Say Their Names Read online

  The word and concept of “allyship” took on prominent roles in white people’s quest to help with change. Allyship is defined as the continuous process in which someone with privilege and power seeks to first learn about the experiences of a marginalized group of people, and then ultimately empathize with their challenges and build relationships with that group of people.

  Another way of putting it is allies acknowledge their lofty status—and recognize their favor should not override the virtue of helping.

  “Allyship is language, and being a co-conspirator is about doing the work,” said O’Keefe, a Black activist who was a former senior aide to Massachusetts senator Elizabeth Warren. “It’s taking on the issue of racism and oppression as your own issue, even though you’ll never truly understand the damage that it does.”

  He added: “There are a few important things to think about as we’re having that conversation. Don’t put your burden of your sadness or your fear onto your Black friends or onto Black leaders that you follow, because the truth is it’s not the job of Black people to educate you or to make you comfortable. Anti-racism isn’t comfortable, just like racism isn’t comfortable for Black people and people of color.

  “Listen more than you speak. Do your research. Ignorance by very definition is a lack of knowledge, so the only way to break down ignorance and your ignorance and the ignorance of others is through education. It’s really important to learn the history of the struggle you’re putting yourself into, to learn about the systems of oppression that exist and how you’re complicit in them, and then, again, remember that it’s not our job to educate you. It’s not hard to educate yourself. You can literally Google it.”

  And one more thing, O’Keefe pointed out: Black people were grateful for whites’ support, but urged them to know their place.

  “When white people show up to protests for the Movement for Black Lives, they are our guests,” he said. “This might be exciting to them now, but this has been something that we have been living for generations and fighting for generations. So, you are showing up, and we’re happy to have you, you are our guests.

  “A white person’s job at a protest isn’t to spray paint ‘Black Lives Matter’ on a building. It’s not to destroy stuff. It’s not to loot stores. Their job is not to mess with the cops and throw stuff. Their job at that protest, what they are there to do, is to do everything they can in their power to put their bodies between the bodies of Black people and police. They should know if they’re there that they have the privilege of at least knowing that there will be more action taken if they die than if a Black person does. Because not only is it disrespectful to disrupt our protests, but it actually is also doing direct harm to the Black lives that these folks are supposed to be there to try to protect.

  “Countless times it’s white people who are doing this provocation (burning buildings, throwing things at law enforcement), who are escalating this, and it’s not them who are suffering the consequences, both physically there in person and with tear gas and pepper spray thrown in our faces, but also they’re not doing service to the narrative that we’re trying to build. They’re continuing to give fodder that will be used and is currently being used against Black people.

  “If you show up to a protest, you’re there to be an ally, you can say. You are there to listen and to learn and to follow the leadership of the Black folks, to follow the leadership of the marginalized.”

  Forensic psychologist Dr. Christopher Bass in Atlanta said he could not rule out white guilt as part of white people’s participation in the demonstrations.

  “The idea that a revolution cannot be diverse has been proven incorrect throughout our time here in this country,” Bass said. “This time was somehow different, though. As the media looked for answers to help them understand this diverse participation, some asked about the concept of ‘white guilt.’ In summation, we conclude that the term refers to the feelings of shame and remorse some white people experience when they recognize the legacy of racism and racial injustice, and perceive the ways they have benefited from it.”

  It was not just the media that questioned white people’s participation. Those in the movement had questions and doubts, too.

  “If history teaches us nothing else, it teaches us that history in many cases can repeat itself,” Bass said. “Similar to protests in the 1960s for civil rights, a theme began to emerge as old lessons took center stage. The lessons that were taught earlier on included the fictitious narrative that African Americans, when emotionally charged, resort to aggressive tendencies and lack the intellectualism and socialization to remain peaceful during difficult or uncertain times.

  “The tendency by the white media is to create the narrative that African Americans must be controlled with more aggression to quell the instinct, which is stereotypically innate. As we have seen in the media countless times, even those who were killed by police and others quickly have their previous encounters with the legal system (if a history exists) prominently displayed and circulated to consciously justify the actions of the authority figure. Victimize the victim. Yet, when the African American community cries out, the lenses of support and change only become clearer when there is white community support.”

  Bass said there were signs of potential for systemic changes following the protests, because many looked at the demonstrations as multiracial instead of just Black. It was bothersome that “white community support and participation changed the temperature of the visual. It is much more difficult to categorize and demean a diverse group of emotionally charged protesters,” he said. “For, when you see those who resemble you, or your family, common descriptions used by the media to describe African American youth, like ‘wild animals’ (which was used consistently since Reconstruction) cease.”

  White people’s participation did not assuage Black people’s feelings or correct injustices. Significantly, Bass pointed out, there was a difference between the awareness that guilt brings and the caring that comes with being awakened by the atrocities.

  “Being awake alludes to a complex connection to an ideal, whereas, being aware does not necessarily mean that,” Bass said. “An individual’s external state of awareness of their social surroundings, thoughts, and feelings can be procured from cues in the environment. Thus, behavior based on just awareness of perceived themes can be ill-timed, ill-themed, or worse—ill-intentioned.

  “This should not suggest that being awake automatically makes one aware. The immediate reaction of Mr. Floyd’s death was a display of raw pain. In context, it must be understood that this was not an isolated incident. In fact, within the first five months of 2020, over one hundred eight African Americans had been identified as being killed by police in America. The numbers reflected an epidemic within the pandemic.”

  The stress of seeing Floyd killed combined with the history of police shootings and Black people’s demise at law enforcements hands—all occurring during a pandemic that devastated the African American community—created an almost unstoppable wave of emotions, Bass said.

  “It all set the stage for this kettle pot of raw reaction and emotional expression to spill out. While the nation watched the events play out at home, the stress of being confined to their homes, the loss of family members, without the opportunity to utilize traditional methods of grieving and process, and the sheer uncertainty of a future life (as we knew it previously) also played significant roles in the groundswell of emotion and reaction.”

  And it goes deeper, Bass said. The protesters were guided by an urgent need to be heard and to effect change, even in the face of a pandemic, and even with law enforcement that viewed them as a foe rather than someone to be protected.

  “The idea of being aware is present,” he added. “It can guide our behavior. It has the ability to show up. Social consciousness, when viewed through the lens of philosophical and psychological glasses, is a multifaceted paradigm. It must be emphasized that our motivation for behavior lies much deeper than the su
rface of being aware of an issue. The perception involved in deciphering the multitude of sensational data is overwhelming. If the Freudians taught us anything about what sparks our thinking and subsequent behavior, it is that sometimes being awake, aware, and conscious really can be confusing, ill-directed, and self-preserving.”

  The Matter of Black Athletes

  Naomi Osaka, the women’s tennis phenomenon born to a Haitian father and a Japanese mother, wore seven different masks to her matches at the 2020 U.S. Open, each bearing the name of an unarmed Black person killed by law enforcement. It was a strong display of support of Black Lives Matter—and an indication that the movement spilled into the sports world.

  It was an audacious move by Osaka. She took BLM’s concerns to the predominantly white, affluent, pretentious tennis world—where Black players are scarce—and its vast international television audience. She won the major tournament and won a legion of fans that may not have known her as a star, but identified her as courageous after her two-week stand.

  Asked after she took the title what she wanted to get out of displaying the names of unnecessarily fallen Black people, Osaka was unflappable: “Well, what was the message that you got was more the question. I feel like the point is to make people start talking.”

  Lewis Hamilton, the most dominant Formula One racecar driver in the world, was equally committed to BLM in Europe. The Black man of British heritage had “Black Lives Matter” painted on the Mercedes he drove in competition. He took a knee on the track and wore anti-racism slogans supporting BLM all of the 2020 season. And he dominated, winning seven races. Hamilton said the urgency of the Black Lives Matter movement made him a better driver.

  “It was a different drive than what I’ve had in me in the past—to get to the end of those races first so that I could utilize that platform [for Black Lives Matter] and shine the light as bright as possible,” he said. “There is no way that I could stay silent. And once I said that to myself, I didn’t hold any fear.”

  That lack of fear existed throughout the athletic world. The NBA, 80 percent of whose players are Black, stood with the BLM movement by using its vast national platform to share the organization’s concerns to its community, international audience, corporate sponsors.

  “Black Lives Matter” was painted on the court at NBA games during the truncated 2020 season to send a consistent expression of support. Players wore calls for justice or expressions of hope on the back of their jerseys instead of their names.

  LeBron James, perhaps the most popular athlete in the world, expanded his standing in the community by racing to the forefront of BLM support, taking on Donald Trump, Fox News host Laura Ingraham, and anyone who did not share the ideals of change to make life equitable for Black lives.

  In a very real way, they all followed in the courage of Colin Kaepernick, the former NFL quarterback who essentially sacrificed his career during his prime. When Kaepernick knelt during the national anthem to protest police brutality before an NFL game on September 12, 2016, he made a statement about the power of the Black Lives Matter movement.

  He was their contemporary, a Super Bowl quarterback athletes could relate to, and they drew courage from his audacity. Considered a radical and a potential distraction—at least that was the public position of NFL executives—no team would sign him in what can only be described as “blackballing.”

  “He’s a modern-day Rosa Parks and Muhammad Ali all in one,” said Stephen A. Green, president of the People’s Consortium, a civil rights group with nonviolent ideals. “When you think about what he has put on the line for himself personally, with what he could lose…that’s not [an exaggeration]. He risked a lot to elevate the issues that affect Black and brown bodies in America. For our community, we can’t afford to let him be silenced.”

  Over the years, Kaepernick had been strategic in his activism, doing more and saying less. Hardly did he grant interviews, but his voice had been heard nonetheless.

  “Kaep was very deliberate about staying in the public eye,” said Sarah J. Jackson, author of Black Celebrity, Racial Politics, and the Press: Framing Dissent. “It’s also relevant, of course, that Kaepernick’s activism came in the middle of the mainstream visibility of the Black Lives Matter movement and several high-profile police killings, as well as alongside the rise in a newly emboldened far-right that focuses a lot of energy on publicly attacking those that critique police or make outspoken stances against anti-Black racism.”

  NFL owners, some following the demands of Trump and their own biased ideals, forced their players not to follow Kaepernick’s peaceful protest of kneeling during the pregame national anthem, conflating the issue of kneeling to protest police brutality with disrespecting the military.

  In the NBA, while the league actively joined forces with the players, many of its owners—all white except Michael Jordan—were circumventing those actions.

  A study by the sports and pop culture website The Ringer revealed that many of the same NBA owners who publicly professed their unity with the players and the BLM movement were making donations to causes designed specifically to undermine the demonstrations.

  After a year spent analyzing five years of records from the Federal Election Commission, John Gonzalez, who wrote the report, found that league owners paid $28 million in political donations to Republican causes and candidates whose ideology clashed with those of the Black protesters and the NBA players.

  “We found political contributions by twenty-seven different owners (as well as 20 significant others) over a period of more than five years. Of that $28 million total, more than $14.9 million (53.4 percent) went to Republican politicians and PACs, while over $12 million (43.1 percent) was directed to Democrats,” the report said. “That leaves roughly $1 million to nonpartisan issues, such as the University Public Issues Committee, the National Cable and Telecommunications Association, or PACs that give to candidates from both parties.”

  Orlando Magic owner Dan DeVos is the son of Amway co-founder Richard DeVos and brother-in-law to Betsy DeVos, the much-maligned former secretary of education appointed by Donald Trump. Dan DeVos donated $50,000 to the Congressional Leadership Fund, “a super PAC that funnels money to the same Republican representatives who accounted for all but one of the nay votes against HR 7120,” which was crafted to address police reform after George Floyd’s killing.

  Dan DeVos and his wife, Pamella, gave more than $220,000 to two Senate super PACs directly tied to Republican committees responsible for keeping the vote on HR 7120 from happening. The report also reveals that DeVos donated $200,000 to America First Action, one of Trump’s super PACs, just two weeks after Floyd’s death on May 25.

  DeVos said he strongly condemned “bigotry, racial injustice, and the unwarranted use of violence by police against people of color” in public statements of unity with the players and said their mostly one-sided political donations didn’t necessarily reflect their personal leanings, according to the report.

  Billionaires typically donate equally to both political parties, according to a study by Americans for Tax Fairness and the Institute for Policy Studies. But in the NBA, 80.9 percent of the owners’ donations have gone to Republicans and Republican causes, with 18.4 percent going to Democrats, and another 0.7 percent to nonpartisan issues, according to the report.

  In fact, as the league professed its support of Black Lives Matter, NBA team owners collectively donated more money to Trump-related super PACs than all Democratic donations combined in 2020, according to the report. The DeVoses donated about half of that amount—more than $2 million—to Republicans, records show.

  Michele Roberts, the first Black woman to be the executive director of the National Basketball Players Association, said in the report: “There are some people who purport to despise Trump but believe as long as he keeps those taxes low, he’s their guy. Now, I think that’s a disgraceful excuse for why you would support someone with his politics. But I know people who look me in the eye and say that to
me: ‘Look, I think [Trump is the] scum of the earth. And I would never have him in my home. And I tell my children all the time don’t listen to him, he’s a jackass. But you know how much money I saved in taxes the last four years?’ And that’s important to them. It drives me mad that there are ways for people to justify supporting Trump while taking a very progressive position on other issues.”

  As the NBA players balked at playing during the coronavirus pandemic, the league and Players Association negotiated to establish a social justice coalition that included players, coaches, and owners. Believing the league and owners supported their concerns for social justice, the players agreed to play.

  The NBA paid for social justice advertising during playoff games that promoted “greater civic awareness in national and local elections and raising awareness around voter access and opportunity.”

  Franchise owners pledged $300 million collectively over ten years toward economic empowerment in the Black community and agreed to convert their massive arenas into polling facilities for the November 2020 election—a sound victory of BLM.

  The league and owners also, at least publicly, supported the Milwaukee Bucks, who boycotted a playoff game in the aftermath of yet another shooting of a Black man by a white person. In Kenosha, Wisconsin, Jacob Blake was shot seven times in August 2020. He survived, but was paralyzed. A few days later, the Bucks refused to play their playoff game against Orlando, sparking a three-day NBA protest.

  The pain of the shooting registered with the Bucks. It happened close to their training facility, and one of their players, Sterling Brown, had been Tasered and arrested by Milwaukee police, but he was never charged with a crime. He sued and was awarded $750,000 after the city admitted wrongdoing.

  “You’re supposed to look at the police to protect and serve. Now, it’s looked as harass or shoot,” Bucks player George Hill said. “To almost take a guy’s life…I know the cops are probably upset he’s still alive because I know they surely tried to kill him. But to almost take a man’s life, especially in front of one’s kids, that wasn’t resisting, in his back at point-blank range, is a heartless and gutless situation. We need some justice for that.”