First off, if you do not know me, I am a white female so, therefore, I cannot speak on behalf of Black people because I’ve never experienced oppression based on my skin color. This article is strictly based on research and observations made by myself and close friends that I’ve talked to.
What is performative activism? It’s activism to increase one’s social capital rather than because of one’s devotion to a cause. The singer, Lorde said, “One of the things I find most frustrating about social media is performative activism, predominantly by white celebrities (like me). It’s hard to strike a balance between self-serving social media displays and true action.” And she’s not wrong. During these trying times, it’s hard to tell which of your favorite celebrities are true allies.
The thing that I find most annoying is that celebrities get a lot of heat during these difficult times for simply being celebrities. Here’s my opinion: Obviously, performative activism is bad and isn’t a solution to the problem. But when it comes to celebrities, being a part of the media is their job. Literally. I’m not saying these people are exempt, but I am saying that no matter what this person does, it’s seen as wrong. It’s because their whole lives are already public, and people tend to expect more from them than they would anyone else.
A good example of this is David Dobrik and the rest of the vlog squad. David Dobrik went to protests and continuously posted resources and tips that could literally save lives on his Instagram. Toddy Smith, Scotty Sire, and Jason Nash went to a protest, and Toddy literally got shot with a rubber bullet. They also donated money and volunteered. And sure, these actions were posted on social media but who’s to say that this wasn’t helpful? The Vlog Squad experienced a lot of heat even though they already do so much good. Cancel culture is so quick to cancel celebrities for not posting anything about racism or being an ally. But that topic is for a different article for another day.
It’s not as obvious when it comes to celebrities, but for everyday people, there is a fine line between performative activism and true activism. Blackout Tuesday was held on June 2nd, when Instagrammers posted a solid black square to show their support for Black Lives Matter. Honestly, I could care less if you posted a black square, and from what I’ve seen and heard, Black people don’t care either whether you posted it or not. What I do care about is what you say and do after June 2nd. I have friends who posted a black square on Instagram. Hell, I even posted one, but I took it down after learning it probably wasn’t the best way to show support for the Black community. But these friends that I have haven’t said a word lately. And I’m not someone who’s quick to judge based on what they make public or not because for all I know, they could be donating money left and right, volunteering daily or weekly, or supporting Black-owned businesses. But, from personal observation, I’ve learned that if it’s not on social media, it’s probably not in real life. And lately, these friends of mine haven’t posted anything else in solidarity and have even expressed their views on Donald Trump which actually contradicts the black square they posted beforehand.
Go ahead! Repost, retweet, reblog for all I care. But don’t make it an act. Mckenna Kelley, someone who graduated with their Bachelor of Fine Arts degree in theatre, said this: “In my opinion, a good actor consists of three things: An understanding of tactics and given circumstances, an ability to command an audience, and a believable performance of the material. It isn’t a surprise that performative activism also encompasses all of these things because it is just that, a performance.” Why is it an act, though? Fear, which is utterly ridiculous. Be an activist for any other reason than fear. Dox racists because you’re angry. Reblog, retweet, repost and add “#JusticeFor” so-and-so because you’re heartbroken. Call and email government leaders because you’re disgusted by the lack of justice.
Fear is what drives these people into convincing other people they’re not racist. Being a white person and being afraid that someone might call you racist is hypocritical and weak. You’re afraid? What about Black kids who witnessed their father getting shot in the back seven times? What about a Black woman who was shot in her own home? What about a Black man who was injected with 500mg of ketamine? What about the millions of protesters who are constantly getting teargassed and shot with rubber bullets? Does your fear outweigh theirs?
Performative activism is the bare minimum when it comes to being supportive of Black Lives Matter. It’s more of a chance for people to say “Hey, look at me! I’m not racist!” And more people would rather do that then actually put in the work. They don’t want to spend the money by donating or supporting Black businesses, they don’t want to follow social media accounts that tackle these tough issues, they don’t want to contact government leaders, and they don’t want to get into those tough conversations with their family or friends. And, more obviously, they don’t want to look within themselves and challenge their own morals.
Now, don’t get me wrong. To the ones who take the time to use social media as a platform to educate and teach, I’m happy to learn that you are just as angered as everyone else. But you can’t possibly be an ally if you implement your newfound education on racism on social media and not in real life. The whole point of being a true ally and supporting the Black Lives Matter movement is doing what you know is right when the time comes. This includes, but isn’t limited to, protecting Black people physically and verbally during protests and having difficult and engaging conversations.
While reading an article that was written by Mckenna Kelley, a question was asked towards new allies that I felt obligated to answer: “Did you think your Black and brown peers were lying about the way in which they have constantly felt in these environments and in life? Or did you just not care enough to implement your allyship until you were at risk of your true colors being revealed?”
I wouldn’t say that I was never an ally before the George Floyd protests, but I also wouldn’t say that I tried my hardest to educate myself. I believed my Black and brown friends 100% when they told me stories, but I guess it never got my attention so much to the point that I became angered. And, honestly, I partly blame the education system of my poor point of view. My small Republican town is very white, Trump-Pence signs are everywhere, and I’ve only ever seen up to five Black people in my entire school. And then, of course, the blame falls on me too. I’ve only ever heard a couple of personal stories (being that the percentage of Black kids at my school that I knew was more like 0.01%) and I was only about twelve at the time. I didn’t know what to say or do. I didn’t even know Black Lives Matter existed as a movement. But then again, there are no excuses for ignorance. And I can’t apologize enough for not being more aware and passionate back then as I am now.
So instead of apologizing, I’ve come to fight alongside the oppressed.
Be an ally, but don’t act like you’re an activist when you do the bare minimum. Actually put in the goddamn work.
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