When "Allyship" isn't Enough...

A Conversation on Blue Bracelets and Being Racially Unaware

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What will today’s newsletter be? Hmm…

I spent way too much time yesterday going back and forth with people (specifically white women) on social media over these damn blue bracelets. If you want to read those posts to get where I started at and then come back to this post to see where I am now, check the posts below (read in order):

https://www.facebook.com/share/p/dRnVdYec3MRSG5Yb/

https://www.facebook.com/share/p/416HtNHK8R5B5Gyn/

https://www.facebook.com/share/p/RatxxUUpF3nyd7Lv/

Run through the comments. I shared these same posts on my instagram as well. Run through those comments. Check out other posts made by Black women on this topic, run through those comments. Look at the content of white women questioning these blue bracelets as symbols of solidarity, run through those comments. Much of those comments have influenced what I share here.

Alright, you read them? You’re caught up then, let’s get to it then.

Black people aren’t a monolith, and our perspectives are as varied as we are. So, when you tell me another Black person feels differently than I do about blue bracelets, you’re missing the point. Often, you’re sharing views from folks who aren’t carrying the same weight, the same layers I’m bringing to this conversation—that’s where the divergence comes in. But I’m not here to dissect their feelings against my own.

What I’m really interested in is this: what do you do when Black women disagree? Because almost every single white woman who told me that they would still wear that blue bracelet, despite knowing how many Black folks—especially Black women—feel about it, chose to do so with the blessing of one Black woman who they felt said it was alright.

In the end, you saw a chorus of Black women’s voices and chose to listen to the one who echoed what you already wanted to hear.

The blue bracelet has been stretched to carry too many meanings, and in the end, it holds none. What is it, really?

• A signal to all women that *this* one didn’t vote for Trump.  

• A sign for women of the Global Majority, a pledge that this white woman is safe, that she stands in solidarity.  

• A nod to other white women that *this* one didn’t vote for Trump and is therefore safe. Nothing to do with Black women at all—just a badge among white women, a private signal.

That last one? That’s the quiet truth in plain sight. Black women are the heartbeat of every fight for justice, but we are not represented in these gestures. Feminism pulls from us but does not embrace us. And this bracelet isn’t an exception. You said the quiet part out loud when you told me, again and again, in comments, in messages:

‘The blue bracelet isn’t for Black women; it’s for *all women*…’

‘It’s for *all women* to recognize safety.’

And as a Black woman—ain’t I a woman?

And because I am a woman, do I not belong within *all women*?  

And since I am part of *all women*, can I not tell you that your bracelet doesn’t make me feel safe? It’s just another emblem that leaves me unseen.

Ally isn’t a name you can bestow upon yourself—that’s something earned, not claimed. So many women spoke up, saying they’d ‘choose the bear,’ spending their energy explaining to men who insisted, ‘not all men,’ that calling yourself ‘safe’ doesn’t make it true. Trust isn’t granted on your word alone; it’s something we feel, something we see proven. You can’t simply say you’re safe and expect us to believe it.

Many Black folk here would tell you plainly that ‘white women aren’t safe,’ but rather than taking that to heart, they took it as a personal attack. Instead of grappling with the weight of that truth, they turned inward, listing all the ways conservative agendas harm them—detailing the threats they face under policies meant to strip them of their rights and protections.

But a blue bracelet won’t bridge that divide. These are the hard conversations they need to be having with the very women they seek to distance themselves from with a piece of jewelry.

When Black women assert that "all white women are not safe," it speaks to a long-standing, deep-rooted distrust shaped by systemic oppression and historical patterns of complicity in racial harm. This phrase isn't meant to generalize the intentions of every individual white woman but rather to address the ways that whiteness, privilege, and silence among white women have often perpetuated racial violence and inequality, even if unintentionally.

There’s a shared truth here: many white women have found power and safety in whiteness, a comfort that too often comes at the expense of Black lives. To be "unsafe," in this sense, reflects a broader pattern of racial betrayal, where white women—sometimes consciously, often unconsciously—benefit from structures that harm Black people, even while claiming to stand for equality. For true solidarity to exist, white women must look inward, challenging their own assumptions of innocence and recognizing how their identities are interwoven with systems of oppression. For more on this: Audre Lorde and James Baldwin.

This also invites a conversation about the specific ways race and gender intersect for Black women. Feminism itself, historically led by white women, has often sidelined Black voices, focusing on issues that primarily serve white women’s interests. For Black women, the experience of being "unsafe" around white women stems from generations of unfulfilled promises and exclusion (SEE: blue bracelets are for all women, but not really Black women). True allyship cannot exist where white women prioritize their own comfort and safety over confronting injustice (SEE: blue bracelets that serve as a shield for meaningful conversations and tangible action). For more on this: bell hooks.

There’s an urgent need for white women to step beyond performative allyship. This means examining deeply held privileges, challenging complicity, and going beyond symbolic gestures to dismantle the very structures that protect them while endangering others. Only through this honest reckoning and self-reflection can trust begin to grow and the promise of liberation move closer to reality.