White Silence Is Violence: I Must Do Better
Let me make it clear: white silence is violence. While I have not been quiet on my social media channels, I felt that it was pivotal for me to write my truth, my perspective, as a white woman for my website and blog because this is who I am and this is where I am today.
Over the last few weeks, I’ve protested here in Atlanta with my Black Lives Matter sign. I’ve donated to the Atlanta Solidarity Fund for bail money. I’ve donated to the NAACP. I had a very difficult and blood boiling conversation with a blatant racist who happens to run one of Atlanta’s premiere food festivals. I resigned from my Director of Marketing job because I refuse to promote the belief that “all restaurants matter” (read: white-owned restaurants matter) and I refuse to work for someone who pushes white supremacist propaganda about black on white crimes and adamantly maintains that her platform of 100,000+ followers is not to be used to share Black owned restaurants in the Atlanta area.
In the last week, I’ve had a lot of conversations — these conversations have analyzed what’s going on today, how history has been white washed and how much white folk fail to understand what it means for us to be better allies, how to put our money where our mouth is, and the ins and outs of my privilege. These conversations have been profound and hard and eye-opening, and overwhelmingly uncomfortable yet deeply necessary. Work like this is not easy, but it’s important and there is no excuse, no reason for this work to not be delayed, period.
I’ve also spent a lot of time reflecting on my own life and the ways I’ve seen racism rear its head. A memory that particular stands out to me is being transported from my childhood in Southern California to a poor, white poverty stricken suburb of Atlanta known as Acworth, Georgia. I will never forget sitting in the back seat of my mom’s Honda as she drove into Acworth for the first time and all the Confederate flags I saw flying. The view from the backseat made no sense to me and has sent chills down my spine every time I close my eyes and relive it (even to this day).
These first memories of recognizing systemic racism have always stuck with me. Take that memory of the first day in my new hometown (note: Acworth never felt like home and it’s a place I refuse to visit to this day — the memories are too painful for essays that maybe you can read in a book of mine one day) and mix it with my first day of middle school where my new peers were sporting Dixie Outfitter t-shirts, confederate flag belt buckles, and The South Is Gonna Rise Again stickers on their binders and lockers. I knew these were symbols of hate, but I had no words to truly explain the mindfuck of going from a Southern California melting pot of a community to a hallway of 12-year-old white boys saying the n-word and talking about the Civil War like it just ended.
Over the last few weeks, I’ve spent a lot of time talking with my sister, a smart, analytical woman who lived in South Africa and has seen the intersection of gender, race, and class impacting the American healthcare system like no one, about our childhood and how race played a factor. Did we grow up in a racist household? Absolutely not. Did our Mom and Dad promote stereotypical ways of thinking about race? No. Did Mom and Dad themselves make stereotypical comments about race? Absolutely. Did our parents ever sit us down to explain Civil Rights and the inequalities within race? No. Did our parents provide us with educational opportunities to learn as much as we could about these topics and form our own opinions? Yes. With all that said, how did the two of us know better and how did the two of us so adamantly understand systemic racism and its role in the country? Where did that realization come from when it clearly was not a ah-ha learning moment from our parents?
The truth is — I think I’ve been searching for a connecting point in my life of where and why I became an ally against racism while so many of fellow white friends and acquaintances have seemed to miss the memo. What was different about my upbringing that even at age 12 seeing those Confederate flags made me feel so sick? I don’t have an answer and I wish I did because wishful thinking has me wondering what tipping point of engagement could change the hearts and minds of privileged white people before they grow deep roots into these vile, problematic beliefs. I realize there is probably not an answer to this question and I also realize this is not something I’m going to solve on my own. Perhaps I should have gone into sociology and psychology to dig into this deeper, but a las I got my degree in English and Creative Writing with an emphasis on Gender and Women’s Studies.
However, while I have always been an ally (or at least identified as one), I am going to say this loud and clear — I am not perfect by any means. I have fallen short more times than I can count. I have bit my tongue in work meetings when racial comments have been made. I have turned the other cheek when an acquaintance has shown up at the pool in a Confederate flag bikini. I have let go of questions that I desperately wanted answered about racial bias because I didn’t want to “rock the boat.” This behavior is not okay because I have privilege and with that privilege, I need to use it when it counts the most. My mouth will be open and ready to tackle these questions from here on out — regardless the consequences because this is how small changes can be made.
As companies across the country continue to miss the mark about what the Black Lives Matter movement means and release branded statements with candy-coated paragraphs that promise change without any details, I have decided to put a plan in action for myself. I’m not a brand. I don’t sell products. I don’t have a staff. I do sell services but ultimately — those services are partnerships with my clients. So, let me be clear: This plan isn’t for me as a marketer or a freelancer or for me as a once upon a time CMO at a company. This is a plan that I can implement now to not only help keep the momentum moving forward but to hopefully make a difference in my own way:
FREE CONSULTING FOR BIPOC BUSINESS OWNERS: Effective immediately I am offering up to 15 FREE hours a month for BIPOC business owners. Whether these owners are looking for help understanding SEO, putting together community management strategies, writing website copy, creating marketing outlines and plans, help by redefining a brand voice, or understanding best practices on social, and beyond. I am committed to provide FREE consulting time to help these businesses succeed. If you are a BIPOC business owner (whether you live in Atlanta or not), contact me with your goals and we can work together to help build an arsenal of marketing tools you can utilize.
DONATIONS: I commit to contribute my available funds on a monthly basis to the Black Lives Matter movement or any other BIPOC fund that is in desperate need of support. This includes supporting BIPOC political campaigns all the way to local camps or organizations that help provide educational opportunities to Black women and children.
KAREN, YOU NEED TO CALM DOWN: I will use my voice consistently to call out Karen’s Behaving Badly — whether I know them or not. Sometimes all it takes is another person to step into a situation and say “Hey, you can't talk to a person like this” and use my white privilege to protect someone from being bullied and harassed by someone who is screaming because she didn’t get to the speak to the manager somewhere earlier and now she’s attacking a citizen for no reason.
SOCIAL AMPLIFICATION: I promise to amplify BIPOC voices through my social media challenges, my personal blog posts, and in any content opportunity possible. I promise to continuously speak up for the things I believe in (anti-racist living, righters votes, abortion, inequality in the workplace, etc) on these platforms.
VOLUNTEERING FOR VOTERS RIGHTS: I will be dedicating volunteer hours later this summer and in early fall to help register people to vote and I’m looking to volunteer with the Fair Fight or the New Georgia Project to help serve and protect everyone’s rights to vote. If you know of any other critical organizations that need volunteers to help promote voting in the 2020 election, please share and count me in.
NO, I WILL NOT WORK WITH YOU: I am committed to not taking work from people who do not believe in social good. Full disclosure — I’ve taken jobs or clients because I needed the money in the past despite their politics or beliefs. Moving forward, I am committing to working with like-minded people who believe in kindness, transparency, human rights, and doing the right thing. Work from someone who is going to compromise my beliefs is not work I want to do, even for a paycheck.
PUT MY MONEY WHERE MY MOUTH IS: I will not overlook brands behaving badly. Bando? You’re done. Bon Appétit? Unless you right your wrongs and write some heavy checks to your BIPOC employees — I want nothing to do with you. Lush cosmetics? Yeah, no. You’re over. Refinery 29? I honestly hated the majority of your content anyway, won’t miss reading you. This goes deeper than brands just not understanding the Black Lives Matter movement too — this goes for brands that support Bunker Boy (Donald Trump) like Home Depot. I may not have a lot of money, but the money I do have can talk (or whisper in its own important way).
With all this said, I want to say my heart is heavy after what has been going on throughout the last few weeks but my pain and discomfort is nothing like the racial slurs, lynchings, police brutality the Black community has been experiencing for over 400 years. While I realize we can’t undo 400 years of history in a week or with 15 days of protests — I do believe that if we walk the talk and hold integrity high … we can make strides to a better tomorrow.
And last but not least, if you’re reading this and you’re like “Who the hell does this girl think she is?” I can tell you this - I’m a white liberal intersectional feminist who spent half her college years slouched in a chair reading books on gender, race, and class. I’m a former intern for Gloria Steinem (yes, THE Gloria Steinem). I’m a product of child poverty and drug-addicted parents. I am someone with so many student loans that sometimes I worry Betsy DeVos herself will come and arrest me and put me in jail. I am a child of divorced parents and a father who died of alcoholism in 2019. I am filled with anxiety and rage all while believing in equality, honesty, and integrity. I am a believer that Bunker Boy has to go in November. I am a woman willing to stand in 90-degree heat for hours screaming Black Lives Matter because they do and there should be no justice, no peace until justice is served for all the lives lost. If you don’t like these things — I don’t want to work with you on any project because the personal is political and that belief, my friends, will never change.
Be well. Read books. Do better. Let’s all do better. Black lives matter.