This is sort of a two-parter. Originally I was going to talk about just Black artists that have influenced me but that didn’t really sit well and I wanted to try to go a bit deeper. I’ll make a “part two” that’s more along those lines, but I’m trying to start from a slightly different angle than I originally intended.

Let’s jump right into it: A lot of people are getting loud right now about things that are not just important, but mandatory to be involved in – if you have any sort of desire for a world in which people who have been systematically treated like garbage get justice. I am one of those people who believe in what is happening right now, and doing what I can both on the Internet and off to work toward that justice through the dismantling of white supremacy.

Obviously this blog is part of the “on the Internet” aspect, and while it didn’t feel right to say nothing, especially considering that racial justice is a fight that has been important to me for a very long time, I also didn’t want to be shallow. I originally was just gonna describe how much so many Black artists mean to me and have changed my life, but I think all white people really need to strive to go a bit deeper into whatever they already (think they) know. Black people, of course, aren’t worthy of respect, attention, and justice because they happen to produce something the oppressor likes. The truth is, if you claim to be a white person who loves Black art, you must interrogate your own biases and avoidance tactics when engaging with that art. To create art is to live in a space of intense vulnerability, especially so for those who are a part of groups historically punished and abused for said vulnerability, or gaslit and “whitesplained” as to why their perspective, their truth as it exists on a page of written words or painted canvas, is not so, cannot be so. We white people need to understand that the art we hold up to show our own lack of biases was fought for within a system of white supremacy that very much still exists and inhibits and distorts any attempted message by the artist as well as our own interpretation.

Does anybody know if you, a white person, are glossing over the parts of a Black artist’s work that makes you uncomfortable? Well. I guess not. But keep in mind that engaging with art, truly appreciating it as you may claim requires its own level of vulnerability, even if it isn’t ever seen. We must break through our own barriers of misunderstanding in our minds in order to create definitive action outside of ourselves. Essentially, we have to think about things in new ways in order to see how to translate that into action. Because, as the saying goes, love is a verb; what do you do with what you claim to appreciate and respect? How do you turn thoughts and feelings and knowledge into tangible steps of assistance in a larger fight? We can’t, as white people, congratulate ourselves on simply viewing and hearing Black art, even recommending films, television shows, exhibitions, or novels to others, because that denies the very fact that the people pulling the strings, those dominant, are continuing to make it difficult for Black people to be heard and seen.

John Boyega, star of the most recent Star Wars films, made headlines for his speech at a protest for George Floyd – and noted as he spoke that, “Look, I don’t know if I’m going to have a career after this, but fuck that.”

Think of that, sit with it: A young, handsome, exceedingly talented member of the cast of a series of some of the most popular films of all time has genuine reason to believe that speaking out for racial justice could get him blacklisted. And really, really accept and embrace, if you’re white, that he is absolutely right to be concerned. There are no exceptions to white supremacy. It is dominating, and to cross your fingers that because someone, by your standards of success (that are also, you know, incredibly biased) “made it” they therefore do not have a problem with it, is to accept white supremacy as status quo. That includes acceptance of white people as oppressors, as we thrive in a system designed for us to do so.

While consuming art, white people tend to stop at the thoughts like, “Oh, I think it’s great that they made [famous book character] a person of color for the film version!” without really sitting with the fact that the actor playing that person faces real risk of harassment and danger, first, and that the road for them to even get to the place where they were considered was more tenuous and dispiriting than any white actor’s. We are satisfied at our thoughts being “correct,” but at the same time, when we hear people of color say what Boyega said, our instinct is to doubt it. To say, “Well, I’m sure it’s not that bad.” We let ourselves believe that our good thoughts are enough because it absolves us from definitive action, because to take action means admitting: It is. It is that bad.

Another story to come out in the last few weeks is the abuse and harassment of Samantha Ware by her Glee co-star Lea Michele, followed by similar stories from other costars. Just as the Weinstein scandal showed the lengths to which women are not safe on film and TV sets, even in the 2000s, we are going to hear a lot about the lack of safety for Black actors as well. Ware’s story will be the tip of the iceberg, because the sort of behavior she describes is merely a symptom of an extremely rich industry being run by white people and all of their bullshit, despite its “liberal” and “progressive” associations. Ask yourself who, at the end of the day, has the power? So . . . who are they going to protect?

I, personally, am a bit addicted to “behind the scenes” podcasts and stories about people who work in Hollywood – it’s always been a source of total fascination for me. When listening to your favorite podcasts about comedy or movies or whatever, listen closely to the words. It’s connections this, and connections that. “Oh, my first job was because Other Famous Comedian happened to be buddies with this other dude I was a PA with in 2004” or whatever. “Making it” is a whole heluva lot of of luck, and the fewer people you know, the less luck you’re going to have, and the cycle continues. The industry is predominantly white, like all western industries of course, and those at the top have little incentive to bring up those they don’t actually know. When the system is built to favor certain people, those not of that demographic have a harder time, and to ignore this when engaging with Black cinema and television, to politely step away from considering this fact, even as an audience member, is to only be engaging with a small part of the story. To ignore it as a white person who has the power to create widely seen art, it’s egregious.

When it comes to the world of visual art, white supremacy may be even worse. Certainly, the increased diversity of film and television is not enough, but it’s something. When it comes to fine art, however, white people are raised on What is Art and therefore, art and artists are white people, mostly men. Pastorals. Pietas (well, lots of white Jesus and Mary, to be honest). We’re consistently told what to expect and value when we go to a museum, and then we wonder why we can’t name a single Black artist? Our brains are subconsciously (and often consciously) eliminating certain works from our personal canon because that’s what we were subtly taught. Part of this perpetuation of white art most likely has to do with, again, the discomfort at discussing certain topics that a non-white artist’s work might provoke, but honestly, have you seen some of the stuff by white artists? Like, if you can take your kid to an Edvard Munch exhibit which is basically a horror show, you can take them to Mickalene Thomas’s which, yes, dares to feature nude women but with sparkles and glory and love.

I digress.

The point is, museum boards are mostly white people. So are curators. And, so therefore are the artists. And, just like in all other industries, when a Black person manages to break through these barriers, they are often harassed, gaslit, treated as a token, or outright abused. Chaédria LaBouvier, the first Black curator of an exhibition at the Guggenheim called out the institution’s hypocrisy for claiming to support Black Lives Matter when their treatment of her was “the most racist professional experience of [her] life.”

Finally, note, of course, that the publishing industry is absolutely no different. Editors and publishers brought up on Faust and Hemingway and Faulkner and King and Gaiman and blech who knows what other garbage (okay I actually love Gaiman but the rest are garbage) are getting manuscripts from Black authors and because it doesn’t sound like what they know of as “genius” are dismissing it out of hand. When it comes to style, plot, character traits – the white gaze is there, it is limiting, and it is a problem. Even if a book goes through the whole process and gets published, it gets to a white-owned book store and . . . sits in the back on a dusty shelf. Or, the publisher doesn’t bother promoting it – sure, we’ll publish it, but there’s no “audience” for it, you know. And then commit to one round, and that’s it, because shocker of shocks, it doesn’t sell. Who would’ve thought?

So, how do we do white people address this? Obviously, there are so many layers of power and privilege in each of these industries – you may, like me, be firmly in the “audience” portion. I don’t work in any of these fields, but as someone who gains greatly from the work and sacrifice of everyone in them (truly, I would die without art, it’s the only thing getting me through “this thing called life”), I will not resign myself to believing that just watching and hearing Black art and artists is enough.  First, I took stock of my bookshelves and own past history. Who have I engaged with, and how have I engaged with it? If I reread the books now, if I read more commentary on an artist’s work, would I learn something new? Most certainly. I created a bit of a timeline of  when this work reached me, and good Lord, I better see The Souls of Black Folk more deeply better than I did when I first read it in high school. And if it changed my life then (it did), imagine what a re-read would do to refocus and help me reimagine my place in the pursuit of justice. A lot of what I’m going to get into involves a level of taking stock of what you know about certain things you enjoy and then how that enjoyment factors into (or doesn’t) your current quest to Do Better, because again, I don’t think meaningful action happens until meaningful thinking does. Luckily, you don’t have to go get a masters in social justice to change your brain. And, at the end of the day the best place to start is, of course . . .

Spend that Money, Honey

As an audience member of art, you’re a consumer, because that’s just how things go these days. Yes, buy Black art. Buy books by Black authors. Buy prints of your favorite Black visual artist. Buy Black music. But don’t buy them from Amazon (I hope you’ve broken the Amazon habit already for books at the very least; use Bookshop.org instead). Buy books by Black authors at your local, independent book shop (preferably one with Black owners) to signal that, yes, white people want this stuff.

Tell Bookstores What You Want and Spend Time There

Attend readings by local Black authors (and be quiet and listen, don’t hog the floor with dumb questions during the Q&A, nobody wants to hear you). Call up and request these books. Speak with your local bookshop owner about Black authors you love. If you look around your local bookstore and notice very few or even zero Black authors’ books on display, point it out. A simple, “Oh, I would have thought you’d have Damon Young in the window – the last place I went had already sold out!” Summon up all of your Karen energy to git ‘er done.

Also another great tip from Alechia Dow:

Keep Track of the News/Magazines You Read, Too

Believe Black writers and journalists when they describe discrimination at the hands of their employers, especially those magazines and news outlets you may regularly use. The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette is a steaming hot pile of garbage for taking Black journalists off the protest beat, claiming they’re biased. You can go on ahead and cancel your subscription if you’re in SWPA, but check out how the protests are being covered by your local papers that you subscribe to – checking sources with those who were actually there. There’s no excuse in this day in age, with the amount of cameras and social media, to go straight to the source and find out for yourself whether coverage is warped.

And, as Roxane Gay points out, times in which Black justice is trending can possibly be the most vulnerable for Black writers as they get a lot of work and magically, no pay.

And, of course, if you work in any of these industries, make your pay public. Tell these journalists what they should be expecting for their time, efforts, and talented.

If You Love Going to Museums . . .

• Take a look at the board members and curators.
  How representative are they? What about the exhibits of the last few years? If you find their efforts to diversify lacking, email them, especially if you have a membership, and even more so if you have been a member for a long time. Tell them your concerns, and list local Black artists that you would be thrilled to attend an exhibition for. Get your friends that you go to those museums with to do the same; organize a whole campaign.
• And, of course, go to exhibitions of Black artists and tell the museum that’s why you’re there.
  Even at “pay what you wish” places, you’re often asked what you came to see that day; if you’re not asked, let them know! Any place worth their salt has a way to contact, and praise/appreciation is just as important as criticism.
• Skim through the social media accounts of your favorite local museums.
  Where do they stand on Black Lives Matter? What are they doing, if anything? Compare that with the previous types of action; maybe their statement was a bit bland, but this particular institution has a long history of featuring Black art and artists. Or, maybe it’s all bad and clearly people are not doing their job. Cancel your membership, and email them to tell them why, and how much you look forward to returning to their business when they choose to be more representative of the community.

You Really, Really Love to Watch TV (Me Too)

• Broaden your own horizons.
  A big news story this week was that The Help was watched a billion times on Netflix and ohmygod I do not even have the time to tell you why that sucks so badly. Ask yourself if you have been comfortable watching Black stories that perpetuate notions you are comfortable with (such as . . . Black women as maids and white women as saviors in the struggle). And keep in mind that you don’t have to like everything you watch – just consider whether the standards by which you judge Black television and movies are harsher than those made by white people. One thing I keep telling anyone who can hear me is that the Criterion Channel’s app is streaming great Black cinema for free. Frankly, I can’t watch Kathleen Collins’ Losing Ground fast enough; I honestly never thought I’d be able to see it, and it truly is a privilege. And, just as a sort of aside, if you loved Beyoncé’s Lemonade film (and if you didn’t, please prove you have a soul at the door), the film that inspired a lot of it, Daughters of the Dust by Julie Dash, is another film available to stream there.
• Bark up the chain.
  While we’re talking about streaming platforms that are walking the walk, Netflix, on the other hand, is really secretive about their streaming numbers (a famous comedian once said that he had no idea how many times his special had been streamed, but guessed it did well by how much they paid him for the next one), which is extremely problematic. Keeping information like that hidden keeps money from being in people’s pockets; companies can just claim your work didn’t do well as justification for not giving you what you’re worth the next time. Why don’t you write them an email asking them to be more transparent? Of course, stream as much content by Black producers, writers, and filmmakers as possible in the mean time while they get their heads out of their butts, but pointing out the hypocrisy doesn’t really cost you anything. And it needs to be pointed out, because they were super quick to show their support for BLM, so it’s only fair to inquire as to how they plan, long-term, to support the Black artists that provide them with content. (The fun part about this form is that it asks you what media outlet your from and I just wrote my city cuz like lol I’m my own media baby.)

• Delete/unfollow/inquire/interrogate.
  If your faves aren’t with the movement, they’re against it. Accept as a white consumer of arts and culture that white actors, producers, directors, etc., that aren’t saying anything are not worth your time or dollars. They have literally nothing to lose. If you’re in a fandom, ask who you follow about how they plan to use their power to lift up Black voices in a sustainable way – not just hiring more visible Black actors, but how do they ensure that their sets are places of safety for people of color? How many Black writers have they hired? Who do they talk to ensure that, when depicting Black stories, that the Black voice is at the center and it is accurate? If you’re not in a fandom (guilty), do some research about your favorite shows and see what’s going on in that world. Have the things you watch make you feel good not just because they’re fun or you enjoy them, but because you know that the set is a place in which Black people are respected and heard. (Everyone on The Handmaid’s Tale seems like they adore each other and supposedly Elisabeth Moss does a great job of maintaining a positive, safe atmosphere on set, for example. A good thing because Lord, have you seen that show? Not an upper!)

Same goes for live theater, including stand-up and improv. Make a point to go to these performances. Make a fun lil’ bookmark folder of clubs and theaters in your area, and check them every once in awhile to see what’s coming up to support if and when you can. If you’re not sure where to look, visit AllArts.org, which is a huge compendium of all that is happening in so many realms of the arts world, both live and streaming, entertaining and educative.

Changing Your Mindset

What’s great about this era of both quarantine and action is that you actually have the time to create new habits as to how you shop and spend your time. This thread led me to 10kringlights.com, a Black-owned ring light company that is currently having a major sale. As I’ve toyed with the idea of getting a ring light for literal years, I couldn’t pull out my credit card fast enough. There are tons of lists all over the place that summarize Black-owned beauty companies for you to explore when you have an itch for a new something-or-other, for example. Start googling “Black-owned [business you need] [your city]” and buy as much as you can from a place that fits the bill.

Oh, and should you find a list you love? Go to the authors’ Insta and Twitter pages and follow them! They have more where that came from, and you’ll want to stay up to speed on all they have to offer.

About Those Places to Spend Your Money . . .

I said in another blog that I moved back to my hometown of Pittsburgh about two years ago, and I’m just now sort of getting to a point where I can reach out and really explore the arts world here. Some great things are happening here in terms of BLM and lifting Black voices, and so here are some links to get involved and donate, some local and some not, as well as some handy lists to return to just when you think you’ve done enough (you haven’t). Overall, when we consider these additional obstacles, one thing to think about is organizations that help emerging Black artists get a leg up to continue to produce and work and grow as artists with as little b.s. as possible.

• The Mattress Factory is currently donating 100% of proceeds from membership sales to organizations benefiting Black artists. So, get your membership now, really. And if you don’t live in Pittsburgh and you won’t make it, well, again: Look for similar initiatives at organizations near you. Elevate your own standards as to what you partake in and who you partake with to strengthen your role as an ally.
• Three dancers formerly of the Pittsburgh Ballet, Maribel Modrono, Erin Halloran, and Julia Erickson, are hosting a Master Class Series from June 8 – 10th to raise money for The International Association of Blacks in Dance. Email BFFFORDANCE@gmail.com for more information. Not a dancer? Well, look, there’s a great organization right there to donate to regardless!
• Here is a list of Black theaters in the U.S. Find one near you, but also make a point when we’re allowed to travel again to check out a production at one of these theaters while you’re checking out the other sights and sounds of a new city. There are legit five theaters supporting Black artists in Pittsburgh alone. Additionally, here is a list of Black theaters in the US who specifically would love your $$$ right now.
• The National Association of Negro Musicians “provides support for African-American musical excellence” through scholarships, education, and more. To reiterate from above, while buying and even promoting music by Black artists is a good start, we must recognize that Black Americans often have many more obstacles and stumbling blocks to mastering a career in the arts. Organizations such as this can increase the incredible art that we claim to support in order to ultimately create and share it. Also, check out where your favorite music company stands and what (if anything) they’ve done so far to address issues of inequity in the music industry.
• The Studio Museum in Harlem is a fantastic space centered around the work of artists of African descent. Currently, it even has incredible lesson plans designed for audiences of the art they feature to better understand and engage with it.
• Coming back around again: To produce art is an intense act of vulnerability, and again, we must sit with and accept that this level of vulnerability is immensely intensified for Black artists. Here is a GoFundMe to support mental health for Black women. Artists or not, we cannot reach out of ourselves standing in our truth without help; support that help getting to as many people as possible.

That’s just a wee bit of what I have so far, and as I continue to blog about all of the dumb stuff in my head, I’ll be sure to take time out for other campaigns and initiatives as I become aware of them. Happy changing!