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By Lori Sokol
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I grew up in a white, racist family—really racist. Words like the "Blacks," the "Coloreds" and even the "N" word were spewed with abandon on an almost daily basis inside the walls of my childhood home. Attacked relentlessly for every problem in my parents' lives, from not earning enough money to not feeling safe in the streets, they eagerly projected their blame, and their shame, onto Black people.
This is ironic since we lived in a public housing complex in Brooklyn, NY, where there were more people of color among us than there were those who weren't, and some of them, even, were our friends.
"But they are the good ones," my mother quickly quipped back, when referring to any Black neighbors she considered kind, caring, and most importantly, safe to be around. Staying safe also meant that I was forbidden to date anyone of color. "No Blacks," she warned, with a whisper. Always with a whisper, so that no one else would ever hear, even when nobody else was near.
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Looking back, the results of their persistent racism had far-reaching effects on me. My first (ex) husband, whom I married at the too-early age of 21, also held racist beliefs, yet they didn't seem unusual since I had been brought up amidst this much-too-familiar mindset. And, more recently, I first learned that one of my uncles had bore a child with a Black woman, but he chose not to be part of his son's or mother's lives so, for over 50 years, they became a long-held secret. Surely, I suspect, to keep my extended family safe from shame.
As we all know, and have all too recently witnessed, racism is still running rampant in the "good-ole USA".
But who is really keeping who safe? On a much broader level, and throughout the U.S., I believe that Black people and, especially, Black women have, in fact, been keeping the rest of us safe. How? By protecting us from authoritarian rule.
For decades, Black women have consistently served as a reliable voting base for the Democratic party. More recently, 96 percent of Black women voted for Barack Obama in 2008 and 2012, providing the margin he needed to win two presidential terms. And 90 percent of Black women voted for Joe Biden and Kamala Harris in 2020, securing the administration's win over Donald Trump.
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Yet, what is ironic about this voting powerhouse is that Black women benefit least from whoever is elected to national office. For example, each year the U.S. acknowledges Equal Pay Day, an occasion that symbolizes how far into the next year the average woman must work in order to have earned what the average white man had earned in the previous year.
In 2024 that date was March 12, reflecting a meager 84 cents for every dollar a white man made in 2023. But if we were to look at the national earnings of Black women only, it is even lower—only 63.7 cents for every dollar white men earned in 2023. Marking their Equal Pay Day four months later on July 9th. Black women worked roughly an extra 119 days for free.
Further, Black women experienced disproportionate economic setbacks during the pandemic, with their unemployment rate outpacing that of women and men of other racial and ethnic groups. And while pandemic-related unemployment has receded, rising inflation rates have created a scenario in which many families across the country struggle to afford basic household expenses, and Black women are more likely than white or Hispanic women to cite these struggles.
Research also shows that it is due to outright discrimination, the ongoing childcare and eldercare crisis, and the concentration of Black women in undervalued care and service jobs, as well as their under-representation in good-paying male-dominated jobs, that are all contributing to further pay inequity. This has resulted in over 50 percent of Black women voters reporting that they worry "a lot" about affording basic items like health care, utilities, and even groceries.
Yet, today, I believe that American democracy is again relying on Black women to save the rest of us. Actually, this year, it is also heavily weighing on one Black woman, in particular, Vice President Kamala Harris, who may become the official Democratic Presidential nominee.
In fact, Black women wasted no time setting the bar high the same evening President Biden declared that he would be stepping aside in his reelection bid—they immediately launched the virtual event, Win With Black Women, attracting thousands of attendees and donations.
As a white woman, I cannot understand what leads Black women to remain steadfast, resolute, and strong, despite historically benefitting the least. As white women, we can only hope to replicate their resilience.
As noted by author and activist, Glennon Doyle, during the virtual webinar, White Women: Answer the Call! Show Up for Kamala Harris, held four days after the success of Win With Black Women: "Black women know how to do this, white women don't. Now is the time to learn from Black women. Start carrying our weight. If we learned anything from 2016, it is that silent support is not support. We will embrace the risk that is required of solidarity. We could finally accept that no one is coming to protect us. If we do this for the first time in the country as white women, something will begin to grow with white women and Women of Color, it will be trust."
Personally attesting to white women's false sense of safety, it was during the last months of my mother's life that she finally opened herself up to fully trusting Black women, and similar to where white women are today, it occurred during the time in her life when she needed them most.
Turning 90 and living in an assisted-living facility just blocks from our former public housing apartment, its staff was comprised mostly of Black women, women whose annual earnings, as caregivers, are among the lowest in our country. But there they were, every single day, 24/7, taking care of my mother's every need, making sure she was clean, well-fed, comfortable, and most importantly, safe, even on her worst days.
"Black people are amazing. They go above and beyond to help me," my mom told me in her final days, yet still amidst an air of disbelief. And, still, only with a whisper.
While it was too late for her, it is not too late for the rest of us. As one 90-year-old Black woman tweeted earlier today, "I never thought I'd see the day, so many white women stand together with Women of Color. What happened?"
The answer: Trust.
Lori Sokol, PhD., is the Executive Director of Women's eNews, an award-winning journalist, and author of She Is Me, How Women Will Save The World ' (2020). She is currently writing her memoir.
All views expressed are the author's own.
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