Like many others, this past weekend I went to the Women's March on Washington. During the two months of Facebook discussion leading up to the march, I watched as white feminists were introduced to intersectional feminism for the first time. I wasn't sure how white feminism and intersectionality were going to mesh, but I think that the now viral "White Women Voted for Trump" sign carried around by Angela Peoples was perfect.
In an interview with The Root, Peoples described the response to her sign: "Most [people] were saying 'Not this white woman,' or 'No one I know!'" And it was at that point anger and frustration bubbled up inside me, to the point that I had to take a break from reading for a minute.
"Not this white woman" and "no one I know" are such cop out things to say. People were bussed in from all over the country to come this event! I live in the super blue DC metro area, and I know dozens of white women that voted for Trump. If no one you know voted for Trump, either people are afraid to be honest with you, or you live in a ridiculously homogenous bubble.
There's no one weird sect of my white friends that chose Trump; they range from people I went to a small private elementary school with to former University of Maryland classmates. Almost my entire family voted for him! I'm also one of the most vocally pro-BLM white people that I personally know, and I have been flooding my Facebook newsfeed with "hands up, don't shoot" since Ferguson's unrest, and a countdown to Trump's reign starting from "Mexicans are rapists." I've written for Cop Block, I write for liberal immigration lawyers, I have ripped apart both criticism of Baltimore's uprising and praise of Martin O'Malley on local and national platforms. I have lost work contracts and friends over my militantly pro-black, pro-woman opinions. And even with all of this, people still casually tell me they voted for Trump. Not only would it never cross my mind to give a negative response to a sign someone on my side is holding, but come on. If people tell me they voted for Trump, then I know they told other people. "Yup we sure did, and I know a ton of them that I'm trying to work on," is the most truthful response.
After Freddie Gray died, I gave up a travel heavy contract I had to write a book about the social, racial, and economic history of Baltimore and how these things culminated in the death of Freddie Gray. Because here is the thing: plenty of people who look like me would rather listen to me tell the history of the black experience in Baltimore instead of listening to, you know, black people. I am a white woman, and consequently I still benefit from white privilege. White women! Don't step on people's toes or put words in their mouth or act like you understand another's struggle as though you've lived, but DO acknowledge that we benefit from the color of our skin. Take time to learn, and then act as a facilitator to help bridge communication between your fellow white feminists and the vast array of other types of feminists that exist. Don't get distracted or bitter about signs pointing out that white women don't show up to protest when black women are shot by the police, or by signs that show the actual statistics of who voted for Trump. Those things are accurate, and you don't get to be salty with someone for delivering an accurate message. I am here to share facts and data to help people begin to grasp the challenges faced by those who are less privileged than they are. I am NOT here to defend my fellow whites to communities already marginalized by white people. So what if someone thinks I might be a Trump voter because I'm white? Boo. Hoo. Hey, I'm gonna guess it sucks more to have cops think you're an armed threat just because you're black.
A version of this post originally appeared on MandaWritesThings.com.