>>9490793
cont.
See also: White churches ‘aren’t naming racism as a sin,’ says Rob Lee, Sammy Hanf
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Yes, you are inherently part of the problem.
As we see this narrative play out on social media, we all have the instinct to virtue-signal and efface self-criticism, almost without recognizing it. White folks must work to find ways to speak without absolving ourselves and without denying the fact we are continually at risk of failing. As Sara Ahmed has argued, “the language we think of as critical can easily ‘lend itself’ to the [things] we critique… Saying ‘we are racist’ becomes a claim to have overcome the conditions (unseen racism) that require the speech act in the first place.”
This kind of self-absolution is fundamental to the ways white Americans talk about race: Racism is always the fault of someone else, someone who doesn’t know what I know. As Black activists continue to make racial oppression an unavoidable topic, the mainstream media wants you to avoid necessary self-criticism by pinning blame on others.
Read: White silence is tragic silence, Matt Hartman
At their best, responses like these are meant to begin a conversation that leads to a larger struggle. More commonly—for myself, anyway—they are a defeatist response, a way of soothing my own guilt when I don’t know what else I could do, or when the prospect of long-term, continuous struggle against the culture of a nation where hate groups are “surging” is too overwhelming to comprehend.
See also: Read, Watch, Listen, Do: a Scalawag resource guide for understanding white supremacy
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If you really care about what’s going on, you need to listen to people of color before doing anything else.
White skin, Isaac S. Villegas
To be a racial minority involves the constant negotiation of bodies and speech—to notice the meaning of my skin in relation to yours, to discern the value of my tongue among the languages and accents echoing in a room. ‘Do I belong here,’ I always ask myself, ‘In this language, among these people?’
I pledge allegiance to the Always Not Yet, Zaina Alsous
What would it look like to fully sit with Hughes’ “America never was”? What would it mean to disentangle hope from White nationalism? To situate our position—here, right now, on sacred, stolen land. There is no American model absent paradigmatic violence to cling to, to return to. What would it mean to say I feel devoted to you and not this flag? What would it mean to pledge allegiance to the not yet and the could be?
A dispatch from the streets of Charlotte, Danielle Purifoy
If folk had come last night wanting a war, there would have been one, especially after that shooting. Instead, people chanted, sang, danced, and supported one another. They stopped one man from getting into a fight with a White guy who had been throwing fireworks, allegedly in solidarity. Someone yelled—"that's not what we're here for."
Don’t call the police on poverty, Lamont Lilly
Poor people are not stupid. They’re not criminals. They’re human beings that live in a society where jobs are drying up and opportunities often don't exist.
Further reading:
Black lives matter—so should their votes, Mac McCann
The Electoral College was balanced to empower slave states in the 18th century—today it continues to disempower Black voters.
White people who want to end gun violence need to combat white supremacy, David Straughn
No one is immune to the bullets sprayed or the cars driven in the intense, seething rage of white supremacist anger at its peak. No one is safe. When white supremacy prevails, we all suffer.
Lovey Cooper is managing editor at Scalawag magazine and the voice of This Week in the South. Her work focuses on policy, justice, and the intersection of politics and culture in the South and Appalachia.
https://www.scalawagmagazine.org/2020/06/understanding-white-supremacy-protests/?utm_source=pocket-newtab