Nicole Cardoza Nicole Cardoza Nicole Cardoza Nicole Cardoza

Confront the weaponization of white women tears.

There’s a trend on Tiktok where women – mainly white women – record themselves crying, then changing their expression to a smirk, showing how quickly they can fake their tears. More on this trend in Nylon. These videos are being condemned for demonstrating a very real and dangerous history of white women using their emotions to vilify Black people and other people of color.

Happy Monday and welcome back to the Anti-Racism Daily! Over the past year, my social media algorithms have ultimately attuned themselves to all things racial equity. So I shouldn't have been surprised when two videos mentioned below appeared in my feed back-to-back. It made me remember how much of our history has been shaped by the weaponization of white women tears, and how we need to not just acknowledge it, but dismantle it.

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– Nicole

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By Nicole Cardoza (she/her)

There’s a trend on Tiktok where women – mainly white women – record themselves crying, then changing their expression to a smirk, showing how quickly they can fake their tears. More on this trend in Nylon. These videos are being condemned for demonstrating a very real and dangerous history of white women using their emotions to vilify Black people and other people of color.

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Consider another video also trending on Tiktok. This one is real: a woman is caught on camera physically attacking a Black Muslim woman in a store, only to break down crying, accusing the victim of attacking her. In the minutes that follow, the woman cries and screams, “get away from me,” while running towards the Black woman, who continues to back away (Complex).

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This is just one of many recent examples of this practice, though. Amy Cooper called the police on a Black man who simply asked her to leash her dog, stating that he was “threatening her life” (NYTimes). A Starbucks employee called the cops on two Black men for “trespassing” while waiting for a friend (NBC News). Frustrated that the police didn’t come sooner, a white woman expressed she was scared by Black men barbecuing in the park (Newsweek).
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But this practice is responsible for some of the most well-known injustices in our history. The Tulsa Race Massacre was sparked after Dick Rowland, an African American shoe shiner, accidentally stepped on the toe of Sarah Page, a white elevator, causing her to scream (OK History). And Emmett Till was just 14-years-old when he was brutally lynched in August 1955. Till was attacked because 21-year-old Carolyn Bryant, a white woman, accused him of making advances on her when he entered her family’s store to buy 2-cent bubble gum. The two men responsible – her husband and his half-brother – were acquitted (PBS). But in 2007, Bryant Donham (since remarried) confessed that she fabricated that part of her testimony (Vanity Fair). Despite this, Bryant Donham, who is still alive today, has not been charged with her complicity in the murder. Emmett Till’s birthday is July 25. He would be turning 80 years old. Learn more about the official foundation’s efforts to demand justice.

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How did we get here? According to Wendy Brown in her book States of Injury, this stems from a practice that progressive moments have often centered the perspective of “wounded identities” (Princeton). Even though there are many wounded identities worth listening to in our society, the marginalization that white women experience – the “damsel in distress” narrative – is prioritized in our white supremacist culture. It’s also often weaponized by white men to justify racial discrimination (consider our article on pools from last week) (NYTimes). Some white women may use it unconsciously, familiar with the privilege of having their emotions come before another’s. But, as in the examples noted above, it’s often used intentionally to minimize accountability, deflect blame, or worse, inflict harm in scenarios where they know their whiteness grants them superiority. Ironically, it’s often used by the same people that will denounce acts of racism, unable – or perhaps unwilling – to see how power and privilege play in these situations. Ruby Hamad’s book, “White Tears/Brown Scars: How White Feminism Betrays Women of Color,” is a comprehensive resource to dive further.

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Today, this violence is codified in the racial bias of algorithms and content moderators on social media platforms today. White women tears trended last month on Tiktok as the platform was banning content with terms “pro-Black”, “Black Lives Matter”, “Black success” and “Black people” (NME). Videos of violent encounters go viral across social media, but rarely do posts outlining the importance of acknowledging white fragility or dismantling white feminism. Although trending videos drive awareness, they continue to reiterate who is centered in the broader narrative around racism and systemic oppression. And in the process, they trigger those most impacted by this harm.

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Remember that for every video that trends, there are dozens more of these scenarios happening offline - perhaps in your workplace, park, or local coffee shop. It shouldn’t take a victim to record the violent incident for them to be believed. Consider: how can you prioritize the needs of those experiencing harm? How can you be an active bystander for someone experiencing this type of attack? And how can you use your power and privilege to change this narrative? The TikTok trend may have started innocuously, but this practice is guilty of harming too many people of color. And until we dismantle it, our work to create a more equitable future will continue to get washed away.

Key Takeaways

  • A trend on Tiktok encouraging users to post videos of themselves fake crying has reignited conversations on how white women tears have been weaponized against communities of color.

  • Some of the significant historical injustices against Black people that we know of have been started by weaponized white women tears.

  • When white women weaponize their emotions to cause harm against people of color, they perpetuate the same systemic oppression they often claim to oppose.

RELATED ISSUES

5/21/2021 | Understand whiteness.​

4/6/2021 | Unpack white feminism.

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Raye Zaragoza Nicole Cardoza Raye Zaragoza Nicole Cardoza

Support musicians of color.

Late last year, I had a conversation on the difference between tokenism and inclusion in the music industry with fellow Americana artist Lizzie No that was published on Talkhouse.com. We chatted about how festivals, conferences, concerts, and events often believe they are practicing inclusion when really they are exhibiting harmful tokenism. “We have to talk about the differences between actually including people and bringing them to a seat at the table, versus using them to promote what’s already there.” - Lizzie No.

Happy Thursday and welcome back! Our latest podcast episode seemed to truly resonate with our listeners, prompting more curiosity of what a more and inclusive music industry would look like. Raye joins us today on the newsletter side to share more about her experience. If you missed it, find the latest Anti-Racism Daily podcast episode wherever you listen to podcasts.

This newsletter is a free resource made possible by our paying subscribers. Consider giving $7/month on Patreon. Or you can give one-time on our website, PayPal, or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza). You can also support us by joining our curated digital community. Thank you to all those that have contributed!

Nicole

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By Raye Zaragoza (she/her)

Late last year, I had a conversation on the difference between tokenism and inclusion in the music industry with fellow Americana artist Lizzie No that was published on Talkhouse.com. We chatted about how festivals, conferences, concerts, and events often believe they are practicing inclusion when really they are exhibiting harmful tokenism. “We have to talk about the differences between actually including people and bringing them to a seat at the table, versus using them to promote what’s already there.” - Lizzie No. 

Tokenism: the practice of making only a perfunctory or symbolic effort to do a particular thing, especially by recruiting a small number of people from underrepresented groups in order to give the appearance of sexual or racial equality within a workforce. 

Inclusion: the action or state of including or of being included within a group or structure.

(dictonary.com)

As a New York City-born, Folk/Americana music artist and Brown woman of Mexican, Native American, Japanese, and Taiwanese ancestry, I have experienced firsthand the line between inclusion and tokenism. I have realized that this line is oftentimes one that I can see but one that the white folks in power can not see. To me, inclusion when you’re being invited to speak for yourself, as your whole self, and have an equal share of the mic to your white counterparts. Tokenism is when you’re being propped up by the pieces of you they want to exploit, a cosmetic cover-up for previous years of failing to bring in diversity, and one’s racial identity being centered and advertised more than the work itself. 

According to data collected by the Census Bureau in 2017, 73.6% of singers, musicians, and related workers are white, only 13% are black, and less than 1% are Indigenous. It is easy to see how this lack of representation has led to a hunger for diversity in the music industry. It’s time that we insist on effective inclusion rather than harmful tokenism within the music industry and beyond. 

While folk music is predominantly populated by white artists, it is heavily influenced by the work of Black artists. “In fact, without the spirituals sung by enslaved people, the railroad songs of the Reconstruction era, and the ragtime hits of the early twentieth century, modern folk music would not exist” (library.org). It is important to acknowledge that inclusion in the music industry, and specifically within folk music, is not about bringing underrepresented groups to the table, but about acknowledging that the table itself was inspired by the music of the underrepresented groups themselves — a credit that is long forgotten. 

In our conversation on Talkhouse.com, Lizzie elaborates on her experience of feeling tokenized throughout her music career: “When I’m on a bill, sometimes bookers will be fast and loose about labeling my music — like ‘African-American folk,’ or like ‘Black folk.’ And, sure, I’m a Black artist as a person, but I wouldn’t describe my music as Black music any more than any other Black artist’s music is Black music. So, yes, I find that to be a really good way for people to pat themselves on the back for booking me, and to let me know that they’re not as familiar with my music.”

Like Lizzie, I have experienced times where the line between inclusion and tokenism felt like it lit up like a Christmas tree in my mind. For example, there was the time I was on a panel that was questioned about whether the project encompassed indigenous issues and they pointed to me as their coverage of the “indigenous issue.”  And the time I was on a call with folks who wanted to use my music for a promotional video and they had never actually listened to my songs but were interested in my mixed racial identity. And the countless times concert promoters told me that they booked me cause they really needed a “diversity factor.” Tokenism is incredibly harmful because it leaves the artist questioning whether anyone is even listening to the work itself.

Inclusion, when done right, can be incredibly productive and can open doors for diverse folks. Folk Alliance International brought in the Indigenous Music Summit, a satellite conference led by and for Indigenous people in the folk music community (folkconference.org). Jonathan Azu started the Diversity in Music Employment database, a talent database of BIPOC and female music professionals looking for jobs in the industry (www.musically.com). The American Association of Independent Music (A2IM) created The Black Independent Music Accelerator (BIMA) to amplify independent, Black-owned music businesses (a2im.org). With inclusion, it is important that the mic is being passed not only to speak, but also to lead. I applaud these organizations and conferences for doing just that, and I hope we will continue to see more. 

As live events and national tours have been put on hold, it is time to reevaluate our inclusion practices in the music industry and take action by empowering those fighting for their voices and music to be heard. I am incredibly grateful for organizations and artists that fight for empowering and effective inclusion practices and bring more BiPoc folks into positions of power in the music industry. I hope you will consider lifting these voices and acknowledge the change that is needed. 

Raye Zaragoza (she/her) is an award-winning singer-songwriter who NPR Music called “one of the most fresh and compelling voices in folk music today." Her sophomore album Woman In Color offers an intimate exploration of coming into her own, in a country where for many, simply existing is political.

Lizzie No (she/her) is a New York based singer-songwriter, harpist and guitarist who released her second full-length album, "Vanity," on August 2, 2019. Rolling Stone Magazine called the first single, Narcissus," a "crisp alt-rock gem" and a "Song You Need To Know." The album was a "Now Hear This" pick in No Depression Magazine. Lizzie is currently working on her third studio album and creating content through her subscription service on ampeld.com/artist/lizzieno

KEY TAKEAWAYS

  • It is important that the mic is being passed not only to speak, but also to lead.

  • Musicians of color deserve to be recognized as their full selves.

  • Though most recognized folk musicians are white, the genre owes its existence to the work of black artists.

RELATED ISSUES

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Thank you for all your financial contributions! If you haven't already, consider making a monthly donation to this work. These funds will help me operationalize this work for greatest impact.

Subscribe on Patreon | Give one-time on PayPal | Venmo @nicoleacardoza

Read More