During the past few weeks, there has been a rise in brutal attacks against Asian Americans. These incidents are nothing new, however, over the course of the pandemic, the AAPI community has been subjected to many incidences of violence, none of which were as publicized as what has happened in the past few weeks.
The other day, some friends and I were discussing the attacks, lamenting the sudden wave of “activism” and “support” that had popped up as a result. In one particularly ridiculous incident, an account on Instagram had posted a neon yellow square “in support of Asian lives,” similar to all of the black squares posted on #BlackoutTuesday back in the summer, when the Black Lives Matter protests were highly publicized. Although Blackout Tuesday was supposedly meant to provide a space to elevate black voices and creators and provide resources, it did exactly the opposite, creating noise when it should have created silence, muffling voices when it should have been amplifying them. This yellow square was doing exactly the same thing — a display of “support” that in reality was accomplishing nothing.
Anti-Asian racism is not a new thing; it has existed long before the pandemic. The difference is that it is only now being publicized, but that still hasn’t resulted in anything tangible. Instead of receiving the support and resources they need, the AAPI community has been subjected to an endless sea of pastel graphics crying, “Asian Lives Matter!” in a bubbly font, doodles of flowers surrounding it — and this is after ages of radio silence.
Unfortunately, this isn’t an isolated incident. Although we’ve seen a rise in performative activism during the pandemic, it has been happening for a very long time, and it isn’t always in the form of social media. Performative activism is anything that benefits the person engaging in it more than it actually contributes to combating an issue. While it isn’t always obvious, it happens much more often than you might think. Protests, petitions, and organizations can all be very powerful tools to actually create change, but when people are involved solely for the sake of showing that they are involved and it is benefiting them more than it is actually contributing to combating the issue, that can be considered performative. Think back to the Black Lives Matter protests — how many people did you see going to protests back in the summer when there was much more discourse about the movement? How many people do you see going to protests now, even though they are still happening and racism and discrimination are still just as large of an issue as it was before?
After reading this, you may be wondering, am I engaging in performative activism? The truth is, you may be without even realizing it. Take a step back to reflect on your actions and your goals with activism. Below are some questions you can ask yourself. The answers may not immediately be obvious, and these may be hard questions to honestly confront, but they can provide a helpful reflection of whether you may unknowingly be involved in aspects of performative activism.
-
Do I identify or label myself as an activist? (The label of an “activist” carries weight, and whether knowingly or unknowingly, you may be benefiting from its social implications.)
-
Am I vocal about issues only when they are “trending” or I see other people speak out about them? Am I selective in what or who I speak up about? (It isn’t possible to be aware of and speak up about everything, and that’s okay — what matters is, are you actively discriminating in what or who you speak up about when you are aware of it based on how you think it will be received or what “matters”?)
-
Do I seek validation or praise for speaking out? (Do you speak out in the hopes that it will influence others’ perceptions of you?)
-
Have I done anything tangible that actually contributes to change? (While social media can be a powerful tool to raise awareness, by itself, it isn’t effective at actually creating concrete change. If you want to look into deeper ways to get involved, consider contributing your time to organizations that are involved in issues that you are passionate about, or if you can’t contribute time, look into donating or signing petitions. In the end, what you are doing shouldn’t be for “clout”; it should be because you genuinely want to contribute to change.)
-
When I post about issues on social media, does everything I post have the intention of educating or providing resources, or is it mainly to show solidarity as an ally? What type of content do I post? (Social media can be a powerful tool to raise awareness, but the content you post matters. Some content can actually be genuinely helpful, but other posts aren’t effective or can even be harmful. An example would be graphic videos of attacks — these videos accomplish nothing and can even cause harm as they are extremely triggering.)
-
Am I taking action in private, or am I only active when other people are watching? (Are you taking the time to check in on those around you who may be affected? Are you involved in initiatives that you aren’t publicizing? Are you genuinely doing everything you can, or only what can be visibly seen?)
If you found yourself reflecting on those questions and realizing that you may have or may be engaging in aspects of performative activism, you’re not alone, and that doesn’t make you a bad person. In fact, before this past year, I was involved in performative activism without even realizing it. I was very vocal about various issues on social media and I used to run an activism Instagram page and champion the idea that “anything, even something as small as a post on social media, is activism” and that doing this was enough — after all, it was raising awareness, right? The truth is, it isn’t enough, and it will never be enough. I wasn’t necessarily a bad person — just naive enough to think that what I was doing was enough to create meaningful change, which by itself, definitely wasn’t.
Over the past year, I had grown increasingly frustrated as I realized that posting on social media by itself was not going to create any concrete change, but I didn’t think that I had the capability and resources to help out any further. What I’ve realized is that resources don’t necessarily mean money, and you don’t have to be an absolute expert on every issue out there to get involved — no one is. Educate yourself as you go and don’t be afraid to ask for help along the way. Keeping this in mind, I’ve become more involved in initiatives that have a tangible impact and started to become mindful of the impact that I have when I speak out, asking questions like, “Does what I am saying actually contribute to change?” “Am I speaking over or silencing other voices when I speak about this?” and “What can I do to better support those who are affected?” I still slip up and make mistakes — it isn’t realistic to expect myself to be perfect, but what does matter is that I correct myself and learn from it.
This article is in no way a criticism of you, and it isn’t meant to make you feel bad. When we speak out and get involved, most of us do so with the genuine intention of helping, not realizing that what we are doing can actually contribute to the problem. Even if you realize that you are currently engaging in performative activism, you can start to take the steps to educate yourself and learn how to better support those impacted by the issues you are vocal about. By being aware of the impact that your words and actions have and knowing when and how to speak up and take action, you can maximize your impact and truly contribute to the change you are striving for.