History and Privilege

I posted a link on Facebook recently to an article written by Didi Delgado.  (A good read.  Check it out here.)  It is one of many articles I've read about the tension between current women's movements toward equality and the frustration of women of color.  They are difficult articles to read because like many of you white chicks out there, I find myself listing all the ways that they can't possibly be talking about me.  But they are.  And that HAS to be okay.  And I HAVE to sit in that uncomfortable reality and regardless of what I consider my "credentials" be willing to listen and learn and FOLLOW.  But if you're still confused by the controversies or wondering how to be part of the movement without unintentionally undermining minority women, I'd like to share some stories from history that may help.

(note: these are summaries of events that are well worth your personal research)

In 1961, on Mother's Day to be exact, a group of mixed race, mixed gender protestors formed by CORE (Congress of Racial Equality) began a journey from Washington on two buses.  Taking advantage of the 1960 court ruling which integrated intrastate travel, the Freedom Riders mapped out a path through and deep into the heartland of the south to challenge state segregation laws with non-violent resistance.  One bus is set ablaze just outside of Anniston, Alabama; its passengers narrowly escaping with their lives.  Meanwhile, the other bus is met in Birmingham by a mob of Klansmen armed with both weaponry and the assurance from authorities that they have 15 minutes to do as they wish with the passengers without any interference from local law enforcement.  The beatings were severe.  Post attacks and with many more obstacles from local whites backed by state officials, the group decided to give up and return to Washington.

Students in Nashville, led by a young woman named Diane Nash, heard that the Freedom Riders were ending their journey and immediately put plans in place to continue the rides.  Many interviewed referred to the fact that these "northerners" (the original group) had only gotten a taste of what life was like everyday for black communities in the south and they simply refused to let the cause die at the hand of the KKK. Several members from Washington returned to continue alongside the students, including John Lewis (the man Donald Trump referred to as "all talk, no action."  Yes, THAT John Lewis).

In this instance, when a group of outsiders (in a manner of speaking) "got a taste" of the injustices perpetuated against blacks in the south, their (completely justifiable) reaction was to give up.  Likewise, white women, under our current administration and throughout his previous campaign year, have "gotten a taste" of what our compatriots have endured for literal centuries.  And while the response has been overwhelming; the Women's March on Washington and sister cities across the globe was phenomenal, it stands to reason that minority women are wary of our stamina. They are rightfully suspicious of our staying power.  We've only gotten a taste. What happens if those scratches become deep lacerations across your back?  What happens if flesh wounds become soul crushing, dehumanizing weights of systemic oppression?  The kind that women of color and marginalized groups have been fighting alone for a very.long.time.

Fast forward a few years to 1964 and the Freedom Summer Project.  This initiative covered a mass of issues but their primary goal was to integrate the political systems of Mississippi through education and voter registration.  But before the program was officially underway, three project volunteers disappeared; two black men -James Chaney and Andrew Goodman, and one white man -Mickey Schwerner.  After nearly two months of little to no effort to locate the men by Mississippi authorities, Mickey's wife, Rita Schwerner, goes directly to Lyndon B Johnson demanding federal resources to aid in the search.  The three men's bodies were eventually recovered in a deep grave but through out the process, Rita Schwerner kept the focus of the search on the greater cause, voicing frequent rebukes that apart from her husband's whiteness, she doubted any efforts would have been made at all to find the volunteers.  And in a 2005 interview ("Freedom Summer" documentary aired by PBS) she explained that she knew if she allowed the media to make the story about "a poor white widow" it would have undermined and been offensive to everyone involved in the project.

This, my fair-skinned friends, is what today's movement needs from us.  This kind of self-sacrificing, shirking off of privilege, eyes open to the bigger picture commitment; an understanding that my grief is no greater than yours and MAY in fact be lesser because I have only "gotten a taste."  The last thing marginalized communities need to be expected to do is to pat us on our crocheted-pussy-hat-heads (yes, I have one and I love it!) while we lick our superficial injuries and say "there, there."  They need us to come out of our own pain, some of it absolutely legitimate, and see the mortal wounds being inflicted all around us.  We have to get over ourselves and stop thinking that we are the cavalry and become the support, the applause, the lifters of the fallen, the shoulders on which they stand -not so that we can be the hero but because we know that from within the fallen, the heroes will rise and we just want to have been part of the history, part of their story.

The Political Side of Football

Who knew football could be a platform for political activism?

Colin Kaepernick, that's who.  But he's certainly not alone.

Remember Super Bowl 50?  It was just last year, of course you remember.  It was also the year white people were shocked and dismayed to find out Beyoncé is black.  I mean, come on, we all knew she was black but we didn't think she was black black, right? 

(Side note: we did the same thing to Whitney and to Mariah and probably a dozen more.  Seriously, white people.  Stop it, already!)

But in 2016 Queen Beyoncé showed us in no uncertain terms that black is not only beautiful in straightened hair and ethereal sun glow (Halo, 2008) but in Black Panther throw back militant formation (and even wielding a baseball bat -Lemonade)

And then came Super Bowl 51.  Trump is president.  Executive Orders are flying out of the White House like those horrifying winged monkeys flying out of the Wicked Witch of the West's castle.  The whole world is on the edge when from the Edge of Glory (yeah, you saw that one coming) steps Lady Gaga. Perched quite literally on the edge of the NRG Stadium in Houston, Gaga begins a masterclass in arena-packed, all eyes watching, activism.

From an on-high proclamation that "this land belongs to you and me" to her Poker Face (which I believe was a sequin-studded wink-wink to the network executives who thought she was being compliant) she was saying it all and she was just getting started.

"No matter gay, straight, or bi
Lesbian, transgendered life
I'm on the right track baby
I was born to survive
No matter black, white, or beige
Chola or orient made
I'm on the right track baby
I was born to be brave"

Somehow in the midst of the lyrics being belted out of her golden throat, the conservative world took a collective sigh and said, "Oh thank goodness! She's just singing her usual songs and not getting political."  Maybe they were dizzied by dude's 360 degree piano (what?!) or maybe just confused by the all the pyrotechnics but she wasn't done yet.

There's no reason to think that "Telephone" or "Just Dance" were shrouding deeper messages, I suppose, but surely I can't be the only one who draws to mind this SNL sketch of world leaders handling Trump's phone calls when she sings "you're breaking up on me, sorry, I cannot hear you, I'm kind of busy..."

Then came those sweet, touching moments; those beautiful little daggers into the hearts of discrimination and ethnocentricity:  A shout out to her mom and dad and with it a nod to her lineage of Italian immigrants.  This followed by Lady Gaga embracing a young girl in the field audience.  According to all accounts, the hug was unrehearsed but for many watching, the act of wrapping her arms around a beautifully brown girl of unknown ethnicity to the rest of us while singing the words "why don't you stay" in the days of huge walls, threats of deportations and registrations, and disregard for refugees of a certain skin tone...felt like our heart's cry and it was downright moving.

And so it would seem that Lady Gaga would simply close the night on a classic.  Maybe that's all she did, maybe that's all she intended.  OR MAYBE she knew that as many of us have felt quite helplessly "caught in a bad romance" fraught with "ugly, drama, horror, psycho, revenge" whether we wanted it or not.  An anthem to America and it's bazaar Stockholm syndrome with the current administration.

Mic drop, indeed!

The first time I heard Lady Gaga sing, I was an uptight, religious twat who didn't "get it" and thought "if she would just lose all the weird stuff, she has an amazing voice."  I was right about one thing.  She has an amazing voice.  But that "weird stuff," that freak flag-inclusive-recognizing-accepting-celebrating-glittered-bombed weird stuff is what makes her an amazing human.  And made her half-time show an amazing political statement that could hardly ruffle any feathers because it was so consistent with who she has always been.  That's hard-core activism right there!