Are you sick about what has happened to Leslie Jones? I am, and as as a white feminist, it's time for me to speak up about it.
When the remake of Ghostbusters was released, and the first episode of this sad and terrifying tale began, I followed along on Twitter, feeling completely disgusted as I read a litany of racist and misogynist attacks on Leslie Jones. As I scrolled through Twitter, I noticed one commonality: very few of the racist posts were attached to an actual name or a photo of the person spewing hate. Not surprising; in my time volunteering for political causes, the most vile people are usually the biggest cowards.
I tweeted my support to Leslie, and followed the hashtag #LoveforLeslieJ. More than once, I tweeted this:
"Muting racists on Twitter is more fun than Pokemon Go."
I don't play Pokemon Go, but you get my point.
Today, I learned that Homeland Security is looking into the recent hacking of Jones' website where hackers posted nude photos of Jones and her personal and private information. Last night, I stayed up late into the night, reading another list of horrible tweets as my heart raced. I read tweets saying terrible things about Jones' appearance. I read people slut-shaming Jones for having nude photos that were intended to be private. I read racist remarks that made me nauseous.
Since this tale unfolded, I have heard an inner voice that urged me to speak out in support of Leslie Jones, but as a white feminist, I was often interrupted by another inner voice that said, "You're a white woman. You don't get to talk about this issue."
Flash back to the late 1980's to Tyler, Texas, my hometown. My mother's standing at a copy machine in an office environment. A man comes into the copy room and begins to tell a story, and at some point in the conversation, he casually drops the "N" word. Mom wasn't having it.
"I find that term highly offensive and I'll thank you not to use it further," my mother said. And then she left the room.
In case you're wondering, my mom is my hero.
As a white woman, I have been working on how I can be a better supporter for my sisters and brothers of color. I don't always know how to support in the best way, and I sometimes tiptoe around the conversation for fear of offending someone or saying the wrong thing. I grew up in a place where Friday night football was marked with a tradition called "flagging," where white boys would drive up and down our streets proudly waving the Confederate Flag. Even then, I wasn't okay with that. Back then, I didn't know how to speak up against it. I realize now that I didn't always possess the courage.
But I'm a grown up white woman now, and silence is not the answer, and I'm no longer afraid.
White people, we need to support Leslie Jones. You don't have to agree with her politics or like her comedic timing. You don't even have to like Ghostbusters. You should, however, recognize that no one deserves the treatment that Leslie Jones has faced. She is talented, confident, and courageous, and some might think that she is strong enough to handle this without any help at all. That is not the case. We need to call out racism when we see and hear it. It's our responsibility.
When Homeland Security gets involved, this isn't just a matter of one sad racist tweeting from his basement. This is serious, and it has to stop. We need to do more than enjoy muting racists on Twitter. We need to report racists on Twitter. When we hear racist language or read racists comments or witness racist behavior, we need to do more than disagree in silence.
We need to speak up.