This year, I have grown accustomed to the almost steady monthly stream of patron cancellations. It has been a very rough year as a writer eking out a living using Patreon, and while I occasionally write for publications, the rates are not what they once were. Throw in the lack of bookings for speaking engagements and, honestly, it has been a tough year for me. That said, I am not alone. The economy, rising costs of everything and, of course, the political climate. It is what it is. I have trimmed BGIM expenses as much as possible, using tech support sparingly and putting off site updates. At this point, it is just me and my very part-time editor and support person. Throw in a miscalculation with my taxes and a new tax bill, and these are hard times—but that isn’t really the point of this post.
Belt tightening is real across the board, which is why I appreciate it when patrons do take a minute to complete the exit survey when they depart BGIM land. If there is something more that I can do, well, I would like to know.
Until recently, most cancellations have been either because of finances or a difference of opinion on why I am supporting Kamala Harris. Again, it is what it is. This month, though, I have seen a few replies that really caught my eye. People say that while they enjoy my work, their interests have shifted, or they are simply too overwhelmed to stay abreast of my work. While these are certainly valid reasons to stop supporting my work or anyone’s work, a troubling theme is emerging that is larger than myself.
By and large, the folks with shifting interests or who are feeling overwhelmed are white people, and I am not the only one seeing this disturbing trend. I am hearing from other Black and brown writers and activists that they are seeing a significant drop-off in both interest in and support of their work. In the last few days, I have had a white colleague that collaborates with my organization inform me that they don’t know if they will have much success with their annual fundraising they do on behalf of my organization that covers the cost of the administrative services we provide for this group. The bandwidth isn’t there and most fundraising that the group is doing is more direct mutual aid.
Sigh.
There’s a very real cost for staff time, including our bookkeeper, and let’s just say this is not great news. After all, my staff likes being paid with money, not vibes or well-wishings. Even our own annual fundraising has dropped, and I am entering the last quarter of the year very nervous about whether we will meet our year-end fundraising goals. Everyone on my meager staff, including myself, is well overdue for a real raise. I sacrificed my own cost of living adjustment increase to give my staff meager raises. That makes the drop in patron support harder for me; I haven’t seen a raise in soon to be five years as the anti-racism climate has shifted.
A few days ago, a local Black activist from a group that works to assist Black immigrants reached out to ask my help with their fundraiser because they are on the brink of closing shop due to seeing a drop-off in financial support. This group is composed of young Black—often immigrant—activists who fill the gap in assisting Black immigrants and asylum-seekers in the area.
Just a few days ago, Pro Publica did a piece on a Black mother in Georgia who died because of Georgia’s ban on abortions. Half of Black women live in the South in states where abortion is effectively illegal. I suspect that if we find ourselves with Trump in office again, we can expect more of this, since it was his Supreme Court justices that overturned Roe v Wade. Black immigrants in Springfield, Ohiom are living in fear because of a racist lie.
In July, Sonya Massey, a 36-year-old Black woman in Illinois, called the police because she thought someone was breaking into her house. She ended up being killed by the responding officer.
As I have written many times before, in 2020 and the years leading up to 2020, we saw white people coming out as allies and accomplices in support of racial justice. So much so that there were many who felt we were on a new racial trajectory in this country. But almost as soon and Joe Biden and Kamala Harris entered the White House, that support slowly started rolling back and since then the retreat has only accelerated. We have seen white allies who have stuck around getting involved in the Pro-Palestinian movement, which is wonderful, but racism is still virulent and going strong here as well. In fact, the spectrum of racial justice is to understand that working to dismantle white supremacy means holding multiple truths—it’s not one thing at a time.
It also shouldn’t require a wanna-be dictator in office terrorizing the world to move white people to action. But sadly, it took four years of Trump in office to move white people, and it saddens me that we lost that momentum and the potential to move the work forward.
The truth is Black, brown and other marginalized people get tired too. My bout with exhaustion last year was the result of being a Black woman and carrying so many heavy mental and emotional bags. Breaking up with my partner, the man who brought me joy and who was my safe space toppled me. The pressure was building: Nine years of running an anti-racism organization in the era of Black Lives Matter, personal issues, losing a parent, a pandemic. But as a Black woman and for Black people and others, we rarely get to change interest and move on, because the hard truth is that even if I went and took my 16 years of managing experience and joined corporate America to cash out and make good money, I would be a Black woman with no autonomy stuffing myself down in a white world with no chance of creating change.
Over the years, I have shared how racism can pop up even in my down moments. How vacations have turned racial. How even getting a drink at the local watering hole can become a racial moment with threats of violence.
While I will never guilt anyone into supporting my work, either personally or professionally, I will say that for any white-bodied person who becomes so overwhelmed that they step back from supporting anti-racism organizing or organizers, I would ask them to think about how wildly privileged they are and how they are operating from a place of whiteness. They can move on largely because they aren’t personally affected—but those who suffer under racism and other bigotry cannot move on from their oppression and marginalization at the hands mostly of white people.
These people who are moving on need to consider how, in choosing to move on from such work, they are exercising their privilege at the highest levels. Knowing that their kids are not set up for the school-to-prison pipeline; knowing how most systems, even the janky ones, afford them a modicum of respect and humanity that is often denied to Black and brown people; knowing how in choosing to move on, they are silently deciding they would rather uphold these systems that privilege them and suppress the humanity of non-white people.
There is no amount of money that can magically make an equitable and just world, but supporting the people most impacted who work in the trenches does move things forward. We all have a role to play and while many of us are tightening our belts, for those who can afford to support Black and brown writers, activists, organizations we lead, etc.—your support is very much needed. If you don’t have any disposable cash, find other ways to support the work. Raise funds, support campaigns, ask what you can do to lessen the load, and so on.
One thing that is clear this year: Racism and injustice doesn’t pause just because we get tired, and your support means lifting the burden off the most impacted. Project Relief really could use your support, and as always, if you aren’t a patron, consider becoming one, or even making a one-time tip. But if you can’t right now, have no fear, I will most likely be running a fall support campaign to keep BGIM Media solvent and get the tax man off my back. In the meantime, keep reading and sharing the work.
When white allies lose interest, we lose valuable partners in the work.
If this piece resonated with you, please consider a tip, or become a monthly patron, if you aren’t already. I offer my work freely, to ensure that it is accessible to all but if you have the means to support it, please do so. Remember, I do work with groups and organizations, if you want to work with me, please reach out for details.
Image by Mantas Hesthaven via Unsplash
