Stop white centering.

On February 2, the School Library Journal, a publication for librarians and information specialists that reviews and recommends children’s books, released the cover of their February issue, which drew immediate criticism on social media.

Happy Friday, and welcome back! This one is personal. For my 9-to-5 (I don’t run this newsletter full-time!) I run a company that creates diverse mindfulness content for kids, and I just published my first children’s book with the same intention. For both of those projects, I’m committed to centering Black and brown kids because of how often they’re overlooked. Today’s topic – during Black History Month no less – is infuriating.

Thank you all for your support. This newsletter is made possible by our subscribers. Consider subscribing for $7/month on Patreon. Or you can give one-time on our website or PayPal. You can also support us by joining our curated digital community.

Nicole

Ps – be sure to sign up for 28 Days of Black History.

TAKE ACTION

Support the work of We Need Diverse Books, which advocates for essential changes in the publishing industry.
Buy books that center children of color, particularly books beyond “issue books” from independent writers and publishers—recommendations on our Bookshop.
Consider: How do you center the “benefits” of diversity, equity, and inclusion at your office? In your community? At your school? Does it align with centering the needs of those most marginalized or the white community?

GET EDUCATED

By Nicole Cardoza (she/her)

Screen Shot 2021-02-04 at 8.03.49 AM.png

Before we dive in, the statement on this cover isn’t factually wrong. The article highlighted on the homepage names the challenges that libraries in majority-white school districts experience when diversifying their collections. It’s correct that, as the article states, centering whiteness in children’s media can promote an ethnocentric, superior mindset against other communities of color. You can read the full article here.

But this is a disappointing example of white centering – when the case for change has to be rooted in the benefit of dominant culture. It’s a violent manipulation of privilege, a way to disregard the sentiments of a non-white person or community and prioritize white feelings instead. White centering is often found in tone-policing, racial gaslighting, and in the refusal of apologizing or holding oneself accountable for their actions. It creates the assumption that diversity is only important when it benefits white people.

The illustration, personally, makes this positioning most damning. The cover depicts a white child holding up a Black face speaking Spanish over their own. The two images merge, so the Black face becomes theirs, too. This is a form of blackface (Anti-Racism Daily) and normalizes the idea that white people can adopt the culture of non-white people for their own gain – as if it’s automatically theirs to own. It perpetuates the idea that the experiences of non-white people should be designed for white consumption, white empowerment, and white advancement. This notion is the foundation of white supremacy.

Rebekah Borucki, author, and publisher at Wheat Penny Press, emphasizes that “what happened here was no accident or oversight. The decision to center white children and their needs in an educational institution’s cover story, written by a non-Black woman, during Black History Month, is exactly why we desperately need more Black authors, publishers, and librarians creating and curating content for our children. Black creativity and labor does not exist for white people’s benefit.”

This perspective on books is quite common in the publishing industry. We already know that the industry is largely white, and the books written by people of color that succeed are “issue books,” books that educate and illuminate their struggles. We wrote about this in more detail in a previous newsletter. Consider the controversy around “American Dirt,” a novel that glorified the trauma of immigration written by a white woman. Publishers celebrated it and accelerated its rapid success without listening to the Latinx voices adamant about its harm (Vulture).

And this is reflected in the children’s book publishing space. A 2019 study by We Need Diverse Books found that 71% of the characters found in children’s books are either white or non-human (BookRiot). It’s 2.5x more likely that a children’s book character will be an animal than Black/African American, and only 1% of characters are of Native background. Currently, there are several top bestselling kids’ books featuring kids of color. Still, all but one of them reflect the inauguration of Vice President Harris (there’s also one that celebrates President Biden). We can’t wait for another inauguration to see this type of diversity (Barnes & Noble).

I was one of the few kids of color at an otherwise all-white school. I'd go home and wrap a towel around her head to pretend to have the long locks of my peers. I tried everything I could to fit in. Abby, an American Girl doll that represented a nine-year-old enslaved child, was the only Black doll I owned. In the first pages of the book that accompanied the doll, her overseer forced her to eat a worm found on the tobacco plants because she wasn’t removing them fast enough (Paris Review). Who was that doll created for? Who was that story created for? Was it designed to offer this young Black girl representation, vision, and hope, or make the horrors of slavery consumable for a broader audience? And would the diversity efforts of my school actually support me and my experience?

As of now (mid-day Thursday), the School Library Journal has yet to respond to the feedback on their cover. It’s clear that it’s up to us as individuals to stay educated and aware on how to center diverse kids’ books – by centering the experiences of marginalized children that deserve to be seen, heard, and celebrated.

We’ve created our own recommended reading list of diverse children’s books for Black History Month. You can explore the collection in our Bookshop.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

The School Library Journal released an off-putting cover in February that centers the need for diversity in children's media for the benefit of white students
This is an example of how white centered diversity efforts only perpetuate white supremacy
The publishing industry is notoriously white, and often only celebrates diverse stories when they seem to have a benefit for white readers.

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

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Nicole Cardoza 10/30/20 Nicole Cardoza 10/30/20

Don't be racist this Halloween.

If the world couldn’t be spooky enough, this weekend is Halloween. Its origins date back to Samhain’s ancient Celtic festival when people would light bonfires and wear costumes to ward off ghosts (History) – although many other cultures worldwide have had practices that honor the dead. This practice has been adapted and evolved throughout history to what we see in modern-day culture in developed nations. But one sticking point has been the lackadaisical approach to costumes.

Welcome back and happy Friday. Growing up, Jasmine was my favorite Disney princess. Her skin was the closest to my shade (Disney didn't have a Black princess until 2009), she had a pet tiger (my favorite animal) and she had long, luscious hair, which I coveted as a child. I was thrilled to be her for Halloween in second-grade, and as Tiger Lily from Peter Pan a couple of years later. For both costumes, they were the only times I got to wear fake hair, and I remember feeling as pretty as the white girls I went to school with.

Now, I look back and see the layers of internalized racism I experienced as a Black girl in an all-white neighborhood, and the gross cultural appropriation of communities that I never got to learn about besides their glorified Disney stories on a TV screen. Although I certainly didn't mean any harm (nor did my family), I contributed to the whitewashing of marginalized communities – and minimized my own narrative in the process.

I think about this a lot each Halloween season, and this one is no different. I'm not sure what your plans are this weekend – I hope you're socially distancing – but nevertheless, it's a good time to reflect on how this holiday contributes to the narratives we discuss in the newsletter.

This is the Anti-Racism Daily, where we send one email each day to dismantle white supremacy. You can support our work by giving one-time or monthly on Patreon (you can also support via PayPal or Venmo @nicoleacardoza). If this email was forwarded to you, you could subscribe to antiracismdaily.com.

TAKE ACTION

Research your costume before making a decision.
Choose a Halloween costume from your past that was inappropriate. Spend this weekend learning the real history of the community it comes from.
If you have the power and privilege to do so, socially distance this weekend. Remember that COVID-19 disproportionately impacts those most vulnerable. Do NOT expose them because you need to dress up and act foolish.

GET EDUCATED

By Nicole Cardoza (she/her)

But one sticking point has been the lackadaisical approach to costumes. Nowadays, it seems that Halloween is the one day that people believe they can get away with wearing harmful and disparaging costumes of marginalized communities. 2020 is unique – we’re amid a racial reckoning, on the eve of a critical election, and limited in how we should celebrate because of a global pandemic. But that’s all the more reason to analyze how racial stereotypes are promoted through the festivities of the holiday.

Before we dive into costumes themselves, we need to stop asking what’s racist racist and what’s kinda racist. Racist is racist. And all of it upholds systemic oppression. But society has trained us to believe that there’s an acceptable form of racism. Most of the white supremacy that perpetuates systemic oppression is overlooked, and only the most violent and blatant forms are condemned. This is often depicted using an iceberg; a small percentage of racist and oppressive actions are visible “above the surface,” whereas most are underwater.

Image via Attn.

The topics seen above the line in this graphic are referred to as “overt white supremacy,” and what’s underneath is “covert white supremacy.” But here’s the thing: what lies under the surface actually forms a foundation for the overt forms of white supremacy to thrive. If I had some illustration skills, I’d think about this more as roots and a tree. That’s a more accurate depiction of how to take action: we can’t just cut down the tree itself but uproot the entire plant.

So let’s start with the basics – the overt, so to speak. Don’t wear blackface. Don’t dress as any racial or ethnic stereotypes (as Madeleine Aggeler says in Bustle, “dressing up as an entire people instead of a specific person is a bad idea”). Don’t appropriate any cultures or beliefs. And while we’re at it, don’t wear anything to make fun of someone with a physical or mental disability. Also, let’s not dress up for anyone known for their racist ideologies, okay? Because pretending to be a white supremacist is an act of white supremacy. So KKK, Nazis are a hard no. But so are colonizers – references to incarceration or immigration, or dressing as sports teams that uphold racial stereotypes.

"
Treating other people’s cultures as a costume is the entire problem. It’s a problem if you are making fun of that culture; it’s a problem if you think you are lauding that culture.
Elie Mystal for The Nation

And there are some costumes this year that aren’t overtly racist but are definitely racially charged. I’d give some deep thought to whether dressing up as law enforcement is appropriate, especially if you are a grown person and will be wearing a mask – you could easily be mistaken for the real thing and make others feel unsafe. Dressing up as coronavirus during a global pandemic, after 220,000+ people have lost their lives to it, is also very tactless. Consider the power and privilege that may influence the decision behind choosing one of these costumes.

Many people ask where the line is regarding cultural appropriation when it comes to costumes based on characters in the media. And here, it does become more challenging (although we have to keep in mind that the media itself isn't always a gold standard of cultural recognition). Characters like Moana or the Black Panther have distinct ties to marginalized communities but have also become popular culture through movies and merchandising. The notion of whether people can dress up as these characters are hotly contested (read more on Black Panther in the NYTimes). But it doesn’t always make it okay. When you wear the costume, are you conscious of the narrative beyond the Disney storyline that the character represents? And how are you in relationship with the community, not just the character? These are the questions I wish someone had asked me when I was wearing the costumes mentioned in my intro.

Generally speaking, if you’re going to do the work to plan your costume, a quick internet search on how it will be perceived should be a part of your planning. But what often gets lost in these conversations is what more to do. And I think Halloween weekend can also stand for a time where we commit to learning more about the communities that are appropriated during this time. This can be incredibly powerful with children; understanding various communities’ history builds empathy, which is often a more lasting connection than discipline. Halloween isn’t about trick-or-treating if it doesn’t treat us equitably.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

Halloween is culturally a time where many people wear costumes that include blackface and/or cultural appropriation, in addition to other oppressive and/or racially charged attire
Whether overt or covert, all forms of white supremacy are harmful, and contribute to the racist world we live in today
We need to move past dressing as characters to recognizing the unique cultures and identities of those we wish to impersona

RELATED ISSUES

10/26/2020 | Support diversity in animated films.

7/22/2020 | Don't Americanize other cultures.

7/16/2020 | Respect AAVE.

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 10/26/20 Nicole Cardoza 10/26/20

Support diversity in animated films.

Over the past couple of years, major studios have rushed to create renditions of popular stories from generations past, a way to incite millennials with renditions of their favorites and, hopefully, bring their children along for the ride. As they do, efforts to add more diversity have been applauded and criticized alike. Representation in all movies and particularly animated movies – isn’t just a marketing ploy; it’s critical to rewriting a history of whiteness in animated films and contributing to a conscious conversation about where society can grow.

Happy Monday, and welcome back to the Anti-Racism Daily. Each day, we send one email to spark action – and dismantle racism and systemic oppression in the U.S. To support our work, you can donate one-time or monthly on our website, Patreon, Paypal or Venmo @nicoleacardoza.

I’m a child of the 90s, so I was raised in the time of Disney princesses and happily ever afters. Since then, I've become an avid fan of animated storytelling. Much of my perspective on race has come from analyzing its history and how it responds to current events, so I'm excited to share that with you in today's newsletter. To unpack this issue, we touch on whitewashing, blackface, and colorism. If those are unfamiliar terms for you, I recommend referencing the associated articles as you go.

And before I get a million hate mail messages, I’m not asking you to cancel your Disney+ account or give up your favorite film from your youth! Like other other newsletters, it’s an opportunity to think critically, reflect, learn and choose what type of future you wish to invest in.

Nicole

TAKE ACTION

Reflect on your favorite animated movie/show. How does it support narratives for equity and inclusion? How does it work against narratives for equity and inclusion?
If you’re a parent: consider diversifying the TV shows and movies that your child watches at home. Search for a new, diverse story to introduce them to.

GET EDUCATED

By Nicole Cardoza (she/her)

Much of the scrutiny around representation is targeted at Disney, who arguably set the standard for feature-length animated films in the U.S. And also because their legacy is rife with racial stereotypes. Historically the principal characters of Disney movies are overwhelmingly white. If people of color are featured, it’s poorly. In the Aristocats, a cat in yellowface plays the piano with chopsticks. In Peter Pan, Native Americans are referred to by the racist slur "redskins" (NYTimes). And in Dumbo, released during the peak of Jim Crow in America, a group of black crows reinforce African American stereotypes of the time (Washington Post). Now, if stream one of these films on Disney+, a disclaimer pops up at the beginning, acknowledging that "these stereotypes were wrong then and are wrong now.” They also link to a website, “Stories Matter,” where users can learn more (BBC).

You’ll notice that many of the characters shared above aren’t even human. And that’s a trend that’s persisted, even as animated films mature. Characters that could be people of color are animals (like Pocahontas and Lion King). If they are human, they tend to spend significant amounts of time as animals. On the surface, this means that we don’t get that melanin screen time many marginalized communities look forward to.

But, as Andrew Tejada notes in his article “Representation Without Transformation: Can Hollywood Stop Changing Cartoon Characters of Color?” it goes beyond what kids see. It often changes the entire story. Instead of being themselves, they spend most of the movie trying to win back their right to be human (tor.com). This means that they don’t spend time navigating their own unique stories, ones that could acknowledge the specific challenges they face and perhaps resonate with viewers. And in a world that historically sees people of color as less-than-human, it feels especially dismissive.

The story of Princess Tiana, the first Black Disney princess from The Frog Princess, is often used as an example of this. Although the story was consciously re-created to depict Southern history and a Black lead, Tiana spent most of the movie as a frog trying to kiss a prince to become human again, which quickly overshadowed her story of trying to start her own business as a young Black woman.

Otherwise, when more diverse characters have been included in animation – whether by race or by size, gender, or sexual orientation – they're usually portrayed as the villains. Their contrast from what’s considered “good” in dominant culture are used as justification to ostracize and, often, inflict violence upon them.

This contrast is primarily created through skin color, relying on our history of colorism to distinguish the character’s role in the narrative. A classic example is the Mongolians and Shan-Yu, their leader, in Mulan. The rest of the humans have light, flesh-toned skin colors, but theirs is much darker – more grey than anything, with yellow eyes. They almost look subhuman, which is intentional. It makes a clear statement of who is considered good v. evil. Meanwhile, colorism is still abundant, particularly in countries throughout Asia (read more on colorism in our previous newsletter). Other examples of colorism in animated series include Scar, Ursula, and Mor’du (from Brave), and this trend extends to live-action films, too.

Beyond skin color, villains are often given other characteristics that are used against marginalized groups. Nearly every villain in Disney films is queercoded, or, given a “series of characteristics that are traditionally associated with queerness, such as more effeminate presentations by male characters or more masculine ones from female characters” (Syfy). Think of Scar v. Simba, Hades v. Hercules, Jafar v. Aladdin, or Ursula (based on a drag queen) v. Ariel. By doing so, the films subconsciously align queerness with evil, and, because they’re often trying to thwart “true love,” threaten heteronormativity and our right to live “happily ever after” (Little White Lies). Villains are also depicted as larger-bodied (like Ursula and John Ratcliffe) or with a physical or intellectual disability (CNN).

None of these depictions themselves are harmful themselves – representation can be neutral or positive – but it’s how it’s wielded that causes the stereotypes to persist. When we always see people from marginalized communities as the villain, we also assume that those from dominant culture are the heroes, which leads us to overlook the harm they can and have, inflicted for centuries. It can also teach kids harmful notions about themselves: “I have darker skin, so I must be a bad person. Maybe that’s why I do bad things, or people don’t seem to like me very much. I deserve to be treated this way”. Or, “people that act this way are bad. It’s my job to treat them poorly. That’s what the good guys do”.

Efforts to diversify these old stories have been criticized by people who are afraid they will “change the story” too much (Washington Post). But do they? To me, these stories don’t accurately depict just marginalized culture, but any particular culture. When it comes to The Little Mermaid, the plot itself doesn’t represent much of any of the mythology mermaids inhabit in countries worldwide. It even strays far from the Hans Christian Anderson tale (Wired). I can understand if someone who strays far from the narrative was cast in a story like The Secret of Kells, set in 9th century Ireland. But for a mermaid? Let’s also remember that white actors are cast for roles designated for people of color all the time.

And of course, diversity has to move beyond what we see. White actors also voice most of the animated characters of color we see in movies and TV shows. This is a more blatant form of whitewashing that’s perhaps easier to get away with because, unlike live-action films, viewers rarely know who the actor is behind the character. (The lead crow in Dumbo is literally named “Jim Crow” and voiced by a white man). Over the past few months, several white voiceover actors have stepped away from roles where they depict people of color (Vox).

Remember that representation internally tends to impact representation externally. And it’s the directors, writers, producers, and animators of color that are pushing the industry forward. Not only are they carving their own path, but ensuring everything from accurate illustrations, dialogue, and backgrounds are creating the right container for our stories to be heard. But they should not carry the burden of re-creating an entire industry or be held responsible for its legacy.

Nevertheless, we’ve come a long way. I was reminded to watch this when I saw a series of trailers for animated stories that seem to depict beautiful, diverse stories eschewing the Disney princess motif with culturally diverse concepts and settings. And I hope we continue to advocate for all narratives to be told – and inspire us with awe and wonder.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

Historically, animated films perpetuated harmful racial stereotypes
More recently, films tend to use colorism and other stereotypes to make villains feel counter-cultural, which enforces dominant culture and how it oppresses
Recently, Disney+ added a disclaimer to its films depicting harmful stereotypes that are now available to stream

RELATED ISSUES

9/15/2020 | End Hollywood whitewashing.

7/17/2020 | Analyze representation in media.

8/6/2020 | Don't do digital blackface.

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 8/6/20 Nicole Cardoza 8/6/20

Don't do digital blackface.

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Happy Wedthursfrimonday? Hard to tell these days.

In an interview regarding his books “Home and Exile” and “Things Fall Apart, Chinua Achebe stated that “the whole idea of a stereotype is to simplify.” But what happens when stereotypes become imitated, replicated, scaled and normalized because of social media? Today’s newsletter analyzes our nation’s history with blackface, blackface in the digital age, and who benefits from Black culture. It’s part of our ongoing series on cultural appropriation – catch up in our archives.

Thank you to all that give to support this newsletter. Please consider giving one-time on our website, PayPal or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza). Or, pledge $5/month on Patreon. Your funds help pay staff and ensure this newsletter remains free.

Nicole

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TAKE ACTION

Research to find a specific example of a racist stereotype shared through digital blackface – like a gif, TikTok or other form of content. Consider the following:

What harmful stereotype(s) does this content perpetuate?
What was the intention of the person who shared this content?
What is the impact of the person who shared this content?

GET EDUCATED

By Nicole Cardoza

What's the deal with TikTok?

TikTok, a social media app with 100 million users in the U.S., has caught Trump’s ire. The app, known for highly-sharable short videos, often created based on viral themes, was created by ByteDance, a Chinese-based media company. Trump argues that the Chinese government could compel the company to share American users’ data or use the platform as a form of propaganda to worsen U.S. and China relations (Wired). Although it seems this is more a PR tactic than a national security threat, millions were outraged that they may lose their social media platform. Unsurprisingly, Instagram took this time to launch their TikTok competitor, Reels, which adds a copycat TikTok experience. This news also aligned with new criticisms of the app’s role in perpetuating digital blackface.

To understand digital blackface, we must start with understanding the history of blackface. Minstrel shows gained popularity in the 1830s in New York, where white performers with blackened faces (most used burnt cork or shoe polish) would don tattered clothing and imitate enslaved Black people. These performances characterized Black people as lazy, ignorant, superstitious, and hypersexual. They would intentionally make them hard to understand and prone to thievery or cowardice (NMAAHC). From the late 19th century and into the early 20th, these shows gained national popularity, moving with ease from stages to radio shows (NYTimes). Popular American actors like Judy Garland, Mickey Rooney, and Shirley Temple brought these caricatures to the big screen. And this imagery extended beyond performances to marketing anything “from tobacco to molasses to breakfast cereal” (NYTimes).

And these weren’t merely comical performances. These shows helped to build a national consensus of the role of slavery and discrimination against Black people. These tortured depictions “embodied the assertion that blackness was grotesque in itself because it could never achieve the mythical ideal of whiteness” (NYTimes). Consider that the first popularly known blackface character was named “Jim Crow” and depicted “a clumsy, dimwitted black slave.” The name became a common slur against Black people, so it was used to refer to the anti-Black laws implemented after the Reconstruction period (History).

Also, consider that it took until 2020 for Aunt Jemima to change their branding based on these stereotypes (CNN), and Gucci thought that this turtleneck was appropriate in just 2019 (NPR). There’s a comprehensive list of public figures that have used Blackface (CNN). We are still watching blackface unfold in real-time.

Unpacking Digital Blackface

The term “digital blackface” is a bit different. Coined by Joshua Lumpkin Green in 2016, digital blackface describes how technology enables non-Black people to appropriate Black culture and adopt Black personas (Wired). This trend is particularly relevant on social media, where likes and views reign supreme, so anything goes. Blanketed by the relative comfort of anonymity, anyone can leverage Black language and culture without claims to the experiences or identities that create the community.

We’re watching this unfold on TikTok in real-time. Jaliah Harmon, a 14-year-old who loves dancing, created an intricately choreographed dance to the song “Lottery” by the Atlanta rapper K-Camp and uploaded it to Instagram. The dance, called the Renegade, quickly got to TikTok, where it went viral. But Charli D’Amelio, a white TikTok dancer with the most followers on TikTok at the time, is considered its CEO because she, like many others, copied it without crediting its source (NYTimes). Jaliah is only now seeing her due, but Charli charges an estimated $100,000 per sponsored post (Cosmopolitan), launched her own nail polish line dance and has been in a series of high profile partnerships, like dancing with Jennifer Lopez and appearing on “The Tonight Show” with Jimmy Fallon (Variety).

TikTok is designed for ideas to be shared and remixed, so what happened with Renegade isn’t surprising, but disappointing in a world that often undervalues Black women. But this same model fuels deeper harm against Black people, allowing, for example, white people to create videos lip-synching the words of Black people to exaggerate them, or imitating racial stereotypes – both of which sound more relevant to the 1830’s than the 2020s (Wired). As this comprehensive Wired article notes, TikTok users likely aren’t always doing it to be racist, but simply for the virality, clout, and followers. Nevertheless, disparaging posts on slavery, perpetuating police brutality against Black people, and other terrible stereotypes aren’t just posted, but encouraged, because of the algorithm.

:Virality often occurs through shocking behavior. Whether it's acting provocatively, bullying, or using racial slurs and stereotypes, a lot of users see that their questionable behavior gets a reaction, and that just encourages them”.
Morgan Eckroth, barista and TikTok user, in Wired

Although TikTok’s algorithm fuels this trend, digital blackface isn’t new. Vine, a similar social media platform that enabled users to create and share 10-second videos launched by Twitter, had several racist trends and challenges go viral on their platform, sparking accusations of blackface as early as 2013 (Metro). In 2016, Snapchat released a Bob Marley filter on 4/20 that literally gave users digital blackface and dreadlocks, which is both racially insensitive and minimizes the life and legacy artist (Wired). And AAVE (explained in a previous newsletter) is used so frequently across social media platforms that a TikTok user declared it simply “internet culture” (Daily Dot).

Digital Blackface and Gifs

Digital blackface manifests in other ways online. A common way is how many people use gifs of Black people and Black culture to express themselves, despite not being Black themselves. Certainly, we can all love a scene from a movie that just happens to feature a Black actor or feel that a kid’s facial expression suits how we feel right now, regardless of the kid’s race. But as Lauren Michele Jackson, the author of White Negro, explains in this brilliant Teen Vogue article, the gifs of Black people shared tend to depict overexaggerated expressions of emotions. And our society often associates Black people with being excessive. Consider the trope of the “angry Black woman,” the “angry Black man,” or the “aggressive Black boy”. These caricatures have been perpetuated in the media throughout history and used to justify condemnation, subjugation, and violence. See Serena Williams, Christian Cooper, and Michael Brown for specific examples.

“Digital blackface in GIFs helps reinforce an insidious dehumanization of Black people by adding a visual component to the concept of the single story”.
Naomi Day, Speculative fiction and Afrofuturist writer, on Medium

Beyond digital blackface, there are more common ways people can use Black culture and imagery fo their gain. They may seem innocuous but are just as harmful. Consider how, after the protests, brands started using more photos of Black people on their social media feed, despite not addressing internal culture or practices that contribute to their oppression. Although they’re not directly adopting a Black culture or persona, they are trying to align themselves with a community that they haven’t earned the right to represent

What do we do about it?

This isn’t to say that an individual sharing their favorite gif or jumping into a TikTok trend is inherently racist. It’s the system that these actions are couched in. As we’ve explained in other posts regarding cultural appropriation, Black people experience significant discrimination and harm for expressing their culture – while white people are celebrated and compensated for it. I’m not taking away your favorite gifs for the sake of doing right. It’s another opportunity to keep doing the work. As you speak in a cultural language that’s not your own, consider what it says for the people who speak that culture fluently.

And social media platforms have a responsibility to protect their users from harm. The worst part of the TikTok story is how Black creators on TikTok are regularly experiencing racism harassment and censorship on the platform, especially when speaking up against these issues (Wired). And despite their public announcements, the company still hasn’t taken sufficient action to protect and center the needs of the Black community, despite naming Black people as “the most inspiring, creative voices on our platform” (Wired). The safety and security of TikTok is in question, but not for the dangerous space it’s created for communities of color on the app. And as other companies rush to acquire or compete with TikTok, I hope they make mitigating digital blackface a priority.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

Digital blackface describes how technology enables non-Black people to appropriate Black culture and adopt Black personas
Blackface has deep roots in the founding of America, and was used to normalize racist stereotypes against enslaved African people
The TikTok algorithm exacerbates digital blackface while exposing its Black community to harm
We need tech to take responsibility for digital blackface on their platforms, and hold ourselves accountable for our own actions