The frustrations of a Black woman who writes about race
This is a long post. Buckle up.
Hi. My name is Monique Judge, and I am a Black woman who writes about race and social justice issues, and I want you to know how tiring it gets when white fragility enters the chat.
A few weeks ago, I posted a graphic I found on my cousin’s Facebook feed to my own feed because I thought it was funny. The graphic said, “I want in house dick, but I don’t want the nigga to live in my house.”
It’s an apt description of how I feel most times. I like to be boo’d up but not tied down, but we can save that discussion for another day.
Anyway, I posted it, people laughed and left funny comments, and we moved on with our lives.
About a week later, I noticed a comment that had been left by a former coworker of mine — a white woman.
She wrote, “God, I hate that word. Jarring to see it so prominently, even in the vernacular.”
I was immediately offended by her comment because it’s not her business as a white woman to police how Black people use a word that has been used as a slur against us since the beginning of our time here in this country. While she is absolutely entitled to her opinion on it, she is not in the position to force that opinion on me or any other Black person — especially on my own Facebook page.
I replied to her comment and said, “I just saw this comment for the first time. This is my page, and I will post what I want. BLACK people use that word with each other, and it's not any of your business as a white woman to say anything to us about it.
I use it liberally, and if that bothers you, the unfriend/unfollow button is right there.”
That really should have been the end of the discussion, but because some white people are incredibly nervy and hate being called out when they are in the wrong, she decided to push back with a long wall of text that went as follows:
Of course you can post anything you want. No need to get so angry. Yes, I am a white woman (maybe not 100%, if family rumor has any validity), and as such, you might appreciate the fact that I hate that word. All I was doing was commenting about how I react to it. Little story: Back in the early seventies I worked for Natalie Cole's manager, and met her several times. During that period I went up to Spokane for a limited family reunion, and while playing cards at the dining room table with my 6 cousins, my great uncle Joe - a known bigot - was watching the Midnight Special on TV and coincidentally Natalie was the host that evening. Sitting up in the recliner he shouted, "Get that n***** off the stage!" I'll never ever forget his exact words. Anyway, shaking, I stood up, walked over to him and said something like, "Don't you dare call her that! I work for her and she is one of the most wonderful, kind people I have ever met!" My cousins erupted in cheers and applause for standing up to the hateful old fart, and when I called and told my mom (not in attendance) in Seattle, I could tell she had never been more proud of me. Monique, the fact that that word bothers me so much should tell you something about me. You certainly can say anything you want here, but you should be glad you have people like me in your corner. Love and Peace, dear lady.
Bitch. Let’s check off how many spaces on the white lady/Karen Bingo card she checked off here:
Alludes to not being fully white
Has a Black friend
Makes claim to be not a racist
Weirdo anecdote about how she stood up to a racist
Everyone clapped because she is the hero in that story
Telling me not only that she is an “ally,” but also that I should be glad she is one.
I wish I were making this up, but I’m not, and that’s why I’m linking to the comments so you can see them for yourself (the majority of my personal Facebook posts are public).
If the best story you can come up with to describe how you stood up to a racist is from over 40 years ago, please keep that shit to yourself. Also? It’s annoying when white people try to center themselves in anything that has nothing to do with them, especially when while doing so they are painting themselves as an “ally.” You don’t get to label yourself an ally. Those of us you are supposed to be an ally to get to decide whether or not you truly are one. People who call themselves “allies” usually are the opposite, and that was proven to be the case here as you will see.
I replied to this Karen ass shit and told her that she was wrong for calling me “angry,” which is a pejorative used against any Black person but especially Black women whenever we are simply expressing ourselves. I told her the anecdote fell on deaf ears and is the type of story she should tell to her fellow white people when she is explaining to them why they should not be using that word. I also told her that there is context and nuance involved when Black people use the word “nigga,” and she was tripping over it in her hurry to wag her finger and admonish me for using it.
A white male friend of mine jumped in the fray and linked her to this brilliant piece written by my good friend and writing contemporary Michael Harriot that explains why it’s OK for Black people to use the word “nigga.”
(I’m probably going to type that word over and over again in the retelling of this incident, so if that bothers you, you probably want to stop reading now.)
Another white male friend told her, “ I do not police how any racial or ethnic group wants to use any word that would be a slur otherwise. And y’know, I just read it like they meant it without attaching anything to it. A little cognitive applicability, if you will. Black people are tired of being over-policed by actual cops; white “allies” should definitely refrain.”
You would think having her own skinfolk pulling her to the side and telling her “this ain’t it” would be enough to make her be quiet at this point, but you would be wrong.
“Sometimes us whities just don’t know what the fuck to say or do,” she wrote. “Dammed if we do and damned if we don’t. And it doesn’t help to be harshly criticized for trying, without a scintilla of love, understanding or constructive enlightenment in the message. So much for trying to be “woke.”
Go ahead and check off “making herself the victim of a situation she created” on your Bingo cards. That is also part of the Karen playbook.
The first white friend who stepped in, Stephen, jumped in again at this point.
“I guess it just depends on how you read it,” he wrote. “Monique could have just blocked you and deleted your comments. I see it as an act of love to try to tell you why your comment was problematic.
It's hard to take any criticism. God knows I get defensive. All we can do is try to do better. I'm sure you're a good person. Here's a chance to be better. That's a gift from Monique. I hope after a night of sleep and reflection this will sit differently.”
This was followed by my friend Gwen stepping in with a screenshot and commentary to tell her she was wrong.
“You weren't criticized, Monique responded to your comment, educated you about how it was misguided, and provided constructive actions you could take.”
This still didn’t shut her up, unfortunately. She responded by telling Stephen his comment came across as patronizing and told yet another anecdote about how when she was doing AA over Zoom in 2020, people would Zoom bomb the meetings and say the word “nigger” over and over again.
Here is where I remind everyone that there is a very distinct difference between the words “nigger” and “nigga.”
She then added that her husband is dying (check off emotional manipulation on your Bingo cards!) and claimed she would read Michael Harriot’s piece at a later time.
I’m not going to continue to transcribe the entire exchange; I’ve linked to the post and the thread, and you are free to read it for yourself, but suffice it to say no amount of people calling her out was enough to make her shut up and listen, and she continued to go on and on about how we were all being mean and she was just trying to be a nice, good white lady.
Included in that was an anecdote about how she didn’t start hating the “spades” when “two blacks” grabbed her and raped her in San Francisco when she was 18, and I shit you not; she said it exactly like that.
She was a clear of example of what happens when white people center themselves while simultaneously claiming to be a good person and an ally.
Instead of listening to me, a Black woman, she continued to talk over me (and everyone else for that matter) telling us how wrong we were about her.
Too bad her actions were showing us how right we were, and it is unfortunate that she lacks the self-awareness to see that.
This is a common thread whenever these type of discussions take place.
In early 2017, I wrote a piece for The Root titled “White fragility leads to white violence: Why conversations about race with white people fall apart.”
I wrote it shortly after I had an exchange with Grey’s Anatomy star Ellen Pompeo on Twitter that resulted in her unleashing her millions of followers on me when she couldn’t come up with a logical response to what I was saying to her.
Pompeo, who is married to and has children by a man who is the product of an interracial relationship, was called out by several young Black women on Twitter for her use of Black emojis.
None of the women who spoke to her were rude or antagonistic toward her, but her response to them was.
While I didn’t address her use of the emojis, I did address her response to people asking her about it.
She immediately got defensive, accused me of attacking her, told me she experiences “reverse racism,” and proceeded to talk all over me and every other Black person who tried to point out where she went wrong.
The debate went viral and ended up being written about by multiple outlets including People magazine and the like, resulting in even more fragile white people attacking me.
Because selective outrage is a real thing, those people were upset with me having the gall to call Ellen out.
Because when we as Black people speak up about racial injustice, we are always the problem, and not the injustice we are speaking on.
It is a tired refrain, and I experience it on a daily basis because of the work I do as a writer.
Listen.
I consider my writing to be a form of activism. It is my way of using my voice, my natural writing ability, and my words to speak up for myself and other Black people.
It is a form of protest, in my opinion, and baby, protest is not supposed to make you feel comfortable.
If you, as a white person, feel personally attacked by the things I say and write, that requires a level of self analysis that I can’t help you with. It’s not up to me to smooth it over for you and make it easier for you to digest.
It’s up to you to figure out why you have such a visceral reaction to what I am saying, especially if your claim is that what I’m saying doesn’t apply to you.
It’s like the “not all white people” argument.
There are white people who love to interject that into every discussion of race as if it’s more important to them that they clarify they are not the type of white person I am discussing than it is for them to listen to what I am actually saying.
And I get messages like this every single day on every social media site I’m on as well as in my email and on my personal webpage.
It’s exhausting.
Please stop putting Black people in the position of having to coddle your feelings and reassure you that you are one of the “good ones” in order for a discussion about racial injustice to occur.
Please stop centering yourself in discussions you claim don’t apply to you anyway.
Please stop being fragile and white.
The shit is exhausting for me, so I know y’all have to be tired too.
Thank you for coming to my TEDTalk.