Why I’m not holding space for everybody anymore
“Yeah, but” is still attached to statements like “Black Lives Matter” and “Black History IS American History.” And I’m going to be very direct here, because the time for explanations has passed. If you do not understand why these are necessary phrases by now, you have chosen not to.
These statements were created and thusly stated in response to real crises.
People being killed because of the color of their skin: Crises. Removing history from history books because of whose race it involves: Crises. Whitewashing, gaslighting, manipulating narratives: Crises.
The aforementioned phrases have not been (and are not being) said with a vein of superiority running through them (as rebuttals often are), but as pleas — truths asking to be remembered for their factual relevance.
Anything that argues with these statements is birthed from nothing less than a white supremacist stance coming out of a white elitist mindset. All of those “yeah, buts” come out of the same argument — and the voice at the root of that argument is as old as time itself: “I AM MORE IMPORTANT THAN YOU.” Superiority.
If you are of the Christian faith, you know this was why Satan was thrown out of heaven. It’s why hell had to be created in the first place. In some religious circles, pride has been referred to as an “Antichrist spirit” (used in regards to “the opposite of Christ’s character”).
Dark things like to hide in cracks and crevices. Pride, fear, jealousy. Self-awareness goes a long way in eradicating the latter.
I am sometimes met with, “Who does she think she is?” in response to my column. Just in case there’s a question, I’ll tell you. I am someone who is disgusted that when non-white people speak to address issues, there are always white people who feel the need to remark, “yeah, but,” or “What about us?”
What about us? Don’t you think we’ve had our turn for the last few thousand years? Maybe it’s someone else’s turn to speak without being interrupted.
People do not slow down long enough to read the room and take time to hear past themselves; to empathize with individuals who are asking, simply, to be heard and be seen. Individuals who still go unseen when outrage, horror, concern, grief, or trepidation are met with “yeah, but …”
A lesson in common decency, at the very least, would suggest that there are times when the floor belongs to others alone on certain matters — because these things are happening TO THEM.
The experience may not belong to you or I. Why, then, would we not have a hushed attitude of humility towards our fellow humans? Because some folks still don’t view all humans as equal, or human, for that matter.
And there are some who should get a red carpet rolled out for them, who should get to hold the microphone first, because history (the same history some people want to pretend never happened) asked them to be less than, to be invisible, always had them (has them) last in line.
So, no, I’m not holding the same space for myself or for other white Americans that I hold for those referred to as “minorities.” Because we take up enough space already, simply for being white.
And to that some might say, “That’s a pretty bold statement. Maybe you should approach this with more sensitivity for the other side.”
To which I’d reply, “Yeah, but...”