Throughout election season and beyond, Black people are constantly forced to defend our humanity against the backdrop of baseless rumors and systemic anti-Blackness.
Erika Lee, a resident of Springfield, Ohio, has apologized for a Facebook post falsely implying a missing pet was taken by Haitian neighbors—a post that sparked a wave of anti-Black, anti-immigrant rhetoric. In her apology, Lee insisted, “I’m not racist,” adding disclaimers that her daughter is half Black and she herself is mixed race. But the damage was done: Her post, alongside a host of others, quickly spread across the country, catching the attention of Republican presidential nominee Donald Trump and his running mate JD Vance, who was born less than an hour away from Springfield.
From the presidential debate stage, Trump falsely claimed that immigrants were killing and eating pets, further fueling the anti-Black frenzy. Since then, he’s vowed to enact large-scale deportations of Haitian immigrants in an effort to cleanse the city of its supposed threats.
Meanwhile, the real threat was not the Haitian immigrants but the Neo-Nazi hate group that marched through Springfield, hurling insults and curses at residents enjoying a blues music festival. The real threat was the bomb scare that forced the evacuations of a local Springfield school and other government offices. And yet, even as these tangible threats loomed over the city, Black people were forced to go on the defensive, combatting the lies and fighting for the recognition of our humanity.
These incidents are bigger than a single community—indeed, they’re an example of the relentless assault on Black people that turns every incident into a battleground for our right to humanity.
Even as these tangible threats loomed over the city, Black people were forced to go on the defensive, combatting the lies and fighting for the recognition of our humanity.
The issues in Springfield are emblematic of an issue cycle that has dominated the presidential election. Anti-Black comments are made onstage, spread across social media and news outlets and followed by apologies or justifications. Every week, Black people are forced to defend our humanity and our existence against the backdrop of baseless rumors and systemic anti-Blackness.
Take another example: Harris’ use of code switching—a practice where people alter their language and mannerisms based on their audience. Code switching is a common survival mechanism for many Black people navigating predominantly white spaces. It refers to the ways Black people adapt our speech, tone, mannerisms, clothing, hairstyles and more to survive in different cultural contexts.
Harris’ supposed Southern accent (which, as a Black woman from Pennsylvania, sounded closer to the voices of the Black mothers and aunties who raised me than to any stereotypical Southern accent I’ve ever heard) was a way to connect to people in the audience. However, reporters feigned outrage over her tone of voice. Op-eds were published on why Black people code switch and whether or not that was what Harris was doing. Black writers moved to quick action to ensure that Blackness couldn’t be framed as (linguistically) deficient.
Prior to the code-switching controversy, Trump took the stage at the NABJ conference and made a derisive comment suggesting Harris “happened to turn Black” recently. Her Blackness was such an important topic that it made its way to the debate stage, where David Muir questioned former President Trump about his remarks regarding Kamala Harris’ racial identification. When given the chance to respond, Trump said, “I don’t care what she is… whatever she wants to be is OK with me.” By stating that her racial identity wasn’t important, Trump tried to strip it of its significance, reducing it from an essential part of her identity to a personal preference she could change at will. Harris’ Blackness was suddenly on trial in the middle of a presidential debate.
By stating that her racial identity wasn’t important, Trump tried to strip it of its significance, reducing it from an essential part of her identity to a personal preference she could change at will.
After the comments, reporters went on the defensive, scrambling to highlight Harris’ longstanding identification as Black, her membership in an historically Black sorority and her education at a historically Black college. In the process, however, they diverted our attention from Trump’s attempt to marginalize and trivialize Blackness, to explanations of the nuances of Black identity.
Over and over, the burden falls on Black people to justify our existence. We challenge the rhetoric, but our goal becomes a plea for others to acknowledge our humanity, see the fullness and complexity of our existence, agree that we deserve to be here. Over and over, we are expected to hear apologies from well-meaning people who never intended to become the spark that ignited national anti-Blackness. Over and over, we are forced to defend our identity to get the basic right to self-determination.
I fear that no matter the outcome of the election, the real winner will be anti-Blackness. If Trump wins, we will be fighting against the lies and conspiracies he holds as truth and competing against anti-Black rhetoric that will be normalized and emboldened by his presidency. If Harris wins, we will be fighting against the constant racist attacks she will receive, where her every outfit, gesture and speech will be scrutinized and critiqued. In both scenarios, the fight against anti-Blackness will continue.
And frankly, I’m already tired.
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