The Black Lives Matter movement has had a profound impact on the world these past few months. Simply logging into Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram evidences its lasting effects as the cause is still at the forefront of many users’ social pages.
However, there is a downside to this. Unfortunately, efforts to achieve social justice are too easily warped by social media. In an attempt to appear ‘woke’, BLM and social justice causes in general have become a tick-box form of activism, with many hastily circulating infographics, phrases and videos without first considering their deeper meaning. While it is crucial to remain vocal about social issues across our platforms, it is also necessary to examine the implications behind every post prior to sharing.
To that end, I have assembled a list of my top five pet peeves when it comes to allyship on social media. Although those who say or share these mean no harm, the underlying messages lurking behind these posts are highly problematic, and it is crucial to unpick them in greater detail.
1. The ally slogan: “I understand that I will never understand, but still I stand.”
This slogan was originally spread in an effort to demonstrate how allies’ white privilege will likely prevent them from understanding the effects of racism in all its complexity. The initial sentiment behind it was: white people should still care about BLM even if they have never and will never experience racial discrimination directly.
However, this particular phrasing posits racism as entirely incomprehensible if you are not Black. This is not the case. One can easily gain insight into the experiences of Black Americans; they need only tune into the critical dialogue being instigated by their Black peers.
Moreover, rather than encouraging self-education, this slogan condones ignorance with its totalizing use of “never understand.” One should not dismiss the possibility of learning. Picking up any text by any number of prominent Black writers can certainly help you realize the extent of racism within the United States and globally.
2. The ally phrase: “Not All Trump Supporters Are Racist, But All Of Them Decided That Racism Isn't A Deal Breaker.”
This slogan exists for those whose proximity to racism is too close for comfort, acting as a way for people to reconcile their existing relationships with family members who voted for Trump back in 2016.
However, the BLM movement does not exist to make you feel better about the fact that someone you love voted for Trump. The reality is: if you voted for a man as openly racist as Trump was before and during his campaign, then that in and of itself was an act of racism.
To name just a few examples, prior to his election, Trump called Mexican people “rapists” who were “bringing crime” and “drugs” into the country. Trump likewise addressed Black voters using gross stereotypes: “You’re living in poverty, your schools are no good, you have no jobs, 58 percent of your youth is unemployed. What the hell do you have to lose?”
Further, this isn’t a matter of putting aside personal opinions about an individual and voting for their policies instead; Trump’s political plans were intimately intertwined with his racist views. From the Muslim Ban to the Mexican Border Wall, his political agenda was always laced with bigotry. Therefore, choosing to elevate him to the highest position in office renders his voters racist as well. Cushioning this blow helps no one, and merely feeds into white fragility.
3. The question: “Why is no one talking about this?”
BLM revealed the power of the web: it is an effective tool for raising awareness to social injustices taking place all over the world. However, this particular phrasing frames an event’s significance using a Westernized concept of virality. Its wording suggests that if people in Western countries have not yet acknowledged an event, then it must mean that “no one” has.
This feeds into a harmful history of moralism that was prominent during the Christian Enlightenment era of colonialism. The contours of this question tap into a saviour complex which only patronizes those affected by the social issue being discussed. Western internet users must remember just because something has not had its fifteen minutes of Twitter fame does not mean that there have not been people fighting this battle for years prior on their own soil.
4. Making a post ‘meme-ifying’ Black trauma
In an attempt to keep her name trending, many are repeating the statement: “Arrest the cops who killed Breonna Taylor.” However, this plea to the U.S. government has been repeated so often that people are now trying to find new, ‘interesting’ ways to deliver it. Unfortunately, the attempt by social media users to encode this message has rendered Taylor somewhat of a meme.
It started small, with tweets that said: “It’s a beautiful day to…arrest the cops that killed Breonna Taylor.” Quickly, others also started to sneakily incorporate this sentence into images and gifs in an attempt to shock disengaged viewers back into acknowledging America’s corruption. One example involves the use of this sentence as the end slide in the “Swipe for a surprise” trend, which normally ends with an adorable or humorous photo.
While the intention to keep the demand for justice at the forefront of their social media is admirable, users must be careful not to trivialize Breonna Taylor’s tragic death in the process. Furthermore, disguising a message like this also triggers Black viewers who are simply expecting to see a lighthearted meme, only to be confronted with a reminder of Black trauma.
In summary: there is a time and a place for memes, and the wake of a Black woman’s murder is not it. Breonna Taylor deserves to be treated as an individual, not a punchline.
5. Sharing videos of Black suffering or violence
In their infancy, the Civil Rights and BLM movements relied on images and videos of police brutality to raise awareness to the institutional racism against Black people that persists in the United States. However, these videos have largely failed to serve their original function. Initially documented as a way to gather evidence and spur on justice, only rarely have these graphic videos actually led to a conviction. As published by the Statista Research Department:
“In the United States between 2005 and 2020, of the 42 nonfederal police officers convicted following their arrest for murder due to an on-duty shooting, only five ended up being convicted of murder. The most common offense these officers were convicted of was the lesser charge of manslaughter, with 11 convictions.”
If justice remains out of reach even with the circulation of these videos, then what function do they actually serve? Arguably, none. For Black viewers, seeing this graphic content while knowing that no justice will be ever attained for the victim, does nothing other than trigger an already traumatized people. Equally concerning is the fact that spreading violence has the effect of normalizing it, desensitizing some viewers as if this were just a particularly nasty game of GTA. Finally, sharing a Black person’s last moments reduces the victim to a public spectacle, robbing them of dignity and dehumanizing them as they are transformed into sensationalized icons.
The bottom line: stop sharing these videos. With the archive of images and footage already in existence, we should no longer need to see a recording of police violence to believe that a crime took place. It’s time we start believing living, breathing Black Americans when they speak of their experiences with racism.
Furthermore, a justice system that relies on external regulation via passerby phone recording and social media scrutiny, is a justice system that is failing. We should instead be questioning the very tenants of the U.S. legal system that render these videos necessary in the first place. This involves pressuring our local governments towards police abolishment and reimagining the distribution of justice more broadly.
Louisa Johnson (she/her) is a writer from California, living in London. She has a First Class BA in English Language and Literature from King's College, London and is currently undertaking her MA in Global Creative and Cultural Industries at SOAS. In her spare time she writes about art, issues and current affairs related to Black people and the LGBT+ community on 'The Vital Blog': https://thevitalblog.wordpress.com/. She also co-hosts a podcast called 'The Monstrous Feminine' which discusses women's representation in horror films.
Follow Louisa on Twitter and Instagram: @louisaaajo