Recently . . . well, it seems to be a very common occurrence, and becoming more common—someone decided that it’s time to have a Real Talk about Race and Justice, and they dragged me into it to support their side because for some reason they believe there is a kinship based upon a belief that they will also claim that they do not hold.
It’s almost always a white man, usually an American Christian, and usually someone who can be identified as “Evangelical.” And they call me in because as a white guy surely I’m going to side with them, a white guy . . .
This is how it usually goes:
“Look how good I am with regards to race and justice!” they say. “Look at how much I support our Black siblings and our siblings of color and those who are within the LGBTQIA community. Look at all the good work that I have done. Look at my family and friends and co-workers, all who express the rich diversity of the human experience, and I am just fine with that!”
Were they to stop there, all would be fine. “Thank you for sharing your wonderful experiences,” I’d say. And that would be that. Not how I’d say it, and perhaps not how I think about it—that kind of self-congratulatory realization of how good we are about race makes me wince. But hey, it’s a start.
What happens next, though, is what makes the conversation turn into catastrophe. “So tell me why I can’t tell Black people how to live out their Black experience and explain to them what being Black means?”
This happened to me not a day ago. A white American male, probably Christian if not Evangelical, got all up in his feelings because a Black man was pushing back against the things the white guy was saying about the Black experience and about being Black. “You aren’t listening to me. I’m an expert because I have Black family members and I’ve been an active supporter and a known organizer for justice in my community and at my workplace. You’re insulting me by telling me my opinions about Blackness aren’t important because I’m white. How dare you!”
Le sigh . . .
Now, I am all for us white people to do our best to organize for racial justice, for social justice, for equity along with equality, for equal access and due process. We as white people, especially as white men, have the power to effect enormous changes to the way our society functions vis-à-vis race and justice, much more power than any other group of people in America has. It is hard for us white men to see what is blindingly obvious to everyone, but America was created for the comfort of white men, and white men have been the focus of power and economics and culture and what-have-you since its founding. As white men, we might not see it, but let me assure you readers who are white men: everyone around you sees it and sees us enjoying that power.
So when white men get involved in social justice and in working for racial justice, great things can happen. Not because white men are morally superior or enlightened or anything like that. Just because as white men we have more authority granted to us for our opinions and our actions and our demands. It is just this way in America because America is tuned for us like a violin string is tuned for the sound of the 440 A. The entire orchestra plays in harmony to the first violin, and that violin is tuned to the A.
With that said, though . . .
The danger lies in the results of the involvement of white men who almost without exception come to believe that we are important players in the lives of the Black people that we ostensibly are supporting in our actions for racial justice. “I have done these good things, and I have paid my dues, so now I can express my opinions about Black lives, Blackness, and the very ontology of being Black.” Then, when we express our thoughts and give our opinions, and we find them rejected outright or even thrown back with hostility and we demand justice for our feelings. “I was merely trying to explain to you how things really are for you, and you aren’t listening to me.” Or “you’re very mean to just reject what I’m saying with such hostility.” Or even “How dare you to insult me like that. I’m one of the good guys!”
I see this—I saw this today!—and my reaction is “ye gods, just shut up.”
The moment that white people—white men especially—think that we’re helping by becoming involved in the lives of Black people is the moment when we’ve lost the way. There is no good thing to come out of the efforts of white people to appropriate the lives and meaning of Black folks. None whatsoever. There is never a time when it is the right thing to pick up and use AAVE (African American Vernacular English) or memes about Black folks. Never a time to wear clothes that represent African culture or hair styles that steal from African influences.
And there is never a time when it’s right to tell Black people how to be Black. Never a time to say “I fully get it because I, too, have had discrimination when I could not get onto the baseball team or cheerleading squad or whatever.”
No. Just stop it.
If you as a Good White Person want to do something useful for racial justice for Black people in America, there are a hundred organizations led by Black people who are doing that. Send them your money. Publicize their work. Follow their lead. Go work in the white communities where you live and move and have your being. But do not go into Black spaces to help change the conversation or add your very important opinion. It is just not the time and place for that.
It is never the time and place for that.
Maybe at some point in the future things will be different in society. We will have faced our American system of racism head on, honestly, done all the difficult work to kill white racism, brought our Black siblings into their full enjoyment of all their civil, human, and political rights, integrated fully with everyone so that it is a matter of joy and celebration when we have people in power who are from one race or another because we value them in their place and their being.
We’re not there yet, though. So we don’t have all the liberties that will come with that freedom. And what that means for us white folks is that we can be conspirators or disruptive agents or creators of chaos and voices of dissent when racism erupts again and again into its full glory.
But until the poison of racism is fully expunged from the soul of America, it is simply neither our time nor place to tell Black people how much we are doing for them and that it’s time that our efforts were appreciated and we were admired.
Because, beloved sibling, if you are saying that, you have missed the point of alliance and community entirely.