Fragility

Fragile.

We write this word on boxed up china and glassware. If something is valuable, we do whatever we can to prevent it from breaking, don’t we? To even consider it breaking makes our little hearts hurt, doesn’t it? Like my vintage lady head vases. I will wrap them three layers deep in bubble wrap while my child’s pottery gets one page off the sports edition. We heavily pad these treasures with insulation to prevent it from shifting or jostling.

Truth: as white women, we do this to ourselves and we do this to each other.

We have turned our “tribe” into a Lord of the Flies island of fan-clubs where we enjoy our white supremacy like a circle-jerk, and we feel no shame in eating our own when we feel threatened (or if we’re just hungry for attention).

We use our wolf pack as a shield to protect our horrendous behavior from reproach and then hide out in our clubhouse when we are called to the carpet. White women, you know we do this.

We have made ourselves insulated and untouchable. You think POC and the LGBTQ community is who we aim our discrimination at? Ha. We don’t need race or sexuality to define our targets – our target is any living thing that gets in our privileged right-of-way.

We are so fearful to speak out of turn, that we judge those who do speak freely and then disappear when brave women need our support. We walk on eggshells around others, while we criticize those who do not cater and then rally around whoever cries first. Some of us have learned the art of manipulation through a Precious Moments figurine.

Privileged white women: our feelings are paramount, aren’t they. Our position is imperial, isn’t it. And we have our white, hierarchical patriarchy to back us up, no matter fucking what. You know those boys, the ones we serve, the ones we see as having power and prestige; the ones who faithfully defend our horrendous behaviors and remain complicit to those we intimidate. Our husbands and our sons. We love our boys club and the boys club loves us.

White women. We are fragile monsters.

If you cannot agree with me on this, then you are completely checked out of what is going on in this world, what is going on in your town, and what is going on with the people around you. Hey sleepyhead, it’s time to wake up.

White women: it is time to step down and it’s time to shut up. Your days of misleading are over.

Besides a few exceptions like Brene Brown, and Glennon and Abby Wambach, I have personally given up on seeking white mentors. Over my entire life, the only thing I have ever  – ever- learned from white women in leadership is the extent of damage they are capable of creating, the depths of deception they are willing to live with, and the heights of arrogance they have perched themselves upon in order to remain out of reach. Out of reach in order to avoid challenges; out of reach from the discomfort of revealing poor character. And all these years of trying to stay out of reach, has made us white women completely out of touch with reality.

Done. I’m done listening to, hearing from, and looking at white women who *think* they have a message of hope, but all they really have is a fan club with a sticker.

In my house, my family reads daily words of wisdom from women like Malala, Maya Angelou, and Oprah – women who unapologetically live their truth, who have impacted the world out of pure humility, women whose desire to nurture humanity overrides any desire to make a name for themselves.

If you are a white woman, your days of leading me and mine are over. Thank God.

Yes, thank God.

In fact, I’m pretty sure He has everything to do with this – at just the right time, and in the most important of days, He is elevating and highlighting the fierce women this country needs to lead humanity towards stronger unity and empowerment for ALL people.

Thank God.

This post is inspired by Danielle Slaughter’s article, “The Most Dangerous Person in American is the White Woman”.