Modern Segregation Fueled by Anti-racism
Colorless White Space — The Gap Between Black and White Voices
Our hands are still too far to touch the tip of your fingers, let alone hold your hands
The sweet little baby that this story grew from was born in response to a fellow writer, who I would call my friend, named Steve QJ.
He happens to be black, I happen to be white and we both happen to have a burning in our souls for equality and human potential.
He recently published a story called The White People In The Comments. I noticed the story was trending and read the title. At first, I thought it would just be another article condemning, shaming, and ostracizing white people, for the color of their skin — but then I saw the author.
Steve happens to be the author that broke the straw on the camel’s back of my racism towards myself — inspiring me to write my coming out piece called a Colorless White World.
How does a straight white woman come out?
Well, I had to come out as a woman who refuses to be defined by her fair skin.
I had to come out and say,
“I am white but my voice still matters and I am still a good person.”
I had to come out and announce to the world, and to myself, that I would no longer treat myself differently, based on the color of my skin.
I told the world that they could either judge me by my character or not. But, either way, I would judge myself this way.
Saying that I should not advocate for my own equal treatment or the treatment of white people, because white people have it so much better, is like saying that a rape victim should not ‘complain’ because at least they weren’t murdered and chopped into a million pieces.
I talked about what the world tells me.
My pain doesn’t count when it comes to these issues because I am white. It couldn’t have hurt as much for me to watch the horrendous 8-minute video of George Floyd’s murder because I am white. I am not capable of having the same amount of empathy for a black person as a black or brown person could because I am white. Most importantly, I don’t have the freedom to express my thoughts and feelings around race because I am white.
I brought up the myths of cultural appropriation.
In America, we have eaten sushi, listened to hip-hop, used piñatas and danced to the Macarena for my entire life. Black people have always worn white hairstyles and white people have always had dreads. Everything about our culture is made up of other cultures. White people have always listened to Tupac and black and brown people have always listened to Metallica.
Sadly, American culture is being trampled on by a perverted form of anti-racism where we make everything into racism — therefore, leaving real racism unaddressed.
Society and mainstream media are asking me to live a colorless life — worried only about white things and white people, celebrating only white culture and speaking only in white conversations.
I raised my voice around American diversity and the absurdity of whitewashing the world of white people.
As an American, if I take every piece of every other culture and remove it from my life, from my experience and from my focus, there will be no culture left. My world would be colorless and empty.
All Americans, no matter their heritage or skin tone, are members of a diverse multicultural society.
Finally, I declared that I would no longer silence myself around racial issues based on the color of my skin.
If I acquiesce to the demands of society and forbid myself from advocating for racial equality, I am forbidding myself from advocating for my children, my friends, my family and even myself.
I have not lived a white-washed life. My experience has been graciously filled with people of all different hues and cultural history. I have lived with the rich and the poor of all colors. I have broken bread with every shade of person you can imagine. I have given birth to children of different pigments. I have witnessed the success and the failures of black people, white people and every so-called color in between. I have cried in the arms of light and dark people. People of all colors and many cultures have shaped my life and I love a lot of people.
If I white-wash my world then there will be nothing left.
Then I re-introduced myself to the world.
Allow me to re-introduce myself.
My name is Holly Kellums. I am a white woman who lives in America. Although my skin is fair, my world is colorful. From this day forward, I will not discriminate against anyone based on the color of their skin — not even myself.
It was a combination of creators, who would typically be labeled as black, that slowly built up my courage. I thanked them all in my closing.
But it was a story about anti-racism being racist, by Steve QJ, that had given me the courage to step out.
The story he wrote, about white people’s comments, reminded me about the black people’s comments on my coming out piece about anti-racism and the attempted white-washing of my world.
There were none. Well, there was one from a friend. But even it took a neutral tone. Now, this very well may have been a fluke. But even if it was, it serves as a representation of the division between black and white voices.
I am not entitled to comments from anyone of any color — especially comments from black people just because I wrote a piece about racism. I am not confused about that and to be clear, it’s not the comments that I care about here.
Comments are simply a tool. What I am pointing out here is a lack of solidarity between black and white voices — which may or may not be the cause of my lack of black comments.
Also, I am not complaining. I was thrilled with the results of my piece. It got much more support than I expected it to — although mostly from non-Americans.
As I was reminded of my lack of black comments, I read Steve’s piece about his white comments and the disturbing amount of black people who condemned his beautiful piece of work — simply because white people agreed with it.
If you ask me, there’s no better example of this than Martin Luther King’s “I Have A Dream” speech. Everybody knows this speech. Black people know it. White people know it. Racists know it. Even if you don’t know it by heart, it’s almost impossible to hear the words “I have a dream…”, and not mentally add some version of the next ninety-eight…
Fifty-eight years after King said these words, I hear his voice in my head when I read them. Whilst segregation and Jim Crow weaponised his own skin against him, he gave us his dream of a better future.
Thinking about Martin Luther King’s words is always enough to bring tears to my eyes. My heart goes out to him as I see the movement he spearheaded being hijacked, all these years later, and turned against itself. Tears fill my eyes as I see his message mocked by black and white people around the world.
I long for a voice to come along — a voice like his.
When I lament over our reality and the regression of civil rights in America, I can only hope for a leader to come along — a leader like him.
I hope for a leader who truly cares about humanity, truly advocates for our common good and teaches true equality.
When it appears as if all hope is lost, there is only one thing I could imagine changing the racial division that permeates our current reality and that is a true leader — a true leader like Martin Luther King.
Our greatest hope is a true leader with a strong and powerful voice — a true leader who people will follow. So it’s needless to say that Steve had me at “MLK”.
Steve elaborates about his experience with white comments and commits to continue speaking his truth — pledging to hold the hand of anyone who wishes to stand against racism, regardless of the color of their skin.
Last month, I devoted a thousand far less remarkable words to an article about anti-racism. The response was overwhelmingly positive, which is always nice, but it made a few people surprisingly angry. Nearly all of them, black and white, began their criticism with some version of the following:
“The white people in the comments seem to agree with you, but…”
I understand what they’re worried about. At least in theory. It’s easy to imagine how pointing out the flaws in modern anti-racism could encourage some people to ridicule the valuable work that’s being done along with it.
What’s not so easy to imagine, is that people aren’t already doing this. Misguided anti-racism already makes genuine anti-racism look ridiculous. That’s the main reason I wrote the article.
But there’s a far more serious flaw in this line of…let’s call it reasoning:
If we’re ever going to live in a world where we stop judging each other by the colour of our skin, WE’RE GOING TO HAVE TO STOP JUDGING EACH OTHER BY THE COLOUR OF OUR SKIN.
I agree wholeheartedly with Steve in his closing statement.
The enemy of anti-racism is racism. Period. Whoever practices it, whatever the colour of their skin, however they justify it. I will gladly join hands, as sisters and brothers, with anybody who opposes it. — Steve QJ
I will not only gladly join hands with anyone who opposes racism, but I also dream of the day when our fingers are close enough to touch.
It appears as if our hands are still too far for me to reach your fingertips, let alone hold your hand.
But I don’t just want to hold your hand, I want you to hold mine too.
I stretch my arm and wiggle my fingers as I stand in a dangerous and vulnerable place — with no hands in sight. But, I keep reaching anyway and I will never stop reaching.
I will never stop reaching for change, reaching for more, and reaching for equality and reverence for all human beings. Most importantly, I will never stop reaching for your hand and all hands that want the same things as I do — the same things that most of us do.
I will keep reaching, even in the dark, and I will keep reaching on purpose.
I am not reaching for black people or white people, but all people.
I am not reaching with hope for the future of only my black children, but I reach also for the future of my white children.
I do not reach for my children alone but I reach for yours — all of yours. I reach for all of your children and their children and everyone you love.
I do not only reach for those we love, but I reach for those we say we hate and those who say they hate us.
Yes, I reach for them too. I reach for them all.
I reach for them all because that’s what it takes, and that’s how it should be — that’s how it always should have been.
I reach knowing that the world might not reach back.
After all, Martin Luther King Jr himself is still waiting and he has been waiting for 57 years.
I look to a day when people will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character.
— Martin Luther King Jr
I wish I could reach his hand, but it’s too far away with all the hands in between that do not wish to go too far.
But I will keep reaching anyway. I will keep reaching, so if the world ever reaches back, my hand will be there.
Written by Holly Kellums
Connect with me on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and LinkedIn
