‘“we’ are (not) better than ‘this.’”

full disclosure: this is written under the cloud of a depression spiral, the fog of frustration with where we are in this country, and the fatigue of being a queer, american, black man.

today our president-elect, joe biden, addressed the nation and referred to the white supremacist terrorist attack on the u.s. capitol as one of “the darkest days” in our history. white people all over television said similar things. they insist that “we’re better than this,” and speak of us as a virtuous nation, treating this moment as an anomalous, bad-apples scene.

but ‘we’re better than this’ begs two questions:

• based on what?
• exactly who is the us in the ‘we’?

america is not better than this. this is who america is. while it may not be sexy enough to put on a campaign banner or to message around the world, this is who america has always been. from the day white people landed on the shores of this land, this has been who america was. “this is ours because we will take it and no one will stop us.”

sure, there are noble depictions of white people doing great things, altruistic histories of white saviors doing real good for others, often white. and that has its own kind of beauty.

but white americans have a his-storyed tale of horrendous, heinous, horrifying acts they’ve very happily reframed, compartmentalized, downright ignored to be able to celebrate, making it all just fine because… you know… the ends justify the means.

their country declared independence. they erected a capitol. they grew the most important economy in the world. they became thee world superpower. their work is not only great, it’s good.

but at what cost? no no, better question:

at whose cost? (spoiler alert: certainly not at the cost of white people.)

transfer of power

while all this is obviously not about her, tory shulman (one of the host’s of daily blast live), gave a particularly rosy summation of what we’d just witnessed and seemed to feel a pride that we’d made it through. (note: tory is not alone.)

tory used the same “darkest day” language as our next president, but there were other things that she said that stuck with me as i watched the video of her feelings as i scrolled my instagram feed.

she talked about “the people’s house” being “our house,” and how it was breached for the first time since 1812.

who are “the people,” the seeming “us” in the “our” or “our house”?

america has only just elected this week the 11th black senator to our nation’s representative body. not to mention the sea of first and few that have served in some of the highest offices of this country’s ranks.

speaking of the worst of the attack in the capitol, shulman spoke of a swinging pendulum, at one point raising her hand to one side. “we were at the very top last night. that’s where it can go,” she said. “but what happened? democracy prevailed. we took the people’s house back,” as she swings her hand back to center. she discussed the ways that they had failed, because joe biden & kamala harris had been certified as the next leaders of this country later that evening.

“you destroyed yourself,” she said to them.

i don’t think a single person who breached the capitol doors, armed, carrying — as one in the same — trump and american flags, scaling walls inside and outside the building, sitting in nancy pelosi’s house office with feet up on the desk, walking out with the speaker’s podium, occupying the inaugural platform, trashing representatives’ offices, and taking selfies with white police officers would argue they failed.

they succeeded.

they sent a message to people across the world about what they could do. what they did do. and what they’ll undoubtedly do next.

these terrorist criminals walked in and walked out, some with police holding their hands, helping them down the capitol steps. they went on their very merry way, back into the streets of washington d.c., back to their hotels, off to have dinner and beers, and (likely, by now) back to their homes across their great country. a few dozen were allegedly arrested. but these people did this, were aided by police, and will almost certainly face little to no consequences. and five people are now dead.

they didn’t destroy themselves, tory. they emboldened and empowered themselves and others like them who weren’t in attendance, around this country and around the world.

“know that the transfer of power worked,” she said to them as the clip finishes.

it absolutely did.

the privilege of living in the dark

language like “the darkest day,” “we’re better than this,” and “democracy prevailed,” as if everything is ok now (and other adjacent convo that says this is as bad as it gets), perfectly highlights the privilege of being white in america. white america enslaved generations of a race of people. white america ripped babies from immigrant mothers’ arms as they breast fed. white america put human beings in concentration camps. white america raped and pillaged a continent of indigenous people and stole everything they had, put them on reservations — only to turn it into a national holiday.

‘…white americans have a his-storyed tale of horrendous, heinous, horrifying acts they’ve very happily reframed, compartmentalized, downright ignored to be able to celebrate, making it all just fine because… you know… the ends justify the means.’

some angry white people broke into our big, sacred, special office building museum, angry because ultimately they aren’t getting what they want. i don’t know a black person that feels like this is over, almost over, or about to finally get better.

the very idea that this was as bad as it gets centers whiteness and white people as the american default. white is the default for human. white is the default for american.

many of us (black people) are trying to wrap our minds around what feels like is inevitably coming next. the privilege of whiteness comes in not having to even think or feel like something is coming. the privilege comes in not having to be concerned, worried, afraid, or otherwise in a spiral that makes you question whether you should be taking that class at the gun range, securing your home, rethinking your moves in public and in private. the privilege is in seeing an angry mob of white people — yes, seasoned with a few people of color to taste — and not feeling like they’re representative of you, your race, or how people will perceive you.

the privilege is knowing that the same police that moved the barricades to welcome these terrorist, aided these them down the capitol’s steps (while holding their hands for their white safety), and allowed our capitol to be occupied and ransacked while congressional leaders hid for their lives… those police are the same kinds of officers that will protect you when there’s unrest. they’ll protect you when you’re afraid. they’ll serve you when you call.

but what happens when that angry mob of white people with american flags shows up at one of our black homes? at our black-owned businesses? maskless in the black neighborhood’s grocery store? who are black people to call to protect and serve? who are black people to reach for to defend their land, their families, their lives?

the police?

and what’s worse: they know it. “they,” here, are white people. “they,” here, are the police. “they,” here, are the trump-supporting, maga-chanting, “take our country back” white people that have no fear.

that is the privilege of whiteness.

a patriot’s hopeless devotion

tory refers to herself, as many americans do, as a “patriot.” she actually said a “strong patriot.”

a majority of white americans voted for donald trump and the majority of the people who voted for donald trump were white americans.

what does it mean to black americans to be expected to be a ‘patriot’ in a nation where nearly half of people who voted freely chose donald trump to continue as president for another four years of… whatever this is?

patriot (noun)

a person who loves, supports, and defends his or her country and its interests with devotion.

a person who regards himself or herself as a defender, especially of individual rights, against presumed interference by the federal government.

it feels caucacious (the brand name of white audacity) to expect undying devotion from a people who are not white in a nation that operates like the united states of america.

it’s gaslighty for a country — run by white people — to degrade, demean, deny, discount, discredit, and disenfranchise people from the most institutional and foundational of places to the most practically applied ‘micro-aggressive’ ways and then tell those people to love, support, and defend this country and its interests with devotion.

yet, we watched the footage of the angry mob spilling their way into the halls of congress, up the stairs of our so-sacred tabernacle of democracy, while a lone black police officer struggled to protect and defend our hallowed ground. white people pushing back on his authority, threatening his blue and black life.

when do those white ‘patriots’ love, support, and defend black people? when do they see humanity in their fellow americans who don’t look, love, worship or pray like them? they don’t. they won’t. they never have.

there was a bit of an un-ironic, quietly enraging, of-course kind of poetry last night. as congressional leaders reconvened in their respective chambers, we saw images of the capitol building being cleaned up. as a white security guard stands by — protecting who knows what? at this point — we watched as black people wearing masks and uniforms, armed with their brooms, swept up the broken glass and vacuumed debris; cleaning up a building built by their enslaved ancestors, desecrated by ‘we.’

‘calling yesterday “one of the darkest days in this nation’s history” says a lot about whom you regard as “this nation” and what you recognize as united states of american history,’ jarrett lucas, executive director of the stonewall community foundation wrote in a facebook post. ‘also, do not put that on darkness. because that was whiteness.’

‘we’ are not better than ‘this’ because ‘this’ is who ‘we’ are, who you have always been, dear america.