Your Pain their Pleasure

Weaponized empathy!!!

When Our Pain Becomes Their Power

Empathy, in theory, should be a tool for connection. A bridge. A way to understand each other and build something better. But for Black folks in America, that bridge has too often been one-way. We’re expected to feel for everybody—carry their traumas, humanize their mistakes, absorb their fears—while our pain is minimized, dismissed, or used against us.

What we’re seeing more and more is weaponized empathy. And we’ve been on the receiving end of it for generations.

The Guilt Game

From the plantation to the present day, we’ve been told to manage other people’s emotions—even while we’re bleeding. We are said to be "gracious," "patient," and "understanding," even when we’re being disrespected or dehumanized.

Do you call out racism in the workplace? Suddenly, you’re “intimidating.” Do you speak the truth at a protest? Now you’re “divisive.” You don’t forgive fast enough? You’re “holding onto hate.”

Meanwhile, the people who benefit from the systems that harm us will turn around and cry when they get called out. Their tears get sympathy. Our rage gets punished.

They get protection. We get pathology.

That’s weaponized empathy.

The White Tears Economy

Black folks know the power of white tears. We’ve seen it destroy lives. Emmett Till was murdered over a lie wrapped in white woman fragility. Fast forward to today, and we’re still watching Karens call the cops when they feel “uncomfortable,” knowing damn well what might happen to us once that call is made.

And it’s not just in the streets. It’s in boardrooms, schools, HR offices, and activist spaces. One well-timed sob story can flip the script, turning the oppressor into the victim and the actual victim into the villain.

The scariest part? A lot of it doesn’t even have to be intentional. The culture is set up to respond to their emotional distress—and to ignore ours.

Who Gets Empathy—and Who Doesn't

Empathy in America is a currency, and we’re often broken in the eyes of the dominant culture.

Mass shootings? “The shooter was struggling with mental health.” Police killings of Black people? “They should’ve complied.”

We’re told to empathize with cops who are “scared” and racists who are “just ignorant.” But who empathizes with us? With our fear? Our grief? Our exhaustion?

Our humanity must always be explained, defended, or softened to be palatable.

Internalized Expectations

Let’s be real: sometimes, this manipulation comes from inside the house, too. Even within our communities, we’re pushed to be the "bigger person." To forgive publicly, quickly, and completely—especially when the harm came from outside.

We’ve been conditioned to protect their feelings, even as they trample ours.

That’s how white supremacy sustains itself: not just through violence but through guilt trips, emotional manipulation, and rewriting the narrative always to center whiteness.

What We Deserve

We deserve empathy that doesn't come with conditions.

We deserve to be angry without being labeled dangerous. To mourn without being rushed. To exist without constantly managing someone else's comfort.

Genuine empathy requires listening without defensiveness. Accountability without fragility. Repair without making the harmed party do all the emotional labor.

If your empathy only shows up when we make you feel comfortable, that’s not empathy. That’s control.

Boundaries Are Not Cruel

Let’s stop letting people guilt us into our boundaries. It is not our job to make racism digestible. It's not our job to coddle folks who haven’t done their work. It is not our job to shrink ourselves to keep the peace that was never meant for us.

There’s nothing unkind about protecting your spirit. There is nothing wrong with choosing truth over politeness. If someone’s empathy dries up the moment they’re held accountable, it is never real.

Weaponized empathy is the velvet glove of oppression. It looks soft and sounds sweet, but it hits hard. It tells us to prioritize other people’s feelings over our freedom. But we know better.

Our healing is not negotiable. Our anger is not irrational. Our lives are not up for debate.

Let their guilt be their burden to carry. We’ve taken enough.