Facebook Publication Date: 3/11/2018 21:03
On Kidneys, Coffees, and Dimes
Lace on Race; Lace on Grace; Lace on Faith
Comments accepted. In fact, they are emphatically encouraged.
This post is adapted from another I authored in another group almost exactly a year ago, after my ex husband attempted suicide and that community came through for me in a mighty way. It is so important that people feel heard and seen and backed up; these women certainly did for me. I have spent the last year paying it forward, in my life—all aspects of my life; my wallet, my time, my words, my physical presence, my heart, my mission. My creating and servicing Lace on Race is part of that mission, that call, that compulsion from the universe to never stop walking in gratitude.
Respond to this post with what you have learned about yourself through the actions I will detail below, and from me in the almost two months we have been together. Say what you are willing to do with relentless reliability. Be specific.
I am *not*, repeat, NOT cookie seeking. This is not for my self-aggrandizement. This is for you, and your community here at Lace on Race, and for those outside our virtual walls, where we can be a force for good to people we will never know.
Now the post:
Hey everyone. Lace here, your servant, and the woman privileged to lead you in this space.
This is not a money post, per se. This is deeply personal, and I am speaking and asking from a place of marrow deep humility, and no small amount of real fear.
People have asked me what, if any, specific actions I would ask of you all here in this space. I have demurred, especially after the pushback two weeks in; I have since felt uncomfortable asking for anything except the privilege to serve you in this platform. I don’t want to make anyone feel bullied, or ‘shaken down’, or pressured.
That gratitude (and both the pushback and the low response when I did force myself to ask) has silenced me somewhat.
I have said to some of you that now I feel that I can no longer be challenging; that I can only be inspirational.
Welp. My being a lifesized Hallmark card serves no one. The best thanks to the now more than 1500 of you I can give lies in gentle, pointed challenge and loving confrontation.
The women and men who have contributed to the life of this space have done it so that I could continue to do the work I was called to do, both here in Lace on Race, and out in the greater world. And so I will.
We are indeed going to be talking about money, and economics in a general way; I have said often that racism and white supremacy is primarily an economic construct. But we will also talk about it, directly and candidly, even through both my and your twitching and clenching, here as it pertains to Lace on Race.
From a strictly social science perspective, this has been fascinating. I have said this before too: I am only sorry that this fundraising has my service as a direct recipient; I have felt, and to an extent, still do feel that I cannot speak to the dynamics of all of this. But I will anyway. Look forward to a post about how we ultimately treat those we say that we lionize.
For now though, this.
Because what I have been saying, time and again, is this is not ‘part of the work’. This *is* the work. I will elaborate on that later in a series of essays. I am writing slowly. I want to be sure that the words will be heard and internalized; that they will give nobody an excuse to either blow up, or shut down, or run away.
The first essay was to go live tonight, but the work being done right now, especially in light of what happened last night with that nonprofit woman, is too important to ignore.
There are conversations going on about the fundraising. Has it been too big an ask, speaking to the tone and the frequency; asking if this was going to be a regular thing; this crass asking for monies.
I will speak to each to of these as well, probably further along in the series, because these are big questions, and, judging by what is going down in the here and now, we are not ready to confront them yet.
So I will start with the personal and move to the sociopolitical.
We gonna do this. It has implications beyond this space. So we will do what few others who speak of racial justice do. We will continue to confront it head on.
For now though, I have these suggestions. As has been noted, people do not like being told what to do–especially by woc, even ones we idolize–another issue that will be dealt with (by the time I am finished with all this, I may well have the bones for a book, or at least a longform)–so consider them things that the people who have liked, complemented, pm’d, shared, my work have said, both implicitly and explicitly, that they were willing to do.
As you do them, share here in this space, and we will hold space for exactly this every week. This is an exercise. Flex. Flex.
First to those who say they have no funds–I feel you. I have lived in my car. I have hidden from marshalls coming to take my house the first time Robert was acutely ill 15 years ago. I have made top ramen last 2 meals (and still stayed round. the universe isn’t fair). I have given fake reasons why I couldn’t go to happy hour with my colleagues, or participate in a gift exchange, or contribute to a potluck. I have sat in the dark because my lights were cut off. I have lived without a phone; not just a cell phone, a landline too. I have had my water disconnected. Some of these things happened 30 years ago, some 15, some recently. But they have happened. So I know what it is not to have money.
But.
But I had a dime. I could always find a dime. Somewhere in the far reaches of my purse. Or in a sofa cushion. Or in the console of my truck. Or on the ground (how poor do you have to be to bend over and pick up a dime?). I could find a dime, or two nickels, or 11 pennies somewhere.
I did the math. 52 dimes for a year is $5.20. Enough for a cup of coffee and a small cookie.
So my challenge to those who have known, or currently know deep poverty: find a dime. Every week. Put it in a jar. On 3-11-19, find a person to serve. Invite them out for coffee and sharing. Pay for it. If you find a little more so you have enough for two coffees and a cookie to share, great. If you don’t *you* drink water. Don’t let them pay, even if you know they have more resources than you. There is always room for the widow’s mite. You can still give. You can still be a blessing. I know. Believe me, I know. For some that dime will be a sacrifice indeed. That will make the coffee sweeter still.
Now–For those with a little more. Give up–once a week. Give up that coffee, or that lipstick, or that mani, or that carwash. Don’t find ‘extra’ money. *Give it up*. You will not drink the coffee. You will not slick on the lipgloss. You will drive dusty. For one week.
Put it in an envelope, so it’s broken out. Then actively look for the stranger. And when she asks for a quarter or a dollar, surprise them with 5, or even 10, or even 20 dollars.
***No clench***. No wondering where it will go. No wondering if she deserves it. No trying to vet her circumstances. Just give. And the next week, do it again. and again. and again. It will become the most precious envelope you will ever touch. For my part, I use a envelope that delivered help for me when I desperately needed it. By 3-11-19, I imagine it will be falling apart. Mine is. Good.
And for those who have contributed to this community, either in spells or as an actual or potential sustainer (again, my deep and sincere thanks—I am working on making it easier for you all) something bigger. This is two part.
The first part is for everyone, really. Not just those who contribute or sustain.
I want you to go to this site– the fundraiser– youcaring.com Put 10 or 20 or 30 minutes on the timer. And immerse yourselves; really look at the faces. Look in all the categories. Allow the faces to penetrate your force field. Love them. Touch the screen. DO NOT read their stories, their justifications and explanations as to why they need to do this. Just allow yourself to be moved by their basic humanity. But DO look at the numbers. Look at the amounts raised by white faces and families, and the numbers raised by families and faces of color. See the stark difference in the numbers. Sit with that, as y’all like to say. Really let it sink in. Really let it penetrate your dermis.
Then find a yellow or a brown or a black or a native face. Anyone at random. And give. It could be a dollar, or a tenner, or a hundred, or more. But give. Without knowing anything other than they’re homo sapien, and they deserve the same empathy and caring as pink faces. If you have already given to me (again, my thanks), feel free to only give to them. Blindly, wildly, with abandon and surrender of outcome. If you choose to contribute to the Lace on Race community, well, thank you. But only, only, only after you’ve given to the stranger.
If you are overwhelmed at the sheer number– and you will be– you can choose to give to the person we choose here at Lace on Race: there will be at least one, maybe two. It will be easy; we will have a link; you can go directly there.
People have conflated this ask with something more grandiose. No one is asking you for an organ; we’re hoping that you find this space compelling and informative and challenging and unique; enough of all of those things that you can give up a latte, not a liver. Still, the pushback continues. We need more of the 1500 of you to give in small amounts for a larger purpose. So then.
Welp.
For the sake of perspective, I am gonna do my best to find a person who really does need a liver. Or a lung. Or a kidney. Or chemo. Or a wheelchair. And we are gonna, as a chosen community, bless them. For every dollar you contribute to the community, you contribute to the stranger. And we will truly see the power of crass and vulgar dollars; the blessing that can come of your Starbucks bucks.
For my part, I too will do each of the three actions. I will share both with the accountability/advisory group we have formed to keep me on track and with you all here as well. From my own funds. It will indeed impact my household budget. As it should. And I will give again. And again. Top ramen for two days ain’t bad. Each slurp is better knowing I have lived out my values.
Yes, I am asking you to sacrifice in these small ways so you can feel both the clench, you can know what it feels like to live in vulnerability 24/7, so you can put heart and flesh and soul to your stated convictions. If you can find funds and a full throated ‘YES!’ without clench, you can stand with your sisters in real life. This work needs to be something that is marrow deep; not a hobby, not something you can shuck off like a puffy vest when it gets too hot.
You need to learn, to really learn, how to serve.
Because see, it’s never been about the money. (Sweet Janine–you will meet her soon and hopefully come to love her as much as I do–would disagree. Money got her a Moana blanket.)
It’s about the internalized, knee jerk service and sharing and looking the stranger in the eye and soul and heart till they’re no longer a stranger. A stranger in the street. A stranger in the coffee shop. A stranger in YouCaring. 1500 strangers here. Give. Till you figure out and internalize *That There Are No Strangers*.
And lastly, this.
If you do not feel led or called to contribute to this space, ok. I cannot compel you to.
But you are not off the hook. Find another woman of color who is writing and teaching. I do not care who. Give to them. Tell who you gave to in the comments, and share a link if they have one.
You will be changed. I will be changed. And isn’t this the very point of this space?
I love you all, all 1500 of you. Each one. No more and no less than before this letter, and this lesson.
Thank you for walking with me.
In Love and Solidarity and Dimes,
Your Lace
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