White Feminism and White Fragility: A Brief Discussion and Select Examples
In a female organization, at a university that is overwhelmingly white (including myself), this is something we need to discuss. What is white feminism? Is it any feminism that is practiced by any white woman? No. Is it feminism that lacks intersectionality and focuses primarily or exclusively on the lives of white, straight, middle class and upper class women- leaving out poor women, BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, People of Color) women, LGBTQ+ women, and other groups (ex: disabled women) who face intense marginalization? Yes.
The history of white feminism can be traced back as far as feminism itself. Despite its connections to the abolitionist movement, the suffragette movement in the early 20th century was teeming with discrimination. Its white women leaders prioritized the participation of white Southern racists over that of African American women, forgoing true progress for the sake of mainstream (white, belonging to those with more political and economic power) success. Marches and organizations pushed Black women to the outskirts of the movement or excluded them altogether. Long after the passage of the Nineteenth Amendment allowing women to vote, Black women (and men) still faced poll taxes, literacy tests, intimidation, and violence that prevented them from exercising their right, and kept them from being heard and represented in government.
History repeats itself and can be observed in modern women’s movements such as the Women’s March and Tarana Burke’s #MeToo. The Women’s March has been repeatedly criticized for lacking minority leadership and attempting to call itself Million Woman March, a 1997 Black-women led event of anti-racism as well as anti-sexism. LGBTQ+ activist and Black woman Angela Peoples attended the Women’s March on Washington in 2017 with a sign reading “53% of white women voted for Trump.” She gave an interview with The Root explaining her decision to do so, as well as her feelings more broadly toward the perpetual whitewashing of feminism. She asks white women to listen to Black women, show up for Black women, and understand how women of different races and identities experience “women’s issues” differently.
The #MeToo movement, founded by Black woman and sexual assault survivor Tarana Burke in 2006, is properly credited to her far too rarely. Instead, white women like Alyssa Milano, Lady Gaga, and Taylor Swift have become “the face” of the pushback against rampant sexual assault. Taylor Swift took her sexual assailant to court, won her case, and was awarded a symbolic $1 in damages (the man accused and found guilty, former radio DJ David Mueller, had sued Swift for $3 million, claiming that she caused him to be wrongfully terminated). Lady Gaga, who developed PTSD after being raped at age 19, wrote “Till it Happens to You” for the 2015 documentary The Hunting Ground, about sexual assault on college campuses. Performing the song at the 2016 Oscars, Gaga invited survivors on stage with her. Alyssa Milano shared her own sexual assault story in late 2017 and encouraged others to do the same, using #MeToo. These women’s actions are not the problem, and in fact are a part of the solution. The problem is that there is no “trickle down” equality, and rich, famous white women being validated and supported in their experiences of sexual assault is sadly not replicated for women in less privileged positions. The problem is that a Black woman’s idea was only nationally recognized after being taken on by white women a decade and a half later. The problem is that Tarana Burke is not “the face” of her own movement. Last year, Burke spoke with Time magazine, remarking, “The women of color, trans women, queer people—our stories get pushed aside and our pain is never prioritized… We don’t talk about indigenous women. Their stories go untold.”
A crucial aspect of the discussion on white feminism is white racial fragility, although it is definitely not exclusive to women. White fragility is the idea (discussed at length in this book by Robin DiAngelo that I highly recommend!) that white people (which includes me) often are ill-equipped to discuss race. We may be defensive or in denial of privilege, frozen by guilt, or acting on any number of other biases and misinformed positions that derail the conversation, preventing learning and growth. For example, if a woman of color were to tell me, a white woman, about an error I had made in this article- an inaccuracy, a misrepresentation, a point I left out- and my reaction was to sulk, pat myself on the back for the effort I had made on behalf of intersectional feminism, brush off the criticism, or decry any methods of delivery that I viewed as “too harsh,” I would be demonstrating white fragility. I would be elevating my own feelings above the cause of racial equity. I would be protecting my privilege. In prioritizing my own security, I would be overlooking the transgression I had made, and thus would not have gained the insight offered by a non-white perspective. White women’s comfort is NOT the priority. White fragility results when the above criticisms of women’s movements are made. When (correctly) accused of not standing up for Black women and women of color, white women will inevitably use arguments such as “why further divide us? We are all women.” Adopting a “don’t bite the hand that feeds you” mindset in regards to the exclusion of non-white women from mainstream feminism is entitled, privileged, and utterly off-base for a platform of supposed inclusion. It is not up to minority women to “take what they can get.” Instead of overlooking legitimate concerns of minority women, white women like me need to do a better job of listening and working to make feminist spaces more accessible to ALL women.
I would be remiss to not mention Lana Del Rey in a 2020 article on white feminism. On May 21 of this year, Lana posted this statement to her Instagram of 16.7 million followers. The statement began with “question for the culture” and immediately went on to namedrop Doja Cat, Ariana Grande, Camila Cabello, Cardi B, Kehlani, Nicki Minaj, and Beyoncé. Lana asked why, since all of the women she mentioned had hit songs about “being sexy, wearing, no clothes, f*cking, cheating, etc,” she could not sing her own songs about “being embodied, feeling beautiful… love… relationships” in the way she pleased without being “crucified.” Another line was “Let’s be clear, I’m not not a feminist, but there needs to be a space in feminism for people who look and act like me.” What is instantly recognizable in this statement is its callout of numerous Black female artists. Many have speculated, and I tend to agree with them, that Lana only included Ariana and Camila to make her resentment of successful Black women slightly less obvious. What is ridiculous about Lana’s statement is its implication that the women she mentioned have not been criticized for their songs, bodies, love lives, or sexual expression, and she is somehow unique in this way. Has Lana seriously never seen or heard criticism of Cardi B or Nicki Minaj? I certainly have- in fact, I struggle to think of an artist more attacked and disrespected on a regular basis than those two women, precisely because of how they talk about their bodies and sex in their lyrics.
An even more glaring misjudgment is her failure to understand the heightened scrutiny that artists like Cardi B, Kehlani, Nicki Minaj, and Beyoncé face because, while being women, and being open about sex and love, they are Black. What does Lana Del Rey think happened when Beyoncé put her dancers in Black Panther uniforms? When she released the Lemonade album celebrating her Blackness? When, in 2018, she was the first Black woman to headline Coachella, and had dancers and bands from HBCUs (historically black colleges and universities)? When that “Beychella” performance included, on the track Don’t Hurt Yourself, a sample from a Malcolm X speech: “The most disrespected person in America is the Black woman. The most unprotected person in America is the Black woman. The most neglected person in America is the Black woman” ? Lana, Beyoncé incorporated Nigerian writer Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie into her performance at the 2016 Billboard Music Awards and flashed “FEMINIST: A PERSON WHO BELIEVES IN THE SOCIAL, POLITICAL, AND ECONOMIC EQUALITY OF THE SEXES” for millions to see, yet you in 2020 make the feeble claim “I’m not not a feminist”- and YOU are the one asking feminism to accommodate YOU? Even though women like you and me (white, straight, middle or upper class, educated, able bodied) are its poster child and have been since its inception? I really need a minute. This is a lot to take in.
Feminism is filled with space for women who look and act like Elizabeth Woolridge Grant (Lana’s real name), white woman from upstate New York who attended an expensive boarding school in Connecticut. I attended a girls’ private school in my home state of Massachusetts, so trust me on this one. For Lana to imply otherwise is simply delusional. In another Instagram post the following day, she would double down on her “advocacy for the more delicate and often dismissed, softer female personality.” Once again I ask her: What are you even talking about? Women are socialized to be, and expected to be, delicate and soft. We are told to “smile” and “sit still look pretty” and “be a lady” and “dress like a lady.” It’s perfectly fine if Lana wants to be delicate and soft; that is her own choice. However, to claim that this makes her some oppressed outcast… more delusion. Another display of the spectacular tone-deafness of Lana’s temper tantrum. Women of color, especially Black women, are plagued by racist characterizations denoting them as too “loud,” too “aggressive,” too “promiscuous.” Meanwhile, the pedestaled, beloved “America’s Sweetheart” title is reserved for fellow white women like Julia Roberts, Sandra Bullock, and Jennifer Aniston. Lana, if you’re a rich white woman, dolled up in glamorous ‘50s and ‘60s looks, singing about tragic love and being sad, and you feel you’re not achieving the success and support of (as you claim) Black women singing about cheating and hooking up, then maybe you should drop the jealousy and consider that you and your music aren’t as good. You have every advantage and you still can’t come out on top- Figure. It. Out.
As if the white feminism was not enough, Lana went ahead and supplemented it with a boatload of white fragility. She shot down any feedback of her “controversial post” (she herself referred to it as controversial with air quotes around it). In her May 22 IG post linked above, she wrote “I’m sorry to the folks who I can only assume are super Trump/Pence supports or hyper liberals or flip-flopping headline grabbing critics [that] can’t read and want to make it a race war…” She also commented on Instagram “Bro. This is sad to make it a WOC issue… I don’t care anymore but don’t ever ever ever ever bro- Call me racist because that is bullsh*t.” Listen, “bro,” if you don’t want to “ever ever ever ever” be called racist, then you shouldn’t “ever ever ever ever” make ignorant and uncalled-for critiques of your Black peers, victimize yourself by pulling fake oppression out of thin air, and then refuse to listen to the response to your words. In typical white fragility fashion, Lana focused 100% of her attention on the intention (which she still claims had nothing to do with race or putting other women down) of her words, and 0% on the impact. She could not be bothered to step outside her bubble of privilege and see from the perspectives of women of color. Itt was more important to her to defend herself than to redress her clear biases and ill-will toward her fellow women in the music industry (not to mention, her perplexing detachment from any realistic notion of how the music industry, and society at large, treats and views women). Got a problem with Lana Del Rey? Too bad, Trump/Pence supporter or hyper liberal! She did nothing wrong, just ask- her!
White fragility has a particularly potent tactic: “white women tears.” White women tears permit popular influencers like YouTuber Tana Mongeau to be pitied and forgiven after posting two N-word (a word she commonly and maliciously used) apology videos (one and two) just weeks apart in early 2017. She made sure to pick a thumbnail for the first video that showed her crying- evoking pity before she had even said a word. She opened the second video by saying how scared she was and how difficult it was going to be for her. Both videos are complete with a put-on vocal fry to make herself sound pained and emotional. Throughout the two videos, she made a point to repeatedly emphasize how young she was (a high schooler), how she “didn’t know it was wrong” (she went so far as to make the outlandish claim that she thought the N-word meant “homie” because she heard Mac Miller use it in songs) and she offered the pitifully weak defense that she was a massive ally to the Black community because she… changed her Twitter name to #BLACKLIVESMATTER. Sure, she faced some backlash from her actions and her garbage apology- but she continued to make successful videos, get brand deals, collab with dozens of other influencers, and even get a reality show on MTV.
Recently, Kahlen Barry, who worked with Tana on her old collab channel called Trash, posted a video about her. He revealed that when he, a Black man, would prompt her to take more accountability for her racially insensitive words and actions, she would play the victim and behave as if she were the one being hurt. Kahlen says he felt gaslighted by her and her attempts to paint him as a stereotypical “angry Black man.” Fellow YouTuber Simplynessa (Nessa Brielle) supported Kahlen and posted her own video. She recounts similar experiences with Tana- namely, being made to doubt her own experiences and feelings, and being portrayed by Tana to the world as the “angry Black woman” stereotype. In further attempts to discredit her, Tana’s manager, Jordan Worona, started completely baseless rumors that Nessa was a violent schizophrenic. The abuse that Nessa faced not only from Tana and Jordan themselves but from the public image they crafted of Tana vs. Nessa was enough to send Nessa to the hospital suffering psychosis. YouTube and other social media platforms are examples of racial inequality not unlike any physical space in our society. What happened to Kahlen and Nessa at the hands of Tana Mongeau is NOT an example of petty Internet drama. It is racial bias and white privilege played out to millions of young impressionable people, aided by Tana leveraging her much larger platform to bully two smaller influencers. It’s high time (read: way past time) we stop accepting white fragility and white women tears. They are dangerous and have substantial negative effects on the lives of people of color.
White women tears put Amy Cooper in the position to call the New York City police on Christian Cooper in Central Park, even though he was doing nothing wrong (and she, in fact, had her dog off its leash, was yelling at and threatening Christian Cooper and invading his personal space, and later was choking and mishandling her dog so badly that it was temporarily taken away from her). She had confidence that the police would act on gender and racial biases that are rampant in our society, and accept her portrayal of the damsel in distress. She (and I) are recipients of a long line of privilege that paints white women as innocent and harmless, while people of color, Black men most of all, are vilified and demonized. The Cut provides a good analysis of the situation and highlights how white women’s tears have functioned to allow us to act as aggressors but pose as victims, with consequences for people who do not look like us (an issue that should be in the spotlight right now as new eyes are turned to police brutality, mass incarceration, and systemic racism). An important note is that Amy Cooper identifies as a liberal, which highlights the hypocrisy within the white Democratic movement that because you’re a “liberal” means you can’t be racist.
Had it not been for Christian Cooper recording the interaction and posting it on Facebook, and his sister sharing it on Twitter, the world would never have known the events that had taken place. It would never have been brought to light that Amy Cooper’s reaction to a Black man asking her to follow the rules in a public place was to call the police. Amy Cooper was not in danger. She knew it, and Christian Cooper knew it. They were both long gone by the time the police arrived on scene. The dark motivation behind her actions, though, remains. She was all too aware that it WAS likely the police would take her side. There is good reason for Amy Cooper to believe that the officers would have held the same unfounded fears about Black men that she did, especially in a city as infamous for racial profiling as New York. She could literally pull this tool out of her back pocket, and call the police for a bogus reason, as a terrifying and corrupt way to attempt to scare a Black man into silence and compliance. White women’s tears have been a powerful weapon of many Amy Coopers, at the expense of many Christian Coopers, and it does not usually get filmed, have legal consequences, or inspire a false accusation / hate crime bill.
Another key example of white feminism is the pretty recent “Girlboss” brand of feminism. White feminism and Girlboss feminism are linked by their catering to, and demographic of, already privileged women. Both lack intersectionality and depth. The origin is a book by Sophia Amuruso, founder of Nasty Gal clothing company. Netflix has a show, called Girlboss, loosely based on the book. Girlboss is a website, described as a “professional network for ambitious women”- I’m sure it is, and I’m sure it’s a great one. What I am critiquing, though, is the wider movement more so than all of these outposts. First of all, why “girl” boss? Is the boss a female child? Say woman. In my view of it, Girlboss feminism idolizes “the grind” – constant productivity and material success. It has been rebuked for “conflating capitalism with feminism.” “Corporate feminism” and “market feminism” are other ways the Girlboss movement has been described and denounced. Social commentary site GEN offered an analysis of how this “feminism for profit” is a far cry from a women’s revolution. “Feminism for profit” is a literal sell out of women’s empowerment. It rewards women for rising up the ranks of existing power structures, rather than working to remove the obstacles, or creating new structures. Did you “do a thing” ? Are you a woman? Then congratulations, you have performed a feminist act, by Girlboss standards. This movement will idolize literally any person that can accumulate wealth or power. Individualism and materialism are central. Hilary Clinton’s 2016 presidential campaign was bolstered by $1.4 million from convicted sex offender Harvey Weinstein? The Clintons’ ties to late pedophile Jeffrey Epstein are so extensive and so disturbing that the full truth about them will probably never be brought to light? She’s a war hawk? WHO CARES, SHE’S A WOMAN IN POWER! MAJOR #GIRLBOSS, and don’t you dare criticize her, because that means you’re not a woman supporting women.
Under #Girlboss feminism, the Kardashians are heroes because they are women with businesses and big mansions. Are they really beacons of light and truth in the fight for equality and equity, though? Kendall Jenner may be filthy rich and she may be loving her job as a model (boosted by her perfect fit of Eurocentric beauty standards), but she also made a mind-numbingly insensitive and idiotic 2017 Pepsi ad. In the ad, she leaves a photoshoot, walks to a Black Lives Matter march, and smiles while handing a cop a Pepsi. She then engaged in white women tears when her ad was not well-received (duh) for belittling and disrespecting the BLM movement. She cried “Obviously, if I knew that this was going to be the outcome, I would have never done something like this” (now parodied as a Tik Tok sound) and “You don’t know when you’re in the moment.” I ask then, and I ask now, how anyone could possibly misunderstand or misinterpret Black Lives Matter. It tells you right in the name: BLACK. LIVES. MATTER. That is not confusing. It is the simplest, most straightforward way possible to convey the most serious message possible: Black people are dying. Black people are being killed. Kendall’s breakdown took place during the new season premiere of her ultra-wealthy family’s show Keeping Up With the Kardashians. The Kardashian krew’s main concern was Kendall’s professional reputation- aka, her livelihood- aka, her bank account. The Kardashians date Black men, have Black children, and are known for dressing in traditionally Black styles (they have many accusations of appropriating and being “culture vultures”), having lip fillers, and even surgically altering their bodies to be more curvy- but their love for Black culture didn’t translate to a love for Black lives. Khloe’s description of events was “Kendall… basically caused a huge controversy. It sucks, because Kendall’s taking all the blame.” No, Khloe, I don’t think that’s why it sucks. Kourtney reacted by encouraging Kendall “the news lasts 24 hours.” Okay, Kourtney, but what Kendall did will still be wrong after that. Kim’s encouragement was “this is the first time you’ve had a scandal.” Scandal, at least, was an accurate assessment of the situation: Kendall made an irresponsible and disreputable mistake, and was met with shock and outrage. Unlike Kim, though, I don’t think it being her first scandal necessarily made it any better. Kendall said people had been texting her about it ‘blowing over,’ and her response was “I’m just like, “Okay, but it’s been three weeks and it’s not going anywhere.” I’m really not sensing deep concern and empathy here. Kendall also used the classic-non apology language: “Like, I feel really bad that anyone was ever offended. I feel really bad that this was taken such a wrong way.” Was it “taken a wrong way,” or was it just wrong? Did some people just happen to get offended, or was it an offensive ad? I think the latter; Kendall implies the former. Slightly off topic, but worth noting- CEO of Pepsi, Indian-American woman Indra Nooyi also chimed in- said she watched the ad over and over “trying to figure out what went wrong” – a good example of how, despite hitting liberal checkpoints of “girlboss” and “diversity,” perhaps, just maybe, it is possible this unfathomably rich corporation does not care about the livelihoods of everyday women and people.
Truly, it is not up to the Kardashians, America’s “first family” of media and pop culture, to rid us of societal ills. If their priorities are fame and money, then so be it. If they’re shallow and bone-headed, oh well. None of them asked to be heralded as revolutionary icons- none of them even asked to be born into the Kardashian family. The point I am trying to make is that some feminism does not always do the best job in admiring the right people for the right reasons. It can lose sight (or altogether lack) the fight for a more free and fair world. I’m all for women supporting women rather than tearing each other down. The Kardashians can run their show for 111 seasons if it suits their fancy. Kendall can keep strutting the runway and gracing magazine covers. Kylie can release all the lip kits she wants and become as rich as humanly possible. However, “this woman is rich” and “this woman is famous” will never automatically translate to “this is someone that deserves feminist admiration,” and that’s what Girlbosses get wrong.
The ultimate goal of #Girlboss feminism is to be a CEO and drive a Range Rover. If some women want that car and that job, who I am to tell them not to go after it, right? But I sincerely hope that as CEO, you’ll take a hard look at the hiring, firing, and other office practices you oversee and strive to make them more equitable and accessible to ALL women. What industry are you in? Is it hostile to women and minorities? What do you plan to do about that? What do your coworkers look like at the executive and corporate level? What about at the ground level? Is there a gender pay gap? Do white women make more than BIPOC women? Does your company provide good childcare support and parental leave? What is your paid sick leave policy? Is sexual harassment being silenced by HR? As you drive around whatever big city you want to live in, with your luxury car, I hope you’ll give some due diligence to actual problems of systemic oppression. As Gloria Steinem said, “feminism has never been about getting a job for one woman. It’s about making life more fair for women everywhere.”
To sum it up: white feminism, sustained in part by white fragility, is female white supremacy. It enacts no broad meaningful change to those who need it the most. It alienates and obscures true empowerment and freedom. It is narrow and selfish. It is repressive and violent. It is all too widespread.
I acknowledge that this article is nowhere near a comprehensive view of white feminism or white fragility.
I also acknowledge that anything I have said here about white feminism, I guarantee women of color have been saying for decades.