This use of blackface (actually carrying it out by smearing yourself. Not debating, as we all do. Actually mocking & dehumanizing Black people in an attempt to demonstrate that mocking & dehumanizing people is wrong?) to make a point about boundaries…..I Am People! I am a person. 

is tired, foolish, and immature.

It is a disgraceful, childish spectacle.

We have all seen children make their points using better tactics.

Black women have not been silent about it, and yet...

Anytime a boundary is set…
anytime someone says, “No, this is not okay”…
suddenly the conversation shifts.

“Well, Black women are suffering…”

And just like that, the air changes.

—

Let’s be clear about what is happening here.

Black women’s pain is being pulled into the room
not to be honored…
but to be used.

Used as a shield.
Used as a deflection.
Used as a way to say:

“Take this. Be quiet. There are bigger problems.” 

—

That is not solidarity.
That is not awareness.
That is not care.

That is pressure.

—

Because now the message becomes:

If you speak up, you are insensitive.
If you hold your boundary, you are selfish.
If you object, you are ignoring suffering.

So the choice presented is a cruel one:

> Accept the disrespect
> or be cast as someone who doesn’t care about pain

That is a false choice.

—

Black women’s suffering is real.

It is deep.
It is layered.
It is historical and present at the same time.

It deserves attention.
It deserves protection.
It deserves truth spoken without hesitation.

But hear this clearly:

> Black women’s suffering is not a tool.
> It is not a talking point to win arguments.
> It is not a weapon to silence other people’s boundaries.

—

Fire and rain.

That’s what this feels like.

Fire—because the harm is sharp, immediate, undeniable.
Rain—because it keeps falling, over and over, in ways that wear you down if you don’t name it.

—

You are allowed to hold both truths at once.

You can care deeply about Black women.
You can advocate, protect, and uplift.

And you can still say:

“No. This is not acceptable.”

Without apology.
Without comparison.
Without being dragged into someone else’s framing.

Because boundaries are not disrespect.

They are clarity.
They are self-respect.
They are protection in real time.

—

And let this be said plainly:

  I ain’t your doormat. You can get anywhere you are trying to go without wiping your feet on me. 

It is possible to improve your position, argument, and strategy without resorting to mockery and buffoonery that targets Black women.

We will not allow Black women to be used this way.

Not as symbols.
Not as shields.
Not as silence.

It’s not about saying one group is flawless and another isn’t.
It’s about recognizing what people reach for under pressure.

Because once Blackface enters the conversation:

• the focus shifts away from the actual issue

• people get pulled into defending or condemning the tactic

• the original point gets buried

People who are not Black being judge and jury on what that feels like ……betrayal.

Blackface is not neutral. It is tied to:

• Mockery
• Dehumanization
• Entertainment built on humiliation

So when it shows up today—even in “activism”—it carries that same energy.

You do not get to decide how I feel about that.

How about respecting that boundary on the way to campaigning for respect for your boundaries?

You pretend that you “need” to participate in blackface to make a point about women’s rights and create a divide?

There is no trust. There is no unity. There is nothing. You choose not to see me as a person…..too. 

If a Black woman has to walk alone, she will. Powerfully.

We will speak truth with care.
We will hold boundaries with strength.
And we will refuse the lie that one must be sacrificed for the other.

—

*PS. Stop pretending that there is “universal care and concern” about how people feel about blackface. Anti-blackness and racism in general haven’t been defeated. Battles have been won. Obstacles have been overcome.  People are still fighting against unnecessary ignorance. 

**PSS….we have supported others in making points about girls’ safety in boundaries. There is no requirement to agree on all things, but being non-racist in your assertions isn’t a high bar, and yet……..

Again, the verbal debate over blackface, comparisons….whatever.

But smearing yourself? Using the very tools of dehumanization to argue against…dehumanization?

Organizing across cultures is more respectful.

🔥 Affirmations 

• I honor Black women without allowing our pain to be used as a tool.

• I do not allow my identity or anyone else’s to be turned into a prop.

• I move with respect—for myself and for others.

• Women’s rights do not require tawdry performance to be understood.

• I recognize when something feels off, and I trust that knowing.

• I do not need theatrics to stand in truth.

• I recognize when pain is being used instead of honored.

• I am allowed to protect my space without apology or performance.

• I do not need to shrink my truth to prove my compassion.

• I hold clarity even when the conversation tries to shift.

• I do not accept false choices disguised as moral pressure.

• I see the difference between care and control.

The post If Your Argument Needs Blackface, It’s Already Weak and Shifty appeared first on WESurviveAbuse.

I was watching clips from Jesse Jackson’s homegoing service. Then all of a sudden, people who openly despised this man and ALL that he stood for pretended to care. Who even knew that they were paying attention? 

I have other things to do when they mourn the people among them who pass away. Or I find things to do. (I learned that as a girl. You would be getting on an elder’s nerves and they would tell you to find you something to do.)

I mentioned in another post that Jesse Jackson came to my church once. He was surrounded by security. Like Al Sharpton, Jesse Jackson did not live a life without critics and threats. 

People ask, “Why make everything about race?”

But for many of us, race was never optional.
It was never something we could turn on or off.

It shows up in how you are watched.
How you are questioned.
How your pain is doubted.
How your safety is negotiated.

So when people say, “Why bring race into it?”
what they are really asking is:

“Why won’t you pretend it isn’t happening?”

The truth is simple.

Many people in this country are allowed the luxury of ignoring race.
Others are forced to live inside its consequences every single day.

Silence does not protect you.
Quiet does not erase it.
Politeness does not dissolve it.

You may want peace.
But wanting peace does not mean you are granted it.

That is not bitterness.
That is observation.

And observation is where truth begins.

Reality does not become less real because someone is uncomfortable hearing it.

Survivors of violence and abuse know, reality does not care about your feelings.

The post The Neuroscience of Political Tribalism | Why You Can’t Think Straight appeared first on WESurviveAbuse.

“The beginning of wisdom is to call things by their proper name.”

— Confucius

Sometimes the most powerful change begins with someone who refuses to look away.

The medical system overlooked, misunderstood, and under-supported people living with sickle cell disease for many years. Too many patients were treated as if their pain did not matter.

One woman refused to accept that silence.

Her name was Dr. Angella Dorothea Ferguson, and she became a pioneer in the fight to bring dignity, research, and compassionate care to people living with sickle cell disease.

Today we celebrate her.

A Doctor Who Saw the Patients Others Ignored

Dr. Ferguson practiced medicine in Philadelphia, where she began to notice something troubling.

Many of the patients living with sickle cell disease were:

• suffering severe pain

• frequently hospitalized

• misunderstood by medical staff

• dismissed or treated as if their pain was exaggerated

Instead of accepting the system as it was, she chose to change it.

She dedicated her career to improving care, understanding, and research for sickle cell patients.

Building a Center of Hope

Dr. Ferguson founded the first comprehensive adult sickle cell center in Philadelphia.

This was groundbreaking.

Until then, most sickle cell care focused only on children. Patients who survived into adulthood often found themselves without specialized care.

Dr. Ferguson changed that reality.

Her work helped create:

• coordinated treatment programs

• improved pain management

• patient-centered care

• greater medical awareness of the disease

She insisted that sickle cell patients deserved the same level of attention, compassion, and research given to other serious illnesses.

Speaking the Truth About Pain

One of Dr. Ferguson’s most important contributions was teaching medical professionals to listen to patients.

Many sickle cell patients experience intense pain crises. For years, some doctors dismissed these reports or treated patients with suspicion rather than compassion.

Dr. Ferguson challenged that culture.

She advocated strongly for patients and helped medical professionals understand that:

pain reported by patients must be taken seriously.

Her work helped shift medical thinking toward respect, dignity, and evidence-based treatment.

A Pioneer for Public Health

Beyond treating patients, Dr. Ferguson helped raise awareness about sickle cell disease as a public health issue.

She worked to expand:

• research efforts

• education for healthcare professionals

• community awareness

• better support systems for families

Because of advocates like her, sickle cell disease began receiving the attention it long deserved.

Why Her Legacy Matters

Dr. Ferguson’s work reminds us of something important.

Medical progress does not happen automatically.

It happens because someone decides that people’s lives are worth fighting for.

Her career stands as a powerful example of:

• advocacy in medicine

• patient dignity

• the importance of listening to those who are suffering

Celebrating a Legacy of Care

Today, many sickle cell patients receive better care because of the work of pioneers like Dr. Angella Dorothea Ferguson.

She did more than practice medicine.

She changed how medicine saw its patients.

And that kind of leadership leaves a legacy that continues to save lives.

The post Dr. Angella Dorothea Ferguson: The Woman Who Refused to Let Sickle Cell Patients Be Forgotten appeared first on WESurviveAbuse.

When a crisis emerges somewhere in the world, voices appear demanding that Black women:

• organize
• educate
• protest
• comfort
• mobilize

The tone is often urgent. Sometimes aggressive. Occasionally, laced with insults or accusations.

As if Black women caused the problem.
As if we built the systems being criticized.
As if we enslaved nations, colonized continents, or declared wars across the globe.

History tells a very different story.

Black women have spent generations trying to help societies move away from violence, injustice, and exploitation. Many have risked their lives doing so.

Yet even while that history exists, a strange contradiction continues.

Our labor is demanded, but our leadership is questioned.

We are invited into the work, but not always into the decision-making.

We are kept in the field, but rarely welcomed at the strategy table.

And while the world demands more labor, there are issues Black women have been raising for decades that remain quietly ignored.

Here are ten of them.

1. Violence Against Black Women
Black women have been sounding the alarm about violence in their communities for generations.

Not only violence from strangers.

But violence in homes, workplaces, and institutions.

The cover-up narrative is, “No one wants Black women, but that has ALWAYS been a lie used as a speed bump to stall searches, investigations, and finding the true culprits.”

Too often, these warnings were minimized, dismissed, or treated as private matters (ownership, our children, our servant) rather than public safety concerns.

2. The Disappearance of Black Women and Girls
For years families have searched for missing daughters, sisters, and mothers with little media attention.

Black women were speaking about this issue long before national campaigns finally began acknowledging it.

Even now, many cases receive limited coverage.

3. The Adultification of Black Girls
Black girls are often treated as older than they are.

They are expected to be tougher, more mature, and less innocent than other children.

This leads to harsher punishment in schools and less protection when harm occurs.

Black women have been pointing out this pattern for decades.

4. Medical Dismissal and Maternal Health
Black women frequently report that their pain is not taken seriously by medical professionals.

This reality has contributed to higher maternal mortality rates and delayed diagnoses.

Black women have been raising these concerns long before recent headlines acknowledged the crisis.

5. Economic Exploitation
Black women work at some of the highest rates of any demographic group in the United States.

Many support extended families while navigating wage gaps and limited access to capital.

Their labor sustains communities, yet their economic needs often receive less policy attention.

6. The Emotional Labor Expected of Black Women
Across workplaces, families, and movements, Black women are often expected to stabilize environments during crisis.

They are asked to mediate conflicts, mentor others, and repair damage.

Yet the emotional toll of that constant responsibility is rarely acknowledged.

7. The Silencing of Black Women Who Tell the Truth
When Black women speak directly about injustice, they often encounter labels meant to silence them.

Words like:

“angry”
“difficult”
“divisive”

Even, “hateful” and “bigoted” if you dare to speak truth.

These labels distract from the issues being raised and discourage others from listening.

8. The Myth of Endless Strength
Strength is frequently praised in Black women.

But that praise sometimes becomes an excuse to overlook their needs.

People celebrate resilience while ignoring exhaustion, grief, and vulnerability.

Strength without care becomes another form of burden.

9. The Expectation That Black Women Will Save Everyone
There is a strange assumption in many conversations that Black women must respond to every global crisis.

The expectation appears quickly:

Speak up.
Organize.
Educate others.
Fix this problem too.

But Black women did not design the systems responsible for many of these problems.

Yet they are repeatedly asked to clean them up.

And they still would not have voted for Harriet Tubman

10. The Refusal to Recognize Black Women’s Leadership
Perhaps the most frustrating reality is this:

Black women have offered solutions for generations.

They have written, organized, taught, and led movements that expanded democracy and human dignity.

Yet excuses continue to appear whenever leadership roles are discussed.

Black women are welcomed as workers.

But too often denied the authority to guide the direction of the work.

And they still would not have voted for Ida B. Wells

A Truth That Needs to Be Said
Black women have spent generations trying to move societies toward justice.

Calling for:

• safer communities
• stronger families
• dignity for workers
• protection for children
• accountability for violence

Those are not small contributions.

Those are foundations for healthy societies.

And yet the pattern remains:

Demand the labor.
Question the leadership.

That contradiction deserves to be examined honestly.

A Different Question
Perhaps the conversation should begin somewhere else.

Instead of asking Black women to carry more responsibility for problems around the world, people might begin by asking:

What are Black women saying about the conditions where they live?

What concerns have they been raising for decades?

What wisdom has already been offered?

Because communities grow stronger when they listen to those who have been warning them the longest.

The post Hello: 10 Issues Black Women Have Been Sounding the Alarm About for Decades appeared first on WESurviveAbuse.

Photo by Land O’Lakes, Inc.

People encourage us to:

• speak more about this issue
• speak less about that one
• sacrifice more
• organize more
• give more labor
• show more patience
• carry more responsibility
• vote against our own interests 

The requests travel across oceans.

Black women are often asked to care about problems everywhere, to educate everyone, to mobilize quickly, and to keep showing up no matter how tired we may be.

But a quieter question rarely appears in these conversations.

What would it look like to support Black women where they actually live?

Not in theory.
Not in hashtags.
Not in speeches.

Right where they are.

Start With Listening
Real support begins with listening.

Not listening in order to correct.

Not listening in order to redirect the conversation.

Simply listening to understand the daily realities Black women navigate in their own neighborhoods, workplaces, families, and communities.

Sometimes the most meaningful support looks like this:

• believing women when they describe what they are facing
• taking concerns seriously without dismissing them
• allowing space for honest conversation without punishment

Listening may seem small, but it is the first step to restoring dignity.

Respect the Boundaries Black Women Set

Black women are often asked to solve problems that did not begin with them.

At times, when boundaries are set, those boundaries are criticized.

But boundaries are not hostility.

They are clarity.

Supporting Black women where they live means respecting when a woman says:

I cannot carry this responsibility

I am focusing on my own community right now

I need rest

I need space

I need safety

Healthy communities honor those boundaries rather than challenging them.

Invest in Local Well-Being
Support also means strengthening the environments where Black women live their daily lives.

That includes:

• safe housing and neighborhoods
• fair workplaces
• access to healthcare
• protection from violence
• opportunities for education and economic growth

Grand speeches about global change mean very little if the everyday conditions around women remain unsafe or unstable.

Supporting Black women locally is practical.

It asks a simple question:

Are the women in this community able to live with dignity and security?

Share Responsibility
For generations, Black women have been expected to hold families, organizations, and movements together.

But no group of people should carry that level of responsibility alone.

Real support looks like shared responsibility.

That means:

• men stepping forward in protection and accountability
• institutions doing their part to correct injustice
• communities addressing problems instead of leaving them to women to solve

Black women are human beings with our own needs, dreams, and limits.

We are not the permanent on-call emergency response system for every crisis.

Protect Black Women’s Humanity
Perhaps the most powerful form of support is also the most basic.

Recognizing the full humanity of Black women.

Not only their strength.

Not only their resilience.

But also their:

• vulnerability
• creativity
• joy
• need for rest
• right to live without constant burden

A society that only celebrates Black women when they are sacrificing is NOT truly honoring them.

It is simply relying on them. Leaning. Without appreciation.

A Reflection
Imagine communities where people asked a different set of questions.

Instead of asking Black women to give more, people asked:

What do you need right now?

How can we support your safety and well-being?

What would make life better where you live?

What responsibilities should the rest of us carry?

Those questions would change the tone of many conversations.

Because real support does not begin with demands.

It begins with care.

Affirmation
I am worthy of support where I live.
My well-being matters in my own community.
I am not required to carry every burden placed before me.
My boundaries are wise.
My rest is valuable.
My life deserves dignity, safety, and peace.

The post What Would It Look Like to Support Black Women Where They Actually Live? appeared first on WESurviveAbuse.

updated from November 18 2025

If the harm is sex-specific, the language has to be sex-specific.
Especially for Black women.
Especially in maternal health.

Black women have always understood the power of naming. (My own mother adorned me with a name that has deep symbolic and guiding light meaning. We talked about it often throughout my childhood. Wings for the treacherous journey.)

We insist on saying Black because history taught us that if we don’t name ourselves, the world will not only erase us, they will keep harming us. And repeat. And repeat. And then act as if they did not know it was wrong to harm Black people because you do not like us. Work the cycle.

But when it comes to our womanhood, many of us still hesitate.
We soften.
We widen the circle.
We include everyone—because we were taught that if we didn’t, we were being selfish.

We learned to dim our truth so others would not call us divisive.
We learned to carry everyone else’s struggle on our backs, even when our own bodies were breaking.

But maternal health is not the place to practice self-erasure.
Not when Black women are dying.
Not when our pregnancies, our pain, our losses, and our victories happen inside female bodies, shaped by biology and scarred by history.

Sex-based language is not exclusion.
It is not a lack of generosity.
It is not a failure of solidarity.

It is survival.

It is the clarity we need to protect Black women’s lives.

Why Black Women Must Speak Plainly About Our Womanhood

Our maternal crisis is not random.
It is not generic.
It is not “for everyone.”

It targets us because we are Black and because we are women.

Every single injustice—dismissed pain, misdiagnosis, preventable death, disrespect in labor, unnecessary surgeries—falls at the intersection of our race and our sex.

If we blur either part—Blackness or womanhood—we lose the truth.
And when the truth becomes blurred, the danger becomes invisible.

Black women cannot afford that. 

We Think We Are Being Kind. But Often, We Are Being Conditioned…Again

Black women are trained from girlhood to be caretakers of the whole:

to make room

to soften demands

to never center ourselves

to never speak too specifically about our needs

to never inconvenience anyone

to never be “too Black,” “too female,” or “too particular”

We’ve been shaped to believe that advocating for ourselves is selfish.

But real self-care—the kind Audre Lorde spoke of—is not selfish.
It is self-preservation.
It is political warfare.
It is the courage to say:

I am a Black woman.
My life matters.
My womanhood matters.
My survival matters.
And I do not have to dilute my language to be worthy of care.

This Is Why Sex-Based Language Matters

Pregnancy, childbirth, miscarriage, postpartum crisis—these are not abstract human experiences.
They are biological events that happen to female bodies.

If we do not name the body, we cannot protect the body.

If we do not say “Black women,” the system defaults to being allegedly “colorblind”—which has never protected us.

If we do not say “maternal health,” the data disappears.

Clear language is not harm.
Clear language is the lifeline.

A Teaching Moment for Anyone Who Truly Wants to Stand With Us

Use the words “Black women.”

Use the words “maternal health.”

Use “girl child marriage“. Who is out here marrying little boys? Boys are being assaulted and harmed and WE are disgusted enough to write and speak about it on the internet that is forever and in person too. BUT who is marrying them, entrapping them, impregnating them, jacking their innocence? Name the harm. Name the harmer.

Use the words “female human bodies” “girl” and “women” when you mean pregnancy. Even when they gasp and call you hateful. The hate is what is happening to women. The hate is the fact that too often grown men are impregnating girls. But all the reasons that we can’t say true words center men’s feelings. 

Don’t replace our reality with vagueness. Refuse.

Don’t make our crisis unsearchable or un-trackable. 

Don’t make our womanhood disappear to be polite.

If you want to help us, name us.

We are not concepts.
We are not footnotes.
We are not categories inside categories.

We are Black women.
And the world must finally learn to care for us as Black women. That’s a beautiful thing. Not something to hide or dilute. Not something unsayable. 

Black women are a divine creation. 

A Rallying Cry for Our Own Souls

This is the self-care Audre Lorde meant:

The moment when a Black woman finally says,
“I deserve to speak plainly about what happens to my body.”

The moment we stop performing softness for others.
The moment we choose clarity over comfort.
The moment we choose survival over silence.

Naming ourselves is not selfish.
It is sacred.

It is protective.

It is how we make sure every Black mother comes home with her baby.

We name us clearly so we can protect us fully.

*** People can name themselves whatever they choose (see how we love), but what we cannot afford to do is allow others to un-name Black women…and then DEMAND and REQUIRE that we do the same.

The post Does Naming Ourselves Hurt Anyone? No. Erasing Us Does. appeared first on WESurviveAbuse.

The post Gratitude to Dr. Bernice Johnson Reagon appeared first on WESurviveAbuse.

updated from September 20 2023

1. (1855) Celia was a slave girl who was tried and executed for killing her enslaver after enduring years of rape.

2. Her case brought to the front of the minds the question of an enslaved woman’s right to defend herself against sexual violence. At this time, Black enslaved persons were considered the property of white enslavers.

Celia insisted that being considered property did not entitle an enslaver to subject the enslaved to rape. Thus, Celia may not have felt great about being considered ‘property’ but she was certain that she had to right to continue to set boundaries around her own body. She was way ahead of her time. 

Essentially: “I will carry out the (unfair) work, but this body is mine. My body belongs to me!” 

3.  Celia could not even speak on her own behalf because it was against the law for Black people to testify against white people in the state of Missouri. 

4. Celia’s defense argued that Missouri’s rape law should apply to her. The law made it a crime “to take any woman unlawfully against her will and by force, menace, or duress, compel her to be defiled.” Her attorneys insisted that Celia, though enslaved, was still a woman under the law and therefore entitled to protection.

The court did not accept that argument. Celia’s case was lost, and her life was not spared.

Yet the case forced a powerful question into public view: Were enslaved Black women recognized as women deserving of protection from sexual violence?

Even in defeat, Celia’s case brought attention to the brutal reality that enslaved Black women faced and made their struggle for human dignity and sexual justice impossible to ignore. Her story galvanized many enslaved Black women and strengthened the long tradition of Black women organizing, resisting, and speaking out against sexual violence.

Celia’s case reminds us of a truth that continues across generations: when Black women come together to confront sexual violence, they push the boundaries of what societies are willing to see, acknowledge, and change.

• ---

  Dismantling oppressive systems that continue to marginalize and silence Black women. 

• We use our voices and strength to serve as beacons of inspiration for generations to come. 
• Honoring those who came before us, those who fought, and those who sacrificed,
  
• Standing courageously in defense of ourselves
• Proclaiming as loudly as necessary: “This body is mine. My body belongs to me!” ….and teaching others to do the same.
• Being resolute, unyielding, and courageous enough to stand, even if I must stand alone. 

When many Black women welcome and embrace working alongside women of other races but refuse to pretend that our issues are just like the woman standing next to us who is not Black, it is women like Celia throughout history that we have in mind. Because there have been too many. Around the world. 

We knew, as she knew, that other people, organizations, courtrooms, law enforcement, and systems do not treat Black women’s issues and sufferings the same as white women. 

Black women’s bodies- our LIVES- are deserving of dignity, respect, kindness, care, and love. And if that does not happen, like Celia, we are going to speak up and let you know that we demand a change. 

Joan Little: First Woman Acquitted of Murder for Defense Against Sexual Assault | WE Survive Abuse

Are You ‘Tolerating’ More Hate Than You Think? | WE Survive Abuse

Women in Prison: Tomiekia Johnson Story | WE Survive Abuse

“R-E-S-P-E-C-T: Don’t Disrespect Me Just Because We Disagree | WE Survive Abuse

The Stubborn American Habit of Obstructing Black Girlhood | WE Survive Abuse

The Historic Demand from White Women for Black Women’s Labor: “Legalization” | WE Survive Abuse

The post Celia: How an Enslaved Girl Continues to Inform Black Women’s Work to End Violence Against Women appeared first on WESurviveAbuse.

updated from November 9 2024

Never forgetting the pioneering mothers of environmental justice and those who identified its roots in racism.

She Said:

“If we want a safe environment for our children and grandchildren,

we must clean up our act,

no matter how hard a task it might be”

~ Hazel M. Johnson/The Mother of Environmental Justice

The post Mother of Environmental Justice: Hazel M. Johnson appeared first on WESurviveAbuse.

At the 2026 NAACP Image Awards, Jayme Lawson (star of Sinners) provided a powerful, viral critique of how major institutions often confuse “proximity” with “inclusion.” Her comments were centered on the mishandling of a racial slur incident at the BAFTAs a week prior, where a man with Tourette’s Syndrome shouted the N-word while her castmates, Michael B. Jordan and Delroy Lindo, were on stage.

What resonated so deeply with audiences was her distinction between performative presence and institutional protection.

Her Flawless Assertion
Lawson argued that true inclusion is not just about inviting Black people into a space—it’s about the responsibility to protect them once they are there. 

Her most impactful points included: Lawson emphasized that the incident was a failure on two fronts: it failed to protect the Black actors on stage and it exploited the disability of the man with Tourette’s by placing him near a microphone and then broadcasting his tics for “division.”

Lawson’s speech was seen as a masterclass in holding powerful institutions accountable. She shifted the conversation from the individual’s “outburst” to the systemic choices made by producers and networks. By doing so, she highlighted that safety—both emotional and professional—is a non-negotiable component of any genuine diversity and inclusion effort.’

“You want to celebrate our art, but you won’t protect it.” — Jayme Lawson

When institutions stop at the “Black square” (a reference to the 2020 social media trend), they are essentially practicing Aesthetic Inclusion. They want the visual benefit of diversity without the structural “cost” of equity or safety.

The Anatomy of Institutional Failure
To move from a “Black square” to actual safety, an institution has to shift its priority from optics to operations. Minds and hearts must change. Here is how that failure usually manifests:

Safety First: If a woman, person with a disability, minority, young person, etc… cannot report an incident without fearing for their career or physical safety, the “Black square” is a lie.

Authentic Voice: Genuine inclusion means the institution is willing to be uncomfortable. If an organization only listens to marginalized voices when they are saying “thank you,” it isn’t listening.

The “Safety for All” Standard: This requires recognizing that different groups carry different risks. An institution that is “safe” for a white male executive is not inherently safe for a Black woman assistant unless specific protections are built into the foundation. Just because a woman is “kind” does not make her more safe. In fact, placing that burden on her is likely to put her at a higher risk of harm, as we have already seen with women and girls in schools, prisons, and other spaces where the only safety plan was ….”be kind.” “Don’t look.”

The “Betrayal Gap”
The “wonderful” (and devastating) thing about Lawson’s speech was that she exposed the Betrayal Gap: the space between what an institution says it is and how it behaves when a crisis occurs. When the BBC chose not to cut a slur, failed to prepare for the likelihood of the slur, failed to support all people with disabilities in a meaningful way AND failed to address the harm carried by the slurs YET chose to cut a political plea for peace (self-protection), they showed exactly where their values live.

Authenticity isn’t found in a marketing budget; it’s found in the Policy of Safety and Protection. If you invite me to your home or event, it is reasonable for me to expect that you will also be concerned about my safety. At the very least you will not shrug it off. And me being me, I would feel offended if you allowed this to happen to any guest in attendance.

Companies and organizations are going to have to learn how to treat their guests better. ALL of their guests.

This is not new assertion around safety and respect for us. This is the foundation of safety. Awhile ago we made this short….

Inclusion MUST include boundaries and be safe for all by Tonya GJ Prince

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