Proving it

Photo credit: www.LeanInLiveEngaged.com

I pass this rock on my walk each day. At first glance I saw:  "Black Lives Matter. Silence = Violence".  Yes! So proud to see this in my community. But when I got closer I could see what you likely noticed right away: the red spray paint is not for emphasis, it is actually painting over the word "Black" with "All". And it kinda seems like someone else came back and used red paint to highlight the "C" and "K" to make the original message stand out again. There are a lot of messages here. Let's break it down. 

The initial message of "Black Lives Matter" is important and powerful. It is a constant reminder to walkers, cyclists, and drivers passing by that justice has not yet been served for the many black men and women killed at the hands of the police and also represents the general marginalization of black people. For many, this elicits fury at systemic racism, inequalities, and a lack of sufficient response from our community leaders. 

But someone else came along and had some feelings about Black people getting (appropriate) attention for the issues at hand, stomped their feet, pouted, and despite not being in danger at all at the given time thought, "But what about me?!" They decided they were going to make sure that people heard their stomp and saw their pathetic pout in the form of red spray paint taking over someone else's message. 

But here's all it did: this person with the red spray paint actually PROVED the historical issue with the power imbalance perpetuated by white privilege and white fragility. What could be a better analogy for the history of our country than black people having a message to share and a white person getting their feelings hurt and trying to cover it up. 

So, to the pouty, red spray painter, thank you for your public reminder of why the Black Lives Matter movement is so important. The message is clear. White fragility is strong and bold and continues to attempt to silence the messages of marginalized groups. Your actions prove it. But see how the initial message still holds strong? Black individuals and communities and their allies have had enough. 

I hope this rock stays this way. I hate that someone felt the need to attempt to take over and distract from someone else's message. But supporters of the Black Lives Matter have been screaming that they are tired of being silenced and that silencing is real. This rock is just proving it.  

Someone Else: A reflection on loving a racist

(Image credit: PM Notes) 

I remember growing up and hearing my Grandpa say the n-word often. I knew it was a "bad word" but as a child I understood it as a bad word just like "shit", "fuck", or "bitch". Adults could say it but children couldn't. I didn't understand why it was bad or wrong. And I grew up with the implicit understanding that it was ok to get angry. Especially for men. Especially for white men. And when white men were angry they could say the n-word. 

I didn't understand the presence and performance of white supremacy, racism, and toxic masculinity in my upbringing until I was in my 20's. And it hit me hard. This post isn't about the answer or helping you figure out how to handle this in your life. This is merely my story and reflections. 

My Grandpa loved Notre Dame football, he traveled to Ireland regularly to study his ancestry, he walked several miles every day, he loved hanging in the pool, he played the harmonica, he had a deep voice that carried, and he loved beagles. All of these passions shaped my identity and show up in my day-to-day life. I loved him. Without question. He brought so much joy to our family. He contributed so much to who I am and who my family is as a collective group. 

There wasn't a single moment in which I realized he was racist. It came in waves of shock, questioning, shame, guilt, confusion, and feeling distraught. How could someone I love so dearly believe something so toxic, violent, and harmful? And a genuine question of what that says about me. If I believe so strongly in the worth of Black people, being anti-racist, fighting for social justice, and dismantling systems that perpetuate racial inequities, how could I be so blind to someone in my family who embodied the exact opposite of what I believe? Fundamental character flaw? Unconscious complacency? Am I just like him? Am I a fraud? 

My experience is not unique, I'm sure. I imagine there are many people facing familial ties that clash with their belief that Black lives matter and white privilege and white fragility exist. I'm sure like me, many people struggle in that situation. Both in how to address it in those relationships but also in how to process what that means about our own character. In the relationship with others, there are really only 3 (albeit simplified) options here: 

Ignore it. 

Cut this person out of your life. 

Confront them. 

Unfortunately for me, my grandpa is dead and has been for over a decade. I'm left with only being able to reflect on the above questions, confront the implicit bias in my family that still exists with other members, and to carefully explore where this explicit and implicit racism exists in my blood and seeps into my life. 

I'm embarrassed to admit that for many years I ignored the implicit and sometimes even the explicit racism that existed in my family. It was easier and I genuinely didn't understand how harmful it was. I didn’t recognize that ignoring it was part of my white privilege. And absolutely complicit in contributing to systems that continue to harm Black people. About 10 years ago I abandoned that approach of ignoring it. And cutting people out of my life isn't my style. So I started confronting racism as it surfaced in words and actions among my family members. But in order to do that I first had to confront how it showed up in my own words and actions. 

This wasn't easy. It was and is still exhausting, embarrassing, confusing, and at times overwhelming. I stumble and make mistakes. And it's hard to always see the implicit racism and microaggressions that I commit. Unlearning words and thoughts that have be habit for decades requires a lot of paying attention, reflecting, correcting, and not being afraid to continually make mistakes. I feel ashamed for the years I didn’t know better and for the years that felt like an acceptable excuse.  It’s hard to forgive myself. 

And I still can't come to terms with my Grandpa's view. The only understanding that I've gained is that racism runs deep. Through generations, ideologies, and is perpetuated by people within those systems who look away. I don't know that I've changed anyone else’s thinking. But I do know that with the people in my family whom I've confronted, our relationships are more authentic and I am more skilled at naming racism as it exists. My behaviors have changed. My words and thoughts have changed. And I understand a lot more about who I am, letting go of what I accepted as a child, and am raising my children with a different set of implicit and explicit values. 

I still shake my head in disgust and my heart breaks to know someone I loved so deeply carried a hate I can't fathom. I can only be vigilant in living my values and recognizing I have a chance to be someone different than who my Grandpa was. Despite my exposure and the intergenerational transmission, I can actively name and push back against the racism as it shows up in my life. Loving him will always feel complicated but for as many things as he and I have in common, greater is my opportunity, power, and commitment to be someone else. 

Just Start

White people, this is for you (and me). 

Anti-racism requires action, persistence, and humility. And it requires that you start. Right where you are, with your fragility and uncertainty and fear. Start by recognizing you are going to make mistakes. Just start. 

Following the surge of protests around the nation erupting from the murder of George Floyd by Minneapolis police officers, I observed many of my white friends wanting to join in the fight against racism, violence against Black people, and the system perpetuating injustices. But don't know how to get started. 

I encourage you to first embrace these ideas: 

1. Let go of the need to “do this right”. You will make mistakes. We all do. 
2. Avoid performative allyship. Keep the focus where it needs to be. Hint: it’s not on you. 
3. Listen. Make space for Black voices and pay attention. Resist the urge to chime in. Listen. 
4. Speak up. White silence is complicit, complacent, and compliant. This doesn't mean your voice should be loudest in public spaces. Start conversations with your family, friends, and colleagues. 
5. Educate yourself. Don’t lean on your Black friends to teach you. Listen when they speak, read what they write. But do your own work. 
6. Check your white fragility. This is going to be uncomfortable. Don’t put that on your Black friends. Process your feelings with a white friend. 
7. Don’t quit. You will likely feel tired, ashamed, overwhelmed or all of the above. Keep going anyway. 

Got all that?

Here are specific things you can do right now:

1. Read books by black authors.
2. Watch documentaries produced by Black people about the Black experience in the United States. 
3. Buy from Black owned businesses.
4. Explore your white privilege and white fragility. 
5. Donate to Black educators and activists.
6. Talk to your children about racism, slavery, white privilege, and social justice. 
7. Read books to your children that discuss the history of racism, the civil rights movement, and social justice. 
8. Write to your district and ask about their DEI initiatives. 
9. Ask your employer about their DEI initiatives. 
10. Follow Black activists and leaders on social media. 
11. Attend protests and demonstrations. 
12. Check on your Black friends. 
13. Give your Black friends some space. 
14. Bring up conversations of racism and white privilege with your friends and family. 
15. Consider on how white privilege shows up in your life. 
16. Reflect on how racism shows up in your actions and words. 
17. Vote.
18. Hold your elected officials accountable.
19. Join local activism groups.
20.  Sign petitions to demand justice for Black people wrongfully charged, incarcerated, or murdered by police. 
21. Resist the urge to get tired. 

This is a start. Do the work, and then repeat it. To be anti-racist is not a week of action or a day of action but a philosophical commitment to continuous action to fight racism and dismantle the system perpetuating it. Don't worry that it feels overwhelming. Don't worry about getting it right. Just start.