A moment for introspection
September 15, 2021
As a global society, in order to push towards a more inclusive, egalitarian world, I believe uncomfortable conversations are crucial. As Black people pressing for change, these are often external conversations that engage our government and institutions with the understanding that power has the ability to orchestrate change. These uncomfortable conversations are also held with other races with the understanding that true change can only materialize through reorienting social ideologies and values. But there are other times where we have internal group conversations—conversations required when the fusion of our pain and rage cause a cataclysmic combustion. We simply explode; and when we explode, our focus shifts. It shifts as our attention is no longer directed towards hate and institutions that hold the power to create change. No. When we explode we tend to direct our attention internally towards each other and to our allies who we think should be acting in accordance with our beliefs. The time has come for us to have one of these uncomfortable internal conversations about our approach and rhetoric in certain situations, as these explosions lead me to question things. I question whether the result of this explosion uplifts our voices and our mission or merely sullies how we’re depicted and understood? I question whether it does more harm than good, or if our quest will be hijacked because we let our pain and anger influence us? I’ll let you be the judge.
I once took a class in human rights where there was one thing that was consistently emphasized and mentioned at some point in each session. Each and every class the mantra by Desmond Tutu was spoken. What is this mantra? “If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor.” I’m sure you’re familiar with it. This message was repeated weekly with an underlying message to the next generation: speak up. The consistent echoes of these words truly led me to internalize this message as a universal truth. I still consider it to be true; neutrality through words, actions, law, or regulations in the face unfairness will either perpetuate or amplify the structures, behaviours, or ideologies in place that caused injustice in the first place. In this respect you have chosen the side of the oppressor because the absence of resistance allows unequal standards to persist. For this reason, the second part of Tutu’s quote goes on to say, “If an elephant has its foot on the tail of a mouse and you say that you are neutral, the mouse will not appreciate your neutrality.”
The context of this quote stems from Tutu’s condemnation of apartheid in South Africa in an attempt to draw international attention to the presence of injustice, while further endeavouring to get countries who had bilateral relations with South Africa to serve economic sanctions. What Tutu was calling for was action. International action by way of our global leaders to use their power as a form of resistance, choosing the side of the oppressed to bring an end to apartheid.
Tutu’s mantra has since been shortened to, “Silence is taking the side of the oppressor,” and has been applied to numerous situations, some warranted, but many unwarranted. This statement flooded social media in the wake of George Floyd’s death for a peculiar reason. As Black people, my people, and our allies became more enraged, as our pain intensified and protests began to grow, this pervasive narrative emerged declaring that failure to post about Floyd on social media and assert that “this was an act of racism” signaled that you had taken the side of the oppressor. But does it really? People further suggested that failure to post or acknowledge Floyd’s death on social media meant that your true colours were showing. You were somehow exposed for being a hypocrite and a racist with the consequence being publicly shunned. A spectacle was made for lack of social media support, and these people were subsequently vilified. I found this eagerness to castigate others or label them as racists troubling. These narratives in most cases are either false, inaccurate—because they lack context—or deeply essentialist in its vilification. Should this be the case?
The importance of social media to modern protests has proven to be an essential and effective tool for coordination and awareness. Nonetheless, anything that comes with advantages is accompanied by myriad disadvantages that, in this specific case, can obscure the primary message that Black people are trying to communicate. I consider social media a tool that reflects aspects of an individual’s life. It reflects what they choose to show. Agreeably it plays a dynamic role in bringing awareness to matters of injustice around the world and certainly has a net-positive effect. Nonetheless, this doesn’t mean that it’s a complete reflection of reality. When Tutu asserted that silence is choosing the oppressors side, he was imploring action by sovereign nations and leaders to create tangible change in South African lives and institutions. But on social media, the magnitude of a lack of a post somehow signaled that people were racists or didn’t care about these issues. In some cases, this may very well be true; but in others I’m sure it’s not. Irrespective of whether this is accurate or not it ignores a crucial question: how could we know?
Social media became a court of public opinion where people were indicted for the lack of emphasis they had on posting. We stopped asking questions and seeking to understand the underlying reason for their lack of action online. We became drunk with the idea that this inaction online means and tells everything. In many cases I encountered, it wasn’t that people didn’t care about the issue, it was that they never cared for social media in general. They cared about real life, tangible actions that contributed to mitigating and addressing racism. In other cases, some felt like they didn’t truly understand the core of racism in America and didn’t want to speak on something they weren’t informed about. These reasons weren’t understood or known, yet they were criticized and labelled something they weren’t.
This all goes back to the value we attribute to a post or lack thereof. But in my humble opinion, a post doesn’t convey much. In this circumstance the true intentions of an individual remain masked. A post with an assertion of injustice isn’t a direct correlation to genuine empathy and true understanding. It doesn’t mean that these people cared about what happened to George Floyd. And for this very reason, I didn’t post. I observed, but I continued to do the work I had been doing in the Black community to uplift my people and create opportunities. And many had been doing this before the phrase “Black lives matter” was a thing, and certainly before Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook came about. But social media doesn’t account for this. If we relate this back to Tutu, my opinion is this nuanced use of his words wasn’t what he meant. “Silence is taking the side of the oppressor” doesn’t mean we all have a moral obligation where we must condemn injustice on social media. But it does mean that we can use it to spread awareness. Can. It isn’t a mandate; and because it’s not a mandate it doesn’t mean that we should cast judgement or alienate others because we attribute higher value to social media.
What do Tutu’s words mean then? I believe it means move to resist oppression by doing things that translate to meaningful change (and this could be posting). It means actively support the Black community by standing up for what is right. It means if you witness police brutality or racism, to act. It means supporting Black communities and youth through aiding lobbying efforts to improve education and increase employment opportunities. I find that the push to post and the suggestion that not doing so means you’re racist or that your true colours are showing not only conflates real life and social media, but also prompts disingenuous actions. Some posted images and black squares on Blackout Tuesday because had they not, they would have been demonized. Their care for these issues didn’t change. Their intention to meaningfully contribute to the Black community was still absent. The perception became that posting a message or picture online was enough action, or merely enough to fool everyone into thinking they understood and were allies. And this is an issue. Of course, spreading the word by any method whether it means guilting others into doing so or not has a positive effect in spreading awareness, but it’s marginal considering the bulk of those who did so did it genuinely. However, when it comes time to vote, to protest, to volunteer, to help, can we be sure our tactics persuaded these people to support us? My answer is no. Forcing people to do disingenuous things doesn’t translate to meaningful actions and change.
This idea that failing to post means people are racist or that their true colours are showing is also a slippery slope. Matters of injustice don’t only happen in the Black community. A key example of this was in August 2020, when the Indian government had implemented a discriminatory law that spurred violence against Muslims. This was and is clearly a matter of injustice; yet, the same people who addressed the death of Floyd remained quiet as the South Asian Muslim community posted and called for support. What I got from this was that apparently injustice was only important to call out when it was personally relevant. And when this personal relevancy exists, this means that all others lack empathy or are racist for being silent. But when injustice is happening to others—and if we consider that injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere—and the silence shifts to those who were casting judgement, what does this mean? It means that we shouldn’t uphold everyone to the same standard—the standard that everyone should care about all issues in the same form. It’s an unrealistic threshold that simply can’t be maintained. We don’t have a moral obligation to deeply understand or care about every issue. And although I wish it was so, I know that the passion that we have for certain issues all differs and runs deeper in relation to some groups or things than others.
Beyond this point, being that the presidential elections were slated to occur later in 2020, I also heard statements that deemed anyone who would vote for Trump after seeing these events was racist. The logic here can seem like a rational conclusion, supporting Trump—someone who emboldened racists and is considered a racist by many—after these events is siding with the oppressor and perpetuating racism. Unfortunately, this reductionist perspective makes a complex case far too simple. During election cycles, people are primarily voting for the individual who they believe is most likely to bring change and better their current situation. For many republicans their reasons for supporting Trump are beyond the social manifestations of injustice and racism. They support Trump because they honestly believe he will better their situations and create a better country. They believe that he will provide them with jobs and “Make America great again.” They believe this with their entire being, and the result is a vote for someone who will create opportunities for themselves, despite what it may do to others, and particularly Black people. And I understand this. Many can’t see beyond their immediate circumstances, so much so that national events of racism are irrelevant to their survival. If they believe that something will change their immediate, poor circumstances, be it committing a crime, moving to a different country, or even voting for Trump, they’ll pursue it. And so would most of you. When your immediate circumstances outweigh egregious events happening in the world, altruism dissipates. People do what’s in their best interest, and in the context of voting for Trump, it doesn’t automatically make them racist. To truly evoke change, it’s imperative to understand what situations outweigh the injustice that occurs in the world for his supporters to remain committed to him. But dismissing them as racists is easier than working to understand why they believe he is truly a better candidate. Sure, some who voted for Trump are racist. But not all are, and we can’t lump them all together. Likewise, many who voted for Joe Biden surely did not support all of his policies; some may very well be racist, but they did what is in their best interest. And this is important to consider.
The intent in writing this piece is to urge self reflection as we proceed with our mission to elevate Black people. Are these tactics effective? Or have they merely alienated others? I feel that in such circumstances of castigating others for their lack of social media activity during times of injustice or terror jumps to conclusions we simply aren’t able to draw. It mass labels everyone as racists, or as individuals who lack empathy when in most cases these assumptions are inaccurate. In doing this, we may alienate those who are actually allies in real life, or miss opportunities to educate. Some may say that the onus is not on the oppressed to educate others as to why certain issues are wrong. I believe this as well. But this can’t be held as our response in all scenarios if this opportunity can actually create change. I recognize this all comes from our passion for Black lives, issues, and concerns; however, sometimes an uncomfortable internal discussion is needed to harmonize our minds and voices to eliminate poor tactics and find effective solutions. And these solutions simply aren’t.