This reminds me that the world is a big place and my experience is limited. There is no one instruction book that covers every last thing-even the sacred texts. But there are lots of people with lots of different experiences, and asking for help, sharing expertise, is a faster route to success than trying to go it alone.

If I want to overturn racism and white supremacy (whether inside or outside of me), I can’t do it alone. I need feedback and instruction from someone with experience. That’s why I love this community, and Lace! I will never have the lived experience of BPOC, and I can’t expect to learn how to be less harmful to them without listening to them, without honoring their lived experiences, and reflecting on my own interactions, thoughts, and opportunities.

I grew up with a couple gardeners in my family. I always found it boring and dull, to be honest (and didn’t much enjoy having to eat the enormous squash that never seemed to end), but I did always find intriguing every spring going to get truckloads of cow manure with my Grandpa, to mix in with the soil, the secret ingredient. I did a presentation in elementary school on manure and it’s different consistencies…when it’s too fresh (too much nitrogen will burn the plants), but that same product, aged, will make for the perfect soil. My peers were less than impressed by my cow poo performance. I’m thinking of that now, though, how it was literally the stink itself that transformed the dirt into something nutritious.

If I don’t dig down into the ‘recesses and dark places’ as Lace says here, then the morals and beliefs I exhibit and live by and show to the world will only be a reflection of what stinks. I don’t always want to go into those dark places because I think I might get lost there, but as Lace notes here, it’s through that leaning in that ‘good growth can happen’. The same soil that has held old stinky whyte supremacy narratives with aging, tilling, intention, and TLC are the perfect place to hold new tender roots, new growth, new birth.

Shame and fear can be paralyzing and oh so isolating. In really hanging on to the truth that wherever weeds can grow, good growth can happen too.

I have a lot of tools and I need to take inventory and maintain them so they don’t crack and break. If I don’t use them consistently, they weaken and are ineffective. And there are always more tools I can open my mind to and invest in and learn how to use effectively, not in a vacuum but with guidance and instruction. I’ll still need practice to become effective but if I set my ego aside and accept and follow instruction, I’ll be much safer when I use them.

I feel like I am in a space where I’m taking stock of the tools I’ve gathered here, some of them have gotten a bit rusty because I haven’t actively put them to use. There are others I apply daily and it’s become easier and I’m more effective. Onward in community

Another beautiful essay. I’m blown away by how Lace shares herself with us in her writing, there is tremendous risk in doing so. ?

Part of growth and re-growth is you have to face the pain and work through it. You can’t do do it alone. And there’s always instructions. It requires daily effort to tend well.

I love these gardening analogies – I’ve always respected Mother Nature and the stories and lessons the earth tells us. So much knowledge and truth waiting to be seen and heard.

In pivoting immediately to race, for such a long time, I knew best. I readily embraced my privilege and patted myself on the back because I had earned it. Oof.

I ignored knowledge and truth surrounding me that didn’t benefit me. I was unaffected. The weeds, as Lace described them, were tangled everywhere and high above my head. My garden was quite ugly, in fact, and my centering harmed the other plants and trees and fruit accordingly.

Equality and racial justice come with instructions. I have to uncenter and see and hear what Black and Brown people are saying. I have to listen to their experiences and believe them. I have to amplify their voices. I have to face my weeds, educate myself and commit to the work.

The reality is WP gardens are ugly and not “gorgeous and the absolute best” as we have been told. As I have been told. And if I’m brutally honest, I thought my garden was stunning because I was only listening to other WP.

I have to understand my role in oppression, and the weeds of racism and supremacy that I have allowed to grow and thrive – weeds that stifle the beauty and health of our collective orchard. And I need community to truly thrive.

I’m going to dig deep. I’m going to listen and follow instructions. I’m going to seek out the Other and believe what I hear. I’m going to face their pain and trauma and the harm I’ve caused and amend. And repair. And amend. Day after day after day.

#Hesed #walking

This story and the imagery is beautiful and as I reflect on it I see Lace as Teacher. She’s identified the tools (relational ethics, winning strategies, guidelines, how to personalize, minding our slosh) and provided the instructions (content and posts to confront) for planting new roots. But as she said recently she “can’t do it for us”; only I can invest in those tools to become increasingly adept with them and keep re-reading the instructions and digging and planting. When I see the weeds coming back or my new plants don’t look healthy enough, back to mustard greens it is. Thank you Lace for laying it out for us and for walking with us. My responsibility in this is to continue to dig and plant, dig and plant in service to the North Star even if it means I’m harvesting mustard greens again, that’s still harvesting (reducing harm to BIPOC by white people including me and white supremacy). I’ve made many mistakes and know I will again (hopefully not the same ones!) and knowing those roots weren’t deep enough or strong enough identifies for me where and how I need to replant to really change my behaviors so I’m safer. It takes the mistakes and the replanting to get better and better harvests.

“Anywhere weeds can grow, good growth can happen.”

This feels so foundational to me. The rebuttal of any time I ever want to give an excuse to do something that seems daunting. I have done many, many things. Sure there are a few things I have tried and utterly failed at, but there are many more where I have become apt if not proficient, if not expert. Because I am good soil. You can tell by the weeds.

It’s how I’ve felt approaching this space so many times. Some days I’ve felt very in tune and in practice, and things have felt easy. I have felt rooted. And with my roots I have felt I’m holding soil for those around me to also take root.

And then there are the days when I’ve felt rusty, out of practice, and about one good gust of wind away from tumbleweeding around the field, uprooted and flailing. But those gusts haven’t torn me loose. I’m still here. Because the soil is good, and this community, you all, Lace, you hold me here, reminding me of who I say I want to be.

A major rule of growing things is that what defines a weed is that you don’t want it where it is. The definition says nothing about the plant itself, which is a smart thing; most of what we call weeds are masters of ecology. I have been weeding morning glory from my vegetable garden. It keeps its main root deeply buried and sends up uncountable rootlets to the surface to flower and provide that main root with energy to spread the underground net. And although it is a weed vis a vis my agricultural purpose, when I’m turning the soil I can see how those deep roots have created an extensive tunnel system in the clay, a system that allows water to flow down, to the tree roots, to the aquifer, rather than run off the dense surface. Morning glory roots deeply in my soil because it is needed there. With enough time, the plant would alter the soil enough to displace itself, having created an ecology suited for others.

I can work like the morning glory in the clay of white supremacy. They will call me a weed, but I can know and follow my purpose. I can root deeply, and rootlet into other white people, creating those tunnels that will eventually convert the clay into fertile topsoil and work myself out of a job.

I read part of this to my husband, a poet. He and I both appreciate the depth of yours, Lace.

I hear you regarding shame, unwillingness to start at the beginning with the directions, feeling that asking for help is weak, etc. I grew up thinking that way too.

That said, thanks in large part to your calling me out regarding that comment i made to someone’s post about Dr. King and walking with me ever since, I realize that I need and therefore invite others’ help to uproot and continue to replace the racism I have absorbed and become comfortable with, with true support for Black, brown, and generally non-Caucasian people.

I am a beginner in addressing my own or systemic racism. I will only grow and become better if I take the steps necessary to learn from, first, those who face it most often in this country, and second, from those who have been walking here much longer than I have.

Thank you for providing this space for all of us.

“Anywhere weeds can grow, good growth can happen”.

For me, I equate the weeds to the recesses, whaall the “dark places” or the painful places we are sometimes afraid to explore. We have to go to the roots, look at the soil and the weeds we have produced, and sometimes even pull those weeds. Won’t it be painful? Yes, sometimes it will, but imagine what will grow in the place of that weed. The growth of that weed is part of our journey, but the pulling of that weed is sometimes part of the journey too.

I think that the weeds in our garden are really the part that creates the most growth in us. The weeds force us to see our garden for what it is, to go to the roots, to start over in some ways or at least regroup.

As I read the essay, I could imagine Lace, with grief and trepidation and some hesitation, going out to her field, going to the recesses of er weeds and starting a new endeavor, following the guidance of teachers who showed the way with love and wisdom. And now look at the orange trees. Unimaginable beauty, challenge, hardship, joy, and growth. That is what I love about this space. We are guided with wisdom, Hesed love, and kind candor. We learn how to walk with one another, not only through the guidelines, but because we have a Teacher, and fellow walkers, who will point us back to the basics.

I feel I’m at a place in my life where a few of my weeds are getting pulled, while at the same time I am learning to recognize the weeds that have allowed good growth to happen. I just got my wisdom teeth extracted. I’ve been putting off getting those “weeds” pulled for a few years now, because I was afraid of what would happen, how much it would hurt, and who would be there to walk with me. I wonder what other weeds in my life, especially in racial justice work, I am hesitant to confront because of fear of the unknown, pain, and wondering who will be there to walk with me and guide me on how to navigate (or stumble) through and what to do next. More often, I spend more energy on fear of the unknown than necessary. It is relieving, and liberating, even in the midst of pain and challenge, to confront the weeds that create within us the greatest discomfort or fear.

I appreciate these lessons (gather the tools, invest in the new, read the directions and then follow them, ask for help, ask watch and learn, plant mustard greens, plow over and do it again and again and then amend and anywhere weeds grow, good growth can happen) so much. It’s like a blueprint for what to do when you just aren’t sure what the next steps are. It is amazing that this is the advice for gardening and yet it can be applied to any work that is overwhelming and is unfamiliar. Everything that Lace has been through is truly devastating especially because I know how much she is given of herself, how much she has shown up in authenticity and with hesed heart. I am grateful for Lace’s teachers, mentors and leaders who have helped support her and shown her direction in times of need. I am also grateful for Lace for being humble and listening and internalizing those lessons and support and then sharing them with us.

I am classically terrible at the basics,
especially asking for help and reading directions. There is so much I want to
know, so much I want to become more efficient at and I am stunted many times
because of the unknown of it all and then self doubt creeps in and I remain
unware of how to do so many things that I very well could already be an expert
on by now if I had taken the time and just started with these simple (yet not
so simple) steps. Well, now is the time to change that thinking, now is the
time to remember that small steps still accomplish miles and more. It requires
action, it requires planting roots. And perhaps small steps are more efficient
anyway.

I read the metaphor for inner work here and how it can be done, especially inner work in the service of lessening and mitigating harm to Black and brown people perpetuated by white people and ws – the need to face one’s shame, to prepare for work over time, to try new things and fail and keep trying, the need to appreciate one’s teachers and seek out others. There is some work that needs to be done by me (I don’t want to rest on the assumption that someone else will do it for me), but it is made easier by having teachers and asking for help. I’m encouraged by the image of the orange tree, an unforeseen and positive effect of the work, and by learning from someone new after sharing a personal story.

The amending and seasonality of the work is also interesting – continuing to garden even while it looks different, taking different actions in different seasons where necessary, using what came before to enrich further growth, or re-growing and re-working. Revisiting these tenets with slightly different perspective and community each time seems like an example of that repetitive learning and an opportunity to learn new things or become aware of changes since the previous reading.

The utter tangle of white supremacy and my willingness to drive by and not look at it. And the days I look at it and don’t do anything about it. And the days that I go get the tools and I take a shot at it and I cause harm – just make things worse. Oh, and, of course, there are the times I read the directions and don’t understand them so I just throw up my hands. The undergrowth of racism will just keep growing if I don’t do my part to address it, even on the days I have to repair harm when I used a tool incorrectly.

Metaphors of plants and gardens are so rich and resonant. I grew up in gardening, and remain a (poor) gardener; what I do more of is foraging. And one lesson of foraging that has been transformative for me is to reconsider weeds; to see them with new eyes.

Because most of what we regard as ‘good’ growth under white supremacist patriarchal capitalism is either aesthetic, or a functional commodity. We consider plants with the same values we consider people.

Yet weeds can be nourishing — sometimes more nourishing than anything at the store. They can be lovely. They can be resilient. They can communicate: year after year, the patches of nettle and chickweed tell me about the soil and the weather.

Mustard is a cover crop, but also considered a weed. So much of whether or not something is regarded as a weed is simply the opinion of whoever owns the land on which it grows. The nettles that I don’t pick end up weedwacked by municipal employees. And what a foolish thing, to think that we can know so much better than the land itself.

Some people do. Some people have committed themselves to deep relationships with the land. People like Mr. B, and your friend R., the organic gardener. They are wise friends to the land, and can tend it, the way a good friend can support us through hardships. Yet it’s so tempting to think that we should simply “know” how to handle nature, when we own it. As if a title and deed is somehow a substitute for that deep relationship and learning. As if we do not need community to grow, not just metaphorically but also literally.

“Read the directions first.”

When we think we can do it on our own without reading the directions, we’re ignoring and rejecting the work that others have done to prepare things for us. We’re saying that we don’t need to learn from anyone else’s experience. It’s a deeply immature perspective. It reminds me of my five year old insisting that he can cook eggs on the stove by himself when it’s quite possible he would set the house on fire in the process. But he thought he could do it because he saw my husband and his brother doing it and thought, “Well, I’m just as good as them!” But in the process, he didn’t think about all of the work they did to learn how to do it responsibility. In terms of racial justice work, we can definitely cause serious harm when we don’t read the directions first and insist we know best.

“Anywhere weeds grow, good growth can happen.”

In nature, weeds break through hard, compacted soil or even rocks. They not only show the potential for what could happen, they make it possible to for other things to grow. I think often think of weeds as things to be cleared away so we can do the work and wish they weren’t there at all, but in reality they need to be there so we can plant better things. I’m not sure what the equivalent to weeds is in racial justice work – maybe early assumptions we make early in our racial justice journey? – but I think it’s worth remembering that every step has lessons to be learned. If we skip any of them, we burn out or are overly shallow.