We’re Sitting This One Out: Black Women Are Not Your Cleanup Crew”

🧠 BREAKDOWN:

**1. THE MASK IS OFF: WHO THIS IS REALLY ABOUT**

The speaker opens by saying, “I’m not personally attacking Ben,” but they’re clearly addressing a mindset—a mentality—not just a man. Ben becomes a placeholder for an entire demographic of people (often white liberals or passive allies) who call on Black women only when there’s a mess, a crisis, or some rage-fueled movement needing direction, clarity, or cleanup.

This isn’t new. This is the historical default:
Black women have been expected to save America from itself—from the plantation to the protest line, from voting booths to virtual think pieces.

2. THE LABOR EXPECTATION: BLACK WOMEN AS MULES

“The way you expect Black women to just labor is wild.”

This isn’t figurative. It’s literal. Black women have historically been treated as bodies of utility—enslaved, underpaid, under-respected, but over-relied upon.

The speaker highlights a painful truth: Black women are expected to be the moral compass, the frontline foot soldiers, the educators, and the emotional processors—without compensation, protection, or appreciation.

They’re “invited” into the fight when it’s time to fix something. But when it’s time for rest, healing, or being centered? Suddenly, no one calls.

3. THE AUDACITY OF ENTITLEMENT

“You had the literal unseasoned audacity to say, ‘Everybody should be in this fight.’”

This line right here? It’s cold steel.

The use of “unseasoned audacity” is more than just a dig—it’s a cultural marker. It exposes how privilege demands presence without examining who started the fire, who fanned the flames, and who has always been in the fight.

To say “everybody should be in this fight” without accountability is to erase:

Who created the conditions
Who benefits from them
And who has already been sacrificing

The speaker flips the script: “We didn’t start this. Y’all did. So why are you calling us to fix it—again?”

4. A CALL TO REDIRECT YOUR ENERGY

“I would start like here… and then work my way down past these two groups.”

This is visual commentary—perhaps referencing an image or chart—but the meaning is clear:
Black folks—especially Black women—are not first responders for your social guilt.
If you’re confused about where to start the work, don’t look to the exploited to explain your freedom.

The speaker points out those who have been doing the work—possibly Indigenous communities, Black trans women, marginalized laborers—and says:

“Go to the ones who failed to show up. Not the ones who always do.”

5. RAGE ECONOMY + FREE LABOR

“Y’all been making money—free money—off of Black folks’ rage and anger.”

This is deep.

It’s not just emotional labor being extracted. It’s monetized pain.

Social media, journalism, activism circles—they all capitalize on Black outrage.
Black trauma becomes viral.
Black truth becomes clicks.
Black anger becomes a commodity.

And who benefits? Often, not the people expressing the rage.
They’re burned out. Broken. Meanwhile, others collect the checks, followers, and fame.

6. FINAL WARNING: WE’RE NOT COMING

“Leave Black folks alone and leave Black folks out of it.”

This is the line in the sand.

The message is crystal clear:
Do not summon Black women like firefighters every time the house democracy built starts burning. Especially when they didn’t build the house—and weren’t even invited to live in it.

This isn’t about abandoning the cause. It’s about demanding boundaries, rest, reciprocity, and a rebalancing of who carries the burden.

✊🏾 IN SUMMARY:

This piece is a resounding call-out of the historical and ongoing exploitation of Black women’s labor—emotional, political, physical, intellectual.

It’s not anger without direction.
It’s not bitterness.
It’s clarity.
It’s self-preservation.
It’s truth-telling that refuses to apologize.