How Conversations Surrounding the ‘Squares’ Speak to the Bigger Issues We Need to Be Discussing
I rolled over, hit the alarm, picked up my phone from under the pillow and through barely-open eyes, navigated my way to the Instagram app. Instead of the colorful infographics and resource lists that had made up the majority of my feed over the last couple days, I was met with a sea of darkness.
As you’ve probably heard of by now, this sea’s name was #blackouttuesday.
The #blackouttuesday movement was initially started by Jamila Thomas and Brianna Agyemang, two black women in the music industry. They started the hashtag #TheShowMustBePaused in order to “hold the industry at large, including major corporations and their partners who benefit from the efforts, struggle and successes of Black people accountable,” according to an Instagram post by Vice.
What began as urging people to not indulge in any listening/purchasing within the music industry and companies silencing themselves to amplify black voices, turned into an encouragement of social media users to stop the ‘show’ of their regular posts, instead taking the time to listen and engage in the larger critical racial discussions happening in the world.
Seemingly overnight, this call for silence turned into the trend of posting a black tile to Instagram, sometimes with call-to-actions tethered to them but often with nothing tangible attached. Or worse, the #blacklivesmatter hashtag which flooded the tag’s feed with emptiness, drowning out the necessary information people typically seek from it.
As the next few hours unfolded, Instagram was a frenzy full of some posting the squares, some calling out people for posting them, some posting them and then apologizing on their stories once they deleted it after. Notably, however, the majority of users (at least on my feed) posting them came from non-black voices, and even when black activists and organizations asked them to delete them, explaining how the trend may be counterproductive and silencing black voices rather than lifting them, kept them up.
This is not to say there isn’t beauty in the strong displays of solidarity. When people use it to actively share resources or are following up their post with concrete actions (here’s a great place to get started), this can be productive. But, there’s also a significant danger in performative allyship and the disruption of information dissemination. Looking through some of the comments left on these activists and organizations posts, I found a strong “damned if you do, damned if you don’t” sentiment emerging from white and non-black POC.
As the day went on I continued to see different narratives on the subject splashed across people’s Instagram Stories. I began to wonder when this conversation went from one of the systematic issues at hand to either pitying oneself for engaging in allyship improperly, or brutal shaming for the same.
Instead of me being yet another voice discussing whether or not the whole trend was right or wrong, which I really don’t have an answer to and certainly isn’t my place to say, I want to pose the question of what the trends implications are beyond the scope of a two-dimensional feed.
A quick Google Search of ‘Black Lives Matter’ right now, and some of the top stories include titles like “Why posting a black image with the ‘Black Lives Matter’ hashtag could be doing more harm than good” and “The purpose of Blackout Tuesday on Instagram”. While these should be discussed and social media plays a vital role in advocacy, why are these the top stories rather than ones surrounding the underlying causes of the movement and dire issues and tragedies of our nation? Ones on how not all of George Floyd’s killers have been charged yet or how protesters are being treated? Why has the conversation become about the conversation itself, and not the reasons it so desperately needs to be had?
Perhaps it’s easier for people to debate and navigate the complexities of something like posting versus not-posting a square, rather than debate the movement itself. We can engage in discussions on social media behavior, because it’s what we know how to do, but confronting our own learned racist behaviors and reflecting on ways to unlearn, is uncomfortable. And as we’ve seen time and time again, we tend to try to avoid that.
It’s easier for us to call out others on not being a productive ally, rather than scrutinize ourselves. We were quick to take things personally, making it a matter of should I post or not post instead of evaluating how it was contributing to a larger movement, turning something away from the point and making it about ourselves.
Maybe in ways, the reason this discussion was so sparked was because it exemplifies systemic problems that black people and POC have been trying to explain for decades; they will never be the center of the narrative even when it is a movement by them, for them and about them. Without potentially intending to, the savior complex was enacted more than ever, with the goal of posting becoming this is how I can exemplify my allyship, not this is how I can lift the movement up.
As Tariro Mzezewa described in the latest New York Times Newsletter, “I feel like it’s a way for white people who aren’t comfortable talking about racism to avoid doing so entirely, while acting like they are doing something. Instead of having to confront this thing that makes you so uncomfortable, you can now post a square and feel like you did something.”
Social media is remarkable in that it has rallied the attention and woken up millions to what needs to urgently be achieved for a more just and fair society, but at the end of the day we cannot allow it to let us do what we always have done. Shift away from discomfort. Fail to educate ourselves. Shy away from engaging in discussions with those with differing opinions. Shame others and pat ourselves on the back. Turn the narrative away from what is important. Give up because we made a mistake or are tired of trying to figure out the best ways to be an ally.
When we say black lives matter, let our actions follow our words, and effectively create space for their voices to be heard, but, not make things about us creating that space.
