I can recount only a few instances of being called a “nigger” to my face. The first was when I was just thirteen, walking down a busy shopping street alongside my white friends, when a white man experiencing houselessness looked at me and yelled, “You nigger!” in my direction. I was shocked but did what I had always been socialized to do: I prioritized the comfort of my white friends, who were visibly embarrassed, and laughed the whole thing off. As a Black woman, I’m considered lucky to have only a few such run-ins, and though I may have been spared from other overt assaults, I have been treated as a nigger through looks, actions, and misdeeds more times that I can count. I am constantly subjected to daily racist “microaggressions,” many of which are entirely unintentional.
I grew up surrounded by well-intentioned white women who made statements like “I never thought of you as Black,” insinuating that my intelligence, speech, demeanor, etc. were outside of the monolithic “ghetto” personification they affiliated with Blackness and therefore I didn’t belong to my own community. Several friends I had known for many decades invalidated my experience of racial oppression with claims that I must be mistaken. From bedrooms to boardrooms and beyond, every facet of my daily life is policed by white supremacy through the arsenal of inconspicuous but aggressive acts. Some other examples include:
Constantly being labeled angry for the slightest inflection in speech, and I am assumed to be hotheaded or harder to deal with and thus given less leeway in negotiating conflict.
I am frequently flagged for secondary screening or pulled out of line at the airport to have my luggage checked when the white or non-Black folx around me are not.
Being followed around in stores by people of all races, because the presumption is that I’m poor and criminal.
The process of publishing this very book has been rife with non-Black folx’ tone-policing my narrative or arguing with my experience and expertise.
Non-race-based harms include acts like misgendering* someone, commenting on someone’s health based solely on their weight, or when a man+ talks over a woman+.
“Microaggressions” are in fact anything but micro. I place the term in quotes because it’s a bunch of bullshit. It is yet another tool to minimize the harms against the marginalized and perpetuate white supremacy. For that reason, “microaggressions” should really just be labeled what they are—aggressions. Another form of violence, but white supremacy covers these acts of harm in the guise of “micro” and thus insignificant. Or, as I like to call them, Heartbreaking Acts of Racism (or other oppressive bullshit) formerly known as “microaggressions” (H.A.R.M.)*. Intentional or not, physical or otherwise, H.A.R.M. cause meaningful and lasting damage with severe and deleterious impacts. Every time I leave my front door, I put on an artillery mask so I can handle the ceaseless plague of white supremacist violence that undoubtedly comes streaming my way. All of this on top of dealing with the everyday ups and downs of life. It is a nonstop, never-ending state of WTF?!, and it’s worn myself and so many other Black and Indigenous women+ down.
Let’s head back to my car accident for a hot minute. Sir Speedy did not intend to ram into me with his vehicle, but he did. And the impact was major. It wasn’t visible, to him or to me at first. The totality of my harm manifested after Sir Speedy was long gone. What I endured during that accident is akin to what I endure every time I am slighted by a racist, homophobic, or sexist aggression—doubt and disbelief. I immediately wondered what I, the person who was in the car completely stopped at a light, had done wrong. I internalized my own oppression and perpetuated white supremacy by devaluing my nonvisible harms and repressing my anger at having been slammed into. To drive this analogy home (pun intended), my gratitude for Sir Speedy’s accountability was also based in my conditioning to H.A.R.M. Had he not taken ownership for the accident, the likelihood that he, a middle-aged white man, would be believed by the police or insurer over me, a young Black woman, would have been (and remains) incredibly high, with serious adverse consequences.
As Dr. Roberto Montenegro, a chief fellow in child and adolescent psychiatry at Seattle Children’s Hospital who studies the biological effects of discrimination, states, “[‘Microaggressions’ aren’t] about having your feelings hurt. It’s about how being repeatedly dismissed and alienated and insulted and invalidated reinforces the differences in power and privilege, and how this perpetuates racism and discrimination.”3 As we’ve discussed, this has deleterious impacts on the physical and mental health of BI&PoC, particularly Black women+.
AGGRESSIONS & OUR ANGER
H.A.R.M. are also known as death by a thousand paper cuts. They are akin to walking down a busy street with your hands by your sides, while everyone else walking past you has their arms outstretched making windmill-like motions constantly and punching you as you pass. At a certain point, you’re going to get fed the heck up with the incessant blows to your body and you’re likely to lose your shit on whomever hit you last. And that last aggravator will almost certainly experience the wrath of every blow that impacted you prior to theirs. The cumulative trauma of enduring never-ending injury from a system created by folx who do not acknowledge, let alone remedy, the harms they’ve inflicted results in those hits becoming indistinguishable. Who is more to blame—the first person who hit you or the last? The entire system works together as a whole, both intentionally and otherwise, to ensure the oppressed remain ostracized and othered.
Oppressed folx have every right to be angry about these ongoing assaults. But, as Brittney Cooper explains, “If you are Black and hope to live to adulthood, micromanaging your feelings is necessary for survival.”4 We have learned to let these aggressions slide, to play them down, to stay hidden and silent lest we disrupt the powerful and privileged, but this undertaking only leads to more anger. And resentment. Whether we’re conscious of it or not.
Embracing our own anger allows us to embrace the anger in others. I’ve experienced many H.A.R.M., but I am also no saint. I have clutched my purse walking by a Black man with a hood at night. I have used the wrong pronouns*, and I have made fatphobic statements. I’ve also worked hard to do better. And when I am held accountable for causing such harms, the last thing I could ever imagine doing is telling the person who was gracious enough to expend the time, energy, and emotional labor educating me on my mistake that they have no clue what they’re talking about or the right to explain their own lived experience.
CALLING OUT VERSUS CALLING IN
There is an ongoing debate regarding call-out versus call-in culture and the ways in which the oppressed are “allowed” to express themselves when naming harms caused or asking for accountability. This debate is entirely rooted in the discomfort we have with anger, ours and others—particularly the anger expressed by Black women and femmes who are constantly vilified as angry. One of the most problematic occasions upon which white women+’s anger is unleashed is when they are named racist by a Black person. White entitlement leads white women+ to believe that, as a Black woman, I am obligated to speak to them with a smile and ensure their comfort above all else, even when I am explaining the harm they’ve inflicted against me. You know who else had that expectation? Enslavers and colonizers (I hope you’re picturing my side-eye). As racial and gender justice disruptor Ericka Hart says, “Call outs are love. Call outs are necessary… Call outs are survivor-centered.”5
When I name the impact your action had on me, I am calling on you to be accountable for the harm you’ve caused. No matter my tone. If you are more concerned with how I express what I have to say than what I am saying, you are further contributing to my oppression. As I’ve made very clear by now, Black women+ have damn good reason to be angry. Our lives and livelihoods are constantly threatened, cast aside, and terminated as a collective result of these ongoing assaults to our dignity. Does this mean I have license to perpetuate physical or emotional violence against others? Absolutely not. Does my expression of anger often get perceived as violence solely as a result of white supremacis
t stereotypes to the benefit of all white (and non-Black) people? Every damn day. Even former First Lady Michelle Obama faces this challenge, most notably when the media demonized her during the 2008 presidential race. As she says, “For a minute there, I was [labeled] an angry [B]lack woman who was emasculating her husband.”6 All of that’s about white supremacist norms, not Michelle’s or my actual behavior. Because of white supremacy, non-Black folx are often intimidated by us, but that does not mean we are intimidating. When Black women+ are forced to mask our true emotions in order to prioritize the oppressor’s comfort, especially when attempting to address our oppression, the battle is already lost. Calling out is a form of accountability required for healing and justice.
Call out or call in, call it what you want, just don’t call the cops. Learn how to embrace anger—especially from those who have been labeled angry as a weaponized means to silence, ignore, and dehumxnize. Practice having compassion for the anger that understandably occurs when someone faces perpetual assaults toward everything from their hair to their heels, and drop the expectation for the oppressed to kindly unpack why and how to treat them with decency. As cultural critic Sydette Harry tweeted, “Why do I have to watch my language for fear of alienating allies, when they can watch us die without fear of anything?”7
THE ART OF APOLOGIZING
When we cause harm, we need to take intentional actions to address the consequences. The best form of apology is changed behavior. Still, a verbal apology prior to the changed behavior, when authentic and sincere, can have a meaningful impact toward restoring trust. More times than I can count I’ve received half-hearted or downright fake-ass apologies from men+ and white women+. They sound like “I’m sorry you’re hurt” or “I apologize, but…,” or my all-time favorite, “I’m sorry you took it that way.” None of these own the harm caused or acknowledge the impact. They aren’t actual apologies. So then, what’s the best way to apologize for oppressive harms? Well, it’s impossible to move through all possible scenarios, and it will always depend on the specific person involved and the harm that was caused, but I certainly have some guidelines that can be of help when discerning if, when, and how to broach an apology for a racist (or other oppressive) action.
Before extending an apology to the person in question, I strongly suggest doing deep inner work to first address your racism, internalized oppression, anti-Blackness, or whatever oppression is in question. Attempting an apology without addressing your own role in perpetuating white supremacy can only get you so far, and the chances of inflicting more harm are incredibly high. For example, it may require more time, energy, and emotional labor from the person you seek to apologize to or cause them to reexperience the harms inflicted. So, do your work first and do it for a while (not just a workshop or a week). Ask yourself the tough questions. Get more comfortable with your discomfort and unpack why it is you caused the person harm to begin with.
Then get clear on why you want to apologize and whom the apology is for. Is it for the person you’ve harmed, or is it really for you? Are you seeking to acknowledge the harm you have caused for the other person’s benefit, or are you really seeking to absolve yourself of guilt, grief, shame, whatever? If the apology is about you, don’t do it (that’s not an authentic apology). If the apology is so you can explain yourself, so you can feel better about yourself (which may be a by-product but should not be the primary purpose), or for your own knowledge or understanding, please stop. Your apology will likely cause more damage. Also, if you feel the need to get into your intentions, just don’t. They don’t matter (remember, F.Y.I.!). If, however, the apology centers and is for the other person so that they can know that you know you were wrong, are taking accountability for your behavior, and are taking action to try to rectify the harm you have caused them (and do better moving forward), then you have the groundwork for an authentic apology. But there’s more.
You can declare whatever you want (and I’ve heard it all), but without an active change, it’s bullshit. In the words of #MeToo founder Tarana J. Burke, “Apologies are not work. They precede work.”8 An apology without change is manipulation. Periodt! So, your apology should be specific in addressing the harm you caused, taking responsibility, and naming it for what it was (i.e., racist or otherwise oppressive). And it should include a clear statement about what you’re doing to address that behavior. Inquire and respect the other person’s desire or willingness for an apology. If the apology is truly for the other person (and not for you), then you first need to check in with the person as to whether they want to talk to you or discuss the issue at all. I have personally been subjected to a myriad of “apologies” from white folx for their racist behavior, and not one has ever checked in with me first or taken a moment to think about whether their reaching out or engaging in such a discussion would be painful or harmful for me. They just launch into whatever it is they need to say because they need to “get it off their chest,” which is all about them. It’s white centering*. Don’t treat people as your emotional trash can please and thanks.
Lastly, money is not an apology. Yes, remuneration and reparations are a part of contributing to racial justice, but they do not replace changed behavior. Using money to avoid doing the deep inner work required to sustainably act in solidarity and overturn the systems that allowed you to have the wealth privilege you possess in the first place is an act of oppression. Growing up in a white and wealthy community means I’ve had endless encounters with white and wealth privilege being used as a means to remedy harm rather than the harder but more important act of addressing wrongs and changing behavior. As Leesa Renee Hall aptly states, “To someone who has wealth privilege (notice I didn’t say class privilege—understand the difference), it is not expensive to them to throw money to make mistakes go away. They can go through life not being held accountable for the harm they cause because all they need to do is fix it with money.”9 This is particularly true for white folx, who have the most wealth privilege as a result of the economic exploitation of BI&PoC worldwide, particularly Black and Indigenous folx. For centuries. Leesa also cites her brother-in-law, who said, “Money is the cheapest investment.”10 I could not agree more. Okay, let’s break this all down.
Some Questions to Consider to Make an Authentic Apology
1) Have I done my inner work to dive into my racism, internalized oppression, or other oppressive harm? If so, for how long? What have I learned?
2) Why do I want to apologize? Why now?
3) Who is the apology primarily for—me, or the person I’ve harmed?
4) Am I clear on the harm I caused and ready to name it for what it was (i.e., white supremacy)? Can I speak to the specific actions I have taken and will continue to take to change and cause less harm moving forward?
5) Have I checked in with the person in question and asked them if they are willing to engage with me so that I can apologize? Have I respected their decision?
6) Am I attempting to weaponize my wealth or other privilege as a means to remedy my harm rather than actually changing my behaviors?
7) Am I ready to ask for an apology without any expectations of the person I’m apologizing to (not forgiveness, not a certain response, NOTHING)? Only apologize if/when you can do so with zero strings attached.
Here’s an example apology to address harms inflicted by perpetuating white supremacy…
1) Check in:
I have been doing some deep inner work around white supremacy, and I have come to realize that I caused you harm. I would like to apologize for my behavior and the harm I caused you if you would be willing to receive my apology. I will respect your decision either way.
2) Apologize:
Thank you for giving me the opportunity to apologize to you. I am doing my best to account for the way(s) I caused you harm. I am still learning and I may fuck this up. If I say anything here that causes you more harm and you feel sufficiently safe/have the emotional energy to let me know, please do. If you want to stop communicating wit
h me at any point, please let me know. No explanation required.
I apologize for [name your specific act of violence]. I realize that it was [racist OR a result of my internalized oppression] because [explain why] and it caused you harm. I take full accountability for my actions and I am committed to [insert the actions you have/will continue to take] to reduce harm moving forward. I understand that if my actions or inactions do not change, this apology is insincere. I appreciate you and I am sorry. If there is anything you would like to share or let me know about my actions, apology, or anything else—it would be a privilege to receive what you have to share. I appreciate that would necessitate your time, energy, and emotional labor and may require reexperiencing the harm I have caused; I also understand the impact my actions have had and may continue to have on you. Should you wish to engage with me further, I will do my best to minimize further additional labor on your end. In deep gratitude.
It’s time we all caused less H.A.R.M. Sadly, many of us (and certainly all BI&PoC) will experience H.A.R.M. all too often. Below is an offering to support you in protecting your energy before, after, or even during such acts of violence.
Do Better Page 18