How whiteness works: The way two of Toronto’s anti-Trump marches were covered

The political climate south of the border has been tense since the recent presidential election, and with two countries so closely related, it’s no surprise that the effects have been felt here in Canada too. Though the new policies and laws United States President Donald Trump has been trying to pass don’t necessarily have a direct effect on Canada, it’s clear that citizens are expecting Canadian governmental action nonetheless.

In the past month, we’ve seen two major protests in Toronto and across Canada. The Women’s March, on Jan. 21, in response to Trump’s inauguration, and the Against Islamophobia and White Supremacy National Day of Action, on Feb. 4, in response to Trump’s proposed Muslim ban. Though both were inspired by a similar source, the difference in attendance, coverage, and response is stark.

As an attendee of both marches, the difference most immediately obvious to me was the droves of white people who came out for specifically the Women’s March. There was a strong white presence at the Muslim ban protest as well, but it was particularly prominent at the Women’s March. The reason for this can probably be sourced back to the subject and goal of each movement.

While both women’s rights and Muslim rights should be universal and something every person cares about, it’s easier for white people to get behind the particular brand of feminism the Women’s March promoted. Not only was it anti-inflammatory and peace-oriented, but it was ambiguous enough that white attendees could get away with wide-sweeping generalizations about “every human being equal” and how “everyone deserves rights” without getting particular.

At the Muslim ban protest, it wasn’t that simple—while the “Love all humans” sentiments were still expressed on protest signs, more research had to be done by the under-educated activist, because even the goals of the protest, set in part by Black Lives Matter Toronto, were specific. The list included demanding the Canadian government make an immediate condemnation of the ban, and that they open the United States-Canada border. This protest wasn’t for feel-good hand-holding; it was for educating and making a deliberate statement with demands attached. White people haven’t always shown up in large numbers for these kinds of events, and my best guess is because something like a refugee ban, or anything else race-related, doesn’t directly affect them and therefore generates less solidarity.

That sentiment would explain the almost-trendy social event hype that surrounded the Women’s March. Celebrities came out to not only support but also speak at women’s marches across the globe, and social media posts of the march were a constant. Photographs and reports on the march peppered the front pages of newspapers around the world the next day. Protests aren’t supposed to be looked upon kindly by the general society—they’re normally a push back against convention that everyone else fails to understand at first. However, the Women’s March became a trending topic for all kinds of people and on all kinds of platforms, and though opposition was still there, it was minimal. Again, this can be boiled down to the universality of the march. Celebrities can afford to publicly support something as long as it isn’t too radical. And the lack of radicalism is in part due to the way white women took over the rhetoric of the march.

Although the purpose of the Women’s March was to support all women, white protesters dominated the demographic, leading to controversy and debate about intersectionality.

It’s important to note that both protests were structured with emphasis on inclusiveness and intersectionality; an extensive variety of organizations helped with input for the Muslim ban protest’s list of demands, and the Women’s March created a whole document to do so. But the Women’s March became an event almost exclusively for white women, despite the complicit nature of their role in the American election. In fact, the march was originally named the Million Woman March, after a 1997 black women’s protest for unity and self-determination.

After a massive public outcry regarding the lack of diversity in the leadership of the march, in the days leading up to Trump’s inauguration, the name was scrapped and replaced with the current title.

The difference in police reaction to each event made the visible whiteness of the Women’s March even more clear. During the Jan. 21 march, I saw police forces simply positioned around the United States consulate; none escorted us on our way as we marched or waited at each intersection. However, on Feb. 4, it was a different story. The protest’s numbers are estimated to be around 5,000 people, twelve times smaller than the Toronto Women’s March, which was about 60,000 strong. Nonetheless, heavy police forces waited at the United States consulate as everyone got ready to march, and when the organizers started moving, there were police positioned at every intersection and every street corner, with marshals along the sidewalks ensuring everyone stayed on the street.

This is how whiteness works: a protest more than 10 times the size of another one gets only the friendliest and barest of police presence while the other gets policed heavily. A march in support of women gets the attention of the world, while a march supporting refugees and other minorities gets angry, defensive articles and minimal coverage.

For two important and amazing protests, it’s disappointing they couldn’t—in the spirit of each of their causes—be treated equally.

Photos: Julia Mastroianni

The views presented in this article do not represent the views of Journalists for Human Rights