Advocates vs. Saviors Theme Analysis

In Zoot Suit, Luis Valdez studies the nuances of civil rights advocacy. Considering what it means for a white person to act as an ally to people of color, Valdez shows audience members that there are certain complexities inherent to relationships in which white people use their privilege to support minorities. This dynamic arises when George—a white man—offers to represent Henry and the rest of the 38th Street Gang in court, since they have a hard time taking his initial suggestion seriously, having never received support from people outside their community. Similarly, Alice Bloomfield also decides to help Henry and his friends by working to change the public opinion about Los Angeles’s Chicano population. As a white woman, she surprises Henry by how passionate she is about addressing society’s racism. Initially hesitant to embrace the idea of a white person supporting him in this way, Henry eventually decides that Alice wants to do what’s best for him, so he accepts her as an advocate and ally. However, this doesn’t mean that their relationship isn’t complicated, since Alice sometimes ignores what Henry wants because she thinks she knows what’s best for him. This puts a strain on their connection, as Alice’s behavior highlights the difference between acting as a genuine advocate and acting like a white savior (someone whose support of minorities has a self-serving component). As Alice tries to navigate this distinction, Valdez shows the audience that it’s important for white allies to remain cognizant of how, exactly, they’re supporting people of color, ultimately making sure that they’re not condescendingly discounting the very people they want to uplift.

When George first approaches Henry and the 38th Street Gang, it’s clear that they’re unaccustomed to receiving support from white people. This serves as a good reminder to audience members that Henry exists in a society in which white people rarely identify themselves as allies to people of color. To that end, there is a concrete reason that Henry distrusts white men like George—after all, he has been arrested multiple times by white police officers simply because of his race. However, George goes out of his way to show Henry that he means no harm. “The problem seems to be that I look like an Anglo to you,” he says, acknowledging that Henry and his friends don’t trust him because he’s white. Slowly but surely, Henry and the others come around to accepting his support, but what’s most important to keep in mind is their initial hesitancy, since it underscores not only how rare it is for them to find white allies, but also that it’s not particularly easy for them to simply accept help from someone who otherwise represents the very same social class that has long persecuted them.   

When Alice introduces herself to Henry while he’s in jail, he shows her the same kind of skepticism he initially showed George. In response, Alice tells him why she cares about changing the public narrative about the Chicano community. She says that she grew up in Los Angeles but heard practically nothing about the city’s Chicano population and now wants to learn about the community. This comment surprises Henry and encourages him to let down his guard, since it shows him that Alice is invested in these matters on a genuine emotional level. Perhaps even more importantly, Alice’s desire to learn about Henry’s culture indicates that she might become a positive kind of white ally, one who understands that listening to the people she hopes to support is the best way to use her privilege.

However, Alice proves herself to be a flawed white ally. This becomes apparent shortly after Alice shows her willingness to listen to Henry, since she goes on to call him a “classic social victim”—a phrase that hints at the fact that she has romanticized the idea of helping a disenfranchised person of color. Henry, for his part, calls her assertion “bullshit,” cutting through her patronizing rhetoric and encouraging her to remember that, though perhaps helpful in certain contexts, this social theorizing will do little to actually help him. Worse, Alice later loses sight of what originally drew her to Henry and his friends, which was the prospect of learning about their community and, in doing so, learning to support them in a manner that aligns with what they want. When Henry tells her he wants to drop his appeal, Alice becomes incredulous, saying he can’t and that his withdrawal will ruin the entire movement she has helped build. “That’s your problem,” Henry replies, reminding Alice that he never asked for her support. Beside herself, Alice reminds Henry that she has dedicated large amounts of time to this cause, failing to see that this is irrelevant—she wanted to support Henry and his friends, but it’s not her place to steamroll them into doing things they don’t want to do. In this moment, then, she oversteps a boundary in their relationship by acting like she’s better qualified than Henry is to run his life.

What’s tricky about Henry and Alice’s argument, though, is that it is unwise for him to drop out of his appeal, at least if he wants to avoid a life in prison. However, it’s his right to decide what to do, and though it makes sense that Alice might want—as somebody who set out to support him—to convince him to reconsider, she makes a mistake by condescending to him. Fortunately, she and Henry make up when Alice emotionally breaks down and he sees just how much she cares about his case, realizing that she’s not simply “using Mexicans to play politics.” In this way, Henry recognizes that Alice is legitimately invested in him as a person, essentially reinforcing the idea that she’s there to uplift him. And though Alice stumbles at times in her efforts to be a supportive white ally, Valdez intimates that her relationship with Henry is a good example of effective social justice advocacy, which is often interpersonally complex.