Words Matter
When I wrote about a white woman who went in black face to a Halloween party I attended this year, I was pretty proud of myself for telling her she was wrong to dress that way no matter what the explanation. She stuck to her justification, that it was a hilarious costume poking fun of Megan Kelly. I rolled my eyes and walked away. I learned later that the white friend of a black woman who’d also been at the party yelled at the black face woman just before the two friends departed prematurely. Though I wish I had been as forceful as this good ally, I felt pleased with myself that I had said something to the violator of good taste, decency, and basic civility to her face.
The next day, I received a message from a Latinx friend about a picture I had posted on Instagram. She said, “Something about this feels off. It looks like it was some sort of re-enactment of what Central American immigrants experience coming to the states. I’d like to learn more.” My smugness about how I handled the black face woman the night before dissipated.
My friend was responding to a picture I’d posted on Instagram of me and two other people wrapped in metallic gold blankets walking through an alley on a rainy night. I had thought the the image of the blankets shimmering in the camera flash and reflecting through the rain drops seemed Instagram-worthy. As soon as I read my friend’s message, I deleted the image and wrote her back to explain the context for the image, which I had failed to include with the original post. We had been walking from a talk given by artist Andrea Limauro, whose show at Hillyer called Mare Nostrum represented the deadly migration of refugees across the Mediterranean, to Heurich House Museum, where I had curated an exhibit called, “A (GOOD) AMERICAN,” which was a show about immigration and the immigrant experience in America. Andrea had distributed the metallic gold blankets, which he had also included in his show as sculptural pieces, before we trudged between the two sites. These blankets had not been Halloween costumes. The intention had been to maintain awareness on a devastating migrant plight that had receded from our collective memory.
My friend replied, “I just didn’t have enough info from your post to understand what was happening hence why I asked. The image of the metallic blankets gave me a visceral reaction. Made me think of the immigrants in cages with only those silver blanket type things. I don’t think it’s wrong, the image just touched something inside me that is painful with is the connection I have with Central Americans and first hand knowledge their live[d] experiences. Thanks for taking the time to give me more info.”
I remembered when Ivanka posted a picture on Instagram of herself dressed in a silvery gown in the midst of the immigration ban controversy early last year. I had been appalled by her insensitivity and tone deafness. Images of children washing up on the shores of Europe wrapped in silver blankets had been circulating around the world and the juxtaposition of that $5,000 gown with those images felt clueless and heartless.
Since then, we’ve been battling the administration over imprisoning children at the Southern border and separating them from their parents. More recently, the administration had been stoking fear of a “caravan” of Central American criminals and terrorists for political advantage in advance of the midterms. I can totally understand how an image that appeared to be making light of a dire situation would be disrespectful and tone deaf, particularly without context. I had been careless.
Even though my friend had essentially forgiven me, I have been wondering whether even giving more context would have made posting that image acceptable. How would I have felt if I’d seen a white woman dressed in a conical straw hat and áo dài, the traditional garment worn by Vietnamese women, for Halloween when boat people were risking their lives to flee oppression in the late 1970s and through the 1980s? Would I have thought they were shining a light on the plight if I hadn’t read an explanation? And would that explanation have been enough to appease me? I would have had a similarly visceral reaction upon seeing such an image at first. The person I am today would have accepted an explanation. I am not not certain I would have been so magnanimous back then.
I am so grateful my friend did not assume the worst of me. I am grateful she treated me with kindness and asked questions and allowed me an opportunity to explain.
