In the last week, my piece on #FitchTheHomeless has gotten a lot of attention. It inspired the second-most single-day hits that my blog has seen, and it was republished at The Good Men Project and on the Huffington Post. With that kind of traffic, though, comes a lot of criticism. Lots of people said things like, “So what you’re saying is that we should just never attempt to serve other people? We should just sit on our asses?”
Others claimed that the ends justify the means, saying that it doesn’t matter if homeless people are being dehumanized because they’re being given something they need: clothes.
But absent from those criticisms is an understanding of the very voices that are inherently left out of most any conversation that takes place online: people experiencing homelessness.
In her brilliant response to #FitchTheHomeless published at Relevant Magazine, Rachel Karman, a social worker who works daily with the people who live in Skid Row, decided to do something that the creator of #FitchTheHomeless never thought to do: Talk to the people the campaign purports to help!
I cannot encourage you enough to read her entire article, but in case you don’t do so, at least read this excerpt:
And acknowledging how emotionally invested I am in this situation, I thought it might be best for me and for us all to hear and learn from the people whose opinion on this really matters. I decided to show some of the people I work with the video and write down—unfiltered—what was said. Here’s what I heard:
“Wow, that CEO guy is a bad dude.”
“Why the h*** would he pass out clothes to us that he said date rapists wear?”
“I’ve seen my nephew wear that brand of clothing and he’s not a date rapist.”
“It doesn’t look like he is explaining what he is doing to anyone he is giving clothes to. That’s not right.”
“Why isn’t he talking to people when he gives them the clothes? I hate it when people who think they are do-gooders act like that.”
“Why did he just give that large man those tiny pants? I thought he just said they don’t make those sizes? That doesn’t seem very helpful at all.”
“He’s not even asking if he can film them, does he think this is a zoo?”
“Why would we want our ‘own brand of clothing?’ Especially clothing he said ‘douche bags’ wear.”
“I’m not interested in being this guys billboard or social cause, unless it’s to get people homes.”
“We may be homeless, but that doesn’t mean we want to wear ‘douchey’ clothes to prove a point—what purpose would that serve, to dehumanize us even more than we already have been?”
“If someone walked up to me to take a picture of me to put on the Internet, I would be really pissed off.”
But the comment that I think sums up everything that needs to be said, was made by a woman who sat quietly through the whole video, before simply stating, “Well, that sort of hurt my feelings.”
So before we go justifying our paternalistic “charity,” let’s at least take some time to listen to those who are being affected by campaigns like #FitchTheHomeless.
And for the opportunity to do so in this case, I am endlessly thankful to the powerful voices from Skid Row who spoke up and to Rachel Karman for sharing them.
The collective outrage has produced some fantastic responses. My favorite comes from Amy Taylor who proclaims,
“I am proud to say that I may be a not-so-cool kid and the extra pounds I carry may not be a thing of beauty, but I am nothing like you or your brand — and that, Mr. Jeffries, is a beautiful thing.”
But inevitably, as is par for the course on the interwebs, there are going to be some responses that are less than fantastic, that despite good intentions, actually end up furthering oppression rather than combating it.
Enter the #FitchTheHomeless campaign.
I’ve seen a number of people posting this on Facebook and Twitter with captions like, “Awesome!” and “Perfect.” and “Brilliant!!”
But when a friend posted it to my timeline asking for my thoughts, I immediately was left with a pretty terrible taste in my mouth.
This “campaign” is neither “Awesome!” nor “Perfect.” or “Brilliant!” And here’s why:
While I am sure the creator had good intentions (“I can humiliate Abercrombie & Fitch while helping people in need!!!“), what it ends up doing is using people experiencing homelessness as pawns to make a political statement.
And that’s really not okay.
Setting aside the immature digs at the physical appearance of Abercrombie CEO Mike Jeffries, the essential premise of the video seems to be:
Abercrombie & Fitch wants only “attractive” people to wear their clothes, so let’s rebrand them by putting the ickiest people in their clothes that we possibly can, and who’s ickier than homeless people!?!?
So the White man who created the video puts on his White Savior cape, buys up a bunch of second-hand Abercrombie merch, and heads to a community this is, in every respect, not his space to invade: Skid Row.
Skid Row and Gentrification
The narrator/creator is right in asserting that Skid Row has “one of the largest concentrations of homeless people” in the U.S., a reality that is a direct result of policies by local authorities that attempted to concentrate the city’s entire homeless population into one area with few resources and services.
But what he ignores is that he’s not the only (seemingly) wealth-privileged White dude going into Skid Row. It is the site of some pretty intense gentrification. And while the influx of capital will indeed mean some new services for the area’s transient and homeless population, it will also undoubtedly mean that many homeless people are scattered to other parts of the city without much support.
So let’s be clear: when the narrator says, “at first, people were reluctant to accept the clothing” (before making a joke that all people who wear Abercrombie & Fitch are “narcissistic date rapists” – hilarious!), it likely has nothing to do with his little crusade.
It’s much more likely rooted in a healthy distrust of White Saviors who have long come to the neighborhood to do feel-good charity or in a resentment of the White money that is transforming Skid Row.
Charity vs Justice
And then there’s our White Savior friend’s statement of, “It was time to do some charity.”
#FitchTheHomeless
An incredible friend, ally, and social justice activist named Cheryl Clark offers trainings for social service non-profits aimed at helping them understand exactly why charity is not what they should be striving for. In short, she helps these social service agencies recognize that charity stems from a place of paternalism – “I know what you need, so I am going to give it to you whether or not you actually need it.”
As an alternative, she offers a model that she calls “neighboring,” whereby the non-profit empowers community leaders from the population being “served” to dictate the direction, scope, and nature of service while engaging non-profit staff and volunteers in building relationships and investing themselves in the community.
Her point is that charity is, despite popular “wisdom,” not in fact a good thing. It is paternalism based in privilege, and it tends to further oppression rather than helping create justice.
So, Mr. #FitchTheHomeless, what the folks in Skid Row need is not your charity. In fact, neither you or I could ever say what they need. Only the folks in Skid Row can make that determination.
So PLEASE do not encourage well-meaning folks of race and class privilege to charge into homeless peoples’ spaces with their Abercrombie & Fitch gear. If you want to donate some clothes, at least do so through accountable organizations that have done the work to build accountable relationships among people experiencing homelessness.
Dehumanization of People Experiencing Homelessness
But what really bothers me about the video, though, is not the paternalism or the blatant expressions of race and class privilege described above.
What bothers me is the way that this #FitchTheHomeless campaign contributes to dehumanization of people who are experiencing homelessness.
If you notice, nowhere in the video do we hear the stories or voices of the people the narrator claims to serve. In fact, we see quite the opposite: quickly changing images of people who seem to fit common stereotypes of what homelessness looks like.
And aside from not really helping anyone, the creator of the #FitchTheHomeless campaign uses people experiencing homelessness as tools, pawns in his socio-political campaign against a wealthy corporation that’s run by an asshole.
And when people are reduced to tools for your campaign, there’s a word for that: dehumanization.
A few companies recently have been criticized for hiring homeless people to carry devices that emit a wireless internet signal. In the words of this ABC news report, stated without irony, “The company turned homeless people on the streets of Austin into wireless hotspots.”
Did you catch that? The folks who were hired were transformed from being homeless PEOPLE to being objects – devices for public consumption.
And this #FitchTheHomeless campaign is not really any different. It communicates two things:
Homeless people are tools that we can use for our funny viral campaign against a corporation AND
Homeless people are the opposite of “attractive” and “cool.” They are the, in fact, the single most dehumanized and othered population in the United States, so they are perfect for making our political point.
And this happens within the context that most people do not even cognitively recognize those who are experiencing homelessness as human beings. That is not hyperbole. Collaborative research from Duke and Princeton found that when presented with images of “homeless people,” the Medial Prefrontal Cortex – the section of the brain that lights up when we recognize other human beings – does not light up.
Yup – Your brain and mine are not even recognizing “homeless people” as people!!!
And this dehumanizing campaign DOES. NOT. HELP.
So, Mr. #FitchTheHomeless, Stop.
And to the rest of my readers out there, if you’re considering participating in this little game, Don’t.
This is a strange position to be in! Though I am writing a lot of new content lately, I am now in my third week of not having to post something new to my blog directly! As a contributing writer to Everyday Feminism, I am expected to write two articles per month for the site. Well, lately my articles had been backlogged at the site, and now they are all getting published. I am still writing new content for CFW, but I will keep it in the wings until there is a week when I am not being published elsewhere.
In the mean time, enjoy this week’s post from Everyday Feminism.
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The Importance of Listening as a Privileged Person Fighting for Justice
In my work with high school students, I am regularly asked, “What can I do? I know that injustice exists, but I feel so powerless. I want to help!”
More often than not, the students asking the question is doing so from a place of privilege: a straight student who wants to be a better LGBTQ ally, a white student who wants to be more anti-racist, an able-bodied person who wants to better support his differently-abled brother.
It’s no surprise to me that folks of privilege are the ones struggling to figure out how to act for justice. More often than not, those who are denied access, voice, privilege, and justice in dominant culture know exactly what they need to do to act for justice.
Those of us with identity privilege, though, can simply coast, never considering how our unchecked privileges contribute to a system of oppression.
To that point, my answer to their question is always the same: “Listen.”
Listening Is the Root of Justice
There are lots of steps that someone can take to become a better ally, but surely there is no more important step than listening.
I was raised in a culture where I benefit from a great many privileges. I am cis-male, white, straight, English-speaking, and able-bodied, and I come from a family of wealth privilege. In the words of Louis CK, “How many advantages can one person have!?”
With those unearned advantages comes a little voice that tells me that I am always right, that I am above reproach, that I have power and deserve power.
And not only does this little voice tell me that I am always right, but it tells me that there is no need to listen to the voices of those who are different from me.
“What could they possibly teach me?”
And therein lies the arrogant lack of perspective that can come with any form of identity privilege.
After all, when a person lives in a vacuum of privileged voices and perspectives, how brilliant can said person be?
Men who refuse to listen to women, cis folk who ignore trans* voices, white people who ignore people of color… In every case, we are denying ourselves the knowledge of powerful perspectives.
And because privilege conceals itself from those who have it, those of us who benefit from identity privilege are often unaware of the perspectives we deny, silence, and stifle with our voice.
As such, I’ve done a lot of silencing in my life, but most of it wasn’t active. I haven’t simply talked over someone or shouted someone down.
Instead, I’ve resorted to one of my most powerful weapons as a person of privilege: my refusal to listen.
For example, white people like myself are taught that we shouldn’t listen to voices of color. After all, if we did, we wouldn’t need study after study to prove that racism is real and that we don’t live in a “post-racial” society.
We would simply be able to hear it in the stories and voices of those folks of color that must live in our racist society every single day.
I once published a piece about White privilege, and my White friend’s dad lost it. He read it and immediately called his son at work and asked him, “What are you doing right now?”
My friend replied, “Working, why?” My friend worked as a carpet cleaner, backbreaking labor for sure.
“Well, Jamie says you’re privileged. Do you feel privileged right now as you bust your ass to feed your family?”
“Are you kidding me?!? Screw him! I’ve never had anything handed to me!”
And so the story goes. How many times have you tried to discuss privilege with someone who is well-meaning but who has no sense of their own privilege and gotten a similar result?
What is “identity privilege?”
Any unearned benefit or advantage one receives in society by nature of their identity. Examples of aspects of identity that can afford privilege: Race, Religion, Gender Identity, Sexual Orientation, Class/Wealth, Ability, or Citizenship Status
After a while, my friend brought up the conversation he had with his dad, and we discussed it. It didn’t go well. He immediately got defensive, so did I, and the conversation ended in anger. As I reflected upon our talk, I took stock of some of the tools I have been given over the years to make this conversation more accessible and less hostile. I decided to try again, so I reached out to my friend. The second conversation was tense at times, as any conversation about privilege can be, but this time it went really well, and I think it did because I worked hard to change the tone of the conversation. Afterward, I couldn’t help but think, “I need to share these tools!!!”
Thus, whether you’re trying to talk Male privilege with your dad, White privilege with someone on the bus, or right-handed privilege with your golfing buddy, here are a few things to consider before jumping into the conversation:
1. Start by appealing to the ways in which they don’t have privilege. One of the fastest ways to disarm a person’s defensiveness about their own privilege is to take some time to listen to the ways in which they legitimately do not have privilege and validate those frustrations.
I once attended a workshop with Peggy McIntosh, the original author of “Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack.” The goal of the workshop was to give people tools for leading workshops of their own on privilege and oppression that get past the defensiveness. One of her suggestions was to have people divide a paper in half. Have every person start on the left side of the paper and write down all of the ways in which they do not have identity privilege. They can include everything from being left handed and having to drag your hand through the ink to being a woman and having to deal with the gender wage gap. Then folks would write on the opposite side all of the ways in which their identity does afford them privilege that they did not earn.
From there, folks pair up and do a listening exercise where they listen intently to the other person talk about both sides of their list. Doing so allows people to air their frustrations at being denied privilege while also acknowledging that they do, indeed, have privilege. From that place, it is a lot easier to help folks understand the power of privilege in creating a system of oppression and how eliminating that system is liberatory and transformative for everyone.
Now, to do this, you don’t need to turn it into a workshop. Just try asking the other person to talk about the ways in which they don’t have identity privilege, and validate those hurts and frustrations. Simply listening can go a long way! Plus, it’s a starting point for helping them build empathy for those who do not have their same privileges.
If you’ve watched the news in the last few days, you would think all of the teachers of Chicago were greedy assholes who care nothing about the needs of their students or the parents of Chicago.
First, let’s be clear. This raise was meant to accomplish two things: compensate teachers for the proposed 90 minute increase in their work day (an 8% increase) and to increase teacher pay to keep up with the cost of living in Chicago (something the remaining 8% most certainly would not actually do). That doesn’t even keep up with the rate of inflation over the next four years.
But despite this fact and even though compensation and benefits are definitely important to Chicago teachers, the issues on which the negotiations between the city of Chicago and the Chicago Teachers Union are stalled have little to do with teacher compensation.
This strike is about class size.
The teachers in Chicago Public Schools work incredibly hard to deliver quality instruction and outcomes to the 400,000 students in the city, but the deck is stacked against those students and teachers. I should know. I used to teach in CPS, and many of my good friends are dedicated CPS teachers.
Despite these facts, though, Rahm Emmanuel and the Chicago Board of Education are demanding that teachers sign a contract that would allow classrooms with up to 50 students. When I taught, I had one class with 42 on the roster. When even 36 of those students would show up to my classroom with 34 desks, learning was INCREDIBLY difficult. The teachers of Chicago know that such high caps on class size will be wildly detrimental to their students’ learning.
This is a strike for a system that values holistic student learning.
