First there was BBQ Becky, then along came Permit Patty, I introduce to you: Facebook Freddy

I am a bi-racial, Jewish woman of color. My entire life, I have found it incredibly terrifying and risky to speak up and defend myself and the issues that affect me and every “tribe” of which I am a proud member. It’s very easy to speak up when there are Nazis marching down your street, or Klansman walking through your town but what becomes difficult to navigate, are the roads where the “enemy” is much harder to spot.

I’m an amphibian. Not quite a fish, not quite a duck, not quite a cat. Just this thing that lives on land, air and sea and you don’t know quite what to make of it. When I sit with Jews I can relate on the issues affecting Jews. The big ones ya know, antisemitism, who are we voting for in the upcoming Israeli election, who did you dance with at your first Bat Mitzvah, and Seth Cohen from the The OC ultimate boyfriend goals. When I sit with African Americans I can relate on the issues affecting us: hair, Obama years, something horrible Trump said, Black Lives Matter and explaining it to your “suddenly woke” coworkers. But there’s this cosmic shift that happens when one group finds out I “secretly” belong to an “other”. This sense I get…every biracial persons 6th sense (take that Haley Joel Osmond) that they have just separated themselves from the rest of the group. It usually plays out it one of two ways

1. You are THE representative of your people. Out at a restaurant? YOU BETTER TIP 20%. In an office? YOU BETTER BE SASSY & FUNNY. At a party? YOU ARE THE SOURCE OF HIP HOP KNOWLEDGE.
2. You REALIZE you are the representative of your people and you are forced to pick the side of separating yourself as much as possible. See a loud group of black girls living their best life? UGH THOSE GIRLS ARE RATCHET AND GHETTO. Overhear a group of Jewish girls talking about shopping? WOW I HATE JAPPY GIRLS.

When I decided to move to Tel Aviv, I thought I had finally found my collection of islands who have bridged together to form a new community of brave people who wanted to a new life, something bigger than their 9–5. From time to time I struggle with the idea of living in a country that I know comes with a lot of political baggage (although at this point I could be talking about any country). I worry about shutting down criticism from my friends in the states about what’s happening in Israel because there are injustices happening. Same with people criticizing America because well, there are injustices happening. Not one place can be just one thing, and that’s a heavy line to tow. My beloved Chicago is not just deep dish pizza nor is it gang violence, it is every shade in between. It’s a quilt of many textures, colors and stories. Israel is not just the Palestinian conflict, America is not just Donald Trump…there’s always room for nuance and context. That being said, I will always speak up when I see injustices, it’s how I was raised and it is both sets of stock from which I come from.

In Tel Aviv there is a community dedicated to helping these new immigrants join together and talk about the issues that affect them: it has a secret name. While usually a place to sell sofas, find a job, get a date or discover a new restaurant every now and then they’ll share insightful pieces and posts about what’s happening in the world around us as we navigate a new city, country and culture. My first occasion writing on this group for an issue that affects my spirit was speaking up on the issue of blackface. I received a lot of hate messages a lot of backlash, but I was proud of that post. Shortly after the administrator (I can’t use his name here but let’s just call him Facebook Freddy) took down my post simply stating: my color is not a costume. His reasons were as followed:

Now again, the post was removed because it’s “preaching” and “boring”. I’m sorry but can I just say (and this violates one of the rules from above) that on behalf of all brown and black people: we’re tired of telling you not wear blackface, and we’re tired of seeing it. So just stop?

This conversation went back and forth until he blocked me from the forum altogether and deleted the post. It was here I assured him my job in PR would not do his site well and I urged him to do the right thing. For those of you familiar with Permit Patty, BBQ Becky, what you notice from all of these trends is that what follows a knee jerk reaction is usually the fragile tears and regret of being portrayed as a racist or a misogynist or homophobe or whatever the case may be.

Oh boy, I wish I could say we were done here. Now I’ll speed up and spare you some of the receipts but don’t worry:

Fast forward to this evening and the catalyst for this post. There was a disturbing incident reported, where allegedly a mother brought her daughter to kindergarten and realized the school was segregated: Ethiopian in one room and entrance and non-Ethiopian. I want to add here, it takes a lot of courage and strength for me to write so openly on this Facebook group where ALL of my peers are and open up about something that means so much to mea, and to a lot of them I am their only black friend. And if we’re circling back to rule number 2, I never want to be that friend that’s always taking it there. BUT this was weighing on my heart, and I decided at 28 I am only doing things that fuel my soul, my energy and my vibe. Everything else is secondary. So I sat, I listened and I penned a post I was very proud of:

I was nervous as those first few minutes pop up like sending a risky text and seeing:

And suddenly I was overwhelmed with the positivity, and appreciation to which this post was being met with. I was proud. I had friends writing to me saying they were proud of me. And it wasn’t more than 40 minutes later, I excitedly clicked on that notification button to find that my post was gone…deleted. And to be honest it felt like I had been not only silenced but erased. Shortly after, the oh-so-fragile Facebook Freddy wrote to me where he had to delete the post for shaming him in his group. Oh and for those who don’t know, shaming is when you write the words someone wrote to you as they wrote them to you. *stale face emoji*

I spoke my truth, I stood up to my bully (mind you Facebook Freddy bans people on the reg for what ever sensitive reason he can think of) but I took this one personally. Because so much of everything I am was in that post, and so much of what my peers are was reflected in their responses and I was so proud of it. Oh but Freddy, Facebook Freddy, can’t be tamed. After all this post wasn’t about a beautiful 3-year old Ethiopian girl being segregated on her first day of school and raising awareness, it was about FREDDY and his words. Needless to say the conversation carried on where I assured Freddy all this of my black girl magic is damn good at her job and that I will use every connection I have to end his community commando.

And then Facebook Freddy let this nugget slip:

Would you look at that, a group to support people and bring them together is ultimately keeping a creepy file folder on each of its members to pull out literally within minutes the dates at which they apply for various jobs. For the record clicking a job board posting in no way secured my bag boo boo. I did that all on my own because I’m just that good.

Now, am I saying Facebook Freddy is a racist? I don’t have enough data to draw a real conclusion, but what I do know is that he has a special aversion to deleting my posts on various racial issues. And to that I say: shame. It is such a shame to take valuable teachable moments that could have been real sparks for change, and turn it into something where you only saw your White-Male self in the center of it. Is this is a problem with the patriarchy, is it a problem with race is it a problem with the age of social media? I’m sure it’s a mixture of the three. But the real damage is not done to me, I’m still living my best left waking up every day feeling like Kanye. Will Facebook Freddy feel any sort of consequence…I mean probably not. I hope he’ll have to answer to these questions both on the basis of user privacy and data security, and why posts the put brown stories at the center instead of ensemble cast members brought in for cleaning services or “cultural excitement” are removed and punished. I hope that in facing these hard truths and in checking his own ego Facebook Freddy can learn from this moment and learn that the Chief of the tribe does not act upon what is best for the Chief but he acts on behalf of what is best for the tribe members.

Enjoy your tiny ounce or sense of “power”, I will not miss getting sexually harassed by your members over Facebook messenger. I will not miss the countless times you have tried pitching companies I work with to get them to pay to advertise on your page. I will not miss you reacting reacting reacting, then grovelling. I will not miss your misleading posts and shameless plugging. What I won’t miss the most, is having to censor how I feel and exist and share my experiences based on the perception of your group.

In the words of Issa Rae: