We Need to Talk About White Feminism—Part I

If you identify as feminist, you probably have come across the term “white feminism.” It’s all around social media, in women’s marches, protests and sometimes even in our (nowadays socially distanced, I hope) social life. But do you really know what white feminism means? Can you spot it when it’s in action? More importantly, can you see how it affects your own actions and views about issues of gender? To help you answer some of these questions, we are launching a 3-part series where we will break down this term. We believe that it is only by understanding the issues related to the exclusionary nature of white feminism that we can fully embrace a more inclusive and intersectional approach. This series is particularly important for white intersectional feminists, who should take the lead on fixing the problems we will be talking about--it is not the responsibility of women of color to do this work. 

Stay tuned and let’s dive in!

What Is White feminism?

Simply put, white feminism is a branch of feminism that exclusively looks at the experiences of white, straight, cisgender, able-bodied, middle- and upper-class women. In other words, it only cares about women who have most of the privileges that society can offer—besides, of course, being a woman. Because it exclusively focuses on this demographic, white feminism inaccurately universalizes womanhood, assuming that the white-normative aspirations particular to this group of women reflect all women’s aspirations. This is extremely harmful, because by making white, cis (insert the whole list here) the default, white feminism totally marginalizes everyone else’s concerns. But before we go into more detail, let’s first get some misconceptions out of the way:

Isn’t talking about white feminism divisive?

No, quite the opposite. The only way to actually unite all women is to acknowledge the vast diversity in our experiences and educate ourselves on how race, class, sexuality, nationality and other identities intersect with gender. But white feminism does not allow the space to do that. The main reason why some people feel that critiquing white feminism divides us is because they probably had a false sense of unity in the first place. 

If we don’t see how white feminism operates, chances are it is because we are currently operating within its lenses and are—inadvertently or not—overlooking a whole range of experiences within gender. The only way to solve this, is by acknowledging how white feminism influenced our perceptions on gender. We are already divided in many ways. Not talking about this division will not magically make us come together; it will just make privileged women more comfortable. 

Are all ‘feminists who are white’ white feminists?

Of course not. White feminism is an ideology, not a race. If you are white, there is no need to feel defensive when anyone calls out white feminism. They are not talking about the color of your skin; they are talking about a type of activism. Yes, most (but not all) white feminists are white. But that’s because it’s easier to assume—and be comfortable with—the idea that the experiences of white women are universal when you are one. But nobody is saying that there is some inherent quality to being “white” that makes white women bad feminists. Critiquing white feminism is never about silencing white women or rejecting white women’s experiences. It’s about supporting all voices in the movement.

Are all white feminists racist?

To answer this question, we need to understand the difference between impact and intent. Beverly Tatum brilliantly explained this difference in her book Why Are All the Black Kids Sitting Together in the Cafeteria?. According to her, the ongoing cycle of racism is “like a moving walkway at the airport.” People walking on the conveyor belt, in this analogy, represent actively racist individuals, deliberately promoting and identifying with the direction of white supremacy.

Many others, however, are not actively trying to move in the direction of racism (or white feminism) and are simply standing in the moving walkway. Just by being bystanders, however, they are still moving towards the same destination as those who are actively racists. That is, their intent is different from their impact, because they are still reinforcing a lot of racist beliefs even if they are not actively being racists. A lot of white feminists fall into this group. They don’t consciously understand that they are complicit in the oppression of others by leaving white feminism unquestioned and merely standing still. 

There is a third type of person, however. The type of person every feminist should aim to become. They are those who recognize the motion of the conveyor belt and choose to walk in the opposite direction. As Tatum explains, this type of person: “see the active racists ahead of them, and choose to turn around, unwilling to go in the same destination as the White supremacists. But unless they are walking actively in the opposite direction at a speed faster than the conveyor belt—unless they are actively anti-racist—they will find themselves carried along with the others.” Doing this requires more work, but it is the only way to create an actually inclusive feminism.

To become this type of feminist, the first step we all need to take is to educate ourselves on how white supremacy operates in the women’s movement. It’s only by recognizing the direction of the conveyor belt, that we can turn around. That’s why conversations about white feminism are so important, it helps bystanders to recognize the impact of their inaction, and how white feminism is often the “default.” Remember, the impact of feminism comes from our actions, not our intentions. See you “in a couple of weeks,” when we will go into more detail about what white feminism looks like today.