When the Women’s March of 2017 was organized, I was happy to participate. I looked forward to being in community to absorb the shock and disappointment of Hillary Clinton losing the presidential election to a reality TV star who had never held public office and led a campaign of bigotry and scapegoating. Marching felt like something that was tangible to do, and on some level many of us thought the 45th president would see the solidarity of resistance and make reasonable gestures to those who felt shut out. Promptly after the historic march that drew millions across the nation, he defunded health programs that helped women abroad. During his four anxiety-inducing years, in between incessant tweets, his policies harmed a lot of people including women, students, scientists, teachers, aspiring homeowners and farmers.
Despite the chaos and pain, the majority of White women voted for him in the next two elections. So, now that we’re nine months into his second term, there are calls to join marches against this same man. Within these eight years, I haven’t recovered from the first term of damage. The four years in between terms started with a mob storming the Capitol, followed by four years of election denial and racist, insulting comments. For the 2024 election, even though Black women leaders and ordinary citizens implored people to vote for Kamala Harris — a Black woman who had served as attorney general for California, U.S. senator of California and vice president of the United States for four years and had more than enough experience to run the country — the majority of White women went into the voting booth and voted for a convicted felon and sexual assaulter who promised to wreak havoc on Black and Brown lives.
Now that some of what we warned about is coming to pass, people are organizing and marching against something that could have been avoided. After much consideration, I and many others who are emotionally exhausted have decided to sit this one out. The reason we’re in this mess is because too many dismissed the voices of Black women. Those of us who come from a long line of people who experienced brutality at the hands of the government knew what was possible. I’m the first generation who came of age in post-apartheid Jim Crow America and had written and oral histories passed down about the horrors this country inflicted upon my ancestors. But we and our not-so-ancient histories were ignored. So, now that some others are experiencing financial and emotional violence that is familiar to us, they are horrified and motivated.
At this point, I truly feel that those who refused to do what was necessary to avoid this problem need to fix it. They need to get uncomfortable for a few hours for perhaps the first time in their lives. Maybe they need to experience a fraction of the loss and injustice that generations of Black people have. They need to feel a level of hurt that they blew off when we tried to tell them about our hurt.
Most Black people know that if our bodies are in the streets we will be treated differently than those with White bodies. And we’re tired of putting our bodies on the line to pave the way for someone else’s comfort. We fought for voting rights that all people enjoy. We fought for civil rights that more White women benefitted from than we did. And after all of the fighting we did to gain rights for all, too many took advantage of those rights, walked through the door, then slammed it in our face. Too many recent Brown immigrants did the same thing. They looked down on Black people when they immigrated to this country, ignoring the fact that they were able to get certain jobs or live in certain neighborhoods or attend certain schools due to barriers our Black bodies broke down. It’s time for other people to stop riding on the backs of Black people’s tactical resistance, brilliance and resilience. Others need to step up and fight with the same veracity that we have, instead of only benefiting from our triumphs.
From the outset, this economic and social system and structure was set up to break, exploit and exclude Black people. We have lived through chattel slavery, race-based apartheid, domestic terrorism, systemic inequality, and most recently over 300,000 of us lost our jobs within the first few months of this administration. We have spent several centuries trying to enter and flourish in a system that barely tolerates and many times resents us.
As someone who has lived through the hope of Jimmy Carter’s presidency, the backlash of Ronald Reagan’s presidency, the roller coaster of subsequent ones, and the pride and hope of Barack Obama’s presidency, only to have much of the gains relentlessly unraveled by someone who expresses enormous disdain for everything I represent, I’m tired. Instead of trying to appeal to someone’s moral conscience, I feel the need to strategize on how to make it through a time that might resemble ones that my ancestors lived through. The forces against us are hate-filled, powerful and vicious, so it is necessary to assess how to fight in ways that will work for our bodies and minds. Marches and protests are important and it is imperative that others get out there and make their voices heard. Over the past century Black people have done more than our share of putting our bodies on the line to save this country from itself.
It is important to remember that there are many forms of resistance. My great-grandmother, Ida B. Wells, who lived through an incredibly violent period of our country’s history, wrote over 130 years ago: “The white man’s dollar is his god” and “The appeal to the white man’s pocket has ever been more effectual than all the appeals ever made to his conscience.” Since we live in an unbridled capitalist society, money and profit versus morality is what motivates many people in the power structure. We can make our dollars do the talking and walking. We can also withdraw our labor, expertise and energy from a system that does not benefit us. Boycotts, sickouts, and withdrawal of knowledge and talent can have an enormous effect. It might finally be time to unapologetically prioritize ourselves. We can walk away from chronic hostility and work with long-term and sincere allies to build our own (again).
