This Part Is For White Folks—Including Me: Why "Not All White People" Falls Flat
The hard truth about allyship and why centering ourselves isn’t the solution.
I’ve been reading the comments from Black viewers on my April 5th protest video, and I need to speak directly to something I’ve been sitting with.
Of the 332 comments shared, a vast majority said:
“We did our part. We voted. We showed up. We’re sitting this one out.”
“Trump set the National Guard on BLM protesters. Why should we keep putting ourselves in danger?”
“White people need to be the ones fighting this time.”
And I’ll be honest: my first instinct was to respond with, “But I didn’t vote for Trump.” Or, “I was at the protest. I’m showing up.”
I know I’m not alone in that impulse.
But here’s the hard truth: when we respond with “Not all white people,” or “I didn’t vote for him,” or “But I’m one of the good ones,” we’re centering ourselves in a conversation that isn’t about us.
It takes the focus off the harm being described—and puts it back on our own need to feel seen as innocent.
That’s not solidarity.
That’s self-protection.
👉 If this hits home, you’ll want to subscribe to The Pathfinder Chronicles. I share pieces like this—raw, reflective, and rooted in accountability—alongside deep dives into the political realities shaping our lives. It’s for people who care deeply and want to stay informed without losing hope.
And yeah, it’s hard.
It is uncomfortable to sit with what’s being said and not jump in to defend yourself.
But that discomfort?
That’s the work.
That’s what doing the internal heavy lifting actually feels like.
Because when Black folks speak from exhaustion, from trauma, from generations of being asked to save democracy alone—they’re not asking for reassurance.
They’re asking for change. For consistency. For us to listen, believe, and show up differently.
So I want to say this clearly:
🟣 You’re right.
🟣 I hear you.
🟣 I’m not here for applause—I’m here to do the work.
Not to lead.
Not to center myself.
But to show up, take responsibility, and be a part of the solution without needing to be the story.
Allyship isn’t a badge you earn—it’s a practice.
And for me, it’s a practice I’ve been actively working on.
But I’ll be real—it’s still something I have to remind myself of, often. It’s easy to slip back into centering myself, especially when the conversation feels uncomfortable or personal.
That’s why I try to keep coming back to this: allyship means decentering myself so I can amplify others.
Not once. Not just when it’s convenient. But again and again.
To every white person reading this: when the urge hits to say “Well not me,” sit with it.
Let it burn a little.
And then ask, “How can I carry more of the weight?”
That’s the shift I believe we need.
I'll be posting more soon about the protest I attended—but this post needed to come first.
Before we speak, we listen.
Before we act, we own.
📬 If this post resonated with you, I invite you to become a subscriber to The Pathfinder Chronicles. I write pieces like this—honest reflections on race, allyship, and accountability—alongside deep dives into the political forces shaping our lives. It’s a space for progressives who want to understand what’s happening in the world without getting overwhelmed or burned out. No fluff, no spin—just real talk, grounded insight, and a shared commitment to building something better.
How can I carry my part?.. we need to ask ourselves that question every single day. The burden should be on all of us. Let’s do this and let’s unify.
Let us not forget the hard work and emotional energy black women poured into Kamala's campaign. They are weary.