This is a thread about who I am, recent Twitter drama around a certain Professor, and what I see as a dangerous attitude that will destroy the push against Racism. Someone rightfully pointed out that I should write my own damn thread

instead of subtweeting everyone. So I’m going to consolidate and add some context to my string of subtweets and DM’s over the weekend. I don’t like to speak about my identity on Twitter. Who I am is seldom important to a given topic.

But regardless of my other identities that define my morals, ethics, and culture, I am usually reduced to just one by America’s arcane caste system: a black man. When the police officer pulls me over, that’s the box that’s checked on the citation. As the only black student in my

kindergarten class, my teacher accused me of stealing money from her (my mum had given me some change to buy a bookmark from the school book fair.) I was a book kid, loved school (esp. science), and read better than most of the kindergarten kids in that former gated community.

But in the teacher’s eye, I was just a thief waiting for the right opportunity. I’ve been stopped by police in my own neighborhood for walking or sitting with friends in their car. I’ve been harassed by neighbors for riding my bicycle as a kid.

One of my early friends in grade school told me, “We can’t be friends anymore because you’re black.” I was hazed even worse through middle school and high school, and it always took either a racial or religious undertone.

I’ve worked in jobs where I later realized I wasn’t paid fairly. Or was made to do menial tasks. I’d spend an afternoon each week filling the NMR cryogenics. Incidentally, it was always me and my colleague, an old Black Technician.

To his credit, my manager tried to change things up—but ran into a stone wall from the Director of my department. “No, I want these two doing it,” he said. No further explanation. I witnessed this exchange. When I work into the night in my graduate research,

I carry my ID card because the Campus PD tend to stop me on my way to the vending machine or NMR lab. And mind you, this is a school that does better than average with equity and diversity. Want to talk about the Coronavirus? My family got hit. I’ll leave it at that.

Then there are experiences of my family. My brother has succeeded as well as one could with the American dream: Duke MBA, VP at a Fortune 500 company. His wife wants him to buy a treadmill so something “won’t happen to him” as he goes for his daily run.

In 1953, when the Queen came to our little island, all the schoolchildren made to line the streets for her motorcade. My auntie fainted from the heat. The Queen didn’t even smile at the children because she had a toothache. Or my mother who went to a demonstration against her

college in Florida. Got teargassed by police, then chased away by vigilantes with shotguns. Or how she, too, was never paid fairly in her work—and was denied promotions because it would mean receiving a salary increase that was “disproportionate” to her current one.

I felt that growing up, in my parents’ financial anxiety. And my father? His family (mostly) survived one of the biggest pogroms of the 20th century, driven by the same ascendant forces of far-right nationalism today.

Don’t do this, dress like that, don’t speak your dialect. Cut your hair. A never-ending game of perception management by my parents in the vain hope it will protect me. I can continue with more stories.

But if you wonder who I am to talk about this, I’m someone who knows what discrimination is. I’ve been immersed in it since before I was born. It’s not an abstract concept to me; it’s often the elephant in the room. But I’ll pause to point out that even I enjoy privileges due to

my family’s socioeconomic class, stability, and our community. That I don’t have a criminal record beyond speeding tickets is proof unto itself. It’s my luck in life, but I know it’s only a matter of time until it runs out—just like Maurice Gordon’s luck ran out.

To me, the fight against racism is about survival. Which is why I’m a mixture of amused, annoyed, and curious when I see comments like this directed at me—a white face wearing a BLM hashtag in their username correcting me on the capitalization of “Black."

As a point of order, it’s my prerogative to use Black, black, Caribbean, Potcake, Negro, and cruder descriptors (which have been used against me) than that for myself. And the same day, someone else (also non-Black, who knows me from college) corrected me on this.

Some people over-prioritize superfluous displays of virtue on Twitter. To them, they must have really thought that beating the Professor over her head this weekend (and before) for commenting about her experience as a woman in STEM helped to dismantle White Supremacy.

I’ve seen her called “toxic,” accused of trivializing slavery (!!!), centering, hijacking, etc. Sadly, much of this was not said by Black people. Side note: reflect on the difference between POC and Black. Erasure is real. https://www.wired.com/story/rethinking-phrase-people-of-color/

This goes far beyond holding an ally accountable by educating or criticizing them. This is vitriol. This is misguided, off-target, and wrong. This is bullying. And I have a sensitive spot when I see bullying. I choose to take an accommodating attitude toward my allies.

I define an ally as someone who shares my goals and whom I can compromise with on methods. My goal is to see equitable opportunities/protection for everyone codified and calcified where racist, sexist, and otherwise discriminatory systems have been dismantled.

I don’t have the luxury to enforce purity in accordance with esoteric standards that even *I* can’t keep up with. I feel the urgent need to act and dismantle white supremacy NOW before it kills me or my family. Hypervigilance and petty drama slows us down.

In no uncertain terms, it aids white supremacists. This is an actual zero sum endeavor: what’s counterproductive for us is productive for them. And the actual forces of white supremacy are laughing their sick asses off at this infighting.

Meanwhile, there are a lot of possible allies who see you pillorying someone over supremely forgivable insensitivities. They will sit on the sidelines. They are afraid to engage with these topics out of fear of being similarly pilloried.

If you honestly think this is a good thing, then you need to reflect on your privilege and sense of urgency. It doesn’t take much of a walk into right wing Twitter to see the phrase, “It will never be enough for the woke mob,” as a recurring refrain.

Don’t prove them right. Don’t let them say, “Told ya so!” Don’t give them that credibility—I want to be better than them. I’m disheartened (sorry, actually pissed off) to see that some of the most zealous proponents of this infighting are not even Black.

I call that being a shit-breaker. To them: remember that you are a guest in the movement for Black Lives. You do not speak for us. You do not have the right to be more zealous than a Black person on these matters. And you sure as hell do not have the right to gatekeep allyship

or create strife with the pettiest of squabbles. Check yourself. And if you’re truly distressed by the difference between “black” and “Black” or because an ally is tweeting the wrong hashtag the day after Juneteenth, then you should recognize this is a piece of privilege of your

own. It’s not a priority. Focus. Be grateful that they’re tweeting about Black people at all. And I direct this to my fellow Black people too. The ghosts of Maurice Gordon, George Floyd, Trayvon Martin, Freddie Gray, Breonna Taylor, etc. DO NOT CARE.

If a cop shoots me dead, I give you permission to continue talking about other types of discrimination. I see the value of a big tent, of people who are ultras AND those who are only partially committed (with their time and energy—the goal is non-negotiable).

I see the value of performative acts: the hashtags, the Twitter banners, the chain messages, etc. I see the value of words but not actions. If this is all you can do, know that you’re creating space for people who can do more.

So you bet that I see the value of a popular and sympathetic academic with a wide, silo-spanning Twitter account who advocates for Black people, even if she does so imperfectly. Someone who doesn’t have a face like mine might not see that.

It’s all the same for their life and career if she succeeds or fails at paving the way for more like (or better than) her. But I worry about the chilling effect chasing this Professor away will have. /FIN