Deconstructing “All Lives Matter”
On #BlackoutTuesday, thousands of users across the globe expressed digital solidarity for the Black Lives Matter movement. Amidst this sea of simmering black squares, it was impossible not to notice the occasional tone-deaf statements that littered our feeds. South Asian friends, coworkers, equal rights advocates, gatekeepers and tastemakers peppered the internet with “All Lives Matter” posts in a bid to promote “true” equality.
We need to talk about this.
If you cannot see a problem with these pictures, the good news is, you aren’t alone. The bad news? You are not alone.
Logical Fallacies that Power “All Lives Matter”
Over the past week, we’ve seen our fair share of confused South Asians asking what the hullabaloo’s all about. Some have even gone so far as to claim Black Lives Matter cannot be applied to the South Asian experience, or that George Floyd shouldn’t be martyred because he was a drug addict. While I’m afraid I must resist addressing the latter for fear of my own sanity (if you cannot see the difference between martyrdom and murder, you shouldn’t be here), it’s important to understand that Black Lives Matter does not aim to downplay other forms of oppression. My intention is not to contest the legitimacy of one’s pursuit for equality; I am questioning one’s decision to channel this concern by invalidating, silencing, and stifling Black voices. Because that is precisely what “All Lives Matter” does.
In order to highlight the sheer irrationality that fuels the sentiment, I am now going to analogise the living daylights out of ALM. Welcome to “All Lives Matter”: the desi CliffNotes.
- When you condemned the Citizenship (Amendment) Bill that threatened to delegitimise the existence of thousands of Muslims, Dalits and marginalised minorities in India, did you also find yourself wondering, “But what about Anglo-Indian azadi (freedom)?”
- When air strikes ravaged homes in Afghanistan and Somalia, did you use the same breath to express solidarity for lives and habitats lost due to wildfires in North America?
- When you found yourself horrified by news of human rights violations in Kashmir, did you also pause to think of every other country that subsists under the boot of a dictatorial regime and list them all out in a neat little photo on social media?
- When the world celebrated Malala Yousafzai’s efforts, did you feel compelled to list out every other Nobel laureate so as not to diminish their contributions?
- When you expressed concern for the hundreds of Indian labourers that were left displaced and starving as the result of the Covid-19 lockdown, did you also extend your sympathy for the European expats that were left stranded? No?
That’s probably because logical fallacies are built on faulty (often absurd) reasoning that undermines the validity of the original statement. It is the same absurdity that causes one to accuse South Asian BLM advocates of ignoring casteism, classism, sexism, or speciesism.
When I marched to demand justice for the horrific rape and murder of Jyoti Singh (‘Nirbhaya’), my solidarity for women’s rights did not automatically seek to decry the existence of men. When I expressed support for the revocation of a 158-year-old colonial law that penalised consensual homosexual sex in India, it did not mean I was advocating for the criminalisation of heterosexuality. Similarly, Black Lives Matter DOES NOT in any way negate, invalidate, or diminish your existence. Its mission to reverse internalised oppression does not detract from or discredit the struggles of other minorities, for at its very core, BLM is an affirmation that all lives are equal — what it seeks to highlight is the impunity with which Black American lives are consistently targeted, vilified, and assaulted by those in power. This is why responding with “but all lives matter!” (however well-meaning) only serves to undermine the very thing BLM is trying to achieve… because until Black lives matter, all lives cannot.
So, how can we help amplify rather than undermine the movement?
Be an Ally
We all know allyship isn’t just a day-long activity; a black square to be posted when convenient. Before we take to the streets, however, perhaps we should look closer to home first.
This means calling out our friends and siblings on their use of the N-word; on our casual appropriation of Black fashion, hair, music and speech. It means educating our parents, teachers and employers on their use of “Nigerian” as a metonym for Afro-Caribbean immigrants in South Asia. It means going beyond a mere “don’t do that!” and explaining to children why it’s harmful to use racial slurs like kaalu (“blackie”), bandar (“monkey”), gorilla, or habshi (a word that has now become the South Asian equivalent of “negroid”).
And while we all love our favourite Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone quote — “It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends” — we must recognise that allyship goes beyond just calling out friends and family.
Being an ally also means calling ourselves out on the micro-aggressions that subsist through our everyday actions.
It’s no secret: we come from a society that views fair skin as a prerequisite to personal happiness and professional success. We praise our fair-skinned children on their physical appearance while rebuking our dark-skinned daughters in the same breath, telling them to “wash their face” and “buy some Fair & Lovely”. As a light-skinned South Asian woman, I have had teachers and employers — people I looked to for direction — consistently favour me over my darker-skinned classmates, colleagues, and even siblings. Until we stop equating “whiteness” with “goodness” and eliminate this internalised colourism from our own lives, our allyship for “Black Lives Matter” can never be whole.
Where Do We Begin?
Start by rejecting the scores of fairness creams and skin lightening products that dominate South Asian advertising. Rethink the patronising use of “dusky”. Desist from using “complexion” as a means to crush a child’s sense of self-worth before they’ve even hit puberty. Refrain from making your daughters wear full-sleeved tops in the summer for fear of them “becoming black”. Put a stop to supporting South Asian entertainers who knowingly misappropriate Black culture or engage in modern-day blackface. Reexamine the need to lather women in coarse-grained pastes of turmeric, gram flour and cow’s milk for that “perfect bridal glow”. And please, for the love of all gods, stop demanding “fair-skinned girls” in borderline-creepy matrimonial advertisements in newspapers.
Perhaps most importantly, though, expressing solidarity means never forgetting. South Asia has long been the hushed epicentre of a horrifying list of micro-aggressions and boldfaced violence against African students and tourists. Never forget the atrocities committed against Masonda Ketanda Olivier, Endurance Amalawa, Thomas Orhions Ewansiha, Imran Uba, or the countless others that have been anathematised, dehumanised, and lynched over racist stereotypes.
“Sorry, but this feels like a long list of DON’Ts that are basically just attacks on my culture.”
(Audible sigh)… If your sense of culture is built solely on oppressive, outdated, kyriarchal ills that are rooted in xenophobia and a post-colonial hangover that should have dissipated decades ago, that is one cocktail I suggest you drink elsewhere. It’s 2020. “Culture” can no longer be accepted as justification for “hate”.
And when the educated ignorant inevitably cry, “are you saying all lives don’t matter”, “stop bringing foreign issues to our country”, or “I don’t believe in protests, let me send you a Harvard study explaining why protests are bad” (this is a real-life example, I kid you not) — ask them to slither back into their Swarovski-encrusted caves. And be sure to seal that ish all the way through.
The Need for South Asian Solidarity
Given the Model Minority Myth — a divisive instrument that pits the selective recruitment of socio-economically privileged Asian American immigrants against the centuries of slavery, discrimination, and systemic dehumanisation of African Americans — South Asians cannot equate their struggles to that of Black Americans. That being said, we are no strangers to oppression.
We are the children of war. Of civil unrest and economic strife. Of plundered pasts and blood-stained geopolitics that still quake under the heel of Divide and Conquer. We know what it feels like to be silenced, Othered, reviled and oppressed every single day of our lives, discriminated against over caste, class, sexual orientation, gender identity, body type, literacy, or the colour of our skin.
Today, it is this history of shared oppression that enables us to both empathise and amplify.
Isn’t it time we stopped standing on the sidelines as mere spectators, twiddling our thumbs while we allow racist stereotypes to colour our perceptions?
Can we really support the very systems of oppression that coined “kung-flu virus” and enforced the normalisation of islamophobia? Are we prepared to become just another shade of white supremacy, seizing the rungs of a rigged ladder as we leave another minority behind in the dust?
Or will we choose to shed this “not in my backyard” mentality and stop to lift that knee from the throat of the oppressed?
I, for one, sincerely hope it is the latter.
Ways to Help:
- EDUCATE: Thanks to an abundance of resources on the internet, now is the time to educate ourselves and our loved ones on the issue. If you have any books, essays, podcasts, poetry — anything you feel will help us be better allies, please share!
- COMMUNICATE: Reach out to friends and activists. Ask how you can help. If you sense anti-Black sentiments within your community, don’t be afraid to create a dialogue (even if it might seem like an uncomfortable conversation at first).
- CHECK YOURSELF: Seek to eliminate sources of racism within your own life. Don’t buy into the “model minority” myth.
- AMPLIFY: Read, listen, and share works by Black creators and activists. Sign petitions. Participate in global actions. Help spread the word!
- DONATE: “But how can I donate, yaar, I’m sitting all the way here in India!”
We all know you have Visa, MasterCard, and a PayPal account, Karan, but given the Covid-19 crisis, it’s understandable that extending financial support may be difficult for many of us. Fortunately, solidarity can be expressed in more ways than one. Donate your time by reading up and speaking out. Participate digitally: report disinformation to BLM. If you can work pro bono, please consider donating your efforts. And, perhaps most importantly of all, lend the movement your ear: Listen. Learn. Support.
It’s a long road ahead to equality: to a world where living beings will no longer have to beg for the right to breathe. The least we can do is start walking in the right direction.
