I’ve noticed some worrisome trends in the anti-hate movement in Hamilton and I feel that its time to address some of those concerns before they grow too big to handle. I’m going to start with a caveat: This isn’t directed any any specific individual. If you feel like I’m talking about you, well, suppress the urge to be outraged and ask why you feel singled out. It’s not my intention to upset folks, but there are issues developing within the movement that need to be addressed.
I’m also going to add a second caveat: This is not about me virtue-signalling, which is nine-times-out-of-ten a pejorative term used by the alt-right and other bad-faith actors in order to shut down legitimate criticism and necessary self-examination. I’m speaking, throughout, as a white cis-male activist who’s got twenty years of experience in progressive circles, and mea culpa, I still fuck up more often than I’d like.
This post is intended as constructive criticism, with a definite emphasis on constructive. But it still needs to be said and from the basis of someone with experience, I’m going to step forward and say it. And frankly, if it pisses you off then it pisses you off… but do us both the courtesy of honestly examining why.
First, let me address what we’re doing right: We’re keeping the pressure on the fascists. We’re refusing to allow fascists, racists, homophobes and other organized hate groups uncontested access to public spaces in Hamilton and elsewhere… and while it might seem like a sisyphean task, it’s an essential one. The hate groups are trying to outlast us; we simply cannot let that happen.
Second, we’re also keeping the pressure on city council and the Hamilton Police Service, when I guarantee that they’d like nothing better than to have it all fade away. The failures of the HPS and the mayor around the organized-hate issue is deeply problematic and indicative of a systemic failure in Hamilton, one which needs to be addressed for the safety of the community — and it’s not the only one Hamilton is facing. Frankly, Hamilton’s problems of hate, homophobia, racism, corruption and accompanying cover-ups stem from a culture in our civic institutions where accountability simply doesn’t exist. It’s been the story of Hamilton municipal politics for decades. That story needs to change, and if this is the issue to do it, great: Standing against fascist hate groups is so easy that it ought to be a no-brainer.
Third, and in some ways most importantly, we’re also building a broad-based coalition out of a variety of disparate groups and interests across ethnic, social, economic and even generational lines which is embracing and respecting a wide variety of methods and tactics. I feel like this is something that isn’t acknowledged enough in the movement: It is seriously difficult to attempt, much less accomplish this. After twenty years of being an activist, I cannot understate how impressive it is that the anti-hate movement in Hamilton has done so with such enthusiasm, endurance and effectiveness in so short a time.
That’s what we’re doing right.
But we’re also doing some things wrong.
One of the biggest issues I’ve been seeing — and this has been going on for months — is the unfortunate and increasingly evident habit by some in the community to talk over or minimize the opinions of racialized community members, especially in our online organizing spaces. (There’s a slightly lesser tendency, I’ve noticed, to do the same to trans-people, although I think that’s somewhat mitigated by the large focus on and presence of the LGBTQ+ community in the movement.)
The unintentional silencing of racialized voices is something I’ve been guilty of in the past so I understand how very difficult it can be, as someone who is white, cis- and male, to even realize we’re doing it. Canada is a majority-white country and it’s one with profound — and profoundly unaddressed — problems with racism and colonialism. As white people, we are raised in and suffused by a culture that devalues (subtly, in some ways, blatantly in others) non-white people. When a Yellow-Vester or a PPC supporter waves a sign condemning “illegal immigration” it’s easy for us to understand that what they’re really resenting is non-white immigration; it’s much more difficult to confront and understand how we, as well-meaning white folks, are unintentionally channelling those attitudes and silencing non-white people.
I’m seeing a lot of that insidious internalized racism in our organizing spaces lately… and I’m also seeing the profound resentment that non-white community members are feeling when they experience it. On several recent occasions, I’ve watched racialized folks push back against it… only to be smothered in a wave of white-splaining. And in response non-white folks start to disengage and the problem becomes a little more acute each time. Eventually, we’re going to be in a situation where the movement — already quite white to begin with because of Canadian demography — is going to be nothing but white people.
And to be honest, I don’t think that any movement which is trying to resist white nationalism while also excluding non-white people (intentionally or not) is going to be effective.
This is a systemic issue in Canadian society and because of that it extends into activist spaces in the anti-hate movement. To put it plainly: because we’re used to the privilege of being able to speak and be heard without pushback, we white people tend to take up a lot of oxygen in the room… and because we’re involved in a progressive movement, there’s a tendency to assume that everyone knows we’re the good guys, and therefore our behaviour cannot be problematic. But that’s the thing: it can… and unless we’re aware of it, it often is.
Fairly early on in my activist “career”, I had the extremely good fortune of attending an anti-oppression workshop at Trent University, which was organized by the local branch of OPIRG. The workshop (which was mandatory for anyone looking to volunteer at OPIRG, by the way) introduced some basic concepts to my twenty-two-year-old self, primarily the understanding of privilege and of unconscious racism and sexism. I am a large, bearded, white cis-male: I live in a society places a value on me and my opinions that is not necessarily extended to others. That’s privilege. It’s not something I asked for and it’s even not something I’m happy about… but it’s there. Period.
The other thing I learned from the workshop is that holding privilege — white privilege, male privilege, whichever privilege — confers a personal responsibility. Not necessarily to lay down our privilege (as if that were even possible) but to recognize that our privilege exists and to commit to using it in as constructive a way as possible while simultaneously being conscious of the fact that others lack that privilege.
A couple of weeks ago I attended, with my spouse, a workshop for supporters of the Haudenosaunee right to harvest deer in Short Hills Provincial Park, which was put on as part of the Celebration of Nations in St Catharines. I’ll doubtless be writing more about the issue as the traditional deer harvest season draws closer, but I want to use a specific example from the workshop as an illustration of how privilege-consciousness exists and can be used positively in an anti-oppression context: After the main presentation, the workshop organizers opened the floor to a Q&A but they made it clear that non-white, non-male participants would have first priority when it came to using the microphone.
Now, as a white male, I could have chosen to taken offence to that (and I believe a couple of white males in the room were somewhat discomfited by the announcement) but I understand why that process was put in place: As a white man I’ve never had my voice systematically silenced. In every classroom, lecture hall, public discussion or online conversation I’ve never, ever, had it questioned nor questioned myself on my right to speak and be heard. For those who’ve never experienced oppression, these kinds of efforts at normalizing equity can seem like an attack.
But women are routinely silenced in our society. Non-whites are routinely silenced. Rarely is that silencing as overt as saying “no, sit down, white people are talking”… but it exists. Undeniably it exists. Often it exists as self-silencing; it’s just not worth the emotional labour for marginalized people to try and talk over white guys who take it for granted that their opinion ought to be heard. (Or white women or middle class people and so on and so forth, depending on circumstances.) Attempting to counter that oppression is not an attack on those who have traditionally benefited from it — i.e. white cis males — but rather an attempt to balance a set of scales which has been deliberately set up unfairly for generations.
The workshop organizers made a public acknowledgement of that and committed to making sure that people who tend to be crowded out of the discussion had a place. It was not a statement against white males, but rather a statement in favour of equity; the acknowledgement that extra effort has to be made to ensure that often-oppressed and silenced voices be heard.
Somewhat ironically, when the floor was opened to Q&A and the acknowledgement made that non-male and non-white voices would be prioritized, there was an awkward silence. It wasn’t that no one had questions, it was that no one wanted to go first. After about half a minute, when it became clear that no one else was raising their hand, I somewhat sheepishly raised mine and with a laugh one of the organizers recognized me and handed me a mic so I could ask for clarification on a particular point. Despite all our efforts, a white man had gone first… but not because I was a white man who unconsciously assumed I had the right to lead; rather because no one else was comfortable starting… and recognizing that fact I deliberately kept my question brief and to the point in an effort not to dominate the discussion. (Fortunately once the ice had been broken the Q&A quickly became a robust and vibrant exchange of ideas from many voices and perspectives.)
Allowing and encouraging other voices, especially voices that are frequently marginalized in our society, is an important step in addressing systemic inequalities in that society. It’s in many ways a radical political action to take. That can be difficult, I acknowledge it: It requires self-awareness, a continual consciousness of the needs of others around us, and a commitment to addressing our own personal problematic behaviour. And the hardest single thing for me, always, has been knowing when to shut up. I’m an educated, experienced and very articulate white cis male in activist spaces. It’s easy for me to dominate any discussion I’m involved with, especially when I’m emotionally involved or worked up. I’ve had to work very hard on recognizing when I’m doing that, and forcing myself to step back. I’ve been working on it for nearly twenty years and I expect I’ll be working on it for the rest of my life… and not always successfully.
Which brings us back around to the situation in the Hamilton anti-hate movement. I am seeing, more and more often, that the discussions in our public and private spaces, are being dominated by primarily white, primarily middle-class voices. I’m seeing people of colour and other marginalized folks being subtly shut down when they voice concerns. And I’m seeing growing resentment by the marginalized folks who are being shut down.
It therefore behooves us — as white activists — to be conscious of this issue and to deliberately modify our behaviour to make sure that people of colour, native people and other marginalized groups aren’t being prevented from making a contribution.
This isn’t something that will just happen on its own. Like many tools in the activist’s toolbox, anti-oppression consciousness can’t just be taken for granted: It’s a skill that has to be learned. I’d love to see workshops put together, like the one I attended when I was younger, as a starting point for understanding and addressing these systemic issues. But even if we can’t organize that, there are lots of resources available online for people — especially we white people — to begin the process of self-education.
The anti-hate movement in Hamilton developed in response to the threat of fascist hate groups attacking our spaces and our community. By it’s very nature, it began as an emergency reaction to an emergency situation. But in the face of City Hall’s shameful inaction on the issue — not to mention the Hamilton Police Service’s apparent tacit support of the hate groups — this is no longer a short-term crisis. Inertia and passivity by the civic leadership has caused this to be a long-term issue that we’re going to be dealing with for a long time… and even if they banned the Yellow Vests and the Nouns of Odin from the forecourt tomorrow, we’re still going to be dealing with the fallout for years to come.
I don’t believe that people involved in the anti-hate movement in Hamilton are participating in bad faith — the occasional troll or infiltrator has tended to be caught out quickly. I honestly believe that everyone involved is motivated by a concern for our community and the well-being of its members. But behaviours and attitudes that could be excused (or at least ignored) in a short term emergency are not tolerable in long-term situations, and chief among them is the marginalization — however unconscious and unintentional — of certain voices in our community.
It’s time for us to take a hard look at ourselves as a community and as individuals and ask “Am I doing all I can to address the problem of racism and homophobia, or am I helping to magnify it? Am I taking up space that a marginalized person might be able to occupy? Am I making the effort to amplify the voices of those most effected by these issues?”
We all understand that there need to be changes made in the city of Hamilton. I’d like to think we can all understand those changes will need to begin in our progressive communities… and especially in ourselves.
There’s work to be done. Let’s get to it.
