White Allies: Why it’s Important for Black People to Know who They are
It is important to identify your allies because you behave differently under attack if you know you are not alone. You realize that you have options that might not occur to you otherwise and you tend to see opportunities as well as threats.
This was very apparent to me one night at a house party during my first military posting in a small prairie town in Saskatchewan, Canada in 1981. I stood out in that town because I was the only one with dark brown skin but being in the hated military made matters even worse.
It had been an old-fashioned shaker as they used to call it in those days. Two hundred people packed themselves into a tiny house owned by my friends Bruce and Debbie. I should have felt safe and welcomed there but as more people showed up, my marijuana induced anxiety began to skyrocket.
“Is that a little nigger I see sitting there!”
There it was, the eventual comment that I had been dreading. Images of slavery and young black men being shot or lynched marauded through my mind. A familiar wave of shame and low self worth washed over and sickened me immediately.
I could not verbalize it because I didn’t understand at the time that my lived reality of brutality towards people of color had left me with the internal bias that there must be something inherently wrong with me. Every cell in me wanted to run and hide. This was fueled even more by the rising paranoia from the pot I had been smoking.
I fought back my anxiety and replied “I don’t appreciate that word. It’s a bullshit word!”
I was surprised and encouraged by my own reaction but fear began to creep in again when the huge man that spoke the words stopped in his tracks and stared at me as if confused. Taking off his white cowboy hat and playing with the brim of it, he sheepishly replied “I didn’t mean nothing by it. I was just being friendly.”
“Hey cowboy, why don’t you fuck off!” The words came from a tall skinny girl who had a space between her teeth long before it was fashionable.
I jerked my head towards her and chuckled. I had no idea that I had allies in the room and felt my anxiety begin to melt immediately.
The cowboy turned towards her as well, his face reddening as he spoke. “Aw c’mon I didn’t mean anything by it. I got a case of Pil, how about you both have one and no hard feelings.”
“Hey cowboy, you have a horse?” I wondered where she was going with this because she didn’t seem to be done with him.
The cowboy’s face lit up as he got ready to tell everyone about his horse. “Yes as a matter of fact I do..”
“Well saddle it up and fuck off!” Her tone was harsh and dismissive.
I smiled but was too shocked to laugh. I had no idea that humour could be used in that way.
The persistent cowboy eventually earned his way into our little group with free beer and authentic heartfelt apologies. He even proved his mettle by not wilting under my new champion’s unrelenting barrage of insults. In fact, he rarely left our side except to scavenge the occasional joint that he would share with us.
His demeanor changed however when three hardened looking men walked into the room. “Holy shit, well there goes a good party! Listen man, I’d fight beside you and die beside you but those three guys who walked in are nothing but trouble. I’m leaving and you should too.”
With that the cowboy was gone along with many others. In fact there was a steady stream of people who left, some of them with very nervous looks on their faces. I hardly noticed though as the haunting notes from Pink Floyd’s Animals began to pull me away into my own private little refuge in my head.
I was jerked out of my heavenly trip when the front door flew open and the biggest cop I had ever seen in my life stood in the doorway with muscles bulging and a determined look on his face.
“You get your fucking ass back out that door!” The biggest of the three men who had entered earlier roared and pointed at at the cop’s chest menacingly.
I watched the incredible scene play out as the song Pigs blared in the background. I had never even heard of anyone talking to the police like this and I waited for the inevitable beat down to happen.
But when the cop stepped back onto the front step I knew I was witnessing something pivotal and meaningful. The man continued to rage at and berate the cop until my friends came to deal with the humiliated officer.
Much later, after the cops left, Debbie came up to a group of us and said “One of those three guys just grabbed my cunt!”
I don’t know whether it was her use of the offensive word or the thought of the attack act itself, but it felt like someone had just thrown cold water in my face. I stopped drinking and stayed close to her after that without being sure of what I was going to do.
It was as if I was watching a nightmare unfold when one of the three men got down on all fours in front of Debbie as she sat on the couch. He shuffled around so that his ass was pointed towards her and said “Lick it!”
I remember objecting in some way and him looking at me dismissively and saying “Fuck off!”
After that I went into bathroom, took off my glasses and decided that if I was going to die, this seemed like a pretty good reason. The surreal dream-like feeling continued as I went back out and grabbed him and tried to throw him out even though it seemed like I was moving far too slowly to be effective.
Remarkably though, I ended up on top of him and heard the big one say “Get that nigger offa Tommy!” It was then that I felt certain I knew what was coming. This was where I would get mobbed and lynched as I had seen a thousand times in my nightmares.
The big one hooked his grimy fingers into my cheeks and pulled me off his friend. Certain that I would be swarmed and kicked to death by a mob, I curled up and covered my face with my arms.
When nothing happened, I removed my arms to see the big one roaring at people and someone lying on the ground. I wasn’t sure how I had escaped getting swarmed but I knew I was safer in a fight so I grabbed Debbie’s attacker and continued my slow motion assault on him.
I was dragged off several more times and each time I saw someone lying on the ground with the big one roaring “Don’t you ever touch me!”. Yet somehow, in the midst of all of that, I was allowed to continue a one-on-one fight. Although, the way I punished Debbie’s attacker, it was a very one sided fight.
Years later, I learned that many had come to my aid that night. Some got knocked down while others may have got knocked out but they kept coming to defend me every time I was dragged away. I was confused by their actions when I first heard about it. Why had so many white men risked their lives defending me?
I was also annoyed at myself for not noticing the obvious. I had recognized some of the guys that were lying on the ground at the party. The problem was that I was too certain that everyone was my enemy to notice that my allies were actively engaging my enemies.
I would have behaved very differently had I known about those allies at the party. But that is the price we pay for fear and resentment. Many of those young white men that got beaten up on my behalf were genuinely ignorant of how to engage in a healthy way with a person of color. Today’s society might have berated and isolated them for any of their missteps, possibly leaving them resentful and less likely to risk their lives to help someone like me.
Allies, like the abolitionists pictured in the title photo, are rarely perfect but they have always been there when there is a threat to our collective security. They seem to know instinctively that injustice to some is in fact a threat to us all.
That sort of stand feels solid and comforting to me. It feels like their conviction cannot be levered under or dismantled. More importantly, it will allow us to see opportunities and review our options for dealing with the threats that seem to be growing all around each of us, irrespective of our colour.
