Why I have hope this is a movement, not just another death

I am a white woman, and I have found the events of the past two weeks almost impossible to vocalise. However, silence in the face of racism does not help and for that reason I am going to attempt it here. More than anything, I wanted to honour the fact that saying something authentic is important. More authentic than just posting a black square to Instagram, or sharing someone else’s words. I know there is far more to it than I what attempt to describe here, but at the very least I hope it's something that might be insightful for other white people.

Before I start I'd like to note that throughout this post I use "black people" and "white people" to refer to those impacted by racism and those who aren't, respectively. I confess I'm still not sure what the most sensitive language to use is, and would appreciate being corrected if there is a better way. 

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Above all I am shocked, appalled and feel more passionately than I’ve ever felt about making a real difference in eliminating racism. I can’t claim to be a shining example: I am not racist, but I have not fought for anti-racism and I have not understood my own white privilege. This post is not me trying to convince anyone of anything, and it's not another white person saying sorry (although I am) - it's an attempt to reconcile where we are, and despite everything, explain why I have hope for an equal future.

First, let's take a step back from the specific events of the past week. What really struck me is the contrast between what’s usually the lethal silence of racism, relative to other atrocities that go on in the world. We see no end of shocking headlines daily: everything from bomb scares and terror attacks, to refugee camps and child poverty. There are hundreds of examples. They all get talked about to some extent, but nothing gets blocked like racism does. Something about writing down the words “black people” and “white people” carries an unspoken layer of stigma that isn’t easily voiced. There is a fear attached to it that fosters silence, what Robin DiAngelo calls white fragility: the idea that it takes very little to upset white people racially. Oh the irony. In fact, even using the phrase "white people" will cause some emotional umbrage to those it refers, because it starts a dialogue that attacks the non-racist identity many white people have built for themselves. That identity is problematic because it doesn’t allow for humility. When challenged, it provokes fear and avoidance. In fact, as DiAngelo says "white people make it so difficult for people of colour to talk to us about our inevitable—but often unaware—racist patterns and assumptions that, most of the time, they don’t". And so, only very rarely do you hear or read of anyone talking openly about racism, which feeds the self perpetuating cycle of fear and silence even further. 

Breaking that silence is momentous in itself and that's what George Floyd's tragic death and #BlackoutTuesday - or as it was originally intended #TheShowMustBePaused - did last week. There are many criticisms of how that played out on Instagram, not least because of incorrect use of the #BlackLivesMatter hashtag. But, dispelling that ironic metaphorical lockdown by vocalising the discourse of race on mass is without doubt one of the most powerful things I've ever seen on social media. Candice Brathwaite, founder of Make Motherhood Diverse articulated exactly that in last week's episode of The High Low where she explained "you can always taste the cultural moment on social media and right now [it] tastes like pissed off". I'm sure there are many who do not have the right to post a black square as they have done, and I'm sure not all motives are true. I agree it was an easy shortcut for some white people, influencers and brands to "show solidarity" without action. And obviously it should never have needed yet another death for racism to be openly talked about. But regardless of why and how, it’s still momentous. Protests now raging, petitions being signed and the start of some real changes are a direct result. As Candice summed up "we're all just waking up to it and it feels pretty powerful right now."

However, as part of that suddenly broken silence there's considerable public frustration too: between black and white people finally confronting what has been unspoken for so long. White people not knowing what to say; not wanting to speak up for fear of saying the wrong thing; asking black people for help. Black people frustrated at the inability of white people to do something so simple as speak up in support; failing to educate themselves without being prompted and at their seeking forgiveness for "not doing enough". It’s almost like an endlessly frustrating love story where (I believe) somewhere deep down we all (humans) care for one another, but for various reasons we keep missing the mark and not getting the words out. Instead we lash out in ways that are unacceptable, and in the case of racism, sometimes deadly. How did we get into this choked mess? How did we (white people) teach this to ourselves? How did we cultivate and allow white privilege to go misunderstood for so long, the only way we can acknowledge it is in the midst of a physical lockdown? Is it a time when we simply have nothing else to do? Is modern life really so busy we haven’t had time to educate ourselves about racism? Or have we been oblivious to the extent of it? Avoided it even? 

Whatever the reason, living our individual narcissistic lives in bubbles has lead to Trump, Brexit and George Floyd. It will lead to many other incidences if we don’t burst them. Often ignorant of other points of view we constantly project our own image in the hope of acceptance. Even if it's well meaning it's still selfish. Indeed, social media has taught us to be totally self-absorbed in a way that’s accelerated this odd obsession with "appearing", not just in a visual sense but in intention too. The currency of appearance is now so high that influencers earn a living from it. Yomi Adegoke puts the point about intention better than I ever could, speaking candidly about the obsession with "appearing" to care, and "being seen" to be moved. Her recent Vogue article argues that social silence is a more genuine representation of real, felt emotions than a black square or photo of a protest will ever be. Of course, racism existed well before social media but it’s still a maddening prospect. Have we, a Millennial generation supposedly driven by purpose, actually shut ourselves off from connecting with what it means to be compassionate?

Regardless of why, we must re-educate ourselves. That's one of the most important things to have come out of the past week and the resources being shared now are the start of that. As Peggy McIntosh explains, in order to practise racial compassion and rid ourselves of white fragility we must learn about privilege systems, especially that of white privilege. Until lockdown I confess I was one of those uneducated people. I did not appreciate the implicit advantage I have just by being white, and I identified as non-racist. I did not understand the what it means to be anti-racist, and did not actively practise it. Therefore, I have to accept that until now I played a part in perpetuating racism. Reni Eddo-Lodge articulates this with inarguable logic in her now famous book 'Why I'm no longer talking to white people about race' and I urge anyone who hasn’t encountered the concept of systemic racism to read that cover to cover, as soon as possible. There is no excuse not to. Moving forward, I will not ever just be non-racist, I commit to learning how to be anti-racist and how to counterbalance my white privilege. I will educate as many white people as I can to do the same. I’ve started with my close family, and will continue that through work, friends and beyond.

On top of that, whatever battle is being fought against racism must be fought even harder against intersectional sexist racism, because black women have an unacceptable double disadvantage. I am a woman and through that I understand sexism. I have experienced what it means to be the underdog compared to men, to have an upfront cultural disadvantage. However I am not black and I cannot imagine how that is compressed when combined with race. Despite that, the 'angry black woman' is an unforgivable stereotype that Reni calmly acknowledges, "there’s no way for me to avoid the label because even if I speak in the calmest manner someone is going to say, 'She’s angry.' That comes from having a voice." Once again, it comes back to white fragility. There are some more sinister forces at work too, including the gap between the discourse of the 'strong white feminist' and the 'angry black woman' - more on that in the last chapter of Reni's book. All that being said, there are a number of brilliant, prominent black and white women working to erode those barriers: from Otegha Uwagbe to Elizabeth Day, Dolly Alderton to Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie and Pandora Sykes to Reni Eddo-Lodge. It's an important parallel to the movement that's just started.

All in all, I hope that for whatever critique #BlackoutTuesday has provoked, it will inspire thousands of 'not racist' white people to learn to be 'anti-racist' and to push for change. In her TED talk Nita Mosby Tyler asks "what if white people led the charge to end racism?" She points out black people have been fighting for racial equality for decades, but regardless of the situation the same people arguing for the same thing will give the same results over and over. Justice requires unlikely allies. Following that logic, white people motivated to push for racial equality is different, and in that more powerful. On that note, I have spoken in previous posts about how I believe behaviour change only comes with true motivation: that’s always the most important catalyst. If a person really wants to do something, they’ll make time for it and do it. If they don’t really care, or they’re indifferent, they won’t. That’s true on an individual and organisational level, the latter of course being driven by the collective will of individuals. From what I can see, I believe mass motivation of white people to push for racial justice has been ignited following #BlackoutTuesday and the death of George Floyd. Candice Brathwaite also said that she senses "something different in the air this time" and I am optimistic that she's right. 

There might well be some brands out there jumping on a PR bandwagon, and more fool them. I don’t think it matters. The most important thing is that we as a cultural collective, powerful in number, push for policy change at the highest levels: at the very least in our jobs and in government. And, that we pass on this knowledge in detail, passionately to the next generation and every generation that follows. Let’s ride this wave of motivation: let’s write letters to our MPs; let’s protest; let’s share educational resources with our friends and family; let’s campaign for new initiatives at work; let's push for racial (and gender) equality in senior management; let's rally for the syllabus to include colonial history and notable black inventors, artists, writers and more; let's be true allies. All to force legislative change and make this movement meaningful, lasting and above all definitely not silent. 

As Patrisse Cullors one of the founders of Black Lives Matter puts it so simply, "what if instead of black death, we imagine black life?"