Consider yourself blessed if this is the first time you’re hearing of Mrs. Frazzled.
The woman, whose real name is Arielle Fodor, went viral after appearing in last week’s “White Women for Harris” Zoom call, which had more than 164,000 attendees. The Zoom call was organized by activist Shannon Watts, who said she wanted to make sure white women “are using our economic and political power to help elect Kamala Harris.”
Towards the beginning of the call, Fodor—Mrs. Frazzled—was introduced as the person who would “help gentle parent us through this election.” Yes, because Americans are all children who require “gentle parenting” to make sure they don’t make a silly boo-boo in the election booth. Don’t make Mrs. Frazzled have to spank you!
Fodor speaks with the cloying tone of a schoolteacher who you suspect might have the ashes of her once-unruly pupils sprinkled over a strawberry patch in her garden. She’s creepy. The combination of her facial scrunches, head shaking, and high-pitched elongated vowels—“thank youuuuuuu”—are the stuff of nightmares. One outlet referred to her performance as Black Mirror-esque—the show that provides hellscape visions of our future. Sounds about right.
If Mrs. Frazzled is indeed married, it’s surely to some asexual Franklin the Turtle type man that she found huddled in the corner of a kindergarten classroom, waiting to be scolded by his headmistress. How Mrs. Frazzled became TikTok famous is beyond me. Her videos are nearly indistinguishable from parodies of women just like her: the stereotypical white, Democrat, raging intersectional feminist, wailing about the latest social media/social justice cause woman. Has she already appeared on a “Ben Shapiro reacts to insane woke TikToks” video? I’d be surprised if she hasn’t.
In any event, the worst part of Mrs. Frazzled’s “White Women for Harris” Zoom appearance was her message: White women, she claimed, should shut their mouths. Except, of course, for Mrs. Frazzled, who will gleefully continue to lecture us about what black women need and want from white women.
“We are here because BIPOC women have tapped us in as white women to step up, listen, and get involved this election season… I’m going to share some do’s and don’ts for getting involved in politics online, and navigating the toxicity that comes with it. But—don’t make it about yourself. As white women, we need to use our privilege to make positive changes. If you find yourself talking over or speaking for BIPOC individuals or—god forbid—correcting them, just take a beat, and instead we can put our listening ears on. So, do learn from and amplify the voices of those who have been historically marginalized, and use the privilege you have in order to push for systemic change. As white people, we have a lot to learn, and unlearn, so do check your blind spots. You are responsible for your algorithm, believe it or not,” said Fodor.
Profound.
Most notable is how Mrs. Frazzled does an awful lot of speaking on behalf of the women she claims to want to uplift and not speak over. If us white women should shut our mouths—as she insists we must—then why is she not shutting her own? Perhaps it has to do with how little insight the woman has into her own superiority and savior complex.
One must never speak over or—god forbid, she says—correct a person who has more melanin content in their skin than you. How absolutely infantilizing of Mrs. Frazzled to suggest that the color of someone’s skin has anything to do with the merit or worthiness of the words and ideas coming out of their mouths.
By extension, to argue—as Fodor does—that darker skinned persons must never be interrupted is, essentially, an admission that she finds this group of people to be fragile, childlike, and not deserving of the respect that any grown adult should give to another. When you respect someone, you hold them to the same standard you hold yourself to; you see them as an equal, capable of holding a conversation with other adults that is not governed by the rules of a kindergarten classroom, where some of the children require the help of their superiors. One might even call Mrs. Frazzled’s approach racist. I do.
“As white people, we have a lot to learn,” said Mrs. Frazzled. At least in her case this seems very true. And if she really means what she says—if she really wants to use her own voice to elevate the voices of black women, then again: hand over your TikTok account to black women, Mrs. Frazzled.
I dare you.
