While many are celebrating the Women’s March On Washington that happened January 21 2017, I sat on my couch staring at the TV feeling more irritated than inspired. I watched crowds of thousands, overjoyed that finally the message of racism, sexism, homophobia, and any other ism was finally being spread to the masses. The rally cry of, “Our rights are under attack”, was the theme of the day. I wondered as I turned off the TV, ‘where had these women been’? And then this picture came across my social media feed and it summed up everything that I was feeling. A Black woman stood with a sign that shouted the truth, that indeed the majority of White women voted for Trump, as three White women stood behind her, on their phones, taking selfies, as if they were asleep at the wheel. There it was. Everything that I was feeling. A Black woman hard at work to fight injustice and the White women asleep at the wheel or listening to someone give a speech that indeed we had shouted a million times before yet no one heard us.
I was not inspired. I was frustrated. I wanted to scream, WHERE WERE YOU?!
Where were you when we shouted about Sandra Bland dying on a jailhouse floor?
Where were you when we screamed for your husbands to stop fucking us and raping our daughters?
Where were you when Anita Hill was vilified for speaking up against sexual harassment?
Where were you when former officer and convicted rapist, Daniel Holtzclaw, raped Black women?
Where were you when we buried our sons and daughters?
Where were you when Dajerria Becton had a knee on her back and was assaulted by an officer?
Where were you when a young Black girl was thrown across a classroom?
Where were you when Alesia Thomas uttered, “I Can’t Breathe”, after getting kicked in the throat and groin in the back of a patrol car in 2012, before it became a slogan?
Where were you when we marched for Mike Brown and Trayvon Martin?
Where were you when we demanded that Black women MATTERED in this fight against police brutality?
Where were you when this nation sterilized Black, Native American and Puerto Rican women without their consent?
Where were you when Michelle Obama was called an ape, evil, ugly?
Where were you then?
Similar to this picture, you were on your proverbial phone. Resting in your comfort. Sleeping on your bed of privilege. Oblivious to our cries. Turned a deaf ear to our shouts. Until you woke up Wednesday, November 9, 2016 and Trump and his impending policies had stepped on your rose-colored glasses. Until it was your freedoms that were threatened. Until they were coming for your birth control. Until your choice of whether to have a child was in jeopardy. Until it suddenly became inconvenient to just be Becky with the good hair. Until then you were content. You were complacent. It was easy to just appropriate a culture with no connection or concern for the people. It is easy to play the part of Miley Cyrus twerking in your skinny jeans with no regard of the Mapouka dance done in the Ivory Coast of the Dabon. A dance done by our ancestors at religious ceremonies that were culturally respected because they specifically believed that the dance brings them into an encounter with God. It is safe to wear “boxer braids” because Kim Kardashian did with no concern about the origin and the symbolism of a people that were skilled in agriculture. A hair style traced back to warriors, queens and kings. It was easy to dance along to Beyoncé’s Formation with no clue or desire to know the underlying message she was trying to get across. And it is easy to march alongside people struggling, staring at your cellphones, in UGG Boots, designer jackets and knitted pink pussy cat hats, taking selfies and curating hashtags for the memories. So thanks for the memories.
Enjoy your Woodstock euphoria as you go home. Back to your lives. Your sanctuary.
And for others the saga and struggle continue. We are here, as we have always been, and if indeed you are about that life, we welcome you for the long haul.