Is It So Hard to Denounce Louis Farrakhan’s Anti-Semitism?

Good question:

Two weeks ago, during a Saviours’ Day event to commemorate the life of Nation of Islam founder Master Fard Muhammad, Louis Farrakhan had some things to say about Jews. The “powerful Jews,” he told the audience inside Wintrust Arena in Chicago, “are my enemy.” The Jews are also “responsible for all of this filth and degenerate behavior that Hollywood is putting out turning men into women and women into men” — that is, for the existence of transgender people, which Farrakhan apparently views as a pressing moral concern. He issued a warning to a subset of the Jewish community — “Farrakhan has pulled the cover off the eyes of the Satanic Jew and I’m here to say your time is up, your world is through. You good Jews better separate because the satanic ones will take you to hell with them because that’s where they are headed.”

Under normal circumstances, sadly, none of this would come as a surprise. As the Anti-Defamation League and plenty of other organizations have amply documented, Farrakhan has been a hardened anti-Semite — not to mention a committed enemy of LGBT rights — for a long time, and the broader Nation of Islam movement has a longstanding problem with anti-Semitism (as the ADL noted, Farrakhan was not the only speaker to make wildly offensive remarks about Jews that day). This is a man who has described Adolf Hitler as a “very great man.”

What made this address different was one of the attendees: Tamika D. Mallory, co-president of the successful Women’s March organization that has served as an important part of the anti-Trump resistance movement ever since it was formed. During the portion of his speech not dedicated to recycling ages-old anti-Semitic conspiracy theories, Farrakhan explicitly praised both the March and Mallory herself. Mallory posted an Instagram video of herself at the event, and previously had posted a photo of herself with Farrakhan describing him as the “GOAT,” or “greatest of all time.”

Once Mallory’s attendance at the event was revealed, she was repeatedly asked to denounce Farrakhan’s rhetoric, and she declined to do so. When she addressed the controversy, she did so vaguely. In one tweet, she did denounce anti-Semitism and transphobia without explicitly mentioning Farrakhan; in another, she made the dispute out to be some sort of thorny moral dilemma entailing “nuance & complexities.”

The Women’s March followed a similar tack: not really addressing the controversy head-on at all. Yesterday, a full nine days after the controversy broke out, it finally posted a statement:

The phrasing is strikingly milquetoast: “Minister Farrakhan’s statements about Jewish, queer, and trans people are not aligned with the Women’s March Unity Principles, which were created by women of color leaders and are grounded in Kingian Nonviolence.” Also striking is the group’s explanation for why it took a week and a half for it to issue a statement: “Our external silence has been because we are holding these conversations and are trying to intentionally break the cycles that pit our communities against each other. We have work to do, as individuals, as an organization, as a movement, and as a nation.”

Who is being pitted against whom here? The only question is whether or not viciously anti-Semitic claims — claims that have historically led to the murders of millions of Jews — should be swiftly denounced. And there is no version of “social justice,” whatever one’s conception of that might be, where the answer isn’t obvious. There is nothing to discuss here.

But more than one member of the Women’s March has described Farrakhan’s rank anti-Semitism in exactly these terms: not as a decades-long pattern of bigotry to be denounced, but as a political maneuver (presumably from the right) that requires a deft, careful response. In January, for example, Women’s March co-chair Carmen Perez told Refinery29: “In regards to Minister Farrakhan, I think that is a distraction.” She continued: “People need to understand the significant contributions that these individuals have made to Black and Brown people… There are no perfect leaders. We follow the legacy of Dr. King, which is Kingian non-violence. We say we have to attack the forces of evil, not the people doing evil. We never attack people.” The view that this is a “distraction” slots neatly into Mallory’s desire not to “redraw the lines of division”:

To be fair, there are definitely situations in which nuance is required to evaluated complicated, flawed figures, particularly when it comes to the leaders of bygone eras where different social mores reigned. But in this case, the subject at hand is a man who, in 2018, continues to spout murderous propaganda against a group that was, in his lifetime, almost entirely removed, via gas and bullet and starvation, from the European continent. If you’re a Jew, it’s absolutely baffling and infuriating for anyone to meet this sort of rhetoric with “Look, it’s complicated,” or “But what if our political enemies use this divide against us?”

More broadly, it’s simply difficult to think of any other situation in the left-of-center universe where the response to hate speech would be anything like this, where the act of responding aggressively to that hate speech would be seen as a “distraction” or a political trap to be avoided. The Women’s March, throughout this whole controversy, just hasn’t come across as taking anti-Semitism very seriously.

via Is It So Hard to Denounce Louis Farrakhan’s Anti-Semitism?

White Women Should Check Their Privilege After Women’s March | Lauren Sandler

A reminder of white ‘privilege’:

We unravel the powerful statements of intersectionality that we heard from that stage when we congratulate ourselves for the safety of the march. That safety is a privilege, among many privileges. We must consider the racial and economic factors behind the fact that there’s a different state system for women with skin privilege — and economic privilege. Failing to do so reinforces the oppression so many of us said we were marching to dismantle. The absence of an intimidating law-enforcement presence at the Washington march, in contrast with the policing of gatherings and communities of color, is part of a story we must tell if we are to speak the truth of this march. Not every woman there was a woman of privilege, whether it be due to the color of their skin or their financial comfort.

“I spent a fortune to come here,” one woman told me, who had flown in from Colorado and stayed at the Renaissance hotel where rooms were more than $800 a night. “Didn’t we all?” I’m glad that she came. I’m glad I had the funds to share an AirBnb with my friend who drove us down there ($150 per night for each of us). I’m glad I brought my 8-year-old daughter; I’m glad she brought her son. My mother flew down from Boston on JetBlue, with a ticket she bought the morning President Trump gave his acceptance speech, and Hillary Clinton gave her concession. I’m glad she had that privilege.

On my mother’s plane, flight attendants wore pink cat-ear hats, took pictures with the women who filled every seat to protest and cheered the marchers over the P.A. I’m glad for that too. But would they have taken pictures and cheered if the flight had been filled with people flying down to march against a Muslim registry? Would my mother have traveled as swiftly from the tarmac to the entrance to the metro? Would the flight attendants have donned hats in solidarity with those marchers? There’s a beautiful picture of a white cop in uniform wearing one of those pink hats, smiling alongside the march route in Portland. It’s hard to imagine him in a Black Lives Matter armband alongside a march for racial justice or wearing a button in support of immigrant rights.

Another photo has been circulating of three white women in pink hats smiling into their own phones near a black woman holding a sign reminding us that many white women voted for Trump. The image has been divisive. But that sign does not state an alternative fact — nor should we ignore that 94% of black women voted against Trump. These things are simply true. Just as our march was given the benefit of the doubt by law enforcement. (And surely no one in public relations was a fan of the optics of men in uniform roughing up a mass of white ladies.)

If we want a true women’s movement, our joyous, contagious celebrations must beware of self-congratulation. There is much to cheer in this historic, women-led moment that united so many of us. But we can’t fail to be clear-eyed about existing injustice as we fight against gender inequality. If we want a true women’s movement, that means not just marching on behalf of our own lady-parts but against injustice for all. It means loudly and affirmatively answering another sign that went viral after the march, the one that says, “I’LL SEE YOU NICE WHITE LADIES AT THE NEXT #BLACKLIVESMATTER MARCH, RIGHT?”

I felt optimism and hope and pride in our stunning numbers — in Washington, around the country and around the world. But I have to confess: I don’t think I’ve quite felt the magic like so many millions of other protesters did on Saturday and in the aftermath of our historic march. There is much to cheer, but instead of congratulating ourselves for showing up peacefully when it was our privilege to do so, let’s fight until everyone’s civil liberties are equally protected. Let’s listen to each other as well as chant. It’s not always going to be pretty or selfie-ready in a pink hat. But if we want to build a movement, we must march forward together, even if we blister along the way.