Black to Invisible
An Active Movement to Erase Black Identity, Contribution, and Struggle
By Sheryl Evans Davis and Saidah Leatutufu-Burch
“I can’t breathe.” “Get your knee off my neck.” “Hands up, don't shoot.” “Get your hands out my pocket.” “Aint I a woman?” “I am a man.” “I have a dream.” Equality, equity, diversity, civil rights, inclusion, supreme court ruling. These magic words, these cries for justice, have often been the rallying calls that made black people visible–but too often visibility comes at the cost of a life. Even when seen, what is acknowledged is the harm, the mistakes, the perceived threat–not the humanity, creativity, and brilliance of Black people. Visibility alone is not enough if it does not fully honor Black lives and result in lasting change.
Although the “magic words" are infinite, their power is finite. Sometimes the words and phrases lose all of their power and can cause the people and issues they made visible to be erased, to be banished (their names, their work, even the impact) to be demonized and characterized as evil, corrupt, divisive - described as needing to be erased, removed and forgotten.
And sometimes - there are no magic words.
For most of my journey I have tried to work in the shadows choosing to be invisible- because like Ralph Ellison noted, it is sometimes advantageous to be invisible.
Invisibility is a survival strategy. It is a persistent lesson and even a pathology of Black folks. To fly under the radar, to avoid drawing the ire of systems of oppression is a matter of necessity. For many, this code is embedded in rites of passage, taught at an early age:: You have to be twice as good; you must be prepared to work twice as hard; you’ll receive half as much; and expect to be treated unfairly. Being invisible is a best practice; it is a principle, a strategy used and passed through the generations as a means of community-preservation. Black folks know that the actions of one can–and will–be used to defame, humiliate and punish others. These actions justify changing the rules, and too often, serve as the beginning of another cycle of physical or mental lynching.
2020 was a year of visibility–an awakening, a reckoning, and a rebirth of a movement. From hashtags to marches and protests, the urgency to confront anti-Blackness resonated widely and, for a moment, felt undeniably accepted in America. Cities and corporations pledged long-overdue, bold, investments in Black communities across the country. Yet, as a new regime enters, the Black Lives Matter momentum is beginning to fade away. Overshadowed by racist oligarchs and a retreat from previous promises.
Not only are investments being rescinded, there is also an active attack on Black Leadership. A recent article published that Black women are the most educated group in America. Despite our qualifications and accomplishments, we are consistently held to impossible standards. Whether being accused of plagiarism (Claudine Gay), blamed for a natural disaster (Karen Bass), or leveraging a city policy to grant what bureaucrats called “too much money” to community (Sheryl Davis), Black leaders, particularly Black women are seldom given the grace to make a mistake and often face career-ending consequences for failures that non-Black leaders navigate without similar repercussions. The journey from being celebrated as a symbol of progress to becoming invisible after one failure is a narrative that demands our attention.There is an adage that suggests if you do not have a seat at the table, you will be on the menu; the active erasure of Black leadership is leaving no option than the menu of our ancestors, only worthy of scraps.
Those in power hide behind buzzwords like “accountability,” “transparency,” “capacity-building,” “high-performing,” “evidence-based,” “policies and procedures.” Success is narrowly defined by quantitative metrics that fail to define the return on investment or do a cost-benefit analysis. When we look beyond widgets and focus on real impact, the data tells a different story. Research suggests that a program with a success rate as low as 10% yields a higher return on investment. For example, if one out of 10 people are supported and moves from unhoused to housed, avoids incarceration, or enrolls in school the city saves thousands of dollars. Yet, instead of focusing on transformative community-driven solutions, and investing in new and innovative approaches, the focus is one-sided; the side that minimizes, quite often demonizes and penalizes Black existence, perpetuating cycles of harm.
Legislation and outdated policies and procedures are weaponized to erase Black existence pushing Black people to invisibility and decentering our experiences. Proposition 209 has taught us a damaging lesson, even here in “progressive and liberal” San Francisco: don’t center black, don’t say Black, don’t even mention race. The result? A once thriving community of San Francisco–its Black residents–bear a disproportionate share of its harms:the majority of fentanyl deaths, unhoused persons, low-income workers, the unemployed and the undereducated.
Ultimately, this fight is bigger than San Francisco. It is about the continued attack on DEI, Black existence, Black Leadership and the possibility to build an inclusive society accountable for the harm disproportionately inflicted on certain communities. For me this fight is for the visibility of Black people. This fight is for the culture. Unfortunately, it looks like the same playbook persists–sacrificing one person, one project, one idea–to keep the others in submission.
This is the clarion call:we cannot allow Black joy, love and existence be erased! This fight is about making it crystal clear, Black people are worthy of abundance. Black people are creators, intelligent, capable, beautiful, trustworthy, deserving, and innovative. We exist! Because we exist, we refuse to let anyone else define us, who we are or who we should be, let alone mischaracterize our leaders or frame our struggles or lay the failures of society at our feet.
Words like “abracadabra” or “voila" are not enough to reverse or address the harm that oppressive systems have imposed on people of color and disproportionately impacted Black people. We must be prepared to say the words that draw attention to the erasure, to fight book bans and build movements willing to fight for the visibility and celebrate the diversity that built our communities, cities, states and country.