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How in the Hell are They Supposed to Talk to Us?: How Hegemony Starts the Fire and Blames Other People

When it comes to social justice there is an important term that doesn't come up enough. Hegemony is the social, cultural, ideological, and economic dominance of one group of people over another. But dominance is only part of the picture. Hegemony works because society/culture has made one group dominant and the same group has stayed in power long enough that the subordinated group doesn't see that they are subordinated, or they believe that it is right that they are subordinate.

The trick is that both groups believe that the system is natural or "of God." I have seen this play out many ways--colonization of indigenous people, women, race relations, etc. Hegemonic structures crack when the non-dominant group begins to see their own oppression, but by that time, systems are usually so entrenched that they are hard to break. Hegemony gets in the way of the marginalized group's ability to have a vision for themselves and the dominant group's understanding of equity.

There are several things that I see come into play because of how hegemony and rhetoric work together. One of the ways is how those in power use emotion as a weapon. When those in power show anger they are said to be powerful. When women, people of color, etc get angry they are called emotional. Anger is a natural human emotion and it is weaponized against people who are marginalized.

All of this is to say that right now--this very day--our hegemonic systems are more obvious, and the world is on fire. White people keep talking about keeping the peace or are angry that black people are protesting at all. It seems like we don’t remember Collin Kaepernick, who tried to kneel as a protest. If we are mad that people kneel and we are equally mad that they protest, then how in the hell are they supposed to talk to us? The problem is that if we look closely our society doesn’t like black people. Our society believes black people shouldn’t have a voice. We show this disdain by maintaining the status quo and calling for “civility.”

Friends, you did not listen when Kaepernick was civil. You hated him. If you didn’t listen then, don’t pretend like you would listen if destruction wasn't imminent. You have shown your cards and they are not pretty. 

As a white gal one of the first articles I read about race and hegemony was Rhetoric of Confrontation (1969) by Scott and Smith who summarize why confrontation rhetoric is necessary. Confrontation rhetoric works against structures that use decorum to maintain racist structures. According to this article, rhetoric should use any form (embodied, visual, oral) that helps people see why those in power aren’t the end-all of goodness. They begin with the idea that “confrontation crackles menacingly from every issue in our country” and “reflects a dramatic sense of division” (p. 2). We are at a moment when the division is real, embodied, and essential. White bodies must be involved to protect black bodies while they speak their truth to power. Amplify as many black voices as you can.

Scott and Smith outline the easiest and most basic division is the “haves” and the “have nots” and that the “have nots” see themselves radically separated from the structures that hold them down. Scott and Smith complicate their ideas by using Manichean ideology to show how those in power see themselves as deserving of the goodness of society because they are good. Simplified, let’s just say that many people who currently hold power believe they are there because they have done good things and deserve to be there. This ideology allows those in power to overlook the systems and people that put them into that power.

Through this lens, those in power see themselves as good and they struggle with evil and the vessels of evil. To confront the “have nots” those leaders “work benignly and energetically to transform the others into worthy copies of themselves” (p. 3), because they only see those who are like them as worthy. Did you catch that? Those who have a voice try to transform people into copies. This goal of integration builds and preserves invisible structures of racism. Because the system of power is set up through the lens of good and evil with those in power as the good, those who “have not” are forced to agree and change in order to hope for food, land, power, choice, and survival.

Because the system is rooted in the belief that those in power are already right, Scott and Smith point out that “the process of supplanting will be violent for it is born of a violent system” (p. 4). To be sure, if one group of humans is kept from having the basic needs of food and freedom, the system is already violent. Changing a violent system will always be violent because there is no other choice. The system is set up so that decorum and civility are used by the establishment as a way to “benefit by such respect and to have their views established as true until proven false” (p. 5). That doesn’t mean that people will have to die, but killing entrenched ideas is also a violent process.

Trevor Noah says it all best in this clip (which is really worth all 18 minutes) posted above: http://abitofsisterlyadvice.blogspot.com/2020/05/george-floyd-minneapolis-protests.html

Scott and Smith also point out that if there is nowhere to go but up then there is nothing to lose and it is only through confronting the systems of power with strong rhetoric and action that anything can or will change.

Scott and Smith call for “a rhetorical theory suitable to our age [that takes into account] the charge that civility and decorum serve as masks for the preservation of injustice, that condemns the dispossessed to non-being” (p. 8). These confrontations have to be strong enough to unmask the myths build by our hegemony, and make the establishment show how ugly they really are. This radical understanding of confrontation is necessary to act wisely and teach rhetoric is a way that is useful for social understanding and movement.

The Mother Altar

I lay this message to myself on the altar of motherhood. It is an altar that belongs to all of us, whether we have offspring or not. I understand that my learning happened from a place of privilege, and from that place I honor that everyone goes through hard and impossible issues thoughts and feelings surrounding motherhood. These are my thoughts today, but I also embrace the correction and wisdom that comes from those who have different experiences. If this helps you, fantastic. If it doesn’t, I hope it doesn’t add pain.  

The Mother Altar

When my kids were little they would go to church and bring me cards made in their primary groups. Those cards would thank me for things like cleaning, washing, cooking, etc. These things were great, but I didn’t feel like they were especially strong indicators of how I mothered. When I was finally able to articulate that to my kids I pointed out that while I often cook them dinner, but that isn’t unique to me, and I really look forward to not doing that for the rest of my life. If you are going to go to the trouble of making me a card, think of one thing that I bring to life that is different than all the other moms you know. We took care of this whole conversation in one sitting and I hope it didn’t cause them too much stress.

I decided to write my own Mother’s Day list for myself this year, because I can and it matters to me.

Dear Carrie Ann,

Here are things I think you brought to the mother altar that were important and done from a unique part of your soul:

• You are good at seeing humans as individuals and you cared about who each kid was for their sake alone.
• You are calm and good at getting to the heart of a problem. You didn’t worry about blame and so you teamed up with your kids to solve problems.
• You watched each child and tried to taper media and lessons for them as individuals—mystery books and active adventures for Kat; embodied activities and caregiving opportunities for Erik; imagination and metaphysical conversations and puzzles with Kirk.
• You gave individual nightly tuck-ins and love for each kid every night you were home. You were highly involved with community, political, and school events so you weren't home every night. They also learned to self-comfort and that is equally important. 
• You enjoyed them—like really enjoyed them. You enjoyed them, not because you were their mom, but because they were enjoyable humans.
• You kept learning and talked to each of them with respect. When you learned something, you shared it and when they could teach you something you listened to and learned from them.
• You let them know you. You worked through your own life out-loud so they could see that it was all about making mistakes, learning about what you don’t know, make amends often, being embarrassed and scared, but then enjoying the new knowledge and using your privilege to make the world a little better.
• You let your kids correct you. You never believed you knew everything (and you deeply understood that you couldn’t read minds) so when you were wrong you let them say so. You showed them how to take correction with grace. You hope you also gave correction with grace, but that is for them to say. You did your best.
• You played. You sucked at imagination games, but you were great with physicality, so we played with our bodies a lot. We wrestled, poked, ran, kicked, giggled, snuggled in blankets on the back lawn, danced, sang, hiked, camped, and drove. Even though you were horrible at imagination games you tried to build space for them to play them and then got out of the way so they could fully immerse. You were good at building forts, organizing Legos, finding materials, and making space for them to do what they wanted to do.
• You tried to build-in the room for them to make individual relationships with others. You are good at not being jealous, so they could be as close to their dad, grandparents, teachers, leaders, aunts, uncles, cousins, friends, and themselves as they wanted. You didn’t ask for attention or to be their favorite.
• You taught them to argue well and get what they wanted out of a situation. You let them practice these skills on you. This open space to argue for their desires taught them to use their natural abilities to weave their own worlds and situations. The world might block them, but you didn’t.
• You kept learning and included your learning in their lives. You had them learn vocabulary and theory as you talked through all your new insights with them. You also had them read scholarly articles out loud to you as you drove them to soccer games, meets, musical activities, lessons, and while you cooked. You and Richard also talked in front of them so they could see how adults talk through big important issues. Slowly you overcame your belief that you were not as smart as their dad, and you lived all of that out in the open.
• You let them work through their own beliefs, ethics, morals, and learning, and you believed them as they shared what was important to them. You learned to not push your own beliefs on them and opened your heart as they grew their own worlds.
• More than anything, you loved them with a crazy, mad, gigantic love. You loved them as big as the worlds we created together. You loved them, not because you were their mom, but because they were them.
• You built an altar of motherhood that was not based on sacrifice, but a co-built altar of love, light, and joy. This altar can hold pain, growth, failure, and triumph with equal respect.

Today, for the zillionth time, I lay guilt on that altar. Mother-guilt takes up too much space in the world, and it is an unnecessary component of mothering. We can mother without it, so let it burn. Let mother-guilt ashes rise and fall. Our mother earth who carries our joys and tears with equal importance will take those ashes and make them into new life. Let them belong to her because she is strong and our carrying them does not do any good.