Me and White Supremacy Day #19: You and Optical Allyship
Optical allyship, also called performative allyship, is when a person with white privilege acts like an ally to BIPOC but is really doing it to make themselves look good, not to actually fight racism. I’ve paraphrased a few of Layla F. Saad’s examples below:
1. Posting anti-racist content on your social media to signal how woke you are, but not actually doing any anti-racist work.
2. Showing up for the glamorous work that will earn you praise, then disappearing when things get tedious, difficult, or you stop receiving social recognition.
3. Telling everyone you’re an ally, but continuing to speak over and dominating the spaces of BIPOC.
I gave a lot of thought to how to respond to this chapter. This book first began life as an Instagram challenge, so public posting of reflections has been part of its DNA from the get-go. But I knew that to work through it while posting my responses online could easily slide into optical allyship if I was not mindful. Before I began, I settled on a code of ethics that I would follow during this book and will continue to follow in my future anti-racist work.
First, I am as honest as possible about the racist things I’ve done, no matter how mortifying they might be. I do a deep dive into all the questions, even if they make me uncomfortable. Although I try to express myself honestly and authentically in these posts, I also try to be straightforward so that they do not descend into virtue-signalling or some OTT performance of my embarrassment and guilt.
I also make sure not to claim that I’ve done something racist that I actually haven’t done just for the sake of “telling a good story.” I know it seems strange to think that someone might do this, but I can see how the temptation could be there. Especially if you’re working through this book as part of a group and feel social pressure to tell a story for group catharsis or something. That is just another form of optical allyship, and it’s not helpful. So if I read a prompt and I legitimately can’t think of a time when I ever did that thing, I just say so.
I also knew that I could not post these reflections for the purpose of seeking affirmation from others. Don’t get me wrong - I am so grateful for the messages of encouragement that I have received, which have led to some illuminating discussions, strengthened my relationships with friends, and kept me motivated! But I have a tendency to rely too much on others’ approval at the best of times (an Enneagram Four thing?) so I have to keep my true motivation front and centre. I’m doing this to deconstruct my unconscious racial bias, not to earn social recognition. And sometimes, that’s going to mean engaging in confrontation and doing things and make others (and me) uncomfortable. The exact opposite of social recognition (or at least, the kind most people want.)
Saad’s first prompt asks me how I have practical optical allyship when it comes to antiracism. i can’t think of any specific examples, but it’s more that I have long cultivated this image of myself as liberal and progressive, assuming that made me a good ally in all areas. Only recently have I started to see how inadequate this is, and how it made me complacent. Not just with race, but also with LGBTQ2 allyship. I assumed that being liberal was enough, even though I wasn’t actively educating myself. Neither was I talking to many people who actually belong to either group or a regular basis.
Next, Saad asks what benefits I have sought or received by practicing optical allyship. Again, it’s hard to think of specific examples, but in general I have sought approval from others. I care a lot about what others think of me and I’m very invested in being seen as a good person. Being woke would align me with the progressive Christian community that I wanted to be a part of, and would also make me seem more knowledgeable and wise.
The third prompt is how I have responded when called out for optical allyship? I can’t think of an example where I was directly called out, but here’s something: At that conference, I attended a panel that featured Dr. Chanequa Walker-Barnes, a well-regarded black activist. The discussion was about how to be a good ally, and although the vibe in the room was supportive, the air was thick with emotion. During the Q&A a young white woman came to the mike. She was bawling. She explained, through her tears, that she was a teacher in a predominantly white, conservative small town and she wanted to do anti-racist work with her students, but she just didn’t know how to get started.
Dr. Walker-Barnes was incredibly gracious in her response, though the whole exchange must have exhausted her. Then the panel ended. As I stood up, a white guy sitting behind me rolled his eyes and said, “Well, THAT deteriorated quickly.”
At the time, I bristled with defensiveness on the young woman’s behalf. She was just starting out, and she was doing her best! She was trying! Why be so snarky about it?
I still think the guy’s comment was snarky and uncalled for, but I have a better understanding of what he meant by it. I don’t think the young woman knew she was engaging in performative allyship and white centring as she bawled her way through her question. I still have compassion for her (partly because I recognize myself in her). Her emotions were genuine, and she WAS just starting out. Dr. Walker-Barnes obviously saw that and was kind about it. She didn’t expect her to be perfect in her activism. But I’ve since learned how white women’s tears have been used against BIPOC (just look at Amy Cooper). And it’s true that, while the woman’s confusion and desire to do better were also genuine, her question derailed what had, until then, been a deeper discussion. After that, it reverted back to such basic advice as “Read books, use Google, and don’t expect your BIPOC friends to educate you.”
This has gotten pretty long, so I’ll wind up. The last prompt asks me how my motivation to show up in allyship has been dependent on what others think about me. This one has been hard, because I’ve clashed with people in my life who do not think that anti-racism work is necessary. These clashes have made me doubt myself and whether I’m going about this in the right way. i’ve been pressured to do what keeps others comfortable. While this has not affected my desire to be an ally, it’s made me realize that I don’t have a lot of what Robin DiAngelo refers to as “racial stamina.”