Living Half Black in a World of Performative Allyship
Read Time: 5 Minutes
Words by Eunice Brownlee
I will never be able to unsee the video of Ahmaud Arbery being gunned down—hunted in the middle of his suburban neighborhood like a wild animal. It gutted me to my core. As I digested the horror of a man being assassinated in broad daylight simply for being a Black man out for a jog, I also wondered how close he died to my great grandmother’s old farm, which I visited when I was ten years old.
I remember watching my three-year-old brother chasing a turkey around the yard when the turkey stopped and nipped him squarely in the leg. The fun and games were instantly over as my brother was put in his place by farm fowl. That day seems so far away from the town where a man lost his life 30 years later.
As I watched Ahmaud stumble to the ground, I realized with such stunning certainty that I did not live in the myth of the post-Civil Rights America that, for 41 years, I believed I did. It was like the moment that Neo awoke after he was unplugged from the Matrix. I saw the world I lived in for all of its ugliness and cruelty and I was broken.
A few weeks later, when the video of George Floyd’s murder made its way across the Interwebs, I watched as others around me awoke to the gross reality of the vastly different world that Black America lives in. It was a painful sight—this mirage we had grown up believing was real shattered before our very eyes. The only comfort offered was knowing we were not alone.
This awakening reminded me of those first moments that Neo awoke in the real world in The Matrix, when he realized that the truth of his entire existence had been completely shattered. The thing that provided him ease was learning that he was surrounded by allies committed to freeing other minds that had been held captive by this virtual world.
I have spent the majority of my life in limbo about my race—I grew up both not white enough to be white and not black enough to be Black. My mom grew up in a generation where the best chance of surviving as a Black person was to be as far from Black as possible. It meant investing in a quality education and working hard to gain footing in the middle class. It was an example of assimilation at its finest—be as white as possible and you had a chance to be protected from the wrath of whiteness.
For the first time, conversations about race were being had outside of exclusively Black circles. Questions were being asked as to how we could create change within our systems. Discussions were had around people recognizing their own complicity in a centuries-old system of oppression. Books about race and anti-racism were flying off the shelves at a rate that required publishers to reprint.
Austin Channing Brown, author of I’m Still Here: Black Dignity in a World Made for Whiteness had her book hit the New York Times bestseller list for the first time since it was published two years prior. Ijeoma Oluo and Ibram X. Kendi became household names. People were willing to have the uncomfortable conversations about race, and I felt like I had company in my ignorance to the true Black experience. We were all learning together, and as painful and horrifying as it was, we all knew that it was necessary.
Like Neo, I spent time relearning everything I needed to know in order to function in my new reality. Although it wasn’t as easy as simply having the information loaded directly into my brain, I devoured all the knowledge I could handle. I read books. I watched documentaries. I engaged in thoughtful discussion. I attended webinars. I consumed anything and everything that would help me better navigate this new reality. It wasn’t easy. I definitely stumbled and fell. Repeatedly. But I felt that I was in the midst of a new cohort of friends who were on this journey together and that provided me a level of safety that kept me from completely unraveling.
Cypher, another character who had willingly been unplugged from the Matrix, realized that he was far more comfortable living with the fantasy inside the Matrix. “Why oh why, didn’t I take the blue pill?” he wonders aloud to Neo. He recognizes that this life that he thought he wanted—this life free from oppression— wasn’t what he wanted at all. He couldn’t bear the ugliness of the real world, and he wanted nothing more than to go back to the comfort of what was known.
I have begun to identify the Cyphers of this point in history. They are the ones who posted a black square “in solidarity” but have done nothing to amplify Black voices or deconstruct the system which favors whiteness. They are the ones who posted a commitment to anti-racism in June and the books they bought sit unread collecting dust. They’ve been so afraid of what they might lose that they have lost sight of what might be gained by others. They are the ones who ask when it’s going to stop being about race all the time. They want nothing more than to go back to the way it was because the discomfort of the growth that is required of this moment is too great for them to bear.
Ultimately, Cypher conspires with the Agents in order to go back to the way things were. He was willing to risk the lives of others to protect his future. As I continue on my journey, I am constantly wondering who is committed to true reform and who is waiting to sell us out to benefit themselves.
Allyship has been a struggle for me. Mostly because I simply don’t trust anyone who says they are an ally and can’t back it up with action. I have committed to the work of learning (and unlearning) the things I have been taught. I am caught in the same in-between I always have been, of not being enough of either race to feel like I really get it. I do understand, probably more than I should, how hard it is to let go of a reality that didn’t seem like it was that harmful to others.
It is my hope that we continue on this path forward, fighting for meaningful change. We feel so much on the cusp of a cultural shift that will ripple forward for generations. It excites me to know that we are writing history right now and that the potential for unity is within reach. Together, we can begin to dismantle the grip of white supremacy on our nation.
**Writer’s note: I am fully aware of the problem of the white savior that The Matrix represents, and I don’t mean to use this example ironically. It seemed the best metaphor for what I’ve been observing as the social justice movement unfolds.
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About the Author:
Eunice Brownlee has spent her career finding the balance between her left and right brains. She is a passionate writer and writes regularly about mental health, trauma, and abuse. Eunice has been published in The Kindred Voice, Motherscope and Spoken Black Girl. Eunice’s current project is a book about the trauma of navigating the justice system as a victim. When she’s not doing any of the above, she can be found seeking her next passport stamp and drinking wine.
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