What a strange question of performance element there is to being white on social media at this very moment in time.
In roughly the past decade, posting imagery of attending a protest was a way to challenge the (sometimes unspoken) accusation that you “aren’t doing anything” to contribute to the antiracist movement. Maybe you posted “#BlackLivesMatter” or even “#AllLivesMatter” (let’s not get into that one right now), but you felt shamed for not “doing more,” so you publicized your protest attendance. Maybe you did it with the intention to be defiant, to bring the rebellion to authority to the digital sphere. But maybe your ego was at play too; it’s social media, after all. While a lot of people have still attended in-person gatherings, a lot of people are not going to show up right now because we are still in the covid19 pandemic.
I have found myself confused and paused when it comes to what I post on social media in a wave of publicized racial unrest. If I give in to the thought to not post anything because, “oh I’m not going to virtue-signal,” aren’t I just staying mum out of some kind of contrarian response to what is still my ego? I critically reflect for myself, asking “what is actually helpful? Where is my place? What can I say or do to contribute that others aren’t or can’t?” The other day, scrolling through the darkness of many #blackouttuesday posts, I couldn’t help but see so much blinding white silence, even amongst good intentions and some links to action resources. I can only speak with complete honesty to my own experience, so yes, this is about me and my ego. But in doing so I intend to demonstrate to my white peers how they can interrogate their own experience, their own social performance and projection.
So how much of current social media activity is about our (my white peers’) egos? Do you have it inside you to admit that deep down inside… maybe sitting right next to or even deeper than your internalized racism, you’re absolutely craving for a black person to say “hey, it’s okay. You’re one of the good ones,” to pardon you for your participation in white supremacy by existing, by functioning? I used to consider getting rid of my life because, well, I hated myself and didn’t see my self-worth, but on top of that because I’m white and had some wealth behind me. These privileges, these resources at my disposal felt wasted on me. Being at an Ivy League film school compounded this; it felt so wrong that I was in a position to tell stories when so much of that opportunity came out of my aforementioned privileges.
Isn’t it strange how these things intertwine? Isn’t that the whole lethal angle of it all, how deeply and intricately “it’s all connected”? Instead of asking “yikes, Carly, are you ok?” (yes, I have a really great therapist who talks about internalized racism and sexism and homophobia and capitalism with me!), please ask yourself similar questions.
Wasn’t that commitment to putting myself down for privileges that some manifestation of literally self-centered unproductive white guilt? Do I give in to dehumanizing attitudes towards black people and people of color out of learned white-liberal-style racism? I remember on an episode of Broad City, Abbi says to Ilana something like “Sometimes I think you try so hard to not to be racist, you actually are racist.” How is racism internalized for you? What about white supremacy? How do these monsters feed off your own personal struggles to grow stronger?
Even with the cycle of unrest when an unarmed black person is murdered (often on highly-circulated-video and/or by a police officer) brings a flood of “what are going to do about it?”s, too many of us feel no genuine hurry. We’re scared to look at ourselves — and that is a truth for everyone about everything. So to cope with that fear, it’s as though we (unintentionally) give off the illusion that we’re doing just that; even now a common line in the social media posts of white people at times like this is “talk to your family members about racism, have these conversations in-person.” Like, the attempt to break through the performance and conjure authenticity is now also a part of the performance. Do not get me wrong, I’d really rather everyone say and do something than nothing.
So “What are you going to do about it?” the internet asks, and so many of us post links, articles, quotations, images of pain, donate money.
Those actions are unquestionably good, yes. But maybe you can’t do them. Maybe you have no disposable income. Maybe you’re physically or mentally unable to attend an in-person protest. When you’re asking yourself those painful questions, also ask yourself, “What am I good at? How can I contribute that to the effort to protect and uplift black lives? How can I, being me, work towards defeating racism?”
And now, we can follow-up that question with “What am I going to do about it? What are we going to do about it?”
I think we’re absolutely terrified because we don’t know. It’s a human survival tactic to solve problems, but in answering too quickly, too thoughtlessly, we endanger the survival of others. Please, don’t erase the very-real and very long-term problems we’ve been facing and are facing today with empty boxes, as good-intentioned and symbolic as they may be. Don’t be afraid to face your own painful truth. And while we’re looking to others and to the past as a blueprint for antiracism, remember that we are in dire need of progress – don’t be afraid to innovate.
the and times 