By Emily Gipson
“As white people, we don’t have room to respond because we can’t speak for people of color, …”, from Students Reflect on MLK Jr. Day, written by Grace Long and published in the University of Wyoming’s student newspaper Branding Iron on January 17th, 2023.
I’m reminded, as I often am, of MLK, Jr.’s “Letter from Birmingham Jail” (April 16, 1963):
Shallow understanding from people of goodwill is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will. Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection.
I am reminded of the work by Laura Bates in Men Who Hate Women. Bates, a leading voice in combating extreme misogyny, writes that addressing the seedlings of misogyny in young boys is easier accomplished by her male counterparts. It’s not that those counterparts are any more or less knowledgeable or any more or less willing to have difficult conversations without casting judgment; it is easier to see a system you belong to or benefit from critiqued by someone who looks like you. Bates writes that as useful and rich as the work done by women in the feminist movement is at combating misogyny, we need men to step in and leverage the power they’ve been granted too. An excellent local example is the work being done by Laramie’s SAFE Project with their men’s group.
I will make the same argument. As white people, it is inappropriate to comment on experiences you’ve never had, and the discretion is appreciated. As a Black woman, it is frustrating to see the former acknowledged and then immediately followed up with hand wringing and a woe-is-me demeanor. The point of talking about race is not to make white people feel guilty. Feeling guilty over your own whiteness (and the benefits you receive because of your whiteness) does nothing to alter the racial landscape; it only serves to center you and your feelings in a conversation that cannot afford distraction. You cannot be an effective ally if your allyship stops at acknowledging that you shouldn’t comment on another’s lived experiences. Feeling guilty does not ask members of marginalized communities about their experiences. Feeling guilty does not voluntarily attend diversity, equity, and inclusion events or explore concepts of restorative justice. Feeling guilty does not raise concern when you find yourself in a full room with no people of color. Guilty does not help anyone.
I do not want to see people of goodwill say, “I am not a member of this community so I cannot speak on this topic” and then wash their hands of all responsibility. I want people of goodwill to understand that systems exist that, by design, grant power to some and refuse power to others. I want people of goodwill to recognize that they are often afforded power by those systems and their voice in critiquing or rejecting those systems goes incredibly far. I want people of goodwill to understand that some members of the communities you want to be an ally to may reject you, or your message, or your delivery but that it is still imperative to continue to challenge systems of oppression. Guilt is too easy and too ineffectual.
I do not want your guilt. I want your solidarity.
