White Allies

I had the racism argument a few weeks back. You know what I'm talking about. The one that happens when black folks think they can hang out with groups of white people. It always seems to start with some white person, usually one who's younger than me, saying something that I know is racist. Every now and again, it's the other black person in the room.

Sometimes it's the second or third time they've said something like this since I've met them, usually it's the second or third time that day, or they're the second or third person I've heard say something like it that day, and I'm just tired of hearing it in that space.

Frequently, I already don't like them, so I know in advance that I won't care if they never speak to me again, but just as often, it's just so blatant to me, even though it might not be to the other white folks in the group, that risking the friendship is worth not having that said in my hearing. I can't control what people say when they're not around me, but I do my best to not care, as long as it's not said around me, just because even if they don't think about it anywhere else, they're thinking about it with me.

Either way, I have take a deep breath because ok, it's time to say something. I never want to, because I always know how the argument's going to go, and it's never anywhere good, but I can't let it slide, because it will stick in my craw and ruin my time in this group. And that's assuming the argument doesn't go badly enough that I find myself completely sick of these people and feel that I have to leave what is suddenly an unsafe space for me to be in.

Then, I usually take half a second to look around the room, see who else is around, and usually, there is only one other black person in the room, and I can generally be guaranteed they won't be helpful to me in the coming argument. Even though it's incredibly frustrating, I understand why they behave the way they do.

I begin this argument knowing that I can lose friends, or even entire groups of people for speaking up, and not everyone is comfortable doing that. More than that, I begin this argument challenging everything I, and the other black people in the room, have been taught by the news, billboards, commercials, television shows and saying that we deserve to be noticed and appreciated.

By challenging what's being said, I am saying that I have a right to not only contest the premise of the conversation, but the person saying it. I am saying that I have a right to exist and take up space in the group I am in. I am saying that I will demand more than the “honor” of existing in a tiny corner of white spaces, that I will demand equal space for myself and, by the law of racism that refuses to take me as an individual and forces me to be part of a unit, for blackness as well.

And that's difficult to deal with, especially for black people who understand that my actions will reflect on them, while simultaneously hoping that by setting me away from them, by either intense argument or half-hearted protest, they can keep exactly that from happening. It's difficult for them to see me drawing attention to myself and my differences, when all they can do is hope they will go unnoticed long enough to reap the better crumbs of overflow, when they get the constant message beaten into them that they will be given more for protesting less.

I can't really fault them for it, even though I might want to, especially after spending half an hour arguing someone down over semantics only to realize that I've not only forgotten where I was before I got interrupted, but that the person I was originally arguing with has quietly excused themselves from the space, and didn't hear the last five things I said.

I think I could honestly deal with having the same arguments with white people, over and over again, repeatedly ostracizing myself and losing friends, if I knew I had someone in my corner, or, at the very least, if I didn't have to worry about how other black people would make the argument more difficult for me.

But to be honest, this isn't about black people upholding their own oppression, it's about the fact that I had the racism argument a few weeks back, and not like I've ever had it before. It's about how different it was, how refreshing and relieving it was to have the departure from the usual argument.

For background, I am part of a Homestuck group chat, on Skype and on a Homestuck-specific site called MSPARP. I'm unemployed, so I don't really have anything better to do with my time right now. I've voice- and video-chatted with these folks before, so I knew I was in a room full of white folks, with one other black gal. This was where I had the argument.

Before the argument, I was having a Homestuck-specific argument with this one white guy. For the Homestucks reading this, the point of contention was "Did Vriska help Tavros?" He fell on the side of "Vriska wasn't trying to help Tavros, but Tavros needed to learn the things he did to survive Sburb," I fell on the side of "Just because Tavros learned from Vriska's abuse, it doesn't mean she helped him, as helping implies that she was not abusing him." He eventually stopped arguing against my points, so I'm chalking that one as a win for me, but that conversation is one for another day.

So we're coming out of that argument, both of us shaky from getting so emotional, and I was talking him down, because I think he'd rarely ever been so emotionally invested in an online conversation that it got his adrenaline going, whereas I've done this before, on multiple occasions. Somebody said something that registered to me as something I couldn't let pass, though I can't remember what it was now. It might have been about Ferguson, but I am honestly not certain at this point.

What I am sure of was that I had to say something, and I didn't like this person, so I was ok with the thought of them not talking to me anymore. I typed up my response, and threw it out into the conversation, receiving one of the stock answers I'm accustomed to getting from every white person, but from another person joining the argument, at which point, I wearily typed up a counter, mentally preparing myself to leave this group if other people joined in against me, as it was already two against one. Then I realized I wasn't the only one who'd said what I'd said. And then I realized who said it.

The white guy said almost the exact same thing as me, at the exact same time.

I'm sure you can imagine how shocked I was, that this white guy I'd just been arguing with was saying the same things as me. And he was a teenager! I'm 25, and he was a teenager! I was suitably stunned, because white male teenagers tend to be worse about handling racism than white male adults. He kept going in the same vein, and I was so relieved, I truly don't even have words for it. I felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders, like I didn't have to risk losing my place in this group by saying "That is problematic, and I don't want it around me."

I know vanishingly few white people who I can trust to listen to me when I say "This is problematic, and here is why." He is the first and only white person I have ever met who I felt could help me carry the conversation, who I felt knew what the problem was, why it was a problem, and how to talk about the problem without minimizing my voice and my presence.

And when I was finishing up the conversation by griping to a white girl in the group about how no one listens to black people, especially black women, arguing our own case, because we must be trying to bring race into it, or something along those lines, but white men get lauded for it, he went "Ohshit, I'm sorry, did I make it seem like I was trying to win awards for fighting with you?"

He hadn't, amazingly. I let him know he hadn't, and that I was just making a point. But just the fact that he heard a criticism that could have been directed at him, and checked in, asked if he had done it or not? Just the fact that he didn't brag that he hadn't done such a thing or cry out that it wasn't his fault, that things just went that way? It was so novel, and such a relief. It made me trust him more than I have ever trusted another man, before especially a white one.

I've gotten to the point that I ask white people what they know about critical race theory before I even have a discussion about race with them, so I know if they even understand the basic premises I am working from. Very few know about it, and even fewer are willing to hear me when I say it is actually true. So the support was an incredibly unexpected, amazing relief. It felt so good to feel like I wasn't shouting into the white supremacy alone, that I had help, at least for that conversation, in that group.

My original intent was to direct this to black people, to say "This can happen, and it's awesome," but unsurprisingly, I realize that my audience must be white people. Any black person who's experienced this already knows what it feels like, and any black person who has never experienced it can never understand until they do.

So to white allies speaking up about racism: Educate yourself, and speak up when you've learned how to speak on topics that come up, especially in spaces with very few people of color in them. That goes double for when another white person is arguing with a person of color in a space that is mostly white, because that person of color has already fought an uphill battle to open their mouth. Even though it's nice to have another person of color speaking with us, the tragic but true fact is that we all know white people will listen better and longer to another white person saying the same things we are.

Also posted on Feminspire.