PERSPECTIVE: Are You a Social Worker Guilty of Performative Allyship for Black Lives Matter?

by Maxine Davis, MSW, MBA, PhD, and LaShawnda Fields, PhD, MSW

     As a discipline, social work has yet to have honest conversations about dismantling anti-Black racism and white supremacy within the field. We could easily share lists of problematic behaviors that we have encountered as Black women in social work. Here, we have decided to reiterate why it is not acceptable for those who claim to be co-conspirators in the Black Lives Matter movement to ignore harm when it manifests in passing conversations or as comedic.

     Specifically, we offer readers the opportunity to consider complicity in the face of rampant Black cultural appropriation and examine how that complicity is a form of performative allyship. As the primary profession dedicated to social justice practice, it is imperative that non-Black social workers recognize and label white supremacy in various scenarios. By naming it, social workers condemn and resist participating in anti-Black racism instead of laughing, quietly ignoring commentary, or changing the conversation to more comfortable topics.

     We argue that the primary barrier to championing Black liberation in social work is complicity in fighting white supremacy—the white supremacy living in ourselves and those around us. One way that white supremacy shows up less conspicuously is in cultural appropriation. Matthes (2018) defines cultural appropriation as the use of one cultural group’s experiences, styles, patterns, and so forth by non-group members that are subject to justified objections. Cultural appropriation itself is unacceptable, but one of its most dangerous elements is the commodifying of Black culture at the exclusion of the creators. In this capitalist economy, money equates to power and autonomy. Historically, Black people have been boxed out of profiting from their creations while watching white people gain economic success without acknowledging the labor of others.

     As social workers, we are often charged with empowering and assisting our clients toward economic upward mobility, yet so many of us ignore these patterns of behavior that literally box out the very people we claim to support. It is often said that elements of Black culture are “ghetto” and unprofessional until they are appropriated by white people. Once these practices go mainstream, they are not only accepted by the masses but become profitable for the thieves. These patterns of behavior are present in art, music, fashion, education, and countless other arenas. Why is the public more enthralled by and responsive to whites behaving in a manner most often associated with Black culture than actual Black people being their authentic selves? For example, videos of white people executing the latest dance craze created by a Black person will draw countless social media views compared to those of the content creator, and clicks are monetized, resulting in yet another way in which Black people’s labor produces profits for white people.

     Social workers must be able to facilitate these critiques with a lens toward achieving Black liberation, because these conversations occur in workplaces. Performative allyship prevents individuals from being self-reflective in the many ways they may be upholding white supremacy, and constantly saying and/or using the hashtag #BlackLivesMatter means very little when one’s behavior speaks to the contrary. The consequences of conveniently ignoring these discussions reverberate across our profession.

     Consider the trajectory of Bhad Bhabie (Danielle Bregoli), who appeared on Dr. Phil as an out-of-control teenager who is now a multi-millionaire rap phenomenon. Countless Black girls who behave similarly to Danielle or channel their creativity through fashion and hairstyles will often find themselves frisked, suspended from school, stuck in entry-level positions, or generally overlooked. Likewise, OG Magnum (Bruce Ryan), a 60-year-old white man with Costa Rican heritage, works in finance by day and by night is a self-proclaimed rapper from Fort Lauderdale. Ryan explains his escape from traffic tickets is due to his “fame” instead of his whiteness and primarily advocates for police reform to end the stopping of custom cars (yes, you read it correctly—custom cars are apparently the issue).

     Considering the literal and figurative performances of such individuals, we return to the troublesome performance of #BlackLivesMatter amongst social workers, fearing the large numbers that would not be able to critique these characters as a blockage to Black liberation. A common way in which violence is perpetuated against Black people is through silence. We have experienced too many social workers laughing at these antics or sitting in silence as others laugh—offering no critique. 

     Cultural appropriation is about more than unique hairstyles, sassy vernacular, fashion choices, and attitude. It is about the negative stereotypes and imagery of Black people that are celebrated when attached to non-Black people. Appropriation of Blackness silences and erases Black people, especially women and their constant struggle to overcome racism and sexism. While white women enjoy celebrity, fortune, and fame in Blackface (both literally and figuratively—see Blackfishing), Black women face erasure and silence without the comfort, safety, and profit that white performances of Blackness bring.

What can you do with anti-Black racism in your inner circles (professional and personal)?

     Dr. Davis: Denounce it, unapologetically. Separate yourself. Of course, first try to educate those around you on why their behavior and perspectives are harmful. But it isn’t sufficient to “agree to disagree,” deciding not to discuss racial oppression for the sake of comfort. If one is truly a vessel for change in the liberation of Black people, then it does not come without cost. Alert to non-Black people (especially white people): If it doesn’t cost you relationships, if it doesn’t cost you something significant, then you’re not doing it right.

     William Frey discussed what that means as a white man at the 2020 Society for Social Work Research conference (SSWR). At SSWR, Feminista Jones opened the affair by placing social workers’ contributions to racism as a central conversation, and Dr. David Williams elaborated on the detrimental health impacts of failing to face these issues. Yet, people must first be willing to examine themselves for racial prejudice, if ever wishing to challenge others. In the words of Dr. Williams, “We have to begin by saying this could be me.” It requires introspection and intention.

What can you do in general?

     Dr. Fields: Start by citing Black people. A citation doesn’t have to be academic. When you see intellectual property, tag creators—make sure they know the places and ways their work is being consumed. When Black people teach you something, name them as you share the knowledge with others, whether in lecturing, email, or conversations. There is nothing to be gained by claiming to be inspired by Black people, yet not acknowledging them. When you see appropriation, call it that. Celebrate and demand development of Black artists and influencers. Buy Black year-round. Show appreciation for Black diversity. We are diverse in our appearances, crafts, and struggles. And stop touching our damn hair!

     Black people have been writing and teaching about diversity, equity, and inclusion for decades. Center their materials. Get comfortable with being uncomfortable, for growth happens at the edge of discomfort. Spread the word, call others out, and move in anti-racist ways.

     Dr. Davis: Too many social workers who claim to oppose anti-Black racism fail to confront it within themselves and name it within the profession.

     Dr. Fields: Self-reflection and self-discovery are lifelong journeys. Too often, social workers rely upon a social justice class they completed years ago. As the world continues to evolve, we must commit to continued learning. Attitudes and behaviors that were once acceptable are no longer tolerated. White supremacy takes on many forms; all are dangerous. Cultural appropriation may be trivial to some, but it is often rooted in stereotypes and financial exclusion. Representation matters; disrupting the status quo is a path toward Black liberation. Bystander intervention will help dismantle systems created by and benefiting whites. I urge white social workers, especially those considering themselves allies, to get your people together. You can enter spaces I can’t. When you do, lead with Black liberation. Be prepared for the sacrifice associated with your allegiance to Black lives, as they do in fact matter.

     Finally, as social workers across the U.S. grapple with what the future of social work could look like, debating whether the profession should embrace defunding the police by unbundling public safety services or embrace social workers within policing, we have arrived at one primary shared goal: For social work to be free of white supremacy.

     If you are going to march, shout, and post Black Lives Matter, you must LIVE IT, as well.

Maxine Davis, MSW, MBA, PhD, serves as an assistant professor in the School of Social Work at the University of Texas at Arlington.

LaShawnda Fields, PhD, MSW, is an assistant professor in the School of Social Work at the University of Arkansas in Fayetteville.

Both tenure-track authors received their doctoral degrees in social work from the Brown School of Social Work at Washington University in St. Louis.