This is America
I am writing this largely to and for the white community, to call us into deeper realization of our compliance in the crimes committed towards the black community and minorities in our country. I hope it calls you into a higher level of commitment to eradicating racism and irrational thought in our society.
In two weeks, it will be one year since I hosted a brunch at my apartment, gathering women from different areas of my life to come together and talk about the best ways to move forward with a project I had been dreaming of and working on for years. It was, in fact, this site. Its namesake is one birthed in provocative thought and ideologies, and due to my somewhat conservative religious values, some would also call it polarizing. I chose this name, this site, and had this vision because I believe my truest purpose is to help people feel safe, known and heard—to foster healing with the work I do through conversation on difficult topics, and bring about true change through hearing and sharing people’s stories.
So, on a sunny afternoon in June of 2019, I had 8 women over to discuss the best and safest ways for me to approach the topic of diversity. My goal was to gather as much information as possible to best set myself—and my future guests or writers— up for success when asking women of color to share their stories. A few weeks prior, I had sent out invitations to a wide array of women from all different backgrounds, but in the days leading up to the event, I had only a small group confirmed, and only one woman of color. All week this event was on my mind. I knew the conversation would be rocky at best. I knew it would spark anger, frustration, and profound feelings of being misunderstood. I knew the people that RSVP’d were meant to be there, and God was in control of the who and why and when. I knew it was going to be hard, but I knew I had to keep moving, even if the representation at the table wasn’t going to be what I’d hoped it to be.
To say the brunch and discussion went well would be a far cry from the truth, but it did go exactly as I knew it would. It ended divisively, with the woman of color sitting in a quiet anger, unheard and unseen; apologies unsaid and defensive stances thick in the air. It ended with white women using personal experiences of misfortunes and misrepresentations in relation to experiences of prejudice towards people of color. It ended with tension, frustration, and shockingly, a reference to the Holocaust. There were so many things I could have done better to mitigate some of these reactions, and have since done a lot of research on what it means to facilitate hard discussions while gathering well. But—the truth of the matter is, avoidance and ignorance in the white community is shockingly rampant. I was sadly, and naively, shocked to see it, literally, at my table.
As a white woman, I can (somewhat) understand apprehension around talking about race, but we need to move through it. We need to sit in the middle of it and be willing to be wrong, humiliated and called out; and if we are, understand it will still never be the kind of pain experienced by people of color in our country. The fear of shame and embarrassment will never be equal to that of the oppressed, beaten, and killed in our country because of their skin color. Think about that for a second. Avoidance carries with it a disregard for wrongdoing. Avoidance disvalues experience. Avoidance makes you complicit in the crime. The fear a white woman has around engaging in difficult conversation cannot, and will not, ever equate to the woman of color who worries for her children when they go out at night. That is a fear my parents never knew. And we, as white people, need to step into the conversation. We must acknowledge the grief of the black community in order to aid in fostering healing. We have to acknowledge the part we play, both by the cards we’ve been dealt, and the ways in which we choose to play them. This will be a painful, humbling process, but we must—we must, we must!—get to a point where we are grieving, too.
Avoidance when talking about race reconstitutes the grief laying in the birth of American society and the wounds people carry. I have had conversations with white individuals who think this kind of statement is doing America a disservice, pigeonholing people into a lose-lose situation, and downplaying the promise of the American dream. Is America the land of the free, the home of the brave? Is America truly a place where you can come to be anything? Maybe it is, hopefully to the last, but to the former? I think we can all agree, if not from the history of our country and the bloodshed in its quest for freedom, that the events of the last few weeks prove the former, “free,” to be a profound and misleading characteristic of our society.
This is not history repeating itself. This is America
That infamous brunch taught me a lot of things, mostly, and most painfully, my community was not what I thought it was. My friendships changed. I grieved, and still grieve. I felt, and feel, alone. I recognize the absurdity of how this sounds as a white woman, and yet this is still important to say so I must say it. Surface-level change, awakening, or support will do nothing but set the world up for future failure. Your instagram tags and reposts and retweets will do nothing and say nothing and bring about no change if, once justice is served (In Floyd’s case) and the media rolls to a hush, you do not continue to educate yourselves and talk about what is wrong with the roots of our society. This is not a “wake up call.”This is reality. This is not a “hard time for our country.” This is our country. This is not history repeating itself. This is America, and this is what really lies in the roots and runs through the veins of its people. If we are United, we are doing it wrong. If we are together, if we are standing up and asking for more out of justice, if we are no longer going to tolerate incoherent and inconceivable violence against the black community, then white people need to do better. Posting a few posts to instagram or twitter or attending a workshop or two is not enough to bring about the change we need to see healing.
So, instead of tagging your friends in an Instagram story chain, read a book from a black author on the realities of being black in America. Instead of listening to yet another podcast on the pay gap between men and women CEOs, listen to a podcast on inner city school systems and the lack of resources allocated to the marginalized and disenfranchised. Instead of hitting follow on another Forbes “30 under 30” mogul, do research on local small businesses from minorities in need of funding, mentorship, and community. Instead of watching another white sitcom, consider watching a series or show by a black director, producer or writer. White community, ask yourself, how white is your instagram? How white is your Netflix feed? How white is your community? How white is the lens you use to view the world? The above may seem like the lowest of the low hanging fruit, but the truth is we have the power to reshape not just how we see the world, but how we foresee it. We can only bring about change if we first see where our world is and honestly (and earnestly) listen to the stories and experiences of the marginalized communities around us.
…we must weep with those who weep and mourn with those who mourn.
To bring about healing we must weep with those who weep and mourn with those who mourn. If you find it difficult right now to weep or mourn with those who are, it means you need to learn. I believe real change will only come through living in community and friendship with one another, and that takes time and genuine connection. So, in the meantime, try to do some of the above. Read black authors, find like-minded career-oriented individuals who you can connect with. Watch black TV. Read real stories. Research what your whiteness really looks like in this country. Check the shows you watch and look at the cast. Is it an accurate representation of the world? Check, analyze and break down your whiteness and your white privilege. But, as you do this and go through a process of research and understanding, do not ever make tokens or check marks out of people or experiences in order to make yourself feel more in tune with the current cultural moment. Additionally, never use your own experience to try to relate to that of a person of color. In a country where media outlets, movies, culture, and their everyday life tell them their experience isn’t heard or seen, a white person trying to explain how they relate through using their own white experience just further disvalues their own.
The environment America is sitting in right now is eerily telling. In a pandemic-ridden time, imagine the following alternate reality: a world where the white community goes on living with the safety of a mask, while the black community is forced to walk the streets without the protection of one. Can you imagine the outrage? The audacity? In his last moments, George Floyd said “I can’t breathe.”If I may be so bold, the black community has been saying “I can’t breathe”since the birth of this nation. America, right now is up in flames. Memes and tags and articles are spreading like a countrywide wildfire casting light on the darkest lies and realities of our society. But, if we let the light go out, if we let this fire dwindle to a flame, then to a spark, and then to nothing but smoke and ash, all we have left, yet again, is a vast and profound space filled with darkness and smoke—a society choking only the maskless black community as the white community goes on living in a falsely-lit America.
Some resources and suggestions:
Between The World and Me An essay (letter) by author Ta-Nehisi Coates on being black in America.
White Fragility- Robin DiAngelo breaks down whiteness and the reasons for racial tensions in America, and how to overcome them.
Hood Feminism- Mikki Kendall challenges the ideologies of mainstream feminism and makes compelling arguments for changes needed in order for intersectional feminism to take root
The Nickle Boys- Colson Whitehead tells the story of a young boy placed into reform school in the south during the Jim-Crow era.
13th - Ava DuVernay’s powerful documentary on America’s judicial system and the disproportionate amount of African American inmates.
When They See Us- A short series by director Ava DuVernay telling the true story of the “Central Park Five”.
The Stoop- Hana Baba and Leila Day explore the black diaspora. My favorite episode is with Karamo Brown, from Queer Eye, where he also talks about coming out to a family of faith
On Second Thought- Trevor Noah and David Kibuka tackle pressing issues facing society today.
Dear White People- This series uses humor to highlight issues like cultural bias, social activism, and more through the eyes of the college students at Winchester University.
All American- Loosely based on the real events of the life of NFL linebacker, Spencer Paysinger, this series explores the struggles of a black high school football player in the heart of Los Angeles.