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 website, PayPal or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza).

– Nicole

TAKE ACTION

Read “White Tears/Brown Scars: How White Feminism Betrays Women of Color” by Ruby Hamad.
Support #JusticeForEmmettTill and sign the petition to bring closure to the Emmett Till murder case.
Read our recommendations for recirculating videos of racial violence on social media.

GET EDUCATED

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.

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.

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

Nicole Cardoza 4/6/21 Nicole Cardoza 4/6/21

Unpack white feminism.

“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

TAKE ACTION

Educate yourself on feminism from the leaders like Barbara Smith, Grace Lee Boggs, Audre Lorde, Mikki Kendall and Gloria Anzaldúa.
Take anti-racism courses from Black leaders like Rachel Cargle, Leesa Renée Hall, and Austin Channing Brown.
Review the “apology” that Hollis posted on her Instagram and compare it to our previous newsletter on crafting an apology.

GET EDUCATED

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

7/14/2020 | Embrace your race privilege.

10/22/2020 | Stop tone policing.

9/7/2020 | Learn about critical race theory.

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 9/11/20 Nicole Cardoza 9/11/20

Protect Black women.

Wow, it has been a rough time. Between the shooting of Jacob Blake, the release of footage of the murder of Daniel Prude, the murder of Naytasia Williams in Indianapolis (follow #JusticeForTaysia on Twitter), and the death of real-life Black superhero Chadwick Boseman, I am deeply tired. Even over the few days it took to write this, I read more reports of Black women dying from both interpersonal and state violence. Even if I have battle fatigue, I know I will replenish my cup and keep on fighting. I encourage you to take care of yourself and fight for Black women, too.

– Malana

ps – thank you all for your contributions. To support our work, you can give one-time on our website, PayPal or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza), or subscribe for $5/mo on our Patreon.

TAKE ACTION

Believe Black women when they say they have been harmed.
Use the term “lynching” with respect to its historical context of state-sponsored racial and sexual terror, not as a metaphor for public ridicule.
Contact your U.S. Senators to push the Emmett Till Anti-lynching Act forward.
Support organizations like Survived and Punished, Black Women’s Blueprint, and SisterSong.

GET EDUCATED

By Malana Krongelb

Note: Because this article discusses lynching as well as violence against Black women, please be aware that the content may be triggering, and links may contain disturbing images. Read with care.

On July 12, rapper Tory Lanez shot fellow rapper Megan Thee Stallion in the foot when she was exiting a vehicle (Billboard). Many people did not believe Megan was actually shot, leading her to post a picture of her gunshot wound on social media. Many people made jokes at Megan’s expense or even argued in favor of Tory, saying he experiences greater racial oppression and is being “lynched” in the court of public opinion. She didn’t name Lanez as her assailant until over a month later, choosing to protect him because of a fear they would both be attacked by police. With that in mind, I want to talk about a subject that gets glossed over way too frequently: lynching's effect on Black women.

Black women have always been at the forefront of fighting lynching, with women like Ida B. Wells (YouTube) and Mamie Till Mobley (Emmett Till’s mother) leading the charge (PBS). Despite the deep personal pain it caused, Till Mobley's insistence on an open casket so that “the world [could] see what they did to my baby” galvanized the Civil Rights Movement. While these women do not nearly get the praise they deserve, even less talked about are the female victims of lynching (The Conversation).

Take, for example, Laura Nelson, a Black Oklahoman gang-raped and lynched alongside her son (STMU History Media). A postcard of her hanging body was a widely distributed souvenir and served as the only surviving photo of a Black woman lynching victim. Whether in the form of lynching mementos or jokes at Megan Thee Stallion’s expense, the grotesque enjoyment people derive from Black women’s pain is nothing new. It is misogynoir, or the specific hatred of Black women where both gender and race play a critical role (Moyazb).

Even though lynching is a white supremacist act, Black women are not safe from its effects even when dealing with other Black people. The assumption that lynching only affects men has been weaponized against Black women who speak out against sexual violence. Clarence Thomas called the Anita Hill hearings a "high tech lynching (Washington Post)" R. Kelly called #MuteRKelly a lynching too (The Undefeated, RollingStone). By invoking lynching—and white women’s false claims of rape that often accompanied them—these predatory Black men distort the history of lynching to maintain patriarchal control over Black women. When less than 1 in 15 Black female victims of rape report (often citing wanting to protect Black men from police as a motivating factor in remaining silent), the misuse of the term lynching has real consequences (Ujima Community).

As Black feminist scholar Hazel Carby has stated, "The institutionalized rape of black women has never been as powerful a symbol of black oppression as the spectacle of lynching. Rape has always involved patriarchal notions of women, outwardly inviting a sexual attack” (See “Rape and the Inner Lives of Black Women”).

A sexually confident Megan Thee Stallion is viewed as being “too fast” and “too loose,” allegedly inciting the violence perpetrated against her. This dynamic persists even after death: George Floyd's name is synonymous with the Black Lives Matter protests. In contrast, sexual assault and murder victim Toyin Salau's name has been lifted up almost exclusively by other Black women. Intersectionality, a topic we discussed in a previous newsletter, is important to remember as we watch these discrepancies unfold. Learn more about it in Kimberle Crenshaw’s TED Talk.

In trying to write about the recent death of Naytasia Williams, a Black and Asian woman, rapper, and exotic dancer murdered at the end of August struggled to even find her last name. Her murder has all the hallmarks of lynching’s legacy: a hypersexualized Black woman, murdered in cold blood by a security guard, whose pain was sickly enjoyed by a group of police refused to call paramedics as she died. While we cannot bring her back, we can support her family (GoFundMe), fight against the erasure of her life and story, and fight for Black women now and always.

key takeaways

Lynching isn’t a term that specifically applies to men. Black women have been and continue to be victims of racialized violence
Misogynoir is the term to describe the unique discrimination that Black women experience.
The sexual and physical violence against Black women has largely been ignored.
Both white women and Black men have weaponized lynching against Black women survivors.