This Will Be My Undoing: Living at the Intersection of Black, Female, and Feminist in (White) America(30)

On the night of the 2016 Republican National Convention, when Melania Trump plagiarized your speech word for word, were you flattered, disappointed, or fully expecting something like that to happen? A white woman snatching the words from a black woman’s lips and defended by some on top of that. That’s not newsworthy; that’s history, how it’s always been. I was reminded of a time in high school when I wrote a speech from which a white female classmate read because she was a part of student council and I was not. I stood next to her on the podium during graduation, silent as she read. When Melania recited your speech, where were you? After living in the public eye for over eight years, perhaps you have created a mental armor with a thickness that this offense could not penetrate.

Then again, I’m very certain that you have grown even stronger, for during Hillary Clinton’s presidential campaign, you spoke with the kind of confidence and vigor that drew tears from the eyes of millions of Americans. Ninety-four percent of black women who voted in the 2016 election voted for Hillary Clinton. Ninety-four percent—many of whom probably had family members who were affected by the 1994 crime bill that triggered massive incarceration rates, particularly among African-Americans. This bill expanded the death penalty, obliterated federal funding for inmate education, and motivated states to lengthen prison sentences. While speaking in support of this bill, Clinton called African-American teenagers “superpredators,” and while she apologized for this statement, she still said it. And yet black women rolled up their sleeves and voted for her while white women—53 percent to be exact—decided that a racist, xenophobic, misogynistic man with neither government nor military experience deserved to be president. Now, ain’t that some shit? Hillary Clinton, the patron saint of white feminism, couldn’t depend on them on Election Day, despite all the celebrity support and pantsuit flash mobs. Of course, the immediate response to the rise of Donald Trump is that everyone was to blame for his victory, but the numbers say differently. When white people attempt to generalize blame, it is a tactic that further enables white supremacy, for the rhetoric obscures those who should really be held accountable: white people themselves.

On Tuesday, November 8, 2016, white people chose white supremacy. They chose to ignore how Trump incited white nationalists and called for surveillance programs directed towards Muslims that were reminiscent of those from Nazi Germany. They chose to ignore the many women who accused Trump of sexual assault. They chose to ignore Trump gloating over doing so. Why? For one, most of his terrifying plans do not affect them. They can turn down their lips and bow their heads in pity, but they will never be targets. They wanted to make America great again by turning the hands on the clock backwards; they wanted everyone to know their place; they rendered the racial and social hierarchies of our country even more calcified. In essence, on Election Day, they chose themselves because historically they always have.

And as for the white women who voted for Trump, I suppose that they left their vaginas at home before they went to the booths. Again, these white women believed that their proximity to white men would allow them to partake in white male privilege. These white women chose their race without taking into account the implications of gender. In fact, there were some white women who showed up to Trump rallies with shirts that stated that they would love for Trump to grab them by the pussy. Somehow, under this man, under his fascism, they felt protected—even honored. This is a true feat of mental calisthenics. But then again, I’ve never had the privilege of believing that my racial identity can smooth over or compensate for the oppression associated with being a woman. That’s the thing about whiteness: it’s blinding.

Immediately after Trump became president-elect, there was a push for you to run in 2020, but I’m not sure that America deserves you. I cannot imagine the number of psychological and political battles you fought while in the White House as First Lady, but you mustn’t forget how much we black women loved you. You were not afraid to dance on live television, shoot hoops with LeBron James, rap, and appear at black-women-centered events to remind us that you were still an active participant in our world no matter how injected you were in theirs.

Michelle, when you said that you live in a house that was built by slaves, something must have crystallized for millions of Americans—the proof is in how many white people tried to discredit your statement. You might have been destined to work in the White House but not to sleep, eat, and host there. The White House was never meant to be your home.

Everything does in fact come around full circle. The great-great-granddaughter of an illiterate South Carolinian slave whose body rests in an unmarked grave near rice fields was the First Lady of the United States of America. You are not Eleanor Roosevelt or Jackie Kennedy. You are Michelle Obama, the embodiment of a new dream that is characterized by both role reversal and intergenerational revenge. We do not need to be subjected to the lie that is the American Dream. You are the beacon that reminds black women that they can be anything they want to be in this country. You are the beacon that reminds white people that 99 percent of them will never reach where you are: their whiteness cannot carry them there; your achievements lie far beyond their grasp. You are the beacon that reminds us that the ascendance of a black woman like yourself is possible, and what a blessing it was to see you shine. You are not an animal or a man. You may be a terror. But their terror is our delight.

For you, Michelle.