Between Two Swords: The Dangers of White People Choosing our Reps
Not long ago I had a phone conversation with a friend I was on a panel with at Netroots—she told me she was struck by something I said. I stated that if white people are too comfortable with you, then you must be doing something wrong. I had to wait to form my own language about it to write it down, as I’m sure I’d been thinking about it for a while.
We, unfortunately, depend greatly on white America to give us platforms, to employ us, to give us breaks—even to elevate our own heroes for us. That right there already puts us at a huge disadvantage, since the people white folks choose for us most likely are allowed within close proximity to them because they’re “too safe” and too unsavory to us. It renders them impotent and dangerous for us. Safe people adhere to a corrosive respectability politics that may look like they benefit from at a distance, but ultimately rips a humanity away from them, a much-needed part of us that has a poisonous ripple effect on all of us if muzzled.
Those safe people might be brilliant or very known in any field—like being great thespians, for instance—and those in power might notice them and give them breaks, but because of the nature of oppression and identity politics, they are immediately placed in a position of advocacy they are ill-equipped to occupy. Many happily (though I suspect others hate it) take on the mantle to represent. There are tons of examples of this. You might’ve been exposed to some scandals: Paul Rodriguez, Rosie Perez, Gina Rodriguez, Jennifer Lopez, Geraldo Rivera…
On one hand, we need celebrities to be politically vocal and involved, but on the other hand, we really don’t need them speaking up if what they’re going to say is going to hurt the most vulnerable among us. Our communities don’t have the systemic power to do much when celebrities say something ignorant, let alone the power to uplift (or deplatform) them to the stratospheric platforms these good folks have been promoted to by white America. We might be published here and there, and we may complain on social media, but that usually falls on white deaf ears or we’re accused of being crabs in a barrel. A few of these folks are receptive to criticism, but most won’t take it unless it is coming from someone with way more pull than them. Like Michelle Rodriguez batting for Liam Neeson when people accused him of being racist for wanting to beat into a pulp any Black man he ran across (and was looking for) because supposedly one raped his friend. Shonda Rhimes wasn’t having any of that and tweeted about it:
Michelle Rodriguez has a history of saying anti-Brown, anti-Black things to a white audience and, in turn, white people reward her with more roles. But this time around she apologized. She had to—it’s Shonda Rhimes calling her out. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think people should be cancelled, but we should get more than an apology with these things. We need for our celebrities and representatives to constantly educate themselves and engage the community. It’s a must. White people are terrible gatekeepers for us—even the ones who are exposed to the rhetoric and work.
Although fame and hypervisibility doesn’t shield us from racism, sexism, classism, xenophobia, you name it, being mum about our situation, or worse, becoming soldiers for white supremacy are not the answer. I understand why people remain silent. I understand that we must do soul-crushing things to survive, but when do we stop? Is there a bottom to any of this? We give too much to get back so little.
We’ve been preened, conditioned, molded into such apt pupils of white supremacy, of the system, that we bend ourselves backwards to protect it, to uphold it, to preserve it. Even our own people, our own platforms are poisoned by it, influenced by its topless and bottomless well of money and power.
I don’t expect nor look for our youth to change this for us, but I’m grateful that they’re idealistic enough to say enough to it. America hasn’t given them much of a choice since they’re getting crushed from every angle. I’ve been telling people for years now that there is a storm of young vocal advocates coming and that I was benign in comparison. Young advocates that don’t care about white tears, feelings, civility, and respectability or those of their elders. They’re educated in the work and they have social media to talk about it, to perfect their rhetoric, to influence each other. Gina Rodriguez fled Twitter because she was no longer on an uneven platform that white people gave her and because, I assume, of the toxicity of some of the people who called her out for her habitual line-stepping. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not the one to tell people how to react to ignorance, but there are lines we don’t cross: sexism, racism, xenophobia, homophobia… Lines I’m sure many people stepped over to crush her. Still, getting your feelings hurt is nothing compared to losing (or never getting) any platforms.
We need a system for and by us. A system to vet our representatives. A system to check them. A system to pull the rug from under them if they’re standing on our progress. A system to decolonize and rehabilitate them. A system to make us anew.
We can only do that if we are vocal about our condition, by privately and publicly calling out oppressive systems and individuals. We can’t do that with silence or continuing to allow white people to choose our people for us.
This will happen when we no longer depend on white institutions or they willingly give their power—at least the one that belongs to us.
And power, as most of you know, isn’t given to anyone.
We must take ours back.
Thanks for reading and sharing with your family and friends.
A mainstream or indie magazine would usually pay me between $250-$450 for one of my pieces. Since I decided to go solo for the sake of keeping my voice unedited and uncensored, I created this website. Keeping it afloat and these pieces coming is not just time-consuming, but it’s also costly because it angers a lot of those same mainstream papers and magazines (along with their donors) for calling them out—so their favorite retaliation tactic is deplatforming. Especially of unapologetic and unhypocritical Black and Brown voices. Ideally, I’d like to raise between $250-$450 per piece and many of you have actually stepped-up to the plate and helped me accomplish that. For that, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. If you would like to see more of these and support one of the few unbought indie voices, please contribute:
If you prefer Venmo (@Cesar-Vargas-1) or Cash App ($vargas365) like I do, try them instead.
Stand with the independent writers of the world.
César Vargas is an award-winning writer, advocate, strategist, speaker, and social critic with a loyal following and a robust social capital that spans from coast to coast: Journalists, celebrities, activists, artists, executives, politicians, and more. He was named one of 40 Under 40: Latinos in American Politics by the Huffington Post. He’s written about internal and external community affairs to several news outlets and quoted in others: The Huffington Post, NBC, Fox News, Voxxi, Okayafrica, Okayplayer, Sky News, Salon, The Guardian, Latino Magazine, Vibe, The Hill, BET, and his own online magazine—which has a fan base of over 25,000 people and has reached over a million—UPLIFTT. He’s familiar with having a voice that informs, invigorates, and inspires people—creating content that usually goes viral. He recently won two awards from Fusion and the National Hispanic Foundation for the Arts for his films Some Kind of Spanish and Black Latina Unapologetically. He attained a degree in Films Studies from Queens College, CUNY. He’s currently heading Azul, a PR & marketing firm for the modern world.
