🧨 Myth-Busting the “Racial Harmony” Era: What We Weren’t Supposed to Say

Many believe the 1980s to early 2000s were a time of racial harmony in America, especially within the women’s movement to end violence. But for Black, Indigenous, and other marginalized people, the silence around colonialism, slavery, systemic racism, and generational trauma told a very different story.

💥 The Myth: “It Was Peaceful, Post-Racial, and Unified”

From the 1980s through the early 2000s, many Americans convinced themselves that racism had been resolved.

• “The Cosby Show” was on TV. A Different World came on right after. 

• Oprah was rising through the stratosphere.

• VAWA (Violence Against Women Act) became law in 1994.

People pointed to Black celebrities, interracial friendships, or high-profile political appointments as proof that things were “better.” That “we were past all that.” Racism was as out of style as low waist bell bottoms. 

But that’s not what many of us lived through. Not at all. Because this was when our communities were demonized for substance dependence. Little did we know empathy and compassion for substance dependence would all of the sudden be standard when addiction to pain pills swept through white suburbs like it had hit Black communities decades earlier.

Only we were jailed, imprisoned, abused by judges, treatment staff, taken from our children……

🎯 The Reality: Racial Silence, Suppression, and Tokenism

Inside the mainstream movement to end violence against women, many of us experienced:

1. Representation Without Respect

• After VAWA passed, very few Black, Indigenous, or immigrant advocates were hired to implement services in our own communities.

• The handful who were hired too often left quickly—driven out by isolation, erasure, and hostility to our truths.

2. Hostility to Historical Truths

We were told:

“Don’t make this about race.”
“That’s divisive.”
“We’re all women here.”
“This is a class issue, not a race issue.” (Oh? Please tell that to the racists who are acting out of some unreasonable and dangerous contempt for people who look like me. Inform them. Please. ) 

Any attempt to speak about:

• Colonialism

• Slavery’s legacy

• The epidemic of Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women

• Generational trauma or systemic poverty

…was often met with accusations of being racist, angry, or off-topic. You could attend a “diversity” panel, but not name the root causes. Every Survivor knows that people will have the nerve. The gall. The audacity to look you in the eye and throw a tantrum because your history of suffering made them feel un-cozy. Non-plush. Uneasy. 

Can you imagine the insanity of sitting in a room with people who have high level expertise in violence, rape, abuse, and assault are uncomfortable discussing violence, rape, abuse, and assault?

And it was all because your colleague boldly said, “Well, we’re going to have to discuss the impact of slavery and how families are impacted.” 

3. Solutions Demanded, But Truths Denied

We were asked to:

• “Help reach your community.”

• “Bring them in.”

• “Translate and build trust.”

But when we spoke plainly about whyyyyyy trust was broken—
when we named the medical neglect, police violence, unconfronted bias, lack of genuine empathy and compassion, family court failures, or language access barriers—

We were subtly punished for being “negative.” Some women’s issues and grievances were considered valid while other groups were not. 

Some people want access to you but don’t want to do the work to understand you. Such people think that they will make you understand once they achieve the access they desire. Happens all the time. 

📺 “But There Were Black People on TV…”

This line was used like a weapon:

“I don’t get what you mean. There are Black people on TV. There is Oprah!”

As if TV presence erased real-world inequity.

True enough. The Black television shows, the Black models, the Black music was firing hot.

Meanwhile:

• Black women were still dying at the hands of partners at disproportionate rates. 

• Indigenous and Black women were still going missing without a trace.

• Women of color advocates were being undermined, silenced, or tokenized.

Television didn’t protect us. Visibility is not the same as justice.

🛑 Why This Myth Still Hurts Us Today

This revisionist memory keeps us stuck.
It allows people to say:

“Why are you bringing up race again?”
“Things were better before everyone got so divided.”

But here’s the truth:
There was no true harmony. There was just enforced silence. Just like in a dysfunctional household where people have to pretend a bit to keep the peace. 

🔥 Let’s Tell the Whole Story

If we are serious about ending violence against women, we must be serious about telling the truth:

• Yes, there was limited progress.

• Yes, some brave spaces were carved by brave people and on the backs of even braver people.

• But Black, Indigenous, and other marginalized voices were sidelined, especially when we spoke about the deeper, harder truths.

🌱 The Path Forward: Legacy and Correction

We are still here.
We didn’t vanish—we built parallel movements, found each other, and kept the fire lit.

We survived being silenced.
We survived being sidelined.
Now we are telling the whole story—and it’s still being written.

🧭 Call to Action

If you care about ending violence, ask yourself:

• Whose voices were left out then?

• Who is being asked to stay silent now?

• Are you listening to Survivors—or just the story that feels comfortable?

Let’s build truth-based movements.
Let’s honor the wisdom of those who were there—even when the room wasn’t ready for them.

* Listen, I did not last as long as I have in this work without genuine allies, accomplices, and real friendships that cross the bridge of all differences to women like me. Just knowing them enriched my life and I’m told that I enriched theirs. (I smiled and typed that slowly because I got lost in those beautiful memories)

Nevertheless, there still are far too few to make things universally better for the all of the girls and young ladies coming behind us.