It’s also why it’s so hard for us to talk honestly about the Civil War. Our minds work by forming knee jerk dichotomies, and you can’t celebrate one side without demonizing the other, but, in this case, both sides are white.

Protest has a long history in this country. And, provided you keep it nonviolent, I’m all for the practice of standing up to make your voice heard and fight for what you believe in. I may not agree with you, but that’s your right. Here’s the thing, though: it’s also my right. Because whiteness shouldn’t be synonymous with what it means to be an American. There are plenty of us who love this country, but want it to be better. Not just for ourselves, but for all of us. I can’t think of a more American ideal.

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Black Folks Are So Damned Tired

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Black folks are tired, y’all.

This is the kind of exhaustion you feel in your bones after carrying a heavy load for much too long, one you know you won’t be able to set aside any time soon. It’s the kind of tiredness that affects you at a visceral level, leaving you sick and frustrated.

Why are black folks so tired, you might ask? In a few words: because of white folks who would readily call themselves ‘allies’ but won’t actually engage in any real self reflection or undertake the emotional sweat equity necessary to talk to the folks who look like them in order to begin the long process of tearing down systems of widespread oppression.

That’s a mouthful, so let’s break it down…

We just had an election, and, in the Florida gubernatorial race, we had a white Republican man run on racist rhetoric reminiscent of the 2016 Republican nominee. But unlike in 2016, the Republican in Florida was actually running against a black man, so the racism had a clear focal point. In Georgia, the governor’s race between a black woman and the racist, voter suppression happy Secretary of State had the same racist undertones. And, as usual, the majority of white women voters voted for the Republican candidates (51% in FL and 75% in GA), despite the fact that this was also a vote against their own interests of autonomy over their own medical decisions, funding of public schools, protection of the environment, etc.

Because I am a glutton for punishment, I posted a clip from the Daily Show in which a white woman was talking about how voters who look like her will uphold systems of white patriarchal power because they benefit on the basis of shared whiteness, and that these limited benefits were earned on the backs of people of color. White folks need to talk to other white folks in order to start tearing down these systems, and white women specifically need to understand how they might benefit from their whiteness, but that their gender is still a liability. When they vote to uphold the status quo, they are actively voting against their own interests.

As you can imagine, the white tears and pearl clutching was immediate. Here are just a few paraphrased samples of the responses to my post:

Why are you trying to divide us right now?! We should be standing together!

You are too intelligent to be pushing away your allies at a time like this.

You don’t know my heart! I’ve been working so hard!

Tell us what the answers are! What are we supposed to do?!

Not all white women!!

And on and on.

Also, honorable mention for the white man who came onto my page to ‘stand up for women’ by attempting to shout down a woman of color in her own space (he was deleted and blocked after he attempted to PM me with more of his mansplaining bullshit; ain’t nobody got time for that).

There were white women who commented on the post in order to undertake the emotional labor of attempting to educate their fellow white women, but these initial responses from so-called, self-identified ‘allies’ were problematic on so many levels. Folks were demanding education and sources, though I’d attached a clip of a white woman explaining the issue as well as an article. But, as usual, that was not enough. So, I had to break it down in terms of sexism.

The same women who came onto my page throwing around the #NotAllWhiteWomen defense would be quick to pounce on a man who used the #NotAllMen excuse as a response to a #MeToo or #TimesUp post. Obviously, not all men are engaging in blatant sexual harassment and assault, but men still uphold rape culture and systemic sexism by not speaking up to their fellow men whenever they see questionable behavior or hear jokes and comments that are sexist, or when they simply benefit from systems of patriarchal power on the backs of the women around them. Until all of the so-called ‘good’ men stand up to other male perpetrators, women might as well be spitting into the wind. We can’t tear down systems of widespread oppression set up by men to control us. We need men to undertake that labor, and the work is constant.

In the same way, people of color can’t be expected to tear down systems of oppression put in place by white folks. We can call out the problems as we see them, but we can’t talk to most white folks in a way that they will actually hear and acknowledge what is being said.

Case in point: my social media post, which was a list of statistics about how white women voted in the last two election cycles, a clip in which a white woman called out other white women for voting to uphold patriarchal systems of power to their own detriment, and an article. From the responses, it was clear that the real problem for certain white women was not the racism itself, but my uppity audacity in daring to call out that racism. That level of knee jerk defensiveness is exhausting, mostly because of how predictable it is.

If we want to do better in this country, it starts with a long hard look in the mirror. We all have layers of privilege. I might be at a disadvantage due to my race and sex, but as a straight black woman who is not disabled, I am still the recipient of a certain amount privilege, and if I hear someone who is not LGBTQ or disabled speaking in ways that are bigoted towards those groups, it is my responsibility to put a stop to it. I don’t understand what is so hard to grasp about this concept. The onus is not on other marginalized groups to do all of the emotional labor. Being straight is currently the ‘default’ in this country, so it’s my responsibility to speak to other straight folks about their homophobia or transphobia. They will listen to me in a way they might not listen to someone from the LGBTQ community. If I don’t have a strategy for speaking to other straight people about how unacceptable it is to be hateful to someone on the basis of their sexual orientation or gender identity, I can simply consult my BFF Google for answers. Under no circumstances do I demand that a member of the LGBTQ community take on the emotional labor of educating me.

If the act of a person of color pointing out racism makes you defensive, you need to undertake some self reflection to understand why that is, and that needs to be done on your own time. It’s not the POC’s responsibility to soothe you or educate you. If you really want to be an ally to marginalized groups, then you need to listen when they speak, and then you need to be willing to do the work necessary to change things. Sometimes that’s simply having conversations with the white folks around you. If you are afraid to do that, imagine how difficult it is for POCs. Not only do we have to have conversations with white folks who discriminate against us on the basis of skin color, but we also have to deal with so-called ‘allies’ who discount us because what we are saying doesn’t fit the ‘we are all in this together’ sunshine narrative to which they subscribe. If we really are ‘in this together’, then white folks who truly want to see racial equality need to start shouldering their part of the burden, because black folks are tired.

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Racism 101: Colorblindness

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I’m worried about a large swath of white folks here in America. It’s shameful that no one is talking about this issue when there are literally thousands of people struggling with a disability that should have been addressed by medical professionals long ago.

Apparently, many Caucasian Americans aren’t able to properly see color. Just imagine how hard this makes day to day life. Driving, picking out matching clothing, becoming fighter jet pilots. Is this some kind of epidemic that only afflicts the melanin-deficient? What can be done about this obviously crippling affliction of colorblindness?

Fortunately, there actually is a cure: education.

I wish I had a dollar for every white person who told me she doesn’t see color after being called out for saying or doing something racially insensitive. I’d have a whole lot of dollars. Whenever I hear this tired refrain, if I’m in a good mood, I reply with: that must make navigating stoplights difficult. If I’m not in a good mood, I reply with something more along the lines of: bullshit.

What is the source of this seemingly convenient affliction? The culprit seems to be a deliberate misreading of a portion of Martin Luther King, Jr.’s most famous speech (and often the only MLK the white person in question has ever heard and/or read):

“I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.”

Beautiful, right?

But to these white folks who have chosen to believe they don’t see color, what they hear in that single line of a single speech MLK gave in the 1960’s is that he had a dream that, one day, no one would notice that he was black. That he would be whitewashed and everything would be great in America in this post-racial version of Orwell’s 1984…

Um, no.

What the man was actually saying — and I have had to school dozens upon dozens of white folks over the years on this very point — is that he dreamt of a time when his children would be judged by who they show themselves to be through their actions and not automatically by who white people think they must be based solely on their skin color.

Acting like you don’t see color isn’t an excuse for racist fuckery. Racism is interwoven into the cloth that makes up the very fabric of America. That’s what makes it systemic. No one grows up in this country without either benefiting from or suffering because of these systems of oppression. So, just because you have a friend who is black or you voted for Obama (twice!) doesn’t mean you aren’t a product of a racist society that has had a hand in shaping your every thought and action.

Stop using Martin Luther King, Jr. as a weapon against black folks, y’all. Stop. He was a radical thinker who was hated by the establishment back in his day. Let’s not forget, the man was assassinated for crying out loud. That’s how much of a threat he was to the white owned status quo. You don’t get to use a single line from one of his speeches to absolve your racist and insensitive behavior.

Look, there’s nothing wrong with acknowledging that people are different colors. I’m black and I’m proud, as the song goes. The trouble starts where your preconceived notions come into play. You see a black person and make judgments based solely on skin color about criminality, sexuality, intellect, etc. Your prejudice is the problem MLK was talking about, not the actual color of my skin.

Colorblindness only when it pertains to skin color is not a thing. Stop pretending that it is. And stop using this made up affliction as a shield to deflect from all insinuation that your words or actions, no matter how unintended, actively work to uphold systems of oppression.

You see color. We all do. Claiming otherwise is willfully absurd and ignorant. And, y’all, stop dragging MLK into this foolishness.

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I’m Not Your Black Friend

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Inevitably in a conversation with a white person who just drifted into some casual racism, she will bring up the fact that she has a nameless black friend, brandishing the tidbit of unsolicited information like a shield protecting her from my suggestion that whatever she just said was racially insensitive. The more the white person self-identifies as an ‘ally’, the more likely she’ll be to brandish this dubious connection to an acquaintance who never seems to have any actual qualities besides the ever-convenient blackness.

It rubs me the wrong way every time.

It also makes me want to demand proof of this so-called black bestie. Show me pictures of the two of you together, with timestamps. Hell, get him on the phone so I can let him know exactly why he just came up in conversation.

But exchanges like these always make me stop and think for other, more insidious reasons.

Are white folks out there in the world, busily using me as evidence of why they just can’t be racist? Like my presence in their lives, no matter how minimal, acts as some kind of antidote to the racist fuckery that’s been running rampant in this country since white folks first sailed over from the Continent?

Just so we’re clear, I’m not your black friend.

Don’t bring me up in arguments with other POCs as proof of how ‘not racist’ you are. My blackness doesn’t exist simply to be used at your convenience whenever you speak without thinking of the impact of your words. It’s actually a pretty disgusting thing to do, and it’s done all the time.

I’m not sure what friendship means to white folks who use the idea of POCs this way (because, come on, they likely don’t even have friends who are black), but, to me, a friend doesn’t use another person as a device to prove a bogus point and shift blame back onto a member of a marginalized group that she just offended. Honestly, no decent human being does this.

If you do this kind of shit, we aren’t friends, so keep my name out of your mouth, as we used to say back in middle school. And do better. That’s really my advice for most people running around so carelessly, they injure people without a second thought and then, when called out, scramble for the handiest excuse.

I have a black friend…

My black friend doesn’t mind when I use the N-word…

I have a group of black friends and we’ve never had a problem…

Are you sure that’s offensive? Because my black friend said…

I’ve heard a variation of every single one of these excuses and many more. Literally, dozens. I call bullshit on all of them.

Seeing a black person doesn’t make them your friend. Going to school with black people doesn’t make them your friends. Having a black coworker doesn’t make them your friend.

Let’s all say this together so it sinks in: proximity to a marginalized group does not cure you of racist tendencies.

Don’t use black folks as a crutch that allows you to keep limping along in your ignorance. Learn to walk on your own two feet and accept responsibility if you spout some casually racist shit. Take a moment for self-reflection, apologize if appropriate, move on, and next time do better. There’s no magic to becoming a better person, but first you have to accept that you did or said something wrong. It’s hard, but so is maintaining your composure and (mostly) positive attitude while toiling under the constant weight of systemic racism. If I can do that, you can do this.

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