July 4th, White Supremacy, and White Discomfort

Note: This blog post started off as a continuation on my thoughts on July 4th (see Instagram post) and my refusal to celebrate it, but it morphed into a reflection on the ways in which members of marginalized communities are expected to package our grief, anger, and pain in ways that are comfortable and acceptable to white people.

I appreciate the fact that some white people on social media wanted to try and hold some measure of balance regarding July 4th. They wanted to celebrate the good while acknowledging the bad. I prefer that attitude to the blind patriotism and nationalism that is all too easy to espouse on holidays like July 4th.

But as a queer, brown, Latinx woman, I feel no compulsion to strike the same balance. The US is a country steeped in white supremacy. This white supremacy thrives on the exploitation of Black and brown physical and intellectual labor while, at the same time, denigrating our lives as worthless. I personally feel no need to qualify the massive injustices going on by saying, "but still I am grateful…"

I understand there are other countries and governments that are tyrannical and authoritarian, and I am glad to not live under those conditions. Yet at the same time, thanking the US government for not being as oppressive and violent as some other countries (some of which we support and provide military and financial aid to help prop up their tyranny) feels like being thankful for meeting the bare minimum.

Additionally, thanking the US for meeting such a low bar seems a bit disingenuous because well-that bar has only been met for SOME people.

Oh, you can critique the government and not get arrested? Well, tell that to some states that increasingly want to limit the ability of protests (especially those tied to the Black Lives Matter Movement).

That statement also ignores the fact that well into the 70s, activists WERE being harassed, monitored and jailed for critiquing the government. (And let's not pretend that current Black Lives Matter activists don't face police intimidation and harassment).

Oh, well at least we don't face large-scale state violence for just existing and we have a legal system that prevents torture and other forms of violence. I mean, maybe some of those we consider to be citizens are protected from extrajudicial violence, but let's acknowledge that there are people that our nation has decided don't deserve basic humane treatment and they face all types of violence. See the continued existence of Guantanamo Bay, ICE detention centers etc.

Plus, the massive amount of abuse that occurs within the current legal and prison system but because the people imprisoned "deserve" to be there, we ignore these cases of abuse or view them as isolated incidents.

I am going to be honest, I sometimes feel this subtle pressure in predominantly white progressive/liberal spaces, to qualify my critiques of the US government or of injustice in general. I feel pressured to say, "US law enforcement needs to stop murdering Black and brown people. But I am still thankful to live in a country that claims to value human equality." I almost feel as if I need to be apologetic with my critiques and add a sentence to prove that I am grateful and not just an "angry, bitter, brown" woman.

Listen, I am not denying the fact that there are other countries that are much more violent and oppressive than the US. But there's something disingenuous about expecting those of us who are part of communities that are on the receiving end of US state violence to be appreciative that things aren't even worse.

I wonder, if part of this desire for members of marginalized groups to soften their critiques of the US and to reassure members of the dominant culture that we are “grateful” that things aren’t worse, lies, at least in part with (white) American Christianity’s discomfort with unmitigated expressions of pain, grief, and anger.
It’s possible this has just been a feature of the predominantly white spaces I have occupied, but it seems as if in many white American Christian spaces, across the theological spectrum, pain, grief, and anger, are compartmentalized. Grief, pain, and anger need to be sanitized and ripped of their power.

Even people who are going through the most unimaginable personal grief-the death of a loved one, major illness…etc., are expected to follow a specific script. It’s ok to be angry at the unfair/unjust circumstances you are experiencing…but not too angry. It’s ok to be sad and to experience grief…just make sure not to overshare your grief or extend it. It’s ok to feel your situation is unfair…just remember other people have it worse.

The version of Christianity-espoused by so many white Americans, seems to honor and value stoicism, forced gratefulness, and toxic positivity. When someone or a group of people refuse to adhere to that specific script something is wrong with that individual/group of people.

So, for example, when members of marginalized communities refuse to temper their critiques at the vast amount of injustice they experience with expressions gratefulness that things aren’t “worse,” they are depicted as, “angry, divisive, and ungrateful.”

I see this depiction of Black, brown, and queer people, in religious spaces across the theological spectrum. Even those spaces that seem to be the most receptive to anti-racist work, to combating queerphobia and to addressing injustice, still feel a sense of discomfort when members of a marginalized community are honest about the pain we experience at the hands of white supremacy other forms of institutional violence and we refuse to temper the telling of their stories with uplifting commentary.

Too many Black and brown people find that in order to work within predominantly white spaces, even those orientated towards social justice, we need to find ways to package our pain, anger, and grief in way that are acceptable to our white peers in power. Otherwise, we face being pushed out and excluded from the very institutions and organizations built around addressing the issues that we live through on a daily basis.

Members of marginalized communities shouldn’t feel like we have to tone down our critiques to be heard. We shouldn’t have to qualify our pain otherwise we risk being dismissed as nothing more than an “angry, ungrateful, disruptive” Black/brown/queer/disabled etc. person. We shouldn’t have to give thanks to institutions built on our exploitation and oppression in order to be taken seriously.