We must address white privilege in activism

Our experiences are not, and will not ever, be the same — so let’s not pretend.

By YE JI JONG
(Noah Pinales / Daily Trojan)

As I continue advocating and being politically active in college, there’s been a common pattern in liberal spaces. It’s like an itch I just can’t seem to scratch; something I’ve noticed but can’t seem to speak on. 

Liberal white women’s tears and whines. 


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In feminist spaces, political organizing groups and clubs dedicated to social justice, I’ve seen white women insert themselves in conversations that aren’t about them. Additionally, they spearhead events and discussions that disproportionately impact women of color. I see this specifically with white women with intersecting identities like queerness, disabilities, or neurodivergence; they weaponize it to try relating to experiences with systemic structural violence under the umbrella of “we’re all women.” 

It feels like a game of “oppression olympics” with white women attempting to “one-up” me in terms of systemic barriers. While those intersecting identities these women have are valid and have their own unique experiences, it doesn’t erase them from the privileges they reap from whiteness.  

While they think they’re being advocates and allies, they’re actually just being tone deaf and microaggressive. Oftentimes, it’s really hard to sit through conversations with someone who claims to be aware of their privilege, but ignores their white privilege that can take precedence over their identity as women. 

I don’t mean this in an internalized, misogynistic way. It’s an issue of a lack of self awareness and unnecessary self insertion. They frequently overlook the advantages that come with their position as white women, downplaying their role as the “accepted disruptors” of the established order, and often benefitting from systemic privileges. White women have the privilege of being able to pick and choose what to support; their calls for solutions are seen as “innovative,” while Black, Indigenous and women of colors’ pleas for change and actionary items are seen as “radical.” 

It also doesn’t help how white women seem to have a savior complex, especially on social media. It feels like a Barbie-fied version of the white man’s burden, where they feel the need to center themselves around issues that are personal to women of color. Rather than spotlighting WOC’s voices, they speak over and dominate conversations. 

With all this said, the lack of accountability they have regarding all these issues is astounding. Rather than reflecting, white women, with their white fragility and victim complexes, further isolate — almost gaslight — women of color into feeling guilty, seemingly almost crazy, for pointing out these issues. 

Historically, white women have neglected women of color in feminist spaces. From the beginning of the suffragettes movement that characterized the first wave of feminism, white women have dictated and facilitated all aspects of political and social organizing. The first wave of feminism was for and by white women; BIPOC communities were still excluded and ignored from the fight for voting rights. Thus, when I reflect on history and the lack of spaces for WOC and see how white women still continue this pattern of domination, I question these modern day “safe spaces” for “all” women. 

Rachel Cargle — an activist, entrepreneur and philanthropist on this issue — writes in Harper’s Bazaar, on issues she’s noticed specifically during the Black Lives Matter movement, “In a crucial moment of showing up for our marginalized community, there was more concern about [white women’s] feelings and ego … What could have been a … display of solidarity and true intersectionality quickly became a live play-by-play of the toxicity that white-centered feminism can bring.”

Additionally, she writes that white women weaponize feminism to continue these types of behavior. It’s a self-rewarding and performative form of activism that lacks the intentionality and intersectionality that is necessary for real change. Cargle states, “If there is not the intentional and action-based inclusion of women of color, then feminism is simply white supremacy in heels.” 

Their ability to weaponize their whiteness and tears and immediately guilt-trip women of color’s frustration within these so-called “intersectional feminist spaces” creates a polarizing and unsafe environment. It immediately feels like a game of cliquey identity politics; I have to act white enough to be heard. I have to downplay my issues with systemic racism to allow more time and space for white women to preach about the importance of womanhood. The moment I try making a point on how certain issues are specific to my experiences as an Asian American woman, I’m labeled as hostile and individualistic. 

Moreover, in spaces that have historically been male-dominated but are now evolving with stronger female representation, it seems like they remain primarily occupied by white women. Personally, this has led me to experience a heightened sense of exclusion. But it’s not just the domination of white women that makes these spaces exclusionary: It’s the fact that white women are perpetuating and recreating structures of racism in feminist spaces under the guise of “solidarity.” 

From the clubs and organizations that I’m part of, social justice seems to be a space for white women to project their white guilt onto me. Just because we’re all women doesn’t mean we’re the same. 

Next time, instead of complaining about how hard it is to read political theory, post infographics or get into Instagram comment section fights that are specific to WOC, just let us speak. To be a better ally is to know when to speak and when to listen — as well as knowing the difference between talking with us versus talking at us. 

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