Andrew Lee Nicole Cardoza Andrew Lee Nicole Cardoza

Center people of color in anti-racism education.

Burgeoning anti-racists have gotten their bearings by referencing the books on widely-circulated anti-racist reading lists (NBC). But as the texts on such lists reinforce, racism is a broad, enduring feature of our society and entire lives. That means that being an anti-racist isn’t as easy as simply denouncing white supremacy or reading the correct book. Because of these ongoing challenges, racist practices can seep into the very act of anti-racist education. Even white people seeking to educate themselves about race can illegitimately privilege other white voices or make arrogant demands for the labor of people of color.


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By Andrew Lee (he/him)

In the past year, huge numbers of privileged people have come to understand the depths of racial injustice in the United States. Many have understood the need to take action to undo racist systems, including those that may currently benefit rather than harm them.

Burgeoning anti-racists have gotten their bearings by referencing the books on widely-circulated anti-racist reading lists (NBC). But as the texts on such lists reinforce, racism is a broad, enduring feature of our society and entire lives. That means that being an anti-racist isn’t as easy as simply denouncing white supremacy or reading the correct book. Because of these ongoing challenges, racist practices can seep into the very act of anti-racist education. Even white people seeking to educate themselves about race can illegitimately privilege other white voices or make arrogant demands for the labor of people of color.

A mainstay of the contemporary anti-racist curriculum is Robin DiAngelo’s White Fragility. This book emphasizes how even liberal white people participate in racism. It also explains how white defensiveness and aversion to discussing race allow the perpetuation of white supremacy (CNN). Last spring, sales of White Fragility jumped 2264% in just two months (Forbes), becoming the fastest-selling Beacon Press release since the publisher was founded in 1854 (SlateBeacon Press). The book, which spent over a year on the New York Times bestseller list, has received both acclaim and criticism. White Fragility recommends white introspection and diversity trainings as the way to undo racism (The Bellows), though empirical evidence shows diversity trainings in isolation don’t actually work (The New Republic).

“Ultimately, the result of what she would create is a certain educated class of white person feeling better about themselves,” said John McWhorter. “You can say that all of this is a prelude to changing [racist] structures. But the question will always be, why don't you just go out and change the structures? And why do you think that you couldn't until doing this?” (NPR).

There’s also the irony of a white person deciding “the key things white people can do” about racism (CNN). DiAngelo now receives tens of thousands of dollars for each speaking engagement (Daily Mail). Few writers of color receive such attention or money as she does from her white, relatively affluent customer base (Daily Beast). Some aspiring white anti-racists promote a white author as a genius while authors of color are ignored.

The flipside to only accepting anti-racist advice from white people is arrogantly demanding it from people of color. White people sometimes expect people of color to be “patient and polite racial and cultural ambassadors.” Instead of being ignored, people of color are in this case unwillingly conscripted as unpaid anti-racism educators and coaches for the benefit of white people. “It would help if you gave specific, actionable steps we can take instead of just voicing the problem,” “teach me what to do,” “help me to be better”: though not always ill-intentioned, statements like these often put the responsibility for fixing racism back onto people of color (Medium).

As Kronda Adair says, “You expect people of color to explain to you What Is Really Going On And How To Fix It™. Guess what? We’re busy. We’re busy trying to live our lives, keep our houses clean, do good work, get good grades, play video games, go to the beach and keep mentally sane despite dealing with at least one bullshit *ist incident per day” (Kronda).

If we don’t set aside our lives to educate a white person, then we’re supposedly responsible for that person’s ignorance. “It’s a classic tool of derailing, this feigned helplessness and subtly accusatory question of, “If you don’t teach me, how can I learn?” (Implied answer: “I won’t, and it’ll be all your fault!”)” (Salon).

One frequently-recommended book from a white author won’t “fix” your racism. One instructive lesson from a person of color won’t, either. Anti-racism is a lifelong choice you make each day (Medium). It means relating to those around you and your own privileges in a different way. It means taking risk to dismantle unjust systems. It means doing your own introspection, taking your own initiative, and making your own sacrifices. It means work, and that work isn’t something that someone else can do for you.

There are many resources like the Anti-Racism Daily where people directly affected by oppression break down what that means. There are community organizations of color across this country asking for solidarity and support. Instead of imagining anti-racist education as a certification you complete or a private tutoring you contract, “think of it as continuing education or an independent studies class where you need to proactively seek out the content. Don’t ask us to provide the information for you. Instead, participate in your own education. We’ve already given you enough of our free labor. Don’t ask us for anymore” (Medium).

In the process of building a better world, we all start somewhere. As we move forward, the most important thing is to approach social change with an attitude of responsibility and humility.


Key Takeaways


  • Some white allies privilege white authors who center the ways white supremacy harms white people psychologically rather than the harm it inflicts on people of color both mentally and materially.

  • Other white allies demand explanations and personalized instructions to do better from people of color.

  • Anti-racism is a lifelong practice, especially for the privileged. It requires time, commitment, and sacrifice as well as personal initiative and critical thinking.

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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.

Thank you for your support! This daily, free, independent newsletter is fully funded by contributions from our readers. Make a monthly or annual donation to join in, or give one-time on our websitePayPal or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza).

– 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 NylonThese 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.

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).

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).

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.

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.

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.

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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Andrew Lee Nicole Cardoza Andrew Lee Nicole Cardoza

Understand whiteness.

But race is a social construct, and social constructs have social histories. Our modern understanding of race was created at a specific historical juncture in colonial Virginia. Prior to that, it did not exist.

It's Friday! Welcome back to the Anti-Racism Daily. Ta-Nehisi Coates, author of "Between the World and Me," says that "race is the child of racism, not the father." Put simply, racism created the social construct of race that perpetuates racial bias and discrimination to this date. Andrew shares a bit more about the history of race in the U.S. and more resources to learn about the formation of whiteness.

Thank you to everyone that supports our independent publishing! If you can, consider giving $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. I'm grateful for your support!

Nicole



TAKE ACTION


  • Learn about the social and historical construction of whiteness.

  • Educate yourself about the benefits of whiteness, provided by the National Musuem of African American History and Culture.

  • Take steps to disrupt and abolish race and whiteness.

  • Consider: How does being white grant certain privileges? How might white people experience oppression through other social identities, e.g., class, gender, sexual orientation, religion, ability, etc.?


GET EDUCATED


By Andrew Lee (he/him)

There’s a general conception of racism that goes something like this: just as some people are naturally short or tall, we are all born into one race or another. Racism is unfair discrimination, but the racial categories themselves are natural and universal. Just as we might imagine someone in Shakespeare’s England or the 16th century Mali Empire being short or tall, we would imagine that person fitting into one of the modern U.S. census’s racial categories.

But race is a social construct, and social constructs have social histories. Our modern understanding of race was created at a specific historical juncture in colonial Virginia. Prior to that, it did not exist.

This doesn’t mean that everyone previously looked the same. If those subjects of the Mali Empire and Elizabethan England met, they would have recognized differences in skin pigmentation or eye color or any number of other things.

Similarly, I notice people’s heights. But I do not have a mental map that divides people into either The Talls or The Shorts. I do not think of The Talls and The Shorts as two different sorts of human beings. I do not immediately make a subconscious decision on whether someone I am talking to sight unseen is either A Tall or A Short person. And our society isn’t designed to universally provide one of these groups of people more power, privilege and opportunity than the other. This is an absurd example, but we all make instant judgments of this sort concerning race. Not necessarily because we are racist, but because race is a fundamental feature of social life in ways the fictitious Tall/Short division is not.

In colonial Virginia, landowners brought workers from England, Ireland, and countries across Africa to cultivate tobacco. These enslaved or forced laborers were poorly treated, and none had many rights, but African and European laborers were treated largely the same. African laborers able to acquire their freedom could exercise voting rights in the colonial legislature, accumulate wealth, and hire European laborers. People of African and European ancestry intermingled and intermarried without penalty and there is no evidence that they thought of themselves as members of two great camps of Black and white people (Understanding Race).

But after African and European servants joined forces in 1676’s Bacon’s Rebellion, the colonial legislature began passing laws to make such solidarity impossible in the future. The rights of African people were reduced until African descent was synonymous with slavery. On the other hand, a new category appeared: white. For the first time, people who might have been referred to as Christian, or English, or Scottish, or Swedish were all lumped together under this new name. Even the poorest white person now had greater rights than any enslaved African.

“What colony leaders were doing was establishing unequal groups and imposing different social meanings on them,” said Audrey Smedley. “As they were creating the institutional and behavioral aspects of slavery, the colonists were simultaneously structuring the ideological components of race” (Understanding Race).

Much later, when mass Irish immigration began in the 19th century, Irish people were not yet considered properly white. Racial stereotypes about Irish people abounded in popular media. For Anglo-Americans, the Irish were thought of as being much closer to Black people than to whites. Black people were even referred to as “smoked Irish.”

Irish Americans today are a nationality firmly within the universe of whiteness. What changed wasn’t any physical characteristic of Irish people but rather their political position within American white supremacy. Irish Americans largely rejected calls by nationalist leaders like Daniel O’Connell to join forces with Black people, instead of opposing abolition and acting “unabashedly American in the way they dealt with the slavery controversy” (Irish Times).

“Essentially what happened was the Irish became white,” said scholar Noel Ignatiev. “To the extent to which they could prove themselves worthy of being white Americans–that is, by joining in gleefully in the subjugation of Black people–they showed that they belonged… Having fair skin made the Irish eligible to be white, but it didn’t guarantee their admission. They had to earn it” (Z Magazine).

Whiteness is a social construct, but that doesn’t mean we can just wish it away. Police officers and Lutheranism and Thursdays are also social constructs, but we can’t snap our fingers and make any of them disappear, either. Your non-belief in police officers won’t help you when you get pulled over; if you choose to ignore Thursdays you’ll always have the wrong day of the week. To say something is a social construct implies it has not always existed and could exist otherwise or not at all. Nonetheless, there are practices, policies, and institutions that make social constructs real, powerful, and potentially deadly while they exist.

Ignatiev’s suggestion was to instead work collectively towards the abolition of whiteness, meaning the destruction of those privileges associated with being part of the “club” of whiteness. “The white race is like a private club based on one huge assumption: that all those who look white are, whatever their complaints or reservations, fundamentally loyal to the race. We want to dissolve the club, to explode it” (LA Times).

It is not just that some white people or institutions are racist but rather that the category of whiteness in the United States has always had racial oppression as its function. To “explode the club of whiteness” does not require self-pity and hand-wringing by self-proclaimed white allies. If the fundamental assumption of whiteness is that all white people–neighbors, bosses and employees, police officers and civilians, family members or strangers on the street–have some basic loyalty to each other, a more powerful response would be to break the color line, practicing disloyalty to whiteness in favor of loyalty to humanity.

Understand, unpack, and abolish whiteness.


Key Takeaways


  • We often think of racism as unjust discrimination between objective racial categories.

  • In fact, categories like “white” didn’t always exist. Whiteness was created as a legal category in colonial Virginia to prevent lower-class solidarity.

  • Racial categories have always been part of a racial hierarchy.

  • To interrupt racism, we need to disrupt whiteness, including white intra-racial solidarity at the expense of people of color.


RELATED ISSUES



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Unpack white feminism.

Last week, author and motivational speaker Rachel Hollis posted a video where she fought back against being called “privileged” because she has a housekeeper. In it, she defends her need for support for being a hard-working, successful woman and compares herself to her idols, which she lists in the caption:

“Harriet Tubman, RBG, Marie Curie, Oprah Winfrey, Amelia Earhart, Frida Khalo, Malala Yousafzai, Wu Zetian... all Unrelatable AF.”

It's Tuesday, y'all! And we're back to discuss the role of whiteness in the feminist movement. It's no coincidence that feminism has disproportionately benefitted white women, and today's newsletter highlights some ways women of color and other marginalized voices have been silenced in the narrative.

This newsletter is a free resource and that's made possible by our paying subscribers. Consider giving
$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. Thank you to all those that support!

Nicole


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By Nicole Cardoza (she/her)

Last week, author and motivational speaker Rachel Hollis posted a video where she fought back against being called “privileged” because she has a housekeeper. In it, she defends her need for support for being a hard-working, successful woman and compares herself to her idols, which she lists in the caption:

“Harriet Tubman, RBG, Marie Curie, Oprah Winfrey, Amelia Earhart, Frida Khalo, Malala Yousafzai, Wu Zetian... all Unrelatable AF.”
 

Unsurprisingly, the backlash was swift. People quickly noted the condescending tone that Hollis used when referring to her housekeeper who “cleans my toilets.” Many indicated that working hard isn’t always synonymous with the financial freedom to hire a housekeeper. Others admonished her audacity to compare herself to anyone on this list, particularly Harriet Tubman and Malala Yousafzai, who didn’t achieve success by “waking up at 4 am” but overcoming acts of violence and oppression. This wasn’t the first time Hollis has come under criticism; last year, she used a quote by Maya Angelou without attribution, which re-ignited a broader conversation on the importance of citing Black women.

The post, and the poor excuse for an apology that followed, was unsurprising; Instagram influencers are constantly posting something disappointing these days. But I found this one particularly interesting because it feels as if white feminism itself crafted it word-for-word. It exemplifies how, throughout history, white feminism has centered white women over women of color and justified any harm through its pursuits in the process.

Many people supported the women’s suffragists movement because they believed that enfranchising (white) women’s right to move would neutralize the Black vote and gain white supremacy (History). Historians emphasize that many white suffragist leaders were racist, including Elizabeth Cady Stanton, who repeatedly attacked immigrants, the working class, and Black people to justify the rights for white women (New Yorker). Black women suffrage clubs tried to affiliate with the national (white) suffrage movement but were discouraged from doing so; admission of Black people could anger white Southerners (NYTimes).
 

But this focus – white women above all – has continued into movements that we see today. Sheryl Sandberg’s “Lean In” movement, which emphasized that women can “have it all” if they’re bold and brave enough to ask for it, glaringly didn’t reflect the challenges women of color experience in the workplace. And, I’d like to add, women with disabilities, women that many not benefit from cisgender privilege or neurotypicality. The notion was publicly criticized by former First Lady Michelle Obama (Washington Post), along with other voices quick to name how Sandberg’s whiteness and wealth made this a much more unrealistic strategy for everyday people of color (People of Color in Tech).

Sometimes, women’s movements don’t just overlook the experiences of women of color – but abandon them altogether. In October 2017, actress Alyssa Milano encouraged women to share stories of sexual assault publicly, using the phrase and hashtag #MeToo to demonstrate solidarity. The tweet quickly gained steam, accelerating the #MeToo movement we know today. But the term “Me Too” was coined by activist Tarana Burke, a Black woman, back in 2006, before hashtags even existed. Milano was quick to credit Burke accordingly, but many people (still) credit Milano for it. The movement quickly became centered on the voices of mainly white celebrities harmed by powerful men in Hollywood. As it evolved, Burke continued to emphasize that, despite the growing impact of the movement, there are “tons of voices that have gone unnoticed,” particularly those most marginalized.

The women of color, trans women, queer people—our stories get pushed aside and our pain is never prioritized. We don’t talk about Indigenous women. Their stories go untold.”

Tarana Burke, Time 100 Summit in 2019

And now we’re facing the end of the Girlboss era, the latest manifestation of white feminism. Coined by entrepreneur Sophia Amoruso, the movement advocated for female corporate success to move gender equity forward. Female founders launched brands that catered to women, often reclaiming space in male-dominated industries. In this way, feminism became both a movement and a marketing strategy. But when the racial reckoning of last summer emboldened others to speak out, it became clear that many of their leadership patterns only reinforced existing racial disparities seen in companies led by white men (The Atlantic). Employees, particularly those of color, shared stories of abuse, intimidation, racism, and sexual assault (GEN Magazine).

By overlooking the barriers that women of color face, movements like these perpetuate the narrative that it’s the fault of women of color that they can’t live up to opportunities. It eschews collective accountability for individual responsibility, only adding to the burden that women of color face. This is partly why, to this day, we still see stark disparities for women’s rights between white women and people of color. We know that white women make 79 cents for every dollar a man makes, but Black women make $0.62 and Hispanic women $0.55. Black women are twice as likely to experience life-threatening pregnancy-related complications than white women (American Progress).

Feminism alone isn’t solely to blame for the inequalities that we face, and it certainly won’t solve it alone. But we do need to prioritize the voices of the women most marginalized as we continue to advocate for women’s rights. Otherwise, feminism will be wielded as a weapon against communities of color with the guise of empowerment and SHE-E-O energy, and non-white women will be left with the burden.

This is only possible when white women de-center their own narrative and elevate others instead. But it doesn’t look like we can expect that from Hollis anytime soon. Instead of acknowledging on how whiteness may have influenced her privilege, and taking accountability for the harm of her actions, she’s left the post and deflected responsibility onto her team.


KEY TAKEAWAYS


  • Last week, Rachel Hollis posted an insensitive video that exemplified the fallacies of white feminism

  • Throughout history, the feminist movement has prioritized the needs of white women over the needs of women of color, and often at their expense

  • In order to achieve true equity, we have to center the voices and perspectives of marginalized women


RELATED ISSUES



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Acknowledge whiteness in classical art.

Historically, whiteness has been hailed as the standard in beauty, art, and culture. In contrast, typically antithetical features (like deeper skin tones, coily/kinky hair, or wider/fuller facial features or body types) have been deemed inferior and thus unbeautiful. This can often mean interpretations of classical art that are based on preconceived notions of anti-Blackness. An example of this is the 2004 book cover from Benjamin Issaac’s The Invention of Racism in Classical Antiquity from Princeton University Press. The modern depiction of this 510 BC Greek painting of Herakles ad Bousiris plays to anti-Black imagery of the naked Black male offset by his clothed white counterparts as violent, savage, and animalistic. But it does not acknowledge the more sophisticated approach to race that is present in the original painting, showing a myriad of complexions that are more representative of ancient Egyptian civilization (Getty).

It's Sunday, and we're back! Today we're joined by Mary-Hannah, a new writer at the Anti-Racism Daily, who's unpacking how our relationship to whiteness is influenced by classical art. I learned a ton through reading and editing this piece, and I hope you will, too.

And thank you all for your support! Because of you, we can offer this newsletter free of charge and also pay our staff of writers and editors. Join in by making a one-time gift on our website or PayPal, or subscribe for $7/month on Patreon. You can also Venmo (@nicoleacardoza). To subscribe, go to antiracismdaily.com.

Nicole


TAKE ACTION


Follow platforms like A Black History of Art (@ablackhistoryofart)  that provide a more representative view of world art history.

  • Reflect: the next time you come across a historical narrative that praises European and/or Western progression, ask yourself these questions:

    • Who are the ‘heroes’ of the story? Does this chronicle uphold whiteness as the standard?

    • Where do Black and Brown people fit into the narrative?

    • How would I/do I feel when history diminishes the presence and contributions of people who look like me?

  • Consider how you react to Black and Brown cultural identities and expression. Identify unconscious biases you may hold about who or what is “ideal.”


GET EDUCATED


By Mary-Hannah Oteju (she/her)


One is White as one is rich, as one is beautiful, as one is intelligent.
Frantz Fanon

Historically, whiteness has been hailed as the standard in beauty, art, and culture. In contrast, typically antithetical features (like deeper skin tones, coily/kinky hair, or wider/fuller facial features or body types) have been deemed inferior and thus unbeautiful. This can often mean interpretations of classical art that are based on preconceived notions of anti-Blackness. An example of this is the 2004 book cover from Benjamin Issaac’s The Invention of Racism in Classical Antiquity from Princeton University Press. The modern depiction of this 510 BC Greek painting of Herakles ad Bousiris plays to anti-Black imagery of the naked Black male offset by his clothed white counterparts as violent, savage, and animalistic. But it does not acknowledge the more sophisticated approach to race that is present in the original painting, showing a myriad of complexions that are more representative of ancient Egyptian civilization (Getty).

We see continue to see this racial exclusion in TV romance dramas like Love Island (Popsugar), in the beauty and modeling world (Vogue), and even in academia. This impacts how we understand Black and Brown identities in these spheres, and results in people who aren’t white (or white-passing) receiving fewer opportunities and less representation in the media.

Recently, news anchor and reporter Tashara Parker from WFAA-TV in Dallas went viral for her natural updo (Today). Though many applauded her for celebrating her Black hair and Blackness, the image posted of her online sparked some debate about professionalism in the workspace. Often whiteness and its associated features are considered the most professional in the working world. This often leaves Black and Brown people in liminal spaces while navigating the web of their racial identities and workplace expectations (Byrdie). 

Upholding whiteness as the standard is not a phenomenon that was formed from thin air. The exaltation of whiteness in media, art, and culture stems back to the Renaissance period. During this era, many artists fascinated with the earlier Greco-Roman period began to recreate those statues, opting for white marble to reflect what they understood to be the “classical” artistic technique. However,  those Greco-Roman marble sculptures, such as the famous statue of Caesar Augustus from 1 AD, were originally vibrantly painted and adorned with intricate patterns and shapes. But over the centuries, these pigments faded, leading Renaissance artists to believe that they had originally been white (Vox). In the 18th century, influential art historians such as Johann Joachim Winckelmann began praising the “pristine whiteness” of these marble statues as the classical archetype (Hyperallergic). 

It was from works like these that Eurocentrism and whiteness began to pervade conceptions of beauty. Color was equated to barbarism, in terms of race due to the ongoing transatlantic slave trade and also artistic pigment. Recently, using new technology, art historians have been able to identify that these statues were originally painted in color (Gizmodo). While this recent revelation does not make these ancient sculptures distinctively pro-Black/Brown, they do work to change not only how we understand the use of color in the classical world but challenges how we view color and even race today.

Continuing to hail whiteness as the ideal leaves no room for other racial and ethnic identities to flourish in the modern world. In the academic sphere, the ongoing battle of “decolonizing” the curriculum (The Guardian) in world-renowned universities like Oxford and Cambridge demonstrates that there are still overwhelming systematic biases that continually stifle color and diversity in contemporary intellectualism. 

In the US, the number of non-white professors is significantly lower than non-white students in higher education. Data from 2017 says that 76 percent of all college and university faculty members were white, compared to 55 percent of undergraduates (Inside Higher Ed). While there has been substantial growth in racial diversity amongst the student population within the last two decades, the world of professional academia is still very racially exclusive. (For more on racism in academia, check out our previous newsletter.)

As a student of modern and medieval history and language, I’ve experienced first hand how historical narratives continue to exclude the contributions and discoveries of Black and Brown people for the simple reason that they aren’t white. For example, the impressive Nok sculptures from ancient southern West Africa are one example of Black artistry in classical world art. Some of these archaeological discoveries of the Nok peoples date back to as early as 1500 BC and are crucial in understanding early ancient civilizations. (ThoughtCo

Similarly, bronze sculptures from c. 850 AD South India that depict Hindu deities can be crucial in analyzing the evolution of religious art history. They are also important in understanding early Indian art history in a wider cultural-historical context. However, because these are ancient Black and Brown art sculptures that do not showcase white civilization, they have not been afforded the same treatment when it comes to understanding classical world art history. Ignoring the historical prevalence of Black and Brown early civilizations and their art not only whitewashes classical world history but leaves minimal space to appreciate Black and Brown cultures as key to global history today. 

The pervasiveness of whiteness as a societal paradigm means that Black and Brown people continually fight to legitimize our perspective. It is not enough for us to just be-- we are continually obliged to assimilate in outward expression and internal thought if we want to succeed.

Initiatives like the CROWN Act and other anti-discriminatory policies are the first steps in making diversity the standard. They put pressure on organizations and businesses to assess how they treat and view Black and Brown people, including women like Tashara Parker, and their cultural identities. While anti-discrimination laws will never be the panacea that a world plagued by inequality needs (World of Labor), they take a necessary step in identifying and denouncing discriminatory practices.

When whiteness is no longer upheld as the standard, cultural and ethnic diversity can truly be celebrated instead of simply being add-ons in one-week diversity panels and boards. The realities of being Black or Brown in America will no longer be a set of hurdles to overcome, but rather a mosaic of experiences and cultures to be celebrated and explored. A society that no longer deifies whiteness is a society in which beauty, art, and culture can be accepted in all shades.

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Mary-Hannah Oteju is a junior at Cambridge University studying Modern and Medieval Languages. She is of British-Nigerian heritage but a metro-Atlanta native and is interested in exploring global concepts of Blackness throughout history within gendered and religious contexts. 


KEY TAKEAWAYS


  • History isn’t objective. Often Black and Brown people are left out of historical narratives that have shaped how we view and understand the modern world.

  • Greco-Roman sculptures were often brightly painted but lost their color over hundreds of years. Their colorless appearance centuries later upheld a standard of whiteness that was inaccurate.

  • As a societal ideal, glorifying whiteness creates no room for Black and Brown people and their cultural expressions, which delegitimizes their positions in countless ways.

  • Rejecting whiteness through policy and legislature is just the first step in creating room for non-performative diversity and inclusion for Black and Brown people.


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