Dealing with Becky at the Office After the 2024 Election: A Guide for Black Women Navigating Shared Spaces
Well, here we are again. Another election, another moment when white women took to the polls and voted overwhelmingly to preserve the status quo—and by that, we mean Donald Trump (again?!). Despite every warning, every painstakingly patient conversation, and every opportunity for allyship, a majority of white women have shown, yet again, where their loyalties lie. Black women, on the other hand, did what we always do: showed up, showed out, and tried to save the world. But now, the election’s over, and the workplace, the PTA meetings, the yoga studios, and all those shared spaces we navigate daily are about to get…complicated.
So, how do Black women move forward in these spaces? How do we reconcile being side-eyed at the polls with needing to co-exist in everyday life? Let’s break it down.
What Happened in 2024 (Because We Need to Talk About It)
Despite loud calls for unity, bold signs of resistance from activists, and endless conversations about intersectionality, the 2024 election saw another majority of white women casting their votes for Donald Trump. According to exit polls, the numbers mirrored (and in some areas, exceeded) the 2016 and 2020 trends. It wasn’t just a betrayal of Black women—it was a rejection of the hard work we put in to build a fairer, more inclusive democracy.
For Black women, this wasn’t surprising, but it was disappointing. After all, our political participation has been consistent, passionate, and rooted in a vision of equity for all. Yet, the choice many white women made was clear: they voted for a candidate whose policies harm Black communities, LGBTQIA+ folks, immigrants, and, honestly, women as a whole.
So now, we’re left with the aftermath. How do we deal with white women in spaces where we’re expected to coexist, collaborate, and even trust one another? Here’s your guide.
Step One: Protect Your Peace (Because Becky Ain’t Paying Your Therapy Bills)
First things first: prioritize your emotional and mental health. After an election like this, the sense of betrayal can feel personal, and let’s be real—it is personal. But, Black women have enough on our plates without internalizing the actions of others. So, whether it’s taking a social media detox, leaning on your circle of Black women friends, or booking that therapy appointment, do whatever you need to do to protect your peace.
And remember: you don’t owe anyone your energy. Not every microaggression needs a clapback, not every apology deserves a response, and not every Becky at the office deserves a breakdown of why her voting choices are trash. Protecting your peace means knowing when to walk away from the conversation altogether.
Step Two: Set Boundaries and Keep It Real
Look, shared spaces like workplaces, community groups, and even family gatherings can be tricky after an election like this. You might feel tempted to smooth things over for the sake of “keeping the peace,” but remember that peace without accountability is just silence dressed up as harmony.
If white women in your space are trying to engage in conversation about the election (and let’s be honest, they will), feel free to set some boundaries. Here’s how that might look:
The Energy Shift: “I’m not really in the mood to discuss the election right now. It’s been heavy on me, and I’d prefer to keep this space neutral for now.”
The Real Talk Option: “If we’re going to have this conversation, I need us to be honest about the harm that Trump’s policies cause to marginalized communities. Are you ready for that discussion?”
The Exit Strategy: “I’ve already shared my thoughts on this election with people who understand where I’m coming from. I’m not here to debate.”
Setting boundaries isn’t about shutting down dialogue; it’s about preserving your energy for conversations that serve you.
Step Three: Call Out Performative Allyship
After the election results came in, you probably noticed the flood of “solidarity” posts from white women on social media: vague quotes about unity, posts about supporting Black-owned businesses, or maybe a tearful selfie with a caption about feeling “so helpless.” While some of this may be well-intentioned, let’s be honest: performative allyship often pops up right after white women realize they’ve been called out.
In shared spaces, you don’t have to grin and bear it when this behavior shows up. If Karen from marketing suddenly wants to start a DEI initiative after making no effort to vote for inclusive candidates (and you know she voted for Trump), you have every right to question the authenticity of her efforts. Be firm but clear:
“If you want to support marginalized communities, it starts with your vote. I’d love to see more accountability before we jump to ‘solidarity.’”
“Posting about allyship is great, but we need you to back it up with action. What’s your plan for next time?”
Performative gestures are exhausting for Black women because they often come with the expectation that we should be grateful or impressed. It’s okay to push back and demand substance over symbolism.
Step Four: Build Black-Centered Spaces
One of the most powerful responses to the disappointment of this election is doubling down on Black-centered spaces. Whether that’s a professional network, a book club, or just a group text with your closest girlfriends or this publication The Folding Chair, these spaces provide refuge, support, and joy.
Let’s face it: we’ve been saving democracy for centuries, and we deserve spaces where we can focus on ourselves without carrying the weight of everyone else’s choices. Start or join spaces that allow you to thrive, celebrate, and strategize without explaining or defending yourself to anyone.
If you need inspiration, dive into books like Sister Outsider by Audre Lorde or Eloquent Rage by Brittney Cooper, which remind us of the power of building communities that center Black voices and experiences.
Step Five: Keep the Pressure On (But Don’t Do All the Work)
Let’s be honest: holding white women accountable for their voting patterns isn’t Black women’s job. Still, we can’t ignore that our voices have the power to disrupt complacency. If you’re able to challenge the status quo in shared spaces, use that power—but don’t feel like you have to be the sole educator or accountability coach.
Encourage white women to educate themselves, hold each other accountable, and step up in meaningful ways. Whether it’s starting conversations in their own circles, donating to organizations that uplift Black communities, or, most importantly, voting differently next time, the work is on them to change—not us.
The Bottom Line: Focus on Us, Not Them
At the end of the day, Black women will keep doing what we’ve always done: protecting ourselves, uplifting our communities, and advocating for justice. We’ve spent too long navigating systems designed to sideline us, and we don’t need the approval or allyship of people who repeatedly show us where they stand.
So, to the Beckys, Karens, and everyone in between: if you’re serious about rebuilding trust, the work starts with you. Black women have been saving the world long enough—we’re focused on saving ourselves now.
Want to learn more about how to hold your white “allies” accountable? Start with books like White Tears/Brown Scars by Ruby Hamad or Hood Feminism by Mikki Kendall. Then, ask yourself how you’re showing up for Black women—not just in theory, but in action.