Danielle Atkinson: Ashli Babbitt vs. Renee Nicole Good — Whiteness, Compliance, and Who Gets Valued
By Danielle Atkinson
January has brought anything but calm in its first two weeks. From escalating global authoritarianism and forced regime change in Venezuela by the Trump Administration to ICE ramping up operations with deadly consequences across the country, the opening of the year has made one thing clear: state violence is not only expanding under this president, it is being justified. That this reckoning arrives alongside the anniversary of January 6th, a moment that demonstrated how far the right was willing to go to maintain power, only sharpens the urgency of what we are witnessing now.
Sojourner Truth famously asked, “Ain’t I a woman?” In that question, she exposed a society that denied the humanity, strength, and rights of women of color while elevating white women as the default symbol of womanhood: delicate, virtuous, and deserving of protection. More than a century later, her question remains. Especially when we examine how women are treated by the state and by right-wing media, depending on their proximity to power, white supremacy, and their willingness to uphold it. On the anniversary of an insurrection fueled by white grievance and entitlement, Sojourner’s words feel particularly haunting. They force us to confront how womanhood continues to be weaponized, protected, or discarded depending on how well it serves power.
Ashli Babbitt, the white woman shot while rioting in the January 6th attack on the U.S. Capitol, has been glorified by Donald Trump and the right-wing media ecosystem as a patriot and a martyr. Her actions, which were undoubtedly violent, anti-democratic, and aimed at overturning a free and fair election, have been reframed as a noble sacrifice. Her death is mourned across MAGA, her image sanitized, and her whiteness protected with a patriotic diligence. In the right’s narrative, she is not an aggressor; she is a hero.
Contrast that with Renee Nicole Good, a white woman shot and killed by ICE agents last week. Her story has been distorted and stripped of humanity almost immediately. Despite mountains of evidence indicating she posed no imminent threat, she has been framed as dangerous, reckless, and disposable. AI videos have spread lies and misinformation to fool the public into thinking ICE’s actions were those of the heroes, not the villains.
What makes this juxtaposition so damning is that even whiteness did not ultimately protect Renee Nicole Good. Unlike Babbitt, Good did not die in service of far-right ideology or state power. She did not align herself with white supremacy’s political project. And because of that, her death is treated not as a tragedy but as a footnote. Her womanhood, unlike Babbitt’s, is not worth defending.
In fact, this contrast demonstrates the impact of white supremacy with unmistakable clarity. White women are elevated when they reinforce the existing power structure, especially when they lend legitimacy to violence committed in the name of the status quo. They are celebrated when they embody obedience to nationalist, patriarchal, or authoritarian ideals. But the moment a woman, regardless of race, falls outside those expectations, the protections disappear, and the tiki torches come out.
For women of color, particularly for Black women, this erasure is constant and unsurprising. We are routinely criminalized, murdered, and denied empathy regardless of circumstance. But cases like Renee Nicole Good’s reveal something important: that whiteness is conditional, as is its protection. It is not merely about race, but about compliance. It is about whether one’s life can be used to justify the violence of the state or whether it sits counter to the state’s narrative.
Right-wing rhetoric about law and order, policing, and women’s safety has never been consistent. It is circumstantial, and it bends to serve power. It decides whose death can be weaponized and whose can be ignored. It determines which women are framed as victims and which are framed as threats before the facts are even known.
Sojourner Truth’s question was never just about gender. It was about recognizing who is allowed to be seen as human. Today, that question demands an expansion: Whose womanhood is recognized, and under what conditions? Whose death is mourned, and whose death is justified? Until those answers stop being dictated by white supremacy, political loyalty, and state violence, the question remains as urgent now as it was then.
Danielle Atkinson is the founder and executive director of Mothering Justice Action Fund, a 501(c)(4) nationwide project dedicated to returning decision-making power to those most impacted, mothers of color. Atkinson has led organizing efforts to raise the minimum wage in both Florida and Michigan. She lives in Royal Oak, Michigan, with her husband and their six children.
