While #BlackLivesMatter became a "trending topic" on social-media with time, advocating for black life and a better quality of life for black people is not a trend – it is the work which everyday people, activists, and/or community organizers have been engaged in for centuries. Black Lives Matter is more than a slogan for a social-change movement. It is a core belief rooted in black people's right to exist with dignity (in private space, public space and cyberspace), which does not (on any level) merit a debate, and must be followed with action.
George Floyd Mural (East Palo Alto, CA) | Artist: Unknown
This summer, as protests over the killing of George Floyd received wide spread media coverage, thousands of posts flooded social-media timelines. For example, I remember seeing an Instagram post that read: "What is it called when there are more “Black Lives Matter” signs in windows and on lawns than there are Black people living in the neighborhood"? I think the concern raised accentuates the rapid gentrification erasing historically black communities from Harlem, NY, to East Palo Alto, CA to South Central, LA. In other words, "Do black Lives really matter if one can't find any black people living in the neighborhood?" These questions underscore that there's often a stark contrast between how people tend to say they believe black people should be treated in theory, versus how they actually treat black people, in practice -- especially in private space, public space and cyberspace. In my experience, on the one hand, I have watched colleagues put “Black Lives Matter” signs in the windows of their private homes or in their front yards. Yet, on the other hand, I have watched some of these same individuals post racist comments about black people online in public Facebook groups. It is my position that if one’s private politics on racism (in any form) differs from their public expression, this is a contradiction. My hope is that the young people who are rising up and protesting in the streets during this time of social unrest continue calling out such contradictions and raising questions not only about the state-sanctioned murder of unarmed black people by the hands of police officers (Ahmaud Arbery, George Floyd, and Breonna Taylor), but to also interrogate the lack of actual black people living in the very same gentrifying cities where many of these Black Lives Matter marches are being held.
Another example of the Black Lives Matter movement seeming to become a "trend" was this summer, during an online conversation I had in a Facebook Group called East Palo Alto (EPA) Neighbors. I was accused by a white male, who happened to also be a Page Administrator of "trolling" after calling out a racist comment. For context, an Asian woman posted an educational video about the unjust killing of George Floyd one week and in response to a separate post the following week, entitled: "Facebook says it will permanently shift tens of thousands of jobs to remote work," she wrote, "EPA will go back to be [ing] one of the highest crime rate cities in the nation." After reading this comment, I paused for a moment. I then asked myself the following questions: “What assumptions were being made about my community? Did the same woman who posted about George Floyd last week do so because #BlackLivesMatter was a social-media trend? Or did she simply change her mind in one week's time and suddenly believe that if Facebook as a company down-sized, that black and brown people in East Palo Alto would resort to killing one another and regain our 1992 status of being the nation’s murder capital? Which post was I to believe?" Shortly thereafter, I came to the conclusion that regardless of which belief the woman held personally, in that moment, the racist statement that she made needed to be addressed. Furthermore, it should be stated that the time period she was referring to in EPA’s history was when it was a predominantly black city. Therefore, I had no choice but to see her comment as inherently anti-black.
Photo credit: EPA Neighbors Facebook Page
When I brought this incident to the Page Administrator’s attention, I was accused of "trolling," and later told that I was removed from the group because "people complained" that I had broken a group rule of keeping discussions in this Facebook Group, private. It didn't seem to matter that I'd observed a racist remark being made about the very same community that the page claims to represent, or that I had witnessed racist remarks being made in the group previously, and that I, as a black woman, was voicing my concern. Simply put, I was removed from the East Palo Alto Neighbor’s Group for speaking up about racism, during a global movement of Black Lives Matter, no less!
This online incident made me ruminate on how my experience in this group was non-unique. As I shared my experience, others came forward in the comments and told me that they had also been removed from this particular group or similar ones, for the very same actions. I began to draw a parallel between how many white people hold some level of "institutional power" (outside of cyberspace) within their own spheres of influence which allows them to silence black people from speaking up about our experiences with racism, in real life. As a result, white people are able to create realms where they can become dismissive of topics of race in general and go on about their daily lives, without consequence. It is my position that black people and other people of color do not have such luxury -- we must constantly deal with the trauma of racism, because doing so is often a matter of survival. What happened in this Facebook online community is a microcosm of what happens within the larger society: white people who do not experience racism become the gatekeepers of discussing and therefore dealing with the topic in private space, public space and cyberspace. Choosing to address racism or not, directly impacts community morale. It is my position that when people demonstrate micro-aggressions on a community page it is incumbent upon members of that same community to address the issue and not be penalized for doing so. If community members continue to be penalized for speaking up about racism, it is time to create a new space which shifts the current online culture from its current state, to a place of building positive community morale, rooted in respect for multiculturalism. Furthermore, whether a social-media page itself is public or private has no bearing on whether or not we address racism when it rears its ugly head. If the current social uprising has taught us anything, it is that public racism requires a public response.
George Floyd and Ahmaud Arbery were publicly executed by police officers and ex-police officers. Breonna Taylor was murdered by a police officer, in the privacy of her own home. Upon further investigation, all three murders were believed to be racially motivated. To that end, racism can occur within the public space, private space and even cyberspace -- and must be dealt with in all three realms when harm is done. To put it another way, there is no space where the topic of race should be barred from discussion. This in and of itself is a racist act. My hope is that the young people marching in the streets, not only continue to challenge anti-Black racism in their own physical communities, but also when it surfaces in online communities (Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat, Tik-Tok etc). In this particular instance, my experience with racism can be viewed as "not as extreme" as an unarmed black person being murdered by the hands of police, but it is no less racism. A blanket statement was made about the community of EPA, yet it was dismissed as me wanting to start trouble (or "trolling"). However, in the East Palo Alto that I know and love, we do not skirt around issues of race. That is not what our community is about. In fact, if we take a look at the history, our community was redlined into existence because white people in surrounding cities (such as Palo Alto) were adamant about keeping black people out of their neighborhoods and cities. The East Palo Alto that I know and love, celebrates young people, like 16-year-old Alanna Stevenson for lifting her voice, organizing a community protest and sending a unified message to the world (with pride!) that Black Lives Matter. My hope is that other young people will follow in her footsteps, organize around issues of social-change within their own communities and realize that their personal experiences with and reactions to racism are valid. I hope that our young people continue to stand up to say that racism (in all of its forms, including on social-media platforms) must be addressed, and addressed with urgency. This summer, I was inspired by young people who chose not to sit and argue about racism online, but instead, chose to pour into the streets with their feet, in protest of the long-standing killing of black people by police! The current social-change movement has finally hit its tipping point. This next generation makes me believe that the justice movement is in good hands.
Photo credit: Snapchat
As the backdrop to the simultaneous Black Lives Matter movement and a global pandemic that is killing black and brown people in record numbers, this summer, we also experienced the grief of losing Chadwick Boseman -- the star of the Marvel Movie Black Panther. In the same way that Black Panther was more than just a movie, the Black Lives Matter uprising is more than a slogan for a social-change movement. It is a core belief rooted in black people's right to exist with dignity (in private space, public space and cyberspace), which does not (on any level) merit a debate and must be followed with action.
If you are reading this post, please know that it's okay to grieve that your friends and family members have been displaced because your community is rapidly gentrifying. Let's be clear that structuring our neighborhoods in a way where black people cannot afford to live there anymore is racism (e.g. gentrification). If you are reading this post, it's okay to grieve the gentrifying of conversations about race which deem white people the experts on something they will never experience. Let’s be clear that punishing Black people for speaking up about racism is racism (e.g. many people's experience on the East Palo Alto Neighbors Page). If you are reading this post, it's okay to grieve that we're in a global pandemic and police have not ceased killing unarmed black and brown people and are getting away with it. If you are reading this post, it is okay to grieve the loss of Chadwick Boseman, a cultural icon, who reminds us that representation is both important and necessary. Let's be clear that one questioning the violence superheroes display in the fictitious world of Wakanda, yet raising zero questions about the everyday violence that white dominance (in the form of structural racism) inflicts upon communities of color, is part of the problem. When watching mainstream white superheroes who exhibit violence in films like Superman or Batman, I never heard such a critique. At the end of the day, and in the midst of so much loss in 2020, one thing that we can celebrate from the movie Black Panther is that there were a different set of realities for black people in Wakanda. For example, in the storyline, there is no gentrification of black communities, no land-grabbing, no redlining, no police brutality, no centering white people's voices as the sole authority on the topic of race or on black people's experiences with racism, no centering only white people as the heroes in our stories and having black people play subservient roles, if represented at all. In Wakanda, Black Lives Matter. But I hope it isn't the only place that they do. In Wakanda, we are allowed to be black. And free. And determine our own destinies -- much like the black people with the initial vision to incorporate EPA as a city. In such a grief-stricken time, that in and of itself is a cause for celebration.
In Loving Memory of Chadwick Boseman, Ahmaud Arberry, Breonna Taylor, George Floyd, and all other black people, known and unknown killed by way of police brutality. #WakandaForever
